#Our long-standing favorite was closed due to a fire.

[danbily]

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body. 

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands. 

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun. 

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead. 

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him. 

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people. 

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom. 

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now. 

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead. 

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother. 

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow. 

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-” 

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople. 

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them. 

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.” 

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way. 

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind. 

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin. 

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone. 

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense. 

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?” 

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.” 

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” 

Twelve years. 

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there. 

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.” 

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned. 

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father. 

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.” 

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought. 

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master. 

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.” 

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief. 

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.” 

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter. 

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door. 

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter. 

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!” 

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim. 

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him. 

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.” 

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

[biconickyoshi]

Zuko and Aang as they appear in Book 2: Water of my slowburn Zukaang AU, The Avatar and the Fire Prince!

Overall Synopsis (for new readers):

In the year 96 AG, a freshly burned and banished 13-year-old Prince Zuko discovers a strange boy frozen in an iceberg. When Zhao interferes with Zuko's plans to deliver the Avatar to his father, Aang helps Zuko and Iroh escape. They take refuge in the abandoned Air Temples, Aang searching for any remnants of his people that he can find. Along the way, he teaches an indoctrinated Zuko about the true nature of the Air Nomads. Zuko must come to terms with the fact that everything he has been taught was a lie, while Iroh must acknowledge and face the sins of his past. Eventually, Aang and Zuko become close friends, and Zuko begins to feel things he has never felt for anyone before. However, Zhao will not give up easily, and will do whatever it takes to capture the Avatar and his traitor accomplices.

Book 2 Synopsis:

Zuko and Iroh have now officially denounced the Fire Nation and the Royal Family and are dedicating themselves to helping Aang fight against the forces of their homeland. After narrowly escaping Admiral Zhao at Crescent Island during the winter solstice of 96 AG, Aang, Zuko, and Iroh travel south in search of the Southern Water Tribe village Aang has been dreaming about. The village is in danger: the Southern Raiders are coming, and it will be up to our trio - with the help of a couple of Water Tribe siblings - to unite the remaining villages of the Southern Water Tribe so that they will stand a fighting chance.

I got an iPad for Xmas and I’ve spent the past couple days working on this! :) I’m super happy with how it turned out!

Zuko’s about 14 here - his hair length is how it looks about halfway through this Book. I’ll probably do another piece to show what he looks like at the end of the Book since his hair is a lot longer now with it being almost a year since he cut it in the AU’s timeline (we’re now approaching the Northern Water Tribe storyline). I’ve also never drawn weapons before… so I hope his broadswords don’t look too wonky 😅

Aang is about 13 here. He’s wearing a new outfit as well, which I thought made sense since this AU takes place over 3-4 years instead of less than one year like in the OG series. Aang’s gonna grow a lot over the course of this AU, so he can’t just keep wearing his Air Nomad trainee clothes indefinitely lol.

I plan to do a lot more pieces in the future as I get the hang of digital art, so I would like to draw more characters (like Iroh, Sokka, and Katara) and more looks for Aang and Zuko. I’m also really excited for Book 3, which will be Earth in my fic (Earth is my absolute favorite season of the OG show). Zuko’s hair will probably be long enough to pull back into a ponytail again at some point during that book… Though this time it will be a different style :) gotta do some brainstorming for that one!

I’m close to wrapping up the next chapter, in which our characters make a return to the Northern Air Temple! I haven’t had as much time to work on it recently just due to all the holiday stuff that’s been going on. It’s probably gonna be a shorter chapter as well (which I don’t mind, I hope y’all don’t either). But after that, we’ll finally be in the Northern Water Tribe! :)

[dragongirlintestines]

Hunger Over Levin-3, Part 1

A vore fic featuring Thorne and Prin (@wolfgirlguts)

Ashvale station, in the orbit of Levin-3, has lain derelict for several years. The only things keeping it functional are the autonomous maintenance systems, still diligently scrubbing oxygen filters and purifying water. Designed to last, the half-mile long series of abandoned habitation rings has become a favorite stop of pirates, mercenaries, and others who would otherwise prefer to lay low for a few days. It's a far cry from the tourist-heavy resort destination whatever megacorp built the structure intended it for.

However, such shadowed corners of the galaxy are ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

Content warnings: Mentions of Sex, Blood, Gore, Graphic Digestion, General Cruelty.

Retro-rockets fire as a lone shuttle makes its final approach to Ashvale station, its raider crew cramped from the arduous journey and ready to spend some time reveling in their recent spoils. The raid had gone easier than expected, and they have some time to waste before they're due to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

Six bodies cross the umbilical between fuselage and installation, a mix of soft furs, ears of various shapes, and one tough, scaly hide. Two foxgirls, one red and one silver, mischievous grins flashing in the half light. A deergirl with an impressive rack of antlers spins an ill-gotten amulet around one finger, while a bright-eyed rabbit boy follows closely behind, eagerly chatting to her about something. Behind those four, standing two heads above the rest, a broad croc gal trudges, hauling one unwieldy laser cannon over her shoulder. Finally, a wolfman with greying muzzle follows, his walking staff thrumming with arcane power.

"Did you see the way that one looked when we busted down the door?" the rabbit remarks to the doe, "Priceless! I never get tired of those corpos' reactions when they realize they've fucked up!"

One of the vixens turns and smirks back at him, "Maybe we should see if we can get you to make that same face tonight!"

"I think you'd look quite cute begging for your life like that," the other vixen chimes in, moving to flank the leporine young man. A blush crosses his face as he recalls the pair's reputation for needing to burn off excess energy after a raid.

Similar jests continue as the motley crew make their way through slowly rotating habitation rings, finding a cluster of rooms around a common dining hall. It would seem the last residents to make use of the station had a sense of thieves-honor, and kept the rooms decently well maintained before their departure. The halls themselves are silent, lights extinguished except when the approaching party's life signs trigger their activation. The revelrous sound of footfalls and energetic excitement echo back and forth as the pirates set up for several sols of post-raid debauchery.

Not one of them notices as another small shuttle silently glides in to dock alongside their craft.

--

"Ahhh, it was so nice of them to leave that booze behind the bar! I was worried we'd have to dip into some of our own stash tonight!" sighs the red-furred vixen, reclining on a bed laden with pillows. The bunny boy, now thoroughly winded, rests his head on her slightly chubby belly, too exhausted and drunk to do anything about the mix of fluids matting down their fur. Beside them, the other vixen lays an arm across the pair, completing the rabbit sandwich.

"Yeah, and we still wouldn't have to if you hadn't drank half the bar, Shay," the silver fox groans, a teasing grin playing across her face as she gazes longingly into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Shut up, Bella," The other shoots back, flicking her partner's snout playfully. Above them, something creaks in the station.

"I didn't think we were that rough…" Bella jokes, before turning back to her lovers. "Whatever."

"Uggghhhh…" moans the cottontail between them, as he begins to roll off of Shay. "Gotta piss, do you know where the toilet is?"

"Nope! Let us know where it is when you find it!" Bella laughs. "Maybe after you use it. Unless you're into that, Ollie!"

"Ew. No." he deadpans as he disentangles himself from the horny vixen.

"Okie! Take your time, I'll get Shay here warmed up for round four!"

"Those stupid horny foxes…" Ollie thinks to himself as he leaves the room, unable to help but glance back at their still-throbbing cocks. It doesn't go unnoticed, and Shay shoots him a mischievous wink in response.

--

"Where is the damn bathroom?" The rabbit finds himself thinking, as he meanders through the hallways of the derelict station. The thought crosses his mind that this kind of poor design may have been one of the factors that led to its failure as a resort, and he chuckles to himself.

Up ahead, one of the sensor lights flickers on.

"Hello?" he calls out, wondering if one of his comrades was also up and about. As he casually strolls towards the light, it flickers out again, before reigniting when he comes in range.

"odd…" he mutters to himself.

"If I remember tomorrow, I should check that out and see if anything else is malfunctioning" he thinks. He is, at least sometimes, the responsible one of the crew. Finally, his wandering eyes catch sight of a sign, and he sighs in relief as he realizes his search has come to an end.

--

As the heat of the dryer cleans the fur on his hands, one of Ollie's ears perks up, as he hears the sound of footsteps outside the small lavatory. "I'll be out in a second!" he calls, hoping whoever is waiting didn't have to search quite as hard as he had.

Paws still slightly damp, he hurries through the door, and gently closes it behind himself. Turning back around, adrenaline spikes in his veins as he finds his vision filled with a mass of ashen blue scales. A pair of digitigrade legs, each foot tipped with sharp, bony talons ten centimeters long. Behind them flicks a long tail, pale golden ventral scales underneath contrasting with the same blue as the creature's thighs.

He slowly lifts his vision, trying not to stare too hard at the slight bulge in the golden scales and wide hips sitting just above his eye level. The creature's torso is a mass of muscle and flesh, and nestled between her breasts sits a strange device, a grey half-sphere glowing with baleful blue light. Hoses run from this core, most punching down into the flesh of the creature, but as his eyes follow two of them up to its left where they join into a terrifying mess of metal and synthetic muscle. A prosthetic arm, though he considers that it may have simply been an "upgrade" to the flesh it once was, given how its construction speaks of pure violent intent. It ends in a set of three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with sharp, polished points, the whole hand larger than his head. The terrifying metallic claws of the creature's left arm, however, seem barely an upgrade when he compares to the equally terrifying fleshy right arm. The whole body is framed by massive blue wings, tucked neatly up against its back.

Finally, he looks up to the creature's head, crocodilian to a certain extent, with pale ivory horns protruding from a mane of blue hair. Piercing, lightning-blue eyes leer down at him, and a pale red tongue runs along her lips as she looks down, hungrily.

"h… hello." he stammers, before the creature's metallic claw wraps around his torso and lifts him three feet off the ground, slamming him painfully against the door he just closed.

"Hey there, little snack," The creature growls, a wicked grin splitting its lips, revealing two dozen vicious teeth, each three inches long. Pure terror shoots through his veins, and he screams, every molecule of air he can expend tearing out of his lungs in a desperate cry for someone to save him.

Be it through sheer bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, he can hear a fox's scream of pleasure echoing faintly back through the halls of the station.

"Shame," the beast laughs, "you'll need that breath to run." It whips around, hurling Ollie's limp body 15 feet down the hallway. He bounces and tumbles, and feels several of his ribs bruise from the impact. "Get to it, little meat,"

"Meat?" he thinks to himself, unsure if he heard correctly, before the creature's draconic maw speaks again.

"I need to work up an appetite before dinner."

Oh. He heard correctly, he realizes. She wants to eat him. His mind races, the thought that a fellow sapient would stoop to something so taboo. Sure, some sapients would give in to their predatory instincts, but even the most depraved raiders stuck to hunting non-sapient animals.

"What, did I break you already?" a laughing growl peals from the beast's throat.

He doesn't need to be prompted. He needs to get back to his crew. They have weapons there. Victor might be able to weave a spell to bring her down. Or he could just be leading the monster to them. To devour them all.

No time to worry about that though. He needs to run. Now.

His paws scramble against the metallic floor, struggling for purchase. After agonizing seconds he pushes himself up off the ground, tearing down the corridors of the station.

He takes the forks on instinct, first left, then right, right feels correct here; there's no sense of direction, he just has to hope that by some miracle these labyrinthine corridors don't come to a dead end, and that he doesn't end dead.

No such luck. One wrong turn, and he rounds a corner into a common area of sorts. A large window looks out over the infinte void of space, the peaceful horizon of Levin-3 turning carefree down below. It would be beautiful, if he were anyone else.

To him, all it spells is despair. He's trapped here, in this beautiful lounge, with a monster between him any anyone who could save him. He's going to die here. He's going to die and be devoured by some sort of unhinged dragon woman. He's going to die and then she's going to slaughter his crew and no one will ever find their bodies.

No. he's not given up yet. Though the beast's pounding footsteps echo distantly through the station, he might yet be able to hide. He takes a chance to look around, noticing several doors labeled "penthouse suite" around the corners of the room.

He picks one, and to his relief, it opens with a quiet hiss. He dashes through, and finds a button with a padlock icon on the other side. His paw slams into it frantically, and the door gently clicks behind him. The lights in the room turn on, revealing a dusty, but lavishly decorated suite. A couch, table, and entertainment suite are laid out in front of him, with a kitchenette occupying one corner of the room. Through another doorway, he spies a comfortable looking bed, equally lavishly furnished.

He just needs to stay calm, and hopefully that… thing… will leave him be. He doesn't want to think about what that means for his friends, but that's a problem for when he makes it out alive.

Bile surges in his throat as exertion finally catches up to him, and he leaves a mess on the carpet as he retches. Recovering slowly, he tiptoes his way to the bedroom, tucking himself underneath the bed, behind the bed runner. It's sheer, and he can see the door through it, but it's as concealed as he can hope.

--

Agonizing minutes pass, and he can feel reverberations as the massive creature treads her way through the halls of the station.

"Did I put enough distance between us? Did she lose my trail?" Oliver wonders to himself.

The motion sensor lights turn off in the room, and he realizes the station itself kept his trail, writ large in pale LED lighting. A single, heavy footfall shakes the floor, and he knows death awaits right beyond the door.

A surprisingly gentle knock breaks the silence, followed by a mocking falsetto growl.

"Room service!"

A momentary pause that could last a lifetime. A prey animal trapped in its own nest holds its breath desperately hoping against hope that his doom would turn her gaze elsewhere.

"Ah well, worth a try," comes the growl, taking cruel pleasure in its little joke.

Metal shrieks against metal as hardened steel talons punch through the door, tearing through the it like paper. Blue scales fill the doorframe, and the creature stoops to let itself in. It sniffs a moment, then wrinkles its nose at the small vomit stain on the floor. A low, throaty growl escapes its lips, as it scans the room.

Oliver's eyes fall upon it at the same time as the beast's. A clean trail of pawprints in the otherwise pristine carpet of the room.

The beast crouches down, taking its time to crawl towards the poor rabbit's hiding place. "I didn't know you thought of me this way," she croons as she steps slowly, deliberately towards the bedroom. Stooping again through the second doorway, it presses itself to the ground. It lifts the bed runner, making full eye contact with one terrified lagomorph. Her claw lashes out, filling his vision, metal fingers splaying around his ears. He feels crushing pressure around his skull, and wonders if this is the end.

It is not. She pulls him out from under the bed by his ears, pain shooting through his scalp, and he can feel something warm run down the back of his neck.

"nononoNONONO!" he screams and kicks as she lifts him slowly up off the ground, before forcing him down onto the bed. Not too long ago, he remembers dreaming of something similar with a certain vixen, but this is much less desirable. For the second time within the hour, a scream rips its way through his throat, hoarse and ragged.

The monster does not allow it to last. She climbs up onto the bed after him, its lightweight orbit-alloy frame cracking under half a ton of draconic flesh. Her claws wrap around his arms, and those terrifying jaws crack open impossibly wide. He tries to squirm, but his arms are held tight to his torso, leaving only his legs to flail helplessly against the air, while the beast lifts him towards her rows of flesh-rending fangs.

The deathly maw snaps forward, driving daggers into his arms and gut, forcing the last screaming breath out of his lungs. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to stare down the yawning throat that pulses and throbs, eager for meat. It is only when she takes another hungry swallow, teeth this time piercing his soft ass, that he realizes this monster has no intent to chew. Her tounge dances along his abdomen, and a growl of pleasure reverberates up through the throat around him. Wretched, hot air wafts up from within its throat as he feels its tongue play across his body, tip winding its way into gaping wounds, lapping at his freely flowing blood. The agony is exquisite, but he can only manage a tiny whimper.

Again, the creature swallows, her tongue slipping between his thighs to push him deeper down her throat, rubbing against a sensitive nub of flesh. He is cruelly reminded of a joke Shay made about "playing with her prey" when her tongue had been in a similar position earlier that night.

He can feel as his ears slip into her gullet, and his face is pressed firmly into the soft entrance. Another burst of adrenaline kicks in, and his whole body flexes and writhes, raging against the terrifying thought of being digested alive. His arms, now free of the claws holding them in place, desperately grasp at something, anything, that he might use to pull himself out. Too late he realizes his paw has grasped something bony and round. Murderous jaws once again slam shut around him, and his hand is quickly turned to a mangled, bloody mess as it is impaled between dragon teeth. Likewise, his writhing legs are stilled as daggers sever nerves in his thighs, before pressure builds and he can feel a femur snap beneath several tons of bite force.

Her prey now somewhat more subdued, the dragon tosses her head back, letting gravity aid in pulling this morsel down her throat. One leg hangs limply outside her maw, as the still living meat is hungrily dragged into her throat. The rabbit can't even feel as she wraps her tongue around that limb, and lazily drags it down with the rest of him, not a care given for the disfigured mass of flesh it has become.

The throat is crushingly tight around Oliver, but compared to the bite force he had just experienced, it feels downright gentle. Peristaltic motions pull him ever deeper, and he cannot help but whimper, knowing in his heart that there is no escaping now; only slow, agonizing death. As he whimpers, his body shakes, and tears fall from his eyes, mingling with the esophageal mucous surrounding him. The beast's gullet, ignorant to his misery, pulls him ever deeper.

He feels a gentle pressure against his head, which gives way as the esophageal muscles push him into a more open chamber. He gasps, and immediately regrets it. Painfully acidic fumes burn the sensitive inside of his nose, down his throat, all the way into his lungs. A moment later he opens his eyes, another immediate regret. The throat pushes again. His face is plunged into chemical soup, immediately searing his corneas blind. Now panicking in sightless darkness, he can't help but thrash wildly with what little strength he has left. He feels himself fall for a brief moment, and a weight lands on top of him. He realizes that he can't feel his legs anymore.

As he thrashes, he can hear that same rumbling growl from before, only now it emanates from all around him.

"Mmmmm… yeah. I should get rabbit more often…"

He can feel something pushing on the stomach walls, as the beast rubs her slightly swollen gut. To an outside observer, were it not for the occasional bump, it would be barely obvious that an entire sapient had just been tucked away behind those scales.

"Shouldn't have crushed his legs though… they'd probably feel real good kicking in there…" Impotent fury surges through his mind as Ollie realizes she's taking pleasure in his digestive demise.

"Let me out! You fucker!" he screams, his voice hoarse from his previous exertions, as well as the scouring acidic air of her guts.

"Hmmmm… Aww, does food not know its place?" the monster ackowledges him, pure cruel mockery in its voice.

"Why… We're both sapients… You're a monster…" he moans, delirium starting to set in from lack of air.

"Oh I'm aware, you're hardly the first delicious little morsel to call me that."

"You've gotta let me ou- glrk" the poor rabbit's voice chokes as cruel hands force him under gastric juices. Bloody chime quickly surges into his throat, violating his insides. His tongue feels slippery as it begins to melt, and he finds himself unable to speak as his vocal cords sear through.

"Oh, no, I've still got a whole meal to worry about before that…"

Muscular claws push down on the belly, and it clenches painfully around him. He feels burning inside his chest, and pressure outside. Something twitches, then gives. His ribcage collapses, crushing his heart. Sensation begins to fade.

"I wonder if Prin's caught anything yet…" the bunny hears, moments before hopping off the mortal coil.

[joonslfttiddie]

Home

Chapter 42: Visions...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Smut/Stalking/Minor injury/Mentions of fire/Arson/Mentions of murder/Threesome/Oral sex/Voyeurism

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 3,789

Tia’s POV *Vision* 

The way that I see the snapshots from the past or the future can’t be explained verbally. Colors and feelings are as close as I can get, but the knowing helps me interpret them. As if stuck from behind, my back arches with my head to the sky as a beam of light shines down upon my face. It’s blindingly brilliant, hurting my eyes if I stare directly into it, which is why I blink so frequently, as I find that more tolerable. 

I can see shadowy figures, only able to make out their movements, but I can feel whether they are male or female, good or bad, happy or angry. I’ve been practicing so I can also distinguish if they are someone I know. This particular vision shows a figure standing in the street in front of our house, and it feels desperate. There is a rage combined with a longing that is unsettling. However, I just know that no harm will come to us. I just know that we will be okay and that he will be serving time behind bars sooner rather than later. 

Nonetheless, I take a moment to focus my energy on all of the guys, intentionally sending an SOS to them all. It only seems to flutter at first, so I try again. My fingers and toes begin to tingle and a similar sensation flushes over my face. It’s as if my soul begins to vibrate and tries to aim for their hearts, sending my message like beams of red light. I’m successfully able to transmit to the guys with purpose…I can feel it. Now, to pivot my attention back to tap into the messages being sent to me.

A string stretches from that figure to connect to another, and I can feel that it’s Brandon. The bond feels familial. IS TONY BRANDON’S FUCKING BROTHER?! My speculation is confirmed when the second figure splits into two and they face each other. There is a hole in both their chests and I can feel their hearts beating in my throat. Where their hearts should be are empty voids that mirror each other, which makes sense, being that they are mirror twins. They are also angry, with the feeling of adoration mixed in. I know that Brandon was interested in developing a romantic relationship, but Jason, too? I’ve only met him a few times that I know of. I can sense that one twin is much angrier than the other, and I can sense that he has done horrible things.

I’m able to see Brandon in the cellar, drugging my favorite bottles of wine by pumping the solution through the cork with a syringe. Momentarily, I’m confused because I can feel Jimin’s energy, but it’s not Jimin. This doesn’t make sense to me, but I continue to receive the message. I’m suddenly aware that their father is a piece of shit, too. Was. He was a piece of shit but is no longer on this plane. He was murdered.

Fuck boy energy seems to flow through their lineage, dating all the way back to their great-great-grandfather. I feel a strange connection to him, specifically, as if he’s done something unforgivable to me. But it’s not me? And fire…fire is all around them.

As if being flung across the room, my attention lands in an area of my subconscious where I can see myself counseling Tony years ago. I can see two figures outside of the office, Brandon and Jason. They must have been the ones driving him to his sessions. Taken back a bit further, I can see Tony talking to Jason about how to talk to girls, having minimal experience due to him serving time for assaulting his neighbor.

“I told you. If they act like they don’t want to give it to you, take it.”

This advice makes Tony uneasy, especially after just being released for acting on Jason’s words. My mind’s eye shows me the many women who fell victim to Jason’s ideology. The sadness, anger, and resentment is so strong. I can feel hot vomit attempting to travel up my throat as their screams and cries echo in my ears. Jason seems so excited and proud after he conquers these women, not only sexually. There’s a flash, and I can see him smiling. I can feel his happiness as he swims in a pool of blood.

Oh my God…he killed one of those women?! No, not just one but multiple! And his own father!

I envision Tony being arrested, and the overbearing smell of gasoline makes me lightheaded. I can feel the desperation for acceptance and the sadness he feels, being abused since the day he stepped foot into their house. Of course, his stepmother hates him as he is a walking manifestation of her husband’s infidelity, but also he’s hated by his father and brothers. He is becoming accustomed to their treatment, so much so that he begins to view it as a form of affection, which makes it easy for him to cover for his brother.

Fire.

In the middle of the night, Jason goes into his parent’s bedroom, soaks their carpet and bedding with gasoline, and sets them alight in their sleep. He didn’t realize that some of the fuel had gotten on his hand causing it to catch fire as well. Brandon, awakened by his parent’s screams, comes in to try and help them, burning his hand as he grabs onto his mother’s. I can feel the heat from head to toe, sweat prickles on my skin and each exhale wafts like steam across my lips.

“JASON! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Brandon’s voice is shrill and full of fear.

My intuition lets me know that the marks on the twin’s hands are not birthmarks, rather they are evidence of what took place that night. Jason would later confess to Brandon that he did it because he was tired of them... that’s it. He was tired of seeing his mother cry due to his father’s transgressions, but he also resented her for being so fucking weak. He makes sure to mention that he’s not opposed to offing their younger brother if the need arises. But for the moment, Tony has some use. 

His mental issues and animosity towards his father for not claiming him when he was younger make the perfect motive for murder. Tony would genuinely get upset because his father did not want him but had never thought to kill him, ESPECIALLY in such a heinous way. Of course, when the police came to investigate, the twins claimed it was Tony who did it, and they were burned trying to save their parents. And Tony agreed, so after doing time for sexual assault, he goes back to prison after taking the fall for Jason and will do another bid for Brandon. 

As if all of this is not enough, I am disgusted, and I am fucking livid. Not only at these motherfuckers but at myself. They are despicable human beings but how did I not notice when their ‘birthmark’ switched hands? They were taking turns coming in and out of my house, pretending to be the same person. It’s all making sense now. I now understand why it seemed like Brandon would have mood swings, from being so kind and charming one day to being aggressively persistent, then belligerent and disrespectful the day he got hurt. Now, the adoration I’m picking up from Jason is starting to make more sense.

I can understand why Tony hasn’t been around all of these years since he was incarcerated, but why are Brandon and Jason just now coming back into my life after all this time? Why now? 

Blinking continuously, I am shown a man with a short haircut walking a small dog towards our house. I’m beginning to notice that I can make out the entire person: his arms, legs, facial features, skin tone…everything. Why is it that this man is so detailed? I look around and see that I and the guys are peering out of the big window in the living area. They are all perfectly detailed as well. With that connection, I look back to the man with the dog and I hone in on my feelings. There it is…the same feelings I have for the guys I feel for this man, and they are reciprocated. He’s one of them. One of the special men that makes me fall head over heels at first glance. There is a connection between them and myself that dates back centuries it looks like, and just as my mind begins to focus on it, I’m jerked back to my body, to the present. 

I can see myself telling the guys about all of the details regarding Tony and his brothers, then suddenly, grief overcomes me. Jungkook leads the picketing to their house, where a shootout ensues. Jungkook survives for the moment, while others don’t make it. He goes to prison for homicide and loses his life to several inmates after they find out that he’s a former police officer. 

“Mmm,” bubbles up from my chest, my body jerks, and I hold my clenched fists against my bare chest as I try to hold back the tears. All of these feelings are so real and vivid, giving me a glimpse of what would happen to us if I speak now.

I just have to wait until they are at least detained. Ideally, I should wait until they are convicted and are serving time.

The bright light begins to fade, releasing me from the flood of knowledge. My body is still trembling, dripping with sweat, and I’m short of breath; my whole body feels sore, and I’m exhausted.

With all of the information and scenes I witnessed, I assume that I have been in here for a while, at least an hour. Carefully, I try to get dressed as quickly as I can, wiping my face with my shirt, and then I go out to meet the guys at the top of the stairs.

“Tia, are you okay? What the fuck happened?” Jimin asks, blotting moisture from my nose. “You’re soaking wet, and your eyes are bloodshot.”

“I’m okay… I’m fine,” I reassure him before reiterating Namjoon’s warnings about Tony.

Then, I ask Namjoon about how long I was ‘out of it,’ and he tells me, “I left you in there for maybe five minutes, if that.”

Not only do I not mention that I feel like I could have been in there for way longer, but I don’t speak a word of all the information I’ve garnered.

We descend and assemble in the living room to peer out the blinds, just as we had in my vision.

Thinking back to everything I have seen, one could almost feel sorry for Tony. I’ve seen clients like him who have developed mental illnesses that stemmed from intense abuse and manipulation, especially in childhood. It’s like a new personality is created to help cope with the stress of it all. While all of that is fucked up, none of that justifies the things he’s done. He needs rehabilitation, but I wonder if he’s too far gone at this point for treatment.

*Present Day*

When I wake up, the sun kisses my face and my four beautiful loves surround me. While this moment is sweet and I’m so grateful to be so close to them, it is uncomfortable being packed in our king-sized bed like a tin of sardines. Once I can detach myself from between Jimin and Jungkook, I sit up and feel so bad to see Taehyung hanging off the edge of the bed. I am SO looking forward to the guy coming to build our custom bed. It is going to be massive, and there will be more room for everyone.

“Good morning, Little. Did you sleep well?”

I turn my head to see Namjoon lying on his side, with Jimin snuggled against his chest, scrolling on his phone. I don’t think I will ever get tired of seeing his beautiful smile, his warm skin tone, and those irresistible divots in his cheeks; only one of his cute dimples is visible from this angle.

“Good morning,” I whisper back to him. “I slept like a baby.”

“I bet you did,” he says with a knowing tone. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” I say, smiling shyly.

Namjoon rolls out of bed easily as he is on the outside. He then reaches out for me as I crawl over Jimin to his now empty spot to get up without waking the others. I am only wearing a t-shirt, my panties nowhere in sight, thanks to last night’s escapades with Jungkook. A chill travels through me when I get a flashback of his tongue on my clit and his fingers deep inside of me. Smiling happily, I pick up the first pair of shorts I see, and they fit just right around my thick thighs, ass, and chubby tummy.

Once downstairs, I glance at the microwave to see that it’s only 7:30 am and yawn into the back of my hand while making my way over to Namjoon. He has started getting the coffee going, and I hug him from behind, mimicking his steps to move in unison with him.

“Are you a koala again?”

“Yeth,” I say cutely, with a playful lisp. “I can’t help it. You smell so pretty.”

“Pretty? What does pretty smell like?” He asks, as we continue to step this way and that, now getting mugs from the cupboard and placing them on the marbled countertop.

“Like you!”

“I’m sure that is just the fabric softener JK uses,” he laughs at my corniness then turns to face me once the coffee starts to brew. Holding me by my cheeks, he leans down to kiss me. It isn’t deep or passionate but still full of love. Pulling me in to hug him, I rest my head between his pecs due to our height difference.

“Are you excited for the day? The guy is coming to build the bed, and Hoseok is coming back.”

“Yes! I’m so excited. Do you think the bed will be ready today? I’m hoping we will all have enough room with Hobi sleeping over.”

“Hobi? I like that,” he says. “I really hope he can get it done in one day. He said he would be here in about an hour, so there should be plenty of time to get it done. Especially with him bringing a team.”

We remain like this until I hear his stomach rumble.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah, I need to eat something. I’m starving, much like Jungkook was last night,” he teases, laughing at his own joke. I find myself laughing at his laughter more so than the actual joke.

“What about Jungkook?” Jungkook asks as he rounds the corner, which makes us laugh even more.

Namjoon proudly repeats his joke as Jungkook makes his way over to complete the Tia sandwich, smushing me between their bodies.

While enjoying my coffee with Namjoon and Jungkook, we make a light breakfast which includes bacon. The aroma of food entices Jimin and Taehyung out of bed to come down and join us. We finish eating then plop our dishes into the hot water that Taehyung has prepared. 

“Thank you, Taehyungie,” Jimin says, and we all follow suit, expressing our gratitude. 

“It’s no problem at all. You guys know I enjoy doing the dishes. Thank you for breakfast.”

Leaving Taehyung to his desired task and Namjoon to keep him company, we all go back upstairs to shower and get dressed. While still in the bathroom, Jungkook comes to hug me from behind as I’m flat twisting my hair to the back, creating somewhat of a halo around my head. Kissing from my elbow, which is pointing towards the ceiling, down my arm to my shoulder, he sniffs when he gets to my neck.

“Mmm, you smell so fucking good,” he says with his lips still against my skin.

I give in to his advances for a moment, closing my eyes and leaning into his embrace, stopping mid-twist. I’m still holding on to my hair, with him holding me at the waist. His other hand trails up my body painstakingly slow, taking my lightweight dress up with it to stop at the fullness of my breast. The dress creeps up, exposing my thighs, then my pretty lacy panties; he takes the opportunity to thumb around the waist of them with his pinky finger.

“Who the fuck you getting all pretty for, huh? Hoseok?” he asks, jokingly.

“Uh huh,” my answer travels on an exhale from my nose.

“Well, you don’t have to do all this. You’re the most beautiful woman in my eyes no matter what you’re wearing,” his breaths tickle my skin. 

His pinky dips further down into my underwear, just barely grazing the top of my mound, sending shivers through my body; my pussy throbs and clenches around nothing in anticipation. Pressing his manhood against my ass, he fondles my nipple through the fabric of my dress and bra while placing kisses along the top of my spine.

“Koo…”

“Hmm?”

Mindlessly, I let go of my hair and can feel the twist coming undone as I snake one arm behind me and around his neck, scraping my nails across his skin. The other rests atop his hand while he’s teasing under the waist of my panties, silently encouraging him to go further.

“What is it, Noona? Tell me.”

He finally plunges deeper into the lace and palms my mound, resting his middle finger on my clitoris, tapping his finger against it as if he’s waiting for my response. I bite down on my lip and flinch with each tap, electricity searing through my veins.

TAP… TAP… TAP.

“Hmm?” The bass from him vibrates against my back while he nibbles at my skin. He dips his finger down to collect my essence to smear over my pearl. “You smell even better now; you’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything. Do you like me that much?”

“Yes,” is barely audible as I’m lost in the feeling he is providing.

“Babe, I took all the…oh, shit,” Jimin reacts to the scene he has just walked in on.

I’m facing the door and my eyes pop open to see him looking back at me wide-eyed, only expecting us to be getting ready for the day. I look in the mirror to see that Jungkook is unphased by our unexpected guest.

“Jimin, doesn’t our baby smell delectable?” Jungkook speaks to Jimin without removing himself from me, his body is warm against my back and his breath dances across my skin.

“Hell yeah, she does. You smell so sweet, beautiful,” he says, then licks his lips, his eyes darting here and there in an attempt to capture every detail. “May I? I could play a supporting role.”

“Yes,” I reply, gazing up at him, unsure if the question was even intended for me.

He moves around us into the spacious bathroom, straight to my vanity chair, pulling it over to us. It’s as if he’s thought about this very moment before, already equipped with a plan. Jungkook removes his hand from my pussy and takes this opportunity to reposition himself to now stand in front of me with his back now against the counter. The thought crosses my mind as I’m still facing the bathroom door and I wonder if someone else will walk in. The idea of getting caught again excites me even more. 

Jimin takes Jungkook’s previous spot behind me and kneels down on his knees. He reaches up to gently hook my panties onto his fingers, rubbing his palms down my thighs and legs while guiding them off, which sends shivers through my body. He helps me to step out of them and places them neatly on the countertop.

Jungkook stares down at me with a darkness that makes me gasp, taking his fingertip to suck my cream from it before kissing me allowing me to taste myself on his tongue. I can feel Jimin’s hands on me from behind, guiding me by my calf and thigh to rest my leg on the chair, exposing me fully to him. Jungkook’s kisses are soft at first, as he is just beginning to stoke our flame once again. I can still feel his eagerness pressed against me, and I moan into his mouth. My desire to have him is on the verge of boiling over, and I can tell that he wants me just as badly.

“So pretty,” Jimin says, dragging a finger through my slick. I can hear him suck it off, accompanied with a soft ‘mmm’.

Jungkook releases my lips with a smack to plant open-mouth kisses down my jawline to my neck. I gasp, jumping at the sudden feeling of Jimin’s warm breath and tongue gliding across my lips.

“Oh my God,” I say, my voice quivering.

“That’s not my name,” Jimin mentions before diving in for another taste, and I can feel Jungkook smile against my skin.

Jimin continues to lap at my pussy from behind, his hands squeezing at my cheeks and separating them for better access. Jungkook pulls away to begin undoing some of the buttons on my dress. Exposing my bra, he pushes the straps with my dress down my shoulders, leaving them hanging loosely around my elbows. He finds the treasure he’s searching for, scoops my breasts from their confines to cup them in his hands, and begins to lap hungrily at one of my nipples. I’ve been trying to control myself this whole time; I don’t want to cum just yet, I want this experience to last a bit longer.

Our moans and grunts echo off the bathroom walls, and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out much longer. Fervently, Jimin devours my kitty, leaving no crumbs or juices behind. As if that wasn’t making my head spin, this motherfucker pushes a couple of fingers into the mix. I’m clutching Jungkook’s shirt in my fists and at this point, I NEED to cum; the loop in my belly is bound so tightly. The sensations are nearly too much to bear. I just need this to end. From the feel of it, Jungkook needs relief as well. His dick is rock hard against my stomach. Jimin removes his fingers from me, placing his wet fingers on my thigh, digging his nails into my skin. 

Oh my, Jimin and Jungkook…I am about to cum. I’m already about to plummet over the edge but there’s something else happening to me. The feeling is different and it intensifies. Jungkook moves from my breasts back up to my neck and I open my eyes for just a split second, surprised by what I see. We are oblivious to the fact that the carpenter is here with his team. They are in the bedroom measuring, and just when I look up, I make eye contact with one of them.

[xray-vex]

"-- to bleed willingly and joyfully": Edward Teach and the double-edged sword of love

The Kiss scene in S1 ep 9 of Our Flag Means Death is one of the most beautiful, tender, and authentic performances of love and romance in film/TV, in part due to how masterful Taika's facial expressions are.

Have you ever been in love so deeply, profoundly, overwhelmingly, that it made you weep?

I've been thinking thoughts about Ed's face here during this scene. How his expression subtly shifts from loving adoration to a slightly more somber look, as if a cloud of melancholy passes over.

(I've slowed down the above video and close-cropped it a bit to make this easier to see.)

At first Ed's smiling, absolutely besotted, head over heels -- and then, it looks like he's blinking back tears, his throat bobs as if he's swallowing them down. It's just a brief, subtle, blink-and-you'll miss it moment.

What does it mean to love someone so much that they change your entire world? That you'd die for them, live for them? To feel so transformed by that love, so shaken to your core that you can feel it in your bones?

It comes with the knowledge that the very love that brings you joy and ecstasy will also deeply, profoundly hurt you someday -- and then making the conscious choice to love anyway, to pursue that love, to follow wherever it leads, despite knowing that it will break you.

This scene is an intensely intimate moment. Ed's face to face with Stede, so close they're sharing breath, gazing into each other's eyes, seeing each other's soul reflected back at them. In this moment, we witness Ed's realization that he's willing to endure unbearable pain to have the chance to love Stede and share a romantic life with him.

Prior to this moment, Ed was already aware of his feelings and how important Stede has become to him. He was already prepared to sacrifice himself for Stede by physically standing in the way of the firing squad. He signed away a decades-long successful pirating career and everything about his previous life. He gave up his entire identity just for the chance to build a new life with Stede.

HOWEVER -- The Kiss was the consummation of the first part of the journey that began when Ed first laid eyes on Stede. It's this moment, this moment -- when everything clicks, when Ed's become fully aware of the full gravity of his love. A new journey begins here, one far more perilous, with much higher stakes.

It's one thing to be willing to die for someone. It's another to acknowledge that you love someone so much that you are joyfully willing to suffer for them. You know it's going to hurt you someday, but your love is so immense that you're willing to pay the price, even if the pain is a fate worse than death. And loss and grief and heartbreak are inevitable; there is no other outcome to love. As the poet Richard Siken said: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”

Ed's melancholy expression is of anticipatory grief. He's madly in love with Stede, but also realizes he's done for. There's no going back now, no way out without pain and suffering. But the ecstasy of that love is exquisite; it's transcendence, a love so great that it makes him willing to endure the agony entangled with it.

I've been thinking of the kiss scene and Ed's bittersweet expression for a long time now in relation to excerpts from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. Not all of this work resonates with me (it focuses heavily on mentions of 'God' and 'traditional' male/female dynamics), but its passages about love are absolutely beautiful, and are some of my favorite writings on the subject ever.

The following excerpts perfectly capture what I mean about Ed's love for Stede in this moment following the kiss:

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstacy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

-- Another passage in The Prophet about joy and sorrow being intertwined is also relevant here, re: Ed and his intense emotional personality:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

This is the double-edged sword of being an intensely feeling person. Yes, you have the tendency to experience sublime ecstasy, but at the cost of enduring terrible agonies as well.

[ashley-jones]

To Which You Crave

Aemond Targaryen x Married Sister OC x Alys Rivers

OC Name: Visella Targaryen

It is our fate, I think, to crave what is given to others. If one posseses a thing, the other will take it away. - Helaena Targaryen

From the moment she was born into this world as the youngest child of King Viserys the Peaceful and Queen consort Alicent Hightower, that she would be queen. She married her oldest brother Aegon Targaryen, the favorite but useless spoiled rotten boy. She gave birth to two very healthy pureblooded Targaryen boys, each looking like her and Aegon. She did the unspeakable, something men haven’t been able to do in thousands of years, tamed one of the untamable dragons, the most dangerous and most powerful dragon, Cannibal at only the age of 6. It was a mistake, her and Aemond had just gone for a morning walk like they did every morning, to which she had borrowed Sunfyre for a ride due to Aegon never taking him out. While resting she had entered a passage that led her straight into the cannibal’s trap of corpses. 

His deathly green eyes had sat on her the moment she entered his territory, standing to his larger, overbearing monstrous height. His head reminded her of Balerion, the black dread’s skull that sits in King's Landing. He looked so much larger than Vaghar, her great aunt Leana’s dragon. He let out a loud roar that shook the ground and the skies. Her long white hair blew back behind her ruining the once perfect braid. Aemond had frozen about 30 feet behind her, unable to yell for his sister as she looked up at the dragon with pure amazement. A ball of fire could be seen filling the dragon’s throat, and as the flames were seconds from hitting her, the dragon stopped. She was smiling, her young childish features had turned to a beautiful smile staring up at him with pure amazement and giddy. The flames disappeared, slowly leaned his head down to which she reached her hand out until her tiny palm touched his snout. A deep rumbling purr escaped him, her fingers gliding along the pitch black night colored scales. “My dragon..” she whispered. 

When she turned to say something to Aemond he had disappeared, Sunfyre still standing watching her closely. “Aemond?” she called out. But nothing, he had walked away not saying anything going straight back to King's Landing. 

    When she returned home riding the black beast, all she got was stares of amazement from the handlers. Jace and Luke watched in terror, the same with Rhaenyra once the blacks realized the greens had a very strong and overpowering dragon on their side. Alicent was quick to make sure her daughter was okay, Aemond standing in the back listening to Aegon’s teasing of still not having a dragon. But Viserys congratulated her on conquesting something men haven’t been able to touch in thousands of years. 

    That was 11 years ago, when she was still young and innocent. Before she married Aegon and had children. Before her older brother Aemond lost his eye to their nephew Lucerys. Before he gained Vaghar, the second largest dragon in the world. But now she’s grown up, learned what kind of world she lives in. She’s lost count how many times she has entered her and Aegon’s chambers to find him with a whore, to which she would turn and just walk out; having come so used to the sight that it no longer bothers her. Usually when it came to this she would just take her two boys and go straight to Aemond’s room, which they seemed to much prefer over their own father. 

    “Visella, what do you think of this one?” Helaena questioned her younger sister. The younger turned her head away from the book Aemond was reading looking at the spider embroidery. “It's beautiful, sweet thing.” she softly replied. To which Helaena smiled and looked away moving onto another embroidery. Her sons were playing with two dragon figures, one of pitch black the other green and silver. Her lilac gaze moved back to the book that was still partially resting on her thigh and Aemond’s. Her gaze scanned the pages, reading over each line; but her attention would be stolen every few minutes when her boys would talk, or Helaena would ask her questions or mutter to herself. 

   

Soon the midwives came in to collect the boys to lay them down for a nap, each bowing to the three then walking out holding the boys hands. Aemond closed the boy after sliding the ribbon into place and setting it aside. Helaena stood muttering about nearly missing classes, saying her goodbyes to her younger siblings then walking out whispering to herself. Visella stood walking towards the place her sons had been playing, kneeling and beginning to pick their toys up to place them back into the basket. “Was he with another again?” Aemond questioned. “He was, yes.” she answered. She set the two dragons on top and placed the basket by the door so she would remember to grab it when leaving. “It removes his attention from me, to which I am perfectly fine with.” she simply said. Rejoining her seat on the floor, to which he had moved back to the chair, he head moved to sit against his leg. 

His hand pushed through her white hair, carefully brushing out any knots the boys had placed when messing with her hair earlier in the afternoon. Her purple haze soon turned blac as her lids closed, eyelashes grazing her cheeks. Taking care of the boys mainly by herself was exhausting. When they cried at night in the next room she was the only one to get up to handle them, Aegon muttering about the noise then just going back to sleep too drunk to care. Then she would spend the rest of her night rocking them back to forth. Aemond has actually entered the nursery once or twice to her physically rocking Rhaegal, but mentally she was asleep, mind exhausted and unconscious, but body on active mode. Hell Aegon has walked in on it as well, only to walk out calling her crazy. 

“Ziry gaomas daor gūrogon ao.” (he does not deserve you.) he muttered. “Mm Hae ao gaomagon telling nyke lēkia.” (Mm.. As you keep telling me brother..) she whispered. “Kesā sagon iā rōvēgrie dāria though mandia.” (You will be a great queen though sister.) he whispered. “Mērī sȳrkta lo nyke skoriot naejot sagon ondoso aōha paktot instead hen zirȳla.” (Only better if I were to be by your side instead of him.) he added. Slowly she lifted her head, placing her chin on his knee smiling up at him. “You would make a true king.” she whispered. She slowly stood, straightening out her gown. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Eman naejot jikagon ñuha jorrāelagon.” (I have to go, my love.) she whispered. Leaning down she placed her lips against his, arm tightening around her waist trying to pull her down onto him, but she pulled away before he could. She kissed his forehead, moving away smiling softly and leaving the room with the basket of toys sitting on her arm. 

Yes Visella Targaryen, the youngest daughter of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower, sister wife of Aegon ii Targaryen, mother of Rheagal and Copious Targaryen, and the rider of the Cannibal Dragon; is having an affair with her older brother Aemond Targaryen. Aegon didn’t show her any love unless he was drunk, or in one of his rare vulnerable moments. However, Aemond took care of her, played with her children, read to them, and even taught them how to ride dragons. In other words, he was everything she wanted in a husband, everything she longed for; everything Aegon was not. 

She opened the door to her and her husband’s chambers, smelling Aegon’s bath oils in the air. The sheets had been freshly changed, her nightgown laying neatly at the bottom ready to be put on this eve. Setting the basket down she walked towards the connected nursery, ignoring her husband’s call of her name and entering the nursery. Both boys were fast asleep in fresh clothes, fixing their blankets and making sure their stuffed animals were placed back beside them. Quietly she walked back into her room, closing the door quietly and walking towards her husband. “You left so suddenly this morning my dear wife.” he whispered with a cocky smile. “I had more important matters to tend to.” she firmly answered. “Always so serious..” he whispered. After a brief glance at him, she shrugged and walked away, no longer interested in what he was saying.

   

“Should I be worried about the fact Rhaegal is calling out Aemond’s name every three words?” Aegon questioned his wife. “Aemond is around him more.” she answered. “You know he can’t love you fully. Not with this new Alys Rivers in the picture.” he pushed. She froze her doings with her earrings, hands falting in place, eyes moving towards her husband. “I am in no relation with anyone other than you Aegon.” she muttered. “You always were a horrible liar. Though I cannot be angry with you, when I myself have been no better.” he spoke. “How long have you known?” she asked. Walking over she sat on the tub looking at his relaxed form, his lilac haze sitting against her own. “I hear of it from the maids, and you leave in the middle of the night sometimes, then return covered in bruises and bites. You have done your duties for heirs, we both have. I show no problem with this affair, because I know it hadn’t started until after you had the boys.” he explained. She looked at him with a shocked expression, confusion dripping from her gaze. “I love you Visella, but not the way they expect me to. But Aemond has been sending letters back and forth to a woman by the name of Alys Rivers, they speak of marriage and possible future children.” he informed. 

Her gaze moved away staring at the stone floor, knowing her relationship with Aemond was possibly too good to be true. She hummed in acknowledgment, leaning over kissing his temple to which he leaned into enjoying the small comfort. “Don’t take too long.” she whispered. Slowly standing she walked out of their chambers, making her way out of the castle towards the beach area. Cannibal and Vaghar laid a far distance between the two, the older female dragon refusing to get within 40 feet of the Cannibalistic dragon, to which Cannibal seemed perfectly fine with. His large black scaled head lifted, horns dripping with sand; emerald green eyes pushed into her. “Rytsas jorrāelagon.” (Hello love.) she softly spoke up to him. A deep rumbling purr escaped him, shaking the ground beneath her feet. He slowly stood shaking the sand from his body, then shifting, leaning his large body over pressing his shoulder to the sand allowing her to step up onto him. No saddle, ladders, or even ropes were placed on him; no one was able to get close enough to place them. But she found it more natural, more comfortable, especially for a dragon that had been untamed for almost a thousand years. He stood up once she was sitting comfortably, moving back and stepping through the water to gain leverage, lifting his body into the air. “Soar rȳ se jēdar ñuha taoba.” (Soar through the sky my boy.) she spoke. He rumbled a deep purr, a deathly sky shattering roar erupted from him awakening the world as Cannibal took to the skies

“Your sister, the soon to be queen, she is quite pretty is she not.” Alys whispered. Aemond froze at those words, his hand stopping their menstruations in her hair. “Yes she is, she’s the Aphroditi of King's Landing as the people call her.” Aemond answered slowly, uncertain of his choice of words. “You don’t have to hide your love for her, my love, there is truly nothing wrong with it. Your brother treats her horribly, you are just giving her the love she deserves.” she whispered. Aemond moved his hand away from her sitting up, not liking the feeling of this conversation. “Why bring my sister up?” he questioned. “Because you love her as you love me.” she whispered. 

The roar of Cannibal shook the lands, his head lifting and turning, feeling the vibrations of his deep dominating roar course through the skies, forcing the clouds to split for his and his rider’s entrance. Alys stood walking towards the window, looking up towards the sky, the dragon’s tail being engulfed by the clouds, but his large shadow still could be seen through the white thickness. Her shimmering emerald eyes of evil shone, but darkened at the same time. It was not a look he liked, he wanted to protect his little sister, his mistress, from becoming more a prominent target. 

"Why not ask her to join our humble affair, my dearest love?” Alys whispered. 

[hannahwindy]

Since there are so many people putting their OCs in fandoms, why shouldn't I do the same? :)

It's kinda fun tho

Also english isn't my first language so... Bear with me 🙃

Meet Marta Chiwaco (art from picrew)

She is a woman of Nigerian origin, born from a time different from ours and theirs, and raised in a Yoruba tribe.

Her grandmother was skilled at healing and magic and taught it to Marta. She learned about Mortal Kombat and the Realms by chance through her grandmother's stories.

Her grandmother was one of the Earthrealm champions decades ago by Liu Kang. At that time, Marta wanted to know more, so she asked her grandmother to tell her the story in all the details.

She ended up being interested in everything she heard and tried to open a portal herself. The first response failed as expected, but she finally managed to do it after many attempts.

But as soon as she tried to set foot in a door, Geras came out of it. Saying that what she was doing might lead to consequences and harm, they ended up having a long discussion about the matter.

Marta's grandmother took action in this matter and calmed down her granddaughter and introduced her to Geras.

The three of them entered the gate, straight to the Fire Temple where Liu Kang was waiting for them. Grandma introduced Marta to Liu Kang as well and told her who they were.

Overnight, Marta found herself a student at Wu Shi Academy, learning combat and magic. And of course she did. Marta became one of the best magic and healing users, and close to Liu Kang and Geras.

With her personality being a mixture of calm, fun, caring and motherly, there are times when she is like a mother to the rest of Earthrealm's protectors and defenders.

Marta stopped aging in her thirties.

===============================

relations:-

Love relationship: - Geras ( No one knows except Liu Kang and Idris, who is Marta's pupil)

Friendships: Liu Kang, Earthrealm Defenders, Sindel, Jerrod (formarly), Ermac (Jerrod), Madam Bo, Lin Kuai's grandmaster and his wife (formerly)

Family: Her grandmother, her pupil Idris (as her adoptive son)

Don't take kindly to: Quan Chi, Shang Tsung, General Shao, Reiko, Nitara

She doesn't hate them, just can't stand them most of her time, tho that Reiko reminde her of Idris when he was a young boy, so she tolerate him sometimes.

==============================

Favorite food: Rice cooked with meat and vegetables.

Favorite drink: Fruit cocktail with honey.

Favorite colors: Bright colors but comfortable to look at (African/Swahili color palette).

Hobbies: traveling, exploring, dancing, reading, gardening, trying on different types of clothes from different places.

==============================

This is Marta's pupil, Idris. (Picrew art)‌

Idris is Marta's favorite intelligent student, and frankly her only one... He is a young man with a lively and quiet personality.

He is of African-European descent, born and raised in a foreign country, and was subjected to forced abandonment by his parents due to circumstances that he did not know about until this moment. He grew up in foster homes and the streets.

He met Marta by pure coincidence while he was quarreling with some older boys, and she helped him in secret with a little magic. Of course, Idris was not an idiot. He became suspicious of her and followed her and began talking over her head, insisting that he find out what she had done.

Idris, a young abandoned boy, soon became Marta's student and later her adopted son.

He is a skilled fighter. He can fight using magic, but he prefers using his hands and daggers more.

He has a calm, sarcastic and uninterested personality at times. He can be painfully honest and rude, but he does not mean bad.

============================

Love relationship: none

Friendships: earthrelm defenders (he's not the social type but in good terms with the others)

Family:Marta

Don't take kindly to: Quan Chi, Shang Tsung, General Shao, Reiko, Nitara, Havik

==========================

Favorite food: Honey berry pie

Favorite drink: Red tea with mint

Favorite colors:green, purple, aquamarine, orange and dark colors

Hobbies:Collecting daggers, nap times

=============================

[wytfut]

Time out PLEASE..

I do realize that as I get older, I'm going to witness more and more death and destruction. Its the nature of time, isn't it? The older a person gets, so does this persons friends.... and we all pass on or suffer some sort of catastrophic event. The odds as we get older, are piling up against us old coots.

I KNOW THIS....

But this sudden onslaught I've been a part of the past year or so, I think has been a huge jump, as in not natural. Yeah, its fate, and uncontrol able, fluke of nature.... BUT...

My experiences with fire/rescue.... I saw all of this sort of thing for years. But maybe it was abstract. I don't feel that it was. I feel I was neck deep in drive/emotion to do the right thing everytime.

But shit, its been really hard to keep "the ol chin up"....

I'll survive.. I know I will, and will be still standing with a smile on my face. But I need a time out. .... something to the tune of a nice long bike ride. Or my back healed up enough that I can tackle a project or 2.

Here's a run down of since Jan. 1 of 2023:

Excelsior Henderson Buddy AJ in Wisconsin, moved to Wisconsin to start a new job. He's in his late 50's. And he needed back surgery.

This back surgery required going thru his mouth. Abstract as it sounds.... He came out of surgery, with no use of his arms. He's a hell of a nice guy, and ends up with this result most likely to live with the rest of his life. Hang in there AJ, I'm still rooting for you..

....................

Below is Andy's story.... that his family now has to live with, with no less his large group of friends.

................

A close family to ours, lost first the father/husband about 10 years ago. Then their son Darrin about 5 years later. And now first part of December their son Doug. Mom/wife Carolyn, now is alone, other than relatives.

............

And now Toms story which is below also. His fight with brain cancer, his wife with Alzheimer's. His story started this past July.

....................

Buddy Lester has been battling a staph infection he apparently got from way back in the 70's. His battle has included skin grafts, and soon bone grafting of sorts. This has been going on for months now, with him pretty laid up. 1 year older than I...

.................

Another buddy here in Waverlyville, has been battling prostrate cancer. It won't let go, and he has given up the chemo battle. Now treating with hormones, and it appears that the hormones are holding it at bay... Hang in there Steve!!

.............

Quick edit.... just found out my sister Patti (same name as my Wife) is going to have open heart surgery within the next few weeks, due to a bad heart valve. Intended goal to replace with modified cow valve.... She rightly so has some concerns.....

...........

There are others, no less minute in tragedy.... that have been on going for some time now. And they with their battles keep on keeping on.

..........

Is it that I'm too sensitive to these type of events? Or do I care too much? Do I get too attached to people I meet. Maybe I'm surrounded with just an enormous amount of good folks?

I'm not a religious person by any means. I do not want to discuss it here and now.... as I'm pretty sure I can't explain how I operate. I do not feel like I'm a "lost soul". But if there is a deity that delves out such horror to so many good people..... blah blah blah...

............

I'll take what ever is dealt to me in life... including this. But by golly I could use a break. How about we throttle back at least a little bit, no need to run at "red line" all the time. Something back closer to "normal".... lol, whats normal?

Everyone.... hug your kids/favorite person. Make sure they wear their seat belts. Don't run with scissors. Don't aim any guns at anyone, empty or not. Don't put out grease fires with water. Don't stand in water when around electricity. Put new batteries in your carbon monoxide detectors. Look both ways when you cross the street. ..... now Im giggling.

Get old they said. It'll be fun they said. Maybe I'm not mentally old enough yet....

[scuttling]

Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.��

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

[thatblackravenclaw]

A Thousand More...

Masterlist

a.n.: I WROTE ANOTHER FANFIC!! and yes it's about Druig because I'm a whore for him, but my next one however will be about Mr. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, but for now enjoy another fanfic I wrote based on the song A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

Druig (what's new 💀) x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive dialogue but mostly fluff and sort of proof read (heavy on the sort of)

word count: 2,045

Heart beats fast

Colors and promises

We were sent here for a purpose. Destroy the Deviants and keep the humans safe. That’s all we were here for, right? Then why do am I almost getting myself killed while trying to make sure the man I’m in love with doesn’t die? Druig can take care of himself.

I don’t know how it started, but I know when. We were summoned on The Domo for the first time. I saw Phastos first. My first instinct was that I could trust him. I knew we’d be best friends and I was right. Sprite, feisty little one. Kingo, a bit of an ego, but a nice spirit, nonetheless. Ikaris, bold. Someone I felt that I would challenge one day. He also has older brother energy. Makkari, the kindest soul here. So pure and so full of love. Another close friend I sensed I would have. Sersi, full of compassion. We’d probably bump heads, but as someone I sensed would be like a sister figure, I didn’t doubt that we’d bump heads. Thena, another sister. I felt like I would need to protect her though. She’s bold like Ikaris, but with less of a god complex. Much humbler. Gilgamesh, more dad energy, but like a cool dad. Ajak, mother energy. I felt safe when I looked into her eyes. Lastly, I saw my love, Druig. I had never seen someone so beautiful. My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. Everything just seemed so much brighter. The minute I saw him I knew my heart had made a promise to belong to only him.

How to be brave?

How can I love when I’m

Afraid to fall?

5000 BC Mesopotamia

“How is my favorite mind controller today,” I asked in a teasing tone to Druig. This is my most favorite part of the day. Teasing him when he’s minding his own business. I can tell he enjoys my company though. I see it in his eyes. Not the shimmering gold but the bright blue irises that I’ve fallen even more in love with.

“Better,” he said with a smile. “How’s my favorite flying fire starter today,” he asked with an equally teasing tone.

I started ranting about how Makkari stole my book and then ran off somewhere, “and of course, I can’t just chase after her for obvious reasons. Like I was just minding my business. Why-,” I continued on with my rant as he stared at me with such a loving look in his eye. I know that look because I have the same one when I look at him when he’s talking, fighting, breathing. I hope he never stops looking at me like that. I just wish I could allow myself to truly fall for him. Why am I so afraid?

But watching you stand

Alone

All of my doubt

Suddenly goes away

Somehow

Druig stood before us with tears in his eyes as the carnage happened below us. He was actually going to leave us. Seeing him stand up there with tears in his eyes looking so broken pushed away any doubt I had of not loving him. I didn’t get to ponder on the feeling too long due to hearing Druig say, “If you wanna stop me, you’re gonna have to kill me,” and then he turned around and just left. Didn’t even look my way. It’s times like this where I wish I could feel nothing because then I wouldn’t feel my heart breaking. After Ajak told us we could go our separate ways I took one last look around and flew away. From that moment on I learned to keep to myself. I never stayed in one place long enough and I made sure to keep myself hidden from the other Eternals, so I’d never be found.

1130 AD Iceland

Life in Iceland isn’t that much different than in Babylon. Different culture, but the people are nice. Whenever we’re not working, Sigrún, my best friend, and I go to see the Northern Lights. Sometimes when I’m looking up at the sky, I wish that Druig was here with me... It doesn’t do well to dwell on dreams.

“Y/N,” Sigrún shouted, “you were daydreaming again. Come on, who is it? You’ve been so quiet lately and whenever you finally talk it’s like you’re here but you’re not here.”Guess I wasn’t hiding it as well as I thought.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased.

“Uh, obviously. That was my whole point in asking.” She’s my best friend, yes, but I left that part of me behind. In order to leave it in the past, I cannot talk about it. “Well, if you must know, it's nobody. You know I just get in my thoughts sometimes.” Hopefully that will hold her off until I can come up with a better lie.

“Are you sure it’s not,” and then her eyes turned into that shimmering gold I wished to never see again.

“Druig?”

Time stands still

Beauty in all she is

I will be brave

I will not let anything

Take away

What’s standing in front of me

Druig’s POV:

I found her. I finally found her. God, she looks amazing even over 6000 years later. I come from behind a tree and face her. The only person who can render me speechless. Also, the only person who I’d rather die than see in pain, and when I look into her eyes all I see is pain. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” These are the first words she says to me. She used to look at me like I put the stars in the sky and now she looks at me like I’m the scum of the Earth. I really messed up.

“I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth milady.” Nothing. She didn’t even blink.

“Why now? You had absolutely no problem not following me in Mesopotamia.” A fact that has haunted me since the day I left.

“You left me. You didn’t even look my way. You said what you said to Ajak and left. Is that something someone who would follow someone else to the end of the world would do,” she asks, “Did I not matter enough to you? I thought you loved me Druig. You talked about following Arishem blindly yet here I am the fool who followed you blindly just to be left in the dust. If you’re here to beg for forgiveness then forget it. I forgave you a long time ago. You did what you felt was best for you and now I must do what I feel is best for me.”

And then she flew away. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. I wish I could stop the tears from falling from my eyes, but in truth, I don’t want to. I deserved to feel this guilt. I put her through so much pain and might not ever get to make up for it, but I will spend eternity trying. If there’s one thing she said that was truly right was that I loved her and I still do.

1492 AD Guanahani

It’s so beautiful here. I never realized how much I loved islands until now. The people are so nice even though I’m not like them. In exchange for me lighting their fires, they let make food for me as well as their families. I also may or may not have gotten rid of this weird European man named Christopher away. Like death away because he was giving me weird vibes. I know I’m not supposed to be interfering with human matters, but since when do I listen to Arishem anyway? Anyway, I can’t help but still feel lonely. I have grown to love these people as I did in Iceland, but I miss my fellow Eternals. I miss Thena, and Sersi, and Phastos, and Gilgamesh. I lost contact with them years ago. Running away from Druig also meant running away from my other family. It hurts but seeing him hurts more. I’m planning to leave again. I’ve been here a tad bit too long. Might check out what’s going on in Italy.

1503 AD Italy

The Italian Renaissance. One of my favorite things these humans have created. Leo released the Mona Lisa to the public today. Probably one of my favorite paintings he’s made. No one knows this, but I made a bet with him that he couldn’t make a painting without having inspiration from someone or something. He obviously proved me wrong. She’s absolutely gorgeous. Reminds me of Sigrún. Speaking of, I believe I saw a glimpse of Druig the other day. It might’ve been my mind playing tricks on me. Is it bad that I wish it wasn’t? It’s been 6500 years. I stopped hating him so long ago, but I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it.

Every breath

Every hour has come to this

One step closer

I have died every day waiting

for you

Druig’s POV:

I think I almost got caught the other day. Yes, I’m watching over her don’t judge. I still watch over the Peruvians; I just also watch over her. I’m still waiting for the right time to talk to her again. I figured giving her another 6000 years would give her enough space before I tried. She’s in the courtyard today. Her skin practically glows against the cobalt fabric she’s wearing. I notice her turning too late though. She stares back at me, and I feel like I’m in a trance. I can’t move.

“I see you’ve found me again,” she says nonchalantly.

“I have. I told you I’d follow you until the ends of the Earth.” She doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me. I can’t quite place the look in her eyes and then, she kisses me. It’s not rushed and uncoordinated. Its slow and sensual. Like this is something we do every day.

“It’s been 6,128 years. 6,128 years of me trying to convince myself that the day you left is the day I stopped loving you. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t. I don’t want to.”

And all along I believed I

Would find you

Time has brought your heart

To me

Peru 1945

“My love, did you get the wood?” I hear Druig ask me.

“Yeah, it was by the tree in the middle, but Dario came and got it.” It’s been like this for the last 400 years. Not that I’m complaining. As much as I loved traveling, this is truly where my heart lies. Maybe not in the amazon, but wherever Druig is; you will find me.

“You know maybe my super cute and super strong boyfriend would like to get the wood for once.”

“I’ve already got wood for you, beautiful.”

“You’re disgusting and 100% the reason no one is about to see us for the next few hours.” He gives me a knowing smile and leads me to our little cabin.

Once we get in there though, the energy shifts. After a few minutes, he starts to speak. “I have something I need to ask you”

“What is it? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Darling don’t be afraid

I have loved you for a

Thousand years

I’ll love you for a thousand

More

“I have loved you for thousands of years.” He says to me. I look in his eyes to detect any lies or hesitation. I find none.

“And I’ll love you for a thousand more,” I say with a smile.

“Only a thousand my love?”

I know he’s only joking, but I still feel the need to say, “Yeah. I think I may be tired of you after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that because after this ring goes on your finger, you’re stuck with me for life.”

We finish our vows and then put on the rings we got for each other. We chose not to have a normal mortal wedding due to neither of us having a last name. Also, I think I prefer it being just us. I wonder how we’re gonna explain this to our fellow Eternals when the time comes.

[iguana-eyanna]

Inside of Your Light

Pairing: Jeff Wittek x Plus Size Model! Reader

Summary: The vlog squad threw you a special surprise for your birthday, including a big present that may change your life.

a/n: songfic What Have I Done by Dermont Kennedy

You woke up around 7 o'clock in the morning when your phone rang. You groggily grab it and see that your boyfriend, Jeff, started to facetime you. "Hello?" you whispered as your eyes tried to pry open.

"Happy Birthday, baby girl." Jeff said brightly, making you blush.

"Aww, thank you, Jeff. But why did you call me so early in the morning?" You joked as you started to sit up on your mattress. "Sorry, I'm at the gym at the hotel and I thought you'd be awake right now." Jeff replied sheepishly. Jeff got offered a brand deal in New York so he wasn't able to celebrate your special day in LA.

"It's ok, I was meaning to get dolled up a bit before Carley and Erin pick me up to get our nails done." You started to yawn as it made Jeff's heart melt a bit. "You're so cute when you wake up." he said, admiring how the sun hits the back of your head.

You smirk back at the screen as you playfully roll your eyes. “And to everyone else in the world, I’m Frankenstein coming back from the dead.” Jeff laughed harder as he smiled at you. “I gotta go and wrap my reps. Just wanted to wish my best girl an amazing day.” You blow him an air kiss as he winked back. “Love you, babes.” You said as you got out of bed. “Love you more,” Jeff said before he hung up the call.

You take a deep breath and thought how lucky you were to be with a guy like Jeff. You and Jeff joined the vlog squad around the same time a few years back. You were a plus-size model for a few companies like Fashion Nova and Pretty Little Thing. Once you started off your YouTube channel, Carley saw your videos and dmed you on Instagram to hang out sometime. You met up at a lunch with the group and she introduced you to everyone, but somehow caught Jeff’s eye.

The whole time, you and Jeff started to hit it off. Then with a lot of flirting and calling each other late at night, you both decided to make it official. Jeff thought you would turn him away due to his past, but you truly accepted him for his journey, even if it wasn’t pretty. Now you were going strong for about three years, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After you’ve gotten ready, Erin texted you that they were outside. You head out and enter their car as they began filming. “Hey, guys! We just picked up our queen, happy birthday!” You smile brightly as you buckle in the back. “Thank you guys!” you said. Carly turns back to you and gives you your favorite Starbucks drink and a cake pop. “Thought you could use a little sugary treat to start the day.” You make a small pout from the gesture, thanking her again.

On your way to the nail salon, you guys start talking about David’s latest antics as well as a fancy restaurant that just opened that you really wanted to try. The girls make a face at the camera but you didn’t make of it as you arrived at your appointment. Carly switches off the camera as you all started heading out of the car.

Once you were all done, you all started to fan over the amazing job of your nail artists (which you all generously tipped) and decided to go out for lunch. “Are we still clubbing tonight?” Carly asked as she sipped her Seltzer. You nod yes as you finished a bite of your appetizer. “Yep, I’m so excited to wear this cocktail dress Jeff gave me before he left. I just wished he was here to celebrate.” You said, fumbling with the end of a napkin in front of you.

The girls give you a sympathetic look, knowing how much you’ve been missing him the past couple of days. Even after they changed the subject, all you could think of was Jeff. But after a good meal and a little site seeing, you started to feel a bit better. The girls dropped you home so you could relax before clubbing the night away.

Right when it hit evening, you began getting ready as you curled your hair and did your makeup just right. You slipped on the dress Jeff gave you that adored every curve on your figure, silently thanking your boyfriend for his taste in fashion.

You suddenly hear a knock at the door, thinking it's one of the girls. You unlock the door and open it to reveal no other than your very well-dressed boyfriend. "Jeff! You're back!" You screamed as you gave him a crushing hug, later kissing him. "Hey, doll." Jeff whispered as you took his breath away, taking out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"What are you doing back home?" You asked, still dazed that's actually at your doorstep. "C'mon, did you really think I was going to miss my best girl's big day?" He questioned with a twinkle in his eye. You roll your eyes and hug him again, truly blessed to have such an amazing boyfriend.

"I'm here to pick you up to your destination, shall we?" He offers his hand that you gladly took it. He helps you in his car as you both drove off to the main road with his hand on your upper thigh. You notice that he doesn't take the road to the club. "Babe, I think you missed a turn." you told Jeff who was smirking even more at your cluelessness. "Don't worry dolI, I know where I'm going." he takes a hold of your hand and kisses your knuckle as you blush harder.

He then parks in a parking lot and goes out of the car to open your door. Before you could actually take in your surroundings, Jeff shielded your view. "Hey! Jeff seriously, where are we?" you lightly scolded him. "You gotta trust me now, okay?" you agreed as you grumbled under your breath. With a few more steps, you start to enter a doorway that was decorated with...

streamers?

Jeff takes his hands off and you see all of your friends surrounding you. "Happy Birthday!" they all screamed out loud. You smile from ear to ear as Jeff wrapped his arms around your waist. Utterly shocked, you did your best to express your happiness but you were beyond speechless.

You suddenly realized that the place you were in was the restaurant you've desperately wanted to try and you turn around to Jeff who was beaming at your joy. "All for you, baby girl." his husky voice told you as you hugged him, pecking his face with kisses. Then, all of your friends ushered you both in to dine and dance. You saw how the entire restaurant had accents of rose gold decorations, as well as your friends wearing the same color palette.

Although this surprise was really touching, something was bothering you. Usually, they would throw parties like these for David, so why would they celebrate something big for you?

Later on, you all ate the most mouth-watering food as well as dancing to your favorite songs. Once they take out the birthday cake, you lose sight of Jeff. You ask Carly where he is but she brushed it off, saying that he's probably getting you a drink. As you started to dish out the cake, David stood up and clinked a knife to a glass.

"Hey everyone! If I could get your attention please." David shouted as the whole party calmed down. "There is a special surprise waiting outside on the back patio for our birthday girl, so could our celebrant please wear a blindfold?" Everyone started to cheer except for you. "I swear David if it's a wild animal..." you warned him but it was too late. One of the guys used a long fabric to cover your eyes, guiding you outside.

They take off the blindfold to reveal your boyfriend standing in front of you. You don't understand what's going on until you see a flower arch in the back of him, with a message illuminating "Marry Me." You gasp lightly as you cover your mouth with your eyes starting to water.

Jeff takes your shaking hands into his, ready to start his speech. “I wasn't really in New York for a brand deal, I was picking up your birthday gift.”

He then lowers himself on one knee, taking out a small pastel pink box to reveal a beautiful gold band decorated with transcendent diamonds. Both of you start to cry, but Jeff is literally a mess as he tries to finish his words.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d be better off alone. Now, my soul has been torn and reborn, started breathing for the very first in my life. As I’m standing in front of you, I wanna get it right for once.

Oh, believe me when I say I've been knocked out and beat but this feeling is fleeting. Even this morning, I've been thinking 'bout the way you smile golden…I want to move inside of your light.

I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be Good God, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need I'm in love this time. So, do you wanna be mine forever?”

You uncover your mouth and shake your head.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." you said. The waterworks literally overcame both of you as he slid the ring around your finger, getting up to kiss your lips. Your friends cheer as they close up to you, firing confetti cannons into the air. You look up to Jeff as you wiped away his happy tears away from his face.

No words were exchanged, but you could tell through his eyes that he was forever grateful for you to be a part of his life. You both kiss again, ending the night with great friends and memories that will forever last in the video Joe has been recording for Jeff's channel (which trended 14 million on YouTube for a whole month).

You were the light in his life and he will bask in it for eternity.

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {iv}

midnight snack, anyone?

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: pictures are NOT MINE, but the edited version of it is- mainly for the fic. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit. addtionally, i am not a subic/zambales native so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. slow burn. fluff. comedy. trust issues. culture shock. check word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 3 - previous chapter, check the link in the masterlist Chapter 4 - this is it [next chapter link will be posted below for suspense & convenience hehe]

words: 5.2k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names / reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

“Binabasa mo pa rin ‘yan?” You’re still reading that?

You look up from reading Aurora Rising. “Um, what you sayyy?” you intone, “This is my 2nd time.”

Muro is shocked.

“Yeah, 12 hours lang sa’kin ito.” Yeah, this is just 12 hours for me.

Muro is aghast.

“Wala pa kase book 2 at 3 sa NBS. Baka umorder na lang ako online.” you shrug, continuing to read.

There’s still no book 2 and 3 at NBS. Maybe I’ll just order online.

“Hold up, that’s like a thick-ass book. Goblet of Fire kind of thick— or thicker!” Muro exclaims, “Like Mindy’s ass and thighs! And you’re telling me that you can read it in 12 hours?”

“Less than 12 hours if I don’t have anything to do.”

“Halimaw ka.” You’re a monster.

You beam. “Thanks! And you’re a pervert!”

You purchased this book before you bought the baking supplies last week. But you only got to read it on the weekend. You’ve only reached the middle of the story since you had a full shift on Saturday, that’s why Muro thought you hadn't finished reading it.

Today is a slow Friday, unlike last week, though the afternoon was jam-packed. The first customers for this evening are still the latest, they just left and there hasn’t been new ones for 15 minutes now. You wait for another 15 minutes before you take one of the extensive booths and sprawl there while reading. You’re the fan-favorite worker in this cafe, and dare say, the most hard-working; you can do whatever you like unless the boss says otherwise.

“Kyaaaaaaa!” you instinctively let out a giddy, highschool girl scream. Sitting up, you plunge your face in the book and feel the warmth of your skin flowing into the pages. You retract yourself and flip one page back. “Wait, wait— WAIT! Rewind! I wanna read this part again for the first time!”

You stop laughing when you feel eyes on you. There’s Muro, facepalming behind the counter, but someone else is—

“What’cha reading there, (N/N)?” Claire grins as she stands with her dad by the door.

You look between her and Court, who is more baffled than amused at you. Your face heats again, this time due to embarrassment, and you compose yourself. Placing the bookmark in the book, you close it and stand up. “Miss Kiara, Mr. Kurt!” you exclaim, clearing your throat when you hear it become high-pitched. “Welcome once again to our humble cafe.”

“What’s with the miss?” Claire asks, snorting.

“Yeah, just Kurt is fine,” says Court.

You flush. “Sorry.”

You gesture for them to come in, grabbing your book, you’re about to head for the refill station when Claire calls you and asks to borrow the book. You hand it to her before you stride away to get some water and glasses. They take the booth near the counter again.

“Looks interesting,” Claire says, flipping from the back to the front of the book.

“It very is.” you nod as you pour their glasses with water.

She hands the book to you. “Can I borrow it when you finish?”

“I’ve already finished it. This is my 2nd re-read.”

“Really?!”

“Really!”

“How long did you read it for?”

“Twelve hours,” you simper.

Claire’s jaw drops.

You stifle a laugh. “By the way, I have TFIOS and Paper Towns in my locker. Would you like to have them now?”

“Yes, please!” she vigorously nods.

“Okay.. I’ll go prepare the brown rice first— unless you’re not having a rice meal?”

“I’ll be having a rice meal!”

You make eye contact with Court, breaking it immediately when you swivel away. He seems passive, though he usually is, but passive in a way he won’t bark at you for interacting with his daughter.

When you come back from the kitchen, Muro is already printing the receipt of their orders. Court watches as you hand Claire the two books and then scan the screen. You try to ignore his gaze, and you internally scold yourself that there's nothing to it.

"Okinawa milk tea with pearls?" you ask, regarding Claire.

Court raises his hand. "That's mine."

You're astounded.

"Don't look too shocked," he says as though you punched him.

"Hurt, dad?" Claire sneers at him.

"Wounded.."

She giggles and turns to you. "Mine's the chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco—" she glances at Muro, "Tama po ba iyon?"

"Yes, yes! Tama!" Muro gives her a double thumbs-up.

"He says it's healthier than tapioca pearls."

"The peace juice with chia seeds is much healthier," you frown at your co-worker.

"I wanted the chocomalt, (N/N)." says Claire.

"Fine.. as long as this is your first and last milk tea for this week."

"It is and will be."

"You'll order healthier drinks next time."

She salutes with a laugh. "Yes, ma'am!" and loops her arm around Court's as they walk back to their booth.

"Nanay ka, ghorl?" Muro whispers to you, working on the okinawa while you prepare the chocomalt.

You a mother, girl?

"Ano?" What?

He rolls his eyes. "Dude, you're overprotective of her."

I roll my eyes back at him. "Gago, malamang.. she has a heart condition." Idiot, of course..

Muro heaves a brow at you.

"It's not that she can't drink milk tea, but she can't always have them."

"Obviously— pero hindi iyon kung bakit kita tinitignan ng ganito."

But that's not why I'm looking at you like this.

"Then, what?" you snap.

"Seryoso?" he groans. Seriously?

"Ano ba kase 'yon?!" What is it?!

"Wala, bobo ka!" Nothing, you're a moron!

You swing your leg out, kicking him in the shin, and you evade his counterattack with a laugh. You notice Claire jogging from the game shelves after she picks up the Pop-Up Pirate box and UNO Flip. On the outside, she looks so healthy, but on the inside, her physiology has failed her. What a shitty cardiovascular system. Because of it, she looks so thin— she needs to be plump, like most girls her age!

You resist the urge to slap yourself with the blender. Is it bad to worry about a teenage girl whom you hardly know?

The funky, chill beat of Ilaw Sa Daan by IV Of Spades swarms the cafe when you and Muro finish up the drinks. Just then, Mindy pokes out of the kitchen and asks for either of your help. Muro volunteers immediately, disappearing through the swinging doors like a Looney Tune, which leaves you to serve the customers’ drinks.

“One okinawa milk tea with tapioca pearls,” you announce and place the drink near Court, who murmurs a thanks. You then reach over to deposit Claire’s drink further in the table since she’s currently trying to poke a toy sword through the tiny barrel. “And one chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco.”

“Thanks, (N/N)— woah!” Claire jumps when the pirate pops out of the barrel.

Your arm moves on its own. Just as the pirate soars to its highest peak, you catch it in your hand. But that’s not the reason why your eyes are wider than UFO saucers right now. It’s because Court made a grab for the miniature pirate as well, except he grabbed your hand instead.

Claire clamps a hand over her open mouth, suppressing a laugh, and looks from you to Court while the two of you stare at each other in astonishment.

The thin shadow from his cap is vanquished by the pendant lights overhead. Instinctively, you scan his face; this is the first time you’ve seen it clear as day. He always has his cap tucked down, and whenever he does look at you, he’s only peering and somehow keeping his face obscured. Despite the evidence of having a hard-lived life etched in his face, the surprise he feels from touching you softens him.

You follow the way his small brows are quirked up. You think of how his sharp nose looks as tough as he is. His eyes remind you of almonds, and you notice one of them is minimally crooked yet his gaze remains somewhat attractive. His neatly trimmed goatee tempts you to trace it as long as your fingers end up on his thin lips—

You recoil with shame tainted cheeks, but you can’t fully step away with your hand still clutched in his. You look at your hand, which appears smaller wrapped in his own, and you feel his callouses against your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he says and releases his grip, averting his gaze.

“It’s fine,” you stammer, gently putting the toy down on the table, you scratch behind your ear. “Looks like I have faster reflexes this week.”

Court looks back at you, and you can see the memory streaking through his eyes. “Yeah.. yeah, you beat me to it.” he replies with a chuckle.

“Slowpoke," you playfully say.

He scoffs. “Whatever you say, Clifford.”

You act as though your face temperature hasn’t gone from low heat to high.

“Clifford?” Claire asks puzzledly.

“The Big Red Dog.” you and Court chorus, exchanging looks.

She blinks in recognition. “Oh, the movie from last year? Haven’t watched it.”

“Yeah, it was also a cartoon from the early 2000s.” you add.

“Based on the books that started in 1963.” Court says in a chirping manner, as though it’s a competition now on who has the most knowledgeable references.

“Hey, (N/N), wanna play?” Claire begins plucking out the toy swords from the barrel.

You glance over to the counter. “Oh, I can’t.. Muro’s in the kitchen, so I’m holding the fort.”

“Why not hold the fort while playing?”

Court opens his mouth and immediately closes it. “Kiara,” he says with a pointed look.

“T’was just a suggestion, dad.” she retorts, drawling.

“I’ll be by the counter if you two need anything.” you chime in and shortly wave, strolling away.

‘Is it just me or is there something off with the way they call each other?’ you shake your head, ‘Nah..’

You recall their first-time at the cafe—

“Man, Six, you're such a downer!"

"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."

Are they hiding something? Or are you just in over your head?

You snap out of your thoughts when you catch the swinging doors in your peripheral vision. Muro is peeking out. He informs you that the food will be ready in less than ten minutes before he slips back in the kitchen. You peer over the counter, watching the father-daughter duo play a game of anxiety and chance, you decide to not interfere until you’re serving their dinner.

Boundaries— you mentally repeat the word like a mantra. Until your brain starts singing along with Disturbia thumping out the speakers.

⚜🍰⚜

“Thank you, come again!” you beam at the father-daughter duo.

Claire smiles. “You didn’t have to open the door for us.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetie.” you reply, winking.

“Thanks.” Court gives a polite nod as he sidles past you.

“I’ll try to give these back next week!” Claire waves up the paper bag containing Paper Towns and TFIOS.

“Take your time!”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t spill anything on it.” says Court.

She frowns. “Hey!”

You laugh, partly stepping out of the door. “Safe driving!”

“Good night, (N/N)!”

“Good— huh? HOY!”

Court and Claire flinch at your abrupt bellow. Just as they stop to turn back to you, you’re already hurtling past them.

“BIKE KO ‘YAN, GAGO!” you shout at the guy, who just managed to bypass the lock of your bicycle. Your moped is in repair today, that’s why you opted for a bike— which is a gift from Mr. Nik’s, your landlord. “Tanginamo ka! Bumalik ka rito!”

That’s my bike, gago! — You fucking bitch! Get back here!

The guy is already on your bike, pedaling away like you’re about to shoot a javelin up his ass— because you look like you want to. Unfortunately, but lucky for him, you’re not a professional javelin thrower nor do you have anything similar to throw. 

However, you’re fortunate with above average physicality.

“Your ass is mine!” you huff like that White Chick, zooming up to five feet behind the thief. Your eyes have adjusted to his stature and you wonder if he’s a teen.

He glances over his shoulder, eyes bulging out in shock, and you hear him cussing as he faces forward. “Yeah, that’s right— puta talaga!” you shout, steadying your breathing.

The bicycle thief veers left off the curb and darts across the road. You look both ways before you hurtle after him. “Titigil ka o isosobsob ko yang mukha mo sa aspalto?!” you roar like a Filipino mother.

People around the street look at the commotion you’re making, especially when you take out your phone and turn on the flashlight. The street is a bit dark, incoming vehicles may not see you.

“Hoy, wag kayo mag-laro, gabi na.” someone drawls from the street. Hey, stop playing, it’s night already.

You whip to them with a glare. “Tatlumpu't tatlo na ako at ninakaw niya bike ko, bitch!” and you swear once more when the thief swerves in to Tappan Park

I’m 33 and he stole my bike, bitch!

You follow after him, pointing the flashlight to the ground to see any obstacles. The lampposts around the park are a bit dim, you’ll make sure to complain to the groundskeeper later.

Fire begins to infiltrate your lungs, and embers from the growing devastation float down to your legs, combusting your muscles. Your steady breathing feels rough and scorching whenever it blows out of your lips. It’s been a while since you ran with all your might. Sure, you’re exercising an hour per day and working six days a week, but it still hits differently when you abruptly take off.

Blame adrenaline.

“HOY!” you yell as the distance between you and the bike increases.

The thief pedals out of the park, but before he can continue on the road— a flash of shadow appears into the light, grabs the back of his clothes, and hauls him off the bike. He yelps as he’s thrown onto the curb, while his assailant stops the bike from falling and immediately boots the kickstand down.

“Kurt?” you puzzledly say as you rest to a stop near the thief.

Court slowly breathes out, turning around to face you, he pats the top of his head, where his cap still remains. “You all right?” he inquires, eyeing you up and down.

“How.. how did you get here?” you glance over your shoulder, “Where’s Kiara?”

“She’s— hey!” he takes one step and catches the thief by the arm.

“Bitiwan niyo ko!” the thief snarls, thrashing to escape.

You grip his other arm, pulling off his hood and beanie. With a nearby lamppost, you can clearly see the thief is, in fact, a girl. Maybe a year or two younger than Claire.

“Sabi nang bitiwan niyo ko!” she shouts.

You heavily flick her on the forehead, the loud thump echoes across the park, this makes Court wince while the girl is just stunned. “Tumahimik ka ngang bata ka! Bakit ka nagnanakaw ng bike ha?!” you shout, “Kung ganyan turo sa’yo ng mga magulang mo, ipa-DSWD na kaya kita!”

Be quiet, you brat! Why are you stealing a bike?! — If that’s what your parents are teaching you, I’ll take you to the DSWD myself!

“N-Y-O-B!”

“N-O-Y-B ‘yon, tanga!” It’s N-O-Y-B, stupid!

“Edi ikaw na magaling, gurang!” Eh, then you’re smart, oldie!

“HOY, TREINTA Y TRES PA LANG AKO!” HEY, I’M ONLY THIRTY-THREE!

With the little thief slowly pedaling on the bike, you and Court are walking at each of her sides. She finally remained docile after three escape-attempts, one of which she planned to bike faster, but you grab the rear carrier and wallop her upside the head.

“You must be shocked,” you remark, glancing at Court. He’s been quiet during the whole exchange, though you see him grimacing whenever you smack the girl.

He catches your gaze briefly and contemplates on a response as he turns ahead. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’m horrified…”

You feel a sharp pang of anxiety in your chest.

“...I’ll remind myself not to get on your bad side.”

You snort as the anxiety disperses when your heart skips a beat. "It's actually the same on my good side." you say, shrugging. "I tend to give tough love."

Court looks at you in bewilderment, and you regard him quizzically. It's as though you said a taboo and the townspeople will be after you.

"Well, in this case, it's tough compassion." you poke the girl's side.

She yelps, nearly losing balance, and throws you the stink-eye. You return a scowl and continuously tap your fist against your palm. Unimpressed, she scoffs at you, slightly pedaling forward but not far enough for you to give a warning.

"Kids today are shameless," you comment spittingly.

Court snorts as Claire swims up in his eyes. Earlier, he wanted to chase after you and the thief but didn’t want to risk leaving her alone. So she told him she’ll run if he won’t, and that she’ll report to the hospital of his negligence towards her health,

"Totally shameless," he nods with a stifled grin.

The three of you arrive back at the cafe. Muro, Mindy, and Claire are at a bench near the parking lot.

“Are you two okay?” Claire is the first to ask as she stands up.

“Yeah, we’re good.” says Court, glancing at you.

“Here’s your bike lock, (Y/N).” Mindy hands you the cable lock.

“Damn, I didn’t think it was a kid.” Muro sighs, holding up a bolt cutter, he regards the girl. “Sa’n mo nakuha ‘to?”

Where did you get this?

The girl slides down from the bike. “Sa pwet mo.” In your butt.

You stifle a laugh. “That’s new!”

The girl is baffled that you’re amused. You take the cable lock from Mindy and assess its damage. “Looks like I’ll buy another one, plus a wheel lock.” you pause to look at the girl, “Sagutin mo tanong niya o sasakalin kita gamit nito.”

Answer his question or I’ll strangle you with this.

“Kung ipapa-pulis mo ako, gawin mo na!” the girl shouts.

If you’ll take me to the police, just do it!

“Pareho rin itatanong nila.” They’ll ask you the same things.

“Edi ba’t ka pa nagtatanong?” Then why are you asking?

“Kase papakawalan kita depende sa sagot mo.” you proclaim, placing your hands on your waist. 

Because I’ll let you go depending on your answer.

The girl bristles. “‘Di ako naniniwala sa’yo.”

I don’t believe you.

You shrug. “Bahala ka. Mas mapapagalitan ka ng magulang mo kung sa pulis nanggaling.”

Your choice. Your parents will be more angry if this comes from the police.

The girl’s eyes widen in realization, casting her gaze down on the sandy ground, she mulls over your words. You then see how small she is, how she seems more than just a bicycle thief— is she not doing this for herself? Or is she just doing this for fun?

You sigh. “Huling pagkakataon.. bakit ba ninakaw mo bike ko?”

Last chance.. why did you steal my bike?

“Kase..” the girl gulps, fear shaking in her eyes as she looks up to you.

“M-Mabait si (N/N)!” Claire suddenly declares, stepping forward, she slowly tries to convey her thoughts and feelings. “Hindi ko pa siya kilala ng matagal.. pero alam ko mabait siya.”

(N/N) is kind! — I haven’t met her that long.. but I know she’s kind.

Your heart has practically melted then and there. Claire is to you as Arlo is to Rosa Diaz, if anyone hurts her, you’ll kill everyone here and yourself. She’s supporting your honor when she doesn’t even know if you’re a bugger-flicker or -wiper. What’s more her Tagalog has improved, she sounds so cute!

“Huwag ka mag-alala. Maiintindihan ka niya.” Court says, nodding at the girl.

Don’t worry. She’ll understand you.

“What’s with you two?!” you couldn’t hold back as you tearfully beam at the father-daughter duo. “You’re making my heart all fuzzy!”

The girl deeply breathes in and out. “Ninakaw ko po bike niyo kase kailangan ko pera— pero para sa pamilya!”

I stole your bike because I need the money— but for my family!

She begins to explain that her youngest sibling is going to start school, and she’s deciding to drop-out to help earn some money, being the oldest and all. Her mother is a single-parent, living in a shed at the hotel she’s working on with three children; the girl makes no mention of her father, and you know better than to probe.

After her explanation, she also confessed to her crimes. Stealing bicycles, purses, and even shoes that she would find along the Boardwalk. You then tell her to wait there and sprint back to the cafe. 

When you return, you hand her a paper bag; inside is a packaged whole strawberry shortcake with a pen and paper. “Tara, samahan kita umuwi. Malapit lang hotel dito, ikaw mag-bike tapos angkas ako.” you declare, tying your hair up into a ponytail.

C’mon, I’ll go with you. The hotel’s close here, you’ll bike and I’ll sit behind.

“Ano?” the girl stammers confusedly.

“Syempre, gusto ko malaman kung totoo nga ba sinasabi mo, pero ‘di ako magpapakita sa mama mo. At saka ‘di kita papauwiin mag-isa ng ganitong oras, babae ka pa rin.”

Of course, I wanna know if you’re telling the truth, but I won’t let your mother see you. And I won’t let you go home by yourself at a time like this, you’re still a girl.

The girl, in fact everyone there, stares at you like you’ve grown multiple heads. You roll your eyes at them and resist the urge to throw something at Muro. “Basta sabihin mo sa mama mo, sakto palabas yung customers namin no’ng pumasok ka at sinabi mo may nagnanakaw ng bike sa parking lot. Kaya kita binigyan ng cake saka application form, kase kung ‘di dahil sa’yo mawawalan ako ng bike.” you shortly pull up the paper from the bag, it’s a form for part-time applicants at the cafe.

Just tell your mom that you went into the cafe just as customers were going out and you told us someone’s bike is being stolen from the parking lot. That’s why I gave you a cake and an application form, because if it weren’t for you I’d lose my bike.

The girl is close to tearing up. “Bakit mo ginagawa ito?” Why are you doing this?

You smirk. “Kailangan namin ng utos-utusan, medyo dumadami customers namin tuwing umaga’t hapon.” We need someone to order around, customers have been increasing during the day.

“Pero—” But—

“Ay naku! Kukunin mo ba ‘yang binibigay ko o ibibigay kita sa pulis?” Oh, my! Are you gonna take my offer or am I going to take you to the police?

As soon as the girl reluctantly accepts your offer, you force her to ride the bike before plopping on the rear carrier.

“Bakit ano yung nasa harap?” Why am I in front?

“Mamaya kase may kutsilyo ka pang tinatago.” Because you may be hiding a knife.

You look at Muro and Mindy. “I’ll be quick,” and then turn to the father-daughter duo. “See you next week?”

Claire nods. “See you!”

“Be careful,” Mindy murmurs, trying not to eye the girl in suspicion.

“Don’t you want a ride?” Court suggests.

You’re surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be faster.”

“Oh, a car is a lot faster than a bicycle.”

“Yes, so—” Court cuts himself off when you look at him expectantly, but there’s something else in your grin— “You’re being sarcastic.”

You laugh. “Sorry. But we’ll be fine, you two should get home.”

You force Lilia— the girl— to get a move on and soon, you two are riding off into the night, looking like the universe’s most unlikely pair of adventurers.

The hotel she claimed that her family is staying in is just four blocks away from the cafe. But just as Lilia rounds onto the last black, she abruptly presses on the brakes.

You yelp. “Ay, susmaryosep!” and slap the teen on the back, “I almost fell over!— Wait, sa’n ka pupunta?”

Wait, where are you going?

“Nanay ko ‘yon,” she slips off the bike and nods over to the direction of the hotel.

You glance and there is, in fact, a woman in her late 30s— maybe, it’s hard to discern age from this distance. But what’s discernible is the anxiety in her steps as she paces back and forth the sidewalk. “Sige, puntahan mo na. At pag-isipan mo yung na-offer ko,” you wag a finger at her and shortly look away, “Though I have to ask Liz about it first.”

Alright, go to her. And think about my offer

She hears you muttering. “Ano ‘yon?” What’s that?

“Wala— hurry and go! Shoo!” Nothing— bilisan mo at umalis ka na!

Lilia makes a face at you, swivels to walk away, and stops to turn back. “Ate (N/N)—”

“Aalis ka o ibabato ko yung bike na ‘to sa’yo?” You gonna leave or am I gonna throw this bike at you?

Fortunately, Lilia obliges. And you’d rather not break your precious bike over a smartass kid. Her mother instantly sprints to her after she spots Lilia. Invisible arrows shoot into your heart and spine when the mother tightly embraces her child. The urge to call, or even just send a short message to your mom, tingles in your fingers. But you keep the longing there, steadying it just at your fingertips, like that one Greek Titan sentenced to bear the heavens.

Lilia doesn’t mention that you’re there, as instructed by you, but she glances over to you from time to time. Her mother is too focused on her to pay her sneaking looks any heed. You wait until they’re stepping in the hotel before you turn the bike around and pedal back to the cafe.

The ride is slow— on purpose. You’re pedaling leisurely to bask in the cool evening air and whiff at the sea fragrance that gets stronger as you near the Boardwalk. It’s always chilly here at night, the naturally-occurring nocturnal heatwaves rarely win against the ocean flurries.

Out of the blue, you wonder if Claire has tread through the Boardwalk. You try not to cement any thoughts of suggesting it to the teen as she may ask you to come with her and Court again. Not that that’s a bad way to spend time with friendly strangers, but Court seems adamant in maintaining distance. Still, he wants Claire to socialize— as long as no one gets too close.

You think about the reasons for his behavior. What happened before they moved here in the Philippines? The country doesn’t have the best medical care, so why are they here? And what’s with the stealthy looks he would have whenever he’s looking over his shoulder or at the security cameras? 

And why the hell did he leave his daughter with strangers to help you?— she probably forced him, you realize. Muro and Mindy are still strangers, just like you are.

You decide how this is stressing you out and attempt to clear your mind. Imaginary fingers clutch your nape, you shudder and take a gander. This feels familiar— like that time at the mall. And again, no one is following you. There’s only a car parked at the far end of the block, but no one seems to be inside. It looks familiar, but there are a lot of cars like that here. You shrug and round the block, the cafe is in your sights.

Unbeknownst to you, there are people inside that car. The very same pair that has been plaguing your mind. 

Court urges the car forward, slowly but surely as he keeps the lights off. By the time they’re peeking out of the corner, you’re hauling the bicycle through the cafe’s front doors and probably arguing with Muro about it.

“She’s inside,” says Claire.

Court hums in agreement, checking the rearview mirror, he flicks on the lights and swivels the car around. He hears Claire giggling to herself and glimpses sideways at her. “What?” he asks, concerned rather than curious.

“Oh, nothing..” she breathes out cheerfully.

“Sure—” he pauses, “ Oh..”

She nods with a toothy grin. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What? I’m only thinking about how you’re worried for someone other than me,” Claire turns to him, inclining her head rightward. “So, is it truly not that?”

“It’s,” he’s about to reply with the truth, but the lie flies out of his mouth first. “Not.”

She gasps dramatically. “How come?! When it was you who began following them without saying anything!”

Court feels his ears burning. Now, that’s true. When Lilia begins to pedal away with you, his instincts told him to be in pursuit. He and Claire bid goodbye to Mindy and Muro before trying not to drive away too hastily, they took a different path that still leads to where you’re going. None of you know whether the girl, who just robbed you, is telling the truth— until you all witnessed her mother hugging her.

The suspicion has evaporated, but Court would be lying if he says he’s done worrying about you. That’s why he followed you, slowly and discreetly, keeping him and Claire in the shadows. You felt their eyes on you, but you didn’t know where they were.

Just like last week at the mall.

Court saw you when he was exiting the hardware store. Immediately, he thought you were following them, so he decided to do the same to you. But the way you try to lose him diminishes his doubts, only an amateur stalker would fall for it. Even so, at the last second, you caught a glimpse of him. Luckily, it wasn’t enough for you to recognize him completely— judging from your reaction when you meet him at the bookstore.

He recalls the conversation he had with you when Claire bought cotton candies. He isn’t just worried about Claire, he’s also worried about you being too close for comfort. There are forces in this world that might be watching them, but are not as merciful as the Lord. It’s already risky planning to go out every Friday night or going to the mall once every two weeks. But Court has decided that, despite their circumstance, he would try to give Claire a long (and slightly normal) life if possible.

Even if that means interacting with anyone and becoming suspicious of every little thing they do. Hence, pulling them close at a safe distance and then pushing them far, far away.

“You’re real paranoid, you know?” Claire quips.

Court sighs heftily. “.. I concur.”

“You should get out more. Join the PTA.”

“School hasn’t started here… And you’ll be homeschooling, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re my teacher.”

“Hey, I know a ton of shit in school.”

“You saying it like that makes it so hard to believe.”

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: wow, that's a long one HAHAHA I guess it's just my way of making up for not updating last Wed or Thurs as I've (promised) noted ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ y'all wanna know why? It's because of a smut Six x Reader that suddenly corrupted my mind! And because the update was late and I might not be able to post weekly, I'll be posting this smut for some fresh content for y'all hehehehe

The portal to another dimension Chapter 5 is not yet now open!

[hotwings0203]

Decided to do a part 2 (due courtesy of @an-ambivalent and @definitetrashlord for motivating me to even continue this series HEHE💖)

Pt. 1

Tw: manipulation, dubcon, language

It isn’t the cum that slides down your legs continuously, nor the black and blue marks that so obviously covers the expanse of your neck at all times, no.

It’s the constant surveillance you’re under, it’s the lack of conversation you get from your comrades, it’s the way you mold and shift for however he wants you to be that solidifies his hold on you.

The attack from three weeks ago feels like yesterday, the way he held your head up by your hair after he was done ruining you and crooned in your ear that you were his now, and you’d be suicidal if you continued to lash out on his godsent decision plays like a broken record in your head.

You can’t look him in the eyes now, only meekly staring at his feet when he orders you to stand in front of him. Sometimes he’ll circle you and invade in your personal space, standing behind you and leaning in close behind your ear, simply inhaling you and saying nothing. Other times when no one’s around he’ll lounge back on the couch with a beer in his hand, spreading his knees wide while he lazily orders you to dance for him, slowly stripping away your self esteem and clothes simultaneously.

He doesn’t seem to outwardly mind the silence that seeps from you anymore, now that he has your body and attention focused solely on him.

Even Tomura has stopped talking to you just for fun. He’ll try and make a snipe at you, fruitlessly expecting your once-usual comebacks, but all you can do is blearily smile at him.

It makes everyone uneasy how quickly you’ve been reduced to nothing.

You couldn’t leave even if you tried to. Your medical skills were too valuable to be rejected, and Dabi’s scrutinizing tabs on you wouldn’t allow for even a foot stepped outside if not for Shigaraki’s missions.

Even your meals are meager at best, mainly consisting of copious amounts of alcohol and shitty ambiguous burnt food that pops up on the counters randomly.

You feel dirty, like a disease-infested rat. No amount is showering from the dingy stalls, no amount of cheap soap bars wittled down on your body erases the feeling of being used.

Dabi has never been in more love than he has now.

He hopes you like the food he makes, secretly placing it on the bar counter seconds before you sit down. Sure, the food might be a little burnt, but it’s still your favorite right?

It doesn’t matter how expensive the shower products are, he thinks they smell nice and that they’d smell even better on you. Shigaraki can fuck off, he’s not spending too much revenue on his girl, it’s the bare minimum he can do to show you how much he appreciates you playing by his rules...even if he can never say it out loud.

And his favorite part at the end of every day is putting his surely-misplaced words of affection into action, where he can scream with his body against yours how long he’s wanted you for, how thankful he is to any deity that exists that you’ve been placed in his care.

Dabi might be in love, but he’s not stupid though.

He sees the way your body becomes more and more deteriorated, notices the small change of you hesitation to answer him, the way you can never truly look at him, how you retreat to his room more and more(your room has just become a guest room now after he burned all your belongings, rendering you completely dependent on him to supply you with scratchy clothes and feminine products, no matter how embarrassing it is for you). It’s so frustrating to him- you’re not actually doing anything wrong, but you’re not doing it right either. How long does he have to keep threatening you for? Why can’t you just be happy with him? At least pretend like he’s not the villain for once.

He just feels so passionately for you, a word he never thought would be used in his vocabulary. It all bottles up, and sometimes he feels like he isn’t expressing his feelings of love, jealousy at you not giving him enough attention at times, concern over your quiet demeanor, and wanting of you enough.

You’ve never been more broken than you are now.

If it wasn’t bad enough that you bend at his every beck and call, he expects you to understand his body language and cravings without him even saying anything, which is more so often than not. He just stares at you for so, so long. You originally tried to get up and leave after he dragged you over to the couch and plopped you down, but immediately stilled after smoke began curling from his wrists.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

You look at him incredulously, but his lids are lowered at you as he smokes a blunt. And so you exhale in annoyance and run a hand through your hair, closing your eyes to avoid looking into his unnerving glacial eyes.

It’s too bad you don’t see the big red hearts in them that break when you turn away from him.

You’re just so pretty, how can you expect him not to stare?

He tries to get you to do weird things too when you guys are alone and he’s not plowing you into the mattress.

Once on a cool winter night a majority of the League was out hunting for recruits. Dabi, you, and Spinner had done your quotas already-or,rather, Dabi had yanked you by your wrist alongside him through the dark alleyways, growling at you to “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. If I see you looking at any one of these trash kindlings I’ll burn the whole alley up and force you to watch”.

And so while the rest of the party was out, Spinner had mumbled something about needing to take a piss with a pointed glare from Dabi and you were left alone again with your...boyfriend?

He sits down on the crumbling leather and gives you a once over, not saying anything.

You fidget in place, thinking he was going to make you give him another slutty show.

Moments pass, and he snaps, “Well?”

“W-well what?”

“Are you just gonna stand there like some braindead bitch? Sit down.” He leers at you.

You drop into the loveseat at the other end, looking down at your lap. You can’t see his expression, but he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you actually slow? Get the fuck over here, it’s cold as shit.”

And so you scooch over to him regrettably, knees touching with his as you squirm.

He leans forward and turns to face you, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He notices you trembling and squeezing your eyes shut, so he stops midway.

He sits back again and as soon as you feel his presence retreat you let out our breath.

It hurts his heart to hear it.

You solely turn to face him when he doesn’t say anything, and he points to one of the grimy blankets strewn over the side of the tv. He grunts, and you catch his drift.

You get up to retrieve it, and hear his gravelly voice. “Get the remote too.”

When both items are brought back, Dabi snatches the blanket from you and drapes it over himself contentedly.

What am I, an errand girl?

He tosses the remote at you to your surprise, and you look at him with raised eyebrows.

He props his cheek against a fist and stares briefly at the tv.

You take your chances and press the on button on the remote.

The ancient monitor comes to life, and it takes a few minutes of scrolling through the channels and glancing at Dabi’s face to decide the appropriate one to watch. You settle on some old slasher finally after seeing the scowl on his face lessen at the sight of a rusted blade chopping through some guy’s shoulders.

It’s weird to be sitting there with your bully-turned-beau, watching a horror flick as if your relationship with him was normal. You’re surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet, it’s what he always wants to do these days as if you’re planning on leaving and it’s his last dying wish to fuck you.

But he does nothing except for sit there, gazing at the screen with unblinking eyes, bouncing his knee.

He wants you near him.

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Why do you think he even sat you next to him with a blanket and a shitty movie?

Dabi expected you to snuggle up to him the moment you say back down. It’s rather insulting that you haven’t so far, if he’s being honest. Why would a fire user like him need a blanket to keep warm? That was for you.

And the horror movie? The only reason he allowed you to put it on is because he wanted you to jump, scream, flinch-hell, do something so he can put an arm around you and tease you for being scared!

But you just sit there. Stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. Hands in your lap, back straight up, it bothers him that you’re not relaxing around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You jump at the break in silence.

Indeed it is cold, the chilly winter draft seeping through the crumbling foundations of the old bar. But you’d resist, not wanting to know where he was going with this.

“Uh, no, I’m good thanks.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re literally shaking cold, doll. Come here.”

You turn to him beseechingly, very much not wanting to prolong this. “Dabi...”

You’re met with an icy glare.

And so you begrudgingly scoot closer to him, barely a few inches away. Gingerly picking up the corner of the blanket, you place it over your lap in a faux effort to warm yourself.

Dabi rolls his eyes when he sees this, and pulls you by your arms to fall against his chest.

You gasp lightly at how warm his torso is, and can’t help the shiver that passes over you.

Unable to stop yourself from chasing the warmth amidst the cold night, you huddle closer to him, pressing your palms against his chest to feel more of his heat.

He looks down at your head and gives the slightest twitch of his lips.

His heart swells, and he hopes you don’t hear how embarrassingly loud it’s pounding against your hands.

You slowly start melting in his hold, shifting your leg up adjoining his to seek out more heat, and it makes his cock twitch slightly. He likes you like this: pliant, easy, comfortable. He just wishes you’d talk more, and with less of that apprehension and fear in your eyes

Some minutes pass, the slasher fic having been ended and changing to a rom-com. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he saw one of those. It must have been back when he was Touya, back when his mom would bake his favorite cookies and him and Fuyumi-chan and Natsu would chase each other around-

You stir in his arms, mumbling a bit from dozing off. Dabi gazes at you, wondering when the day would be when you bake him his favorite meals, when he gets to chase you around and make you giggle instead of chasing you like prey and making you scream.

He rubs up and down you arms soothingly with hot palms as you murmur and begin to wake up. You sit up from his chest and rub your eyes, yawning widely all the while.

It’s only when you focus on him smirking down at you that you jump back as if you’ve been electrocuted.

His smile drops at that.

You scowl at his proximity, mentally face-palming at how you could’ve been lulled to sleep so easily by this dickhead. It wasn’t even that cold, how could you have warmed up so easily to him?

A blast of icy air seemingly coming from nowhere settled over your bones and you shivered violently, rubbing your arms that were warm a minute ago.

Okay, maybe it was a bit cold. But you’d be damned if you willingly became vulnerable for him any more than you had to.

“Is someone tired?” He teased, his white teeth gleaming with his sickening grin.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you mutter and avert your eyes, getting up to go upstairs.

“Good idea, I think I’ll come too.” You don’t need to turn around to hear the smug laughter in his voice, knowing full well that he was making fun of you.

You grumble and stalk upstairs with him right at your heels. At one point he lifts his gaze just to see your cute ass sashaying side-to-side with every step you took up.

He can’t help himself when he reaches a hand out and squeezes the flesh there, causing you to yelp and shoot up the stairs even faster.

Dabi shakes his head and snickers to himself, beelining after you to his quarters.

It’s a medium size-room, not meant for two people but that doesn’t stop him from cramming you in here every night.

You’re already glowering at his sheets, yanking them back and getting ready to dive in when a sudden thought strikes him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He leans against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Comes your muddled answer from beneath the comforter.

You did not, in fact, eat anything for almost a day and a half. You couldn’t do it, your stomach was constantly in knots from his presence.

“Don’t lie to me,” his nostrils flare and he glares at you.

“I said I ate already.”

“Yeah? When exactly? ‘Cause if I remember right, i haven’t seen you leave my sight for almost 36 hours now, and none of that time includes when you ate.”

You stay silent, fuming underneath the covers. Why the hell was he so concerned about you? It pisses you off that he’s putting up a fake act of caring about you, just so that he feels less guilty about raping you.

He sighs and shifts to open the door. “Stop being such a bratty little shit. You were doing so well earlier, so keep it that way unless you wanna piss me off.”

Dabi turns the knob and takes a step out of the room. “I’ll ask you one last time before I choose myself- what do you wanna eat?”

“Eat shit.”

It’s so faint and muffled, but he hears it. His eyes widen marginally, his jaw clenches and the brass knob under his inflamed palm starts to steam and bubble.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said eat shit!” You throw the covers off and glare at him full on. “Stop pretending like you actually like me, or that you care about me. You’re a crazy fucking rapist, you’re not my father for gods’ sake, so stop trying to be this fake good person!”

The only sound around the room is your soft panting and the squeaking of bubbling metal. Then, it stop.

He steps forward, and speaks softly. “You want me to be the villain so bad?”

Another step forward, and you instinctively retract your legs from the edge of the bed.

“Fine. We’ll play your little game. You’re not leaving this room until I say so, or eating until I give you permission, since that’s what you wanted anyways. Wanna act like a stone cold bitch? Be my guest.”

His posture immediately relaxes, and his smug smile returns as he crosses the room to flip onto the bed.

You look at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns over and scrolls through his phone.

There’s no way he’s serious. Is he actually planning on keeping you in this room? You’re already limited to the base as it is with him breathing down your back, no way in hell you’d tolerate even more confinement.

Just to check his bluff, you slowly slip off the bed and pad towards the door, one eye over your shoulder to check that he hadn’t turned around. But the second your hand outreaches for the disfigured blob of cooling metal on the door, a massive wave of blue flames lash out mere inches from your hand and between the knob.

You scream and clutch your hand, leaping backwards.

“What the fuck, Dabi?!”

He says nothing, but continues to smirk at his phone.

You take a deep breath and are about to try to open it again his his raspy voice calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My nursing skills aren’t as good as yours. And even if you do manage to sever your hand and try again, if you leave then I’ll personally make sure Shigaraki withdraws all your missions here on out.”

You pause at that, cursing under your breath. As much as you knew he’d never admit it to your face, your leader needed Dabi for long distance combat. He was the second most powerful member in the group, so his word was scripture after Shigaraki’s himself. He would do anything Dabi would say if it meant keeping him in the League. You, however, were expendable at the end of the day.

Sighing, you trudge your way back to the rickety bed, grumbling under your breath. He says nothing, simply continuing to scroll through his phone as if he didn’t blast hellfire at you seconds before.

Sleep did not come easily. Even after Dabi put his phone away, he didn’t press up against you like he usually did at night. The empty space behind you was growing colder and harder to ignore.

You tossed and turned for a couple minutes, contemplating what to do. Apparently he was serious when he said he wouldn’t let you leave the room until he said so. So when was he gonna give you the all-clear?

Your stomach rumbled loudly, and you winced clutching it. Damn it. If only you had taken up his offer instead of throwing a tantrum.

Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes more of deafening silence save for your weeping stomach, you cave in.

“Dabi.”

Silence.

“Dabi, you awake?” You prop yourself up on an elbow and peek over his shoulder. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving too fast for a slumber.

“Look, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t listen, okay? I should’ve eaten when you told me to.”

Nothing again.

“Hey.” You lightly shake his shoulder, but no response comes from him.

You sigh in frustration, tapping your fingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, an idea comes to you, but it makes your stomach recoil in disgust and quiet down its grumbling. Desperation is a bitch.

“Can I make it up to you...?”

And finally, he turns around to face you, one cheek propped against his palm, a lazy grin complimenting his salacious gaze.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so earlier doll?”

You grimace in disgust, mixed emotions at your plan working.

“So what exactly did you have in mind, hmm?” He pouts condescendingly down at you, and you grit your teeth before letting him in on it.

“Um, well..I thought maybe I could...um, y’know, like..I wanna, um...” Oh god. This was more embarrassing than you thought. How are you supposed to ask your captor if you can suck his dick? Usually he just took you fighting tooth and nail, you never fully submitted like this before.

And he knows it too, based on the way his eyes gleam in the silver moonlight and shadows of lust cross his face while looking at your wide eyes and bitten bottom lip, your fidgeting fingers showing nothing but needing pure guidance.

But this isn’t supposed to be easy, he doesn’t want you to feel comfortable, he wants you to feel bad and make it up to him.

To give you a little push, however, he gives toga slight hint as he sits up and leans back against the rickety bedrest, folding his arms behind his head.

“So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart? ‘Gonna stare at me like that all night or are you gonna tell me how you’re gonna make this up to me?”

You look up at him, conflicted for a moment before solidifying your resolve. You shyly reach out a hand and touch the outside of his thigh, slowly rubbing and moving it closer up to the tent in his pelvis.

Oh, this is precious.

“What?” He sneers. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were pushing me away earlier, but now you wanna suck my dick? Make up your mind, babe.”

You wince and continue, not backing down from his mean comment. You knew he wanted this, he expected this from you. That’s why even though he’s spitting venom from his lips, his hips are bucking up into your hand as you stroke over his member.

Your fingers move nimbly up and down, around and under his thighs and dick, with him softly cursing in the background as he grows harder and harder.

“Stop being a tease and get to sucking. It’s what you were made for, anyways,” Dabi’s low voice comes out from in between little moans.

Your hand shakes a little bit as you fumble with the drawstrings on his pj’s, and he snickers at your inexperience. When you finally free his length, it bounces out like its on fucking hydraulics, precum beading up at the tip, his shaft coated with an intimidation Jacob’s Ladder.

He watches you lick your lips and he groans under his breath. You’re nervous and scared, but he’s wondering whose heart is beating faster right now. The hand which you use to hesitantly start pumping him is so much softer than his own, and even though he’s gotten fairly accustomed to your body and the feel of it, the sensations multiply tenfold when you do it willingly for him.

Dabi has half a mind to shove your head down onto his shaft when he feels like you’re stalling with your hands, however good they feel. He wants to see you sloppy with saliva dribbling down your chin like a baby.

But he waits. As excruciatingly painful as it is, he wants to see what you’re like when you do things at your own pace, and at your own...comfort? If you can even call it that.

Finally, finally after caving in from his silent flower you get the idea to put it in your mouth.

Your face contorts in disgust as you slowly lower your head and latch your lips onto the slippery bulb, hollowing your cheeks out and sucking hard at the tip.

Dabi hisses and juts his hips up into your mouth, furiously chewing at his burnt lower lip as he holds back a pornographic moan. He knows you’d be startled and embarrassed by it, so he refrains...for now.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tell you what to do, though.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it like an ice-pop. No, don’t use your teeth idiot. And fondle my balls while you’re at it, too.”

Instructions pour into your ears, one after another as you fumble around trying to satiate his needs. You’re clumsy, which makes it even messier and hotter for him. Various fluids coat your hand and the lower half of your face as you work on him, doing exactly what he says. Sucking and kitten-licking the tip, even going so far as to dip your tongue into the crevice of his tiny hole and rapidly lick up the massive amounts of pre bubbling up after doing so, spiraling your tongue down the piercings and on his shaft until you circle around his balls. Your spit helps as lube to slick up his dick as you pump your hand while nursing on his plush balls.

Dabi, of course, has a hand woven through your hair and randomly jerks down on your head when you hit a good spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to hold back from his way his body and arms shake in self restraint, so you know it’s time to finish things up before his control snaps.

You start stroking him even faster, squeezing a little harder when you move up on his tip and massaging his balls. The soft schlick schlick sounds echo throughout the quiet room, the rustling of his sheets as his legs move to their own accord mute the thudding of both your hearts.

You can tell his orgasm is about to come from the way his cheeks puff up and his chest heaves. Pulling away is futile, as the second he sees recognition in your eyes he finally does what he’s been wanting to do, and slams your head all the way down his length.

He starts actually face-fucking you now, all 7 1/2 inches tightly cramming in your throat. You retch and cry out around his dick, trying to pull your head back but he’s not having it; he pounds the back of your canal and you swear you’ll wake up with a bruised esophagus in the morning.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes doll, fuck, just a little more, you’re doing so good, my little cumdump huh? You love me, yeah? Of course you do, of course you love your daddy, you’re never gonna leave me you’re gonna stay right here under me like the good little girl you are-“

Filth pours from his mouth as white ropes leave his cock, your already-filled throat flooding with his seed and leaking out of your strained mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he waits for a moment or two, calming his breath down by taking deep inhales in place of his rapid panting. His breath deepens after a minute or two, but he still has an iron grip on the back of your head sealed so tight that the cum is trapped on the inside of your stretched lips.

“Mmmfh!” You cry out and beat at his knee. He finally looks down at focuses on you, squinting and laughing at your predicament.

“Aww what’s wrong, don’t wanna gargle my kids? Would you rather have them someplace else?” He shakes your head back and forth on his softening cock and more seed spills out over your mouth and around his groin.

You painfully pull your head up, and Dabi revels in how you look.

Teary-eyed, your hair a mess, cum and spit coating your mouth like a fucking whore.

You’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you have at that moment.

“Come on, clean me up,” he gestures to the mess on his body, and you grimace.

“Do I have to? I just did what you wanted me to-“

“I thought you were trying to make it up to me?” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

You sigh and try to do it quickly, ingesting the vile contents and avoiding his cruel grin.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you finish him off and flop down in bed, catching your breath.

“So, was that good enough? Can I go outside now?”

“It’s the middle of the night, where the hell would you go right now?” He fluffs up his pillow and pulls his pants back up, getting ready to actually sleep this time.

“Well, I mean yeah, but...you know what I mean, in the morning you’ll let me go out, right?”

He rolls over to face you, and you can’t decipher what emotion crosses his face as his position blocks out the moonlight. From his body rolled over, the light reflecting off the side of his head would almost make it seem like he had white hair.

“Who said anything about letting you go out?”

You gape at him for a moment, then chuckle nervously. “Come on, don’t freak me out like that. You said that if I made it up to you-“

“I said make it up to me, as in apologize for your bitchy attitude. I didn’t say anything about you leaving. You’re gonna have to do more than a shitty blowjob if you wanna leave this room.”

“Dabi!”

“What? I’m just complying with what you wanted. You didn’t wanna go with me, right? So, I’m playing by your rules.” He says simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

Tears brim up in your eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You turn over and scoot away from him, ignoring his scoff. But you suppose you couldn’t be too mad, after all.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a villain anyways.

[myrulia]

"You two are dating?" - Michikatsu x Reader

SECRET DATING HEADCANONS

COLLAB

.｡.:*✧Synopsis: You and Michikatsu are secretly dating in college, mainly to not attract attention from both his brother and a certain horny friend of his. How will you react when you are caught?

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Small smut

.｡.:*✧[A/N]: This is my part of the Secret/Fake dating collab by @httptamaki, a Modern!AU with our favorite Kimetsu No Yaiba twins!

➢ How you two started dating? Well you met back in High School and that’s where things started to prosper

➢ Michikatsu was a generally well known man with your classmates, and even had a few girls crushing on him and his twin brother, Yoriichi, due to their scarily good looks

➢ Both twins were scarily attractive and that intimidated you at first, especially during high school

`` Have you seen the Tsugikuni brothers today?! They look so good! I tried asking Yoriichi out today but his attention was else where! `` You were off somewhere in the corner of a class, speaking with a close friend of yours about something completely unrelated until all eyes were on you, for Michikatsu Tsugikuni approached you.

➢ Obviously, you were surprised - no, appalled at how a Tsugikuni wanted your attention

➢ That was the day he confessed his own little crush on you whilst being on the roof of the school. How could you not accept? You also had taken a liking to the attractive raven haired male and saying no would be similar to jumping off the same roof where you admitted your feelings

➢ That's when worry set in

➢ All types of girls, boys, and theys liked them both, and constantly thirsted over the two while claiming "they're mine!" It was immature to say the least, but entertaining to see their feelings not get reciprocated from one of them

`` What if by saying we are together, they would start attacking me on purpose? Or saying hurtful things out of spite? `` You inquired with worry laced in your tone. Michikatsu took your hand in his, expressing his own idea. `` I know this might not seem like the best idea, but we do not have to openly tell people we are together, it can be our secret. ``

➢ And that's how your secret relationship started

➢ Of course, you had your worries, but seeing as how your relationship even made it to college due to it starting in your senior year of high school, they all simply washed away

➢ It was actually not as hard as you made it out to be to hide your relationship. During your first year of college, you knew not to act too close, but instead as acquaintances who simply knew each other back in high school

➢ Yet, even though some females who also went to high school with you recognized you as the girl who got asked out by Michikatsu, they did not cause any problems surprisingly enough

➢ Now, you're probably asking how you got caught? Oh boy...

➢ During your second year of college, Yoriichi and Michikatsu started living off campus in their own home that you were excited to learn of from your lover who happily shared the news to you when you both were alone in your dorm

➢ Around that same time, Professor Muzan Kibutsuji, the one teacher you loath the most for always favoring other students and failing to hide it, assigned a group project of 5 for your classroom, and to your luck, you were put in a group with not only the twins, but Douma and Shinobu

➢ You were friends with Shinobu, but not so much with Douma. The male would constantly tease you, trying to get your number at any given second while you were put together at a different table to brainstorm ideas for said project

`` Sooo..~ What are we doing for the project hm? Maybe we should exchange numbers so that we can converse more afterwards. `` Douma's suggestion did not go unnoticed by everyone, who automatically knew what he meant by the wink he directed in your attention. Shinobu, who thankfully also hated the male, slapped him silly upside his head.

➢ Michikatsu, who absolutely despised him, always struggled to hide a specific vein that would pulse on his neck that hinted clear signs of aggravation, but unfortunately, you two were just not ready to openly express your relationship

➢ After the class and the slap hurricane Shinobu laid upon Douma, Yoriichi invited the group to their house, and you being excited that you could finally come over, said yes a little too quickly

➢ Thankfully, it did go unnoticed by everyone, so your nerves were relaxed

`` I'd love to, but I have plans with a special lady that weekend, so unfortunately I cannot make it, maybe Shinobu ca- `` ``I cannot make it either, but [Y/N] can and she'll text me the ideas anyways, have fun, `` was all the biology major female said before turning on her heel and leaving swiftly.

➢ Now having plans set in motion, you waited patiently for the weekend to arrive, and when it did, you were beyond ecstatic

➢ That's where everything went down hill

➢ Thanks to the directions messaged to you by Michikatsu, you made it to their estate with no issues. You were nervous and excited at the same time. It was impossible to not feel such ways when this is the first official time you would be in the private space of your boyfriend

➢ He had also given you a key to entering was not a problem, but what you did not expect to see was your boyfriend standing there and waiting for you

`` Yoriichi isn't going to be home this evening, so I figured we could come up with our own project instead, `` Michikatsu said with a fire ablaze in his eyes as he grew closer to you. The gaze itself caused shivers to emit from your spine once your brain registered at what he was suggesting, and you could not lie, the idea had you wet already.

➢ Obviously you and the raven haired male had slept together a plethora amount of times before, most times leaving you sore and having to suck it up and pretend nothing happened during classes while he sat proudly knowing he was the reason

➢ In a matter of seconds you both are now in his bedroom, you beneath him and him leaving butterfly kisses up and down your neck until his lips latch onto yours again, all the while getting you undressed

➢ Let's skip a little ahead because you know what happens here ;)

➢ By time Michikatsu is already balls deep within your wet depths and thrusting into you like no tomorrow, Yoriichi entered around that time with confusion plastered on his face upon hearing banging against a wall as well as another noise he could not quite decipher

➢ The confused twin trailed up the stairs until he knocked onto Michikatsu's room door, expecting an answer but instead all he heard was an audible moan of his brother's name

➢ The poor look on his face once he learns what his brother and his girlfriend is doing

➢ At that point he is fed up of being overheard so he bursts into the room, although he did not think the entire plan through because now he got the open sight of you having your legs wrapped around Michikatsu's waist, his hands interlocked with yours, as well as the evident sight of both your naked and sweaty bodies

➢ Needless to say, he was traumatized

`` Get out and knock!, `` your lover would say as he throws a pillow at the swiftfully exiting male who looked beyond apologetic. `` I did knock! You were too loud! `` At that point you were beyond red, trying to process the entire situation that just unfolded. Your relationship had finally been known.

➢ Michikatsu immediately pulled out of you, cleaning the both of your bodies of any mess (mainly cum and sweat but shh)

➢ Once you both were clean and fully dressed, your boyfriend carried you bridal style out of his bedroom to a certain twin brother that was waiting impatiently in the living room for an explanation as to why he just saw his partner and twin sleeping together

➢ Now, as the three of you were sitting in the living room, you and your lover being even redder than tomatoes, waited for whatever Yoriichi had to say

`` Now, I do not mind if two consenting adults are having one night stands, but can you explain to me as to why you decided to have such loud sex? `` You completely flushed at his explicit words, but also thankful for the fact that he was utterly clueless about your relationship, although it was about time to come clean. `` Yoriichi, I am sorry you had to come home and see that, but there is something we need to tell you..- `` `` You two are dating? ``

➢ Now at that point, you fully died

➢ Seeing as how you have been silent the entire time and left Michikatsu to say everything, you decided to speak up

`` Yes we're together Yoriichi. We have been together for a long time, since high school actually. We've been in a relationship since then and I apologize for not saying anything. ``

➢ Now that the news was out to the one who deserved to know the most, he was much more understanding and even excited about his older brother finding the love of his life

➢ But the next day, things were real embarrassing

➢ You and Michikatsu were extremely silent at your group table during Professor Kibutsuji's class. Obviously Shinobu's observant self took note of this, along with how you did not send her any of the "ideas" you came up with

➢ Shinobu, Douma, and Yoriichi all stared at the two of you, who were now sitting beside each other and being reddened messes at the news you are about to drop on the observers who were starting to get impatient

➢ You've been secretly dating for years and now that the truth is about to come out, it felt gut wrenching to say the least

`` My brother and [Y/N] have something they'd like to say, `` Yoriichi started so that the topic could get a move on and everyone could get a good grade by getting it over with and working on the project. `` Well..- `` said Michikatsu. `` [Y/N] and I are together, and we have been since high school. We were in a secret relationship. ``

➢ Douma being the fucker he is definitely busted out laughing, holding his stomach as tears formed in his eyes

➢ Shinobu on the other hand stared wide eyed, refusing to believe that she could not realize you both were together for such a long time

➢ Although Yoriichi had a proud smile on his face in view of the fact that the news was already out

➢ But due to the prying ears of many around you, some began staring at your table, the secret was now out and you couldn't do anything about it

➢ Even though, you both were happy knowing you no longer had to hide the happiness you two brought each other, as well as now Michikatsu does not have to worry about Yoriichi anymore, for now he will fuck you if he feels like it, give you attention if he feels like it, and get attention himself if he feels like it.

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[libraford]

I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.

I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.

In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.

Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.

Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…

You can set the bar so very low and yet…

The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.

It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.

And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.

By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.

Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.

Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.

We worked hard. And hard. And hard.

And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.

But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.

It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.

In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.

"What's in the-"

"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.

"What's happening," I asked Blue.

"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."

"Blue… what does that MEAN?"

"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."

I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.

Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.

Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-

Four.

Tiny.

KITTENS!

Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.

They immediately started climbing up my arm.

"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"

"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."

"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.

"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"

So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.

In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.

This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.

The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.

Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.

Sounds great, right?

The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.

So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.

'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.

If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.

And you can't just tape the box shut.

So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.

Mood.

I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.

Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.

It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.

"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"

Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"

Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."

Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.

Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.

We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)

Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.

Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.

It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.

And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.

They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.

Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.

Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.

And then there was one.

There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:

We are the Skeleton Crew.

We once were seven but now are two

We don't know what to do

So we just work, work, work.

Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.

And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.

All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.

It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…

I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.

The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.

Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.

But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.

In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.

This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.

We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.

Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.

We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.

It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.

Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.

"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.

"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."

"Okay, then."

She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.

Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.

"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."

She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I'll say."

"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"

"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."

She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."

"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"

"Oh, I dunno… maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."

This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.

Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.

And they wanted to take that away from us.

And they did. Because who was going to stop them?

'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'

Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.

There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.

But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.

Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.

Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.

I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.

I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)

An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?

And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.

But we adapted. We created a rhythm.

Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…

Okay, so before I forget:

Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.

It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.

...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.

By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.

Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.

By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.

At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.

This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.

There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.

But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.

So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.

The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.

If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.

Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)

That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)

And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?

"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.

Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.

In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.

Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.

"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."

She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.

And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.

She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.

But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.

"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."

We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.

One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.

Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.

At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.

Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.

And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.

I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.

I really should have beaten them up.

But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.

And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.

And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.

I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.

Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.

So they paid her hourly.

...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.

And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.

I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.

And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.

I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.

When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'

And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.

A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.

Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.

Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.

And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.

When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.

I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.

As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.

"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"

The best she could do was nod.

"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."

He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.

That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.

I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.

So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.

But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.

To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.

They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.

And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…

I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.

I felt like I was made of splintering wood.

I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.

So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.

That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.

If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.

On this one… nothing important happened.

We were… slow.

Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.

Sounds great, right?

...heh…

Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."

I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.

And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.

"Why are the counts off?"

Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.

"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"

...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.

"We need to know where they are."

We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.

But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.

We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.

And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.

We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.

I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…

But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.

So fucking much.

And yet it's our fault.

I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.

The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.

But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.

Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.

I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.

"Grandpa, I have to quit."

I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.

"Why?"

"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."

I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."

"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.

"...it's not me, is it?"

"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."

"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."

So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…

...but they understood.

Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.

He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.

But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.

No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.

This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?

They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.

Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?

Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.

It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.

And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.

I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.

I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…

I didn't.

It was probably stupid.

But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.

That's something, I think.

About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:

"Hey guess what."

"What," I replied.

The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.

"Pop-eye!?"

"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.

The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."

"What!? Why?"

"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."

"Are you okay? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."