#rowe’s unsolicited opinion
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Kdrama MCs that are truly ride or die for their significant other.
1. Goo Seung Jun from Crash Landing On You. The redemption arc was so good for him. But then he proved to be the ultimate ride or die by SPOILERS -- literally dying for his SO. --SPOILERS
2. Ahn Min Hyuk from Strong Woman Do Bong Soon. SPOILERS — lots of stuff happens and then there is a bomb. Bong Soon is tied up and strapped to a bomb and he can’t get to her and then he just refuses to leave her to die alone. He says, “Let’s go together.” The very definition of ride or die. — SPOILERS
3. Joo Joong Won from The Master's Sun. Literal sunshine girl and grumpy boy trope and you will love every minute of it. Even though he's always telling her to get lost he was gone for her by the third episode, he just didn't know it yet.
4. Choi Dal Po/Ki Ha Myung from Pinocchio.
5. Seo Jung Ho from Healer. He can kick all the ass and will do it for Young Shin.
6. Kang Ho Goo from Fool's Love. He was on her side from minute one and never swayed. He tops the list for ride or die.
7. Noh Ji Wook from Suspicious Partner.
8. Yoo Shi Jin & Seo Dae Young from Descendants of the Sun. Sure they love their ladies but these two are ride or die for each other.
#crash landing on you#strong woman do bong soon#the masters sun#pinocchio#healer#fools love#suspicious partner#descendants of the sun#rowe’s unsolicited opinion#rowe's unsolicited opinion
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From someone who knows basically nothing about Baldurs Gate......
Imma give my UNSOLICITED OPINIONS.
Karlach is the most consistent with her style. She looks great in everything. Shes also the hottest overall (no pun intended). Her personality is one of the cutest and the fact she doesnt seem to get that good of an ending is UH... CRIMINAL.
Best ship- ...//covers face and mumbles... I really like her relationship with the player... this is so unfortunate... but its so cute. I love her. (I know theres a couple endings where you can kill her. Those dont exist or Im calling the cops.)
Base model MEH, Camp model VERY cute, Panties.... ITS A CHOICE BUT ONE I BUY THAT HE'D MAKE FROM WHAT I KNOW ABOUT HIM. Also I dont believe for a MINUTE this man got a six pack why are you lying directly to my face...
He reminds me of Dr Frank, I love his voice, I would never be able to deny him anything because hes really funny and I just wanna see him go crazy.
Best ship- Astarion/Wyll... I just saw a video of Star being SO into Wyll it was hilarious. 'Honestly that MAN~' Someone get him a Thirst-aid kit.
The sheer driplessness of this man needs to be studied by SCIENTISTS. But his panties are pretty cute. I do like his face/hair... but the man cant dress himself.
...Look on paper Gale is everything. His sweetness and earnestness is very charming but GOD... hes so cringe sometimes. GOOFY FUCK.
Best ship- ... Probably Wyll? I mean you can just slot Wyll in anywhere cuz hes so charming and he and Gale are such cornballs itd be insufferable.
Laezel takes second place right behind my bbg Karlach. Her base model is a little weird looking the metal looks weird but it still looks pretty cool. Her camp model is super hot, I never would have expected those panties TBH... why dont the men get fun panties. This is a crime. Anyways 9/10 Zel! Congrats.
IDK if I like her or the memes with her. her VA did that ducks in a row video and its so funny and I cant ever be mad at her no matter what she wanted to do.
Best ship- .....I mean aesthetically Karlach? For shallow reasons... idk what their relationship is like.
...Look I know shes super popular but....
Look her camp model is pretty great but Her hair is hideous. I can get over Gales absolute driplessness cus hes still handsome... what is this hair... GIRL. The panties are a choice too... but after Karlach and Zel she really had little chance. Least theyre better than the guys.
Best ship- //shrugs I have no attachment to this woman LMAO
Base model? Kinda boring but not terrible. Camp model? One of the best... the cute little peekaboo belly. I hope someone bites him. BUT THE PANTIES??? Girl. Youre lucky youre so handsome. The horns and crazy eyes elevate him... just putting that out there.
Like Gale... on paper Wyll is so perfect but HES SO EMBARRASSINGLY EARNEST. The problem is probably just the style of the game... if it was less uncanny realism and more stylized maybe I wouldnt be as cringed out LMAO. Youre so damn cute Wyll... Im sorry.
Best ship- Astarion is funny but hes such a menace... I think Wyll deserves better. HALSIN/Wyll.
Halsin somehow does the earnest lover thing way better than Gale or Wyll... but hes almost as bad as Gale when it comes to dressing himself. Who let this man dress himself? Hes hot though. It makes up for it. I cant believe BG3 let this beefy elf exist... Im so used to young looking scrawny pasty elves (eyes emoji).
Best ship- Like Wyll you can just put him anywhere.... but WYLL. Theyd just be so cute. Halsin could definitely dull the sheer earnestness to tolerable levels probably.
This lady I know almost nothing about except shes kinda rancid.... but at least shes kinda hot and also can dress decently.
Best ship- ...//shrugs
The fact shes not romanceable makes BG unplayable.
Her face and hair is gorgeous, her clothes get a MEH from me... maybe if the colors were more muted?
Best ship- ...//shrugs
Hes fine.
Best ship- ...//shrugs
?
I know the Emperor has some part in this too... and hes hot. So...
Overall-
The difference between S tier and A tier.. isnt that different. I really like those 3 freaks.
At first Wyll & Halsin were these too but... they grew on me & I cant blame them for their faults. Its not Halsins fault you can traumatize a squirrel... its not Wylls fault the realistic style combined with his cheesy romantic bullshit embarrasses me...
I couldnt even get through Dream Daddys.... and I love that game.
I can forgive Wyll.
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Fucking finally! I haven’t watched the new Champion of Champions yet, I’ve had a weirdly anxious weekend and I want to enjoy it so I might save it for tomorrow night and hope I feel better by then, though I do have to balance that with wanting to avoid spoilers so maybe I’ll just watch it tonight. However. The important thing is that now that COC3 has happened, they have finally announced the season 17 cast! So we’re all allowed to stop pretending we didn’t see the names that leaked all over the internet months ago! Hooray! Here are some unsolicited opinions.
I mean, obviously I won’t pretend that one of those names didn’t jump out at me significantly more than the others. I sure know how to get on a bandwagon. Last year, when the s16 names were leaked, I took that as my sign to do what I’d been sort of meaning to do at some point eventually, and watch all Sam Campbell’s stand-up stuff that’s on YouTube. Meaning that by the time the names were officially released, I got to look like I’m really well informed on the less TV-famous comics because I already knew his stuff. When in fact, I didn’t know anything about him beyond his name and reputation until I saw he was going on Taskmaster.
The same isn’t true in this case, it’s almost entirely a coincidence that I happen to be getting really really into John Robins’ radio show in the run-up to his Taskmaster season. I’d had those radio shows on my list for ages, of things to eventually get to, sometime, when I’ve knocked everything off my list and have several hundred thousand hours to spare. I got into his stand-up early last year, long before any Taskmaster s17 names appeared, and this made me even more sure that I want to hear his radio show someday. So I tried it out at the same time as a few others, and then it did just happen to become the one that had a few really compelling episodes in a row early on, which hooked me and made me really want to hear the next one instead of mixing it up, and now I’ve abandoned all the other ones and reached episode 102 of their XFM/Radio X stuff in a few weeks.
I say it’s almost entirely a coincidence because I did see those names in September, and vaguely thought I’ll probably enjoy Taskmaster even more if I’m even more into John Robins by then. But it was going to happen anyway.
This one really is right at the top of my dream Taskmaster contestants. Not just that it’s a comedian I really like, but specifically a comedian who’s exactly the type of Taskmaster contestant. Hyper-competitive, but not in a jock way, more in an anxious obsessive controlling way. I made a post a while ago about how I’d read some people on a different website talk about the possibility of John Robins on Taskmaster, and they said this would be bad because his pedantry and competitiveness would be annoying, and he’d ruin the show with his tendency to not let a single thing go. And I said, God that sounds great. Please, Alex. Please let your angry golf buddy come ruin the show with his pedantry and competitiveness and refusal to let a single thing go. And then he did!
…I had an audio clip from a recent radio episode that I was going to post to expand on this, but I’ve decided to save that for another post, actually, and keep this one focused on the s17 lineup in general. So I will say: obviously, John Robins will be my favourite going into it, and if his approach to the show is at all consistent with the persona he’s displayed for the last 10+ years of his comedy career, he’s in a with a shot of rising to one of my favourite Taskmaster contestants ever. I can’t wait to see how he ruins the show. And how big he goes on the Freddie Mercury costume that he’s definitely going to wear.
Having said all that, I’m going to be honest about the fact that I wasn’t that excited when I first saw the full list of names. This is because there were already significant rumours about John Robins, even before the definite names linked, so while I was pleased to see his involvement confirmed, I’d been hoping the full list would have an additional name for me to get excited about. Which it didn’t, really, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be good, quite possibly very good. It just means they happen to have grabbed people from sides of comedy that I don’t know much about.
The League of Gentlemen people are a weirdly large hole in my Britcom knowledge, and I’m not sure why, but I’ve never had much of a desire to change that. I’ve had their stuff recommended to me lots (Psychoville and Inside No 9 and I know there’s other stuff), but I’ve vaguely looked at it, and have always thought it doesn’t really look like my thing. Though I have no good reason for this. I have some sort of vague negative association with that group of people in my mind, and I don’t know why it’s there.
The only guess I have is that I watched BBC Sherlock as it came out, and that became a bone of contention for me at the time. I thought it was a well made and good show with some glaring flaws – a few “this plot isn’t a clever or watertight as they think it is” flaws and a bunch of “this seems like it was written by men who think that as long as they can convince other men they’re really smart it doesn’t matter if their portrayal of women is fairly misogynistic”. And that latter opinion was backed up by my brother, who thought it was a work of impenetrable genius and anyone who was a word against it was just a bitter feminist who wasn’t smart enough to understand it, and sometimes we’d fight about that. This caused the name “Mark Gatiss” to be marred in my mind.
So it’s possible that that’s what happened. That a few years ago I looked up the League of Gentlemen things to decide whether to add that to my list, the name “Mark Gatiss” left a bad taste in my mouth and made me think I don’t like the look of this, and that made me decide I’m not interesting in finding out about Steve Pemberton or Reece Shearsmith either. Which is, of course, a terrible reason to write off some very accomplished comedy people. Because they worked with a guy who wrote a show ten years ago that I used to fight with my brother about.
The point is that I know very little about Steve Pemberton, but I am open to letting him win me around. I did recently hear a radio episode from 2015 in which John Robins was listing people who’d be at some event he was about to attend, people whom he considered famous at way beyond his level so he was excited about the idea of being anywhere near them, and one of the people he listed was Steve Pemberton. Reminds me of that 2007 radio episode where Russell Howard talked about Liza Tarbuck in similar terms. Hope he has a good time getting to share stage with him. I have no more than that to say about Steve Pemberton, because I really know absolutely fuck all about Steve Pemberton. I shall watch with an open mind and hope he’s great and changes my mind about all of this.
I know only slightly more about Sophie Willan, and that’s only because a couple of years ago she went on The Russell Howard Hour and was an entertaining enough guest so she stuck in my mind. She’d just won a BAFTA for her sitcom Alma’s Not Normal, and she spoke endearingly about the stories behind it and what it was like to write and make and then have it go so well, and the interview made me really like her and think that show sounds good. Though I’ve never actually seen any of Alma’s Not Normal. She was also quite good on WILTY last year. And those are all the things I know about Sophie Willan.
Nick Mohammed I guess I have a similarly unfair reaction to as I do to Steve Pemberton, in that the thought of him immediately puts a bad taste in my mouth simply due to his association with something else that isn’t his fault. Specifically, the third season of Ted Lasso was so absolutely fucking awful that I’m not sure I want to look at anyone from it ever again. I think it doesn’t help that there are suggestions that Jason Sudeikis being possibly terrible in real life may have been a small part of the cause of season 3 being so terrible, which has caused my brain to associate the actors with the bad writing. Even though Nick Mohammed did not write any of it. And I did hear some Brett Goldstein stand-up last year that I really enjoyed and he seems cool, so it’s possible that not every person who got cast on a bad show (or in this case, a good show that turned bad) is also bad.
I did watch Nick Mohammed’s filmed comedy special when I first saw his name on the s17 list, called Houdini. It was… not really for me, but I can appreciate that it’s well made if you like that sort of thing. It’s Nick Mohammed in character as Mr. Swallow, acting out a comedic biopic (but also a genuine biopic, it took me until about halfway through the show to work out that this wasn’t some parody or fictionalization, they really were trying to tell his life story) of Harry Houdini. Which I guess Nick Mohammed picked because he also does magic and admires people who have previously done magic to a legendary level. If you’re into magic and/or character comedy, then definitely check out Nick Mohammed’s special Houdini. I just happen to not be much into either of those things.
Although, I am curious to see whether Mohammed’s skills might come into play in Taskmaster. Because he does sometimes do actually magic when performing stand-up as his character Mr. Swallow. I’ve seen him do it in some short TV spots, where he’ll do a card trick, and he’s doing the trick for real, which you can tell because it doesn’t always work perfectly. But it usually works well. Those tricks involve a very impressive ability to memorize positions of lots of cards at once, and to do some other fiddly sleight of hand things, and that’s a real-life skill that Nick Mohammed has and most don’t. It reminds of Paul Sinha’s season, when he mostly performed terribly, but every once in a while there would be a task that tested one of those skills in which Paul Sinha is leagues and leagues more advanced than the average person due to his quizzing experience. Like that studio task where they had to name all those bird species, or the house task where they had to memorize the positions of cards. Paul Sinha was incredible at those, it was so cool to see. I’ll enjoy it if Nick Mohammed gets a similar chance to show that off.
Beyond that, I don’t know a lot about Nick Mohammed because I haven’t seen him be himself much. He sometimes turns up as a guest on TV shows, but normally as the character Mr. Swallow. And of course I’ve seen him in character on Ted Lasso. I don’t know what he's like when he’s not doing that.
I do know he was absolutely hilarious on the latest Catsdown Christmas special, which aired a few weeks ago. I think that show was running out of steam even before Sean Lock died and should definitely be respectfully put out to pasture by now (also, Jimmy Carr is getting harder and harder to be someone I can just tolerate in the background, as he throws his lot in more and more clearly with the right wing), but I’ve watched every episode they’ve put out and I will keep doing so until they stop (and I have to admit the one the other night with Lee Mack and Harriet Kemsley and DO’D was pretty good). And I thought Nick Mohammed absolutely stole the show on that Christmas special. I watched it with my parents and the Mr. Swallow routines from Dictionary Corner had all three of us laughing really hard. So that bodes well for Taskmaster s17.
Finally, I’ve saved Joanne McNally for last because I know almost nothing about her, and I’m probably being unfair by judging her based on this. I think the only things I’ve seen her do are a few guest spots on Joe Lycett’s Got Your Back (where she wasn’t doing stand-up or anything, just following the script, so it’s hard to get a read on her from that), she was on the Katherine Ryan Backstage but didn’t make much of an impression and I don’t remember what she did on there, and she did an episode of Alan Davies’ As Yet Untitled.
I watched As Yet Untitled a few years ago now, and thought she came off badly enough on there to make me dislike her even though I knew pretty much nothing about her. That’s because she told this story:
...I don't want to be all killjoy feminist "actually this comedy story told on a fun comedy show isn't funny, it's stalking and harassment and a component of emotional abuse", but this comedy story told on a fun comedy show isn't funny, it's stalking and harassment and a component of emotional abuse. I've known several people who have been in this situation with an ex-partner, and it's not funny, it's terrifying.
Now, I'm aware that not every single story on As Yet Untitled is 100%, down to each detail true. (I learned this last year, when I got probably disproportionately indignant about seeing that apparently you're allowed to steal someone's stand-up story just because they didn't like your penguin in 2002.) So I assume that Joanne McNally's story has, like plenty on stories that get told on panel shows, been wildly exaggerated or (hopefully) even made up completely.
But even if that's the case, even if none of that story really happened, it still doesn't make me like Joanne McNally to think that she considers that to be a quirky and funny story, rather than one where it looks like she's bragging about committing harassment. That's not great. And unfortunately for her, it's just about the only thing I know about her, so it has shaped my entire opinion.
I will hope she was just making up a wildly over-the-top story to get attention on a panel show, and it does not speak to her underlying character, and I will try to watch her on Taskmaster with an open mind. But I will be going in with some level of bias against her.
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DM: The bone-nightmare-construct 'dog' says, "Tell me your names."
Adam (playing Billie): "I-"
Tati (playing Seraph): Don't.
Andy (playing Una): Nicknames only.
Adam: "-'m Billie."
Andy: *winces*
Adam: That's a nickname!
DM: Eh, I'd call that the name you identify with.
Hamish (playing Thaddeus): I say, "It's rude to ask for someone's name without sharing your own."
DM: There's an eerie, ugly laugh. "I see you are more than the usual prey my servant brings me. Leave."
Hamish: "That's not happening." I take out my flail.
DM: The girl throws herself in front of the nightmare creature and cries, "You're scaring my dog! Please go away."
Hamish: I ignore her and start circling around.
M (playing Kjell): I murmur, "Thaddeus, let's stay calm."
Tati: Can I make a Religion check on the 'dog'?
DM: It's a devil.
Tati: I immediately telepath that to everyone. Sorry Kjell, this seems like an appropriate time for unsolicited telepathy.
M: Fair enough.
Hamish: I light up my flail. "What will it take for you to leave this girl and go back where you came from?"
DM: The 'dog' laughs. "I am enjoying my stay with her. She brings me prey so well. But I sense that a fight with you would not go well for me, so I am willing to make some kind of deal. Of course, even if you managed to slay me, I would take some of you down with me."
Adam: "You've got a high opinion of yourself."
DM: "As do you." The girl looks around at you all. "Can you- can you understand him??"
Party: Yes.
DM: "What is he- Does he love me?"
Andy: "No. He's using you. He's an evil creature and he doesn't care about you."
DM: She buries her face in a row of vertebrae. "I know that's not true! He's the best dog ever and he loves me! He wakes me up by licking my face every morning and he never leaves my side!"
Andy: She's an idiot.
Tati: *kindly* Well, she's mind-controlled.
#funny#dnd#devil#names#Billie#Seraph#Una#Thaddeus#Kjell#Lyra DM#just little d&d things#ooc#NPCs#dogs#threats#telepathy#religion#deals#pets#mind control#travelling trauma centre
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Amazon Prime: Here’s this really cool steampunk show with Orlando Bloom! Everyone has really cool accents and it looks really good! The costumes are amazing, the effects are totally awesome, and the aesthetic of it all is absolutely fabulous!
Me:
Amazon Prime: And it’s got fae in it! They’ve got sparkly wings!
Me:
Amazon Prime: Its rated TV-MA, people are naked on screen a lot of the time, everyone curses, a lady literally is slaughtered and left in a pile of her own entrails and people are saying it’s the next Game of Thrones! :D
Me:
#unsolicited opinions time#Carnival Row#im sulking about it#i had so much hope#It’s just not my thing rip#so I mean if that’s ur thing my peeps#go for it
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. . . . . ╰──╮𝕘𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙╭──╯ . . . . .
🌈Damiano × Ethan × reader
OFFICIAL[UNEXPECTED] CHAPTER4--- directly follows on from part3
NSFW! 🔥 smut of the kinkiest filthiest degree dirrrty-talkin unashamedly sexy sexytimes
° Damiano David & Ethan Torchio & female reader insert [throuple style]
° "we figured that this, all three of us together, it works so well. Too well for us to put an end to it. So what if you were a dork with us and we made this power of three exclusive?” - 4 months later, still thriving on love, respect & trust, even through unexpected revelations in the unconventional relationship & unsolicited opinions from outsiders
wordcount: 19,599
° shoutsout: @superchrystaldrug for requesting this whole concept 💋 @filthforfriends for putting shibari-extraordinaire ethan into my head 💋 @simp-per-ethan for insisting i bring it into existence 💋
“Maybe we should go, I think it’s time to call it a day. If I haven’t been struck by inspiration yet, I don’t think it’s gonna happen at all.”
You had barely finished speaking when you yelped, jumping forward, instantly needing to get away from an unexpected sensation against the small of your back. You spun around, seeking to find the source of the brief buzzing.
You shouldn’t have been surprised to find Damiano standing behind you, a bright orange personal massager in hand. He was still wearing that devious smile that had been on his face since taking the first step into the adult toy store.
He feigned innocence, turning the vibrator off. “What? Just trying to strike you with some inspiration.”
The wiggling dance of his eyebrows was cut short when you snatched the toy out of his grasp. “This is officially the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“Which part - the offering to throw your big sister's bachelorette party? Or bringing us to help with the supplies?”
You had been desperate to get in on any part of planning your sister’s wedding. You felt the responsibility to step in for all of the family members who wanted absolutely nothing to do with the event. Nadia’s fiancé had accepting parents who were going to be sitting in the front row for the momentous day. Nadia had been left to ask one of her guy friends to walk her down the aisle, to fill the absence of any support from your father.
You had probably been too eager, agreeing to everything Nadia and her maid of honour had offered you. It hadn’t been until you were driving home from the café that the awkward reality had dawned upon you - planning your sister’s last night of debauchery before she dedicated the rest of her life to one sexual partner.
All of the bachelorette parties you had attended had been a lot of shameless fun (you still had a couple of penis-shaped straws, acquired on these wild nights). And you couldn’t stand the thought of hosting a lacklustre party for your sister, no matter the theme.
You had gone to Ethan to panic first - your boyfriend of only four months, he had somehow known exactly how to calm you down. He kept your vape cartridge topped up, letting you vent yourself into a better, clearer headspace. When you had run out of words, he had reassured you that this task could be conquered. He had immediately opened Pinterest, promising you that he would help you take the ick factor out of this process as much as possible.
Damiano had been very proactive, seeing absolutely no reason why you couldn’t throw the perfect hens night. In fact, he had known exactly which shop to suggest in your hunt for supplies.
That was how the three of you had ended up at Gattino Cattivo, strolling through the many aisles of the adult store, a basket in your hand.
But there was a pitifully small amount of items held in the shopping basket (a banner and a badge both reading bride to be, a pack of gummy boobs in all flavours, a deck of naughty dare scratch cards). Damiano had been running all through the sections, as enthusiastic as a child in a candy store.
After almost two hours of wandering through the unfamiliar store, your current mood was the exact opposite of Damiano’s. You couldn’t be feeling any less encouraged - planning this party now felt even more difficult.
“All of it.” You said, pushing your hair out of your face as you huffed out an exasperated sigh. “I get why you thought it would be a good idea to come here, this is probably our best shot of getting anything, but- shit, what do you even get a lesbian from a shop like this? Literally, everything is just penis.” You started to point at the shelves and racks around you. “Penis, penis, penis, penis, penis, penis.”
He maintained his good-humoured smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
You let your shoulders drop. “I’m not having fun, Daddy.”
He moved closer, cupping your face in his hands and guiding your head back so you would meet his eyes. “I know, and it’s frustrating, but it’s not like we’ve accomplished nothing. Gummy boobs.” He snatched up the bag of candy. “Gummies in the shape of boobs. Hello, are you seeing this? This is the coolest party favour ever. What else do you need for a lesbians’ hens night?”
“What else do you need in life?” You asked, smiling.
“I can’t think of anything better.” He said and kissed you quickly, keeping his nose against yours - giving you a moment to collect yourself, an anchor to save you from spiralling off into your emotions. “It’s a start, baby. And we have so much time, we can order online. We have so much time to get creative - between the three of us, we are gonna be able to cook up something great, something sexy.
“But not too sexy. Maybe Ethan has found something good. Where did he go?”
“Uh, I dunno.”
“You lost my boyfriend?” Damiano asked dramatically.
“He’s my boyfriend too.”
Damiano sprang up onto his tip-toes, trying to get a clearer view of your surroundings. “He’s never been in a shop like this before, his head might explode. He has, like, three toys at his place, three. And one of them I had to buy for him.”
You rolled your eyes as you followed after him. “Maybe he left a breadcrumb trail for us to follow.”
You happened upon Ethan in an aisle that had a sickly sweet scent hanging over it. He was seated on the ground before some shelves, quietly inspecting boxes of all different sizes.
He had his back to where you approached, allowing you and Damiano to observe him. There was something about this sight that brought a smile to your face - it was unexpected, but at once it was perfectly Ethan.
“How does he do it?” You whispered. “How does he stay so cute and pure- even when he’s studying a bunch of bottles of lube?”
“He’s wearing a harness.”
Your eyes grew wide as you spotted the thick red straps now worked around his torso. “Where did he…? He just found that and popped it on, did he?”
“Wait here.” Damiano whispered. “I have an idea.”
You didn’t bother pondering on what kind of perverted plan he was dreaming up, the realm of possibilities for that was practically endless. You just watched Ethan as he obliviously went about this solo task. You were willing to concede that this outing hadn’t been a complete waste of time - the enthusiasm of both your boyfriends was very endearing, and observing this was far better than washing dirty dishes, as Bert had been insisting you do.
Damiano reappeared at your side, showing you the leash now in his hands. “Let’s see how pure and cute our boyfriend really is… I’ll distract him and you can hook this onto the harness.”
You licked your lips as you accepted the accessory from him, testing the closure and how quickly it could be snapped shut. “After you…”
He grinned and began towards the unsuspecting man. “Excuse me, sir…” Ethan instantly looked up. “Do you know where they keep the size extra extra extra extra extra extra extra…” Damiano paused, theatrically taking in a deep breath. “...extra large condoms?”
Ethan shook his head a little as Damiano crouched down beside him. “Sorry, bro. I wouldn’t know where to find those, ‘cause I only ever buy the extra extra extra extra extra extra extra…” You attempted to keep track, counting these out on your fingers. “...extra extra large.”
Damiano placed himself in front of Ethan, trying to distract him by playing with his hair. “What kind of trouble have you been getting into?”
“No trouble, I actually found something that could be good…” He glanced in your direction, smiling as you crouched down behind him. “Hey baby, tell me what you think of this…” You nodded attentively, meanwhile wrapping your arms around him (the leash concealed in your left hand). “I think it’s classy, but still sexy enough to be handed out at a hens party…”
He held up the box for you to read the gold cursive. “It’s a candle but it’s also massage oil, so as it melts- ooh sexy oil, for sexy rubbing, right? Or it can just be a fancy-looking candle.”
“That’s cool.” You said, kissing him on the cheek as you hooked a finger through the o-ring at the centre of his chest. “We should get some for us…”
“Yeah.” Damiano said, opening a box and taking a deep inhale. “Strawberry and champagne, that’s nice- don’t you think, love?”
As soon as Ethan’s head was bowed to sniff, your thumb depressing the latch until the closure was opened. You attached the leash to the harness, tipping a wink to Damiano.
“Yeah, that one is nice. Does your sister like strawberries?” Ethan asked.
“Um…”
“Salted caramel, that’s what I’m talking about.” Damiano said, leaning forward to offer the candle for you to smell. “How about that one?”
He placed the candle under your nose, sliding his other hand over to where Ethan’s knee was resting. You moved your hand to overlap Damiano’s, which he twisted, manipulating the length of the leash into his own hand. He winked back at you.
“Maybe something spicier for us.” You said.
Ethan clicked his fingers in front of Damiano’s face, then in yours. “For your sister though, I was thinking Nadia gets the big one and then these smaller sizes as party favours for the rest. Classy, no?”
“It’s a really nice idea.” You said. “I think they’ll like it a lot. But how do we pick out which scents for-”
“Excuse me, do you need help finding something?” An unfamiliar voice asked.
You jumped to your feet, having instant flashbacks to being chased out of Ikea. “Sorry, we were just trying to-”
“We’re fine, thanks.” Ethan said, getting up. “Picking what we need, we’ll give a shout if we- oof…” His movements halted when the leash was pulled taut and he stumbled half a step. He looked down to where Damiano waved to him. “Sonofa- how?”
“Sorry, you just look so good in that harness.” Damiano said.
“You really do, like, you look too good. We have to buy this.” You said.
“Yeah, okay.” Ethan smiled at you.
Damiano lifted the basket out of Ethan’s hand. “What else did you get your grubby hands on? Ooh, hello…” He pulled out a purple penis-shaped lollipop.
You put a hand over your mouth, trying to contain a laugh. You couldn’t help a snort slipping out, causing both of them to look your way. “Sorry, I just had a very inappropriate thought pop into my head. But it’s… I’m not gonna say it.”
“I should hope not.” Damiano said. “Could you imagine the scene that would cause here, in this sex toy shop?”
“Well now you have to say it…” Ethan encouraged.
You laughed a little again. “I was wondering if that was modelled after, but obviously not to scale, the dick of Barney the dinosaur.”
“Oh yeah, fuck me back to prehistoric times with that dino-dick daddy.” He said as Damiano dissolved into fits of laughter.
“And when we get back there - even though religion hasn’t been invented yet, I’m gonna make you see God.” You said, doing your best to keep a straight face as you stared Ethan down.
He chuckled a little, fanning himself with a hand. “Great, let’s go.”
Damiano was twirling the candy around in one hand. “So this one you want, but when I offered you the candy ball-gag- oh, that just wasn’t good enough for you?”
“Candy ball-gag?” You repeated, unsure of when you had missed that interaction.
“Yeah, they’re wasteful. One use and that’s it? And that’s even if you want to eat the candy after having it in your mouth for so long, if you aren’t physically sick from the taste.” Ethan said.
“In theory- they sound cute. But we would definitely need something far stronger to keep that one quiet.” You said, pointing to Damiano. “You’d be silenced for about two seconds.”
“Literally, he’d chew through it so fast ‘cause he thought up, like, a hundred things to say.” Ethan said and snatched his sugary treat back. “And I grabbed this because it’s grape, which happens to be my favourite. And, I love sucking cock, so it works on both levels.”
You had inched closer to peer into his basket. “What else did you find?”
“Nothing, really. Well, nothing for your sister, at least. Something for me, or us, I guess.” He picked up the largest package in his basket. “Only if you guys are game.”
You read the label, only able to think up vague possibilities of what it could be used for. Spreader bar, it boasted being adjustable - up to twenty-six inches. At the moment it looked like three separate black rods and you wondered if thinking that it went between your ankles was the too obvious answer, the too vanilla answer.
“Spread her? I hardly know her.” Damiano joked.
“Not just spreading her.” Ethan tapped Damiano’s forehead with the bars. “I don’t know how sturdy it’ll be and the locks probably aren’t all that reliable, but it could be fun. What do you think, avida?”
“I’ve actually never…” You cleared your throat, wanting to hide your naivety. “I’ve never seen one of those, it spreads…”
“Legs.” Damiano said.
“Oh, oh. Yeah, that could be fun.” You smiled, bouncing up a bit taller.
“I’m gonna go ask if we can work out some kind of deal for a discount if we buy heaps of candles.”
Ethan didn’t get very far before the slack of the leash ran out, keeping him tethered to Damiano. Ethan sighed, looking back at the laughing man.
Damiano released his hand from the other end. “Sorry.”
“Okay, are there any things you saw, but didn’t mention before?” You asked. “You have the floor- wow me, Mr David.”
He took a moment to centre himself and you prepared yourself for a spectacular, completely unique idea. “Pottery.”
“Pottery?”
“Erotic pottery.” He said and you nodded, now understanding how this idea fit in with the rest of the filth littering his brain. “They take a class, they have some wine, maybe they start re-enacting that bit from Ghost. But just the pottery, not the sexytimes that immediately follow. Unless they really want to, I’m not here to judge. What happens at hens night is between the hens, it’s not for the cock to know about.”
You put a hand to your forehead and, even though you knew that to laugh would encourage him, giggled to yourself. “Alright, this is where we part ways Damiano.” You turned around and began to walk out of the aisle.
But he jogged to catch up to you, easily able to fall into step alongside you. “Wait, wait, avida- you haven’t heard the best part.”
He put his arm around your shoulders and you looked up at him, slightly fearful of what he had been saving for the big finish. “Uh-huh…”
“Your sister makes a bowl moulded from her boob…”
You jumped forward a few paces, getting away from him. “Dami, this is definitely not the best part.” You turned to face him, still taken in by his infectious grin. “You should’ve quit while you were ahead.”
“‘Cause then her girlfriend can eat her cereal out of the boob bowl every morning.” He said, causing you to make a loud dry-retching sound. “Talk about starting off your day the right way.”
You grabbed at whatever was closest to your hand, which turned out to be a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. You chucked these at his head. “Stop, this is the worst part of the plan.” Next, you snatched up a headband decorated with cat ears, tossing them at him. “Actually, it’s the worst part of any plan that has ever existed in the entire world. And no, I’m not over-exaggerating.”
“Oh come on, boob bowl - that’s genius and you know it.” He said and you couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, it kept rising up. “Just think about it.”
“I will do no such thing.” You said. “You are the absolute worst. I can’t believe you tricked me into falling in love with you.”
He froze on the spot, eyes growing very wide. You gasped, those pesky giggles were under control now. You put a hand over your mouth and you felt your cheeks growing uncomfortably hot.
It was something you had been aware of for a few weeks now, noticing it once it was already growing, its roots reaching down into your gut. It was too early, four months wasn’t a very long time. The three of you were exclusive, but you didn’t know how serious things looked from their point of view.
All you knew was that you thought of both of them constantly - you saw a sunset and wanted to be sitting in Damiano’s arms, sharing the moment with him. You saw anything decorated with a rainbow and wanted Ethan to see it at once, wanting to know what he thought of it. Songs would come on the radio while you were working and you would start smiling widely, your mind flooded with thoughts of only them. There were new words in your vernacular, picked up from the two men.
Right from the start - it had been so wonderful and it never got any less powerful. But you had been biting your tongue, keeping this to yourself because you were certain it would shift the dynamic. You had been fighting against change.
But you had slipped and he had heard, now he knew that your feelings had changed.
“I… um��” You cleared your throat, looking all around yourself for any kind of distraction. “Oh hey, glow in the dark condoms. We should stock up on these, eh?”
He had quietly come over to your side, speaking softly in a way that terrified you. “You love me?”
You scoffed, tossing a bunch of the condom packets into your basket. “Shut up, whatever.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him - you were anticipating pity on his face as he attempted to soften the blow of this rejection. You started to walk away, too tense to hold still. “You already knew that.”
He was hot on your heels, practically breathing down the back of your neck. “No I didn’t.” The worry was making you sweat and you were desperate for an escape. “You’ve said you love things about me…
“And that you love spending time with me.” The neon-pink sign pointing out the dressing rooms seemed to promise sanctuary. You redirected your path because it was worth a try. “But this- this…”
He was relentless and you increased your pace. “This is the first time you’ve told me that you love me.”
You were close to running, reaching for the privacy curtain of the available stall. “Yeah and look at where I’m fuckin’ doing it.” You launched yourself into the enclosed space, turning to face him as you started to yank the heavy curtain shut. “A sex shop!”
You covered your face with your hands, completely mortified. You didn’t know which phrase would cut you up more - the sociopathic thank you or the patronising I love spending time with you.
You kept your hands over your flushed face, even as you heard him slide the curtain open. “Am I the most romantic girl in the world or what?”
You felt his tender touches, his hands on your hips, then your elbows, before stroking your hair - so soothing, so there for you.
“You are to me…” He said and you were willing to lower your hands a little. “‘Cause I love you too.”
You let your arms fall by your sides, the rush of adrenaline swinging your emotions onto a new plain. You smiled, looking into his warm eyes and seeing that a smile was easing onto his face in return. You put your hands to the front of his shirt.
“You do?”
“Yes, sweet thing.” He was pushing your hair away from your face, eyes taking in all of your features as if he was seeing you for the first time. He placed a short and sweet kiss to your lips, you could feel yourself getting giddy. “I love you.”
You grabbed him and pulled him in for a proper kiss - then another and another. You were wrapping your arms around his neck and his hands went to your back, making you feel so secure.
The two of you were moving slower than usual, the pauses between kisses were filled with looks into each other’s eyes. Every time you saw his smile, you felt your heart fluttering.
Your body was buzzing with tingles and you were seeing clearly - after not noticing that your vision had been compromised. Everything was in focus and bright and so beautiful.
“Scusami, sir.” A stern voice said from the other side of the curtain. “You can’t just follow her in there.”
“We’re fine, thanks.” You shouted.
He turned around, pulling the curtain aside. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m her boyfriend, her boyfriend that she’s in love with.”
You gave his arm a shove. “Damiano, she does not care.”
“Congratulazioni.” She said sarcastically. “It’s one person per stall, store policy, even for our most love-struck customers.”
He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
You laid a hand on his arm, getting his attention before he could leave. “Hey, let me talk to Ethan first, okay?”
“Sure thing.” He gave your butt an encouraging pat. “And don’t worry, he’s gonna say it back.”
“Wha-... he will, but how…” This unexpected statement had thrown you, so much so that your thoughts were as halting and as incomplete as a buffering video. “Why do you think- has he- have the two-... How do you know that?”
He just smiled at you. “He hasn’t said anything to me, but I can tell, because I know that boy. And I’m certain that he’s either already there or he’s on the verge of getting there. He doesn’t fuck around and waste time with people he doesn’t really like. He only hangs around with people that he cares about, and look at how much time he’s spent with you these past four months. And don’t even get me started on how many times he brings you up per day.”
“He really does that?”
“Yes, now look alive, ‘cause here he comes.” He said. “Hey kitty girl.”
Ethan furrowed his brow for a moment. But then he raised a hand, touching his fingers to the cat ears currently on top of his head. “Right meow, meow. I found them on the ground when I was looking for you and I thought there might be a cunnilingus joke in there, ‘cause lesbians… But that’s a bit too obvious.” He plucked the headband off of his head and reached it out toward Damiano. “She wouldn’t give me a deal on the candles.”
“Oh no.” You said as Damiano added the accessory to his own head. “Why not?”
“She wouldn’t really give me a reason. She just kept trying to redirect me to a bundle deal of orgasm balms, but I figured that wasn’t the kind of path we wanted to go down.”
“Or-gas…” You trailed off, looking at Damiano, who only shrugged. “What’s an orgasm balm?”
“It stimulates blood flow to the clit, obviously boosting sensitivities and it’s supposed to make the orgasm even more mind-blowing.” Ethan said. “But, is something that explicitly sexual really what you wanna give to your sister?”
You didn’t care what this product looked like, all you cared about was that you had just secured a reason to get him alone. “I dunno, it might be worth checking out. We could even find something along the way.”
“Alright, she said they were near the candles.” He pointed over to the other side of the store before offering his arm to you. “Shall we?”
You smiled, the warm and fuzzy sensation in your stomach was making you feel a little bashful. You linked your arm with his and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s.”
“I’ll catch up with you guys.” Damiano said and winked at you, he was on your wavelength at once. “I just wanna grab a pack or two of glow in the dark rubbers.”
Ethan furrowed his brow. “Ew, why? You never fuck in the dark.”
Damiano was already backing away. “Right, but I thought they could be fun for a change. And isn’t everything sexier when it’s glowing in the dark?”
“I can think of so many things that go against that statement, I’ve already got forty in mind.”
“Yeah, but he’ll learn so much better if it’s through mistakes.” You said.
Ethan started to walk with you, across the aisles. “I’m sorry this isn’t going as smoothly as you wanted, as any of us wanted. I know how much your sister means to you and I’m, like, disappointed on your behalf.”
“No, don’t be. It’s a silver lining kind of situation. Sure, shopping for this party isn’t exactly straight forward, but you’re here and I’m having fun. I’m just really happy that you’re here.”
“It is fun, right? Like this kind of place is exactly as tacky as I imagined and they are definitely over-charging for some of this flimsy shit, like this is a fashion accessory, not an actual serious BDSM harness. But it’s cute, whatever, I’m still gonna buy it.” He said. “And it’s not like we’ve accomplished nothing- now you know what you don’t want, we’ve just gotta cast the net wider, right? How’s that for a silver lining?”
“It’s pretty good and you didn’t even have to rely on bringing up your lollipop.” You stopped walking, giving up the charade of caring about shopping. He turned to look at you quizzically and you grabbed both of his hands with yours. “I’m really happy that you’re here and that we get to do dumb shit like this, ‘cause I’m really happy to be your girlfriend. And Ethan, I…” You paused, looking down as you attempted to find the courage to rip this band aid off. This build-up made it feel more difficult, giving you those hints of anxiety. Despite what Damiano had said, you knew that nothing in life was ever guaranteed.
When you looked up again and saw his face (those soulful eyes considering you with some concern), you felt everything become easier.
“Ethan, I love you.” You said and he gave your hands a squeeze. “I’m just, like, so in love with you…”
He was smiling as he caressed your cheek, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. “I love you too.”
The relief was immediate and all-consuming. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in for some deeper kisses. His hand in your hair and his tender mouth on yours - it made you feel like you were flying.
Your heart was pounding and this kiss was as exhilarating as the first kiss you had shared with him. The warmth of being wrapped up in him, it reached down deeper than just your skin - now you could feel his affection in your bones, reaching for your soul.
“I love you.” You said, giddy that you could say it for him.
“I love you so much that I’m gonna share my lollipop with you.”
You grinned, soon your cheeks would be hurting from all this smiling. “Now I love you even more.”
He had forgotten about showing the discounted items, instead the two of you stood forehead-to-forehead, lost in this moment of new understanding of one another. His hands played with your hair and you stared into his eyes, feeling so seen, feeling so safe.
Then his brow furrowed and he looked around to where a snap had come from behind him. “What is the matter with you?”
Damiano had snuck up, grinning. “What? I was trying to add to the moment.”
“You know what, gimme that.” Ethan said, snatching the riding crop away from Damiano.
“What? Did I hurt you?”
Ethan blinked slowly at him for a second or two, clearly at a loss for words. Then he looked to you, holding the feathered crop up for your consideration.
“You must be joking, you must be, because there is no chance that this toy could hurt me or anyone for that matter. Stick your hand out, I’ll show you.”
Damiano paused. “You’re just gonna hit me with this flogger, in public, like, for real?”
“You hit him with it first.” You said, amused by this hesitation in him, so different to the usual bravado he went into every situation with.
“Yeah Daddy, don’t start things you can’t finish.” Ethan said with a smirk. “Besides, don’t be scared, this isn’t a flogger.” He spun the thin plastic stick around in his hand. “It isn’t even a whip. This is a pinkified fly swatter and you’re not afraid of a little baby fly swatter, are you?”
This was all it took to secure Damiano’s participation. He started to roll the cuff of his shirt away from his wrist, he had puffed his chest out a little. “I’m not afraid.”
Ethan caught your eye, still smirking as Damiano stuck his arm out. He had curled the hand into a fist as he held the arm straightened out in front of him.
Ethan placed one hand gently over Damiano’s, while the arm holding the flogger was pulled back and over his shoulder. Heat coursed through your veins as you admired the flexed muscles in his arm. You thought about offering to trade places with Damiano, so that you could be the one to experience Ethan’s power. You wanted to be reduced down to a rag doll, at the weakened mercy of his strength. He could certainly make you forget about your current public setting.
You licked your lips and watched him bring the riding crop down. It made a whoosh through the air as he wielded it with a look of cold concentration on his face.
The feather-decorated pad collided with Damiano’s bare wrist with a loud snap, the shock vibrating down to where Ethan held the handle. You saw a pink mark left on Damiano’s skin.
“Did that hurt?”You asked.
“It didn’t not hurt, more of a sting, really.” He said as Ethan bent down to pick the crop up from the ground. “He could definitely hurt me more with the back of a hairbrush, or just his hand.”
“Well…” He said, handing the feathered end to you, which you grabbed, only to find the toy was much shorter than you had realised. “I think that’s my point made.”
You looked over to where he was still holding a near-identical black stick by its handle - this one looked shorter than before and it was missing its pink feathers. Then the realisation hit you and you started to laugh. “Bloody Hell Ethan, now they’re gonna make us buy it.”
He shrugged, twirling his half of the broken crop across his fingers, as you had seen him do countless times with his drumsticks. “Whatever, now it’s the perfect gift for your cats.” He said, turning to Damiano. “It can serve a purpose better suited to it now, and look, there’s even two.” Ethan passed Damiano one half. “This is Merry’s and that one can be for Pippin. Take these with ya the next time you go visit your parents.”
“I can’t believe you broke it.” Damiano said.
“Yeah, I was gonna ask you to test every single crop in here on me. And I’m kinda glad I didn't say that, ‘cause then we’d be walking out of here with a much longer receipt.” You said.
“I’m sure that not everything they sell is complete garbage like this. Otherwise, how would they still be open and making a profit, right? But if I was gonna spank you baby, it’d be with a proper paddle.” Ethan said and you listened carefully to each word, curling a strand of hair around your finger. “I wouldn’t wanna waste the time, money and arousal of someone that I love, with some mass-produced piece of shit.”
Damiano leant in, a wide grin on his face. “He said it back?”
You nodded. “He said it back.”
“Oh, so you said it to him first?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, it kinda just slipped out. And then he chased me and followed me into a dressing room. And we almost got kicked out.”
“And now I’ve broken some of their merchandise…” Ethan said, then sighed. “Was Thomas right about us, when he said that the three of us together are a menace to society?”
--- --- ---
"So how do you know about all this stuff?" You asked, taking the grape lollipop out of your mouth for a moment.
Ethan looked up from where he had been assembling his new toy - the spreader bar, which you still didn't have a solid opinion on. "What stuff, baby?"
"This kink stuff- the spreader, knowing just by looking that that flogger was a waste of time. You were just so sure of yourself, but I was completely lost in that store."
"So was I." He shrugged. "That's why I only got this, and that." He pointed to the dick-shaped candy, then paused. "Also, a pack of gummy boobs."
"You got the gummy boobs?"
"Yeah, some that we could have- we've gotta make sure they're good enough for the party."
"Of course."
"And none right now, 'cause he'd literally kill us if we ruined our appetites on lollies while he's in there 'slaving away' over a hot stove."
You snickered. "He'd go full passive-aggressive but mostly just aggressive madre at us."
"You're damn right he would."
You had arrived back to Ethan's modest apartment about an hour ago, you and he seated on the couch, you were supposed to be unwinding, cooling down for the night. Damiano was making pizzas and there was a new update to one of their favourite video games that they wanted to explore. It was supposed to be a relaxed night, just hanging out, maybe falling asleep on the couch.
But there was far too much rushing through your head, settling down felt beyond your capabilities. Too much had happened, too much information and it filled you with keen butterflies.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Ethan looked at you, eyebrows raised and almost looking innocent. “Oh, I didn’t?”
“That’s right, you didn’t. So, please enlighten me.”
“About a year ago, I went out for a while with this chick who worked as a dominatrix and I guess she taught me a bunch of stuff. It was barely a relationship- she assumed that ‘cause I wasn’t straight, I wouldn’t be interested in monogamy. She was wrong and it got really frustrating when she kept trying to bring other people home with us. It was over in, like, two months. But what an educational two months it was and now I know all about stuff like shibari.”
You furrowed your brow at him. “Sheep- who?”
He snatched the lollipop out of your hands. “Shibari.” He said it slower this time, but you didn’t feel any closer to understanding. “It’s this ancient style of rope bondage from Japan and it’s really artful and beautiful. And what I like best- it takes effort and time. It’s not like this…” He gestured with the hollow metal bar. “Or a pair of cuffs, where you just click it into place and you’re immediately ready to rock ‘n’ roll. There’s something so sensual, so extra personal about making something with just your hands and some rope. And you can make the coolest, most intense things.”
“Like what?” You asked quietly as you watched him suck on the candy.
“Do you want me to show you?”
“Yes please.”
He smiled, standing up and projecting his voice towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna hang out in the bedroom ‘til dinner is ready.”
“Okay.” Damiano called back.
You got to your feet, immediately taking the hand that Ethan offered you. The next thing that he offered you was the lollipop. Instead of taking it by the stick, you opened your mouth and allowed him to place it between your lips. You extended your neck, bringing more of the candy into your mouth, while keeping your eyes on him the whole time.
“Okay, I’m getting the sense that you might need to be tied up”
You fluttered your lashes at him as you slowly pulled the candy out of your mouth. “I’m sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mm, I bet.” He said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “Come here.” He swept an arm under your legs, effortlessly lifting you from the ground.
You grinned as you admired how secure you felt straight away. You didn’t need to steady yourself with your arms around his shoulders, but you took the opportunity to hold yourself a little closer to his body. You felt heat coming into your cheeks and you hoped that this hallway would never end, so he would never put you down.
When you did reach the bedroom, he placed you down onto the perfectly made bed. Then he ducked down, disappearing from your line of sight as he inspected the area beneath the bed. You glanced at the bedside table, which only held two things - a tall candle in the colours of the pride flag and a framed copy of the series of photos the three of you had crammed into a photobooth to get.
“Okay, I’ve got a few colours to choose from.” His hand dumped three bundles of rope onto the bed. That seemed like enough to you, you heard him continue to root around in this hidden space. “What’s your favourite colour? I’ll see if I’ve got some in that colour for you…”
You picked up one of the wrapped-up lengths of rope that was already on the bed. “Purple.”
“Mine too.” He said, reappearing and offering you another bundle. “That and red- do you know why?”
“‘Cause it’s the colour of blood and this is the part where you tell me that you’re a vampire?”
“No- Damiano’s the biter, not me. It’s ‘cause red is the colour you were wearing when we first met.”
You felt your insides melt. “Aw, that’s so sweet. You get up here and kiss me right now, I can hardly stand it.”
He straightened up, moving to where you could put your arms around him, bringing him in for a kiss. You put your hand to the back of his head, your fingers winding themselves in his silky hair.
But you didn’t get to kiss him for long. He pulled away before you could properly taste his lips or begin to take his breath away. “May I have your hands?”
You unhappily removed your arms from around him, presenting your hands into the air between you. He directed your wrists closer, but not touching. He had unwound the length of black rope, pausing and lying it across your lap, briefly distracted by his hair. He gathered it into his hands, utilising an elastic tie to secure the hair into a messy bun at the top of his head.
“So, when people hear the word bondage, this is probably the thing they think of.”
He had doubled the rope, holding it taut beneath your wrists. He lined the centre of the rope up and folded the working ends over the tops of your wrists. He wound it around before adding the other side.
“And that’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with some wrist binding.”
You couldn’t decide where to settle your focus - you wanted to watch all of him at once. You wanted to watch the concentration play out across his perpetually-serious face, you wanted to see him jam his tongue into the corner of his lips, you didn’t want to miss seeing the creases develop in his forehead. But you were also curious to see his process, to watch his careful hands take away your power with a series of practiced movements.
Once your wrists were wound up, he started to secure the rope around itself. He created one secure knot, then a second, pulling it tight without forcing your wrists together.
“But the thing that I really like about shibari- is that it can be used pretty much on anything. May I have your ankles?”
“Um, yeah.” You shifted your body weight awkwardly, attempting to bring your knees up. You could feel your balance slipping and you were beginning to tip over.
He grabbed your upper-arms, pulling you out of the momentum that would have sent you back on the bed. “Whoa, you’re alright. I’ve got you.”
You exhaled heavily as your eyes met. “Yes, you sure do.”
A smile tugged at his cheek, but he remained focused on his task. “Scoot back, give yourself some more space for your ass. Yep, and then put your feet up here on the edge. Better, right? Do you feel steadier?”
“Uh-huh.” You tucked your tied hands into your lap, leaning forward to look over your elevated knees - watching as he brought a new length of black rope to your ankles.
“With shibari, unlike with your standard sex toys or bondage gear- it can be used for anything. There are literally no limitations.” His hands worked quicker as he mimicked the way he had bound your wrists. “All that you need is rope and imagination. I just think that’s so sexy, don’t you?”
You had stopped watching the rope, instead getting stuck staring at his face. “So sexy.”
“Oh, and trust. You need so much trust, otherwise the whole thing just shouldn’t happen. You have to trust me that I’ll listen and I have to trust that you’ll tell me if something is too tight or just doesn’t feel right.” He fastened the first knot between your ankles. “So, not to sound too much like Aladdin right now, but…” You were giggling when he looked up at you. “Do you trust me?”
You nodded. “One hundred percent.”
He smiled, going back to fixing the second knot. “You know, I think Aladdin was my first boy-crush. It makes so little sense, he’s a damn cartoon and he doesn’t even have any fuckin’ nipples, but he didn’t need them. And I thought he was so dreamy…”
“No, no, no, I get it. My first girl-crush was Ariel, the little mermaid herself. At the time, everyone around me just thought I was really into mermaids and I was. But it was more that internal struggle of- do I wanna be with her or do I want to be her?”
“The constant confusion that makes up the queer experience.”
“Come and get it.” Damiano shouted.
“Well, you heard him- dinner’s a-waitin’.”
You scoffed. “Sure, I’ll just shuffle out there, no dramas and I definitely won’t fall over.”
“I think maybe you could. I’ve seen some of those legit stilts you keep in your wardrobe and call shoes.”
You watched him stand up, your eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”
“I think you could get further than you’re thinking.” He offered his hands to you. “With some help from me and a hop and some optimism- I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t make it back to the other room.”
Damiano sounded impatient. “Hello?”
“You should probably just bring the pizza in here, Daddy. She’s a little immobilised right now.”
His eyes lit up as soon as he entered the room. “Oh, my. What can I do to help?”
“I think we’re good.” Ethan said. “I was just teaching our little avida about shibari.”
You reached out and hooked a finger through one of his belt loops. “Ooh, call me little again…”
“You’re doing sheb-barry, what?” Damiano asked. He sat down on the bed, lying out a plate of pizza.
“See, this is what you always do- you act like I’m some sort of choir boy while you’re this king of kink. And yet, you don’t know what shibari or somnophilia is.”
“I’m sorry, my love.” Damiano said. “I guess I just mistake your quietness for bashfulness. I don’t think of you as a prude or anything.”
“Good, because I’m not.” Ethan said, sitting down alongside you and picking up a slice of pizza.
You were able to use your hands enough to feed yourself, with only minor difficulties. “Shibari, it’s all these hardcore knots he’s tied me up with.”
“Oh, I know how to tie someone up.”
“Really?” Ethan asked, lobbing a bundle of red rope at the other man. “Would you care to demonstrate for us? She’s still got a bit too much mobility in her arms, why don’t you tie something about halfway to her elbows?”
“ButI’m eating pizza.” It was a half-hearted objection because deep down you knew that there wasn’t any chance of you rejecting a request from either boyfriend.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, we’ll feed you.” Ethan said, nudging you forward.
You took the biggest possible bite of food before sliding over to where Damiano sat. You attempted to talk, even as you chewed. “It’s good pizza.”
“Yep, I can see that. And I do mean that quite literally.” He said with a playful smile.
You extended your arms out to him and he placed the unravelled rope beneath your forearms. He started to wrap one end of the rope under the other.
You watched his progress, at first you were reminded of how you would fix the laces of your shoes. Your arms were brought together as he created a loop, through which he fed one working end, then the other.
After about six steps, he was pulling the ropes taut. He looked over his progress and nodded, satisfied with his work even though it looked nothing like Ethan’s binds.
“What do you call this kind of knot?” Ethan asked.
Damiano scratched his head. “Um, I think it’s, like, a square knot.”
Ethan scoffed. “Yeah, of course that’s the type of knot that you would tie, you fuckin’ square.”
“I think it’s pretty secure.” You said.
“Do you want me to take them off so you can eat?” He offered.
“No, that’s okay. I kinda like it.”
He grabbed your wrist binding and gave it a tug, prompting you to half-turn toward him. “Oh, is that so? Kinky little avida likes bondage, hm?”
“Yeah, maybe I do.” You said. “What I’ve tasted so far, at least.”
“We could do some more…” He said, looking from you to Damiano. “And I could teach Daddy a few tricks.”
“I could try to be a good student for you, my love.”
“I’ve got something in mind, something more decorative than restrictive.” Ethan said. “I won’t add anything more to your arms, so you can keep eating pizza.”
“Awesome.” It took more effort now that your forearms were pinned together - but you secured another slice all the same.
He interrupted you before you could take a single bite. “But you’ll have to take your clothes off first… so that we can do the tying.”
You scoffed. “Right, that’s why. How long have you been waiting to say that?”
He grabbed the pizza and shoved it at your mouth. “Shut up and eat your pizza. I’m gonna untie you for a sec’.”
Damiano’s square knot came loose very easily, with Ethan’s requiring extra time to undo. You removed your shirt and bra while he worked apart your ankle binding.
“I’m not gonna be the only one getting naked here.” You said as you undid the fly of your pants.
“Certainly not.” Damiano said, quickly removing his shirt.
“Oh, you’re not gonna be naked, we’re gonna make you a rope dress.”
“And I’m sure it’s gonna be very modest.” Damiano said to you with a wink.
Ethan had folded the black rope, placing the centre of its length across the back of your neck. You could feel him tying a careful knot there, Damiano watching silently as he ate some of the pizza. Allowed full mobility of your arms, you helped yourself to another slice.
Ethan draped a working end of the rope over each of your shoulders, placing the two pieces together at your clavicle. “Really simple start here, we’re gonna go down her front with a bunch of overhand knots.” He created a loop, feeding the ends through this and pulling it secure. He looked up to make sure Damiano was watching. “Do you wanna tie the next one? It should be about three inches down from this.”
“Oh, that’s so easy.” Damiano said, moving forward and picking the loose strands up from your chest. He quickly created a knot the same as Ethan’s. “Like that?”
“Yeah, but do three more- same distance apart and all.”
You turned your body to Damiano’s, giving him more space to work as he created knots lower, and lower again. He was silent, seemingly out of any clever quips while he was trying to impress Ethan.
Damiano’s current demeanour was so uncharacteristically serious that it was shifting the atmosphere in the room. Nothing had to be said, but you could feel the stakes being raised - his lustful intentions became a palpable presence, evident in his movements. You could feel a burn coming to your cheeks and it now seemed very important, very impossible to overlook, that you were naked.
The fourth knot sat just beneath your belly button and he paused after measuring out the spot for the next knot. His eyes met yours and the two of you shared a silent acknowledgement - this knot would sit directly upon your bare pussy. You weren’t sure how that kind of stimulation would feel, weren’t sure how to ask him to keep going.
But Ethan knew what he wanted, spurring Damiano on as soon as their eyes met. “Go on, the next knot is the best one. It’s literally called the happy knot.”
A strangled giggle came from you as Damiano created another loop. “More like the horny knot.”
“Splendido.” Ethan said before giving your hip a gentle tap. “Can I get you to sit up on your knees for a sec’?”
You lifted yourself up as he resumed control over the tail of the ropes. He pulled the length taut and you bit your bottom lip when he secured the knot in between your flaps, bringing it to rest against your wet entrance.
He pulled it back, sliding it between your ass cheeks - thicker, and less easy to ignore, than any g-string you had worn before. Your breath became shallow and it was taking your brain a moment to register a reaction to this brand new sensation.
As you grew wetter, he brought the tail of the rope up your back. And now it was firmly holding itself to the contours of your body - with him fastening the working ends to the knot between your shoulder blades.
“Is that okay, baby?” He asked, checking he could still slide a finger beneath the rope, ensuring no damage was being done to your skin.
“Mm-hmm, it’s great.” You said, smiling weakly.
“This should be quicker with two of us.” He said. “You can sit back down, but I need you to face him.”
You did as you were instructed, seeing how eagerly Damiano was watching once you had turned to him. Between both of them, you felt your anticipation growing. Their eyes on you were as tangible as the brushes of their fingers against your skin.
You could feel your arousal swelling, like a balloon in your stomach. You didn’t know how far from the end this thorough process was, but you were ready, as prepared for the next step as physically possible. Your body was safe in their hands with each of them concentrating so carefully on just you as if you were the only girl in the world.
But, even as your heart raced, you weren’t intimidated or feeling nervous over such unflinching attention. Instead of being bashful, you were invigorated - every pounding of your heart reminding you that you loved them and each of them loved you in return.
They passed the working ends to one another, wrapping even more of the rope around you. Damiano was transforming the knotted rope that ran down your front into a series of diamond-like shapes. He separated the two strands, running the left tail under the left side before handing it back to Ethan, then doing the same on the right-hand side. Ethan crossed the ropes over at your back, a quick knot securing it to the throughline there. Then the working ends were given back to Damiano for him to make another diamond.
“Is this gonna leave marks?” He asked.
“It depends on how long she wears it.” Ethan said before addressing you. “Do you want some marks?”
You smiled, feeling a fire of passion in your abdomen. “Yes please.”
Damiano was grinning as he threaded the working ends through, to create a third diamond. This eliminated most of the slack left in the section of rope that was wrapped around your cunt. You had to shut your eyes, needing more than a second to compose yourself. You could feel a tremor in your thigh as Ethan tied another knot.
“And that’s it.” He declared. “Well, the streamlined version, at least. There’s always more that could be added, including greater restrictions. But this worked out kinda perfectly for how much rope we had. And I figure that you already look absolutely delectable, avida. How does it feel?”
“Modest.” You said, prompting laughter from Damiano. “No, it’s good, it’s less uncomfortable than a corset, but it feels way sexier.”
“Way sexier.” He echoed, his fingers running along your skin, following the lines of your binds. “How come you’ve never shared this kinky talent with me before, my love?”
You heard a weird wet sound from behind you and you looked over your shoulder, discovering that Ethan was sucking on the lollipop again. He withdrew it from his mouth, a serious look on his face as he answered. “You never asked. You were always too damn impatient for us to have any kind of discussion in the leadup and then you fall asleep immediately afterwards, every single time. The most that we’ve ever established is coming up with our safe word.”
“You two have a safe word? Why did I not know about this?” You asked.
“I guess it never came up.” Damiano said. “It’s bro.”
“Well, that’s, like, stage one - like the warning light to get off that path. When it’s time to stop altogether, that’s when we say bromance.”
You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “That’s terrible. That’s gotta be the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Right, that’s why it’s the perfect safe word.” Damiano said. “Nothing makes me wanna suck dick less than someone calling me bro.”
“Yep, I can see that.” You said before being distracted by Ethan offering the lollipop to you. “Thanks baby.”
He kissed you on the cheek, then grabbed Damiano’s hand. “Is it your turn to be tied up?”
“Hell yes.” He said, instantly sitting forward. “My turn to be the centre of attention. But do I get a say? ‘Cause I don’t want you to tie my hands. I’d hate to deprive the two of you like that…”
Ethan got Damiano to remove the rest of his clothing, lying down at the pillows. Beyond choosing a colour (red), Ethan told you that you could relax - he could handle this ropework on his own. You laid down alongside Damiano, sharing the lollipop with him.
“Bend your knees up for me.” Ethan said. “Yep, just like that, that’s perfect.”
Damiano groaned. “God, I love it when you praise me.”
“There’s a kink for that.”
“Am I the president of it?” He asked.
“You’d probably have to earn a title like that.” You observed.
“I’m not afraid of hard work.” He said, smiling as he offered the lollipop to you.
Instead of sucking on the phallic candy again, you moved forward to capture his lips in a kiss - the artificial grape flavouring was no longer enough for you. His lips were sickly sweet, immediately parting for you as he put his hand to the back of your head. You caressed his neck, the heat of his body so inviting.
You lost all track of time, forgetting to watch Ethan’s progress - instead fixating on Damiano’s lips and tongue. You let your hands explore all over his body, relieved to not have to hold yourself back as had been the case in the adult toy store. Now you could sink deeper-and-deeper into this passion, your hands drawn to those areas you had memorised as favourites.
You were pushing more of your body against his, wanting this to be a collision that neither of you could easily recover from. His moans vibrated into your mouth as his fingers massaged over your scalp, keeping you from breaking this contact.
You reached one of your legs across, beginning to place it between both of his. But before you could properly get into this new position (one that would easily allow you to progress to mounting him), your foot bumped against something dense and unfamiliar with its ribbed sides. Then you felt a swift tap at your ankle as Ethan tried to bat your foot out of his way.
“Give me five more seconds.” He said as you opened your eyes, looking down to his handiwork.
You immediately sat up in the interest of getting a clearer view of what already looked very impressive. You had unknowingly knocked your foot against a thick series of knots that connected one of Damiano’s knees to the other. His knees were trapped at an acute angle by twisted loops of rope.
It was all so intricately weaved, you couldn’t see any weak points that could be exploited for a quick exit. You envisioned that a knife would be necessary to get him out of this.
“Not too tight?” Ethan asked, making the final touches.
Damiano was grinning widely as he looked at Ethan’s creation. “Not at all.”
“What’s this part here?” You asked, reaching out for the rung between Damiano’s legs. “Is this, like, a handlebar?”
“Pretty much.” Ethan said.
“I could get into this shiberry-thing.” Damiano said.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “Shibari.”
You had leant forward, placing your hands to either side of his face and drawing him in until he was finally close enough to kiss. “So, what now? What are you gonna do to us now that you’ve got us all tied up and at your mercy?”
He smiled, moving to whisper into your ear. “I could tell you, but I’m gonna have much more fun surprising you.”
You put your hands to the fly of his jeans, pushing down the zipper. “You can do whatever you want, just get naked.”
“Actually, I don’t need to get naked for what I wanna do.”
Before you had time to ask for clarity, he was grabbing beneath your thighs, lifting and robbing you of your balance, until you landed on the mattress next to Damiano. Your heart had skipped over a few beats and you could feel the muscles in your chest tightening. You let out a little giggle, biting into your bottom lip as you looked down at what your boyfriend was doing.
Ethan was settling himself down between your legs and bringing his face closer to your pussy. His deep brown eyes studied your face as his warm hands moved across your thighs, gently pushing them apart. You felt a shudder run through your body as he watched you, making you feel so small but so safe. The knot over your pussy was getting wetter, just from his penetrative stare.
He pushed the rope off of your clitoral hood, making the necessary space allowing him to place his mouth to the pulsing bundle of nerves. A wave of flames rolled over your body, causing you to fall limp as your heart ached for more. He lapped at the moisture that had already been collecting at your entrance.
He swirled his tongue around your clit and it was the beginning of relief surging through you, all of those desires that had been waiting to be acknowledged, they would finally be enjoyed.
“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, feeling the tension coil up within you, already wrapped so tight, already promising to destroy you.
Your pussy betrayed any kind of composure you may have been portraying to your boyfriends - your walls fluttering and clenching upon his tongue as soon as it began to sink into your heat.
Tenderly, he set about exploring into you, slowly uncovering more of your taste. He savoured every inch of your tight hole, careful movements suggesting that he felt no rush - his focus was on the build-up, as much as it was on the grand finale.
You wanted to follow his lead into this sensual, measured pace. But, his tongue flicking up inside of you brought out an involuntary buck from your hips as you gasped. There was a pressure on your chest as you gasped, your thoughts moving to the orgasm. It would get more difficult to hold still, to simply let him run the show, when you were aware of the pleasure in increasingly more places - your body was awakened by his touch and every bit of you wanted to get in on this action.
Your eyes fluttered open, giving you a chance to reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. You found that Damiano was now sitting up, his eyes greedily taking in the scene that was unfolding before him. He was still sucking on the lollipop, while one of his hands rested on Ethan’s back, his fingers moving in non-uniform patterns.
You couldn’t contain a whimper when a feeling of suction was quickly followed by an audible gulp as Ethan drank some of your cum down. Damiano put his hand to Ethan’s cheek, tenderly tracing across his skin. Ethan moaned into you (not shying away from the attention that the two of you were placing upon him), his eyes moving to Damiano’s face, before his gaze met your own.
That look made you shiver, made you want to give it all to him. He repositioned, tongue sliding out as he moved up a little. All of your wetness was dragged up to your clit as he allowed his lips to rest there. He was out of breath, but the concentration remained on his face.
He shifted his weight to free one of his arms and you began to sit up, forcing yourself into action. “Wait, wait.” He looked at you, puzzled. “Don’t do that- with your- well, not right now, but…”
“Are you okay? Is the rope hurting, ‘cause I can have you out of that in, like, a minute. Just let me at-...”
You held your hand out, creating a buffer. “No, I’m doing just fine. But I wanted to change up the position a bit.” You grabbed his arm with both hands and tugged him closer. You changed the course of his momentum, pushing him down. Your hands returned to his jeans, this time actively pulling them off of his hips. “I really wanna suck your dick. And that lollipop- that’s a shitty substitute.”
“Smaller, too.” Damiano said.
“Oh my God, so much smaller.” You agreed as you pulled down Ethan’s pink briefs. “That’s even before we all started eating the lollipop.”
You laid down on your side, placing your feet up by the pillows. You scooted closer and grabbed his leg, guiding him to face you.
You looked up at him when you felt his hands in your hair, gently stroking. Silently, he watched as you brought your face in closer to his dick, your eyes landing upon him and you felt the persistent dampness beading at your pussy.
Your lips parted around his tip and you braced yourself with your hand at the back of his knee. You felt the muscles in his leg tense as you drew more of his length into your mouth.
A shock came through your system when he hitched a finger under the slack of your rope-dress, bringing that happy knot into your slit. You retracted slightly, your concentration on him shattered. Your swollen labia puckered on either side of the knot and your hips moved forward, drawing this unique simulation up, over your clitoral hood, to where it could bubble in the depths of your gut.
You let your heart continue its fluttering at the back of your throat, returning the tension to your jaw, ready to create a seal around his dick. You played your tongue at the underside of him, teasing tastes as you pushed your mouth forward again. You swallowed more of him in, letting him massage across your tastebuds.
His tongue soon found its way back to your clit, lightly moving against the tight bundle of nerves. It was heavenly, pleasant sparks flying through your body as your pussy clenched upon the thick knot. He wasn’t looking to set into any kind of rhythm yet (which felt like a move made out of mercy), he was lazily warming you up, testing what he could do around the rope.
You gulped down, bringing him in as far as you could without having him hit the back of your throat straight away. Once your mouth was sufficiently full, you began to suck. You secured your lips around his pulsing shaft, hollowing your cheeks to make the space in your mouth feel tighter.
He plucked the knot out of the way, pushing it aside and quickly filling this space with a finger. He buried his finger in, going instantly up to his second knuckle, your pussy quivering in response. You whined around his cock when he curled his finger, seeking where he hadn’t yet been. Your tongue extended along him, your jaw wanting to fall slack, especially when he added a second finger.
He copied your style and placed his lips around your clitoral hood, treating it with some gentle sucking.
You trembled, feeling yourself weakened by the power of the pleasure he was giving you. Your focus on his cock slipping as you struggled for air, your body rocketing into reckless bucks. You didn’t think you could go along like this for very long - your staying power being viciously challenged with every pump of his fingers.
Your mouth was emptied as your head lolled back. “Baby, fuckin’ Hel- ah!”
For a moment, you lost all control. You reached your hand down, fingers grabbing for his bun. You held tightly to his hair as he determinedly carried on, pulling you down deeper into your arousal. The muscles in your arm were held painfully tense as you were torn between two decisions. You wanted to tell him to stop, to slow down to something more sustainable and sane - something that all three of you could enjoy.
But you also felt hopeless to do anything but drown in his lust, letting him manipulate your body.
“You want to make him come, don’t you baby?”
You opened your eyes, finding Damiano staring directly at you. He had lowered himself down, resting against Ethan’s side. The singer had his arm draped over your boyfriend’s hip, fingers caressing all over Ethan’s skin. Ethan shivered, moaning into your wetness when Damiano delicately traced the length of Ethan’s cock with a few of his fingers.
You nodded jerkily. “Mm-hmm, I wanna taste his orgasm.”
Damiano growled quietly as he wrapped his fingers around Ethan’s cock. “I bet you do.”
As Damiano started to work his hand on Ethan’s cock, you felt yourself hit a peak as his tongue left your body, his chin slumping to tuck down. You were sitting at what could have been a manageable baseline, his fingers slowing inside of you.
“I want it all over my face.” You said, moving your mouth forward, bringing his tip to rest at your bottom lip.
“Yes, you do-” Damiano agreed, increasing his pacing on Ethan. “You want it so bad, you little, naughty, greedy, and filthy, oh-so filthy thing.”
“Yes.” You whispered, sliding your tongue over Ethan’s head, gathering him across your taste buds before securing your lips around the tip - your mouth ready to be filled with so much more.
“Did you hear that, love?” Damiano asked, his nose pressed to Ethan’s cheek. “She wants you to cover her fuckin’ face. She needs it. You have to give it all to her, give her your cum.”
Ethan could only moan in response, losing himself into the climax. His fingers merely rested within you now - your pussy was clenching sporadically, keeping you feeling wondrous tingles. You didn’t need to fuck yourself against him - in this moment, his pleasure dwarfed your own in terms of importance.
You held yourself steady at his head, following the grinding of his hips as Damiano kept up his merciless rhythm. You could taste more of Ethan and you swallowed it all, sighing dreamily.
“Give it to her, give her all of your cum.” Damiano instructed, his breathing heavy from the exertion of stroking even faster. “Cover her beautiful face.” You skimmed your tongue along Ethan’s underside, feeling how the sensitive shaft pulsed with frantic energy. “She loves it, she needs it.” You swirled your tongue around his spilling shaft - hoping that your energetic efforts were enough to convey that you agreed with all of Damiano’s statements. “She loves you and you need to cover her with your love.”
“Ah…” Ethan cried out, his whole body jittering and he put a hand to the back of your head. “Fuck, oh fuck…” You moved your slicked lips across his tip, swallowing him down only so far as to not interrupt Damiano’s momentum.
You flicked your gaze up to Ethan’s face, finding his eyes were open and fixed on you. His mouth gaped open, an expression of disbelief, as incoherent sounds came from deep in his throat. So much of his hair had come loose from the tie, strands stuck in the sweat gathered on his forehead. He was a desperate mess.
His hand held the back of your head with a fierce strength and determination. This kept you in place, even when he lost all of his restraint and his hips bucked, bringing him deeper into your mouth.
He started to spill himself inside of you like never before, crying out praises, louder than the wet noises of his persistent stroking over your wet lips. You let your jaw fall slack as his aim shifted, until you were feeling his primal heat splashing over your face.
“Yes, yes, oh my God, yes.” Damiano was observing all of this, yet to release Ethan’s cock as he worked this orgasm to an exhausting conclusion. “Look at all of that cum, oh fuck- yes, yes, yes.”
With a low whine, you felt the mattress finally still as Ethan slumped - entirely used. This was when you dared to open your eyes, your tongue darting out in a feeble attempt at cleaning your lips. Looking over Ethan’s breathless form, you found Damiano was sitting up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.
“Come here, avida.” He held his arms out to you. “Let Daddy clean you up.”
You were a little shaky and unsure of your movements as you climbed over Ethan, but Damiano caught you before you could land awkwardly.
“Are you…” He asked.
“I’m great. Sticky, but…” You giggled when his eyes met yours. “What’re- you said you were gonna clean me off… So what's- is your mouth tired after the lollipop or something?”
“No.” He kissed you on your wet lips before kissing off to the left of your mouth, making you laugh again when you felt his tongue across your skin. “You’re just so- I can’t believe you let us do that…”
You furrowed your brow, trying to get comfortable alongside him wasn’t as easy as you usually found it - the bindings on his legs creating an angle that you weren’t used to. “What do you…” You felt his lips moving across the wet patches on your face. “Do you mean my facial?”
“Yeah.” He said, laughing a little as he licked your nose.
“Really? Why?” You put your arms around his neck, bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, finding a way to relax. “Because it’s supposed to be, like, some sort of degradation?” He moved to the other half of your face, alternating between his lips and tongue. “Because I don’t see it that way, oh at all. I wouldn’t have asked for something that I didn’t truly want. And you made it sound so romantic and beautiful and I wanted to wear it, I wanted to wear the accomplishment of getting my boyfriend off…”
His arms snaked around your middle and he pulled you closer, some more awkward shuffling as your chest pressed to his, one of your legs going halfway across his lap. His lips were on your chin, thoroughly ridding your skin of Ethan’s essence.
“It looks really good on you.”
You smiled to yourself as he began kissing down your neck. “You just think that I look good ‘cause I’m naked.”
“You’re not naked, you’re practically fully clothed in your rope dress.” He said as his hands found a home at the small of your back. “By the way, how are you liking that dress? How’s that happy knot?”
“It could be happier…” You paused, licking your lips as he looked up at you. “Could you help me with that, Daddy?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He said and straight away brought you into his lap. He sat with his back against the headboard, the forced bend at his knees meaning you were already so close to him - feeling barely any separation between your bodies. Instantly you felt how firm he was, pressed at your crotch, silently begging for access into your wet heat.
“I trust you.”
You didn’t know why, but you had felt compelled to say it. Something had been prompted when you had come to his eye-level and suddenly that was all you could think of. He hadn’t asked, or otherwise hinted at wanting this reassurance - but you felt it too strongly to not share it.
You felt a third hand on your back and you glanced over your shoulder, finding Ethan had recovered somewhat. He had rolled over, watching how the two of you were interacting. You smiled at him. “And I trust you. Besides, that wasn’t my first facial, I knew I wasn’t gonna die or anything. Not my first, but definitely my best.” The smile on Ethan’s face looked bashful and it made you lament that he wasn’t within kissing-distance. “And I knew that you weren’t, like, gonna think any less of me ‘cause I did it.”
“If I may, just for a second, talk on behalf of both myself and Ethan…”
He snorted sarcastically. “If you may? You’re always talking enough on everyone’s behalf. And the other half of ‘em, too.”
Damiano dismissed this interruption with a flick of his wrist. “Hush, rope boy. What I wanted to tell you, sweet thing- is that we definitely do not think any less of you after that. In fact, I think even more of you…”
You smiled - even though there were plenty of things that sprung into your mind, jokes to say, you fought them all back. You didn’t want anything to diminish what he had just said. You let all of his words gather, collecting and spreading a gentle warmth through your heart. You brought him in for a kiss, Ethan’s taste immediately present.
Ethan was now sitting up and you felt his lips ghosting across your shoulder. “I hate to say it and I definitely won’t make a habit out of it- but, he is right.” He pushed his hand into your hair, fingers caressing over your scalp. “You’re so beautiful and so enthusiastic.” The heat of his breath was on your skin as he spoke, it made you clench, it made you grind your hips into Damiano’s. “You are so free and you aren’t ashamed of getting what your body wants.” Suddenly Ethan’s hand was in a fist around your hair and a tug ripped your mouth from Damiano’s. Your throat was pulled taut and you looked up into Ethan’s eyes. “And it’s so unbelievably sexy.”
You released a shaky breath. “I f- uh… oh, fuck…” Your mouth dropped open, without any real warning - Damiano had filled your pussy, his cock surprising you, all of those sensitivities flared up and on high alert. You clenched, gasping as this shock overwhelmed you. “Daddy, fuck…”
“I was watching you before…” He said, lips close to your neck. “And it looked like you didn’t get to come, am I right?”
“Yes, yes you are.”
His teeth grazed over your skin, playful nibbles keeping your heart racing. “But you’re gonna come now, aren’t you?” His tongue swiped over your hardened nipple. “You’re gonna come all over Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” You moaned, your cunt clenching as you were hit by these new sensations, which were only accelerated by the near-forgotten aftershocks Ethan’s cunnilingus had given you. “Yes, please.”
He drove up into your dripping cunt, plunging in and making you moan even louder. You swung your hips into motion, the soggy rope shifting over your clit with every stroke.
He held tightly to your shoulders, his hips snapping up into you, his movements marked with whines and moans of effort. You put your hand to the back of his head, determined to keep his mouth set on your nipple, where his tongue was pushing you to the brink of insanity. Your mouth hung open, unable to draw in any substantial breaths. His body rubbed against yours with the most perfect and promising friction.
Ethan’s hands went to your hips and guided you further forward, increasing the collision of you onto Damiano. Ethan set his lips onto your shoulder again. He let you feel these movements more, his lips sinking in and lingering.
He ran one hand up the side of your neck, reaching across your jaw. You heard him draw in a sharp inhale. “You… baby, do you even know how magnificent you are? ‘Cause you are just so incredible.” His lips rested against your cheek and even though his breath was so hot, you still fell victim to a full-body shiver. “You look so…” He purred. “You sound so sexy.”
You turned to face him, reaching back and wrapping your hand around his arm. “You should fuck me then.” His mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything at first and you held his arm tighter. “Show me baby, show me and make me feel how sexy you think I am.”
He didn’t respond with words, instead bringing his mouth to yours with such ferocity that your heart skipped over a few beats. You whined against his lips, feeling your chest tighten.
But he left you far too soon, turning to collect some things from the closeby set of draws. In anticipation, Damiano had paused and you tried to catch your breath.
“And what are you smiling about, dork?” You asked, readjusting your arms around him.
He was beaming, shaking his head a little. “This is so… it’s totally mental, like how is any of this actually happening? How am I just allowed to watch the two most beautiful people in the world have sex right in front of me?”
You put your hand to his cheek, your eyes dropping to take in his lips as you moved in closer. “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”
You kissed him, drawing his top lip between both of yours. His hands moved tenderly across your back, gently stroking at what he could get at between the ropes.
You were distracted when you felt Ethan’s hand on your hip, squeezing firmly. Pulling away from Damiano’s mouth, you were instantly greeted by the scent of mint and chocolate - Ethan’s choice in flavoured lubricant. You turned to where you could feel him moving in closer.
“Tell me if it hurts…” He whispered.
You looked at him, nodding. “I will.”
Damiano redirected your attention with a guiding hand under your chin, bringing you back in for more kisses. He moved slowly, not trying to rob you of your breath.
This tenderness was mimicked by how Ethan began to initiate the necessary preparation. The lubricant on his fingers was warm as the tip of one finger tested at the tightness of your asshole.
This new stimulation had you moaning heavily against Damiano’s mouth, your already-sensitive cunt clenching upon his dick. He soothingly stroked your hair, keeping his hips perfectly still so as to not overshadow any of Ethan’s process.
This in-between moment held so much intimacy (and not just due to having Ethan finger your ass), the three of you quietly fixed on the same goal. Damiano heard every time your breath skipped. Ethan felt every slight reaction of your body, letting this explain your current state to him.
It was the most thorough and careful prep - reminding you of how intensive their aftercare was. But you hadn’t arrived at the after stage yet.
Each time you felt more of Ethan, you arched your back further, silently offering him more. His fingers massaged around and inside of you, tips disappearing in, followed by more of the length of his fingers. It made you squirm, it made you clench more upon Damiano.
You were stunned breathless when dick replaced fingers and you were feeling Ethan’s body heat on your back - a prelude to his skin against yours. You couldn’t continue kissing Damiano, instead just letting yourself become overwhelmed by all of this.
A curious observer to everything happening in your body, you let your consciousness spread out, so that you could drink all of these sources of pleasure in. You acknowledged every point of connection between you and each of your boyfriends - wanting to remember each sensation, wanting to remember the synergy that blessed you in this: the first time you fucked after telling them that you were in love with both of them.
You felt something bump at your side, looking down to where Ethan’s knee had hit you as he tried to figure out the best way to position himself. Damiano’s legs were forced to remain bent, eliminating the ease of adding Ethan. You could sit comfortably in Damiano’s lap but the space left between his legs for Ethan was limited. He seemed to be trying to decide if kneeling behind you was feasible, but his balance didn’t appear to be guaranteed.
“This is so many legs.” You said, half-laughing.
“Ugh, we get it already.” Damiano dramatically rolled his eyes. “Ethan is so hung that he has three legs.”
“No, that’s not quite-”
“Lift your legs more.” Ethan told Damiano. “And then spread them as far as you can.” Damiano kept an arm around your waist, holding you steady as he pushed his knees further apart. “Yep, nice and wide, just like that.”
“Comfortable, sweet thing?” He asked as Ethan made his adjustments behind your back.
“More like thrilled.” You said, stroking Damiano’s cheek. “Overjoyed, elated, exhilarated.” You kissed him. “Do you want some more words, or does that just about sum up being in love and being fucked?”
He smiled. “I think that covers it pretty well.”
He brought you in for a deeper kiss and you followed him into this rhythm as you both awaited Ethan. He had found enough room under and between Damiano’s legs, all unnecessary space between the three of you was completely gone. You had both of them as close as you could possibly ever need them.
You turned your face to Ethan, reaching your hand out to rest on his cheek as you kissed him. Your other hand was busied amongst Damiano’s long hair once you had your arm wrapped around his shoulder. His lips moved across your neck, dragging and sucking without any discernible goal beyond tasting your skin.
It was impossible to know who made the first move, who set your bodies into motion, but your hips rocked forward - colliding, then grinding against Damiano’s. You whimpered into Ethan’s mouth as his body remained pressed to yours, moving with you.
You could feel the tension rising within you and you knew that sitting still was no longer an option. You needed the release, your whole body was crying out for it.
You couldn’t feel the rope and how it rubbed at your skin any longer - you were gliding, feeling only the sensations radiating out from deep within you. Your body weightless as it pinballed between the two of them.
Your lips left Ethan’s, your jaw falling slack in your desperate attempt to get some air to your lungs as Damiano kicked things up another notch. His mouth on your nipple had you feeling a greater surge of electricity through your body. You crushed forward into him with more energy as a new, higher peak came into sight - everything mounting just right.
Your breath left you in ragged gasps as he sucked on your nipple. Your gut clenched, your chest fluttered, your mind free of any coherent thoughts as you were being rocketed toward that edge. Ethan guided you forward, lips on your neck and a comforting hand on your hip as he worked through every stretch, every contraction.
It seemed impossible, but somehow it got better. The pleasure was building to another even grander height, orchestrated by Damiano and his deeper plunges into you. It wasn’t enough to simply meet your swings, now he was striving for greater impact. Your swollen pussy picked up each of his strokes, soon allowing him to hit against your core.
Your head felt like it was spinning as you slumped forward, all of your body weight landing upon him, needing him to breathe new strength into you.
There was no escaping it - from all sides, the powerful waves were eroding your composure. You were nothing but a quivering mess, at the mercy of Damiano’s enthusiasm and Ethan’s strength.
You rested your face against Damiano’s skin, grateful when his mouth left your nipple - any extra playing at your sensitivities could instantly lead to your undoing. You felt Ethan move in closer, then heard his lips working into an impassioned rhythm with Damiano’s mouth.
Trapped between their two bodies (getting completely covered in their passion), you had fully relinquished all control. There was no opportunity to catch your breath, not a single second that wasn’t spent driving you harder to the state of orgasm.
For every time that Damiano’s hips snapped into yours, Ethan was ready to catch you with just as much force. You were in constant motion.
Someone (possibly Ethan, but there was no way to distinguish one from the other any longer) grabbed at the bow that had been tied at your back - what was keeping your ‘dress’ in place. The excess at the working ends was being wrapped around your boyfriend’s hand - the rope being pulled tighter.
The constriction around so much of your body had your attention going to your heart and the feral quality of how it raced. You became obsessed with the idea of your release, which you were certain would result in you bursting on every imaginable level.
You were so close to becoming overwhelmed by all of this pressure. But you thought the moment of perfection was about to be within your grasp.
Daunting as it was - you swung into a quicker tempo, the little space that you did have was used for your frantic bucking. You needed your release, you needed the moment when the fusion between the three of you reached its pinnacle and you broke apart. You needed the break, needed the burst to reclaim yourself.
“Ff-uck.” Damiano gasped, his head slumping back to rest at the headboard. His eyes squeezed shut, the chords on his neck prominent and it was clear that the tension was in control.
“Daddy…” A moan, a desperate plea as you were jostled by the growing shaking in his legs.
He convulsed into you only a few more times before disappearing into his orgasm. He fell back, thoroughly spent as you kept your own release in your line of sight.
You laid upon him, grinding down and bringing a new pressure to your pelvis. The heat from this area began to radiate out as you continued to spasm excitedly around his shaft.
Your breath lodged into your throat and still, you felt Ethan pushing you down deeper. With every sensitivity inside of you activated and ready to overwhelm you - you started to scream out, the release finally upon you.
“Yes baby, yes.” Ethan coached, adding even more sparks to the fireworks already flying off within you.
The sheer power of the climax stunned and intimidated you. It wasn’t just your pussy that was beyond the point of regular stimulation, the orgasm was being drawn out from your heart and soul.
You were letting go in a way that was beyond belief, your flutterings turning nervous when you noticed a heavier feeling. You noticed a strange weight dropping from your gut, down into your cunt.
“Wait, wuh- ah. Fuck, oh… I-” Your thighs clenched as dread flew through you - memories of the past three instances of this strange sensation became present at the front of your mind. “Hang on, I- unf… oh, God- I… hang on, hang on, hang on, aah…”
Then it was a sticky, wet, shameful feeling snaking down both of your thighs. Your body went rigid but the urge to run was so compelling - your only option.
“Stop, stop, stop.” Your words were strangled, holding absolutely no authority as you pushed Ethan’s hands off of you.
But he instantly listened, letting go of you and giving you the space to flee. “Are you alright, honey? Is somethin-”
“I’m sorry.” Your legs weren’t steady beneath you, but you didn’t let that keep you from escaping. “I’m really sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” He called out, upon receiving no response he switched to calling your name. You kept on your way to the bathroom, knowing that you couldn’t stop, not while there was absolutely no way to explain yourself.
“What’s happened?” Damiano asked, his groggy voice remaining behind you. “What’d I miss? My eyes were closed. Wait, why am I this wet? This is a lot, right babe?”
They were discovering it, finding out that you were a squirter, something you had never intended to share. It was marking up your legs, the smell practically burning your nostrils. You were bumping into walls before finally arriving into the bathroom and instantly shutting the door behind yourself. You locked it and progressed to the basin, turning on the faucet - all the while keeping your eyes down so as to avoid physically facing yourself in the mirror.
You were too riddled with guilt to consider dirtying one of Ethan’s towels with this. Rather than spreading this shame any further through his clean home, you resolved to using wads of toilet paper to remove the cum from your legs.
You wiped away the sticky liquid, wondering how your boyfriends would look at you after this involuntary ejaculation. It had certainly changed the way Reace looked at you - your ex-boyfriend had complained about the mess for hours. It had been of particular concern to him that any of your moisture would seep through the sheets, to permanently taint his mattress.
You were grabbing for the bar of soap when you heard a gentle knocking on the other side of the door. “Are you okay, baby? Can you let me in- at least so I can get you out of the rope?”
“I ruined it.” You lamented, cheeks full of embarrassed heat as you opened the door only a crack. “I’m sorry, it’s totally gross and ruined now, but I-”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan said, coming into the room to stand with you. He hadn’t fixed his thoroughly dishevelled hair, but he had partially dressed himself and there were more items of clothing slung over one shoulder. “It’s definitely not ruined. This rope is kinda designed to get dirty. I know how to wash it, so don’t worry about that, please. Can I take it off of you?”
You responded by turning around, presenting the back of the intricate ropework to him. You wiped at your legs while he worked on the knots. Soapy water was trickling down to your ankles, but you still felt unclean.
“Are you okay?” He asked. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t wanna. But I just- I need to know that you’re okay, please.”
You sighed. “I didn’t mean to- I’m so fuckin’ embarrassed.”
“Because of…” He sounded so hesitant - clearly taking his time to select each word carefully. “Because of what happened when you came, and all of-”
“Don’t say squirt, please.” You squeezed your eyes shut. The relief you gained from him removing the rope from over your pussy was fleeting, a superficial feeling.
“Of course.” He said. “But if that’s why you’re embarrassed- you really shouldn’t be. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Are you sure about that? Are you sure it isn’t actually totally and completely gross?”
“Has someone told you that before?” He asked, working on the ties across your front without encroaching too much on your personal space.
You avoided his eye. “Yeah, there was this girl, just, like, a one-night-stand. And it happened during- she literally had two fingers inside of me and a toy on my clit. And she’s all like- come, come, come, so I did and then that extra stuff happened and like…”
“Did you wanna shower?”
“Um, I…”
“I bought you some comfy clothes, in case you wanted to.” He offered an explanation. “They’re mine so they’ll be a bit big, but…” You nodded and he placed the unbuttoned flannelette shirt at your shoulders. “Might help you feel better.” He started to fasten the buttons, covering your torso and the bright pink marks that the rope had left behind. “I’m sorry, you were saying before I so rudely interrupted you- this woman, she got more than she bargained for and she didn’t know how to react?”
“No, she knew how to react- she reacted with disgust. Right away, she started to freak out and got dressed and started to leave, even though that was early in the night. And she was saying that I should’ve included in my HER bio that I was into that kind of fetish, ‘cause she didn’t fuck with that. She said it was this gross thing that proved I wasn’t really gay, ‘cause clearly I’d learnt how to fuck from fetish, exploitative porn made by men for other men.” You stepped into the red trunks as he offered them to you. “She left and blocked me on HER, where we’d been talking for, like, a couple of weeks.”
“Right.” There was a look of thoughtfulness on his face as he folded the waistband down over itself a few times, creating some bunching in the red underwear. “Look, I don’t wanna mansplain the female orgasm here, but…”
“Is everything alright?” Damiano yelled out before Ethan’s point could be made. “I’d love to get up and help, but I’m trapped back here. Incapacitated, useless, tied down…”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Ethan called back. He shook his head, lowering his voice to speak only to you. “So dramatic, he’s fine, the circulation to his legs wasn’t compromised. Anyway, we were talking about you- what you just did was totally natural and I’m not judging you for doing it, and I’m also not judging you for the times when it didn’t happen. It’s random but however, whenever it happens- I’m okay with it.”
“But I… there’s all this mess in your bed now…”
He shrugged. “So, what? I don’t care. The only thing I care about is you and that you’re feeling okay and that you know how loved you are.” He caressed your cheek. “And nothing that this gorgeous body might do during sex could change how I feel about you, ever.”
“You’re so sweet, you’re just, like, the best…” You wrapped your arms around his waist as he pecked you on the forehead. “Thank you, Ethan.”
“I just want you to know that you never have to feel ashamed of your body or anything it does, not around me, not around Dami either.”
“We should probably go untie him, huh? Before he starts planning how to 127 Hours himself out of the situation.” You said. “And then, I can strip the sheets off of your bed and wash them for you. And, do you have-”
He tugged on your arm, physically pulling you out of this train of thought. “You’ll do no such thing. The only thing you’re gonna do is sit on the couch, eat some gummy boobs and there’s a friend of mine I want you to message. About the hens party, I thought of an activity.”
“You thought of it, when? While we were fucking?”
“No, before all of that. But I guess I forgot to say it out loud. This drag queen I know, Sno- she hosts this weekly dinner, drinks and games set up where the whole bar plays Cards Against Humanity.” He said, accompanying you out of the bathroom. “I thought that could be fun and still very much an adult thing, without being graphically sexual.”
“Yeah- that might be legitimately perfect. Nadia loves Cards Against Humanity.”
“Of course she does.” He said. “Message Sno- Sno Secret, and she can let you know how far in advance you’ll need to book for a group that size.”
You smiled, your heart feeling light again. You turned to him, arms going to his shoulders as you kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you. I’m so happy we’re saying that now. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it or saying it.”
Sno Secret (whose Instagram feed promised high-energy performances wrapped in colourful wigs and outfits) was available to talk to; she was very friendly after you had introduced yourself as Ethan’s girlfriend. She had all of the necessary information ready to share. By the time Damiano arrived in the lounge room, you were excitedly sharing this planning with the maid of honour.
He instantly slid into the space next to you, kissing you on the cheek before resting his head on your chest. “Everything alright, baby?”
You locked your phone, putting an arm around him. “Yeah, I just… I wasn’t expecting that, I guess that I wasn’t anticipating getting fucked that hard.”
“Yeah, baby.” He said, laughing.
“But maybe I should… I gotta get used to having loving, supportive and accepting boyfriends, eh?”
“You’re damn right you do.” He lifted his head from your breast, showing you a smile before he kissed you.
--- --- ---
"So you defected?"
You looked back to your own table - you had been waving to Nadia, who had ended up two tables away from you. You were seated with a handful of your sister's friends who you had never met before and you were very aware of the fact that you were the only one wearing a dress. All these women had known each other for years and so could easily fall into conversations, leaving you mostly silent during these rounds of Cards Against Humanity. But now one of them was talking to you - Carissa, if you remembered correctly.
"Pardon me?" You asked, smiling politely.
"Well, I coulda sworn that Nadia said you were queer and seeing girls and everything, a few months ago. But before, I heard you saying something about boyfriends, hm?"
Noemi, the woman beside her, looked at you with raised eyebrows. "Wait, did you say boyfriends- as in, more than one?"
"That's what I heard, but I guess I could be wrong…"
You swallowed, noticing how everyone at the table was now looking directly at you. "No, no, you heard correctly. I am currently seeing two guys."
"Two?" Noemi repeated and the others were sharing murmurs of amazement.
"So you didn't just defect, you're really trying to wipe out any hints of being a lesbian, huh?" Kara asked.
"No, well, I mean… it's not like that, I kinda just met them and things-"
"Do they know about each other?"
You nodded. "Yeah, I met them on the same night, so it's always been all three-"
Noemi raised her hands before speaking over you. "Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that you are having sex with two guys at once? That's so mental." She laughed then quickly stopped. "Sorry, I just- two men? I can't imagine anything worse…"
"I would literally rather die." Carissa said.
"Are you a nympho or something?" Kara asked.
You felt like your head was spinning and all of the fries you had eaten before had clumped together in your stomach, a heavy sludge. For a second, your vision was blurry, until you blinked. Tears, you curled your hands into fists under the table, you could not start crying now - not here in front of these strangers and their critical eyes.
"I don't see myself as a nympho, I see myself as a lucky girl who gets to be loved by two wonderful people and they're so supportive, I mean, they helped me throw this whole thing together. They're great guys…"
Noemi made a face, implying her skepticism was still holding firm. "You say that now, but when they, and you, figure out that they're actually just gay…" She shrugged. "We'll see, sweetie. But you're young, we all need heartbreak to teach us how to grow."
"Well they are gay. And so am I. I met them at a gay bar." You said, your voice getting louder and you had started to grip your phone.
Carissa was watching you carefully as she swirled her straw around in her drink. "And you identify as…?"
"Pan or bi, I guess, I hadn't-"
You were drowned out by condescending laughter, the women sharing knowing looks. You clenched your jaw and looked down at your phone, activating the screen to check for some notifications that could give you an excuse to stop interacting with them. There weren't any - instead you were looking at your unobscured lockscreen, a photo taken by Damiano of Ethan, fallen asleep, sitting up at his dining table.
Your heart hurt and now it felt like your stomach was dropping, heavy enough to fall out of your ass. You wanted to hear their voices, you wanted their strength.
You unlocked your phone, opening up the gay baes chat window and started to type a message. You heard Kara's voice and it was clear she was talking to you, you raised your head slightly.
"Sorry, I just- ugh, I've dated bi-girls before and- they are record-breakers for how quickly they cheat…" She barely choked back a laugh. "I guess that wouldn't be a problem for you though, right? No, really, why would you need to go fuck someone else, you have two cocks at all times, right?"
"Hey, hey, go easy on her…" Noemi said.
You sent a series of frowning emojis, need to talk, can I call?
"I used to say I was bisexual." She said. "But then I actually tried to have sex with a man and it scared me not straight."
Ethan's response came through first, call.
"So I guess the opposite is true of you then, hm?" Carissa asked. "I'm just trying to understand, you see."
What's up babygirl?
"Uh, I'm really sorry, I have to call my roommate." You started to get up from your seat. "They're blowing my phone up with messages, so…"
The lights dimmed and the music radically changed, alerting the bar that the second round of Cards Against Humanity was beginning. But you didn't care. You were rushing for the door, heading for the smokers area as your hand shook to handle your phone.
"What's goin' on?" Ethan asked.
You could feel the shake in your voice before you started talking and you didn't know if it was possible to phrase this in a way that didn't sound pathetic. "I need to… I can't stay… muh- my sister's friends are all being so mean to me…"
"What?" Damiano half-shouted.
"Well, not all of them. But I…" You tried to inhale a calming breath, but the tears were threatening more than before. "I can't go back in there, I can't. They're judging me, so hardcore and I just feel… they're acting like I'm an exhibit in a zoo or something."
"What are they saying?" Damiano asked.
"They're…" The tears burst out noisily. "They're being homophobic."
"What?" Ethan's voice was so loud.
"But they're at a hens party for a lesbian. That's a bit counterproductive…" Damiano said. "Like, read the room."
"What are they saying to you?"
"It's…" You started to sob. "I can't- can you… could you-"
"What's going on, are you crying?"
"I haven't been to that bar in ages, who do you think is closer, Dam- me or you?"
"Uh, I reckon I am." Damiano said. "I can get an Uber."
"Thank you." You whimpered. "I just- I can't drive like this."
"No, no, it's fine. We'll drive you home." Ethan said. "I'm gonna get an Uber too. Just hold tight. Everything's gonna be fine, okay?"
You exhaled shakily. "Okay."
"Do you have your vape?"
Your fingers were shaking as you tried to work the zipper of your handbag. "Y-yeah, in my bag."
"Great. Take some hits from that, get your breathing under control and we'll be there before you know it." Ethan's voice was perfectly calm, soothing you without actually gracing you with his presence.
As opposed to Damiano, he sounded out of breath and befuddled when he spoke next. "Where the fuck are my pants?"
---
You continued to hide outside, missing out on the rest of the party game as the tears on your cheeks dried. You blew out consistent columns of smoke, relieved to be left on your own until Damiano arrived. He made a quick approach to where you sat in the designated smokers area.
He held you close, listening to every word as you recounted all of the unpleasant encounters from the night. He didn’t interrupt you, silently listening, even though you could tell that he was desperate to start ranting.
By the way that his nostrils kept flaring - you were certain that his mind was overflowing with expletives. But he let you explain everything as clearly as possible. He let you talk until there were no words left, until he knew every shitty aspect of your night.
Then he let you rest your head on his shoulder, stroking your back and saying all the right things. Most importantly, he didn’t insist on you going back into the bar to face all of this.
This was backed up by Ethan when his Uber pulled into the parking lot - it went without saying that you couldn’t leave without a face-to-face goodbye from your sister. But any unnecessary interactions with her friends were eliminated when he offered to go inside and fetch Nadia himself.
She came outside, raising no questions regarding your lie to get out of the rest of the night. You told her that your period had arrived earlier than expected - bringing with it very painful cramps. She took no issue with this average problem requiring two boyfriends to escort you home. She just hugged you tight and thanked you for putting an excellent hens night on.
“The whole thing was Ethan’s idea, actually- he’s the one you should be thanking.” You said.
“Ethan.” Nadia cheered, grabbing him for a hug next. This was completed with a noisy kiss on his cheek, which told you that your sister had consumed enough tequila for a pleasant glow to come across her vision. “You see, I knew I loved this guy, from the first second I saw him- no, I’m serious.”
She had one arm around his shoulders and you wondered if this was a gesture of friendship, or done in the interest of keeping her intoxicated self upright. “I saw this guy and I was just like, this is the guy right here. I knew that I could trust him and not just ‘cause he looks like a Disney prince, you know, without all the hollow corporation bullshit. Just so ridiculously handsome, in the least threatening way possible.
“And this guy, too.” She gestured to Damiano. “I love this guy. Finally, a guy weird enough for my sister. And I mean that in the best way possible…”
“And I take it in the best way possible, Niddy.”
“Oh baby, uh-uh.” You said, taking his hand as you shook your head a little. “That’s more a niche nickname- you gotta work your way up in the friendship department before-”
“Nevermind that. He’s allowed to use my nickname, it’s not like he’s some stranger or anything- this is my little sister’s boyfriend.” She said. “Sure, we don’t know each other very well yet, but we’ll get there. And I should get used to it, ‘cause I have a feeling- I can sense, I’ll be hearing him use it for years to come.
“No, I’m serious.” She stressed, even though none of you had said anything to voice skepticism over this statement. “I really think you guys are gonna find a way to make this last. I don’t know how and I don’t know how three people can be on the same wavelength- but y’all are doing it. And I reckon that’s amazing.”
You resisted the urge to hide behind Damiano - you weren’t used to your sister having so many things to say. You were worried of what might come next, in her current state, you knew it was entirely possible for her to stumble her way into sharing an embarrassing memory.
“Y’all? Sheesh, you really are drunk.” You said.
She scoffed. “It’s my hens night- I’d be doing it wrong if I was still sober.”
“Do you need me to walk you back in?” Ethan asked.
She waved this away, starting to stand on her own two feet, no longer leaning on him. “No, no, you need to take care of my sister.” She reached both hands out for you. “Oh, you know what always cheered us up when we were kids?” You accepted her hands into yours - the smile on your face stiffened with worry. “The Parent Trap.”
You relaxed, thinking back on the countless times you had watched that movie during childhood. The two of you would practice your English accents and mimic your favourite lines tirelessly. “Well, that’s because that movie is a masterpiece.”
“I’ve never seen it.” Damiano said.
“I’m changing my opinion on you.” She said. “Because I’m very disappointed in you, very. No, I’m totally kidding. But for real, like, keeping it one hundred with y’all right now- I have never, ever understood her taste in men. But you- I’d kiss you full on your pretty mouth. And him too.”
She had managed to find a way to embarrass you and you grabbed her wrist to keep her from pointing at Damiano for any longer. “Okay, let’s not follow this thought any further…”
“I’m not going to, obviously.” She said, making you cringe all the more. “But I could.”
“Okay.” You shouted, loud enough to succeed in cutting her off. “You really need to get back inside before you miss the whole end of the game.”
She didn’t resist the hug that you forced upon her. “Message me when you get home safe. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
The three of you hesitated from immediately getting into your car - taking a pause to ensure that Nadia made it inside without tripping over her own feet.
“Giddy Niddy, I get why you call her that now.” Damiano said once she was out of sight.
“Yup, so she’s having a great time at the party.” You said. “And that’s all that matters.”
“I’ll drive.” Ethan offered and you plucked your keys out of your bag to hand to him.
“Thank you.” You pecked him on the cheek before making your way around to the passenger side.
“Whose place, mine?” Damiano asked.
“Sure.”
Aside from the radio playing (an easy to ignore mix of the currently charting songs), the car was silent. You didn’t have any funny stories from the night to share. Sitting behind you, you had no way of knowing what was keeping Damiano so quiet. But whenever you glanced across at Ethan, it was clear how upset he was. He didn’t take his eyes off of the road ahead, smoking his cigarette, wearing an expression that went beyond his usual level of seriousness. He was actively frowning.
You reached your hand out, resting it on his thigh. “We can leave all of this stuff out when Sno asks how the night went…”
“I just don’t get how she can have friends that are so close-minded…” He said. “And it’s not… I’m not saying that she’s bad at picking friends. It’s nothing against Nadia, oh at all. But like, people who are that fuckin’ prejudiced- shouldn’t they just all be lumped together? Hanging out and keeping all that negativity to themselves?”
“Like in a dumpster.” Damiano offered.
“Exactly, thank you.” Ethan said. “They can take the burning hatred that they’re spewing out- take that back to their dumpster and have a lovely dumpster fire.”
“It’s okay. I’ll just make sure that I get a look at the seating chart for the reception and get them far away from our table.” You said.
He shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze as he waited at a red light. “You shouldn’t have to do that. You, we- we shouldn’t have to spend the rest of our lives avoiding people like that, worried of the unsolicited opinions, and from members of our own community. Is that- how is that happening, that we have queer people trying to shame us ‘cause we aren’t their correct version of queer. Really, that’s what we’re doing?”
“It’s okay, love.” Damiano said, attempting to soothe Ethan with a stroke on his shoulder.
But it didn’t work. “No, it’s really not. Why is it not okay that I love you and you? Why do I have to limit myself, why should I be made to feel ashamed?”
“No Damiano, he’s totally right. There’s nothing okay with any of the shit those cows said to me- asking me if I’m a fuckin’ nymphomaniac, what? Who does that? I’m meeting them for the first time and they’re treating me like a pervert or a sex addict. And it’s at a party that I planned, to celebrate my sister. What the actual fuck?”
“You shouldn’t have had any cause for crying tonight.” He said.
“Yeah.” You said, letting the outrage take over for the moment. “It’s disgusting. They are the ones who should feel shame.”
“Damn right.”
“So, right now- sorry Dami, you’re wrong. Nothing is okay. Right now, all of this completely and utterly sucks. It’s a mess and I hate it and the only thing getting me through is having you and you.” You took a pause, composing yourself, unclenching your fists and adopting a softer tone of voice. “It’s gonna get better, it’s gotta get easier. But until it does, we’ve got each other.” Ethan gave your hand another squeeze. “And I couldn’t ask for better, more supportive, more wonderful partners. Partners who are so damn hot that they can even turn the head of my gold-star-lesbian of a sister.”
Ethan laughed a little. “Yeah, she really said that, didn’t she?”
Damiano leant forward in his seat, getting closer to the two of you. “What was that movie you were talking about, Parents Trap? Tell me what happens in it, maybe I’ll recognise it.”
“Okay, so it’s Lindsay Lohan in the nineties. Except there’s two of her, ‘cause they’re twins. Except they don’t know about the-”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He cut in on your synopsis. “Twins? Twins are creepy as Hell.”
“It’s not The Shining, darling.” Ethan said. “These ones aren’t creepy.”
“No, I’m tellin’ you- there’s always an evil one.”
“That sounds like an assessment backed up by a lot of scientific evidence.” You said sarcastically, making Ethan laugh.
“So it’s a scary movie, then?” Damiano asked.
“No, you literally couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.” You said.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Ethan said. “I’m sure he could find a way.”
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#damithan throuple fic#damithan fic#damithan smut#gayenough#gay baes back at it!#damiano x ethan x reader#damiano x ethan x you#maneskin smut#maneskin x reader#maneskin fanfiction#maneskin fic#manesmut#the queen of the manewhores has spoken
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Only For You - h.s.
Summary: H is usually pretty in tune with his body, but he’s apparently not very good at picking up when he’s getting sick.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: mentions of covid, plus me taking a guess at how covid testing in the US and at events works so sorry for any potential inaccuracies, I mostly used my knowledge of Aus but honestly its described all very generally
A/N: this took longer than I thought it was going to because I started and then got sick a couple days in :/ I’m still sick but she is done! If you have any requests pls send them my way!
Masterlist /// Send me an ask!
Harry is never sick.
He was so strict in his fitness and health, his immune system was better than almost anyone’s you knew. You were pretty sure someone could cough directly into his mouth and it would somehow boost his immune system by giving it a chance to exercise. There had to be fifty times over the course of your relationship so far you were sure you were going to pass on whatever illness you had acquired at the time. You always waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, for him to exhibit your exact symptoms and to be awash with guilt at his sickly state, but it never did.
It is such a rare occurrence, in fact, that he can tell you exactly the last time he came down with something. It was August 2019, he was in LA, and he had ended up missing two Fine Line album release related meetings. He remembered it because you had been in New York, tied up in projects of your own. You had pushed your flight up as a surprise to get home and take care of him, but by the time you touched down he had already been on the mend, and was sat in a rescheduled meeting when you opened the door to your shared home.
He could not recall, however, the earliest warning signs of a flu coming on, having experienced them so infrequently.
He dismissed the heavy tired feeling that had settled upon him, certain it was simply the aftereffects of intensive Grammy rehearsals. True to his perfectionist tendencies, he had been tireless in his efforts to make this one of his best performances and had been spending hours practicing a song you were pretty sure he could nail in his sleep. You said nothing of the fact that you thought he perhaps was spending more time than strictly necessary on this, of course, never wanting to undermine his process or invalidate his feelings of being under intense pressure. You just assured him you thought he was amazing and provided opinions and input whenever he asked it of you. He was overworking himself, but he was not deterred until the lights went down after his extremely successful (and extremely sexy, if you did say so yourself) performance.
Two days later, he was sure his hangover had extended over into a second day as he become aware of a dull ache in his head while awaking from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing his face as he rolled towards you, pulling you against his chest. He breathed deeply, cursing himself for drinking so much and sleeping so little only momentarily before thinking, hey, how many times do you win a Grammy? You stirred at his movement, eyes fluttering open only slightly before you shut them again and snuggled deeper into his chest. You sighed in contentment, loving nothing more than the comfortable feeling you can only get waking up in the morning, still on the edge of sleep. It had always been one of your favourite things, and it was only ever made better by waking up in Harry’s arms.
“I hate getting old,” he mutters into your hair, pressing a kiss where his lips had tickled your forehead.
“What?” You laughed at his unsolicited statement.
“Two-day hangovers are supposed to be reserved for after you hit thirty. But clearly, I’m older than I think I am because they have come for me and I am not enjoying it.”
You wriggled up in his embrace, so that you were face to face, giggling at him as you did say. “Oh god, do you think we should start thinking about retiring?”
“You’re supposed to tell me I’m not old!” He tightened his grip on you as he exclaimed in indignation.
“I mean what can I possibly say, H? Two-day hangover? You’ve basically got a foot in the grave,” you jested, but leaned in to peck his cheek at his faux sour expression.
In response, he released his grip on you and rolled away until he was at the very opposite edge of the bed in a big huff. You only laughed harder at his antics. You followed him to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind and placing gentle kisses to the side of his neck.
“Darling, have you considered, maybe, just maybe, this two day hangover has nothing to do with the fact that you are getting older and more to do with the fact that you were working yourself to the bone for a month and then partied like the world was ending?” You pressed another lingering kiss to his neck. “Or perhaps like someone who had just won a Grammy?” A smile broke over your face at the memory, a fresh wave of pride washing through you, somehow still managing to leave you buzzing.
“Nope, I refuse to hear that. My youthful body is supposed to be stronger than any party, even an I-just-won-a-Grammy party.” You snorted in his ear, completely unsurprised by his steadfast stubbornness.
“Alright then old man,” you rolled away from him and hopped out of bed.
“Hey,” he called out, both at the jab and your exit from bed.
“Since my big shot Grammy winning, senior citizen boyfriend is still feeling a bit dusty I suppose I’ll bring him a coffee in bed,” you sing out over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen, craving the caffeine yourself.
He knew you were making fun of him to highlight how melodramatic you thought he was being. Each comment about him being old was really made to tell him just how young he was and how little you thought he had to worry about.
He sighed, wanting nothing more than to remain motionless in the warm comfy bed but having no choice to get up and make his way to the bathroom before he could enjoy his coffee in bed. (And maybe some lazy morning sex, he was sure that would help relieve some symptoms). His whole body felt heavy as he rolled out of bed, his limbs and shoulders feeling almost as though they were made of lead.
His brow scrunched as he slowly made his way to the toilet to relieve himself. This really was some day two hangover, he thought. I don’t care what y/n thinks, I’m pretty sure this is one of those moments where you realise your prime is coming to an end.
He flinched as the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass of the bathroom window hit his face, instantly doubling the force of his headache. He grumbled and scrunched his eyes until they were nearly shut, attempting to minimise the light infiltrating his vision. He did his business as quickly as his protesting body would allow.
By the time he had returned to bed and bundled himself back under the covers the kettle had boiled and you were on your way back to your room. You shuffled along slowly, pausing every two steps to stop your nearly full mugs from spilling over the edge. Harry loved to point out the coffee drips that you left along the floor in your shared home so frequently. They were spread far and wide, and in fairness to you, most of the time you didn’t realise you had done it, else you would have wiped it up immediately.
“H?” you called softly, as you looked up from the mugs to see only a Harry sized lump under the doona as evidence that he was even there.
When you received only an, “Mmm?” in response you continued your slow spillage-avoiding pace up to his bed side table, placing the cup down gently.
“Are you feeling okay baby?” you kneeled down beside him, stroking his hair back from his face.
“Jus’ tired,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.
This shocked you somewhat. He’s always been a morning person, and never tended to sleep in two days in a row. The two of you had spent the morning in bed yesterday, having only crawled in in the (not even that) early hours of the morning and spent the rest of the day lazing about the apartment, nursing respective hangovers. Even with complaints of his hangover extending over into a second day, you had expected him to be itching to throw himself back into his routine, not curled up in bed still feeling shitty.
“You can back to sleep,” you assured, even though he seemed to already be halfway there. “Your coffee’s there if you want some.”
You pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving him to it, closing the door softly on your way out.
Two hours later, Harry stirs once more from his sleep. His throat is dry as a bone, and his once dull headache is now pounding. He lifts his heavy head off the pillow and his eyes fall to his now cold coffee. He reaches over and takes a gulp, hoping to ease the feeling in his throat. Is not uncommon for him to awaken with a dryness to his throat, he often finds a hot coffee is enough to solve the problem, but alas, he is desperate enough to settle for the cold one before him for now. Instead of the relief he is craving, a burst of pain shoots through his throat each time he swallows a mouthful. He coughs as he places the mug back down, unwilling to have another sip.
And oh Jesus, it finally hits him. He’s sick.
All the signs he had shrugged off now became blaringly obvious to him in retrospect. And oh fuck.
Alarm bells go off in his brain as he registers the risk of what exactly this could be. He scrambles for his phone on his bedside table.
Harry: Don’t come upstairs.
You glance down at your phone as you feel the buzz of the notification. You had spent the morning pottering around the house, catching up on little chores the two of you had neglected over the past few days in the Grammy busy-ness and subsequent hangover. Happy with your efforts, you had settled back into having a lazy morning and were watching television on the couch quietly.
“Harry?” you call out in confusion as you read his text, already pausing the TV and standing up, intending to do the exact opposite of following his advice.
You can’t have made it three steps before he’s calling you. The wave of confusion is soon followed by one of extreme worry as you pick up the phone.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Don’t come up I’m sick,” he spoke hoarsely.
“What do you mean?”
“Darling, it could be covid you can’t come up here,” he was cursing himself on the other end of the line. He should have been paying more attention to what his body was trying to tell him. Shouldn’t have been risking you like this. If he had it, he was sure he had already infected you too and guilt gnawed away at him.
This stops you in your tracks. You hesitate, you do. But ultimately, you know if he has covid, you’re probably already infected. If he does have it, which you are praying he doesn’t because young as he is, healthy as he is, there is always a risk. The worst running through your mind. If the worst were to happen, you would curse yourself until the day you died for not going to him right now.
“It’s not covid,” you tell him firmly.
“Baby-“
“Your tests from before the Grammy’s were negative, and we should be getting more test results back any minute that will be clean too,” you’re on the move again, absolute in your resolution. The both of you, along with all the other attendees of the ceremony, had been tested both before and after. They were meant to text each of you with your results any minute (or call, if they were positive, but that was a possibility you were trying to put aside).
“Even so, we can’t risk it until we get the results.” At the sound of your footsteps on the stairs he spoke your name sternly, halting your steps again.
“Harry,” you countered, matching his tone.
“Please don’t fight me on this. If you’re so sure that the result is going to be negative, and that they’re going to come in any second,” he pauses to cough, lungs and throat protesting with each word he speaks, “then a little while in bed by myself won’t kill me.”
“But-“
“Darling, please. If it is covid, I’ll never forgive myself for not doing everything in my power to try and keep you from getting it too,” the quiet desperation in his voice is the only thing that could break your resolve.
With a long exhale, you turned back down the stairs but kept the phone to your ear.
“Fine,” you huffed, “but only because I was always taught to respect my elders.”
“See that’s the good news,” he half laughed, half coughed at the exhalation of breath, “I’m not an old man with a two-day hangover, just a young man with an unspecified illness.”
“Do you still have your smell and taste?” you asked worriedly.
“I could definitely taste the cold ass coffee I just drank,” he rasped. He paused for a beat, hearing only the rustling of sheets. “And our bed still smells like you,” you heard the smile behind the comment, appreciating his sweet reference to the love he often professes he has for the way you smell.
“Sometimes I feel like it’s nothing you’re putting on, and sometimes I think it’s everything you’re putting on plus just, you. There’s no other smell like it and I wish I could just bottle it up and have it forever. Bloody aphrodisiac,” he had once told you.
“And you’re not running a fever?” You chewed the inside of your lip as you fired questions at him, a bad habit that reared its head when you were worried, stressed or concentrating hard.
On his end of the line, he felt his forehead for warmth. “Umm,” he considered it, “I’m not sure. Probably not.” He was actually pretty sure he had the beginning of one, but he could tell you were freaking out and he didn’t want to worry you any further until he heard for sure.
“I’m going to grab you a thermometer and some cold and flu tablets,” Harry immediately started to protest but you didn’t let him start. “I’ll put a mask on and just leave them outside the door. I’ll grab you some water and something to eat too. I’m not just leaving you sick up there with nothing.”
He sighed into the phone. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
You scoffed. “Of course not, I let you win the last one not more than five minutes ago.”
He sighed once more, and you rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend. “Fine, but you have to be in and out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you leaned the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you grabbed what you needed for him.
“I’m not joking, y/n. You have to be quick.”
You bit your tongue, refraining from snapping back. Did he seriously think you were stupid? You knew he didn’t, he was just sick and stressed about the situation, but that didn’t stop the flare of annoyance that burst through your chest. You shook it off, knowing it was misplaced.
“Okay I’m going to put the phone down so I can pop a mask on and run up,” luckily, you had a million masks around the house ready to go.
“Kay,” he muttered, eyes feeling droopy all over again.
You pull your mask on, and with arms full of supplies dashed up the stairs. Once you arrived at the door, you placed down the cold medication, water and thermometer as well as the banana you had snatched off the kitchen counter before turning and running back down the stairs.
As soon as you’re back down the stairs, you’re pulling your mask off and putting the phone back to your ear. You faintly hear the close of your bedroom door, deducing Harry had grabbed everything.
“I’m back,” you acknowledged your presence on the phone.
“Thank you for that, my love.”
Your phone dinged in your ear, indicating a new text message. You pulled it away from your ear to examine the contents of the text.
You breathed a small sigh of relief.
“They just texted me my covid test results, they’re negative.” Everyone had been tested upon their exit of the Grammy afterparty.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. You silently prayed that pause wasn’t caused by him examining another incoming call, suggesting his results were positive and required an actual conversation.
“Mine are negative too,” he exhaled, you could hear the relief in his voice.
“Oh, thank god,” you said, already turning to go back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“I thought you were confident I didn’t have it,” he teased.
“Sorry somebody had to put on a brave face for Mr Worry Wart,” you teased right back. You hung up the phone as you reached the top step. Turning to the left and opening the door to your room.
You stride over to the bed wordlessly and climb in on your side, instantly wrapping both arms around him. He relished the embrace. You loved to poke fun at him, but sometimes the humour was just a way for you to mask how you were really feeling about things and deflect. Harry usually doesn’t point it out but he’s always aware of it.
“I love you,” he whispered, voice still croaky.
“I love you, too,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
You stayed like that for a moment longer before you swung into action, full nurturing mother bear mode activated.
“Now, have you taken your temperature? Taken some of the cold and flu tablets?”
At the shake of his head you frowned at him. “Come on then. You do that while I go make you a nice hot tea to soothe your throat. And a box of tissues,” you added at the sight of him sneezing practically hard enough to shake the room.
So back down to the kitchen you went for the third time that day, grabbing him both the tea, the tissues and a nice hearty bowl of porridge, figuring it would be gentle on his throat. “Temperature?” you asked as soon as you crossed the threshold of your doorway.
“No fever,” he punctuated with a cough.
You frowned as you watched it happen, his eyes were rimmed red, his nose beginning to run. He sat up in bed as you handed him the bowl of porridge. You placed the tea down so you could also hand him the box of tissues that had been tucked up under your arm.
“Thank you so much for all this, angel. But you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, I’ve got a cold, I’m not bed bound,” he grabbed my hand and traced the outside of my hand as he spoke.
“I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to do it. My baby’s feeling crappy I just want to do whatever I can to make him feel less so.” Even after all this time of being together, your cheeks flushed slightly at your sappy words. You meant them, of course, but intimacy was still not one of your strong suits. The way you were raised lacked those kinds of affirmations and endearments, and was never modelled practically in your parent’s relationship. It left you both craving it, and feeling uncomfortable when it actually occurred. With both experience and Harry’s help you had gotten better at it, but you still weren’t 100% there yet. He knew one day you would be, though, and he was so proud to see how much progress you had made. Even if you couldn’t always see it.
Hearing those words from you, was just one more indication at how far you’ve come, and it warmed not only his heart, but his whole chest. With his grip on your hand, he gave you a slight tug, encouraging you to lean forward. Just as you had five minutes earlier, he presses a kiss to your cheek, craving your lips but knowing he can’t have them right now.
“You’re too good to me,” he praised as you pulled away reluctantly, giving him space to enjoy his breakfast while it was still warm.
He expected a joking, I know, in response but instead he receives a serious, “There is no such thing as good too to you. You deserve the world.” You don’t break eye contact with him, even as he is too shocked at your response to form one of his own. “But all I got you was this bowl of porridge sorry babe,” you broke the tension, pulling your hand from his.
“Where are you going now?” He pouts at you as you grab the half empty coffee mug and make your way out of the room.
“I’ll be right back, I promise,” you assure him, already planning how else you are going to fuss over him. He has to be well to go to London to start filming his new movie soon, you reason with yourself. But really, you know he could have nothing coming up and you could be the busiest you’ve ever been, and you would still play nurse for him.
By ‘right back’ he assumed you meant in half an hour, because his mug and bowl are both empty by the time you return, and he is nearly drifting back off to sleep. He is still somewhat upright, but slumped back into his pillow, head lolling to the side slightly, directed towards the door almost as though is watching and waiting for you. While still conscious, his blinks are becoming slower and slower, reminiscent of a baby. You coo at his adorable sleepy state, the moment tugs at your chest so strongly it is almost physically painful. Sometimes, the magnitude of your love for him nearly sweeps you off your feet. You just feel so damn lucky to have these wonderfully domestic moments with him. To see him like this, to be his person that gets to take care of him. While he is a rockstar and you get to do all sorts of crazy things with him that most people dream of (like for instance, watching him perform at and accept a Grammy), you love doing everyday life with him.
“It’s not quite sleep time yet, baby,” you spoke gently, hoping not to startle him too much.
He peeled his eyes open and pouted at you once more. “Why not?”
“Because it’s nice, long, hot, steaming shower time,” his frown deepened, clearly not wanting to move. “I promise you, you’ll feel so much better afterwards.”
“You promise?” He refused to wipe the pout from his face, really stepping into being babied.
“I promise, now up you get,” you offered him both hands to help him up.
“Fine,” he groaned as he took your hands, and you pulled him up.
As soon as he was upright, he wrapped both arms around you and held you tight. He allowed himself a few short seconds before pulling away, not wanting to get you sick too. Even if it wasn’t covid, he still wanted his love well.
You shepherded him into the bathroom, where he winced once more at the brighter lighting. His eyes were always more sensitive to light when he had the flu. You turned the shower on for him while he got undressed, before turning to pull the blinds closed without him breathing a single word of complaint. His heart swelled with love for you for the hundredth time that day. To be loved by you was to be seen. He didn’t need to use his voice to be understood (though that communication obviously had its place).
“Take your time baby, let the steam help get all the bad stuff out,” you gave him a little smile before leaving, closing the door behind you to allow the steam to build up within the space.
Harry let out a sigh as he stepped into the stream of hot steaming water. You were right as ever, the steam helped clear him out somewhat, and even just feeling clean helped him to feel better already. He relished the heat and the soothing feeling of the water, massaging his scalp with shampoo as he began to wash up from head to toe.
He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he reluctantly turned the shower off and stepped into a big fluffy towel. He was much quicker in drying himself than he had been in the rest of his shower routine, eager to rug up in a jumper and some sweats (and some of those thick soft socks you bought him for winter).
He swung the en suite door open, contemplating where he left his comfy winter clothes last when he stops at the sight before him.
You’re putting the last pillowcase on, having changed the sheets completely. His breakfast dishes are cleared, replaced with a hot steaming bowl of vegetable soup and his bottle of water. You’ve dug the humidifier out of the cupboard as well and you’ve got it all set up and running for him. The book he was currently reading was picked up from its previous place on the living room coffee table and waiting for him on your pillow. The exact clothes he was about to grab were sitting at the edge of the bed, laid out ready for him.
“You’re an actual angel, ya know that?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He has no idea what he did in a past life to get so lucky. The success of the music, he can go to bed each night feeling like he has done a lot to earn. He’s worked hard for a long time, and while he accredited a good portion of it all to luck, he knew he wasn’t talentless or undeserving. With you, however, he had simply won the lottery. You weren’t a perfect person, but you were his perfect person. He would spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power to feel deserving of you.
“Only for you,” you say softly.
He strides over to you, holding his towel to keep it from falling as he went. He presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters an, “I love you so much.”
“I love you more,” you peer up at him. “Now get those on,” you gesture towards his clothes, “before your soup gets cold.”
“Where did the soup come from?” He asks as starts to shrug his towel off and pull his clothes on.
“Where did you think I went earlier?” you referenced your half hour long disappearance, having been downstairs chopping up and preparing vegetables to go into the homemade soup.
“Oh, angel,” he breathed, “you really are the best.”
“Oh stop. Don’t act like all of this is not exactly what you do every time I’m sick. Which is far more often than you are, I might add.” You weren’t wrong, he did baby you just as much if not more.
“You’re still the best,” he refused to relent.
“Yeah, yeah,” you end the conversation, not being able to handle too many compliments.
He lets it slide, knowing he could compliment you further and ask you to really hear what he was saying, because he meant it with his entire being. But you were doing so much for him, and he really was tired so he didn’t bombard you with more praise than you desired.
Once he was dressed, he hopped back under the covers and sat up with his soup. He didn’t have the appetite to finish it, but he knew as much of it as he could handle would do him some good.
You jumped into the shower yourself, wanting to feel as clean as the sheets did when you got into bed with him. By the time you were out of the shower and into your own pair of fresh comfy clothes, Harry had finished most of the bowl of soup and had set the remainder aside.
“Thank you so much, angel,” your cheeks tinted pink at the purposeful repetition of that particular pet name.
“Don’t mention it,” you crawled under the covers with him, picking up his book from your pillow. “Now, where were you up to?”
“Hmm?” he questioned.
“In your book, where were you up to?”
“Why?”
“So, I can read it to you, obviously.”
“Is that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“And why do you think I’m suddenly incapable of reading it myself?” He questioned, even though he was practically preening internally at the thought of your sweet voice reading his novel aloud to him. It was a beautiful novel, filled with rich descriptions and he just knew it would sound lovely rolling off your tongue, but you had already done so much for him today it was hardly for of him to let you offer this without giving you an out.
“I don’t think you’re incapable, I just know your eyes hurt when you’re sick and I can imagine it makes it hard to focus on the words. Plus, I always fancied a career in audiobooks,” you actually really wanted to do this for him, not viewing it as an inconvenience at all. In fact, you would probably find yourself disappointed if he told you he would rather read it himself.
“Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” he looked you in the eyes, gauging your expression.
“I want to,” you promised.
“About page 150, you might have to read the first sentence to check.”
So, you began reading, until his eyes grew heavier and his eyes drooped. Slowly but surely, he drifted off into the realm of peaceful deep sleep.
Not before, of course, he muttered, more than half asleep, “I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”
#sorry this took so long#i hope you guys like it#also let me know what you want to see from mob!h#would love some more inspiration#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles oneshot#harry#hs#harry imagine#harry x reader#harry fic#harry fanfic#one direction imagine#harry fanfiction#harry oneshot#wattpad#Harry styles angst#Harry styles fluff#Harry angst#Harry fluff
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by the way | jungkook
→ summary: there are only two weeks left until graduation—which means you only have two weeks left until you’ll be nothing more than a facebook birthday notification on his phone (unless you do something about it, of course.)
→ genre: high school!au, humor, slight angst
→ warnings: none unless you’re terrified of two idiots mutually pining for e/o
→ words: 1.2K
→ a/n: ain’t it kinda weird that there were some people you met in high school that you considered your “friend” but never kept in touch with them after graduation? like ships that have sailed past each other, only being left with some hope of crossing someday. idk, high school was weird. anyway, enjoy!
—part of the bgw drabble marathon (Tropes #5)—
“So, have you asked anyone out to the graduation ball yet?” Hoseok asks you suddenly, his words muffled by the disgusting amount of pasta in his mouth.
From the corner of your eye, Jungkook’s shoulders tense. You don’t mean to notice—you weren’t even supposed to be looking at him. He has his gaze trained downwards, shooting lasers at his rice with enough intensity to cook it twice over.
“No, I haven’t,” you respond eventually.
“Time is running out you know! It wouldn’t look good if the class valedictorian arrived at the party without some good ol’ eye candy,” Hoseok says.
You scoff, taking a sip of your lukewarm apple juice. “Who says I need a man to make me look good?”
“Or woman, for that matter!” Chaeyoung pipes up. She wiggles her eyebrows, leaning across the lunch table until her chest almost gets a platter full of greasy cafeteria pizza. “You know, the offer is still open. I guarantee that if we went together, we’d be the prettiest bitches in the entire ballroom!”
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re right, we would be… minus the fact that you’ve been pining over Eunbi for God knows how long, and it would be seriously shitty of me to deny you your last chance of getting together with her.”
Chaeyoung leans back, acquiesced. “Alright, you got me there,” she sighs, crossing her arms. “Still, you know I would drop everything and anything if you asked.”
“Not me though, I’m a selfish whore,” Jimin interrupts, reaching his minimum quota of giving his unsolicited opinion. He points finger guns at you. “I’m bringing my hot and sexy college boyfriend to the ball.”
“Oh right, how could we ever forget your mysterious ‘college’ boyfriend,” Hoseok scoffs, the quotation marks audible in his voice. “The one that we’ve never seen or heard of before, and also conveniently lives in a different city that is miles from here? That boyfriend?”
“Shut up!” Jimin glares, pointing his sharpened acrylic nail at him. “You’ll eat your words once you see how fucking gorgeous and hot and REAL my boyfriend is!” He turns to you, brows still quirked in irritation. “Anyway, as I was saying. Even though I’m going to the ball with my snookywookums, I’m willing to scout a date for you if you want.”
“I don’t think snookywookums is a Scrabble-verified word,” Hoseok says under his breath, nearly causing you to snort your pasta up your nose.
“T-Thank you, Jimin,” you say, coughing through your laughter. Lucky for Hoseok, Jimin’s massive ego doubles as a noise-cancelling material. “But I’m fine, really. I’m more than happy just hanging out with my best friends over some random guy.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Chaeyoung coos, pinching your cheeks.
“–and also improbable,” Hoseok snorts. “These two whores are definitely gonna spend that entire night fucking their dates,” Hoseok says, jabbing his thumb at your resident bimbo-himbo combo, “while I will be busy with DJ-ing at the event, so you’re pretty much outta luck, chief.”
“What the fuck? You’re gonna DJ at our fucking graduation ball?” you squawk. “Why the hell would you volunteer to do that?”
“For… experience?”
“Really.”
Hoseok raises his hands in surrender with a pout. “Okay, fine. Maybe I wanted to impress Namjoon. Fucking sue me for being a hypocrite!”
“Ahah! The ogre has fallen in love with the prince!” Jimin hollers, earning himself a pinch in the tit from Hoseok.
You huff, annoyed. “Am I really being abandoned by all my friends? On one of our final days together as classmates before we inevitably part ways towards adulthood?”
A beat of guilty silence. Then:
“Yep!
“Totally!”
“You guys suck!”
You groan in defeat, rolling your eyes. “Fine then! I guess Jungkook and I will have to entertain each other, right Kook?”
The boy in question, who had been eerily quiet this entire lunch period, jolts in his seat after suddenly being addressed. His elbow hits the table with a bang, causing an impressive string of expletives to spill from his mouth.
Jimin snorts, amused. “Damn, you good? What’s got loverboy all jumpy?”
“Don’t call me loverboy,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched as he cradles his injured elbow.
“Well someone clearly pissed in your Cheerios. What’s up? Why are you being all broody and sulky?” Hoseok asks.
“I’m not being broody,” Jungkook says broodily. For a brief moment, your gaze catches his, but he quickly averts his eyes before you can get a good glimpse at the unknown emotion that tints them. “I just… got a bad grade in Chemistry. That’s all.”
“First time? I guess senioritis doesn’t hit all of us the same,” Jimin sniffs. “By the way, Kook. Do you have a date for the ball? If you do, then we can all shame Y/N into looking for a date and not feel guilty about it.”
“Hey!” you whine, but your attention is focused on Jungkook. You hold your breath, a looming sense of dread rising up your stomach like bile. A desperate plea rings through your head, crying out, “Please say you’ll go with me.”
As friends, you remind yourself.
Sure Jan, your inner voice replies.
Jungkook barks out a laugh, but it sounds hollow. “I, umm…” he trails off, fidgeting in his seat awkwardly. He puts down his chopsticks, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans. “I’m still, uh, working up the courage to ask her…”
“HER?! YOU LIKE GIRLS?” Chaeyoung screams, horrified. “Then why the FUCK have you been rejecting all those poor girls for the past four years?”
“I just wasn’t interested, I guess,” he shrugs. He pauses. “Wait, did you not know I was straight?”
“Kookie, I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but you recoil like a raccoon being spritzed with water every time a woman so much as looks at you,” Hoseok points out.
“I’m just shy,” he grumbles.
To your left, Jimin nudges you gently. “Did you know?” he whispers, brows arched.
“Of course I did,” you snap. “That boy uses five-in-one shampoo and soap.”
Jimin leans back into his seat, a mystified expression on his face. “Damn, you’re right. And here I thought you just liked pining over him because you were a masochist.”
You choke on your own spit, feeling as though a large stone has just been dropped on your esophagus. You whirl towards Jimin with a death glare, but the shithead barely flinches in response. “What the fuck did you just say?” you seethe, panic clear in your voice.
“What did you say?” Jungkook repeats after you, jaw agape. You both make eye contact, and you notice the way Jungkook’s cheeks have flushed a deep red. You have no doubt in your mind that you aren’t faring any better. Shit!
“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Hoseok interrupts. He gestures to the clock by the wall, which shows that your lunch period is about to end. He slams his lunch container shut, a large smirk on his face. “But this will definitely be a fun conversation for later, and I want front row seats.”
“Ditto! Text me once you’re out of your last class, okay?” Chaeyoung says, standing up with Hoseok. She blows a kiss your way and pats Jungkook endearingly on the head. “You guys have English together, right? Should be fun!”
“Gotta blast,” Jimin says, scrambling out of his seat before you can snap out of your daze long enough to twist his balls into a ponytail. He throws a mock salute at you, toothy grin on full display. “Have fun!”
Now left alone (i.e. abandoned) by your friends, you tentatively turn to look at Jungkook. You swallow thickly, cheeks flamin’ hot. “So, by the way…. About that date?”
#btsghostiemarathon#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts reader insert#bts fanfiction#bts#bts imagines#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#high school!au#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bangtan#bts fanfic#GOD I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 1 HOUR IDK IF ANY OF IT MAKES CENTS GBYE TIME TO DIE AGAIN
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A "re-introduction" of sorts. My name is Misty.
I was on here for many years, I had a lot of followers into the tens of thousands, which was a lot back in the day on this site, because I was the "tumblr famous" weird pregnant 17/18 year old with the pink hair, piercings and the tattoos who did not take any crap and didn't see teenage pregnancy as the thing that was going to break me. It never did, I beat every struggle and embraced my own path in life.
As of now I am a 28 year old woman, I haven't changed much, I am very set in my ways. I am opinionated, I have a mind as open as a 24 hour McDonalds and I am not for everyone but I don't mind one bit. I am still with the father of my kids, Lee, we are still engaged and we both must be as crazy as each other because we decided to buy a house in the middle of the pandemic last year, the odds were very much stacked against us but with a lot of love and a more than the average amounts of set backs, rule changes and a lot of stress we eventually got there!
My kids names are Elijah and Aura, Elijah is 10 now and Aura is 8 going on 18. My kids are literally polar opposites of each other. Aura is a social butterfly who loved to be out in the sun and Elijah values his own company and his privacy much more and would rather be indoors probably gaming or coming up with funny jokes to tell me. I spend a lot of time with my kids still, I had a period of time in my life where my time and energy was becoming consumed by my bar work and my apprenticeship and I had drama going on there that most people would not even believe the half of, I was working 12 hour shifts, sometimes more while studying, I was coming home tired, sad and stressed. I saw my kids less and less and the management there turned very sour and there was no gratitude, no appreciation for basically running around all day, going the extra mile, doing things that were not on my pay grade, so I left, I went and worked elsewhere and was part of a management team, It was unbelievably bitchy there and I found it very mentally draining when your trying your best in management but a few other people on your team aren't rowing, their putting holes in the boat. I left that job with nothing else to go to. an extreme I would never thought I would go to. luckily I was only jobless for 2 weeks and I walked into my current place of work, looking for a job that would be a kind of "it will do for now" job, its very mathematical. I did not expect to like it but its actually the most chilled and happy work place I have ever been in and I actually love it. I work 4 days a week unless I want to work more and those 4 days are long hours so I get the pay of a full time job with the benefit of being able to actually have my own time. The kids see me a lot more now and its made us all a lot happier. I can play that game of roblox with Aura, I can cook with Elijah, we can go to the park now before school because I am not exhausted and need that extra hour in bed. Life is sweet and time is precious.
I left here for a while because tumblr became a very ugly place when it was once my happy place. It became a place plagued with hate blogs and nastiness, especially in the parenting community. I am back now because it seems all of those people have piped down and got on with their own lives. I feel like people aren't that invested in my life anymore so I can simply post without people giving me unsolicited and unwanted advice or comment. It's a calm quiet on here now, it's nice.
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Dramas I think you should watch pt. 2
Healer
1. Best kdrama. Hands down. Period. Everything about it from the plot, to the characters, to the pacing— incredible. If you haven’t watched it— please watch it. It's a mystery wrapped in a romcom with good action scenes to boot.
2. Cha Young-shin sings when she is down and saves sad people while also working (multitasker to the extreme), played by Park Min-young-- so completely gorgeous and has insane chemistry with her counterpart.
3. Seo Jung-ho has no friends or close family, can kick multiple asses at once, parkour enthusiast, sad lonely boy, and paid to be a problem.
4. Park Bong Soo the loveable goof who can't do anything right and is scared of everything, especially violence and is the alter-ego of Jung-ho.
5. Kim Mi Kyung. I love her and everything she does.
6. The soundtrack. All the action scenes where Jung-ho is fighting for or around Chae Young Shin did not have the standard epic action-y music like action scenes normally do. The music score was a love song and I loved every god damned second of it. Allllll my love, it's all yoursssssss. And there'll never be another one cause I'm eternally yourssssssss!!!!
7. The two dads. The most intimidating man wearing a floral apron and the short gangster who acts like Young-shin's mom.
8. There's murder, romance, hand-holding, violence, intrigue, origami, love songs put to action scenes, revenge, and a very nerdy-looking ji chang wook. Watch it. You won't regret it.
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Teachers Pet- chapter 4: introductions
All chapters
chapter 3
I woke up to the Grandfather clock in Dumbledore's office chiming, if I counted correctly, 6 o'clock. The sunlight beaming in through the small circle cleared on the window. Although I was still dreading this day I figured I'd want to be ready and awake when it was time to begin my very first day at Hogwarts. I laid on my back looking up at the ceiling getting lost in thought for a moment thinking of all the things that could go horribly wrong.
Eventually I lifted the covers off myself and swung my legs out of the bed stepping on the cold stone flooring. I yawned, stretching my arms up and cracking my neck and back. I got up and went to my luggage. I paused for a moment wondering what I should wear since I didn't have a uniform yet. I looked over what I had and contemplated my choices. I wanted to try to look the part and not stand out too much. I grabbed my black boots and a simple dark green turtleneck sweater I had that used to be my grandpas that I snagged from my dad's closet since he never wore it. I looked over my bottom options trying to remember what the students were wearing. I remembered seeing some in skirts and some in pants. I just decided on some simple black leggings and figured I would have my coat on anyways so it didn't matter a whole lot and once I got my uniforms I would change into them as soon as possible. Probably as soon as I purchased them in the nearest restroom. I took my clothes in the bathroom and went pee and got dressed. I then brushed my teeth and splashed my face with some cold water.
As I exited the bathroom I stopped and grabbed my hairbrush and some makeup from my bag, I didn't wanna look too rough on the first day. Thinking of that made me think of all the new people. There are a ton of students here, girls and boys. What if they make fun of me for not being in a uniform. No, no they wouldn't, Albus wouldn't run a school that bullied people. And if they do that fine ill just hit them with a hex or something. I can defend myself just fine. I always did at Beauxbaton's. I remember my first year there were some girls that messed with me for having a hole in my tights since I knew my mom couldn't afford to buy me new ones after she explicitly told me to not rip them. And they would continue to tease me for other things, anything. But one day in my second year I got tired of it and turned all of their hair green. Of course they screamed and freaked out and I got in trouble, but I didn't care because no one messed with me after that. There was still the occasional comment or unsolicited opinions but I like to think I'm pretty smart and quick witted so I usually always had a response to them.
I grabbed the brush and brushed my h/c hair and pulled some from each side back into a small clip. I grabbed my makeup bag and applied some concealer here and there, brushed my brows out, and curled and applied mascara to my lashes. I contemplated some light eyeliner but I didn't wanna risk messing it up and running late, I hadn't done any in awhile and probably fell out of practice. I figured this was decent enough and put on some simple pearl earrings and a silver necklace that had a small sun and moon charm. It was a gift from my sister years ago and I would wear it almost everyday. She said it reminded her of us, the sun and moon, she liked to think she was the sun and I was the moon but I said I didn't revolve around her, but she was older so it made sense she was the sun. I took one last look in the mirror, some of my shorter hairs falling from the clip and I tucked them away from my face. I didn't really like stuff in my face. I contemplated putting on my glasses or my contacts. I figured the last thing I needed was to look like a nerd so I put my contacts in and exited the bathroom. Just as I was packing up my things I heard Dumbledore knock on my door. "Come in," I answered. He opened the door and smiled at me. "Well you're up and at em" he snickered. I smiled at him as I applied chapstick and sprayed on some perfume. It smelt like roses and an old lady. But I still liked the smell. It was like my signature scent. "Are you ready for your first day here at Hogwarts my dear?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully. "A little nervous, but mostly ready" I sighed. "Ok well to give an overlay of your day, you can leave all your belongings here and I will have one of the house elves bring it over to your dormitory when you get sorted. And then I have arranged a student to show you around and then travel with you to Hogsmeade to get your uniforms and stationary items once you are given your schedule. It should only take but half the day, at least up until lunch and then from there you can go to the remaining classes of the day." he said with a witty smile standing in the doorway with his hands together. "Wow sounds like a plan!" I said nervously. Realizing this was actually happening there was no stopping it, and I would have my first day at Hogwarts starting in the next thirty minutes. I looked over to the clock and it read 6:30. "Oh and breakfast is from 6:30-8:30am so we should probably head to the Great hall now so we can get you sorted and seated in time" he added. I felt a nervous tingle spread in my chest at the thought of being sorted again in front of different people, having no idea how their sorting ceremonies went. I was gonna ask but I didn't wanna look stupid so I went with it. "Wonderful I'm all ready to go." I smiled putting my coat on, tucking my wand in my boot and grabbing my bag from the post and throwing it over my shoulder.
He headed out towards his office and I silently followed behind all the way down those odd stairs again and down the hallway. After what seemed like quite some time we approached large doors that were open, which I assumed was the so-called great hall, and kids were shuffling in and taking their seats. Some saying small good mornings to Dumbledore. He went into the great hall and I followed directly behind him, my heart suddenly beginning to beat faster. What looked to be most of the school had already arrived to their seats and conversed amongst each other. Some I could tell were obviously first years by their innocent faces, and others I could tell had seen some shit and were at least 5th years. I took deep breaths as I followed him up some stairs to where the teachers sat, where I presumed, to eat. I looked over at some of them and back to Dumbledore. He walked me over to the table to do some quick introductions. "Good Morning everyone this is my Goddaughter y/n that I told you all about" Dumbledore said to them they all smiled and said small hellos to me. "This Professor Lockhart teaches Defense against the dark arts" he said as I looked at the very interesting man. He was smiling largely up at me, almost to largely, it was kind of creepy. "Hello" I said softly. He then took my hand and shook it and then brought it to his mouth to kiss it. I tugged it away quickly after he did so and he said "Good morning y/n! It is so wonderful to meet your acquaintance, I can not wait to have you in my class! I have heard so many things about you and you are much more grown than Dumbledore had described." I looked at him and just gave a soft smile not really knowing how to respond to that. I lightly and discreetly pushed Dumbledore's side to encourage him to keep moving so I didn't have to retain eye contact with this Lockhart fellow. "And this is Hagrid as you met yesterday" "Good Morning Hagrid it's good to see you again." I smiled at him "Pleasures all mine, I teach care of magical creatures" he boomed. "Oh nice" I said as we kept going with our introductions. "This is Professor McGonagall she teaches Transfiguration" She gave a simple nod to which I returned. "And this is Professor Flitwick he teaches charms" I smiled and nodded at the small man with a thick mustache. "Oh and It appears Professor Snape has not joined us yet, but he teaches potions, and this is Madam Pomfrey the matron here at Hogwarts, and last but not least Professor Trelawney who is the Divination teacher" he said I smiled at the kind looking woman who had rather large hair and glasses. She looked like a lot of fun.
"Ok now that all the introductions have been made, it's already," he stopped to look at his watch " 7 o'clock I would say this would be a good time to get the show on the road" he said smiling down at me. I laughed nervously and realized no one had paid any attention to me yet, but that was about to change. Don't get me wrong sometimes I love to be the center of attention, but not in strange and new places. He stepped past me and up to his podium, I stood kind of behind him and waited to see what was next. He cleared his throat and began. "Good Morning students, I hope you have all had a good weekend, before we get breakfast started I have an announcement to make, or rather an introduction. We have a new student joining us today, she has transferred from Beauxbatons. And let me add she is my Goddaughter and I am very pleased to have her here with us at Hogwarts." he looked over at me and nudged his head for me to come up next to him, I did so and looked over the full room of students, making sure to not make eye contact with them. Some were still having quiet conversations but halted when I stepped up, and turned their attention to me. "This is y/n, she is in her 6th year and has not been sorted yet but we will do that in just a minute." I smiled a small smile at the students or should I say my new classmates overlooking the rows upon rows of them "I have high hopes that you will treat her with respect and make her feel welcome!" he spoke loudly. Some of the more obnoxious students yelling "hellos" from their tables. "Now come sit and we will sort you into your house" he said as I followed him around the podium and to a chair in front of it.
Unbeknownst to me Professor Snape walked in out of my view, as I was focused on the students that I was displayed in front of and took his seat behind me. I sat nervously watching as Dumbledore walked over and grabbed an old dusty faded brown witch hat and carried it over to me, he is putting this thing on my head? I sat still and upright as he gently placed it atop my head. All of the sudden the thing began to speak, startling me a bit. "Hmmm very interesting," it said and I sat patiently wondering what that was supposed to mean. "Tough one, compassionate but stubborn" I rolled my eyes at that comment, even an old hat could tell I was hard headed? "Smart but will do anything to be proven right" how dare he expose me like this, I was beginning to think this was some trick to humiliate me, a few of the students snickered at that and I shot them cold looks. "No doubt, clear to see...SLYTHERIN!" The hat yelled and an uproar of cheers came from the table on the far right, I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing but based on the looks of some of the students and Professors faces it was probably not the most popular. Dumbledore took the hat from my head and I shot him a concerned look to which he just winked and smiled. I smiled and looked over the tables, the Slytherin one still cheering. "This is going to be interesting"
#severusimagine#severus x reader#severus snape x reader#severusnape#snape x reader#snape imagine#professor snape#snape#hogwarts#slytherin#Snape slowburn
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Unsolicited Enterprise opinion of the day: I’d quit publicly dragging this show on the time-honored first-grade principle of ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say...’ but here, after episode 14 of season 3, I’m delighted to report that my patience has been rewarded. Two episodes in a row now have been really quite good! The torture was subtle rather than blunt (I’d say arranging an intel-gathering set-up for the designer of a genocidal superweapon falls within the pale of Starfleet acceptability) and the camera only leered at T’Pol once.
Finally, I thought as the credits rolled. Finally, perhaps we have broken through the fogbank of Rick Berman’s relentless horndog patriotism into the clear sailing of ethical nuance and punchlines that actually land.
And then Netflix queued up the beginning of the next episode. And the first shot was a close-up of T’Pol’s bare feet.
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Okay, while I’m giving unsolicited opinions on music, let me go ahead and talk about NSYNC and the way folks have been rewriting history. I keep seeing these TikToks and tweets and posts on here saying stuff like: “JC deserved better” and “JC was the better singer” and “Justin only had success cause the label pushed for him more” and, okay, maybe that’s all true. JC was a good singer and he definitely could’ve and maybe should’ve had a better solo career, BUT y’all have got to stop acting like Justin’s solo success was only cause he had good press and was promoted more.
Yeah, I don’t like him either as a person now, but that doesn’t change the facts. And the fact is, any objective person watching NSYNC from their debut to No Strings Attached especially, knew that he was the standout. It was obvious that he was the star. It was obvious that his following was just a little bit bigger than JC’s. Hell, it was obvious that he had it. Whatever you want to call it, he had it. I watched that damn HBO concert every day lol, and it was clear that even though they could all sing well live and all had fans, he was the most popular with JC coming in a close second.
Chris and Lance could hit the steps but it looked stiff. Joey could dance. JC seemed like the type to learn a move in one take and nail it. But Justin would hit the move and add a little shimmy lol. It looked natural. He had the sparkle or whatever you wanted to call it - in performances, in interviews.
Look, y’all know it ain’t always about talent. If talent was the only thing that mattered then Diana Ross wouldn’t have been the lead singer in the original lineup of the Supremes lol. Sometimes it’s about who has the most star power, and Justin had the most… whether we like it or not 🤷🏾♀️
And he wasn’t talentless, so it’s just been odd watching TikToks and stuff where people act like they cannot fathom how he went solo and had a career and JC didn’t. Well, I had a front row seat and was a literal child, and I could see his solo career coming lol, so I don’t know why people are pretending they couldn’t
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Autumn Days Series || Mendes Triplets Fic (Part 1 - The Autumn Equinox Tradition)
Summary: You spend your favourite season with your three best friends. [Friends to Lovers au] [Werewolf au] [Choose Your Own Ending]
Warnings: none? (Raul says dumbass, lol)
Word Count: 2.2k
Moonlight gently streams through the sheer curtains covering your bedroom window, bathing your room in a soft silver glow. You nestle into your blankets; sleep is just beyond your reach.
Taptaptap. Taptaptap. Taptaptap.
The noise against your window happens in rapid succession; three quick taps, three times in a row. You do your best to ignore it and roll over, hoping to let sleep take you away. The tapping continues and you realize two very important things: one, is that there’s only three people in the world who throw rocks at your window like that and two, is that they’re not going to stop until you acknowledge them. You groan, it’s well after midnight and you have no intention of leaving the warm comfort of your bed.
Buzz, buzz.
Your phone goes off next, dinging three times. You sit up, slowly blinking your eyes open, and grab your phone from its place on your bedside table. You press the home button and your phone lights up, the time reads 12:45 AM. With an irritated sigh you tap on the group of iMessage notifications; sure enough, they were at it again. Your phone screen opens to the group chat you have going with the Mendes brothers.
Y/N and the Menbros
RM: We know you’re awake in there. Get up!
PM: You have 2 minutes to get out of bed or we’re coming in!
SM: Your 2 minutes have expired, Buttercup!
You glare angrily at your phone. Before you can reply, the latch on your window is jimmied open and Raul hoists it up. Three bodies tumble into your bedroom, landing on the floor beside your bed with a loud thud! You reach across your bed for each of the stuffed bears the boys had given you for Christmas when you were nine; you throw the bears at them, hitting all three square in the face as they stand.
“Do you have any idea what day it is?” Peter asks exasperated. He throws his hands up in the air before settling them on his hips, the grey bear clenched tightly in his left fist. His glasses have slid down his nose a little, and you can’t help but giggle at how much he resembles their mother when she used to scold the four of you as children.
You cross your arms over your chest. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Don’t be such a baby. It’s not like you were sleeping anyway,” Raul chides, leaning against the windowsill. He holds the black bear loosely by one of its ears.
“Y/N, it’s the Autumn fucking Equinox!” Shawn tells you pointedly. He leans his head down and softly noses the brown bear’s face.
You shake your head with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m friends with the three of you.”
The triplets heave a collective sigh of annoyance when you don’t respond, and wait for you to offer up the usual excuses as to why you won’t be joining their adventure. In truth, you don’t have a reason not to go this time, you’d simply forgotten what day it was. You consider getting up and changing out of your pajamas, but decide to let the brothers stew for a few more minutes.
“I really was trying to sleep,” you say, “I had a long day and I’m exhausted.”
Their reactions to your words are instant. The three of them share a look of guilt. They return your bears to the bedside table and turn to head back through the window, silently bidding you goodnight.
You hold out as long as possible before falling back against your pillows in a fit of giggles. “Oh, man, you should see your faces!” You clutch your stomach; your sides ache. “You look like a litter of kicked puppies!”
The boys growl low, then launch themselves toward you. Within seconds you’re at the bottom of the pile as three pairs of hands attack your sides, tickling you mercilessly.
“Say uncle, Y/N,” Shawn commands. Their fingers continue to dig into the flesh of your torso, they don’t let up.
You squeal, kicking against them. Your laughter rings out around the room. “Never!”
“Say uncle, and we’ll stop.” Raul rolls out from underneath Peter, just enough to pin your shoulders to the bed.
You clamp your jaw shut, grit your teeth and shake your head.
“Just remember, you did this to yourself!” Peter admonishes. He shares another quiet look with his brothers, and the three of them flop their large bodies across you and each other, one by one. The added weight of them is ridiculously heavy, it’s impossible for you to wiggle free now.
“Say uncle, dumbass.” Raul’s voice is muffled by Shawn’s chest against his face, but you can tell he’s smiling all the same.
You wiggle once more then submit to their playful assault. “Okay, okay! Uncle! Get off of me!”
Peter, Shawn, and Raul roll off of you and stand up again as if nothing happened. They each wear foolish grins of triumph on their faces. You sit up, shaking your head. Boys.
“What was that for?” You ask with a pout. You’re not angry, not even close, but you want to see how long you can guilt trip the three rambunctious wolves in front of you. It’s petty and childish, but it makes you giddy inside all the same.
Shawn shrugs. His chocolate curls are wild, he’s let his hair grow and it only adds to his charm. “That was for calling us a litter of kicked puppies.”
“And for guilting us into leaving without you, though unsuccessful,” Peter adds quickly. His glasses were misplaced in the pile, and he leans comfortingly into Raul’s side. He seems unbothered by the fact that he can’t quite see any of you clearly in the dark of your room.
“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t drag you with us? Really?” Raul tips his head to the side, studying you with soft eyes. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket; hair slicked back in his signature style, though one curl rests above his left eyebrow.
“I certainly hope not. It is the Autumn fucking Equinox, after all,” you mock Shawn’s earlier tone and scrunch your nose up. Autumn is your favourite time of the year, and you’ve been waiting for today in quiet anticipation. “I really did have a long day, it must’ve slipped my mind by the time I finished studying.”
The boys say nothing else; instead they move around your room quietly, they’ve done this before and they know exactly what they’re looking for. Shawn goes to your closet, he rifles through it in the dark for a few seconds, then turns back around with your black puffy vest in his hands. Raul’s at your dresser before you can even remind him where your favourite sweater and leggings are, he looks up at you with a smile, already holding the garments in his hands. Peter’s the last to move, even without his glasses he knows where he needs to go—in all honesty, he doesn’t really need them as much anymore. He pulls your brown boots from the shoe rack on the floor of your closet and sets them down in front of you, then softly pets a hand over your ears.
——————————
It began the year you met the Mendes family, when you moved in right next door at age nine. Your dad had been looking for a place for you two to settle down away from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors, and stumbled upon the quiet little hamlet you live in now. It wasn’t easy for him to run his apothecary and raise his young hybrid daughter, not without people offering their unsolicited opinions. So he found a small town that he hoped you would love, and the two of you moved at once.
You met the Mendes Triplets the day you moved in; you kept seeing the same face wearing different clothes, and couldn’t help but wonder why the strange boy kept changing. What could he possibly be doing that got him so dirty every time you saw him? It wasn’t until the wind picked up that warm autumn afternoon, that you finally had your answer. Your hat was blown from your head, leaving your cute little ears on display for the world. Your ears were the least of your worries—(“That’s a brand new hat you just stole!”)—you chased your hat through the gate to the backyard, and stopped as the wind carried it over the fence, into the backyard of the neighboring house. You stood there contemplating whether you really wanted to bug your dad to go next door and demand your hat back or if you could live without it, but before you could make your decision, a small head of chocolate brown curls popped over the side of the fence.
“Hey! It’s not nice to throw things over the fence!” The small boy scolded in a gruff tone, his face twisted in disgust. He held your hat in his tiny fist.
You blinked up at him in stunned silence; how rude. Just then, another head appeared over the fence, this one too with the same brown curls, though unruly. He shared the first boy’s face, but he looked kinder.
“Raul! It’s rude to yell at the neighbors!” This boy, you realized, was the rude one’s twin. He turned to you with a soft smile. “Hi, I’m Shawn. This is Raul. Who are you?”
“Y/N. And I want my hat back,” you stated firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. You narrow your gaze at Raul. “Your brother’s rude.”
Shawn grinned sheepishly as yet another boy joined him and Raul over the fence. Smaller than the other two, he offered you a soft smile and looked at the boys next to them. They were all brothers, that’s why you’d seen the same boy in different clothing all afternoon—they were triplets. Shawn ruffled the smaller boy’s hair. “This is Peter, he’s the youngest.”
“Hi,” Peter replied shyly, leaning his head into Shawn’s palm. “Raul, give her hat back. We’re nine, how old are you?”
“I’m nine, too. Do you guys live here?” You smiled back at Peter, the first smile you’d given any of them, as Raul dropped your hat over your side of the fence.
Shawn’s eyes traveled up your face to rest on top of your head, his smile widened. “Hey, look—you’re a wolf, too! Like us!” He pointed to your ears with the sweetest little smile, you couldn’t help but return.
“Well, sort of,” you began quietly. Your gaze traveled to the ground; you flattened your ears. “I’m only half of a wolf. My ears are like this all the time, Daddy says they’ll probably go away when I get bigger.”
The triplets noticed your embarrassment and shared a silent conversation; Raul rolled his eyes, but nodded his head in approval. In the next instant, Shawn helped Raul over the fence, who then turned around and grabbed for Shawn. Once both boys were firmly on the ground, Shawn stood on Raul’s shoulders and pulled Peter over with them. Now, all four of you were standing in your backyard. The boys crowded around you, each one wore varying expressions of awe and concern.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Peter cooed gently, placing a tentative hand on yours.
“Yeah! You don’t have to be embarrassed, we like your ears,” Shawn assured you, looking to Raul next.
Raul puffed up his chest. “If anyone ever has anything to say about it, you come and find us. We’ll beat them up for you.”
You looked up, replacing your frown with a beaming smile. “Thanks! Does this mean we’re friends now?”
The triplets each held their left pinky out in the middle of the circle. “Friends for life!” They exclaimed as you hooked your pinky with theirs.
“Hey, I have an idea. Maybe we can ask your dad if you can come over to our house for the Autumn Equinox?” Shawn’s excitement was hard for you to ignore and you tipped your head to the side slightly.
“That’s a great idea, Shawny! You can run with us tonight!” Peter squealed in delight.
“We’ll protect you, Y/N, we promise. You’re part of our pack now,” Raul said. He looked between you and his brothers, grinning with pride.
As Peter softly pet his hands over your ears, you considered leaving your hat at home.
——————————
You’re pulled out of your trip down memory lane as Raul incessantly snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to Y/N. Where’d you go just then?”
You shake your head and smile up at the oldest Mendes boy. “I was just remembering the first time we did this, the day we met. It feels like I’ve known you guys my whole life.”
“To be fair, we met when we were nine, and we’re 19 now. You basically have,” Shawn tells you with a chuckle.
“Get dressed,” Peter says, “we have an Autumn Equinox to run!”
The first day of autumn, when day and night are the same length, the beginning of your favourite season. You’re going to spend it running wild and free until sunrise with the three boys who stole your heart on your first day as their next door neighbor. The boys with the same face—Raul and Shawn and Peter Mendes, the Menbros; your best friends.
All three of them smile at you knowingly; this is tradition.
Yay, the first part in the Autumn Days series is here!
I’ll keep it real with you, chief, I love writing this series more than I love writing I Know Your Heart.
I know, I know. Scandalous! But don’t fret, IKYH is going to be completed! I’m just going to do it alongside this one.
I can’t wait to see all of your reactions to the official beginning of Autumn Days.
Oh! And please remember, none of my stories can be reposted anywhere outside of tumblr without my consent.
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged. Remember to leave a like, comment, and reblog if you love it!
-Aurie <3
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I am going to liveblog s21e05 of Catsdown, writing thoughts down as they occur to me while I watch. Click on the “Keep reading” link for unsolicited opinions and observations that may occasionally be slightly clever.
- Where is Sean? We’ve been lucky with a few episodes in a row of both regular team captains present, and I appreciate that. But with episodes that were filmed after COVID first hit, there is really no excuse for any regular to miss the show. One of the annoying things about COVID is you never have an excuse to not do stuff because you can claim to be busy but people know you’re not really. I do realize Sean missed a bunch of episodes a while ago due to being sick, and I hope that hasn’t happened again. There’s probably a joke here where I call Sean Lock old by suggesting it would be really bad if he were sick because he’s in the high-risk age group, but given that as a cancer survivor I think he actually is at high risk, I’ll wait to make sure he does survive the pandemic before I start joking about that.
- Rachel’s dress this week is almost as sparkly as her dress last week. I approve.
- The story about how Jon and Lucy met (being in the car and her finding out he’d saved her name as “future wife”) is in one of his stand-up specials, and I wondered when I first heard it how much of it was true. I generally go with the assumption that if a comedian repeats the same story across multiple shows it’s more likely to be true (I may be way off in that belief, but I just figure they’re more likely to repeat a story because it really happened than because they’re keeping track of the shit they make up for comedy), so I loved hearing it again on Catsdown. I had heard before on Catsdown that Roisin was the friend in his stand-up story who introduced him to Lucy; it was fun hearing that again too.
- Lucy Beaumont is so lovely. I am so into that accent. I’ve looked her up before to figure out what her accent is, and I’ve just seen that she’s from Hull, which is in Yorkshire. I can’t tell if Hull is some special part of Yorkshire where they have a particularly distinctive and beautiful accent, or if she’s doing a regular Yorkshire accent and her voice is just beautiful. Either way, good job, Jon. I would marry her for that voice alone. She seems like a cool person and a good comedian too, though to be honest I haven’t seen enough of her work to really comment on that. I did like the children’s story that was her mascot in this episode.
- When Joe Wilkinson appears as a panelist, is he meant to be the same guy as the one who’s sometimes Rachel’s assistant? Like, in Catsdown lore, is there a character named Joe Wilkinson who used to work on the show as Rachel’s assistant, got fired, but still shows up sometimes as Rachel’s assistant, and that guy also sometimes is a panelist? Or is there a character named Joe Wilkinson who got fired as Rachel’s assistant and still sometimes shows up in that role, and there is also another character who happens to have the same name and the same appearance and is sometimes a panelist? Is Fabio the half brother of Panelist Joe Wilkinson, or is Panelist Joe Wilkinson a different guy who’s unrelated to Fabio?
- Since I first watched Taskmaster season 1 almost a year ago, I have gone from thinking Roisin Conaty is an entertaining comedian to thinking any bit of media that features her will be significantly better off for her presence.
- On the first letters round, I got WINTERS, the same word as Jon! And I got it within the first 30 seconds! I am generally not very good at the letters round, so I’m always pleased if I can do as well as Jon without giving myself extra time.
- The first numbers round is three big ones. I’m giving myself extra time to solve that shit because that’s really hard.
- Okay, I took a long time and this was the best I could do. Two away. I’ll be annoyed if any of the panelists did better in 30 seconds than I just did in about 10 minutes. Honestly, I’ll even be annoyed if Rachel solves it in only 30 seconds.
995
75 50 25 9 7 2
9x2=18
50x18=900
900+75=975
975+25=1000
1000-7=993
- Well at first I was very pleased because Rachel had clearly not solved it within the 30 seconds, but then Jon fucking got it just after the time.
995
75 50 25 9 7 2
75+25=100
7-2=5
100+5=105
105x9=945
945+50=995
Honestly that’s fucking poetry. I’m kind of mad that Jon solved it in just over 30 seconds when I couldn’t even solve it in ten minutes, but I’m mostly just impressed. And I feel less bad about not getting it myself since even Rachel hadn’t solved it by the time Jon got it. That is a beautiful solution. Good job, Jon. It’s pretty fucking cool to see him sit there next to his gorgeous wife and solve a math problem faster than Rachel Riley could. That man is doing well for himself.
- Jimmy, we all watched the 2020 Catsdown Christmas special that was clearly filmed in February. No one is fooled by you introducing “the romance round” by saying, “It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday,” as though that’s the case while you’re saying it rather than when you know it will go out. Also, I could fill a whole other post with rounds that would be better additions to Catsdown than “the romance round”.
- Is that vegan chocolate, or did Jon decide to give up on the vegan thing when the world ended?
- In the romance round, they get double points for a romantic word. I just found the word RAILED. I’ll be very upset if none of the panelists get that.
- Okay, Lucy did get the word I got but no one gave it the credit it deserved. She joked that RAILED should count as romantic because it can relate to sexual roleplay. Jon and Joe used similarly silly arguments to justify CURLED and CURDLE as romantic words. Both teams were given double points for romantic words, but it was treated as a joke, like they were all being rewarded for managing to argue that their non-romantic words were actually relevant to romance. Which completely ignored the fact that “railed” really is a slang term for sex.
At the beginning of this point, I awkwardly wrote “Lucy did get the word I got”, because I felt too weird writing “Lucy got RAILED”, as that is another way to say, “Someone put their penis inside Lucy with a large amount of force.” I guess “railed” does not have the same slang meaning in the UK that it does in North America.
- That food and radio dictionary corner performance was very good. I had never heard of Bec Hill before but I’d be happy to see more of her on there.
- On the next letters round, I got MOANER, and then giggled because that could have also worked for the romance round. Joe got the same word and made that exact joke about it, and I am pleased about that.
- They all laughed way too hard at Joe’s hemorrhoid jokes. I think they’d been cooped up for too long.
- After seeing her translated French song, I’d be fine with Bec Hill doing every dictionary corner spot from now on.
- All episode, I’ve enjoyed watching Joe try to stay in character as his persona who doesn’t know anything, while clearly being actually pretty smart and good at this stuff and wanting to get competitive with Jon about it. Joe getting the conundrum at the end was icing on that cake.
- I’m annoyed that there was only one numbers round. I wanted a chance to redeem myself after not getting 995.
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Sometimes the Soldier Remembers
A Soldier bound unwilling to his handlers, finds comfort in a memory and a kindness done.
The Soldier didn’t try to blend with local humanity. Shoulder tucked casual against a door frame, disinterest projected, the marketplace bustling past a man standing incongruous.
A soul inept might stare, questioning choice of apparel for a sweltering climate. Utilitarian muted tones fitted leather, strapped and buckled, not discreet weapons. The curious would glance, then hurry past, deterred by a body’s tacit intimidation.
The brave or the foolish might connect with his icy gaze, emotions buried in a void reflected in steel-gray eyes.
To those well versed in how to look the other way, the Soldier was invisible.
Cooler night air hovered above the heated canopy of a noisy shuffling crowd. Swaying lines of dingy bulbs added a yellow pall to skin and market fair.
The Soldier observed without moving, statue-still, not betraying the urgency that ticked beneath his skin.
This assignment mundane for his talents, unique well-honed, far beyond a task deemed dull. If he were free to have an opinion, he might have spent energy on why he was chosen, what purpose it served to have the Soldier pursue an easy mark.
Even if opinions were allowed, the aftermath of each mission preparation left his mind empty of himself. Tools and tactics all remaining.
Struggling against his handler’s routine abandoned long ago, compliance keeping repercussions at bay.
This job, directives clear: Obtain embezzled information, eliminate the target, negative evidence of his intervention.
The Soldier waited and watched beneath ghosted dreams stirring restless in his heart.
Words, shouts, cries, slipped into a hum of white noise. The lilt of children laughing, music pulsing in the distance, all underscored a sliver of a memory. Salt smell of ocean, wet sand imprinted by bare feet, rhythmic cycle of crashing surf beyond a wooden boardwalk.
A tremor unwanted, deep protected recollections betrayed. A blond-haired boy, thin frame body familiar lying skin pressed to skin embraced by sun-heated sand. The surfacing images came with a warm sensation in his gut, not a familiar feeling except when the boy flirted with his mind.
He welcomed the warmth, uncertain why he felt it or who the boy was, embracing the comfort before the image dissipated.
That dream always costly. He’d spoken of it before, to his handlers, the price high. He could remember that.
Shoulder rolled precise, shifting tension downward to settle in fingertips, refocusing his mind on the task at hand.
A rich-dressed woman strolled past, oblivious to his following eye. Clipped along with a purpose trailed by two young girls, bearing the marks of indentured service.
He watched them with as much curiosity as he would allow.
She pointed and hissed to indicate her choices, the girls jumped to satisfy. Purchases noted the way a Soldier takes account of his enemy’s details. Two melons, a string of peppers, and a fold of emerald-colored cloth.
He moved through the crowded alley using height as an advantage, hanging back without thinking. The mark oblivious to his watching. It wasn’t hard to focus on her progress.
He allowed a brief excursion of his attention.
Teasing aroma of curry and oil, bartering voices rise and fall. Feather-filled cages that cawed and swayed. It all passed through his awareness.
The distractions lulled his sense of alertness. Maybe it was all too easy.
A high pitched voice too near pulled at his attention, a glance to find one of the servant girls staring.
He flinched — not a typical response on his part.
She pointed past at a vendor; they launched a haggling exchange lost on the Soldier. An altered gaze towards the items being offered to defuse his indiscretion.
He focused on a stack of metal cages pressed against his thighs. He hadn’t noticed the contents until now. Stuffed with fur, tight-packed, bulging out through wires.
A thought passed fleeting, why a cage filled with fur?
The young girl’s voice bringing him back to his work. A covert glance revealed two small dogs in her arms licking, wriggling bundles that pulled laughter flirting joy.
It cost her in the end, her mistress’s displeasure expressed, a stick’s rapped sting marring skin.
Heat flared through his mind, a feeling long-suppressed. His eye caught rapt on tears wiped shamed from her cheek.
The child ran after her mistress.
A step to follow stopped. A tickle warm and wet against his hand. Not a touch that was frightening or abrupt but hesitant gentle.
He looked down.
A moment spent sorting the jigsaw puzzle of parts and limbs, within a few heartbeats, he could make it out. The pink flicker of a tongue slipping between the wires of the cage, connecting with his skin.
He blinked the image into focus, the creatures in the cage alive, trust hidden behind the void reflected in their eyes. Unnaturally silent and still. Except the one small being who dared to reach out.
The Soldier drawn in, uncertain of why.
Tenuous press of flesh against the cage, seconds longer than he should allow, cutting through a focus cold. A shudder breaking their connection.
He turned to follow his target.
Rush of night air cooled the sweat on his neck and brushed too-long hair across his vision. He shook his head without thinking.
Moving beyond the market now no more time for daydreaming. He sought out shadows tailing the entourage to a walled estate nestled in solitude on the outskirts of town.
Patient allowing them to settle into their nightly routine before he scaled the wall and traversed along its narrow cap to reach an open window.
He entered her world in silence.
The bedroom lay empty. The sounds of the house distant. A clock ticking. A muffled voice humming.
He moved with precision in the darkened room, crossed to the bed, stripping the pillows out of the covers, efficient and noiseless he made his way through the house unseen.
The target in a room on the first level, an office with opulent drapes, thick carpets, heavy leather, wood furniture. All the items that would serve to muffle the sounds of his work.
His path brought him past a cook in the kitchen. The sound of their humming louder now. Metal on wood rhythmic thud of a knife chopping ingredients. The aroma of turmeric and ginger wafted through the hallway.
His stomach rolled, he paused to allow the smell to settle in his nostrils, hungered gnawing taking focus. A faint tremor shook his hair; he pushed away thoughts of food or how long it had been since he’d eaten.
Nausea abating, he took another step, eyes drawn to movement beyond the doorway inside the kitchen. Two small dogs tied to a table leg, wiggling and yapping, their eyes dancing bright when they saw him.
The solution apparent when a human encountered. Lethal force for an enemy, enforced silence for a non-combatant. This was unexpected. The warm sensation spread in his belly again.
Thoughts of repercussions helped dissipate the warmth. It would be safer to keep that kind of heat at bay.
The Soldier retreated to an alternate approach through large french doors, the entry simple for a man with his skills. His steps light and cautious as he materialized behind the woman sitting before a computer. She saw his shadow too late to run or scream. Her mouth caught between hands cold and efficient.
No effort to lift her off her feet; she dangled and danced in a hold impassive. She swung and slapped, kicking and writhing; he remained unpersuaded until a body fell limp.
The thumb drive slid into place; he followed his handler’s instructions to download the requisite data. The woman unconscious on the floor at his feet; the computer whirring disapproval.
He crossed to a picture on the wall that protected a safe. His hand paused before touching it, eyes drawn to bold charcoal strokes. Rows of tenement homes, a tree-lined street, two boys walking, one with an arm possessive around the other.
This warmth brought on a stronger memory. The heat of flesh under his flesh, fingers tenuous stroked down his chest, a distant sound, sweet moan of pleasure. His tongue recalled the taste of salt and soap and hungry mouths engaged in the dark. Breath caught abrupt by the image.
Movement tore him from the ghosted embrace. He swung around to see two young girls, mouths agape, staring at him, their mistress, back to him. Training dictated his next choice, end their lives with little more than a twist of his fingers.
Perhaps the breach of his recollections worked to soften his brutal approach. He held his step and raised one finger to his lips, then pointed to the corner of the room.
The girls obeyed.
In the end, he snapped the woman’s neck after he sent the girls into the hallway. He filled the pillowcases with cash and jewels, pocketed the thumb drive, and shook off the sense that he had somehow been reduced to being a common thug.
Next mission will be glorious, he told himself.
The Soldier moved silently down the hallway towards the kitchen; unsolicited followers stayed close without interfering.
No humming or sounds of preparation, the scent of spices dulled, the lights dimmed. He peered inside with near an expectation of two wiggling dancing creatures struggling to reach him. A lightness fleeting unfamiliar crossed his heart.
A gaze trained scanning the darkness, searching the empty floor. Tenuous fingers slipped into his palm; he glanced down at the girl. She pointed towards the sink.
Still hanging bodies evident. Eyes bright flicker of hope fading, lingering for as long as it took to dissipate the lightness and embrace the void again.
The Soldier’s world an endless loop of simple tasks and inevitable outcomes. Accomplish the assignments, gain a reward, sleep in the comforting cold. The only real pain was the cyclic eradication of his life, a temporary measure as he learned repeated.
A heartbeat spent in the pain, he moved on.
The girls followed his retreat, quiet certain, down a hall, through the gardens. No words exchanged, he lifted them over the wall. Trailing him down the dirt road, arms wrapping possessive, away from the only home they could recall.
None of them looked back.
It was dawn when the Soldier pulled the old produce truck into the courtyard of a sprawling fenced complex.
The sleeping girls in the front seat curled together, all arms and legs, moved another memory. Waking to a city’s morning sounds, thin arms owning his body, legs tangled, breath close, matched to the rhythm of one another. Lips pressed to the neck of a blond boy, a name wisped out of reach of a mind erased repeated.
He shook away the weight of his visions. He was late; there would be a price to pay.
His expertise in handling multiple vehicles couldn’t save the stripped gears. The noise of his arrival woke the residents, a cacophony greeting the squeal of a truck door pried open. A young man emerged from the old building to greet him with a quizzical look and a scratch of his unbrushed hair.
The Soldier began his self-appointed task unloading each crate with the kind of care that he’d long ago abandoned. Each one tore open, creatures hesitant growing braver, tumbling free under a gaze watchful, spark of hope hinted faint.
Frightened eyes flourished playful, bodies crushed unwilling, set free to run and squirm and dance met by laughter, the girl’s rush to help the Soldier finishing his mission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An accounting inevitable, the Soldier faced his handlers.
He turned over the required findings, a thumb drive, and a handful of gaudy jewelry, the value irrelevant in a mind subservient. Rough demands regarding cash; no explanation offered, his silence clear, as bold as he dared to allow.
His punishment would come whether he answered or not.
A calculation weighed brief, a choice he found clear.
Dusk drawing near when finally shoved into a cell, stripped and bruised, not dead or maimed. Too valuable for scarring retribution; he could remember that, had counted on it.
Night falling beyond a cell sounds carried through a barred window overhead.
The Soldier curled in a corner, arms cradling knees drawn to chest, letting a mind wander free.
Two girls laughing, a pillowcase full of cash, a hundred squirming, barking, dogs jumping on legs lapping hands, leaping around feet.
A boy with blond hair.
The Soldier listened to the howling night a sanctuary for the lost and found. A memory held tight-bound until it would be stolen once again.
#bucky barnes#winter soldier#fanfiction#CW: implied animal death#AO3 fanfic#my pathetic attempt at allegory
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