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amplifyme · 2 years

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The In-Betweens

MSR. WC: 6,436. Mature. Read on AO3 . Tagging @today-in-fic

She hadn’t meant for this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There were rules, parameters they’d agreed upon from the beginning; lines they wouldn’t cross no matter how strong the need. And if they could do this, if they could ignore the accepted boundaries they’d set, then what other rules might be broken?

“Why,” she asks him now, “why are you always the one who sees?”

His hand smooths up and down the compact length of her body, his touch lighting like fireflies across her skin, ethereal and glancing. Never staying in one place long enough to satisfy. She tucks a knee between his and wedges it up, her palm brushing against the grain of the soft and abundant hair on his thigh. What he may be lacking on his chest is made up for elsewhere. He’s positively luxurious. All velvety skin under that fur, too, and perfectly masculine.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mulder murmurs, his breath warm as it whispers across her cheek. “I can see for both of us.”

“Just once I want to know what it’s like.” She moves her hand up and around and scrubs her knuckles against another favorite spot: the patch of hair at the small of his back. Mulder grunts happily in response. “It doesn’t seem fair,” she complains, running the pads of her fingers playfully into and around the shallow dimples that rest just above his spectacular ass.

“You’ve seen things, Scully,” he argues. “More than enough to believe your own eyes.”

“Not a sasquatch, though.”

“I can’t definitively say that’s what I saw. It was dark.” He finally picks a place to concentrate his efforts and folds low, tugging a nipple into his mouth. She rests a hand on the crown of his head and enjoys herself for a minute before curling her fingers under his jaw and tilting his face up. Her nipple pops from his puckered lips and he peers up at her with a wrinkled brow.

“Why are you being so rational, Mulder?”

“I’m trying to maintain our delicate balance here. If you’re going to be the one to throw caution to the wind and invite me to share your bed while we’re out in the field investigating a possible Bigfoot sighting, then I’m obligated to be the one thinking logically.”

“The fact that you were naked less than thirty seconds after I made the invitation belies your assertion of logical thinking.”

“Do you really want to debate this right now, Scully, or can I get back to what I was doing?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he pushes her onto her back and starts wetly kissing his way down her abdomen, his intended target obvious. She rubs her thighs together while she still can, relishing the sweet friction she can control now, before he snatches any chance of that away from her.

“Logic be damned,” she breathes and tosses her arms above her head, stretches out decadently beneath him. “This time.”

Mulder lifts his busy mouth long enough to proudly gloat. “Atta girl.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her father had taught her how to navigate by the stars. He’d shown her how to sail angry seas. Her mother had taught her how to love unconditionally. She’d shown her how to hold fast when everything around her was changing. Teachers and professors and instructors had taught her how to focus, to listen, and to learn. They’d shown her how to navigate the scientific world she’d chosen to live in.

But no lesson she’d been given had taught her what it would mean to love Mulder. No instructions could’ve taken into account his unpredictability; no studies could’ve anticipated his odd bouts of passion and melancholy, or the uncanny leaps his mind could take. There had been other men she’d loved deeply, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the exceptionality of him.

“Okay, Scully, I get it.” He stands before her in rolled-up sleeves, fingers holstered on his hips. “I do. I’ll be sure to perform like the dancing monkey the Bureau obviously thinks I should be.” His features are set to insolence, which includes the loose bottom lip.

“It’s a quarterly budget review,” she sighs with patience barely kept. “I did the last two – I’m not doing this one. Just complete the paperwork and turn it in. We’ll know soon enough if there are any discrepancies.”

“Scully, what we do can’t be quantified by a dollar amount. It takes whatever it takes. Money shouldn’t even be an issue.”

“I believe that’s where the problem lies, and why we get to do them four times a year instead of once. Just suck it up and get it done.” She returns her attention to the file in front of her, jotting a note in the margin of the tox screen she’s reviewing. She suddenly lifts her eyes and finds him right where she left him. “Mulder, are you implying that because I find a certain satisfaction in preparing and submitting complete and accurate reports in a timely fashion that that makes me a dancing monkey?”

“I would never imply anything of the sort.” Apparently satisfied by giving her pause, he pivots and heads back to his desk, where he scribbles something on a piece of note paper. “Although I do have it on good authority that you can dance.” He folds the paper into a small, perfect square. “And despite the simian noises you occasionally utter while in my presence, you decidedly do not look like a monkey.” Balancing a tip of the folded paper on the desk with one index finger, he cocks the middle finger of his right hand against the thumb, takes careful aim, and sends the parcel her way. Reaching up, she snatches it out of the air easily, and he beams at her.

“That’s very generous of you, Mulder; I’m touched.” Sliding a nail under the outermost fold of his note, she eventually works it open. He’s written: TLG, 7-ish? Taco Tuesday. Which means a couple of six-packs, brisk rounds of equal parts geekiness and bullshit, skewering Frohike’s newest attempts at seduction, and possibly edible food. And then, perhaps, a nightcap of protocol-defying sex.

Brow briefly knitted, she composes her reply and then refolds the missive and drops it on his desk as she collects their coffee mugs. “I’m going for refills,” she announces. She’s just made it to the tiny vestibule that serves as a coffee station when his scandalized response to her suggestion floats out from the open office door.

“Scully! Does your mother know you use this kind of language?” Grinning, she stirs creamer into her coffee.

They are naked in his bed and fully sated by ten o’clock that night. Mulder is lying beside her on his back, hogging the majority of the bed with his long limbs akimbo, absently scratching his chest.

“I have to say, Scully, yours was by far the tastiest taco of the night.” He’s already snickering as she smacks him on the hip. “What?” he demands indignantly. “You’re the one who used that very same euphemism in your response to my invitation. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she rejoins coquettishly. Taking another drink of the water she’d fetched for them, she sucks in a small ice cube, works it around, and then chomps down, breaking it into manageable slivers that gradually disappear on her tongue.

“Do I need to remind you that chewing ice cubes is very bad for your teeth? You know these things, Dr. Scully. What kind of example are you setting?”

“For you? Probably a better one than anyone else in your recent past.”

There’s a short silence as he thinks about it. “Okay, I’ll give you that one,” he declares, rolling over. He leans and blows noisy raspberries against her ticklish hip as she curls up laughing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You don’t have to be so careful all the time. With me, I mean. Sometimes I like things rough.”

She has no least idea why these words have left her mouth. And they are stuck in the car for the next twenty minutes. She knows she can’t conjure a do-over and keep her mouth shut for a second go-round, so she faces the situation she’s put them in head-on and forces herself to angle a glance at Mulder. She catches the edge of a look back before he refocuses on the road beyond the steering wheel. He lifts an index finger long enough to signal his need for a minute. Her chest tightens because she knows he wants to do this properly. She does too. This is the first time the more detailed aspects of their new intimacy have been brought up for discussion. They’ve been too busy catching up on lost time to dissect it. Apparently, her subconscious had taken up the slack some time ago and decided that now was the perfect moment to address a few things.

“I, uh, I - I didn’t know,” Mulder begins hesitantly and clears his throat, “I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I approached things more… aggressively. Or inadvertently did something that hurt you. Or even ask you to do something you might find crass or would make you uncomfortable.” He keeps flicking shy looks at her as he’s talking, and she’s charmed by his nervousness. “Need I remind you that sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain and proves my idiocy? And besides that, I mean, shit, Scully, I’ve got almost a foot and, what, at least 70 pounds on you. I don’t want to hurt you. I haven’t forgotten the things that’ve been done to you. I don’t want to be one more thing that hurts.”

She’s struck dumb for a moment, and it takes her a few more seconds to push the words past the lump that’s taken up residence in her throat. “If you weren’t driving right now, I’d kiss you.”

He shoots a brilliant smile her way. His relief is palpable. “I can pull over.”

“Not a good idea. We have a plane to catch.” She grabs his wrist and links her fingers with his. “Mulder…“

But he jumps in before she can finish. “Having said all that, if you’re interested in pushing the boundaries of our admittedly vanilla sex life a step or twenty, I’m… yeah, count me in. Let’s get our freak on, Scully.”

“With agreed upon parameters established in advance,” she adds as a caveat.

“Of course. I look forward to having that conversation with you forthwith.”

“’Forthwith’, Mulder?”

“I’ll feed you once we make it home. Tomorrow’s Sunday. Let’s stay up late and braid each other’s hair; share all our deepest, darkest secrets and hidden desires.”

“You’re not getting all of them tonight. I’d prefer to dole them out judiciously. I don’t want to risk overwhelming you.”

He yelps a succinct laugh. “I can’t express to you how much I’m looking forward to possibly being overwhelmed.” He yanks his sunglasses from the inner pocket of his coat as the sun begins to break through the cloud cover and tosses them on the dash within easy reach. “Hey, Scully?”

“Yes?” His face, when she looks over, has gone serious.

“I just thought you should know. You’re my best friend.” He tops this off with a wink and a saucy leer, but his deflection doesn’t work. She’s caught the roughness in his voice, heavy with the words they still don’t say. Words are inadequate sometimes. So she shines brightly at him with a toothy smile instead and knows that he feels it, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They’ve had this discussion a few times already, in one form or another, and neither of them is willing to concede much. Sometimes it’s casual and lighthearted, sometimes it manifests itself obliquely, slipping into disparate conversations. But there are rare times when it’s nothing like tiptoeing. When it’s more like stomping through a muddy field in combat boots. This is one of those times, and she’s infused with righteous fear and a deep frustration.

Mulder has once again sacrificed his well-being in the name of the X-Files, and for nothing any reasonably sane person could argue should take precedence over his own safety. But it’s obvious he’s still determined to risk it. “What more could you possibly hope to find?” she demands quietly. “What’s left?”

They are in a darkened hospital room well after midnight, and he’s slightly loopy from the codeine they administered before he was moved from the ER for overnight observation. The only privacy they have from his current roommate, who is noisily and wetly snoring away, are two utilitarian hospital curtains.

Painkillers tend to make him touchy-feely. She keeps having to push his hand off her ass and he just keeps putting it back. He’s not groping, just gently cradling the curve of her on his palm. He pitches his voice low like hers when he answers. “How can you even ask that? After all we’ve seen, Scully, all we’ve done. And we’ve just begun to scratch the surface.”

“Of what, Mulder? Of finding all the answers in the universe and nothing less than that? Well, then when does it end? Will there ever be a time when it’s possible to consider, I don’t know, something less lethal?”

“And what would that be? What is it you want, Scully, do you want a simple life, some kind of abject domesticity?” He’s blearily dividing his attention between her and whatever the hell is on the TV. She grabs the remote and turns it off.

“Oh, I see. So, your default position for anything less than what we’re doing now is that it would have to include living in a constant state of misery? Is that what you’re saying?”

He aims a dull gaze her way and she recognizes in his eyes an old pain unearthed, a fresh scrape across its surface. “Scully, have I ever told you about my childhood?”

She pushes her impatience away in a quick sigh. “Mulder, the sins of your parents are not yours to carry. You know that.” He sweeps his eyes over her face before turning back to study the empty screen of the television bolted high on the wall opposite his bed. “It doesn’t have to be that way for you. For us. And it’s not your job to save the world either, Mulder. It never was.”

“This is who I am. I don’t… I don’t know how to slow down. I don’t even know what that would look like.” He loosely shakes his head against the thin pillows stacked behind him. “No, that’s not completely true.” He shifts slowly and a bit uncomfortably on the narrow bed and angles himself toward her. “I have thought about it. I’ve tried to imagine what it might be like. But there are so many things still out there, Scully, so many remarkable, wonderful things that are just waiting to be found.”

“So let someone else look for a while.” She grabs his wandering hand and curls both of hers around it. “It’s statistically impossible in a world of five billion people that you’re the only one searching for these truths. Which is more important: the discovery of them or being the one to take the credit? You can’t find them all, Mulder. That’s incredibly selfish of you. Everyone deserves the chance to find their own miracles. You don’t get to hog them all.”

He studies her intently and his eyes are filled with something poignant and fiercely proud, but it’s too indistinct a thing for her to put a name to the emotion it reflects. She thought she’d seen all the faces he could show her. It’s a bit disconcerting and exciting to find out she hasn’t. It might be because of the narcotics floating through his system. But it might not. Still, she believes he understands what she’s trying to impart to him. That getting her fair share of miracles matters, too.

“Mulder, when you’re old and gray and on your death bed, will you wish you’d taken more time to chase down answers, or will you wish for more time with me?”

“That’s not fair of you to ask, Scully. Why can’t I have both? I’ll never stop looking – I can’t.” He holds her eye and then gradually drops his chin and sighs. “But maybe… maybe we can find better ways to do it.”

“As in safer ways? Less life-threatening ways? Perhaps a bit less global extraterrestrial conspiracy ways?”

He grins at her slyly. “It’s always gonna lead back there, Scully. You know that. But, yeah, I, I’m… I’m willing to dial some things back if that’s what you need. I’ll try not to be so selfish.”

“And I’ll come up with some ways to show you how to slow down a little. I think we should start with the art of a proper bubble bath.” She lets her eyebrow telegraph her inference. “Would you like that?”

He pulls his hand free, an impudent glint in his eye, and tugs her closer, his fingers spreading wide on her ass yet again, like it’s some kind of magnetic attraction. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, I think I would.”

It’s a small victory for both of them and she’s satisfied with that. If she’s learned nothing else the last several years, she’s learned to take the victories when they present themselves.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Scully, those aren’t leaving the office. No way. My work, my rules.”

That’s what he says, after she casually mentions wanting to pack up and store some of their closed casefiles to make room for the newer ones. They’re running out of usable cabinet space in the office. But he bristles, ever the packrat and wanting everything close to hand, and rebuffs her at once, in the worst way possible.

“What did you just say?” She spits the question, wheeling on him, suddenly rigid with anger.

They’re facing off in her kitchen. The bag with their take-out dinner sits forgotten on the table. Both of them are tired and frustrated. It’s been a long couple of weeks stuck in the basement, just the two of them. Skinner has been stingy with approved 302’s lately and neither of them bear the burden of extended office time well. He can’t sit still after three days, and she finds herself having to rein in the overabundant energy of the nine-year-old boy who shares his skin. It’s exhausting. They’re both edgy to begin with. And now this.

“I think you heard me.” He’s using that infuriatingly flat and emotionless tone with her. It seems to her, sometimes, that the more visibly angry she gets over something, the further he withdraws. And it’s almost like he’s goading her to lose her temper, inviting her venom. She’s determined not to play his game. But, once again, her mouth betrays her.

“Screw you, Mulder, you condescending, selfish asshole.”

“Is that the best you can do?” he dryly taunts as he gives her a sidelong glance. He starts emptying the takeout bag. “That’s like bullets fired at Superman.”

Fine. He wants a fight; she’ll give him one. “How the hell can you say that to me? It’s not just your work, Mulder, it’s mine too, it’s ours! That office is ours, despite the fact that my name still isn’t on the door. Those files are ours! This fucking partnership is ours – yours and mine. My blood is on those X-Files just the same as yours. Why am I even here if you still don’t believe I’m just as invested as you? Why do I bother to stick around?”

His eyes are dark and the tiny lines at the corners of them telegraph the arrogant smirk that raises the corners of his plush mouth. “I can’t answer that for you, Scully, but you know where the fucking door is.”

She closes the distance between them, and they would be nose to nose if he wasn’t so goddamn tall. Waves of heat scented with his late-day musk are coming off him like a lava flow, and she tries to stand firm against the onslaught. She thinks she’d like to slap him across that smug face he’s wearing and even raises a hand to do it, but he doesn’t let her, grabbing her wrist tightly, painfully. She raises her other hand and now he has that one, too. He backs her up against the counter, and its hard edge digs in as he looms over her.

“I should,” she hisses up at him, struggling to break free. Searing heat flares low in her belly and she locks her knees to stay upright. “I should walk away and leave you down there all by yourself, just the way I found you.”

“But you won’t, will you? You can’t.” She glares at him and something he sees in her face causes one corner of his mouth to lift, and he presses closer. “Yours, mine, ours; it’s all the same thing.”

“Then why is everything that comes out of your mouth ‘My, my, mine’ and not ours?”

“Habit. It doesn’t mean anything.” He lets go of her left wrist and pulls the right one tight against his chest. She shakes feeling back into her hand as he bends low and coos close to her ear, “You know what else I call mine, Scully?”

She’s allowed this to happen. A single, short conversation in a car a few weeks ago, followed by a longer one later, had precipitated this. She’s shared parts of herself with him that she’d never voiced to anyone. She’s trusted him to keep her secrets. Gifted with these tidbits, he’s put his gigantic brain to work and profiled her yet again, integrating the new information. She’s known he would. He’s been profiling her all along. She’s been doing the same with him, albeit without benefit of his uncanny speed and intuition, but well enough to suit her needs. She trusts him not to hurt her.

Still. Her objection stands. Her anger is righteous.

“No. No, Mulder. You are not gonna fuck your way out of this one. This is a conversation we need to have.” Her free hand is flat against his stomach, fingers digging in, but she doesn’t remember placing it there.

“Yes. Later. C’mon, Scully, you know you want it. You have since you called me an asshole.” He grinds his burgeoning erection into her. Her breath quickens and raggedly leaves her lungs. “Want to work out some of those aggressions, do you? Yeah. I’m your man. All you have to do is ask.”

“Fuck you.”

He groans and dips, planting his hands possessively on her ass and lifting her against him. “Oh, and you were so close.” She’s on tiptoe now, her feet barely skimming the floor. “Try again. Ask me.”

He buries his face at the join of her neck and shoulder and her head lolls back heavily as he nips and sucks at her flesh. Goddamn him. Shoving him just enough to get her feet under her and ease her way out, she slips away, passing the refrigerator into the short hallway there. He catches up with her and yanks her arm, swinging her around and trapping her again, her back flat against the wall. His hands are all over her. Not mindlessly or with haste, but still urgently. He sucks an earlobe between his teeth and bathes it with his tongue.

“Mulder, don’t do this.” Her words invalidate what her body is doing, how it’s responding. And her hands, the way they’re mirroring his. She wants this, just as he’s claimed she does.

“Then tell me what to do instead. Tell me what to do,” he rasps against her mouth. “Ask me for what you want.”

She wonders briefly if they are talking at cross purposes, each set on their own path of meaning and circumstance. But it occurs to her that they’re in exactly the same place. And this isn’t so much about the work and who gets to claim it, no more than it was about a desk back in the darkest days of their partnership. She’s asking to be seen. To be acknowledged, and heard, and appreciated. And Mulder is asking how best to do it. He wants to give her that, and in the way she most needs it right now. That he’s couched that request in the context of sex this time around is simply a buffer. A way to protect them from the cutting edges that wounded them at the beginning of this thing they started years ago; this newest step in the dance they’re learning move by move.

She jerks him down by his tie and covers his mouth possessively, pushing past his lips with her tongue and sliding it across his. Her body thrums with the need of him. Of his hands, his mouth, his thick cock. She’ll ask for what she wants, and he’ll give it to her. All she has to do is say the words. So she breaks the kiss and gives them voice.

Later, as he perches on the edge of the bed and collects the warm washcloth he’s brought her to clean up, he aims an affectionate look her way and combs back her unruly hair with gentle fingers. “I’ll put in a requisition for another shelving unit for the hallway first thing tomorrow morning. We can reorganize things and move some of the files out there. Sound good?”

“I think I can work with that.”

He ducks his head and murmurs, “I’ll add a name plate for the door to the list too, if you’d like.”

She waits until he looks back up and takes in what she sees there. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll requisition one myself if I change my mind.” She doesn’t need her name on the door. Not now, anyway. It’s enough to know it’s hers if she wants it.

Mulder responds with a slow nod and a tender smile and seals the deal with a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“If you were trying to turn the heat down on Frohike’s unrequited love for you, I’m pretty sure you failed.”

She tosses a cheeky grin his way. “Who says it’s unrequited?”

They’re in the Gunmen’s tiny kitchen. Mulder’s wrist deep in soapy water, washing the last of the dishes. She’s rinsing and stacking them in the drainer. They’re both a little drunk.

“Scully, is Melvin your backdoor man?” He playfully bumps against her as he asks. “A guy might wonder, you know. You never made me a birthday dinner.”

“Mulder, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve cooked for you.”

He pouts at her. “Not on my birthday.”

“Don’t whine,” she chides, and he yelps when she pokes him in the ribs. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“And how come we’re stuck here in the kitchen washing dishes? They’re not our dishes.”

“Because the gift was dinner and cleanup,” she reminds him.

“Okay, now I’m sure of it. I’m gonna kick his ass.” The birthday boy takes that moment to stick his head around the doorway.

“Hey, you two, you about got this wrapped up? We’re setting the table for poker.” He has two small pointy birthday hats on his head, resting low on each side and facing out, so he looks like a demented mountain goat. The elastic bands of the hats make thin white stripes down his cheeks and under his chin.

“Speak of the devil,” Mulder says. Frohike’s eyes are glazed behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Mulder notices, too. “Fro, were you guys indulging in the wacky tobaccy while we’ve been in here slaving away? We are federal agents, you know.”

“Fuck off, Mulder, it’s my birthday. Besides, we took it outside. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for any contact high.” His eyes slide over and meet hers. “Pardon my language, Agent Scully.” She chuffs softly at the formal apology, and he offers a smile both shy and lecherous. “That was a splendid meal you prepared tonight.” He places a gloved hand over his heart and sways drunkenly in the doorway. “The depth of my gratitude for your exquisite birthday offering cannot be expressed adequately with mere words.”

Mulder blows a long, wet raspberry. “Oh, please.”

Langley yells from the large main room, “Frohike, where’d you put the poker chips last time we played? I can’t find ‘em.”

The little man looks back over his shoulder and one of the hats slips down to cover his ear. He shoves it back into place and bellows, “In the cabinet under the oscilloscope, right where they belong, dumbass.” He turns back, muttering, “Kids.” It takes him a second to refocus on them. “You’re staying for a few hands, right? ‘Cause it’s my birthday. Double nickels, y’know.”

“I found them!” Byers shouts.

Langley, who’s been designated DJ for the evening, drops the needle on the next record in Frohike’s requested rotation and The Doors open with Roadhouse Blues. Mulder at once launches into his version of stationary funky dance moves, and she snickers into her shoulder. She raises her voice so she can be heard over her partner’s toneless singing. What he lacks in talent he makes up for in volume.

“We’ll stay for a while longer, birthday boy,” she tells Frohike. “Be there as soon as we finish up.”

Now Mulder is playing an imaginary harmonica, bent at the waist, shaking his rump. Frohike makes a disgusted face at him and pushes past, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge and offering them to her. She silently declines for both of them.

“Suit yourself,” he tells her over his shoulder as he exits the kitchen. “Just means more for me.”

As soon as the song ends and they’re alone, Mulder takes the dish towel from her hands and pulls her into his arms. She stiffens for a moment, until he soothes her with long strokes of his hand down her back, and she gradually relaxes. It’s just the boys and they know, even though they’ve never been offered definitive proof.

“Ask you a question?” He buries his nose at her temple.

“Depends. What do you want to know?” She waits for him to pull back, but he stays where he is. And now that she’s paying more attention she feels a slight difference in the way he’s holding himself, a tension that wasn't there before. “Mulder, what is it?”

“Have you ever thought about…” He hiccups softly near her ear. “Do you ever wonder… I mean… do you think we could ever live together, or would that be too much for you?”

He obviously doesn’t want to move so she does it instead, leaning away until she can see his face. He peers back at her, shy and boyish. “Mulder, is this you asking, or the beer you’ve consumed?”

“I can handle three beers, Scully. So… have you ever thought about it?”

“No, I haven’t, not seriously. And frankly I’m surprised you would even entertain the idea. I mean, unless you have no problem handing the Bureau the perfect reason to separate us. Why would you even consider such a thing?”

“But if we didn’t have to worry about that, if protocol and regulation didn’t factor into it, is it something you’d consider?” He gazes at her earnestly.

“Mulder, where is this coming from?” He blinks long at her, and his face undergoes an almost imperceptible change. But she reads him just fine.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He starts to turn away, but she grabs his hand to stop him.

“Have you thought about it?” she asks.

He shoots her his ‘Well, duh,’ face. It’s not as sharply defined as it usually is. He’s softer from the alcohol in his system. His edges are smoother, less prickly than normal. It looks good on him. She stills and takes a minute to consider what she’s been handed.

“All right. Well, if things were different,” she cautiously begins. She has to get this right because she knows if she doesn’t, he might not ask again. “If circumstances were to change and we were no longer bound by Bureau standards of conduct… then, yes, I would give it serious consideration. Even so, it’s a huge step. In or outside of the FBI.”

That seems to satisfy him, as he takes that moment to lean in and kiss her a bit sloppily. She opens one eye to squint at the doorway and, finding it empty, sinks into his embrace. She’s a little dizzy by the time they break apart.

“Why now, Mulder?” she asks quietly.

“Oh, you know. Never hurts to plan for the future.” He pulls out the sink plug and rinses away the stray bubbles once the water’s drained. He dries his hands and says, “C’mon, Scully, let’s go take Frohike’s birthday money.” He grasps her elbow and leads her out of the kitchen as Jim Morrison wails You Make Me Real from the other room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She knocks on the door of his motel room at a quarter till ten, a fine mist kissing her skin and making her hair spring up curly around her face. She’s in pajamas and her trench coat. Her feet are bare. She’s cold and wet but she needs him; needs the comfort he can offer.

Mulder swings open the door, clad in an undershirt, the belt on his slacks unbuckled and the ends hanging loose. “Hey,” he greets her.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” He takes her arm and leads her in, shutting and locking the door behind them. “Are you okay, Scully? What’s wrong?” She sheds her coat and sits on the end of the bed, and he drops down beside her. “Scully?”

“It’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m so upset.” He hops up and brings back a towel from the bathroom. “Thank you,” she tells him, patting herself dry. “Mom called me earlier tonight.”

He drops to a crouch in front of her and covers her knee with a hand. “What happened? Is everybody okay? Is your mom – “

“No, she’s fine, everyone’s fine.” She takes a deep breath. It’s Mulder, she reminds herself. She’s safe with him. It’s alright. He deserves to know this part of her, too. “Mulder, Bill and Tara are expecting again.”

“Oh, Scully,” he breathes softly. He settles back beside her and pulls her into his arms. “I know this must be hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m happy for them, I am. They’d almost given up before she got pregnant with Matthew. And now to be blessed with a second miracle and so soon after the first…” Despite her efforts to hold fast, tears begin to replace the rain on her cheeks, and she can’t swallow down the sob that’s wrenched from her chest.

He tucks her closer and rides out the storm with her, his palm cupping the back of her head as her tears dampen his shirt. He whispers a litany of reassurances and apologies. She doesn’t have to explain her pain or try to make excuses for it. This is part of their shared history, this rough landscape littered with their various ghosts.

“Jesus, Scully. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He is solid around her. He’s her foundation. She can get through anything so long as he’s there to put her back up against.

“It’s okay,” she sniffs, brushing away a last tear and squaring her shoulders. “I’ll be okay. Stop apologizing, Mulder. You didn’t do anything.”

He chuckles darkly. “Uh, yeah, I kind of did. I dragged you into all this in the first place, didn’t I?”

She pulls away and scowls at him, met with his guilty visage. “No. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself right now, Mulder. It’s my turn.”

“Shit.” He’s instantly repentant and mumbles in acknowledgement, “Okay, I am officially a self-centered asshole. Come back here, Scully. Let me do better.”

She allows him to tug her close again and he pulls her into his lap and braces an arm behind them, inching them up the bed until he can lay her down. He unfolds and joins her, turned so they’re facing each other. He takes her hand and knits their fingers together. His eyes are full of storm clouds as he studies her.

“I wish I could give you this one thing, Scully, more than anything else. And I am sorry that your involvement with the X-Files has cost you so much.”

“It’s cost you too, Mulder. Just as much. Neither of us have a claim to victory on that front. And you know I’m here because I want to be. Every day I wake up and make that choice. But I think it’s okay to grieve for the things we’ve lost. It has to be. It’s the price we’ve agreed upon. And I still wouldn’t change a day.”

He stays quiet beside her and eventually untangles their hands, reaching to lay his in the dip of her waist. She moves closer and tucks her knees up a little and he throws a leg over hers. They both heavily sigh their relief in tandem and their eyes meet, mouths lifting in tiny secretive smiles.

“We certainly are something, aren’t we?” she continues. “It’s beginning to look more and more like we’re stuck with each other. No one else could ever understand what we’ve been through. And, I mean, let’s be honest, Mulder. Who else would want us at this point? We’re damaged goods.”

He chuckles and rubs the tip of his marvelous nose across her forehead. “We are deeply fucked up. That’s true enough.”

“But we fill in each other’s scars well, don’t we? I don’t think I could ever find anyone else who fits me so well.”

“Yeah, all your parts seem to mesh very nicely with mine.” His nose is replaced by his lips, and he covers her brow with firefly kisses. “Especially this part.”

“We should be terrified by the idea, Mulder.”

“Who says we're not?”

They lose themselves in the kind of laughter no one else could make sense of. It’s all part of their unique partnership, the one-of-a-kind flavor of their shared experiences. Of their mutual grief. And their love. It occurs to her that as isolated and odd as their lives may have become, they are inexorably entwined and stronger for it. She wouldn’t want it any other way. There are still miracles to be found. And she knows them to be sweeter when they’re discovering them together.

They’re going to be fine. She refuses to accept anything less than that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Till next time...

#msr #xfiles #x-files fanfic #the in-betweens #today-in-fic

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travelguide10 · 9 months

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Unveiling the Underwater Wonders: A Guide to Scuba Diving in Goa

Welcome, fellow adventurers and sea enthusiasts, to a world beneath the waves that’s as fascinating as a spy movie plot and as colorful as your favorite candy aisle! That’s right, we’re about to unveil the secrets of Scuba Diving in Goa — the ultimate treasure hunt for those who crave a splash of excitement and a pinch of awe. Get ready to don your fins, grab your mask, and embark on an underwater escapade that will make even mermaids jealous. So, grab a comfy seat (or your imaginary scuba gear) as we dive headfirst into this watery wonderland!

Scuba Diving in South Goa: A Serene Underwater Symphony

Our journey begins in the serene paradise of South Goa. Imagine yourself surrounded by vibrant coral gardens and playful marine creatures, each dance of color and movement creating an enchanting underwater symphony. Scuba Diving in South Goa offer’s a tranquil escape, perfect for those seeking a peaceful connection with the ocean’s beauty. As you glide through the clear waters, you’ll feel like you’ve stepped into a hidden realm where time stands still.

Scuba Diving in North Goa: Dive into an Energetic Adventure

Now, let’s make a splash in the lively waters of North Goa! If you’re craving an adrenaline rush and a touch of mystery, when it comes to scuba diving in North Goa, these underwater sites are where you definitely want to make a splash!. Imagine exploring historic shipwrecks that have become havens for marine life, or encountering majestic sea turtles gracefully navigating the currents. It’s like being part of a real-life treasure hunt as you uncover the secrets of the deep blue. North Goa’s underwater world is an energetic playground for the adventurous at heart.

Unveiling the Best Scuba Diving in Goa — North Goa vs. South Goa!

Time for a friendly showdown — which is the best scuba diving in Goa ? Let’s weigh the options. In South Goa, you’ll find a peaceful oasis with its vibrant corals and tranquil ambiance. It’s the perfect choice for those who seek serenity and connection with nature. On the other hand, North Goa offers a more vibrant and dynamic experience, where each dive is a thrilling encounter with the unexpected. It’s a tough call — a serene escape or an action-packed adventure? The choice is yours!

Dive into Savings: Exploring Scuba Diving Cost in Goa

We totally get it — you’re curious about the Scuba Diving Cost in Goa, right? Well, here’s the scoop: scuba diving in Goa won’t drain your wallet. With smart planning and selecting the perfect diving packages, you can enjoy your underwater escapade without giving your bank account a meltdown. Think of it as a smart investment in memories that’ll keep you smiling long after you emerge from the water.

In conclusion dear explorers, as we wrap up our journey through Goa’s scuba diving scene, remember that beneath the sun-kissed beaches lies a whole world waiting to be explored. Whether you opt for the tranquil beauty of South Goa or the dynamic energy of North Goa, scuba diving here promises an unforgettable adventure. So, gear up, take the plunge, and let Goa’s underwater magic leave you breathless — in the best way possible!

Frequently Asked Questions:

Q1: Is scuba diving suitable for beginners?

Absolutely! Both South and North Goa offer diving experiences catering to different skill levels, from beginners to seasoned divers.

Q2: What’s the best time for scuba diving in Goa?

The peak season is from October to April when the waters are clear and the marine life is abundant.

Q3: Can I bring my own equipment?

While most diving centers provide equipment, bringing your own gear is an option.

Q4: Can I go scuba diving in Goa if I don’t know how to swim?

Yes, you can! Many diving centers offer introductory dives and training for non-swimmers, allowing you to explore the underwater world with the guidance of experienced instructors.

Q5: What marine life can I expect to see while scuba diving in Goa?

Goa’s waters are teeming with diverse marine life. You might encounter colorful reef fish, graceful sea turtles, vibrant corals, and if you’re lucky, even playful dolphins and majestic manta rays!

#Scuba Diving in Goa #Scuba Diving in south Goa #Scuba Diving in north Goa #Best Scuba Diving in Goa #Scuba Diving Cost in Goa

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writer59january13 · 1 year

Text

Harriet Harris, née Kuritsky gave up the ghost...

~ May fourth, 2005 wedded bliss nearly fifty years

half a century almost me not most favorite grown offspring, she (when alive) did boast, about youngest sister and her family, unlike me – severely socially withdrawn

a veritable wallflower as a result, I suffered emotional contusions.

When thru life yours truly did nervously, frightfully, blisteringly coast, nevertheless her spirit dwells

within wonky tonk prodigal host crafted in the following poem he doth post holding tumblr full of favorite brew probiotic kombucha drink to thee mother dearest foregone fading memories your long haired heir does toast.

Often these days, the following genuine sentiment Matthew Scott Harris doth wish to share how one and only son, remembers his mother

cuz about eighteen years

after she succumbed

courtesy of terminal illness

he trots out and updates yearly

a poem initially crafted when she passed away.

I still reckon eyes how yours truly

analogous to the fountainhead of Atlas shrugged off, whose fanciful essence coalesced

immensely helped sired,

and yelped bloody murder

when goddamn bitch in heat whelped

at what human biology wrought

doggone muttering schlep despite being nurtured,

proffered, and registered

tender loving care

within whose womb, a mature haploid female cell experienced fertilization courtesy complimentary male haploid sperm underwent fertilization yielding zygote thru mother nature's gestation

this sole male offspring born,

thus subsequently after her demise,

yours truly shouldered himself with self scorn.

He clearly recounts

when she felt the scythe of the grim reaper

as if her death occurred yesterday...,

when all mine troubles (emotional, financial, and physical) moost definitely no more farther away

then present moment.

Tempus fugit popular worded couplet brings Latin alive with succinct precision

or imagine an hourglass

where fine granules

analogous to last remaining grains representing sands of time

trickle from one to another (upper to lower) bulbed chamber.

Just prior when coroner decreed death,

yet once in a lifetime opportunity prevailed,

wherein said self (me) chose

NOT to stand vigil at deathbed (analogous to sitting Shiva)

of she who begat

an older and younger daughter

(mine sibling sisters).

Last breath(s) expelled while mama

tethered to machines,

one or more helped diminish agonizing, depressing, and writhing

pain and discomfort

figuratively and literally

wracked and pinioned once fitness

and health conscious, flirtatious industrious, tenacious, and vivacious body,

dinged, harangued, peppered nefarious carcinoma by dint of common atomic beastie boy

among certain Semitic people linkedin to presumptuous inbreeding. According to google search frequency of breast, ovarian, and uterine cancer among Ashkenazi elicited revelatory statistic 1% of all Ashkenazi Jews

living today inherited

a defective copy of one

of their BRCA2 genes.

Unbeknownst to them,

these carriers of BRCA2 mutation

at increased risk for developing

breast, ovarian, prostate

and pancreatic cancer.

Indomitable esprit de corps eradicated courtesy regimen of chemotherapy and radiation,

which latter malignant terminal illness

(no joke) riddled a former robust

Arthur Murray ballroom dance instructor

(think approximately sixty nine years past),

whose coy and coquettish demeanor

instantaneously caught fancy of handsome twenty something papa at his prime.

Before rigor mortis quickly

stole precious lifeblood, and

final minutes ticked away until

countdown to... realm

of absent consciousness

scant moments before subtle transition

slipped our beloved mother

out of misery (a veritable battleground)

where she did silently rage into deadzone...,

neither final adieu, caress, grief...,

nor poem written...

never communicated to deceased,

not an iota of sorrowful lament

bequeathed, prevailed, relinquished...

over lifeless body (mommy dearest)

relegated limp suddenly

cold stone pilot less body,

where morgue aged corpse

kept in cold storage

(despite aversion to frigid air exhibited when mama alive) preparatory to cremation process.

Rather... suppressed resentment

exhibited itself at 1148 Greentree Lane (partially listed abode -

Matthew Scott Harris,

where family of mine then resided)

by mister recalcitrant,

felt ambivalent carte blanche blasé affection

regarding once young bride,

(who metaphorically

smothered cingular heir insync

with dada i.e. Boyce Brandon Harris),

cuz he (yours truly) overstayed

livingsocial under same roof as parents,

which happenstance situated

at me boyhood home once located upon

six plus wooded acres; 324 Level Road constituted the whittled down once sprawling Leiper Estate, which encompassed about

one hundred plus acre wood home to Winnie the Pooh.

Both thee aforementioned

supposed biological guardians

railed, screamed, tormented (albeit verbally traumatized)

yours truly, upon attaining

mine eighteenth birthday,

when great expectations greatly exacerbating emotionally hard times,

which ill suited poet de jure

experienced, brickbats rained

akin to fountainhead spewing painful pelting piercing

poisonously pummelling (python like hashtagged with moniker Monty)

down upon these

considerably mooch younger lovely bones,

whose anger (mine) smoldered

linkedin to constant epithets of expletives

out the mouths of those who begat me,

subsequently their livid with rage

tsunami festered within me every holy moly molecule.

Mine atomized corporeal being

manifesting itself as deprivation

to embrace dear mama

attended at hospital with both my non twisted sisters; one hailed from Woodbury, New Jersey and the younger staked out

modest digs within Bend, Oregon,

meanwhile thee grim reaper did patiently soon scythe

heading back to his old curiosity shop,

a rather bleak house, I now conclude.

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embossross · 1 year

Note

Voilà, here I am !

Hjdhjfhf I was so happy to receive my notification, I wasn't expecting it until next week, I read that you were sick (are you feeling better ?)

Last night alcohol and tiredness got the better of me and I admit I can't remember everything, so here goes the live reaction while I'm re-reading !

First, surfing, I love the idea ? Hanma in a wetsuit I 😍 ... ok, let's focus again.

Our girl is so cute, supporting, applauding and feeding our favorite psychopath playing in the waves, like a devoted babysitter.

"Even a broken clock is right twice". That's it. I think I've said this before, but it's in simple little lines like this that the cleverness of your writing is most apparent. I can't explain why, but I'm blown away every time. You really have this style... idk, it's just smart, sorry I wish I had more words to define it.

"He's glad he resisted crushing all that good health to nothing today." Hm ok, thanks Shuji-baby for not killing us today ig 👉🏻👈🏻 ? (The fries in the milkshake is a big no though. Red flag.)

The euphemisms in the recommendation. This little moment of complicity, I live for it ok ?

AAAAAAAAH DARK MITSUYA I'M DYING !! Seriously, I'm thinking of proposing to the person who will one day write about a not-so-good-Mitsuya (writers here, this is a cry from the heart !)

My goodness. My post is getting really long, I'm getting embarrassing.

The way Hanma narrates the murder, methodical, organized, cold. I got chills, if I were her I would have been fucking terrified.

You know what I love most about your heroines? It's that she (God I'm sorry, I don't remember if she has a name or not) and Yasuko are not bad bitches, they are simple, random girls and yet, that doesn't stop them from being sure of themselves and their desires in front of men who are more than intimidating. I could never. I mean, it took me nine fucking years to be open about it with my boyfriend ??? (Yeah.. maybe I'm the problem 🫠).

"Yeah, yeah, I want to go dancing with you," naaaaah she is so cute !!

"He could just eat you up." YES, PLEASE GO AHEAD SIR 🫡

Ok, I'm at the smut point and I'm going to repeat myself again but you are one of the last authors who can make me blush. WELCOME TO THE CLUB yeah I remember last night stomping my feet on my bed lol

That's it, I'm done bothering you now. I loved every part of this chapter and I would have so much more to say but I'm getting tired of my own self so I'll just say thank you and tell you again that it's always a fucking pleasure to read you. See you 🥰

the RE-read? gosh i am so spoiled by you. i do not deserve it!

hanma in a wetsuit! you are so right for this. someone should draw it fr

i enjoyed the little mitsuya drop there. he would be feral about his sisters & i'd read too haha.

one of the weird things about this chapter is that hanma's now in a great mood, he's happy, he's chill, but he's still so dangerous. you really nailed it when you said reader is babysitting her favorite psychopath. he can be happy and thinking about how he almost killed the instructor - he probably wouldn't have killed reader - and he can cheerfully recount murder. reader's past being too scared though, no matter how chilling, because she saw him gouge that guy's eyeball out once. they are past it lol

i am really really flattered by your comment about this reader and yasuko in dgm!! yes, they are not bad bitches because what kind of power / confidence / authority would even mean anything in the context of these dangerous murderers? and i like the contrast between those two characters. yasuko is def more sure of her desires, but less strongwilled, while this reader actually really struggles with recognizing or pursuing what she wants but is a concrete wall when it comes to what she DOESN'T want and i respect it. anyway ty that's really nice

& thank you for stomping your feet at the smut 😆 i felt like i rushed it, so good to know it has the stamp of approval >> i will see myself out for that pun

your comments are always such a joy to read and they provide not only great insight into what is landing with readers but also great motivation to continue, so thank you sincerely for this 💖💖

#asks

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learnearnandprosper · 1 year

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Picture Description: LEAP student sitting on the public bus and holding her can.

Have you ever looked through a kaleidoscope while trying to walk down a street or shop in a store? Well, I have. It can be kind of terrifying trying to cross a street when you have to rely on other senses other than

eyesight. But it can be done. One thing that makes a huge difference in my existence is my cane. We go back a long way. And the journey starts with receiving one. I always get very excited upon the arrival of my

partner in blindness. I enjoy feeling the new tip that has not been marred down, to a cone-shaped death point, easily roll over the pavement. And, usually, the new cane is also taller than the older one, so it takes a minimal amount of focus to learn the new feel of the cane. Another enjoyable activity that comes with getting a cane is being compared to my friends’ canes. Those are just some of the things that are unique to having a cane. Where my cane and

I really shine is on the streets.

While on Main Street, my cane and I do our routine dance. Sliding and tapping along the sidewalk, finding the curb, and crossing the street. We continue our venture toward no destination in particular unless told to go somewhere by my O&M instructor. Today, it is decided that we will take a trip to the grocery store, which is one of my least favorite places to go because of all the moving parts and people. The only positive thing I can think of is that sometimes my cane has the power to part the aisles like the Red Sea, so there is a possibility of that happening today, I hope. When we enter, I hear the beacons of the checkout lines and carts squeaking across the floor. From the amount of sound I get, I know that it is even busier when I travel inside the aisles. Occasionally, I almost collide with a few carts, but that’s narrowly avoided because they see the cane at the last second. By the time I’ve found the item I’m looking for, I am too exhausted from running into large stocking carts, or the occasional person. I just want to leave the store without getting the things that I came to get. Since I’ve begun my venture in the store, it’s gotten packed, and the people aren’t exactly aware of their surroundings, so it’s getting kind of treacherous. But I’ve been in worse places trying to navigate and I know it’s doable. After a few more searches through the aisles, I head to the check-out and fully believe that I can make it out of the store in one piece.

Finished with the check-out person, I head for the light exuding for the exit. I’ve made it out of the store, and my cane and I are both still intact. From this experience, I am reminded of how helpful my cane can be, even though sometimes I still feel conscientious about using it in public. I also remind myself that a cane can be an asset for success and empowerment. And at least for me, I have no regrets for using the tools that will aid me in navigating the world and living my life.

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mommyg2013 · 1 year

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2022 F***-Ups and Flops

Rounding up a few 2022 F***-UPS. Limiting it to TWO lest the world feels sorry for me.

My Weight

Glorious! I am ending the year with more cushioning than I began it with.

I signed up with Orange Theory Fitness in December 2021. They have a leaderboard with NAMES AND CALORIES BURNT. I was at the bottom three days in a row. I could’ve lost more calories making rice at home. The instructor pulled me aside to check if my Fitbit thing was working. YES, IT’S WORKING. I’M JUST A SLOW RUNNER. OKAY, FINE. I’M NOT A RUNNER, I’M A WALKER. A SEDATE WALKER. It was plain embarrassing.

Then I bought a rowing machine. Unfortunately, I can’t ROW. I can CRUISE though. I’m a make-a-beeline-for-the-buffet-on-the-cruise-ship kinda gal. Those petitfours aren’t going to eat themselves.

Succumbed to weight loss supplements (again). THWACK me with something dull if I ever look at another “miracle weight loss” jar again.

And I “dieted”.

He who shall not be named returned from a brief visit to India, over the summer, WITH NO SWEETS. That’s like returning from Moscow and saying you didn’t bring back any Vodka. Or going to Switzerland and not buying chocolate….I don’t know!!! His luggage had NO SWEET BOXES. Upon inquiry he said “I thought you were dieting. I want to support you”

WOW

I have been dieting everyday for fifteen years. Let that never stop you from bringing me sweets from India.

Sports

Sports remains our Achilles heel. The girls can spell, count, sing, dance, read, write, do Kumon packets nine ways to Sunday but SPORTS………….. I blame my apathy. I’m that Mom who on a Saturday morning at the bleachers is burrowed in a book I brought along, while the other Moms are cheering themselves hoarse.

Soha recently asked me “Guess what’s my favorite unit in PE?”. To understand the magnitude of that question, one must fully appreciate the context.

This is the kid who worked herself into such anxiety before a ONE-MILE race that she woke up with an actual fever the day of and had to skip the run.

This is the kid who in basketball had 20 minutes to shoot rapid-fire hoops, she shot ZERO. I mean, if I gave her extensible arms she’d still miss.

Hmmmmmm Soccer?

Basketball?

Swimming?

Running?

Sitting on a bench?

Counting sheep?

Twiddling toes?

Soha’s favorite unit in PE is *major drum roll*

CUP STACKING

I thought I heard wrong but then she repeated it. Apparently CUP-STACKING is a thing - it improves hand-eye co-ordination. I have never laughed harder than I did that day.

Y’all be sure to sign up my Soha. We may not be able to score goals but we sure as hell can stack those cups.

Speaking of goals, Side story –

I was at the Indian grocery store the other day when AUNTY walks in. You know, the ones wearing a housecoat, masquerading as a winter coat. The Indian grocery store is a safe haven for Aunties. They show up in whatever shit they want. IT HAS FLOWERS ON IT. EVERYBODY KNOWS YOU’RE WEARING A HOUSECOAT. With boots.

First I see her in the fruit section, squeezing and weighing the papayas.

Then at the ready-to-eat counter she loudly inquires (in Hindi) “Were these samosas fried this morning or this afternoon?”

It turned out that the samosas were from the previous day. Aunty likes her samosas FRESH and didn’t buy any.

Then she asked for help wheeling out her cart. The cart with two papayas.

LONG TERM GOAL: I want to be Aunty one day – high maintenance and giving a f***. And eating only same-day samosas.

Two weeks to go, grateful for so much this year. For everything else, I quote my second favorite heroine (Elizabeth Bennet is first), “Tomorrow is another day”. Plus our hand-eye co-ordination is on point. We're ready for 2023.

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tilbageidanmark · 2 years

Photo

Movies I watched this Week #94

My 6th and 7th films by Mike Leigh:

🍿 "En-ra-ha!" - His light and pleasant film, Happy-go-lucky is another insightful look into the lives of ordinary people. Sally Hawkins (Photo Above) dominates the story as the bubbly, always-spirited primary school teacher, but this is not a feel-good movie: Pathos bubbles to the surface through the character of Eddie Marsan, the anti-social driving instructor, who harbors so much anger, it blackens his teeth. 8/10.

🍿 On the surface, Vera Drake did not seem to be very compelling: A story of a working class, middle age woman in 1950 who secretly provides abortions to desperate young women who “needs her help”. But the good-hearted, saintly mother who helps everybody around her, and who has to pay the price for it, is a hero for our time. Subtly, without commentary or judgement, it tells a tragic tale of suffering without redemption. 10/10.

It’s the best of the Mike Leigh’s films that I saw so far, and my best film of the week.

🍿

The Ornithologist, my first from gay Portuguese director João Pedro Rodrigues. What a strange, maybe unusual film! It starts with a quiet view of a bird watcher in nature whose kayak capsizes. As he finds himself lost and then found, he experiences a sequence of odd and symbolic adventures: Two young Chinese missionaries hang him up in a Shibari set in the forest, intending to castrate him. Some tribal men perform pagan rituals at night. A deaf and mute goat herder named Jesus makes love to him and then he kills him. He sermons to some koi fish he finds in an abandoned mission abbey. Eventually it becomes obvious that the film is an odd erotic-religious allegory, about the teachings of a local Saint, Anthony of Padua. 5/10. 🍿

3 more by François Truffaut:

🍿 First watch: Shy Charles Aznavour in Shoot the piano player. Loose, non-linear, low-key homage to American Noir. 4/10

🍿 “You can’t make love all day. That’s why work was invented...”

I wanted to revisit The man who loved women for a long time, and couldn’t find a copy until now. The sweet Don Juan fantasy is about compulsive womanizer Charles Danner, addicted to the process of seducing every single woman that crosses his path. He loves women so much, that he smashes his car just so he can meet another driver, and eventually he even dies while crossing the street following another stranger. He is not a misogynist pick-up artist, but his story could not be made today. In spite of its problematic gender politics and exclusive male-gaze, I still enjoyed it.

With the magnificent Brigitte Fossey (24 years after ‘Forbidden Games’) and a cameo by Truffaut a-la-Hitchcock.

🍿 “Grégory il a fait boum!”...

The magical L'Argent de poche (Small Change) is from the same period, done in the same episodic, romanticized style, but with ‘Kids’ instead of ‘Love’ for its theme. This has not only been my all-time favorite movie about children, and my favorite Truffaut movie (Even more than his ‘400 blows’ and ‘The last Metro’) - it’s probably one of my top 50 films of all time. With another 2-second Truffaut cameo at the beginning. 10/10.

🍿

2 by (Māori-Jewish!) New Zealander Taika Waititi:

🍿 I’ve only seen one film by Waititi, ‘Jojo Rabbit’ (which I hated very much). His early film Boy was much better. It’s a simple coming-of-age story about 11-year-old boy whose mother is dead, and father returns suddenly from prison. Low-budget, charming and poignant, reminded me a bit of a sad ‘Napoleon Dynamite’. The young actors were terrific, especially the main boy. It ends with a lovely mid-credits Haka dance of Michael Jackson’s Thriller! 7/10.

🍿 2 cars, one night (2004) was his Oscar-nominated early short, another terrific and sweet story about 3 Māori kids waiting in a parking lot while the grown-ups are busy with drinks at the pub. 9/10.

🍿

First watch: “...Don’t be redic!...” Billy Wilder’s overdramatic The lost weekend, with hopeless alcoholic Ray Millard going on a bender. An early entry in the long tradition of stories about drunks, like ‘The verdict’, ‘Under the volcano’, ‘Leaving Las Vegas’, Etc. 🍿

2 more by Tunisian Kaouther Ben Hania, directed before her ‘The Man Who Sold His Skin’:

🍿 Beauty and the Dogs, a harrowing abuse story that was incredibly hard to watch. A young woman is raped by two policemen and then spend a traumatic night trying to report it at the same police station. Brutal and not for the faint of heart.

The only ‘good’ thing about it, is what happened to the real-life policemen who committed the crime on which this film is based: The convicted rapists were sentenced to 7 years in prison, and after protests it was extended to 15 years.

🍿 Sheikh's Watermelons, After her acclaimed ‘Beauty, she filmed a 23-minute short about a power struggle between an imam in small mosque and his duplicitous assistant. (This Vimeo copy is in French without subtitles.)

🍿

The Fool, grim and dark kitchen-sink Russian drama from 2014. It tells a depressing story about an honest plumber, who discovers that an apartment building with 820 tenants in it is about to collapse, due to faulty structural construction. His earnest attempt to save the people there clashes with apathy, corruption and drunkenness of the authorities in this provincial northern town.

🍿

“...Don’t you believe in medicine, doctor?

- Do you believe in justice, judge?...”

And Then There Were None (The first 1945 version), based on the ‘world's best-selling mystery novel’ by Agatha Christie. I recently saw the latest BBC 3-part adaptation with Charles Dance, which was faithful enough for this original. Solid entertainment. Agatha Christie was as bloody macabre as Hitchcock! - I should try to watch other films that are made from her books.

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Re-watch: I used to love reading the early crime novels of David Baldacci. Absolute Power, based on his novel, is peak Clint Eastwood who directed, starred in, composed, produced, etc. and with an excellent William Goldman scrip. Eastwood used to play such ‘salt-of-the-earth’ types. The full cast is terrific: Gene Hackman as the sadistic POTUS, E. G. Marshall in his final role, Laura Linney, Hector Salamanca as ‘Red’, Richard Jenkins as an assassin, others.

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“...What’s up?...” The new Bros, which was heralded as “one of the first gay romantic comedies released by a major (American) studio”, but which bombed in box office (due to off-kilter marketing). It wasn’t ‘When Harry met Sally’, and still a pretty decent rom-com (even though the Billy Eichner character was loud and obnoxious). 6/10.

🍿

2 wordless Shorts:

🍿 Nuisance Bear, a short New Yorker documentary about what happens in Churchill, Manitoba, when polar bears' migration paths crosses this northern town.

🍿 Seven Boats, a simple, black-and-white short from Iceland. A single, 360-degree shot that leaves a mark.

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An interesting genre to enjoy: At night, when all is calm, I am diving into a Mellow Psychedelic Journey. Later on I will find other meditative Psychedelic slow trance videos to relax with.

🍿

“I would rather die with you, than live in this world without you... “

Why am I so obsessed with Palm Springs, that I keep watching it again and again? It’s my all-time favorite Time-loop Rom-com, and it is based on a perfect script. I can’t find any fault in it. I even posted it to r/Moviesinthemaking, and discovered that there are others who watch it multiple times.

It’s also very funny: “She’ll be OK! This dentist glues teeth!”

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“So-bad-I-couldn’t-finish-it-films” X 2

🍿 Another time loop romance but one so bad I couldn’t finish: 50 First Dates. A horribly-directed cringe-fest with unfunny and artificial acting from Adam Sandler, Drew Barrymore and Rob Schneider (?). I lasted 20 minutes before having to turn it off.

🍿 Strippers who steal? Glamorized pole dancers? Hustlers (2019) received some positive reviews from critics, and its hook of female and economic revenge appealed to me. But in spite of all the noise, curves and titillation, it was flat, boring, idiotic. I soldiered on for painful 29 minutes.

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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holisticsoulhealer · 2 years

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Where We Go - A Spiritual Story

There are many wonderful stories I can share on this subject. I do love drawing you in to some of the stunning meditation experiences I’ve had the great pleasure to be a part of.

I spent 3 years participating in monthly transformational breath work classes, with a favorite Spiritually enriched elder instructor. She had us dancing around breathing through an invisible straw, until the World as we know it turned upside down, and my arms felt as though they were stuck on backwards, tears poured easily, and laughter came in such deep, rather loud joy, that it took everyone else in the room with it. She was a huge aspect to my own spiritual journey of growth and the opening of wisdom.

While being a student of that discipline of breathing deliberately, I also had the great good fortune of leading full, popular meditation classes. My mum was very much involved in checking people in to those classes, and then she would sit in the room, sometimes closing her eyes, and sometimes simply observing all of us. I would sit and be guided to lead a colorful journey of spiritual depth, drawing each person onto their own interpretation of what was described through me. In one memorable full class, there was an eclectic group of individuals, that included a sweet married couple, who came in hand-in-hand. She was perky, with dark blonde, curly hair, while he seemed kind, attentive toward her, with green eyes and no hair at all. They were hikers and bikers, slim, fit and were excited to try something new at our healing center.

Everyone gathered, chatted, drank herbal tea, ate my mum’s wonderful lemon poppyseed cake, and then settled down in chairs, ready for our meditation.

I led them on a pathway, leaving room for how it appeared for each of them. The room fell silent, except for the light background acoustic, instrumental music. The space was deep. Breathing was palpable. They all traveled and journeyed to higher planes. My mum was wide awake, enjoying watching the room move it’s frequency up.

I left them all in that higher plane for quite some time.

When they returned, the man who had shown up with his wife, was so different, that we all stared and kept staring at him. A very strong past life imprint was on his being. It was so powerful that everyone, including my mum, could see it. He was huge, wide shouldered, with a thick shock of auburn red hair, a mustache and full red beard to match. He wore tartan and was very obviously Scottish and not of this timeline. His manner was jovial, loud, fun and he was a bit of a character. He stayed long enough to leave us all a bit jaw-dropped. Then he was gone and the bald, slim, green eyed man returned. I was only a tiny bit disappointed to see our large Scottish man go. There wasn’t anyone, including his still amazed wife, who didn’t see the imprinted Highlander.

We each told him what had occurred and he confirmed a very strong Scottish ancestry.

The rest of the evening was almost as fabulous. We all went to the point of realization of another time and dimension with our slim hiking man. It was a gift. We have choices. There are many dimensions and timelines available to us all. There isn’t a limit to where we can go….

As always, please share this post with anyone that you feel can benefit from it! Please like us on your social media channels and subscribe to our mailing list if you haven't already done so! We are mailing out a monthly newsletter and a recap each week of our blog posts and interesting tidbits! This is how you can stay informed with what is new in the world of The Holistic Soul Healer!!

Love & Blessings,

Ruth

Get personal with your Angels!! Connect with me and see what they have to say!!

BOOK NOW!

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freebooter4ever · 3 years

Video

youtube

for tonight’s exercise i put my music purchases on ‘shuffle’ bc i was too lazy to come up with a playlist and THIS SONG came on randomly, and wow, you know how your body’s muscle memory can be SOOOOOO ingrained that it can be TEN YEARS and as soon as the music starts the choreography comes rushing back? except i am way out of shape as compared to 22 year old me because by the end of it i was breathing embarrassingly hard.

#FOND WEIRD MEMORIES OF THIS SONG #it was our dance instructors favorite for a long while there #and i sent habeebles this video #because the singer dude looked eerily like the go go dancer she picked up one night at a bar in nyc #and thought they were in love till we found out he was married #and then he started stalking her but ANYWAY #dancey dancey #when we would get down on love habeebles would tell me it was #my destiny to move to california and fall in love with a blonde surfer dude #she was like THIS IS THE TYPE I IMAGINE YOU WITH #little did she know a decade later when i finally did move to cali #id end up dating an asian base guitarist #more my style really ahahahaha

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360iris · 2 years

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AM : PM, The Zone: Monday

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Bartender!Reader, eventual OT7 x Y/n

Series Status: Ongoing, as of January 14, 2022

Play: “AM PM” by JayB & “The Zone” by The Weeknd

Summary: Dance instructor, Bar Host and Camboy!Hoseok takes the first opportunity he gets to make his stance known. 4.5k words.

Warnings: Daddy kink, cursing, breeding + cum kink, mention of alcohol, smut, penetrative sex, fingering, no protection used, semi public sex

bts masterlist / hp masterlist

Seven minutes till twelve AM read the clock.

Twisting your hips slightly, you desperately hope to alleviate the subtle but agitating pain at the base of your back. The nagging sensation seemed to begin at the start of every shift and no amount of fidgeting ever seemed to help.

Even after six months of working seven to eight hour days at this job, your body still had a long ways to go in terms of acclimating to the insane amount of time you suddenly spent on your feet. Physical labor never really had been your strong suit.

Shifting your focus to your arms, you hear someone speak amidst the music and constant chatter of patrons.

“Feeling sore again? You know I’m the designated expert when it comes to stretching, I can give you a hand with that.”

Turning around, an encompassing smile blooms on your face.

The glorious sight that was Jung Hoseok dressed in his usual sleek, black button-up with the sleeves neatly folded to his elbows- matching fitted slacks and hair masterfully styled out of his face, never failed to put you in a good mood.

“Hobi!” You greet jovially, leaning your weight on the Alaskan white granite countertop of the bar that separated you. “No hard feelings, but I think the two, 200mg ibuprofen sitting in my locker will do more for my back pain than an impromptu Pilates class would.”

“Want me to get them for you?” He offers with raised brows, his lips pursed into a slight pout. “Shift starts in five, so I have time to run to the back before I’m due up front.”

“My lunch is at twelve today, so I can wait a few more minutes. You guys will have to deal with Yoongi covering the bar until I’m back though.” You wave him off with a laugh.

The older man was a talented barkeep, but after spending so much time behind his desk, making sure his co-founded business ran smoothly, he’d abandoned all “unnecessary” niceties. The most the customers, and staff, got out of him while he was in work-mode were the bare bones of common courtesy and not a cent more.

Hoseok goes to respond, his sentence overshadowed by a high pitch round of squeals sounding vaguely similar to his name.

A group of young girls in their early twenties quickly file towards him in a packed herd. Surrounding him almost instantaneously and erupting into a fit of giggles and murmurs as they bask under his attention.

“Hoseok oppa, I was here the past two nights and you were nowhere to be found! Why didn’t you say anything about being off? You know you’re my favorite.” One regular whines, peering up at him through her lashes and giving him her best wounded puppy-dog eyes.

“Ah! How about you have a couple drinks with us, oppa? It’ll be our treat!” Another chimes in, wrapping her arms around his forearm. You manage to clock the exact moment she boldly presses her breasts against him, even from your position tucked behind the counter.

The Zone was one of many bars nestled in between the bustling nightclubs and after-dark restaurants of Hongdae.

It offered a wide selection of international liquors, a sizable dancefloor, a beyond exemplary DJing experience (courtesy of your hirer and main face of the business, Kim Namjoon) and a diverse list of certified hotties manning all stations of the public house.

For all intents and purposes, it was yet another late night bar.

It opened at 7PM and closed doors at 3AM. The only notable distinctions from other establishments being the unearthly and bewitching faces of the men on staff.

From the hosts to the executive chef, they all had their own unique charms that shined through during their interactions with customers- which inadvertently built a cult following of faithful patrons who religiously flocked to the establishment regardless of age and gender.

And though it was by no means a host club, regulars never failed to pine for whatever amount of interaction they could glean with their preferred staff member- some more brazen than others.

Hoseok always reacted accordingly to the swarm of attention however, often feeding into their hormonal frenzy, and not so subtly encouraging them to spend their night and money, partying at The Zone.

“You girls know I don’t drink on the clock, but I’ll be sure to check on your table when I can.” He smiles brightly at them even amidst an overly flirtatious,

“So only when you’re on the clock? We can wait until you’re off then, oppa. Then maybe you can come over to my place?”

“Two martinis, one vodka cran and three Long Island teas.” One of the swarm suddenly rattles off to you, catching you admittedly off guard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.” You apologize, turning to face the two girls who’d approached the bar.

“Are you deaf?” One snaps and you bluster, blinking repeatedly at her as though the words were mixed in translation.

“I-“ You begin, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“You- you- What? I ordered! Hop to it.” She continues, the friend at her side only airly chuckling at the way she barks out orders, though clearly avoiding your scandalized expression.

You’d certainly encountered rude customers before.

A grumpy old drunk there, or the occasional guy delusional enough to believe you’d actually leave your post in favor of giving him head out back, if he called you pretty enough times just because you were a foreigner.

A few were so insistent in fact, the only thing that seemed to disway their perverted efforts was the combined forces of Namjoon, Yoongi and Jungkook. The offending men effectively being dragged outside by the youngest for a mostly civil talk about manners and respecting women’s boundaries.

But this was the first you’d ever been so blatantly disrespected- let alone by someone so obviously younger than you.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you open your lips to reply. A cool hand suddenly cupping your bicep, causing you to halt before you could even suck in the air to speak.

“Y/n. It’s your lunch. I’ll take it from here.” Yoongi is as straight-faced and impassive as always. Gently pulling you aside and taking your place in front of the customers.

When he finds you’re still standing there, he speaks again. “Take your apron off and go on break, Y/n.”

“It’s quite a few drinks, do you want me to-“ You start before you’re interrupted yet again.

“I’ve been doing this for ten years, kid. I can handle it. And if I really need help, I’ll just drag Jungkook out from his hiding spot in the kitchen. Leave the register key before you go.” The flat expression playing across his features promptly tells you to stop talking and simply do as he says.

Yoongi only had so much patience stored up for when he was forced to be on the floor and backtalk quickly ate up a large portion of it. Yes sir- okay sir, being the only feedback he’d been willing to accept in the interim.

Giving a brisk nod, you turn sharply and walk away as ordered. Your pride a bit bruised as humiliation already began to sink in at the corners of your mind.

Easily ignoring the overenthusiastic girls you have to lowkey push past to get through, along with Hoseok who calls after you in hopes of finishing your conversation before you depart for the next hour. You pull yourself out of the grasp he lightly closed around your arm- a visibly irritated, “Some of us don’t have the luxury to goof off, y’know.” falling from your lips as you go.

You were one hundred percent sure he hadn’t deserved to be snapped at, but an abundance of sarcastic comments had been building up for a while now and it felt good to finally let one out. Even if the look of surprise that flashes over his smooth face makes you quickly feel shitty again.

Making it through the throngs of people until you were finally hidden from curious eyes outside the employee bathroom, you give a heavy sigh as you rest your forehead on the door.

You’d forgotten to give Yoongi the key to the register, meaning you’d have to go back and face his overly cranky form again.

And though you’d never cried at work before, and most definitely didn’t want to start now, the prospect of making that trek once more certainly made it feel like you were close to shedding a few tears out of frustration.

Turning around abruptly, fully ready to sprint there and back, you bump into a solid chest. The top two buttons open and gold plated chain sitting at their collarbone quickly revealing who it was.

Irritation bubbled back up at the thought of those rude girls and their inclination to bulldoze people into getting what they wanted. “Don’t you have a party to entertain?” You bite unnecessarily, it felt like you couldn’t help but do so.

He only stares you down with furrowed brows, a deep sigh fanning out from his nose and gently caressing your cheeks.

His eyes were unreadable but you’d already decided to openly frown back at him. Meeting his gaze with a scowl that too closely resembled a pout.

Stepping forward, he coaxes you backwards, caging you against the door with a light thump.

“Y/n.” He hums lowly, his expression questioning as he begins to toy with a strand of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytail. “Are you really being a brat right now? What’s gotten into you, hm? You’re usually such a good girl.”

Taking his comments as teasing, you blanch. Straightening your spine in hopes of reclaiming whatever height you had on him, even though nothing could change how he towered over you.

“I’m not a child or one of your fangirls, Hoseok. Don’t patronize me by treating me like one.” Forcefully slapping away the hand that played with your hair, you weren’t prepared for the resulting consequences.

He snatches the wrist of the offending hand a bit too tightly, loosening his grip and running his fingers along the area soothingly at seeing you wince silently.

“You’re not? Then maybe you can put what’s got you so up in arms into words- since you’re such a big girl after all.” Your breathing deepens as he leans in closer.

His cologne borders hypnotic as hints of tonka bean, vanilla and cedarwood dull your senses and slowly bury your meanspirit, though managing not to smother the flame out entirely.

Pushing up from the door, you stand your ground against the older man.

“I don’t have to do that. And aren’t you supposed to be seating customers? What happened to your shift starting in five?” You imitate his comment from earlier.

Since when did he have so much time to heckle you without Namjoon circling him almost immediately for abandoning his post and blatantly ignoring his schedule?

“Ah, ah, ah.” He murmurs, pressing you back against the heavy, dark wood. “I told Taehyung I’d give him a third of my tips from tonight if he covered the counter for me until I got back. You know how he is about money, he couldn’t refuse. Now, stop trying to change the subject.”

A hand cups your chin tenderly, running his thumb along your cheek. He smirks at the way you bite your lip, sinking your teeth into the supple flesh in order to keep a surprised whimper at bay.

“Don’t wanna say.” You mumble, stubbornly avoiding his calculating gaze.

After befriending Hoseok, you quickly discovered that he’d always been the touchy-feely type. The man loved hugging people, holding their hands and cupping their shoulders to keep himself from falling over when they amused him. His laughs tended to control his entire body, often resulting in him easily losing his equilibrium.

And seeing as you hung out with him the most, out of all your colorful coworkers when off the clock, you’d become rather familiar with each other. Harmless flirting and soft touches being indulged in and subtly enjoyed quite often.

Tonight’s behavior however was infringing on new territory. And at the back of your mind, you’d found that you weren’t against it- though the timing of it all had caught you unprepared.

A new, nagging sensation quickly began to plague you, one you recognized well as you clenched your thighs together. Low, pulsing neediness prickled upwards as dissatisfaction became more and more apparent.

“Hoseok.” You whispered, not sure what you were asking from him exactly. It was a mixed plea, for him to either stop while he was ahead or to go further.

He’d been gauging your reactions, reading all the little signs he’d learned to notice from spending more time with you than he had with any other woman (besides his family members) since he’d begun anonymous streaming on the side.

He’d managed to garner a large following online, amidst him working morning to evening at the dance studio. And somehow maintained high fan engagement even after Namjoon suggested he come work short night shifts at his and Yoongi’s bar, if he wanted to make even more money.

Being the object of other people’s fantasies had become a normal and dominating aspect of his world, and admittedly, he’d denied new people access into his small bubble because of it.

Keeping his social circle minimized to his family, and the guys he’d met through MarbleFence, kept things simple. His vanilla life in one hand and his secret in the other.

When you were hired on however, with zero ties to caming unlike the others, it quickly skewed the order he’d compartmentalized things in. Because how could he, while experiencing all your uniqueness, keep you in a box separate from all other aspects of his life.

He wanted you to be a part of it all.

Ducking down, he ghosts his lips on top of yours- breath kissing you instead and you swore your core felt as though it was aching.

He would let you make the first move, he’d decided. Watching patiently as your eyes seemed to plead with him, gurgled whines non-committedly sounding from your throat.

Fingers curling into his ironed shirt and wrinkling the fabric, though he couldn’t bother to give a shit because it was you. You could ruin anything of his- his clothes, his world view, his life- and he wouldn’t care as long as you wanted him.

He found your little pants and puffs of air cute as you clung onto him, wordlessly willing him to give you what you wanted until slowly grasping that he had all the time in the world when it came to waiting for your stubborn pride to crack.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” You finally whined before crashing your lips against his. Hands clasping at every inch of him as he pushed open the door behind you and guided you inside.

Haphazardly bolting it shut, he coaxes you to wrap your clothed legs around his waist, resting your ass against the black marble sink.

“I’ve heard worse.” He smiles smugly, fingers working quickly as he unbuttoned your dress shirt to reveal the black lace bra underneath. Grin widening by the second as you rutted hungerily against his growing bulge, inhibitions scattering to the wind.

“I’ll have to get more creative if you don’t fuck me this second. Shit- it hurts.” He pulls your impatient hands away from the task of unbuckling and unzipping your pants.

The comfort of relief washing over you as his fingers slipped into the crouch of them and rested where you wanted him most, teasing at the swollen button with the pads of his digits.

“No need, sweetheart.” He whispered, lips dragging against your cheek to your ear. “I don’t plan on keeping your little pussy waiting for too long. You’re aching for my cock aren’t you?”

A moan falls from your mouth at his words and the way he punctuates his sentence by slipping a finger into you, easing the incessant clenching.

Resting against your head against the mirror, you simper as he brings his thumb to your mouth. Obediently wetting the digit and watching as he rubs comforting circles into your clit.

“There’s my good girl.” He praises as you melt into him without any complaints or further backtalk, the only sounds coming from your lips being those of contentment and pleasure. “Letting me play with my pussy as much as I like. Daddy must be making his babygirl feel good, huh doll?”

“Da-“ You mewl at the word, not aware that it was possible for him to make you hornier than you already were.

“Come on angel, you can say it.” He coaxes gently but eagerly, adding a second finger inside you and doubling his efforts on your bud. “It’ll feel so good when you do. Give Daddy his name, baby. Don’t you want me to fuck your little pussy all nice and rough?”

“Want- I wanna feel you in me.” You whine into his mouth, thoughts muddling as the only thing keeping you remotely grounded was the way his fingers fucking into you.

The drag and push eliciting an erotic wet, sloshing sound from your pussy as he worked deeper. Not to mention how well he was focusing on your clit.

“I know you do, baby. You’re so tight and wet for Daddy. Just say my name, doll. I’ll give you my cock, it’s aching for you. Don’t you want Daddy to fuck his babygirl?” He presses his bulge against your thigh and you can feel how strongly it twitches through his layers of clothing.

“Daddy! Shit-“ You cry, working to meet the thrusts of his hand as your orgasm begins to build. “Daddy, I want you! I’m gonna cum though.”

“There’s my baby girl.” He whispers proudly. Momentarily stopping his ministrations on your clit to pull you free of your pants and underwear, abandoning the garments across the tile flooring before resuming his task with new vigor.

A third finger being added to the mix as he’s allowed to rattle his hand inside you with a more intense speed.

The noises of arousal were incessant at this point, filling the small space and easily overpowering the soft whimpers of pleasure coming from you as you used the small amount of brain power you had left to burrow your face into the crook of his collar.

“Cum for me, baby. Can’t wait to know how you taste.” He breathes into your hair as your arms lock around his neck. “Gonna lick you nice and clean.”

And it’s his clear intent to make good on his promise that pushes you overboard. Vision going white as he works you through it so fiercely, you don’t register the wet droplets dripping down his arm until he’s bringing his fingers to his mouth.

His eyes burn intensely as he laps up the wetness before locking his lips with yours hungrily. Your head fuzzy but feeling pleased as he forces you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Squirting. On the first try.” He mumbles amazed as he presses kisses across your face with immense pride apparent on his face. Unbuckling his pants and folding his clean pressed slacks onto the counter as he goes.

Sinking onto his knees, he wastes no time hooking your legs across his shoulders before lapping up your juices like a man starved.

And like in all things he does, he’s passionate. Sucking your sensitive bud and chuckling as you fight to keep your hands to yourself in favor of not messing up his styled hair.

Somehow you still manage to think of him and his job as a host, wanting him to remain looking pristine, even after all this was over with and the two of you have to go back to work.

Your fingers instead fly towards your mouth as a high pitched squeal almost permeates the space at the way he nips and licks at your clit. The second orgasm of the night quickly culminates as he sucks violently, shaking his head and humming intensely against you.

And it takes every ounce of will you have in your body not to thrash and claw at his locks. Cumming on his flattened tongue as you buck against him wantonly.

Stroking his cock languidly, he stands. Contently observing your fucked out state.

“Are you still up for more?” He asks kindly and you only whine, looking at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question known to mankind.

“Of course.” You blubber and he can’t stop the way he gently pulls you in for a kiss with a laugh. He was so enraptured by you, that he genuinely believed no one could possibly compare to how precious you were in his eyes.

“Wanna suck you off though.” You pout against his lips as he rubs his tip against your entrance teasingly, precum smearing against the reddened folds.

“Oh, trust me when I say I’ll have you choking on it after I’m done filling up your little womb.” He says unabashedly, his eyes clear and resolute with lust.

A pleased moan falls from your mouth and he preens.

“You like it when I talk about filling you up with my cum?” A wide and mischievous smile blooms across his face at this revelation.

“I bet you can’t wait for me to have your cunt overflowing with it. Want me to plug you up and send you back to work with it leaking down your legs, baby? Maybe then those girls will know who really belongs to me.”

As your eyes widen at the mention of previous customers, he slips inside you easily. Your hole devouring inch by inch as he sinks into you, mouth silently agape at the stretching sensation.

“Taking me so well.” He moans softly, letting himself relish the feeling before going back to the topic at hand.

Once he’s inside fully, he coos over you and normally you’d say it was demeaning. But there was something about the way he’d taken care of you, and being filled to brim with his cock, that made your brain foggy and more pliable to his babying.

“Did you really think I didn’t know what had gotten you so amped up?” He asks, retracting his hips and suddenly thrusting back into you when you opened your mouth to answer. It was his way of telling you it was a rhetorical question.

“You know it’s my job to be cordial with them, baby. I can’t repeatly take time out of my shift to remind you who’s the girl I really give a fuck about.” He tsks and it pisses you off that he’s acting like you made him come back here and fuck your brains out.

Not that you wanted it any other way now, but you were supposed to be eating the lunch you’d packed for tonight.

“So I made you abandon your post? Don’t act like you weren’t keeping an eye out for the first opportunity where I’d let you fuck.” You laugh, victory short lived as he pauses the rhythm he’d worked up.

Placing a finger over your lips right as a knock rattles at the door.

“Hobi-hyung?”

And the two of you instantly relax as you recognize the sweet voice of the barback and occasional kitchen helper, Jungkook.

“Ah?” Hoseok answers airly as his eyes glint with a wicked light and you’re forced to watch his meanspirited plan unfold.

“I know that Y/n’s on lunch right now, but she forgot to give Yoongi-hyung the register key and left her phone behind the bar, so we can’t call her- Do you know where she might have gone? She isn’t in the breakroom either.” He speaks in a pout and you feel guilty for being the reason he was sent on a wild goose chase.

You didn’t speak with the younger boy often, but you’d known he disliked being on the floor if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Pushing through the waves of people was easily his least favorite thing- so searching the premises for you must have been torture.

Sympathy quickly overshadowed by the rough manner Hoseok begins moving inside you, not pushing towards the base of his cock so there wouldn’t be the obvious sound of his hips slapping against your own. Though the task of keeping completely silent was certainly a challenge.

“Can’t say I’ve seen her, Jungkook-ah.” He answers with a faux sense of worry as he smirks down at you, daring you to make a sound. “She’ll come soon though I’m sure.”

He was holding your hands against your sides, preventing you from covering your mouth as he thrusted with vague restraint.

“Yeah. I’ll go ahead and get the extra key from the office then. Thanks, hyung.” He answered before padding back onto the floor.

“You’re-“ He stops holding back, sheathing himself fully into you and increasing his speed. “You’re so mean! He could’ve heard me.” You whine, tears beginning to well in your eyes from the pleasure but also from withstanding his little game.

“If I was really mean I’d send you back to Yoongi with an ass so bruised you won’t be able to walk straight. Don’t test me, doll. Remember who you’re talking to.” He warns, dipping his head to bite red buds along your breasts.

“I know who I’m talking to.” You pout and he laughs at your insistence to have the last word.

“Yeah?” He teases, biting at your earlobe. Easily forgiving you for your insolence even though you’re willingly being a brat. “Who are you talking to then?”

Hurtling towards your third climax, you wrap your arms around his neck and lock your ankles the small of his back, “My daddy.” You answer simply.

“Hm, I love hearing you say that. My favorite girl.” He moans into your ear. “Are you ready for daddy’s cum, pretty girl? Gonna paint this tight little pussy white.”

“Yes please! Please!” You’re squeezing him with a vice grip and he can only groan louder as he fights to keep his pace.

“Just like that.” He guides soothingly, “Milk daddy’s cock.”

The feeling of him releasing into you goads you on, broken sobs reverberating from your chest as your orgasms racks through you.

After pressing a plethora of kisses across your cheeks, he guides you to your knees.

Your mouth waiting eagerly as he pushes into the warm cavern, a satisfied moan falling from his lips as you lick him clean. His cum and your arousal mixing on your tongue as he easily slips to the back of your throat and a surprised noise bubbles up from his chest at how little resistance there is.

Fanning your tongue out at the base, you finally pull away with a soft pop once he goes soft. Giggling at his breathy, “What the fuck, angel?”

“I usually have a pretty restrictive gag reflex, but I’ve found it goes away if I’ve cum.” You answer as he goes back to showering you with kisses, rocking you from foot to foot as words of praise fill the air.

“I’ll have to get you off more often.” He smirks and you give him one last kiss before pulling away.

“It’s a promise.” You hum. “Though I’ll have to get cleaned up, Yoongi will kill me if I try to walk around with cum-soaked pants.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me then, doll.”

#bts smut #ot7 bts x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #bts fanfic #jhope smut #jung hoseok smut #poly bts x reader #poly bts #fanfic #jhope x reader #smut #kpop smut

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come.

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget.

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots.

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing.

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space.

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance.

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest.

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil.

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.”

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle.

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins.

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.”

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet.

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back.

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~”

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.”

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice.

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming.

Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding.

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention.

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines.

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?”

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do.

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke.

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough.

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck.

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil.

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago.

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color.

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs.

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into.

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do.

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back.

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap. Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome.

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges.

When was the last time you felt this alive?

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map.

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?”

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls.

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood.

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.”

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses.

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?”

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

#issei matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #the smut pile collab #the smut pile western collab #the lawbreakers: multiverse #tw: drugs #tw: voyeurism #sin.drugs #sin.voyeurism

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maxismatchccworld · 3 years

Text

Patch Notes

Update 9/7/2021

PC: 1.79.93.1030 / Mac: 1.79.93.1230

Console: Version 1.47

Hello Simmers!

We hope you are well wherever you are in the World.

Today, we have a special kind of update! As you now know, this is our first update that fully focuses on a previously released pack, giving it new life if you will. Today is the day for self-care for and with The Sims™ 4 Spa Day!

Spa Day is all about relaxation and getting some well-deserved personal Sim time and wellness. With this update, we are adding some features that will help enhance this wellness experience that we hope you enjoy.

Along with these enhancements, we were also able to fix a few issues that were live and needed some care.

Thanks again for your continued support and feedback!

Chaus!

-SimGuruRusskii

What’s New?

Spa Day Updates

Everyone deserves more time to refresh and more ways to renew! In this update, we added the following:

Three new Aspirations and a new Trait

The path to wellness is long but well worth it! Sims can now opt for three aspirational paths to achieve their own Zen:

Self-Care Specialists - For those Sims who would like to monetize their love of fitness and wellness.

Inner Peace - For the Sims that want to achieve ultimate harmony and learning tools to mitigate their negative emotions.

Zen Guru - For the Sims that want to share the power of wellness with the world…the whole world, for real. They also focus on seeking to train their successor to pass the knowledge along.

In addition to these new Aspirations, we added a new trait for those Sims that require a bit of extra work to keep their needs… properly aligned. High Maintenance will allow your Sims to experience mindful tasks that can help their sense of wellbeing. No trouble is trivial, no need is too much.

You can find these new Aspirations and the new Trait in Create A Sim. And don’t forget the Spa Membership included with these Aspirations - it’s a steal!

Manicures and Pedicures

Some people like having a massage to decompress - a valid option… pretty sure I need one - but my favorite thing is manicures and pedicures! Hear me out! There is something so relaxing about choosing your design, color, shape, and having someone prettify (yes, it is a word… to me) your nails with the utmost care. Now your Sims can get these nail enhancements or graciously give them to other Sims. You can choose a design, a shape, and voilà! Your Sims’ nails will be as fabulous as they feel!

And if you don’t want to get your nails done by a professional- tight budget, totally get it - Sims will have access to the same options in Create A Sim that you can instantly apply to your Sims nails - it’s like insta nails!! You can pick from a variety of swatches with color combinations, designs, or just a solid color for each fingernail. You can also choose a variety of one solid color choices for your Toenails. You can find them in the Accessories category in Create A Sim, where you will see a Fingernails and Toenails sort with the options.

We want to highlight that in this upgrade to Spa Day we have a design from the wonderful Ebonix that is featured in Create A Sim! Ebonix is a super talented Sims Creator, and we are happy we can feature one of her designs and share it with everyone.

About Yoga and Meditation

Yoga Classes can now take place outside of Spas and Gyms! You can hire a yoga instructor or teach your own class from the Instructor Yoga Mat. Speaking of teaching, Sims can also lead Guided Meditation sessions from Meditation Stools. Oh, and I don’t want to forget to mention that Children are able to practice and teach both Yoga and Meditation as well!

New Objects, Facial Masks… Oh my!

As part of this update, we also added a few new objects and swatches in Build Mode, these include a new luxurious massage table and a massage chair that can also be used for manicures and pedicures for a full relaxation experience. And as an added bonus, there is a new portable massage chair and table, so your Sims can give massages, manicures, and pedicures on the go to earn some Simoleons.

Besides these, we added as part of your Sims’ self-care routine the ability to purchase and apply Facial Masks. They come in a variety of benefits and designs; for ease of access, we recommend having in your preferred lot the Doc Sweet’s Luke-Warm Mini Dispenser. This mini version of the original refrigerator can hold your favorite beverages in a compact space, but as an added benefit, Sims can purchase Facial Masks from it. By the way, don’t forget to try the new Cucumber Power-Sip and cucumber slices for a tasty snack! Also available with this update.

Base Game Updates

For those who don’t own Spa Day, we wanted to give you a treat as well. For Base Game Simmers we added the nail options for fingernails and toenails in Create A Sim for you to enjoy. Same as mentioned previously, there will be choices under the Fingernails and Toenails sort in Create A Sim, there will be a variety of solid one-color nails and color combination nails available for the Base Game itself.

Bug FixesConsole

We fixed an issue in which some of the controls when players are in the Game Options menus were a little off, it should work correctly now.

The Sims 4

New games should no longer experience the automatic generation of empty households, and the ensuing save size increase and performance lag that this causes. The team is still investigating how to safely fix existing saves that have this issue.

We fixed an issue that affected Custom Content Chairs that when slotted with certain objects it created Sims routing issues.

Sometimes, in certain saves, Sims would lose their names when visiting some Lots - most notoriously the Goth’s Lot but it could happen anywhere. If a Sim has no name… does that Sim exist? I can assure you that the Goths were not involved, but this issue should no longer occur.

Ever had the need to order food or drinks but you just couldn’t be bothered? Been there, however the issue of Sims and NPCs not being able to order food and drinks autonomously has been fixed. Order away!

Have you noticed that your Sims had been doing Fitness things or Dancing if they Disliked those things? Strange no? It should no longer happen as long as they continue to Dislike them of course. As a note, unfortunately (for those affected), Sims are subject to choose music they Dislike still from any stereo so they can still torment other Sims (and Simmers) around them.

We fixed an issue in which the Mega Window (Double Budget Grand Deluxe DeLite) in build Mode was missing a few swatches and displayed them as empty.

Let’s talk about Unibrows! Are they in? Are they out? No matter, every brow is welcome! We have fixed an issue that didn’t make the thicker unibrow available for female frame Sims and that didn’t make the thinner unibrow available for male frame Sims. So all the unibrows for both frames!

Did you ever notice an invisible slot under the All of the Things table? We sure did, and while I think that if it is called “all of the things” it could have all the things, everywhere… I guess? This was not acceptable so we fixed that.

Get to Work

The hairstyle yfHair_EP01TwistLow has been tagged correctly in the Updo Hairstyle category. Is it still an Updo even if the bun is low and not up high? These are the questions I ponder sometimes.

Eco Lifestyle

If you noticed the Community Voting Board missing from venues across packs in Build Mode, never fear. It has been found and should be safely back in Build Mode.

Dream Home Decorator

Ever had such good-looking décor that you can’t just sleep because you have to look at it? As much as we want your Sims to love their décor and their style, we thought it was a bit too much that they would not sleep and just look at it, so this should no longer happen.

#s4cc #s4 patch notes

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shaydeoffical · 3 years

Text

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached. Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did. The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last. "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it. Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them. "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten. His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles. "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.

The End

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