Movie Lydia Re-Draw from Last Year

Here’s an Old Vs. New comparison!

a fool without a cause | track 1: the plan (fuck jobs)

🎶 My body is a temple, how much d’ya think I could get for it? 🎶

summary: a meet ugly

word count: <700 words

warnings: 18 + for eventual smut, empire records AU | The gang are in their early twenties, college-aged, cursing, name calling, vague mentions of crime

a/n: ah yes, this brainrot sees the light of day. here we go!

Series masterlist | Playlist | Currently spinning: 

Eddie Munson was decidedly not a morning person.

So his presence at the old opera house of Recycled Books & Records before his usual shift was startling, to say the least. Even more so was the fact that he seemed to be awake.

Smoking a cigarette by the service entrance of the building as the sleepy town of Hawkins rose to greet a new day. Leaning against the wall like he could not be bothered to hold himself upright in his usual spot near the graffiti’d red devil. Just minding his own business, enjoying the last drag from his cigarette when a Prius careened around the corner like a bat out of hell.

He stubbed out his cigarette in an abandoned planter that had long ago been sacrificed for the cause. RIP Audrey II. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the wall waiting to see who emerged from the car. It was well-maintained, from what he could tell, a ding or two on the bumper with a sticker that proclaimed ‘Ask me about my lobotomy!’

It also had an above-average stereo system, based on the volume and reverb of the baseline thumping from the car. Eddie could just make out the driver in the front seat singing to themselves as they flipped the visor down to mess with their hair. He can faintly hear the impassioned exclamation of “There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year!”

The driver bopped in their seat to the rest of the song and donned a pair of wayfarers that would give Harrington a run for his money. The engine was finally cut, and the door opened and you stepped out, still singing the final verse of the song you made your way to the sidewalk in front of the store.

Eddie straightened up a bit at that. Around his age, if he had to guess, give or take. Sporting denim cut-offs, Converse that had been beat to hell, and a flannel tied into some sort of cropped thing which he very much approved of. Now, it wasn’t that this mystery girl hadn’t intrigued him, just a rather unfortunate case of foot-in-mouth-syndrome.

Case in point:

“What the hell were you listening to?”

And yeah, that was on him. His tone could’ve been more genial and less frustration laced with exhaustion. He scrubs a hand down his face, mortified at his implication.

A slow turn accompanied by a withering stare. “Excuse me?”

“Sounded like some indie shit.” He leans against the wall again, “Weird choice of hype song s’all I’m saying.”

“Huh,” You scoff. “Well, I don’t recall asking for your opinion, dickbag.”

“Woah there, sweetheart! Wouldn’t wanna give a guy the wrong idea there.” He shoves his bands in his pockets, “I mean, at least it wasn’t Fall Out Boy or something.”

“Fall Out Boy is pop-punk, first of all.” Followed by a huff, an arched brow and crossed arms. “My apologies for not rolling through with Between the Buried and Me or some other prog-metal bullshit, I didn’t realize I’d be in the presence of the arbiter of taste this morning.”

Oh.

Eddie likes the scathing bite to your retort more than he should. He appreciates a good banter, thinks you can give as good as you can take.

He shrugs, benevolently. “S’not your fault you don’t have good taste. Can’t win ‘em all.”

“Isn’t it time you drop dead from emphysema or something?”

And before he can reply and dig himself in deeper, Hopper unlocks the front doors of the store. Without so much as a goodbye, you turn on your heel and leave.

Great job Munson, another successful human interaction!

Eddie yanks open the service door and stomps into the employee lounge. And makes himself comfortable on the couch, mentally replaying the interaction and highlighting everywhere he’d gone wrong.

On the bright side, at least he’d never have to see you again.

Famous last words.

CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE BESTIE!! Honestly you are a credit to this fandom. For the alphabet may I please have 💕Urie💕 pretty please and thank you! Could it be female reader please? Or if you prefer GN. TYSM!

In the words of the greatest poet of our time: ✨come on fuck me emo boy✨

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s not very big into aftercare, and he’d need to be told to do it since he doesn’t get that his partner might be uncomfortable moving on right after it’s over. Even if he bottomed and obviously got a little hurt, he’s going to try to get clean and dressed. Though since the quinx surgery, he gets a little depressed after leaving right after sex. He obviously doesn’t know that ghouls really need cuddles after that to avoid a drop, so he probably won’t figure out that he needs aftercare until his partner makes him

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he likes his biceps, he’s worked on them quite a lot and will check them out in the mirror if no one is looking. On his partner, it’s abs. He just likes the way a good set of abs looks, that’s understandable

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he’s a bit of a clean freak and doesn’t like dealing with cum. He wears condoms and if his partner is a Penis Owner he won’t do anything until they do as well

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): When he was a horny 16 year old with even worse judgement then he has now, he looked up porn on the computer provided to him by the academy, panicked when he realized the server would remember this, and scrambled to delete any evidence. Just to be safe, he downloaded some software that said it would clear this search history from any attached engine, and he ended up giving the whole school a virus. To this day he’s never told anyone that he was the reason for that massive crash because he doesn’t want to explain why

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): You wouldn’t expect it, but he’s a virgin. He never cared to seek a relationship since he had better things to do, and he doesn’t like the idea of a random hook up because the thought of catching an std or just dealing with a body that isn’t perfectly clean grosses him out

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s topping, butterfly. If he’s bottoming, cowboy. He always wants to be in control, and it takes a great deal of coaxing for his partner to ever be physically on top of him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s very serious. Never joking as he’s too deep in focusing on his sensations and performance

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): since he’s a quinx and not a half ghoul, his heats are extremely mild in comparison, so it’s just fever, muscle fatigue, slight brain fog, and of course the horny. He tries to go about his routine like normal but is ordered to rest because Bro You Have A Fever and in addition to the symptoms, he’s pissed at being stuck in the house and is very repressed. He’s angry at his superiors, he’s uneasy from the interrupted routine, he’s worried since he doesn’t know what this is and he’s frustrated because his dick isn’t going down. He ends up taking a lot of cold showers, and takes care of it

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s not very intimate on the outside. He goes about sex like it’s a competition, trying to show that he’s good at it, that he can make his partner feel good easily, and he can get his pleasure from his work. Though with all the harsh motions, he can find himself with odd emotions cropping up. He always thought of himself as being above getting attached, but when he fucks he does feel affectionate, just struggles to show it

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): he tends to get hard after workouts. Something about blood flow from what he’s read online, and it doesn’t look like there’s antidote or anything so he just has to deal with it. He does it in the shower after his workouts, leaning against the wall

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): hair pulling. Not much to elaborate on, whether he’s doing it to his partner or they’re doing it to him, it adds some spice

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): Shower. He doesn’t like feeling dirty, and sex can be sticky and sweaty, so doing it in the water let’s him alleviate the worry of filth and focus on his partner

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): sparring. Something about fighting someone with his bare hands is exhilarating. It’s primal and raw, and seeing an opponent really using that muscle and speed makes him appreciate their body even more. Makes him want to pin them down and continue fighting for dominance in place of foreplay

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Degradation. He can take aggressive teasing, curses and insults, but if they say anything that suggests he’s inadequate, disappointing, or a failure in some way, it gets to be too much for him. Normally he’d hate to hear it but be able to get past it, but he can’t take that while so exposed and vulnerable

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to receive. He gets a little grossed out by having someone’s genitals in his mouth even if they’re using protection unless they’ve just bathed

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he’s fast. He seems to think he has something to prove, and prioritizes looking like he knows what he’s doing over… actually knowing what he’s doing. He’ll start off immediately rough, and won’t slow down unless he’s firmly told to. If he’s riding he’ll rush into it and keep going even if he clearly isn’t prepped enough, he’s too eager to feel good that he tries not to show that he’s in pain and his partner would probably have to make him stop before he hurts himself badly. The guy’s a bit overexcited when he gets down to it

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): they’re not his thing. There isn’t enough time to be sure he and his partner are clean or shower when it’s done, he might not have condoms on him, there’s a lot of planning that goes into sex that he can’t account for in a short time. Unless he and his partner have thoroughly talked out what would need to be in place for him to be comfortable with it, he won’t do them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he’s down to try new kinks so long as he sets firm boundaries for them, but doing anything at work is a firm No

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): one or two rounds, but he can go hard for a long time. He can keep a brutal pace for way longer than most can

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he has none, but wouldn’t shy away from getting some of his partner wanted to incorporate them into their sex lives. He would be nervous if they wanted to use one on him that’s bigger than what he’s used to taking, but wouldn’t let them see his unease and let them go ahead with it. The only thing he won’t let a partner use on him is vibrators, he doesn’t like the way quick vibrations feel on his hands when operating machinery, let alone anywhere near his dick

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing. He wants to get right into the act

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): he’s very quiet, heavy breaths, shuddering exhales, and a low moan when he comes is all you’ll get from him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he had no idea how sensitive the soft underside of a koukaku is until Ginshi grabbed him by it to pull him out of the way of an attack. Before he knew what he was doing he let out a quavering gasp, then pretended that he doesn’t know what Ginshi was talking about when he asked what the hell that was. When he got home that night, he tried touching it again, and since then he often strokes it when jerking off. He got past the weirdness of it after awhile and it became routine

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 5.5-6 inches, and very girthy

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): not that high. He’s content to fuck once or twice a week, but can go for more if his partner wants

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he’s not tired when it’s over, it wakes him up more than anything

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

Practice makes perfect

Starting off the year with smut is a step in the right direction.

This is for the wonderful Evilishei, who was looking for smut whilst I was feeling smutty (still a weird sentence!), and the lovely GrimTwin, who mentioned on discord that Nami would taste good and it descended into filth from there that hasn’t left my mind since.

So, this is for you two- pure, pure smut! Look away children!

This is the sequel to ‘The stars will guide you’ because I couldn’t resist. You don’t have to read that though, this is PWP at the end of the day.

Summary: Zoro strived to be the greatest swordsman in the world but that ambition to be the best wasn’t just exclusive to swordsmanship, it also happened to leak over into the bedroom. Nami’s one lucky lady.  Rating: M. Explicit. 

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN. 

Enjoy. 

It was a quick walk to the bedroom from the lawn deck, Zoro was making sure of that, something Nami was thankful for because she’d lost her blanket and as warm as Zoro was, he wasn’t that warm. Neither of them suggested stopping for it and she was perfectly okay with that, she had more pressing matters to attend to.  

Nami fidgeted in his hold on the way there and Zoro got the hint after a second, his hands moving to her bottom as her legs wrapped around his waist. Something that was instantly a better position, now she could kiss along his neck and roll her hips into his

When they reached her bedroom door, Nami’s hand fumbled behind her, trying to find the handle without having to detach from his neck but gasped when her back met the door instead as he pressed her against it firmly. His hands gripping her behind, rolling her in time with his hips and her hands tightened around his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his top.

He brought her into a searing kiss after the second roll of their hips. There was no time for gentleness or brushes and Nami didn’t miss that, she had no patience for it right now. Their lips moved urgently, tongues seeking each other out to play, the pace of their hips not slowing as they ground against one another. Heat was settling in her stomach when she felt him hard and ready through his trousers. Her teeth nipped at his lips as she withdrew her tongue to speak.

“Zoro, let’s go inside,” she murmured against his lips, her hand finally finding the doorknob behind her to twist and open the door. The last thing she needed was to be caught by someone else on the crew in such a compromising position. His feet moved then, walking them into the empty women’s room and bringing her back into another kiss.

It didn’t last as long as their previous kiss as he threw her on the bed. She bounced lightly but didn’t complain, her eyes were busy drinking in the sight of Zoro stripping off his top in front of her. No matter how many times she saw him shirtless, it never felt like it was enough, from the long scar decorating his thick torso to the muscles wrapped around his arms. There was a lot to appreciate and based on the shit eating grin on his face right now, he knew it too.

He kicked off his boots and threw his top on the floor behind him, something for them to scramble to find later when Luffy tries breaking in in the morning, and followed after her onto the bed. She scooted back to the pillows at the head of her bed and he stalked after her, to hover above her a moment later.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, purposefully keeping some distance between them.

So cocky.

“Are you?” She challenged back, posing as provocatively as she could, and it worked when she watched his gaze slowly trail down her body.

“Enjoy it more if you took your top off.”

She laughed and raised her hands above her head, teasingly wiggling her fingers as she waited. “Get on with it then.”

He didn’t gripe at her command, complying wordlessly as his hands found the edge of her pyjama top, dragging the fabric over her body, over her head, for it to join his top somewhere on the floor. His hands were back on her body quickly afterwards, smoothing up her waist to cup her breasts and squeeze.

“No bra? Good choice,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss into the skin behind her ear.

Her hands found his shoulders, running along the exposed skin but when his thumbs simultaneously brush her nipples, she’s clutching at his shoulders and pressing her head back into the pillow as she gasped. He carried on down that path, kissing down her neck, alternating between flicking her nipples and circling them with his thumbs. It has her hips reaching up for friction that isn’t there and her hands left his shoulders to grasp the waistband of his trousers.

Her movement was halted though as one of Zoro’s hands clasped around her wrists and lifted them above her head. “Not yet,” was all he supplied, and he let go of her hands after a moment.

Purely out of curiosity she kept them above her head, and he leaned back on his heels, hands now on the waistband of her pyjama bottoms instead. She lifted her hips, and his hands were stripping the bottoms off of her body. He doesn’t hover back over her like she’d expected after he removed them, instead he’s scanning over her body, taking in the view before him and as embarrassing as it is to be on display like this, she’s too turned on to feel it. If anything it’s emboldening when all she saw was pure want over his face.

But the novelty wore off quickly. She wanted to be touched, damn it. His eyes were lingering on the red lace of her underwear and she used that to her advantage, slowly opening her legs, a clear invitation for him to get moving. It has the desired effect. His body blanketed hers immediately and she’s brought back into a kiss that made her toes curl.

She moaned into his mouth when his fingers skimmed over her underwear but groaned when they didn’t stay put and instead rubbed the skin of her thighs. The kiss was broken then as he started a scorching trail down her body, switching between brushes to nips with his teeth to using his tongue. It was driving her crazy. He used his knowledge of her body to his advantage, lingering in sensitive spots, like the crease of her neck or the skin just beneath her breast. It made her body hum as it waited in anticipation for what he’d do next.

Zoro had never been bad in bed. He’d always been good, even in the early days where they had still been figuring it all out and experimenting were more than made up by his want to bring her to an orgasm, to be the best. No matter how long it took. But practice made perfect, and he’d practiced a lot, and it had certainly paid off. He knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss and what to say to bring her pleasure.

Something that was being proven right now.

The closer he drew south, the sharper the gasps tumbling from her mouth became. It was all too much, his hands were on her thighs, holding them apart as his mouth teased along the skin just before her underwear and she was desperate for some friction against the ache between her legs. Her hands were already clutching at the sheets beside her, gasps sharp and quick in the quiet room but nothing could have prepared her for when his mouth finally reached just where she wanted him.

Well. Kind of.

He dragged his tongue languidly along the lace covering her lips and he’s barely done anything, but it had her hips shooting upward. He chuckled, not moving away and she felt that. Despite her eagerness, he didn’t pick up the pace, continuing to slowly drag his tongue along the lace and she was having a hard time knowing whether it was her wetness or his saliva that actually made her underwear wet. He may not have sped up, but he did increase the pressure of his tongue and she’s moaning at the rough drag of her lace underwear against her clit. All of it was too much but not enough at the same time and it only made it all the better.

Her reaction must have been enough because then he’s sucking through the underwear and she’s going to lose her mind if he doesn’t pick up the pace or get rid of the stupid underwear or put some damn fingers in her. His tongue dragged over her clit again and it was torturously good.

“Zoro, just take them off already!” She panted impatiently; his hand clamped over her leg again because he knew what she’s about to do. She was going to push back on his shoulder to get him to pay attention.

“I can work just fine like this,” he smirked up at her and as infuriating as his words were, it still turned her on even more.

She’s going to complain some more, despite being at his mercy but he stuck to his word. Instead of removing her underwear, his thumb is moving her underwear to the side out of the way and then he’s diving back in. Words left her then, whatever he had been doing was nothing compared to this. His tongue was so hot and so wet and so good.

If she thought his kiss was enough to curl her toes, it’s nothing compared to what he’s doing with his mouth now.

He started with a long lick along her opening, teasing along her folds with his tongue, which is great, but she’s so far passed this, she needed more. And before she can complain, she’s given exactly what she wanted. His tongue flicked against her nub and it made her jump as the suddenness, pleasure shooting down her body. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands now, the sheets aren’t cutting it anymore but then she found a better position in Zoro’s hair. They run through the cropped green and he’s humming against her when she clutched at it. The vibration against her clit felt fantastic and her choked moan has him switching to circling the little nub, pressure and pace increasing.

The outside world is lost on her right now. Right now, it’s just her and Zoro and his sinfully good tongue bringing nothing but pleasure. Her back arched off of the bed, trying to do something and she can hear the desperate noises coming out of her mouth, but she just doesn’t care. It does nothing but encourage Zoro to work harder, his hands caressed up her body only to bring her closer so he can press his mouth closer to her.  

“You’re going to wake up the ship.” Except his voice didn’t sound scolding, it sounded pleased, cocky, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he most definitely did.

“I don’t care,” she said breathlessly. And it was true, she could feel embarrassed later, but right now her mind couldn’t comprehend anything else other Zoro and his tongue.

The warmth was building in her stomach, the race close to reaching the finale and Zoro was relentless, dragging everything out of her as he pushed all the buttons, not holding back. He certainly proved that when he slowly pushed his fingers into her, building them up to the same pace as his tongue and using his experience to quickly find that little patch that had her body humming.

Someone sobbed and she realised after a second it was her. All of it was too much, her head was trying to press through the pillow beneath her whilst her hips rolled, pushing back, as she chased after the shooting pleasure until she’s tumbling over the edge.

But that doesn’t slow him down, his mouth’s seeing her through her orgasm, drawing it out for as long as possible, until she’s a satisfied puddle beneath him, moaning and gasping through it all.

She doesn’t realise her eyes were closed until she finally opened them again, the blinding lights behind her eyes had receded and she’s met with the sight of Zoro looking down at her softly, drinking in the expression on her face. His tongue swiped out to lick at the wet around his mouth and once he’s done with this, he’s bringing his fingers up to his mouth to slowly lick them clean. Never breaking eye contact as he does. It’s something that shouldn’t turn her on when she’s just had the most mind-blowing orgasm, yet here she was watching him like a hawk, and something settled in her stomach.

“You taste really good,” he told her, blunt and honest.

Words failed her, her brain was still reeling and nothing smart came to mind, so instead she nodded back dumbly. The soft kisses he’s planting along her body as he made his way back up certainly didn’t help her brain regain its normal functioning. She received the proof of his words when he finally reached her lips and she tasted herself in their kiss.

He certainly wasn’t lying, it was sweet.

The kiss is slow, a stark difference from their previous kisses. A soft brush of lips, a caress with his tongue against hers and the comfortable weight of him over her. Their hands wandered with no real purpose and it drew out the high that she’s slowly coming down from.

Sated she may be, but this was far from over. She’s been with him long enough to know this is only round one and she was starting to get an idea of what round two was going to look like based on the hardness against her thigh. The thought of what she’s about to do has her blood pressure picking up and the lax feeling in her body is slowly fading away. Zoro knew this when she increased the urgency of their kiss, her tongue now moving with purpose.

He's pliant when she pushed a hand against his shoulder, letting her take the lead, as he laid on his back and she straddled him.

“Time to lose the trousers now, hm?” She asked, but based on the glint in her eyes, they both know it’s not a question.

Not like he’d refuse her anyway, he’s completely stiff when she teasingly brushed her hand against his length after ‘accidently’ missing the waistband. He growled and she sniggered up at him, relishing the change in positions.

He was at her mercy now.

She made sure he knew it too, languidly licking along the raised skin of his scar, fingers skimming over the hard muscles of his stomach and ignoring his impatient huffing as she made her way down. He looked like he was ready to take back control when she finally made it to the waistband of his boxers but that was quickly put to rest when she stroked him through the fabric, all teasing touches gone.

The moan he let out encouraged her, especially when he threw his head back on the pillow after waiting for so long, no longer looking at her. Her mouth took over from her hand shortly after. She traced his length with her tongue, lingering over the wet patch that was already there. His hands were then at the waistband of his boxers, completely done with her teasing but she pushed his hands away.

“Nami,” he said warningly.

“Zoro,” she retaliated mockingly, and blew a puff of air over his still clothed length, “don’t worry, I can work like this.”

He groaned in annoyance and threw his head back, but she spared him. She only teased him for a few seconds longer before she’s pulling his underwear down and out of the way. Very kind, if she said so herself.

But that didn’t mean she was done. She kissed up his length, her tongue tracing a vein on the way down and they’re all feather light touches that has Zoro running his hands through his cropped hair, huffing. She’s on limited time if she kept this up. In the past she’s lost out on giving him a blow job, but then she was rewarded with rough sex after he lost his patience. So really, neither of them lost. But she was adamant this time around, he’d been so attentive with her.

With that final thought, she takes him into her mouth, swishing her tongue on the way down and he clearly didn’t expect her to be done with her teasing so quickly based on the much louder, unrestrained grunt he’d just let out. Gone were the days of awkward fumbling and gagging from when she took him too quickly and too deeply, now it’s replaced with smooth movements and confidence.

Because as much as Zoro had practised, so had Nami and she liked to think he was just as pleased as she was with her performance. He certainly sounded like he was, based on the noises coming from his throat.

His hands ran through her hair encouragingly and she doesn’t mind it, she can relate to needing to touch the person who’s making you feel so good and as his breathing picked up, so did the swirl of her tongue and the bob of her head. She peeked up at him on her way back up his length and they locked eyes. He looked utterly ruined and she had to bite down the grin of accomplishment because she’s a woman on a mission. Holding eye contact, she licked the tip of his length, swiping off the precum leaking from him before planting a swift kiss there. Above her, Zoro gave a guttural moan at the sight.

From his moan alone, Nami knew he was close, and it spurred her on to take him back into her mouth, slowly picking up the pace as she bobbed her head. She could tell he was trying to contain himself, but his hips thrusted up a few times before he could catch himself, trying to match her pace but it didn’t throw her off.

On the last bob of her head, she knew he was about to come but then his hands were trying to pull her away, “Nami,” he warned, but she brushed it off and ignored him.

“Nami, I’m going to-” he was cut off as one of her hands circled the base of his length, pumping in rhythm with her mouth and it freed her up move faster. He let out a pant instead of finishing his sentence.

She could keep up the pace, she had to, despite her aching jaw because she wanted to see him come apart. See the stoic, no nonsense (most of the time!) swordsman come apart because of her. She powered through it and was rewarded when she felt him twitch and pulse in her mouth and then he was coming. It was warm and she grimaced slightly at the taste, he needed to eat a bit more fruit and a bit less meat, but it didn’t stop her from swallowing it down.

She continued for a second longer, seeing him through his release like he had for her. Then she was pulling away to sit up and look at the sight of Zoro beneath her, chest heaving to catch his breath and expression sated as he looked at her through a lidded eye. She didn’t think she’d ever get bored of that look. To see him come undone, all for her.

He caught her around the arms to pull her into an embrace and they shared a sweet kiss. But he pulled back after a second, frowning.

Nami laughed lightly, “See, couldn’t kill you to eat some fruit.”

He grinned back at her, “Maybe I can convince our greedy navigator to share her mikans.”

“I’m sure she’d agree based on the circumstances, it is mutually beneficial after all,” she teased.

She kissed him again then and he didn’t pull away this time. Her previous words were mostly in jest, as much as it wasn’t the most amazing taste it the world, she wouldn’t give it up over something so insignificant. With one last brush of their lips, they pulled apart.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you wanted-?” He trailed off, looking at her questionably.

Nami smiled, her hands stroking along his chest. “It’s only-” she peered behind her at the clock- “3am. You have somewhere else to be?”

The confusion on his face dropped and, in its place, a dangerous smirk formed. One that told her she was in for a long night as his expression darkened and he rolled them, so he was back on top, smothering her body with his.

They may not need much practice anymore, but they should reap the reward of their dedication.

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

Hope this is what both of you had in mind.

As always, forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.

What Is And What Should Never Be Pt. 2

Summary: After the reader reveals the reason for her odd behavior, a lot of changes take place. How will she and Bucky adjust to the newest development in their always complicated life together?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see shards of the future at random, understand every language, and process information abnormally quickly as well as being a super soldier)

Warnings: light angst, fluff, light smut, mentions of vomiting, pregnancy

*************************************************

“I’m happy about this.” The words are murmured against her shoulder. It’s a little ridiculous; they’re two full-grown adults who’ve been together for years, not teenagers in the first blush of romance. And yet, he’s still kneeling next to her and she’s working her fingers through his hair like this is a proposal.

“Me too.” She finally finds her voice, but it’s shaky, teary. “I’m also scared, Buck.” She can see shards of the future, for pete’s sake! That should give her a head’s up about life’s events, and yet somehow, she never imagined them here. She’s been running since the first time she realized those “daydreams” of hers come true. And when she met him, well, kids seemed like the last thing their lives would have room for. At this point, maybe she should just expect the unexpected.

“Me too.” At least she’s not the only who’s unsure of how to proceed.

Eventually she has to end the moment and return to the real world. The real world where kitchens don’t clean themselves. Placing one last peck on his forehead, she nudges him out of the way with her knee. It’s comical, the mild pout that settles on his lips as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Huh?”

“The dishes. We should probably clear them away, or else they’ll be a bitch to wash tomorrow morning.”

“Language, Doll.” Did he really just..? His right hand which, somehow, is still resting on her waistline gives her middle a gentle pat. “Can’t have the baby coming out swearing like a sailor.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Bucky, the baby doesn’t even have ears yet.” At least, she doesn’t think so. She really needs to do some research.

“No?” The smirk on his face clues her in that a (probably terrible) joke is about to be made. “Then why don’t you go on up to bed? You need your rest so you can get a head start on making them. I’ll handle the dishes and join you in a little while.” She’s right; it’s terrible. But she’s not going to protest if he wants to clean up.

“Alright.” While he’s doing that, she’s going to google which week of pregnancy babies develop ears. And maybe change into something more comfortable.

In the confines of their bedroom, she considers the delicate nightgowns and lacy underthings she has tucked away from special occasions (or really any time one of them needs cheering up), but ultimately doesn’t like the look of any of them. Not tonight. Not after the distance that’s been between them for the past week, where she was so at war with herself that every time he touched her, it sent a stab of panic and guilt through her heart. No, this is a return to normal, reassuring themselves that they’re still okay, it’s just another bend in the road. After all, she thinks to herself as she climbs into bed and arranges the sheets to rest over her body beguilingly (a small part of her doesn’t want to just lie there naked in case he’s somehow disgusted by her now, although she knows it’s a foolish thought), she won’t look like this for much longer, so she may as well make the most of it.

Any concern is erased when he walks through the bedroom door and immediately freezes, carefully eyeing his way down her partially hidden body from head to toe like so many times before.

“I really did mean just rest, you know.” All the while, he’s tugging his shirt over his head.

“I know.” She nods, a slight smile on her face. “But it’s only a little after seven. There’s still plenty of time to rest later.”

He settles on the mattress next to her, leaning so close that she can feel his shallow breaths on her cheek.

“Are you sure?” It’s sweet, and she does appreciate the consideration, but it’s been long enough, and she’s almost certain he needs this as much as she does.

“Of course I’m sure.”

It’s gentler than usual, more whispered, “I love you’s”, soft gasps and deeper moans. Almost as if they’re rediscovering each other, both trying their damnedest to push every last hot spot that they’ve discovered over the years. This isn’t just sex (not that there’s anything “just” about anytime they’re together), but a way of reminding each other, “You’re safe. I know you, and you know me. You’re cherished. I’m not going anywhere.”

Afterwards, in the quiet of the afterglow, their bodies still pressed together with his chest to her back, he asks,

“When did you start to think-”

She doesn’t wait for him to finish. It’s obvious what he’s referring to.

“The food poisoning.” Which in hindsight, she feels pretty stupid for even considering. “I really did believe I’d eaten something bad-” It’s subtle, so subtle you might miss it, but she catches the quiet sigh of relief he lets out knowing that their promises hold true, they’re still completely honest with each other. “-until I remembered that I haven’t so much as had the sniffles since Nat put the needle in my arm.” It’s been years, but she still sometimes forgets that she doesn’t have to worry about things like the flu or her shopping bag being too heavy anymore.

“And, when it wasn’t better the next day…” She trails off, absentmindedly playing with his hand where he’s still got his arm thrown over her waist.

“I thought that was kinda weird too.” He chuckles quietly. “Now I really wish I’d made you stay home that day so we could’ve figured it out together.”

She doubts that either of them would have immediately jumped to the conclusion that she’s pregnant (they take precautions, even if those precautions aren’t fool-proof), but decides to go with the lighter option and concentrate on-

“Make me?” She cranes her neck to see his face. “And how were you planning to do that? Tie me to the bedposts?” His lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Now there’s an idea.”

“Watch it, Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s a light sleeper, so he wonders how he missed it before. But now that he knows it’s coming, he’s immediately awake when she slips out of bed and bolts toward the bathroom. It appears that super serum is powerless against morning sickness.

It’s a few minutes before she’s in any position to speak, much less sit up from her crouch over the toilet bowl, and in that time, he’s swept her hair up out of the way and started rubbing gently between her shoulder blades. When the sickness finally does ease up that she can lean back against him, he asks,

“Is this why you’ve been getting up before me?” He may not have heard her, but when his alarm went off, there was no way he could miss her side of the bed being empty and cold.

She groans quietly. “What do you think?”

He thinks she looks exhausted and so very small, curled in on herself on the cold bathroom tiles. With all the things he’s done in his life, guilt’s a familiar face, but it’s never been as heavy as it is now, seeing her suffer. It’s just part of the process, he knows that. It may not have been the topic of polite conversation back in his youth, but it still cropped up when mothers and grandmothers came together and talked. She’ll feel better eventually, but for now…

“I think I’m gonna read the room and shut up.”

She laughs tiredly. “Good answer.”

Several more minutes tick by before she tells him that she thinks it’s over for now. He really wishes she’d let him carry her back to bed, but when he suggests it, she rolls her eyes and teasingly calls him a mother hen. Still, once she’s safely tucked back under the covers, he goes downstairs in search of crackers and a glass of water. His phone is still on the nightstand charging, so he can’t do a quick search of what else is good for nausea, but decides to throw in some dry toast as well.

By the time he’s back upstairs with his tray of home remedies, she’s asleep again. A huge part of him wants to just let her rest, but he knows he should probably get her to choke something down.

“Come on, Doll. Wake up for me.” She’s not as light of a sleeper as him, but the words in combination with him brushing back her hair make those delicate eyelids flutter.

“Wha-”

“Let’s get some food in you, and then I’ll let you go back to sleep. Promise.”

She doesn’t look too happy about it. In fact, her breathing is growing heavy again. She’s going back under.

“Sweetheart, please. You need to at least have some water. If you’re dehydrated, it’s not good for you or the baby.” That seems to be the magic word. With a groan, she sits up, still rubbing lightly at her eyes.

“I forgot…” She mumbles as she accepts the glass of water and slowly begins to drink. She forgot…? Oh. Well, she’s only known for a little while, and frankly, he’s still trying to wrap his head around it.

His wife is pregnant. That’s not a phrase he ever thought would apply to him (correction, he mentally amends; he used to hope for that one day, but after mad scientists experiment on you, well, an apple pie life seems unlikely). In a few months, there’s going to be another person living with them. One made out of them both, who’ll rely on them for safety, security, and love. She’s up to it, he’s absolutely sure. But him? He’s got a lot of baggage. He’s killed people. He’s missing a fucking arm, for goodness’ sake! How could he ever-

“You’ll be a good dad. You know that, right?”

She’s slurring a little, still half-asleep, and he’s a tiny bit concerned she’s going to go under and choke on that cracker she’s nibbling at. Still, she’s looking him square in the eyes, a small smile on her face. Maybe she saw a glance of the future which showed her what he’s thinking. Maybe she just knows him that well. Either way, he’s not sure of it, but-

“I know you’ll show me how.” She’s almost back under, so he brushes a few stray crumbs from her lips with is thumb and tucks the covers back around her shoulders. “And so will she.”

“She?” Her eyes are closed even as she asks. “You think it’s a girl?”

He’s not sure why he thinks that, or more, why he feels it, but he does.

“Yeah, Doll.” With a quick kiss to her forehead, he collects the now empty glass and starts towards the door. “I think it’s a girl.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Doll, aren’t you supposed to see a doctor at some point?” So close. She was so close to falling asleep (which seems to be all she wants to do lately) after marking the last paper in preparation for Monday morning. Still, it’s a valid question, and one she’s thought about herself.

“At some point, but you’re not supposed to go in until the eight week mark.” At least, if google is indeed correct. He nods and goes back to half-heartedly staring at the tv show in front of them.

“When is that, by the way?” She opens her mouth to tell him it’s not for a while, but then she realizes that… oh boy.

“Um…” When was the last time she had her period? It’s not like she keeps up with it. They weren’t trying to have a baby, and they were reasonably safe (in hindsight, maybe not as safe as they thought), so it didn’t seem necessary. He’s staring at her intently, expression growing more and more concerned with every second she doesn’t answer, so finally, she has to admit-

“I don’t really know. Do you have any idea?” She’s expecting the answer even before he says it.

“Not really.” 0 for 2. That sounds about right.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, she thinks about scolding him for his language since he did it to her earlier, but that thought gives way to the more pressing matter: how pregnant is she? Not that there’s varying degrees. Knocked up is knocked up, and it’s pretty damn clear she is.

He’s the first to recover. “Okay. Let’s count.” Counting. Something she can do.

“Not in the last twenty-eight days, or else the test wouldn’t have worked…”

They spend a solid ten minutes trying to figure it out, but neither of them can narrow it down any further.

“We’re idiots!” She’s nearly shouting out of frustration with herself and whoever up there has it out for them. Seriously, just this once, couldn’t things be easy? “We’re actual idiots!”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” The pressure of his hand around hers calms her just a tiny bit.

“Okay.” She nods. “Not idiots, but we do have crappy memories.”

He offers her a crooked smile. “Hey, I’m over a hundred years old. My memory’s supposed to be shot. What’s your excuse, Pretty Young Thing?”

“Baby Brain.” Is that even a thing this early on? Then again, is she early on? She has to be, right? Otherwise the morning sickness would be over. And she’s not showing.

He chuckles. “You’re gonna be using that one a lot, aren’t you?”

The layers of stress are beginning to melt away. She nods.

“You have to admit, as far as excuses go, it’s a pretty solid one.”

Ultimately, she decides it’s best to make the call Monday morning, but schedule it for at least another week out just to be sure. They don’t want to go in and be lectured for jumping the gun, after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Can you just confirm your name and date of birth for me?” That has to be the sixth time she’s been asked that since they walked into the OB-GYN’s office. He really would have thought they’d have it down by now. Still, she recites off the information from her place on the exam table.

“Great.” The technician smiles brightly. “Now, if you can lift up your shirt and roll down your pants, we’ll start the ultrasound. This is just to give us a better estimate on your due date and make sure everything’s looking good with baby, alright?” She must say something in response, but Bucky can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. This is it. They’re about to actually see their baby for the first time and hear the heartbeat. He’s not much for prayer, but he silently pleads with whoever might be listening that she’s fine, she’s healthy.

The screen is gray and grainy for the most part. So far, it doesn’t look like much. “Fluid looks good. Placenta’s where it should be, and-”

Does the tech have to push down that hard? Can’t he be a little more gentle? Surely it’s not necessary to use that much force when you’re trying to get a read on-

“-there’s your baby.” His mind immediately empties, instead focusing on the blurry image on the screen.

It’s a blob, and if he’s being honest, kind of looks like a tadpole that’s just grown arms and legs. The head is huge, and at the center is a flickering light.

“That’s the heartbeat. Would you like to hear it?” Again, she must say something, because an impossibly fast rhythm fills the room. There’s actually a little person in there. How can something so delicate with a heartbeat like the beat of hummingbird wings, already have such a huge place in his heart? How is it possible that he suddenly can't imagine life without that brightly flashing blob currently growing in his wife's womb?

He’s in a bit of a daze throughout the following appointment and exam. The doctor informs them that they're at 9 weeks and 5 days and gives them a predicted due date. After a far too invasive physical exam (at least to his mind, but she doesn't seem to think a thing about it(, they're given an appointment a month out, a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and sent on their way.

Once they’re in the car, a stack of brochures clutched in his hand and an envelope full of pictures in hers, he finally musters up the courage to speak.

"Looks like we really did it this time, Doll. She’s actually in there."

"Hey, at least it's not twins." She smiles as she speaks, but it’s a little uncertain. “Are you sure you're okay with this, Bucky?”

He thinks about telling her how completely in awe he is that he had anything to do with making something so tiny and perfect, how he's overwhelmingly in love with someone he's never met, not to mention how he's that much more in love with her, and he didn't think that was possible, but for now, he goes with-

“Yeah. I’m okay with it.”

Closing the gap between them, he presses their lips together in a kiss. This is just another bend in a long, winding road, but he has a feeling it’s the best one yet.

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

Monster AU Idea that I don’t know what to do with

Literally what the title says. Idk what to do with this, but its in my head and so i need to write it down and share it before my brain explodes. Talk about it or ask about it; whatever you want. As long as I know about it as it is still my idea, go nuts.

@ladyedwina @sparrowofsong

Warning: Does involve murder, being captured, lots of depressed Roman because I’m mean to him for no reason and it makes me sad, gory removal of fingers (not detailed but it is there), suicide mention, me swearing a lot, stabbing(not detailed), hints of Roceit; Intrulogical and qpr Pattmile

Spider Monster Who-Realises-That-His-Race-Sucks Virgil 

Born like this. Was raised to be alone but he likes being around others to feel safe, so it makes him a little awkward and even anxious around others.

Hates the rest of his kind because he’s the only one who doesn’t want to eat people. So now they all wanna kill him. 

He can retract his extra legs but it leaves small bumps in his back, so he likes to wear his over-sized hoodie to help hide them.

Janus saved him from one of his own kind. Travelled with him and Logan before getting separated by Monster Hunters and running into a lonely wolf-Patton.

Is now Patton’s spider child, despite the fact that said father figure is afraid of spiders. And that Virgil is technically older then him. He does try to look past the ‘too-many-eyes’ and ‘long, hairy legs’ thing; which Virgil appreciates.

The only one of the group that knows how mobiles work and he finds it funny as fuck.

Werewolf Underdog (ha) Patton 

Runt of the litter.

Can shift between a humany appearance, an actual grey-brown wolf and a bipedal werewolf. He isn’t the third one often and actually enjoys being a more typical wolf as he can be passed off as a wolf-dog hybrid and has gotten free bones and pets.

Ran away from his pack as they didn’t want him to die but also didn’t want him to get stronger, then raised a bunch of homeless orphans at a young age and also defended them from a trafficking ring by ripping out a bunch of people’s throats. 

Yeah... he brought them to an orphanage afterwards as it’s safer then the streets. Then he ran away again; at this point he’s only 15-16.

Lives alone and homeless for a few more years before running into Virgil and immediately adopting him. 

Patton helped Virgil find Janus and Logan so now he has more children (who are all older then him but he ignores that).

No one will go hungry EVER with Patton is around. He is the caretaker of this pack and he will not let his pups feel hungry ever- 

He’s not over how shitty his pack was to him and it’s very obvious.

When he meets Emile though, it lifts a lot of weight off his shoulders as he learns not to be so all-bearing of others issues. And he also feels safer talking to him about his old pack as he doesn’t want to be pitied by anyone.

Tired-As-Fuck Vampire Logan 

Who’s like 600 years old and knows that a lot of History that the modern day tells everyone is wrong and HATES that he’d be found out if he started yelling at people how wrong they are.

Parents wanted him to drop science and be a farmer. They, and his younger siblings, all died when their crops were poisoned two weeks after he moved out to do his science elsewhere.

Oh and he was bit by the person who 1. Was his partner in science and 2. He was head over heels for them because they let him take risks but still made sure he was safe as he did them.

So that pissed him off quite a bit. Because he almost instantly killed the couple who took in the sickly scientist because the wife cut her finger. He managed to kill the cow instead but he ran away afterwards and never saw them again.

Ran into Janus 300 years later -after travelling a LOT and learning a LOT and nearly dying a LOT and feeling so much that he doesn’t wanna feel anymore because that’s 300yrs of friends dying- and decided to travel with the one type of guy who won’t die of old age!!!

Then Virgil appeared. Then Patton. Then the Twins. Then Remy. Then Emile. He wishes that his dead heart would stop making him want to protect them all to his last breath but what can ya do?

He will murder anyone to save the others- but much prefers to just stay inside and just experiment on the occasional new thing that he finds.

Protector. Leader. Professor. Tired. Doctor. Cantor (yes he was Jewish for a little while after the bite but now he’s Atheist). University Chancellor. Lots of titles and he got them all legit too, although some are a little out of date.

Do not ask how he feels about the others. Especially Remus. He will glare at you without a word before moving on with his life.

Naga Will-Steal-You’re-Last-$5 Janus

Age? Social construct. He hints at being around Logan’s age but that could be give or take a hundred years or so.

He can shift between having a tail and legs- but ofc much prefers the tail. But he hates that his teeth change with it as it makes him hold his ‘s’ more when he talks.

When no tail, the left side of his face is very scarred. Someone tried burning off the scales on his face but the scars only appear when he’s trying to look human. When he has his tail, his scales replace them and they look fine.

Do not touch his hands or he will strangle you with them. They’re sensitive as hell without his gloves and he doesn’t know why.

He can hypnotise you to take a fucking break and he’s not afraid to do it (except on Logan as he’s somehow almost entirely immune)

Doesn’t like hypnotising his friends unless its just to take a break or to pull them out of an anxiety/panic attack. Every other living thing isn’t off limits though.

Lived alone until he met Logan. He also liked killing everyone he met until he met Logan. The only reason he didn’t kill Logan was because the nerd almost chopped off the end of his tail. The others don’t know this and it’s staying that way.

Has a cane to walk with for days that his legs decide that they wanna be a tail but he’s in public for some reason and he can’t and it sucks.

Almost killed Remy when they first met. Literally- he stabbed him in the side. Now they’re best buds over it and it was weird how quickly it happened too.

Has stolen Roman’s last $5. He will not be returning it. He hasn’t spent it because he finds him cute funny when he’s mad.

Siren But-Flips-Off-The-Sea-And-Heights Roman

Was born a Prince! With his weirdo of a twin. They were well liked and he was next in line for the throne and he was gonna be given a wife-

He wasn’t happy that it HAD to be a wife and when he argued that he wanted a guy; everyone turned on him and threw him into the ocean. So... fuck them.

Sirens saved him by turning him into one. He hates it.

Was forced to eat kelp or people. He chose kelp. He hated it.

Was dragged out of the sea by his brother who had been thrown into the evil swamp nearby and is now a banshee. Not as bad but he’s still rather pissed.

Although he was a little sad when he heard, 100yrs later, that his entire kingdom died of the plague. He moved on quickly though.

He hates the sea and doesn’t go near it. If it all dried up one day, it’d be the happiest day of his life. He doesn’t even eat seafood anymore as it makes him upset just looking at it.

He still likes to sing. He can control if it’s going to mind-control those who hear it or not; but it’s a little annoying as he can’t get too into it without accidentally losing control. Doesn’t stop him though. 

He learnt how to play multiple instruments, made anonymously published books, the money-earner of the two. Although he was jealous that Remus was better at more hands-on stuff and is slowly, but happily, learning how to craft things from wood.

He and Remus never separated. Even when Monster Hunters sprayed him with water, forced his tail to appear, and took him to a facility to be imprisoned forever. That’s another thing he was mad about since Remus refused to just fucking RUN but he was happy to see his brother be proud of him when he dug VERY sharp teeth into a mans arm.

Had to be carried out by Janus when he, Logan, Patton and Virgil decided to free everyone inside. Every other creature could run except him, which led to him and Remus staying with them.

He definitely, 100%, no-doubt-about-it got a massive gay crush on Janus when he taught him how to fight. And sword fight. And dance. And how to look after his rather pretty scales.

In the 200-300yrs since he’s had a tail, he hasn’t ONCE really looked after them. So when Janus helped him out and made his scales less gross and more gorgeous, he actually started liking his tail a bit.

The Ocean can still go fuck itself though.

Oh and the one time they visited the Seattle Space Needle? Yeah, fuck heights too.

Banshee Will-Eat-Your-Fingers-If-Given-The-Chance Remus

After Roman got thrown into the ocean, he went on a rampage. He didn’t kill anyone, but he sure as hell got close to murdering their shitty father.

They tied him up and tossed him into the nearby swamp, where he nearly died. He inhaled days worth of magical fog that eventually turned him into a banshee. Which is just the ability to scream so loud that he makes people pass out, which is useful. Oh and sharp teeth that he looks after really well.

He managed to escape the forest, he screamed at a passing merchant and took his horse, and went to the ocean where he found Roman depressingly eating kelp on a rock off in the distance.

He literally got on a boat, dragged the surprised but happy fish into it with him, and made sure that they would never be separated again.

Didn’t care about what happened to their old kingdom. 

He learnt how to make weapons, how to blacksmith, how to glassmith, how to make clothes- Literally anything he could since Roman kind of sucked at making anything that wasn’t music or a story of some kind. Fine by him since he knew the quality of the weapon he was stabbing people with.

When the hunters forcefully made Roman’s tail appear, he tried to scream to make them all pass out but they were ready and punched him out. He would have found it a little funny if he didn’t wake in a jail cell with a thing over his mouth.

The two worst things about it: He couldn’t see Roman and know if he was okay and he couldn’t cuss out the guards.

When that nerdy but very murderous vampire broke in and helped him out of the prison, he returned the favour by biting off the fingers of a guard that had broken Logan’s glasses. He later on fixed said glasses as well but he thought the fingers removal was a better thank you.

Loves Logan; only Roman, Janus and Emile have figured it out. Virgil thinks he’s plotting to kill the vampire one day, Remy doesn’t pay attention and Patton thinks that Logan is a good influence on him (he’s not wrong as he slowly stops describing brutal murders and talks about gross facts that Logan does and doesn’t know)

Remy No-It-Isn’t-Short-For-Remington-Yes-I-Am-A-Dragon-Roman

Born as a shapeshifting dragon. Was supposed to live like a recluse like the rest of his kind but said ‘fuck that’ and now works at a clothing store in a town full of morons for entertainment.

His kind does get tired rather easily so he lives off coffee. He is addicted and luckily for him; his body won’t get used to it so he doesn’t have to heighten the dose of caffeine in every drink. Yay!

Two things happened when he first met Janus and Roman. The first is that he got stabbed by the Naga because he may or may not have seen him wearing some shiny rings that he REALLY wanted. He wanted it more then Janus, so he found it okay to do- but got stabbed for it.

Two; he then bit Roman (who kinda deserved it when he tried to ‘slay the dragon’ when Janus had saw his unnaturally-bright brown eyes) and was dragged to see everyone to figure out what to do with him.

He managed to talk his way out of being murdered by Remus by sheer amazing personality (he’s x5 sassy when afraid and Remus thought he was hilarious) and just decided to hang around everyone just because he could.

Being stabbed turned into a joke between him and Janus and now they’re besties who totally don’t steal from random assholes that they run into down the street. It’s a now competition to have the shiniest collection (Janus is winning but gives Remy the occasional shiny thing as he knows that dragons get very mad about hoard sizes sometimes)

When they all moved towns, he dragged them to one where his old friend Emile was. He also introduced Virgil to Starbucks and their coffee and is still getting berated for it to this day.

Oh and when he does manage to let himself be a dragon, he’s about as large as a horse and has really pretty black scales with a light brown underbelly. His eyes turn bright green too. Virgil calls him Starbucks’s best mascot.

Emile Is-A-Disney-Fairy-Stereotype

Can grow and shrink on command; can also make his wings appear and disappear although it does hurt not to have them out almost daily.

Pink wings and pink hair. Very popular fairy attributes (for both fairies and Monster Hunters)

Can see aura’s of humans and monsters. They look very different depending on species but he LOVES seeing human ones the most as they are often filled with more colours.

Is a therapist, is a cartoon nerd, is able to make you a dress that disappears at midnight

... Can also see your dreams but doesn’t like doing it as its intrusive and it feels like he’s breaking some kind of human Confidentiality agreement 

Being a therapist has changed a lot of his views on personal space (like the whole dream thing he has). He’s very in-your-face when excited, but as a kid he would CLING to people at every chance he had. Even strangers. It wasn’t a good habit.

Became a therapist, an independent one too, because a human friend of his died of suicide and he blamed his therapist who was telling him a lot of bad advice. And said therapist wasn’t supportive of his friends gender-identity crisis as he was very strict on ‘born a boy is a boy’ kind of thinking.

Now Emile takes in teenagers for free and adults at a lower price then a normal therapist. He doesn’t have a great living space (upstairs from his office don’t tell anyone) but he doesn’t care! 

Met Remy as he was one of his patients once. He can tell when someone isn’t human due to their aura’s and nearly fell out of his chair when a FUCKING DRAGON walked in.

After Remy finished his sessions, he still visited occasionally and always remembered his favourite drink (chocolate smoothie with whipped cream and caramel shavings and a chocolate stick or five sticking out- and Remy thought his coffee addiction was bad)

And after not seeing Remy after six months, only to find that he has made friends with a lot of other creatures made him so happy.

Then confused when they all dragged in this fairy therapist into their group. Where Logan asked for the occasional emotional advice (not at ALL related to Remus-), Janus made sure he got a better living space, Remus and Virgil gave him someone to talk to about darker cartoon ideas, Roman (after the 18 times he asked for a magical dress) started making cartoon-stuffs for him, and Patton...

Patton helped him realise that he was still very gay despite the AroAce that he was. He gave him head scritches when stressed, the help he needed trauma-wise, the cartoon marathons with the doggo using his legs as a pillow-

And Patton gave him someone to talk to about all his feelings about his clients (without breaking any rules ofc). And about his old friend and the terrible therapists that he’s met.

He will admit to anyone that he squealed when Janus told him that Patton was pan aroace. Seriously, just ask. He is not ashamed of his excitement of the fact that he has a CHANCE WITH THE CUTE WOLF DAD.

Muay Thai: 1.11

“Nairi! Over here!”

Nairi turned automatically at the sound of Linden’s voice and saw her waving from across the room. Linden was fresh-faced and her hair was newly cropped and dyed; a deeper, richer red that matched her lipstick. She’d also taken the corner table and was sitting with her back to the room, the chair for Nairi free on the other side.

Her lip twitched up despite herself as she took the seat against the wall. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” said Linden cheerfully. “I grabbed us some drinks and a couple of big soups. No bacon in yours, I checked.” She was grinning as she said it, poking the very tip of her tongue under her two front teeth and tilting her head to the side. The light filtering through the window next to them made her eyes seem very round and bright.

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shrugging her jacket off and taking a moment to hang it over the back of her chair, using the movement as an excuse to drag her eyes away from Linden’s too-blue gaze. “I never really know what to get.”

Though the limited options of most vegetarian menus usually made that decision for her. Linden seemed to agree with her, nudging her foot against Nairi’s under the table. “Don’t think too hard about it. Veg options are nice and I’m enjoying the start of hot soup weather, you know?”

Nairi gave her a small smile as she looked back, and she bumped her foot back against Linden’s. “Isn’t it always soup weather?”

“Nope!” said Linden, her grin widening. “C’mon, you’re telling me you want soup and hot things in the middle of August? It’s nearly Christmas, embrace the season.”

“It’s not like it stops being fall as soon as it’s the first, though,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching. “It takes a little to set in.”

Linden wrinkled her nose at her across the table. “Oh, come on, have some fun. Surely you and Aggy have started getting into like, cosy nights in with blankets and sweaters and shit instead of fun nights out on the town, or whatever?”

“I think you’re overestimating how much Agatha likes to go out to start with,” said Nairi.

Linden snorted, her grin a little ugly. “You don’t say?”

Nairi was halfway to asking what she meant by that, but they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. The soups were in deep, broad bowls with side dishes of toasted bread, and Linden had also ordered a cheese board, and tall, sweet sparkling drinks with fruit in them. It looked surprisingly tasty—Nairi had never really considered herself to be the kind of person who ate like this.

The waitress left after depositing the last dish, and she looked back across at Linden. “You’re enjoying the start of winter then? With your uh, poet boy, I mean—sweaters and blankets and nights in?”

Linden laughed, tugging her soup closer and immediately digging in, stirring the swirl of cream around the bowl. “Simon’s not really the ‘cuddling’ type,” she said dismissively.

“Hmm, I’m having a hard time picturing you on the couch in a boyfriend hoodie,” said Nairi lightly, pushing her soup around with the spoon.

Linden’s mouth twitched. “Speak for yourself, I enjoy the occasional boyfriend hoodie, it’s just not really Si and I’s relationship. Does this mean Aggy’s given you one of hers?”

“Wouldn’t it be a girlfriend hoodie then?” asked Nairi, humming a little.

Linden frowned, seemingly without meaning to because she immediately covered it with a sip from her drink, clearing her throat. “Boyfriend hoodie is a state of mind, not a matter of gender,” she said, pointing her spoon at Nairi.

“What, Agatha’s got a boyfriend state of mind and Simon doesn’t?” said Nairi, tearing at some bread. For once she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Right, yeah,” said Linden, not quite able to cover her irritation. “Does it really matter what I do with Simon? Fuck, you sound like Nick.”

Somehow Nairi doubted that. “Why would Nicholas care what you do with your boyfriend?”

Linden laughed, her smile suddenly a little more honest, a little wry. “He doesn’t really like the guys I date,” she said rolling her eyes. “He really hated my first boyfriend—and I mean like, really hated him. He just worries, you know? All that shit. Wants me to find a strapping nice lad or lady who’ll make an honest woman of me and all that jazz.”

“Oh, the whole acting like you’re still sixteen thing?” said Nairi, slowly chewing her bread. “I can’t decide if that’s sweet or annoying.”

“Oh, you know, six of one and half a dozen of the other,” said Linden, leaning on one elbow. “It’s like how my dad keeps fussing about if I’m gonna get a good job based on my degree, or how Edie keeps ‘checking in’ as an excuse to bitch at me ‘cause she’s like, emotionally constipated.”

Nairi nodded. “Right.”

Linden was watching her, chewing slowly. “Not much of that in your life?” she asked. She had the decency to keep her tone light and neutral rather than sympathetic, at least.

Nairi shook her head, trying some of her soup to avoid answering.

“Don’t speak to your family much?” said Linden, probing a little more in the same, light, tone.

“Never met them,” she said eventually.

Linden nodded, eyes still on Nairi over her food. “That probably wouldn’t help. Foster shits-stem?”

“Not for very long,” said Nairi, giving up on her soup and picking up her drink instead. “So, how’s the painting going?”

Linden might be bitchy, or an asshole, or whatever other descriptor Agatha could drop at the mention of her name, but she knew how to take a hint at least. She grinned, cheeks dimpling. “Beautifully, you’re not allowed to see it yet,” she said archly. “I’m nearly done though, thank god.The temperature’s been dropping which means I need to keep the windows shut, if I have to spend much longer on this one project I’m going to suffocate on fumes.”

“That would be very embarrassing, you can’t even get a good high on turpentine,” said Nairi, taking a long drink.

Linden nodded, still grinning at her. “Exactly! And your grace period for accidental highs and fainting runs out once you graduate art school, if it happens the art police will show up and take my art license away.”

“At least it would be evidence you were using the degree? Get your dad off your back?” suggested Nairi, trying to get back towards Linden’s good humour.

Linden laughed. “A real art miracle.”

Nairi grinned back at her, setting her drink down again. Something settled inside of her, making her feel a little better. “Sorry,” she said after a moment, feeling a belated guilt for how she’d brushed Linden off so bluntly. “I didn’t mean to uh, I don’t know, jump back from you or whatever.”

Linden shook her head. “Don’t feel bad about it, we’ve all got sore spots. I mean, fuck, people get weird as hell when I mention that I don’t know anything about my mom, and I’m not even hung up on that.”

“That’s fair,” said Nairi, nodding back at her. “Everyone has a different standard for this stuff, huh?”

“Different strokes for different folks,” said Linden, winking exaggeratedly across the table at her.

Nairi laughed despite herself, the knot in her chest loosening a little more.

“But seriously,” said Linden, knocking their ankles together under the table again. “You’re my friend and I like you, but you’re kind of mysteriousand don’t have a lot of other friends. I’m trying to get to know you, you know? But I’m trying not to fuck it up. I don’t wanna just wander in and jam down on all your sensitive spots.”

Nairi smiled at her and knocked her ankles back lightly. “I appreciate it,” she said, glancing down at her lunch and hoping it would lessen how strangely wide her mouth felt on her face.

“I appreciate you,” said Linden, sounding delighted. “I mean, I can tell you right now that Agatha hasn’t managed to get a painting out of me yet.”

Nairi tried her soup again, actually tasting it this time. It was a little salty, but good, warm, soft on her tongue. “You paint only for special occasions, huh?”

“Pretty much,” teased Linden, still grinning at her. “I might have to do one for her birthday, make it up to her so she’s not too jealous.”

“But then you’ll have to paint one for everyone,” said Nairi, grinning back at her. “Otherwise even Nicholas might get jealous.”

“Oh, I’ll make him go so green that he’ll totally forget about the paintings I gave him for every birthday and Christmas while I was in college that he hid in his back closet so that he could tell me they were lovely and he definitely kept them,” joked Linden, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, if he kept taking them then he must have liked them,” said Nairi, digging into her lunch more eagerly now.

“Nah, he’s just polite like that,” said Linden. “It took me a while to figure out his whole, deal there, you know? Like, I dunno, he was really pleased that I got into school and was sticking with it, and he doesn’t have any real hobbies, he just, watches his old man TV and he doesn’t read novels, and if he was one of my girlfriends I’d just buy him earrings, but I don’t even know what the old guy equivalent of that is, and like, you can’t just keep getting watches every year. So I’d just like, paint him something based on whatever I was studying. I mostly get him gift cards these days, I think it’s a safer bet.”

Oh god, she also had to think about presents. “But jewellery’s a safe bet for friends?” she asked casually, finishing her soup. “I still have no idea what to do about Christmas and I don’t even know when your birthday is to start prepping for that, if gift buying’s so difficult.”

Linden laughed. “Please, I’m easy—I have a wholeass list of art supplies that constantly need replacing, Mason and Flo nailed that down within like five minutes of meeting me, and I can assure you that you’ll have time to prep for my birthday. I wanna actually make a fuss for twenty-seven, last year was kind of chill, you know? Plus, it’s like rightafter Christmas and I always have to spend that with my dad being all like, sober and respectable so it’ll be good to cut loose a little. You don’t even have to get me anything, but if you’re really worried you can just like, do the Christmas present in two parts, or just give me one and not the other.”

“Yeah?” said Nairi, nodding along with the flood of information. “I don’t really do the whole ‘Christmas’ thing, so that’s good to know.”

“As a religious thing, or you just don’t really feel it?” asked Linden, swiping up some soup with her bread.

“Religious, I guess,” said Nairi, shrugging. “I don’t really see the point.”

Linden nodded. “Noted. Do you do anything for your birthday?”

“Not recently,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug. “I’m not til June, anyway.”

“Oh, we missed it! We met like right after, too, that’s a pain in the ass,” said Linden, pouting.

“Wouldn’t it be kind of awkward to celebrate it if we’d only just met?” asked Nairi, finishing her soup.

Linden grinned, moving their bowls out of the way and reaching for the cheese board between them. “I just like any excuse to celebrate,” she admitted, picking up a little silver knife and prodding at the different wedges. “Birthdays are fun! You made it once more around the sun without dying, why not live it up a little?”

“That makes sense,” said Nairi, giving her another small smile in return. “I’m going to have to make a fuss next year, aren’t I?”

“Definitely,” said Linden, jutting her nose into the air with that small smile. “I like to do things for my friends’ birthdays, and don’tthink that Agatha’ll let you get away without her doing anything to help you celebrate either.”

“I figured yeah,” said Nairi wryly, and she pointed at one of the wedges of cheese that looked like it had fruit in it. “Do they usually do that to cheese?”

“Do what?” asked Linden, cutting a slice off and popping it in her mouth. “Make it delicious? Because yes. I’ll get you some for your birthday and prove it to you.”

Nairi tried a piece and made a face, her tongue immediately trying to reject it from her mouth. “Please don’t,” she said, covering her mouth and forcing herself to swallow, reaching for her drink, which prompted a laugh from Linden. “Anything but cheese with fruit in it. Very easy to buy for, I promise.”

“I get the feeling you’re going to be very tricky, actually,” said Linden, sucking a bit of cheese from her manicured nail with a little smirk playing on her dark, red lips. “I guess we’ll find out.”

—

After, when she said goodbye to Linden outside the café and started the walk home in higher spirits, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. She slowed as she walked, pulling it out and hitting the unlock button to see who was texting her.

Missed calls and text notifications filled her screen, all from Agatha. Nairi frowned and opened the oldest first.

Aga.D: Are we still on for lunch?

Oh no.

Aga.D: Nairi? Aga.D: Have you left your phone on silent again? Aga.D: Okay it’s been an hour so I’m going to eat something. Call me back? Aga.D: Can you call me when you get these? I’m starting to worry.

Fuck. Nairi flipped back to her phone log and hit the call back option on the most recent, walking towards her apartment, head down and the other hand in her pocket against the rising chill as she waited for Agatha to pick up.

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

BnHA Chapter 257: New Year’s Party and All Might Feels

Previously on BnHA: The kids ate some yummy cotton candy and got to demolish a bunch of robots in flashy and expensive ways, because U.A. is every child’s dream school and All Might is getting closer to finally achieving his goal of being The Cool, Fun Teacher. There was also some cute Kirimina and Izuocha stuff, and also some panels of All Might watching Deku with a wistful dad smile which was both heartwarming and also makes me slightly terrified for his chances of surviving to the end of this series, but what else is new. Anyway so after class we cut to Aizawa and Mic who were all “we’re still sad fyi” until the Big Three interrupted them to get Aizawa to come help with Eri’s quirk. Meanwhile, All Might sat down with Deku and Kacchan and gave Deku a notebook all about THE PAST SUCCESSORS AND THE SIXQUIRKS. And we’d better be covering that pronto in this chapter because holy shit I had to wait two weeks after that cliffhanger and that was not fucking fair.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan and Deku read about the one quirk user WE ALREADY FUCKING KNEW ABOUT before they get bored and decide that WE DON’T NEED TO HEAR ANY MORE ABOUT ANY OF THOSE OTHER LAME QUIRKS APPARENTLY. In an effort to console me, All Might reveals that Shimura Nana’s quirk was THE POWER OF FUCKING FLYING YEAH BITCHES, which does admittedly warm my heart. Also Deku and Kacchan have an entire page of going back and forth at each other like the squabbling siblings they are and that helps too. Also we then cut to all of the 1-A kids having a New Year’s party, and yeah, Horikoshi admittedly knows how to play me like a goddamn fiddle I guess. The chapter then takes a sudden swerve for the nostalgic, with Deku and pals reminiscing about how much they’ve grown and how lucky they are, before we cut to All Might who’s sitting on a bench having Winter Night Angst until he’s comforted by Aizawa of all people, because this chapter is actually fucking great. And then we cut to THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER LMAOOOO [blows noisemaker] SHIGARACALYPSE 2020 COMING ATCHA KIDS. WOOP WOOP.

okay so I have been persuaded to try out the fan scanlation this week! for several reasons: (1) the new scanlators have had a few weeks now to improve their game and I’m curious to see what the quality is like, (2) there are already spoilers all over my dashboard lol and I’m tired of trying to dodge them, and finally (3) I have nothing else to do this afternoon and I wanna read it. SO IMMA READ IT. BRING ON THE SIXQUIRKS OF DEKU THE NINTH

-- GOD DAMMIT ALL MIGHT

I assume that those are the two shadowy ones, then? Bakushadow and PonytailShadow? goddammit. meanwhile even if we didn’t have that whole mystery, the second user would still be the one I’m most curious about, because (s)he was the first one to actually get OFA handed down to them, and to say that I’m curious about how exactly that went down would be putting it mildly. like how the hell did Lil Bro figure out that he could pass his fucking quirk down to people. and what exactly was the trial and error process involved, if any. was he just like. “dude, come here, I want to try something okay? this is gonna sound really fucking weird but hear me out... I want you to eat my hair” 

sob, honestly a time-traveling Bakugou who already knows how The Whole Deal Works might honestly be the least bizarre explanation. I have so many questions ughh

btw I do also want to call attention to the fact that this chapter is titled “make it your own”, a.k.a. the mantra that Kacchan has been trying to get Deku to adopt since the provisional license exam. so this I do like. that is very promising

hmmMMMMMMMM

motherfuckin time travel is starting to sound more and more likely you guys. oh my god. but how?? someone’s quirk?? or maybe they can just get Mei to build them a machine. fuck it, she’s already upgraded Deku’s costume ten thousand times with random crap, what’s one more. you read it here first, Deku’s next upgrade will be gloves that carry him back and forth in time

lmao Katsuki

on the one hand that is very rude, but on the other hand I too would like him to get to talking about the ones whose quirks he actually did learn about. so yeah. [taps watch] we gonna do this All Might, or

lmao Deku’s asking about Blackwhip and meanwhile Katsuki’s just PICKING UP THE NOTEBOOK, WITHOUT EVEN ASKING, YOINK

(ETA: Kacchan with a normal face is such a rare Charizard of a panel that I just have to stop for a moment to appreciate it. take a good look everyone, we probably won’t get this again for another 50 chapters.)

fucking thank you Kacchan. holy shit. I mean All Might worked hard on it, might as well make use of it. and never mind the explicit “FOR YOUNG MIDORIYA” plastered on the cover I guess lol

also!! BALDY FINALLY GOT HIMSELF A NAME OMGGGGG. “LARIAT.” we’ll see how Caleb translates that tomorrow, I guess. I have no idea what it means but I’m excited!!! yay naaaames

OH THAT’S JUST HIS ALIAS HE’S GOT A REAL NAME TOO OH SNAP

(ETA: also there’s the expected “go” since he’s #5. so that’s apparently still a thing, meaning the mystery behind nos. 2 and 3 is still as perplexing as ever. maybe a bit of a stretch, but does anyone suppose that the “己” at the end of Katsuki’s given name could be interpreted as kind of looking like the Arabic numeral for two? eh? eh??)

seems to be causing a whole lot of collateral damage, but hey, price you pay for being a badass

oh my god my sons are bickering

(ETA: but lmao though at Katsuki being all “YOU THINK EVERY FUCKING QUIRK IS AMAZING” because sob it’s true.)

Katsuki please. first of all WHY WOULD YOU ONLY GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT THE ONE FUCKING QUIRK WE ALREADY KNEW, and two, I kinda need at least one of those quirks to be at least a little bit badass, because fucking shit you guys, uhhhh. [gestures frantically to the last page of chapter 255]  nyghhnghh. and also!! [gestures to the last two pages of chapter 245] ...

hmm so All Might says that Kacchan is right, and that it makes sense that most of the quirks would be weak ones because AFO made it his business to stomp out any strong quirk users on account of the whole “he’s fucking evil” thing and all of that world domination biz

look how evil

oh wow

goddamn that’s one hell of an image. all these fallen heroes desperately trying to make sure that their power, the world’s only hope, doesn’t die out with them

so then from the way All Might makes it sound, it seems like some of the successors maybe weren’t carefully selected at all, but instead they were just the ones who happened to be in the right (wrong??) place at the right time. maybe some of them were fellow soldiers in the war against AFO, and when their comrades fell they were there to pick up the gauntlet. that actually makes a hell of a lot of sense

and also the way they seem to be passing on the quirk appears to be the blood-on-blood method rather than the hair-eating method, so that also potentially addresses my snarky rambling earlier in this very recap lol. Lil Bro may not have meant to pass it on at all; he might have just been gripping some spiky-haired passerby’s hand while mortally wounded, and knowing that his time was up, and hoping against hope that this MYSTERIOUS KACCHAN-LOOKING STRANGER would somehow be able to take up the fight and continue what he started. and then lo and behold

-- motherFUCKER HE REALLY JUST PUT IT BACK DOWN ON THE TABLE LIKE

SO, I GUESS WE JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THE OTHER QUIRKS THEN! WELL FINE. let’s just never talk about anything I’m dying to know about again ever!!

“seems they’ve all died young” WELL ISN’T THAT JUST FINE AND FUCKING DANDY. what a wonderful legacy All Might has bequeathed unto our sprightly green protagonist. what a barrel of laughs this has turned out to be

sob my son literally doesn’t know how to take his foot off the gas

but I guess it’s not necessarily a bad thing to have someone there who only relentlessly knows how to go forward, forward, forward

SDFLKSHDOGIHSOGISHLGKSDLFJ

EXCUSE ME, MCFUCKING WHAT DID YOU SAY?! SO YOU’RE TELLING ME MY BEST GIRL COULD FUCKING FLY, IS THAT IT?? AM I READING THIS RIGHT?? WAIT -- HOW DO YOU BREATHE, AGAIN?? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, I

LOL WHAT THE FUCK

(ETA: I left the edges of his speech bubble in while cropping this so everyone can appreciate just how spiky it is.)

me too kid!! you were playing quirk bingo, right? it was only a matter of time before someone came along with flying powers and we all knew it. I’ve been saying it and saying it, Deku was born to touch the sky

lulz he’s screaming at Deku that he can already fly with his explosions, so now while Deku works on mastering his own flying quirk, Katsuki will pull ahead of him SO THAT MAKES HIM THE WINNER I GUESS. lol honestly this speech is one of the nerdiest things he’s ever done and I almost wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d ended it with “OWNED!!!” watch him look around for a mic to drop

oh my god

this isn’t even rival energy, this is sibling energy. like, this one panel is some of the rawest fucking sibling energy I’ve ever seen. the relentless shittalking, the competition over absolutely nothing, the ridiculous faces... just, wow

anyway so I have a ton of thoughts about Katsuki’s current feelings toward Deku ever since the Endeavor and Natsuo “you don’t have to forgive me” thing, but the short version is that I think Katsuki lately has actually been really worried about upsetting the status quo with Deku, and, well... “losing” Deku, so to speak. I think during the internship he finally clued in to the fact that he actually had been a real certified jerkweiner to Deku, but more importantly he woke up to the realization that he doesn’t know for sure if Deku actually has forgiven him. like, he’s been going around thinking that it’s in the past, that it doesn’t matter, and then along come the Todorokis with all their drama, and he sees that and he realizes oh shit, sometimes people secretly have tons of resentment that’s just burning away at them underneath and shit!

and so the thought is kind of eating at him now that Deku might not have actually forgiven him, and he’s actually really scared of that, and so he’s reacting in two different ways: one, by being irrationally annoyed/angry with Deku for having that power over him (the power to either forgive him or not), even though that’s his own fault; and two, by trying in his own way to aggressively push things toward being the way they were back when they were little kids before their whole falling out. which, in his mind, means them being rivals. like, in the second character book, there’s a section that’s all about the characters’ relationships with each other, and in for Deku it says he views his and Kacchan’s relationship as “childhood friends”, but from Katsuki’s perspective, their relationship is listed as “childhood rivals.” so yeah

anyway so I guess I lied about this being “the short version” (I’m gonna have to essay about this more in a separate post I think), but basically I think that in Katsuki’s mind this kind of juvenile making-faces-and-egging-each-other-on thing is how he interprets their friendship, and he’s very awkwardly trying to get back to that

anyway! I got hella sidetracked there so let’s get back to the plot shall we. there’s a sweet panel of All Might smiling at the two of them because I think he also sees that this scene is somehow heartwarming in its own bizarre way lol

and then WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE DORMS YESSSSSS

(ETA: stray thought -- it’s an absolute fucking delight to see all of the male characters cooking for once while the girls, as far as I can see, are just sitting around chilling in the living area. like I’m sure they are helping as well, but you have no idea how fucking refreshing it is to not have the girl characters be all “WE’LL COOK FOR YOU BOYS SINCE YOU’RE SO HOPELESS AND/OR YOU’RE WORKING SO HARD TEEHEE.” holy shit. it’s great.)

to answer your question, Sero, they’ve been having secret powwows with All Might and discussing things like how Kacchan is objectively better than Deku it’s science, and how to make Deku fly. what have you all been doing

OH I SEE YOU ARE HAVING DINNER

is that Tokoyami running like a Hanna-Barbera character in the background. every time I think I have a handle on his character Horikoshi has a new twist ready to keep me on my toes. also lol at Kirishima remembering how Kacchan did jackall to help during the Christmas party, and making sure he does his part this time IF HE WANTS TO EAT

(ETA: lol so after rereading this that’s clearly Deku in the background. I still think it looks more like Tokoyami though! but obviously the two of them are the only ones still in their uniforms, so.)

OH BOY OH BOY NOW THIS CHAPTER IS CRACKIN’

TODOROKI SHOUTO!! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME UNTO YOUR FAMILY! lmao he’s so quick to answer “IT WAS ME I DID IT” with his two fucking exclamation points too lol. I don’t know why that’s so amusing to me but it is and I love it

meanwhile Horikoshi got a little too playful when drawing that Momochako page there huh. drew the back of her head but was then like “BUT THEN YOU CAN’T SEE HER ADORABLE SMILE” but he couldn’t be assed to redraw it so he improvised. IT’S CALLED ART

ahhhhhhh class B is joining them yesssss!! and Kodai’s bringing a couch oh my god such an excellent and practical application of her Ant-Man quirk to make sure everyone has someplace to sit these children are so cooperative and wise

YAY WHOLESOME NEW YEAR’S PARTY ANTICS

KATSUKI HAS UPGRADED FROM SANTA GRUMP TO SITTING NICELY WITH HIS SQUAD!! SHOUJI IS WEARING ANOTHER OF HIS LEGENDARY PONCHOS!! TSUYU JUST SAVED MINA’S LIFE!! KOUDA BROUGHT HIS BUNNY BECAUSE BUNNY DESERVES TO PARTY TOO!! AND AOYAMA IS PROBABLY WEARING A ROBE, BUT I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT IT’S A DRESS AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME!! NEW YEAR NEW HIM YES CHEERS

oh my god they’re starting to reminisce, no my emotions were not ready for this please chill out kids

look at them talking like they’re all grown up now

you do realize you all are still just babies right. “it was a crazy ride... back then we were so young...” is that Joe Cocker’s version of With a Little Help from My Friends I hear playing in the background. why has the film quality gone all grainy. what is this what’s happening

THANK YOU IIDA

as expected from the resident 40-year-old. please tell these children to get a grip. they’re out here talking about which Roth IRAs they’re going to get and how much their lower backs hurt

also, this scanlation hasn’t been too bad so far, but I feel like knowing it’s “Iida” and not “Lida” is like the bare minimum of translating a chapter of BnHA. like at least get the names right. but anyway I cropped that part of the panel out regardless because Mineta’s face was ruining the atmosphere so it’s all good

oh no. oh shit wait. what’s going on here

do not tell me this is one of those “calm before the storm/AND THAT WAS THE LAST TIME EVERYONE WAS ALL TOGETHER AND HAPPY EVER AGAIN” things. please no. please tell me I’m overreacting and grossly misinterpreting the general vibe here. fuck

also though, you see that bit in the Kacchan panel though lol. so yeah their relationship is just like that. it’s weird but they like it

jesus christ now Deku is sitting there saying “I’m very fortunate” with this face like he’s just DARING fate to come on over and punch him in the balls. DEKU!!

no!!!! [swipes at the air in an attempt to ward off the oncoming plot] go away! shoo!

and interestingly, Tokoyami is watching him!

do you want in on this plot too buddy. is that it. well your mentor has gotten himself all wound up in this spider’s web by this point, so why not. if we’re gonna have angst I guess the more the merrier

LMAO NEVER MIND, THE VERY NEXT PANEL HE’S ASKING DEKU TO PASS THE FUCKING PONZU AGAIN. DEKU COULD YOU FUCKING SNAP TO IT ALREADY HOW MANY GODDAMN TIMES DOES HE HAVE TO ASK

NOW ALL MIGHT IS SITTING ALONE ON A BENCH OUTSIDE THE TEACHER’S DORMS AND AIZAWA IS THERE SUDDENLY

is he going to talk to him about Eri. or the whole Noumu thing. ahhhhhhh

someone please tell All Might he needs to stop acting like he’s about to die. holy shit. this is reaching unacceptable levels. the fond smile while watching Deku’s progress. another fond smile while seeing him and Bakugou going back and forth, perhaps feeling reassured that someone else will be there to look out for Deku once he’s gone. giving Deku a notebook with everything he knows about OFA. and now SITTING ON A BENCH ALONE IN THE DARK IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER WITH HIS HANDS FOLDED IN HIS LAP JUST THINKING THOUGHTS!! AND AIZAWA’S ALL “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” AND HE’S ALL “NOTHING... JUST...” HOLY FUCKING SHIT ALL MIGHT COULD YOU PLEASE NOT

but anyways so what’s this you say about training Eri now

fffFFFFFS HE’S DOING IT AGAIN

he doesn’t know if he’ll be here come springtime, that’s what’s up. the clock is ticking on Nighteye’s prophecy, and even though he swore he’d live and punch fate in the mouth, you never know though and shit but this is depressing. anyway if my guess is right he may be about to share the secret of OFA with Aizawa though, because that’s what I’d do if I thought I was possibly gonna die and my student might need someone to continue mentoring him once I was gone. so, you know, still a bummer but also YES ALL MIGHT DO ITTTTT

oh nope nevermind he’s just rambling and Aizawa doesn’t have a clue wtf he’s on about

fffff this is some prime grade A All Might angst right here, the gods have blessed us after so long oh snap oh dang

so then maybe he doesn’t think he’s dying lol. well whatever. I think it’s probably a little of column A, a little of column B, that sort of thing but hey

yo you guys, Aizawa bonding with All Might is just. [chef’s kiss] it’s been so long. I don’t think we’ve had a long scene between them since the parent teacher meetings oh my god. Aizawa definitely respects him so much more now and it’s great

totally off subject btw, but the third light novel has a chapter where the teachers all meet up at a local bar and get trashed and talk about all kinds of crap, and Aizawa drunkenly tells All Might he respects the hell out of him, and it’s an absolute delight and everyone should read it. here’s the link to the Viz edition. it’s easily the best of the light novels (though I haven’t read the fourth one which is coming out in March), and an enjoyable read from start to finish. anyways thus ends my unsponsored plug, now back to our regularly scheduled programming

yep. safe to say the days when he thought All Might was an attention-loving media whore are long gone. fuck I love this

oh my god oh my fucking god

wow. just. ...shit. this is a message that I think everyone should hear, first of all, and this is easily one of the most gorgeous and profound panels this manga has ever had. like holy shit I almost cried

and second of all, tell me something, how is Aizawa the most comforting, gentle, supportive, encouraging man in the universe, and how did we get so lucky, and can you believe this man wasn’t even planning to become a teacher holy shit. we can’t afford to lose him, ever

OH FUCK ALL MIGHT, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU START CRYING HERE --

let me tell you I did not need that flashback panel of Nighteye TODAY OF ALL DAYS, HOLY SHIT. THE HELL KIND OF TIMING IS THAT. HE KNEW WHAT EPISODE WAS AIRING THIS WEEKEND, HE DOES SKETCHES FOR THEM EVERY WEEK, THIS WAS FULLY INTENTIONAL AND I FEEL AGGRIEVED

my god All Might is pinching the corners of his eyes and apologizing I can’t. STOP OFFLOADING ALL OF THESE ALL MIGHT FEELS ON ME. even now, after everything he’s given, he still feels like it’s not enough. it’s in his nature to feel restless, to want to do more. he’s earned the right to rest -- earned it more than anyone in the world -- but he can’t, and he feels guilty and helpless because the burden he shouldered for so long has been passed on to everyone else now, and he knows how heavy it is, and he was so willing to carry it even if it destroyed him, but he can’t anymore! and then to have someone come along and say “it’s okay, you’ve done enough, you’re doing enough, you are enough,” just. shit shit shit shit shit. I can hear Horikoshi’s truck beeping as it backs up to dump YET MORE FEELS all over my goddamn house. there are feels being tossed out of an airplane door overhead with little parachutes. fucking paperboys are riding by on their bicycles and whipping them at my face screaming “EXTRA! EXTRA!” fucking...

-- HOLY SHIT!?!?

well my jaw just dropped. um. [peeks at calendar] do you mean to tell me that we’re just CUTTING STRAIGHT TO THE PARTY NOW, JUST LIKE THAT

WELL FUCK, LMAO. BEEN NICE KNOWING Y’ALL

sDFLKSHGLKH

Horikoshi: [poking his head in the door] hey what’s up guys just thought I’d toss in this panel of Ujiko here to remind you all that Spring is when --

everyone: JESUS CHRIST WE KNOW

-- WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK LOL, WHAT

well I guess it’s nice to know that those feelings of impending doom were apparently RIGHT ON THE MONEY sob. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, JUST THE END OF ALL HEROES!! JUST UJIKO ROAMING THE HALLS OF HIS LOCAL HOSPITAL BEING ALL “HO HO” BECAUSE HE’S FINISHED HIS WINTER PROJECT OF TURNING TOMURA INTO ONE OF THE FOUR HORSEMEN AND HE’S FEELING REALLY FUCKING GREAT ABOUT LIFE. JUST THE MANGA JUMPING AHEAD THREE FUCKING MONTHS JUST LIKE THAT, AND DROPPING US BACK IN BARELY A WEEK BEFORE THE START OF THE KIDS’ SECOND YEAR, A.K.A. “YEAR OF THE SHINSOU”, A.K.A. “YEAR THAT KACCHAN FINALLY REVEALS HIS HERO NAME BECAUSE HOLY SHIT SON YOU REALLY FUCKING SAT ON THAT FOR THREE MORE FUCKING MONTHS!?”, A.K.A. “THE YEAR ALL MIGHT BETTER NOT FUCKING DIE”, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, A.K.A. “[GESTURES FRANTICALLY TO CHAPTER 245 AGAIN]”

lol. here I was hoping we had at least a little more time before the whole “we’re fucked” thing kicked in, but I guess the apocalypse waits for no one. gentlemen it has been a privilege playing with you tonight

Halloween Fic Recs

+ 1k Followers! Thank you guys so much. I love sharing my fave fics with you here, so I’m really happy that you’re having as much fun as i do!

Now, this is a bit last minute, but it’s definitely still October in some parts of the world, so let’s go! Here’s an incomplete collection of Halloween-themed fics full of parties, costumes, magic, creatures, horror, gore, and pumpkins. 

Included: Halloween, horror, or monster themed fics. Not included: The usual canon-typical Upside Down shenanigans, unless there’s a special spooky twist to it, or that one very particular Halloween ‘84.

31 fics under the cut  – Happy Halloween!

Heaven is a Place on Earth by CeruleanHeart / @highon85 (3k, T, Winged!Billy)

One late summer night Steve finds an angel crash-landed in a dirty alleyway. Or so Steve thinks, until the guy opens his mouth. Billy is a mess, drunk and mean and not angelic in the least. But he’s also hurt and beautiful so Steve stays to help despite better judgement.

taste you on my tongue by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

“You’ve never felt pleasure like it, Steve,” an old girlfriend had told him once, her eyes bright with memory. She’d been from the big city, where the vampires had their pick of willing donors, where all they had to do to get a meal was walk into a club. Some of them, the older, better known vamps wouldn’t even have to do that. They could pull someone straight off the street, roll down their windows and beckon. Steve shrugged. “No vampires here, though.” They’d broken up a few days later, and he hadn’t given it much thought. After all, what were the chances that a vampire would end up in boring, small town Hawkins, Indiana?

Gee My Life’s a Funny Thing by moonflowers / @eatingmoonflowers (7k, T, Mermaid!Billy)

Steve finds a boy in the water.

867-5309 (billy) by reject_mikeyy / @reject-mikeyy (14k, NR, Halloween)

Once he is done vomiting, Steve takes a second to rest his head on the cool toilet seat before realizing that. Wow. Ew. Not in the boys’ bathroom, thanks. Not in a homophobic way, don’t get him wrong, he’s eaten his fair share of ass but just. Germs and shit. Anyway. When he looks up from the bowl for the first time, he notices something scrawled on the wall at eye level. For a good time, text: 221-867-5309 Eyeroll. Or: In which Billy is the unlucky sucker with his number written on a bathroom stall, and Steve is the oblivious fool who actually texts him.

the wild hunt by celoica / @celoica​ (3k, E, Witch!Steve, Werewolf!Billy)

It had been his idea. Everything had been his idea. From the day Billy Hargrove had rolled up in his vintage car to the day Steve had walked into school with a fresh bite on his neck, proudly scabbed over and on display for his entire class to see, it had been all Steve’s idea. Billy did something witchy to his blood, thickening it under his skin and making it hard for him to think about anything else. At first, he’d thought maybe an incubus, something demonic and lust-driven and so out of place in tiny Hawkins, Indiana, until Laurie had leaned over and whispered about the new kid being a werewolf. The last time they’d had one of those in Roane County had been before Steve had been born. Even without the full moon to influence him, Billy was everything Steve had imagined a werewolf to be; aggressive and larger than life, in tune with the people who watched him with curious eyes, charming until it made Steve’s stomach clench in jealousy when his attention was on anyone but him. Witchy. To him. The witch.

bury a friend (try to wake up) by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (1k, M, Witch!Steve)

Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

been crawling by kate_button / @un-buttoned (3k, E, Halloween)

The crop top was right there on the main aisle in the women’s section. Steve’s not entirely sure, like, why it exists, but he’s not disappointed about it. The rest of it came together pretty quickly (and cheaply) after that. So anyway, that’s how he finds himself drinking jungle juice out of a red solo cup looking like the twenty-two-year-old-man version of Karen Smith, animal ears and too much skin, bada boom, costume. I’m a dog. Duh.

journeys end by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald  (11k, M, Ghosts)

When Billy convinces Steve to spend Halloween at the Vance house—an abandoned house on the outskirts of Hawkins rumoured to be haunted—they discover that the Upside Down doesn’t have the monopoly on otherworldly.

Tell Me, What Did You Expect? by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (2k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

After the battle of Starcourt, Steve wakes up on his living room couch with Billy Hargrove standing over him. There’s something a little different about Billy.

i shot the sheriff by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (800, T, Halloween)

Drunk shenanigans.

tides will bring me back to you by eternalgoldfish / @eternalgoldfish (32k, M, Ghost!Billy)

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Billy sat in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the clock on the mantle tick and the refrigerator hum. Steve Harrington was nothing to him, a regret, maybe, a bitter taste in his mouth, but not a friend. If Billy was resentful, he thought maybe he’d see the logic in the afterlife pinning them together, but he didn’t feel a sense of longing or torment, didn’t feel like he was being pulled between life and death, or between realms. He just was, painless, lead in his belly as he sat on the floor by Steve’s feet. If he was meant to be trying to get somewhere, he didn’t know where. Was he supposed to pass on? He curled his knees up to his chest and watched Steve sleep, Steve’s lips shiny with spit and hair hanging over his forehead. Or, how to find love as a ghost.

Haunted House Workers by prettyboiiharringrove / @prettyboiiharringrove (1k, T, Costumes)

It’s far from the easiest job in the world, but Billy met the love of his life through this gig and he gets to scare people on a daily basis, so most of the time it’s a fucking dream, but tonight, well tonight Billy is feeling a little concerned and a lot murderous.

teeth only for you by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (2k, M, Vampire!Steve)

Steve has a secret. Billy thinks he knows what it is, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross by Your_Iron_Lung / @godshattered​(WIP, 66k, T, Werewolf!Billy)

A strange string of parties held out in the deep woods of Hawkins, Indiana, plays host to Steve Harrington and his doubts about his future. Every weekend the party is relocated, and somehow Steve is always privy to the knowledge of where it’s going to be. What he doesn’t know is who’s hosting them, or why. There’s something weird about them that he can’t quite place, but he still finds himself drawn to them week after week, if only to use them as an escape from his stressful post-Upside Down reality. The weirdest part of all, however, is the fact that Billy Hargrove seems to be invited to them as well, and- There’s something in the woods.

a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole) by tol_sirion / @etterklang (3k, E, Demon!Billy)

Steve knows not to wander off alone in the woods, has been told not to so many times. He’s never been very good at listening. It pays off.

Never Seen That Color Blue by Kerasines / @kerasines (WIP, 4k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

Billy doesn’t want to think it, but Steve goes ahead and says it anyway. “A tentacle.” He looks as apprehensive as Billy feels at the thought of a fucking tentacle being attached to Billy’s body in any way, let alone spontaneously growing out of his back. Jesus, what the fuck. But it’s undeniable that that’s what it looked like. What it felt like. “Fuck you. Christ. What the fuck.” Billy rubs his eyes until he sees stars.

You’re Dead and Out of this World by shocked_into_shame (2k, E, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a vampire and Steve is his familiar, toiling after him with the promise that one day he’ll become immortal too. You’d think that Steve would have a certain amount of reverence for the dead - but all he can muster is annoyance these days.

Through The Forest, Through The Trees by trashcangimmick / @trashcangimmick (WIP, 24k, E, Were-demogorgon!Billy)

Billy gets bitten by something strange in the woods. After that, life becomes even stranger.

Hawkins Hunting Ground by lonelytarot / @lonelytarot (1k, NR, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Hawkins is a mess, that’s normal. But Steve isn’t the only vampire in Hawkins? That’s a surprise.

like real people do by callunavulgari / @callunavulgari (2k, M, Ghost!Billy)

“No one told me that you molest people in their sleep,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice quiet. Above him, Johnny grunts and turns over. The hand goes still. “You can see me,” a voice murmurs. “Yeah.” Steve sighs. “I can see you.” “How?” Steve’s been able to see dead people since he was four years old. But people don’t tend to respond well when children tell them that the old man across the street watering his lawn had a bullet through his head, so after the fourth therapist, Steve had learned that it was something best kept secret. “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

A love of violence by gideongrace / @gideongrace (6k, E, Serial killer!Billy)

Billy and Neil are serial killers. One night, Neil brings Billy a present. The boy he’s been lusting after - Steve Harrington - blindfolded and tied to a bed in a motel room. Neil clearly thinks this is a good idea. He almost certainly wouldn’t think it would end in his death. (He’s wrong.)

this sweet plague by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald (1k, M, Zombie!Steve, Zombie!Billy)

In 1985 Steve Harrington dies. His parents and the people of Hawkins all believe it was a tragic accident. Only a small group of people know he died valiantly protecting his friends from monsters. Six months later, he is one of the dead who rise again.

unbutton my shirt, i’ve a hard day (i hate my work) by asphaltworld / @asphaltworld (WIP, 2k, M, Halloween)

Billy’s stuck working for a food delivery app on Halloween night to pay off a traffic ticket. Somebody in the rich part of town places a weird, annoying order. But he hoofs it over anyway, because he needs the cash.

a tent(acle)ative understanding by ToAStranger / @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger(WIP, 3k, E, Tentacles!Billy)

“Are you going to eat me?” Billy pauses, tongue out, halfway across the wound. He withdraws. Curiosity. Trouble. “Would you like me to?”

teething vampire Billy, okay? that’s what this is by womenseemwicked / @women-seem-wicked (1k, T, Vampire!Steve, Vampire!Billy)

Billy’s a recently turned vampire. Steve is his comforting vampire boyfriend. I don’t even know, guys. this just happened.

getting better at becoming a ghost by thecopperkid / @the-copperkid (4k, E, Halloween, Serial killer)

“What? You’re not scared, are you?” “No,” he answers, indignant, but he doesn’t even convince himself. “No, I just --” “You know what they say about fear, right?” the voice asks. “That it’s almost indistinguishable from arousal. That your body can’t tell the difference.” “They don’t say that,” Steve says, poking his head out the door and looking left to right. He’s just fucking exasperated. “Nobody says that.” “I say that.” Or: Steve gets a Scream-style call while he's babysitting the kids on Halloween night, and right now would be a really good fucking time for Billy to get home from work. Billy likes masks.

The Seventh Life by Klayr_de_Gall / @klayr-de-gall (WIP, 7k, M, Witch!Steve, Familiar!Billy)

With Allhallowtide looming two nights over, Steve feels restless and irritated, a bit on edge. The pull of that powerful event makes his bones arch stronger every year. The last thing he needs is some Californian Hotshot swaggering into his life, carrying the smell of trouble and a curse.

If You Need It (Do It For Me) by youcallherhephanie / @harring-rove (2k, T, Vampire!Steve)

Suffice to say, Billy’s neighbour was weird. Not the usual type of weird; you didn’t catch him smelling someone’s hair or lingering in an alleyway like a creep. No, he wasn’t weird weird, but there was something off about the guy. Whenever he was coming back from his morning runs, up in the early morning when the sun just barely peaked over the city, Billy’d see the guy walking through the apartment building. Sometimes, they’d bump into each other when collecting their mail, when using the elevator. It was always a nod, a hello from Billy and a terse smile from the guy - Harrington, he’d found out from the group of grannies who lived in the building. That was where their interactions left. But maybe things were in for a change.

It Happened at the Halloween Fair by gothyringwald / @gothyringwald & socknonny / @socknonny (9k, T, Halloween, Monsters)

All Steve wants is to enter his mom’s pie at the Halloween Fair… what he doesn’t expect is Billy Hargrove, sentient teddy bears, and a giant, pink monstrosity. Seems like Halloween is about to get a whole lot weirder.

Effective Immediately by lololaufeyson / @lokibi (WIP, 22k, E, Vampire!Billy)

A what-if alternate ending and continuation of the season three finale where Billy tries to get out of dodge, but finds a few too many strings tethering him in Hawkins. Now if only he can find some damn scissors....

Where the wolf bane blooms by Confettibites / @confettibites (2k, E, Werewolf!Billy)

Steve Harrington stays behind in the school gym and something very odd happens when Billy shows up.

Hello,

So, it's funny because i was depressed right? and then as we all know the world kinda got scary, and now it's like i almost have a reason to feel validated in my feelings of hopelessness, which doesn't make me feel great, but does seem to kind of level me in this strange way.

I spend too much fucking time on reddit. I live in Portland, and basically i worked for this really extremely poorly run restaurant/brewery pub called Laurelwood. It's a long story, but the place has the worst management. Some of the people weren't like, bad people, but the way it was managed was really bad in ways i would have to spend hours explaining. They recently did a deal with Ninkasi a little over a year ago and now you can find their beer everywhere, and i guess if you are into beer most people seem to like it, so it's not really a diss on their alcohol itself though i am more of a hard liquor/hard cider fan and beer isn't typically my thing unless it's some desserty imperial stout. They expected a lot from their employees - and because of their poor management they also kind of let a lot of us get away with stuff. So we kind of, as employees created a very strong personal work ethic and friendship amongst one another in turn, we within reason broke rules and had a system of doing it to where we remained competent and managed ourselves, as our management was failing and self centered. If it wasn't the really cool friends i made there - some of the closest friends i have ever had and a ton of first time unique experiences - i learned a ton about myself and grew a lot in that position, i probably would have hated it. the owner was the kind of boomer who wanted to pull in hype of like, young trendy Portland kids, but they really made it look like a bad wannabe applebees and never really valued the fact that we were basically keeping the place open for him, so the aesthetic was kinda lazy and the demeanor between us and our top heavy upper management was pretty separated.

Anyway, since of course i worked in this field when the whole pandemic thing happened, I was naturally laid off. They didn't pay us. They sent us a message saying they just didn't have the money, and it's clear that they hoped to just, kinda, take the money they had left and bounce. The message was vague and demeaning, and everyone in the last three weeks is essentially working for nothing. So, one of the brewers, a pretty nice dude named Brandon that i didn't know too well, went on reddit and was respectful and clear, about how this really messed him up. They not only cannot pay us for the last two pay periods, but they also had a lot of their previous checks bounce. This on top of the financial collapse. To me, it's bad, but i sort of expect a lot of bad stuff now. I mean, this kind of collapse was a long time coming. I imagine it's going to take literally years for Portland to bounce back. I hear horror stories from long time Portlanders about how pretty decent people just became homeless during the recession of 2008, and i have a feeling this is going to be even worse. I feel like thus far in my life, though i've had a lot of really bad luck with relationships and family stuff, and sometimes my health, I've never had to really worry about something like this so directly impacting me. When 2008 happened, i was 19, I had never worked and lived with my parents on bare minimum, but my life had always been that way so i never felt that bad about it, though on retrospect it was kind of neglect. I lived in a factory town that had particular staples and products that never were that hit by the market crash, so that particular town in Idaho never saw a real drop in unemployment. I read about the collapse a lot, watched the Big Short and stuff, so i have my fairly strong opinions about it, but it's never actually caused me to go without. My mother is a nurse at a nursing home, and my father worked at a bullet factory. And like i said, i was relatively unaffected.

The message from Brandon took off, on reddit, thousands of people are seeing it and are disgusted, and they are being turned in for not paying us, because that is theft, that is illegal. I am willing to sign whatever documents neccesary when it comes down to it, if i don't get paid eventually. I was already personally very bad off, and i have this bitter realization that after the damage of this pandemic takes it's toll, I'm gonna have to struggle hard. I am not even mad at this point in a personal way. I just think companies need to know you don't fucking treat people this way. That the principle of the matter is that we are not just cogs for businesses to step on. We need to make the wealthy, even the vaguely wealthy people know that they need to appreciate fully those who work for them and under them, and when something bad happens, and they better intend on taking care of those people, or whatever their business model is is going to fail. It goes without saying that this pandemic has exposed a lot of what was already there. I think some people are naive enough to believe this corruption or this problem was unexpected. Lawmakers, and people who are privileged should have worked to make sure that hospitals had enough for the worst case scenario, and that there needs to be a safety net for people. None of these issues are new. I mean, it's not, at all. This is the rich doing the same old shit they have always done, and i imagine, trying so hard not to be pessimistic, but imagining just the same that this is only going to get worse. There are so many homeless drug addicted and mentally ill people in Portland already it's crazy. There was already rent that was impossible for full time employees to pay. It's funny because all these 'luxury suites' are being built throughout town in Portland, and i wonder now who they think is going to move in. Most of them were empty anyway. It's a mystery to me, because in a way it is classic gentrification the way they tore down old buildings and built these giant fancy expensive apartment buildings everywhere, but kind of weird because they were mostly empty. I mean, how could that have been worth it to investors or business owners?

I guess there is a lot I don't know about the stockmarket, banks, finance, housing and such, but it stands to reason that if you spend hundreds of millions to build something and nobody can afford to live there or pay your inflated rent, why are you bothering? I was told that a lot of these places were because of the Portland's population grew so much and these buildings were just now being built from people who had hoped to ride the 'rich Californian movers' era. The rent has just become kind of unmanageable. It's normal to live in a house with four or five people, all working full time just to maintain a single bedroom in a house of half-strangers. Meanwhile, studios that don't even come with a separate bedroom are nearly 2000 dollars, and things that should be there to help the homeless like tiny houses are marketed to rich minimalists who are so bored and guilt ridden by their own privilege they have to pretend to be quaint little peasants in order to feel unique in their own position, that they literally make it expensive to live in something not unlike a camper. But Portland is now just kind of at a steady growth. They came to late, and now with what's happened, what comes next.

Anyway, i am not leaving this city. I hated Idaho. It was a sad place for me, and i see a lot of beauty in Portland. I feel like i have a personal relationship with a good portion of the city. I tried to walk ten miles a day the first year i lived here. I lost a lot of weight here, fell in love here, I had a lot of meaningful experiences, met new people, gained new perspective. I've been afraid for my life here, drank more here, lost and found myself i mean, it's been an adventure in and of itself that becomes clearer to me now the more i have been here. I really do love Portland. It's sad but a lot of places i really loved and appreciated here in Portland won't be here anymore when this is over. A lot of small businesses i really appreciated. The kind of stuff that makes Portland really interesting, or reaching for something new. I hope that culture will crop up again, but we shall see.

I have a dry cough, and i wonder if i am catching Covid 19. My throat tingles a little, and I've already had two fever/colds in the last month, so something tells me this is it. Like a pregnant woman waiting to give birth or something. I am self quarantining. I'm a little nervous because a friend of a friend has a cousin in the FBI who has heard word from his superiors that they are considering the possibility of a full on quarantine, closing even the grocery stores. I didn't want to give in to early hysteria, like the toilet paper thing baffled me. I remember people getting really scared about Pigflu and Birdflu in the past years, but it didn't seem to really spread too far, though i did catch the Pigflu. My foodstamps refill on the 7th, so i hope if this does happen, they don't close by then. I just need to get in and get some bare essentials, because it now is looking like it might be smart to stock up now.

It's funny too, because i am not a homebody. I naturally am inclined to be depressed if i stay in one place too long. I have a somewhat mild case of ADHD, and i love to move, and i enjoy working. If i won the lottery, i'd still work in some fashion for 20 hours a week because i realize i don't feel satisfied living for myself. I like having a civilian duty, even if it's just cleaning off tables. I like feeling useful and connected to people. But i have a leg injury that's not going to heal on it's own, so walking has hurt me for the last eight months, and now this, and i have a health condition that makes it pretty easy for me to gain weight. So i am trapped in the house, snacking and trying to find things that make me laugh or inspire me. I did get inspired to start making paper mache masks. I think i can make the most of my quarantine time. I just hope they don't close the grocery stores before i get my money.

I am worried about both my parents. I have a lot of family, so it's not that unlikely i could lose someone to this virus. I am not concerned with myself that much. I could die, but the chances are relatively low. I am reading a lot of informed reddit posts, about the aftermath of this whole thing, and i'm a little bit nervous.

Ok I’m the worst, but if you wanted to do another Christmas prompt... supernatural fusion sequel...

Yes, I know this says Christmas, but THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DOUBLE REQUEST. I write both. Wait, no, that makes me look weak (except I am).This is a continuation of cruising through the doom days!**

Liz has a mandate – every year, each of them has topick a non-alien case so their skills stay sharp. Max has a propensity forvampires (which Michael teases him about because it’s so absolutely up hisalley with the whole hard-on for the gothic romantic era) and Isobel lovesrooting out incubi to make them suffer. Michael’s a big fan of the cryptid andLiz likes werewolves.“What about this one,” says Alex when it’s his turn, turning his computerscreen to show off the local news from Colorado Springs.Michael whistles under his breath, digging for some money from his back pocket.Alex eyes him warily, not sure why he’s doing that. “What?”“Max bet me that you’d wanna hunt ghosts your first time out,” Michael says,slapping the bill into Max’s hand (who accepts it with a smug ‘thank you’). “Ikind of thought you’d wanna do something a little more fun. Mermaids, sirens,banshees.”“This is all Michael-speak for him regretting his last choice,” Isobel informshim.Liz is already turning the screen back towards her to take some notes. “What happened at Michael’s last hunt?”“Pixies,” Isobel says with a manic smirk. “They put him under a love spell andhe had exams to write the next day. He professed his love to the teacher’sassistant in front of the whole class before Liz and I could dose him with anantidote,” she shares, laughing warmly. She’s expecting Alex to join in, but his jaw is clicking with jealousy. “Don’t worry,” Michael whispers, kissing Alex’s neck. “I learned my lessonabout going after anything that could make you fall in love with someone atfirst sight, up until I met you.” He bites at Alex’s shoulder playfully,clearly hoping that his charm is working on him.

The annoying thing is that it is.With that out of the way, Alex and Liz get to research, Max packs up the cars,Isobel books them a motel, and they head out to Colorado Springs to hunt down avengeful ghost. The first few days pass without incident. Alex heads to the house that’spurportedly haunted to take a few pictures, Liz reads up on the lore of thisparticular incident, and Michael gets their weapons ready. Then, on the thirdday, Alex comes home to disaster.“What the hell?” Alex exhales, barely managing the words past his grittedteeth. The motel is only so big, and it’s impossible to miss the giant Humvee in theparking lot. Given that there’s only so many people who have that car and wouldturn up at an active hunting ground, Alex isn’t surprised to see his fatherlooming outside a room a few doors down, his disdainful gaze fixed on Alex.Behind him, his brothers are unloading weapons briefcases. “No aliens here, Dad,” Alex says sharply. “Not for you to kill.”“I think there are some,” Jesse replies, as calm as ever. “We’re not here forthem. We were hired by a local client to investigate a haunting.”Money must be tight, because Jesse hates taking cases outside of his wheelhouseunless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s the first time that Alex has seen him since he walked out on him. He’s notsure what he’d been expecting, both to feel and for Jesse to do. It’s somehoweven more infuriating when Jesse eyes Alex up and down, and then decides thathe’s not even worth the trouble of a dressing down, which makes Alex want toburst out and provoke him. “If it’s the one at the Pollard Manor, we were here first,” Alex spits out. “I don’t think that matters. You’re ineffective, clumsy, and you were alwaysthe disappointment,” Jesse informs him. Behind him, he can see Flint snorting,but Alex shoots a glare his way that keeps him moving. “Somehow, I’m notworried.”Alex feels the rage welling up in him and he wants desperately to sling aninsult back at him, but the anger clouds his mind and he can’t think ofanything to say. Instead, he’s left fumbling, standing there while his brothersand father lock themselves in their motel room, leaving Alex feeling like theinadequate youngest son that he is. He slams his hand against the door before digging out his key and headinginside, taking a few deep breaths. Michael’s waiting for him, sitting on thebed, and Alex instantly regrets losing his shit like that, but Jesse has a wayof getting to him that no one else does. “We don’t have to stay,” is the first thing Michael says when Alex comes backinside from his encounter. Alex wonders how long Michael has been lurking, but he’sclearly heard plenty. “This is all practice for us. If Jesse and his boys wantto take this on, we can…”“No,” Alex cuts him off.Michael raises a brow, sprawling back on the motel bed. “Alex,” he warnsquietly. “It’s not healthy for you to be around him like this.”“We were here first,” he insists stubbornly. “When I walked out on him, it wasa whisper and it should’ve been a bang. He deserves to know that I’m betterthan him. He deserves to feel what it’s like having the rug yanked out fromunder you. I want…”“Revenge,” Michael fills in for him. “That’s kind of the problem, Alex.”“It’s not!”“We’re hunting down a vengeful ghost who feeds off that energy.” Michaelgestures to Alex, then to the front of the motel. “Are you telling me that it’snot going to be a problem?”“It’s not.” Alex feels like he might be lying, but he doesn’t want to let hisfather get the better of him.If they leave, then Jesse Manes wins and there’s no way that Alex canlet that happen. He’ll do absolutely anything he needs to make sure he can goon this hunt without causing issues, and he hopes that Michael will be on hisside. He knows that it’s dangerous, what he’s doing, but his father has alwaysclouded his judgment.In this moment, he’s back to being that boy – the one who wants to impress hisfather, no matter what he has to do.“The moment that I think it’s dangerous, we’re leaving,” Michael warns, buthe’s conceding. Alex can hear it in his voice.He nods rapidly, cupping Michael’s cheeks so he can bear in and kiss him toshow his appreciation, bearing him down onto the bed. “Yes,” he promises. “Ofcourse, yeah, anything,” he insists, and presses more kisses to Michael’s neck,tangling his fingers in Michael’s shirt to start yanking it off.There’s a voice in the back of his mind asking him why he’s pushing so much,even though he already knows. The way he’s acting, the defiance he’s wielding,it’s all because he needs some finality and closure to his life with hisfamily.Alex intends to get it, no matter how it happens.*The first visit to the house happens without incident. Michael’s actuallyfairly bored, seeing as it gets to the point that everyone splits up to coverthe rooms, but no one finds anything. They return to the foyer and regroup, with no one reporting any EMF activity oranything remotely haunted. Michael gives Alex an encouraging look. “Hey,” hesays, “Just because we didn’t find anything, it doesn’t mean that your Dad willeither.” Something on Alex’s face shifts then, flinches, and Michael kickshimself for bringing it up.He leans in and rubs Alex’s back, kissing his cheek to try and soothe away thatache. Michael’s feeling a little disappointed himself, if only because if theghost here has already been dealt with, then it’s a long to drive to have todeal with Alex’s shitty family. Liz reaches out to collect all the EMF meters,but Alex beats her to it. “I’ll process the data,” he assures. “You and Max can head out, have somedinner.”Liz hands her meter over with a grateful smile. “Thanks Alex, you’re the best.”Michael guesses that means he’s in for a night of logging and research. Hesulks at Alex, but it doesn’t go anywhere, so clearly there’s no sympathy to behad for him. They go back to the motel and luckily, the Manes family aren’tthere, so Michael doesn’t have to worry about rushing Alex inside before he canget into another provocation with them.The night’s pretty boring, as expected.Alex logs, Michael reads, and nothing even happens because Michael ends upfalling asleep while Alex clicks around the internet, then catalogues theweapons, and then goes back to reading. The next day, things start getting a little weird. Later, he’ll feel like a complete asshole for not putting the pieces together,but at first he thinks it’s just Alex making a statement in front ofJesse. He starts wearing thick eyeliner, goes out to a local store and buys tightleather pants, and there’s a mesh crop top at one point. It’s very emo, but italso is very (wildly, in fact) attractive on him, so Michael doesn’t sayanything. He’s also a big fan of the way Jesse’s face contorts like he’s havingan aneurysm when they run into each other. Michael admires his ass in the tight jeans, he plucks at the skin-tighthenleys, and he lets Alex pin him to the wall and make out with him, even inthe middle of research sessions. There’s been no sign of the ghost since the first visit, but they’ve got timeand Michael’s not really too fussed about it. Then it starts getting really odd.Alex doesn’t want to do any research. Every time they sit down to go over thehistory of the house or books on the subject, he says that he’s bored and he’sgoing out for coffee. One time, he comes back with his shirt untucked andaskew, which makes Michael wary about what’s going on. The weird thing doesn’t stop there.He’s not Alex, not really. At night, he pulls away from Michael’s arms, hedoesn’t play the guitar to lull them to sleep, and Max had caught him trying totake the truck for a joy ride. Something’s going on, and Michael’s starting toget scared.His fear still doesn’t prepare him for what happens next. It’s the middle of the night and he doesn’t know where Alex is. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, trying to see if he’s gone to the bathroom,but there are no lights on and there’s no sign of movement, which means that ifAlex is in the room, then he’s lying real still on the ground. Grabbing hisshirt, Michael pulls on the button-down and manages two buttons before he getsup and tucks the key into his pocket, heading outside. He hears a loud shot,like a car backfiring or a gunshot, but given the rough part of town they’restaying in, it could be dealer’s choice.“Alex,” he says with relief when he sees him a few doors down. “Babe, hey,” hecoaxes. “Are you smoking or something, what are you…?”The smoke isn’t a cigarette.It’s a gun in Alex’s hand and there’s a body on the ground. “Holy shit,”he exhales, gaping at the body. It’s Jesse Manes, bleeding out from his stomachand twisting, writhing around. “Fuck!” he snaps, and he hates that he’s aboutto do this, but he’d never let himself live it down if he didn’t. He storms tothe two doors beside his room, pounding on them. “Max! Isobel! Liz!” He keepspounding his fist, even as Alex swivels to look at them, his hand with the gunraising.Fuck, no.Michael focuses and sends the gun flying out of Alex’s hand. The minute Maxopens the door, Michael bolts into the room for the iron bar, heading back outand giving his boyfriend a pleading and apologetic look.“Michael,” is Alex’s warning, his voice sounding airy and hollow, like he’s noteven there.“Sorry, sweetheart,” Michael tells him, before he knocks him in the back of thehead with an iron bar, sending him crumpling to the ground. With Alex (orwhatever’s wearing Alex as a suit because that’s not his boyfriend) outfor the count, they can focus on Jesse. “Heal him,” he begs Max.“Don’t you put your hands on me,” Jesse spits out.“Look, your kids are out on a hunt, right? You’re not going to a hospitalbecause I can’t explain that a ghost shot you and if you think I’m letting youput Alex in jail for this, you’re stupider than I thought,” Michael snaps athim. “So either you die by Alex’s hand or Max heals you. Your choice, asshole!”There’s a frustratingly long moment where Jesse says nothing, but then hepresses his hands to his bleeding stomach and that seems to coax something outof him. Max doesn’t look any happier to be doing this, but Michael doesn’t need Alex tofeel the guilt of killing his father because he’s been possessed by a vengefulghost. It has to be that, right? If Michael thinks back, he could kick himselffor how obvious it’s been.They’d split up in the house and Alex had made sure to grab the EMF meters. Theonly person who’d know that there’s activity in the house would be the onebeing possessed. The rest all falls into place – the clothes, the actions, theway Alex has been succumbing to it. Watching Max heal Jesse, he bends down tocollect Alex in his arms, bringing him into Max’s room.“Liz,” he says roughly. “I need you to douse some ropes in salted holy waterand then tie him up. Please.”Liz looks at him with alarm, her mouth forming questions that Michael doesn’twant to hear.“Just do it,” he reiterates, feeling exhausted as if he’s the one who’s beenpossessed by a spirit. How could he have missed this? How could this have happened right under hisnose without him knowing? He helps Alex into the chair and when Liz movesforward with the ropes, Michael shakes his head and holds his hands out forthem. He needs to be the one to do this. It has to be. “I’m sorry,” he says again to Alex’s unconscious body, gently shifting hislolling head so there’s a pillow behind him. He cups Alex’s cheek the once,even though he knows that right now Alex isn’t in the driver’s seat. The tenderness means more, somehow, because he’s not the one in control. It’slike Michael needs to send whatever messages he can so that Alex knows thathe’s not fighting this alone.“I’m coming to get you,” he vows stubbornly. “I’m not going to let it haveyou.”He swears he won’t, because he just found Alex. He’s not losing him soeasily.*It takes hours before Alex comes around.He says Alex, but Michael knows it’s not. It all makes sense now, from the waythe hunt had gone cold after their first recon, but also Alex’s strangebehavior that Michael had written off as them not truly knowing one anotherthat well. He’d known that this hunt was a bad idea, but he’d gone along withit because Alex had seemed to need it.Next time, he’s trusting his instincts.“Ready?” Liz asks him quietly, pressing the holy water and the salt to one ofhis hands, the iron to the other. Michael shakes his head, not wanting to deal with the ghost that’s possessingAlex, making a hoe of him. He clutches each item tightly and when Alex startsmaking noises, he steps forward in time to see his eyes go black, opening upand hissing as he wriggles against the ropes.“What did you do to me?”“Salted ropes to keep you snug as a shitty little bug,” Michael says. “Youdon’t have to deal with it, though. Just leave him,” he coaxes. “Get out ofhim, and then you can feel better.”“No.”Michael’s nostrils flare as he inhales angrily. “Get out of him,” he repeats,the only thing stopping him from doing anything more is that it’s Alex. It’sAlex’s face, his voice, and the ghost is using him to make a home, but that’ssupposed to be what Michael gets with him. They’ve only just met, but that’s whatAlex feels like to him.It’s like home. He’s not ready to let a ghost take that away from him. “If you don’t leave, we’ll force you out.” “I like it in here,” the ghost says, wriggling Alex’s shoulders like he’s in awarm and cozy blanket. “He’s full of rage and anger. He wants revenge, always,”it says, and smiles a charming smirk at Michael. “I’m keeping him. We belongtogether. Do whatever you want, but I’m not letting him go without a fight.” Michael’s never seen a ghost make a home of a person. Alex isn’t an object or aplace. He’s a person. The need for vengeance and for retribution must be sostrong in Alex, and his family’s presence here has stoked it. “I’m not sure what’ll work here,” Michael mutters to Liz once he steps aside.“I’ve never seen an infestation of a person before. I’m notsalting and burning Alex.”“We can drive him out. What about an exorcism? He’s already bound with saltedropes,” Liz says. “We’ll tuck some iron in there, douse him with holy water,say the words…eventually, that thing is going to want out.”“Okay,” he says, glancing to Isobel. “I don’t care about finesse anymore. Burnthe house, make sure this thing has nowhere else to go. Take it all down.”Isobel and Max go, leaving Michael and Liz to amp up their aggression. Theypour a bucket of blessed motel-sink water over Alex’s head, tuck iron piecesinto the ropes, and it begins to work. Alex is thrashing around, growlinggutturally, and spitting out curses at them. “He doesn’t want you,” the creature spits out at Michael with Alex’s voice.“You’re only a distraction. You’re something that he’s using to make himselffeel like an adult now that he’s outside of his father’s reach.”“Michael, don’t listen to him,” Liz says quietly.Michael keeps his head down, trying stubbornly not to let it get to him, butit’s like the ghost has seen inside Michael’s head, not Alex’s, and isunearthing every last fear that he’s been keeping buried. “He’ll leave you.” Alex’s lips contort up in an ugly smile and he shakes hishead. “It’ll be pathetic. You, left all alone by this weakling of a man,consumed by his need to get revenge.”“You’re a shitty liar,” Michael spits out at him, shoving one last piece ofiron vindictively into the ropes, knowing that he has to be careful. If he letsthat need for revenge against the spirit consume him, then he could be the nexthost. Instead of thinking about vengeance, he focuses on his love for Alex, andwanting to do right by him. It hurts, still, but he thinks that the hurt comes from a place where Michaelknows this is happening to Alex because Michael couldn’t protect him. He should have been louder about not doing this hunt. He should have never let them split up. “He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want you.”“You know what?” Michael decides that’s fucking enough. “Get,” Michael says,dousing Alex in holy water, “the fuck,” he continues sharply, digging hisfingers into the bible as he gets ready, “out of my boyfriend!”There are some rites and rituals that Michael knows off by heart and anexorcism of a person’s body happens to be one of them. This isn’t a demon, butMichael’s not exactly feeling picky today, as he begins to chant the words,pressing the iron pieces in Alex’s ropes harder against his skin, having toignore the way Alex yelps and howls.It’s not him, he reminds himself.The ghost will do anything it can to make sure it gets to keep Alex, but it’sout of luck, because Michael found him first. Michael’s panting before hefinishes the exorcism rite, but with one final throw of the remainder of theholy water, the ghost expunges itself from Alex through his mouth, his nose,his eyes, dissipating out into the air. It will try and make for the house again, Michael knows.Hopefully by then, it’ll have been burnt to the ground. Alex slumps over andMichael bolts for his side, landing hard on his knees. His fingers yank on theropes, but Liz’s hiss of caution behind him makes him hesitate. Only for amoment, though, because then he’s looking up into Alex’s warm eyes, not that ofa ghost.“…Michael?” he ekes out.“Yeah, babe?”“Why am I tied up? Are we trying something new and kinky?”Michael laughs with relief and hauls himself up to press his forehead toAlex’s, closing his eyes as he kisses him, fingers sliding through his wethair. He’ll definitely have to go over everything with him, but Michael knowsone thing.No more ghost hunts, not for a while.“I’ll explain later, okay? Let’s just get you out of these ropes and into somedry clothes.”No ghost is going to take Alex from him, not without Michael putting up onehell of a fight. *“Alex, you don’t have to do this.”“I need to.”His eyes are still sunken and his face pale, but Alex’s determination won’t bepushed off. Michael still doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but Alex is alreadymoving forward. The Manes are packing up to leave, which is great news as faras Michael’s concerned. The part that’s not as great is how Alex wants to goout there and talk to them.They’ve just conquered a vengeful spirit. This feels a little like playing withfire just because they didn’t get completely torched the first time. Is Michael going to deny Alex this chance?No. He’s also not about to let him do it alone. “I’m coming with you.” When Alexopens his mouth to argue, Michael gives him a pointed look. “I’m not lettingyou out of my sight until that shitty scared feeling in my stomach goes away.” That feels like it could be days or years, but until then, Michael needsthat closeness. He helps Alex outside, but he waits until all his brothers are in the car tocall out.“Jesse!”Not Dad, and there’s no warmth to it. For a moment, Michael thinks that Jesse is going to leave without acknowledginghis son, but he slides the last weapons case into the back before rounding theHumvee to eye Alex and Michael both, standing there with one hand precariouslyclose to the weapon Michael knows is at his side.He reaches out with his powers, makes sure the safety is on, just so he canfeel safe about this conversation. Jesse waits for them to speak, but whatever Alex has to say, he needs to thinkabout it.It means Jesse gets the first word: “I’m not saying thank you.”Michael can tell that’s directed at him, because Alex gives him a confused look.“After I knocked you out, I made Max heal him,” he says, shooting Jesse afurious look. “You’re welcome,” he says anyway, because he and Max savedJesse’s life using their alien powers, and he thinks that should get rubbed inhis face a little more. Jesse scowls, looking at Alex. “What do you want?”“I want to tell you what I should have said years ago. You forced your beliefson me, your life, and when I didn’t fit it, you punished me,” Alex says. Hewobbles slightly, but Michael’s there for him, supporting him with an arm slungaround his back. “I grew up scared. I felt alone. I felt like I was wrong,until I met Michael and his family.”Jesse’s staring at him impassively, while Flint shouts that they need to getgoing.“What are you trying to say, Alex?”“That I’m done with you. I walked out and escaped the worst monster I’ve everseen, and I was just possessed by a vengeful ghost who wanted to take me overand use me until I was a husk.” Alex cocks his head to the side. “You’re stillworse.”If someone had said that to Michael, he might have crumpled up and used hispowers to let out his rage.Jesse Manes looks at him, then to Michael, and he decides that he’s not worthit. “You’re not a Manes anymore,” is all Jesse says.“I never wanted to be one,” Alex guarantees. “I don’t want to see you again.Next hunt we run into one another, you leave,” he says. “You owe us, after all.You owe Max your life,” he adds with a smug finality that has Jessebristling, but not arguing. If Jesse had the first word, then Alex has the last.Jesse’s gone without any further protest, and when the Humvee has vanished overthe horizon, it’s like the relief courses through Alex, making him crumple. Michael’sthere for him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in, pressinga kiss to his shoulder. He knows that Alex had looked calm, suave, andcollected, but that Alex is also stronger than his father ever gave him creditfor.“You okay?” Michael asks quietly. “I know that wasn’t easy.”“Nope, definitely not,” Alex agrees, and Michael can see the tears in his eyes.“But I gave a vengeful spirit a home because of my anger at my father. Itwanted to consume me whole because of what I couldn’t let go. I needed to dothat. I needed to call him the monster he was and then I needed to let go.”Michael knows it won’t be that easy. He won’t be able to let him go instantly,but the important part is that he’s taken his first steps down that road.“So,” Alex asks, lump still in his throat from how his words catch, “where arewe going next?”“Home,” Michael says. “We’re going home for a while. You okay with that?”Alex gives him a relieved smile, turning into Michael’s hold so he can pull himin. “That sounds perfect to me. Home,” he echoes. “With my family.”

My Favorite Hit Songs of 2019

This year’s crop of popular music was... absolutely bonkers? I mean, this year we had Billie Eilish crash into the mainstream, Lizzo managed to get multiple hits out of songs she released nearly three years ago, the Jonas Brothers made a comeback, and the longest-running #1 hit in Billboard history became a rap/country crossover that got its start on Tik Tok made by a complete nobody and the dad from Hannah Montana. I’m going to admit, this list was pretty hard to put together, as I found it hard to find 10 songs that I genuinely loved that were hits this year. Despite that, the sheer absurdity of this year’s popular music gave me a spark of hope going into the new decade. For this list, I’ll be selecting my favorite songs off of Billboard’s year end Hot 100 songs list. I’m ready to recount this year in music, so...

10) Sucker by Jonas Brothers I never watched the Jonas Brothers show or listened to their music back when they were big on Disney, so I’ve got no nostalgic investment in them. However, this was a fun comeback to watch play out. This song was pretty dang good for a while, with the funky guitars and the instantly catchy lyrics. It reminded me of “Feel It Still” by Portugal. The Man. Then it got the point where three separate radio stations were playing it at the same time, and now I can barely stand it. I think that after the radio releases this song from its clutches it will warm up on me again though, because I do like it overall.

9) Better by Khalid The strongest attribute of this song is its ATMOSPHERE. The beat, melody, and vocal delivery all compliment one another perfectly, combining to create a smooth, almost sexy sound that washes over you with ever listen. I also like the Daft-Punk-y vocoded lines that pop in at the end, they’re so unexpected and yet they fit in perfectly. I've always loved Khalid’s vocal timbre, it’s so chill and yet warm at the same time. The only thing I can’t praise about this is the lyrics, because I have no clue what they are. Khalid, bless his sweet soul, cannot enunciate. It’s the same problem I have with Ariana Grande. I love your voice, I want to know what you’re saying! 

8) Trampoline by SHAED Give me the hipster points, because guess who knew about this song before it was cool! I’ve loved SHAED’s music for some time now, so it’s been thrilling to watch this song climb the charts and for them to get the recognition and success that they deserve. While this song isn’t my favorite by them, (that slot would probably be reserved for “Perfume” or “Melt,”) it does showcase the group’s strengths, which are emotive vocals and glossy electronic production. I love the effervescent backing vocals and bubbling keys that pepper this song, it gives the song a floaty feel while still keeping it tense. 

7) Old Town Road by Lil Nas X ft. Billy Ray Cyrus I can’t think of a piece of music in recent memory that has captured the public’s attention so swiftly and so completely, and you know what? Sometimes something gets big because it’s good. This song, despite all the memes and jokes and radio play and oversaturation, never ever got old to me. Every time it comes on, it puts a giant, goofy smile on my face, and I sing along to the whole thing. I want Lil Nas X to stick around, but even if he doesn’t, I want what this song represents, genre blending, trend-bucking, and a sense of fuck-it fun, to stay.

6) bury a friend by Billie Eilish Out of all the strange hits we had this year, this was the weirdest one to hear on the radio. It doesn’t have a classic structure! It’s about the monster under your bed! It’s got nothing but a shuffle beat, bass, and the sound of dental drill! It just doesn’t belong on the airwaves next to songs like “ME!” or “I Don’t Care.” Despite that, I’m beyond happy that Billie Eilish is bringing a bit of emo weirdness to the mainstream, because if the success of her music, specifically this song, says anything, it’s that pop is heading in a far scarier and more experimental direction. And I’m on board with that. 

5) break up with your girfriend, i’m bored by Ariana Grande The groove on this song is fantastic. The combination of eerie synths, bass, reverbed backing vocals, and rolling snares makes it feel tight and controlled, but also loose and flowing at the same time. There was a lot of pushback against this song due the sentiment of the lyrics, but it’s not like Ariana is unaware that she’s the bad guy in this position. There’s enough indifference and sarcasm in her delivery to show that she’s self aware. This was probably my favorite out of the hit singles from the thank u, next era, (”thank u, next” is great but got a bit old to me, and I don’t care for “7 Rings.”) 

4) Circles by Post Malone  This is embarrassing to admit, because I rarely, if ever, enjoyed any music Post Malone has put out in the past. But this song just hits different. The instrumental feels more acoustic-driven and has a nice pulse to it, projecting a warmth and comfort that none of his other songs have. This was a perfect hit for Autumn, being chill and relaxing enough for Summer, but the underlying bass groove makes you want to move into the productive patterns of the school year. If Post Malone made more music like this I’d reckon I’d enjoy his music quite a bit. 

3) Dancing With A Stranger by Sam Smith ft. Normani Sometimes radio filler turns out to be spectacular. The ambiance this track builds is relaxing but in an otherworldly kind of way, forming a soundscape of echoing drums and whispering synths. I’ve always stood by the opinion that Sam Smith sounds really good with an electronic beat under them, it helps their great voice move in a more free-flowing way. Normani also sounds amazing on this song, her vocals dipping into smokier territory, and when the two sing together they play off one another’s performances with ease. 

2) Sweet But Psycho by Ava Max Who predicted this in their last year’s hit song’s list? This bitch! I was so happy to see this hit the U.S. charts, you have no idea. It was such a breath of fresh air in that it was so splashy, sugar-sweet, and unabashedly pop. The lyrics are some of the silliest of the whole year, (”she’s poison but tasty” makes me chuckle every time,) but it doesn’t matter. The addictive melodies and the earnestness in Ava Max’s performance make them sound like Shakespearean poetry, or at least like she believes that they’re Shakespearean poetry. 

Should Have Been Hits

Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift This should’ve been a single. I get why Taylor chose the singles she did, but this was primed to be a Summer smash, with the glossy synths and vocoded backing vocals and soaring chorus. We were robbed. Robbed, I tell you!

Graveyard by Halsey While “Without Me” got all the glory, this is my favorite of all the Halsey singles we’ve gotten so far by a wide margin. It’s the only one that I’ve made the conscious choice to listen to on my own time for one. I love the way the production rushes as the chorus hits, and the synths that sparkle throughout the verses, and Halsey’s reserved performance.

3 Nights by Dominic Fike This was a hit in the U.K., and I even heard it on a few alternative stations, so why no cross over? If there was any song that should have been the chill Summer hip hop hit, it should have been this. This song is weirdly addictive, the chorus is so inexplicably catchy that once you hear it one time through you will know all the words to it. 

Blame It On Your Love by Charli XCX ft. Lizzo When the mainstream decide that it didn’t need Charli XCX? Because it’s wrong, it needs her very, very badly. The success of “1999″ in the U.K., the name recognition, and the Lizzo feature should’ve been more than enough to boost this onto the charts, but I guess we didn’t want an instantly catchy and fun EDM pop song on the radio. Oh well. 

Motivation by Normani Normani and Lauren are my favorite Fifth Harmony members, so I’ve been rooting for their solo careers like nobody’s business. This single in particular had so much potential: a bouncy beat, a stamp of approval from Ariana Grande, and a kick-ass music video filled with impressive choreography. I hope this gets a bigger push into next year, because Normani is a wildly talented performer that deserves success outside of her collaborations. 

Guilty Pleasures

bad guy by Billie Eilish This was a good song, just not my favorite off the album, or of the hits, (I prefer ”bury a friend,” obviously, and “when the party’s over,” which made last year’s list.) Still, watching this idiosyncratic little tune become one of the biggest pop smashes of the year was enthralling. Like “bury a friend,” it was so strange to hear this on the radio. 

Close To Me by Ellie Goulding ft. Diplo & Swae Lee When a melody gets its claws in me, there’s nothing I can do about it. This is not Ellie Goulding at her best, (I’ll admit that I miss the days of “Lights,”) but the way she delivers the hook on this song is absolutely infectious. I’m not the biggest Swae Lee fan, but he’s fine here too. I never minded when this song came on the radio. 

This year was a bit of a roller coaster for me. Needless to say, there were several instances where I felt quite a bit of stress and insecurity, and oftentimes, I would turn to music to make myself feel better. There was one song in particular that a friend of mine, @hasanminajs​, introduced me to, that instantly became a beacon of self-appreciation and enjoyment to me throughout the year. And when I tell you that I have never been happier to hear a song on the radio than I have with this one, I'm telling the truth. 

1) Truth Hurts by Lizzo I have never rooted for a song’s success like I have for this one, and watching a hip hop track this bouncy, confident, and enigmatic climb the charts was an absolute joy. There are so many great punchlines in this song, from “why men great till they gotta be great?” to “I don’t play tag bitch, I’ve been it,” to the ever-iconic “I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch.” This song raised the standards for lyricism in the mainstream. I want Lizzo to be huge, I want her to be influential, I want her to be one of the biggest pop stars of the next decade if not longer. Everything about this song, from its production to its message to its performance makes me smile. And you know what? Sometimes that’s all that pop music needs to do. 

Do you agree with this list? What were your favorite hit songs of 2019? Leave a comment and let me know!

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 14

Previous Chapters on AO3      A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Fourteen

Notes:

Wikipedia has the following dollar equivalents from 1882 to 2018 $400,000.00 = 9.8 Million $  50,000.00 = 1.2 Million $  20,000.00 = $492,000.00 $    3,000.00 = $  73,854.00 $    2,000.00 = $  49,000.00

Chapter Text

Ben’s face was a stone mask as he watched Jacob Beringer play with a grape from the cluster he was given. He had yet to test the sugars. Smell it, or pop it in his mouth. Why was he stalling and where was Frederick on such an important day? Ben was through wasting his time.

“You boys let me know if you want any of the whites. I’ll check back sometime tomorrow.”

Jacob looked terribly conflicted, and with good reason, Ben decided. They would pay so much for the grapes this year it would be a struggle to keep the doors open, don’t buy the grapes and there was no reason to keep the doors open.

“If you’re feeling all hope is lost, it isn’t, you have me, and I have grapes. You and your brother are master vintners and you make the best table wine in America. That gift will roll fortunes out of this place year after year for generations.” Ben pointed at the cluster. “This grower has done everything right and he has over 300 acres of vines that are immune to the blight. He knows the cash value of his crop so when you go around me and offer twenty percent over last year he will respectfully decline and I will have sold everything to Mondavi, including first right of refusal on the Zin and deep reds. Anyway, I’ll stop by in a day or two. Have a good day Jacob.”

Ben left the befuddled vintner behind and claimed his horse from the stable hand. His feet were not even in stirrups before Jacob ran up to him and committed to purchasing the crop, the entire 300 acres of grapes. He wrote a hasty promissory note and handed it to Ben.

Ben wrote in the price per ton for each variety and an estimate of the number of tons. His heart rammed so hard in his chest he thought he would fall off his horse from a heart attack. He prayed it would wait until he had Jamie’s money secured.

“You can take possession of the whites when the money is transferred in the morning. See ya, Jacob.”

Ben hardly gave his horse time to warm up before he spurred him to the vineyard. He knew the Beringer family back in Germany had the resources to help the brothers financially so he pressed for the highest price and had the upper hand throughout. Jamie’s yield was down thirty percent he estimated, maybe more, so Ben set the price high and the Frasers were now very rich. Ben turned off the road and headed for the vineyard, the location for which was still unknown to the other growers and wineries. The irregular terrain was a pain to ride and he wondered about building a road, it would make life easier for them.

Jamie and Claire sat opposite Ben on the porch and tried to be calm waiting for Ben to share his news. Ben looked closely at the couple, thinking they looked better than he could ever remember seeing them. Farming must agree with them, he thought.

“Jamie, this is just an estimate but it looks like the yield is down about thirty percent, due to shock after the transplanting no doubt. That is unfortunate for a miracle year like this, the miracle being you are one of the few growers with grapes. So I pushed the Beringers for the highest price and they gave it. They bought it all.” Ben was smiling and could not understand the silence of the couple staring back at him. “Oh! Sorry. They paid four-hundred for the three hundred acres.” Silence. “Four-hundred thousand dollars.”

The blood drained out of Jamie’s face, “good Lord,” he mumbled, standing up and looking out at the vineyard. He sat down and leaned toward Ben. “Four-hundred thousand dollars Ben?” Jamie shot to his feet like there was a wasp under his butt. He took a step toward the vines and sat down again. “We havna picked them all yet.”

Ben went from smiling to laughing at the expression on Jamie’s face as he tried to wrap his brain around the fortune they just made. “Well, the Beringer brother’s just bought every grape on your vines so baring a tornado that uproots them all, or you oversleeping when the sugars rise, you are a very rich man, son.” Ben laughed and looked at Claire who was watching two butterflies and smiling. She was obviously not plugged into the conversation. “Claire, do you have any questions?” She turned her bright smiling face to Ben and shook her head no.

Claire’s mind was busy making tiny clothes and booties, painting the nursery and replacing the furniture, having dresses made for her expanding waistline. When Ben called her attention back to the meeting she felt she missed something important. Looking at Jamie it was confirmed, something big just happened and she could not tell if it was good or bad based on her husband’s weird face. She would find out when they were alone and went back to looking at the butterflies.

“Looks like your crew has things well in hand. I want to talk to you about getting a personal banker. Someone discreet that can handle your money transfers and help you invest. Have you seen that new bank in town? I think they are open, maybe we should take a ride over there and meet with the manager.”

Jamie stood up shaking his head yes and walked off the porch leaving Ben with the distracted Claire. A minute later Jamie ran back and pulled Claire to her feet asking Ben to give him a minute as he walked her inside. What Jamie needed was a quiet room in which to yell like a banshee and jump on furniture until he calmed down. Instead, he appealed to his wife to rest.

“Sassenach, I have to ask ye somethin…” he licked his lips nervously and looked at the floor. “I didna know ye were pregnant last night and I’m sorry for that. Did it hurt the baby, what I did to ye?”

Focusing on his tortured face she touched his cheek, “of course not Jamie. Please don’t worry about me or the baby. There will come a time when we will be…less energetic, but that is sometime in the future.” She kissed him.

“Please rest Sassenach, or I’ll get Fergus to watch ye and ye’ll force sleep so ye dinna have to listen to him anymore.” He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her. “I’ll be with Ben in town, tryin to find a bank big enough to hold all our money.” He chuckled and let his wife go.

As the door closed behind him Claire turned and asked, “what money?”

Lester Fordham sat behind his desk in the empty bank that he managed. He was the seventh male son to be born to Wilma and Charles Fordham and life had been challenging for the youngest son of six successful older brothers. His own mother would sometimes stare at him a full minute before remembering his name. Lester sailed for America to start a life without the shadow of his brothers and was hired by the bank because of his gift with numbers. When they gave him the new bank of St. Helena, they had not considered his absolute lack of personality or charm that would be required to entice new accounts. Try as he might, his nervous disposition and stuttering under pressure kept his bank empty. His stomach was in knots, and his nights were tortured with dreams of returning to England a failure. He saw men approaching the bank and took a deep breath.

“Welcome to Bank of St. Helena, gentlemen. How may I be of service today?”

The two men were conversing quietly and looked up as if startled they were being addressed. One man held a hand out to Lester and introduced them both.

“Good day to ye, sir. I am James Fraser and this is Ben Yountz. We are here to discuss moving my account.”

The men looked around at the empty bank thinking they would be first customers and accepted the seats that were offered. The pleasantries being rather stilted, Jamie explained the size of wire transfer that was coming the next day and asked Lester what ideas he had for investing.

“F…Fff…ffour…well now, that is a lot of money. The pitch of Lester’s voice climbed as he talked about the account types they offered and the benefits of each and he was clearly struggling through the conversation. Once he pulled out his personal notes on the different investments he followed his tone came down, his confidence soared, and he dazzled the men with his knowledge of the stock market, bonds, land investments, and industry. He talked and the men listened thinking they had judged the man harshly at first. The arrangements were made to pull Jamie’s accounts to the new bank and accept the transfer of four hundred thousand dollars in the morning. The men stood and shook hands. Lester walked around his desk and was jerked back when his suit coat pocket got caught on the handle of his desk drawer. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and decided not to speak and ruin the momentum he had gained. His smile showed the large gap in his front teeth but he stuck out his hand and the men shook it.

Later, when Lester stopped shaking, he brought back the meeting with the men and ran through the empty lobby then clicked his heels. He just made his deposit quota for the next two years and Mister Fraser wanted investment ideas. Lester ran to his desk and turned his lamp up where he would bend over his figures until dawn.

Not far away, on a private vineyard, Jamie also burned the midnight oil bent over his figures. He had a good feel for numbers and appreciated their straight forward answers. He had always used them for budgeting, to save what little money he had. This experience was the opposite as he decided how much he wanted to give away. In his steady hand, he listed all the names of people he wanted to pay. Ned, Ben, Cho, Rupert and Angus and each of the Highlanders. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long and physical day bringing the white grapes in and he was exhausted. He looked once more at his list; 43 Highlanders $2,000.00 Rupert $3,000.00 Angus $3,000.00 Cho $3,000.00 Ben $20,000.00 Ned $20,000.00 Fergus $1,000.00 trust, $.25 weekly Jenny-? Lamb-?

The pay would have to wait for another month to ensure the reds were brought in as promised but he felt good about how the money was divided. He heard Claire moving around in the next room and wanted to hold her more than take his next breath. He washed quietly and laid down, pulling her to him. She pressed her face into his neck and sighed contently making his heart hurt with all the love he had for her and his growing child.

Claire yawned and stretched like a contented cat and listened to the voices outside. Pulling her robe on she walked to Jamie’s desk where she heard him working late into the night. She looked at his list and smiled drawing a line through Lamb’s name and writing $50,000.00 next to Jenny’s. “That should do nicely,” she murmured before returning to her warm bed and husband.

Jamie was a nervous wreck waiting for Ben to bring his wagon and trusted team of horses. Moving large loads of grapes is what he did for many years and he put all his faith in his grape-horses. They were strong, and the rough terrain between the vineyard and the road would not be a problem. An empty wagon makes quite a racket so Jamie heard them coming and finally exhaled. The men made short work of transferring the grapes to the wagon and every eye watched the sky above for the signal. Jamie started pacing again while Ben laughed at him. Fergus sat on a barrel and stared at the sky in the direction of the bank.

“Milord, milord! Look! Fergus was ready to implode with excitement when he saw the colorful explosion above the bank. The signal the money was there. It drifted in the sky for almost a minute and the Highlanders threw a cheer in the air. Ben smiled knowingly at Jamie and nodded.

“Looks like it’s time to go fellas!” Ben urged the team forward and the horses pressed into the yokes with haunches bulging with muscle. “Put your backs into it boys!” Ben looked back at the wagon surrounded by Jamie’s men. They would help push when a wheel got stuck or the horses could not pull the wagon over the hills. It took Ben twenty minutes to drive the wagon into the vineyard and two hours to drive it out. They could see the road ahead and the men waiting for them. Six of the Highlanders were armed with pistols at their hip and they climbed aboard the wagon to ride the fruit to the Beringer winery. Jacobs men were also armed and rode alongside the fruit. Halfway there Ben laughed at nine armed men guarding a bunch of grapes. My how times have changed, he thought.

Misses Crook had a pig roasting over a fire along with a turkey and three pheasants. Fergus squatted next to them and licked his lips for the entire afternoon. Jamie pulled his sweet wife to their bed where she read for ten minutes before Jamie exclaimed the new book was fascinating and tossed it to the floor pulling his Sassenach into a cuddle position. She could not find comfort with her corset on and finally sat up causing Jamie’s eyes to slam open in a panic.

“Jamie, it’s not fair that you can sleep without a corset but I have to. It’s not possible!”

Jamie, trying not to smile, offered to assist the Sassenach and told her the story of Little Red Riding Hood as he unbuttoned her jacket and sleeves pulling it off of her. When he started on the laces the story was getting dark and creepy and his voice sent shivers up Claire’s spine. When the wolf was in the bed ready to eat the little girl he pulled the last of the laces slowly before letting the hateful garment fall to the ground. He pulled Claire back into the cuddle position and kissed her naked shoulder running his hand down her arm. He felt magic in the air as he touched her nipple with growing urgency in his groin.

“Well, how did she escape?”

“She didna, the wolf ate her.”

“Ah! That is a terrible story!”

Magic gone. Lesson learned.

It would be two more weeks for the Zinfandel grapes to ripen and a second perilous journey with the grape horses. Three times, the men had to push the wagon over the hills and Jamie was exhausted walking back to the vineyard. Ben had tried to convince him to build a road many times but Jamie placed too much value in their hidden location to risk it. Today, he overturned his decision and hoped something could be done before they had to move the reds, their biggest crop.

It was clear after a five-minute meeting, that between Jamie and the Highlanders not a soul knew anything about building a road. Fergus knew how to do it but no one would listen to him so he dragged the pitchfork out to the field and stabbed the ground repeatedly for as long as he could with the sun beating down on him. He laid in the tall, cool grass, and wiped the sweat from his face before an afternoon nap overcame him.

When Fergus next opened his eyes it was pitch dark and a cold breeze brought him fully awake. He shivered and tried to remember where he was and how to get back in the blackness of the moonless night. He started walking and the night grew colder. After an hour of stumbling around, he stopped and felt his tears falling. He spent many nights alone in the barn but always felt safe with the door bolted. Now he was out in the open and cried in earnest. He started walking again and thought he saw a light, far in the distance. It was swinging so someone was holding it. He shouted out and started running, tripping on the uneven terrain and panting for breath. He kept shouting but the light turned away from him and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He ran in the direction of the light, as fast as he could.

Jamie stood still and looked into the ink-black night. “Where are ye Fergus?” He turned around to go back and check-in with the men. He had been walking with the lamp for hours and saying every prayer he knew but the kid was just gone. He racked his brain trying to think what might have happened and the image of the lake made him shiver with dread. Hours earlier he found the raft still tied to the shore and wondered if Fergus was playing on them and fell into the water. Thinking about him on the bottom of that cold lake filled him with such sorrow he yelled the boy's name into the night and started walking again. He turned toward home and into the lit sphere of his lamp ran Fergus, right into his legs where he now had a death grip. The boy was speaking French and crying and it broke Jamie’s heart to see him so scared. He picked him up with one arm and walked him back to the house.

“Yer alright mac gradhach, I’ve got ye.”

Claire heard the back door open and ran to Jamie pulling Fergus into her arms. She fussed over him and told him they were so worried. Misses Crook laid cold meat and bread on a plate and warmed the rest of their milk. Jamie fired a shot into the air outside to let those that were still searching know to come in. Fergus spoke rapid French about building his road and the hot sun making him sleepy. Jamie translated as best he could, wanting to pull the kid into his arms and hold him until he stopped shaking. He couldn’t do that, to himself, or Fergus, it wasn’t done and Fergus would have to rally his own strength to stop shaking.

Fergus consumed as much food as a full-grown Highlander and Misses Crook laughed when he wanted more. He watched Jamie with round pale blue eyes that were fearful of reprimand. Claire washed his face and hands but Fergus’s gaze was stuck on Jamie and he still could not speak English. Jamie sat down next to the boy and measured his words carefully.

“So, ye decided to build my road did ye? A very big job it is and I’m grateful ye tried. How much did ye get done then?”

The rapid French explanation made it clear the ground was too hard and he failed.

“Yer heart was in the right place Fergus and I canna fault ye for bein overcome by the heat. I appreciate what ye tried to do for me and I’m happy yer safe and back home. If ye promise to let me know when yer leavin in the future, I’ll be happy.”

Fergus gave his promise and hugged Jamie’s arm fiercely. Misses Crook led the boy to his room for a good night’s sleep. Jamie hugged his wife with a look of wonder on his face. Somehow that little thief had wormed his way deep into his heart and his affection for him made him feel like a father. He walked a bit taller as he climbed the stairs to bed.

Fergus took a fair amount of Highlander ‘welcome home’ the next morning. He ate three bowls of porridge and nodded at the jeering. When he could break away he spent time in his room, making his bed and straightening the curtains as Misses Crook did. His few possessions were put away into drawers and he sat on his bed, not wanting to leave the comfort of his room. The time spent with Jamie and Claire had erased his nightmares about France and trying to survive, but last night brought it all back and he felt afraid.

Jamie noticed his pint-sized assistant was absent this morning when he took the Brix ratings. He went on with his day pulling the dead white grapevines from the earth with the help of the Highlanders. It was a part of life, he told himself, the weak succumb and the strong survive. It still bothered him that once healthy plants were ripped out of the earth because a millionaire from London decided to take even more from other people. That thought led to Frank Randall, another taker, and soon Jamie had a good head of steam built up and needed to hit something. Once the vines had been inspected he decided a break was in order and found Rupert and Angus to row over to the other shore to inspect what was left after Randall senior vacated.

Jamie asked Misses Crook where Fergus was and she pointed up indicating his room. Jamie wasn’t expecting that and he kissed his lovely wife on his way upstairs. He knocked on the door and Fergus pulled it open looking up with a bright face.

“We’re goin to the other shore to check the property, c’mon.”

“I will wait here milord, in case I am needed.”

“The Highlanders are here and I’m takin only a few men, what happens if we need something on the other side?”

Fergus looked in his room, conflicted with a fun ride on the raft versus staying to protect his room. Jamie started to understand what was eating at the boy and searched his mind for a solution.

“Would ye come if I put her name on the door? I’ll be right back.” Jamie used a bit of putty to stick a note on the door that said “Fergus’s Room.” Shoes were grabbed and the door slammed behind him as Fergus ran to take his place on the raft.

Jamie walked through the old property a bundle of emotions and memories. Seeing it again made him feel lonely for some reason. He recalled standing outside, starved half to death and Claire coaxing him into the house to eat. It seemed like another lifetime. The loneliness just got worse when he walked through the house. Looking at their bedroom he remembered the night they wed. This house needed a family he decided and the vineyard needed healthy plants to support that family. That was the problem. The entire place seemed dead and that filled him with sadness.

“Milord! You must come and see I found all the chickens!” Jamie joined Fergus downstairs and was led to a side yard where Angus was trying to catch the chickens and drop them into a moving sack. They caught five more and left for the rafts. Fergus ran up behind them holding a large sack of chicken food.

“Ye have a good heart, Fergus.” Jamie took the sack from the boy and smiled at him.

Jamie spent thirty minutes telling Claire about the road and complaining there wasn’t a man among them with any knowledge on the subject. He worried they would not get the reds to the road without physically carrying them on their backs.

“Jamie darling, isn’t there someone who does that around here?”

Jamie stopped pacing and looked at the one he loved with confusion. “What?”

“Someone in these parts must do that kind of thing when people need to clear land, right?” She yawned deeply fighting her fatigue to discuss the matter with him. Jamie ran to her and apologized for keeping her up. He pulled her down on the bed and spooned her. “I forgot for a moment that ye were so smart. Thank ye Sassenach.”

Jamie found a man in the area that had an ox and would level his road right away. Luckily, the need for leveling land dropped off sharply after the growing season so they had all of his attention right away. Fergus would sit and watch the huge ox drag the ploughshare and harrow back and forth while the man walked behind holding the sharp blade straight as it cut into the earth. After twelve days there was a smooth and level surface from the vineyard to the road.

As the last of the harvest approached, Jamie was tortured by fear of missing the Brix number for any number of reasons that might lay waste to the grapes and his promise to the brothers. He slept less and less making Claire worry for him. She tried seduction, late-night snacks, and rubbing his feet, but nothing worked. He would close his eyes for an hour or so, then he was up for the night. He became short-tempered and uncharacteristically emotional when she talked about the baby. Fergus was the only one brave enough to jump into it with Jamie, whatever “it” was. On every trip to town, for supplies, banking, or the post, Jamie would purchase another hydrometer, just in case. Fergus would take it to the supply barn and add it to the growing collection.

Fergus got behind Jamie and pushed him toward the hills at daybreak to test the red grapes, earning himself a growl and a stern look. Undaunted he continued to poke Jamie to keep him awake. Finally, Jamie gave a shout and dropped the hydrometer smashing it to pieces. “Christ! Fergus run back and get another, hurry!” Another hydrometer was pressed into Jamie’s hand. “I have two pockets, milord.” They ran through the hills testing grapes until Jamie was sure.

“Go lad, ring the bell with all yer might. Tell the men to start in the front and work back. Go Fergus!”

Jamie tried to think of what was next. His mind was so befuddled with fatigue he couldn’t remember. He saw the men running toward him with their hook tools and was overcome with a need to find Claire. He walked out of the vineyard like a sleepwalker, into the house, and laid down, holding his wife. Claire felt Jaime around her and heard the yelling outside. She had been so worried about Jamie who was now sleeping soundly behind her. She pushed the quilt away and got up quietly, pulling her riding clothes on and slipping out the door. She walked outside just as men were running back to dump their bags. They bunched up looking for Jamie to bring the containers and Claire knew precious time was wasting. She ordered the men to dump their grapes on the ground, in a common pile and sent them back. She held her position and watched the pile grow and another start next to it. She knew only that Jamie had to stay asleep and the men had to dump their bags and get right back to the vines.

Ben rode in and put his horse up quickly, he followed Fergus to the equipment barn to start grabbing containers. Fergus ran into the vineyard with empty containers and they were filled immediately. He ran back for another, and another, and another, all day long.

Misses Crook let Claire know she did not approve of her working the harvest like a man and with her nose in the air reminded her charge she was a lady who should get out of the sun. Claire barely heard her but answered she would take shelter when the work was done. It was very hot and the men were dripping wet when they came to dump their bags. Claire pumped water into buckets and kept them full, encouraging the men to drink. When Misses Crook rang the bell for the mid-day meal the men came running, exhausted, starving, and thirsty.

Fergus held the doorknob to milord’s room willing himself to knock loud enough to wake him. He had been there thirty minutes, at war with his instincts to wake him and milady telling him not to. He started kicking the door, hard enough to be heard on the inside. After five kicks he ran for the banister and slid down it to safety just as the door was opening. Fergus ran as fast as he could, deep into the vineyard and crouched under a vine with his hook. He watched the house for milord to exit and was happy to see him walking toward milady.

Jamie shook the cobwebs from his brain and walked quickly toward Claire. In the distance, he could see the bottleneck starting from full containers blocking passage for the empty ones and realized it would all come to a halt soon. He started running for them and Fergus exhaled in relief.

Jamie pulled four men from the vines and together they pulled the loaded containers to the front to be loaded onto Ben’s wagon. It was a hot day and the work had all the man covered in sweat. When the cool winds blew through the vineyard, they all felt it and looked up at the gathering black clouds in the distance. Jamie looked around for Ben and ran to him asking about what the rain would do to their efforts.

“Well, if no one minds getting wet, it will be a blessing. Take the sun away and the plants take a rest, stabilize the Brix. It’s a good thing.” he said laughing.

Jamie was happy to hear the Brix would rest but his concern was for the road and getting their heavy load safely away. Jamie told the men to double their speed and pulled two more men to help clear the full containers. With full belly’s and the cool breeze, the men had to dig down for the reserve energy to give Jamie what he called for. The dark clouds hung low with their load of rain and Jamie prayed it would hold off just a little longer.

Ben and his men loaded the wagon and hitched the grape horses to it. Jamie told him to go and ordered the six men with pistols to go with him. The road was a pleasure, mostly to the horses who easily pulled the wagon to the road and then to the winery.

Claire felt the tension in the men and saw Jamie’s frenetic pace. She felt as able as anyone to help and pushed her sleeves up. When Jamie saw her lifting cluster bundles into the empty wagon he almost fainted. “Jesus, Sassenach, no.”

He ran for her, twenty acres away his legs burned and he kept running, bursting out of the vineyard right in front of her. He was panting for breath when he took the load from her and walked her to the house.

“Jamie, I can help. It seems the rain is threatening and I will do my part,” she walked off the porch and felt her feet leave the earth when Jamie pulled her inside and up the stairs.

“Sassenach, I nearly had a heart attack seeing you lift the berries into the wagon. If yer intention is to kill the husband who loves ye dearly then by all means, keep doin it.” He was pacing in front of her running a hand through his hair.

Claire stopped his pacing and smiled up at him. “I understand, and I love you more for wanting to protect me. Even though I am strong enough to help, I promise not to lift another thing. I hear men whistling frantically. I gave you my promise, now go, they need you.”

Jamie ran out of the house and stopped dead when he felt the rain. It was coming down like a spring shower so he could still see the vineyard. Like in slow motion he watched the ten containers being dragged in, filled with grapes. Ben was at the wagon heaving massive piles of grapes from the incoming containers. Grapes were transferred and the rain continued. Jamie jumped into the box seat with Ben and the Highlanders walked with the wagon. The rain decided to show the power of mother nature and shook the earth with powerful thunder and lightning. Ben encouraged the horses to walk faster, watching the sides of the new road fall away into puddles below.

The Highlanders gathered behind the wagon and pushed, lending support to the horses. The rain was too heavy to see very far ahead and Jamie prayed they were close. It was another thirty minutes of holding his breath and praying before Ben shouted the road was ahead. The six pistol bearing Highlanders jumped into the wagon and Jamie shook his head no at Ben, he wasn’t getting off. Ben snapped his whip in the air and the exhausted grape horses pushed into their yokes.

When the wagon pulled into the winery Jamie was completely done in. Ben pulled him into the winery where he was immediately brought back by the smell. Tangy, sweet, a delight to his nose. His eyes opened and he looked around at the facility in awe. Jacob looked at him and decided a tip of Merlot is what he needed. Jacob poured and instructed Jamie on the correct hand placement around the glass, swirl the wine with a bit of energy so it would splash against the glass, “only with the reds because the wine needs oxygen”, Jamie rolled the wine in his mouth as instructed, and swallowed. When he opened his eyes, he was a changed man. He ran to the grapes being carried in and put one in his mouth. He was astonished the grape he ate would make the wine he just drank.

Ben looked at Jamie’s face, “uh oh, I need to get this man back to his farm before he begs ya to move in.”

Jacob was very pleased in the farmer’s reaction and bid them farewell. If he was going to lose his fortune to a grower, he was happy it was him.

Jamie insisted Ben keep going to his own home when the road turned into the vineyard. The Highlanders jumped out and started walking back. Jamie was happy for the rain in that moment because he could not stop the tears of relief and gratitude when he shook Ben’s hand and waved. It was over. They did it. As the rain came down in sheets and lightning crackled above him, he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other. He felt his energy drain from him and his muscles shook with effort. The weeks of sleepless nights and the physical brutality of the day was winning. Jamie wanted to feel Claire’s touch so badly but his feet would not move, he was stuck heaving for air. A small hand grabbed his and started pulling. Jamie pulled his hand away at the intrusion of his nap and the thing got behind him and pushed.

Fergus alternated between pulling and pushing while he dodged Jamie’s attempts to swat him away. All the way home Fergus drove his hero forward until they could hear Claire’s voice calling to Jamie.

“Go milord!”

Jamie looked up and saw the house, heard her voice, and felt so happy inside. He walked faster until he stumbled onto the porch and into her arms.

Jamie was washed and put to bed with a clean shirt. Misses Crook brought trays with soup and meat on the regular for the two days that Jamie slept and recuperated. Claire was his nurse and guard when the whistles came from outside. She dispatched the Highlanders to fix the problem like a general and not one man questioned her authority.

When Jamie emerged, he was fed and rested. Mostly he was happy deep down in his soul. Today was payday and time to say thank you to the crew of Highlanders who stayed with him this entire year, and two harvests. He could not wait. He rode into town and collected the forty-eight envelopes from Lester, giving him a heads up there may be a line of Scot’s to open new accounts later today.

The men lined up and Jamie passed out the envelopes saying thank you, my brothers, thank you. Eyes went wide as the bank draft was read and men threw their cheers into the soggy air. One man told Jamie he would return to his family in Scotland. His wife and three bairns were without a da for two years. Jamie handed the man cash for his passage and wished him well. It was a time of celebration and Jamie was never so happy as he was that day.

Jamie requested Angus and Rupert to hang back for their pay. He found them arguing at the lake trying to catch crayfish.

“Gentlemen, yer pay, and I hope ye put it in the bank before some pretty saloon lass talks ye out of it. And I hope ye’ll be staying on here for another year. We lost eleven men today, goin home to be with their families again. I need ye Highlanders.” He left them alone to see the bank drafts and realize with certainty how important they were to him. Jamie removed his boots outside and was intercepted by Claire before he made it to the kitchen.

“Oh no you don’t, you will not sneak up to our room to pass out. I have a special treat for you, Jamie.”

Claire pulled him into the bathroom off the kitchen where a tub was filled with hot water, his soap and cloth were perched on the side. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Remove your clothes and get into the water while it’s hot. Don’t look at me that way. People do it every day and it won’t hurt, I promise.”

She pulled his clothes off and pressed him into the tub with shockingly hot water. She pushed him down into the water and used the rag to wet his back and shoulders, neck and face. She went over the areas again when the cloth was full of soap. She pulled one arm out for washing and then the other. Pushing him back into the bath she almost laughed at the look on his face.

“Not since I was a weean in a bucket have I taken a bath Sassenach. He looked at her sitting near the tub. “It would be far better if ye took her jacket off.”

Claire looked down and released the buttons on her sleeves and front, pulling the jacket off. Her breasts sat up on the top of her corset hidden by her sheer shift.

Jamie smiled and let his body sink underwater. Claire came to the tub and soaped his hair while his hands were reaching behind her for the laces.

Through giggles, “Jamie, stop that and rinse your hair.” The corset had fallen to the floor before she pushed him underwater. He came up and latched onto her nipple causing more giggles and a stern admonishment. His deft hands pulled her skirt ties and she felt the heavy skirts moving away from her body. He was completely through with asking permission and pulled his wife into the bath pulling her sopping shift over her head and holding her close.

“This is the best surprise ever mo chridhe,” he whispered into her shivering neck. Several deep kisses and Jamie encouraging her heat and the bath was suddenly quite serious as they chased and drifted and kissed. When the water was getting cold Jamie bravely jumped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and came back with many towels and Claire’s special robe. In their room, he pulled the pins from her hair and told her a Scottish tale about a maiden’s love for an ogre in the woods who turned into a handsome prince when she kissed him. His hands through her hair and the shedding of her robe had pulled her into a love coma and they slept in their embrace.

Jamie woke in the early evening and slipped from their bed, dressing quickly. He had someone important to pay and thank. He searched the house for Fergus and found him at the lake with a pole in the water. The boy’s face beamed when he saw Jamie.

“I have somethin to say Fergus, about your behavior today.” Jamie waited to choose his words carefully. “I must thank ye for kickin my door this morning and gettin me up. He grabbed the boy before he could bolt. “I said thank ye. I know it was you and what ye did might have saved the harvest. Yes, it’s true. We just barely got the grapes out before the road fell apart. Ye saved at least an hour gettin me up when ye did. I canna hail ye a hero because the lady was in control at the time, I hope ye understand that. Second, pullin me home when I wanted to stay in the rain and sleep. It took courage to do what ye did and I’m grateful to ye.” He took an envelope from his pocket and gave it to the boy. “I will put this money in a trust account for ye every year ye work the harvest. I will also give ye twenty-five cents a week to spend in town however ye want.”

Jamie dropped the coins into Fergus’s hand and laughed at the expression on his face. The coins meaning so much more than the draft for one thousand dollars. I’m goin to town tomorrow so ye come with me and buy what ye want. There should be a book to read among yer treasures to make the lady happy. When Fergus ran to his room Jamie picked up the envelope that had been left where he sat.

Cho was found digging trenches in his growing garden to release the pooling water. He looked at the bank draft and bowed his thanks. Misses Crook looked at hers for one thousand dollars and nearly swooned. Each of the men received two thousand dollars for a year of hard work and loyalty. Angus and Rupert each received three thousand. Jamie would arrange to transfer twenty thousand to Ned and fifty thousand for Jenny. Jamie smiled at his thoughts of adding some splash to her receiving the news.

One month later, Jenny pushed the hair out of her face and went back to her canning. She saw some color out the corner of her eye and looked up at a line of people filing into her front yard. She wiped her hands and ran to the door. Outside, a new wagon, loaded with feed and lumbar was being pulled into the yard. A cow was tied to a post and thirty chickens were set loose. Two goats on leashes were tied up and more people came with gifts for her and the family, like a box full of wool socks for small feet with scarves and mittens for all. Jenny saw Ned and ran to him protesting this invasion.

Ned felt like the most fortunate man alive as he handed Jenny a picture of her brother, healthy and happy with his bride. Jenny’s knees buckled so she sat on the ground and stared at Jamie’s face. Ned helped her up as more people were coming in with gifts and whisky. Two men asked when they could come and build her new barn and she gaped at them like they were from Mars. Ned told them as soon as possible because Jamie supplied everything with Ned’s help.

Ian came running from the fields as did the housemaid and three barns that held onto their mother’s legs as they shook. Ned had been busy purchasing the animals and chickens from neighboring farms and the best was yet to come. When the family was seated around the dining room table Ned handed Jenny one hundred dollars in cash and saw her tears gush with relief. When he thought she could stand more good news he told her she had fifty thousand dollars in the Edinburgh bank whenever she needed more.

“A gift from the greatest man alive, your brother.” Ned struggled with his emotions remembering the night he said goodbye to Jamie. He looked around the room and saw Jamie as a boy always tagging after him and Brian.

Jenny clung to Ned and thanked him for letting her know he was alive. Ned thought with all the treasures she now owned the most important thing was that Jamie was alive. He would ride to Edinburgh and check on the twenty thousand dollars Jamie sent him. He shook his head and smiled.