#and by that I mean there’s suddenly gonna be a bunch of 3 hour long loa video essays

[luna-the-cretar]

So I was eating this absolute nightmare of a texture experience that was my dinner (my mom had made gumbo, except she had literally none of the ingredients she usually adds, so it was literally just oily over-seasoned rice and sausage. It was bad. It’s usually better than that, idk what was up with her), and I was describing to my brother what Derek was doing when Frost had the oily mouth in episode 2, and he made the mistake of asking me something related to the Yuletide oneshot.

Which prompted an hours worth of blabbering from me about essentially nothing. I was just blabbering about the Yuletide oneshot. At one point he was like “I like on how you said you weren’t going to go into it, and here you are, going into it”, which prompted me to say “well, you asked questions about it, so this is really your fault”, before continuing to blabber on about the Yuletide oneshot for another 20 minutes

I mean, to my brothers credit, I guess, he did quietly listen as I just. Talked. About LOA. I literally never get to talk about my current hyperfixations to anybody, so if they get me talking, they can’t get me to shut up. Not until either have to or force myself to.

[americasass91]

Use Me

Hello there! I know I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. And literally haven’t written anything in like 8 months. I’ve been going through a shit ton. (Divorce, job change, all kinds of fun stuff) And I really lost my spark to write. And then the Fnaf movie came out. And seeing Josh Hutcherson on screen again lit a fire inside of me! That boy was my original crush (long before Evans). Peeta Mellark will forever have a piece of my heart. That being said, here’s a little something starring Mike Schmidt! I know, I know. It’s not a Chris Evans character? What’s wrong with me? Josh is fucking pretty. That’s what’s wrong with me. Like, I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Chris is pretty and hope the best for him. But…he’s not been my muse lately. I said a long time ago that I wanted Josh to fuck me like a screen door in a hurricane. And it apparently still holds true today! So, I hope you enjoy it even though this is not a part of your regularly scheduled programming! Also, this takes place after the events of FNAF. Also, Also. Not sure if the people on my Taglist for Chris’ characters want to be tagged in Josh’s. If so, just let me know!

*DISCLAIMER*, If you’re under 18, this is nothing for you to be reading. Go away.

Words: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, p in v smut, oral(f rec), unprotected sex, language, Mike being good, um I think that’s it

💙💙💙💙💙 

“Listen Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stay and work the next shift.”

You turn around and look at your manager as if she had suddenly grown 3 heads. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you needed me to stay and work the next 8 hour shift.”

She rolls her eyes as she goes back to charting the current patient she’s working on. “You know that’s exactly what I said. Look, I have no other options. Hannah called off.”

“Again? This is like the third day in a row! How is that fair exactly?” You put your patient’s paperwork down and cross your arms over your chest as you stare at her expectantly.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you as she answers. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. She says she’s sick. I can’t have her come in if she’s sick.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “If by sick you mean hungover! She literally posted on Instagram last night about her night out on the town!”

She glances over at you. “There’s no way to prove if that was from last night or if it's older. Now just get back to work and I’ll let you have an hour and a half break instead of an hour.”

Now you’re pissed. “Yeah, see, that's not going to work for me. I’ve already been here for 16 hours because Kim was late. I’m not working Hannah’s whole ass shift. I have plans. I finally get to see my boyfriend after weeks because our schedules weren’t lining up. I’m not staying.”

“You really don’t have a choice. I wasn’t really asking you, I was telling you. There’s no one else to cover.”

Tears started welling up in your eyes out of frustration, exhaustion, and the possibility of not being able to see Mike again. “There’s a bunch of other people that can cover! What about you? You’ve only been here 8 hours. It would make more sense for you to stay.” 

She turns in her chair to look at you now. “Y/N, I have actual plans. My husband has a work party. And the rest of us have husbands and children to attend to. Not just ‘hanging out with my boyfriend.’

Now you’re seeing red. “So what you’re saying is because I’m the only nurse on this floor not married, I get the shitty end of the deal and have to cover when other people call off?”

“No. If you had legit plans then I’d be more sympathetic. But you haven’t even been with this boy that long. You don’t need to spend every free moment with him.”

“I’m sorry but who do you think you are? My mother? Because I’m a grown ass woman. And if I want to hang with my boyfriend on my time off then I’m going to! I don’t really need your approval for it. I’m not staying.”

You grab your Stanley and start heading towards the locker room to grab your stuff. 

“Y/N! If you don’t stay, then you can forget about this job.”

You turn around just before reaching the end of the hallway. “Well, then I guess you’re going to have to stick around and cover Hannah’s shift. Stick it up your ass, Jan. I quit.”

You don’t even stay to hear what she has to say. You quickly run to your locker and grab all of your stuff out before you start to cry. You can’t believe you just quit. And it’s not just because of your boyfriend. You haven’t been treated right since the first week you started. This was just the last straw. You just hope Mike won’t be disappointed in you.

💙💙💙💙💙

After a quick shower and outfit change at home, you reluctantly find yourself pulling into Mike’s driveway and getting out of the car. You haven’t gotten to see him in about 3 weeks and you know you look like shit from not only your long ass shift but also because you cried on the way over.

You head to the front door and open it up. He always leaves the door unlocked when he knows you’re coming over, and get hit with the aroma of pasta. Mike’s cooking you dinner. That makes you want to start crying all over again. He’s the sweetest.

“Babe? Is that you?” You hear him call from the back of the house. He quickly comes towards the front and sees you. His smile falters when he sees the state you’re in. “Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He quickly wraps you up in a hug. 

You try your best to keep it together but a few tears fall. “I quit today.”

He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arms around you. “You did? Babe, that’s fantastic!” He pulls you back in for another hug and picks you up to twirl you around.

Your mood instantly lifts and you can’t help but laugh. “It is?”

He sets you down and pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Of course it is! That place was treating you like shit! And Jan was a bitch! What finally made you do it?”

He lets go of all but your hand and leads you into the kitchen so he can continue making spaghetti. He sets you down at the table and pours you a nice big glass of wine he bought just for tonight. “I want to hear all about it.”

He goes back to the stove and continues making dinner while you rehash the last 16 hours.

He turns around with the sauce spoon in his hand and his other on his hip. “Hannah called off again? Jesus, how does she still have a job? Didn’t she do this to you last year during Christmas?”

Oh, shit. You had forgotten about that. She did do this last year! You had plans to fly home and see your family for the holidays when Hannah unexpectedly came down with ‘the flu’. Jan had called and needed you to work since nobody else could cover. You felt like since you were still new at the time that you couldn’t say no. Now you’re getting pissy all over again. 

“Oh my god! You’re right! Maybe the bitch has some vendetta out against me. I’ve never done anything to her though! I’ve been nothing but nice!”

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a text. You quickly check it. It’s from Hannah.

I can’t believe you threw a tantrum and quit just because I wasn’t feeling my best and couldn’t come in. Wow. All so you can hang out with your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend. You sure have your priorities straight.

“Fucking cunt!” You yell as you throw your phone across the table. Then immediately you slap your hands over your mouth just as Mike turns around to see what you’re yelling about.

“What’s wrong? Who was it?”

You remove your hands from your mouth. “Mike, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to curse that loud. I hope Abby didn’t hear me.”

He waves you off. “Babe, she’s not even here. She got invited to a sleepover at Natalie’s house. We’re alone. You’re good.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god! I don’t want any of my bad habits to rub off on her.”

Mike just chuckles and turns back to the sauce. “If she turns out anything like you, I’d be entirely okay with that.”

You can’t help but feel a blush creep up your neck. He was always saying sweet stuff like that. You get up and hug him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re too sweet.”

He turns around in your arms and grabs your face and gives you a proper, toe-curling kiss. “I mean it.”

After a few more shared kisses, Mike finishes up dinner and fixes you both a plate and a glass of wine for himself. As you’re sitting there twirling your spaghetti around your fork, you can’t help but think about Hannah’s text again. And then all of the little snide remarks she’s ever made to you come flooding back.

“Babe?”

You snap out of your thoughts and Mike comes back into focus. “Yeah?”

He puts his fork down. “I asked if there was something wrong with the spaghetti? You’ve hardly touched it.”

You look down at your plate and realize you’ve just been twirling it around your fork. “No, it’s fine. Just thinking about what Hannah said and how much it pisses me off. I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to ruin our time together.”

He smiles and grabs both of your plates and gets up and places them on the counter. He comes back over and holds his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You grab his hand with no hesitation and let him pull you out of your chair and let him lead you to his bedroom.

He turns around to face you right before you get to his bed. “First of all, you could never ruin our time together. I love getting to spend time with you no matter what. Second of all, it sounds like you need to let out some anger and need a distraction.”

You can’t help but feel all tingly at the smirk he’s giving you. “What did you have in mind?”

He backs up a little and sits on the bed and looks up at you. “Use me, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “What? What do you mean?”

He reaches out to grab your hands to pull you towards him. “I mean use me. Use me to distract yourself and to take your anger out on. I’ll be a good boy and do whatever you need.”

That almost had your knees buckling. “Oh.” He lifts your shirt up and starts pressing kisses along your stomach while running his hands from your back to your hips and down to your ass. You’ve never been in this position before. Sure, you guys have only been together for like 5 months but anytime you’ve ever been intimate, he’s been the one who’s taken charge.

He pulls back and looks up at you. “Use me, baby. I got you. Tell me what you need.”

You decide to run with it and take control and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I wanna sit on your face.”

He lets out a little whimper as he moves back on the bed. “Fuck, baby. Please sit on my face. I want you to suffocate me.”

He lays back and patiently waits for you to remove your pants and panties. You hesitantly climb up on the bed. You’ve never done this before with anyone but have always wanted to try it. You climb up until you’re straddling his waist and lean down to kiss him. 

He returns the kiss enthusiastically and grinds you down onto him so you can feel how hard he already is for you. It makes you let out a small moan into his mouth. The making out only lasts for a few more minutes before you pull away and start climbing up until you’re hovering right above his mouth.

Before you fully lower yourself onto him you grab his hair and yank so that he has to look at you. He lets out another beautiful whimper. “I’m going to ride your face until I can’t think of anything else but your tongue. You’re going to be good and make me cum as many times as I want, right?”

He nods instantly. “Yes, I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“Good boy.” You tell him, which makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. Hmm. Who knew he had a praise kink?

You let go of his hair and grab onto the headboard with both hands before you slowly lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. 

He immediately grips your thighs and pulls you even harder on him and starts eating you out like a man starved. “Oh, fuck!” You throw your head back and start grinding on his tongue. He gives you a few more licks before he sucks your clit into his mouth and starts lapping his tongue back and forth against it. “Oh, god. Fuck, Mike! You’re so fucking good at that.”

Your praise has him moaning and whimpering into your pussy, heightening the experience that much more. He moves his right hand towards your ass and gives it a nice squeeze before moving towards your pussy and immediately inserting two fingers.  It makes you start grinding faster, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

He starts pumping his fingers in time with your grinding, pushing you even closer to the edge. You can’t believe how quickly he got you there. 

“Mike, please! Gonna cum! Make me cum.”

He pumps his fingers even faster and lightly bites down on your clit, knowing it’ll make you fall over the edge.

You scream his name out and grind on him until it’s too much and you lift yourself away from his mouth. To which he whimpers out, “where’s that pussy going? I wasn’t done yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Jesus. I almost passed out from how hard I came. Give me a minute.”

“So I did good?” He looks up at you with big eyes and his chin glistening with your juices.

You pat his hair. “You did so good, baby. Made me feel so good.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around your thighs and presses soft kisses to the inside of them. You close your eyes and take a minute to enjoy that before you look behind you and see his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. You need that inside of you. Right now.

You remove yourself from his face and he lets out a little whine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done. Need your cock, baby.”

You’ve never seen him undo his belt and slide his jeans down that quickly before. It almost makes you chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

He nods as he pushes his jeans down far enough that his cock springs free and hits your ass. “Need to feel you around me, babe. Please.”

You lean down and pull him into a kiss which he returns generously. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He grabs his cock and hits it against your ass, signaling that he’s ready for you to slide onto him. You take the hint and lift up and back until he catches at your entrance. He’s the first one to break the kiss as you slowly slide down onto him. The little whimpers he lets out as you sit flush against his thighs is music to your ears.

You decide to tease him and just stay resting there for a minute while looking down at him. He has his eyes clenched shut and a death grip on your hips. He opens his eyes after a few moments and looks up at you. He reaches his right hand up and places it on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Go ahead and use me babe. Take what you need from me.”

You slowly start moving your hips back and forth, never really lifting them up and down. The friction against your clit is so delicious. You place both hands on his chest and start moving your hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so deep.” 

“Yeah? Am I making my girl feel good?”

You smirk down at him. “Oh, yeah. You’re being so good for me.”

He lets out another whimper as he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a heated kiss. This one sloppy and desperate. His hand that’s still on your hip starts moving you a little harder against him. He pulls away from your mouth and kisses his way up your neck towards your ear. “Come on babe. Cum on my cock. I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me so I can be good and cum for you.”

This time you’re the one letting out a whimper. “Yeah? Want me to be your good boy and cum for you? Fill you up?”

“Please.” You whine out, moving your hips even faster than before. You can feel your orgasm coming like a freight train. There’s no stopping it. 

“Oh yeah. I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me. Do it. Make a mess on me babe. Please, I need it.”

“Yeah? You need me to cum for you? Need to feel me cum? Oh, god Mike. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues helping you grind your hips against his. You’re almost there. Just a little something…..

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

That did it. You’re pitched off the edge and silently scream out. The edges of your vision going white. You can vaguely hear Mike whimpering out your name as he does as promised and fills you up. You slow your hips down until you can’t move them anymore and slump down against him with your face tucking into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs his hands up and down your back.

You both stay like that until your heartbeats return to normal. You lift up your head just until you can see him, almost nose to nose. He’s the first to speak. “So, did I do good for you?”

You let out a chuckle. “You were so good, baby.” You can feel him twitch inside of you at the praise. “But, we need to talk about what you said.”

Mike scrunches his brows for a few minutes before his eyes go wide and he realizes what he said. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”

You can’t help the disappointment that crosses your face. “Oh, well that’s okay. It was in the heat of the moment.”

He quickly wraps his arms tighter around you. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit. I one hundred percent meant it. I just wanted to make it special when I told you. Not in the middle of an orgasm. You deserve better than that.”

You smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I appreciate the thought. But I really don’t need anything special. I already have you.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “I love you, Y/N.”

This time you press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too Mike. Like, a lot.”

“I bet not as much as I love you.”

Just as you’re about to retort, Mike’s cell starts vibrating, causing you to jolt with fright since his phone is still in his pocket which your leg is pressed up against.

“Jesus Christ.”

You quickly get up so that he can grab his phone. “Hello?”

You go into the bathroom to clean up. You come back in with a wet cloth to clean Mike up. He just hangs up as you come in the room. “Everything okay?”

He smiles in thanks as you hand him the cloth. He goes about cleaning himself up. “Yeah. That was Natalie’s mom. Apparently Abby has decided she doesn’t wanna stay the night so I have to go get her.” He stands and pulls his jeans back up and smooths his shirt out. “Sorry we won’t be alone anymore.”

You pull him in for a quick kiss. “Nothing to apologize for. I love you Mike. And that means loving all of you. Which includes Abby. Whom you know I just adore. Go get her and we’ll have a movie night or something.”

He shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You just smile in return. “After the past year you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy.”

He chuckles as he heads out the door. “Ain’t that the damn truth!”

[kallie-den]

Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 3

Now that Vivienne has fallen under Mel's sway, she instructs Emma to take the high-powered CEO for a very particular makeover...

This is a commission from Neana, and a sequel to Lifestyle Journalism! Previous chapters can be found under the same tag

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

—

At first, Vivienne was entirely quiet and calm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so utterly at peace with herself. Normally, her entire life felt like a battle. There were endless pressures, buzzing around her like flies. Not now. She was perfectly still. Perfectly relaxed. Vivienne was conscious of nothing but a gentle, rhythmic purr she could feel throughout her entire body. It seemed to be coming from beneath her.

Then came a noise so loud, urgent, and uncomfortably familiar, it pierced through her calm and dragged Vivienne unwillingly back to awareness.

It took her a long moment to remember that the sound was her phone ringing.

The ringing ceased, but it was too late. Vivienne blearily opened her eyes and, after the blurry haze resolved into a set of distinct images, realized she was sitting in the back of a limo. Somehow, at first, it didn’t occur to Vivienne to question that. It simply seemed right.

“Oh look! She’s, like, waking up.”

“So she is. Welcome back, sleepyhead.”

Vivienne looked up and saw Melanie Adams sitting opposite her. She blinked. She looked to one side and saw Emma sitting next to her, in all her pink, bimbo glory. She blinked again, then blushed.

Emma. It was really her. It hadn’t all been a dream.

Vivienne’s embarrassingly eager adoration for the bimbo hadn’t been diminished by their meeting. If anything, she was more starstruck than ever. The CEO sat up straight and tried to hide her blush by rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I apologize,” she said blearily, hoping to recapture a little dignity. “I must have… well, I suppose I’ve been putting in some long hours lately.”

“I understand,” Mel replied, offering a sympathetic smile.

Vivienne nodded gratefully, then looked out of the window. She frowned as the realities of the situation began to set in.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no memory of getting in a car or agreeing to anything.

“We’re going shopping!” Emma squealed gleefully. “We’re gonna get you, like, a whole bunch of new outfits.”

“That’s right,” Mel added, a strange look in her eyes. “You remember, don’t you?”

Suddenly, she did. As Mel spoke, the memory was lifted out of the heavy fog that seemed to surround Vivienne’s mind. Remembering that, though, only prompted more questions.

“Right,” she agreed slowly. “But… why?”

Mel’s smile was beginning to look faintly condescending. “We were talking about how stressed and overworked you are. About how you need to make some changes and learn to relax. And since we’re friends, we decided I’d help you out by taking you shopping. Remember?”

Vivienne nodded. It was all coming back to her now, and it was just as Mel said. “Right,” she repeated, rubbing her head. “Goodness. I really must be tired.”

“Don’t worry,” Mel told her. “We can fix that.”

As they spoke, another memory was coming back to Vivienne. This one, unprompted, was far less concrete. It was a mere impression, accompanied by a faint, inexplicable sense of loss. Guided by it, Vivienne found herself reaching up toward the pocket in which she normally wore her pocket watch.

It was gone.

“Looking for this?” Mel asked.

Vivienne looked up and, to her shock, saw that Mel was holding her most prized possession, the very symbol of her prowess as a mind controller, dangling between her fingers.

Vivienne frowned deeply. Mel having it seemed right, somehow, but she couldn’t remember why. That troubled her.

“Why do you have that?” she asked warily. Perhaps something was afoot. Some kind of plot to entrap her and weaken her mind.

“Don’t you remember?” Mel replied. “Whoever’s holding this is in charge. That’s how it works, isn’t it? And since I’m the one who’s taking you out shopping, I’m in charge. That means I hold the pocket watch. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh.” Vivienne steadily relaxed. “Right.”

It was all coming back to her now.

“I can’t believe I forgot my own rules like that,” she apologized again. “I just can’t seem to get my head off my pillow today.”

Mel threw a grin at Emma. Her pet bimbo was giggling helplessly. Vivienne couldn’t imagine at what.

“That’s perfectly OK,” Mel assured her. “Just as long as you’re clear on how this all works.” She gestured to the pocket watch again.

“Of course,” Vivienne promised. “You’ve got the watch. You’re in charge.”

Before Vivienne could figure out why that was bothering her so much, her phone started ringing again. Reflexively, Vivienne slipped the phone out of her pocket and made to answer it.

“Stop,” Mel instructed sharply.

Vivienne froze. She flashed Mel a dissatisfied look.

“Don’t answer it,” Mel told her. “You’re not doing any work today. This shopping trip is all about relaxing and having fun with a makeover. No business.”

Vivienne couldn’t help but feel uneasy with that. Her phone was still ringing. She looked down at the caller ID. It was work, of course. Her CFO was calling.

“It could be important,” she protested.

“They can manage without you for one day,” Mel retorted. “But you? You desperately need to blow off some steam, Vivienne. Don’t answer.”

For a long moment, Vivienne languished in indecision. It was true that, probably, her people could cope. Vivienne couldn’t imagine that anything disastrous was happening. But equally, as CEO, her sign-off was needed on all kinds of decisions, and her leadership style ensured that none of her underlings would be willing to move forward on anything without her. By not taking this phone call, Vivienne was likely causing her company a serious headache. It was in opposition to her entire long-held personal and professional ethos.

But Mel had the pocket watch. She was in charge. That was the rule.

“Fine,” Vivienne acceded. She declined the call.

Listening to Mel felt strange. It didn’t sit quite right with Vivienne. After all, Mel was her rival. Vivienne despised what she represented. She was still determined to hypnotize Mel and break her to her will - eventually. But for now, Vivienne had to follow the rules. As scrambled as her memory was, she could at least remember that much.

But it was more than just that. Vivienne was surprised to find that she was taking a strange comfort in following Mel’s orders. It was a novel experience, she supposed. A welcome break from having to decide everything for herself. She glanced across at Emma, giggling happily again. Was this how she felt all the time? Every day? Vivienne wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she felt much, much more envy than she did contempt.

Maybe her plans could afford to take a back seat. Maybe letting Mel take the lead for just one day wasn’t so bad.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed at Mel through her giggles. “Oh my god, that thing, like, totally worked, huh?”

Mel couldn’t suppress a grin of her own as she looked back at her girlfriend. “It really did.”

“What did?” Vivienne asked irritably. Mel was in charge, yes, but that didn’t mean Vivienne liked being talked around.

“Nothing,” Mel swiftly assured her. She glanced at the cell phone Vivienne was still holding. “Actually, Vivienne, you should turn that off before it rings again.”

Vivienne pulled a face. The thought of being out of touch filled her with anxiety. She’d already missed half a dozen calls. There was something exciting about it too, though. Like she was a child again, skipping class.

Not that how she felt really mattered. Not while Mel had the pocket watch.

“Very well,” she agreed. Vivienne switched her phone off and tucked it back in her pocket.

“Good.” Mel’s grin widened. “Look, we’re here.”

Right on cue, the limo pulled over to park. Looking out the window, Vivienne could see that they had driven to the city’s high-end shopping district. The kind of place only elite hypnogarchs and their most favored servants could afford to shop. Vivienne had been there once or twice, although mostly she relied on her brainwashed assistants to do her shopping for her. She simply didn’t have the time.

As they stepped out of the car, Mel checked her own phone before turning to Emma and Vivienne. “I hate to bring down the mood, but it looks like I actually have a couple of calls I need to take,” she said. “My mothers. Work stuff. Emma, why don’t you take Vivienne around?”

“Oh-em-gee!” Emma squealed, while Vivienne blinked in surprise. “Really? I can pick out her stuff?”

“Of course,” Mel replied indulgently. “It’ll be a nice treat - for both of you. Besides, I’m sure Vivienne is just dying for the two of you to get a little one-on-one time.”

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. The way Mel said that was alarming. It was almost as if she knew. But no. No, that was impossible.

“Well, yes, I’m sure it’ll be lovely to… to get to know one another,” Vivienne replied lamely, fighting to keep her face neutral. Emma giggled some more.

“Yeah!” the bimbo exclaimed. Without warning, she locked arms with Vivienne. “We’ll be, like, besties in no time.”

Vivienne could have fainted from sheer, starstruck joy.

“Oh, before you get going,” Mel added, “Emma, you’d better take this.”

A distinct shiver raced down Vivienne’s spine as she watched Mel hand Vivienne’s pocket watch over to Emma.

Emma was in charge now.

Vivienne could certainly think of worse things than that. It was like a fantasy come to life.

“Come on!” Emma cried out, already tugging at Vivienne’s arm. “Let’s get going! We’ve got soooo much shopping to do.”

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. Pocket watch and rules notwithstanding, Vivienne was powerless to keep herself from being unceremoniously dragged around the shopping district. Emma’s giddy, gleeful, irrepressible energy was impossible to resist. Vivienne found herself breathing hard as Emma pulled her at a jog from one store to the next, from aisle to aisle, gushing over different items of clothing. Suddenly, she had a new thing to envy Emma for: her fitness. Thanks to all that exercise, Emma seemed to have endless breath to spare for gushing over different clothes and how they might look on Vivienne. It was all Vivienne could do to nod agreeably and try to keep her head from spinning.

But there was one thing she couldn’t help noticing: all the clothes Emma insisted on looking at and buying were pink.

“I… I’m just not sure this is really my color,” Vivienne offered diplomatically, as Emma held something up against her body for inspection. She truly hated disagreeing with her idol, but she felt she had to say something.

“Yes, it is!” Emma replied, somewhat indignantly, and with such force Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to argue back. “Pink is the best. It’s everyone’s color. Duh.”

With the matter settled, Emma marched Vivienne over to the cashier to pay for a set of new sports bras and a couple of pairs of leggings - all bright pink. All the clothes they bought - lingerie, workout clothes, a few casual outfits - were so garish and so revealing that Vivienne could never have seen herself wearing them. But she quickly found she didn’t regret any of the purchases. Quite the opposite. Emma’s joy for all things pink was proving truly infectious. The more they shopped, the more Vivienne could sense her own feelings softening.

She couldn’t help it. Emma loved pink, and Vivienne wanted to be like Emma.

It was impossible not to. She had everything Vivienne didn’t. She was joyful, carefree, and completely unselfconscious in her happiness. More and more, Vivienne found herself dwelling on the strange envy and longing she felt toward the bimbo. Maybe Emma and Mel were right. Maybe a makeover was exactly what she needed. A few lifestyle changes to bring everything into balance.

All so she could keep pursuing her corporate ambitions, of course. Eventually.

Besides those deeper ruminations, there was, of course, a much simpler form of pleasure to be taken in their little shopping expedition: Vivienne was Emma’s biggest fan, and she was having her favorite bimbo porn star of all time pick out clothes for her.

It was a dream come true.

Slowly but surely, Vivienne started leaning into it. She joined her voice to Emma’s as they squealed over cute outfits. She started suggesting things for herself - always pink, of course. It was fun. More fun than she’d expected. And Emma seemed so pleased with her whenever she did. Soon enough, the two of them were like peas in a pod, giggling over cute clothes and the flashy new outfits they were putting together. Vivienne was having the time of her life - even if Emma did keep pushing at her boundaries of modesty a little.

“Are… you sure?” Vivienne asked gingerly, indicating a pink pencil skirt Emma had picked out that was far, far too short to be deserving of the name. “There’s got to be a longer one around here somewhere.”

She knew Emma was keen for her to have it, and so she half-expected the bimbo to reach for the pocket watch and assert her authority. Instead, Emma simply leaned in close and fixed her with the most devastating puppy-eyes stare Vivienne had ever seen.

“Aw, c’mon!” Emma pleaded. “Don’t you, like, think it’ll look good?”

“I…” Already, Vivienne could feel herself melting.

“It’s just soooo perfect.” Emma’s eyes were practically glistening. “Please?”

“F-fine,” Vivienne found herself saying. She was helpless to resist Emma.

“Yay!” Emma brightened at once, before marching off towards the cashier.

It always played out that way, no matter how risqué the item. Lacy thongs, slutty bras, ridiculous heels - in the end, Vivienne fell prey to them all. It was a strange feeling. Usually, Vivienne always got her way. She was a CEO. A leader. A hypnogarch. Someone who’d clawed her way up from ignominy. She wasn’t used to being such a pushover. Yielding to Emma’s will just felt so easy. So natural. Whenever she tried to muster an objection to the kinds of clothes the bimbo was picking out, her head turned foggy and hazy, and the right words simply wouldn’t come. Simultaneously, the temptation to giggle and smile and just say ‘yes’ grew and grew.

Now and then, as they shopped, Vivienne wondered if she should be worried about the fact that she felt so hazy, or that she was proving to be so weak-willed. But each time she decided - no. It was just a harmless shopping trip. Nothing more.

Besides, Emma had Vivienne’s pocket watch, and that meant she was in charge - and that was Vivienne’s own rule! How could anything be amiss?

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, once Vivienne’s arms were aching from the now-huge shopping bags she was carrying around, Emma led her to the changing room of a particularly up-market boutique. It was the kind of place where the changing room really was a room of its own, with luxurious couches and soft, flattering lighting, and where the staff would bring glasses of champagne on request.

“Finally,” Vivienne sighed, slumping onto one of the couches. “I could use a moment to catch my breath.”

“Nope!” Emma admonished, still a wellspring of excitement. “No time! Cause it’s time to, like, try on some of these adorable outfits.”

Vivienne groaned, but good-naturedly. Emma truly was irresistible. Vivienne hauled herself back to her feet and, as Emma indicated, stepped up to the mirror.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma giggled. “This is gonna be soooo much better.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down Vivienne’s spine, and the CEO giggled nervously.

“Right!” Emma exclaimed, before scrunching up her face like she was struggling to concentrate. “How was I supposed to do it… um… Vivienne, you should just, like, stand there and let me undress you, m’kay?”

“Oh!” Vivienne blushed a little. “Um. OK.”

“And… let’s see…” Emma had the distinct look of an actress who’d forgotten her lines. It was kind of endearing. “While I’m doing that, I want you to, like, look straight ahead at the mirror. And just, like… look at yourself. Got it?”

“Sure.” Just as Emma instructed, Vivienne turned to face the mirror and looked at her own reflection.

At once, Vivienne was struck by just how radical a departure from her typical wardrobe her new clothes were going to be. The clothes she was currently wearing were, like all her clothes, dark, formal, and classy. That morning, Vivienne had dressed herself in one of her normal work outfits: an expensive, finely-tailored, black suit jacket with matching pants, a white shirt beneath, some stylish but sensible flats, and a few pieces of designer jewelry to accentuate the look.

She looked good. Very good, in fact. Vivienne looked fashionable, wealthy, intelligent and powerful. All-in-all, it suited her perfectly - and yet, Vivienne couldn’t help but be struck by how plain and joyless her fashion now seemed compared to what Emma wore each and every day.

“So, like,” Emma began. She spoke with the air of someone who was about to launch into something they’d rehearsed. “Isn’t it funny how some people say that the stuff we wear is, like, part of our… um… our identities?”

Vivienne laughed a little at the way Emma was struggling. “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I’ve heard people say that, yes.”

“Yeah!” Emma said excitedly. “I mean, Mel always says stuff like that. But I dunno. To me, it just sounds, like, silly. What does it even mean? It’s like… like what clothes you put on makes you who you are, or something?”

Vivienne let out another laugh. She felt lucky just to be here, with her star, Emma, listening to her speak like this. Being able to bathe in her presence was just as wonderful as she could have hoped.

“How does that even work?” Emma pouted. “I mean, c’mon! Like, what, you just put some different clothes on, and suddenly you’re a whole new girl? That’s so silly!”

Her voice was especially delightful. Vivienne felt like she could listen to it forever - that lilting bimbo voice, rising at the end of every sentence, free of even the slightest hint of stress or shame. For a long time now, listening to Emma on her videos or audio recordings had been a source of comfort for Vivienne. In person, it was even more relaxing.

“But… I guess maybe I do kinda get it,” Emma reconsidered, tilting her head. “I mean, look at me! I’m a total girly ditz, and all I wear is stuff that’s pink and pretty! So that makes sense, kinda. And you? You’re like this… this serious, smart, big-time business lady! So you wear suits and stuff. It all matches.” She giggled. “Isn’t it funny when you see it like that?”

Vivienne giggled along with her. It just felt natural. She was in such a good mood. Being with Emma, like this, made her feel so light and fluffy. It helped, strangely, to know that Emma was holding her pocket watch. Emma was in charge. For some reason, that made Vivienne feel very safe.

“Still.” Emma’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s weird to think about how, like, if that’s how it works, then when you take off your clothes, it’s like… it’s like… it’s like you’re taking off who you are. You know?”

“I’m… not sure… that’s how it works,” Vivienne replied bemusedly, and was surprised at how distant and absent her own voice sounded. It was as if, just by listening to Emma, she’d drifted off into a kind of waking sleep.

“I guess maybe not,” Emma conceded brightly. “But! You never know. Maybe it’s just, like, something for you to think about, while you’re getting changed.”

As she spoke, Emma gave a cutesy little flourish that, it just so happened, placed Vivienne’s pocket watch in the palm of her hand. Vivienne could only watch in the mirror as the bimbo fastened the watch to a gold chain necklace she plucked from her purse, and then clasped it around her neck like an amulet. With Emma wearing the symbol of authority, her words seemed to stroke Vivienne’s very soul.

“Let’s get started,” Emma announced. “Remember: just, like, stand there, and watch.”

Vivienne nodded numbly. She stood on the spot and watched herself in the mirror. Emma’s reflection was behind hers, and her eyes were drawn to the pocket watch around her neck. Its rhythmic ticking was endlessly seductive.

“First, I’ll take this off,” Emma said, reaching for the front of Vivienne’s suit jacket. She unbuttoned the front, then took hold of the collar and started to peel it away from the CEO’s shoulders. “You know, a jacket like this really sym… um… symbolizes you, right? It’s what people in, like, your position wear. Businesswomen. Leaders. Serious people. People in charge.”

Vivienne nodded again as Emma’s words worked their way through her mind. There was an undeniable, powerful truth to it. Whenever Vivienne dressed herself in the morning, putting on her suit always felt like putting on her outer layer of armor. With it, she was ready to face the world.

“But now,” Emma added, as she pulled Vivienne’s arms out of the sleeves and let the jacket fall to the ground, “it’s off!” She giggled. “No more serious business lady.”

A dizzying sense of loss took hold of Vivienne’s gut. Once, she’d been on a private jet that had run into some turbulence, and the plane had dropped a thousand feet in just seconds. It was just like that. For a brief moment, she stirred.

Then, the pocket watch caught her eye again. She noticed how, reflected in the mirror, the numerals around the face were backward. It was all the more captivating for it. Trying to read the watch was like trying to unravel a little puzzle. Somehow, it reminded her:

Emma had the watch. Emma was in charge.

No more serious business lady.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sense of loss was gone, and Vivienne felt nothing but an incredible, blissful lightness.

But Emma was only just getting started. “Now, your pants,” she said, already unfastening them. “I think these are like… um… I don’t remember what Mel said, actually.” She giggled. “But it makes me think about that expression. Y’know? Wearing the pants? Like, being in charge.” Another giggle. “Well, um, now you’re not!”

Like she was sleepwalking, Vivienne stepped out of her pants. Once more, she felt it: the loss, then the lightness. It was quicker this time. Easier.

Maybe it was something to do with the way she’d been following Emma’s lead all day. Vivienne was completely and totally swept up in her rhythm. If either of them was wearing the pants in the relationship, it wasn’t Vivienne. And somehow, that felt natural. It was like Vivienne didn’t need to be in charge anymore.

It was such a relief.

“Next,” Emma cooed, “your shirt.” She reached around Vivienne and started to unbutton it. “It’s so… so nice. Nice and professional. Nice and modest. I guess you can, like, show a little cleavage, if you want. But besides that, you look really, um, what was the word? Dignified. Yeah. Dignified.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded. She was so relaxed. Listening to Emma was so easy.

“Let’s take that off too.” Emma giggled quietly. “Shall we?”

She slipped the shirt off of Vivienne’s body and let it fall softly to the ground.

Vivienne shivered briefly as she felt the cool air on her bare skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, losing herself to her own image. She was wearing little more than her underwear now. She was so exposed. So vulnerable. That thought brought with it a little spike of adrenaline. A certain unfamiliar thrill.

And yet, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t unwelcome. Far from it. She sensed that here, with Emma, she didn’t need to guard herself. Didn’t need to project an image. She could simply be.

Vivienne felt free.

“How about your shoes?” Emma suggested next, bending at the waist. “Let me take care of those for you.”

In the mirror, Vivienne saw the bimbo lifting her feet and slipping her soles out of her shoes.

“Flats, huh?” Emma giggled. “I mean, they’re nice! Stylish. Sensible, huh? Just like you. That’s what I always think when I see a girl wearing flats. That she’s so, like, serious.” Another giggle. “Makes me wonder what she’s like when the flats come off, and she puts on something a little flashier instead.”

As she finished removing Vivienne’s shoes, Vivienne found herself giggling absently too. Every time Emma took something off, she felt lighter, and that lightness was only growing, filling her, leaving her euphoric.

She was starting to understand how Emma could be so happy and giggly all the time. In a way, it was only natural.

“Oh! And let’s take care of that jewelry too,” Emma exclaimed, standing up. She reached for Vivienne’s pearl earrings, and then her necklace - silver, worked into a fine pattern. “Oo, fancy! Your accessories are all so, like, dignified. So proud. It’s seriously impressive! But, I dunno, I always get tired of being proud like that.” She giggled. “It’s way more fun to just be like me, y’know?”

Vivienne found herself giggling and nodding in vacant agreement.

Being proud was so tiring. But she didn’t need to be proud. Not right now. Not with Emma. She was private, comfortable, safe. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see someone proud or dignified or serious. She simply saw herself, free of expectations.

“Last thing!” Emma announced. “We got you some, like, new lingerie. So let me just take the rest of this off.”

She started unhooking Vivienne’s bra, then, after slipping it off her shoulders, turned her attention to the CEO’s underwear. Vivienne had been wearing a matching set, neither flashy nor frumpy, simply classy and comfortable.

“See, this is what, like, really gets me about all that stuff we were talking about a moment ago,” Emma mused out loud. “If your clothes are your, um, identity, or whatever, then what even happens when you take everything off?” Emma giggled. “You’d be like, nothing. Right? Like a - what do you call it? - a total blank slate!” She seemed pleased with herself for remembering the phrase. “Like there wouldn’t even be a single thought going on in your head.”

Her words sank deep into Vivienne’s mind and echoed within. When, with Emma guiding her, Vivienne stepped out of her underwear, she was left completely naked. Lightness washed through her, and with it a kind of stillness. She was staring at the mirror, and her reflection seemed to echo nothing more than her own blank, tranquil state of mind. She felt nothing. She thought of nothing.

There wasn’t a single thought going on in her head.

“I think I did it! Yay!” Emma cheered quietly, after inspecting Vivienne for a moment. “OK! Now comes the really fun part.” A huge grin came to her face. “I get to dress you up again!”

She started reaching for Vivienne’s shopping bags, rummaging around for particular items. Vivienne remained perfectly still, watching impassively in the mirror. She was a blank slate. There was nothing for her to do but watch.

“Let’s see… Mel had something just adorable in mind…” Emma muttered to herself. “Here it is!” She plucked out a lingerie set and rushed back over to Vivienne, an eager glint in her eye. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait!”

In a flurry of activity, she dressed Vivienne up in the lingerie. Vivienne was nothing more than a passive mannequin, assisting with the process only as Emma guided her. But she was still obediently watching her own reflection, and the sight of herself wearing those new garments immediately left a deep impression on Vivienne’s hypnotized mind.

They were like nothing she’d ever worn before. The bra was perfectly fitted but tight, clearly designed to push up on her breasts and give her a deep, plunging, visible cleavage. It was unmistakably both slutty and frivolous; pink, and embroidered in lace with little flowers and flowing patterns. Even worse was the thong. A matching pink, it was wickedly thin and hid almost nothing, and was clearly shaped to accentuate the lines and curves of the wearer’s hips and ass.

Once, underwear like that would have offended Vivienne’s pride - but now, her pride was gone. Her mind was primed to accept what Emma gave her, and feel good about it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who was hot, slutty and shameless.

And she liked it.

“It’s perfect,” Emma purred, admiring her handiwork. “OK. This next!”

The next item was a white blouse. At first glance, it was innocuous, albeit far, far more frilly than anything Vivienne might have usually worn. But once Emma slipped Vivienne’s arms into its sleeves and started to button it up, her design became clear. The blouse was absurdly, obscenely tight. It clung to Vivienne’s figure and, moreover, it was so small around her chest, it couldn’t be buttoned up to cover her cleavage, or even to hide the lacy hem of the push-up bra beneath.

Only one word came to Vivienne’s entranced mind as she took in the look: pornographic.

And that was her, now. Pornographic. A dumb, gleeful, sultry smile came to Vivienne’s face. She looked good. She looked hot. What else was there to say? Clearly, she was meant to be looked at. Stared at. She was meant to enjoy her body, and let other people enjoy it. It was so simple.

“And… here.” Emma was already putting on the next item of clothing. “Careful,” she giggled. “It might be a little tight.”

It was a pencil skirt - ostensibly. In truth, the garment was so outrageously short, it barely deserved the name. The tiny tube of fabric clung tight to Vivienne’s hips as Emma pulled it up, and once it was in place, it covered almost nothing. Vivienne immediately knew that, with every single step she took, it would threaten to ride up and expose the equally slutty thong she was wearing.

And the skirt was, of course, bright pink.

A transcendent fondness for the color was quickly searing itself into Vivienne’s identity. That was what she saw when she looked in the changing room mirror: a girl who loved pink. The color made her feel bright. Bubbly. Giggly. Girly. Euphoric. It was just so right for her. It brought her such happiness. In that way, she was just like Emma.

Black? Gray? No way! Those were boring.

Beyond that, something else about Vivienne was now taking shape. She was an office girl - or at least, a kind of porno parody of one. That was what the blouse and pencil skirt suggested. It made her look like a stereotype of a slutty secretary. That was her role, she could only assume, or something similar. She wasn’t serious. She wasn’t professional. Yes, technically she was a CEO, but that no longer seemed like such a suitable role for a girl like her. Perhaps, instead, she could just be a pleasing little boardroom mascot.

Vivienne giggled at the notion. It felt good. It felt freeing. Nothing to worry about but looking hot. A girl like the one Vivienne saw in the mirror had no cares or stresses besides that.

The next item Emma presented Vivienne with only cemented her new identity. It was a pair of ridiculous, bubblegum pink, stiletto heels, the kind you could barely walk in, polished to an eye-catching sheen. There was no way a serious, proud, stern CEO would wear heels like these. No, Vivienne thought, as Emma helped her into them, one by one. That wasn’t her. Not anymore.

“C’mon!” Emma urged. “Try ‘em out!”

Naturally, Vivienne obliged, strutting back and forth in front of the mirror a few times. At first, she almost fell over with every step, but eventually she started to get the hang of it. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how, just to keep her balance, she needed to place her feet in a line and swing her hips back and forth. It was like she was begging people to stare at her ass.

Vivienne’s dumb grin widened. The sheer, shameless, slutty frivolity of that was a delight. It was so refreshing.

“You look totally hot!” Emma squealed. “I can’t wait for the final touch. Here it is!”

To Vivienne’s slight surprise, Emma produced a pair of large glasses with pink rims and pressed them to Vivienne’s face.

Vivienne’s first instinct was to express that she didn’t need glasses. Then, she realized that they were fake. Clear lenses. Just a fashion accessory. And once she looked in the mirror, it all became clear. The glasses fit with the rest of her outfit perfectly. It was just what she needed.

Because, paradoxically, the glasses made her look very, very, very dumb.

Vivienne giggled. Maybe she was. Being dumb didn’t sound so bad. After all, Emma was dumb, and she seemed all the happier for it.

Yes, Vivienne decided. She felt like being dumb. The hypnotized CEO decided to let go of all the big, complicated thoughts that were threatening to intrude on her newfound bliss. She didn’t want to think about those things. Being dumb like Emma seemed like much more fun.

She giggled again. She was dumb, and she loved it.

Looking at her, Emma sighed fondly. “You’re just perfect,” she cooed. The two of them giggled together. “OK! We totally need to go and show Mel your new look. Come on, Vivienne.”

Vivienne was ready to follow her but, after just a couple of steps, Emma stopped abruptly and turned back to the other bimbo.

“You know,” Emma said slowly. “That really doesn’t suit you anymore, huh? You don’t look like much of a Vivienne.”

Vivienne had to agree. Emma was in charge and, besides, Vivienne was now too dumb to think for herself. “I guess not!” she tittered.

“In that case,” Emma decided. “From now on, let’s just, like, call you Vivi!”

***

Hours later, Vivi finally arrived back at her family mansion. She’d spent a little more time out with Mel and Emma, but eventually, Mel had been pulled away by her corporate duties, and Vivi had similarly felt forced to head home so that she could get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, she’d need to work twice as hard to catch up on all the work she’d missed out on during their little impromptu shopping trip.

As she thought about that, Vivi’s carefree giggles died away and the euphoric grin she’d been wearing for hours fell from her face.

Now, more than ever, work sounded completely, infinitely exhausting. All of that stuff was just so boring. So joyless. It didn’t suit her. Not anymore. Did Vivi really have to go back to that life? More than ever, it was so desperately tempting to just let it all go. To dress the way she wanted, pink and slutty. To behave the way she wanted, dumb and silly and giggly. Maybe, if she just let go, she could be like that every day.

Just like Emma.

She couldn’t just walk away, of course. She had far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Something would have to be done about Valeyard Solutions, her company. Suddenly, Vivi’s mind went to Mel and her mothers, and their interest. Perhaps she could just sell to them and wash her hands of it all.

Perhaps she could be free.

For the briefest of instants, her mind was made up. But then, as she stepped across the threshold to the house she’d grown up in, Vivi’s mood turned. In those familiar surroundings, once faded, now reborn in grandeur, it all came flooding back. Her motivation. The reasons she had to fight so hard, day after day. It was all for this. To make good on her family name. To prove herself. To prove she could stand on top.

Vivi rubbed at her face. How could she ever have forgotten?

And why had she wasted a day hanging around with that whelp Melanie Adams? Mel wasn’t her friend. She was her enemy. Her rival - not that she deserved the title. Vivi had let hours go to waste shopping when she could have been advancing her plans to see Melanie Adams subjugated and hypnotized.

Hypnotized…

Then, at last, the penny dropped. Cheeks burning red, Vivi - no, not Vivi, Vivienne! - tore at her ridiculous clothes, trying to rid herself of the shame. She couldn’t believe it. She, Vivienne Gilbert, had been hypnotized - and they’d used her own pocket watch to control her, making her act like a dim-witted bimbo for their amusement.

They’d made her act like Emma. That, most of all, was what stained her cheeks with a churning mess of emotions.

Vivienne would never live it down. Being hypnotized like that was unthinkable for someone in her position. If anyone found out that it had happened - or, god forbid, about her weaknesses - Vivienne would be ruined. She was living out her greatest nightmare. And somehow, the very worst part was how genuinely good it had all felt. Try as she might, Vivienne couldn’t seem to banish that memory from her mind.

Instead, she settled for drowning it in fury as she vowed her revenge.

Melanie Adams would pay.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

[gosecretscribbles]

Stanuary 2025 Week 3: Supernatural

AO3 link

Stan flopped over the pawn shop counter. Pa had told them to watch the shop and do inventory. It had been three hours, six minutes, and a million seconds, and nothing interesting had happened except that Stan had gotten a stick of gum stuck up a fake deer head’s nostril. Now he stretched over the counter and wondered if he could literally die of boredom. “This stinks.”

“Agreed.” Ford, who had been told to price the new items, tossed a prosthetic finger in the discount bin. “Twenty-six items and not a single one is cursed.”

Stan rolled his head over to eye the bin. “What didja mark up that candied toad for?”

“You ate it, Stan. And it wasn’t candied, it was candy. Pure molasses.”

“Oh yeah.” Stan belched and buried his face in the counter again.

Ford dumped the last item in the bin and hopped up to sit on the counter. Then he hopped sideways and sat on Stan’s head. Stan grunted and tried to punch Ford in the stomach. He was pretty sure he connected, which he thought was impressive given how contorted his arm had to be – and then he felt something warm and wet on his arm. He shrieked and jerked free.

“You licked me!”

“Did not,” Ford wheezed, clutching his stomach.

“Liar! Traitor! This means war!”

Stan leaped. Ford dodged, Stan hooked his ankle, and the two of them went rolling on the cramped pawn shop floor. Stan had almost gotten Ford in an actual headlock (or was it a Heimlich? Eh, details). Then something crashed, hard.

They froze. For a second Stan thought they’d knocked something over. White-lightning fear spiked through his chest. He had a dozen thoughts in his head at once: I didn’t do it, it was an accident, we were robbed, there were aliens –

A shadow moved rapidly away from the front door.

“HEY!”

Stan and Ford shot across the shop and shoved the door open. It was harder than usual. There was a box and a bunch of weird colored things on the sidewalk blocking the doorway. Stan didn’t notice, barely even stopped, because the person who’d thrown the whatever-it-was was halfway down the street. Stan bolted.

The figure heard him coming and started flat-out sprinting. This turned out to be a bad idea. It was a woman, probably, but she was bundled up in long sleeves, a long skirt, scarves, gloves, and a hat even in the hot summer sunshine. The scarf came free and caught around her feet. She tried to hop-skip out of it, but Stan dove and tackled her around the knees. She went down hard. Stan nearly let go. Then she started clawing at him and he hung on.

“Get off, get off me, you little urchin –”

“You’re gonna – ow – pay for that – quit it –”

“You don’t understand! You have to take it, I only paid a penny for it, I can’t sell it for less than I paid –”

“I ain’t payin, nitwit! I said you’re the one who’s gonna – ow, ow-ow-ow-”

She’d grabbed his ear and yanked, hard, but their Ma yanked harder. He was still holding her knees. He went in the direction she’d tugged and rolled, forcing her to flip onto her stomach. Then he sprang forward and sat on her lower back. He stuck his finger in his mouth and was about to give her the sloppiest Wet Willy in the history of ever when suddenly Ford appeared next to them.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, oddly breathless.

The woman looked up. She’d been wearing sunglasses and they’d slipped sideways, hanging off her ear. She was wearing makeup thicker than Ma’s. It was starting to melt in the afternoon sun.

“New Orleans,” she panted. “Little shop. Don’t know the name. A trinket, I thought I was nothing, I didn’t know!”

“Know what?” Stan snapped.

“This!” Ford thrust the box at Stan.

He stared at it. “…A stained box?”

“Yeah! It’s – wait, what?” Ford pulled the box back, flipping it over, running his hands along all the surfaces. “No, it’s a puzzle, and it had our beach on it a second ago! Our beach, with the Stan O’ War and a pile of gold and everything!”

“The picture will come true,” the woman said hoarsely. “But beware, the price will not be –”

“– an issue because you said it’s free!” Stan rolled of her legs.

“Wait – I mean, take it, but heed my warn – oh, what the hell.” The woman got up and staggered off.

Ford’s eyes were shining and he was practically vibrating in place. “Stan, Stan, Stan!” Ford half-whispered eagerly. “It’s probably cursed, Stan! Like, a pirate curse! Because of the treasure!”

“So much treasure!” Stan cheered, grabbing the box. “C’mon, Sixer! Let’s close up the shop and put this baby together!”

They gathered all the pieces that had fallen around the door. Then they checked the gutter and surrounding sidewalk in case any of the pieces had fallen farther away. Pa still wasn’t home, so they locked up the shop, which meant closing it from the inside and sticking gum at the bottom of the door. The lock had broken ages ago, and hard gum was way stronger. (The hard part was unlocking it again.) They raced upstairs to their bedroom.

Ford shut the door and dumped the pieces on the floor. “We gotta do the edges first!”

“I know how to do a puzzle, Sixer!” Stan held up a piece. “Uh…shouldn’t it have colors on it? Pretty sure it had colors before.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “That’s the back, Stan, flip it over.”

Stan flipped it over. There was some color, but it was really faded and looked almost the same color as the cardboard. And stained with yellow liquid. Stan wrinkled his nose. “Ew, I think that’s pee! Do you think a dog peed on it? We should get Shanklin to pee on it and establish dominoes!”

“Dominance. And nobody’s peeing on it!”

“It’d be doubly-cursed, though!”

Ford paused, considering. “Okay, he can pee on it. But only when we’re done. I’m not touching Shanklin pee! Some curses are too powerful for man to comprehend.”

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, especially after he’s had burritos.”

So they found the edge pieces. Except that the pieces were all really small, not even an inch across, and weirdly shaped, and some were slanted so that they looked like edges but weren’t, and there were a million pieces and Stan got bored. He crawled into Fort Stan to read a Commander Steve comic and fell asleep.

Ma woke them up when she came home. She thought the gum idea was funny, and making Stan clean it up was funnier. Ford kept doing the puzzle until she literally dragged him away. She ordered them around the kitchen until Pa came home. They ate. Then Ford went upstairs and, surprise, kept doing the puzzle.

“Aren’tcha done?” Stan asked, pulling on his pajamas that night. (Well, technically it was a less-dirty regular shirt, but eh.)

Ford grunted.

Stan shuffled over. Ford wasn’t even halfway done, and the puzzle was enormous. The edges had been finished and the puzzle was big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably inside. There were piles of cardboard pieces all around Ford. It was hard to tell, but it looked like Ford had sorted them by color. Or maybe geometry. Hard to tell with a nerdbro. The picture in the middle wasn’t filled out at all, just a lot of really pale blue bits at the edges.

“Whatd’you think the curse does?” Stan asked sleepily.

Ford grunted again.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Fine, be a robot. As long as there’s actual gold involved, who cares? We can just hire a witch or something to battle a demon. We could place bets. And make even more gold!”

Another grunt.

Eh. Stan wobbled over to his bed and practically body-slammed his pillow. His brother pulled all-nighters all the time. It was fine. If the puzzle summoned a New Jersey devil or whatever, he’d just punch it and take their gold. Stan rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, Ford was still doing the puzzle. He’d filled in a couple of layers around the edge, but there were still just as many pieces sitting around Ford. Stan wasn’t sure that all those pieces would have actually fit in the box. Ford looked like his usual self: sallow-skinned, baggy-eyed, posture like an arthritic shrimp.

“You’re gonna be late for school,” Stan told him, rolling outta bed.

“Don’t care,” Ford muttered. “More important. Go away.”

“Uh-huh. Welp! If you wanna play hooky, I’m in! And you definitely look the part.”

Ford may or may not have made a scathing retort. Stan couldn’t tell, because he grabbed Ford’s entire head and threw him bodily to the carpet. It wasn’t far to go, and it definitely broke his concentration. He heard Ma give a shout from downstairs.

“STANLEY!” Ford shrieked, even louder. He sat up and glared. It would’ve been more impressive if his eyes weren’t so bloodshot. He tried to leap at Stan, but he’d been sitting all night and his legs were numb. He fell face-forward on the floor. Stan clapped both hands over his mouth to smother a laugh.

There was pounding on the stairs.

Stan grabbed Ford’s shirt and hauled him upright. “Okay, you already look dead on your feet, now do me! Punch me as hard as you can in the stomach.”

“Fine by me!”

Ford punched him. Stan’s shirt dented. Not good enough. So he turned and knocked all of Ford’s nighttime reading books onto the floor. Then Ford punched him.

When Ma entered the room, Stan was vomiting all over the books and Ford was crawling on the floor, shrieking incoherently and on the verge of actual tears.

“Sweet Moses! What are you boys –”

Stan grabbed his stomach and heaved again, this time in the direction of Ma’s shoes. She stepped back quickly. She nearly hit the puzzle and Ford threw himself bodily on top of it.

“Alright, alright, I give! You boys sick or just plain crazy?”

“I can’t go to school!” Ford wailed.

Ma’s face fell. Ford hated school. All Pines did. But Ford was the only one who liked going anyway, because he could sneak into the library or hunt ghosts in the janitor’s closet. (No ghosts, but plenty of skeletons. Literal skeletons. His side hustle was taxidermy.)

Ma picked Ford up by the scruff of his shirt. Stan laughed, which hurt his stomach and nearly made him gag again.

“Don’t even,” Ma threatened, stepping around him. She stuffed Ford into the top bunk, then bent down and rolled Stan into the bottom. “Stay. Put. And if either a’ you vomit on those sheets, you’re the ones cleanin’ ‘em! I’m getting the bad towels and the sick bowls.”

“Hate the sick bowls,” Stan muttered.

Ma smacked him upside the head. “Then don’t get sick, nitwit! If you’re still sick in an hour I’ll go flirt with the clerk down the street for expired Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Stan croaked. Man, Sixer hit hard when he wanted to. If only he’d do that in boxing practice, Pa would lay off.

He expected Ford to scramble down from their bed as soon as Ma left the room. Instead, Stan heard snoring. He smirked. Figures the nerd would crash as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staying home was cool, but staying in bed was not. Ma left them more or less alone except for meals, when she brought them bowls of watery chicken noodle soup. Stan tried to work on the puzzle while he waited for Ford to wake up. He quickly decided it was a lost cause. There was color on the pieces, definitely more than before, but it was still hard to see and there was so much blue that everything looked the same. The little piles Ford had made looked like they represented the sea, the sky, and the boat, but Stan didn’t see any pieces that looked like gold.

“You could at least be actually cursed,” Stan said, poking at a pile. “Then at least things would get interesting.”

He read more comics and made plans for the gold they would have when the puzzle was complete. He wasn’t totally sure there would be actual gold anymore, but they could still sell the puzzle to like…someone specializing in torture, or something. An art gallery? Those were basically torture that people paid to do.

Stan fell asleep that night. Ford didn’t wake up all day, but he was already awake the following morning. He was bent over the puzzle, fingers practically blurring as they filled in the pieces. Stan squinted.

“You look different,” Stan said slowly. “Did you cut your hair or something?”

“Yup,” Ford said flatly. “Shaved it. Totally bald. Sold it to a rat for sixty cents.”

“Ha, ha.” Stan rolled out of bed. “Think we could get away with two days sick in a row?”

“No. Go to school.”

That made Stan pause. “You’re not coming?”

“No. Go away.”

“Uh, hello, earth to Sixer? Are you sure you’re not actually sick?” Stan reached for Ford’s forehead to check his temperature.

Sixer smacked his hand away. It wasn’t his usual limp-nerd smack, either; it stung. Stan blinked. And Ford nearly fell over, so he really hadn’t meant to swing that hard. He looked just as surprised as Stan.

“I’m…almost done,” Ford said, by way of apology. “You go. I’ll finish by tonight. We’re going to have that gold, Stan, I’m sure of it.”

“Riiiiight,” Stan said slowly. He glanced at the puzzle. To be fair, he could sort of see the picture now. There was the boat on the right, the pier on the left, the dump next to the pier. The beach looked empty so far, though there was something odd about the foam from the waves. “Well, hurry up then. Ol’ Stan’s got yachts to buy! And toffee peanuts! Enough to fill up ten yachts. A hundred yachts!”

“Okay, okay,” Ford said. He was back to the puzzle, but he was doing that weird smirk-thing that meant the fight was over and he liked Stan again.

It was only as Stan headed downstairs that he realized what was odd: Ford had been wearing a scarf.

week 1

week 2

week 4

[immajustvibehere]

Spark (6/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 6 summary: While still recovering from your wound, you get wind of a trap being layed out for Arthur. You might be the only one who can protect him from something bad happening...

link to my masterlist

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

Warning: You have to live with my headcanon that Micah had something to do with Arthur getting kidnapped by the O'Driscolls.

3800 words, 18 minutes reading time

Your wound was healing agonisingly slow. Or at least, it seemed like that to you. Miss Grimshaw had sternly forbidden you to leave your bedroll for the first two days. Afterwards, she'd remain on high alert and snatch everything out of your hands that was even remotely heavy.

Grimshaw also urged you to take care of your wound, so it wouldn't get infected. She offered to have a look at it. Charles and Hosea also offered their expertise, showing that they meant well. Yet, you always refused. Though the sight wasn't a pretty one, you insisted on taking care of it yourself. Had Arthur offered...you might haven't refused. But only because he was the one who stitched you up in the first place. You knew he was capable and secretly, you longed for his gentle hands, but you’d never openly admit that.

The following week passed with a certain routine. You'd wake up early, often forced awake by the pain in your abdomen, and share a cigarette with Arthur. You never said much in the morning. The only thing he usually mentioned in a gruff and raspy morning voice what he'd do today and how the previous mission had gone. Then you'd do the chores that Grimshaw allowed you to do: cleaning weapons, washing the dishes and chopping vegetables. This aside, the days were marked by sitting by the fire and listening to whoever's story was being told at the moment.

Tonight, as it grew late and camp gradually emptied, with every person retiring to their designated bedroll one by one. Micah was the only one left. And while you had enough alcohol in your system to numb the occasional pain in your abdomen, Micah had decided to get absolute shit faced. If you understood correctly, it had something to do with losing some decent amount of money while gambling earlier. For the past half hour, your half-brother had been mumbling a bunch of nonsensical words, you had stopped bothering to listen. But suddenly, you perked up your ears.

"Ohh, I gotta tell you something", Micah rambled on, but he put such peculiar stress on the words, it made your stomach turn. "You know some people here...", he went on.

Micah paused and grumbled, opening his sixth bottle of beer. Honestly, not too much of an astonishing number, hadn't he already arrived drunk at camp a couple of hours earlier.

"Some people here ain't no good for the gang...just gonna make a lot of trouble down the line", he slurred.

Though your thoughts on "those people" had changed significantly in the last weeks, you knew better than to let Micah know that. So you answered with an air of nonchalance and a hint of mockery: "The women, you mean?"

"No, no", Micah chuckled darkly.

"The hophead of a priest?", you swallowed after delivering these words. Swanson was getting on your nerves daily, but he had proven to be a good listener.

"You ain't thinkin' big enough!", Micah gestured some huge motion with his hands, "Morgan's gone soft recently...Ain't no use for that. I'll just send him up the ridge and maybe they'll take care of it", he hiccupped. Your eyes searched the camp, you weren't sure why, but maybe you wanted to see if Arthur was still awake. At this very moment, you couldn't make any sense of Micah's words and when you looked at him again, his body was slumped over with soft snores escaping his open mouth.

The next day, lunch had barely passed when you heard the commotion, whose cause was a livid discussion between Dutch, Hosea, Pearson, Arthur and Micah. Something about Colm O'Driscoll and a parley. You hadn’t been properly introduced to the feud Dutch had with Colm, but you have had enough run-ins with his boys. After all, when you stole the bank stage with Micah and Arthur, they had almost managed to surprise you.

While you watched from a distance, the discussion seemed to have found an end. Dutch and Micah strolled off to their horses, followed by Arthur, who reluctantly trailed behind them. He wasn’t so happy about the conclusion of the conversation.

"Fuck", you mumbled. Is this what Micah had been talking about? You waited until the group had left, staring at the dust their horses had stirred up. You had to follow. This uneasy feeling in your stomach that Arthur was in danger wouldn't leave.

For a moment you took a deep breath and thought: "The heck? Why should I care?" Only to blink and admit to yourself, you cared a fucking lot. There was no way denying that. As Arthur stitched you up, his warm hands all over your body, that did something to you. You never thought anyone would ever treat you this kindly. And even though the circumstances had been...peculiar...you didn't care. If there was even the slightest chance....of chasing this feeling could pay off...

You strode towards your horse, aware that neither you, nor your horse, were carried any weapons. Grimshaw still had a stern look at you and when you tried to carry your guns yesterday, it was frowned upon with some demeaning remarks. You were still grounded to camp chores and resting your wound, though you were pretty sure it had beautifully healed the last couple of days. It didn't matter now. You sneaked to your horse and seized the opportunity to ride off before anyone could tell you not to.  

-

Arthur was lying in the grass, the scope of his gun pressed to his eye. He didn't exactly know what the hell he was doing here. It hadn't sound like a good idea before, and it didn't feel right even now, though he had a good view of the surroundings and saw that the coast was clear. A sigh escaped Arthur’s lips when he suddenly heard grass behind him rustling. He was in the motion of turning around when the sound of a muffled groan came almost simultaneous to something warm splashing onto his exposed arm.

When Arthur looked up, he saw you slitting the throat of an O'Driscoll that had sneaked up right behind him. There was still some life in him when you whirled him around to bury your knife in his stomach. Once, twice,...

"God damn fucker!", you hissed, your knife about to stab him for a third time, when Arthur tackled you from behind and pulled you on the ground.

"Jesus, woman! What the hell are you doing here?", Arthur hissed.

"Saving your ass, you ungrateful bastard!", you yelled back. The adrenaline was rushing through your body and you feared your heart would jump out of your chest any second now. Your horse was at some distance, so nobody would hear you ride up and you had sprinted the last yards.

Arthur had to give you credit for staying almost clean after pretty much gutting the fellow, most of the blood had landed on him, anyways. When you opened your mouth again and sat up, angrily wrangling yourself out of Arthur's grip, you spoke more quietly, and yet not quietly enough for a mission where the job was to stay hidden: "This fucker was about to knock you out, Arthur! If I hadn't been-"

Before you could finish the sentence, Arthur's hand was slapped onto your mouth and he grabbed your collar, to pull you into a lower position again.

"Shhh! I hear you. Stay low, damnit", Arthur's eyes bore holes into you as he tried to get his point across. For some moments, neither of you said anything. Your heavy breathing, which you had trouble calming down, was the loudest noise. With his big hand pressed on your mouth, you feared you might suffocate if you didn't calm down. This man's blue eyes that looked you up and down did nothing to relax the situation, quite the opposite actually. The thought alone that they would be closed by now if you hadn't stepped in made you sob, muffled by Arthur's hand that was still covering your mouth.

It wasn't only that. Your suspicion had turned out to be true. Micah knew. He fucking knew. This whole thing was designed to get rid of Arthur, and aside from Micah himself, only you were in on that. Arthur too, was wrecking his brain right now. He quickly checked on Dutch and Colm before he lifted his hand off your mouth only to put his index finger onto his lips, indicating you to be quiet.

"We gotta get out of here. They know you're up here", you whispered. Your voice was shaky, which you found deeply embarrassing. But you were upset.

"M'kay darlin'. Come on", Arthur announced, gripping his rifle and crawling away from the edge before he stood up to go to his horse. You followed, flabbergasted. Darling? Where the fuck did that come from? He hadn't even given you time to react. You just hurried after him, catching up when he was mounting his horse.

"We gotta lay low for a while. I'm not supposed to be here and I dare say you aren't expected back either", you said as you pulled yourself onto your horse.

"I gotta tell Dutch that this was a set-up. I knew it was a bad idea to begin with", Arthur answered.

"No. Please", you almost whined. Arthur looked at you with knitted eyebrows. He did not understand why telling Dutch was bad idea, but he hadn't expected that tone from you either, so he decided to give in.

"Okay. I know a nice spot..."

You rode off, leaving the Heartlands behind. The next best creek you passed, you used to get some blood off of you. Despite stabbing the O'Driscoll from behind, you still had managed to get your arms dirty. Arthur watched you in silence. The last couple of questions he had asked had fallen on deaf ears, so he had given up poking for answers right now.

Later, you entered a wooded area. The sky had taken a mesmerizing shade of purple and the presence of some darker clouds in the South suggested that the drizzle that had just started was about to transform into a solid rain shower. It already smelled like damp earth. Guiding your horses with ease, you navigated through the light-filled gaps between the trees. They did a decent job of shielding you from the rain, except for the occasional drop that would land on your arm.

"I camped here a while ago", Arthur explained as he jumped off his horse when you reached a nice place, "'s a good spot."

"Yeah. I'll get a fire started", you said briefly, hitching your horse and walking off to quickly grab some dry twigs. Arthur was left behind at the spot he had picked and kept wondering at your behaviour. He noticed that you didn't have anything on your horse, no spare clothes, or a tent...So, instead of putting up his tent the normal way, he used every inch of the material, not fixing the corners in the dirt, but spanning it in between some trees.

You returned with wood and build a fire. Nothing was said until Arthur had warmed some beans and passed you the can before he had tried some. His eyes were begging for some explanations, but you sighed: "Please. Don't ask."

"I'm not", Arthur put his hands up in defence and though he remained silent, you felt his gaze on you. Trying your very best to ignore it, you gulped down the beans.

"Y/N...", Arthur started.

"Mh?", you replied, mouth full, starring into the flames. The fire had become strong enough to withstand the occasional raindrop, but the air around you had cooled significantly.

"Is your wound okay?", Arthur asked, "You have some blood on your shirt..."

You checked the brownish stain on your shirt, it was indeed at the same height as your wound should be. The wound which should have healed by now.

"Did ya take the stitches out already?", Arthur inquired when he saw your sceptical look.

"Planned on doing it today, but some things came up", you shot back.

"Want me to have a look at it?", Arthur now offered, already changing his sitting position to better accommodate you.

When Arthur caught the slight questioning gleam in your eyes, he smiled softly. You weren't someone to trust easily – he knew, because he's like that too. Yet, despite the wall you both harboured, Arthur couldn’t help but worry. He wasn't sure if you felt the same, but the events of the afternoon had surely left an impression on him. The fact that you had rushed to his side and stabbed a man a few seconds before his light would have gone out...You had been so calm the last two weeks, but today you were visibly shaken. Arthur wasn't sure if there was some deeper meaning behind this or if he let hope dictate his thoughts.

"I ain't gonna hurt you", Arthur said gently, when you didn't answer.

"I know", you shrugged, setting down the can of beans, "I just think that your reasons for getting me to take of my clothes are somewhat unimaginative." You gave a cocky smile when Arthur released a shaky breath. He mumbled a 'You're insane woman’ as you slipped one arm through your sleeve and therefor exposed your bare side.

In a moment, Arthur's hand was on you again. You flinched a bit as his thumb grazed the flesh near the wound.

"Looks good. Just a slight tear, should be all healed up again by tomorrow", Arthur assessed.

"Good", you replied briefly, getting into your shirt again quickly enough to not let Arthur notice the gooseflesh that had formed at his touch. He still saw the blush on your cheeks though.

In a tender moment, your eyes locked in a silent connection, and in that instant, you discovered that his hand hadn't budged. It remained steadfast, gently resting beneath the fabric of your shirt. It was as if an unspoken agreement held you both captive, unwilling to release the intensity of your gaze, except for Arthur's occasional stolen glances towards your lips.

The feeling of wanting nothing more than to protect you overwhelmed Arthur. He wanted to claim you as his, but not in a selfish, unreflective manner. More as a testament that he still could feel so strongly for someone. Arthur wanted to ensure that love was still possible for him. So he leaned in and in a moment, his lips met yours. The touch was so soft and loving that neither Arthur nor you would have expected that your body jerked away. The same moment, your hand met Arthur's cheek, slapping him. It wasn't meant to hurt, it was more your natural answer to this sudden invasion.

"What the hell?", you mouthed breathlessly.

Arthur's head remained frozen in the position your slap had left it in. His lips had curled into a sad smile, his eyes now avoiding yours. The slap had inflicted a sting, but it was a peculiar sensation, not one he was used to from other brawls and beatings.

"Sorry", Arthur mumbled in a soft whisper. The sad smile didn't leave his face, as if something else would surface if he dared to change his expression. "Might have gotten somethings wrong...", he added. Still looking down, he adjusted his hat, so it threw a darker shadow over his eyes.

You found yourself stumbling over your words, caught between the urge to apologize and swear at him at the same time. But your incapability to express your emotions frustrated you deeply. You managed a loud enough "excuse me" for him to hear before you stood up and walked off. Not too far, just a few feet into the shelter of forest where you thought the light of the fire couldn't reach. Arthur watched you walk off. He figured you thought yourself shielded from his gaze, but he saw as you leaned against a tree, lightly bumping your head into the wet bark.

Arthur couldn't bear watching you for long, so he took his journal out and quickly started to write. It was a momentary update of his state of mind and purposefully, he left some space before he started to sketch the outlines of the dark forest and the campfire in front of him, knowing that you would dictate how this evening turned out for both of you.

However, it wasn't long until he heard your boots rustling through the twigs and leaves. Arthur looked up and his eyes followed you, until you were seated right next to him. The closeness surprised him, but he took it as a promising sign. It was a flicker of hope that soothed the anxiety that he had felt at the thought of having offended you seriously. You had your words prepared, but Arthur was faster: "'M sorry, y/n. I should've asked."

Your eyebrows knit together in a sceptical look. You thought about snorting and and mocking him by saying 'Micah's right when he told me you had gone soft' but deep down you knew that this was just further proof that Arthur was more than what meets the eye.

After you had cleared your throat, you said: "It's okay. I didn't mean to slap you, I was just...surprised."

"Remind me to never surprise you again", Arthur joked, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. With light-hearted spirit, he continued the drawing in his journal. You caught a glimpse, but quickly averted your gaze and instead stared into the fire. You sat right next to Arthur, your arms occasionally brushed against each other, yet he didn't bother closing his journal - seemingly unaffected by your presence.

You couldn't help yourself. It was too impressive to see the drawing come together. When he sketched the shadows of the trees, you could make out the raindrops, though he hadn't specifically drawn them. Your eyes became fixated on the tip of his pencil, captivated by its movements, unwilling to tear your gaze away. But it didn't feel right, not after the last time.

Arthur noticed you were restless, so he said in an affirming voice: "I don't mind you watching, ya know?"

"All of a sudden?"

Arthur shrugged and continued to draw: "Not like you learned to read the last couple days, did ya?"

"Maybe I did. Didn't have much to do recently", you teased.

"Sure", Arthur replied, knowing you were bluffing, "So? Read it out then!"

You helplessly stared at the letters he had written, with not one clue in the world what was spelled out there. You tried to come up with something that could have been written there, but you weren't quick enough. Arthur interrupted your thinking process: "Knew it."

You sighed in defeat but lightened up when Arthur chuckled at your frustrated response. Both of you listened to the crackle of the fire. In a silent agreement, every passing moment saw you inching closer, gradually, you leaned against him. Astonishingly, Arthur showed no signs of discomfort, allowing the newfound proximity to exist, as if it were the most natural and cherished space between you.

"I like your drawings, you know", you whispered.

"They ain't special", Arthur replied. He was done with his little painting of the scenery and skipped back two pages to reveal a sketch of a squirrel.

"How can you even draw that thing with those little fuckers moving around all the time? Was it dead when you drew it?", you asked in awe at the level of detail.

"No", Arthur replied, "I jus' remember how it looks like."

Amidst the crackling of the fire, you uttered words that were almost indistinguishable, your voice muffled by your mouth pressed against Arthur's arm. Perceiving your intent, he instinctively adjusted his arm, skilfully manoeuvring it around you. Both of you were now enveloped in a half-embrace and you let it happen willingly. This was exactly what you had been craving the last couple of days. It was unusual, and yet so welcoming and soothing.

You sat like that for a while before Arthur stated his intent of laying down. You replied you'd still sit and tend the fire for a while.

Arthur lied down on his bedroll, staring at the canvas that obstructed his vision of the night sky...which probably was cloudy anyways. Aside from the usual forest noises, it was silent. About fifteen minutes had passed, but Arthur was still far from falling asleep.

"It just has never worked out for me...every time I tried the whole trusting thing...it ended badly", you explained. Your voice ended the silence and caught Arthur's attention. He sat up again.

"'m sorry to hear that", Arthur answered, "But yer still young. There are plenty people out there. I'm sure you'll find someone. If ya weren't so bad behaved-"

"Hey!", you turned towards him, to see a sarcastic smile back at you. You wondered why he’d just said that, when he kissed you earlier. When he clearly wanted you.

Arthur continued in a teasing manner: "I thought you were a nasty companion at first too, but you’re alright if ya calm down a bit and let yer guard down."

"Could say the same about you", you drew circles in the dirt.

After a while, in which you felt Arthurs eyes on you, he said: "You should try 'n rest. There's nobody around."

"Maybe a bear passes by and attacks us."

"Sure", Arthur readjusted his bedroll, "You ain't much to chew on, so ya gonna have plenty of time for running as long as it's busy with me."

Arthur had adjusted his bedroll vertically, so you could at least put your upper body on something softer.

"I bet ya taste like shit. It won't bother with you for long", you grinned at the teasing, surprised to see that Arthur had arranged a sleeping setup that would benefit you both.

"No doubt", Arthur chuckled.

You looked at the bedroll.

"If ya don't mind sharing with an old man that tastes like shit, it might be more comfortable for you like that", Arthur offered and lied down, his head now resting on one part of the soft material, while still leaving enough space between you. You joined him in the grass, turning your back towards him and fixating on random trees in the darkness. It was difficult to get those words out, but you had promised yourself to at least try expressing some of your emotions.

“I…I don’t really care if there’s plenty people out there. I think, I already found the one I’d like to trust...” You might have rushed the delivery of those words, but Arthur had understood them very well. There was a boyish smirk on his lips when he answered.

“I don’t mean to offend, miss, but you picked a real weird fella.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter HERE

@xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @j4llyf7sh @urfavjanalein

[instexcamera]

i need someone who will ramble abt leo to me..!!! PEOPLE DON'T TALK ABT DOM LEO ENOUGH.. ok yes he's a silly little switch but please 😓 i want to be dominated by that man so much i can't anymore actually....... he's just a silly little guy!!!!!!!!!!!!! (you can definitely not feel his erection poking against you while you cuddle)

i def think leo would enjoy being called 'ou-sama' while being intimate. enjoying seeing you beg for him whilst you moan it out every minute or so!

ALSO!!! this dude definitely cums alot when he has an orgasm. he pushes himself deeper into you whenever he feels that he's getting close. he isn't even pulling out yet and it's already leaking down your thighs! 1!1!1?1?1?

leoooo hehehshshsh i love him so much🥲. he definitely likes to grope you whenever your cuddling, toying with your nipples now and there, it's sooo cute

he's also someone who gets all lovey dovey after sex (ESPECIALLY after hard/hate sex.) he definitely loooves seeing you in his shirts once you two wake up after a long night of intimacy.

enjoys giving and receiving oral!! i can't imagine how good leo would b at eating someone out... his tongue going deep into you, and his mouth sucking on all the right places TT... (actually, screw that, all the knights members are probably good at oral, ritsu and leo stick out the most to me when it comes to it tho. the two models are still pretty good though <3)

making you ride him one day was always on his bucket list ;3.. he's already guiding you onto his lap, grabbing your hips whilst you grind against him, you were so sure you were already drooling from the corner of your mouth at that point from how full you feel, while leo just chuckles and casually licks it all up. he's already eaten you out before, its not gonna be that bad if he tastes your saliva, right?.. you two makeout almost every chance you get, anyway.

enjoy the leo ramble.. the world needs more dom! leo truthers honestly 🥹

Oo another Leo

Yea I see a bunch of sub Leo usually and there needs to be more of him as a dom. Dom Leo would probably be one of the nice doms except their so rough and have a bunch of stamina but they're so sweet

And yea, cuddle sex with Leo. It would start out all nice, him just spooning you and then suddenly he's hard. I don't think he'd say anything either waiting till it goes away or you make a move such as grinding back on him. If you do then he'd start out all teasing, nibbling and kissing on your neck before sliding his hands down your pants and slowly lowering them just enough so he can push his cock in

I haven't heard a lot about his cum but yk, I like what you're saying. Also also, hear me out. Leo with a breeding kink, he already tries to release as deep as he can inside of you, and so much comes out it leaks down your thighs. Why not add a breeding kink into it? Leo trying to put as much as he can into you, until a little bulge appears on your stomach because he's released so much into you

It'd be funny to have Leo be so rough on you for hours, calling you mean names and over stimulating you so much and when he's finally done to be all sweet and lovely dovey. Such as running and taking a bath with you, cuddling, getting you food as if he didn't just completely turn you into a mess

I can see Leo being super good at oral. He would definitely be good with his mouth along with Ritsu, I agree with what you said

Along with riding Leo what about him having you do it while he's tryna compose a song. He claims it "encourages and inspires him" but all it really is is a distraction and an excuse to get you all needy and whiney on top of him. Don't think he won't be composing though, he would, just writing it on your body while you drool all over him

[youredreamingofroo]

Goodbye? I don't think so. I hope not. A very, very long rant about storage (🙄), simblr and whatever the fuck else I go on about for a few paragraphs. Skip to the end at the gold text for a more.... "definitive" answer. Especially if you want to skip the nitty gritty and sappy wappy.

i dont know what to do anymore, I freed up 18 GBs of space it all managed to go down the drain in literally an hour, Im moving my blender things to my external HDD, because that alone is 20 GBs (because of Scene sizes), I just hate to free up the space because I dont want it to go right back down. This all sucks cuz I really really enjoy being on Simblr, but sims 4 just continues to be a nuisance, whether its actual problems or its storage problems, it just always finds a way, every year, to get me to suddenly decide that im retiring until my next bout of Sims 4 hyperfixation. I love all of you guys and I love seeing how you all enjoy my work, and what I do, and I love seeing your stuff, you all make such amazing creations, granted if I stopped playing TS4, it wouldnt mean I have to stop interacting on simblr, it just wouldnt be the same. A pattern I notice anytime I start a social media platform, is that something always finds its way into completely demotivating me from posting, whether it's just literal lack of motivation, depression, realizing a project is too vast for me, storage problems, it's always something and it's always when I finally get comfortable or happy on a platform, especially after making friends, not that im saying my friends are one of the reasons I leave, thats far from it. I REALLY dont wanna take a break from Sims 4, I really really genuinely wanna start posting my story (W.A.S), but I'm not like a Sims 4 youtuber, I can't remain dedicated to one game, I play other games, I wanna play the Witcher games (or at least try to play them, I kinda suck rn), I wanna finish Detroit become human, I want to 100% Beyond two souls (and DBH), I wanna finish Disco elysium (started and never fucking finished 💀), I want to play Baldur's Gate 3, I mean, I purchased it at full price and I can't even play the game??... 😮‍💨 You get the point. At this point I wouldn't consider this a "goodbye," note, not... necessarily? I just get so frustrated having no storage, not to mention the fact that I need storage to literally do the stuff I do, like make edits, make poses, make renders, so the fact that I can't even do that, is just like... what's the point of even having Sims 4 anymore at that point? But I don't wanna leave simblr, I don't want to stop creating. It's funny, as I write this, I continue to give myself more and more of a reason to leave, the only real thing that's stopping me is just the fact that there's so many nice people here, I know that if I stopped playing the sims 4, I'd probably move onto another game (BG3................,,,,,..) and leave tumblr, or, at least leave Simblr. Which as I (think) said before, that's sad, I'd be sad, I'd miss people like Lori (groovetrys) and Lauren (miralure), June (circusjuney), Jade (gamyrmaiden), Anna (holocene-sims), butter (buttertrait), Fae (acuar-io), Verco (vercosims) and god, so many others, and sorry to break the atmosphere suddenly, but as I'm writing this, I'm listening to "In another life," from Everything everywhere all at once and it's making this very emotional for me, so if it gets sappy I apologize.

And I guess to be... insanely honest, as much as I want to release my story (trust me, I REALLY want to), I'm slowly beginning to realize more and more how not-easy it's gonna be to make scenes, writing it is fine for me, its just setting up the scenes feels like i'm forbidden to a life of staring at a bunch of words (pose names) trying to figure out what's what, where is what, what to do, where is where, who is who, who is what, how is what, how and why, need I continue. Storytelling is so insanely important to me, I believe that despite how little I read and despite how terrible of a student I have been, and despite how poor my literature skills are, that storytelling is still so important, fuck it, poetry has been such an inspiration for me, but I don't fucking know how to write poetry?? I can barely understand poetry at times, but it's still all so beautiful to me, the concept and the fact that people use metaphors so meticulously to create an allegory for something beautiful, or traumatic or sad, like in not so berry, the concept of an ocean being alexanders "love," and cataleya drowning in it, and her realizing she's drowning in his "love," but when she wants to leave, she really wonders if she actually wants to leave, to conceptualize and create this awful relationship in the means of an ocean is so... well, not beautiful in a reality sense, but in a technical/literary sense, it's beautiful, it's expression, and THATS what im passionate about. Remember what I said about getting sappy? Yea, sorry about that. After a while, I wonder what good repeating myself does, I've said about 5 or 6 times that I don't want to leave, yet here I am, with the mouse over the uninstall button like an idiot about to press the big "DON'T TOUCH" button, perhaps it's the idea that after repeating myself over and over again, that maybe I'll make up my mind, do I do a coin flip? I never listen anyways, I always continue to flip until it lands on what I like. So... why am I still writing? To be honest, I should've stopped by now, but you can only stop a dam so much before it all comes out. I do this with my friends, when I'm sad, I pour my heart out until it's a repetitive and overcooked version of "I'm sad." I write paragraph after paragraph and I literally could've just said "I don't have storage. Considering leaving simblr," and the same message would've gotten across, and I apologize, if you're still reading this, for making such a lengthy post, but I couldn't quite help spilling a bit of water everywhere, although I guess now my little puddle of water has become a flood. I use metaphors a lot, I apologize... again.

So what does all this bullshit that I typed out mean?

I don't know. I wonder the same myself, I'm fighting a battle more fierce than the one I had with my period last week, "Do I uninstall Sims 4 so I can have more freedom, and enjoy more content? or do I continue this rigorous battle of needing storage for the sake of a tumblr page, my enjoyment for writing and other shit I do in the sims 4?" I cannot say I will take a hiatus, because I will procrastinate, and I will forget completely about posting, and tumblr in general. I do still, at the very least, want to release my Official Teaser for my story, whether it be my last post or not, and at the very least, I want to introduce you to the characters, whether it be my last post(s) or not. Not to mention the fact that I want to continue sharing about Roo even if it's not about sims 4 anymore, I mean hell, I haven't even finished off the Leo and Roo part of his timeline.

For an INCREDIBLY watered down answer on whether or not this is goodbye, I say to you, not in this moment, not definitive enough for you yeah? Well, that's the thing, I don't have a definitive answer, you could fucking tear apart this entire college essay mat-pat style, and still not have a definitive fucking answer, and that's because I don't, sorry to all the people who don't want to listen to me rant or who want a clear answer, but I just don't have one. I've been known to make impulsive and on the whim (when I'm really emotional) decisions, and this is a situation where I don't want to do that, because I care about what I have here with ya'll.

If this ends up being one of my last posts, I bid you all adieu, I love you all, and I thank you so so so much for the laughs, and for the mutual connection we may or may not have had, I do not know if I'll make any actual posts for the next few days as I consider my decision, I will float around of course and continue reblogging this and that, and commenting and liking, etc etc. There's also a chance I may wake up tomorrow and look at this and think I was just being overly emotional about this stuff, and that now I look like an idiot, which is the case 9 times out of 10.

[broke-art]

Hi I’m gonna make a request if that’s ok with you because I need comfort right now because I’m like still healing from a break up a long time ago but I’m still healing and seeing my ex boyfriend being all Lovey dove to one of my friends hurts me so much even if my friend is lesbian and has a girlfriend but my boyfriend still tries to have her I mean like my ex didn’t give me a lot of love and all and didn’t respect my privacy i still loved him and it hurts so much

Here’s the request macaque wukong x fem chubby neko ragdoll reader (can they be together pls??)

Like can you do what I told you of my situation plus I’m still in high school and my ex is in my school and classroom

I am so sorry you were put through that. I hope this fic gives some comfort.

Sun Wukong grinned as he held up the bouquet to show the other monkeys surrounding him.

"You think she'll like it?"

They chittered and chirped enthusiastically and his grin grew a bit more.

"Perfect! I'm gonna give them to her now!" He cheered starting on his way. Mentally he rehearsed the concept of asking her to be his significant other. She had been down lately about something she refused to speak about, he knew she'd broken up about 3 months prior.

Monkey king had never met the guy, but he seemed to have done his damage. She had ran to his hut and cried to him for hours. Wukong has to ease his breathing to keep from crushing the flowers. He had considered handling the situation for Y/n but it would likely have only compounded her pain. And he would rather die than hurt her more.

He sucked in a deep breath as he came to the beach of the island only to see Y/n looking at her phone.

One hand covered her mouth and Wukong's ear perked to hear her take a sharp intake of air before tears bubbled in her eyes.

Tilting his head, Wukong his the bouquet behind him as he walked forward.

She didn't seem to notice him her eyes glued to the phone screen. Her lovely ears had wilted downward and her tail lay motionless on the sand.

"Peaches?" He questioned from just behind her.

Y/n gave a start and shut the phone off quickly turning to face him.

"Monkey king." She gasped quickly brushing her palm over her chubby cheeks to banish the tears. "I-I- didn't hear you coming." She excused putting up a fake smile.

Monkey king rose an eyebrow at her allowing his eyes to flick to her ears which remained drooped sadly.

"Peaches-" He frowned. "Tell me what's the matter."

Y/n's smile dropped. Slowly she unlocked her phone and offered it to him.

"He's flirting with my best friend." She murmured.

The texts before him urged Monkey king to growl slightly. But he sucked in a breath to calm himself before turning his gaze on Y/n.

He took the bouquet out of his hand with his tail then got to a stand shutting off Y/n's phone.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Y/n asked her ears perked up.

Wukong offered his hand tucking the phone into his pocket.

"Taking your mind off it. Come with me."

Y/n rose a brow but he only offered her a smile.

"Trust me, Peaches."

Y/n grew a slow smile and took his hand giving a little yelp as he tugged her against his chest, then curled his tail around her waist offering her the bouquet.

Y/n gasped and accepted the flowers.

"Oh my gosh they're lovely!"

Sun smirked and summoned his cloud beneath them then pitched his weight forward shooting the couple forward.

Y/n flinched a bit then hugged closer to him as he flew her to the top of flower fruit mountain.

Gently, Wukong guided you down from the cloud and walked towards a small stereo. You blinked before glancing around and noticing a bunch of monkeys watching from hidden crevices and trees. They all looked at you in what you supposed was anticipation. Though you couldn't imagine why.

Suddenly a soft melody drifted from behind you and you glanced over your shoulder as Wukong got to a stand and offered his hand with a cocky smirk.

"May I have this dance?" He teased earning him a giggle as you accepted his hand.

"You dance?!"

Wukong shrugged as he tugged you into position one hand holding yours and the other on your waist.

"Eh, I know a few. And you said you enjoyed it so."

You smiled as Wukong led you in a slow dance and twirled you before tugging you breathtakingly close.

After a bit he grinned.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded but then noticed the monkeys watching again.

"What are they staring at though?"

"They're hoping you'll say yes." Monkey king informed you simply.

"Say yes to what?" You responded look at him again.

"To being my girlfriend." Wukong answered offering you your phone.

Tears swarmed your vision as you nodded.

It's a little cliche and silly but I hope it helps!

[legacyshenanigans]

Alright, long-winded and random, but do you guys wanna know about the wild dream I had? And I have dreams like this regularly, I don't know what that says about me, but yeah 🤣 here we go..

The dream was in segments for some reason, where I like fell into different areas randomly.

Segment 1:

I was in an office building, there was just a bunch of people in suits working on computers, but the office building was like a HUGE log cabin in the middle of a city, and I remember thinking IN my dream "this is so out of place" 🤣

Anyway, some woman wanders over to me with a giant bag filled with cutlery and she says "You have to go and set the table for lunch time" and I said in my dream "I dont work here" and she was like "It doesn't matter, just go and do it" so I took the bag and went into this room where there was the BIGGEST table I've ever seen, and I only had 10 minutes to set up all the cutlery on this table ready for the lunch hour, and for some reason one of my cousins who havnt seen for like 15 years showed up and started talking to me and I was like "Listen, I need to get this done stop talking to me" and he KEPT talking to me and in the end I lost my rag and I was like "If you're gonna stand there distracting me, atleast fucking help me!!" And then I fell through the floor into segment 2 of the dream.

Segment 2:

I was at a big house, and there was a pond in the back garden. One of my uncles wife's dad's was there (no idea why ive met him twice lmao) and he was telling me that there was way too many frogs in this pond and that it was really bothering him, because they're so loud and they're always splashing around in the water. He also told me there was a particular frog that looked really weird and it was like the leader of all the other frogs, and he told me to try and get rid of some of them, and gave me a net and a huge bag to put all the frogs in. Anyway, so there I am, scooping frogs and putting them in this bag, but they're all jumping out all over the fuckin place and it's total chaos. And then I see this "Leader" frog. It's bigger than the others, so I thought if I could get the leader in the bag and make it STAY in the bag, the others would follow, so I'm wading in the pond trying to catch this big frog, and I finally catch it and it starts fuckin snarling at me and trying to bite me, and I'm screaming for help, thrashing around, fighting this frog in this random ass pond, and then I suddenly went underwater, then popped up in segment 3 of the dream.

Segment 3:

I was sat on a sofa in a living room, and there was a little ginger dog next to me, staring at me. And then one of my uncles walked into the room and was like "are you ready to go?" And I was like "where?" And he said "We'll take the dogs for a walk" and I said "Dogs plural?" Because far as I knew there was only the one dog, the little ginger one that was next to me, and I looked back at the dog and there was now 4 of them all sat there looking at me. So we take them for a walk, and we're walking along the beach in the next town over to where I live now, and my uncle says "Had any weird dreams lately?" And I said "Yeah I'm having one right now, actually" and laughed, and my uncle looks at me confused and says "What do you mean?" And then I get confused and say "Well this is a dream, isn't it? I'm dreaming, like right now? None of this is real?" And my uncle stops and looks at me like I'm a fuckin monster or something, he looks terrified and his face started stretching out and going all fuckin weird and he starts screaming and his scream was getting louder and louder and the dogs turned to Ash like Thanos just did the snap or some shit. And the sand and sea on the beach went all black and fuzzy and then I woke up.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my talk. 🤣

If anyone is a big dream freak, lemme know what all this means? 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[foressfaction]

:Ticci Toby:{A Rewrite}

CHAPTER 3

WARNING:: This story contains EXTREMELY triggering topics such as Domestic/Child/Substance abuse, Death, harsh language, GORE and dissociation triggers. This story mentions mental illnesses and disorders such as Depression, PTSD, ADHD, and Tourette's Syndrome. !!TICS MAY BE TRIGGERING!!

Chapter three

Toby didn't eat much of his dinner, he just sat there and watched as his family picked at their food. Not even Lyra ate that much. He assumed she'd tell them about the situation at her job, but in fear of angering their dad, she stayed to herself. That night Toby stared at his ceiling, thinking, wondering. Mr. Cowbells laid next to him. He turned and faced the stuffed cow, furrowing his eyebrows. "Maybe i am t-too old for stupid stuffed toys.." he mumbled to himself, feeling bad almost immediately after. He pulled the cow into a small embrace. "No i take that back i-i didn't mean it, i promise." his leg jerked slightly in distress. He didn't wanna go back to school tomorrow.

Toby fell asleep. His dreams weren't so great. He was being chased in some dark forest, black thin trees stretched for as long as he could see, and that was it. He could see tall figures everywhere he looked. It was just a bunch of black silhouettes. Toby's dream panic mimicked his body, kicking his legs a little and grimacing a lot. The night wasn't so peaceful, honestly.

Toby did manage to get in a few hours of sleep at least, unlike the night before. It was the same routine as always. Get up, get ready, go to school, come home, ect. He didn't ever really catch a break.

The kids in his class started to get even more rude. They mocked his tics, mocked his name. He was more than used to it, though it did annoy the hell out of him.

Before he knew it, Toby was reaching the middle of the school year. Toby was leaving class when he felt a hand slap onto his back with a bunch of laughter echoing the halls. The sudden force was enough to make him jump, looking behind himself only to see a few kids giggling. His eyes were too sensitive to the bright hallway lights.

He chewed the inside of his cheek stressfully. What were they giggling about? Toby rolled his eyes with an audible huff.

Toby kept both of his hands on his bag, heading to the doors to exit the school completely. Suddenly Toby found himself hitting the floor, quite hard too. His papers flew from his bag and a few pencils too. Students trampled his stuff, his homework, textbooks, all of it. They even broke some of his pencils. Someone had tripped him.

Toby's vision was a little blurry, he found himself chewing into his cheek even more from the anger he was experiencing, he could taste blood, which he spat out.

"Aww is ticci gonna cry?"

"He's so red!"

"Embarrassing!"

"I'd hate to be in his shoes, poor thing can't even walk straight"

"hahahahaha"

"HAHAHAHA"

"Stop it! Stop it!!" Toby screamed out, covering his ears. His shouting shocked everyone in the hallway. One of the teachers came pushing past everyone and immediately went to help Toby up, who violently shoved her away. "Don't touch me!" he rubbed his nose, eyes starting to water. "This is-isn't my fault! They shoved me! They broke my things!" he started to shake in anger, hands and vision shivering out of control.

The teacher ripped a note off of his back, reading it. "Oh dear I'm-" she was cut off by him ripping the paper from her hands and grabbing his things from the ground. He shoved it all into his bag, unaware that the note was the reason he was tripped.

Toby pulled his bag over his shoulders and walked out. A fast pace to his step.

Toby made it to the car his mom drove and got in the back seat, slamming the door. The woman looked at him in slight concern. "What's wrong?" she asked. Toby huffed and pulled his bag up, he was still sniffling and seeing red. "Nothing, just drive..please." He mumbled, keeping his bag up to hide himself. The car took off down the school lot and onto the road, the sound of the blinker echoing in his mind as well as everyone's harsh words played on repeat from just a minute ago. Toby pulled his journal, the note falling out that was taped to his back. He hadn't seen it, yanking it from the teacher assuming it was one of his work papers she picked up for him. He read it.

'Kick the freak' it read, in scribbled child-like handwriting. He was currently hidden behind his bag so it wasn't like his mom could see it, but his face faded to a dull expression, shoulders dropping from their tense state. Something about that made him feel very crushed. He felt as if the world was falling around him.

It was just a simple note, but he read it as if every bad name someone could get called was written into it. Toby never did realise how hard something could hit until now.

•••••

[multiversemaker169]

Inside out Fury au: Peggy acting like a dog

1.(The mailman walks up to the mailbox to put in some bills and junk mail in it, when Peggy runs outside and starts barking and chasing him).

Peggy: Arf, arf, arf!!!

Turkey mailman: Oh shit!

(The mailman quickly finishes putting the mail in the mailbox and runs away before Peggy could catch him).

Peggy: Yeah, you better run!

Louis: Sweetie, why do you chase the mailman.

Peggy: Because he's up to something, I can just feel it. I mean, why else would he come into our territory uninvited and put stuff in that box!?

Louis in thought:(Why are dogs like this?)

2.(Daisy goes through her old stuff and finds a ball).

Daisy: I don't need a ball.

(Daisy throws the ball over her shoulder, and Peggy hears the ball bouncing across the floor).

Peggy:(excited) Ball! Arf, arf, arf!

(Peggy chases the ball and catches it in her mouth. She enters Daisy's room and returns the ball).

Peggy: Can you throw the ball again, please?

Daisy: Sure.

(Daisy throws the ball again, and Peggy starts chasing the ball a second time).

3.(Peggy is going to meet Louis' family)

Peggy: I'm so excited to meet your family.

(Peggy's tail starts wagging in excitement and anticipation).

Louis: I can tell you're excited, Sweetie.

(Peggy sees that her tail is wagging).

Peggy:(embarrassed) Oh, yeah. I guess I can't really hide my excitement.

Louis: Don't be embarrassed, Sweetie. I find your tail wagging cute.

(Louis kisses Peggy on her forehead, and her tail starts wagging faster).

4.(Bernadette was chilling on her couch, watching vampire movies, when she suddenly received a phone call from Peggy).

Bernadette: Hello?

Peggy:(anxious)Bernadette, Louis went to the store to get groceries, and he hadn't come back at the time he said he would!

Bernadette: How long has he been gone?

Peggy: He's been gone for an hour! What if something bad happened to him!? What if he was kidnapped!? What if he was murdered!? What if he was abducted by aliens!?

Bernadette:(concerned) Peggy, please calm down and not jump to such conclusions.

(Peggy takes a deep breath and tries to calm down).

Peggy: Ok, I've calmed down.

Bernadette: Now, let's come up with less morbid reasons why Louis hasn't come home yet.

Peggy: Ok, maybe he's stuck in traffic.

Bernadette: That's a good first start. Let's stay on that track of thinking.

Peggy: He might be having trouble finding some of the items on the shopping list.

Bernadette: Good, stick with that.

(Louis then opens the door and enters the house with the groceries).

Louis: Sorry, I'm late. They were doing roadwork on Pine Street, so I had to take a detour.

Peggy: Louis, I'm so glad nothing bad happened to you!

Louis: Uh, yeah. Me too.

5.(Peggy is 8 months pregnant with Sylvia. She's tearing up a bunch of newspapers and placing them on the bed in preparation for birthing Sylvia).

Louis: Sweetie, what are you doing?

Peggy: I'm placing bedding in preparation for when our daughter is born.

Louis: You know you'll be delivering her in the hospital, right?

Peggy: I'm preparing for after she's born.

Louis: But she'll be in a crib.

Peggy: But now what am I gonna do with all these newspapers?

Louis: We could make art projects with them.

Peggy: That's a good idea, Honey.

(Peggy acted like a cat during her pregnancy with Sylvia because she was a kitten).

[halcyon-digest]

2018

Art Klaudt: Walking around Glasgow during a snowstorm listening to the Units

Anonymous 1: became vegan

ava: in the summer, joining a network of music-related discord servers for the first time and meeting a bunch of people, many of whom are now my best friends. feeling like i had truly found “my people” for the first time in my entire life, feeling like the music world had opened up to me as i was exposed to so much more stuff than i ever had been before. me and my friends listened to a different album together every night, sharing our favorites and bonding in a way i had never experienced. a lot of complicated stuff would end up happening down the road but this summer was just pure unadulterated joy and wonder

kate: My phone reminds me of this often because for some reason it's the only thing I ever put into iCloud and it got copied onto my new phone while everything else I ever took pictures of I've manually moved onto my computer. But anyways my partner and I went to Cape Verde to visit an old couple he's friends with who are kind of like his surrogate parents. I tried learning Portuguese, and some of the Portuguese creole they speak there but didn't get very far and ended up never using it. We stayed on Mindelo, and in my mind the whole time I was fantasizing that I was in the Abarat, a book series I liked as a kid that centers on an archipelago where each island represents an hour of the day. I remember being most struck by the buildings there, which are old and colorful and gorgeous. Stray dogs roam everywhere, and there was a gas station down the road where you could get a coffee (espresso) and a ham toasty for a dollar each. Truly ideal. Also everyone drinks grog. We visited the top of a mountain, and there was a grog stand up there. And we had shots of grog. At 10am. On top of a mountain.

Anonymous 2: the directionlessness that comes with graduating high school and suddenly being told you are an adult. i have a particular recollection of standing in a wawa and looking at the cigarettes behind the counter. i couldnt buy them because the prior year my state had raised the age from 18 to 21 but it made me think about what it means to be an adult

Lucas: I remember my route home from school on bike

Anonymous 3: Lying down on a banquette in the strange public area of my university that was completely encased in a plastic membrane, making it unbearably hot and stuffy, lying with my cheek against the rough grey fabric of the banquette, smelling its smell, looking across at the other banquette opposite, feeling unbearably hot and stuffy and sleepy, just woken up from a nap, and listening to "Ravens" from "A Crow Looked at Me" while seagulls walked around on the plastic membrane above me.

Anonymous 4: Tearing my ACL and my battle with depression

superswag: incel ohase

v0w0v: Dancing at the only strip club in town, freshly 18, freshly moved to a new city for school. The people there were all old and strange. I thought I was getting ahead of them, tricking them in some way. One night one of the bouncers invited me over to hang out at their house after a shift. At a certain point in the night,  child came downstairs, and asked "What's going on?". Was hit with the terrible realization that the person I had the most in common with in the room was this child. A bouncer named "T-Bone" called me an Uber back to the dorms.

Anonymous 6: Getting an email from the person who made a video game I cared a lot about at the time.

Anonymous 7: marxism.

binnie: ... engaging in a not too distant LDR and not long after meeting this girl in person and spending a week together.. and ... feeling like things were gonna be okay for me actually ...

Anonymous 8: Two of my friends drowning to death and isolating myself

April M. Mildew: It is autumn. I am on the back porch. I am sending my friends a picture I drew of my fursona. She is a girl now. I will go inside and try to fall asleep on an air mattress next to my dad. He does not want the TV to be turned off. It is loud. I have school in the morning. I have formed an association in my head between this new place I have moved to and the album Congratulations by MGMT.

[hideyseek]

6. 10, 11? For ur ao3 wrapped? Mehabs?

(im on mobile if something is weird. No it isnt)

bro ,,,,, im so sorry to report something was weird, i only saw this guy come in today he was not in my inbox before. apology for delay. but hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yes thank you for the ask!!!!! of course i will answer i love to fucking TALK hehe :3

ao3 wrapped asks

6. Favorite title you used?

mmmm hehe. i'm gonna answer this based purely on title vibes as opposed to like "how well the title fits the fic" bc i wrote a bunch of shorter (to me) fics without a lot of internal thematic happenings that a title could reflect and so i don't really think of anything i published that a title is doing very much work.

i think my favorite title of anything published this year is i wish you the wind just because ah ... what a phrase! no idea what this means but it sounds so damn romantic to me! really has a flavor of like ... bittersweet farewell!

10. What work was the quickest to write?

mmm, haha. well, two answers to this i suppose. on one hand, there was keep me here which unfortunately i wrote in about one day from nothing (and therefore had approximately 12 minutes to revise) because i was determined to post SOMETHING for that day of kaze week 2023. but the first fic that came to mind (and perhaps the most accurate answer, time-wise) was my drabble from week 2 of inception wicked which came together in about three hours total drafting, but there was a span of several days (and truthfully several days that felt like several weeks lol) between me initially having the idea and sitting down to draft. but like, to be fair, it is about 400 words so revising goes exponentially quicker. truly this shocked even me, though i guess really what this means is i already was primed with a bunch of subconscious thoughts about the dynamic in this fic lol. (you can read it here on the gdoc with the other fics from that week! bc i haven't gotten around to posting on ao3 yet lol. content warnings for: semi-explicit sexual content, fantasizing about a married couple, voyeurism)

11. What work took you the longest to write?

hmm ... i don't know if there's a winner for anything i published, tbh. most of the rest of the kaze week fics from january kind of came together in a span of 3-5 days depending on the fic, and most of the other drabbles for both events came together in about the alotted week. so instead i'm going to gleefully misinterpret this question so i can talk about my beloved unpublished nemesis project, narrative!fic :3

i hate that guy! (<- said extremely lovingly) i probably earnestly worked on this fic for ... 4 or 5 months of this year? had a nice breakthrough for some story logic in august / september ish, outlined from that through october, and wrote pretty diligently for most of november. (i did tell my roommate fully two years ago, "hey you need to watch kazetsuyo so i can make you betaread this fic i'm writing at the end of the year, i'll watch star trek with you in exchange". that was literally 2021 lmao. they have not yet seen a draft bc there has not been a draft worth having anybody else look at yet.)

i think the thing that has made the process of drafting narrative!fic so long is really just that, for the last two-ish years, narrative!fic wasn't actually a story to me, so much as it was a project into which i dumped all my post-college facing-the-future feelings and loosely tied up with a string called "i'm sure i can make haiji go through this as well". but then, due to various life events in april of this year, suddenly i came back to the draft and it was like: oh. ohhh, okay. i can see how this can be a story, actually. this is about haiji, as a character, as opposed to haiji, as a semi-direct proxy for myself. and then over the next few months i cut out a ton of stuff and reworked his main arc and now it's like ... a story, instead of just a bunch of feelings and events. which, truly, is only my personal marker for what i was looking for from the project. like, i personally want a separation of my own experiences from what is in my fic, i want to be thinking about developments in the fic as narrative choices the story requires rather than as alternatives to how my own life could have gone. (which ultimately may well be the same thing but its the headspace im in, for me).

and i think the other part is just -- i didn't know how to write! i mean, obviously i know how to string words into a sentence lol. but a LOT of i guess the first two years of drafting and then setting all the drafted stuff aside to start again from scratch like four times over, was me learning to like, figure out my own longfic writing process. (big sobbing emoji, lmao. i remember in my youth reading about maggie stiefvater having 200k of unused draft material for one of the trc books and i was like, how??? and now i am like: yeah. unfortunately i get it. not that my tossed-out drafter material is of that specific magnitude. but there is a lot of it, goddamn.) and now that i've got at least an initial / foundational sense of it, the hardest part is only actually sitting down and writing. (i say as if this is not also, extremely challenging for me lol). so uh, i guess i'll say here "maybe this time next year i'll really have a full draft of narrative!fic", and. we'll see how that goes :3

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[bluewinnerangel]

Louis and Harry looking obviously incompatible in 2016

A collection that got out of hand.

Inspired by this post, this is a collection of them honestly truthfully not matching whatsoever around the same times (the same day / very next time there was a pic of the other one, or no more than a couple of weeks apart) because they’re just sOoOooo different and obviously genuinely i JuSt DoNt SeE It.

Harry and Louis absolutely not being 2 peas in a pod in 2016:

Jan 6 - “let’s go watch football in winter and wear beanies that match each others clothes”

Jan 9(H)/10(L)

Jan 30 - the punk

Feb 2(H)/3(L)

Feb 14(H)/15(L) - they both look like they didn’t have time to get ready for the party and still they pulled it off and also nice matching shirts bros

Cut because of course it’s long:

(is bla feel free to skip) I feel that if people can’t imagine them together it’s because they have this image of Louis that is just one aspect to him and a whole other aspect of Harry in their heads, aspects that don’t really overlap, don’t “fit”, that is most often the uh main look that comes with their public images, but if you look a little deeper you see these 2 aren’t that onesided, that the range on these badboys is huge actually, and yet somehow all these many sides keep finding each other at the same times over and over again. And so here’s this post.

Also this is not to compare them or “prove” anything as we’re going by appearances here and that doesn’t mean anything. People don’t have to look the same or give off the same vibes at all to have mutual respect, but they do, and it makes me happy, so much I just couldn’t stop pairing these pics up and it’s gotten so big it’s gonna be divided in seperate posts for each year yeah oops. 

also I might be wrong on some of these dates but I did my best

Anyway:

March 2(L)/28(H) - that one colleague that comes to work on a motorcycle and that one other one that works on a different floor and you just know they got a thing for each other

I couldn’t pick a favorite of the following comfy in black matchymatch ones so have a bunch:

March 11

March 11/12(L)/13(H)

March 12(L)/13(H)

March 16(H)20(L) - seethrough white shirt rights hours apparently

I mean 

Bonus keys

March 11(L)/April 2(H) - More comfy black I’ll shake it soon but but just this thing of wearing all black/white with the exception of shoes in interesting compatible colors yk

April 1(H)/26(L) - This wasn’t meant as some spot-the-same-colored-style-clothes-post but when this is there I can’t not? Their faces also just look older/tired here it fits bye

April 23 - OHHHH COME OHHNN

March 25(H)/April 30(L) - A month apart but flannel rights.

May 10 - look at them LOOK AT THEEEHMM COME ONN

May 18(L)/19(H) - These were next to each other in someone’s archive and I thought they were both Louis at first and then both Harry and 

June 16(L)/17(H) - Now that’s what I mean by looking compatible 

June 6 - COMEOHHNN

June 21(H)/22(L) - judging you larry fav larry

July 18(H)/31(L) - I was gonna go for compatible. Compatible. Not IDENTICAL NONSENSE. But they’re like this so here we are again.

August 3(H)/6(L) - hey boys it’s not 2021 yet this is a post about 2016 ok could you not. 

August 5  - yesss ~compatible~

August 1(H)/8(L) - yeah more of the comfy sporty black yeah

August 24(L)/September 2(H) - Idk why they suddenly look like entirely different people but it happened at the same time Harly Stills and Lewis Tompson here are still matchily married

October 6(H)/25(L) - but yeah

Orrr maybe this is a better pair

October 25(L)/November 25(H)

And these

October 6(H)/31(L)

COME OHHHNNN  If I’d know the source of the manip I’d link it but it was just floating around on google sorrysorry

Nov 2

Nov 3(H)/8(L)

Nov 30(L)/Dec 2(H) tries to shut up about laurels

Dec 20 - they said today we go cuddly and soft and WE MEAN IT

Dec 29 - Cuddly and soft and smoll and 

Dec 24(H)/29(L) - AAAHH I LOVE THEM

NEXT UP 2017

[carpe-aurore]

Could you share any stories about your chickens?

Ooooo, I've got several. Let me tell you two of them tho. My first flock of chickens was one we didn't even plan to get. We got them accidentally. Now you're wondering, how tf do you "accidentally" acquire chickens? Well, our first 3(the only ones we actually meant to get) we got as baby chicks. After they grew up, we got a call from our grandmother that she was getting rid of her chickens due to some city permit thing. She was gonna make soup, if you catch my drift. But we didn't want them dead, next thing you know, grandma drops off a box at our house that seems to be clucking. Now there's 4 more. Our first 3 eventually pass away, since they were a breed that doesn't live long. Now my mother is standing in the backyard, wishing she had a hen that actually laid eggs more often. She hears some loud noises coming from the tree above her and suddenly a red hen falls on the ground on front of her, looks up at her and immediately starts clucking for food. We kept her, since we couldn't ever figure out where she came from. Some weeks later, my baby brother comes home late at night from having dinner with a family friend and he's got something clucking in his arms. It's a little spotted hen with an injured wing, and our family friend had found her in his front yard being attacked by a bobcat. He sent her home with us since we were the only people he knew would take in a chicken. Now we're in possession of a bunch of chickens we never meant to have in the first place.

Second one is more recent. Our first flock was eventually decimated by racoons and hawks, only one survived. We were in the process of finding her new flock mates, but she was gonna be alone for a while. People think of chickens as stupid, but they're pretty perceptive animals. She knew her sisters were gone, and she was becoming depressed about it. We decided to bring her inside one day just to give her some company. Baby brother puts her on the table and I walked in the room, decided to get closer to her to say hi. However as soon as she sees me, she stands up real tall and gets into jumping position. I freaked out for half a second, cause that usually means a chicken is about to kick your ass. She proceeded to jump onto my shoulder however, and settled down on me while making noises that I swear to God sounded like crying. I had to lay down on the couch and hold her up to support her weight, and she settled on my chest and stretched her neck around mine, all while making these sad little noises. I stayed with her, hugging her for about half an hour straight because she refused to let go. Digging her claws around my shirt and crying out when someone tried to move her away. She seemed a little happier afterwards, amazingly. Like all she really needed was a hug.

Anyways, she's doing better now. And we've got a new flock so she's not lonely anymore :D