#and it seems to take that more direct approach

[angrenwen]

"It took more courage than should be necessary to set foot into the store, your heart pounding hard enough you felt it beat in your throat. There were some customers, looking over ribbons and fabric, before examining shirts, breaches and skirts, along with coats and dresses on hangers. They barely paid you any mind, too focused on their tasks.

You nearly squished the poor flower in your grip as you lingered by the door, fighting the urge to leave before someone spotted you.

"Welcome and good day, how may I help you?" a woman's pleasant voice made you flinch in surprise and you turned to the lady who had approached you. She was beautiful and well dressed, if simply, for work. Her dark hair was neatly pinned up and pretty earrings reflected the light. 

She wore a brooch, made of three daisies and her eyes held a strange, golden shimmer. You quickly chalked that up to the light falling in through the window. Some people simply had unique eyes, after all, but these held you captive for just a moment despite your body nearly shivering with stress.

"Um." You gestured with your hands, mouth dry and heart pounding. Her gaze fell to the slightly worn looking daisy.

"Oh, how silly of me," she said, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk ahead of her. "You're here to pick up a custom order, aren't you? Forgive me for forgetting, it has been such a busy day."

You wobbled a small, unsure nod and scurried ahead, head kept down. The woman led you to the back of the store, where real custom orders were waiting on a rack, all finished and well made. The space was clean and neat and had two worktables below the windows, one abandoned with a half finished blouse lying neatly on top.

A tall man looked up from the second table, pausing in sewing a silver button onto a dark blue coat. "Has there been an issue with an order, Milly?" he asked, mild and pleasant, voice the nice kind of slightly-deep. He was handsome, his beard and hair neat and well groomed. He was just as well, if simply, dressed as the woman and he, too, wore a brooch made of three daisies.

His gaze fell to the by now somewhat mangled flower in your hands and he hummed in understanding, setting the coat aside. You felt your shoulders hitch up a bit at his undivided attention.

"Please, take a seat," the woman said, gesturing to an empty stool. "We'll be right with you."

As you nervously perched, rather than sat, you saw her set out a sign and close the door to the backroom.

"How can we help you?" the man asked, calm and steady, his hands folded in his lap. 

His face was kind, but there was a glint in his eyes, something as cool and sharp as the scissors lying near his elbow. You noticed a strangely golden shimmer in his eyes as well, but you were too anxious and worried to wonder about that.

"We would love to know who recommended us," the woman added and while she smiled, pretty and charming, she too had eyes of sharp, cold steel. "We love to see our business grow in the right direction, after all."

You glanced between them, wetting your lips. "My friend, Jane Martin, said I should come here." 

Should you leave? Sure, you were terrified to go back home, but could they really help? Would they even believe you? Was it right to get strangers involved, maybe even hurt? 

Lots of people were in your position, stuck with people who mistreated them. Just last week they had fished a dead woman out of the river, face and neck bruised.

At your words, subtle tension eased out of their faces and their eyes lost the sharp coldness. "Miss Martin is a very valued customer," the woman said with a smile that truly looked pleasant now, not just pretty. Something about it made your shoulders relax a little. "Forgive our caution, I am Milly and this is my husband Julius, what brings you to us?"

"You seem a bit haggard," Julius added, a soothing tone to his voice that unexpectedly helped you take a calming breath. "I'll go and make us all a cup of tea."

Milly took a seat by the free table, most likely hers, arranging her skirts in an elegant motion. Their manners were as prim and proper as those of the upper class, though their fingers were callused and you noticed a small scar on Julius' wrist as he prepared tea.

"Take your time," Milly said, voice gentle and patient and you felt your throat tighten all of a sudden, tears blurring your vision. "Speak with us whenever you're ready."

"What about your store?" you asked, an unwanted rough quality to your voice that gave away your emotional state.

"No need to worry." Julius offered you a reassuring smile.

You had no idea how they did it, but their presences felt...pleasant. You usually didn't trust strangers, but looking at them, you found the tight grip around your heart and stomach easing. They did not look at you with pity, and instead their calming steadiness felt reassuring.

Even the guilt and shame felt muted as a gentle floral scent filled the air, sunshine casting everything in soft warmth. Under other circumstances you might have left again, not wanting to bother these kind, unexpectedly pleasant people.

But the fear that had driven you out of your house still sat in your gut like a block of poisoned ice. Once again you wished you had found the courage to back out of the marriage after you had accepted the proposal in front of your family. 

Your parents however had been all-too happy that you had married into a rich family and they did not want to hear anything bad about your spouse. They especially had cut you off mid-sentence when you had suggested going public. They would not want to risk the wrath of a richer family upon themselves.

Your father had suggested that it was your fault that your spouse was...unpleasant. That you weren't sweet enough, kind enough, accommodating enough. That you didn't listen enough, that you talked back too much. You hadn't spoken with your parents since.

You had gone to the police exactly once and you knew better than to do that again. Your spouse was a valued member of higher society after all and had made sure you understood how far their influence reached.

"Here you go," Julius said, handing you the cup of tea, his fingers carefully not brushing yours, and sitting down. "Speak freely, we will believe you."

You met their gazes and they were so steady and earnest you felt breath flow into your lungs properly for the first time in days. You believed that they would believe you. It settled something within you, your withered courage taking root and growing enough to help you speak.

Haltingly you told them the story, clinging to the delicate porcelain cup Julius had handed you. You couldn't bring yourself to take a sip, but the floral fragrance and the heat warming your cold fingers helped.

"Are you safe at the moment?" Julius asked after you finished your story.

"I'm staying with my friend." For now. For as long as she could hide you at her place without your spouse causing trouble.

"If you ever find yourself unsure where to go, come to us," Milly said, gaze serious. "No matter the time. One of us will let you in and you will be safe here."

You inclined your head, hoping you were never forced to take them up on their offer. It was strange, however, that you believed that, too. A part of you, more instinct than rational thought, already felt safer. It shouldn't be possible, not when you knew how powerful your spouse was. That simple tailors couldn’t stand a chance against someone who could crush them in so many ways.

And yet...it felt like fear had no place here. Banished from this room by sunshine and the presence of these two, who had eyes tinged in gold. Who looked at you with so much truth nothing could have shaken it apart. You realized that your fingers had stopped shaking, that your skin no longer felt cold.

There was a thread of calm that had settled within you while you had spoken, easing your heart and soul.

"There is but one thing we need of you," Julius said, drawing your attention. "Would you mind leaving the key to your home with us? You can retrieve it again at the end of the week, at which point you can return home."

"Oh, of course." You pulled the key out of your pocket, handing it over. "What are you going to do?"

Milly's smile could have been reassuring and compassionate at first glance, but all it reminded you of was a razor sharp blade held against an unprotected throat. Not your throat, you still felt that sense of safety, but more like a weapon waiting to drink the blood of its enemy. "We'll take care of things, don't you worry."

You should keep asking. You should ask what they were going to do. If you were a good person, like the priest preached you were supposed to be, you would ask for the key back and request they forget your visit. You should return home, obedient and quiet and accept the place you had been given. The hand fate had dealt you.

But your mouth felt glued shut and the courage rooted within you stubbornly grew a tiny bloom of hope. Fuck fate. Fuck God if this was what He considered just and right. You deserved better, you deserved to live without fear and pain. You handed over the cup when Julius held out his hand for it.

"Let me show you out," Milly said and you found yourself secretly glad to not immediately lose her company. "There is a carriage that will take you back to your friend." When you tried to protest, she silenced you with a sweet, genuine smile. "Let us look after you as long as you're here."

While Julius cleaned up the cups, Milly accompanied you to the front step of the shop and waved over a waiting carriage. "Make sure she gets home safe, Leopold," she said, offering her hand to help you into the carriage. 

"Stay safe," she murmured at last and for just a moment, you swore the gold gleam in her eyes was brighter than ever. You nodded and she closed the door, her gaze holding yours until the carriage lurching into motion. Even then you looked back at her and saw her watching you leave until you rounded the corner.

You gripped the thoroughly mangled daisy tightly and closed your eyes. You didn't dare pray, worried that god might notice and put a stop to things. But deep down, you hoped you would be free soon, no matter how it happened.

*.*.*

You returned to the shop at the end of the week, feeling exhausted and frayed, like an old, worn piece of fabric. Your friend had done her best to distract you and keep you busy, but it hadn't helped against the tension that wouldn't leave you.

It was early when you showed up and Milly had only just opened the store, since both had just finished setting up the last of their wares.

"Ah, good day, my dear," Milly said with unexpected warmth, stepping toward you as though you were truly welcome company. 

You were surprised to see how happy and languid she appeared to be. Her husband moved with the same deep relaxation when he bowed his head respectfully to you, offering a charming smile. 

Strangely enough, they reminded you of well fed cats enjoying a spot of golden sunlight. An air of effortless confidence surrounded them, a quiet strand of power that wove into the sense of safety that lingered all around them.

"I'm not too early?" you asked, your nervously wringing hands claming. Whatever they had done, it had made them very and deeply happy.

Milly's smile morphed into a grin and the gold in her eyes was brighter than ever before. She seemed so radiant you couldn't look away. She was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. "No, of course not. Are you ready to head back home?"

You didn't mention that the house of your spouse had never felt like home. The last time you would have called a place that, you had been a child of eight and had stayed with your aunt and grandmother during the summer months. After the falling-out your father had with his side of the family, you hadn't seen them again.

"I am," you answered anyway. You couldn't continue to live at your friend's place. Even if she didn't mind, she was currently seeing a particularly sweet gentleman and once they became serious about each other, you'd swiftly overstay your welcome.

Julius stepped forward, all fluid grace and pulled your key from his pocket. His eyes too seemed brighter than ever, making your eyes linger on his face. He really was so very handsome.

"All is well," he said, quiet and certain, when handing over the key, his fingertips ever so carefully brushing yours.

"Alright." Your voice was soft and you glanced between them. "Thank you. Do I owe you anything?"

"No, not at all, this was our pleasure," Milly answered, voice as sweet as honey and her smile felt like it was meant just for you. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"No, um, but really, thank you." You gave them a clumsy, heartfelt bow and they elegantly curtseyed back, an amused mischievousness to their smiles. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Our hair hardly minds," Julius answered. "Please, feel free to come back whenever you like."

"We'll be glad to help in whatever way we can, or just to chat," Milly added, leaning against her husband, both of them looking right at home with each other and within their store. "Be sure to speak to Leopold if you like, he'll take you home."

You couldn't help but smile back a bit and after a last dip of your head, you stepped back outside. An elderly woman bustled past you with her grandson, grandly telling him to pick whatever he liked best for his wedding.

You took a deep breath, so deep it almost ached in your lungs and you clutched the key tight. Was...was it over? Just like that? All your worries and fears could cease to be? Rubbing a hand over your face, you approached Leopold, who was softly talking with the horses, massaging their foreheads.

The young man, just barely out of boyhood, was happy to bring you home, helping you into the carriage and whistling as he started driving. You clung tightly to the key, nerves making your stomach squirm and your heart was beating harder, the closer you came to home. 

And yet, fear didn't claw its way up your throat. You believed the tailors that it was done and dealt with. You...trusted them, as inexplicable as that might be. It was as if a small bit of safety had stayed with you after your visit to their store and it accompanied you even now.

At last, Leopold stopped and you took a deep breath before leaving the carriage. "Thank you," you said, tipping him some money and his face lit up.

"Have a nice day," he said with a cheerful bow of his head, then drove on.

The house looked just like you remembered it, flowers blooming and nothing was out of place. Swallowing and taking another deep breath, you walked up the path to the front door. You unlocked the door, cautiously peeking inside.

Nothing. The house smelled like fresh air and the maid must've been by yesterday, for new flowers filled the vase on a side-table. Stepping past the threshold, you carefully walked onward, your steps sounding too loud in the silent house.

You found your spouse sitting in the study, breathing calmly and not reacting to your presence. The sharp stab of bitter disappointment quickly faded to startled realization. Empty eyes stared ahead unseen, no emotion visible on your spouse's face.

"Um..." You managed to say after a long moment, but it brought you no reaction.

Your mind rebelled, hurrying towards the excuse of drugs and poison and other mixtures, but deep down you knew your spouse was gone. The thing that sat there was an empty shell, no soul remaining, and you had no idea what to do.

In the end, after puttering around nervously for a few minutes, you ended up sending for the family doctor. The older man who showed up usually came for you, making sure you'd heal fine. 

"Oh my, this does not look good," he muttered the moment he spotted your spouse, hurrying onward. "When did you notice something was wrong?"

"I was visiting a friend for a few days," you said and his gaze was knowing when he glanced at you. "I, um, came back this morning and noticed how quiet it was. I was glad at first, but when I went in here to check..." You gestured at the limp, unresponsive body.

The doctor hummed in understanding, already reaching out to find the issue. It didn't take long before they sent for a carriage to bring your partner to the hospital. You were allowed to come along and nurses hurriedly wheeled your spouse away the moment you arrived.

You sat and waited, time passing both too fast and too slow. At last, a doctor approached you, quiet and apologetic. It seemed your partner had suffered an aneurysm and there was nothing they could do. Your spouse would be dead soon.

The tears that rose sharply were seen as tears of grief, instead of the soul-deep relief that swept through you. The staff was very kind, comforting you and letting you sit with your spouse, who didn't even make it through the night. Finally, you were free.

Afterwards you went home, standing in the large, rich house and you realized that it all belonged to you now. The money of your spouse belonged to you. But most of all, you were finally, finally free.

You broke down crying, helpless laughter mixing into the tears and the gasping. Afterwards you took a carriage to your friend's place, forgetting the late hour. You didn't want to stay in that house any longer than you had to. Your friend was startled when she opened bleary eyed, then grimly happy when you told her the news.

"They solve problems like that," she said after holding you in her arms. "The tailors. No one asks how they do it or what exactly they do and we don't rat them out either. I'm so glad they helped."

You fell asleep in her arms and when you woke, the sun shining through the window made you smile. Your heart felt like a newly uncaged bird, almost too afraid to fly and taste that freedom fully.

Hope bloomed like a meadow of wild flowers and you breathed through a new wave of tears. Your future had turned from a grim, dark end into something bright and open. It was all yours, yours to finally do with as you pleased.

The house was soon sold, the art within donated, along with a portion of the money. You fended off your parents, who swept in to try and weasel out money and power for themselves. They deserved nothing after marrying you off to someone they suspected would mistreat you and then left you in the jaws of a metaphorical wolf.

The air was growing cold by the time everything was taken care of and you had moved into a new place, your friend supporting you all the way. 

You only rarely suffered from nightmares these days and you slowly unearthed all the pieces of you that you had buried. The pieces your spouse had not liked, had despised. There was damage done, undoubtedly, and some days it felt like too much, but you had so many reasons to keep going. To keep moving forward.

There were people, however, who did deserve a piece of your newfound fortune. Leaves were crunching beneath your shoes as you approached the store at the end of Baker Street, this time not afraid. No, you were anything but afraid.

Julius was taking care of some customers as you stepped inside, a pleasant scent greeting you. A smile was on your face and you breathed in that steadfast safety that lingered with both tailors present. It eased your heart as it had the last two times and this time you couldn't help but sink into it fully, shoulders relaxing.

Milly approached you after ringing up a lady at the counter, smiling in warm welcome. "How lovely to see you again," she said and there was a brief, hard glint in her eyes. "I hope all went well?"

"Yes." You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know you said no gratitude was necessarry, but I still wish to give you this. I, um, picked it myself."

She looked charmed and chuckled softly. "How could I ever refuse such a sweet gesture?"

Her fingertips were warm as they brushed yours ever so gently, while she accepted the box. Your hands tingled and you only realized you had leaned slightly towards her, when you caught yourself.

She held your gaze a moment longer, before glancing down and curiously opening it. A happy smile broke out across her face and her gaze grew warm and soft and this time you could admit to yourself that there was nothing normal about the golden shimmer brightening in her eyes.

"You are truly beautiful, inside and out," she murmured, closing the box again and your breath caught a little at her words. "Thank you, for this sweet gift."

You couldn't help but smile back shyly. Julius joined you in this moment, a satisfied customer leaving with a happy spring in their step. "Oh? Did my lovely wife get something wonderful?"

"Indeed." She grinned up cheekily. "And I am not going to share."

"There, um, there is no need." You pulled another box from your other pocket and Julius' eye brightened, that golden shimmer growing. "If you'd like?"

"I would love anything you'll gift me," Julius said, voice dipping a bit to something private, just for you. 

He accepted the box, his fingertips brushing yours softly as well, warm and slightly calloused. You curled your hands in, as though you could somehow hold both their touch close this way. Your face started to ache a bit with how much you were smiling now.

Julius opened his box, eyes widening slightly, before he looked up, his smile sweet and charmed. "This is wonderful, thank you."

"I hope you like it, both of you. And that I chose well." You resisted the urge to rock a little on your feet, something your spouse had always hated. You paused. Well, now you had to do it, even if it was just to spite the dark memories in your mind. "You gave me back more than I can put into words."

"Seeing a smile on your face is reward enough," Julius said and for a moment you swore he was about to reach out, before catching himself. "Happiness is a lovely look on you."

"I am happy." And you were. For the first time in far too long, you were happy again.

Ever since you had gotten rid of that house, ever since you had gotten your life back, no matter the struggle and darkness that liked to creep through your mind like seeping tar, happiness and light found you. 

It wriggled in through the cracks, surprised you on calm, sunshine mornings and came in the shape of your new, soft little cat. Every time you ate something sweet that had been forbidden before, every time you picked up a book your spouse would have taken away, it felt like you were stitching yourself back together. Crooked maybe, and never like you were before, but...this was already so much more than you had dared to hope for half a year ago.

"We could take a break," Milly offered, gesturing at the currently empty store. "Would you like to join us for tea, darling?"

The question held a tinge of promise and you found you wanted to reach for it. You found you were ready for what might be offered. "I would love to, thank you."

Milly smiled and went to close the store for the afternoon, while Julius guided you to the backroom, his hand a warm, light and most of all, welcome weight at your back.

You didn't care what they were, if they were human or not. You didn't care what they did to people like your spouse. Not when being in their presence made you feel as though you were wrapped in a blanket spun out of gentle, warm sunshine.

*.*.*

Part Two!

If you’d like to read more and support me at the same time, please consider checking out my patreon! I post monthly short stories and every membership goes towards paying my bill and freeing up more time for more stories that I can write for you!"

The Tailors on Baker Street

Warning for implied/referenced domestic abuse and murder. Please take care of yourselves, this is possibly a bit darker than my usual fare.

***

There was a tailoring shop at the end of Baker Street, a small but rather popular store, run by a married couple. They were ever polite and friendly, sharing gossip with mischievous winks and listening to the trouble of their customers. 

Their wares were of good quality and it was said they could fix every dress and coat, no matter the rip. Whatever one needed, they had it and they were said to finish orders swiftly and as desired. Their fine stitches and detailed embroidery were the envy of many.

There was another rumor about them, shared in soft whispers and away from prying ears. When you had fled to your friend, terrified, helpless and bruised, admitting you couldn’t take it any longer, she had told you there was a solution to your problems.

Go to the tailors at the end of Baker Street and present them with a daisy, your friend had told you, briefly dipping into her yard to pluck one, shoving the small flower into your shaking hands. Give it to them, they’ll know what to do.

And here you were, in front of a modest, well taken care of storefront. A carriage bustled past behind you and you fiddled with the daisy, doing your best not to wear it down with your gut-wrenching anxiety.

Keep reading

[flurry-of-beaus-pop-pop]

I am genuinely glad that Jac apologized to the community, and seems to recognize that there were mistakes made in how this story was handled, especially in the context of how much this ship means to those that are in the community.

But it's not enough, at least not yet. Simply including queer women in your stories is not enough, if you don't take the time to do your research and truly understand the community you are writing for and the history of that community. Because she said that she did anticipate how much we would love Agathario, but honestly? It would have taken nothing more than a few conversations or minimal research to understand, to understand our history and how little representation we get, to recognize that more times than not, when we do get representation, we get it taken away from us, that those that represent us are so often killed off on screen.

This isn't necessarily directed at Jac, and Jac alone, because I do genuinely believe that she is sorry and I do believe that she will take this experience to change how she approaches this storyline specifically in the future (if we get more of their story) or other storylines all together for this community.

I just wish that the same care that is so often put into other storylines, the storylines we have different versions of in spades, was put into our storylines, into telling our stories and understanding our history

[isatling-husbandry-guide]

There's a stray siffrin that keeps sniffing around my Isabeau when ever I take him out for outside time.

They aren't aggressive thankfully but should I be worried about this? Or things and behaviors I should look out for ?

This is normal behavior- Siffrins are just like that, especially to Isabeaus. If anything, I would worry more about the safety of the Siffrin rather than their behaviors, especially if you live in a more urban area where they may be at risk (poor living conditions, cars, limited nature areas/trees for resting, etc).

Siffrins are a very curious species, however it’s uncommon for them to approach a living being directly unless they’ve observed the being over time. Despite this, they are notably drawn to Isabeaus, and seem to disregard this wariness to some degree. Still though, direct approach takes time. Siffrins who are curious yet still too afraid to directly approach will sniff around instead, a behavior meant to show interest. Most likely, the Siffrin will approach after a little while. Keep some treat on hand for him, maybe!

Siffrins are the ideal tankmate for Isabeaus. They socialize very quickly and have a positive effect on each other, to the point it’s suggested that rescue Siffrins be introduced to an Isabeau for support. I introduced my Siffrin to my Isabeau while he was having some trouble post-Change, and saw improvements in his mood and energy + they are so stinking cute and there’s no way I can separate them ever. I swear there’s some old tale I read once where they’re compared to “the sun and the moon” or something along those lines, but I haven’t been able to find it again.

Simple answer: Very normal! Siffrins are famously weird little fellas. Very curious yet very cautious. Congratulations to your Isabeau for the stray Siffrin he ran into on the street: They will not go away.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Found Pt. 4 | Poly!141 & Reader

Summary: You, Simon, and Price go shopping, while the two work out their problems, and you get new clothes and delicious Thai chicken.

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: arguing, yelling, cursing, but it gets resolved, cuddles

A/N: reader is starting to come out of her shell a bit, which will certainly make things more interesting…hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Johnny hadn’t come out to the Jeep yet, and for the past five minutes Simon had been about to drive away, one hand on the wheel, index finger tapping away impatiently as he scowled in the direction of the house. They both seemed almost attached at the hip more often than not. You wondered what was holding the werewolf up.

The front door swung open, but instead of Johnny and his ever-wagging tail coming out, it was Price who lumbered out. The little brown fuzzy’s barely visible on his head, which you assumed were ears, twitched as he approached the car, opened the passenger door, and hauled his body in.

The car shook ever so slightly when he pulled the door shut, slamming it loudly in a gesture that made you jump a bit.

“Where’s Johnny?”

Simon asked, his tone calm but the hint of annoyance creeping in. He raised a brow at Price, who huffed with a hint of a growl that had the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Said I’m gonna pull my back out choppin’ wood, told me to come with you.”

John sounded more than annoyed, huffing, his sentence trailing off with his voice growing a bit more than brusque as usual, Simon sighing out through his nostrils.

“Not like he’s wrong.”

He mumbled, putting the keys in, turning them, and starting the ignition, before Price growled deep and low. Your breath caught in your throat, muscles tensing as you scooted more away from the middle of the backseat to the right side, body curling up as you tried to focus on the moving scenery outside the tinted window, the car pulling out of the driveway and bumbling along the bumpy roads. Trees blurred into brown and orange masses as Simon sped up a bit, his and John’s conversation speeding up as well.

“Leave it, Price.”

If you were a hybrid, you might’ve been able to smell the souring of John’s scent or the hint of bitter anger that tinted it.

“You’re hardly younger than me, but those muppets don’t blink twice when you’re doing work, do they?”

A pause from Simon.

“It’s..different, Price. We’re different.”

“Yeah, how’re we different? You saying you’re better than me.”

The atmosphere thickened. You didn’t like how angry he sounded, how Simon’s knuckles were white around the wheel, how John was bordering on a growl every word. He seemed pent up. Angry about more than just what had happened today, as if this had been building for a while, longer than you’d been around to see.

Simon didn’t deny it.

“You muppets, always thinkin’ I’m getting too old for this, well I’m not. I’m not too fuckin’ old to chop wood—“

He snarled out, and your hands went to cover your ears, tears pricking your eyes. You didn’t like angry, cussing men. They brought back bad memories, things you didn’t want to think about again, not right now, if ever. Your knees curled up into your chest, and your blurry vision focused on the window.

The trees had turned into walls of rock, with a few darker spots where water was steadily dripping down, and grass crusted over with frost. The little trees that were on the top had lost all of their leaves by now, the cold chill getting to them.

It was cold in the car, too.

They didn’t have the AC on, which made sense, considering the amount of hair on John meant he didn't need much heat, and Simon’s large body produced enough on its own. Or at least you assumed.

Their argument grew a bit more heated, a few words slipping into your ears despite the hands covering them until they were both yelling at each other, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop it!”

You finally yelled, hands still covering your ears, eyes fearful and scared. John’s mouth was still open from something he’d been about to say before they both turned to glance at you and knew they’d fucked up.

Simon took one look at you through the rearview mirror and internally winced. You witnessed the entire thing, an argument that he and John had been having for years now. The old man was too stubborn to let anyone else try and take care of him, shouldering more and more, trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and getting angry when anyone tried to help him if he stumbled.

John’s anger was gone in a second, replaced with the full internal instinct to fix. His cub was upset because of him. It was his fault. He had to fix it.

Your body language alone was screaming “stay away from me, I will bite your hand off”, as was your scent, but he couldn’t just let you sit all terrified in the backseat, so he tried to calm you down just a bit.

“‘M sorry, cub. Didn’t mean to scare you,”

His voice turned from angry to soft and cooing so quickly it almost gave you whiplash, but it still worked a bit on softening the anxiety churning in your gut. Not enough for you to accept the large hand he was offering, though.

Simon looked at the rearview mirror once again, both behind the car, and then at you once more, and was hit with a sudden realization.

You were afraid, fearful, but he didn’t see any hint of surprise in your expression. You’d been in foster care so long, you’d probably seen all sorts of relationships, maybe even experienced a few, if your earlier request to visit a ‘friend’ was anything to go off of, but you probably hadn’t seen what a healthy relationship was before.

And what he and John had just showed you? That wasn’t healthy, not at all.

So he tried to think of what Gaz would do, ever the virtuous young man, always trying to mend relationships and crossing bridges before burning them completely. He’d seen it just a day ago between him and Soap. Kyle was always thinking about what the other person was thinking and feeling, what they might be going through, putting himself in someone else’s shoes.

Simon might’ve not been the best with emotions, but he could recognize the signs of a minor breakdown. Price hadn’t slept well much this week, before you’d come he’d been worried about getting the room done on time, and since then he’d been worried about you getting comfortable. His short temper made sense. And with such a small, new kid in their home, slowly becoming a member of the pack, it made sense for his protective instincts to be on overdrive, making him shoulder more responsibilities as the leader of the pack.

In fact, he hadn’t seen John this worked up in years, not even with their past fosters.

Simon could have some empathy for the man, and after growing up through his childhood with no good father figure, only his dad abusing his mother and being drunk all the time. You deserved better than what he’d had to see and much better than what he and Price were showing you.

“John.”

He interrupted the man’s cooed words, and John at the lack of nickname and the sheer tone that Simon was using. It wasn’t an unkind tone, it was soft and quiet, much less intimidating than the usual monotone and bland voice he adorned.

It caught your attention too, he could tell. His eyes remained on the road, but he could scent the subtle shift in your emotions, from the fear and worry, a bitter scent, to the shift to a calmer, softer scent. Almost like freshly done laundry, and how soft and warm it is coming out of the dryer.

“Yes?”

He was trying to stay angry, Simon could tell, but it wasn’t working.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to push down the embarrassment he already felt for what he was about to say. It felt strange to acknowledge emotions so clearly, but it was necessary, and if he had to push himself out of his comfort zone to make you comfortable, he would. He’d done better for worse people.

“I...understand that you’re stressed, and feel like we’re undermining you, but we’re just worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard, and not trusting us enough to let us help you. It’s not that any of us are better than you, we just don’t want you taking everything on your shoulders.”

He heaved a shaky breath out, eyes on the road as he pulled into the parking lot of the mall, eyes scanning for a parking spot that wasn’t taken up.

“I’m sorry,”

John finally spoke up, voice rough, but not with anger, only thick with emotion.

“I’ve just been stressed, and trying to keep myself busy. I didn’t mean to…”

His sentence trailed off as he leaned into Simon, and Simon leaned his head against him as he finally found a spot, and pulled into it.

As you sat in the back, watching, John finally pulled away from Simon a minute later, giving a little apologetic smile to you as he opened his door, moving to open yours.

“Sorry for scaring ya, cub. Let’s make it up and go get some clothes, yeah?

He offered a hand, and you found that you took it, despite having to lift your arm a bit for your hand to meet his large, calloused one. He was warm.

Simon came around after you heard him pull the keys out, lock the car, and shut his door. He took your other hand, leaving you sandwiched between the two giant men as you all approached the entrance to the mall, which was a lot of sliding glass doors marked with “Exit” and “Entrance”.

As soon as you entered, your senses were assaulted with the smells and musks of other people and perfume, not to mention delicious food and drinks, as well as bright lights from stores and flashing lights from stands selling kids’ toys. It was loud, people talking unabashedly on the phone, to their friends as they laughed and tripped over their own feet, or to their partners as they walked hand in hand. A few other children your age were there, but no humans.

It didn’t necessarily surprise you.

Simon noticed how overwhelmed you were, and he couldn’t say that he hadn’t expected it. Malls were large spaces packed full of people looking to sell things, and others rushing to buy things. Especially with how most people tended to easily be taller than you, or tower over you, he could imagine you’d be easily intimidated by that, let alone all the options of where to go.

Giving your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, he spoke.

“We can get clothes first, then decide from there.”

John met his eye, and nodded, silently agreeing with him. You mumbled a little “okay”, before being led along by the both of them to a nearby area in the mall that was a large clothing store, one of the bigger shopping areas than the hallways full of different, smaller stores.

“Let’s focus on winter clothes first, so jackets, scarves, gloves, pants, those sorts of things. Then we can move on to lighter wear.”

You all navigated the store, meandering around before John spotted the “Children’s clothing” sign, and you finally found the girl’s section. From there, you had to narrow that down to the human section among all sorts of hybrids.

That was the one thing you didn’t envy about hybrids, was how hard it must be to find clothing that properly fit their various parts like wings, tails, etc. There was a reason that seamstresses and embroiderers had become much more popular after hybrids really began rapidly spreading and taking over the population. The business was booming.

“What about this one?”

John asked, gesturing to a striped sweater. You could tell from a few glances that the quality wasn’t the greatest, and that it wasn’t made of real wool or fiber, probably just the type of polyester that rubbed against your skin badly. You reached a hand out, disconnecting from Simon, and rubbing against the fabric only to confirm your assumption. You shook your head.

“Itchy.”

You said simply. They tried pointing out clothes and jackets you might like to no avail, probably not understanding the concept of needing fabric to stay warm, considering most hybrids had fur to keep them warm, if not their bodies practically being furnaces.

Finally, you found the absolute perfect jacket. A hoodie that wasn’t tight around the bottom, but baggy enough to where it went down to your mid-thigh, the sleeves weren’t tight, and the hood was loose and wasn’t so heavy that it weighed the hoodie down or strangled you. The inside felt like a cloud, and it was stretchy but also firm enough to keep heat insulated.

When you finally stopped feening over the hoodie, you flipped the price tag over and winced, putting it back. It might’ve been perfect, but it was a ridiculous amount of money for a hoodie. Too much money for a hoodie.

Simon and Price exchanged a look behind your back as you went on to find other clothes, returning twenty minutes later with, as John requested, a scarf, gloves, some sweatpants, and socks. Simon scoped it all out of your arms and put it in their cart, following behind as John began looking for the clothes for lighter seasons, finding it and letting you choose your pick.

Having spent almost two hours in the one place by now, with you trying on various clothes, John said he wanted to make sure they fit right before buying them, and your mild indecisiveness as well. When it was all said and done, you had plenty of clothes for outfits throughout the year, and they checked out.

It was only after everything had been checked out that you saw it.

The hoodie.

Simon held it carefully, scanning it, before ripping the tag off with ease and handing it to you. You opened your mouth in protest at first, a bit embarrassed, but decided against saying anything as you slid it on. It fit perfectly.

It wouldn’t be very easy for either of them to hold the bags and your hand at the same time, so Simon leaned down, getting on one knee, and gesturing to his shoulders, gently picked you up by the armpit, and lifted you until you were sitting on his shoulders.

You blinked in surprise for a moment or two, but eventually, the shock wore off. The internal cringing after seeing a couple go “awwww” at the sight of you, or a group of women giggling to themselves, seeing Simon carrying you, didn’t though.

John noticed, a little smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t mind anyone noticing what good parents they were to the newest member of their pack, it actually made his chest swell with pride.

“You hungry?”

Simon asked, tilting his head a bit to the side to catch a glimpse of you, just so he knew you had heard him. You gave a little nod, being absolutely starving by now, and he chuckled.

“Me too, kid. Let’s see how much we can convince Price to spend on food.”

You’d both convinced him to spend quite a lot on food, apparently, as you both sat down, eating Thai chicken that tasted scrumptious. You devoured it, eating faster than even Simon, and Price was steadily laughing as he watched you somehow shove more food down your throat.

“Save some for the rest of us,”

Price chuckled, watching as you swallowed more chicken, looking up at him with a look more feral than any hybrid he’d seen, before pouting in what he assumed was a joking way.

“I’m just a girl.”

You said, and Simon’s deep, raspy laughs started up at that. He apparently found it funny. You continued devouring your food, filling your stomach until you were all full, something you weren’t used to from your past foster parents.

Price was enjoying his food as well as you all sat at the Food Court, in a little booth table. The lady working the shop had given extra-large servings after taking one look at Simon and Price, knowing big men like them would need plenty of food. She probably hadn’t known how starved you’d been, and by now, you were too hungry to care about eating nicely in front of them.

There was sauce on your lips and your fingers, but you didn’t care, Price wiping some from his beard, Simon using a napkin to wipe some of it from his mouth, before folding that napkin over, and wiping it off your face. You looked at him, a smile tugging at your lips. He tried to conceal his smirk but failed as you burst into giggles. Price laughed again.

After finally finishing off all of the chicken, both you and Simon were in a food coma by now, Price had to drag both of you out of the mall and into the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. You and Simon lagged behind a little bit, before you broke out into a run to the car, yelling a message for Simon.

“I call shotgun!”

“You can’t just—“

He sputtered, racing after you, but too late as you yanked the passenger door open, collapsing into the seat as you shut the door and locked it manually. He raised a brow, but you buckled up, securing your seat with a badly suppressed smile.

He opened the back door, climbed in, and stretched out on all three of the seats in the back, yawning as he didn’t even bother to buckle up.

You and John both looked back at him, you giggling quietly as Simon’s lips twitched, John just shaking his head in fond exasperation.

The drive home was quiet, other than the low-volume music playing in the background as you curled up in the large seat, watching the window, eyelids heavy, but you resisted the siren's call of sleep for most of the car ride, other than a little five-minute nap, or maybe a little bit longer than five minutes.

Or maybe you fell asleep almost the entire car ride, only waking up when you heard Johnny’s excited voice, followed by hushing, and you shifted around, only to find yourself cradled in John’s arms.

“Quiet, she’s sleeping.”

Kyle murmured, and Johnny whined, the sound almost piercing to your ears.

“No, she ain’t—“

And then you slowly blinked awake, finding yourself being shifted from John’s arms to Johnny’s, warm muscle gently caging you in as soft fur rubbed gently against your skin, tickling a bit. His chest rumbled with a deep purr, one that even had you melting further into him, despite not being the same species. It somehow still affected you.

You heard his heavy footsteps thud down the hall, until your bedroom door creaked open, and the soft blankets in your bed surrounded you now instead of him.

You shifted around a bit, finding a comfortable angle and spot, listening to his quiet breathing and loud purring as he kissed you on the forehead, murmuring something so low that you couldn’t hear it, before leaving the room, leaving you to fall asleep.

Tags:

@theartgremlin

@roastyyytoastyyy

@simonrileysown

@thriving-n-jiving

@angeldemon28

@purple-moonbeam

@d-oo-t

@epochal-oracle

@picklehat3r

@starandcloud

[muffinsin]

ik it says you’re busy so you can ignore this but can you write omega bela x alpha reader but instead of reader being dominant, it’s bela

so kind of like omega power bottom bela x alpha service top reader???

have a good day/night!

Absolutely!👀 this October’s really bringing in the smut XD

Seeing as alpha reader is unspecified imma write them with male genitals/a G!P for the purpose of this

Let’s get into it!🙌

Masterlists

As you work, you find yourself becoming increasingly more and more distracted. You try hard to focus, to ignore all your mind and body is telling you, but your hands tremble as you arrange the papers and your body is breaking out into sweats and shivers.

You feel your cock harden painfully and the hair at the back of your neck stand up. Being in Bela Dimitrescu’s office and asked- no, ordered- to clean up the many papers scattered across desks and window sills across the room, you find yourself barely able to keep it together.

Being an alpha yourself, you’ve found out about her status as an omega long ago. And really, with the many betas and other omegas around at the castle, you never thought it would be much of an issue.

Only does Bela smell much, much nicer than them…

Her mere scent in the air has your cock harden and hands shake, your pulse quicken and balls throb. Far too many nights you spent touching yourself in your bed, biting into your pillow and shamefully jerking yourself off to the thought of her.

Needless to say, you would never actually approach her about this.

Her intelligent, intimidating and cannibalistic nature and her high status and rank within the castle scares away all thought of that easily, after all.

But still, you can’t help but lay in bed dreaming, whimpering to yourself. A hand working furiously between your legs, wishing it was hers. Wishing she was yours, and better yet, that you were hers. Wishing she would push you down and take what she wants, as she effortlessly does in the castle every day.

You want nothing than to be hers, to please her, to be with her, to perhaps even be allowed to lay your claim on her.

Thinking of this has your heart quicken again and you can’t help yourself. Taking a quick glance in her direction to get just a little look at her neck, you freeze immediately upon seeing her stare at you.

Bela walks towards you slowly, her heels clicking against the floor of her office. As if to shield yourself and hide the bulged outline of your hard cock straining against the uniform, you quickly hold a stack of papers in front of your crotch.

The closer she gets, the more you get to smell her.

“Fuck…”, you whisper under your breath, but when she tilts her head to the side, you know she must have heard the phrase still.

When she stands right in front of you, the yearning becomes nearly unbearable. You smell her sweet scent, the sweetest omega scent you’ve smelled in your entire life. It has you shiver and bite your lip, hoping it will keep you from making more noises.

This close, you’re right on face level with her neck, where you seem to almost hear and see her pulse as the blood pumps below. So badly do you want to bite down on the pale flesh, to claim her as yours and be claimed as hers. You’d allow her to do anything, you’d be as good as she expects those around her to be! You know, Bela doesn’t stand for incompetence, after all.

She stands right in front of you at last and you draw in a sharp breath when an ungloved hand comes up to harshly grab at your jaw. Your head is turned a little, her eyes somewhat sharp as she inspects your warm cheeks and listens to your quick heartbeat.

Gripping your jaw a little tighter, she almost seems to test you, and test what you, as an alpha, will do, as though your status would have any relevance in the castle, where it’s so clear the Dimitrescu’s are in charge.

Instead, you only whimper pathetically at her, your body as though on fire from her touch. She’s beautiful, so beautiful, which you finally get to admire now you’re up close to her.

You find, your fantasies could never do her justice.

With bright golden eyes and thick, dark painted lips turned to a scowl, she seems to finish inspecting you. You gasp when the stack of papers is taken from you and her eyes immediately find the bulge in your pants.

“I thought so”, she hums, pleased with herself, as though this was a game she was playing with you. Trembling as she approaches, you feel your body respond and urge you to move, to take, to claim the omega right in front of you.

Only does it seem your body didn’t quite yet get the memo that this is not just any omega, but the Bela Dimitrescu.

And Bela is not so easily taken, nor so easily claimed.

Alas, she’s taken an interest in you.

You’re about to speak up, about to apologize and plead for your life, perhaps even explain, when she suddenly drops her palm to your bulge and all words seem to be taken from you.

You open your mouth, panting and moaning when she squeezes you through the tight pants of your uniform.

She’s so close now, you feel her breasts push up against you.

You yearn to place your hands at her hips, to feel the fabric of her dress, or even better yet; her bare skin. You wonder how she looks below the skin tight dress. Countless nights you’ve spent fantasizing of thrusting between her thick thighs already.

You gasp when sharp, claw-like nails dig into your pants, just above your bulge, and rip at the fabric.

“Take that off, little one”, she speaks. A soft spoken command, but one you follow eagerly still. You squirm out of your pants, groaning in anticipation of what she might to do you. When she merely crosses her arms, clearly displeased and growing impatient, you make quick work of the rest of your clothing, too.

Standing in front of her like this, your power dynamic clear, despite your status as an alpha and hers as an omega.

Her golden eyes flicker to your cock, erect and twitching, drooling some precum already at the mere sight and scent of her. You want to bury yourself inside her so badly, to let her ride and use you as she sees fit. You wonder; will she allow you to cum inside? Will she make you pull out? She’s an omega and mating season is near. Perhaps she will allow you to breed her, if only to relieve the ache she, as all other omegas, must feel.

You watch with wide eyes as she easily swarms out her dress, left only in her choker necklace, a black bra, a pair of black panties connected to the thigh-high stockings by a garter belt and her black heels. Your eyes immediately drop to her breasts and the nipples poking through the fabric.

Immediately, you reach up, yet gasp when a sickle is raised to your throat immediately.

She smirks down at you, walking you back until you squeak as you fall onto the black sofa set against one of the walls in her office. Typically it offers a break for her, perhaps even an opportunity to catch some sleep. Now, it’s clear it will have another use.

She keeps your head tipped up using her sickle, a confident smirk on her dark painted lips. When she leans down and speaks, her words are low and seductive.

“Behave for me, little alpha, won’t you?”

You nod fast, moan openly.

Yes, yes, you will! “Yes, my Lady”, you groan.

Your eyes widen when she lowers herself on you, her legs on either side of your lap, her core, yet covered by her panties, mere inches from your hardened cock.

She moves her head to your neck, humming lowly as her hand drops down and wraps around your cock. At this, her first touch like this, you find yourself at her mercy already. You moan and mewl for her, eyes wide, lips parted. You grip the cushions of the sofa beneath you tightly, your toes curling subtly when she begins to stroke up and down.

“B-Bela”, you moan, only to gasp when she squeezes your cock almost painfully.

“Lady Bela, little one”, she corrects, a playful smirk on her lips. Yes, of course she will keep you. But that doesn’t mean she won’t remind you of your manners. Truly, this is everything she’s ever hoped for. Her status as an omega has always annoyed her, how she’d have to wrestle with the few alphas in the village to get what she wanted, always had to fight off their wandering hands when they believed they were in charge. You submit to her naturally, unable to resist the comfort her domination gives you.

You nod your head fast, already baring your neck to her when her lips move to your jaw and she strokes a little faster. Embarrassingly, pre cum drips from you already. The thought that it’s sticking against Bela’s hand has your head spin.

You moan when soft lips press against your neck first, her tongue darting out to taste your flesh. You know, she has a taste for blood, often seen drinking from unfortunate maidens in the halls, draining them just enough to satisfy her hunger.

How you have always wished it was you….

Now though? You can be.

“Please…”, you moan, your bare skin sporting goosebumps. “Taste”, you beg. You aren’t sure why you’re tempting her like this, why you feel it’s a good idea to tempt a huntress and predator such as Bela.

But your wish is granted, eagerly so, and you’re left moaning and automatically grabbing onto her hips when her sharp teeth dig into your skin.

You feel your balls throb and cock ache, your fingers digging into bare hips lightly. There’s pain, yes, but there’s so much pleasure her bite grants you, too.

You feel almost lost, closing your eyes and groaning lowly. Below your fingertips, her skin is soft, cool, comfortable.

She holds onto your shoulders, slowly hovers above your lap. With your eyes closed and your body responding to her automatically, you have no way of knowing what happens next, have no way of controlling yourself or even to prepare yourself.

Bela pulls aside her panties and sinks down on your dick, her pussy so wet and heavenly, your senses on fire and cock so sensitive already, it’s almost too much.

“A-Ahhh! Too-too-much! I ca-a-AhH!”, you cry out, gritting your teeth and trying to tug her up again when you feel your orgasm approach far too fast. But Bela doesn’t move and only smirks against your lips and coos when she feels warm, wet cum shot inside her warm pussy.

Your body trembles as you cum, your fingertips digging into her soft hips as you pant. Your cheeks are warm and a bright shade of pink, your embarrassment evident.

You could punch yourself, really.

Here you are, getting the chance to be with The Bela Dimitrescu and- you cum instantly?! You could sink into the ground.

Still, Bela doesn’t tease. She giggles and moans, slowly lifting herself and rolling her hips. Your eyes widen and find her beautiful, golden ones, when she begins to ride you as you fantasised her doing so often.

She’s beautiful, her breasts bouncing softly, her hips rolling seductively. Her pussy is just perfect, too, soft and tight, squeezing your cock perfectly with every move. She was wet already, but thanks to the creamy white cum from you, she’s soaked now, each move allowing more wetness to drip from her and run down the sides of your cock.

You feel droplets of blood run down your neck when she pulls away, whine and moan as she easily controls the pace and makes you stay still for her. Despite being the one with the dick, it’s painfully clear that only Bela is the one truly in charge.

“A-Ahhh, fuck…yes…”, you groan, holding onto her a little tighter as she rides you. But she doesn’t allow you to move her, doesn’t allow your grip on her to determine the pace in the slightest. You’re utterly at her mercy, sitting and moaning when she fucks herself on you.

Your eyes drop down to her breasts, bouncing softly as she moves and daring to spill from her black bra already.

This close to her and with her wet walls wrapped around you, you find your head spinning. Your biology demands you to mate, to claim her, to pump her full. Yet you can only moan and whimper for her, beg for all this rather than take her.

And Bela? She finds herself just adoring you.

Your cute little pleas, your sweet voice as you beg her to let you claim her, to let you cum in her again. You beg, plead, whine, moan, gasp out little pleas for her to move faster.

This time, she allows it, and you gasp when nails sink into your shoulders and she rides you faster. Her back is arched, her breasts pushed up against your face. You moan and moan, massaging her soft skin below your fingers.

“A-Ahh, mhmmmm…yes…”

She shakes adorably with you, her thighs trembling, yet she continues.

You’re moaning below her, your face warm, your cock throbbing. You so badly want to keep yourself from cumming, want her to orgasm first, this time, but even in this aspect she dominates you effortlessly.

With her wet pussy and warm, spongy inner walls rubbing up and down against your sensitive cock with every move.

Again, you’re the first to come, burying your face in her chest and moaning hotly against the soft skin. Again, one load of cum after the other is shoot deep in her, coating her pussy in warm, creamy slickness.

She rides you a little more, moaning and gasping above you, her nails digging a little deeper into your shoulders when she finally cums, too, her pussy tightening around you, her back arching beautifully.

It takes you a moment to recover, but eventually you manage to meet her eyes again, your heart beating a little faster when she smirks at you yet again.

She rises from you, your wet cock slapping against yourself when it slips from her wet pussy.

Instead, she abandons her underwear and leans over her desk, her back arched perfectly and her long legs spread. Your head spins and your stomach flips, your chest heaves and you get to your feet eagerly when her fingers spread her pussy lips apart, next, exposing her pink insides.

“Attend me, pet. Deep, and fast, now”, she commands.

Who are you to even think of denying her?

You move fast, immediately walk up to her and line yourself up with her.

You wait for permission, eager to please the beautiful woman, yet your entire body throbs and you shiver in anticipation already.

And when it comes, you can hardly stop yourself.

You move closer immediately, moaning loudly as you thrust deep into her already. Staying true to her instructions, you thrust your hips fast and far, shoving deep inside her wet and warm heat.

While her movements were controlled and dominating, strong and powerful, yours are simply desperate.

You trust fast, whimper and moan as you lean across her. You thrust helplessly, eager to feel her, to mark her. You’re easily getting lost in the feeling, moaning, groaning, your balls slapping against her.

She grips the table tightly, her head turning to you when one of her hands raises to it. “Here, little one”, she commands breathily.

You lean forwards immediately, shivering when you bury yourself inside her to the limit. You feel her warmth, the tight heat around your cock, and your head swims at the possibilities. If she let you, you could breed her, could take the tension you’re sure the omega is feeling.

She grabs you by your hair, tugging to guide your thrusts and speed them up again.

You’re helpless, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite being the one thrusting into her, you’re completely submissive, completely hers, rutting your hips forth and back at the pace of which she tugs your hair.

You love it.

Eventually, Bela feels she gets close again, her thighs trembling a little. She’s thankful for the desk underneath her now, knowing her legs might give out from beneath her otherwise.

You hardly fare much better, your cock nearly milked dry from her, sensitive and aching as you thrust your hips faster and faster, moaning and whimpering as you chase your orgasm, too.

“Please, my Lady, please, let me cum, ple-please, inside, please!”, you beg, desperate.

What a beautiful sound it is to her.

Perhaps, she might even grant you your wish…

[moowmoon]

RAINING KISS

—tony stark x fem!reader

— summary: tony had in mind the perfect date, but maybe the weather had another's idea for him.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 1.7k

— a/n: hello! here it's my first one-shot for tony! hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The sky had quickly turned into a gray blanket, as if the clouds had decided to gather for a secret council. The soft light of dusk seeped through the mist that was forming, and the air was heavy with humidity. Tony and she left the restaurant, laughing at a joke he had told about his latest project in the lab.

“I told you the Iron Man suit wasn't waterproof!” she joked, throwing a wink in his direction. Tony rolled his eyes, but couldn't contain his smile.

The light moment was abruptly interrupted when the first drops of rain began to fall as if the sky had decided to join in the fun.

“Uh-Oh! I think we'd better run!” Tony exclaimed, looking up to see the clouds gathering. Before he could finish his sentence, the rain poured down, turning the sidewalk into a slippery slope. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to run under the rain that was now pouring down in torrents. Laughter echoed as they zigzagged through the puddles, trying to find shelter.

“If that isn't a perfect introduction to chaos!” she shouted, her voice almost drowned out by the drumming of the rain. They exchanged complicit glances, feeling the adrenaline of the race and the growing heat between them. The electricity in the air wasn't just the rain — there was a palpable tension that grew with every step.

“This way!” Tony shouted, pointing to a small café ahead, where warm light emanated from the window. With a final push, they went through the door, panting and soaked, laughing as they shook themselves, the world outside blurring into a blur of water.

The small café, warm and welcoming, was illuminated by yellowish lights that danced gently around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that contrasted with the chaos caused by the storm outside. The walls were decorated with colorful pictures and the wooden tables exuded a rustic charm.

“It looks perfect.” she said, a smile forming on her lips as the humidity of the rain mixed with the heat of the moment.

“Sure, as if we needed another reason to take shelter here.” Tony joked, winking. He ran his hand through his wet hair, the strands flowing like a waterfall, and then grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. The closeness enveloped them in a new layer of comfort.

As they waited, the soft music playing in the background filled the space with a tranquil sound, enveloping them in a bubble of intimacy. It was light jazz, whose chords seemed to dance in the air, complementing the feeling of coziness that grew between them.

“You know,” he began, his voice softer now. “I think that rain might have been the best thing that happened today.” Their eyes met, and for a moment, all that existed was that look, full of promise and secrets.

She smiled, a mixture of surprise and joy, as the light from the coffee reflected in her eyes. “And I thought you only liked sunny days.”

Tony gave a low laugh, leaning closer. “Sunny days are nice, but you know what's even better? Being here, with you, while the world outside is breaking up into a storm.”

Her smile widened and she tilted her head, unable to contain her excitement. The connection between them became more palpable, and the atmosphere around them seemed to pulsate, charged with something deeper.

When the music softened even more, Tony approached, their faces so close that she could smell the sweet scent of his perfume. “I think we should take advantage of this moment, don't you?”

The air was electrically charged and, without thinking, she nodded. The rain continued to fall, but now, instead of just a background sound, it was a symphony that accompanied what was to come.

And they both remained like that, in silence, their gazes locked on each other. The sound of the rain outside gradually disappeared, giving way to a moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. Tony was so close that he could see every detail of her face — the sparkle in her eyes, the way her lips curved into a shy smile, and the little expressions she made when she was shy. The heat of his body, warming the space between them, and the tension in the air became almost palpable.

“You know…” he began, but the words got stuck in his throat as if the atmosphere had enveloped them in a bubble of expectation. She raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, but instead, he just stood there, admiring her.

The laughter and joking of the moment before now seemed distant, replaced by something deeper. It was as if the world around them had disappeared, and the only thing he had left was that moment between them.

She took a step closer, almost unconsciously, her heart racing. “What is it, Tony?” her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he couldn't help but smile.

“Sometimes I think about how crazy life is,” he said, his words now more serious. “How one day we're bumping into each other in a market and the next, we're here, hiding from the rain in a café, and everything seems to fit together perfectly.”

She nodded, understanding hanging in the air between them. “It's strange, isn't it? How can things change so quickly?” Her gaze deepened, and he saw a reflection of his own feelings in her eyes.

The moment stretched out, and the connection that grew between them became so intense that it seemed almost electric. Tony leaned in a little closer, the space between them becoming almost non-existent. The soft coffee light illuminated their faces, while the music seemed to play just for them.

“You make me feel like I'm exactly where I should be,” he said, the sincerity in his voice echoing in the silence between them. The confession hung in the air, and she could feel her heart racing.

“I feel the same way.” she replied, her words echoing the truth that bound them together. And at that moment, between the falling rain and the soft music, they both knew that the next night would take them to a place that had not yet been explored — a place full of possibilities, full of promise.

With his heart racing and tension hanging in the air, Tony leaned in even closer, until the space between them disappeared completely. The soft music of the café seemed to become a perfect soundtrack for what was about to happen. He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only the same desire that burned inside him.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and charged with emotion. She nodded slightly, at which point he pulled her closer, his hands wrapping around her face.

When their lips met, it was as if the world around them disappeared. The kiss was long and hot, full of silent promises and unspoken feelings. The taste of rain still on her skin, combined with the sweetness of such an intimate moment, seemed to be a magical combination.

She surrendered to the touch, feeling as if she were floating. Tony's hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, while her fingers dug into his hair, deepening the connection between them. The kiss intensified, and she could feel the passion pulsing between them as if each touch spoke more than words could express.

As the kiss went on, his caresses became more discreet, but still charged with overwhelming desire. Tony stroked her back gently, his fingers drawing small circles that sent shivers down her spine. She responded with a slight pressure on her lips, a silent way of encouraging the depth of that moment.

The mixture of the sounds of the rain and the music in the background created an enveloping atmosphere as they lost themselves in each other. The outside world seemed so far away, and all that existed was that cozy shelter and the growing connection between their bodies.

When Tony's lips finally parted from hers, they stood just a few centimeters from each other, their breaths still ragged. They were both smiling as if they had shared a secret that only the two of them knew. The sparkle in their eyes reflected the magic of the moment, a mixture of excitement, affection, and intensity that hung in the air.

“That was… well, something.” Tony commented, his voice laden with satisfaction. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide the slight shyness that had appeared after the kiss, but his smile was undeniable.

“You've definitely exceeded my expectations for tonight,” she replied, laughing softly, her eyes still fixed on his. The soft light from the café illuminated their faces, highlighting the intimacy they had built up in just a few minutes.

Tony tilted his head, a gesture that mixed curiosity and playfulness. “You know, we can't let this day end like this. We need more surprises. I don't want this rain to be the only exciting thing that happens today.”

She smiled, her heart racing at the possibility. “What do you have in mind, Stark?”

“How about something simple but memorable? We can explore the surroundings while the rain subsides. The city always has something to offer, even on a day like this,” he suggested, his excitement growing.

“I like that,” she agreed, her smile widening. “But, Tony, do you really think we can have fun in the rain?”

“Only if you promise not to mind getting wet again,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Besides, I'm willing to be your human umbrella.”

“You're a real gentleman,” she said, laughing once again. The moment of complicity between them seemed palpable as if promises of new adventures were floating in the air.

Tony moved away a little, pulling her by the hand. “Come on. The world is our playground, and tonight is still full of possibilities.”

She followed in his footsteps, her heart pounding with the excitement of what was to come. “And who knows what else the night has in store for us?”

As they moved out of the café, the scent of coffee and the sweetness of the rain followed them, ready to embark on a new adventure, together, under a sky that now seemed less threatening and more magical.

[leggerefiore]

cw: a little angst, pla ingo, pasio verse

pairing: Ingo/Reader

“Hey, Ingo, were you dressed up as a decrepit version of yourself for Halloween by any chance?” you caught the older of the Subway Bosses as he was taking a break from training for the tournament he and his brother were hosting. He blinked as he took your question. It seemed that he had no idea what you were talking about. Honestly, you had not been so sure either. But, it was clearly Ingo. You had seen his face. His attire definitely had been a bit strange, but it had been Halloween. The simplest explanation was that he was wearing a costume.

“No, I was not,” came the reply from him, “… I was wearing my current attire. Emmet and I obtained these costumes and opted to wear them together.” His hand came to hold the brim of his hat. “Perhaps you simply saw someone dressed up as me… I cannot say that it is impossible,” he attempted to explain away the situation, “People have dressed up as my brother and me before.” You had already considered that, but the issue was that the face was certain his own. There was no question in that despite the goatee.

“… It was you,” you deadpanned, “Ingo, I know your face. That was you.” He tensed up at your insistence. It was clear he had not been expected it. For a moment, you both stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. You were not backing down. That had been Ingo that you saw. Even if his coat was ragged and tattered, those shoes were simply impossible not to recognise. Though, the tunic had been an odd choice.

“… Dearest,” he simply replied, “It was not me.” His hand came to hold his chin. The gears in his head were clearly turning as he debated just what you could have seen. He closed his eyes. With no doubt in his mind, he knew it was not him. “A Zoroark, then,” he tried again, “Or a Ditto. There is not a chance it was Emmet or myself.” You were still unconvinced. The costume was too elaborate for either pokemon to have done that.

Yet, just as you went open your mouth again, you both heard footsteps approach. Turning your heads toward the direction they came from, you both saw a familiar coat. A tattered one. Ingo tensed up. You blinked. What… was this…? The man truly had Ingo's face. His steps drew to a halt just before you both. He gazed at Ingo intensely. They both seemed to lock eyes and not break away from it.

“… Excuse me,” his voice was a bit lower and raspier than Ingo's own, yet sounded nearly identical, “Who might you be?” Ingo's eyes narrowed. He clearly was on edge by this apparent clone. You, however, found yourself fascinated. Grasping Ingo's arm, you tugged on his sleeve. He let out a breath.

“I am the Subway Boss Ingo,” the older twin politely answered his question, “I return the sentiment to you; who might you be?” The identical stranger blinked a few times – His mouth coming to hang open in apparent shock. Something was clearly at play here, yet you and Ingo had no idea clue as to what it could be. He did a similar movement to Ingo, grasping the brim of his hat and pulling it down over his eyes.

“… I am warden Ingo of the Pearl Clan,” he offered in reply. You blinked. That was the group that the one Hisuian woman had mentioned being the head of. Why would one of her people seem so similar to Ingo? You did not recall him mentioning any Sinnohan ancestry. Even he seemed baffled at your side. “… By any chance, do you know a man who looks like you?” he asked simply. Ingo stood even more stiffly.

“… In fact, I do,” he replied, “Why do you ask?” The other Ingo seemed lost in thought. His eyes gazed at the Ingo at your side with a strange fascination.

“I… Can barely recall anything but my own name,” the warden explained, “… Yet, this identical man flashed into my mind. I feel like I must see him at once.” Ingo's eyes grew lidded. Your own heart pounded with empathy. This situation had grown truly bizarre. Ingo fished out his phone from his pocket and called Emmet, asking him to head over to the area you both were at as soon as he could. The younger twin was hesitant due to their current training regiment, but a simple bit of pushing made him relent. You telling him to come probably also helped.

It was not long until a third person with the same face stepped forward. Emmet stood in even more shock at the sight of the pair of Ingos. You watched as he took careful steps to your Ingo's side. The Warden observed the newcomer with a strange expression. His eyes were wide as he observed the two standing side by side. Then, tears began to swell in his eyes. They fell down his cheeks as he remained silent. The twins were beyond confused. Slowly, you began to have an idea.

An idea you disliked immensely.

Letting go of Ingo's arm, you rushed to his counterpart. Unconsciously, you brought a hand to help wipe away his tears. He allowed you to do so. Your eyes met his own. There was a familiar gentleness in them that you did not dare fail to recognise. He brought a calloused hand to your cheek. “D-Dearest…” the word was more like a whimper from him. Your heart hurt. He suddenly clung to you, making Ingo and Emmet gasp from behind. You allowed him to hold you.

The future seemed much less bright with this knowledge.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Thirty-One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

ThunderClan’s party returned home soon after and wasted no time in spreading the news of the dogs to the rest of the Clan. Fireheart watched with some cold comfort as his Clanmates’ faces turned concerned and sympathetic at the report of Gorsepaw’s death. Ravenwing bowed his head for a long moment, saying nothing after Fireheart told him the story.

“I hope Wrenwhisker’s doing okay,” Greystripe said, gazing in the distant direction of the unseeable moorland. “That’s got to hurt.”

Ravenwing looked up with a shaky sigh. In his eyes was a grief and fear Fireheart understood well now: the fear of losing his own apprentice to the dogs. He couldn’t offer any help; the fear had his own heart in a painfully squeezing grip.

“At least…” Greystripe swallowed thickly. “At least the kits are safe. For now.”

Fireheart rested a paw on Greystripe’s stretched-out leg. “RiverClan won’t let anything happen to them.”

“Yeah?” Greystripe said dully. “WindClan wouldn’t let anything happen to Gorsepaw either.”

Something in Fireheart’s gut rolled. He looked down, nauseous. 

Cloudpaw, at least, did not seem to be bothered in the same way his uncle was. He simply went to the older apprentices and told them the story of the entire Gathering, and Fireheart elected to let him go without a conversation. He wasn’t in need of it.

The morning came and went, and yet Cloudpaw came out of the apprentice’s den dragging his feet, blinking sleepily and yawning several times on his way to the prey-pile.

“Are you still tired?” Fireheart asked, pawing a piece of prey his way. “I would’ve thought you’d be up and ready to battle the world by now.”

Cloudpaw sheepishly lowered his ears. “Well, um, me and Brightpaw talked a bunch, and then I couldn’t get to sleep until it was halfway through the day.” He yawned again. “Sorry.”

Fireheart twitched his whiskers. “What were you two chatting about? It must have been fascinating.”

Cloudpaw looked even more sheepish. “Just… just how the Gathering went, and all the cats she knows in other Clans.” He shook his head hard, but his eyes didn’t lose their bleariness. “It’s not important. Are we hunting again tonight?”

A memory of Bluestar scolding Fireheart as an exhausted apprentice passed through his mind. He nearly shuddered at it. “No, no, we’ll take it easy. How about you take care of the elders tonight, and then you can rest?”

Cloudpaw didn’t quite burst with joy, but he did perk up a bit. “Okay!” He paused. “Just the elders?”

Fireheart gave him an affectionate look. “If you’d like to, after you rest a bit, you can clean out a couple nests as well.”

“I can do that.” Cloudpaw nodded. Without another word, he scooted forward and picked up a bird and squirrel, carefully clenching them in his teeth as he turned and trotted away, heading for the elder’s den, where Halftail and One-eye were just emerging into the open. Fireheart watched with pride as Halftail greeted Cloudpaw warmly—and if he was hearing right, Cloudpaw even got a “thank you”.

“He’s good with them.”

Fireheart turned his head; Goldenflower had approached, looking just as tired as Cloudpaw.

“I guess it runs in the family,” Fireheart said, beaming. “Both mine and Brindleface’s.” He cocked his head towards the nursery, where Aspenpaw was gently playing with Tawnykit, Bramblekit padding around them and watching with curiosity.

Goldenflower nodded with a weary sigh. “I’m glad she’s here. She keeps them entertained when I need to rest.”

“You look like you need to rest now,” Fireheart said, nosing her shoulder in a slight nudge. “I’m going to be here all night, I can watch them, too.”

Goldenflower’s mouth moved like she was about to protest before she gave up and yawned. “Alright. Thank you, honeymouse. If they start acting up, bring them back to me.”

Fireheart nodded obediently, following her back towards the nursery. Bramblekit was the one to see them coming, and he brightened up at the sight of his brother. Tawnykit and Aspenpaw noticed a moment later as Goldenflower parked herself in front of the nursery and plopped down.

Aspenpaw peered scrutinizingly at Fireheart until Goldenflower said, “He’s safe, he can help you.”

Bramblekit whispered something in Tawnykit’s ear, and her eyes darkened a bit. She nodded and said to Aspenpaw, “Can we play with Fireheart?”

Just as the apprentice opened her mouth, Speckletail’s voice called across camp. She looked backwards, where the deputy was standing at the tunnel, and said with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.” She turned and trotted away to join her mentor.

Fireheart purred at the kits. “We need to play quietly so Mira can rest.”

Goldenflower murmured something; when Fireheart looked her way, her eyes were shut and she was breathing sleep-slowly. He twitched his whiskers and looked back to his siblings.

Then he paused. Their faces were troubled and they glanced at each other in a silent question.

“Is something wrong?” Fireheart asked, lowering his voice to a murmur.

Bramblekit fidgeted anxiously. Tawnykit chattered her teeth. It was a long moment before they answered.

“Are we…” Bramblekit started, then paused and looked at Tawnykit.

Tawnykit finished the sentence. “Are we old enough to understand the reason now?”

Fireheart’s gut twisted and tightened. “The reason…”

“Why I’m in trouble,” Bramblekit answered, his own voice muted. “Or… what the faces are about.”

It took Fireheart a heartbeat to gather himself, nod and gesture with his tail, leading the kits to the quiet corner of camp and sitting down as far from his Clanmates as he could get, thankful that camp wasn’t heavily populated at the moment. The kits huddled in close to him, looking at him with curious, innocent eyes.

Fireheart took a breath, carefully keeping his voice soft and kind. “Well… the reason is a sad one. It hurts everyone, especially Mira and me. It’s a long story, but it’s an important one.”

The kits’s faces turned worried.

“Before you were born…” Fireheart silently prayed to the heavens to forgive him for sacrilege. “Before you were born, you had Mira, and you had me. But you also had Arpam. He was the deputy of ThunderClan, and he looked just like you, Bramblekit.” Sentiment formed a lump in his throat and made his voice shake the slightest bit, betraying the grief welling in his chest. “He was kind, and he loved you and Mira and me very much, and everyone else, and everyone loved him too.”

At Fireheart’s trembling voice, Bramblekit leaned forward a bit and extended a paw, like he wanted to reach out and touch Fireheart’s leg, but he paused and withdrew. Tawnykit only squinted a bit and grimaced, fidgeting uncomfortably.

Fireheart breathed and forced his voice to settle. “But he didn’t love us in the right way. He was happy to hurt us all, because he thought that if he did, he’d be helping us later.”

Tawnykit looked taken aback. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No.” Fireheart shook his head. “It doesn’t. But he had a broken mind that told him it was okay. We had two deputies before him, and they both died because of things he did to hurt them. When he became deputy after them, he decided Bluestar had to die so he could save ThunderClan.”

Bramblekit dropped his mouth open and Tawnykit jerked her head back, eyes huge.

“The problem was that ThunderClan didn’t need to be saved,” Fireheart went on. “We were just fine. His mind told him we weren’t, because of Bluestar.” He craned his neck to bring his head closer to his little siblings and looked them both in the eye. “Bluestar is sick now, but before you were born, she was a very good leader. Everyone liked her. She mentored me and still led the Clan well. But after what Arpam did… she got sick, because it hurt her so badly.”

Bramblekit shivered and timidly asked, “What… what did he do?”

There was no good way to explain this to a kit. Fireheart went for it. “He tried to kill her. Several times.” The kits gasped and he nodded sadly. “He got other cats hurt by trying to be sneaky about it. You know Cinderpaw’s leg and tail? That happened because she got caught in a trap Arpam tried to set for Bluestar. And I almost died, too, when I nearly walked into another one. Arpam saved me, but he was too late to save Cinderpaw.”

Tawnykit bristled. “So he was a– a monster!” She peeked at her older brother hesitantly. “Right?”

Fireheart sighed. “In a way. Ravenwing found out what he was doing, and he and me and Greystripe told everyone about it. The whole Clan was really angry, and that was the right reaction. He got cats killed and hurt. Even though he thought he was doing the right thing, he was really being dangerous and cruel. So…” The lump swelled in Fireheart’s throat, and he swallowed it. “So we punished him by taking away his name and killing him back, before he could hurt anyone else.”

Arpam, wait!

The perfect memory of the deputy turning and looking at him clung fast to his vision, down to every individual hair on his face. Then… then his eyes, frightened and wild, slowly softening and the life in them fading away.

“So…” He inhaled deeply, forcing his gaze to refocus on the kittens before him. “So when cats look at you, Bramblekit, they remember Arpam. And you didn’t do anything wrong, and they know that, but it’s hard to let go of memories when they have strong feelings that come with them. They still love you just as much as they love Tawnykit and me and Mira. And after some time—however long that will be—they’ll see you. Just you, not him.”

Bramblekit’s face crumpled anyways and he looked down miserably. His voice wobbled as he said, “But I’m always gunna look like him. What if they never see me?”

Protectively, Tawnykit shuffled closer to him, her fuzzy tail wrapping around his back end. “They’re gunna. I’ll make them.”

“And I will too,” Fireheart said. He reached out with a paw and gently lifted Bramblekit’s face up to look him in the eye with a reassuring nod. “And so will Mira. No one wants to see Arpam, I promise. They want you to be you—just Bramblekit, a good little tomkit who’s going to be a great warrior and a much taller cat than I am by the time you’re an apprentice.”

Bramblekit snorted, and the misery slowly melted away. Tawnykit leaned against him, purring.

“I’ll make them look at me like that instead,” she said firmly. “Then you can just be Bramblekit.”

Fireheart’s eyes creased. “And someday there won’t be any cats who remember Arpam. You’re going to be okay no matter what.”

This seemed to reassure Bramblekit. He raised his dark head on his own, Fireheart retracting his paw, and took in a calming breath. He peeked at his mother, several body-lengths away, and asked Fireheart, “Do you and Mi see Arpam?”

Fireheart debated to himself for a moment before answering honestly. “I did at first, but Mira never did. She saw her son and daughter as the most important things she’s ever taken care of, and she still does.” His voice trembled just a bit again. “I saw Arpam because I miss him so much.”

Tawnykit frowned. “Why? He was a bad cat.”

With a soft sigh, Fireheart gave her an unhappy look. “Love is confusing and makes you think strangely sometimes, especially when you remember happy times with someone that hurt you.” Another knot he had to force down his throat. “I have many good memories with him. I can’t make those go away, no matter what he did. All I can do is let myself feel sad about them and try to move on to a better future without him.” He looked at both of them now, speaking gently but seriously. “And it is better with him gone. I don’t like to say that, but it’s true. He can’t hurt anyone ever again. Your lives are happier with just me and Mira.”

The kits looked at each other, gauging their sibling’s reaction. Simultaneously, they looked back to Fireheart and nodded together with some understanding.

“One more thing,” he said. “The Clan doesn’t want to talk about him. I don’t like that either, but until you’re older, or I’m able to change their minds, if you have questions, just ask me. They’ll get very upset if we say anything about him.”

To his grim relief, his siblings didn’t appear to like that either, but they nodded again.

“Do you have any questions now?”

A pause, then Tawnykit shook her head and Bramblekit said, “Mm-mm.”

“Alright.” Fireheart’s ear twitched at a shifting sound, and he looked over to see a sat-up Goldenflower staring at him. To the kits, he added, “Go ahead and get some breakfast. I think Mira wants to talk to me.”

The kits seemed to understand his signal. Quickly, they ran for the prey-pile, casting a nervous glance at Goldenflower as she stood, the fur along her back lifting. Fireheart told himself not to be scared and approached her, completely understanding the apprehension his Clanmates had even looking at his angered mother.

“I heard that,” she whispered—hissed, really. “Why would you talk to them about such things?”

Fireheart met her eyes, steady and as relaxed as he could get at the moment. “They deserve to know.”

“Fireheart, you know how we handle these things—”

“And the way we do that is stupid.” Goldenflower flinched back, but Fireheart kept his tone calm. “It doesn’t help them to have a secret they don’t know hanging over them for the rest of their lives. It didn’t help Bluestar to avoid talking about it, and it doesn’t help the Clan to pretend that we didn’t all go through a betrayal from our most beloved warrior, and that he didn’t kill some of us, and that we aren’t all still hurting.” Surprising himself, he narrowed his eyes in a challenge. “Yell at me about that if you want, tell Speckletail and get me in trouble, but I’m not going to play along with such a ridiculous rule when it affects my family like it does, and I don’t care how the Clan feels about that.”

He expected… he wasn’t exactly sure what he expected. A scolding, her to turn and walk away, maybe a hiss of anger. What he didn’t expect (but was weirdly happy to see) was grief welling in his mother’s eyes, turning the beautiful gold wet and dark. She shut her eyes and her nose pointed down at the ground, her whiskers shaking.

When she spoke, her voice was weak as she choked out a whispered, “…I miss him, too.”

The tension in Fireheart’s body bled down and out through his toes. He stepped forward and reached his head up to rest his forehead against hers. Goldenflower’s entire body was trembling as she pressed hard into the contact. Her usual purr was gone, replaced by shaky breaths and the occasional swallow. Fireheart purred instead, soft and soothing.

Gradually, the trembles slowed and stopped, and with a final gulp, Goldenflower lifted her head away. Her face was as crumpled as Bramblekit’s had been, but the darkness was gone from her eyes and her body had relaxed in a way Fireheart hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

She nodded in silence.

Fireheart rubbed his cheek on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get some food.”

Again, silent, but she followed after him. The kits were arguing over a squirrel, but the argument ceased as soon as they caught sight of their mother.

Goldenflower’s voice was its usual motherly self, even if it was a little fainter than usual. “You two need to share, if you both want that prey. Here, who wants the front half?”

Fireheart watched them, tail curled over his back. He ignored the suspicious, furious yellow eyes that were burning a hole in the side of his head from across camp, their dark grey owner bristling. Perhaps just out of spite, he joined Goldenflower with the kits to get prey, touching his nose to Bramblekit’s head as he passed by.

[daisygirlwrites]

take a slice

edward nashton x fem!reader

warnings: Graphic Violence, Blood, Gore, Death, Mentions of Suicide, Cannibalistic Imagery, Slight Sexual Content

word count: 1.5k

notes: no use of y/n, no proof reading (finished this at like 4 am, lmao)

a/n: tis the start of my riddler era, more to come ( ノ ^o^)ノ

Edward can’t help but compare on how the both of you approach the act of violence.

For him, he almost treats it like art. Taking his time planning, putting the pieces together, going through every little detail just so everything is right. This is also the reason why he avoids fights, knowing his mind would go into overdrive thinking about the infinite possibilities of what could go wrong. Instead, he hunts. Moving slowly and silently, like a snake coiled up, ready to strike once he knows for sure he has the upper hand. Wrapping himself around his victims, trapping them before sinking his venom into their skin. And once he’s finished with them, he leaves their bodies on display for the world to see. For them to gaze upon his masterpiece. 

You on the other hand are his opposite. With how you treat everything like a job, typing up a report and killing people is no different for you. At times, it almost seems like it’s a chore, opting for efficiency and speed. No matter the process, no matter how messy it gets, just as long as it gets done.

He cannot deny the fact that between the two of you, you’re in a whole other league when it comes to direct confrontation. However, even though heading straight into a fight isn’t much of an issue for you, it is for Edward. The single thought of losing you, especially when he finally allowed himself to indulge the slice of heaven you offered him, has him spiraling. He feels so helpless as he sits behind your computer, tracking your location and counting down the minutes when you enter the house. His anxiety doesn’t go away when he sees you walk in with more than a few cuts and bruises, hands shaking as you let him put you back together. But after some sweet words and sweeter kisses his worries drift away until the next time you come home in a similar state.

Although, despite his valid concerns for your well being, when it comes to witnessing you commit those despicable acts against humanity, he can’t help but watch in awe. 

Such instances, like tonight, when you came to his rescue on what was supposed to be an easy job. The one time you said yes to his insistent begging, to let him join you on the field just for the night, he found himself drugged and restrained an hour later. 

The last thing he recalls before everything faded to black was spotting you in the corner of the room, waiting for him. As he weaves through the large crowd of club goers, he drowns out the flashing lights and the speakers blasting shitty house music. However, with his tunnel vision on you, Edward failed to realize that he was being tailed. He sees your face morph into panic as the needle pricks his neck, his body suddenly feeling heavy. His legs stutter as he tries to fight the sedative in his system but his vision is fading fast. And then nothing. 

The house lights of the club didn’t help his throbbing headache when he finally opened his eyes. His mind and body are sluggish. He’d breathe out a huff of frustration if it weren’t for the duct tape covering his mouth. Glancing down at his tape bound arms and legs, something in his brain laughs at the irony. 

A handful of men in cheap suits litter the deserted dancefloor, occasionally sneaking a tense glance at him. Edward doesn’t even bother with them, his eyes scanning for any sign of your presence in the room, his heartbeat becoming louder to ignore. You’re coming to get him, you always do. His attention finally shifts when he sees the club owner approach him, quickly ripping the tape off his mouth. He bites back a hiss, the sting on his face slowly dissipates before glaring at the man standing before him.

His heartbeat is deafening at his point, barely processing the questions he’s being asked about. It’s mostly about you, more specifically where you are right now. And God, wished he knew that answer too. Though, technically he does, as he knows you haven’t left the building. Not without him. It’s enough to give him a sense of peace.

Growing frustrated at Edward's lack of response, the sound of a pistol getting cocked back echoes through the room before feeling the cold metal pushing against his forehead. “Last time, where did she go?” 

Edward could barely contain his smile, staring up at the man, letting out a shaky laugh, “She never left.”

The lights cut out suddenly. Everything becomes shrouded in darkness, except for the harsh red and pink light illuminating the dance floor. He can hear the other people in the bar panicking, cursing in confusion and fear as they realize something isn’t right. 

Time seemed to freeze when an arm flew through, landing in the middle of the dance floor with a thud. Everyone stares at it, bewilderment turning into dread as a pained screech soon follows. Eyes snapped to the man stumbling and falling backwards on his own blood, desperately trying to crawl away from you. He doesn’t get far before you bring the ax down, his screams drowning out as he chokes on the red liquid. And there you were, in all of your bloody glory. Edward felt his heart throb and something else too.

Guns were drawn and the storm began. The gunshots echoed off the walls like thunder. Red rained all over, as well as fingers and limbs falling to the ground. Your skirt bounced and twirled as you quickly maneuvered around the dancefloor. It was almost like you were dancing, the way you dodge and weave, countering every attack with grace. He can’t help but feel lost in his emotions, his terror and twisted desire for you.

One by one, another life leaves the earth by your hands. Silence befalls the room, save for the club owners’ pained gasps as he lays pathetically in the pool of his own blood. The soft clicks of your heels snaps Edward’s attention back to you, his heavenly savior. Your baby blue dress now stained red, matching your hands and splatters on your skin. The blade of the ax lands on the floor with a hard thunk followed by the ugly scraping as you drag it behind you. 

Flashes of his childhood run through his mind. It was after he turned ten when one of the priests told him how blessed he was that he survived every winter since then. How lucky he was that God chose him to live. But he didn’t feel lucky, especially when he continued to suffer the cold that seeps into his bones every night. Sometimes, he’d pray to whoever's listening, that when he falls asleep, it’ll be the last time. And that morning, when the sun rays hit his eyes, it was another reminder that his prayers will never be answered.

As the years went on, every so often the sweet release of death temps him. How just one small step off the platform would maybe, just maybe, grant him the peace he’d always dream about. But just like how death calls to him, fear grips him by the neck, yanking him back. Not yet, Edward. The voice snarls, echoing throughout his mind, following him as he gets older.

However, this time around, it’s quiet.

His eyes meet with yours, a cold sweat runs down his neck. The cold rage in your eyes hasn’t left and for a moment, just for a moment, Edward believes that he will meet his end.  Not dying by the harsh winters or to a bullet in his head, but instead in the hands of his beloved. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d let you gut him open, to crawl inside him and wear his skin.  He’d want you to chase him down, dragging him to the ground, your teeth ripping away his flesh as he sings your name. To watch you eat his heart as he takes his final breaths.

However, the killing blow does not come and the ax falls beside him. Delicate hands rip away the duck tape binding his limbs. His arms fall limp and unmoving, either by the drugs still in his system or by fear, he can’t really tell at the moment. A wave of copper and your lavender perfume hits his nose as you gently cup his jaw, ignoring how the blood sticks to his skin as you lift his head up. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander. Even though blue is your color, he thinks red is quite beautiful on you as well. 

If it weren’t for the fact that his body feels like lead, he would have pushed you onto your back and ravished you amongst the corpses. To worship you in the best way he knows how, on his knees with his head between your thighs.

The fire in your eyes has disappeared, replaced with concern as you scan his face and body for any injuries before returning his gaze. “I’m sorry for being late,” you murmur, gently caressing his cheek. He leans into your hand, closing his eyes as he lets out a sigh of relief.

You pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, pulling back to look at him again, “Okay, sweetheart, let's get you home.” Edward smiles up at you. He’s already home, safe and sound in your arms.

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Eighteen*

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: nsfw 18+ only pls!! p in v, unprotected sex, tipsy/drunk sex, possessive/protective stan, gambling mentioned (not in a negative way though), gross guy in a casino, some fluff! i also wanna thank @danni3l SO MUCH for the inspiration, his help on the direction of the fic and for the support so far!! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! TYSM for all the support so far!! w/c: 4,069 As we entered the restaurant, Stan held the door, his gaze lingering a beat longer than usual as I stepped inside. We made our way to the table, the warm, dim lighting casting a glow across the room. When I looked up, I caught him watching me, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After we were seated, a friendly waiter approached to take our drink orders. Stan ordered a whiskey neat, his usual choice, while I opted for a glass of white wine. As the waiter walked away, I noticed Stan watching me, his smile growing as if he was savouring this moment.

“You look… incredible tonight,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost like he hadn’t intended for it to sound quite so earnest. He reached for my hand across the table, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles, his eyes meeting mine over the rim of my fingers. “I mean, you always do, but tonight… well, you’ve outdone yourself.”

For a second, I was too caught off guard to say anything, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked at me with that rare, unguarded expression, the kind that made me feel like we were the only two people in the world.

I felt my own smile tug at my lips. “Look who’s talking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so… polished,” I teased, letting my gaze drift over his dark button-up, the top few buttons left undone just enough to reveal the familiar glint of his chain I’d come to love. “You’ve really stepped it up tonight. What happened to Stan ‘no frills’ Pines?”

He chuckled, a little bashful but amused, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Figured I’d better step up my game, considerin' I’m in such good company.”

With a grin, I raised my glass in a toast, and he clinked his whiskey against it, his eyes holding mine with that easy, familiar charm that seemed to shrink the whole world down to just us. In that moment, the lively hum of the restaurant faded away, leaving only the warmth of our shared smiles and the spark of something more between us.

We lingered over our drinks, the first course arriving in elegant, carefully plated portions that made Stan shake his head with a wry grin.

“Can you believe they charge for food you need a magnifying glass to see?” he quipped, holding his fork with exaggerated care as if the tiny dish were some kind of delicate artefact.

I stifled a laugh, nudging his foot under the table. “That’s how you know it’s fancy, Stan. It’s all about savouring each bite.”

He gave me a mock-serious nod. “Ah, so this is savouring.” He took a slow, deliberate bite, then broke into a grin. “I gotta admit, it’s not half bad.”

Our plates changed with each course, bringing new flavours and textures that spurred little comments, jokes, and even a few exaggerated “critic” impressions from Stan that had me laughing more than eating. Between bites, we kept the conversation rolling, exchanging old stories and bits of nostalgia. He told me about his favourite old haunts in Vegas—ones that had long since closed or changed beyond recognition—and, in turn, I shared stories from my travels, comparing notes on our experiences with the wild and weird.

At one point, he leaned in closer, his expression softening as the laughter faded. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can keep up with me quite like you do,” he said, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret meant just for me.

I felt my heart skip, and a slow smile crept onto my face. “Well, maybe you finally met your match,” I replied, tapping my glass against his.

Stan’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer, something unspoken in his eyes. “Maybe I did,” he murmured, and I could feel the words settle in the space between us, warm and unexpected.

The final course arrived at our table, a shared dessert. We dug in, enjoying each bite while playfully competing for the last spoonful. As the meal wrapped up, I realised just how natural, how easy, it all felt. It wasn’t often I got to see this side of him, and I found myself wanting to hold onto it for as long as I could.

As the waiter collected our empty dessert plate, we lingered at the table for a moment longer, letting the warmth of the evening settle between us. Stan’s eyes held a trace of something I couldn’t quite place, something that made my pulse quicken as we stood up to leave.

Inside the casino, the energy was electric, a pulsing mix of lights, sounds, and anticipation that made me feel alive in a way only Vegas could. Stan ordered us both drinks, handing me a glass of something sharp and sparkling as he raised his own in a casual toast. 

“To good luck and bad decisions,” he said with a grin, lighting a cigar and watching the smoke swirl above us. 

The air around us hummed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but feel a thrill as I watched him take it all in. His rough edges seemed softened by the glow of the lights and the whiskey in his hand.

We wove our way through rows of slot machines, and Stan insisted on trying his luck with a few spins, dropping coins with exaggerated seriousness and cheering each small win like it was the jackpot. When he finally pulled me toward the blackjack table, he took on a look of mock solemnity.

“Blackjack,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder as if imparting secret wisdom. “A game of pure strategy, skill, and… lettin' them think you’re terrible at it.”

“Oh, is that the trick?” I teased, folding my arms as I leaned in to watch him play.

“Yep.” He placed a small stack of chips on the table and winked. “They never see it comin'.”

We shared an easy laugh, trading jabs about his “foolproof” strategies as he made the game look easy with his relaxed confidence. Each win sent a new spark through the air between us, a thrill shared as we watched his stack of chips grow.

We were so wrapped up in each other’s banter that I almost missed the moment when a man from across the casino strolled over, positioning himself a little too close to me with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Stan noticed immediately, his posture shifting as he angled himself protectively between us, his gaze turning sharp as he locked eyes with the newcomer, his hand still lingering near his drink in silent warning.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the stranger said, ignoring Stan entirely. “How about you join me over at the roulette table? I could show you a good time.”

I felt a mix of amusement and annoyance bubbling up, but before I could say anything, I felt Stan’s arm tighten protectively around my waist, his gaze sharp as he sized up the guy.

“Why don’t you move along, pal?” Stan’s voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it that made the guy’s smirk falter.

The man scoffed, clearly underestimating the man in front of him. “What’s it to you, tough guy?”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, his grip loosening on me as he took a step forward, his voice dropping. “She’s with me. So, why don’t you take a walk?”

The guy chuckled, glancing between the two of us, but instead of leaving, he took a step closer. “Looks like you don’t know how to share.”

And that was it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Stan swung. His fist connected with the guy’s jaw, and before I could process what was happening, the man stumbled back, crashing into a nearby table. Gasps and shocked whispers filled the casino as the scene unfolded, but Stan barely seemed to notice, his expression one of grim satisfaction.

The security guards were on us in an instant, ushering us toward the exit as Stan threw an arm around my shoulders, laughing as we stumbled out into the cool night air.

“Well, that’s one way to get thrown out of a casino,” I said, giggling, breathless from the chaos.

Stan’s gaze softened as he held me close, but I could still feel the protective fire simmering beneath the surface, his grip firm as if to reassure himself I was there, safe and close. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my cheek. “No one’s getting near you while I’m around,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “You’re mine, and I don’t let go that easy.”

He leaned down, capturing my lips with a fierce tenderness, pouring into that kiss all the emotion he rarely let slip. His hands held me firmly, possessively, like he was daring anyone to try and pull me away. The alley fell into silence, save for our quiet breaths and the faint sounds of the city beyond.

I looked up at him, my heart racing as I felt the warmth of his protective gaze and the lingering electricity from our kiss. I took a steadying breath, trying to summon the courage to say what I wanted. “Stan,” I murmured, my fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, lingering there a moment longer than usual. My cheeks flushed as I met his eyes, a shy smile tugging at my lips. “How about we… head back to our room?”

The words came out softer than I intended, and I looked away, feeling a bit bashful. I could sense his gaze on me, and when I looked back, he was watching me with a raised brow, the slightest spark of surprise in his eyes.

His grin turned slow and warm as he tilted his head, looking at me like he’d just discovered something he hadn’t expected. “Couldn’t have asked for a better idea,” he said, his voice a soft rumble as he took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. The intensity in his expression softened to something almost tender as he led me back toward the hotel, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes meeting mine as though he was just as affected as I was.

As we made our way through the lobby, I could feel the anticipation building between us. Stan’s hand wrapped firmly around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The bright lights and laughter of the casino faded away, replaced by the soft hum of the elevator as it carried us up to our floor.

When the doors slid open, I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. Stan led the way down the corridor, pausing outside our room. He turned to me, his expression serious for a moment as he searched my eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and laced with concern.

I nodded, feeling the anticipation thick between us. “Are you?” I glanced up at him, searching his expression.

His gaze was steady, a hint of possessiveness flickering in his eyes. “I’m fine. No one gets to talk to you like that,” he replied, his voice low and firm, sending a thrill through me. “You’re mine, and I’m not lettin' anyone forget it.”

With a satisfied smirk, he pushed the door open and ushered me inside. The room was dimly lit, and I took a moment to absorb the scene. The city lights flickered through the window, casting a warm glow across the space.

Stan stepped in behind me, closing the door with a soft click. The moment it shut, the atmosphere shifted, thick with unspoken anticipation. I turned to face him, my heart racing as he took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

“Now, where were we?” he murmured, his eyes darkening with intent as he slid his hand up my arm to gently cup my jaw. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through me, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

I felt the weight of his gaze, dark and smouldering. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly, each word laced with fierce protectiveness. There was no room for doubt; he wanted everyone to know it.

The city lights outside flickered in harmony with the pulse of my heart. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, intoxicating and impossible to resist. “Stan…” I breathed, the name slipping from my lips like a plea.

He stepped closer, the distance vanished, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. “I don’t want anyone else lookin’ at you,” he said, his voice thick with urgency. “Not like that. Not ever.” His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, tilting my head back so our eyes locked.

I could see the determination in his gaze, and it sent a thrill through me. “You’re not going to let anyone forget, are you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Never,” he growled, and with that, his lips crashed onto mine, hungry and demanding. The kiss was messy, fueled by the warmth of the drinks we had shared earlier, igniting something deep within me. I surrendered to it, my hands finding their way to his shirt, pulling him closer.

Stan broke the kiss, his breath heavy against my lips. “We’ll show ‘em who makes you feel good,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire.

With a swift motion, he turned and pulled me toward the large window, the city sprawled out beneath us. The view was breathtaking, but I was lost in the intensity of his presence. He framed my face with his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Do you like this?” he asked, his voice thick with need. “Knowin’ that you’re mine?”

I nodded, my heart racing, feeling a rush of exhilaration mixed with a hint of danger. His possessiveness fueled something wild inside me, and I craved more.

“Atta girl,” he breathed, leaning in for another kiss, his lips claiming mine with fierce urgency. The world outside faded away as I melted into him, captivated by the man who wouldn’t let me go.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against mine with a fervour that made my head spin. I felt a rush of heat as his hands roamed down my sides, exploring as if he were claiming territory. Clumsily, I reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly but driven by an urgent need. I undid them one by one, revealing the strong lines of his chest, running my hands over the hair that covered his broad torso. His breath caught, and his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and admiration.

“Doll, you’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. He took my waist in his hands, fingers digging in just enough as if to remind me of his protective nature.

Before I could respond, he pushed my dress down, the fabric pooling at my feet. I shivered at the cool air against my skin, but the warmth of his gaze enveloped me.

With a swift motion, he turned me, pressing my back against the window. The cool glass sent a thrill through me as I felt his body heat radiating behind me.

“Let ‘em see,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

The thrill of his possessiveness sent a rush of excitement through me, and I leaned back against him, surrendering completely. The city lights flickered in the background, but all I could focus on was him; his hands, his warmth, and the way he held me against the glass like I was the most precious thing in the world.

As he leaned in, his lips found the sensitive skin of my collarbone, trailing kisses that made my breath hitch. He paused, his teeth grazing my skin, and then began to leave love bites, claiming me as his. Each gentle nip sent a jolt of pleasure through me, igniting a fire in my core.

“Stan…” I gasped, pressing my body closer to his as I felt the cool glass of the window against my back. He took the opportunity to push me gently against it, his hands gripping my waist firmly.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he slurred, his voice a mix of authority and sweetness. He continued his trail of bites down my shoulder, savouring each moment, each reaction from me.

The city lights flickered outside, but inside, the air was thick with our shared energy. I was lost in the sensation, completely surrendering to him, craving more of his touch, more of his possessive nature.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to take in the sight of me, flushed and breathless. “And I’m not lettin’ anyone else have you.”

With that, he sucked a particularly tender hickey below my ear, causing my hands to fly to his hair, tugging it slightly. “Stanley!” I moaned, my head swimming with a mixture of lust and intoxication.

His reaction was immediate and electric. The corners of his mouth twisted into a wild grin, but there was a fierce intensity in his gaze. “Fuck, say that again,” he urged, fumbling with his belt, his hands shaking slightly with a mix of urgency and desire.

“Stanley,” I repeated, this time with more conviction, watching as his breath caught in his throat. The way he reacted sent a thrill through me, igniting something primal within him. He closed the distance, his lips crashing against mine in a fervent kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the heat radiating between us. I could feel his hands exploring, mapping every curve, every inch of my body as if he were claiming me.

“God, don’t ever stop saying my name, doll,” he murmured against my skin, trailing kisses down my neck. “It drives me wild.” He sucked at a sensitive spot just above my collarbone, leaving a mark that would remind me of this moment.

“Fuck, Stan, please,” I whined, arching my back, desperate for his touch.

I could feel his belt finally give way, the sound of metal clinking echoing in the otherwise quiet room. “I can’t wait, baby, want you now,” he said, his breath hot against my ear, his possessive tone sending waves of excitement through me.

“Then take me,” I urged, my voice thick with need. The urgency in his eyes matched my own as he positioned me against the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

With a fierce look, he entered me, filling me completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and I couldn't help but moan his name. “Stanley!” I cried out, the sound mixing with the thrum of the city below.

He groaned in response, his grip tightening around my waist as he moved with a desperate rhythm. Each thrust was filled with raw intensity, a powerful claim that made me feel cherished and desired all at once.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he said breathlessly, his forehead pressed against mine. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.”

The urgency of the moment surged between us, each movement drawing us closer to an edge we both needed to reach. The city lights twinkled below us like stars scattered across the night. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through me, mixing with the thrill of being so exposed, so utterly his. It was so different like this, the gentle buzz of the alcohol in our systems only adding to the new sensations.

“Oh god, Stanley, just like that!” I gasped, the name spilling from my lips like a prayer. The way it ignited something primal in him only fuelled my desire. He groaned, his hands gripping my hips tighter, anchoring us both in this moment.

“God, you’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice thick with need. “Just like this, right here.” His words were a delicious mix of admiration and urgency, making my heart race even faster.

As he thrust deeper, his breath came in ragged bursts against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I want everyone to see how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck. “I want you to feel every bit of this.”

“You feel so good, please don’t stop,” I practically begged. He watched me, his expression a mix of hunger and admiration. I could see the way he appreciated every inch of me, and it only made me feel more alive. “I love you so much, Stan,” I breathed, and that was all it took. He surged forward, capturing my lips with his in a frantic kiss, our bodies moving in a rhythm that felt both urgent and electric.

He whispered my name so tenderly, it took my breath away. “I love you too,” he murmured against my lips, his eyes filled with adoration.

The world outside faded away again, and all that mattered was this moment—his hands on my skin, the heat of his body against mine, and the way we fit together so perfectly.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. I want to feel you squeezing me,” he urged, his eyes watching with hunger as I slipped my hand between our bodies to rub my clit.

As he thrust into me again, I felt the pressure building, the urgency of the moment driving us both closer to the edge. “Together,” I whispered, feeling the world around us blur into nothingness.

“Always together,” he promised, his voice deep and filled with conviction. The city lights flickered outside, but in that moment, it was just us, lost in our own world of desire and connection.

My legs shook as I felt the familiar coil in my belly snap, Stan's strong thrusts faltering as he buried himself deep in me with his release.

As the intensity of our connection began to wane, I felt Stan’s grip soften, his hands now gently caressing my waist. The world outside the window blurred into insignificance, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. I could hear the soft rhythm of our breaths mingling in the aftermath of our passion.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “You okay?”

I nodded, a lazy smile spreading across my lips. “More than okay. That was… incredible.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible.” He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, and I felt my heart swell at the intimacy of the moment.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested, still holding me close. I felt a comforting heaviness in his voice, the kind that promised safety and care.

With a playful tug, he led me away from the window, our bodies still buzzing from the heat of the night. We stumbled slightly, laughter bubbling up from both of us as we made our way to the bathroom. The room was dimly lit, but the glow felt warm and inviting.

After a quick rinse, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close again. “You know, I could get used to this,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Me too,” I replied, leaning into him, feeling relaxed and content.

Once we were done, we made our way to the bedroom, still chuckling at our drunken antics. Stan flopped down onto the bed, pulling me down beside him. The sheets felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body next to mine.

“C'mere,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. I nestled against him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Stanley,” I murmured, a sleepy smile on my lips.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice thick with affection.

“Thanks for looking out for me. I love you.”

His fingers traced gentle patterns on my back, and I could feel him smile. “I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

As we lay there, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in each other’s arms. I felt safe and cherished, drifting into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his warmth. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[inkblackorchid]

WIP Snippet 5 (Ch. 3)

Pulling the door open, Aki stuck her head out, looking both ways in the relatively narrow alley outside. When her eyes surveyed what little she could see of the plaza from her position, it turned out the engine she heard was indeed a familiar one. Yet, nothing could have prepared her for a chance encounter with its rider today.

Almost in the same moment as Aki finally left the building to approach her own runner, the unexpected acquaintance seemed to spot her, immediately making a beeline in her direction.

A white riding suit, a knight-like helmet, and the distinct rumble of what Yusei had once called a bastardised French engine—seeing as it had apparently been repaired with parts from several different countries over time—announced the arrival of Sherry, who came to a halt barely a metre away from Aki's runner, immediately pulling off her helmet as she turned off her engine.

"Finally, I catch one of you again," Sherry began talking without fanfare, evidently not intending to bother with a greeting.

Debating whether she even had the energy to hold a conversation with the other right now, with how high-strung she already was, Aki spoke on a sigh, "Sherry. Fancy meeting you here."

"Uhhhh, hi there?" Carly, who had closed and locked the door behind herself in between, said to the blonde, waving innocently.

Ignoring her completely, Sherry asked Aki, "Are Yusei and your other friends inside?"

"No," Aki told her quickly, "We're the only ones here, and we're not staying. We need to get going again." Perhaps her tone was a little more brusque than intended, but if there was one thing she knew about Sherry, then that she liked clear answers, that she liked them fast, and that she could get irritating if she didn't get them fast enough.

As she placed her duel disk down on her runner again, she saw Sherry looking her up and down out of the corner of her eye. "When will any of you be back?"

"We don't know," Aki told her, hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible—and preferably without sharing the exact details of everything that was going on right now.

"Quoi? What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" Sherry asked, with an urgency in her voice that told Aki she probably wanted something from their group.

It was Carly who answered, "Well ummm... We kind of have a situation going on right now. So the boys won't be home for a while. And neither will Aki."

Now seemingly choosing to take note of the other woman's presence, Sherry looked Carly over with critical eyes. "I've seen you around here before. Who are you?" With her tone as curt and business-like as always, Sherry's question sounded less like a polite enquiry and more like a demand at a cross-examination.

Carly blinked a few times, but rather than bristling immediately, she caught herself and even managed to inject some fake cheer into her voice as she said, "Carly Nagisa, reporter at the Red-Eyes duel magazine. Nice to meet you. Properly, I mean. Sherry Leblanc, right? We've technically met before, I'm here frequently. Which you... may not have noticed, I guess."

Sherry acknowledged the introduction with barely more than a hum. Before she could ask anything further, however, Aki turned to face her fully and took it upon herself to add, "Carly is our friend and Jack's girlfriend. And she knows basically all about Iliaster, since I'm guessing that's a concern for you."

Though Sherry's eyes briefly jumped to her, with a strange mix of sharpness and curiosity in them, they were quick to come to rest on Carly again as she asked, "Atlas has a girlfriend? Wonders never cease."

[planet-crait]

@eat-a-dicker

First off I am flattered and a little sad this subject hasn’t been talked about much given how prominently Dev is in the season and his major role in the season finale. Looking back I didn’t dive in as much as I probably should have on this point I did in other posts but as an analysis post for Dev I should have gone into it more.

But yes thank you for verbalizing that better than me. Dev is extremely traumatized and dealing with all kinds of issues stemming from his neglect and Hazel should not have to be the one to try and help Dev cope with this. But at the end of the day her lack of understanding what Dev is dealing with and how it emotionally affects him does harm Dev. She’s not a bad person or did anything wrong I need to make that clear but neither of those facts change the fact that it hurt Dev.

When Hazel ends their friendship over, in Devs eyes, a hat and being upset about her hat, that would hurt a lot because again, material things are being held in higher regard than him. Despite the fact that he disobeyed a direct order from his father and actively tried to hinder his efforts to find the anomaly to protect Hazel from his father. Again this is the man he is desperate to earn the love and affection from and he still defied him for Hazel who at the end of the day rejects him. She assumes the worst of him and won’t even give him a chance to explain himself despite very clearly wanting to talk and explain.

Hazel is 10 and doesn’t have a clue what Dev is dealing with which is good, but it makes things really hard for Dev who is not good at expressing his emotions well and needs someone who can understand what he’s dealing with and know how to approach him with these more touchy subjects and situations.

It makes this whole thing difficult because Hazel isn’t a bad person but I think in a lot of ways Hazel herself handled the Founders Day mess very poorly. Dev isn’t allowed to apologize or explain, she just runs off angrily and never tries to reach out, and acts in Battle of the Dimmasonian like it’s odd he thinks they aren’t friends despite her doing nothing to reach out despite basically telling him she doesn’t want him around anymore. It’s hard because Hazel is a kid as well and isn’t going to be great at navigating more difficult situations but it’s hard to fully hand wave how she acted in Lost and Founders Day. But also I have some bias here in this regard so that could definitely be clouding my view on this stuff.

It’s a very difficult situation for them both to navigate and neither really have the tools to deal with this stuff but it doesn’t negate the severe harm it’s causing Dev.

There is also the fact that at the end of the day, Dev is only a situational friend for lack of better words to Hazel which adds to the pain of it. From what I’ve seen, Dev cares a lot more about Hazel then Hazel cares about Dev, he only hangs out with her when fairies are involved or he invites her, otherwise he’s not seemingly welcome to join in which adds another layer of sadness to this whole thing. He loves with his whole heart and no one seems interested in returning that love he has to give. He gives and gives and no one is willing to give that same love in return, which might also be adding to how closed off he is at the beginning of the show. He’s so used to rejection he assumes that’s the default and needs someone willing to break down his walls.

At the end of the day, Dev is a hurt and traumatized kid who has no clue how to navigate social situations and everyone in his life is clueless to his lack of understanding and takes those fumbles as intentionally being hostile when that isn’t always the case. When he puts his heart out there it gets crushed in over and over again and no one in his life is willing to help out the pieces back together and in some cases just breaks him even more. And a ten year old trying to navigate this hurts so much.

Part 1 analysis of Dev Dimmadone from Fairly Oddparents A New Wish. A couple of things I want to mention before jumping into this, I have not finished the first season. Last episode I watched was Pattys Possum Party Playground, but I have thoughts and I decided to share them before I reach the end so I can see how my thoughts change as the season goes on or after I finish the finale. Second I recognize I have some bias regarding Dev. I’ll go into more detail why but I heavily empathize with Dev and his struggles so it’s something I wanted to make clear before I started. I’ll also put a Trigger Warning for discussing abuse and my own experiences with it so please keep that in mind. Apologies for how long this gets I didn’t realize how much I had to say about Dev until I started writing. With all of that said let’s get into it.

Something that caught my attention very very early on regarding Dale and Devs relationship is it is painfully and abundantly clear Dale has no love for Dev. We see Dev adores and looks up to his father but no matter how hard Dev tries that love is not reciprocated.

It is unfortunately common for kids who are neglected at home to lash out at school and misbehave, it gets to a point where even negative attention is better than no attention. This is of course not healthy or good behavior but more desperate acts of a kid desperate for any sort of attention.

Growing up, I was in a somewhat not necessarily similar situation to Dev but I can somewhat see parts of myself in Dev? I’m not sure the best wording for it but I was not wealthy nor my family, but I was largely outcasted by my peers and ignored and bullied by them. It was hell. And while Dev isn’t bullied by anyone, he certainly is more the bully, he’s also very alone.

Despite being bullied I had my family who at least cared and I had the occasional recess person? I can’t remember their official title but they wherent teachers lolz. But regardless they took pity on me and let me hang out with them. For Dev though….he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. His dad doesn’t care about him, he has no friends and the teachers don’t care about him. He’s just painfully alone. No one has his back. The sins of his father are put on Devs shoulders regardless of how realistic it is to blame him for things. We see Mr. Guzman glaring at Dev in Lost and Founders Day

All Dev did was hand out bracelets his dad made but Mr. Guzman is suspicious, it seems, of Dev himself as if he is up to something bad with them. The animators actively choose to have Mr. Guzman look at a nine year old this way. He could have been looking this way at the bracelets but no. It was directed towards Dev himself. Despite him, for now, being friends with Hazel and seemingly behaving better Mr. Guzman doesn’t trust that Dev is changing and improving. Instead of being glad something changed with Dev, Dev is met with distrust and suspicion.

In that same episode Hazel assumes the worst of Dev and assumes he was behind everything that happened at the Founders Day Festival. She refuses to listen to him and even give him a chance to explain and decides he’s a bad person. Now this isn’t to say Hazel is a bad person for this, more it was unfair and so far I haven’t seen any real resolution to this. Dev almost seems to be held to a different standard in this regard, we see Hazel screw up big time in The Wellsington Hotellsington in regards to Winn and Jasmine and they forgive her right after she apologizes despite Winn not knowing her for long. Hazel similarly hasn’t known Dev for that long but won’t even let him apologize and storms off very angrily and seemingly never reached out to him to try and work things out.

No Dev does not either but I don’t blame him as much in that regard because Dev clearly has never had friends before Hazel. He doesn’t know really it’s okay for friends to fight and make up and still be friends. And with how Hazel blew up at him I was kind of thinking as well Hazel decided the bridge was burned so to speak and was admittedly surprised when she said in Battle of the Dimmisonian that they could still be friends (which I…question how accurate a statement from Hazel that is but I’ll get their I promise). It’s interesting to me Dev is worried about how Hazel perceives him despite them not being friends. Even though Hazel turned her back on him, he still wants some sort of connection with her even if he’s going about it in an unhealthy manner. Again negative attention is better then no attention, so even if it means fighting and bickering he’d rather take that than have absolutely nothing.

This kid has sky high walls he’s built, but they’re shaky and crumble at the slightest pressure. After only two days of being friendly Dev is willing to disobey a direct order from his father and put himself in harms way to keep Hazel safe. This is very likely the first time Dev has ever disobeyed his father, the man he is desperate to prove himself to and get some sort of love and affection from. He risks ever getting that from his father to protect Hazel, someone he’s not been on friendly terms with for all that long. Which makes him being so alone all the sadder.

I mentioned it in another post but Dev has a lot of love to give people who are willing to put in honestly what feels like the bare minimum of work to break down his walls. And it seems no one has even tried to get past them. He’s written off by everyone as nothing but a rich bully that doesn’t care when that couldn’t be further from the truth when push comes to shove. He’s willing to disobey his father, someone he still is desperate to win the love and affection of, to protect someone that matters to him.

Circling back to the point I mentioned earlier about my doubts regarding Hazel still considering Dev her friend. Now this may just be an oversight but…it still happened so I feel it’s okay to discuss here. In Pattys Possum Party Playground we see pretty much all the classmates we’ve seen previously hanging out and having fun, Dev however is missing. I’m not saying anyone has to invite him, but if you consider someone a friend…why not invite them? Maybe the background characters were thrown in to make it seem more like a party and to emphasize them then being alone. Why not include Dev then as well? Why is he left out of the fun with everyone? A line from say Hazel commenting his dad wouldn’t let him come would do a lot of heavy lifting to show how terrible Dale is and how rough Dev has it and show Hazel is thinking about him.

Again, Hazel doesn’t have to be his friend. But she said they could be friends which is why I mention this. I will admit this is potentially where my own biases come into play. I was the kid people said was their “friend” to get teachers off of their backs and I just didn’t realize this is what was happening and it hurt when I was excluded from things. If I was in Devs shoes I’d feel hurt I wasn’t invited to something everyone else was invited to. And I imagine it would hurt even more as someone already struggling to try and get some sort of love and affection from anyone really.

I hope I’m wrong and I hope we see more of Hazel and Dev rebuilding their friendship, but I’m concerned we won’t really see that or any consequences to that really play out. Again could be wrong I’ll have to wait and see in that regard this is just how I’m seeing things with my own biases as of right now where I’m at in season 1.

We know that Dev gets Peri because he is miserable due to his and Hazels fight and his father’s very public rejection of him. Godparents are supposed to help make things easier to deal with for their kids and help them navigate their difficult lives. Unfortunately, so far from what I’ve seen Peri and Dev aren’t a great match for Godparent and Godchild. I’ve only seen their dynamic for one episode, but when they first met, we see Dev is extremely exited when he first meets Peri:

However, something things to go very wrong because he goes from being sad but not wearing his sunglasses to being back in his sunglasses and being overall disinterested in Peri while Peri seems very frustrated and disinterested in forming any sort of bond with Dev.

I don’t know what all has happened between the pair, but for me it’s notable he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses when he and Peri first met and are wearing them again next time we see him. He was so excited to met Peri and I wonder if he wanted to try and have some sort of bond with him that was shut down. We don’t know obviously and it’s just speculation on my end but it’s something I wonder about.

When Peri notices his parents later on in the episode he’s so focused on himself he’s not even acknowledging Dev or his questions and seems uninterested in sharing about himself. For me, it reads that Peri is really only focused on granting wishes and not about with forming any sort of bond with Dev, something Dev right now desperately needs. He’s lonely and sad and lashing out because he’s been denied real affection for so long and doesn’t know how to connect with other people. It’s sad that his AU Pairs seem to on some level recognize this as they try and comfort Dev after Lost and Founders Day and acknowledge that they cannot give Dev what he needs.

I honestly think Dev would be much better off with a Godparent like Cosmo and Wanda or even Juandissimo, he needs a Godparent who is willing and knows how to connect with a kid like Dev who has a seriously troubled homelife and Peri doesn’t have the tools or knowledge to really help Dev in the ways he needs. I imagine based on what we’ve seen recently of what Jorgan thinks Godparents need to be for their Godkids I am not surprised Peri isn’t handling Dev the best. He was likely taught granting wishes correctly and quickly for their kids is what makes a Godparent good, rather than forming a connection and understanding their godkid. This isn’t exactly Peri’s fault, he’s new and inexperienced but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not helping Dev either and granting wishes isn’t what he needs, he needs love and someone to be their for him that loves and cares about him.

A side note, I realize again this is more of a gag and not meant to be taken seriously but since I’m looking at all of the things that has happened to Dev so far I just have to wonder. In Battle of the Dimmasonian, Peri’s first instinct is to hide Dev from his parents when they ask if he has a Godkid.

Again I know this is just for a gag but don’t we all love playing the game of “find ways to emotionally devastate our favorite characters even more so we can give them comfort and put them back together again? No? Just me? Well I’m gonna do it anyways. If I was in Devs shoes in this moment I would probably be thinking that my Godparent is ashamed of me, that they don’t want to be associated with me or anyone to know that they where assigned to help me. We know Peri is anxious and doesn’t want his parents smothering him or being weird about his first godkid but Dev definitely doesn’t know this given all the questions he asked that Peri didn’t answer. In Devs mind this could be just another person rejecting him without giving him a chance. Another public rejection of him.

Again I know this is a nothing burger moment in the grand scheme of things but it’s fun to imagine something for it. This being the moment Dev realizes Peri is just another adult in his life stuck with him who doesn’t care about him. Dev falling into the mindset of “if he doesn’t care about me, why should I care about him?” Because angst is just a little fun to think about.

Dev is so desperate for love and attention he tries to get something for his dad by trying to make it work related in the hopes of Dale noticing and agreeing to do “work”. Asking to throw merch boxes back and forth, testing proximity sensors by holding hands this kid will do anything to get something from Dale but it’s not enough.

It’s hard to properly describe the devastation that comes from realizing someone who should love you, who you thought loves you never did. It’s a gut punch over and over again every time you look at them. This recently happened to me and to be frank I’m still not okay from it. You think someone has your back and cares about you but then you come to realize that you’re nothing to them. For me I swing wildly between rage and crying uncontrollably, for a kid as young as Dev I can’t even imagine what that knowledge is doing to him. And what’s worse is even when knowing you don’t matter to this person and that they don’t love you, your love for them doesn’t just….go away. It lingers, longs for some sort of proof that it was just a fluke, that they love you, that you’re not unlovable and the smallest scraps they throw your way have you scrambling to hold onto that, to show them that you are worthy of their love, but it never works, and you’re just tossed away again like trash. You start to wonder if it’s you that’s the problem. You think there has to be something you’ve done to warrant being treated this way. There isn’t though, but to accept that you would also have to contend with the person you love being a monster and it’s not an easy pill to swallow, it’s almost easier to see yourself as the problem and try desperately to try and “fix” whatever your loved one thinks is wrong with you. You live in survival mode just trying to get through it all and it doesn’t just shut off when you’re not around the person or people causing the harm it’s constantly running.

Since this is a kids show I highly highly doubt they’ll really truly dive into the trauma and after affects of dealing with emotional abuse. When I was a kid shows where willing to dive into these topics but shows these days tend to shy away from it (something I have issue with but that’s not the focus of todays post). I just more am sharing because I think some aspects are applicable to Dev.

Again I have a support system, I have friends who worry and care and let me vent and cry and try and deal with it all. Dev has no one in his corner. No adults looking out for him, no friends to offer comfort, he’s painfully alone and dealing with this sheer devastation, pain so bad it’s the tipping point for him getting a Godparent who unfortunately seems overall disinterested in really engaging with Dev in any meaningful way.

Previous posts have somewhat discussed the Dale situation but it was very uh angry for Dev so maybe I can try and write out my thoughts without wanting to commit a crime. Dale is a horrible parent. There isn’t any other way to put it. He’s a shit parent who emotionally abuses and manipulates Dev, who is desperate for his love and affection. Dev tries to sell acts of affection as work related to try and get attention from his dad and is willing to do insane things if it’s what he wants (he seriously considers eating a lizard. This kid is just so desperate for love). Dale emotionally manipulates Dev and tries to use his own past to guilt trip Dev and deny letting him just be a kid. Kids shouldn’t ever have to work, they’re kids they should be able to just be kids but Dale has Dev so spun around and desperate for love he’ll work if it means maybe his dad will love him. It doesn’t work but Dev is desperate and willing to do anything if it means getting even crumbs of affection from his father who can’t even be bothered to great his son and walk away without him forcing Dev to run to catch up.

Dale clearly has been extremely absent from Devs life overall, we see in Peace of Pizza just how excited Dev was when he thought his dad actually came for Dev.

He’s so happy and carefree and excited to see his dad come to support Dev and the anger when he realizes it’s not Dale hurts all the more. For just a moment he thought maybe his dad did care and want to be there for him but no, he doesn’t even care. It’s notable to me that when he finds out Hazel tried to trick him into thinking his dad came is when Dev really gets angry. He was mostly just playing games and such until that moment when he seems to get genuinely angry and I wonder if that comes from a place of deep hurt. The one thing he wants more then anything is for his dad to actually be there for him, and in his mind Hazel takes that desire and mocks him with it, trying to parade a pretend dad just to use him to get what she wants from him.

This next part is pure speculation but I just don’t know another way to explain this. After Dev revealed he’s lactose intolerant and him being forced to watch everyone else have fun and enjoy something he cannot have a why he was fighting so hard against letting them have one, Hazel mentions they could have ordered him a lactose free version which makes Dev freeze and comment he thought that was a myth. Now I know from a writing standpoint they wanted to make sure it’s Hazel who saves the day, however it carries a very painful implication of Dale likely actively lying to Dev about lactose free alternatives for Dev. I can’t imagine why he would do such a thing, maybe he thinks they taste or smell gross and don’t want them in the house? So he thinks it’s easier to just lie and say they don’t exist and eat pizza and such in front of Dev who can only watch in misery.

And yes I am assuming Dale likely would do this based off of when Dev talks about how he would have to sit and watch everyone enjoy pizza and not get any. He sounds like he’s talking from personal experience and with how sensitive to it he is it feels more like a reaction to something he’s had to deal with before vs a fear of it he has.

Regardless of it I’m correct or not, it is undeniable the school really spectacularly failed Dev in this regard and once again set him up for failure. What do I mean by that? In Peace of Pizza we see Dev show Hazel his allergy card.

(Yes I am going on a mini tangent here bare with me I didn’t know a better place to put this) now I don’t know about you but I have only ever seen allergy cards like this in either a school setting or perhaps at a large dinner where everyone is defaulted to being served the same plate of food and people with allergies or other dietary restrictions have a card so the server knows they have one of the special plates. This to me indicates the school knows or should reasonably know Dev can’t have lactose. Despite them reasonably knowing Dev can’t have pizza, they do not offer him any alternatives to enjoy as a reward. As a kid when something like this was done, an alternative was given to the kid with allergies so they could still participate in the fun and not feel left out, however for Dev it seems the default is he’s left out. He’s expected to and frowned upon for not participating in Kindness Day despite, in his eyes, him being actively punished if he does. While everyone else gets a reward to enjoy, he would have to watch and be miserable. No, this is not the end of the world obviously but it is incredibly unkind to Dev to not have anything for him that he can enjoy as a reward despite being expected to participate for a reward the school knows he cannot have and it carries an extra sting happening on a day literally called kindness day.

Yes I know that the school is trying to teach kids the importance of kindness so it shouldn’t be about the reward, but again it does feel wildly unfair to reward most students while seemingly singling out one to not get anything. They’re trying to teach kindness while refusing to be kind to one of their students. And further yes I understand this was done so we could see Hazel be a good negotiator and be the hero. Yes fine, but it is hard to ignore the implications this writing choice carries regarding Dev. It shows the school is extremely disinterested at best regarding Dev and his health needs and I don’t blame Dev for not wanting to participate if this is what the school does when Dev has an allergy restriction and can’t enjoy something for the entire class. Hazel has to be the one to wish for a pizza for Dev. It’s not Hazels job to make sure her classmates feel included and have fun. It shouldn’t fall on her shoulders to help her classmates, that should be on the teachers but they didn’t seem to notice or care Dev was feeling left out. The school could afford to buy a whole pile of pizzas it doesn’t feel unreasonable to think they could afford to do something so Dev doesn’t feel so left out.

Like I don’t know get him Oreos or something it doesn’t have to be big just something so he’s not the only one who doesn’t get anything. Again yes I realize the point was to have Hazel save the day and get her and Dev closer I understand this but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes the school seem to not care about a kid who is already severely emotionally neglected at home. They could have had the school offer an alternative that Dev didn’t like or if they wanted to keep this a secret have Mr. Guzman be the one to hand Dev the lactose free pizza and make some comment and realize he forget to tell Dev or something. Yes it’s not ideal to have him forget to say anything but for me it would be easier to hand wave away then absolutely nothing, and again it just adds onto Dev the feeling that he is unimportant and doesn’t matter. These moments of rejection and loneliness start to add up and get harder and harder to deal with emotionally.

Rewinding some for just a second but in Stanky Danky we do see a brief moment of Dale showing more love and affection to a sentient trash can than Dev. Once again it’s a short moment on screen for us but we can see Dev is pretty upset and hurt by this rejection.

Dev seems to bounce back from this pretty quickly, possibly he’s used to his dad behaving this way which is a whole other can of worms to open up but at this point, he’s not friends with Hazel and still has his walls up which I think potentially plays a part in this but I’ll circle back to that.

Then theirs the uh infamous statue scene that is emotionally devastating and no one besides Hazel and sort of Wanda seem to recognize how fucked up it is. Even still Hazel forgets all about Dev the second she wins the hat and once again, Dev is a lower priority than an inanimate object. Let me be clear, I am not angry at Hazel, she’s a kid at the end of the day and frankly it’s very easy to distract kids. She’s not a bad kid or friend here for getting distracted I’m just discussing from the Dev side of things that in this episode the two people that matter most to him have placed an inanimate object as their priority over Dev. Whether or not Dev realizes Hazel forgot about him for her hat isn’t exactly clear, but it happened and I talk about it solely because it makes my heart hurt and if I have to suffer so do you.

What’s interesting to me is we see Dev has been suffering for some time, but it’s only after Founders Day that he finally is given a Godparent. Arguably it’s likely the getting direct confirmation that boots are more important to his father then his own son, he bought them on the day Dev was born, seemingly if Devs math is correct, and that overshadowed Devs birth, but I find it interesting to explore some other factors that maybe make the blow feel even worse.

We know Dev hasn’t had a friend before Hazel, she’s really the first person that he called a friend. She helped bring down his sky high walls that his classmates seemed to intimidated by to even attempt to cross over. (I also wonder if somehow a fear of Dale maybe also involved with his lack of friends). And we also know Dale is at best emotionally distant which likely Dev impersonated to try and fit in better with his dad and to try and protect himself from getting hurt. However, Hazel breaks down that protective barrier he’s had on so when his dads statue is revealed and he and Hazel fight, it hurts more then it did previously because he doesn’t have that protection anymore and has to face the full brunt of that pain and rejection. Not only that but he is also, in his mind, losing his first and only friend despite him risking so much trying to keep her safe from his dad. Being rejected hurts, but being rejected while trying to do the right thing? Thats got to be an even bigger emotional blow.

I know some of what happens in the season 1 finale, I don’t know all the details or how we get their but I have a feeling Devs feelings of being unwanted and unloved potentially play a massive role in his breakdown. His school couldn’t care less about him, his dad is emotionally abusive, he doesn’t have any friends and every time he gets a glimpse of happiness it’s brutally ripped away from him. This is a literal 9 year old child, and he’s having to deal with being neglected and ignored by any person in his life who is supposed to really be there for him. It’s realistic to life kids slip through the cracks far too often, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, especially knowing that things just get worse for him from here. All I can hope is season 2 gives him some relief and he gets someone in his life who genuinely cares about him and will be there for him.

That’s everything so far I have in regards to thoughts about Dev. I always love hearing other people’s thoughts and I certainly will have more as I continue with the season.

[sadsongsandwaltzes]

If MLMs weren’t so predatory and manipulative, there woudlnt be a problem. If the approach was “hey this is our company, but you can be a personal representative and sales person for us and you can work on commission and we’ll provide the products for you since it is our company, not yours” then that’d be awesome.

Because some MLMs do have good products tbh. And you’d have the added bonus of fostering community amongst people having to go to these parties or booths or otherwise hitting up their local sales person for the product.

But as is, I feel so crappy buying even good products from those places because I don’t want to support a corrupt structure and approach that has screwed over so many people :/

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR KEVIN PHILLIPS

[deus-ex-mona]

s. s ave me, meoto…

[bmpmp3]

oc-ref-tober 22: Siren!!! weird doing a ref sheet bio thingy for an oc with not much of a story and like no supporting cast but he’s weirdly developed for an oc with no (developed character) friends LOL