#and I wish if I was going to push people away I'd at least be happy about it

[martsonmars]

Hi friends! I keep committing and recommitting to making a serious effort to come back to the fandom, and I think this time finally I got my Snowbaz feelings back for real. So I'm going to try. Thank you to everyone who kept tagging me; I'm a little lost re: new people existing on Tumblr, but I hope to catch up!

So much to do in this post. For now, some snippets.

Exhibit A: my writing goal for the month. It's okay if it doesn't work out, but I decided I need short-term writing goals and this is my first one.

Baz pushes his sunglasses up his nose, staring at the man behind the counter of the shop. He hopes that hiding in plain sight—without his costume, without his mask—is a more effective disguise than trying to wear a fake moustache.

The apron is there, gloriously stretching over a broad chest that does not turn Baz's insides into soup and make him wish he could go back three—five, ten—years and do everything differently.

Exhibit B: COBB idea. I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!

Going right is never the right choice.

I've known this since the first time my father brought me along on his travels (read: I hid in his trunk) and I had to face a crocodile armed only with a blunt Swiss Army knife I'd stolen from said trunk. All because I'd turned right. And then right again.

When he found me, scraped knees and his precious knife lost in the belly of the beast, he didn't even yell. He just looked at me like he always did. Like the biggest disappointment in his life of failures.

Exhibit C: potential second COBB idea, that I'm going to submit only if I make enough progress by the end of the month.

[Baz] holds my hand like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Present. The minutes are trickling away from us like sand in a broken hourglass. The sun hasn't started rising yet, the night as dark as it gets, the cold seeping into our bones.

He holds my hand like he's afraid he'd float away if he didn't.

I know I'd be glad if it happened.

I have a lot of fandom resolutions for this year and I'm scared they'll end up like any New Year's resolutions... but I'll list them anyway. 6 resolutions Sunday:

Be more involved on Tumblr. I want to post more, but especially start reblogging and commenting on things again.

Write more. Last year I wrote so little and posted even less, and it made me sad when I realised it in the past days. So much was going on, so I don't blame myself, but I miss writing and I believe I can try to make it a regular thing again.

I want to read more fics. It's been years since I last read fics consistently. I missed everything!! Time to slowly catch up.

Relatedly, I want to try to comment more. I've never been a great commenter because it overwhelms me, but it's hypocritical since I need everyone and their brother to leave 10 paragraph long comments on everything I write... So I want to commit to doing better.

I want to try to publish a fic every month, at least. @palimpsessed suggested doing some sort of monthly countdown to Carry On's birthday in October and I'm all in.

I want to succeed at COBB. For one reason or the other, more often than not because I am cursed and I never finished writing my things, I've never managed to start and finish posting something for COBB. But I have two concepts I'm so excited about (not sure yet if I'll try both of them) and I want to commit to doing well. Wish me good luck.

My good old tagging list <3 I hope to add new people soon! But hi my dear old friends, how's it going?

@facewithoutheart @sillyunicorn @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @palimpsessed @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @orange-peony @larkral @raenestee @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus @technetiumai @brilla-brilla-estrellita @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon @imagineacoolusername @blackberrysummerblog @theearlgreymage @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess @alexalexinii @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @best--dress @theotherhufflepuff @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @dragoneggos @gekkoinapeartree @ionlydrinkhotwater @erzbethluna @shemakesmeforget @basiltonbutliketheherb @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @noblecorgi @j-nipper-95

[dirkxcaliborn]

I think it's really cruel to feel awkward and exhausted and uninterested while interacting with people, but end up feeling lonely and disconnected when alone. You shouldn't be forced to crave things you're ill-suited for. You shouldn't be forced to struggle and fail and be miserable when you try and miserable when you don't.

[notmorbid]

these violent delights.

dialogue prompts from these violent delights by micah nemerever.

i never told you my name.

who puts those awful ideas in your head?

you're forever assuming the worst.

what's that face? you look like you're going to cry.

you're one of those people who worry all the time, aren't you?

i don't worry, i ruminate. they're distinct actions.

nothing made you. you just are.

beautiful things are supposed to hurt.

people tell you you're shy all the time, don't they?

i don't know how i ever got on without you.

a little trouble is a good thing for a young person.

i wasn't born yesterday. i know what kids get up to.

it's good to have guns to stick to.

you could do anything to me and i'd let you.

i'm not ready to be seen. not yet.

i don't need you to treat me respectfully. i'm not made of glass.

tell me you love me, at least. please. i need to know somebody does.

do i look normal? i can't tell if i look normal.

you can get away with anything, as long as you act like an authority on the truth.

don't tell me what i want.

you know you're just about the worst liar i've ever met.

i don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you.

you're so square, you're a cube.

i just want you to believe me when i tell you you're worth something.

there are limits to what you can expect people to understand, without living it.

you can't fight everybody all the time. you still have to live with them.

i forget how blue the sky can be outside the city.

i'm going to push you off a cliff, you fucking boy scout.

thank you for trusting me with this.

be a kid while you still can.

please believe in the things i try to tell you, instead of the things you think you deserve to be told.

if the sun touched you for even a moment, you'd go up in flames. like a vampire.

your voice changes when you're angry.

what a lonely, dreary thing it is to know the truth.

you never look away, even when your eyes are closed, but i'm never certain you can see what's really there.

tell me you need me. in those words.

can i tell you something? that i'm all but certain you won't believe?

i never lie to you. but sometimes, i wish i could.

you never let me pretend the truth is alright when it isn't.

you have a profound, elusive sadness about you.

you didn't. please tell me you didn't.

you and your awful little games.

why would i bother to grow my own conscience when you're always around to pester me?

you're going to help me escape.

this house is a shadowbox, never meant for human things.

you have no right to stop me, and you're not going to try.

you're sweet, when you want to be.

do you want me to kill ____? i mean it.

it might do you good to be an orphan.

you're just so sincerely creepy.

wealthy people pay handsomely for the privilege of ignoring cries for help.

i've never seen you like that before. not once.

i've decided to learn to be impulsive.

the worst damage humans do isn't rooted in malice, but in thoughtlessness.

there's such a thing as right and wrong. anyone can figure out the difference if they're willing to think for themselves.

there's no part of you i can't see.

i don't want to hurt you. please don't let me.

you're ridiculous, sometimes. but that's alright.

i don't want you right now. go home.

i'm not like you. i don't even have a shape of my own to hold anything else in place.

i'll never matter the way you do, and you know it.

say what you need to say.

if you say the word 'deserve' one more time, i'm driving us off a bridge.

i've been meaning to talk to you about ____.

i'm worried about what you're getting into.

you don't see me. you can't. you never could.

it's your life. you're entitled to make your own mistakes.

i want you to know you deserve better. you don't have to put up with ____.

you scare the hell out of me. you really do.

you look the same way you always have.

i was worried i'd lost you.

i'll take care of you. i don't need you to be brave.

all i want to do is make you happy, and you're the unhappiest person i've ever met.

i would rather be cruel than weak.

i want you to let me be nice to you today. i don't care if you think you deserve it.

this place looks like somewhere in a jigsaw puzzle.

it's always been real for me. every second.

please don't say anything to my mother.

we can't fix it if you don't tell me what happened.

i'll call you when i can stand the sight of you. don't hold your breath.

hiding the truth is still lying.

i thought you'd finally trust me if you knew i'd kill for you.

i'm just as much of a monster as you are.

i was missing part of myself my whole life, until i met you.

righteous fury leaves no space for fear.

you can always talk to me. about anything, okay? i love you no matter what.

you played [game] in school, didn't you?

no one tolerates boredom worse than the idle rich.

someone needs to be looking after you.

you know you can't actually stop me, right?

i want to be able to look at you.

when you need to, you will understand.

i'm only ever early when i'm afraid.

people talk themselves into the strangest things when they want to look impressive.

in the end, there's no difference between trusting someone and underestimating them.

[rs-hawk]

I'd love to see more yeti or Bigfoot dragging their mate off to their cave in the woods

They're just slightly smart enough to communicate with gestures but not enough to understand why you'd want to leave

Y’all fr making me lose my mind with this asks. Love it

You decided to go hiking with a group of coworkers. It’s supposed to be a team building experience, but you don’t care about that. You’re just glad that you’ll get paid to be outside. It’s better than being trapped inside all day, listening to people you don’t care about complain about things you also don’t care about.

You started to get a bit ahead, nor caring about the gossip and taunting that your other coworkers are exchanging. Your one work friend pulled out last minute, making you wish you’d stayed home today. That feeling wouldn’t last for too long though.

As you followed the path, you lost sight of the group behind you when you looked back. While you felt relieved by that, you also wondered if that would mean you wouldn’t get paid since technically you weren’t apart of any of the “team building” and “morale strengthening” going on behind you. You pushed that thought from your mind and decided to keep going on. They were lucky you came at all. Surely no one would be so petty as to not pay you because you got excited and got a little ahead.

When you heard a branch breaking just off the path, you didn’t think too much of it. Someone probably just was catching up to you. However, when you heard thumping on the trees, a shiver went down your spine. You remembered your Dad telling you about Big Foot and how he always made himself known by banging on trees, and that horrid smell. Luckily you didn’t smell anything, so you pressed forward.

Again, you heard the branch breaking. This time you froze, looking towards the sound of the breaking branch. Just as soon as you saw the flash of brown fur, you were scooped up by it. A scream ripped from your throat as you were carried away from the trail faster than you could comprehend.

You were taken to a cave, where the creature set you on a bed of moss and leaves. It was soft at least. The creature that loomed over you was a stereotypical Big Foot, making your heart leap into your throat. He gestured for you to lay down, but you shook your head.

He frowned, gesturing again. You shook your head. “What? No. I need to leave.”

You pointed to the opening of the cave, but this time, the creature shook his head. He lightly pushed you onto your back, burying his furry face into the crock of your neck. The feeling of his tongue, lips and teeth on your neck drew out an involuntary moan from your lips. He took that as a sign of invitation, moving his large, furry hands down your body.

You jerked away, moving slightly closer to the mouth of the cave. He drew you back to him, now pinning you under him. His huge cock was already leaking precum, which he smeared against your jeans as he grinded against you. You couldn’t believe how soaking wet this thing was making you.

He tried to pull off your jeans, but was clearly confused and agitated. After a moment, you decided that this wasn’t real. It was just a dream, right? Big Foot isn’t real. What could it hurt to have a little fun?

You slipped off your jeans, and he groaned, back to grinding his leaking cock against you. The tip of his cock pushed your panties into you, obviously not understanding the barrier at first. Just as you’re about to pull them off, instead, he ripped them off. Within a second, he slammed his giant cock inside of you. That mix of pain and pleasure made you realize that this wasn’t a dream. It was real. But you were too cock drunk to care at this point.

The furry creature abused your poor dripping cunt merciless. He bit and nipped at your neck, leaving deep bruises all over your neck and throat. His fat cock stretched you out with every thrust, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. You knew that if he was to cum in you that there was no way that you wouldn’t get pregnant. It was basically in your womb with every thrust. Again though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much.

Big Foot groaned and grunted, sounding animalistic and feral as he used your poor human cunt. He flipped you over, shoving your face into the moss so he could reach deeper into you. This drew tears from you as you gripped the moss. Tears ran down your face as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your cunt was wrapped around him, drawing him in deeper. You wanted to beg for him to keep going just like that because you were so close, but you couldn’t get any words out. Instead you just moaned and whined, pushing back against him.

Finally, as you felt him pulsing inside of him, so close to cumming, you clenched down around him. Your orgasm finally flowed, making you choke out a sob into the moss. Your mind was fuzzy. Your cunt was throbbing excitedly. He moaned loudly at the feeling of you clenched around him, and that was all it took for him to release inside of you.

His cum filled you up, extending your stomach, rounding it out. It gave you a precursor to what your stomach would soon look like, round with his child.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OMG RAVEN YOU’RE INTO EVER AFTER HIGH? I love it but can’t talk about it bc none of my friends have seen it 😭 I wish it was talked about more, especially with how deep their lore runs. I love EAH’s dynamics with the complexities of destiny. If twst followed the same logic as eah’s world it would be so interesting. How would you feel if the worlds were to mesh together and how it would work? You can interpret that in any way you want; the characters meeting or twst being bound to the same rules and societal expectations of eah, or whatnot.

Also who’s your favorite eah character compared to your favorite twst character (Leona)?Jade, right?

And have you read the eah books? I haven’t, but I’m going to try to sometime!

Eah alt account when?

I'm still salty that the Monster High x Ever After High crossover movie never saw the light of day-- Part of the reason why I don't like Disney (I mean the faceless corpo, not all Disney products) is because they have such a strong association with fairy tales that it pushes other interpretations out of the market or it leads to people assuming Disney "owns" those fairy tales. Ever After High's lore and themes run so much deeper than most other fairy tale reimaginings I've seen (and I've seen a lot). It's such a shame it doesn't get the respect and recognition it deserves even though EAH is the one out here challenging the status quo whereas modern Disney is content with mediocrity that appeals to the masses.

I think EAH and TWST, at their cores, share similar ideas so combining them would work well. Friendship, self-identity, defining your own future, questioning what "good" and "evil" truly are... It's all there. I'd imagine that if Twisted Wonderland (or at least NRC) followed the same rules as EAH, then everyone would be descendants of their Disney counterparts. (This is actually a common misperception of what TWST was to new fans; people mistakenly believe the TWST characters are children of the classic Disney villains. This has never been canon.) Unfortunately, I'd have to take away the Disney villains being twisted to be "good" guys in Twisted Wonderland's world in order for this to work by EAH rules, so... There's that to consider. This, in turn, can result in the student body splitting into Royals (pro-following one's destiny) and Rebels (anti-following one's destiny). Perhaps RSA and NRC could be one school in this AU...? Just so we have a mix of "good" and "evil" descended children in the same vicinity as one another. A must-have are the constantly bickering Narrators!! It's only really when Yuu shows up that the majority opinion starts to shift. Maybe then Crowley becomes concerned with students rising up and fighting back against the system that relies on them being complacent to keep the cycle of stories going. I've seen some readings of EAH which theorize that Royals guaranteed a happy ending is a stand-in for privilege, and that interpretation leads into very interesting conflicts when we also consider that magic in Twisted Wonderland is a privilege afforded to few.

To cover just the dorm leaders (because covering all the TWST characters would make this post way longer), I definitely see Riddle, Kalim, Idia, and Malleus as Royals and Leona, Azul, and Vil as Rebels. Here's my thought process:

Riddle is pretty self-explanatory. He comes from a background where he's used to being told what to do by his mother and so he also heavily relies on her strict, unyielding teachings to play by the book when he goes out there in the real world. Riddle is inflexible and hesitant to go against the grain--and, more importantly, he fully believes that following the rules will lead to his happiness... that doing as his fairy tale ordains will lead to a happy ending. What happens to the Queen of Hearts is dubious in the end since it's framed as Alice's dream, so I think that vagueness gives Riddle hope that by behaving himself, he'll earn the happiness he desires.

Leona is a Rebel, and not just because that's the aesthetic of his dorm. Being that he is highly intelligent and demonstrates a lot of foresight, he'd be aware of what future is in store for him and aggressively fighting against that. It would make him more desperate than ever to prove his worth, because not only does everyone see his powers as terrifying, but they also see him as a future brother murderer and dictator that will bleed the land dry of resources. It'd make the situation with his family even more strained than it already is, not to mention the extra jealousy he must feel toward Cheka, who is still too young to understand what's going to happen later.

Azul is someone who acts like a Royal but is actually a Rebel. He acts polite and like he plays by the rules, but clearly he doesn't behind the scenes. I see Azul as the kind of Rebel akin to Duchess Swan... as in, he believes he can steal away someone else's destiny for himself. Azul would constantly be looking for loopholes to save himself. He's put way too much stock into becoming a better, stronger person and he'd want to defend this new life he has made for himself. His obsession with protecting his contracts could translate well here.

Kalim is a Royal because he's mega rich and has been sheltered from the concept of bad things that happen to normal people; he has nothing to worry about. It also helps that Kalim is twisted from a character that doesn't meet a bad ending. I think he'd be aware of Jami's doomed destiny, but Kalim is so ignorant that he thinks it'll just be fine and it'll work itself out. Part of his growth could be being forced to reckon with the reality that Jamil is suffering under the legacy assigned to him and accepting the role that he plays in that by not acting.

Idia is a Royal--or at least pre-book 6 Idia is. He's a very pessimistic guy and repeatedly expresses hopelessness about the future, bemoaning the curse he and his family have to bear. Idia doesn't want to try to fight his fate, he's already accepted that it will happen and so closes himself off from others to save himself that heartbreak. Post-book 6 Idia will have swapped over to the Rebel side thanks to Ortho reviving the hope in him.

Vil is a Rebel simply for the fact that he fights social conventions. He's already out here shattering gender roles, but finds it much harder to breach that expectation that villains are just villains and nothing more. Vil keeps getting rejected at every turn, told that it's impossible to rewrite his story, that his frustrations are the natural result of jealousy and an ugly heart that festers in side of him. He steels himself to prove that notion wrong, working himself to the bone to get up on that stage and stay on it, waiting to be lavished with praise that he truly is the fairest one of all. I feel this would be so fascinating for Vil's own arc about self acceptance; maybe he wears himself down emotionally because he HAS to basically be perfect due to his job but also denies himself normal feelings like anger and jealousy because confessing that you have such "ugly" feelings only validates that you're shallow just like the stories say you will be.

Malleus is a tough one, but I settled for Royal in the end. Maleficent is doomed to be slain by a sword, right? So am I saying that THE Malleus Draconia, who is infamously arrogant about his magical abilities, would lie down and take a stab like that? Of course not! However, I do think that Malleus is initially someone who values tradition and living up to noblesse oblige. As the future ruler of a nation, people's stories are relying on him to play his expected role out, which he'd be fully cognizant of. I also think Malleus would be afforded the luxury of not having to face his destiny as soon as his peers are due to his long life span. This is in part because the person destined to slay him doesn't come into his life for literally hundreds of years. Then when book 7 arrives, Malleus has to deal with his loved ones leaving and/or betraying him as well as the realization that this is his destiny: dying alone and unloved. That'd just break him.

ahdbiqwdbqwli I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS AU FOR FOREVER BUT I'LL CUT IT SHORT OR ELSE I'LL NEVER SHUT UP 😭

EAH has so many good characters and interesting storylines, it's hard for me to pick a favorite! I of course love Apple and Raven's dilemmas, but I feel like it's cheating to pick one of them as my favorite. The whole Wonderland gang is also fantastic... I'm a sucker for their aesthetic, but they're so fun and silly in general. Kitty, Lizzie, and especially Madeline are 👌

Mmm, when I think long and hard about it, I think my favorite EAH character has to be Briar Beauty, daughter of Sleeping Beauty. Firstly, I love all the pink, roses, and bramble in her design. Secondly, I love the layers to why she is the way she is. Briar's a party girl not because "lmao, wouldn't that be a funny haha subversion of Sleeping Beauty" but because she wants to live life up before she falls asleep for 100 years and literally loses all her friends and family to the natural passage of time. That's seriously so smart and such an inventive way to think about the trauma a descendant of Sleeping Beauty might have. Seeing Briar transition from one of Apple's besties and biggest supporters to an outright rebel is satisfying as heck. (Gotta take a moment to shout out this classic moment :3)

I don't know if I would compare Briar to Jade since they're entirely different characters. However, looking at the source material, I'm actually surprised I like Briar as much as I do since I have never cared for the story of Sleeping Beauty. A part of me finds this ironic since Malleus harbors a similar fear as Briar (losing loved ones) yet I see Malleus's desire as way more selfish and self-serving than Briar's. I believe that's because Briar doesn't have the same arrogance as Malleus, so I'm more forgiving with her. EAH's actual equivalent to Malleus is Faybelle, daughter of the Dark Fairy, but I don't like her as much as I do Briar (hence why I'm comparing Malleus and Briar, not Malleus and Faybelle).

I haven't read the EAH books but I want to one day! I'd prefer to borrow them since I don't have enough space in my room for more physical books, so as soon as I find copies at a library or something...

This blog has kind of become a place where I occasionally talk about my other interests, generally as it relates to TWST, my main interest. I'd like to keep it like this since managing multiple blogs can be so draining. It already takes quite a bit of time to regularly write responses to asks just on one blog!

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Things are getting a little more complicated. The bonds on your wrists are tightening, and you're running out of time to get out of your deal with the devil... but maybe you just have to accept that there's no escape from your fate this time? Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

"You look like you swallowed a frog. If you want the story of our happy relationship to stick, maybe you'd consider at least smiling at me to add a little credibility to it." Feyd walking next to you speaks maliciously. You tighten your grip on the crook of his elbow and dig your nails into him, dissatisfied with the fact that, as usual, he is in his armour, which makes him unable to feel the pressure of your nails.

"Actually, I am going to marry a frog. Very slippery and white." You grumble, looking away from him. Feyd rolls his eyes at you. He leans towards you, feeling you tense as his plush lips brush against your earlobe.

"Do swans swallow frogs? If so, I'd love to see you try it. Especially on your knees." You flinch, outraged and disgusted by his comment and the hidden meaning behind his words.

"You are disgusting."

Feyd laughs, placing his hand over yours on the crook of his elbow. You roll your eyes at him, but make no move to move away from him. You miss that carefree banter with him—the things you used to have when you were kids.

You glance at him and quickly remember that those times will never come back, that neither he nor you are the same people. And for a moment, you let your eyes stare unconsciously at him, imagining what it would be like if his uncle had never broken him.

You catch his gaze. A strange chill runs through, something you can't control. Oh, how you wish those icy blue eyes still belonged to that boy you knew. You look away and pretend to look at the flowers. You don't notice how his gaze turns icy as you look away from him, nor how his heart squeezes and various thoughts run through his head as he loses your attention. He nods to himself. You promised him that you would hate and despise him forever.

"And you are going to marry me. Also, your mind is as dirty as mine if you take my hints." He replies playfully, trying to push away the urge to dig his hand into the thorns of the growing flowers you're looking at. He must have shed someone's blood. Feyd forces himself to look away from you, and he does so just as his recently not-so-favourite Duke enters through the garden's gate. With a very extraordinary companion by his side. "Look who it is." He whispers in your ear and nods towards the new couple in the garden.

He feels you tense as your gaze lands in the direction he's pointing. He allows himself to take a moment to examine the crinkles next to your eyes as you squint them at the two people. He found your reaction quite cute. He always loved watching the gears in your head turn as you were creating your cunning plans.

"Michael and Y/F/N? What are they doing?"

"Talking as we see. And apparently they can act decently towards each other, not like someone." He points out at you, successfully hiding his resentment behind snarky banter.

"Shhh... we need to get closer to them." You shush him and pull him towards them.

Feyd reluctantly follows you, trying to suppress a smirk as you pull him through the corridors formed by the green hedges. He remembers the last time you led him through the gardens of your estate like this. But then, it had been for an entirely more... pleasant purpose than now.

Feyd, however, can't help but stroke your hand gently with his thumb, which you seem to ignore, too excited about your little investigation.

You suddenly stop; he bumps into your back, but you completely ignore it in favour of watching the two people walking through the garden.

"I am sorry, but it is… hard to believe for me that she actually can… marry him. I mean, I don't say that Na-Baron Harkonnen is a bad match, but… their union is quite… surprising and unexpected. Don't you think?" Feyd feels your grip on his hand tighten as you hear Michael's words.

Your nails dig into the skin of his palm, and you shed a little of his black blood. Feyd lifts your joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss there. He effectively grabs your attention. Your gaze focusses on your hands; he sees you holding your breath slightly as he brushes his tongue over the blood dripping down your finger.

"Son of a bitch." You mutter under your breath. Feyd frowns at you with his hairless brow as your attention returns to the gossiping couple.

"Me?"

"Not you. Michael." You explain to him, frustrated and angry, as you lean out from behind your hiding place near the hedge to watch the two of them closely.

"He is... but he also has a point here." His comment makes you frown, sending him one of your stern looks as you try to intimidate him. You yank your hand out of his grip and stare at him indignantly.

"What?! At which side are you?" You hiss at him, angry, for a moment, forgetting that you were on a spy mission.

"You barely speak to me at public events, let alone throw a flirtatious glance or even hint that you're interested in me in any way. Our engagement... is probably as surprising to society as it is to us both."

"Are you saying that people won't believe that YOU want to marry me?" You mock him, offended that according to him, in people's eyes, he may not want you, when in reality he was the one who had been persecuting you since you cut off all contact with him.

But actually Feyd was right in some parts. In the world of men, their opinion mattered more than women's. It was obvious that society would think that the... cooling of your relationship was initiated by him, although it wasn't like that at all. You shudder as your heart hurts at the mere memory of what happened between you two...

"I'm saying that in their eyes we are far from being lovers." He answers and glances at Michael, bile rising in his throat at the thought that you could willingly have feelings for someone like that, give him his affection and gentle touch, while Feyd could have only your pure hatred and disdain.

You clench your jaw and look back at him. You open your mouth to start to argue with him, but your anger subsides when you see his thoughtful gaze on Michael. You sigh, rubbing your hand over the back of your neck.

He was right.

You had been acting much worse towards him. You treated him not as your suitor but as your enemy. But if it weren't for Feyd, Michael would have taken you and your kingdom a long time ago. And the only thing you hated more than Feyd was the feeling of being in debt to someone.

"Hm... I think I see your point." You reply thoughtfully, still watching him. If it weren't for him, you'd be walking by Michael's side, and it would definitely not be by your own free will. And he certainly wouldn't have let you speak up and do the things that you did with Feyd.

But then again, Feyd wasn't such a saint. He took advantage of your difficult situation and put a ring on your finger without hesitation. But if he hadn't done that, would Michael have backed off from attacking your planet? Besides, who knows what he'll do if he becomes convinced that your relationship with Feyd is a sham?

If Michael attacks your planet, how could you be sure that Feyd would be able to send Harkonnen's troops to war? That the Baron would let his soldiers fight for a planet that wasn't his?

You had to make sure that your influence over Feyd remained, that he was completely charmed and bewitched by you, and that he was addicted to you. You had to give him as many sweet gestures and words as you had given your previous suitors, to be sure that he would do exactly what you wanted... but how in all this are you supposed to protect your heart from being broken and not let yourself be charmed by the prince of Lankiveil once again?

So when you see Michael and Y/F/N coming your way, you decide to do what you do best. Play.

"What are you... mph!" Feyd's words get stuck in his throat as you grab his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss.

The kiss surprises you as much as it does him. But for different reasons to each of you. Just as Feyd is surprised by the feeling of your lips on his again, the way you reach for him and grab the lapels of his armour, pressing your warm, soft body against his toned chest in black metal armour, you are surprised by how good he feels against you.

You didn't know why every time you kissed him, you felt an electric shiver run through your entire body. You had kissed many men, but only Feyd's strong hands that gripped your waist, his full, plush, soft lips, and the intoxicating scent of musk and just him made you feel things that no one else could. And as much as you loved it, you were afraid of the effect he had on you and of the power he held over you.

Your only consolation was that you had as much power over him as he had over you... maybe even more.

You whine, digging your nails into the back of his head as you instinctively reach up to pull at the hair he doesn’t have. Feyd growls against your mouth and grabs you hard by your waist. You gasp and pull away from his lips as your back hits the green hedge.

You pant into each other’s mouths, staring into each other’s eyes as you both catch quick, ragged breaths. His nose brushes against yours as he closes his eyes and runs his hand through your hair.

"You... you don't even know... how difficult it is to be so close and yet so far away from you." He whispers, digging his fingers into the back of your head. You blink a few times, staring at him. You raise your hand and hesitantly reach for his cheek.

His eyes suddenly open as he tenses at your sudden touch. He gives you a questioning look. You swallow, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. Feyd instinctively buries and presses his face into your palm.

You hold your breath, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. He shakes his head slightly and leans down to caress your lips with his again. You sigh softly, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth and join in an oh-so-familiar dance of passion with your own. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, digging your fingers just below his neck as he tightens his grip around your waist, pressing your body against his muscular torso.

There’s a gentleness in your kiss that you haven’t seen from him since you were kids, and a possessiveness that makes your heart beat faster and creates an annoying itch between your legs that you know only he can soothe.

“I think I have an idea,” you whisper as he brushes his nose against yours, his hand travelling from your waist to your cheek. You shiver as he caresses it with his thumb as gently as he can.

"You have?" He asks surprised, moving his gaze between your lips and your eyes.

You blush, realising what you've unknowingly gotten yourself into. You swallow hard, staring at him wordlessly, not knowing what to say to him.

Then you notice a sudden movement behind him.

You push him away from you with the speed of light and fix your dress, trying to look at least a little presentable, when Michael and Y/F/N (finally) appear in your field of vision.

"Oh... my apologies; we didn't want to interrupt anything." Y/F/N says, staring in pure shock at you two. Michael looks you up and down. An involuntary cold shiver runs through you as his assessing gaze shifts from you to Feyd, who places a hand on your back, guiding you towards the pair who have arrived just in time to see his swollen, kiss-red lips—exactly how you wanted them to see him.

"You didn't interrupt in anything, right, my lord Na-Baron?" You ask, sweetly addressing your fiancé. Feyd thankfully refrains from showing his surprise at your sudden change of heart towards him and decides to join in and play your game.

"Not at all. My beloved was just showing me the beauty of the local gardens. Although I have to admit that they do not compare to hers."

"You've seen her garden, Na-Baron?" Michael asks mockingly, suggesting something completely different than the garden you are in. Y/F/N blushes, clearing her throat. Feyd digs his fingers into your back in anger, trying to keep himself from physically responding to Duke’s words.

"Yes. On (Your/home/planet). You didn't?" Feyd mocks him, but you know from the tension in his muscles that if he could, he would cut Michael's head off right where he stood.

"I, too, found them quite... bearable. But I thought the Harkonnens didn't attach much importance to something as feminine as the beauty of palace gardens."

"We don't. But we do attach importance to our women and everything that interests them." The tension between the two of them is very palpable. On one hand, you like the way Feyd refers to you as his woman, but on the other hand, you can't drown out the little voice in the back of your head that tells you that this special treatment will end the moment he puts a ring on your finger. And then you'll be his servant. Someone slightly better than the concubines he had.

"How honourable and gentlemanly. I would not have expected that from you either." Michael comments mockingly. Feyd presses his hand harder against your back, playing roughly with the material of your dress. Before he can respond, you grab his arm, forcing him to look at you.

"Na-Baron is a special man. You will confirm that, won't you, Y/F/N?" You ask your friend sweetly with a smile on your lips, momentarily turning your gaze away from the furious Harkonnen.

"I... must admit that Na-Baron's loyalty and honour were a pleasant aspect of my time on Giedi Prime. Rumours don't reflect the full scope of his... complex character."

"And I have the great honour to unfold it." You say with a huge smile, catching the gaze of Feyd's icy blue irises. You stroke his arm with your thumb, drawing small patterns on it as you try to calm the rage boiling inside him. You don't know how you would explain Duke's sudden, unfortunate death to society.

While talking to Michael and Y/F/N, you notice the look she throws to your almost-fiancée and the way Michael basked in the glow of her attention. You’re not jealous. But you can’t help but notice the obvious... threat to you in the way their gazes linger on each other a moment too long or the accidental brush of their hands.

If there was more to these two… Michael would have access to most of your secrets through Y/F/N. And they would both become significant political opponents for you on your path to the Imperial throne.

With Feyd by your side, you might have had a chance of fulfilling your dream. And even if you didn't, being Baroness Giedi Prime was just as high a title, higher than your previous suitors could give you. You reluctantly had to admit that Feyd wasn't the worst match—at least when it came to political matters.

You maintain your mask of false politeness and smile, forming a plan in your head. You will not allow these two to join. Through marriage or anything else. So when Feyd escorts you to your chambers, you ask him a question he has not expected:

"How would you react if I was walking in the gardens with a man other than you?"

"I… where does this question come from?" He asks confused and suspicious.

"I was just wondering. Michael and Y/F/N were pretty close, I suspect your brother wouldn't like that. He'd probably kill him on the spot."

"That royal, cowardly little bastard has deserved to die for a long time now. If you're curious about my brother's reaction, tell him. I'm sure it wouldn't be long before Y/F/N was his wife and locked away on Giedi Prime in his chambers."

"For usurpers of kingdoms, you are as greedy as you are possessive." You snort, mocking him as you reach the door to your chamber. You let go of his arm and are about to open the door when Feyd suddenly presses you against it, your wrists in a tight grip, his chest pressing against your back.

"You haven't seen anything yet, little swan." He whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe. You shiver as his tongue traces a path to your neck. "As for your question, you can see for yourself. But I warn you that I am not responsible for the fate of anyone who dares to get close enough to touch you." He mumbles against your skin, his teeth grazing it.

You gasp as he bites into your necklace, sparing the skin over your collarbones. You just don't know if you're gasping with relief or disappointment that he didn't sink his black teeth in and taste your blood.

"You have no right to decide who touches me and who doesn't." You growl at him angrily, struggling in his arms. You gasp as he grips your waist tighter and pulls you closer to him, not leaving even an inch of space between you.

"I will, after our wedding."

"Who said you'll live to see this happen?" Your threat doesn't impress him. If anything, it only turns him on more, as he proves by pressing his growing arousal against your ass.

"Mmm… and I thought you had hidden your teeth for today. You chirped so sweetly at me, glued to my arm. I almost believed that you saw me as more than just a sexy beast that you like to fuck."

"You are an unmannered savage." You gasp as his lips find the weak spot on your neck. He nips and licks, sucking a hickey that you’ll have to cover up later, but right now your biggest concern is getting out of his arms.

"The savage on whose fingers you fall apart every time we are alone." He gasps into your ear, allowing you to break free from his arms.

You turn to face him, your hands on the doorknob, breathing quickly as you plan how to get into the room without letting him in. You breathe heavily, feeling his saliva on your neck as he stares at you with a hunger so great you doubt if you've ever seen one in the eyes of any of your suitors.

"Screw you." You growl hoarsely and quickly open the door. At the last moment, you close it in Harkonnen's face.

With shaking hands, you lock it and take a step away from him. You breathe heavily, staring at the oak in front of you and listening to him pounding furiously on it, as if he were strong enough to punch through it with his fist. For a moment, you think he is.

"You will soon!" A cold chill runs down your spine at his shout. You listen carefully for his footsteps as he steps away from the door.

You sigh in relief and rest your forehead against the cold wood, trying to sober up from the sudden heat and adrenaline of what just happened.

Feyd was right. If you don't get out of this uncomfortable engagement, you'll be his for good. And he can do whatever he wants with you. Your prince from Lankiveil was long dead—you had to stop deluding yourself. Yes, Feyd treated you relatively well, but you're well aware that Na-Baron won't be so gentle with you anymore. If you end up with him on Giedi Prime as his wife, his behaviour will change 180 degrees, and you'll become just another one of his toys.

What else could you expect from a man with three concubines that he treated like pets? He was just like Rabban... just like Baron.

You promise yourself in this moment that if you ever become his wife, you will take your own life. You would rather die than be a slave and prisoner to Giedi Prime… than become the same as what your sweet Feyd has become.

"How could you do this to me?!" Y/F/N bursts into your chambers before your maid can open the door for her. You frown, placing the necklace on the dressing table and turning to look at your furious friend.

"I don't understand what you're talking about. By the way, good morning to you too." She snorts derisively at your words and throws the latest edition of Lady Whistledown on the dressing table.

"It's about how I was supposedly... found in a compromising situation with Michael. It somehow got through to my parents and Rabban; they want to speed up our wedding, and I'm supposed to leave for Giedi Prime tomorrow. Only you and Feyd saw me with Michael that day. So...you're Lady Whistledown." You stare blankly at the piece of paper for a moment, then at your friend. You start laughing, completely unconcerned by her angry expression.

"Do you really think... that I'm Lady Whistledown? Of all people? I mean... I get that you don't suspect Feyd at all, but me? Your best friend? I have to admit it hurts a little. But in your situation, I'd probably make similar accusations, so I'll forgive you this time."

"Who else?! You're the perfect fit! Lady Whistledown has never written anything scandalous about you!"

"Because I am insignificant. My family is not the one that counts in the political arena and in society. However, I think my engagement to Feyd will change that."

"You don't even want to marry him! Don't even lie to me! You know very well you won't! You could give him to me!" She shouts at you with tears of rage in her eyes. You freeze, staring at her in shock at her sudden outburst. "He's the only decent man there! If you don't have any serious plans to marry him, give him to me. At least in this way, save me."

You stare at her for a long moment, your heart beating fast and your mouth going dry as you swallow nervously. You dig your nails into your palms and close your eyes, taking a single, deep breath.

"Y/F/N... leave."

"What?"

"Get out of here before I do something I'll regret." You growl at her furiously, glaring daggers at her.

You clench your fists so hard you feel like they're about to bleed. Luckily, your friend gets the hint and leaves without looking back. You take a few calming breaths, trying to calm down, to get your emotions under control.

That fucking bitch wanted you to give up your Feyd so she could marry him!

What annoyed you even more was the fact that you actually didn't like the idea of giving him to someone else. Or the idea of being his wife, of becoming his plaything. Unless… there really was more to him than the shell of Harkonnen he was showing you.

You sigh, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Things are delicately fucked up. You planned it to go differently, but apparently, as always, you had to come up with some plan B. And this Plan B wasn't exactly what you wanted to do at the beginning. But now you had no choice. And it terrified you a little more than you were willing to admit.

The Scandal of House Harkonnen!

Dear gentle reader, this season has been providing us with the perfect amount of drama and unpredictable turns of events. Just a few days ago, this author uncovered a secret romance between Lady Y/F/N and Duke Michael, (which ended in a turbulent departure for the young lady's fiancé's home planet. This author wishes the newlyweds of Giedi Prime all the best.), and now more scandalous dealings are coming to light from the Baron's successors.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Na-Baron of Giedi Prime and Lady Y/N's recent fiancé, turns out not to be as alien and hostile to the young lady as we all initially thought. The two, especially Lady Y/N, hid their ardent feelings for each other from the eyes of society. This author has learnt from a trusted source that the pair of lovers had something in common for much longer than they let us all know.

It all started when these two were still children. Even then, they began to be seen together often, becoming inseparable until Na-Baron and Princess Irulan were officially betrothed by their families. However, as it turns out, the arranged marriage was no obstacle for the two. As was Lady Y/N's relationship with the late Paul Atreides (may his spirit rest in peace). The young couple's love story turns out to have more twists and turns than we ever deared to assume, but their feelings seemed to stand the test of time, and eventually (under the rather unexpected annulment of the marriage contract by the Harkonnens with the Emperor's consent and the death of Paul Atreides), the two became engaged.

The question is… how much did they both have to sacrifice to get here? What dirty political games did they get involved in? And will there be a wedding between them since we're all familiar with Lady Y/N's runaway bride syndrome?

This author is as curious about the young couple's past as is about their future and can't wait to see what happens in the folowing weeks. This author just hopes no more deaths will have to come before the young Na-Baron Harkonnen gets his hands on his elusive swan. He evidently intends to ascertain this as most young men do—in the darkness of the palace gardens and the nooks of the palace, where, despite everything, the eyes and ears of society are able to reach and observe everything these two have tried to hide from us.

This author wonders what we will hear first: wedding bells, war cries, or a funeral march? Because with these two, everything is still possible…

"What were you thinking?! I didn't raise you to be a whore!" You listen to your mother screaming while you stare dispassionately at the fire in the fireplace.

A sudden urge to burn yourself in the flames crosses your mind, but you hold it back, realising that it would be a rather painful death. You glance at the mirror you've shattered and shiver at your reflection in the pieces that haven't yet fallen to the floor.

You were still in your nightgown, your hair matted and uncombed, your eyes red with dark bags under them. You lost. You really did lose.

Now you had to marry Feyd. Or kill yourself. You don't know which yet. Maybe you should give him a week or a month? See if he really is a monster like Rabban or Baron? You lost anyway; what difference does it make if you cut your throat or poison yourself a few weeks later?

"You should have been taken away from that monster when you were children! I knew he would have a bad influence on you! He poisoned your mind, told you nonsense, and you probably believed him again, like a stupid, silly, insignificant noblewoman! Like a whore! And this friend of yours… tell me, is she right when she accuses you of being Lady Whistledown?"

"Do you think that I would willingly ruin my reputation just to make Y/F/N believe that I am not Lady Whistledown? I value our friendship, but not that much to ruin my life to lie to her and make her believe that I'm not Lady Whistledown. Now I have to... marry HIM. Do you think that I would choose him for all of the men? That I would willingly trap myself in the marriage with this psychopat? I was supposed to be an empress! I was supposed to rule over my stupid husband, and now... now I'm going to be a plaything. I'm perfectly aware of what happened, mother. And believe me, I'm not that stupid little girl anymore. I don't want him, I don't love him, and I don't care about him in any way. I... it's not my fault that Lady Whistledown wrote that load of crap about me. But now I have to drink the brewed beer. And trust me, I'll do it with my head held high, like you taught me, or I'll die trying. I… I just need time alone to think about it."

You wonder from where you have the strength to answer her at all—that you continue to lie and pretend to have control over a game that became too wild to tame a long time ago. You have tangled yourself in the web of your lies and intrigues, and now it is time to pay the devil back.

You don't even hear your mother leave. You just curl up in a ball on the bed, pressing your knees and stomach into the pillow as you cry into it.

You're not going to fool yourself; you won't survive a day on Giedi Prime. You can't get up every day and put on your armour, fight everyone there, and have no allies. Because you're absolutely convinced that 'the kind treatment' Feyd gives you now is temporary. He'll let you think you can be his equal, marry you, fuck you, and take advantage of your temporary submission, and then, on Giedi Prime, he'll show his true colours and hurt you more than he's already done. Or he'll throw you away when he gets tired of you. You don't know which would be worse, his apathy or his brutality, his sadistic joy in suffering of others—something he was known for.

You cry until you have no more tears. Your mouth is dry, and you continue to howl pitifully and silently, curled up on the bed like a wounded animal as you clutch the pillow to your heart with all your might.

You wonder what kind of curse hangs over you? Is it punishment for all the bad things you've done, all the court scandals you've caused, all the noble romances you've exposed, and all the reputations you've ruined?

You always wanted to be the greater woman—the one everyone admired—who did whatever she wanted and who had control over her life. But now... now you realise how hopeless your situation is. You will have nothing. All you will be degenerate to is his wife, his plaything, his pet, his breeding cow.

You should stay cool and composed in this situation; figure out how to move forward after what you wrote as Lady Whistledown, but now... now you see nothing but your dark future, from which there seems to be no escape.

So you howl in bed like a wounded animal, biting your pillow and trying not to make a sound as you despair over the fact that this is probably where your life will end.

"My Lady, Na-Baron wants.."

"Tell him to go away." You gather enough strength to keep your voice from shaking as you answer your maid.

"But..."

"TELL HIM TO GO AWAY!" You scream and throw the poker at her, which you had been using to play with the ashes from the fireplace, before your uncontrollable sobbing began.

She ducks, terrified at the last moment, and closes the door behind her. You sigh, wiping your tears angrily, and get out of bed. You go to your closet and pull out your warm, formal coat, registering the screams from behind the door in the background.

You're on autopilot, getting dressed, and heading for the door. You had no rational plan at all. You just needed to get as far away from here as you could.

"You're finally starting to act like an adult... Y/N? Where are you going?!" As you push through the doorway between him and your maid and run forward, Feyd shouts after you.

You hear him mutter something under his breath before his quick footsteps echo through the halls of the Corrino palace. You run forward, your heart pounding as you traverse the familiar halls of your childhood, turning into the less travelled ones to lose the pursuing Harkonnen.

You know Corrino's palace much better than he does, so after a few complicated moves, you manage to reach the stables alone and far ahead of him. You saddle your horse and trot to the exit gate, never once looking back.

Tears burn your cheeks as you choke on your own sobs, holding on tightly to the reins of your horse as if you were holding on for dear life. The wind whips against your face, terrorising your already red eyes. You bite your hand, trying not to cry as you steer your horse into the forest, heading for the only place you could truly be alone and far away from the black cage in which you locked yourself for the rest of your life.

You sigh with relief as your horse pushes through the mud and reaches a small cave in the forest at the foot of the mountains.

You smile fondly, dismounting your horse and petting his flank as you lead him inside. You light your lighter and look around, searching the darkness for the torch you left behind ages ago.

When you manage to light up the place a little, you pull the lever, activating the mechanism of the old shelter and closing it. The stone moves and closes the main exit with a loud crack.

You remember how, as children, you, Irulan, and Paul used to come here to play.

It was your secret hideout, a base of sorts. You remember how Feyd used to try to track where you disappeared when your parents were busy with meetings. Of course, he only went on these hunts when his uncle was also attending the meetings. Sometimes the Baron would stay in his chambers, leaving the responsibility of conducting the negotiations either to his oldest nephew or to his advisors.

Feyd was nowhere to be found during those days.

You didn’t know why. And you still don’t, and the whispers and rumours you’ve heard are so awful that you don’t want to believe them or even consider whether they could be true.

You shiver, preferring to recall in your head the memory of finding Feyd spying around your hideout rather than all the terrible rumours you heard.

“Did you get lost on the way to the training grounds?” You ask with a smirk as you watch Feyd jump, surprised at how you snuck up on him.

"Since when do you stop tripping over your own feet?" He responds to your teasing with one of his own. You laugh, shaking your head and lean against a nearby tree, staring at the 17-year-old in front of you.

"I had a good teacher." You praise him, taking out the dagger he gave you and throwing it, aiming it at him. The blade misses him by millimetres and embeds itself in the tree trunk behind him.

He turns and looks at the trunk behind him. He nods in appreciation and looks at you, barely keeping a smirk from spreading across his face.

“Not bad.” He nods and pulls a dagger from the tree. He walks over to you, standing so that the tips of his fingers touch yours. You lift your chin, staring at him defiantly as he traces a pattern from your hip to your collarbone with the tip of the dagger.

Other people, more sensible ones, and those who didn't really know Feyd, would be afraid of Harkonnen putting a blade to their skin. But you had known him too long for even your heart to race with fear at his actions—actually, it raced for a much different reason.

"But it made your blade a bit blunt now." He whispers, his gaze never leaving your collarbone. You lick your lips, watching as he stares at you, waiting for the slightest shiver from you—any sign that you're afraid of him. But he sees nothing. And that shocks him immensely.

As usual, you amaze him. When everyone else feared the Harkonnens, shunned his company, and saw him only as a cruel monster hungry for blood, you tried to be there for him. But over time, this closeness between you, instead of becoming bliss, a diversion from his terrible new life on Giedi Prime, became... dangerous. For him, and for you.

His uncle commented more and more often on how glued he was to your side and how he followed you like a lost puppy seeking your attention. And Feyd really tried to distance himself from you, to create distance between you, so as not to arouse anyone's suspicions... because Feyd would slit his own throat if you were hurt. If you suffered because of him... if you went through the same thing he had at the hands of the baron.

But every time he thought he had finally managed to scare you away, you would come back, as if the place next to him would naturally belong to you. And Feyd was too weak to let you go completely, to willingly deprive himself of your blessed presence, which was a balm for the wounds inflicted on him by Baron and during the time he spent on Giedi Prime.

He entered every "gladiator fight" he entered with you in mind. With every blood spilt on the Giedi Prime's arena, he imagined that if he didn't do it, if he didn't take the lives of these people, he would no longer have the opportunity to return to you.

At first, it was difficult for him to deal fatal blows. But over time, the sight of death became so natural to him that he was afraid that Baron would train him to the point where he wouldn't be able to control himself. That he would kill someone iontally... that he would kill you.

But Feyd was a selfish man… that's why he can't let you go so easily…

"I'm surprised you're anywhere other than training. It's been hard to find you free lately." You continue to banter, your hand moving to the dagger between you. You wrap it around the blade, your gaze never leaving Feyd's blue irises. He swallows hard, trying to push away any dirty thoughts about the ways you could use that dagger on him, and tries to think of a good response.

"Why? Did you miss me?" He asks, smiling evilly, showing a row of teeth as black as night on Giedi Prime. And instead of flinching like the others do, you answer him with a smile so beautiful that his heart stops beating for a moment and he almost gasps for air.

"I did." You admit it openly. Feyd is on the verge of a heart attack.

"You... you did?" He asks, swallowing. He curses himself mentally for allowing you to so easily destroy his composed, indifferent, mocking demeanour, to break through the shield he so meticulously puts up against himself and get to the most vulnerable parts of him.

"Yhm..." You hum, and before he can even notice, you’ve knocked the dagger out of his hand. You push him against the tree trunk behind him and press the blade against his pale neck. He swallows, his Adam’s apple brushing against the cold steel as he is looking deep into your eyes. Feyd feels his pants grow uncomfortable and tight as you lean forward, your chest brushing his as you whisper in his ear. "You must have missed me too, since you're spying on me."

"I don't…"

"Really? So why were you following me? Did you want to catch me here alone, or maybe you thought I was dating some secret admirer and wanted to catch me in the act?"

"Why? Do you want me to be jealous?" He asks in his husky voice, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Would you be?" You ask in a whisper, licking your lips. His eyes move between your eyes and your mouth, and you decide that this is your perfect moment.

So you lean over and kiss Feyd-Rautha for the first time.

It's a perfect distraction. Irulan and Paul emerge from their hiding place and flee, leaving you alone with Feyd… and you take advantage of this opportunity as long as you can.

You drop the dagger and wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Feyd’s hands land clumsily on your hips, squeezing you, reaching for parts of your body he’s always wanted to touch.

He moans into your mouth, trying to take control of the kiss, trying to respond with equal tenderness. He caresses you gently, experiencing for the first time... the other side of intimacy. Of course Feyd feels the same passion and desire as you do, but this kiss... it's soft, tender, expressing emotions that neither of you is ready to say yet but is ready to show some of them in this kiss.

He kisses you as if that were the only thing he was supposed to do for the rest of his miserable existence. He kisses you as if he were still the sweet prince of Lankiveil you knew. He kisses you as if it were the beginning of your future together. He kisses you with a gentleness unlike any Harkonnen. He kisses you with a promise that you'll know only his kisses for the rest of your lives. He kisses you as if it were the last good thing he could do. He kisses you like you're his only solace and joy. He kisses you as if he would never have the opportunity to do it again.

And you pray to every god you know that this won't be your first and last kiss at the same time.

You shudder as you light the fire. A pleasant warmth surrounds you, allowing you to warm up for a moment. You stare blankly into the fire, sitting on the ground and wrapping your arms around your legs.

You freeze as you hear movement behind you. Your hand automatically reaches for the dagger hidden in your coat. You listen using all the knowledge you've gained from training with Feyd and wait for the attacker to strike first.

Your heart is beating fast, your palms slightly sweaty as you wonder what the hell is in this abandoned shelter besides you.

The attacker rushes towards you. You dodge and twist the arm of the man who attacked you, slamming him into the stone floor, trying to wrench his own dagger from his hand. You struggle with the man who has a scarf around his head, kicking him, dodging his blows, and in doing so disarming him, straddling him. You unwind the scarf from his head and gasp in shock as you see his face...

A face you never thought you would see again.

"Paul?"

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark @forgedfromthestars

@toertche

@emzzlyy

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 3

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner!Javier Pena)

Word count: 2,895

Summary: It's not a date. Just a lawyer and his client celebrating her divorce...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! No smut in this chapter. Rom com vibes. AU. Reader wears a dress and nail polish. Mentions of eating food and drinking alcohol. Mutual pining AND mistaken for a couple 😊. Love bombing. Divorce. I'm just pretending I know what lawyers do and that divorces are quite speedy. Dave is multi-lingual because I say so. Also, hints that all is not well between Dave and Carol? (c'mon, when do we ever paint them as truly happy?)

Author's note: "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better." 💜

Series Masterlist

"What does the L stand for?"

Dave realizes you're asking him a question and he looks up from his file, a smile flitting across his face. "Pardon?"

It's the first time you've seen him since that fateful day at the museum. After catching up on your plans to divorce Javier and citing every reason why you desire to be forever parted from your husband, Dave had invited you to his high-rise office the following day, where you are now, sitting across from him at his desk.

"Your card says 'David L. York," you remind him, a pink-polished finger running over the smooth white business card.

"Liam," he says, a small blush creeping up his neck. You smile when you notice it, aware of how attractive he is when he blushes.

"David Liam York," you say to yourself, liking the roll of it off your tongue. "I like it. It suits you."

His head is down, perusing the paperwork before him, but he smiles at your compliment. "Wish I could say I'd chosen it myself."

It's quiet again as he goes over the fine print, and you wander over to the window of his office, smiling to see your bookstore/bakery right across the street. There's a rush today for cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting. You'd give anything to be there instead of here, making your divorce a reality.

For now you silently glance around, interested to catch glimpses of who Dave is. Framed art lines the walls-- abstract shapes painted in bold blues and greens-- far from the childishly geometrical shapes done in primary colors found in most offices, along with his diploma from Harvard, proudly displayed next to a photo of Dave with the mayor.

"I handled his third divorce," he says, and you realize you've been staring at his photo for too long. You shake yourself from your thoughts.

"Everything's in order," he continues, pushing the papers away at last. "All you have to do is sign and the process server will bring it to Mr. Pena and he'll be served immediately."

"Is the process server attractive?" you ask, only half-kidding. "My husband can't resist a beautiful woman, and he won't know what hit him once he's served."

Dave allows a little laugh at this. "Sienna is a very pretty young woman. I think your husband will have to pick his jaw up off the floor before he realizes his gorgeous wife is divorcing him."

The initial prick of jealousy over Sienna's looks makes way for a wave of emotion when Dave calls you gorgeous. He realizes he's overstepped and tries to fix it, but you brush it off.

"I'll keep in touch with you during this process, but I advise you to just try to take your mind off it. Do something you enjoy, hang out with people who care about you. And I strongly advise you to ignore Mr. Pena should he call or try to see you. From everything you've told me he sounds like a garden variety narcissist. What you're doing right now is the right thing," he assures you.

Right then it's on the tip of your tongue-- you're privy to a mere outline of the goings-on within Javier's club. While a large part of you just wants to get the proceedings over with, a deeper, baser instinct desires to make the bastard pay for his crimes. You're the only one with any insight as to the illegal activities.. at least, the only one willing to talk. And though it's not his money you're after, your need for justice wants his dark deeds to come to light.

Admittedly, you struggle with the idea once you actually open your mouth to tell Dave. It's there on the tip of your tongue, but a deep-seated loyalty bars the way for your words to exit. You hate that you can't be the type of petty everyone thinks you should be, but neither does the good citizen in you dare to show herself.

'My ex-husband is involved in illegal doings, please raid his place of business' just doesn't sit right with you.

"What is it?" Dave asks, sensing something is on your mind. The thoughtfulness of his gaze nearly makes you melt. His touch rests softly on your upper arm.

Everything previous thought buzzes through your brain on repeat, a mental coin flips but you don't let it land.

"It's just been a lot to deal with today," you explain tiredly, your hand resting on his on your arm. Dave's touch tenses slightly before taking it away. "This is all going to be worth it. You're doing the right thing," he reiterates.

You tell yourself that as you leave the office, your paperwork signed and ready to go. Of course you're doing the right thing. That's why you feel so shitty.

You can tell Javier's been served when a never-ending procession of gifts arrives at your home. You don't know how he got your new address, but the gesture of flower arrangements, stuffed animals, boxes of jewelry, and Shari's Berries (which you end up eating a few of just because they're delicious).

He doesn't bombard you with texts or calls, but leaves notes along with his gifts. His chicken-scratch handwriting barely legibly asking you to come back, to reconcile, to please stop the divorce process because you're breaking his heart.

If you were a weaker woman you would cave in easily, but you refuse to move the line you've drawn in the sand. You give away his gifts, make mini bouquets with the gorgeous flowers he sends and you give them away to your customers. The jewelry is the only stuff you give back, knowing its value is worth far more than the others.

Only when you're alone at night do you start to have second thoughts. The days keep you busy, revolving around your business, your family, the activities you never really got to enjoy while you were Javier's wife.

But when you curl up onto the left side of the bed as if awaiting someone else to fill the opposite side, and when you accidentally make enough food for two instead of just one, you realize being single is an adjustment, and it's taking you a little longer to get used to.

The mediation that follows is quicker than you'd expected. Neither of you want any of the other's business profits. Though Javier's club is more lucrative than your little bookstore/bakery, you take great pride in it being your own income.

Across the table in a small meeting room in Dave's law office, you are keenly aware of Javier's eyes on you, as if he's mentally willing you to look his way, to sway your opinion, to change your mind. What if he pulls some Jedi mind trick and gets you to rip up the papers and go back to him, rewind everything you've done and sit in a purgatory of your own making while he does whatever pleases him?

And damn it he looks good. His hair is neatly styled, forgoing the usual messy curls and longer sideburns. He looks like he could be the opposing counsel. And he knows it, the way he returns your glance, a dare within his dark gaze.

"So it's come to this," he says, fingers drumming on the table. You recognize that habit: he's dying for a cigarette. He's just as anxious about losing you as you are about losing him. And then you wonder if he's wondering if you've told on him, given the authorities the info that would grant a search warrant and risk putting his ass away for years.

It's quite a powerful thing to see him try to hide his relief when the meeting comes to an end and he realizes he's safe. Because of your mercy.

Next to you, Dave is a grounding presence, a gentle reassurance that you're doing the right thing for yourself, your sanity, and your broken heart.

Afterwards, even with the formalities out of the way Javier still has the gall to go to you, take your arm, try to bring you to a secluded corner near the elevator bank. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Dave, waiting, as if looking for a signal from you that you need him.

"You're really ending us, mi corazon?" Javier whispers, his lips close to your ear, his wisp of breath sending a little shock to your system.

"Javi, this was a long time coming," you extricate yourself from his grip.

"C'mon.. you can't forgive a one-time thing?"

"Are you an idiot or do you just have selective memory?" you huff. "That was far from the first time.. you were never faithful to me. And I deserve better."

"Baby," he grasps your arm once more as you try to leave. "I'm a shithead. I know, baby. But I need you. Only you can make me better."

You recognize his pleas from the notes he sent with the gifts. The man could never be faulted as a writer, but it's sad that he can't even learn new pickup lines.

"Oh Javi.." you cup his face and for a moment he looks hopeful. The woodsy scent of his aftershave lingers, reminding you of mornings you shared as a couple. "If I didn't make you better in all our time together then I must not be the miracle worker you think I am."

Walking away from him feels good, freeing. Dave is at your side as you step into the elevator, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, gesturing you in like the gentleman he is as you walk away from your very first love.

Dave has meetings the rest of the day, but he treats you to dinner at an Italian place he thinks you'll like, a celebration of putting the finishing touches on your divorce.

Valentina's is the kind of restaurant that has an old-fashioned feel. Red and white checkered tablecloths adorn the tabletop and Frank Sinatra songs play over the speakers. You and Dave are given a booth near the back, somewhat private with a good view of the rest of the place.

And there it is again, his hand resting on your lower back, the heat of him pressing through your black and white polka-dot dress.

"Are we celebrating something today?" the waiter asks in a thick accent. He's around your dad's age, pleasantly plump, attired in a crisp maitre'd outfit.

"No," you answer immediately. "Well.. yes."

"First date?" the man guesses, and you and Dave glance at each other, color rushing to your faces.

"No," he answers. "We're celebrating her divorce."

The maitre'd smirks. "She is divorced, and now you get to be with her, yes?"

The look on Dave's face and the particular shade of red that he blushes is going to stay on your mind for awhile. Especially when he speaks to the maitre'd in Italian, quick and musical in his low, soft voice.

"What did you tell him?" you ask with curiosity, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand.

He pauses, obviously taking in the sight of you. "I told him your heart is broken and I'm doing the best I can to fix it." Another pause as he sips some water. "Because you're my client, of course."

That doesn't stop the waiter from coming back with a small vase of roses and baby's breath to decorate your table after he takes your order, presenting the wine Dave suggested with a flourish, pouring both your glasses with the ruby liquid.

"I'm guessing you didn't learn Italian in law school," you say slyly, taking a sip of wine.

"I like languages," he admits with a smile.

"You'll have to teach me some."

"I will," he nods. "If you keep me on retainer." A conniving little smirk curls the corners of his mouth upwards and for one insane moment you wonder how he would taste right now if you kissed him.

"How many women have you done?" you ask, then realize how wrong it came out. "I mean, how many female clients have you had?"

Despite your embarrassment, Dave answers honestly, without poking fun. "Women tend to hire female lawyers, and men tend to hire men. I guess it's about strength in numbers.. but to answer your question, not many. Why? Do you think you won't use me again?" he feigns a little worried look.

"Funny," you chuckle. "Do I get a discount if I've used your services before? Some kind of punch card? My fifth divorce is free?"

"The only way you'll have a fifth divorce is if you marry and divorce that idiot over and over."

"Of course," you play along. "But what if we're just like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton?"

"At least they had the sense to only marry twice."

Dave leaves to take a business call and you're left alone for a moment. You catch snippets of the song playing over the general ambience. "Just One of Those Things" by Ella Fitzgerald plays, the lyrics drawing your attention: 'a trip to the moon on gossamer wings'. It somehow perfectly describes your marriage to Javier..

When your food comes your mouth can't help watering. Dave returns soon after, apologizing for leaving you so long, though it was only a few minutes.

A few tables away a man with his date gets down on one knee and proposes. When the woman says yes the restaurant bursts into applause. You and Dave clap, smiling politely at the happy couple. You wish you could feel the joy they feel. Instead, nostalgia washes over you in a sickening wave.

"Javier proposed to me at Olive Garden," you tell Dave, who's digging into his veal parmigiana. He raises his brow, shaking his head.

"There's nothing really wrong with Olive Garden."

"I had to talk him out of Buffalo Wild Wings first."

"Oh."

He only met the man a few moments back at the office, but he has a good idea of the man you thought you married. You were young and impressionable, he was suave and mysterious. There was nothing for you but to fall madly in what you thought was love.

"I don't like him," Dave says. "I didn't like him the minute he walked through the door."

Something about the way he says it warms you, not only because he's on your side, but because the damsel-in-distress part of you loves having a champion. "You have better judgment than I did all those years ago.."

He smiles tenderly. "You can't blame yourself for the choices you made when you were too young to know better."

"Well.. how do some people get it right the first time? Why did it work out with you and your wife, but not for me and Javier?"

Dave doesn't know how to answer at first, sipping the wine in the crystal glass before him. He glances down at his gold wedding band, wishing he could be blatantly honest with you and tell you he and Carol have their own issues and every day seems to feel like an uphill battle, but right now it's more important to him to give you faith.

"It wasn't always perfect. We've gone through our share of problems," he admits. "And I know you probably see me as someone in the business of tearing families apart. Which I do, most of the time," he adds with a grimace. "But I've also learned what not to do. When I go home at night after a long day of court appearances, mediations, mountains of paperwork, I'm just glad to be with my family. My work helps me appreciate them more."

You manage a small smile. If he can persist, so can you. And he's around such negativity all day. You have your books and your sweets and so you expect life to always be so simple. "I think I look for the good in people, even when it's not there. Either I'm stupid or simple."

"You're neither." His hand is on your forearm, a gesture of comfort. "One day you'll fall in love again and it'll be even better the second time around. Because it'll be the real thing," he adds.

There's something incredibly special about this moment, one of the few times you feel okay with going a little beyond the bounds of a client-attorney relationship. But the moment ends abruptly when the waiter sends a couple of violinists to serenade you during what is in no uncertain terms, not a date.

You'd like to believe Dave. You'd like to think you still possess an unfulfilled 'happily ever after' for yourself, locked away for just the right person. But you're alone in your home, with no one to greet you or ask how your day was. Admittedly, the world feels less warm now that you're apart, gone your separate ways, your transactional relationship over.

It's not just that. The whole world has changed, modified itself to grow away from you, leaving you like a plant in darkness. Love songs aren't about you anymore. You can't relate to their brightness, only mourn it.

Javier was the first person you ever fell in love with. You have no idea that the bigger challenge will not be falling out of love with him, but falling in love with yourself.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

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@misstokyo7love @ppascalq

[tetsunabouquet]

GOM Headcanon: Confessions

A/N: I had been thinking of how I'd confess to Akashi if he were real and I were the vice president of the student council, and I decided to make a headcanon how the GOM would react when their crush gives them an epic love confession.

"Akashi-senpai, I need to tell you something. I've been in love with you for a long time, and whilst I am know I am not the kind of girl someone of your status would fall for, I frankly stopped caring. I only care about wanting to make you happy and smile every day. I want you to know you deserve someone who loves you for who you are and not for whom your father is, even if it's not me. I just love you so much that it hurts. It hurts to keep it from you. I hate not being able to be honest with you, and I think I'd die if I couldn't confess to you before you graduate."

-You were his favorite girl in the entire student body, being a true friend. During your first year and Reo's final year, the vice-captain of Rakuzan's basketball team basically adopted you as his little sister. Nearly two years had passed since then and Akashi was preparing for his exams. -He did needed a while to process that you actually liked him back, because he had been wondering wether he had been delusional about it. -Akashi smiled warmly at you and asked you if you wanted to go out with him some time, going along with whatever you wished and whenever you wished it. -The two of you began a relationship as he affirmed he had no intention allowing his father to pick him a bride. -His heart melted when you said his heart was worth so much more then a simple transaction, and he confirmed to himself that you were the keeper he had always needed.

"Midorima-san, may I tell you something? I just wanted to say that I think you're the coolest guy at this school. You never allow people to push you around, you never care what they say and you've got such a strong backbone. I think you're truly strong, and not just because you have those mucles that you do and I think it's really attractive. The attitude, I mean, not the muscles though you do have a really nice body…" You rambled on and took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say, that I think I'm falling for you and think you're a really amazing, dependable guy even if you're younger then me."

-You were the senpai Midorima had been crushing on ever since he had enrolled at Shutoku and seeing you act all flustered like an innocent schoolgirl over him, shocked him to his core. -Sure, you were a schoolgirl, but he never expected to see you such a babbling mess. He never realized he had any of the slightest kind of power over you or that you even really cared for him all that much. You were always kind and helpful to everyone, after all. -Midorima said he would like to have your number in response, when he finally could speak. His face was red like a crate of cherry tomatoes, let me tell you. -He texted you as soon as he came home and hoped he hadn't broken some kind of stupid code as he was new to romance. Girls always seemed to speak about a code, at least. -Eventually he arranged a date later that week because it was the day both of your signs occupied the first and second position on the Oh-Asa chart and you giggled thinking he was cute.

"Aomine-kun, I need to tell you that I like you. Like, a lot. You're so cool, especially on the court. Just seeing you gets my heart all fluttered." You placed your hands on your heart, feeling it thump harshly underneath your flesh. There were a thousand things you wanted to say, like how beautiful his eyes were, but you knew Aomine to be a simple guy so you said it as plainly as you could, before you would chase him away by saying something cringy.

-Aomine first stared at your chest, your hands drawing more attention to it as he processed the information, but you knew Aomine could be a pervert so you didn't mind. -He started smirking pretty quickly though, you were a girl he found considerably pretty and he liked your sense of humor so it was great to hear you confess to him. -Aomine decided to ask you out for a date after the upcoming basketball match. -You attended the match and cheered for him, making him actually excited to play. -Afterwards he took you for a victory celebration dinner for just the two of you with the last thing you saw before leaving being a grinning Momoi.

"Murasakibara-kun," you said, drawing the purple haired's attention, "You are as dear to me as salt, and I would like for you to be my boyfriend." It was simple, easily processable for the childish-minded giant and with his love for food you thought the fairy-tale reference was cute and well-suited. Though panic shot through you as you wondered if Murasakibara even knew that folktale considering it wasn't as popular as Cinderella or something. Fingers crossed, I guess?

-Murasakibara might not have heard of the fairytale before, but unlike the King of the tale, Murasakibara was far too aware of the importance of salt and did not take it weirdly. -Murasakibara might have been convinced to go to Yosen partially because the coach was hot, but when it came to the actual students he found you the most attractive and he loved your fruit scented shampoo. -It did not take him long to decide that it wasn't a bad idea to give a relationship with you a shot and he nodded. "Sure." -Offered you a piece of candy as a token of love. -You couldn't stop yourself from cherishing that wrapper. You know, like in the sense of not wanting to wash your hand if it had been kissed by the boy you like. You wanted to remember that moment forever, no matter how simple and easy it had been.

"Kise, I want to tell you something and I hope you take me seriously," you said before taking a deep breath. "I know you probably get like a dozen confessions every day and honestly I wonder if mine is even going to stand out. But I really like you. And not for your looks. Neither for the money you probably make or the talent you have at sports. I like you for who you are. Like the moments you were trying so hard to make Kasamatsu-senpai proud, its like watching a golden retriever and I couldn't help but melt on the inside for a bit. If I'd only have half the devotion you show for the basketball team, I'm pretty sure I'd be the happiest girl in the world. Please be mine."

-The two of you had been partners in school projects often, it was as if luck was on your side to the disappointment of many girls at Kaijo High. So Kise knew you fairly well. -He had honestly fallen for you. Your humor always lifted his spirit and he saw you as a genuine friend. -Kise broke out in a 1000 watt smile, glowing as finally, he had been given the confession of a girl he actually liked. -He accepted your feelings immediately and you were shocked with how quickly he jumped to the occasion. -There were a couple of girls spying on you and you could hear them sob as Kise pulled you close and asked you if you were available for a date this weekend. You could not stop yourself from giggling as Kise rubbed it in their faces that he was only interested in you.

[alekthefox]

Overheating

Boothill fic because I'm OBSESSED!

Have you noticed he has some sort of large plug socket on the small of his back? Mmmmmmmmmmm I have ideas~

(Do tell me in the comments what person you prefer to read in, first person, second person, third person. I really don't know. I just roleplay a lot so this is the type I'm most used to.)

Tags: Boothill has nerve-like sensors on his body, he can indeed overheat, teasing, banter, mention of alcohol, rough Boothill, failed smut (he stops so he doesn't hurt reader) Pairing: Boothill x gender neutral reader (not trailblazer+no mention of lower private parts), 3rd person Context for reader: The reader is a bounty hunter who occasionally teams up with Boothill. They waited outside the workshop for Boothill to be repaired. That reckless man might be good at dodging bullets, even dancing in the crossfire, but a well timed grenade tore him apart. Luckily, his pretty face is unharmed. After several hours he came out. They were on their phone, checking the transaction that just came in as a reward for their work. "Fifty, just as agreed upon. Wanna get a drink, big guy?" Fifty million credits was very little to bounty hunters. It should have been an easy job, like a little thrill-seeking. But this dumbass of a man has no sense of safety. They got away with just a few scrapes unlike him. "You invitin' me on a date, eh?" "Hah, you wish." "Aw, you wound me~ at least let me buy you a drink." They rolled their eyes and started walking, expecting him to follow, and that he did. Not only that but he gracefully passed them like a skilled dancer, walking ahead. Their eyes traced over his literally sculpted body. The man not only chose to make himself have NO ass, but also metal fucking abs... and a jacket that covered nothing. But... there was some sort of exposed hole on the small of his back. A plug socket? It was too large to logically be for anything they can recognize. Out of impulse they put a hand on his back, which he didn't mind, smirking. That smirk was soon to drop. Their hand slid down the middle of his back until their fingers slowly traced the rim of socket. He stopped walking, his back arched and he covered his mouth. He stumbled forwards before spinning around and grabbing their wrist harshly. "What the fudge do you think you're doin'?" Well, that was an unexpected reaction. If that part was so sensitive, why was it exposed? "Curiosity killed the cat. I didn't expect you to be such a whore, exposing a sensitive part for everyone to see." "Well nobody thinks to fudging touch it. I'm gettin' real tired of yer teasin'. Always got yer eyes on my body, always sneakin' in small touches, leanin' in close, stealing my hat--which I'd kill people over-- it's fudgin' annoyin'!" "I plead guilty~." At the mention of his hat they reach up with the unbound hand but he leans away, still holding their wrist. Now the grip gets tighter. Cold, metal fingers like a deadly vice, locked joints so there isn't a way to escape it. He might leave bruises at this point. He turns them around and grabs both wrists to pin them behind their back, pushing them against the nearest wall. The display attracts attention from strangers. Nobody stops to form a crowd, but eyes are certainly on the two of them. They laugh. "Either tell me to stop or do something about it, cowboy." "Fudge."

He presses them against the wall with his body. But his body isn't cold... They can hear the fan inside his torso spinning loudly, the metal heated. He's flustered. His voice is gravely in their ear. "Can't tell if I wanna shut ya up or make you scream." "Well make a choice, big guy. Leave, take me to the bar, or take me to private place." Boothill huffs then hesitantly lets go of them and starts walking. It's unclear which he chose but he did stop to see if they're following so the choice isn't 'leave'. They follow, eyes trailing over his body again, never getting enough. It's his carefully constructed body, it's the way he moves through the crowds, those heels that are actually a part of his legs--of course they are--and the...

He lead them to a hotel. A quite nice hotel. They smile wide with a raised brow. Now this will be interesting. They wonder just what he's got packing seeing as he's literally 90% metal. He pays for a room for one night, and slightly strangely, the next day as well. He opens the door for them and places a hand on the small of their back as they both walk in. As soon as he turns to close the door they hug him from behind, feeling up and down his torso. He huffs, his cooled body now heating up again. They swear they see a bit of steam come from his mouth. He places a hand on the wall in front of him as their hands explore his body and eventually land once again on that plug socket. Gently circling the rim, his body grows hotter, his breathing gets heavier. He's letting them do it but they can tell he's barely holding back. They put a soft kiss between his shoulders as two fingers slip into the hole to see how deep it goes. It goes about to the second knuckle and the moment their fingers brush the end he bends forwards to hit his head on the wall. "That feel good?" He doesn't respond with words, instead with haste he turns around and grabs their hair and pulls them into a bruising kiss. His other hand grips their hip, pulling their bodies against each other. Knowing very well how sharp his teeth are he gently bites their lip. Then he moves onto their neck, leaving kisses, sucking on the skin, and sometimes biting just enough to leave tiny marks of a shark bite. The hickeys aren't enough to mark them, anyone can leave hickeys, but the bites are his mark without a doubt. He wants everyone to know who they belong to. Their hand sneaks to his back again, abusing that sensitivity. He really, truly, growls in their ear and recklessly bites their neck hard. Their entire body reacts to the pain. He apologetically licks the blood off, savoring the taste of iron in it. He's uncharacteristically silent. Luckily he had enough of clarity to bite more towards the shoulder.

They tug on his belt which is an extremely dangerous game. "You want it off? Do it yourself, baby."

URGH, this man is so damn annoying yet so damn hot. They start with the belt, then pants, then underwear, one after the other. But before they can look down Boothill spins them around as if they weigh nothing to him, once again they're pressed chest first into the wall. They protest by pushing back into him. Which is an extremely smart move because then they feel it. It feels like... a silicone dildo. How the fuck can there be nerve-like sensors inside silicone? Then again... how can they be in metal as well? Buuuut then again a lot of planets around the cosmos have different levels of technological advancements. Now was indeed not the time to dwell on the logic of it. Especially as his hand went from their hip to underneath their shirt and up their torso. Cold fingers pinched the left nipple as his teeth grazed their neck. After he was satisfied with their reactions, their sounds, his hand moved lower, his body pressing them into the wall out of excitement, his body almost scalding hot. Just as his hand was to reach there he stops and backs away abruptly. They whine and turn around only to see his head is hanging low, hat obscuring most of his face. Some of the plates on his body have shifted to be ajar for the literal steam to come out, fan whirring loudly. "Well fudge... Had to stop so I don't burn ya. I promise, when I cool down, I'll take care of ya. I swear it."

Author's notes: I am not fucking sorry for ending it like this. Suffer. :)

[carmenized-onions]

Chicago's Kindest | Blurb #02 - Good.

logline; sometimes you just need to hear someone else say it.

[!!!] series history; not a new chapter!! but like, it's fun, and it's better than the nothing you've been getting, eh?

portion; 2k, just over.

pairing; A platonic Rich & Chip fic, for the boys

tasting notes; a pepper of hurt? a bunch of comfort? I'd describe it as fluff, I think.

possible allergies; this blurb is AFTER the next chapter coming out whenever it comes out (Chapter 16). So. Get into that grindset man. there's a fun thing in this hinting at a fun thing to come !! so!! have fun!! You should definitely read the other chapters in the series before this!!

Not a new chapter baby I'm sorry! But I was noodling around this idea, and I think perhaps you may like it. Should blurbs go on the masterlist? Idk.

When you finally tell Richie he's a good dad, it's when both of you least expect it. Mostly because you weren't trying to tell him at all that day. 

It's January. About a week before the Taylor Swift concert. About a week into back to back to back reservations. Richie’s been burning the candle at both ends— He always gets tipped well, so it's not like it's not worth it. He's fucking Richie. He's the go to. He's good with people. ...Right?

Richie might care too much, might write himself in the schedule too much, might cover for wait staff at a moment's notice too much, might do research on guests in his off hours too much, might push himself to be present at every waking moment too much.

He wishes Carmen noticed, he's certain Carmen doesn't. 

He's taking two personal days for the concert. How dare he? He wouldn't do it under normal circumstances, but his sweets takes priority. 

Carmen, his Highness, will certainly notice time-off before anything else. Fucker.

To make up for it, Richie's working a double shift today. And he's made a ten-page pamphlet on all the reservations and details of the guests that'll be coming in while he's gone. He's good. He's Richie. He's a really good manager, a stellar host, fantastic with people. 

Is he a good dad? 

Probably not. Because he scheduled his make-up hours and didn't think to double check his custody hours. Deadbeat. God, fuck you, Carmen. 

It wasn't entirely his fault. Tif asked if he'd want the extra weekend since something about wedding planning came up. And he did, he always does. More time with Eva is good time with Eva.

And usually he's very good at plugging that into his calendar but he got the call at a very busy time on his shift and he just said yes before actually putting it in and then forgot— Who remembers anything that happens in a phone call? She should’ve sent him a summary email—it got away from him, suffice to say. Then Tif texted asking ‘Hey, when are you coming to pick her up?’ and then suddenly he's the bad guy? Deadbeat. Bad dad. Richie Bad News. Fucked accent. Fuck you, David. Fuck executive chefs all together, just write them all off. 

He called around asking any and everyone if they could take Eva off his hands for just a couple hours, but Richie hasn’t really had many connections since his one connection kicked his bucket. The rest of his connections work the same hours as him, at the same fucked establishment as him. 

Well, that’s what he thought, until he complained about this to you over the phone, first thing in the morning, before he’s set to pick up Eva. 

“I could take her.” The words are lovely and jumbled. He can hear you shovelling scrambled eggs into your mouth. “Could just make Lu cover bar, he’s been wanting to test drive alone anyways.”

Excuse Richie, but he’s always been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s a habit. “Isn’t the whole point of test driving to have someone watching you?” He wishes he was eating eggs too, but again, candle’s on fire. He’s choking down a Kashi bar and attempting to be happy about it.

“Meh.” Is all you reply. Meh. “He’s a talented ass chef, he can handle making some fuckin’ cocktails without me over his shoulder.” 

Even still, he’s got to work out all the kinks. “Carmen’s gonna be pissed.” But you both know, while he’ll have a less than stellar day without you, he will have a fucking awful day without Richie. 

“He will live.” There’s a moment of silence, as you finish chewing down your last few bites of breakfast. “…Would you please give me the gift of some long overdue Eva time, Rich?”

And when you put it like that, when you put it like he’s actually the one doing you the favour… Eva is dropped off at your place an hour before he has to clock in. It’s a touch hurtful how excited she is to spend a couple hours with you instead of him. 

“It’s the return of the champ!” But he gets it, as soon as they arrive, and you’re out front on your stoop ready to throw fake punches at Eva like a boxing coach. “They said she’d never be back in the ring folks—” And picking her up. “But here she is, better than ever, ready to face any and every challenger! E-E-Eva!”

Easy for anyone to get excited at the idea of hanging out with you. He wishes he could join in for even a few minutes, but it’s not in the cards— Nor today’s packed schedule. Rich promptly and tiredly runs over everything you need to know for the day, leaning against your doorway as Eva runs around in your apartment. 

“Full of energy today, get ready to be ever so slightly annoyed because she will not stop playing the why game today.” 

“Hm.” You hum, not the least bit annoyed by the idea. “I played that a lot too, I think. It’s simply karma.”

There’s a sigh of a smile on Richie’s face. God he looks burnt out. You won’t prod, though your worried face does plenty on its own. “Can I make you a coffee or somethin’ before you head out, Rich?” 

“No, no, it’s good.” He’s quick to shake his head, straightening up off your door. “I’ll get Copenhagen to make me somethin’, test drive, y’know?”

“A’right.” All you can do is shrug. “I will feed her the normal foods at the normal times, make her take her two naps, and we will be mostly screenless, if we can help it. But I think I fuck with Bluey more than she does, so…”

“I owe you.” 

The reply is off the cuff, “No you don’t, just bring me back a dead plate or somethin’.” 

Richie smiles and nods, but there’s a hesitation to it. And whether you notice it, or he even notices it himself, he’s not sure. But as you close the door, you peek it open, noticing something. You surprise the man, when you suddenly reach out and lightly slap his neck. You scratch at scruff that isn’t there, smiling. 

He lined up his beard. Richie listens. Even when he doesn’t want to.

“Good man.”

You close the door with a smile, like you didn’t just blast open his brain. You know what to say even when Richie doesn’t know what he wants to hear. And all he wants to hear is good. Good job. Everyone sees the work you’re putting in. You’re valuable. 

“What the fuck— Richard, no surprises—” “Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, of course surprises—” “It’s gonna make a mess—” “If Chip were here, you wouldn’t have a problem—” “Well she’s not here, isn’t she? She’s at home taking care of your kid—”

“W—Woah-holy-shit—” Syd has to elbow her way between Carmen and Richie— And a pinata— To break up this fight. “Way too personal too fast, straighten it the fuck up, Chef.” 

She rubs her chest with her fist, and Carmen returns it, after a deep breath. A thousand yard stare towards no one, as he apologizes— Well, he never really says it, but when he says, “My fault. I’m hot.” He means sorry. 

“You need… A second?” Sydney gestures over his general form. “Want to take your ten?”

“Five. Smoke break. Thank you, chef.” And he’s off. Double entendre. He’s always off, when you’re off. 

Syd turns back to Richie. She replaces you as union rep, when you’re off. She doesn’t ask questions, she doesn’t refuse Richie and his pinata, she doesn’t say, ‘Good idea, Richie, Fantastic research on the couple at table sixteen, Good job finding out that they met at a chocolate museum in Brussels as teenagers on separate school trips. It was all worth it, and you’re so valuable.’

She just says, “I’m not cleaning it up.”

But no skin off his back, he shrugs. It’s not meant to be a thankless job, but it is. “Fair enough.” And he puts on his brightest smile, grabs a bottle of champagne off of your shelf, and puts on a fucking show. 

When he’s finally finished, Richie does remember to grab you a dead plate. Well, more specifically, he grabbed a dead plate and then Carmy asked if it was for you, and when he said yes, the stupid loverboy fuck made him wait as he made you— And only you, a star worthy dinner. Yuck. 

He ate your original dead plate in the meanwhile. Richie texts you all this, sending terribly unflattering photos of Carmen during the whole cooking process. You laugh, over text, and tell him you’ll leave the door unlocked for him— Despite as bad an idea as he thinks that is, he just texts back a thumbs up. 

And when he finishes the exhausting day finally, and drives over to your place, and opens your door with one hand, tupperware in the other— He grimaces, as he can overhear his wonderful daughter playing the extremely aggravating ‘Why?’ game, with you, in the kitchen.

He quietly closes the door, not wanting to cause too much of a commotion. Neither of you seem to hear him, so he’s able to listen in. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t I use the knife?”

Richie watches from the archway, just peeking slightly. You’re cutting carrots as a late night snack for yourselves. Your back is turned to him and Eva’s sitting on the kitchen counter. She’s not really letting the bowl you’re tossing the carrot sticks in get very full— She’s dipping them in ranch and eating them pretty immediately. 

“Because you might get hurt.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got little hands, and this is a big knife.”

“Why?”

“Because weirdly enough, big knives always seem to be the cheapest at my grocery store— I really don’t get it.”

“Hm.” She kicks her legs in the air, thinking of her next line of questioning. “Why are you watching me tonight?”

Because Richie’s forgetful, a bad dad, a typical deadbeat divorcee with half a brain— 

“Because I love you. Duh.” Well, of course you have to say that. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re a good egg.”

“Why?”

“Because your dad— And mum— Made you into a good egg.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a good dad.”

Oh. Thank God for Eva asking on his behalf, “Why?”

“Because he’s good.” You say it like it’s so simple, mind still focused on cutting carrots, like you’ve said something as easy as describing the weather. 

“Why?”

“Well— I dunno, that’s like asking—” You put down your knife to pick up what’s left of your current carrot. “This carrot, why is it a carrot?”

“...” Eva can’t help but laugh as she answers, “Because it’s a carrot!” 

“Exactly! It’s a carrot! It just is a carrot! You can’t ask a carrot why it’s a carrot— It’s just a carrot!” You chuckle in return, putting the carrot back down to chop it once more.

You shake your head as you answer, “You can’t ask why Richie’s— Why your dad is good. He just is. He’s good.”

If he were still alone in his car with his Kashi bar wrappers hearing this, he’d probably be crying into your tupperware.

But he’s here, so, can’t.

He takes a step into your kitchen— “Th—”

Immediately, you shriek, stepping in front of Eva as you turn around, knife in hand. No coherent words come out of you, just screaming, thinking you’re about to pay repentance for leaving your door unlocked. 

He almost drops your tupperware, holding it up in what is either defense or an offering. “Not a third time, Christ, please God?!”

At least he knows that in a time of crisis, you can go to bat for his kid. 

At least Richie knows his best actively alive friend thinks he’s a good dad; thinks he’s good.

At least Richie will think of your words instead of any execs first, in his head. 

yippee!!!

one day i'll write romance for this guy, one day. maybe.

anyways. sorry for my absence!! i cannot say it will improve my loves. don't worry, we're still finishing CK, it has just REALLY gotten tossed down the laundry list. No one reads these, but, life updates:

Got a new job! In my industry! I'll be working part-time hours there, so I had to talk to my current job about going part time--- And they let me!! Lowkey was hoping my ass would get fired so I'd have more time for you and more importantly, the next thing i'm gonna write about. Alas. We ball.

NOT a we ball moment, PARENT GOT THE BAD DISEASE!!! (fuck cancer!!!) Send sweet thoughts psychically, but not through actual message or asks or anything because i DO hate talking about it, but yknow. that's taken up obviously: most of my time lately!!

so many parties in october man. having our housewarming party next weekend. yes i know it's weird to be normal in this state but that's sort of how life is. we have to keep going?? crazy .

anyways. Hopefully once I start my new position, I can have a concrete schedule for writing. But until then! I'll probably write you short blurbs whenever inspiration hits, so send in requests man!!

Not to be stupid but requests and just talking about writing instead of the big bad evil in my life will do WONDERS for my mental stabilty!! so come yap in my inbox about CK and make me write about it.

love you!!! bed time for me now jesus chrsit.

[jellyskink]

The Tooth And The Following Headache. (A cringey crackship)

"Alright Pines, you're good to go now. You remember where the exit is yeah?"

(Geez, the more I see this guy the MORE I find myself needin' to buy another pack of cold ones for the week.)

The day was about as fun as you'd expect it to be with "him" around. I was just about to have a good day too, of course things would go wrong as soon as I was about to relax and finish up work.

Ford Pines had his monthly appointment with me today, an appointment that I was booked with because of Oleander's meddling probably.

"Yes Dr.Ibis, I remember. H-How is everything looking if I may ask?"

(Horrible, if I was presented this during dental school I'd probably have thought it was the BEFORE photo, not AFTER.)

"Eh, I've seen worse. But you're doin' better than last time."

(That was a lie and a truth both in the correct order. Geez what HAS this freak been doing? The first time I saw him I was surprised he hadn't kicked the bucket or passed out at the very least from what problems he was dealing with. It was almost like I was checking off everything in the book on what was wrong with this guy. I mean, damn if I didn't know better I'd assume this guy was eating glass for fun or something.)

"R-really? Oh my Muse will be so pleased! The care you and Dr. Oleander have been providing me has been astronomically wonderful! My muse certainly knows how to find the best people to introduce me to!"

(Ugh, here we go again. "My muse" this, "my muse" that. I wish he'd can it about that damn triangle, the problems that kindergartner art project looking thing have been causing have been one of my biggest headache bringers to date.)

"Yep, he sure does. Now can we get along to the part where we just schedule your next appointment? I'm a very busy man you know, patients to see and all that."

"Of course! I'll need to run it by my Muse before it's finalized, but I can certainly get the word to him!"

"Sure thing bud."

(Thank god, this is going quicker than I thought. I really hate having this guy ruin the mood in my office with his... everything. What did Irene even see in this guy? This wacko clearly didn't have a personality besides being a sad clingy puppy dog whose entire being was dedicated to his "Muse".)

(Irene was pretty secretive about certain things regarding that guy whenever we ended up talking over the phone or the occasional coffee. Which for a normal doctor that'd be expected, patient confidentiality and all that. But Irene crossed that line long ago as soon as she took him on as one of her patients.)

(The guy wasn't extremely interesting to my knowledge outside of his extra fingers. If anything he was boring or weird, sometimes both at the same time. The guy wasn't particularly charming, he did LOOK handsome, and OCCASIONALLY wasn't the worst to be around, but geez I hated everything else about the guy.)

"Ah Dr.Ibis before I forget, I have something for you."

(OH GOD NOT THIS AGAIN.)

Before I even had a chance to react any further, Mr.Triangle lover quickly reached into his bag and pulled out something small with reddish-brown fur and held it out to me.

(What even is that? Is that a hamster? No, it was a vole. He brought me a freaking vole. It wasn't even alive. And he was holding it out to me with that stupid smile of his.)

I don't know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I slapped the dead rodent out of his six fingered hand. As it smacked the ground, I saw my patient flinch and begin to step back from me.

"GET YOUR DAMN ROADKILL AWAY FROM ME!"

"I-I'm sorry for upsetting you Dr.Ibis, I only wanted to-"

"What? I don't want to hear about how your "Muse" gave you dead rats as gifts again! It's disgusting! I can't stand dead animals! I don't want you to act like your dramn crazy mu-"

I wasn't even able to finish the sentence before I felt myself getting pushed against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I winced from the surprise as I began to process what happened.

It was that... that... Six fingered psycho!

(What the hell!? What is he doing??)

I was always kinda worried about this guy being the reason why someone ended up hurt, I never expected him to be the literal reason for it!

"DR. IBIS."

An unexpected tone shift from what I was used to from the guy, his voice was now booming and gruff.

(OKAY I'M REALLLY NOT USED TO HIM BEING SO LOUD OR AGGRESSIVE.)

"PLEASE... WATCH WHAT YOU SAY... ABOUT MY MUSE..." His tone lowered into a raspy hiss as the words fell from his mouth.

I really wanted to respond to him, to fight back, SOMETHING. And yet I found myself frozen with fear.

The next thing I know, I felt a rough, trembling hand tilt my head up. My field of vision focusing on the unhinged man in front of me.

"BAD THINGS... HAPPEN TO THOSE W-WHO UPSET HIM..."

(I-is he? Crying? What the hell?? Why is HE the one that's upset here? He was the one who flipped out on me!)

I didn't have much time to process everything as he moved away from me. I heard a loud crunch from the side of me as he did.

(THE HELL?? Did he break something??)

I glanced to the side of me instinctively, there was a hole in the hall next to me.

(Okkkaaay. Well it definitely wasn't the first time the office drywall got punched or broken. Whether that was ever by me at times was something that was a secret I wasn't going to tell any higher ups anytime soon.)

"Hey... Mr.Pines?"

"..."

The guy slowly walked over to the wall at the opposite side of the room, a blank stare on his face, a crimson fluid leaking from one hand onto the floor as he held it to his side, while his other hand clutched his creepy locket to his heart.

Before I could continue speaking, he began whisper to himself while facing the wall.

"i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry."

His head banging against the wall with eerie tempo as he spoke in a whispered voice, his tone now monotone.

"Mr.Pines??"

(What the hell? I knew this guy was probably insane but this was taking it a whole new level!)

"I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY."

The horrid tempo was now picking up speed.

"STANDFORD STOP IT!"

"..."

(He finally responded?)

The room was eerily silent as I tried to process what had even happened. After what felt like an eternity of sitting in awkward silence, the unhinged man I was watching turned around to face me again.

"U-um Dr.Ibis? Forgive me, I spaced out while we were about to finish our conversation earlier. W-what were we speaking about?"

A pretty nasty bruise was now starting to form on his forehead.

(THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT??? WTF WAS THAT???)

I did my best to collect myself. I vaguely some of the info Oleander shared with me about her patient. I think she mentioned how he had certain traumatic triggers or something?? Damnit now I wish I had paid better attention to her phone call that day as she yammered on.

"It... wasn't important. Just...if you're going to leave me dead animals, do ya mind if perhaps you wrap them up before handing me them or something?"

"I-it isn't traditional I suppose, b-but I'll check in with my muse if I could be given grace to do that sort of thing. Forgive me, I don't mean to screw up showing my thanks to you..."

(Geez and now we're back to another episode of watching the saddest man ever. Ick, Oleander I swear you owe me big time for all these bones I'm throwing your patient.)

"Listen I appreciate it, in a way... I just prefer.... live animals? And I don't like rodents very much."

"I-I see... well I can't promise my muse will be happy with any changes, but I'll keep note of that."

"Listen Stan-"

"StanFORD."

"Stanford. Why don't we just pretend today didn't happen? I'm pretty tired today, and it looks like you could use some rest too."

"I... suppose my muse might not mind that. I don't think I can rest, but I know what you mean."

"Thank you Stanford. Now... why don't I drive you over to Oleander's office for a sec? I think she needed to see you for a second."

(Pleasedon'tputupafightohgodIdon'twantyoudyinginmyofficeIdon'twanttodealwiththepaperworkoranyotheraxhahstingproblemsthat'dcomefromthathappening!!)

"I-I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble as long as we don't take TOO long. My muse seems to trust some of her judgement a lot..."

"Yeahh... well I'm just going to close up shop now.

"Of course Dr.Ibis."

(Irene I swear to god you owe me big time on top of a LONG conversation about what's the plan for your patient in the long term. If I'm going to be dragged along with you on your quest to be the queen of bleeding hearts I don't want to end up sinking with you.

Geez I need a drink after this, guess I'll be needing to buy TWO packs of cold ones from the store after this "fun" work day.)

Unfortunately for future me, one of the new "gifts" I'd start to get from Standford FREAKING Pines were eyebats. Live ones. And they were just as annoying as him. Easier to get rid of though...

(AHH I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. I thought I'd gve it a go with writing in a more first person style when it came to a Dr.Ibis focused fic.

Yes I was possessed by a 14 year old girl harnessessing wattpad, ao3, and tiktok as I wrote this, but the idea of these two having a genuine friendship/relationship sounds hilarious to me.

I hope you liked my attempts at channeling Yusuf energy! Unfortunately he does have the tsundere curse a bit because this is a enemies to lovers kind of fic lmaoo. Hopefully the Ford energy wasn't the worst either??

I totally loved your fic other anon fanfic writer! With Jellyskink's permission we should definitely team up and write many cringey and wonderful fanfictions for this au!

Speaking of which, I'm glad once again people liked my silly little Oleander and Calamari fic! The little trickster kitty is now one of my favorite things about the au!

I love that Calamari was in the cat show Ford lost in! I'm guessing she might've won?

Either way, totally looking forward to the rivalry between Ford and Calamari lmaooo!!)

OKAY I LOVE THIS

Ibis is like "why are the hot ones always crazy"

Thank you for writing for my sad dumpling again!!! 💖💖

[fuck-customers]

🚐🚐🚐🚐🚐🚐

24/10

I worked a seasonal position as a receptionist, and my boss offered me a temporary position helping out in another department for a month once my contract was up. I accepted on the basis that it was 30 hours a week max and all I'd be doing was admin tasks, no speaking with clients. Which after a season full of holidaymakers I was desperate for.

The week I'm supposed to start I receive no communication from who I was told was my new boss until the day before I'm supposed to go in for a little bit of training, and she's put out when I reiterate that that week there's two days I can't do due to previous commitments I made while I thought I'd be unemployed. And when I get to work on the training day, the person who actually will be my boss doesn't ever work that day, so my poor previous boss had to scramble to find something for me to do, since no one could train me nor could I get on the company system properly as my new boss hadn't sorted my contract.

I'm annoyed but hey, things happen. It's the first week, so there's bound to be hiccups, right?

I get to work the next week and my new boss starts to train me with the system I'll be using, only to be pulled away because we have an auditor in and of course that's more important. I don't mind that at all, but don't have me come in to work if you know you don't have time to train me. The same thing happens the following day and there's another new hire from a different department in the same position as me, so we end up doing hardly anything all day and feeling like spare parts. By this point I'm fairly pissed off that the three shifts I've done have been pointless, but I'll persist.

I do two more shifts this week, both of which are actually me being trained and working, and it's becoming very apparent that I will actually have to speak with clients for this role; it's not just helping the department catch up with paperwork. I'm very much feeling lied to, messed about, and like I'm not the right fit for the job, so I take the weekend to think about it, and message my new boss on Sunday morning to tell her that I'm grateful for the chance but I won't be coming back in. I was very polite in my message, I didn't mention my frustration with the disorganisation in the department, the fact that everyone looks down on you for actually taking your lunch break rather than just working at your desk while you eat, or that, morally, I cannot be involved in helping sell holiday homes to people on a site that's severely rat infested and crumbling, but the general manager refuses to spend any money to revamp the place.

I was very final with my message, which I think was obvious by the fact that I wished my new boss the best of luck and a good holiday season, so I figured that would be that. I'll admit my anxiety has me refusing to check whatsapp so I can't see what she's said, because a) I'm not ready for that and b) to me, it's done and dusted.

She's tried to call me five times in the last 20 minutes. I don't know what the hell she wants, but I'm not answering. My best guess would be she wants me to work my notice, but there's absolutely no point. I'm still not trained properly to do this new job, so at least some of my one weeks notice would be me being trained for a job I'm leaving. Normally I'd never quit without giving and working my notice, but in this instance it's pointless.

I'm not going to answer her calls or call her back. I don't care. Honestly, working on reception was bad enough; it's very clear that the company as a whole values profit over guests' happiness and safety. It's one thing to sell someone a holiday on our shit hole of a site, but it's another thing entirely to be a part of them becoming an owner of a run-down holiday home. At least with guests, I can give them vouchers or money off a future holiday or at a push a refund. With this new job, I can't do anything but apologise for the shitty situation I've helped put the new owners in. I wish I was brave enough to say that to my now ex-boss.

Posted by admin Rodney

[m00nh1gh]

Hush

Hyunjin x reader

Hyunjin likes talking dirty to u

Contains: Dirty talk (Oh! So surprising!), teasing, public setting, degrading (sorry I can't help it).

Word count: 823.

"Love, I'm getting a little impatient..."

You didn't think much of it when your boyfriend put a hand on your upper thigh after having said that. After all, you were at a restaurant packed with customers. He certainly wouldn't do anything here.

"Can't I just at least touch you a little?"

You looked at his pouty face and couldn't help but scoff at this whole situation. His grip on your thigh was kind of hard and he kept looking down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"Not here, people could see us," you gave him a quick kiss on the lips to make his pout disappear. He sighed rather dramatically, but he went back to eating his meal without another sexual sentence for a little while.

The night went on and you were talking cheerily with Hyunjin about everything and anything. You both didn't really want to go back home, so you made yourself comfortable at the table and kept conversing there.

"That dress looks so good on you," he remarked, taking a sip of his glass of wine.

"Thanks, I really like it too," you chuckled.

"I'd like it even better on the floor," he talked in a lower tone and your heart almost dropped to the floor.

Ah, there it was again.

"'Jin, not here"

"Why not? I know you like people watching you getting off to my dick... But I can also use my fingers on you tonight."

He took your chin with one hand and brought you closer to him, kissing you slowly and sloppily. You couldn't deny the way your core was burning, but were you really going to let him do this in public?

Well, maybe...

You felt him tug at the end of your short dress and you put a hand over his. You didn't really know if you were going to stop him, but right now you were only following his movements on your lower body. He pulled away and approached himself to your ear:

"I want to put on a show for them all to see."

You went all red to this and he went to kissing your neck. Your head turned around to make sure no one was watching and when you saw the last couple of people leaving the area you were in, you finally focused back to Hyunjin who was softly kissing and biting your sensitive skin.

"'Jin..."

He hummed in response and you pulled yourself closer to him, wanting to get more contact with him.

"I want it."

"What do you want, love?"

"Your fingers. I want you to use your fingers on me."

"Keep begging for me, I like it when you do it."

"Please, please finger me right now. I'm serious," you guided his hand to your clothed pussy, making him massage it to show him how much you wanted him.

"What happened to being polite? We're in a restaurant, you slut."

He lightly slapped your clit over your clothes and you jumped, surprised by the sudden impact. You hid your face on his shoulder as his hand subtly made its way under your dress to play with your panties. Putting them aside, then replacing them at their right place with his index finger as he pretended to be busy doing anything but teasing you under the table, while you were desperately trying to grind on his hand.

"Do you not see how stupidly desperate you look right now? I'm only teasing and you're already trying to make me finger fuck you."

You started kissing on his neck while he made sure no one was still around. As he saw even less people than you did, he finally tossed the panties aside and slid a finger along your wet lips.

"I wish I could taste it, too bad you were too impatient to wait back home."

"You're the one who started..."

"And who's the one getting what they want now?" You moaned at him touching your clit. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Show how much you want me, right now," he put your panties back to their place and massaged you over them.

You whined at this, trying to move your hips against his fingers but he only stopped you by removing his hand and pushing your hips back down on the seat.

"Hwang Hyunjin, I want you to make me cum right here, please... fuck!" You gasped when he slid his middle finger into you, covering your mouth with the back of your own hand. You spread your legs a little more to give him space and he brought one of them on his lap.

"You're such a good little slut. Just for me," he planted a soft kiss right under your jaw, still fingering you slowly and making you go crazy over him.

___

This was pretty short, don't know if I like it but I'm too tired to change anything lmfao

Also tysm for all the notes on my last post, I really appreciate it <3

[user2772636]

Moon River

(And me)

No matter how annoying, rude, or diabolical he is, he's still Angus Tully, your best friend and the boy you've been in love with since you learned how to.

Angus Tully x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Moon River - Frank Ocean (Cover)

"I wanna go to Boston."

Angus Tully was a wildcard. He's rude. He doesn't think before he speaks. He can be a hell of a pain in the ass. One second, he's quiet and all by himself in a corner, then the next he's spewing out words from his mouth that'll make you wish you were currently six feet under.

But he's really thoughtful. All those times he spends by himself, he thinks. About life. About school. About people. How we came from where we're from. How we breathe air and feel the soil in our feet.

No matter how many failed classes, how many times he was set back, Angus Tully is a smart boy with loads of potential. You just wish he saw himself that way.

"Why?" You ask, flipping the magazine between your fingers.

You were almost the exact opposite of Angus.

You studied hard, aiming for Ivy League schools and doing as much extracurricular activities as you could. You prioritised school, your work, your reputation. You rarely get in trouble, only getting called in offices for the reports you've sent.

So, why out of all the people in Barton, the only girl there ends up being his closest friend?

To put it simply; when you heard about Barton accepting girls for the new school year, you wanted to go. One, because, as your mother said, "It would do your reputation good for being a part of the first batch of girls in Barton," and two, because your best friend Angus Tully studied there.

Yes, you got in the school. Yes, you're part of the first batch of girls in Barton ever. What they didn't mention was the fact you were the only girl in Barton.

"You know why."

Angus's dad was put in a hospital after something happened in their home. Apparently, he was sick. At least, that's what Angus's mom said.

"We can't exactly leave. Hunham's gonna kill you." You finally put your magazine down, folding the corner of the page you were in to bookmark it.

"Not unless he doesn't find out."

"You know for a fact he'll find out."

"He'll find out too late. I know that for a fact."

You roll your eyes, sighing. You shuffle to your side of the bed to his. You pushed both your beds together. The excuse Angus used was that it gets cold at night. You didn't really mind.

You settle your head on his chest, arm wrapping around his slender waist. You exhale deeply when his arm lowers to rub your back. It felt nice in moments like this; The dark room illuminated by the orange hue of a streetlight outside. The wind howling and blowing snowflakes towards the west.

"I know it sucks we didn't get to go with those guys to ski, but they're jerks anyway. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you." You tuck your head into his neck, closing your eyes as your tiredness encapsulates you, as well as the warmth of Angus's hold.

"Well, we're not exactly doing that." Angus clicks his tongue. "Wish it was just me and you. No Mary, and no stupid fucking walleye."

You groan. "You gotta stop calling him that. He seems to be trying his best, even when his "best" is annoying." Angus adjusts underneath you, lying both of you down and draping a blanket over your bodies.

"Yeah, whatever." He relaxes onto the bed, eyes closing as well. His breathing is still manual, you can tell he can't sleep just yet. There's something in his mind.

"Angus... you okay?" He moves a bit, arm still wrapped around you. He doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice is a bit strained.

"Don't you ever get tired of me? Even just a little?" You wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for your proximity right now. You stay still.

"Of course I get tired of you. Almost all the time." He scoffs when you giggle a bit. You open your eyes and peek up at him, seeing a small smile on his face.

From the light that barely lit the room, you could see his eyes were glassy. You sit upright, cupping his face. His hand goes up to hold one of your wrists, his cheek leaning into your touch.

"How do you put up with me?" He sniffles, leaning his head down. "I can't even put up with myself sometimes."

There was only one answer to his question. You knew well in your heart what it was. Maybe it was time to tell him.

"Angus." You whisper, caressing his face your thumb. "Look at me."

He looks up, eyes a bit damp from tears. You wipe them away gently, keeping your eyes locked on his pretty brown ones.

"You're my best friend, Angus. But I see you more than that." You can see the emotions shift on his face, but he stays quiet, so you continue.

"I'm serious about what I said. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you. Over anybody in the world." You smile softly, taking your hands off his face to hold on his own.

"I'd also spend spring break with you, summer, the weekends. It's gotten to the point that I'd spend the rest of my life with you."

"The thing is, I'm never gonna leave. No matter how annoyed I am, no matter how fed up. Because I love you, Angus. I've loved you ever since I learned how to. And I learned from you."

He only stays quiet after. You're afraid you said the wrong things. Maybe you shouldn't have told him that. He's simply staring off into space, eyes glued on you. You try to take your hands back.

"Wait." Angus says. He keeps his eyes on you. There's this spark in them, and you can't tell what it is. You've only ever seen it in times like this; when you're alone with him.

This is a lot more different, though. There was so much intensity that-

His lips felt plump against yours. They were so soft. You could even somehow taste the pink in them. You couldn't get enough.

The moment you lean in, his hands cup your cheeks, just like you did to him moments ago. You bet he could feel how warm they were.

He tilts his head to kiss you more, adding a bit of force that just highlights his hunger.

Your hand finds his lap, and you rest them there. He pulls away, hovering a centimetre off your lips. You feel the way he breathes against you.

"If you wanted to take my pants off, just ask." He laughs, trying to ease the heat of the room.

You lean in just a bit, lips brushing. He tries to lean in too, but you pull away only slightly.

"If you wanted to kiss me, just ask." It was your turn to laugh as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, can I kiss you again?"

You didn't even need to say a word. A curt nod was enough for him to go back to kissing you silly.

A best friend is someone you hold dearly in your heart. Your best friend is already far above that.

The love you hold for someone close is something you never let go of. You can make a choice of holding that feeling a little while longer or giving it to them with everything in your being. Trust me when I say the second option is better.

HOLA CHICAS I FINALLY WROTE SMTH FOR ANGUS!!! If u followed me way b4 yk i was talking abt this man and saying how them white boys r ruining me (tbh they still are but im not complaining) i love this boy sm I WANT HIM SOOOOOO BAD UGHH. Anw this is short asf but its all i got for now 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ HOPE U GUYS LIKED IT!!!

[gothamite-rambler]

Talia unintentionally overstepping Barbara's boundaries (sneak peek for AO3)

Context: While out shopping Barbara was kidnapped by Talia Al Ghul's men and taken to where the Lazarus pit is. Talia says it's a fun girl's trip, but Babs knows the side effects of the pit and is not about to be pushed in.

Barbara (stopping her wheelchair before Talia could roll her to the Lazarus pit room): I'm not going in there.

Talia: Why would you pass up this offer?

Barbara (arms crossed): Jason Todd, you, Ra's Al Ghul, and that one time you put Bruce into a coma and tossed him in, assuming you could convince him to love you. And what happened after that?

Talia: We… both went insane, and I almost killed our tifl. But that's in the past, he's better now, I'm sane now.

Ra's (smoking): Never got my thanks for that.

Talia: Father! - Look, Barbara I'm not even killing you—just pushing your chair into the pit.

Barbara: I'm good. I'd rather get robot legs than end up in the pit.

Ra's Al Ghul (siding with Barbara): Contact me if you want me to set you up with that, but she still said no fifty times, Talia! Can you send her away already?

Talia: Father, stay out of this! Barbara, think about what regaining the ability to walk would do for you. You could finally be with Nightwing.

Barbara (grossed out): Oh God, why would you wish that upon me?! We're not like that anymore!

Talia: Seriously?

Ra's: He's with the orange woman now.

Talia: Aww, I was secretly rooting for you two.

Barbara (glaring at Talia): I'm definitely not going in there now. You're not about to insult me and then push me into green slime.

Talia (in denial): You know what? You need some time to think this over and agree to it. I’ll leave you here in this gorgeous tea room and return in twenty minutes. I know you’ll make the right decision. Father, keep watch of her.

Talia exited with a graceful stride, not allowing Barbara to get a word in or continue to refuse her offer. Ra's pulled out his cell phone and handed her an older-looking iPhone.

Ra's: His number is in this phone; he’s labeled "Ahbil."

Barbara nodded, took the phone, and hit the button to contact Bruce's number. Bruce reluctantly answered the unknown call, as his night job often led to strange calls like this.

Barbara: Hey… Bruce, it's Oracle.

Ra's: We don’t need to go by codenames; I know your name is Barbara.

Barbara: Private call, Ra's!

Bruce (confused): Why are you calling me from an unknown number?

Barbara: Talia kidnapped me and is offering to push me into the pit so it can 'fix' my disability, and when I say "offering," I mean she will not let me leave until I agree to it.

Bruce (shocked): What?

Barbara: Yeah. She said I’d be fine, which is a crock of bullshit. I've seen what the pit does to people; Jason has told me. I made it clear I’m not doing that. She said I have no choice unless you come to save me.

Bruce: She said I… And you’re stuck there—God damn it, Jim is going to kill me!

Barbara: Yeah, he might actually shoot you if I end up going crazy, or at least arrest you. She’s not stating it, but this seems to be a mix of good intentions with bad thinking, and she wants you back. Think you can be here soon?

Bruce: Yeah. I’ll text everyone and we’ll be headed there in a few hours. Tell her I’ll be there and that you won’t be wheeled to the pit until we get there. Do everything you can to avoid being pushed in!

Barbara: I will try my best; the mad king next to me is actually on my side with leaving, so he might be able to help.

Ra's: I’m… going to let that one slide because you called me king.

Bruce: I have to deal with Ra's—that just dawned on me. This is ridiculous, but you're my friend, and Jim will kill me if I mess this up. That guy sees me as his friend, and I can’t lose that!

Barbara (chuckling): Men and their weird friendships. Just hurry up.

Bruce agreed and ended the call while Ra's poured himself and Barbara some tea.

Ra's: He’s coming?

Barbara: Yes… your daughter is thirsty for a man who doesn't want her. She’s intelligent and all that, decent mom, but she is thirsty.

Ra's (agreeing): I have no idea where this insanity came from.

Ra's coughed from years of exposure to the pit as Barbara rolled her eyes.

[enmstorytime]

The Amusement Park: Chapter 2

My triple-layer underwear bunched under my shorts as we walked through the front gates of the amusement park. While the sensation of bunched up cotton under my glutes wasn't ideal, it was a reminder of what was in store for the rest of the day. On the drive down to the park, I had avoided looking at my husband, afraid that in my already elevated horny state, I would wish his clothes away, and he'd turn the car around and drive us home completely naked. A hot idea that did keep me rock hard and a little leaky in my crotch area for the whole drive. But I could live out that particular fantasy some other time by just asking my husband to chauffer me somewhere completely naked. Today, my birthday was about experiencing things (specifically: seeing men's naked bodies) I hadn't before.

I didn't realize how hard it would be to resist imagining so many men naked. We had made it through the parking lot and through security, and despite having a thing for young, hot dads and men in uniform, I'd managed to avoid looking at most men. When I did catch myself peeking at any man, I looked away and practiced my edging skills, imagining the least sexy things I could, taking deep breaths, and pinching my thighs through my shorts pockets.

But now we were in the park, my husband and I hand in hand.

"I didn't know if you'd make it this far," my husband said. "There was a security guard back there who could have been Chris Evans's stunt double."

"I wasn't looking," I said, my reactive cock starting to stiffen again. I pinched my thigh to try to cool down again after picturing America's ass freed from its CGI super suit. "And you have to shut up."

"I will," my husband said. "But I'd be a terrible husband if I didn't point out that ginger dilf straight ahead."

My kryptonite.

I looked up from the cobblestone path and saw him, the millennial red-headed father of two, pushing a two-seater stroller. He wore shorts, with a snake tattoo climbing from his calf up under the hem of his five inch shorts. I couldn't stop the thought:

I'd love to see that whole tattoo.

One second he was walking, his tennis shoes on the cobblestones, his hands on the stroller, his manbun bouncing with each step, his body hidden under a muscle shirt and shorts. The next second every stitch of clothing on his body was gone, and his whole tattoo (and body) was on display.

In my experience, most men realized they were magically denuded faster than I wanted them to. For one glorious second, I soaked in his matted armpit hair under his extended, rippling arms, his hot, daddy cock flopping into freedom, but before I could really enjoy the tug of gravity pulling on his exposed dick, he had yelped, let go of the stroller, and clamped his hands over his nether regions.

"Kevin," his wife hissed. "Where the hell are your clothes."

Between his yelp and his wife's fury, every eye in the crowded entry of the park was fixed on Kevin, whose body was turning as red as the ginger hair that dusted his beautiful body.

"I don't fucking know!" Kevin said, still clinging desperately to his penis, and turning his back to hide his ass against the back of the stroller.

We could hear their interchange because the crowd looking on had fallen silent, everyone watching Kevin and his wife, but the silence was broken with a wolf-whistle from my husband. A few people joined in. A few more people cheered. But several were scandalized. I saw an older Karen woman scurry off to grab the shoulder of a security guard.

"We have to move," my husband said, grabbing my bare shoulder.

Unlike Kevin, I had not realized that any of my clothing had disappeared. But true to the birthday magic, I'd spent the past twelve years learning, there was a cost. And it was a heftier cost than I had expected. Nothing truly scandalous, but my overshirt, shirt, and undershirt had each dissolved.

As badly as I wanted to hang around to watch security interact with the very handsome, incredibly naked Kevin, I didn't want to be caught guilty by association. I let my mind play out a fantasy of Kevin being hauled out the gates of the park, arms handcuffed behind his back, cock swinging free, while his wife and children looked on. My own cock pressed against my three layers of underwear, dripping precum.

My husband pulled me away from the scene. The last thing we heard was the security guard shouting, "What is the meaning of this, sir? This is a family park."

"You're topless," my husband said as we rounded a corner and left the scene entirely. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know," I said, the anxiety calming down my cock once again, although I wasn't positive how much more stiffening and relaxing my penis could handle in one day. "I thought we had planned well enough for this, but that was three articles for the cost of one man. That's never happened before."

"You've never worn layers before on your birthday," my husband said. "Maybe the magic doesn't like being cheated."

"Well shit," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, not loving having my nipples out in such a crowded space. "I don't think I can make it a whole day if the magic is charging such high costs."

"We spent over a hundred dollars a person to be here," my husband said. "We haven't even ridden one ride. Could you hold in your perverted thoughts for one ride?"

We had spent so much money to be here, and while I didn't love the risk, I had made it all the way to the park, and I'd only seen one man naked, and that man I hadn't even seen for very long. I wanted more.

"Okay," I said. "Either, the magic is ignoring layers or it's taking three for the price of one. If it's the first, the magic has always given me a shirt, pants, underwear, and footwear. That still gives me two more chances before we have to leave, or I risk arrest. If it's the second, and everything costs three, I've got two shoes, two socks, pants, and three pairs of underwear."

"So, regardless, we've got two more hot men to strip," my husband said with a grin. "We'll use the second man as a distraction to get you out of the park."

I couldn't argue with the logic. Either I'd be sneaking out in three layers of underwear, or I'd sneak out in a jockstrap. Neither was ideal, but as I remembered the beautiful arc of the red-headed dilf's penis flopping into freedom, I decided it was time to move deeper into the park.