#I’d convinced myself he was going to be ok

[foreverfearlessred]

i just saw Danny’s post-race interview and why tf am i crying why did that seem so final

[worldlxvlys]

hiiii!!! so can I have a chubby ready or a plus size reader for matt?? it can be a smut or fluff. you can chose.

her

matt sturniolo x plus size! reader

warnings: smutttt, cursing, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex, tittie fixation, oral + handjob (male receiving), slight overstimulation, lots of praise + fluff

a/n: i love youuuu <33

i do this every time.

i convince myself that it’ll end different, that maybe it will go well for me for once; but of course not.

how silly of me to think that something as simple as clothes shopping would be as easy for me as it is everyone else.

now here i was, standing in front of the mirror in the fitting room, comparing myself to the girl i saw on tiktok wearing the exact dress.

except, on her, it actually looked good.

don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of times where i love my body and i feel confident. this just wasn’t one of them.

because on her, it hugged every single curve on her body perfectly. the dress was damn near made for her.

it was silly of me, really, i set myself up for disappointment.

of course the dress looked perfect for her, i’m not her. usually, i’d just suck it up and look for different clothes.

but, how could one piece of clothing look so drastically different on two different people?

when i imagined myself in this dress, this is not what i had in mind.

but i guess i should just be grateful they even had it in my size, right ? when i first walked into the store, i wasn’t even sure they would.

plus size clothing is hard enough to find, especially in LA.

i shook my head lightly as i stared at myself in the reflection.

“what’s wrong ? you don’t like it?” matt asked, taking in my disappointed expression.

he moved to wrap his hands around my waist from behind, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“it’s ok, i guess. it’s just…not what i envisioned it to look like on me” matt knew exactly what that meant without me having to say a word.

“was what you were picturing based on your body, or someone else’s?” i let out a sigh as i turned away from the mirror.

“look, i’m sure it looked good on her body type, but it looks amazing on yours” he gently cupped my jaw with his hand, moving it so my gaze was back on the mirror.

“why would you want it to look like it does on her when it looks breathtaking on you?” he asked, rubbing circles into my hips.

“you’re just saying that” i spoke lightly. he pushed his hips into mine suddenly, his hard dick poking my thigh eagerly.

“does that feel like i’m just saying it?” he rasped. “you look good, bet you’ll feel even better”

“matt” i let out a whine as his fingers ran up and down my thigh.

“what do you like about it?” he asked as he began to leave teasing kisses along the back of my neck.

i tried to focus on my breathing rather than his hand teasingly moving closer and closer to my core before retreating back down my leg.

“nothing to say? i’ll answer for you, then” he whispered into my ear, his hand disappearing under the dress.

“i like how it shows off these pretty thighs” he breathed, rubbing my thigh gently.

“i like how it covers your tits to everyone else, but when i wanna see them, all i have to do is…” he trailed off before untying the front of the dress, watching as it loosened and my tits fell free.

“so fucking gorgeous” he mumbled to himself, gently caressing my boobs.

“i like how it’s the perfect length, such easy access” he whispered the last part to himself, finding the waistband of my panties and pulling them down.

“i don’t know if it’s the dress i like so much as that fucking body” he spoke, turning me around to look at me.

“i love every inch of you” he spoke as he sat me down on the small bench.

he pulled down his pants and boxers, his dick springing free while i watched in anticipation.

the sounds of my soft moans filled the dressing room as matt pushed himself into me slowly.

his forehead was pressed to mine while he stared into my eyes with a look that made my heart race.

i let out a particularly loud moan when he began to thrust into me deeper, his cock kissing my cervix.

“you gotta stay quiet for me, baby. don’t want anyone hearing, do you ?” he asked as he continued to thrust into me slowly.

i covered my mouth with my hand, shaking my head as i tried desperately to contain my moans.

“feels so- god, you feel so good. you’re so good for me, my perfect girl” he groaned as he held leaned his hands on the bench on either sides of my thighs.

“you have no clue how fucking beautiful you are to me….how much you mean to me” he spoke before moving his face towards my chest.

“gonna show you” he whispered before bringing my nipple into his mouth.

“hmph, matt” my moans were muffled by my hand, my free hand finding its way to his head.

my head fell back into the wall behind me as matt swirled his tongue around my nipple, licking and teasing the sensitive bud.

when he finished, my boob had dark marks on it, staying attached to his mouth by a string of spit.

“god, i love your tits” he mumbled before getting to work on the other one.

his tongue worked my nipple while he continued to thrust sharply and deeply into me.

i tugged on his hair harshly, eliciting a moan from him while he looked up at me, watching me fall apart under him.

“matt i’m so close” i moaned out rather loudly, causing him to pull away from my boob.

he brought his lips to mine, swallowing my moans as our lips danced across each others.

i wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him as close to me as possible as our lips molded together.

“look so pretty like this, my love. so good for me, could fuck you like this all day” he whispered against my lips.

my eyes squeezed shut when he reached between us to rub my clit, my jaw falling slack.

“matt-” “i know” he cut me off, feeling me clench around him, “come on, give it to me baby. i got you” he whispered as i cried out.

my legs shook around him, hands squeezing his biceps as i released all over him.

my body continued to shake lightly, the aftershocks hitting me every now and then as matt continued to thrust into me.

“can i-” he cut himself off with a guttural groan, “will you let me cum on your tits? please?” he asked me through his grunts.

my face lit up at that, “yes please” i answered. he grinned at that, pulling out as soon as i agreed.

i took his length into my hand, pumping him quickly and watching his face contort in pleasure. “fuck, you’re so good to me” he breathed out.

“you deserve it” i told him “you close? gonna cover me in your cum?” i asked him, his cock twitching at the statement.

“yea, fuck yes”

i stroked him a few more times before thick spurts of his cum flew out of his tip, dripping down my chest.

“yes, yes, yes, yes" he chanted, his voice breaking slightly.

i continued to pump him, watching his seed flow out of his tip, before he pulled my hand away.

“s-sensitive baby” he groaned out, knees beginning to buckle slightly.

“gotta clean you up, right ?” i asked before bringing his tip into my mouth, his hand automatically flying to cover his own.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head as i licked him slowly and gently, collecting every drop of his pleasure and swallowing it.

i removed him from my mouth with a pop, smiling in satisfaction at his fucked-out state.

i brought my hand to my tits, wiping him off of me and licking my hand.

“you trying to kill me?” he asked, mouth hung slightly.

“there are no paper towels” i shrugged at him.

he lightly shook his head, a small smile overtaking his features while he helped me to fix myself up.

i helped him do the same, before picking up the dress.

“so ? are we buying it?” he asked, eyes filled with hope. i smiled at him lightly, “hm, yeah, i think so” i answered.

his smile grew wider at that, “good, because that won’t be the last time i fuck you in that dress” he whispered into my ear.

“well, in that case, i might have to wear it again today”

🧡🧡🧡🧡

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

  Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

 Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

*

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2

[fangisms]

HEYY so I love your writing and have been stalking your account since yesterday 🤭 I checked and I saw ur request were open so I figured I’d shoot my shot and send a request but if you’re not interested it’s totally fine !!

I saw that you don’t have Harry on ur master list so idk if you take request for him? So I won’t request smth for him here but if you do write for him pls lmk !!

Ok now my actual request, can you write smth for Theodore Nott x fem!reader where reader is like tough and usually goes against the grain of what other people are doing and for once she decides to actually go to a party when a Some Guy starts hitting on her and she’s like obviously very not into it Theo confronts the guy and gets into a fight with him.

Like maybe they’ve known each other since they were young and when they got to hogwarts they grew apart bc they were in different houses but Theo has been like hardcore crushing on her for years lol. And like after he gets into the fight she cleans him up in the bathroom and is all like “you didn’t have to do that I can take care of myself” and he’s all like “yah I know” but feeling smug bc she’s blushing or smth and he’s all happy bc yah it’s been a while but maybe he still has a chance and doesn’t just have to watch her from afar forever 🤭

SORRY this is so long but I have been having Theo brain rot and this idea has been floating in my head for a couple days now

respectable fisticuffs

A/N: yk what i didn’t think i would but i WILL write for harry, send it in anon 🫂 also this request is so good pls gif cred: @possession

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Non-Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Battered and bruised, Theo misses you like hell and now seems like a great time to tell you. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, theo gets in a physical fight, unsolicited flirting, cursing, tw blood/wounds, kissing, lots of ‘bellissima’, soo much pining

"What's she doing here?" Mattheo welcomes Pansy with a kiss on the cheek, leering at you like he's amused by your presence.

"I convinced her to show up, so pretty please don't scare her away," Pansy coos, patting him on the shoulder before disappearing towards the couches.

"It’s a your lucky day," he huffs, guiding you towards the sound of drunken laughter and song. "I know someone who's dying to see you."

"Don't we all," you tease. By the looks of it, he's leading you into the belly of the beast—a group of Slytherin boys crowded around a brassy gramophone. "So, who exactly is dying to see me?"

"Don’t play dumb, sweetheart... you know who," he whispers before slinking off to find a drink.

"Mattheo!" you shout, "Coglione." Maybe you should hunt Pansy down. She's the one who forced you to come after all, she deserves to bear witness to your misery.

Theo had no idea you were coming. If he had, he might've tried a little harder to impress. You look just as beautiful as the last time you ignored him, and it's not helping his crush in the slightest. Over the years, he's grown a real talent for watching you from afar. Since the sorting hat took you away from him, it's all he can do any more, and suffice to say, he misses you like hell even now.

As he's mulling it over in his head, you glance over at him. He thinks your gaze will dart away like it always does while he take a drag of his cigarette. But you wave. You hold up your hand and wave. At him. And he nods back like some nonchalant idiot. He loves the way your eyes always seem to sparkle just before you look away.

Theo waits until you've visibly relaxed to approach you. And just as he's mustering up the courage to leave his chair, Graham Montague spills his drink down your shirt.

"Shit," Graham pants, stumbling forward and clasping onto your waist for dear life. He looks down at your top—or rather, down your top—and chuckles to himself. "Might actually be an improvement."

"You smell like piss," you say. He palms your shoulder and laughs, leaning closer to mumble low in your ear.

"Does that mean you like it?" His fingers flex against your collar bone and trail up the length of your neck. You want to vomit.

Just then, his body falls limp to the ground with a thud, and you gasp, turning to see Theo looming beside you.

"Theo!" you shout, but he gently sweeps you aside, falling to his knees and taking a fistful of Graham's soiled collar.

"Get off of me—ow, prick," Graham whines, clawing at Theo's shoulder and reaching to scratch at his face. Theo slams his back hard against the floorboards with a sharp inhale before landing a punch to his face. Graham lets out a yelp and whimpers when Theo stands above him. Theo presses his boot to the palm of Graham's hand.

"Go near her again, and you'll lose your hand entirely," Theo seethes. Mattheo finally yanks him away with a snicker, guiding him to the stairwell. But not before Theo shouts, "Mangia merde e morte."

"Alright, dickhead, I think you've made your point," Mattheo says, squeezing Theo's shoulders as his eyes zip back and forth wildly, looking any and everywhere he can.

"Where is she?"

"Calm down—"

"Mattheo, you know where she is. Tell me," he huffs. If it weren't for the haunted look in his eye, Mattheo would've kept his mouth shut. But he knows how bad his friend needs this. How bad he needs you.

"She's upstairs. Told her she could borrow our bathroom."

"Sei come un fratello per me, thank you," Theo whispers.

"Yeah, yeah," Mattheo says, "you owe me one." Theo leaves him a kiss on the cheek before taking the steps two at a time.

The light from the boys' bathroom seeps through the crack in the door. It's the only light in the whole dorm, and he can see your shadow as it crosses back and forth. He feels like he's out on the field before a championship game or about to take an exam he didn't study for. His hands feel weak when he reaches for the doorknob.

He presses his ear to the door before opening it any further. "May I come in?"

You shuffle around, and he hears you approach the door on tender foot. He can't take the way you open the door and stand back like you're faced with some predator. He hasn't spoken to you in so long, all he wants is to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Theo?" you say, shutting the door behind him as he goes to sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Don't say that," he says, carding his fingers through his hair. He groans at the pain shooting up his fingers.

You look over him softly. Subtly, so he won't notice, but he's gotten good at noticing you.

"Are you hurt?"

He looks at his knuckles, sprinkled with blood, and feels for the scrape on his cheek.

"No—"

He doesn't have time to explain himself before you're kneeling at his side, dabbing a cold towel against his jaw and tilting his chin up.

"It's worse than you think, Theo," you hum, pressing the damp cloth to the column of his neck as he swallows.

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"You idiot," you say. He hisses when you hold his jaw and turn his head, wiping the shallow gash on his cheek. Most of the blood is not his, which is a good sign. That doesn't stop you from wanting to yell at him, though. He can tell with the way you're frowning as you wet the dried blood on his warm skin.

"I had it under control, you know,” you say.

He can't help but smile at your determination. He always admired that about you. Too stubborn for your own good. And his.

"I know."

Your eyes drift across his brow, narrowly avoiding the eye contact he so craves. He drinks in the curve of your lashes, the sweetness of your cheek, the way your thigh is pushed against his knee.

"He was harmless. And drunk. And you should’ve known better."

"I know," he huffs. You toss the pink-tinged towel into the bowl of the sink.

"We're not kids anymore, I don't need you to protect me." You stay knelt at his feet, focused on your knees digging into the cold tile. It makes you sad to think about you and him like this. You used to be friends. Best friends, in fact, the kind of friends adults would say were 'joined at the hip'. You used to cry over being sorted into different houses, but you got over it. That's life. You figured he moved on and so should you. Maybe neither of you moved on in the end.

"Look at me." His voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you meet his soft green eyes.

"Bellissima..."

"You are such an idiot," you huff. Theo looks down at you like he's been waiting to all his life. Like he's been cursing that very first day since it happened.

"I miss you," he coos, fingers twitching where they're rested on his knees. "I miss having you close to me."

"That's not fair."

"Not fair?"

You look away. "No."

"How?"

Oh, and you hate the way he smiles when he knows he's about to get what he wants. He knows exactly how to get you flustered. That's exactly why he was your first kiss. And your second.

"Come on, bellissima... tell me you miss me," he whispers, leaning his elbows onto his knees to be closer to you. To have his nose brush the tip of your own. He craves the shape of your mouth now more than ever.

Then you look at him. Him and his dastardly grin, how the charm pours out of him in gobs. The hair sweeping across his forehead and how you always catch him looking at you how he is now. Innocent and longing. Like you’re beautiful. Like you’re his again.

“Of course I miss you,” you sob, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, “I miss you, Theo.”

“Oh, bella,” he says, fitting himself into your arms, knees pressed to either side of your own as he slides to the floor. You shudder against his body, and he holds you tighter. “I never want to be without you.”

You pull away just to look at him, his face, the way time has changed him. He has his hands on your waist when you lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes flutter closed and he waits for another. You swipe your thumb where you’d just pressed your lips, and you kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiles, eyes still gently shut as he manouvres his fingertips to the curve of your bottom lip. And you kiss him.

masterlist

[partitionis]

on the horror of fame:

something that I often find myself thinking about when I’m back in Taiwan and around people who are far richer than I’ll ever be [1] is how the day-to-day experience of being rich and powerful is actually pretty… dehumanizing

there’s a sweet spot where you’re wealthy enough that you don’t have to worry about money ever and still anonymous enough that you can pop down to the 7/11 without anyone knowing who you are, but once you’re famous enough that people on the street tend to recognize you? you’re fucked.

ok, you haven’t driven a car in a few decades because you’ve been rich enough to employ a driver and someone of your status isn’t really the type to drive themselves around. this is fine. except now your driver knows all of your business. that’s also fine, you pay him for his discretion. do you pay him enough? can you be sure that his institutional loyalty is enough to stop him from taking a tabloid payment? maybe you want to go somewhere spur of the moment. you could call your driver, and he’d drop whatever he was doing and be at your house to get you within fifteen minutes [2], but you know, maybe he’s with his kids or something. you could take the subway, except if you do that multiple people will recognize you and everyone will treat you like you have some sort of infectious disease [3]. guess you’d better stay in.

and every moment of every day is like this! being a famous man is great because women want to have sex with you and men want to be you. except mostly what everyone wants is access to the wealth and power you represent: people tell you half-truths to try to convince you to invest in some bullshit or they put their hands dangerously close to your penis in public social situations [4]. you— the person you actually are— are mostly treated like an obstacle to be overcome or a puzzle to be figured out. ‘what kind of currency do I need to put in to the old man to get what I want out of him’

so you have all of the things people want, but they’re poisoned by abundance. you can go anywhere and buy anything, but you can’t do it without feeling the eyes of the world on you. you have more friends and potential lovers than you know what to do with, but do you? one of the great privileges of being a regular person [5] is that you can generally trust that social gestures are genuine. I’m just a regular guy and the only benefit anyone gets from throwing me a birthday party or having sex with me is that we ate birthday cake or had sex. none of these things will unlock access to money or power because I’ve got none to give, but once you do, you invariably attract these people. they’re not all of your social circle, but they’re a lot of it, because competing for your limited time and attention with the people who are willing to grope you in public feels vaguely debasing

no wonder musicians are alcoholics! no wonder the people I know are all withdrawn and snappish. you’re just some guy, and you’re living a life so divorced from the rest of the world that you have more in common with the god-kings of old than you do with your own parents. is it worth it? I mean I won’t lie, sometimes it’s pretty sick; I’d never buy a $5,000 watch, but I can pretty easily imagine what I’d do with thousands of dollars of pocket change. but then I remember that one person I know refuses to tell anyone when his birthday is because people make such a big fucking deal out of it and I think, hm, if that were me I’d probably develop a heroin addiction [6].

[1] presumably

[2] let’s not consider how much it sucks to be the driver in this situation

[3] you are not the good kind of famous in this story, sorry.

[4] I’m sure this was titillating at one point but I’m also pretty sure it got old by the third decade, never mind what it’s like in the fifth

[5] unless you’re an Olive Garden manager who posts a lot about fake friends and backstabbers on Facebook or wherever the beleaguered Olive Garden managers of the world are posting today

[6] at least I’d be able to pay for it

[tommykinard6]

TW: past suicide (not main character), past attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, mental health crisis.

The water was dark and choppy below his feet, dangling over the river from where Eddie sat on the bridge.

It was one of those bridges with a good footpath, but tended to be deserted at night so a car only passed Eddie every once in a while. None slowed, not seeing his shadowy figure leaning against one of the pillars. His car was pulled onto the shoulder just off of the bridge and he’d been there just long enough to wish he’d brought a jacket, but not long enough to convince himself to leave.

What was he going home to? An empty house? To a life that no longer felt worth-

No. He shook his head to disperse the thoughts, but he didn’t get up, kicking his feet as he looked at the water far beneath him.

He barely heard the footsteps before someone sat beside him. He turned, ready to say any excuse or to run in case the person was weird, but any words he had died on his tongue when he saw Tommy Kinard sitting beside him. The older man was watching him with a carefully blank face, but his eyes were worried.

Eddie waited for the other man to speak first and an awkward amount of time passed before he realized it was on him. “What are you doing here?”

He then kicked himself. He could’ve struck up a friendly conversation, said anything else to get that worried look out of Tommy’s eyes, but he didn’t and the look only grew deeper.

“Passing by, saw your car. Could ask you the same thing, Eddie. Perilous place to stargaze.”

“I’m fine.” And maybe it was something in his tone or maybe Tommy was never going to be fooled anyway, but his answer only made the worry lines in his friend’s face deeper. “Really. I’m just clearing my thoughts.”

Tommy hummed and looked down at the choppy water below just as a gust of wind washed over them. Eddie shivered. “There’s a nice park across the bridge. That’s a pretty good place to think. Been there a few times myself. Less dangerous than here. Less cold.”

“It’s not too bad.” Eddie was, in fact, freezing, but he could barely feel it. He felt a flicker of irritation that Tommy was still there. He just wanted to be left alone. “Seriously man, I’m good. You on your way to Buck’s?”

Tommy hummed an affirmation. “Yeah, but I’m in no rush. Might sit here for a minute, if you don’t mind. Pay my respects.”

Eddie couldn’t help the curiosity, even over the growing irritation that he tried not to examine too closely. “Your respects?”

“Mhm. Lost someone here about seven years ago.”

“A call?”

“Nah. Someone more personal.”

“I’m sorry.” The irritation died down as he took in Tommy’s distant look.

“He was a bastard, but he deserved better.” Tommy turned to look at Eddie and the younger man felt a little too seen under sharp blue eyes. “Wouldn’t think it, but it’s not an uncommon place to pitch yourself off of. We attended more than a few calls here, back when I was at the 118.”

The irritation flickered back to life and Eddie swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Yeah. We got a call like that last week.”

“Did they survive?”

“No. DOA.”

Tommy hummed softly. “Sorry, man. Those are rough.” He nudged Eddie’s shoulder. “Probably should head back, man. You don’t want to fall in.”

“Seriously, I’m good, man. Thanks. I’m just going to hang out here.”

To his annoyance, Tommy didn’t move. Eddie stared out over the water, shoulders tense as he waited for the other man to either leave or say something. He finally did, voice tentative as he asked, “You doing ok, Eds?”

The irritation snapped into something bigger. “I’d do a lot better alone, Tommy. No offense man, but I really don’t want company right now.” He dared to look over at the pilot and the man’s blank face made him snap, “Seriously, man, you’re acting like I’m going to throw myself off!”

“I did.”

It took a moment to register in Eddie’s brain, but when it did, the irritation flickered out like an extinguished candle. “What?”

“Rather, I tried.” Tommy’s face was stony and he wasn’t looking at Eddie, eyes turned towards the water. “The guy I lost here seven years ago was me, Eddie. Or rather, the man I used to be. And I tried to throw the rest of me in with him. This very spot. It’s the deepest. I jumped from where you’re sitting now.”

Eddie was lost for words, jolted out of his own head for the first time in a while. “But you’re alive.”

“I never hit the water.” Tommy looked down, fiddling with his hoodie string. “Someone caught me as I stepped off, dragged me back onto the bridge no matter how much I screamed for him to let me go.”

Eddie tried to wrap his brain around it, the little pieces of a picture he had no idea existed with the man sitting next to him. “Why?” His voice sounded wrecked.

“I thought my life was over. I thought everything I’d worked for, everything that I’d fought for, was gone. I’d faked being someone I wasn’t until I was and that person was someone I despised but I thought I was protecting myself until that night. I thought I’d given up everything and it was all for nothing. I was going to be ostracized from the only family I had. So I came here to end it all.”

His voice was matter of fact, but quivered slightly towards the end. Eddie floundered for a moment, feeling like he’d been pushed off of the bridge into the cold waters below. “But you were saved?”

“By the person I thought was going to end my life. By one of the people I thought I was dying to avoid. He’d followed me here, knew what I was going to do. He…” Tommy paused, swallowing harshly. “He hated who I was. He wanted me to hide who I was. But he didn’t want me dead. So he pulled me off of this bridge and took me home and didn’t allow me out of his sight until he knew I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore. And then he left my life. He hated who I was too much to stay, but he didn’t hate me enough to let me die.”

There was a lot to unpack there. And if Eddie was a good friend, he would ask more questions, listen to Tommy. But he didn’t think he could be a good friend to anyone right now, including himself. “You think I’m here to jump?”

“You have the same look in your eye that I had in those days leading up to me stepping off of this spot. I don’t know if you’re here to jump Eddie, but I don’t think you’re going to catch yourself either. Like hell am I going to leave you here. So please, Eddie, let me take you off of this bridge, alright? Because I’m not leaving until you do.”

Eddie looked down, lump in his throat as he watched the waves. “But…”

“Trust me, man. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Because it’s temporary. Chris is coming back and you guys will sort it out. You have a family that loves you and friends that want you. And you have a hell of a lot to live for. So you’re going to come back with me to Evan and you’re going to stay with us. Tomorrow we’re going to call your therapist.” There was a pause. “You have a therapist, right? Cause if not, we’re getting you one.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Frank.”

And he shouldn’t expect Tommy to know who Frank was, but the man nodded immediately. “LAFD Frank? Good man. We’re calling him.”

Eddie turned to look at Tommy, shivering slightly as he felt the next gust of wind. “But you and Buck-“

“Don’t even think about it. Evan wants you there too.”

“You haven’t told him though.”

“I don’t have to. Eddie, will you let me get you off this bridge?”

And every fiber in Eddie’s being screamed at him to say no, to pull away. But Tommy was there, gaze unwavering and determined. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Eddie wasn’t even sure he wanted him to anymore.

He was so confused. He was so tired.

“Ok.”

[5xlwriter]

Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Model

Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddog’s Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. I see this as a double response to the prompts Runway Ready and Wardrobe Woe.

“Thanks for your time, Brett,” I said, feigning a smile as I looked up from my clipboard. “We’ll call you!”

The muscle-bound hunk nodded cockily and pulled back on his stringy gymrat vest, giving us one last glimpse at his abs in the process before turning and leaving the audition room. His firm glutes shifted in his shorts as he vanished through the doors. I sighed.

Of course, there was no denying that Brett was absolutely gorgeous. He knew it, I knew it, anyone who saw him knew it. And while I might be tempted to call him up for a hookup, there was no way he was getting a callback for this show. He just didn’t have the right look.

The designer, Cherish Misère, was dark, edgy and honestly, kinda goth. There’s a lot that can be achieved with makeup and styling, of course, but nobody’s going to buy that with a jock like Brett. We were looking for skinny guys, with longer slender limbs and angled faces that we could make gaunt with contouring. Brett just didn’t fit the bill - and neither did many of the other hopefuls I’d seen that day. Ugh, Cherish was gonna kill me.

I huffed another deep sigh as I flipped the page on my clipboard, and then was stopped in my tracks at the photo attached to the next profile. That curly brown hair, those sharp, boyish features, those dark, arresting eyes… Tristan!

What a godsend! Tristan was absolutely perfect for the show. Cherish would eat him up, and all the clothes would fit like they were made for him. He and I had been students together. We’d studied Media & Communications and had gotten along well, but drifted in the couple of years since we graduated. He’d always modelled to raise funds when we were at uni, seeming to never need to hold down a real job as a result - but the last I heard, he was now skyrocketing up the corporate ladder, while I was sat here auditioning himbos for D-rate shows at the Fashion Week Fringe. It’s the sort of thing that would usually fill me with so much embarrassment that I’d find an escape route - we gays always compare ourselves to our peers - but in this instance, I didn’t care. I was just glad to finally have found some actual talent! The day was not a complete waste after all.

“Bring in the next one,” I called to my assistant and tried to make myself look as relaxed as possible. I was going to feign surprise, like I’d been caught off-guard. I needed to look busy and important. I sat up straight, eyes fixed on my clipboard until I heard someone shuffle in front of me.

“Hey, Rick!” He announced. His voice was just as I remembered it, but… maybe a touch deeper?

I looked up, ready to burst into a big smile and announce what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again. But then, I really was caught off-guard. My thoughts ground to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause as my brain scrambled to register what was going on.

My assistant intervened. “Um, Rick, this is…”

“—Tristan!” I interjected, finally managing the smile I’d been preparing, though I’m not sure how convincing it came off. “What a surprise!”

The surprise was that Tristan was fat. OK, that was maybe a little dramatic - he wasn’t fat fat. But I guessed him to be at least 50 or 60lbs heavier than the 135lbs he listed on his modelling profile - which made him gay fat. I couldn’t believe it!

I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I was a little ashamed to admit that part of me loved seeing perfect Tristan let himself go like this. He had always been nothing but kind to me, so it was completely mean-spirited of me, but I couldn’t help being jealous of all his achievements. It was nice to finally have one up on him, having maintained my own figure - heck, maybe even improved it? - since graduating.

On the other hand, there was no way I could cast Tristan with him looking like this. I could tell just by looking at him that it would take a small miracle to squeeze him into anything Cherish made, which meant I’d just lost my star model just as quickly as I thought I’d found him.

That, I had to worry about later. For now I had to finish this encounter with my old friend, let him down without hurting his feelings, and maybe find out what had caused him to blow up. Maybe he was depressed?

He didn’t look depressed. He was smiling that famously enchanting smile of his, which now showed off the beginnings of a double chin. I made my way over to give him a hug.

“Heh, I thought you didn’t recognise me!” He said as he wrapped his softer arms around me. He was squishy all over.

“Of course I recognise you,” I said, trying to brush it off. “It’s so good to see all of you— I mean, to see you, it’s so good to see you…” Fuck.

Tristan didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, then he didn’t seem to mind. I was happy with either. We pressed on with the pleasantries, Tristan telling me about his latest promotion whilst I did my best to make my own job sound interesting. In truth, it was great catching up with him… Tristan was just so charming, and even with his fuller figure he just exuded a confidence and charisma that was unlike anyone I’d ever met… perhaps even more so then I remembered? He was definitely flirty, and somehow I found myself flirting back despite him no longer being my type.

I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened… Maybe it was witchcraft. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was just that trademark smile that he kept flashing me, undampened by his rounder face…

“I think you’d be a great fit!” I said, the words leaving my mouth without my permission. My brain protested but my lips kept moving. “We’ll see you Monday for the fittings, so we can get things taken in if we need to.” What the fuck was I saying? What was I doing?

As Tristan left with his paperwork, I caught the confused look on my assistant’s face and buried my head in my hands. Cherish was going to fucking kill me.

***

Monday came around fast. In that time, I’d managed to assemble a motley crew of gangly young men to model Cherish’s collection. None of them had walked a runway in their lives, nor did they really have the face card needed for a career in modelling, but they were the best I could rustle up with Fashion Week on the horizon.

We’d started the morning with runway rehearsals and trying to get some charisma out of these boys was like getting blood from a stone. I was relieved that Tristan hadn’t shown up. I figured he had come to the realisation that he quite literally wasn’t a good fit for this, and had decided to silently slink away, saving me a difficult conversation. Now all we had to do was avoid each other for the rest of our lives!

But no, it was never going to be that easy. Tristan arrived late, commanding attention as soon as he entered the studio, smiling and greeting his fellow models as he finished off the remainder of a large smoked salmon bagel loaded with cream cheese. Now there was someone with charisma. He didn’t even try. Nor did he try to excuse his tardiness. “We both know I don’t need practice at this!” he laughed warmly when we had a quiet moment together.

And he was right. He stomped the runway like a pro, showing each of the confused wannabes how it was done. He was the elephant in the room; he didn’t belong; and yet, he was putting them all to shame. I watched bitterly as he walked back up the length of the runway, noticing the slight jiggle and bounce in his body with each deliberate step he made. Ugh, I was not looking forward to this conversation…

Later, as we prepared for the session with wardrobe, I pulled Tristan to one side.

“Listen, Tristan, I need to talk with you,” I said, trying to sound both relaxed and in control. “You know I think you’re amazing, but I don’t think this is the right gig for you…”

Tristan raised an eyebrow for a moment, not sure what to make of what I’d said, before he burst out laughing. “Ha, yeah, good one Rick. Don’t worry, I’ll help the other guys get the hang of it. It’s not rocket science.”

I frowned. “No, Tristan, you don’t understand…” Ugh! I hated this! “I’m serious. I don’t think you’re the right… fit…” I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his round midsection when I said it - only for a fraction of a second, but Tristan was quick enough to catch it.

“Oh…” he said, looking down at his body for a moment. “You think I’m too fat?” He looked hurt. I’d never seen him not radiating charm and confidence, but in the moment all of that dissipated. He looked like a little lost puppy. “I know I’ve gained a few… I’ve been working flat out at the office… But I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“It’s not!” I blurted out in a panic, desperate to backtrack. “You look great! Better than ever, actually. You look really healthy. That’s super in right now!” It was all lies, and I hated myself for it, but seeing that famous smile return to his face made it worth it.

And so Tristan was whisked off to wardrobe, where we tried to squeeze him into some of the pieces. I thought maybe, if we went with something layered, we could disguise his bulked up body and it might be OK. I was wrong.

Tristan was wearing a black ripped vest, designed to be tight even on a slender model, but practically painted onto him now and emphasising the ball of flesh at his waist. The fact it was ripped made him look like he’d burst out of it. When he moved his arms too high, a little slither of soft flesh would peek out the bottom. He wore a big leather trench coat, down to the floor, which I figured would do a lot of the heavy lifting in making Tristan look presentable - except, we couldn’t fasten it shut over his middle. And on his bottom half, he just wore his underwear and socks, as absolutely nothing that Cherish had designed would slide over his newly thickened thighs and ass.

Fortunately, Tristan may have been oblivious to how much he’d grown, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to work. Quietly, he wrestled himself out of the tight garments we’d given him and began to change into his own clothes. I kept my distance and tried to focus on the other boys. Later, as Tristan was leaving, I followed him out.

“Hey Tristan,” I called. “Wait up!” He turned to face me, and was still smiling, but he looked tired and pensive.

“Thanks for the opportunity, Rick! Sorry it didn’t work out.” He said, before surprising me by tapping his softer middle. “Guess I’ve been neglecting the gym!”

“Don’t worry about it, T,” I said. “You still look great and you can definitely work it off — if you want to,” I paused for a moment, hesitating as I decided whether to say what I was about to say. “Or… In the meantime, my friend runs this other company…” I handed him the card.

“Max Macdonald - Plus Size Agency”, Tristan read off the card. He sounded unsure and I thought I might have offended him again, but eventually he pocketed the card. “Thanks, Rick,” he said, giving me a quick hug. “See you around!”

***

As it happened, I never did see Tristan again. It had been four years since our awkward encounter when I found myself in a bar, catching up with my old friend Max, who I also hadn’t seen in years. Being an adult sucked!

Max had been vocally admiring a large man at the bar, telling me in great detail why this stranger’s corpulent body was so superior to the kind of talent I represented. (I’d learned my lesson and played to my strengths, now I had my own agency and was exclusively representing muscle-bound Greek Gods for high-profile names.)

None of it surprised me. Max had always been unashamedly into big guys, despite being in good shape himself. I’d seen him go through many boyfriends - usually they were varying degrees of fat, but sometimes there was a twink or two. They’d soon start to bulk up around him and usually this was when they wised up to his feeder ways and dumped him. He didn’t seem to care, and I always loved that about him. I definitely didn’t share his tastes, but I respected his unabashed commitment to them all the same.

And it seemed to be working out for him! After all, it was his love of big men that had led him to start the plus size agency that was now getting him contracts all over the world.

“Oh my god!” Max said, nearly spitting out his beer as a memory seemed to hit him like a truck. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you!” He was laughing hysterically and I pressed him urgently for more details. Max was a great storyteller and I found myself eager to hear his tale.

“A few years ago, I was approached by this dude,” he started. I nodded. “He was young, super handsome and charismatic like no one else! He told me you’d sent him.” I paused, knowing instantly that he was talking about Tristan, though I didn’t let on. I wanted to see where this was going.

“He said he was interested in some modelling with me. I told him, ‘look man, you’re gorgeous and you’ve got it, but you’re not exactly plus size’…” He took another swig of his beer. “He was like 200lbs at most. At most!”

I laughed along. “Haha, yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t really know where else to send him. He was too fat for us, but clearly not fat enough for you!” I took a sip of my drink, feeling a little bad for leading Tristan towards more rejection.

“Not then he wasn’t!” laughed Max. I didn’t like the tone in his voice… it was… mischievous. He was relishing in this story. “But I bumped into him a couple of years later at a chub event downtown. I didn’t recognise him at first but he came right over and introduced himself… all 350lbs of him!”

“No fucking way!” My mouth dropped to the floor as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, trying to imagine how big a 350lb person would look… How big a 350lb Tristan would look! That more way more than twice the size he’d been at uni.

“Yes way, he was just in a jock strap and a leather harness, shaking and jiggling all over the dance floor. There was no hiding it. He wasn’t the fattest person there by a long shot - a couple of guys were almost twice as big as him - but everyone in the joint wanted to fuck him.” He sat back and smiled smugly, looking very pleased with himself.

I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” he said, a big grin on his face. “And it was great. Like really great. Man, I had to fucking work for it though. He asked if we could stop for something to eat on the way back to my place - and we did, three times!” He clearly found the story hilarious. “I paid for the lot… Worth it though!”

I was in shock, no longer finding it funny but trying my best to play along. I couldn’t believe that had happened. Maybe Max was just exaggerating. 350lbs? Surely not…

“So, did you end up signing him?” I asked.

“Nah,” said Max, looking a little solemn before finishing his drink. “When I woke up the next day, he’d vanished without a trace and I never saw him again…”

I was about to interject, to empathise for Max, and to tell him how shitty that was, but Max held up a hand to stop me. He wasn’t finished. That big grin had returned to his face and he fished his phone from his pocket.

“I never saw him again until last week…” he said, quickly navigating his home screen to pull up one of his fetish community apps. It didn’t phase me - like I said, Max had always been very open about this stuff.

“I was swiping through the other day when I saw this prize-winning pig…” he was practically giggling as he showed me the phone screen. It was a video, captioned with just two words: “Almost 500lbs”, with a pig nose emoji for emphasis. In the video, an absolutely enormous man was wearing a far too tight black half-zip sweater over a black t-shirt. He was standing close to the camera, with his head cut off by the frame. The strained clothes clung tightly to every curve, roll and fold on his fat frame: his giant tits threatened to burst out of the sweater (the zip of which would never fasten around his fat neck), while about 20cm of pure fat belly hung out the bottom, his gluttony on full view.

Why was Max showing me this? There was nothing to suggest this was Tristan. I became increasingly convinced that this was a practical joke. There was no way that someone who used to look like Tristan now looked like… this.

But then, the whale in the video took a few steps backwards as he jiggled his huge gut for the camera, and his fat face came into view. My world stopped for a moment: it was Tristan, no doubt about it.

Had I seen this veritable blob in the street, I would never have recognised him as my old friend. But I had been primed to see him, and see him I did: even though his sharp and boyish features were now buried under blubbery cheeks, there was no mistaking the charismatic allure of those eyes, which now seemed small and beady in his fat face. All the movement in his gut caused a loud burp to erupt from his mouth, and the smile that followed it as he looked upon his body with appreciation was unmistakably his. Even when being absolutely disgusting, something about Tristan was still so confident, so irresistible… he was magnetic.

“These are the clothes I was wearing when we first met back up,” he said to someone off screen, who chucked back. I recognised that laugh… “Can you believe that was only a year ago?”

“No,” came the familiar voice, as two arms entered the frame and began to pull off Tristan’s clothes, revealing his flabby body in all its perverted glory. The arms and voice belonged to someone older than Tristan by about 15 years. They were reasonably toned and thick with hair, and the strong-looking hands took big handfuls of Tristan’s tits and flesh, shaking it and making his whole body wobble. Then the anonymous figure moved into the screen, kissing Tristan on his big, fat cheek.

I almost dropped Max’s phone and had to do a double take. Was that our fucking professor?! He looked a little older than I remembered him, which was natural, but I was sure it was him.

“…but you’re nearly 100lbs bigger since then, so that’s not surprising,” he said seductively, bringing a cream filled bun up to Tristan’s lips. His mouth opened dutifully and made short work of the pastry, which got swallowed down into his giant gut.

“And why do you think that is?” huffed Tristan, rubbing his belly and stifling another burp. He looked so cocky and sure of himself… more than that, he looked like he was worshipping himself.

“Because,” said our old professor. “You’re a spoiled piggy who gets whatever he wants.”

[fortunapre]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+, swearing, mediocre writing, use of Y/n

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene ii) 1.7k

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 thanks for reading and sticking with me, as i’m writing this in listening to christmas songs. is that pathetic? ❄️ 𝐏.𝐒 i got the chess idea from Nicole’s interview on the Red Flags Podcast. Honestly, Oscar gives such chess-prodigy vibes.

Go back? (Scene i) click here

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene ii 𖧞 (𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

Tuesday, December 11th

I woke up with my pillow on the floor and my blanket halfway off the end of my bed. I was a mess, but last night was easily the best sleep I’d gotten all year.

Last night, after a delicious dinner made by Nicole Piastri, I went straight to my room and cuddled up with a book. Granted, I never got past page 1 because I fell asleep immediately. The heat of my blanket against the cold and the hot tea I had made had me nodding off and slipping into a dream within seconds.

Now that I’m awake, I barely remember falling asleep or the dream I had. As a matter of fact, it took me a few seconds to even remember where I was.

After fixing my bed, I took my half empty cup of tea and walked downstairs to the kitchen to get a new cup but was instead met with a wall of muscle. This made me spill my day-old tea on whoever was in front of me and made me so surprised that I almost fell, if it wasn’t for the arms of said wall, holding me still. Once I gained my balance I looked at who I bumped into, fully ready to start apologizing.

“What, is this your first time with legs? Why do you keep walking into me?” I then realized I’d ran into the one person I was hoping to avoid.

“Shut up, Oscar. You’re the one walking into me. Maybe use your eyes for once.” I retorted, walking past him while shoving his shoulder. Oscar turned around, tongue in his cheek, obviously annoyed. Good.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, following me into the kitchen. “I guess it’s also my fault I now have peppermint tea all over me, yeah?”

I just then realized the big wet patch on the front of his white tee, clinging to his chest. It took a lot of effort to look away from the outline of his muscles thanks to the shirt now sticking to his abs. Gross, I tried to convince myself.

Once I moved my eyes from his abs to his face I saw his expression. His eyebrows were raised and a smirk played on his lips. I just rolled my eyes and turned towards the sink to rinse out my mug. “Might as well have been your fault, you're the one standing in the middle of the walkway.”

He just rubbed his eyes out of annoyance and opened the fridge, giving up on the argument. I just ignored his presence and began making more tea, the smell of peppermint filling the kitchen.

The parents walked into the main room, all dressed and looking like they were planning on leaving.

“Are you guys going somewhere?” My brother asked from the stairs. Him and my sister looked like they just woke up and stood on the staircase.

“Yeah, me and your mom are heading into town with the Piastris. Did you guys want to come with me?” My dad answered. The twins excitedly ran back upstairs to get dressed, meanwhile I just shook my head, not wanting to go anywhere.

“No,” I answered. “I think I’ll just stay back and read or something.” I smiled at my parents hoping they’d understand.

“Oh, are you sure-” my mom began but Nicole stopped her.

“Oh, let her stay, mate. She’s obviously tired.” Nicole took my side. “Besides, her and Oscar can spend some time together. I doubt he wants to go shopping, huh?”

My eyes widened at this and looked between Oscar and his mom.

“Ok, hon.” my mom said, wrapping a scarf around her shoulders. “We’ll be back in a bit.” But I was still caught on having to stay home with Oscar.

“Wait. I didn’t mean-” I tried, but was interrupted.

“Alright, have fun guys.” Oscar quickly cut me off, with a smile to the group of adults. My eyebrows furrowed at Oscar’s words and his seeming nonchalance at having to stay home with me. I was staring at the side of his face, hoping he’d look at me because what the fuck. The twins raced down to the door in seconds, bundled in winter coats.

As the group left out the door Oscar turned his head and spoke so that only I could hear him. “Relax. The cabin’s big, stay out of my line of vision and we won't have a problem.”

Later that day, the rest were still gone, longer than I had thought. I was in the main room, on the couch, cuddled in a blanket, watching a random show on cable. It was insanely boring and as the couple on screen started making out under mistletoe, I went on my phone. Jeez, how long is this scene? I looked up and the two were still lip-locked.

From behind me, I heard Oscar walk out of his room, downstairs and stop right behind me on the couch. When I looked up he had a grimace on his face, watching the romantic scene on the television.

“What in the world are you watching? Christmas porn?” He joked, looking down at me. I just rolled my eyes at him and grabbed the remote, turning the tv off. “You keep rolling your eyes, they’re gonna get stuck.”

I almost rolled my eyes again but decided against it. “What do you want?” I asked sharply, wanting him to leave. “What happened to ‘stay out of my line of vision’?” I said, craning my neck to look up at him above me. He just smirked and stared at me.

“Nothing,” he finally replied, “I just was bored.”

“Yeah, well. Go be bored somewhere else.”

“You know you have to be around me all month, right?” He walked around the couch and jumped on the couch, stretching his legs over my lap. I shoved him off, making him almost fall off the couch but he caught himself. I looked at him and saw he had changed. Instead of a tea-soaked shirt, he was now sporting a black hoodie and gray sweats. The hoodie sleeves were pushed up, showing his forearms. On top of an outfit change he must have also taken a shower, given his hair was a bit damp, clinging to his forehead.

“Whatever,” I said finally. “It doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.” When he didn’t say anything I looked away from his outfit and to his face. His eyes were on my legs, eyebrows furrowed. Only then did I realize my blanket had moved, showcasing my comfy, yet small, pajama shorts. I warmed at his stare and quickly covered back up with my blanket.

He shook his head like he was trying to shake the image out of his mind. My cheeks were definitely red, but I ignored it, going back to my phone. Minutes later, oscar was still in the same spot and when his silence got unbearable, I looked up from my phone at him.

“Well?” I asked. He broke his gaze from the floor, looking at me. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s play a game.” he finally spoke. His voice had somehow dropped a bit lower and his eyes were boring into mine. “I’m bored.” He added.

“What?”I was confused. “What game?” I was fully expecting him to answer with a video game or monopoly but he surprised me.

“Chess.”

“Chess? Do you even know how to play?” My eyebrows shot up, as I asked him.

“Of course I know how to play.” His voice was still deep, and he still held his stare. I shivered under his gaze.

“Ok. Let's play.” I answered quieter than I expected. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

We sat on the floor, the chess board between us and I left the blanket on the couch, having gotten too warm. Oscar had let me be the white pieces, because ‘I'll need all the help I can get,’ according to him.

As I was about to move the first Pawn, Oscar stopped my hand. Right when he touched my hand to stop my movement, he immediately took it back and ran it through his hair.

“What?” I asked, confused. “I know how to play…”

“Yeah. I know you know how to play it’s just that…” he began. His hair was all messed up from running his hand through it. And damn if it didn’t look good. I never considered it fully, but in the back of my mind, I’ve always been aware of Oscar’s attractiveness. He’s a racing driver, he’s got to stay in shape and all that, so obviously he was… well. He was definitely in shape. And his brown hair and brown eyes were a nice pairing to his sharp jawline. I was in deep thought, mulling over Oscar’s looks, when a hand waved in front of my face.

Oscar was waving his hand in front of my eyes, breaking my trance. Instead of bringing up the fact that I was so obviously checking him out, he just held that god-awful smirk and motioned to the chess board. My cheeks grew warm, yet again.

“Did you hear me at all?” He asked, the corner of his lips tugged upwards, having caught my stare.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah, you said you wanted to do something else, but didn’t you just say you wanted to play this?” I asked. “We just got it set up, what are you changing your mind about?”

“No. no, no. That’s not what I meant. I meant, like, we should add a twist.” He replied.

“What, like strip-chess,” I teased. His smirk dropped and he grimaced.

“What? No! I meant we should ask the other person a question after every move.” Oscar said, surprising me.

“Um,” I thought about it. Why would he want that? I don’t have anything to ask. I thought to myself about possible questions he would want to ask. “Sure, why not.” He smiled at my agreement and rubbed his hands together like he was getting ready.

“Alright then, Y/N.” he said, “let’s play.”

(SCENE iii) click here!

pinterest-piece 𖧞 ��𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬

[manofbeskar]

i’m so obsessed with mishanks because they’re so opposite and will fight and divorce, but there’s nobody they know better than each other. they are yin and yang. they share a birthday. shanks is probably the only person who can convince mihawk to party spontaneously because he knows shanks enjoys it. mihawk is probably the only person shanks would set aside his pacifism for to fight because he knows mihawk enjoys it. red hair and black hair, black coats and capes that are red inside.

i’m also obsessed with how mihawk, someone so isolationist and cold, loves shanks. if he sees shanks on the opposite side of a war, he is no longer in that war. in fact, the rest of you should quit, too. i don’t remember the face of every insect i crush, but i remember the name of the little boy he told me about once a decade ago. he’s a pacifist but i make the trip to duel him every single day because i know he’ll humour me. i don’t try to lay a mark on him because i want to come back tomorrow—he doesn’t try to lay a mark on me because he wants me to come back tomorrow. i will cross the grand line with a poster of this kid if it will make him smile. yes, he would have seen this anyway, but i want to see him smile. in fact, i’ll just keep staying out of this kid’s way because that’s what shanks wants. i have been looking for someone who excites me more than him, and i have failed. there is nobody who excites me more than him. i have his vivre card so i always know where to find him; he will welcome me if i arrive; he will invite me to drink horrible ale from his cup and i will accept because he likes ale and it tastes like him; if i am ever without a home, i tear a corner of his vivre card and know that home is there.

don’t even fucking talk to me about the way shanks loves mihawk. openly passionate and unashamedly loving shanks. yes i know mihawk is not that kind of guy and that’s ok. i can be affectionate for the both of us. if he ever decides he doesn’t want to be alone, i will be there with a shitty drink. it’s not red wine but i know he’ll drink it anyway because it’s my cup. i hate fighting but if he enjoys it, then i’ll entertain him. at least i get to spend time with him every day. i think i’ve told him everything about myself by now; he still remembers the name of that kid i saved a decade ago; he remembers which of my hands was my dominant one; he remembers all my favourite spots. i gave him my vivre card because i know he’d never use it to harm me; i know if he arrives that our fight will be fun; i know if he arrives that he is looking for me. if he is looking for me, i will welcome him home. is he a moody guy who could lighten up every once in a while? sure. i’d love to see him smile more; i know he likes seeing me smile—he came all this way to bring me the poster of a boy i mentioned to him once a decade ago. he is cold and i know he loves me, because we’ve been divorced and he crossed the grand line to see me because he saw my hat. he doesn’t need to tell me he loves me because he wouldn’t make all that effort for a poster if he didn’t.

mishanks is so!!! i think you’re the most insufferable person ever but you’re so fucking exciting. you’re nothing like me but there’s nobody i know better. i don’t understand you but i love the way you think. i hate this thing you did a week ago and i’m divorcing you for it, but if you showed up right now, i’d forgive you. it was stupid anyway. even if we’re fighting, please look for me if you need me. i’ll welcome you. it was stupid anyway. we can go a few months, even years, without meeting, but if i see something that reminds me of you, i have to come see you. i haven’t seen you in a year. i think about you on our birthday. there’s nobody i understand and misunderstand more. i wish you told me you loved me more often. i wish you gave me more space. we fought every single day but i had no desire to defeat you. i am happy to be your equal. it was stupid anyway. come home. i’ll be here.

[the-karma-cafe]

Medium honor Arthur picks up character but it’s for a crime she didn’t do! Oh and outdoorsy love stuff

a/n: omg ok i dont know what you mean by outdoorsy love stuff is that SEX or is that FLUFF (im giving you both) thank you for the request !!

warnings: DID NOT PROOFREAD, sex (hell no !!!), spanking, he's a little mean but not really (as medium honor usually goes), mildly dubious consent

Warm | Arthur Morgan

It was the age-old story of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I discovered Mrs. Braithwaite on the floor一thick, wine-red blood pooled beneath her chest一I’d barely had a second to react before one of her sons screamed, tackling me to the ground. His fingers were bruising against my arms, shaking me, asking what the fuck was the matter with me, telling me I’d fucking swing for this. 

I don’t even remember how I got away from him, slamming something into his skull and breaking free from that iron grip, leaping off the balcony without a second thought.

It was only miles away on one of their prized horses did it finally hit me that whatever case I’d had to defend myself with was long gone. I wouldn’t be able to show my face in Rhodes again一or really anywhere else一with a high-profile family like the Braithwaites on my ass.

I kept riding further north, hoping to put as much distance between me and that damn corpse as possible. Of all the people, it had to be her, and it had to be me. 

By the time I reached Valentine, I’d felt more sorry for myself than I had in a long time. Thanked my lucky stars I always kept my money on me and bought some supplies there to… well, live on the lam, I supposed. 

But for the first couple nights, I moped. Stayed in the saloon every morning and the hotel every night一not much else to do in a livestock town. 

When I felt a bit better, I sold the Braithwaite horse. It was big and proud and all sorts of attention-grabbing. I bought a different one一drab and small, but fast. 

Sooner than I thought, the news had travelled. A new bounty poster was slapped right on the wooden post outside the saloon, my sketchy reflection glaring back at me. MURDEROUS MAID. 

I pursed my lips. They could’ve spared me the alliteration.

Tore it down, stuffed it in my bag, and left town. Wouldn’t take long for a small town like Valentine to put two and two together. 

The bounty was nothing to sneeze at. I was almost flattered. Wanted alive, $500. I figured it’d take a lot to deter bounty hunters from $500, so I took to the mountains. It was likely just a matter of time, but by god was I going to make them work for it.

Now, here I was, having found some barn to hole up in, next to the remains of a torched homestead (I’d briefly picked through it and rescued a dented can of peaches and a lock box holding some fancy necklace). Would’ve preferred the house, but shelter was shelter. Peaches (affectionately named after said can) seemed to like it in here, at least.

“You want one, boy?” I held one out to where he sat a foot or so away from me. For only having just met me, he was a sweet horse, resting his head on my lap while I slept, following me around while I hunted (although I quickly found he loved to scare off game, and it took a lot of convincing to get him to just stay put, goddammit).

Peaches leaned his big head forward and sniffed at the proffered fruit. To my surprise, he snorted and turned away from it, flicking back his ears and giving me a severe side-eye. “What!” I laughed, bringing it back away from him. “Now you tell me.”

He huffed out of his nose, like it should have been quite obvious, thank you very much. I giggled and continued to eat, idly watching the flame flicker in one of the lanterns hung from the ceiling. 

I eventually drifted off to sleep, still not any closer to figuring out my future than I was a month ago.

The next morning, I ventured back into the wilderness to hunt. So far, I’d been a bit less successful than I’d hoped, but I had done well enough for myself. 

I breathed out slowly, my arm steadily following the movements of a buck a couple yards away. My breath puffed out white in front of me, warming my nose. This was the closest I’d ever gotten to game this big.

The buck lowered its head, nosing past the snow to the damp grass below. I kept my arrow aimed above, where I knew its head would return. A breath in. C’mon…

It raised its head, staring off to its right somewhere, and I stretched back the string, my grip still a bit wobbly against its force. Another breath out. 

A whisk of air whooshed over me, and I startled, releasing my grip on the arrow. It flew a couple feet away before planting headfirst into the snow. Something forcibly tightened around my torso, crushing my arms against my sides. What the hell?! I yelped in surprise and wobbled from my perch, falling backwards.

My head dented the snow behind me, sending it down my collar and into my hair, freezing my neck and ears. “Ahh!” I struggled against the coil around me, simultaneously flinching away from the cold now assaulting my warm skin.

Footsteps crunched over to me, and an upside-down face and chest soon came into view. He looked down at me with a pleased expression on his face, or at least it seemed like it, it was hard to tell behind that high collar and tipped hat. 

He rounded to my front and his gloved hands yanked at the rope, pulling me slightly up from the snow to face him better. He squinted at my face, now surely pinkened from the snow I could still see on my lashes. His chest rumbled with approval, and he nodded, more to himself than me. “Thought so.”

“What?” I exhaled, staring up at him dumbly. 

He cracked a smile, and this time I could tell. “The murderous maid, I take it?” 

My blood ran cold. Oh, fuck. I had almost forgotten, tucked away in this silent, snowy haven. 

Apparently my expression was all it took to confirm things for him. His smile turned to a smirk and he tugged at the rope, bringing me up to stand. I instinctively pushed away from him, but he held me firmly to him, his arms thick and strong (my god this man was big). He looped the rope around me again before tying it securely at my front. 

Then, he promptly threw me over his shoulder and began to walk. 

“Let me go!!” I thrashed from my perch, kicking at him. 

He growled and tightened his grip on my thighs. “Kick me again and I'll make you regret it, girl.”

A fearful whimper slipped past my lips and I stilled. 

“That’s what I thought,” he grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen. 

He whistled, loud and sharp, and I heard the familiar sound of hooves approaching. The image of Peaches by himself in the barn flitted through my head.

“Um, mister?” I whispered, my tone timid and polite. The tone I used to use with the Braithwaites. 

He heaved a sigh, annoyed with me. “What.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to anger him further. “My… my horse. He’s in a barn nearby, I don’t want him to be stuck up here all by himself.”

He didn’t respond to that. I grimaced. If I’d kept the Braithwaite horse at least he would’ve saved it to sell it一Peaches was likely barely worth the walk to a man like him.

His horse slowed to a stop nearby, and the man none-too-gently threw me over its back. I winced, feeling its butt dig into my stomach. 

The bounty hunter made quick work of me, tying my legs together and then securing me to his horse. He patted my thigh, “Comfy?” I could almost hear the smug look on his face.

“More ’n ever.” I grumbled, mostly to myself. He barked a laugh and pulled away from me, leaving me cold. He mounted up on his horse and began to ride.

I couldn’t see much from my “seat,” but I began to vaguely recognize the path he followed.

“Are you…” I started, my voice quiet. I turned my head to look up at him, and raised my voice. “Are you goin’ back for him?”

He didn’t answer, and made no move to indicate he had even heard me. 

Not wanting to push my luck (or Peaches’), I stayed quiet.

Sure enough, we reached that barn and he dismounted. When he returned, Peaches was in tow, neighing happily when he saw me.

I laughed brightly despite the situation. “Hey, boy!!” The bounty hunter released his reins and Peaches bounded up to me, nuzzling and snorting into my hair wetly. I giggled and tried to move my head away. “Oh my god, Peaches, gross.”

“Peaches?” the man echoed, a note of disbelief coloring his tone.

I turned and smiled up at him. “What?”

He shook his head, gesturing to the horse. “Ain’t he a boah?”

“So?” 

He snorted, but didn’t answer me, instead mounting back up on his horse. My smile faded from my face as we continued. My last days of freedom.

I stayed quiet as we rode, figuring that was the best way to get on his good side (I didn’t need to get smacked for yapping). The horse’s gait made me feel sick enough that I didn’t want to, anyway, its back poking into me, alternating between every corner of my stomach with each step.

Eventually, the snow began to taper off down the path, though a chill still hung in the air. I shivered, the back of my jacket still wet and cold against my neck. The sky was beginning to darken, subtly and colorlessly as winter skies often did. 

Wordlessly, the bounty hunter turned us off the path and into the trees, likely seeking some spot to set up camp for the night. Peaches followed dutifully behind us, although he seemed to have sobered a bit, as if sensing my discomfort. 

He must have found a spot he liked, as he dismounted and reached by my side for his tent and bedroll. He pulled them off and got to work setting everything up. 

I felt my eyelids droop, my body finally able to relax with the horse stopped. 

Not ten minutes later, I was jolted awake by hands grabbing me off of the horse and hoisting me up. I made a small noise of surprise in my throat, feeling him drop me back onto his shoulder, carrying me over to his makeshift camp. Truthfully, I had thought he’d just leave me on his horse for the night. 

I wasn’t sure if this was better or worse.

The bounty hunter dropped me to the ground by the fire, and I huffed, adjusting myself to sit upright. The warmth wafting off of it confirmed that this was definitely better than being stuck on that horse all night. I leaned closer to it, and made to bring my hands up, but was cruelly reminded of the ropes keeping them by my sides. I heaved a sigh.

A bottle appeared in my vision. I blinked down at it in confusion, before looking up at the man who held it. “Whiskey?” I prompted.

“If there’s any time to drink, it’d be now.” He nudged the lip of the bottle closer to my mouth.

I held his gaze for a moment longer before turning to it. “…Can’t argue with that.” I pressed my lips against it. He lightly tipped the bottle, letting a good mouthful flow past my lips. I choked it down, then another, then another, then another, before finally wrenching my face from it, coughing. “Jesus!”

He laughed, corking it and tucking it into his satchel. He knelt down behind me and I felt a pressure on the ropes before they snapped away. I brought my arms forward slowly, rubbing my hands over them. He stood and rounded the fire, plopping down on the other side of it. I looked up at him in confusion.

He grinned. “Gave you enough whiskey that even if you try to hop away,” He paused, his grin turning wolfish, “You won’t get far.” He stretched out languidly, finally allowing himself to relax. 

Heat crept up my neck, flustered at his reasoning. “You just get all your bounties drunk?” I spluttered.

He shrugged.

I huffed, holding out my hands towards the fire to warm them. “Creep.”

“I ain’t the one goin’ around killin’ old ladies.” He retorted.

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. “I didn’t kill her!” 

“Sure sounds like you did.”

I raked my hand through my hair. “Why the hell would I kill the woman payin’ me to live?” I met his gaze again. 

He didn’t seem very sympathetic. Another shrug. “Lots of people wanna kill their boss.”

“Not me!”

He snorted. “I’m shoah.”

I shook my head at the fire, deflating. “I had it made working for her. Easy work, good pay, didn’t really have to talk to anyone, and,” I shrugged my shoulders, “best part of having a lady boss is she won’t let the men get away with being terrible to you.”

He stayed quiet, and I felt myself ramble more, “I mean, sure, she was a miserable old hag, mean ’n sour, but as long as you stayed out of her way and did your job, she was cordial enough.” The image of her on the ground flicked through my mind. “Shit.” I pressed my palms into my eyes, wiling them to cast it from my brain. “Can’t believe this is how it ends.”

The drink began to encroach further into my head, making my thoughts hazy. I cursed again under my breath, the reality of the situation truly, truly, settling in. This was it for me. Swinging from a rope for a crime I didn’t commit. 

“You really didn’t do it.” 

I scoffed, not meeting his eyes. “Been sayin’ that, haven’t I?”

“…That you have.” 

Silence fell between us once more, each left with our thoughts. It felt nice to be believed by at least one person before the end. 

A gust of wind blew by, and I shivered, reminded of the wet coat I was still shrouded in. I glanced over the fire at the bounty hunter, but he didn’t look up, eyes hidden under his hat.

“...Mister?”

He raised his head, and that piercing gaze met mine. I faltered, almost losing my voice to it.  

He heaved a great sigh. “…Arthur.”

“What?”

He sighed, raising his hat momentarily to rake a hand through his hair before placing it back down again. “Call me Arthur.”

I smiled softly in spite of myself. “Okay.”

“…And what did you need?” Arthur prompted, as I had already forgotten. Perhaps he was right about that whiskey.

I rubbed my hands on my arms. “Do you have any… drier clothes I could wear?”

He nodded, pushing up from the ground. I watched him make his way over to his saddlebag, watched him rifle through it for something dry. 

It had to be the whiskey. Or that he was the first to believe me. Or that he was really the first person I’d seen in weeks.

His back was just so… broad. My eyes followed how the muscles underneath his shirt moved, following his arms’ movements. My mind helpfully supplied how one of those big arms felt wrapped around my thighs, how that big hand felt patting my thigh, so close to…

He turned around, and I forcefully muted my thoughts, spreading a polite smile on my face. He made his way back to me, some bunched up garment in hand. I began to shrug off my coat, struggling with it as it snagged on my undershirt and held tight to my shoulders. 

Arthur watched me try to figure it out, but eventually I just gave up, so fatigued from the day that I just didn’t care anymore. He chuckled, kneeling down next to me. “Outsmart you, did it?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I’ll deal with it in a second,” I offered a small smile, “Thank you.” 

“I got it,” he said, and at first I wasn’t sure what he meant. He dropped the coat in his hand and moved in front of me. I watched him wordlessly, suddenly feeling very tired of talking anyway. 

Arthur’s eyes met my own for a moment, searching my face. Whatever he found there, he seemed satisfied with, and he moved his hands to the buttons of my jacket. He started from the top, unbuttoning each at an impossibly slow pace, or at least it felt like it.

He smoothed his hands up to my shoulders, and gently pushed off each sleeve, taking out my arms. I shivered again, my skin now freshly exposed to the cold. I spied the slightest twitch of his lips. He reached around me, his body hovering slightly above mine, his neck an inch from my lips. I felt myself lean forward, my nose brushing up against him. His hands pulled the rest of my coat off from behind me, and he sat back, bunching it into a ball. He then took his dry coat and pulled it over me in its place, rubbing his hands slightly up and down my arms. “There,” he said, and rested back on his heels again. 

I blinked up at him, my lips slightly parted. His face softened, his lips pulling down into a teasing smile. He reached out and cupped my cheek, and I leaned into it almost immediately, not caring enough to be embarrassed by it. So big and warm. “Lookit you…” he cooed, his thumb stroking my skin. “Feelin’ that drink already?”

I hummed noncommittally, too focused on the newfound warmth from his jacket around me and his hand on my cheek. 

Arthur huffed a quiet laugh, “Guess that’s a yes.”

He stood, dropping his hand from my cheek, and my head dropped slightly. I sighed, snuggling into his jacket to make up for it. It wasn’t the same. 

“‘M still cold.” I complained.

“Yer insatiable.” He said, but knelt back down again nonetheless. I raised my head to meet his gaze. He thinned his lips. “Don’t think I’ve ever had such a whiny bounty.”

“Sorry, Arthur.” I mumbled, looking over at his tent longingly. It wasn’t my barn, but it would give at least some protection from this wind, as opposed to sleeping out here. 

Before I could ask about it, air whooshed beneath me, and I yelped in surprise. Arthur had hoisted me up into his arms, and began to carry me to his tent. My eyes widened slightly. “A..Arthur?” I whispered, subconsciously snuggling into his chest. He was so strong, it was like I weighed nothing to him.

“You’ll just whine all night if I don’t let you stay in here.” He explained, ducking past the flaps to drop me down on the bedroll. He was probably right about that. Or maybe this was just another way of making sure I didn’t escape while he slept.

I rolled under the cover, snuggling into it as far as I could. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of him, so much stronger here than on his jacket. My eyelids fluttered closed. 

I felt him sigh and enter the bedroll next to me. It was a tight fit, Arthur pressed against my back to keep any amount of cover atop him. His hand rested on my hip, heavy and possessive. “Warmer?” He whispered, his breath tickling my ear. He was so close.

“Mm-hm,” I hummed, my voice barely coming out. 

I thought that was it, but then…

His voice dropped lower, quieter. “…You sure?” 

A shiver ran through me. What? His hand squeezed my hip lightly, pulling me closer into him. His breath ghosted past my ear, against my neck. Was he…?

I exhaled shakily, some deep part of my whiskey-addled brain telling me that this was my chance. That if there was anything that would convince this man to let me go…

Lightly, I pressed back into him, sighing when I felt his hand smooth to the top of my thigh. “Could use a bit more,” I murmured.

It was all the prompting Arthur needed. Hot lips pressed against my neck, his hand insistent on molding my ass against the hard line in his pants. My breath hitched in surprise, and I felt myself rock back against him before I could think. He cursed under his breath, dragging his hand forward and between my thighs. I attempted to part my legs, allow him better access, but was met with resistance. 

Oh, right. The rope. 

He laughed behind me, smoothing his hand back to grab my ass instead. I squeaked in surprise, feeling him push me onto my stomach. “Don’t think you’re gettin’ out of those anytime soon,” he promised. I flushed at that.

Arthur yanked me back, forcing my ass into the air. I felt his hands palm me, smoothing circles into my pants. “Looks even better like this,” he muttered, and I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or himself. 

Before I could respond, he reached around and unclasped my pants (much faster than my jacket), pulling down at the sides just enough. The rope bound me mid-thigh, so he could only get my pants down so far. A cool breeze blew past the tent, and I felt a bit of it ghost against me. My face reddened, feeling all at once how wet I was. Really? I felt surprised at myself.

I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together. “Arthur, are-“

A slap to my ass silenced me. I squeaked and jolted forward, the heat in my face increasing tenfold. “Dealt with enough of yer whinin’ for one night.” He bit, soothing his hand over where he slapped. 

I exhaled, burying my face deeper into the bedroll, feeling my hips sway against his hand, begging for more. 

His hands smoothed down my ass, reaching down to squeeze my thighs apart, to better see me, see how wet I already was for him. I hoped he couldn’t see. It was bad enough to have him feel- 

“A-Ah…” my breath hitched, feeling his thumb drag down through my folds. 

He hissed, sliding the pad of his thumb against my clit. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re soakin’,” 

I squirmed against his touch, trying not to moan, unsure if I’d be punished again for it. He pushed his thumb back up, pressing it inside of me, and I felt myself try to part my legs again, to feel more of him, deeper, and almost cried in frustration when I couldn’t. 

I heard him chuckle again behind me. “Aww, I’ll take care of you, darlin’, don’ worry,” he said, moving his thumb out to trace back down to my clit, pushing another finger inside of me in its stead. I muffled my moan into the pillow. 

Arthur continued working at me, circling my clit with those deft, rough fingers of his, slowly pushing in and out of me. I pushed back against him, desperately trying to feel more, but every time he just shoved me right back where I was before, keeping up his torturous pace.

All at once, he pulled away, and I whined. Another slap to my ass as a result, and I let out a muffled groan, feeling my eyes roll back. “What’d I say about whinin’?” He admonished.

I wiggled my hips back, hearing him undo his own pants. Please, please, please. He was all I could think about, my legs desperately trying to separate, to take in more, more, more. 

I almost wept when I felt him nudge against me, coating himself in the wetness he’d created. I pushed back, trying to take him in, knowing if I angled it right he wouldn’t even need to help me. His hand kept my ass steady, soothing circles onto it. “So needy…” he mocked, smoothing his hand down to my hips, to my waist, squeezing there. 

Slowly, god, so slowly, he pushed into me, forcing me open around him. I moaned obscenely, unable to keep it back anymore. He didn’t seem to care this time, letting out a low curse of his own under his breath. Almost there, almost there… and he thrust into me, making me gasp at the sudden movement. 

He pulled back and rammed back in, setting a bruising pace. I pushed back into him with each thrust, the ropes cutting into my thighs with how I fought against them, trying to take in as much of him as possible each time. 

His hands gripped the tops of my thighs and part of my ass like a handle, using me like some kind of toy. “God-damn,” his voice came out staccato, matching his movements, “you’re so fuckin’.. tight.. for me…”

I whimpered, arching back, so lost in pleasure that I truly didn’t care what he did to me. He could have whatever he wanted, as far as I was concerned. 

Drool dribbled out of my mouth, wetting his pillow. I felt limp under him, only kept upright by those rough hands of his.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his movements becoming less regular, more frantic. He swore again before pulling out of me, spending onto my ass and back. 

We stayed like that for a moment or two, catching our breath, before he swiped off my back with something and collapsed next to me. 

I flopped onto my side to face him, my legs still bound together. “Thank you, Arthur,” I whispered, “I’m much warmer now.”

Arthur snorted, snaking his arm around me to pull me to his chest. “My pleasure.”

-

The next morning I awoke alone in his tent, hearing him shuffle around outside. I blinked blearily, reaching up to rub the crust from my eyes. I yawned, laying onto my back, stretching my legs apart.

Wait. Stretching my legs apart?

I glanced down to visually confirm the sensation, finding my legs freed from the rope. I also noticed my pants had been pulled back up to cover me.

I sat up, peeking through the tent flaps. He sat at the fire, his back to me. Was he just letting me sleep comfortably before we left?

Despite the threat of death hanging over my head, I felt myself warm at the thought. This was a much sweeter awakening than I had expected.

Before I could think about escaping, or at least putting off our trip to the hangman, Arthur turned, as if sensing I was awake. "Mornin'," he greeted, his voice soft and low. I shrank a little under his gaze, and whispered a greeting back before creeping out from the tent. 

Once outside, I shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around me. Arthur grunted, beckoning to me. "C'mere,"

I obeyed, walking over to where he sat. He spread his legs, patting the ground between them. I blinked down at him blankly. 

He rolled his eyes and snatched at my hand, pulling me to the ground. I made a small noise of surprise, falling to sit between his legs. His arms and knees caged me in, bringing me back into his chest. This was so strange. 

But not unwelcome.

I snuggled back into him anyway, not about to turn my nose up at the last physical affection I'd ever receive. 

We stared into the fire for who knows how long. I almost didn't breathe, trying not to remind him that we had places to be. 

Arthur squeezed me lightly, propping his chin on my shoulder. "Y'can relax," he sighed, his accent thicker now, in the morning. "'M not bringin' y'in." 

What? My breath hitched, my heart beating faster. Was he serious? I turned in his hold slowly, craning my neck to look back at him. I didn't trust myself to speak.

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. 

"...Thank you," I said dumbly, breaking eye contact. Well, now what? 

Now, I certainly didn't want him to change his mind.

I turned a bit more in his hold to better face him, feeling his arms adjust around me. I smoothed my hands up his shirt and met his eyes again. He watched me carefully, suspiciously, like he was expecting some kind of attack. 

I moved slowly, not wanting to startle him, inching my face closer to his. I watched his eyes drop to my lips, his own parting in anticipation. I hadn't noticed before, but I seemed to have some sway over this bounty hunter, readily accepting whatever touch I offered him. 

I smiled softly at that, and closed the gap between us, gently pressing my lips to his. Warm. 

He melted the slightest amount, his shoulders sagging, his chest leaning closer to me. He was sweeter, now, in the morning. Softer, more patient. I slipped my hands up behind his neck, scratching lightly at the hair poking out from beneath his hat. He sighed into my mouth, his arms squeezing me closer to him. 

I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that, warm and close. When we broke apart, he cleared his throat, looking past me to not meet my eyes. "You..." his voice scratched out and he cleared his throat again, "Y'can stay with me, if you want. 'Till this whole thing blows over."

I had a sneaking suspicion it would be a long time yet. I nuzzled my nose against his jaw. Staying with him was safer than anything I would try on my own. "Thank you, Arthur."

He hummed. 

a/n: on a scale of 1-10 how terrible is it that i posted this from class NOT WROTE IN CLASS posted from

anyway teehee hope you enjoyed and also hope it wasnt obvious that i kinda had no idea where to go with this teehee im just a girl

(also posted on ao3 under same user)

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: 17 months “Sea legs”

“Did you really need to bring a recorder here? It's an aquarium hun. Do you really plan on interviewing yourself here?”

“It's not that, Abi. I just, with how bad my memory is, I want to make sure I have something to remember this moment.” 

“And you chose a recorder instead of a video camera because…?”

“I really want to eat the fish. This way I get to focus on your beautiful voice when I listen back.”

“...Gay.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it? Kiss me maybe?”

“Maybe later. Come on, I want to get to the underwater tunnel before it closes!”

“I know it's Hyper city, but it's really cool to see so many therians here. Back in Canada, I'm lucky if I see one in a week.”

“There's a lot of us, yeah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just a little sad is all… 

Ok ok, I’ll talk, stop making that face, haha It’s just that, yeah there are a lot of us around. Still feels like we never get treated properly. We’re either freaks or walking tourist spots. I know things will get better eventually, but it's. I really wish I could figure out how to shapeshift into a more convincing human.

“You spent how long on this medication and now you're trying to look human again?”

“It's just useful, that's all. Besides, it's not like I have the right to call myself otherkin… Ow! Don't flick me hun, my skin is sensitive, and you could lose a finger!”

“stop overthinking things. Enjoy your time here and if anyone calls you out, then I'll kick their ass.”

“Thanks, but please don't fight anyone for me. No offense, but you're not exactly capable of doing damage to people hun… ow, ok ok stop it, ah! Haha, cut it out!”

“I'm not gonna stop until you start treating yourself better. You're my mimic girlfriend! You get to decide what you are and no one gets to tell you otherwise. Also! You have a bunch of other people here who would defend you like… is that a werewolf over there? Next to the robot and… um.”

“Pretty sure that's a cyborg, and also that looks like a black arms member?”

“Wait, like the-

“Abi, we're currently having a date in an interdimensional dead end, looking at fish that do not exist in our universe, and I'm pretty sure that fish over there is a badnik. It's really not that strange.”

“That's… fair.. I guess… Hey hun, I'm gonna go grab some ice cream real quick.”

“We're half way through the tunnel already. You sure you want to go all the way back?”

“I'll be quick, just stay put.”

Bzzzt, crackle, Welcome to the wonderful world of Hyperquarium! Thank you for choosing us as the one and only place that can bring fish together from around the worlds in perfect harmony! If you look to our left, you'll see our trained feeder get a chance to show off those gills and show you what only a shark therian can do, he's a professional so don’t worry about being bitten kids. This therian knows how to take care of others. This is also a reminder not to touch the glass as you may spook our feeder.

“Ugh, great, just what I needed, feeling insulted over an intercom. Why does getting second hand insulted have to feel worse? I'm definitely cutting this part from the recor- OW, OH STARS, WATCH WHERE YOU'RE… slithering, um, miss, are you ok?”

“Oh- I’m so sssorry I didn’t mean to, I sswear! This tail just gets sso long by now it’s… difficult for me to control at times. I uh… You haven’t seen any other Lamias around by chance? Or some people in brown uniformss?”

“Uniforms? You’re not on the run or something right? And no, I haven’t seen any other Lamias around, You’re actually the first I’ve ever really had a chance to see. I kind of thought I’d see more with how popular you guys are. But seriously are you alright?... 

Is- is that a shock collar around you?”

“Well… Yes and no- Yes thisss is a shock collar… okay uh- we’re not suppossed to call them that uh… It’s a.. “behavioral correction device”... But yess it’s a shock collar. And no, I'm not on the run… quite the opposite actually… I had a bit of an episode and lost myself in some instincts when watching the fish… and the next thing I know my group is gone and I'm.. I’m not supposed to be away from the group and… if I don't get back soon I might be in a bit of… ah ssscrew it they’re gonna be mad at me anyway… “

“So then… I know a good hiding spot to watch the fish if you want to hide a bit longer. I mean, if that’s ok, and I won’t get in too much trouble, and you won’t get in too much trouble, and I think I’m stumbling over my words, You want to just go hang out in the jellyfish room? It’s pretty dark there and they don’t allow any kind of outside lights in there.”

“Y-yeah that sounds nice! Low lightss could help with that headache. Uhm, what’s your name if i may assk?”

“It's Mayday, and what about you? What's your name?”

“Ah my name-.. It’s uh… oh wait.. I…hmm…Right! Aria… I think. I… am still not sure if I should change it… it’s uh.. complicated.”

* * *

“The jellyfish are really cool, just floating around with not a care in the world. I guess I get why humans find them so boring, but I think they're just not seeing how nice it would be. You know?”

“I totally get what you mean. Just being able to be you… going with the flow of thingss.. Not a care in the world. But that’s just something that therians like us can fully understand… other than the other animals of coursse right?”

“I'm guessing you're past your own crossroads then, like me, based on your words at least. You wouldn't mind if I asked you some questions would you? It's a bit selfish to ask after dragging you here, but I need to know something.”

“Ah well-... i am still “crossssing” it… doc said it will go on for another month or three… maybe longer they are all very vague about this stuff. But sure, I can try to answer to the besst of my ability.”

“So, what do you think of those that don't take that next step? Like the ones that decide they want to stay human in some way, aren't they cheating or something. Like they got to have their cake and eat it too, isn't it a bit unfair? I mean, look at you, you're getting escorted around in a collar by guards, and then we- they get to walk around with not a care in the world.”

“I don’t think that it’ss cheating… It is my choice to go through with it… and in the end I will be what I alwayss wanted to be… fully in both mind and sspirit. This of course will come with quite a few burdens… I am already forgetting so much that I would have loved to remember… But I alsso gain so much more which is just hard to desscribe. All I can hope for is that I ssomehow end up remembering all the faces of the ones that helped me get sso far… or at least ssome other kind of connection.  Those that however stay human to ssome degree have their own struggless to live with. For some it’s never being able to fully control yourself, alwayss having that bit in them that shines through and reminds them that they are sstill “incomplete” which can be a lot on their mind. In the end we all go our own ways, face our own struggless. No sside has it any easier I think than the other, it’s just… different, and you have to choose for yourself which sstruggles you want to deal with in the end. What you yourself think you are able to handle better. For me it was that I was just afraid that I couldn't control the animalistic sside of myself… I could just not live in this sstate i was in, i wanted to fully become me, hoping that it will set me free of the fearsss and anguish that my humanity brings me. But I know what it can cosst me… what it already has… still I weighed my options and decided that this is the best option for myself.  But if you think that where you are now is what is the best option for you, then no one should hold it against you, not even yourself… Does that make ssense?

“Wow, call me out huh. I guess I'm not as good at hiding these sorts of things as I thought. I technically went too far before I lightened my dosage. It left me, broken. Things don't feel right for either side, and I have things I just- there are things I can't let go of no matter how much I want this. It's like I'm splitting apart and I can't figure out how to be anything correctly. I'm not really Mayday, I lost all my memories in my first year. It should have been the perfect excuse to continue forward, but then I got to know Mayday's friends and family. And... I liked them, I liked them alot, I love some of them. I barely know them and when I met them for the first time it just felt right and they were crying like I died and. I can't put them through that. Not a second time. This human side of me just won't let go. I'm putting others before my own happiness again. I'm undermining your sacrifice, being a coward. Sorry I'm ruining your trip aren't I. I'll get out of your scales for you.”

“No wait! It’s okay, I’m used to doing thisss… sort of. Uhm sso… before I got put with the other Lamia’s… I was part of a group that… helped each other… there iss someone there that's a lot like you… multiple actually.. While they did not lose their memories… they stayed partly human too.. They did not continue like I did. Anyway, you’re a lot braver than me, I think.  You… lost your memoriess and still decided to stay with the ones that love you now and before, I don’t think I could have done the ssame. You’re still happy with them now aren’t you? I mean… the way you said it, it’s not just others happiness at stake but your own too. Sso… heh.. I don’t really know where I'm going with thiss but I think you’re brave.”

I can't believe I'm talking about all this with a complete stranger, solidarity is a powerful thing. Who knows, maybe we did know each other at some point and just forgot. But thanks. It doesn't fix how I feel, but it's a good bandage for now. In the meantime we can watch the Jellyfish together until you're ready to go back…

“Did you hear that announcement a little while back? Nice to see therians getting hired here but way to not only turn it into another tourist spot, but also insult all of us at the same time. Can you believe they actually said all that?”

“Oh my god yesss! How do you actually manage to be ssupportive and a total a-hole at the same time!? Urgh… It’s not just here though… god the way they sometimes announce our exhibit is just… urgh something about staying on the paths and not getting too close without sssupervision… like-... As if they don’t almosst OVERFEED us before so we aren’t even in the mood to hunt… and then these stupid collarsss too.. Sigh I thought this stuff is to make us get away from the negative ssstigma.. Not FEED into it..”

“Wait, I'm sorry, did you say exhibit? Like as in… you're part of a zoo attraction? Y'know, if I was still human, I would be throwing up at that. Is that why you're wearing a collar?! That can't be legal. Like when you say exhibit, you mean like they put you in walls that you can’t ever leave without people acting like handlers? That's disgusting!”

“Ah-... y-yeah? Well okay, it ssounds bad when put like that but… okay that's uh kinda the best option? It was either… have ssome other person keep me like a pet.. Definitely no, be put into the wilds far away from civilization and be not allowed within a certain disstance of any human civilization… also big nono in my eyes.. or… Join the lamia exhibit in the zoo. I’d still be allowed to see my friends… or, well, have them visit me at leasst… I can help fix the kinda negative view people have of Lamias ssince most think of the evil folklore… or video games…  I get to live with others of my kind in a gated community… food is taken care of… healthcare too… kinda… Honestly it was the besst of the options I was given… All I gotta deal with is people looking at uss all day… the stupid collarsss, handlerss… yeah… Maybe one day laws change, that we do not have to sign some legal ownership document stuff and can be free in the city as well… but until then… that’s how it hass to be.”

“I guess I understand, but that just sounds horrible to me. You can put up with a lot, if that’s what you're handling every day. Speaking of, are you going to be ok? Either your guards find us and something bad happens to you, or I jump in and take the blame for essentially kidnapping this zoo's pet. Either option doesn't sound particularly fun. Stars, I thought after finishing this transition I wouldn't have to deal with all this negativity. Somehow Hyper city ended up being just as bad as back home, only it's bad in different ways. This sucks. Is there really no other option that's better? I thought that lamias had intelligence comparable to humans, are your instincts really so strong that you'd endanger humans around you?”

“Don’t worry, they are gonna be quite mad at me, and i’m probably going to have to wait quite ssome time before they allow me my next outside trip… but as long as I sstay put, and don’t get in any situation that could be interpreted as me being a danger… they will probably not use the shock collar when they find me.  Well… the besst outcome would have been if at least they put my legal ownership to one of my friendss but… I wouldn't have wanted them to see me sslowly forget who I was and all the other legal stuff it brings with it… not to mention that most of them are therianss on HRT themsself so the state probably would gatekeep that somehow too. And please don’t put the blame on yourself, that would probably give a hefty fine if not jail time… rather leave the option open to see you again at the exhibit than have you banned from it. At leasst then I get visitors I know and like! And as for our insstincts… It’s difficult… yes they can be overwhelming but they get more manageable after the crossroads… At least that's what I heard from a friend. Ssomething about being more aware of them subconsciously. But for our intelligence being comparable to humans, that's true but mix it with our statuss being non human… and laws haven’t developed that far yet… we are basically categorized as animals. And with people being afraid of our fangs, ssnake parts and all that, I don't see it changing soon.”

“Oh that is so gross, I can't believe the universe would let something like that even happen. Sometimes I wish I could just bite anyone who ticked me off. But you're probably right. About everything I guess. I hate the idea of a place like that existing, but I'd rather not get in trouble and not have the chance to talk again. You're strangely nice to talk to, also I don't think I could afford bail if I got arrested. I probably would lose my chance to work with Erian if that happened. Maybe I can do some protesting in front of city hall instead… I also want to ask about that old support group of yours, and also… hm, maybe I shouldn't chew your ear off right. If you don't get into too much trouble, we could meet up to chat more? I'll make today up to you, if the zoo allows it I could get you a plush at the gift shop.”

“Ah-.. uhm… no… trust me that you do NOT want that… it’ss… no… you’ll not forget the taste… ever… *sigh* Anyway thank you that’s nice to hear, you’re also a lot of fun to talk to. A nice change of pace. Protesting could help! Make our voice heard~  I’d love a visit and another chance to talk too! The plushie would be lovely. As for my old ssupport group.. Yeah they are nice, you should really go and talk to them. We have an online presence so jusst look for… Therian THEMS support group!  There’s… a… white tiger… her name… uh… damn come on i know thissss… white tiger… and… brown… nghhh… come on COME ON I KNOW their… their namessss i know them…”

“Don't worry, it's fine. I live at THEMS actually, I didn't realize they had a support group. I sort of never checked around, and don't worry, I don't actually bite people… usually. Come on, we can try to sneak over to the gift shop and… um hey Aria, sorry if it's rude to ask but, well it's just a thought is all. Have you had a chance to see what you look like?”

“I-... I’m sssorry it’s… yeah. Yeah let’ss get there… Wait what i look like?... Now that you mention it… I kinda forgot my own face… not really any mirrorss around in the enclosure… we usually help each other with hairstyling and so on. Why do you ask?”

“Would you like to see yourself right now?”

“I… I mean sure? Iss there like a mirror around here or…”

“Supplemental: I had Erian’s help splicing the tapes together, He’s good with old stuff like this. I wanted to add this to better describe the scene. I want no possible chance I will forget this..

Ok, here goes. Descriptor: Morphing like that felt nice, I’d never done anything like that before, but, it just worked out. It felt like body and mind actually agreeing for the first time since I became a mimic. The faint pale glow of the jellyfish felt like it was a radiant sun illuminating not just the room but my shifting form. My mind felt complete. Sharp. Morphing into something with my human remains and mimic self in agreement for the first time. This state of change I went through, this was what I was meant to have. I could feel my legs twist and fuse into a tail that grew longer and longer. Teeth moved from my body and incorporated into fangs and claws. I could feel the chemical reaction inside of me as poison turned to venom. I never looked away, I didn't close my eyes. I just kept looking back at Aria, understanding every crease and shine in her scales. It was then I finally realized how much I had always wanted to be a mimic. This felt correct. The feeling faded eventually, but I knew I had morphed myself into a perfect copy of Aria, because when I looked at her I felt happy. Did the medication somehow know this is what I truly needed? I need more time to think. End supplemental.”

“Thisss- You’re- I- woah! This is uh- I’m sssorry I’m blown away by thiss! This is what I look like!? Wait before that- You’re a shapeshifter? I- Oh my. Thank you! I-... this feels a bit weird to asssk someone that currently looks like my exact twin but-... can i… you know… give you a hug for thisss!? I mean… looking at you it’ss… looking at everything i ever wanted to be I-... sssorry that wass a weird thing to asssk someone i jusst met earlier I-... Thanksss”

“You can give us a hug if you like. We don't mind being ssstrangers. Oh, we do that too, interessting. Eheheh, but yesss, you may hug.”

“Yeah you get usssed to it~ Okay then uh-... here we go. Thank you.”

“I think I hear people coming. I need to change back before any of those guards see two of you. Glad you enjoyed getting to hug a squishier version of yourself. I must feel like a marshmallow. Oh wait, I think my partner is gonna kill me if I leave her waiting any longer.”

“Haha~ I guess we both are going to get our ears chewed off by ssome people. It wass very nice getting to meet and talk to you Mayday, and I hope to see you again! Just… don’t take it to heart if I end up having to assk your name again or… worsse okay? Oh- and if you meet the people from the ssupport group… tell them i sssaid hi.”

“Will do, you better stay safe then, and don’t you dare end up regretting your choice, you got that! Enjoy your new life, and hopefully it won’t just be within a zoo someday. If you ever need to ask my name again, then I’ll be sure to ask yours as well. I look forward to meeting you again Aria the lamia.”

“Yes, I will do my besst to do that. I look forward to meeting you again too, Mayday the Mimic.”

* * *

“Abi, I’m back!”

“Oh my god where were you! I called like eight times! I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Sorry, sorry, I got caught up in a weird situation, I met a new friend I guess. You’d like her. she was really nice… Ok, yeah I’ll make it up to you. Really sorry for making you worry like that. Let’s go out to eat. This place kinda sucks. What about that sushi place you wanted to go to a couple months ago! I’ll pay for it.”

“You seem awfully cheery all of a sudden

“I just figured out who I am. That’s all.”

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Start - Prev - Next

Hey, hope you enjoyed what I think is the longest chapter by far. Normally I try to stick with two pages of text to get something that most people can keep their attention on. Not really possible here.

I'd like to take this time to thank @ariathelamia for collaborating with this chapter. She's so cool and you should go follow her right now. Do it right now. Do not finish reading this part until you double check you are following her and reading her Lamia HRT story!

Anyway, I'd also like to point out the cameos/mentions for Tiger HRT and ??? HRT by @tigergirltail and @home-sweet-hive, respectively. Both are extremely good and give me the inspiration to continue writing this story every single day. This story would have probably stopped around the fifth or sixth part without them. So you should go read those stories right now as well. Do it. Seriously though, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day.

-Navi

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, angst, depictions of blood

Chapter Word Count: 3327

—-MDNI—-

A/N: soooo this chapter felt weird to write, but hey I wanted it for the plot to thicken haha. It’s different, but things will feel a bit more normal after this chapter.

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Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt.1

Chapter 8pt.2

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 11

By the time I’d passed the security check, introduced myself to the two other girls currently on shift and found my dressing room, the nerves were starting to dissipate. Through each step and each new room I’d entered I was making countless mental notes on every security camera and exit I could see. It wasn’t hard to tell that everyone except the bar and wait staff and the dancers were all vampires - their noses twitching and eyes widening whenever I’d walked past. I was clearly fresh meat - perhaps not in the immediate future, but I’m guessing that as soon as I’d served my purpose in luring unknowing human men to their untimely demise, I’d be next. Or at least kept as a blood bag, and I didn’t know which was worse.

A sharp knock on the door brought me back to reality, the vamp on the other side not even waiting for a reply as he barged in.

“You’re sure taking your time sweet cheeks, everything ok?” His sharp gaze twinkled as he looked at me, as if searching for any sort of vulnerability. I huffed out a final deep breath of nerves before standing straight and forcing a smile, shimmying out of my thick overcoat and throwing it over the back of the chair I was just leaning on. On the revelation of my figure and my outfit he let out a long, low whistle.

“Well don’t you just look good enough to eat?”

I swallowed despite my mouth being dry, trying my best to bring my confidence to the forefront and to ignore what he is.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first to say so,” I almost felt nauseous from having to sound so sweet. “Why don’t you lead the way and show me where I’m supposed to be?”

He didn’t take any convincing as he led me out the room and down a short corridor that was lined with what I’m assuming are other dressing rooms.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my gaze snagging on a metal door that didn’t look like the rest. It looked more like a vault, with an intricate lock system that seemed to need both keys and fingerprints.

“Errrrr, just the boss's office. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he placed his hand on my hair, making me shudder.

“Oh ok… will I ever get to meet the boss?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. Keeping up with this cutie-pie act was going to be more draining than I thought. He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking up, an unsettling look on his face.

“Of course doll face! When the time is right.”

*

About two hours had passed since I arrived at the club and a steady stream of men (occasionally women) was filtering in. I was currently up on a podium and trying not to think too hard about how I should be dancing whilst keeping my eyes peeled on the crowd, every now and then making eye contact with the patrons and blowing them a sickening kiss with a sultry wink. Every time I slipped away for a ‘toilet break’ I'd unlock as many windows and doors as I could find whilst turning security cameras towards the wall. I'd counted around fifteen vampires milling around as I snuck about, and there were definitely more behind that metal door. This place was about as prepared as possible for Sam and Dean to sneak in, so I sent Charlie a text with all the details I had knowing full well she could no longer see me through the cameras she'd hacked into.

I'd been back on my podium for about ten minutes, moving my body to the loud bass of the blaring music under the erotic lighting which glowed all manner of pinks and reds, when the front door opened again to let another patron in. Except this wasn't a patron.

It was Dean.

I cursed under my breath, frowning at him across the dance floor despite the fact he hadn't seen me yet. What the actual fuck was he doing coming in through the front door? I didn't play mission impossible and find countless ways for him to break in just so that he could waltz in, bold as brass and blow our cover. I watched him as he stopped in the centre of the room, illuminated by the lights that cast angular shadows over his rugged face. He was alert, jaw clenched and eyes scouring the crowd until his gaze eventually landed on me. With my arms above my head and gripping the pole behind me he was able to get a good look at what was hiding underneath my overcoat when he last saw me. Eyes glazing over and Adam's apple bobbing, he was instantly ensnared. I focused entirely on him; sinking to my knees and crawling my hands forwards, beckoning him with a single finger to which he eagerly obliged. The older Winchester stood before me, eyes almost sparkling from the lustful lighting as he gaped up at me. His evergreen eyes shone in adoration as they bore into mine, almost completely disregarding the lasciviousness of the rest of my body. It was almost…

Romantic.

I leant forwards, my painted lips brushing against his ear and pulling a shiver from his spine. I could have been mistaken, but I’m sure I heard a groan.

“What the FUCK are you doing here, Dean?”

He blinked, suddenly remembering he was on earth.

“What?”

“The plan! What happened to the plan? You were supposed to go around the back - I made it easy for you to sneak in! This place is well guarded Dean.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to make sure you were- hang on- are you a MAID?” He stepped back to take a better look at me as I sat up, trying not to draw attention to myself for staying still for too long. My eyes rolled on their own accord.

“Dean now really isn’t the tim-”

“Holy crap you’re a maid. You’re a MAID. So there is a God,” he dramatically put his hands together as though in prayer and mouthed ‘thank you’ to the disco ball on the ceiling.

“Dean-”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting anyone ruin this for me - not even you. Carry on, pretend I’m not Dean and there aren’t any vamps to kill; just for two minutes,” he settled into one of the chairs in front of my podium, flagging a waitress down for a whiskey in the process. There was no arguing with Dean Winchester, especially when he was ticking something off his bucket list. Grasping the pole behind me I pulled myself to my feet, hooking my leg around it and spinning slowly.

“So, NOT-Dean, where’s not-Sam?”

He took a long sip from his liquor before licking his lips, his eyes transfixed on my thighs.

“He's uhhh…. He's sneaking in through some window round the back.”

“Oh, so like you should be?”

He smirked over the top of his glass, spreading his legs a little wider as he settled further into his chair, his other hand resting in his lap.

“Don't deny a man his pleasures sweetheart.”

A half hearted scoff left my lips before I climbed higher on the pole, leaning back so I was almost upside down, granting Dean the perfect view of my lingerie as my micro-skirt flipped over my belly. Spinning slightly, I caught him adjusting himself in his jeans right as I pulled myself back upright.

“You seem pretty at home in a strip club,” my voice came out more breathy than intended as I moved my body in time with the music.

“I can say the same about you,” he quipped back, dark eyes burning into my exposed skin. Licking the last drop of whiskey from his bottom lip, he placed his glass back on the table before standing; taking long, slow steps towards my podium, the toes of his boots touching the metal. I got down on my knees, bringing myself to his eye level before taking his chin between my thumb and index finger and drawing his bewitched face nearer. We ignored the shouts from security telling Dean he wasn’t allowed to touch as I ghosted my lips over his. I could feel his chest rising and falling in anticipation for a simple kiss, his mouth agape and eyes darting about my features - trying to take all of me in. His restraint snapped and he leant forward, pressing his mouth to mine - hot and needy. A large hand reached up and long fingers wrapped around my wrist, rough skin tickling at my pulse as he guided my hand from his chin to his hair, urging me to grip it. Just as I grasped at its softness he was forced away from me, two of the vamps shoving aggressively at his shoulders and putting some distance between us.

“Keep your hands off the girls! You know the rules,” one of them practically spat out his words to Dean, who in return had a feral look in his eye as I caught his hand inching closer and closer to the blade concealed within his jacket.

“Sorry it was my fault!” I blurted, all eyes now burning into me. “It's my first shift and I forgot I shouldn't let it get that far. Don't blame him, it was me who was too…. encouraging.” I flashed sickly-sweet doe eyes at the vamp sizing up Dean, biting my lip in apprehension before he sighed and let go, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you off this time as you’re the newbie, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes’sir!” I tapped my fingers to my forehead in a pretend salute, hearing the fanged ones curse under their breath before walking away, throwing one last warning look at Dean - who looked like the cat that got the cream - before returning to their posts. When I knew that they were definitely out of earshot, I snapped at Dean.

“You could’ve totally blown everything!”

Shrug.

“But I didn’t.”

“Dean, you need to go. Sam is going to be wondering where you are. Find him before you get caught.”

“And what about you?” He chewed his lip, unable to stop his eyes from wandering.

“I’m going to stay here and stick to the plan. I’ll run at the first sign of trouble, so please don’t worry about me,” I sighed, looking down at his puppy-dog eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m always gonna worry about you.”

*

It must have been about twenty minutes since Dean left to find Sam and my heart was pounding in my chest knowing how close they were and the possible danger they were in. I didn’t know what doors they were behind, or how many vamps they’d taken out, and I certainly didn’t know if they were unharmed. My palms felt sweaty on the pole as I danced, making it hard for me to grip and put on a good show. Now was as good a time as any to have a toilet break and grab some coffee. I hopped down from my podium as the song ended and hurried to the back of the club, darting through a ‘staff only’ door to the break room. I poured myself a small cup of coffee, adding an obscene amount of sugar to stop my knees from trembling. I’d barely swallowed my first mouthful when I heard shouts and crashing from down the hall, my fingers instantly loosening from the mug as my high-heeled feet carried me to the door where I peaked out, desperate to know what was going on yet mindful not to be seen. There was no one in the corridor that I could see, yet I checked left and right to make sure I wasn’t being watched before I slipped out, teetering on my platforms as I tiptoed to where I was sure the noise had come from.

It was the metal door.

I poked my head down the corridor where it was located and was grateful to see it unlocked and sitting ajar. Inching closer I could hear a scuffle from within and the sound of heavy bodies dropping like lead to the floor, followed by Sam and Deans unintelligible murmuring. A sigh of relief left my lips when I heard them, knowing it wasn’t their bodies hitting the cold tiles below. That relief froze in my veins however when I heard a third voice speak up. A voice that was smooth like butter. A voice that drew you in with a silky southern accent.

A voice that I knew to be dead.

Hesitation and reasoning left in the dust, I barged forwards and into the room, shoving the metal door wide and startling the Winchester brothers, their eyes widening at my sudden appearance. Before they even had the chance to open their mouths, slow clapping echoed through the ‘old money’ style office, emanating from behind a large mahogany desk.

“And there she is! The star of my show. It’s about time you showed up darlin’,” that southern voice dripped with charisma as a handsome man, around my age, sat in a crisp stone-coloured, three piece suit.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to her, you’re dealing with us,” Dean was quick to bite. The stranger threw him a sharp glare before rising to his feet, his cold gaze landed on me again and burned me through to my very soul.

“Y-y-you’re de-” I started before being immediately cut off.

“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, hm? Especially not like this,” he gestured to himself.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s cautious eyes landed on mine, “how do you know him? He’s a vampire.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but yet again I was interrupted before a sound passed my lips.

“Oh (Y/n) and I go waaaaaaaay back, don’t we darlin’?”

I could see Dean inching closer to me out of the corner of my eye, trying not to draw attention to himself in the process. I opened my mouth to speak again, my lips and tongue feeling dry and numb, like they didn’t want to utter the word about to be spoken.

“Daniel I-”

“BINGO!” He clapped loudly, “she DOES remember her old sweetheart.”

“WHAT!?” Both Sam and Dean spun to look at me with dumbfounded expressions, a whole array of emotions flitting across their features.

“(Y/n) you dated a vamp?” Sam asked, those big eyes of his glistening with concern.

“He wasn’t a vamp when I knew him; he’s supposed to be dead!” I turned from Sam to Daniel, the confusion clearly evident on my face, “you’re supposed to be dead - I watched you die - how are you here?”

A harsh laugh rippled from his chest.

“Paramedic was a vampire sweet-cheeks. He turned me on the way to the morgue after he pronounced me dead at the scene - stroke of genius really. Although,” he paused, walking around the desk to step towards me, the boys reaching for every weapon on their person to have at the ready, “what’s even more genius is that ad we put out for a dancer.”

“What?”

He scoffed.

“You think it’s a stroke of good luck that you just happen to look exactly like the description we posted? Honey I knew from the moment I turned what you and your uncle did for living - the dots seemed to connect all on their own. And I knew that one day - whether now or in a few years - that you or some other hunter you might know would pass through my nest and see it. I knew it would bring you back to me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on their sparkles; she’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean had pushed his way in between me and Daniel, the eldest Winchester standing a few inches taller than him as they went nose-to-nose.

Daniel grimaced, fangs threatening to show.

“Why is her scent all over you? Don’t tell me you two are involved?”

Dean smirked before I shoved him out the way, his thick fingers protectively wrapping around my wrist as a safety line.

“Daniel I-,” I took a deep breath, “I loved you once. A long, long time ago. But to me, in my world; you died. And I grieved you. God I grieved you for years, and then one day I woke up and my heart didn’t hurt as much anymore. I carried on with my life, the heartache easing a little everyday. Until there was no more heartache - no more pain. I was whole again. Daniel - you’re still dead in my world. Nothing is going to change.”

He reached for my hand but Dean put an arm between us, stopping him in his tracks.

“(Y/n), darlin’, I put that ad out because I still love you. We can still be together - forever. Just let me turn you-”

“Aannnd that’s it loverboy, times up,” Dean pushed me behind him and brandished the hunting blade he’d use to slice my underwear from my body about a week ago on our first hunt together. Right as Daniel bared his fangs and lunged for Dean, I felt another hand grab my arm. I spun and came toe-to-toe with Sam who was quietly beckoning for me to follow him whilst the vampire was distracted. We left the room quietly, running down corridors, twisting and turning and falling through one of the side doors I had unlocked earlier in the night and out into the fresh air. I took a few deep breaths, not realising how much the metallic scent of blood had filled my nostrils.

“Sam what about Dean?! We can't just leave him behind he-”

Sam laughed softly.

“If you want a vamp dead, Dean will always come out on top. He'll be just fine.”

Sam helped me to my feet, looking down at me, his gaze turning from reassuring to questionable. I sighed, weariness starting to settle into my bones.

“I know, I know. I can explain it all later,” I said, starting to shuffle back to the impala, seeking the comfort of its plush leather seats.

“What? No, (Y/n) you don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to. I just want to know if you’re ok?”

I stopped and looked up at him, and something about the kindness of his voice and the concern in his eyes had me falling to my knees, my body heaving out a sob. Then another. And another. Until I couldn’t stop for air and hot tears washed my makeup down my face and my hair stuck to the streaks they left behind. Sam simply crouched down and pulled me into him, rubbing my back and telling me softly that everything will be ok. It was a comfort to feel his chin on my head and his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the steady thrum eventually soothing away my anguish.

I have no idea how long we were sat there for, but he eventually coaxed me to my feet and led me to the car where Charlie was waiting with a pained expression. She would have seen, or at least heard everything that went down through the security cameras linked to her tablet - she was one of the few people in this life that had met my ex.

I was gently manoeuvred into the back seat, my head resting on Charlie's lap as she played with my hair. Sam had waited outside the impala for a few minutes before climbing into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed. Not five minutes had passed when the door slammed again as Dean clambered in, the stench of blood thick on his clothes, however the comforting scent of his cologne still managed to waft through. He turned to face me, those mossy green eyes piercing into mine as he said with the gentlest tone he could muster:

“It’s done, sweetheart.”

——————————————————————

Next: Chapter 12

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@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[madi-writes-things]

Francesca Pt. 1

Summary:

It broke Schlatt when he had to let Y/N go, But he would go through hell a thousand times if it meant he got to hold her again.

“If I could hold you for a minute… I’d go through it again.”

Word Count: 1.09 K

TW: Mental Illness, angst, ocd, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, break up, pining, feelings of worthlessness, basically a self insert without a physical description, Based in Texas… because so am I

A/N: I’m totally ok, and definitely not scared of my mental illness… 👀

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

My bags are packed before Jay gets home. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be. I should probably leave before he gets here, but he deserves an explanation. I’m not really sure what to say when he gets here, but he doesn’t deserve to be ghosted…

When the door opens I regret my decision to stay. He’s holding an H-E-B bag with frozen pizzas and ranch.

My favorite.

The second he locks eyes with me I break down. The bag falls from his hand as he rushes to pull me into a hug.

“What’s wrong pumpkin? What happened?” His voice is filled love and tenderness, very different from his online persona. It makes me cry harder.

“I can’t do this Jay… I-” He pulls me impossibly closer, mumbling a quiet ‘don’t do this’. “I already packed everything into my car. I can’t ask you to stay, I wouldn’t do that to you…”

He knows that I’ve been struggling lately, but I would never ask him to understand the extent of my anguish. I could never tell him about my hours spent researching. The notes. The fear of being alone with myself.

All I’ve ever wanted is to marry the man of my dreams, and have a big family. My mind constantly tells me that I can’t have it…

Nobody would want to deal with you, he’d get tired of it eventually. What if your kids are crazy like you? You don’t want to run the risk that he has to find you dea-

“You aren’t doing anything to me, you don’t have to do this… we can get through this, we can get you whatever help you need… please…”

I’m doing this because I love him. I can tell when he sees the look in my eyes, he mumbles a quick okay before leaving to put the pizzas in the freezer.

I run to lock myself in the bathroom… I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“”“”“”“”“”

When I finally get myself together, I leave the bathroom on a mission to get out quickly. It takes me a while before I realize what’s happening.

“where the hell did you put my keys Jay?” I see him sitting at our table, set with two plates of pizza and two glasses of wine.

“You’re not driving right now… I just heard you have a twenty minute panic attack, you’re in no headspace to drive.” I know he won’t give me the keys, no matter how much I try to convince him. “Do you even have anywhere to go?” I just shake my head. He gets up and walks into our bedroom.

I can hear him on the phone with Ted, he’s asking if I can stay in LA with him. When he returns, we sit down to eat the now cold pizza.

“What did he say?” I didn’t necessarily want to move across the country, but we both know I wouldn’t be able to actually leave well enough alone if I stayed.

I can tell that he’s been crying, but I know that this is what’s truly best for him in the long run. “He said yes, obviously. I’ll drive you to his place, and catch a flight back.” I knew that there was no convincing him to leave me alone for extended periods of time… I wonder if Ted told him not to let me out of his sight.

He probably did.

After dinner Jay offers to sleep on the couch, but I tell him that I don’t want our last night to be spent in different parts of the house.

He holds me as I cry myself to sleep.

This is what’s best for him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The nearly twenty hour drive was silent, stopping whenever the gas gauge lit up. Jay always knew what to get me from the gas station, while I stayed in the car reading. About halfway through the ride he finally decided to play some music, our shared playlist flowing through the tense atmosphere.

I decided to take a nap at some point, and was awoken by Jay gently shaking my shoulder while handing me some food that he had gotten. “We’ve only got about an hour left… you need to eat, and I think we should talk about it.”

No. You can’t handle this, the car ride is hell as is… and now he wants you to talk about why you’re breaking his heart?

“There’s not much to talk about Jay… there isn’t any way to convince me that it was a mistake.” I can see the hurt look in his eyes when I say it, and I really didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. “I love you so much… and I promise, this is for you.”

He starts to try and argue, before settling on asking about publicity. My only response is that we can deal with it separately. I finish my food, and finish the last few chapters of my book.

“”“”“”“”“”

It takes less than an hour to move all of my stuff into Ted’s guest room.

Ted is my best friend, and we’ve known each other for years. He introduced me to the job prospects of the internet. He introduced me to all of his colleagues when I was first starting on YouTube…

He introduced me to Jay.

After helping move everything in, Jay got ready to fly out. He said a quick goodbye to me, before going outside to talk to Ted.

They were out there for a really long time.

What if he’s convincing Ted that you are a horrible person?

What if they’re working together to get you put away?

What if you opened the window?

What if you jumped?

My phone is in my hand immediately, looking up the likelihood of injury/death from a second story jump. Very unlikely. Shit.

All of the sudden, the walls feel too close. The window is too far. I hear Jay’s Uber leaving, and everything starts to collapse.

This was a mistake. I just ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s too late. He hates me. I should have just left a note and Jumped off the congress avenue bridge.

I can’t breathe.

I hear a soft knock at my door, and hear it creak open. Ted sits down in front of me, placing my hand on his chest. We work on breathing exercises that he taught me years ago. When I finally feel slightly normal, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos @memento-rory

[xo-tins-xo]

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stiles x reader

Imagine having a late night walk with stiles

Word count: 416

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Imagine having a hard time sleeping after studying for the SATs and deciding to go on a late night stroll. Basking in the moonlight with your arms across your chest while carefully avoiding cracks in the sidewalks because no matter how silly it was, you still believed in superstitions. I mean there's werewolves and banshees for god sake, who's to say that stepping on crack will/or won't break your momma’s back or splitting polls won’t bring you bad luck.

Imagine stiles having the same problem, I mean he definitely wasn’t studying, but he couldn’t sleep either. He sees you walking from his window then sprints downstairs, goes through the front door, and leaps across the street to catch up to you.

Imagine you feel a warm harm on your shoulder turning you around. “What are you doing out here… at night ... .by yourself” he asks “well i could ask you the same thing, but i’m pretty sure we have the same answer” you respond. “Can’t sleep?” “Can’t sleep”

Stiles sees that you're cold and he pats himself thinking that he had on a jacket. Realizing that you’re looking at him funny he says, “If i had a jacket right now i’d give it to you, you know like chivalry.” “woow, thank you for thought stiles” you sarcastically reply while rolling your eyes. “But maybe if we just huddle together we can both keep warm”, you say slightly getting closer to him. Stiles' heart is beating so fast he almost thinks you can hear it.

Imagine stiles getting on to you about it being unsafe for you to be alone this late. “I can’t believe you’d be this reckless, you never know what could be out here nowadays, i mean you see the monster that the pack and i deal with every day and yet-” cutting him off you say “Stiles i’m a big girl i’m pretty sure i can handle myself ok?” You say nudging him with your shoulder “Ok, but next time just call me.”

Imagine that after a couple of laps stiles walk you home. He rubs your hand in between his as he says his goodnights and hesitantly and awkwardly kisses your right cheek.

Imagine trying to convince stiles that he shouldn’t walk home by himself, but he is not going for it.

Imagine stiles not leaving the driveway until he’s sure that you're safe in your house

Imagine finally getting a good night's rest and dreaming about each other

[spacerockfloater]

You know what?

I get it, ok? I understand the concept of Rhysand being a morally grey character. I understand that SJM wanted him to be an anti-hero of sorts. I would be totally okay with him doing everything that he did and standing by his actions if he simply said “The only thing that concerns me is myself, my circle and my people. I’m here to protect my interests first and everything else second. I am no hero, I am just someone who puts himself and his sphere first. I am a selfish person and I’m totally okay with that. I do not need anyone’s approval.” I still wouldn’t be his biggest fan, because I do not tend to admire self serving people, but I would totally understand him. In fact, I might have done the same thing. I guess you can never know for sure what your reaction to something would be unless you actually end up in that situation. I get that the average person would protect themselves (themselves = them and their loved ones) but I do believe that admiration should be saved for people who go against the norm. People who actually put their foot down, say no, protest, fight back, risk their lives, experience loss for a greater good. That’s why I admire Khalias, Tarquin, Helion, Tamlin etc. Because they stood up to Amarantha while knowing the consequences of their actions. I wouldn’t admire Rhysand, but I’d support him if he just owned up to his shit and said “Yup, I’m your average person, I don’t care if I come off as the bad guy!”.

But he does not! He wants everyone to applaud him and thank him and feel like they owe him and appreciate him and and and and… Jesus Christ man, you did the bare minimum and you did it all when you had nothing to lose! Thank you so much that you convinced that frigid bitch to murder two dozens of children instead of me and my family, of course I am now forever in your debt! Relax. You were able to talk Amarantha out of directly harming the other High Lords only after you harmed others to gain her favour and you saved the High Lords only because it served you better to keep them alive instead of some irrelevant children fae. I’m sure that your people should be thanking you because you did it all for them after all, but count me the fuck out of it.

Last but not least: ACOTAR Feyre was, obviously, a hero. She was a morally good character. She sacrificed herself for people she didn’t even know. I’m not gonna debate that. I actually loved her in the first book. However, I think she went through a drastic change after her metamorphosis. Her “human heart” is actually no longer human to say the least. I’m not even gonna elaborate on how she became this cruel, unforgiving person that only cared about how people treated her, or how disrespectful she is towards other people like Tarquin because Rhysand made her feel entitled to do so, or how she is responsible for the destruction of two courts that simply seemed like collateral damage if it meant that she would get her revenge on Tamlin. I’m simply going to say that logically speaking, since Feyre stands 100% besides Rhys and everything he did and supports him, she’s also a morally grey person AT BEST, though I do tend to think of both of them as villains because after all, the very definition of a villain is “someone defined by their acts of selfishness, evilness, arrogance, cruelty, and cunning” and like, come on, this screams Feysand.

The term morally grey is so overused. Someone who’s selfish and cunning and cares mostly about themselves is, at least partially, a bad person. A morally grey character is at least half a villain. When did we actually start to equate anti heros with heros?

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 9)

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to sex & oral sex, angst, language, brief discussion of suicide, dirty talk, deception, alcohol consumption, etc

The wine has loosened his tongue only slightly, while yours remains nearly untouched, and your tongue bitten quiet. The glass in your shaky grip having been reduced to something to merely occupy your hands - lest you grab him up to dramatically demand answers that, in truth, you really aren’t owed at all.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he chuckles softly, staring at the golden liquid he is now sipping on for courage.

How very unlike him. He is normally so well spoken. Even when touching upon subjects he knows little about, he is eloquent and honest, posing well thought out questions, eager to engage, hungry to banter, excited to learn.

His voice, always so soothing and pacifying; almost tranquilizing in its melodic cadence…now carries a small tremor. Does he fear your reaction to the truth? Or does he simply fear speaking the words aloud might solidify a truth he wishes wasn’t so?

Rather than ask, you remain hushed, and wait with painted on patience.

“The night I slept with her wasn’t the worst night of my life.” He finally sadly sighs, leaning back against the couch as though getting comfortable for the long haul. “In fact, I was so drunk I don’t even really remember it aside from bits and pieces. Doesn’t that make me sound like an asshole?”

You choose honesty, “Yes.”

He smiles over at you, thankful you refused to deny him, warts and all. “The next morning is what I really can’t stand to think about. Sometimes even now, it’ll all come back to me out of nowhere - how it felt when I opened my eyes against the pounding in my head to find her lying there beside me. When I realized what I had done to him. When I knew nothing was ever going to be the same. I have never, ever, considered taking my own life, but in that moment, if I had held a gun in my hand, I think I might have used it.”

The thought alone ruins what little appetite you might have had, and you know with certainty that the sushi rolls are doomed to spoil on the table.

“Probably on her first, and then on myself.” He shrugs, “I hated her almost as much as I hated myself for it. Hate myself for it. How could we fucking do that to him, you know? Monsters. Both of us.”

“‘He never has to know.’ She said, staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at me - which I was absolutely glad for. Her voice was innocent, like she was friends with woodland animals and dwarves. It made me sick that she could sound so sweet while we were still naked beneath my sheets. It made my stomach turn like I’d just stuffed myself full of a cake baked with too much sugar. I wanted to vomit. I wanted her to shut up.”

How differently they’ve spoken of her voice. Selfishly, you prefer Josh’s loathsome version over his brother’s wistful description.

“And I agreed, like a fucking coward, I agreed. I said, ‘Ok.’ That’s all. O-fucking-kay. Like she had just suggested a new diner for lunch or something equally mundane.”

You want to reach for him, to stroke his face, smooth his curls, to tell him everything will be alright. To somehow convince him it was all a bad dream, simply to erase the anguish that has vibrated to life in his eyes. Instead, you sit still and quiet, and let him go on.

“Betray my brother worse than I already have? Okay.” He scoffs, self disgust heavy on his tongue. “I said, okay.”

It’s silent for a few beats while he goes off somewhere alone in his head. Somewhere you don’t care to visit. Somewhere he wouldn’t allow you to follow even if you begged him to.

If you asked, he would shake his head and tell you you don’t belong in those memories, gritty with treachery and the ugliest of things. No one goes there with him, not even Jake. Jake visits a hell all his own when he thinks of the way his chest was ripped apart, and who was responsible for the wounds.

“Anyway, you know all that.” He taps your knee with a soft, sorrowful smile. “And while I don’t know exactly how much he told you about what went down, I do know that he told you that I eventually did confess my sins. I know this, because I know he could never stand to make me out to be the bad guy for very long…even though it’s what I deserve.”

You grab his hand up and offer it a squeeze. “We all make mistakes. He’s forgiven you…maybe you should forgive yourself.”

How strange. Last night you had been so furious with him for breaking Jake’s heart. It had seemed reprehensible, unforgivable, horrific…and it is still all those things, but now it has been rendered clear that it is all far from in your hands. There is nothing to be done. It is all just part of their history, which has nothing to do with you. They have navigated waters in which you will never swim, and that’s alright.

It’s okay to let go of what happened then, and consider who they are now, only.

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, “I have, mostly. Sometimes though, it's hard to look at myself in the mirror.”

The refrigerator kicks on, driving home the quiet, and how alone you truly are in the house…a rarity so foreign you aren’t sure how to handle the sudden, dawning realization.

“Anyway,” he sighs, at last, dragging his palms up and down his thighs - a gesture so like his brother’s you might be able to believe you’re sitting beside Jacob if you didn’t know better. “He waited it out. Lurked around in the grass like a fuckin’ snake until he found his moment. I earned the strike, though…and I deserved the venom, so…”

Soft as a whisper hushed in a theater, you find the will to pry “What happened, Josh…will you tell me?”

“Damn, sweetheart…” he grins, jutting in chin upwards in order to glare lovingly down the perfect bridge of his nose at you “You know how to get what you want, don’t you?”

“I don’t—“ your confusion scatters your thoughts for a breath “I don’t know what you mean.”

He leans forwards and drifts his lips across your cheekbone softly, tenderly, delicately, as if he worries over breaking you. “‘Will you’, you said. Like you want it…and I can’ t deny you. You want, you ask, I give…it’s just that simple.”

You can feel heat coaxing an embarrassing pink to life in your cheeks, “Okay, tell me then, don’t deny me.”

Should you use his devotion against him? Maybe not. Definitely not. But, this is why you’re both sat upon this couch, after all, isn’t it?

He grabs a sushi roll and shoves it in his mouth, likely to buy himself a little time. Finally, after a dramatic swallow, he shakes his head. “That fuck broke my heart right back. Eye for an eye was always kind of our motto, so I guess I should have seen it coming. I didn’t though, because what he thought was his revenge wasn’t the arrow in my heart he thought it would be.”

On you wait, as he gathers his thoughts, or plucks up his nerve. The grandfather wall clock that hangs in the hall, gifted to him after his grandpa passed, keeps time with its incessant tick, tick, ticking. He hates that clock, says it reminds him too much of his own mortality, the way it ticks the seconds and chimes the hours…but it would sadden his father to know this, so on his wall it will hang.

That is the Josh that makes sense to you. Selfless and fierce in his love for those lucky enough to bask in it. He is so much more familiar than the imagined Josh, lying in bed with his brother’s whole world beside him.

“I was in Flint for the weekend for a conference, and she stayed to keep an eye on the place for me. He showed up here, and I doubt she put up much resistance. Jake has this way about him, always has. He can just look at a woman and make her long for him. I’ve seen it a hundred times.” His gaze shifts to you with a gentle half-smile, “Some of those times have hurt worse than others, though.”

He’s speaking of you, and you feel ashamed. How many times has he watched you swoon over his twin, how many times has it made him angry? Worse, how many times has it made his heart ache?

“When we were younger, we used to do this dumb thing to mess with our mom,” he laughs softly and you feel yourself relax, “We’d sneak off into one room or another while she was busy with something else and we’d turn all the pictures on the wall upside down. It was stupid, and sometimes it would take her a day or two to notice, but it drove her crazy. We thought it was the funniest thing, watching her get so pissed off.”

“Idiots.” You laugh with him, picturing how pleased they must have been with themselves. “I don’t know how your poor mother put up with you two.”

“We did it with the furniture once, too.” He confesses, smiling wide at the memory. “Turned the couch and the end tables upside down. The coffee table, loveseat, the whole deal. Anyway…”

His sunny smile fades, “That’s how he let me know where he’d been. I came home Sunday night and noticed a single picture on the bedroom wall had been turned upside down.”

You’ve been in his room enough times to know that a picture still hangs that way, though you’ve never asked why.

He sees your gears turning and nods, “I left it like that not to remind myself of what he did to me, but of what I did to him.”

“I never brought it up to her, but I saw him a few days later - stopped by his place because I missed him more than I hated what we had done to each other. He looked like shit…almost as bad as when he’d learned that she maybe didn’t love him as much as he loved her.”

The memory of Jake describing the hole he had crawled into creeps into your head and you want to claw it out.

“What I said to him really isn’t important,” he shrugs, looking at you as if he’s pleading to be let off the hook. He doesn’t want to share, and you won’t ask him to.

“The long and the short of it was that he really did nothing that was too terrible. We’d always been that way with each other; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. But, I didn’t love her. He didn’t hurt me by sleeping with her. It stung a little, but that’s only because I’ve got an ego to coddle, that’s all.”

He swallows the last of his wine as his hand, warm and steady now, finds yours. “What hurt came later.”

“Lily?”

“Lily.”

“I hadn’t seen her mother in weeks when she called to tell me she was pregnant.” His eyes are distant and misted, but his thumb sweeps back and forth along your own to prove he’s still with you. “I couldn’t be certain the baby was his, but I was damn sure certain it wasn’t mine. Didn’t tell her that, though. And maybe I should have. Maybe I should have said something right away, but I just couldn’t. If she was going to lie and say the baby was mine, I was going to run with it. I wanted Lily from the second I knew she was on her way. Wanted her more than anything I had ever wanted anything before, even though I knew the truth.”

Your confusion spurs you on, and you can no longer stay mum “But how could you know? I mean, sure, she might have been Jake’s, or whoever’s, but she could've just as easily been yours, right? I mean,”

“No.” There’s a finality in his tone that quiets you instantly. “She isn’t mine, and I knew it from the start.”

“But…”

He talks over you, but he does so gently, “I hadn’t told anyone, mostly because I didn’t want it to be true…all I’d ever wanted was to be a dad, to have a little family to come home to every night. A boring, lovel, little life. Even now, Jake is the only one who knows. I should have told you, especially given how I want things to be for you and I, and I’m sorry for that.”

You think you know where he’s headed with this, but to misread anything in this moment is something you can’t risk, so you wait him out while he struggles to find the words.

When he finally finds them, they tumble out in a rush before he loses his nerve. “I knew she wasn’t mine because I can’t have kids. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…I should have told you. You deserved to know that before things went as far as they have, but I just…I just couldn’t, and I don’t know why. I still can’t stand the thought of people knowing. For it to be fact. For it to be real.”

A million and one questions are racing through your head. Why can’t he? How does he know? How long has he known? Is he sure? Why he’s apologizing for something so devastating and completely out of his hands? Why he’s apologizing to you? Does he see you that way? As someone who he’d give his babies to if only he could? Does he love you that way? Do you love him that way?”

But the agonized shadows in his eyes tell you that this is hard enough for him. That he might fall apart if you unleash an interrogation upon him in his cozy little living room over wine and a neglected dinner.

“Say something.” He finally whispers, taking your hand in both of his now. “Please, say something.”

“I’m so sorry, Josh…” you squeeze your fingers tighter between his, lacing them further to ground him “I didn’t know. I’m so, so, sorry.”

You watch the terrorized tension drain out of his body. Had he expected you to be angry? To tell him that whatever this is between the two of you is over? You don’t know it, but yes, he did. He expected that, and worse.

“Sweetheart,” he blinks away tears as he calms and attempts to offer you a smile.

He’s trying to find a way to explain how much it means to him that you’re still sitting beside him, but you shake your head, silently promising that he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

“So now you see why I went along with it.” He continues, at last…words shaking and raspy with emotion. “I loved that little girl from the moment I knew she existed, and I wanted her. God, how I wanted her. I didn’t give a shit about biological this and that, she was mine from the word go.”

The love that undulates from every cell in his body when he speaks of her is maternal. The fierce, instinctual, protective devotion is palpable. He would ride straight into the fiery, miserable pits of hell to find her without a second of hesitation. He would die in her stead a thousand times over. He would do anything, anything, for her. It’s a love like you have never seen, and it is beautiful.

“So, like I said before, I moved her in straight away.” He shrugs, “She wanted to lie, and I wanted her to lie. Everyone was happy. The first ultrasound told me all I needed to know. Something about the way she moved, floating around in there, was so Jake. But, still, I didn’t say a word.”

“When did you finally tell him?” You hush, reaching up to stroke your fingers along the sharp curve of his jaw.

“At the hospital.” This memory in particular is a difficult one for him, you can read it clearly in his expression. “She looked exactly like us. She looked like him. Still, I hadn’t planned on telling a soul what I knew to be true until he showed up to meet her. Watching him hold her, the way he looked at her…”

He falters with a shuddering breath, “I just couldn’t keep that from him. He knew it was a possibility, he isn’t an idiot. But, she was his and he deserved to know. So I waited until we were alone, watching over her through the nursery window, and then I just told him. He looked at her for the longest time, so tiny and fragile, so real, and then pulled me into one of those crushing hugs of his - you know the ones - and he said,”

Now the words are so caught up in his tightened throat he has to fight to speak them, “He said, ‘congratulations, brother, you’re gonna be a fucking fantastic dad’.”

He laughs a little, “Then he knocked on the glass to get the attention of the nurse and demanded another visit with his niece. That was that.”

“He knew she was yours.” You whisper, in awe of their bond, of their tempestuous love for one another. “He knew where she belonged.”

“Or,” he argues just as softly. “He just couldn’t stand to take my only chance away.”

“Yes,” you agree, “maybe so.”

“He tried to stay away, I could tell. I could feel it from across town, the way he’d be holed up in his apartment fighting not to come over and see her…so I’d call him with excuse after excuse just so he could live with being here so often.”

The love in Josh’s heart, the empathy, never fails to floor you and make you weak for his strength.

“Then, after Lil’s mother left, he practically moved in. He helped with everything. We took turns waking up with her, not that it was that far of a stretch since she slept in either my arms or his. He gave her a bath every night in the kitchen sink, and I swear to god I’ve never seen him happier than when he was shampooing her little head. It all changed when she started to talk and directed one of her first little ‘da-da’s’ at him.”

He leans forward to refill your glasses, and you’re grateful for it, the haze of a tiny buzz might cushion the emotional blows being dealt.

After a long pull at his resiling, he goes on, “I argued with him when he told me he was going back out on the road. Told him everything would work itself out, but he fucking leveled me one night. She’d been sick, running a little fever, so we were both awake to keep an eye on her and he said ‘I can’t do this anymore, Josh. She’s yours, but every fucking day I wish that wasn’t true a little bit more. I need some distance, and I need it now.’ So, I let him go without a fight, how could I not?”

“She was lucky to have so much love, “ you offer, honestly. “She still is.”

“And you say I’m the eternal optimist.” He watches your mouth, but only for a blink. “No one knows, or even suspects. Honestly, I don’t think either one of us ever expected to tell another soul. And, you know, maybe I shouldn’t have laid this on your doorstep…but like I already said, he would have told you eventually. I don’t know how I know that, but I know that.”

“You’re right,” you lean in closer, pulled by the magnet force of all the truth he’s trusted you with, nose to nose, but there’s something innocent in the proximity. Something that says, this might lead somewhere tonight, this might lead nowhere tonight. “He told me he would have.”

His hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck now, holding you in place, “You asked him about it? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing.” Your lips are nearly touching, breathing one another’s air, words falling against each other's mouths. You savor him, he’s never tasted more like Josh than he does right now, with everything laid bare. “He told me nothing. He said it was your story to tell.”

“And so tell you the story, I did, sweetheart,” he’s crawling over you now, guiding you back on the couch, staring down at you as he moves with the strangest mixture of something gentle, and something inherently predatory. “And here you are.”

“Yes,” you nod, submitting below him with your hands reaching up to bury themselves in his curls, shivering at the velour drag of his closely clipped sides brushing over your palms. “Here I am.”

When he covers your body with his, pressing you into the couch cushions until you feel hidden and safe, he’s impossibly hard, rocking between your legs until he works a muted gasp from your lungs.

“So pretty, baby,” his praise sets you on fire, “I’m gonna make you sound like a song tonight. I’m going to make you fucking cry. Do you want that, love? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you nod feverishly, forehead to forehead, “I want you, Josh. I want your fingers, I want your mouth, I want you. Want you inside me.”

“You want my mouth?” You feel his lips curve into a smile that is now flush against your throat. “That sounds perfect. You want me to taste you? To kiss you right here?” He snakes his hand between you and cups at your heat through your pants. “You want me to suck this beautiful pussy until you can’t stand it anymore? You want to cum right on my tongue, sweet girl?”

“I don’t care,” you’re writhing and squirming like a whore and you can’t find the will to worry about it, “just want you, baby…c’mon, Josh, please.”

“I like it when you beg,” his confession rides out on stuttering breaths, “But I can’t seem to deny you long enough to indulge in all that whining for very long. It’s a shame.”

His fingers are working at the button on your jeans as you pump your hips into nothing beneath him when the knock comes at the door.

“Who could…”

He cuts off your wide-eyed question, groaning out a name as he shakes his head in the crook of your neck, “Jake.”

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