#its a mama and her three kitties

[da-janela-lateral]

I was kinda depressed today but I got to see how the stray cats I like were doing and now I'm : )

[therealslimshakespeare]

Trash Magic

Big Daddy Trailer Park Cop AU One Shot

Summary: it’s 2008 and it’s the pits of recession, not that the suburbs of El Paso would notice, things have been rather shit among the rows and rows of trailers for some time now. With your dad locked up for being a little too ‘entrepreneurial’, it seems your only ally in these tough times is the town‘s scary old softy, Officer Presley, and the more than professional interest he takes in your speeding and footwear. 

Era: modern but with that dumbass tumblr dusty Americana feel to it I hope?

Kudos: so many to @eliseinmemphis who was my plot guru, kept this thing alive and gave so many lines and sentences used herein.

Word count: 15k and I didn’t edit this sorry for misspells, etc

18+ and may be thematically disturbing to some please read cautions, proceed at your own risk!! More specifics below the cut

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DARLINGS!

Specific warnings: sexual content, drug use, stripping, casual prostitution, age gap, reader isn’t a minor for such activities but only eighteen?? which is not touted as a good thing but it’s in here?? if that’s a hard no then be warned. graphic descriptions of kinda gross blowjobs and very gross blowjobs, spanking, officer Presley does take too many pills for his pain ok? driving under the influence, minors drinking, trailer trash lifestyle in general, such as I personally have had experience with, it’s rough out there folks but there’s always the good ones trying their best. Sorry I really threw Joe E under the bus. I’m not really sorry but I’m sorry you have to read about him in here. Please let me know what warnings I missed if I did. Again, could be thematically disturbing due to age, solicitation, law officers, drug use, humans not being tidy little robots.

When you were three years old you recall the smell of plastic heating in the sun, the hot smell of fresh cut grass and the cold splatter of hose water on your skin. A little paradise it seemed, that tiny kitty pool and your mama waving the hose over you with one hand, her cigarette dangling between the fingers of her other, bright warm sun and yellowing grass stretched out in large swathes between the little white shacks stacked row upon tidy row. Always the same and ready to guide you home after each little wander into the thicket behind the clearing.

That was life in the Shady Oaks trailer park. There really was only one mature oak tree and it was a live oak and the sunshine beamed right through its little leaves all seasons of the year.

By five you had a sizable jar of grasshoppers collected and had become too scared of their hoards and awful beady eyes to ever release them, fearful they would swarm you the minute you undid the lid of the mason jar and gave them freedom. You had let one out and watched it hop across the torn Hexagons of the linoleum floor before it jumped in an acrobatic feat and landed in the mac & cheese your mom was making. You never know what she did with those jars, but you were half relieved, half heartbroken at the fact they were no longer your responsibility.

By eight you knew you lived in a trailer park and spending your time collecting ants and moths for the new set of grasshoppers to eat was a peculiar and uncool pastime. As were muddy knees and torn t-shirts on a girl approaching her teenage years. But mama hadn’t been able to take the heat and the rows upon rows of mildewing trailers anymore and daddy was too busy with his “entrepreneurship” to dress you right.

By twelve you had learned that some nights daddy came home, and some nights he didn’t and you couldn’t be sure which you preferred. His drunken state was unpredictable and confusing even though he was not abusive, but his absence left you counting quarters and wondering how long your Fig Newtons would last if he stayed gone longer than a week again.

By fifteen the Dollar Store and its fluorescent bulbs leached the vitality out of you with each long day shift, school was an afterthought, and your days smelled of plastic bags and detergent. You brought that smell home to your musty trailer, seeped into the sweaty fabric of your tank top. The only thing that stayed consistent whether your daddy was home or not was the religious watching of the NASCAR races. Reruns and live, it didn’t matter, where many girls escaped into Disney or Reality TV, you did your dreaming while sitting in the ratty drivers seat of daddy’s Ford, making the engine thrum.

By seventeen, your daddy was gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’d leave the Ford and take off on the road with Benny and Gregg in Benny’s motorhome from a few rows down. Greg had the pale blue trailer with the blinds that were always smashed in the one window. He always left his damn lights on, even when he was gone and they’d glow yellow and demented between the brittle plastic. Some nights when you walked back home from town, maybe a little more plastered than you’d like to admit, you’d keep Gregg’s trailer and his silly window as a landmark to turn left in the maze of trailers.

One night the bulb burnt out. One by one the rest of them did too. The fellas, they’d all been gone so long. Next week the electricity got turned off to yours. The bill hadn’t been paid. Dollar Store wages kept peanut butter and miracle bread in your cabinets and bought you cheap tequila from Terry who lived five trailers down and didn’t care about ID’s so long as there was cash on the counter. What the wages didn’t pay for was electricity or gas money or a new car that could actually accelerate fast enough to give you that thrill you craved.

Despite your lousy education and demotivated upbringing, you had some spark of diligence and ambition residing inside you, it was stoked to a decent blaze by the awful, humid and stale air of the trailer without its swamp coolers humming at night. Not even the fridge stayed cool longer than forty eight hours and you ended up at the seven eleven eating roller dogs.

You weren’t looking for job opportunities while licking corn dog grease off your thumbs but opportunity came to you anyway. As you nibbled at the soggy fried dog and licked at the rancid oil while leaning against the auto supply shelf, you’d have to be some sorta dumb to not know that Carl was hanging around the same aisle for something besides windshield washer fluid.

Carl was a native to the outskirts of El Paso just like you, and he was a married man, married to Clarissa in fact. Clarissa who’s plastic miniature flamingo’s gracing each edge of her weedy gravel drive had a younger you thinking she was the height of trailer park sophistication. That was before Officer Presley, who lived in a spacious double wide down by Gregg’s trailer and its burnt out bulbs, got himself a Tiger figurine made outta real concrete and painted pretty as anything, its blazing feline eyes not missing a speck of paint, unlike the flamingo’s slashed ones. Officer Presley only had the one and it was assumed he was saving up for another, and he placed it by the little porch he built off his trailer door, the proximity to the structure giving it a noble sorta air that sitting statues out by the street didn’t manage.

“If you keep watchin’ me like that I’ll have to start chargin’.” you told Carl and his leering face, and took another bite, munching with the carefree manners of someone actually hungry.

“Can’t do that here.” he wheezed a laugh, then thumbed over his shoulder at the bright lights of the trucker club blazing in the dark sky through the dirty glass doors of the gas station. “But over there it’s legal.”

“You so horny you’d pay to watch a girl eat a corndog?” you were dubious, wondering just how little Miss Clarissa put out if he’d waste money on this, it wasn’t like she was busy repainting her Flamingo’s peeling eyes or nothin’.

“I’d pay for a drink for ya.” Carl offered, fidgety hands wedged in his fraying front pockets. “And you can eat another dog. You like hot dogs? They’ve got ‘em over there.”

“Nah, I need cash.” you declined, aware that you could barter for drinks and end up evicted or else make sacrifices regarding the booze and keep your tin roof over your head.

“Cash?” he repeated like a dumb parrot.

“Yeah, stupid.” you flailed your hands a little in annoyance, fully certain everyone in this run down rural suburb knew you were as broke as you are alcoholic at seventeen.

“Ok, then I’ll pay for your hot dog,” he negotiated with an oil stained finger scratching at the sore on the corner of his mouth, “And you can eat it so long as you do it how I tell ya.”

You sighed and ran your chipping nails along the plastic jugs of car oil. “So long as ya let me eat it.” you stipulate, “And you gotta pay for the show.”

“I ain’t made of money, girl!” Carl protested, “I’m buyin’ dinner, you should be thankin’ me.”

“You were plannin’ on buyin’ me a drink.” you pointed out, “Where’s that money gone?”

“Jeeze ok, ok,” Carl sighed, “I’ll pay you same as a wild Turkey would cost.”

“And a dog?”

“Yeah.”

“With chili on it?”

“Oh c’mon now-“

“-It’ll make for good slurpin.” you pointed out sagaciously

Carl groaned in annoyance and appreciation for the mental image. “Ok, a chili dog and the cost of a shot. No funny shit with the tab and you eat it how I say.”

“Does the club have air conditioning?” You asked your last stipulation.

“Course it does, it would be hot as fuck without.”

Your trailer was hot as fuck and anytime spent loitering elsewhere was greatly desired. “Ok then.” you agreed with a shrug.

By the time you’d crossed the parking lot, with Carl’s guiding hand on your lower back, you were irritable from the heat and exhaust fumes. Inside was cool and almost as dark as the parking lot except for the wild, multi-colored lights swirling around the place, highlighting the girls humping the stage floor in the middle of the establishment. One more underage addition wasn’t remotely as remarkable as the fella in the corner trying to take a bite outta a lap dancer’s boob. He got smacked on the cheek for it and nothin’ more, got his full dance anyway and as you watched her after while sitting up on the bar stool, you noticed her negotiate something similar to what you’d just done. She stayed in his lap after her dance was done and after some gesticulating and her unimpressed sighs, some agreement was reached and you watched them get up and walk to the back of the club, through the backdoor that you knew led to nothing more than miles and miles of desert.

Five minutes later a similar transaction occurred between a trucker and a pole girl. They went out back, too. Ten minutes later the first couple came back in. She went to the stage and he went out the front door Carl had brought you in by.

By that point you were slowly inserting a hot dog onto your pink tongue and swallowing a bite every three minutes or more - at least, that’s what it felt like. Carl’s directions were so slow and infuriatingly erratic that you found yourself grateful for the fact you’d already eaten a bit at the gas station, otherwise this would’ve been the cruelest tease to your belly that hadn’t had lunch and only Raisin Bran for breakfast. You chose to ignore the way his hand moved in the shadow of the bar, wiping at his jeans too many times to be passed off as sweaty palms.

A nearly fully dressed girl in cut offs eating a chili dog was hardly the most sensational thing to be watched in this seedy joint, but it was the most peculiar and no sooner had you finished the dog after a laborious thirty minutes, collected the extra drink cash and prepared to go home after declining Carl’s offer of a ride before you found yourself propositioned for the same ordeal. This big fella actually offered a drink with it and much to Carl’s betrayed horror you agreed. Carl ended up leaving, going home to Clarissa, feeling too cuckolded to continue watching someone else watch you eat meat in a casing.

In between sipping Hard Mike’s lemonade you chatted with the fella and spilled pinto beans on your bare legs from the excess. Even the bartender had stopped being annoyed, he even got a bit invested in your gig, retracting the offered napkins for the spill when another guy, a farm hand from the pecan grove down the interstate, asked to lick it off.

You charged seventeen bucks for that spit bath and felt funny as the saliva dried in the chilled bar room air. The bartender asked you if you lived in El Paso. Hesitating to give yourself away or open yourself up to a driveby, you merely agreed that you lived nearby, he didn’t need to know you lived in the Spark City suburb and walked to this tuck station grill to save fuel.

Marty, he said his name was, and Marty was pleased you lived close. In that case he asked if you’d wanna work there. You knew at the time he wasn’t offering you to bartend, your age prohibitive even in so lax an establishment. Your eyes flicked over to the long gal with her sallow skin and stringy red hair loling around the stripper pole in the glow of a green spotlight. It had to be 3:00 am by then.

“Does everybody do extra?” You asked him, plainly referencing the deals that took folks out back into the sagebrush and the backside of the club.

“You do as much as you wanna get paid for.” he admitted. “Plenty just strip.”

Just, he had said. Just strip.

Just stripping was a gross understatement for the rigorous and demoralizing ordeal of flinging your practically naked body around on stage for gaping older men to ogle each night. But it took up hours of your time not paid by the dollar store wages, and you could snooze from five am to eight when your shift began again in respectable retail. You earned a decent amount, even after having to pay Marty and the doormen a portion and even turning down a lap dance or two. The chili dog schtick kept its novelty for three nights and then you were driven to grinding against the pold like all the others, wondering if they’d all hoped to not end this way, same as you.

After a few weeks of this your piggy bank was less empty than it had been in months, hidden under the sink of your trailer behind the Comet and pulled out only to stuff in bills or else retrieve bread money, one Sunday you counted enough to pay your lease for the trailer slip. What was left would make a tiny little down payment for the electricity bill.

Or gas money for at least fifty miles or more in your gas guzzler. You weighed the bills in your hands and mournfully inspected your bruised knees. It was your off day, you contemplated going to the club in the evening as it didn’t respect the Lord’s day like the dollar store, but until then you had hours of a perfectly cloudless day to burn. Suddenly your trailer felt unbearable in its stuffy crampedness.

You tore outta your door and cranked up your daddy’s old Ford and with relief found it started with only a few tries. You tore down the road too, seeking the interstate after using that cash to top her tank off. For the first time in ages a full smile had begun to split your face. You went east, passing the last remnant of civilization that you called home and comprised El Paso’s dusty satellite cling ons. Then it was open range, nothing just mesas and tumbleweed, no one else could brag of such flat country or so wide a sky.

You floored it, the speed limit a decent 80 on its own, you went up to 120, fast as you dared push the transmission without fear of being stranded in the desert. Billboards warned of “last chance for gas, Van Horn 200 miles” followed by a possibly related: “God is coming, have you repented?”

All flew by in a unheeded blur as you cranked up the stereo and let the wind whip your hair. You covered a patrol car in a cloud of dust and saw his lights flash at you in the rearview. No chase commenced. When you leisurely drove back you noticed it was highway patrol, the sun was setting and he flashed his brights at you. You flicked them back.

“Hey officer Presley.” you murmured amused at him turning a blind eye to the speeding. Back when you had more money and made a regular habit of this amateur racing, you noticed the same benevolent light flicker and never a siren broke the still of the desert. “You ole softy.” you giggled at the thought of the middle aged officer being generous for you and only you, and wondered if he’d heard about what had become of you yet. Seems like most of the trailer park had. Favorite topic these days, right up there with when or if your daddy was ever gonna come home. Had the wives hating you during the day for the suspicion of their men wanking over you at night.

“Maybe if you could spare a single food stamp or somethin’ to help a gal in need I’d not be strippin’!” You had hollered at Ms Clarissa for all to hear and you stood by it. Buncha lousy, miserable hypocrites who did far worse behind their canvas doors.

You do go to the club that night.

You stripped down to your panties and bra and made enough to buy ice and a trip to the dentist. You packed the ice in the dead refrigerator and pampered yourself with some milk and a carton of ice cream for the filled tooth.

Next day you filled up your gas tank again and blazed a path through town, headed to the wide open and dreaming of busting your way into the male ranks of nascar drivers. You were deep into a daydream and committing a little self pity about how you hadn't been able to afford cable and were missing all the races when a siren’s blare broke your fantasy and the flicker of red lights against a pale blue sky filled your rearview. Begrudgingly you pulled to the shoulder as you cranked down your window, fiddling with the radio knobs till you could actually hear your crime when your peruser sauntered up.

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been close to a year since you’d seen him up close, not since last time he pulled you over, though you always took note when he was lounging outside his trailer in a lawn chair with his dog or stripped down and working under his hood. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he kept in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy's grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms have massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Lead Foot Louie,” he greeted, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to that slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool in the most delicious way. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me fly by on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

He leaned further into her car window, shirt gaping helpfully at his neck and allowing you a glimpse of sweaty hair, little droplets shining like rhinestone studs in the coarse curls. You leaned towards him, nipples hardening beneath your t-shirt bra as your mind started to the taste of salt. “You’re in town, miss.” he pointed out with grave disappointment for your lack of behavioral modulation, “S’one thing on the open plain, it’s another when you’re endangerin’ your fellow citizens, flyin’ through intersections, speedin’ up and threadin’ traffic when you’ve got a visible yield sign. Right there! Ain’t responsible. And I won’t countenance it.”

“Sorry officer.” you pleaded, lingering on his rank with all the sultry appreciation of a girl who lacks authority figures in her life. It made his palm itch.

He sighed and gave you a small smile, puffy, marshmallow lips set under a dark five o’clock shadow and it wasn’t even noon. “Now, how many times do I gotta pull ya over ‘fore ya start listenin’ to me?“ he asked with patient expectancy and you swallowed hard, actually feeling a small bit of guilt.

“Well,” you drew it out, biting your lip before tossing your head and beaming at him, “maybe just one last time. Like always.”

He tsked at you in reprimand but his eyes lit up with enjoyment, and that was worth whatever fine he might slap you with. It really wasn’t, not with how broke you were but gosh, you loved breaking the ice on him, reeling him in for another verbal tussle. One day you hoped those expressive hands would accidently smack you mid-wave when he was explaining something or other. You lived in hope of that day.

You watched as he straightened briefly and reviewed your vehicle, thumbing at the peeling paint on the hood near his thumb and swished at the sand on your tags. You held your breath, hoping the dust would disguise their expiration. Officer Presley just grunted and surveyed your lemoning old truck with the face of a man who appreciates nice things and doesn't see any nice things in sight. The face of a man whose patrol car was a Ford Mustang.

“You like speed.” he observed, still glancing at your tires with lip curling disdain. You wanted him to look at you like that but his face always softened when he turned back to you. It did this time as well.

“Yeah.” you breathed.

“You got a shit truck for speed, terrible drag, shit tread on your tires, bet it’s a gas guzzler, too.”

“Well yeah, officer,” you rolled your eyes at his survey, “but it’s not like I can afford much else right now so -I do this for fun. Fun’s not illegal in America yet, is it?”

He looked at you gravely then and his eyes turned sad. “Yeah I heard about the strippin’. You watch yourself now, be careful and make sure you don’t engage in no extra-curric-u-lars.” he advised sternly, peering over his tinted sunglasses at you while saying the big word, over pronouncing it with authoritative gravitas, “I’ve told Marty that means no bar tendin’ when you’re underage. And I’m tellin’ you now, that goes for solictin’, too. You understand me? Nice lil girl like you could get in a heap of trouble real fast. And I won’t countenance it.”

The rest of you perked up at the heavy handed advice, feeling smothered and also cherished that someone would give a shit, even if they were just defending laws n’ government regulations. Thinking of them as Officer Presley’s laws, as his property you were twerking on somehow ennobled your calling, made you feel like giving it a try to be good and not disappoint him. You felt grateful he hadn't chewed you out for the stripping like half the neighborhood, you’d expected some disgust.

When he finally looked at you with disdain, and you were determined that he would, it would be for something less unchangeable, a little less broke, a little more sexy.

“Yes sir, I got ya.” you acknowledged with a nervous laugh to hide your discomfort with the way he kept staring at you, reading you, it felt.

He kept at it for a few moments, chomping on that gum stick in his mouth, dexterous pink tongue lolling the stuff from one row of molars to the others and back. Most fascinating ping-pong match you’d ever seen and while he did his soul-reading, you watched his mouth.

As his jaw worked overtime, he narrowed his eyes at you, so blue they looked violet behind the tint of his lenses. “A’ight.” he decided at last and suddenly your window was bereft of his congenial bulk, you heard the rap of his knuckles on your truck roof.

“You stay outta trouble now, Missy.” he let you off with only a warning, two sharp knocks on the metal and then, “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

You watched the side mirror with investment as he meandered away, futilly hiking up his holster again as he went before he entered his squad car. He flashed his lights at you as you stayed gawking, you fumbled with the ignition and peeled out off the shoulder, moderating your acceleration upon afterthought. You’d promised to be good.

But nights at the Trucker Bar didn’t pay to be good. You had a laundry list of things you wanted and a hefty list of needs alongside it. You tried picking up a shift at the Texaco but Ashley there near tore your hair out against the beer coolers for encroaching on her shift. Everyone needed work and Spark City had never been much of a City, too little infrastructure to prosper its community in good times, much less in the pits of a recession. The Best Buy in El Paso was hiring, you read in a mail advertisement. Their wages cost as much gas it took to drive there and back.

So you got pretty good at something else, something Officer Presley wouldn’t be impressed by, or maybe he would in a moment of weakness but lord, much as you worried and panicked some times about him dropping in on the Trucker stop, meeting eyes and him just knowing you’d been doing extracurriculars, he never showed. Must not have been his scene. Not that you were sure what his scene was, you only ever saw him in his patrol car or else cleaning his guns on his trailer porch next to his Tiger figurine.

You assumed he liked blow jobs as much as the next man. But he never showed and so you got more and more lax, went out back of the bar to the Sagebrush desert and blew heavy tippers against the concrete wall, ant bites and stickers plaguing your knees. So far you hadn’t even needed to walk on over past the broken wall to the dingy motel in back and do the horizontal tango.

Moderate extracurriculars and the dancing was enough to tip your little piggy bank into having a little something to shake at the end of the day. You got yourself a haul of cereal and hot pockets that night, even splurged on milk that went rancid by the next day without refrigeration. You spent your late mornings debating how much money you had left for rent and how much you had for electricity and the viability of buying a generator instead of paying the bill. You also wanted a Blackberry phone real bad, your old flip phone a relic and on its last wheezes -maybe that’s why your dad’s calls never came through.

You were chewing off the price tag of your dollar flip flops, walking barefoot out of your daytime workplace -Dollar General- at the end of your shift when you realized there was a patrol car pulled up beside your Ford. First you cursed, then you grinned as you saw the familiar figure of Officer Presley wiping at your windshield with a bandana. Then you cursed again as you realized he was checking your expired tags.

You jogged over the burning asphalt, still tied flip flops in hand, hoping you didn’t look like shit from having taken off the Dollar Store vest without smoothing your hair afterwards. You hadn’t been good, he could be here for anything, soliciting, or for the speeding you know he caught on his radar or else the tags.

“Hey officer!” you chirped, as carefree and smiley as you could manage -and you’d gotten to be a tidy little liar at the club, insisting you couldn’t wait to have greasy, unwashed truckers in your mouth.

He turned his head slowly, hand still heavy on the windshield and observed you through those glasses again. “Don’t you ‘hey officer’ me.” he retorted, riled despite himself at the way you always said his rank like he had you locked up with frilly pink handcuffs to his waterbed. He shook his head and focused on the variety of delinquencies he had to reprimand you for. “These tags are out of date.”

“Aww,” you feigned consternation pretty decently as you really hadn’t bothered to prioritize the tags with every other dire cost pummeling you right now, “I’m sorry Elvis.” you tried a little familiarity as you drew closer, watching enthralled as a stale desert window tufted the front of his black locks of his sweaty forehead, “Things’ve been a lil tight for a while now, what with daddy leavin’. Slipped my mind.”

He pulled his hand off the windshield and his hands tried to rest on his hips but they slipped and ended up in an odd, off-kilter sorta sling on his pockets and belly, “They’re three years overdue.” his tone sounded unimpressed, you shivered despite the heat.

“Oh.” you chewed your lip and gazed at him hopefully.

“I oughta tan your hide, lettin’ you turn feral with all my concessions.” he said aloud while stippling his fingers on your rusting truck hood. His eyes dropped to the newly purchased, junk flip flops you still clutched. “Why’re you bare foot?”

“My last pair broke.” you explained, end of your shift the thong had snapped and here you were with the replacements.

“Well put ‘em on, the road’s nasty.” he grunted in aggravation, eyes dropping to your feet and widening in disgust at the welts and blisters you’d accumulated from your cheap stripper heels. “Holy shit, that’s gnarly right there.”

You felt a bit offended by that, wanting to object it was the toll of the job, sorta like fat guts came from lounging in patrol cars for a living. Figuring you were in deep deep enough shit as is without outright insulting him, you bit your tongue and chewed on the plastic connector again, trying to free your sandals.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop that.” he growled after a minute and to your bewilderment he stepped in your space and grabbed the foam footwear out of your mouth, “Gonna chip a tooth goin’ on that way, then your tips’ll go down, ya thought of that? No? No you don’t think ahead about nothin’.”

He was working himself up into a frustrated frenzy, tugging at the plastic tag, mumbling all the while about your behavior until it snapped at last and separated the flip flops. He stared dumbly at his success for a minute while you tittered. Bad move on your part, his eyes darkened and he genuinely scowled at you, something more effective than it should have been with his outdated sideburns carving lines in his cheeks.

“Turn around.” he demanded and you snapped your mouth shut, confused by his attitude and furtively eyeing your flip flops still dwarfed in his gloved hands. Who the hell wore gloves in this decade? In this century? In an El Paso suburb that was only a degree or two cooler than the surface of the sun.

You turned around.

“Hands on the hood.” he told you.

You placed them on the burning metal and wished you had gloves, angling your body away from the hot body of the truck, wincing at the heat, on tippy toes to save your feet from the asphalt. Was he gonna cuff you? He hadn’t even read you your rights and could a person even be arrested for tags? You really didn’t know and you never thought he would-

Suddenly a loud snap resounded in the empty parking lot and a white hot sting against your bottom distracted you from the pain of the hot car. You yelped in shock, hand flying to nurse the denim clad ass cheek that was burning from his smack. You glared over your shoulder at Officer Presley, ready to give him what for about him taking parental liberties until you saw his face folded into childish consternation, poofy bottom lip jutted out in remorse as he viewed the snapped flip flop in his hands.

He’d broken a shoe on you. Appreciation flared back, and you wanted to squeeze his cheeks and tell him it was ok, he could ruin the other, too.

“Aww shit, now I-I-I didn’t mean for that-“ he bemoaned, turning the ruined foam pad around and around in his hands as if there was a way to fix it when the other half was on the ground.

“It’s ok.” You heard yourself comfort the fucker who’d just spanked you in broad daylight.

“But you just finished your shift.” he muttered, and his consideration for your inconvenience touched you, “Here I-I-I’ll go buy ya another pair. Uh, yeah, c’mon.”

You skipped alongside him, trying to get him to look over at you but his face was flushed and his eyes trained on his task, picking out a hot pink pair instead of the polka dots you had chosen. “Does nothin’ for your lil sooties and brings the attention away from the polish ya got painted and instead directs the eye to the crustaceans and shit ya got goin’ on.” he referenced your calluses with a grimace and reached into his back pocket to pull out his worn wallet.

You stared at the hefty meat of his ass the entire time and almost missed it when he pulled out five dollars and put them on the register. You watched his ass and its khaki clad splendor as he returned the wallet without change and wiggled it into the tight back pocket.

At the double sliding glass doors of the front he snapped the tag there and then and squatted down with a little grunt, his knees popping audibly as he gallantly laid out your cheap slippers. You stepped into them, taking the liberty of putting a balancing hand on his sweaty shoulder.

His hand ran up your wrist and held you there a minute longer than it needed for stability. He squeezed twice and let go. You watched him heft himself up to his feet with admiration and a little pity for the stiff way he moved when he’d been stuck in one position for too long. Seemed to you so long as he was kept moving he did alright, nice and fluid and you’d seen him chase and tackle a man on foot awhile back, he’d been runnin’ like the wind then. He had it in him, just lounging in the patrol car hardly helped things.

You got the sudden and stupid urge to ask if he wanted to go swimming in the Motel 6’s pool, it would be good for his joints and your sore back and he’d be wet and maybe have his shirt off and you could-

“I got somethin’ to tell ya, it’s w-w-why I-I stopped when I saw your truck and uh, sweetie, let’s stay h-here in the cool.” he gently tugged your arm back with the pads of his pretty fingers hooked on your deltoid, pulling you back over the threshold and into the dryer sheet scented air of the Dollar General.

“What is it?” you asked him as he seemed nervous, a foreign look on him. You started to feel a little panic at the thought he might be leaving, going back to wherever he came from, done with this Podunk town and its big crime and little criminals.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this a-a-and I wanted you to hear it from me.” he chose his words carefully, eyes trained on the white and speckled tile below your feet until after a big breath he lifted his stunning eyes and gazed at you gently and in the most gallant way you’d ever been looked at before, murmuring in clear, compassionate tones, “They caught your daddy the other night -drug runnin’. Ain’t no petty marijuana charge or somethin’, it’s the big stuff. He’s gonna be put away, for a long while, in-car-cer-ated.” he specified with distinct pronunciation, “For a long while, Miss. I’m sorry to be the one t-t-to t-tell but I wanted you to know it’s true, I-I-l booked him in myself.”

“Well,” you swallowed hard, a little ashamed you’d been more alarmed at the prospect of officer Presley leaving than suspecting anything wrong with your walking disappointment of a father, “well damn.” you muttered.

“You don’t seem much surprised.” he pointed out, pulling his tinted shades down his nose to get a clear review of you, he had a red line on his nose from their weight.

“I barely know him anymore,” you admitted, “and I doubted he was gone spreading charity or something.”

“Yeah.”

“But damn -he was supposed to come back.” you felt a little angry about that part. A little childish for believing it too.

“Maybe he meant to,” he soothed, although your father’s entrenched position on the river suggested a more permanent stay, “and was doing all that sellin’ to give you somethin’ better but he was breakin’ the law and endangerin-“

“-Endangering others, I know.” you snapped at him, not because he was anything but nice, you snapped at him because he was very kind and he had a silver, shiny, sanctimonious badge on the large swell of his left peck.

The longer you stared at the badge the more you wanted to sink your dollar store acrylics into the meat of that man and try tearing -they’d probably break and it made your eyes swim with tears of frustration and you stomped out of the double glass doors into the heat of the parking lot. The sun would be going down soon and that’s when your best customers would pour into the club. You snapped your way across the asphalt on the flip flops he got you, ignoring his calls behind you as you wrenched open the squeaking truck door and hopped up into the cab.

“Really it’s fine!” you yelled at him as he came up to the window again, the concern and reproval written on his face way more heavy than you could take right then, “It’s not like I was expecting him back anytime soon anyway and -and you’ve got a job to do, ok? I get it. I get it, ok? Now I gotta go, officer.” You cranked up your engine and diesel fumes swirled around him. He batted the air in front of his face like a dainty lady would a swarm of flies and leaned heavier still on your rolled down window.

“I just wanted to let ya know.” he reaffirmed his intention, his gesticulations bringing your eyes to the gold watch around his wrist that jangled against the car metal, “Tell ya not to uh, don’t do nothin’ rash, alright? Just ‘cause he’s gone. You’re a big girl, you’ll make it. You ‘member what I said last time ‘bout extracurriculars?”

“I’d like to do you some extracurriculars.” you seethed with an angry smile and he looked taken aback, actually stepping away from the truck and his belly heaved with his offended breaths. One hand balled in a fist at his side and the other twitched, fiat palm swaying beside his thigh like he was gonna smack again. Extracurriculars -you’d like to take his no doubt chubby little cock right down to the sweaty thatched base and chew, just to earn a real spanking.

Maybe this lewd intent was written on your face but he slowly backed away from your truck like you’d gone looney, pointing his finger at you as he went, “You be good, I mean it. And that’s goes for respectin’ officers of the law.”

He was about to get into his side, looking over his car top in admonishment and you quickly made sure your truck was still in park before turning round in the seat and hanging yourself out the window, cleavage pressed against the edge to your best advantage and blew him a kiss. “I’m always a good girl, officer!” you swore adamantly and it stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped in a half crouch to his seat, that eyebrow disbelieving, “Officer Presley commissioned me to be good and I ain’t anything but!” you swore.

Took him five whole seconds to recall he was supposed to have his ass seated by then and he lowered himself the rest of the way into his car. His belly brushed the steering wheel and his legs spread themselves even in the driver's seat, it made your crushed breasts tingle. “Be-have.” he pointed that finger again and your thighs clamped shut on your seats, overwhelmed with unbidden thoughts of the long and slender digit probing inside you. How’d his fingers stay so slender when the rest of him bulked up?

You saluted as poorly as you could and watched him drive off, aggression plain in his accelerations and the way he took his turns. He shoulda stayed and spanked the other cheek, you thought, as you turned around and slumped in your seat, legs splayed and fighting a desperate urge to slip a hand down your shorts. You hoped to god he’d find some quiet shoulder of the road in the desert this evening and with a car passing every twelve minutes, tug a load out to the thought of wacking your denim booty with his belt. It would be good for his blood pressure.

Hands sticky from your own dismal release, you pulled out of the parking lot ten minutes behind him and, too scarce on time to go home first, drove straight to the club, knowing full well that you could always just strip down to your underwear.

Or less.

What with dad permanently unhelpful now, it was a fact of life that you’d have to do more than get by till he came back. You’d already accepted that awhile ago, this just confirmed it. You figured you’d need to save another stash of money, like the real professional girls did, girls like Kelcie and Shay, a little fund for renting out a motel room at night. The one a quarter mile out back of the truck stop, no harm in it except for a few bramble scratches in the dark and the odd coyote not scared off by the truckers’ loud moans out back at the blow job wall.

But for tonight you hadn’t any such stash and so after a few hours at the poll and chatting up the fellas lounging on barstools, you found the tip jar lacking and made one of those lil deals that were becoming almost as commonplace as getting your butt pinched.

This time, in the moth attracting glow of the outside light, your customer had a New York accent and while at cock level you learned from his fancy, dangling silver keychain that his buddies knew him as Joe E.

Now Joe E had a little brown cock and a small, fused ballsack under a sizable belly like most of these men in here did, and you did some of your best work on him. It was easy to do with him fitting in your mouth so easily, you pulled out every trick you’d learned at this wall, all of which he unfortunately resisted succumbing to more than the usual client. He’d pull himself out of your throat and he would grip his base, prolonging his experience and you supposed he had a right to it, he was paying money for something and he might as well do it how he liked but your jaw ached after a while. Soon your ears ached worse, exhausted and fed up with the self important monologue he kept up between the usual, self promoting stud talk that an unimpressive man in his forties likes to indulge in while paying for sex acts out back of a hole in the wall truckers club.

Joe E tasted like he hadn’t touched a fresh vegetable in years and through the overwhelming desire to puke you recognized with some pleasure that he was tipping you extra for being “like a damn vacuum down there, you pretty little dog.”

You drove home from the club, headlights on dim in the early morning and passed by Officer Presley’s double wide with intent, choosing the route you’d take if you were walking. It was dark inside but as you passed you saw he wasn’t asleep, his car was still gone.

You wondered if his doggie was in there or on patrol with him. You sighed and pulled into your own weedy drive, depressed with something you didn’t know the cause of.

You brushed your teeth, you ate cereal after remembering you hadn’t eaten, and stripped out of your clothes before crashing into bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the musty, unconditioned air inside.

It was the next morning, so near afternoon as to barely warrant it but Elvis Presley liked to take credit for any bit of effort he made and so let the record show it was still morning, when he entered the Waffle House off Moody Blvd and sat himself down in a booth and ordered his usual. It arrived at 11:56 in the morning and so it was breakfast, not lunch by any stretch of the imagination. He’d been up all night, the usual plaguing reasons and a few added to it. You, thoughts of you and tanning your hide and gripping you and you squirming over his lap made his patrols a hellish experience and he was almost glad for the distraction of the fucker without plates pulling out in front of him and making a run for it through the border checkpoint at 8:45 pm.

Now he was distracting himself with food, and if there was anything in his life to rival his appreciation of a slippery and obligin’ pussy, it was five scrambled eggs piled high on a white plate with burnt bacon to the side and waffles stacked on a companion plate. Brenda put them down with a smile and gave him a side hug that made his face brush her apron and shoulda gotten her fired by the food regulations but Elvis liked Brenda for her affectionate ways and the way he didn’t ever have to correct her about his order.

“You look tired.” she worried over him and he found a smile starting to threaten on his face, he stuck his fork in the eggs to distract himself.

“Just a busy night.” he admitted and absentmindedly rubbed at his sore knee.

“Aww you’re a treasure, keepin’ us so safe.” he patted his arm again and he fully smiled this time. “You just tell me if you need anythin’ else. I’ve got more coffee, lemme get ya more coffee, Elvis.”

“Thanks Miss Brenda.” he called to her and she giggled as she fetched the cloudy pot.

The bell over the entrance jangled and from Elvis’ chosen vantage point in a booth that faced the doors, always facing his entry that man, he saw Joe Esposito walk in, smiling like a motherfucker for a Wednesday morning and swaggering like Elvis hadn't seen the little runt do since he passed the bar back in 1980 something.

“Hey Brenda, hey EP!” Joe greeted and Elvis braced himself for a cheerful morning when all his hopes had been for some quiet and a little maple syrup glazed despondency.

“Hey Joe.” Elvis greeted his old friend, “You in town?”

“Yeah, my route’s takin’ me to Las Cruces.” Joe informed him as he helped himself to the booth across from Elvis without invitation. If he ate one of Elvis’ bacon strips, even reached for it, Elvis would be pulling out his Glock.

“How’s business?” Elvis asked as neutrally as possible, knowing that it was a sore subject for Joe who had once bragged about being destined for big things, holding it over everybody else at the high school back in Memphis. Still Elvis couldn’t help but ask, partly because it was small talk and if he could get Joe on the subject he knew the feller wouldn’t stop talking, and Elvis could then eat his eggs with minimal requirements for speech. He also took some inner consolation in the fact that all Joe’s brags had worked out about as poorly as Elvis’ dreams had.

It made for two portly middle aged men in a Waffle House booth discussing gas prices at noon.

Joe ordered just pancakes and Elvis judged the lack of meat from beneath his lavender shades and patiently asked the right questions to keep Joe smacking his breakfast with an open mouth and waxing sentimental about life on the road. It suited Joe, even if it was boringly unimportant, he was king of the road in between stops at Walmart distribution centers and out in the stretches of no man’s land the girls were cheap, far cheaper than any Times Square street walker. Joe hadn’t been to Times Square since he was sixteen but it was something he still liked to brag of and to incorporate in his life story like it was an integral part of his narrative.

“But are they fresher?” Elvis inquired, always intrigued by the subject of pussy but also harboring a deep aversion to the way most men spoke on the subject.

“Nah, not really, but that’s why ya go for the mouth.” Joe catechsied Elvis on the ways of call girls and Elvis felt his eye twitch, personally he enjoyed blow jobs as much as the next guy but to avoid the pussy all together as Joe was suggesting? It took all the joy out of the act for Elvis and he picked at his eggs morosely as he listened. He’d had such a large appetite before Joe sat down and started talking of fishy cunts and girls with throats like drainage pipes.

Joe had been to the truckers lounge, the trucker club, the strip place, whatever it was called -the place Marty ran. Elvis knew it, he tried not to react to the name, to pretend he didn’t gas up at the Texaco next door with the express intent of hoping to catch sight of you some nights. He never did, and he’d never been in. But Joe had gone in and Joe being Joe sat across from Elvis the next morning and bragged to a law officer about paying for a blow job. Which along with ruining Elvis’ appetite was offense enough for Elvis to decide to arrest the fucker, but the eloquent details of the slut who’d given it to him made Elvis see red.

Elvis didn’t really mind folks watching you, some stupid, possessive part of him was glad that all those fuckers drooled over you and couldn’t touch, same as him as he sat year after year in his lawn chair on his porch, watching you pass his trailer with longer and longer legs, prettier and prettier as the dusty days rolled by.

But to touch you? That someone else had touched you? The butter on his waffles suddenly looked wrong.

“-just fifty bucks man. Fifty bucks well spent.” Joe was bragging like he’d cheated the stock market and Elvis heard a roar in his ears that the doctors swore the pills would take care of.

You’d sucked Joe Esposita for fifty dollars right after Elvis had told you to be good and you’d blown him a kiss.

His chest hurt.

Elvis had Joe’s greasy face pressed into the syrupy plate with his hands behind his back and cuffs clanking before either the officer or the suspect even realized his intent. “Prostitution’s illegal, motherfucker, as is paying for such services in the state of Texas.”

You’d told him you’d be good. Fuck! He so badly didn’t wanna think of Joe being your first that he had to countenance speculation about you making a regular habit of this thing which was both worse and better all at once and he took out his frustration at that knowledge by trundling Joe into the back of the squad car with far more force than necessary.

It was a flimsy charge to file, Elvis knew that even before the clerk gave him the usual papers to fill out with a confused look. Wasn’t like Elvis was gonna put down your face or name, give away your crime. Without that connection the charge of paying for sex was flimsy and Joe would be released before dark. But it was nice to hear him sqealin’ and bitchin’ about his driving schedule and a buncha other ordinary begs that made Joe E sound as pathetic as Elvis knew he was.

It fortified Elvis throughout the day, kept him from going to your trailer or interrupting you at work to ask why in God’s name you would degrade yourself like that. It kept him bolstered with red hot rage until he was staked out in desert twilight on the dark side of the Texaco, headlights off and his eyes squinted as he watched patrons and girls go into the club.

This was his fault, for locking your daddy up, driving you to such lengths. He felt sick about it, shoulda known a stubborn, white trash girl like you would just reach for the next alternative this easy. Made him sick. Elvis suddenly felt nice and superior to all these men filing into the neon lit cinderblock structure, he had resisted touching himself to the fantasies that had filled his mind about you last night. Wasn’t pertinent that he had a stiffy right now, that was just the nerves and excitement of a stake out revving him up

He lit up a cigar and let Mellancamp growl over the stereo, engine off and the key turned just a little for the dash lights to stay on. He wasn’t sure when you got off work at the club, he assumed it must be some time around dawn and that suited his shit circadian rhythm just fine. He wasn’t tired as the hours went by, he was downright furious and his heart hurt and he popped a couple oxys sitting there with his busted knee throbbing and his mind a demented echo chamber.

By the time the sky was turning a sickly violet with the first promises of sunrise, Elvis had worked himself up to such a degree as to have his door flung open and one boot rhythmically tapping against the cement in his agitation, legs spread to alleviate the ache his pills had provoked in his groin even as the rest of him felt loose and untethered and decidedly deserving for once.

When you walked out the front of the club into the stale early morning air you laughed to yourself at the silliness of thinking you’d need a coat. Your little denim shorts and cherry print crop top suited just fine even in the early dark. That NASCAR jacket you’d had your eye on, the one Shay showed you on eBay, it would have to wait, the tips were shit tonight. No real hurt with that, wasn’t like it was cold. Just another something you wanted and would have to put off. You hadn’t driven tonight as the walk was cheaper and closer but you’d forgotten your pepper spray back at the truck stop and you hesitated for a moment about going back in, hating the idea of getting sucked into some sorta early morning drama from the drunk leftovers. While you were debating, a flash of white seared your vision and you staggered to a stop in the middle of the mostly deserted parking lot.

Headlights.

Well shit, now you really wished you had that spray. You thought about making a run for it, trying the nearest truck cab and praying the guy in it was less of a creep than whoever stakes out on the deserted side of the building.

“You get over here!” the approaching figure came into view, finally silhouetted by his own lights as he stalked towards you wearing a leather trench coat like some noir villain.

It would be a lie to say you breathed easier when you recognized Officer Presley’s commanding baritone.

“Shit shit shit.” you chanted beneath your breath at how riled he sounded and his right hand started making angry gestures for you to approach as he himself closed the distance with a deceptively fast gait.

“Hey, get your ass over here, I called you.” he yelled far more loudly than necessary with his massive hands already closing around your wrists, you didn’t even think to make a run for it, where exactly in the world was a kinder place to turn to than this angry law officer who always nosed in your business too much? “Get, get over here.” he repeated with a yank and tugged you stumbling over your flip flops to his squad car.

He bent you over the hood, just like you’d dreamed of more than a few times and you felt the heat of the headlight against your thigh as your shoulders got twisted back. “-solicitation,” he was pronouncing and your heart sank at the realization he had caught you after your promise, “prostitution-“ the cold clamp of a handcuff on your wrist had none of the rebel thrill you once imagined, it was terrifying and you whimpered pathetically at the thought that you’d expended his patience, that maybe your flirty banters had been one sided and he really was fed up with you.

“Officer-“ you begged with your cheek smashed to the hood.

Some guy had walked up, actually being a good citizen and concerned about the manhandling. It took one flash of Officer Presley’s badge for the guy to back away with a mere “you at least gonna read her the rights, man?”, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder. Maybe he’d been a tipper, you didn’t recall one face from another unless they were awfully ugly or skinny.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll read you your rights, you got the goddamn right to remain silent-“ Officer Presley was struggling with the other cuff and his weight on your lower back made you wheeze just as he was short of breath. He was awfully worked up, huffily trying to clasp the cuffs and slurring your Miranda rights carelessly for so staunch a believer in laws and precepts.

When he succeeded and stood you upright you craned your neck to look at his sweaty face behind you and his eyes were wild and his hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it a million times tonight. He looked a bit obsessed with his nose flaring like that, his speech slurring and his usual decorum completely goners.

“Are you drunk?” you balked in alarm as he trundled you into the backseat, face first into leather with your cuffed hands behind you, ass stuck out the door.

“Of course I ain’t!” he howled and pushed your butt further until you righted yourself on the bench seat, “I’m your officer of the law, that’s what I am.”

“I-I-I know that, I just-“ you felt a cold sweat break out at the realization he kept all his stubborn righteousness even skunk drunk on something, “-you seem a little…impaired. For a law officer. For a law officer driving on a government road. See! I do listen, I do and I really don’t think that while you’re dr-“

“I don’t even touch the booze, unlike you.” he spit. “Nothin’ gonna get you outta this, this time you’re gonna learn your lesson!” he wagged his finger and slammed the door shut, you could hear his seething monologue through his open door as he came round and took his own seat up front, the hard plastic partition only muting it slightly. “I can’t stand, won’t stand for it, no hard times gonna make for you-“

You tugged at the cuffs on your wrists and swallowed at their security, the ole man might be inebriated but he sure knew his line of work. It made you doubly anxious at how vulnerable you were, unbuckled and cuffed in the back seat of a man about to hit the road in a blind, possibly medicated rage. Your one glimmer of hope was the fact you were the cause of that rage -and you hoped, hoped so damn hard he cared out of some sort of fondness, not anger.

“Strippin’ and blowin’ and probably snortin’ shit and you ain’t even outta highschool-“

“You turned eighteen?!” He balked, jerking the rearview down to stare you in the eyes.

“Yes sir.” you agreed meekly.

“And you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten you somethin’!” he cried out, “Eighteen and don’t tell nobody, no mama, no daddy, and now fuckin’ with the law-“

“Officer Presley I understand you’re angry and I’m sorry-“ you tried your most vehemently ass kissing tone and scooted up to the edge of the seat, face pressed the the scuffed, forehead greased plastic divider, “I’m so sorry I had to break my promise to ya but money’s been so tight, I—ooh shit-!“

You tipped over on your side as he hit the accelerator, the wheel already turned for a complete 180 spin to leave the dingy parking lot and its flashing neon lights. You sat yourself back up and pressed your face back where you could watch his leather gloves spin the wheel, and breathe as close to him as possible even if it didn’t serve to make him notice. The plastic sorta hampered the more primal assets at your disposal. You were readying for some more protests when he spoke up, his pouty, boyish, hurt tone emphasized by his jerky merging into three lanes worth of morning commute traffic

“— why didn’t you come to me?” he cried out and you had to give it to him, crossing three white lines that smoothly while in a rage wasn’t for anyone, he had a knack, “Why didn’t you say, ‘Officer Presley, if I don’t have me enough money for’ -what is it you need money for?”

“EVERYTHING!” You screamed back, exasperated and a little scared at the blur of tail lights he wove you through.

“You’re greedy,” he surmised, “you’d rather go work at the tit shack as a lot lizard, shakin’ it for strangers and suckin’ Joe E’s cock than ask for my help. My help!” He stabbed at his chest with a gloved finger and it was quite obvious how tore up he was over that mental image, you didn’t know he knew such particulars but you could use this to your advantage, you could try at least.

“Officer Presley,” you cooed as gently as you could with road noise and a plastic divider hampering your sultry intentions, if you had freedom of movement you’d be reaching around his thick neck and tucking that one sweaty curl behind his ear where it tufted with his sideburn, “I’d have preferred it was you,” you watched closely as that sank in, the lead foot easing on the accelerator, there was a choice up ahead, left to the precinct or right to the trailer park, “but I’ve got my pride and I couldn’t just take charity from you. I kept hopin’ you’d come in, then we could both do each other a favor.”

You could hear him sniff, running a hand underneath his nose. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, forehead thudding back against the plastic and at the red light intersection he stopped and craned his neck to look at you. “Don’t take me in, not this morning, please, pleaaasssse!” you begged, “We’ve both been working all night and we’re tired and sad and- you need somebody to make you dinner before you fall asleep, don’t ya?”

It was a dirty, dirty ploy to distract him like that but you could see with searing clarity the way his eyes wavered in their glare, then softened into childlike meekness at the thought of food and companionship. “You wanna come back to mine?” he whispered, gravelly from all the yelling and his eyelids batted under the lavender shades, azure and owlish.

“I really do.” you agreed, “Mine hasn’t had any air conditioning in seven months.” you admitted and he made a wounded noise of protest for your deprivations. You’d make him see why you took to stripping, he just had to be eased into it.

“I didn’t take it outta the freezer ‘fore I left.” he realized dejectedly as he turned right -away from the station.

You took a massive breath and tried to make it go to your swimming head, relief coursing through you at getting your way. Then you tried to process what he’d said. “Oh, your dinner?” you prodded.

“Yeah. It’s frozen. Lasagna.” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s nothing me and a microwave can’t solve.” you assure, gauging how his profile had softened in the dim lighting of the cab lights but his grip on the wheel and his jittery leg were about as stiff and upset as when he cuffed you. “What could I do for you in exchange for a bite?” you whispered, the sudden stop of the car making you realize with a hitch in your breath that you were in front of his place.

“I liked you.” he suddenly spoke up with such vehemence that it would have been comedic, what with him having already given into you and taken you home, but instead it was a little heartbreaking. “I liked you but you was too young!”

“I still like you.” you hedged, “Even though you cuffed me and called me a lot lizard.” you teased.

The solicitation, the sharing, it seemed to be his chief sore.

“That’s whatchu is!.” He grouched, staring out his front windshield at the single hung lamp illuminating freshly washed vinyl. “But I’ve taken you home anyways.”

“It’s really sweet of you.” you insisted, shifting on the peeling bench seat and wondering when he’d take you out of the car. “Are you gonna let me warm up that lasagna?”

“You said you wished I’d come in?” he ignored you and went back to your previous comment, about wishing he had frequented the truck stop.

Well, well, Officer Presley - a man like all others, after all.

You smirked, sticky lip gloss feeling a little cracked at this corners as you beamed at your little victory. “Maybe I could find a way to show my appreciation for takin’ me back to your air conditioned little palace. -while the lasagna is warming up.” you clarified and heard him grunt, and shift, his legs spreading a little wider in the cramped front seat.

“Yeah?” he pressed, sounding a little winded unless you were just too quick with the assumptions tonight.

“Yeah.”

“You offerin’ to be *my* lot lizzard?” He asked and after a tense minute where you were unsure if he was about to be angry again, he tapped the glass and whispered, “A joke, c’mon, don’t you get it? It’s a joke.”

“But I would!” You insisted after laughing for his benefit.

“Hmm.” He sniffed again, “Well. Hmm.” and with that unclear utterance he opened his door and heaved himself out into the stale Texas air, hiking up his pants again in that useless habit and shutting it behind him. It seemed an eternity before he finished hiking and shifting and shaking a leg out before he came and opened your door, a gentlemanly action made necessary by the stupid cuffs, still clanking around your wrists, as you scooted out of the back seat.

Officer Presley surveyed you up and down, blinking blearily as if he hadn’t seen you fully in the dark parking lot, like the glare of his headlights wasn't sufficient to show him your little cherry tank top and denim shorts, the satin tops of your red bra peeking out of the stretched neckline. “Hmm.” he hummed again and surveyed you once more, the pull of the cuffs behind your back adding to your posture being a bit booby. “Now ‘fore you cross my threshold, I’ve got house rules.” he was swaying a bit alarmingly and caught himself on the side mirror, you chose to ignore this and give him all the deferential attention needed to cure his -jealousy? Was he jealous? Of all the men who tipped you? “First rule, no dirty feet in the house. I hate filthy carpets. I hate them.”

“O-ok.” you agreed.

“Clean feet.”

“Okey.”

“Hmm. Ok.” he closed his eyes and recalled the next, “Let’s see uh- no back talkin’! No talkin’ back, what I say, goes, in my house.”

It was a trailer, not a house. But:

“Of course! You’re the man of the house!” you enthused with a little bounce for his benefit. He was still wacky and veering so fast from niceness to belligerence you were pretty sure you’d end up a little worse for wear after this no matter what. The thought excited you.

“Ok.” he pronounced, staring at the gravel and your feet like he didn’t know what to do now. You wondered when was the last time somebody had come into his place. “I got a doggie, too. Backroom. His word is law, don’t go botherin’ him none.“

Having seen the size of the dog, even if you were inclined to be a jerk to it, you wouldn’t dare. “Gosh of course.”

“Ok.” again. “I’ll get the hose.”

He left you there, leaning cuffed against his squad car as he trundled over his singed lawn to the side of the trailer, returning with the running hose in hand.

You knew it was destined for your feet and didn’t make a fuss as the warm hose water splashed against your blisters, soothing away the dust and the sticky cocktail splashes and god knows what else.

“House rules?” he prompted as he sprayed.

It was getting quite light out now. Probably close to six in the morning. What a long night. “Clean feet, respect doggie, no back talking.” You listed.

“And make yourself useful.” he grunted as if he had mentioned that before and you’d been faulty in your retelling.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Mm, ‘cause you’re my lot lizard now, ain’t ya?” he hummed, hose pointed to the side and suddenly his face was very close to yours, his belly closer and pressed to yours.

“Y-yeah.” you gasped.

“You gonna be a useful lil helper, hmm? Let hims take care of ya while you take care of him?”

Well shit, you weren’t at all sure if this were house rules or a big sexual game. Either way you wanted some lasagna and the crisp prospect of air conditioned sleep. “Yes, officer.”

“Good girl.” he turned the nozzle off on the hose, clamping it at the mouth and dropping it to the gravel.

“You- are you gonna uncuff me?” you giggled nervously as he swayed above you, nose almost brushing yours, eyes heavy and drooping.

“Hmm,” he stepped back and hooked a thumb in his belt loop, a shit eating grin spread over his face, bunching up the apples of his cheeks and turning him into a boy before your very eyes, “nah. I think -nope. Not gonna.”

“Well- shit, officer.” You sputtered, “You’ve got some little secrets?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of how little they are, sweetheart.” he cheesed before reaching out and hooking a finger in your strap, and tugging you gently by it up his porch.

It was odd, Seeing his ceramic tiger up close. Like déjà vu, or walking into a movie, some dream playing out. If your hands had been free, you would’ve pet the head concrete reverently, feeling some sort of gratitude to the noble beast for making your girlhood wishes come true as you tripped through the screen door and into an icebox of a trailer.

He shut the door and pressed you up against it with a move smoother and more practiced than you expected from him. Maybe wrestling criminals and doing the nasty called for the same dexterity. Or maybe he’d been fuckin’ somebody else all this time, waiting for you to grow up. Maybe he’d made a whole harem out of the trailer park and you were just his last pick. The thought hurt terribly, worse yet as you knew most days he was a sweetie, a funny man, attractive and well liked, not this grumpy, pill drunk trailer Baron that smushed you with his belly and sneering face so near but never descending as a lover’s should.

“Kiss me.” you goaded, licking your lips in a studied way. The little contemplative, whining sound he made took you by surprise.

He pulled down your bottom lip with a gloved finger and checked your mouth and tongue like a damn dentist. “Listerine first.”

Of course. Hygiene.

Clean feet, clean mouth, just for him to probably put his piss dribbled cock in it.

He stepped away and methodically took off his gloves, laid them on a small, doily adorned side table by the door, and then his gun and his belt came off with a satisfied grunt that made your inner thighs tingle. The thud of his large flashlight finished this routine.

Doilies.

There were doilies and frilly curtains and the oddest assortment of cheap finery around the place. A nod to the Tuscan craze taking over places like Target and such, while having a unique spin on it you weren’t sure what to name. You took it all in as he piloted you to the bathroom and methodically he pulled out a still wrapped toothbrush and plopped a jumbo sized bottle of mint flavored mouthwash on the fake marble counter.

“You kept that in case you have a lady guest?” You teased as the clinical silence was all a bit funny.

“Yeah.” he agreed without a hint of amusement and you sobered up again at the idea of him having anybody in here but you.

He poured a large quantity of the mouthwash into a paper cup, retrieved from the tidy stack of paper cups beside the sink for that purpose. His housekeeping was an odd mix of spectrum-like meticulousness and slovenly disorder. There were three pairs of pants on the bathroom rug beneath your feet and yet the mouthwash cups were stacked as carefully as the Tower of Babel. “Swish it for seventy five seconds.” He directed very soberly, tipping the liquid disinfectant into your mouth. You almost swallowed the shit. While you swished till your eyes burned and your tongue went numb from scalding mint, he tore at the packaging for the toothbrush.

“Ok, spit.” you happily spat out the green torture liquid and grinned back at him in the mirror.

“Never had a man ask me to spit it out before.” you teased.

He fumbled the toothbrush in surprise for a minute before giving you an admonishing eyebrow. “Girl don’t. We gotta brush your teeth.”

Instead of doing the obvious thing, the honorable thing and uncuffing you, he instead took his place behind you and pushed the toothbrush between your lips, moving it as if you had no arms and were helpless. All this to keep you cuffed.

What a pervert, you thought, charmed.

It was oddly cozy even if it was more than a tad bazaar, him pressing himself to you and running his spare hand along your side as you bent over the counter, trying not to ruin the moment by slurping paste too much. It didn’t seem to bother him, he didn’t watch you brush, he just discreetly rubbed the front of his slacks against your butt and kept his hand jerking the brush across your teeth. His other hand soothingly running up and down the curve of your hip, fingers fluttering under the hem of your tank and brushing bare skin with reverent little swoops.

When you were finished he laid the toothbrush down beside his, on a folded little towel in the back left corner of the vanity next to the mirror.

The domesticity made you smile. “Look, they’re spooning.”

He grabbed your chin gently, tilting your head to the side as he leaned over your shoulder. His lips very close again. “Happy late birthday.” he whispered, “I’d have gotten you a cake. Cupcake. Somethin’. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Kiss me?” you asked again and this time he did, at his own pace, micromanaging each swipe of tongue and press of lips but he kissed you, strongly and angrily and admiringly in turn. He pulled down your tank as he went, stretching the neck out beyond any salvaging and then your bra, unclasping it with strange proficiency and letting your top gather in a ugly bulge around your hips, stuck by your cuffs and shorts, as his hands cupped and squeezed your breasts, somehow making this appreciative mauling seem essential to the act of kissing.

You two finally separated, breathless and revved up, staring at each other with wild, half lidded eyes.

“Ok.” he pronounced and you readied for more only for him to say, “Lasagna. C’mon.”

His kitchen was far nicer than yours, but still it was a mobile home kitchen. And he was a thorough bachelor. He crooked his fingers into the plastic handle and yanked open the freezer, standing aside with a grin on his face that bode no good for you. “I’m helpin’ ya out a little,” he explained sheepishly, “since you’re hampered.” he had a way of saying it like handcuffs were a natural disability, “But I let you off scott-free in exchange for you makin’ me some food.”

“Food and other things.” you bitched, “Didn’t sign up to be a comedy act.”

“Oh that’s right,” beamed, “you did offer other things.” he bit his lip and you thought you’d won when he went right back to it, “You said while it was warming up, you offered other things, while it was in the microwave. Yeah, so go on, grab that TV dinner there, not the fettuccini one, the lasagna.”

You stared at the open freezer and then back to him and then back to the freezer. “Grab it?” you sassed, not having a lot to lose with your tits out and your hands cuffed and a law officer having fun at your expense.

“You’ve got a mouth don’t ya?”

“You’re sick.” you smiled in realization before sticking your head into the cold space, nipples pebbling against the chilled plastic, and biting at the package containing Walmart’s latest gourmet provisions.

“Uhuh, that’s it.” he sounded more pleased at the sight of you with a frosted package between your teeth than he had all this time, “Heyer doll, I’ll open the microwave for ya.” his ability to make himself gallant when he was demeaning you so thoroughly made your pulse thunder uncontrollably.

You had to jut your chin and strain your jaw to plop the heavy foil package of frozen shit into the mounted microwave -fancy mobile home owning bastard- and shove it onto its proper revolving plate.

“There we gooo!” he cooed to you and you stepped back to allow him room to shut the door. “See if you can punch the buttons with your widdle nose.” he suggested excitedly and having gone this far, you didn’t see the point in objecting, not when it made him grin like that. You managed to hit the five for five minutes but the “cook” button wouldn’t respond and after banging your nose against it many times, with many laughs shared between, he finally punched it with one of his oddly pretty fingers.

“There we go.” you echoed, finding that you were blushing the minute the hum of the microwave buzzed the air, his eyes pinned to your face.

“Five minutes.” he whispered.

It was a hint. You expected something a little lewder from a man who had you carrying out food prep like a circus dog. A man of many moods and tastes, was officer Presley. “Can you cum that fast?” you asked, turning to face him.

“That’ll depend on you.” he replied levelly, a challenge in his eyes. He still wore his glasses, somehow that made you feel filthier than all the cash favors you’d ever done. He turned a little in his stance to lean back against the counter, his wrist watch jangling against the edge of the formica, his legs widening.

You dropped to your knees, linoleum freezing against your skin and you looked back up at the ticking microwave timer. You knew what he wanted, and if you were being half honest, it’s what you wanted too. So you didn’t act too good for pressing your face to the crotch of his uniform slacks, forehead indenting the swell of his belly above you and taking his zipper between your teeth. Filled out as his slacks were, with all the stupid gathers and the still fastened button, you could only barely see veiny pink flesh behind the newly opened fly.

“No boxers?” you chided him with a smirk and the unapologetic one he gave you in return made your belly clench, as did the musky smell of him and that soft double chin he had when looking down at you. There was stubble on it blending into his throat.

You’d been right, mouthwash and sterilization for your tongue but not even a spit bath for his sweaty balls and clammy dick -the man was out of his mind. You swallowed down the natural aversion the scent gave you and nuzzled your face nearer, trying to nose the button out of its hole. All you did was succeed in brushing his pants against him and making him impatient.

“Four minutes and twenty seven seconds.” He enunciated the timer reading for your benefit and you whimpered at the impossibility of getting the button undone without hands.

“Please, I can’t undo it.” you asked for his help, tugging at your handcuffs angrily, shoulders painfully aching and only the base of his thick penis visible with its nest of curls and heavy sack.

“Then make due.” he stared down at you unimpressed and you felt an overwhelming urge to grind yourself against his boot at his disdainful expression.

Blinking away horny, frustrated tears, you held your breath and buried your face again, nuzzling inbetween the fly gap, using your chin to tug the crotch further down until his heavy, purplish pink balls spilled over the respectable khaki’s and into the cold air. A bit of hope filled you at how taut and bunched they already were, he wasn’t so cool and unaffected as he acted. You saw him reach into his pocket, digging for something as you weighed your next decision.

“Don’t you want some lasagna?” he prodded.

That made you mash your face to his pants and take both of those hairy balls into your mouth, slurping and sucking at them like a shop vac. His jangling movements in his pocket ceased suddenly before picking up again, and then he withdrew it, a sharp gasp heard above you before he stuck a retrieved cigarette between his lips and lit it. A billowy cloud of Marlborough was blown over your crouching form as the microwave hummed on and his chest hummed in satisfaction. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, knuckling along at his cock.

“That’s it.” he sighed as you mouthed at the base as best you could, tonguing at the hefty vein running along the underside, slathering as much as you could reach. He was salty and tacky to taste and his pants were growing wet from something more than your spit. He was a leaky little man, it made your smirk and smack your lips.

“Feel good, officer?” you moaned in question, just as the microwave dinger went off. “Nooo, damnit, no!” you whined at the sound, a poor loser at all times.

Officer Presley only chuckled and twisted a little to pop open the door, hissing and cussing as he grabbed the benign edges of the hot foil and plopped it into the counter, “Hey hey hey, I didn’t say you could get up, now, did I?” he chided as you shifted a tiny bit away to watch him pull off the cover and reveal cheesy red sauce. Your stomach was in knots, it was so empty.

“No.” you admitted.

He twisted his torso to snag himself a fork from the drawer beside your head, and then, stabbing the casserole with it, took both his hands down to his pants and undid the button at last, letting his pants fall to the floor as they’d been trying to do and been prevented by a belt each time you’d seen him. “Finish what you started, doll, and then I’ll give you a bite.”

You swallowed hard, saliva pooling freely in your tongue at the smell of Italian food. It would be of use. He was tapping his sputtering fat cockhead to your lips and after a tiny grunt of resistance, you gave in, opening your glossy lips and letting him slide the thick meat over your tongue, tangy and salty and pulsing like a living rod, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Fuck me, that’s it.” he nodded to himself as you gagged around him, pulling back a little before pushing back in.

You heard the slide of the casserole tray against the counter and the crunch of tin foil, looking up through bleary eyes you saw him cradle the lasagna pan to his chest, balanced on top of his gut. You hollowed your cheeks around him while watching in disbelief as he stabbed at a bite and brought the laden fork to his mouth. He groaned around the bite in enjoyment -your guess over which pleasure was gaining the upper hand. Feeling a little competitive against TV dinner lasagna, you worked his cock faster, sucking more deliberately and trying very hard to let him down your throat, pleased as his hips began to cant and thrust in time with your encouragements.

“That’s it, that’s it, my sweet little homegrown hoe.” he mumbled to you adoringly through a mouthful of pasta and it made your face glow in pleasure, chin and chest dripping with the filth of it all. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ he warned suddenly, pasta tossed back on the counter as he stood up straight and grabbed the back of your head, holding it still, smoldering cigarette pinned dangerously near your ear and hair as he fucked your mouth with fast, frantic pumps before a frankly preposterous amount of spunk filled your mouth and dolloped down your throat.

He petted your head as you struggled to breath again, cloying gloop coating your mouth, one hand coming up to take off his glasses and toss them to the side. He rubbed at his eyes and you realized you weren’t the only one teary eyed from the intensity of it. “Mm, reckon I gotta keep ya after that.” he decided, knuckling your cheek fondly, they were sticky to your surprise. “Want that bite?” he asked conversationally and while you’d have preferred some water to wash down his most recent gift, you nodded anyway and he stabbed at the casserole until he had a great big bite and brought it down to your mouth, smirking as your cheeks once again bulged at the mouthful.

“Thank you.” you smiled up at him and he humphed bashfully before motioning with his fingers for you to stand up.

“Wanna eat the rest of this in bed?” he asked eagerly, licking his teeth, “I’ve got a waterbed.” he added like that would convince you.

“Of course you do.” you giggled. “And of course I do - lead the way.”

He grinned and pushed off the counter, grabbing the casserole as he went. “Might even find the keys for those back here.” he joked about your cuffs before adding with a wicked little wink, “No promises, mind.”

Hope you enjoyed, I write for screams and comments and unhinged feedback. 🤓♥️

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

Good To Be (Like You)

Nyx Archeron - Feysand - Slice of life - Fluff

Nyx really wants to be like his dad. His dad loves him just as he is.

“Maybe I'm not some chosen one but I'm my father's son and that's something I'm pretty proud to be.”

He happily sat at his art table concentrating on the paper beneath his fingers. He’d awoken this morning to the welcoming aroma of pancakes and bacon flowing into his room from the kitchen, received a warm hug and kiss from papa on the way out the door, and mama held his hand as they walked the streets of Velaris on the way to kindergarten.

Nyx’s bright eyes took in the morning bustle on the streets, noticing a smiling male and female stepping into a bakery along the Sidra that had a three-tiered cake in the window with colorful icing. His little wings rustled with excitement as he wondered if it was chocolate or vanilla and what his birthday cake this year would be. Last year it was strawberry.

Mama squeezed his hand and he looked up to see her pretty face smiling softly at him. “Did something at the bakery catch your eye, Nyxie?”

An adorable grin spread across his face. “Everything!

Feyre giggled, knowing just how much her little one loved sweets.

A black cat ran across the street ahead and Nyx exclaimed “Mama!” He tugged on her hand to hurry over to the little cat that didn’t scurry away from him, but instead brushed its head against his legs as it weaved between them, rubbing against him in friendly greeting. The cat’s wiry fur tickled his palms as he stroked its back.

“Good kitty” he cooed.

Feyre smiled as her boy with a heart for animals - even the scraggly strays, took his time gently petting the cat.

“You ready little one? We’ll be late if we hang around for too long.”

“Just another moment, mama.”

Feyre couldn’t say no, not when her sweet boy’s heart was so full of love to share.

“Alright, little one.”

A minute later, Nyx reminded himself that his father was never late. If he was to be a proper High Lord someday, he needed to be timely. So he stood, signaling letting his mother know that he was ready to continued walking.

They arrived to the school right on time. Mama bent down to kiss each of his cheeks and his forehead, eliciting a giggle. She was the prettiest lady in the whole world and loved him very much.

Not quite ready to say goodbye, Nyx raised his arms and flapped his wings, a silent plea for her to pick him up.

As his mother scooped him into her arms, he pressed his chubby cheek against her shoulder and reveled in the warmth and love that her embrace always brought him. “Love you mama.”

—————

“Nyx Archeron” a not unkind voice broke through his thoughts of the morning. “Sorry, Ms. Westfall!”

While daydreaming, he’d managed to draw a rainbow arching over Velaris, buildings of varying hues mirroring it as the Sidra ran alongside the city and refracting the vibrant colors off its rippling waters. “See Ms. Westfall! It’s a rainbow over The Rainbow.”

Ms. Westfall smiled at the art. “That’s lovely Nyx! You have quite the talent.”

As the children were led to their extra curricular classes, Ms. Westfall stopped Nyx for a moment.

“Little one, I am very impressed with your artistic vision.”

Nyx’s wings shifted of their own accord in response to the praise.

“I know your powers haven’t started coming in yet and you’ve really, really been hoping for them to.”

As she said this, Nyx crossed his fingers as he always did. He wanted to be like his papa so badly, to grow up to be the most powerful High Lord just like him, and do good for the world.

Ms. Westfall looked to Nyx with warm eyes, sensing where his thoughts were drifting.

“There are other ways to create joy and bring good to the world even without powers, little one. Like art, for instance, which you have quite a talent for.”

Nyx looked to her quietly but felt a bit of excitement fluttering in his chest at the thought of making a difference through art.

“We are working on a mural for the new cafeteria and I’d love to have your help, Nyx. One of the older art classes will be helping too. Perhaps while other kiddos in your grade go to their “emerging powers” class, you could work with me and the fifth graders on the mural.

Nyx nearly squealed with excitement. “Do you really mean it Ms. Westfall?” His body couldn’t contain the excitement as he bounced in place.

He spent the rest of the day giddy over the idea of learning from the older kids and painting with them.

—————-

Nyx ran out to greet his father at the end of the school day, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Papa!”

His father squatted down and stretched out his arms with a smile. “Stand daddy!” Nyx yelled as he ran to him. Rhys braced himself as fifty-five pounds of gleeful kindergartener made lift-off and whooshed into him at full force.

Rhys stumbled back a step as he laughed and hugged his boy. “Look at you go kiddo!”

They began their walk home and Nyx couldn’t help but look up to his dad, trying to emulate him in all his mannerisms though he couldn’t quite master the powerful swagger that naturally rolled off of him.

Nyx let out a disheartened sigh that caught his father’s attention. “What’s wrong buddy?”

“Nothing.” Nyx shrugged, unsure how to even describe what he was feeling.

Rhys could tell whatever it was bothering Nyx wasn’t something he was ready to discuss. He noticed a bakery nearby, the same one that caught Nyx’s eye every time he walked him home from school. “You know what sounds good? A pastry.”

Nyx perked up as he saw the bakery ahead. “Yes!” He squealed, running toward it, careful not to let go of his father’s hand. An old, grumpy looking man stood ahead of them and Nyx hid behind his father’s leg out of his sight as the male gruffly ordered a coffee and pastry.

Instead, Nyx focused on the bakery itself, inhaling the warm aroma of honeyed sweetness and the potent air of coffee within. His papa had let him try coffee once and he quickly realized the smell was much better than the taste.

Nyx saw a powdered pastry with raspberry filling and eagerly pointed at it. The nice pixie-winged female behind the counter handed it to him with a smile and Nyx made sure to give her a big “thank you!”

When he turned to head for the table, he saw the grumpy man bump into the counter and drop his pastry. Instead of angry, the male just looked sad. Nyx thought he’d be sad too if he dropped his pastry. Maybe the male only looked so grumpy because he was having a bad day.

Nyx considered how he’d had a really good day himself. Perhaps the older fae just needed cheering up, so before he could second guess he ran to the old male who was still frowning at his pastry that had fallen.

“Here you go!” Nyx raised his hand placing the paper bag his pastry was in on the counter next to the sad male. The male appeared shocked and before he could thank him, Nyx was skipping back to his father who’d watched the whole encounter intently.

Rhys didn’t miss the way the old man’s disheartened face turned to one of warmth and tenderness at the kind gesture from the little boy.

Rhys only gave the male a nod, a silent plea for him to just accept the kindness.

The male gave a grateful nod of his own in return and discarded the pastry that had fallen, leaving the bakery with the pastry Nyx had given him and a smile.

They went through the line again so Nyx could order another pastry and Rhys couldn’t help the way his heart swelled at the kindness of his little boy.

———————

As Nyx sat down for dinner with his mama and papa that evening, he told them of the art project Ms. Westfall had invited him to participate in and he recounted to his mother about the older male at the bakery.

Rhys grinned at his little artist who aimed to make the world a better place, one act of kindness at a time.

“Just like your mother.” Rhys mused.

—————

The next morning Feyre walked Nyx to school as usual. The little Illyrian studied the way she gave smiles to those she passed on the street and the way she moved with such grace and confidence in her stride. Nyx couldn’t help but admire her with joy in his heart as he thought to himself,

“It’s good to be like mama.”

“Maybe I'm not some chosen one but I'm my mother’s son and that's something I'm pretty proud to be.”

—————————————

A/N: this was one of those drabbles that I just started writing and ran with wherever my mind wandered. Thanks for reading!

ACOTAR gener taglist: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

[her-power]

So Called Chaos (Part Four: Modern single dad! e.m x fem reader)

❤️‍🩹🚨‼️18+ Minors DO NOT interact ‼️🚨❤️‍🩹

Trigger warnings/content warnings: Talk of Grief, Child loss, Death. Panic/Anxiety Disorder. Swearing. Fluff. Super cute friendship scene with Eddie & Robin.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 4k

Cold, it was so cold. You don’t know what happened; you remember laughing with Sam and then the next thing you see is the crack windshield and hearing the sirens. You don’t even know how they got Lily out, you remember her crying and then silence. 

“Sam…”

“I’m here baby.”

“I don’t wanna die.” 

“You won’t.”

“Everything hurts.” 

You turn your face to look at him, but when you do, his face is almost unrecognizable, his skin is blue, and the piece of metal in his stomach seemed to be three sizes too big. 

You scream.

Screaming yourself awake wasn’t uncommon for you, but it had been a while since you had a nightmare like that. Your hands shook as you sit up in bed, turning on the bedside light. You felt the sweat drip down your neck, and you take in three deep breaths. It was four o’clock in the morning. Only hours ago, you were the happiest you had been in a while, but that was now overshadowed but the crippling anxiety you felt in this moment. Pushing the covers off yourself, you go into the bathroom, opening the bathroom mirror to take your lorazepam to settle your nerves. You dry swallow it, gripping the porcelain sink in front of you as you try to settle your breathing. 

It was only a dream. 

Please, I can’t hear your voice right now.

I’m sorry.

You tried to think of making love to Eddie, you tried to think of the way his lips felt against yours, the way he made you laugh.

Nothing worked. 

You felt like screaming, you just wanted to feel peace. Not for those few hours like you did with Eddie, but you wanted the peace to be constant. Everything was so fucking chaotic inside your head; you were almost convincing yourself that the last 48 hours weren’t real. And that you were still locked up in the psychiatric unit, getting woken up every fifteen minutes, pretending to take your pills and your plan to end your life as soon as you walked out those doors. 

No.

You are here, in your childhood home. You have air in your lungs, your breathing is starting to slow down, your hands are less clenched. You are here, you are healing, and you are safe. 

Why do I have to be here and heal?

Why do I have to do it without you two?

Why couldn’t she have stayed a little bit longer?

“My beautiful baby girl.” You whisper, clenching your stomach, your throat burns, and you sob. You curl your legs up to your chest and lay down on the cool bathroom floor. It hurt, it hurt so bad. Your mind was playing tricks on you, you think you’re better off dead. 

No mama! Stop that!

Your eyes snap open and you gasp, sitting up quickly. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean it.” 

Mama, you don’t need to be sad anymore. I’m with daddy.

“I know.” Your bottom lip trembles. “I know.” 

Go find kitty.

Lily’s lovey. Her all-time favorite stuffed animal that she took everywhere. You get up from your spot in the bathroom and go down into the basement. You sneeze immediately as you approach the back part of the basement, the smell of your parents’ old belongings bringing you back to a spot in your childhood, an overwhelming aroma of dryer sheets permanently stuck to the drywall. You find a box labeled Lilyand open it up, you find her old books, some of her old shoes. You find her coming home outfit and feel the tears immediately fill your eyes. You lift it up, it was a purple onesie, with tiny little mushrooms on it, it also came with a hat. You place it in your lap, and you almost scream in excitement when you find the cat. You pick it up, smiling at the raggedy looking thing. It was an orange and gray tabby looking cat, missing a plastic eye, its whiskers were bent in odd directions, and it’s left ear was practically chewed off from her teething. You take the small newborn outfit, shut the overhead light off and cuddle the cat as you go back upstairs. You go into your bedroom, jump into bed, and immediately fall back to sleep, hugging the cat close to your chest. 

Eddie was in a solemn mood, Robin could tell. He told her that he burnt the letter, he said he just did it on impulse, but he doesn’t regret it. 

“What are you gonna do when Hunter asks about her?” Robin asks gently and Eddie pauses as he’s cutting up Hunter’s strawberries. Hunter was content in his highchair, watching his favorite toddler show. 

“I’ll tell him the truth.” He says, placing the strawberries on the tray. 

“And what’s the truth?” 

Eddie looks at Robin, she had a way of Jedi mind tricking people to get you to think way too hard about things. “You know what the truth is.” 

“I know your truth.” She says, leaning against the counter. “But you need to tell him her truth.”

“I’m not gonna make her out to be a monster if that’s what you’re thinking.” He says, almost snappy. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.” 

Robin asks Eddie about you, what steps are you planning to take. “You already slept together, so what happens now?” 

“I don’t know.” Eddie grumbles. “I haven’t talked to her in a few days.” 

Robin sighs. “Is that why you’re grumpy?” 

He whips his head towards her. “I’m not grumpy.” 

“Says the grumpy man.” Robin raises her eyebrows and gently pats him on the shoulder. “Just be careful, this is so new for the both of you and…you’re not the same people. I don’t want you two to strictly form a relationship on trauma bonding.” 

“It’s not like that Robin.” Eddie sighs, turning towards the sink and rinsing off a few dishes. 

“You just reconnected a week ago, man. How do you know that?” 

“I just know…I’ve always known. There’s been this tether there between us since that night in the woods.” Eddie groans. “It sounds crazy, I know it does. But, there’s something there.” 

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Or her for that matter, but…” Robin takes a fist full of his hair in her hand and turns him to look at her, he mutters an ow and laughs. “You’re my best friend, dude. My brother. I can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt again.” 

Eddie smiles sweetly at her, gently taking her hand out of his hair and squeezing gently. “I’m gonna be fine.” 

“Famous last words.” Robin smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Just don’t let your guard down. That’s all I’m asking.” 

“Yes, mom.” 

Eddie had put Hunter down for his nap not too long after Robin left. He noticed Hunter was coming down with a little cold, his nose wouldn’t stop running and he was a lot more restless and he could hear his soft snores on the monitor. He had a low grade fever and when Eddie called his pediatrician’s office, the on call nurse said to monitor his temperature and to give Tylenol or Motrin to help with his fever. Eddie hated when Hunter would get sick, it always threw him into an immediate panic because he would convince himself he wasn’t breathing or if he gave him too much medicine. It was moments like this he really missed Olivia, and he hated admitting that to himself. She knew what to do, even if it was so hard for her to exist in that moment, she was always super mom. 

“Vapor baths to help with the congestion.” Her voice reaches his ears and he pauses on the page of the book he was reading. 

“Yup. Got it.” 

“I see you burnt my letter. Surprised it took you this long.” 

He doesn’t answer her, his eyes continue to scan over the same sentence in his book over and over again. His palms were getting sweaty. 

“Eddie, pretty soon I’m just gonna be a memory to you. Can you just look at me?” 

His eyes squeeze shut and he mutters a broken. “No.” 

“I’m not gonna be here much longer.” 

“Lucky me.” He mutters and he feels her presence disappear. He looks over his shoulder from the couch and slams his book shut, not bothering to mark his place. He hears the sound of Hunter coughing through the monitor and his soft whimpers. “Da…Da…Da…” 

“I’m coming, duder.” 

He makes his way up the stairs and into Hunter’s nursery. He was curled under his blanket, sniffling and coughing. Eddie places his lips on Hunter’s forehead and is shocked with how much hotter he felt. Hunter turns on his back and lifts his arms up to Eddie who picks him up gently. Even his back felt hot. Hunter rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder as he fishes the drawer one handed for the forehead thermometer. He places it on his forehead and it beeps twice, Eddie knows that’s not a great sign. The window was lit up red: 102.3. 

“Oh buddy.” He says gently, rocking him back and forth. “Let’s get some medicine into you and get you in for an appointment.” 

Hunter replies by sniffling and burying his face more into Eddie’s chest. Eddie had given Hunter some medicine to lower his fever and had called his pediatrician to get him an appointment. The outcome was the flu, on top of an ear infection. Eddie felt so bad for him, he was so uncomfortable and even with the vapor bath he still clung to Eddie like a lifeline. That night, they laid in the couch together. Hunter laid on Eddie’s chest with his pacifier as Bluey played on the screen. His fever had gone down, and Eddie had set up the pack and play in the living room so he could easily get to him if he needed him in the middle of the night. 

Hunter had fallen fast asleep on Eddie’s chest, Eddie let him lay there for awhile, gently rubbing his back, playing with his hair and just admiring his features. He loved this little boy so much. He would move mountains for him. 

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the kitchen table and he carefully places Hunter in the pack and play with his favorite blanket and stuffed animal and stretches out the muscles in his arm as he walks to the kitchen. 

You: Hey, sorry I’ve been MIA. Been in a weird griefy state but I’m okay now. How are you?

Eddie smiles at your message, his heart doing a back flip, excited to hear from you. Don’t apologize, I’m sorry. Been there, it’s not a fun feeling. I’ve been good, Hunter has the flu and an ear infection so I’ve been dealing with that. He’s okay, his fever went down. 

You: Oh no! Kids being sick is the worse. I hope he feels better soon. Do you need anything? 

Eddie: We’re okay! Got some medicine in him. Let’s get together when he feels better?

You: Absolutely. 

Hunter was almost 100 percent the next day, Eddie, however, felt like he got hit by a truck. He was curled on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders, his hoodie was over his head, and he had cold chills going all over his body. Robin had called him, and stated she was gonna come over when she heard the sound of his voice. Hunter was on the floor of the living room playing with his blocks when Robin walked in. 

“You look like death.” She laughs as Eddie turns to her, just having blown his nose. 

“You don’t want to come near me.” He grumbles. 

“If I get sick, it gives me an excuse to stay here and quarantine with you two.”

“This is awful, Robin.” 

“Go take a nap.” 

“I don’t need a nap; I need to lay down in the middle of traffic.” He chuckles at his own joke, but the chuckle turns into uncontrollable coughing and Robin rolls her eyes. 

“Dude. You have a giant bed upstairs.” 

His eyes flick to hers. “I can’t sleep in there.” 

Robin sighs. “Eddie…” 

“Robin, I really can’t. I’ll sleep here, or on Hunter’s floor.” His lip was almost trembling with how cold he was feeling. 

Robin sits on the floor and takes his hand. “Eddie, you need to start taking steps like this. You know that room looks completely different, you know that if you don’t get rest, you’re not gonna be able to function and we know how you are when you can’t function.” 

“It’s not the room itself…I just…I feel like I see her there. Lying there.” He inhales a shaky breath, his eyes well with tears. He was feeling so sick, and his emotions were all over the place, he felt like he was failing at being a dad because he was sick. “I don’t want to see her.” 

“She’s not there, Eddie.” Robin tells him gently. “Not anymore. That’s your space now. I’m not trying to force you to go in there, but you need your rest. This is already kicking your ass, and I know not being able to do the dad thing to your full potential is killing you.” 

“It’s killing me.” He whispers, tears fall down his cheek and Robin pats his face. 

“As soon as your head hits those pillows, you’re gonna pass out. Please. You’re gonna be okay, I know you are.” 

“You believe in me too much.” He mumbles, taking the tissue out of his pocket and blowing his nose. 

“Look at me.” She tells him and he looks at her, his lip quivering. “You can do this, okay?” 

After a few more minutes of pushing, Eddie made his way at the top of the stairs. He hovers by the bedroom door, tightening the blanket around his shoulders, reaching towards the knob. His hand shakes as he turns it and pushes open the door. He keeps his eyes closed and holds his breath. He flicks the light on, a soft amber light illuminates the room and his eyes open. 

It did look different. 

He gazes at the floor; he doesn’t see her; he still wasn’t sure after all this time if he was seeing her. He looks at the bed, a California king, bigger than the one they had together. The comforter was a dark gray color, the pillows were a navy, there was also a body pillow tucked behind the two pillows. He groans, feeling his fever coming back, places a water bottle on the nightstand and pops two cold and flu medicine capsules in his mouth. He pulls back the covers, lays down and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

Last summer…

He was walking for miles it seemed; the darkness didn’t help, also the warm night was making his skin feel clammy. He couldn’t see straight; he had gone to a bar and had one too many whiskeys. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world; he knew Hunter was safe and was being looked after by Robin – but he still felt guilty. He didn’t want to get this drunk. It was a normal day for him, and suddenly he was struck with the overwhelming feeling of grief. There was nothing happening, no anniversary or song that came up – he immediately felt as if her death had just happened. His sneakers scuff against the pavement and the iron gates approaches his vision. He was at the cemetery. 

He used his flashlight on his phone to light his path, the light made everything look foggy, like it was just him and his ghosts. He hadn’t been here in months – but he knew where she was. 

He stops walking, his light illuminating parts of her name on the marble headstone. His hand begins to shake, and he feels a lump form in his throat. “So, we meet again.” He chuckles a little, the silence was deafening. He bites his bottom lip, staring at her name. “I don’t even know why I’m here, you’re not even in there; it’s just your body. Your soul is somewhere else.” He looks up at the sky, the moon was barely visible, it made the stars bright, beautiful. He looks back down at her name. “I loved you; you know.” 

A tear falls down his cheek and he quickly wipes it away, his hands clenching into fists. “I don’t know if it was a romantic love, or I just loved you because it was us, and our son and we were making it work.”

A pain hits his chest. “We were making it work!” He yells, inhaling a sharp breath, not bothering to wipe his tears that started up again. “We were making it work, being a family and you took that away! You took it away!” He sobs, falling to his knees, the phone drops out of his hand, darkening his entire view. “You robbed him of a mother, and you know exactly what that did to me. You knew exactly how desperately I wanted that bond with a mother and how happy I was that my son would have that…you knew, and you did it anyway. Why? WHY, OLIVIA?!” He rips the grass blades with his fingers, his body shaking as he wailed with sobs. “We were your only family…and we loved you…we loved you…”

He doesn’t remember much after but waking up the next morning, lying next to her grave.

He hasn’t been back since. 

Eddie wakes up coughing, his body felt cold, and he realizes he hasn’t felt this sick in a while. Robin had come up the stairs with some soup, and another round of flu medicine. He kept falling asleep, his dreams all over the place. He dreamt of his mother, not seeing her face but her silhouette. It was like she was being incased a beautiful ball of warm light. He dreamt of you, and he how desperately he wanted to hold you again, to touch you. 

His chest clenches, and he wakes up gasping. His palms felt sweaty, his heart began to race, and he clenches the bed sheets below him. He felt like he was going to get sick. He hasn’t had a panic attack in months, and he knows that this vulnerable state he was in was causing it to happen, and everything that has happened since he ran into you. His gasping must’ve alerted Robin, because she’s barreling through the door, staring as Eddie is hunched over, holding his stomach. She climbs into the bed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling his head into her chest. “I’m here.” She tells him. “Breathe with me.”

He closes his eyes, and inhales a shaky breath, his hand grips the bottom of her t-shirt. “Where’s…Hunter?”

“Sleeping, it’s almost midnight.” She cups the back of his head, and he glances out the window, seeing darkness and little moonlight. “Slow your breathing down.”

“I’m okay.” He whispers.

“You’re okay.” She says gently, tightening her old on him, entwining their legs together. The pressure from her holding him, the feel of her touch, how safe he felt in that moment, he begins to calm down. He releases his grip on her shirt but keeps his hand there, afraid of fully letting go.

“It’s been a while since you had one of these.” Robin whispers and Eddie nods. “Can I get you anything?” The back of her hand feels his forehead, a motherly gesture that he had grown to love about her. “I think your fever is breaking.”

“I think…I need to stretch my legs.” He says quietly, but he didn’t want to move. He keeps his head on her chest, the sound of her heartbeat was oddly comforting. 

“Take your time.” 

His breathing slows and he carefully sits up away from her. She looks at him with concern and he gives her a silly smile, gently knocking her chin with his knuckles. “I’m okay, Rob.”

“I’ll make you some hot tea, you should probably have another round of medicine.” She tells him, getting off the bed and hovers by the doorway. She looked sleepy, and he couldn’t help the feeling of guilt that overwhelmed him as he looks at her, but he knew she would dismiss it, tell him he was stupid and walk away.

Instead, he says. “Okay, mom.” He chuckles, unzipping his sweatshirt and running his hands over his greasy hair. He had waited for her to go downstairs and carefully gets out of the bed. His body was still sore, but the sleep helped, and he was feeling a lot better. He goes into his hallway closet to get some clean clothes and carefully walks into Hunter’s room. He peeks over the railing and smiles; Hunter was splayed out, his binkie hanging out of his mouth, his favorite blanket was curled at his feet. Eddie gently caresses his head, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. “I missed you today, little dude.” Hunter stirs a little, and Eddie takes it as a cue to quietly leave the room. 

After showering, he felt more alive and quietly goes down the stairs. Robin was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug in her hand, her long legs were bent under her chin as she swallows back a yawn. Eddie nudges her shoulder. 

“Go home.” He tells her, sitting down across from her. 

She shakes her head. “I will tomorrow, I need to make sure you’re 100%.” Another yawn escapes her.

He sips the tea, the warm liquid soothing his throat. “Robin, you’ve been here almost every day. Vicky must be furious at me.”

Robin smiles. “No, she enjoys her alone time. Plus, she said it gives her time to set up a surprise for me, she knows how nosy I am.” She leans her head back against the chair, closing her eyes.

Eddie smiles at her, and stares at her face. “Thank you…for being here.”

She lifts her head to look at him, her eyes tired, but kind. “Definitely worth the risk of getting sick for getting to hang out with that little boy.”

“No, I mean…for almost two years…since Olivia—” He clears his throat. “You’ve been constant, even when I wasn’t easy to be around.” She looks at his face, hers softening at his kind words. He slides his chair over to her, taking her hand. “You befriended me right off the bat in art class freshman year, and I thought you were so weird, but I realize that you thought I was weird and that’s how we mesh. I had such a crush on you, but I realize now that I think it was because I knew you were totally gay and would never give me a chance.” She laughs and he grins. “I never believed in soulmates, but I think you’re mine. Not in a romantic way obviously, but I don’t think soulmates are based off romance. I think soulmates are two people who just work, can deal with seeing the ugly without running away. You have seen so much of my ugly these last few years, I was certain you’d run away. But I’m glad you stayed. Hunter loves you, and I couldn’t have picked a better person to help me navigate this thing called fatherhood. You’re my person, Robin. And I hope you know how much I appreciate you, and how much I love you.”

“Eddie, COME ON dude.” Robin says, tears springing to her eyes as she gently slaps his face. “You can’t say shit like that to me when I’m on two hours of sleep and I have caffeine coursing through my blood stream.” 

Eddie laughs, pulling her into a tight hug. She hugs him back tightly, and he kisses the top of her head. She lets out a sigh. “You’re my person too.” 

“Always.” 

(Taglist - thank you for all your support my beauties, it means the world) @mysticpeachobject @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @fearless-wretch-insanity @darknesseddiem @amberolivia666 @amandahobblepot @sxdghxstsbxxkshxlf @sariahs-stuff @trixyvixx @h-ness1944 @munsonzgf @ali-r3n

[icarusredwings]

Hi! Ever since I started reading your snippets about little!Wade I’ve been thinking about all kinds of scenarios so here’s one of them:

Wade is colouring in the living room while Al sits on the couch smoking a cigarette. She doesn’t notice when Wade cames up to her to show off his drawing, so when she stands up the cigarette brushes against his arm.

Wade flinches back and there are instantly tears in his eyes. The rational part of his brain knows that it was just an accident but another part is bringing up some very not-fun memories and he can’t help but let the tears fall.

Al starts apologising and explaining that she didn’t mean to do it and that he has done nothing to deserve it. Even though the burn mark has already healed over, he still clutches his arm to his chest protectively.

Logan walks in and starts soothing Wade as well, coaxing him to sit on the couch while he goes to grab supplies from the bathroom.

“Can I sit next to you, baby?” Al asks softly, not wanting to spook him even further.

She receives a nod in response and when she sits down, Wade immediately puts his head on her shoulder. She takes it as permission to wrap her hands around her boy to reassure him even further.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I would never hurt you on purpose.” She says while rubbing Wade’s shoulder. “Do you believe me?”

She desperately needs Wade to believe her. Needs him to know that he is safe and that people around him will protect him and take care of him.

“Yeah… I believe you. And I forgive you.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Logan comes back and starts putting soothing cream on Wade’s arm. He also sticks a mlp bandaid on it for good measure.

“All better?”

“All better.”

Canon. I said so- I mean. aHEM

As the Board of Headcanons I dub this work as a Canon event.

Delicious. I'll take 14 more. Can't say that Logan is going to be so quickly forgiven for what he's doing in Bad Kitty but Al is definitely one of the people who can get be forgiven quickly for just about anything.

Al could literally slap him upside the head and say 'sorry hon there was a bug' and Wade would say "oh okay!" And go back like nothing happened. This is shown somewhat during "Its bedtime kiddo" part two and three.

Vanessa could probably get away with something similar while poor Logan, if he were to accidentally burn him with his cigar, the water works would be real, crying and showing him his bare arm, demanding he kissed the booboo, get rid of the cigar and hold him, apologize a lot and kiss him a bunch.

Ssiiggh... What can I say? He's a mama's boy.

[strawhatghost]

With the ASL kitties, do you see Dadan as the foster lady that takes care of them or a street cat they follow around?

You made me consider her as a foster lady who hates cats being forcibly adopted by the cat distribution system and caring for them, but...

Curly cat Curly Dadan ITS PERFECT. She's a Cornish Rex Persian!!

Unwilling street mama to three tiny cars! I think she'd be the leader of a feral cat colony and is spayed. She got saddled with Ace through Garp probably, and then he came home with a purebred one night. And then Garp showed up again with a half drowned rat (kitten Luffy) now she's stuck with them forever

[gatitties]

Glitter

─Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─Summary: Everything here is too dark or lifeless, why don't you change that? You decide to give it a cuter touch

─Warnings: none

ty to Gay4kitty on ao3 for the idea again!! :pp

12 < 13 > 14

Today you woke up and thought it was a wonderful day to ruin everyone's day -something quite common in your daily life- the crows were cawing, the air was hard to breathe, the fog prevented you from seeing beyond three meters, it was so cold that it could freeze your bones and the forest looked as dark as a horror movie, that's the perfect day here in the realm of The Entity.

You took a breath through your nostrils, closing your eyes as you raised your leg in the air like a comical scene of the perfect sunrise, you choked on your saliva as the thick dark smoke traveled through every corner of your body, what better way to start the day than a trial? You took a good minute to get your bearings, even getting to work on one of the generators because everything was too quiet, you had appeared alone and you hadn't seen any signs of survivors or the killer, so you took it as an advantage to do everything faster and go off to do your original plan, to disturb the killers in their camp.

Your head snapped up like a deer about to be run over when you heard quick footsteps approaching, Élodie put her fingers to her mouth so you wouldn't make a sound, but your bewilderment got the better of you and your mouth spoke for itself.

"Mama... mama, girl behind you."

You pointed out, confusing the woman, she turned around to find a red-haired doll gaining momentum to stab her in the abdomen, if it hadn't hurt her you would have laughed right there, this new killer had to be a joke, he didn't even reach your knees. In fact, on one of the occasions when you were being chased you just got tired and kicked him, bitch, this midget is not going to ruin your new outfit that you earned with sweat, tears and of course, blood points. The game ended without many complications and without casualties, proud of your work you went to your cabin to collect the essential material for your mission.

Running through the forest you quickly arrived at the assassins' camp, it seemed quite empty and depressing ─as always─ Michael only shared a brief look with you and decided to leave for his domain as quickly as possible, you snorted at his behavior, fine, whatever, you have more assassins to choose from.

"Hey, hey, hey Oni!"

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw the Oni sitting by the fire, he seemed quite calm, as strange as it seemed, you never had many problems with him, although if you were being a little annoying he would simply carry you on his shoulder until you calmed down. He looked at you waiting for you to continue, which made you move towards him quickly, taking out from behind your back a couple of medium-sized bags with an easy-open zip.

"I promise I'll be quick! I'm sure you'll like the change."

Without knowing very well what you had in mind he stood still waiting for whatever, he didn't expect you to try to take the weapon from him, although he had to move it for you because you weren't able to move it. He looked at you skeptically seeing how its sharp blade was now covered in stickers of Hello Kitty and her different characters, he didn't expect it, but he didn't know what to think about it either.

"Ready! A cute weapon now hehehe, every time you hit someone the blood will have glitter on it."

Sadako, who was hanging around, was drawn to the conversation, moving slowly towards you, she looked ─or so you thought because her hair covered her face─ at the stickers on the Oni's sword, you looked at her with a smile, holding up the bags of stickers and the little jars of glitter.

"Don't worry, I have plenty of material."

She seemed indecisive for a moment, after all, she doesn't have a weapon as such but her powers, but you had the solution, you gathered her hair with some clips, enough so that half of her face was visible, and you placed stickers of stars and flowers on her face, she nodded in approval after looking at herself in the mirror, making your chest swell with pride at your work.

Chucky arrived a while later, but as soon as he saw you he decided to run away, you shrugged, you wouldn't be happy either if you had been kicked and ruined one of your first games. Some other killers came and went, not all of them were so easy to convince, and maybe you stole some of their weapons to decorate them without permission, you had some trouble getting The Trapper's machete and The Trickster didn't let you finish your job but you still made many of the bloody and rusty weapons shine like fairies. Of course, your faithful like Ghostface and The Legion didn't even ask and let you do whatever you wanted with their weapons, Susie even used some of your stickers to decorate your face as well, not even you ran away from your silly idea.

Returning to your camp you saw some of the survivors with their recent wounds just as shiny because of you, making you smile at having achieved your goal, it wasn't the most effective way to annoy the others since as strange as it was the assassins seemed much more docile today in the face of your idiocy, that, or maybe they really are getting used to your nonsense once and for all and are accepting that if they can't fight you, they must join you.

[storyofmychoices]

Adventures With Threep

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC) With: Threep, Rayden (M!OC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Word Count: > 1,500 Rating/Warnings: General; (mpreg!Threep)

Synopsis: Three vignettes of Threep's life with Rayden, Mal, and Daenarya.

The regal nesper fluttered through the open window, gracefully moving through the house, looking for his favorite human. Threep landed softly on the floor, his paws a soft pitter-patter against the worn wooden floorboards of the orphanage. Threep's sleek fur brushed softly against his leg. 

"Kitty!" Rayden cheered, scooping the nesper eagerly into his arms. He hugged him warmly, nuzzling his face against Threep's. "I've missed you so much!"

"Your sentiment is reciprocated," Threep purred happily. 

"Re-sip-prated? What's that?" The young boy questioned curiously as he carried the bat-cat to the couch. 

Threep smiled, relaxing in the boy's tender embrace. "It means I missed you too, Rayden."

The child squealed with excitement, plopping down on the couch with his favorite kitty in his lap. His fingers ran gingerly through the creature's silky fur, watching as it shimmered in the sun's rays peeking through the window. 

Threep stretched out, enjoying the warmth and comfort surrounding him.

"Oh!" Rayden's eyes popped open in alarm. His small hand pressed against his forehead in a gentle tap. "I forgot! I didn't get you a snack! You must be so hungry." 

The nesper's head dipped to the side in contemplation, but instead of jumping at the suggestion, he turned in the boy's lap, offering him his stomach. "Maybe in a bit."

Rayden snuggled Threep closer, happily rubbing his belly. 

"You can't still be hungry," Mal complained as he watched the violet nesper shove another slice of buttered bread into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out from the size of the bite he took, reminding the Rogue of a chipmunk collecting food to bring back to its home, except in Threep's case, he wasn't saving any for later. 

"How are you not hungry," Threep whined once he was able to speak again. He lifted one front paw above his brow while the other rubbed his belly, feigning famishment. 

"We've eaten a five-course meal—" Mal's fingers adjusted his belt. "I couldn't eat another bite."

Threep's gaze shifted to the bottle of wine sitting beside the Rogue. "You were saying."

"I said eat," Mal corrected, taking a drink of the ruby-red liquid. "I never said drink."

Threep was about to protest when his eyes perked up, noticing a morsel of cake left on Mal's plate. "Since you are soooo full, you wouldn't mind me finishing your cake?"

"Have at it." Mal guided the plate toward the nesper. "When you throw up later, you're cleaning it up yourself. I've cleaned up enough of your vomit recently." His lips pulled into a frown.

Threep's shock quickly fell and was replaced by a satisfied hum as he licked up the crumbs of the delicious dessert. 

Mal shook his head with a mix of disgust and wonder. He had seen Threep eat, or rather, in this case, gorge himself before, but this was a new level. Thankfully, as compensation for his services, the crown funded his eating expenses. Mal chuckled at the thought, "That's one way to bring down the monarchy, bankrupt them by enjoying the finest food and drink in the land on them." He raised his goblet up, tipping it toward his companion, who had flagged the waiter down for a honey cake to go. 

"Mama! Mama!" Rayden ran across the small yard of the orphanage, heading for the steps at the back of the house. 

"Careful!" Threep hissed, dangling precariously from his position in the boy's arms.

Daenarya met them with open arms at the door at the sound of his cries. "What's wrong?" Her hands cradled Rayden's face, brushing his dark, shaggy hair away from his eyes, looking for any injuries. She scanned down his arms and legs next.

Rayden shook her away. "Not me!" His lip quivered. "Kitty!"

Threep hung loosely from the boy's grasp, his back legs swaying below. "I'm fine." His wings fluttered briefly as he wiggled back more comfortably into the boy's arms. 

Daenarya breathed a little easier. She loved Threep, but Rayden was her son, and she thanked the gods, new and old, that he was all right. She gestured for them to sit down on the steps to talk. "What's wrong with Threep?" 

"I'm fine," the nesper grumbled. "Is that—" His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. "Banana muffins?"

Rayden held him firmly, despite Threep's attempts to wriggle away toward the sweets. "Look at his belly!"

Daenarya attempted to stifle her chuckle. It was no secret Threep had put on a few (or more) pounds lately. Mal had pointed it out following his lunch with him. "Oh, Threep's okay, sweetie, he just needs a diet." Her eyes narrowed at him. "So, NO! Muffins! They're for the children."

Before Threep could protest, Rayden cut him off. He grabbed Daenarya's hand, placing it on Threep's stomach. "It's all hard and not soft like Papa's when he eats too much. And there's little bumps growing."

She couldn't stop the laugh rising in her throat. 

"It's muscle," Threep defended, looking down at his swollen stomach.   

"Something's wrong," Rayden insisted, holding Daenarya's hand on Threep. "First, he didn't want to eat and was extra sleepy. Then, he kept getting sick. Now, his belly is hard and has bumps."

Daenarya's smile fell, carefully considering his words. She hadn't really thought about it before. Threep was Threep. He was dramatic, but this—this was different. 

"What's wrong with him?" 

Daenarya's fingers caressed the nesper's abdomen, feeling carefully for any abnormalities. Her fingers brushed over the bumps Rayden had mentioned. Her eyes widen. "It can't be." 

"What? What? What?" Rayden questioned nervously.

Daenarya peered closer, parting the fur to get a better look. Her mouth fell open as she tried to reconcile what she saw, but it was clear—his stomach wasn't the only thing growing. 

"Am I dying?" Threep stared down at her hands in his fur. "And I don't mean from starvation, because from that, I am well aware."

"Uh, Threep," Daenarya shook her head in amusement, her knowing smile growing. "With nespers, who—uh— you know—carries the young?"

"Both male and female nespers can carry our progeny—" he began with little consideration for the question, "—but for some reason, males more often...I mean...but...I...I can't be—" His head was spinning. 

"Now he can't remember words!" Rayden worried. "Mama, fix him!" 

"I can't." Daenara drew her son closer, pressing a kiss on his forehead. "But he's going to be just fine."

"Really?" He sniffled, his eyes glistening in the afternoon sun.

"I'm going to need to lie down," he breathed dramatically.

"You are lying down." She shook her head watching the nesper paw at his stomach. Her attention shifted back to Rayden. "But yes, Threep is going to be just fine." Her hand glided over her own swollen stomach. "Threep's just having a baby."

"What?!" Mal choked on the muffin he had been sneaking as he joined the trio on the porch.

Rayden's face lit up, his eyes popping open as he bounced with excitement. "There's going to be more kitties?!"

"Yup!" Daenarya marveled at the two—well, three—different reactions to the news. Shock (and horror). Excitement. And.... whatever it was Threep was feeling.

"Uhhuhhahh," Threep moaned. "Will you carry me?" He held his paws out toward Mal.

Dramatic—Daenarya decided with a gentle laugh.

"Fat chance bat-cat," Mal sneered. "Carry yourself. You got wings!"

Threep hissed sharply in his direction, his pointy teeth showing threateningly. Mal bared his own teeth in reply, but Threep took little notice, his attention shifted to Rayden once more. He opened his eyes wide, his mouth pulling down. He swallowed his pride, "Kitty up?"

Rayden cheered happily, pulling his favorite Kitty back into his arms. "Let's get you some muffins. You need to make sure the baby kitties have lots of food." 

Daenarya watched as the two disappeared into the kitchen.

"You're not going to stop them?" Mal complained. "You said the muffins were for the children."

"Rayden is a child." 

"The mangy bat-cat isn't?" Mal whined. 

"And you are what? because I'm quite certain those are muffin crumbs you spit up as you choked on the news."

"What? No...." Mal quickly changed the subject. "If we don't put our foot down now, he's only going to get worse."

"Let them celebrate. Rayden is going to be over the moon."

"Sure, but then we're stuck with having a litter of Threeps running through the place."

"One step at a time." 

"I guess someone should tell Loola," Mal suggested. "You know since his first thought was securing his own private attendant to carry him around and serve him food."

"Can you blame him? It's not easy carrying another life." Daenarya extended her arms toward him. "I wouldn't mind my own personal attendant to carry me around, fetch me snacks, and maybe offer the occasional massage to help my sore, swollen muscles and joints." 

Mal shook his head despite the smile spreading on his features. He knew better than to protest, even as a joke. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees, lifting her into his arms. "You're lucky, I love you so damn much."

"I can't argue with that." She pressed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "Now, take me to get some sustenance." 

He roared with laughter. "I've created a monster."

"At least I don't bite..." She grazed his jaw as he carried her, following the path Rayden and Threep had taken. "...much."

A/N: I'm setting this in my Blades 1 Universe simply because that's the one I've expanded the most and the one I consider my "main" universe. However, Threep will also be the one pregnant in my Blades 2 AU. I've been talking about Threep having a baby for years, and here we finally are.

[hapalopus]

Gonna try and summarize the overarching plot of No Evil as I rewatch, maybe that will finally make Quetzalcoatl/Xolotl, the White Tezcatlipoca, Angel, the deer and the lion, the mirrors, Scowleyow, etc., etc. make sense:

Episode 1-9: Long ago, the Black Tezcatlipoca was trapped in a mirror, along with the White, Red, and Blue Tezcatlipocas. But Tlaloc's tuning fork broke the mirror and the Black Tezcatlipoca was freed. Everything it touched was put to sleep, until the four spirits Xochipili, Xochiquetzal, Ixtlilton, and Xipe Totec made a contract with the Black Tezcatlipoca, giving up their hearing, voice, sight, and eternal life in return for its imprisonment. It was imprisoned in four pieces, three held by Xochipili, Xochiquetzal, and Ixtlilton, and one held inside the Red Tezcatlipoca (the Judgement Scythe). 19 years later, Tlaloc's tuning fork is rediscovered by the spirits Chalchiutlique (Calamity) and Ichabod (Icky).

10: A piece of the black ick has been freed and is once again putting people to sleep. The contract was perfect, the black ick should all have been sealed away. But the freed pieces of the black ick either don't know about the contract, or have been told that the contract is void. We find this out when the spirit Vinkle is touched by the black ick and falls asleep. Icky, Huehuecoyotl (Huey), and Calamity want to recreate the contract in miniature with the help of water (a mirror, like what originally trapped the black ick), an egg (a sacrifice [in which to trap/neutralize the black ick?]), and the hummingbird constellation (why, I don't know). They need the aid of Quetzalcoatl (Corn, a healer/shaman) for this to work. They successfully heal Vinkle and the black ick is neutralized.

11: The black ick attacks the villages Hatfield and McCoy. The spirits try to help McCoy, but are not allowed to because one of them (Huey) is friends with the people of Hatfield. Calamity and Paula distract the townsfolk while Wrip, Vinkle, and Corn sneak in to heal the sick.

12: In the last few episodes we have occasionally seen a stitched-together girl (Angel/Ozma Angeline) examining the spirits. Now, she has kidnapped Kajortoq (Kitty) and brought her to Mictlan, a place in-between life and death. Angel wants Kitty to be a surrogate mother for an 11-year-old human (Charles) who has ended up in Mictlan. Amaroq, a spirit who used to be friends with our main cast, but is NOT anymore, is also in Mictlan. Paula and Ichabod rescue Kitty. We see Charles with Ixtlilton's piece of the Black Tezcatlipoca - he breaks it, and it absorbs into his body.

13: Ichabod is trying to figure out how Tlaloc's tuning fork works. When Calamity uses it, it controls water. When Icky uses it, it controls lightning. Also Hatfield wants to sic a pack of chupacapra on McCoy's jackalopes but nothing comes of it lol.

14: The kids of Hatfield and McCoy are fighting. Wrip and Vinkle tell them the story of Mahtigwess and Lusifee, a story of a bobcat hunting a rabbit, who is repeatedly tricked by the rabbit's illusions until, eventually, the rabbit cuts off his tail and he gives up.

15: Amaroq tries to kidnap Corn but is stopped by the sudden appearance of Xochipili.

16: Xochiquetzal is spirited away to Mictlan. Charles tries to take her piece of the Black Tezcatlipoca but fails repeatedly and lets her go.

17: Xochipili exposits: The Blue Tezcatlipoca (the Liberation Machete) is held in Mama Spider's temple. The machete can destroy enchantments and "cut the bonds of magic," possibly including the sleeping sickness of the Black Tezcatlipoca. Neither spirits nor mortals can touch the Blue Tezcatlipoca. And that's why Xochipili, Xochiquetzal, Ixtlilton, and Xipe Totec sealed away the Black Tezcatlipoca instead of just destroying it - because they haven't yet found a non-spirit, non-mortal who can wield the Blue Tezcatlipoca. Xochipili then says that he and Ixtlilton were supposed to meet in Hollow, but Ixtlilton never showed, and that he hoped the other spirits could help find him. Huey uses Tlaloc's tuning fork, which creates a finding/tracking spell, revealing Ixtlilton asleep inside a mound of crystallized black ick.

18: Charles can partially control the black ick. He can infect things with it, but he can uninfect them. He's mad that Corn (and Xochipili) can uninfect them. Charles attacks Hatfield and McCoy, indiscriminately, with the black ick. He pretends to be a regular kid and gets close enough to Xochipili to steal his piece of the Black Tezcatlipoca, trapping him in crystallized black ick. Wrip saw Charles, but only from the back.

19: The spirits agree to seek out the last pieces of the Black Tezcatlipoca before Charles can get them; the one on Xochiquetzal and the one inside the Red Tezcatlipoca. Kitty, Calamity, and Corn seek the one in the Red, held in a temple down South. But first they, along with Icky and Paula, stop in Hollow to meet with Xochiquetzal. Huey, Wrip, and Vinkle stay behind, along with Tlaloc's tuning fork. It's revealed that the black ick can't cross water.

20: Corn is overwhelmed by the amount of people in Hollow. Corn meets Charles and tells him about Xochiquetzal. Charles tries to infect Corn but is bitten. In the confusion, Kitty tells corn to heal Charles, not knowing who he is, and Corn does so.

21: Yet again, Angel accosts Kitty about becoming a mother figure for Charles. Kitty refuses on the grounds that Charles is a killer, but Angel insists that no one infected by the black ick is dead. According to her, Charles has promised to free everyone once he has every piece of the Black Tezcatlipoca. Kitty claims that Corn and Xochipili won't be able to heal people of the black ick once all the pieces are freed. At the same time Charles is trying to trick Calamity into letting him meet Corn - she doesn't know for sure that he's the Charles who's been infecting everyone, but she's suspicious and tells Kitty as much.

22: Ichabod runs into an old friend from school (Clark), who doesn't know he's a spirit. Ichabod doesn't want him to know he's a spirit.

23: Kitty and Calamity are out looking for the kid they suspect is Charles. They run into Sheriff Bass, who's looking for Corn (because biting random people is not allowed). Xochiquetzal shows up at Tlaloc's fountain, where Charles attacks her, Icky, and Paula. Calamity and Kitty come to their rescue, but Icky is infected because he refuses to break his human disguise. Xochiquetzal teleports Charles back to Mictlan. They heal all citizens of Hollow but are unable to heal Icky.

24: Two kids from Hatfield and McCoy (Emily and Edmonia, respectively) end up in Mictlan

25: Kitty, Paula, and Xochiquetzal are trying to figure out how to heal Icky, but they have to leave Hollow because sheriff Bass is after Corn. Calamity exposits: Hollow was once the home of Tlaloc and the mirror where the Black Tezcatlipoca was trapped. People called "the industrial men" came to town to study the mirror. The industrial men believe that spirits are just humans who've learned how to do magic and they want the spirits' powers. Kitty, Calamity, and Corn leave Hollow, leaving Paula, Xochiquetzal, and Icky behind.

26: Clark brings Paula, Xochiquetzal, and Icky to Vineyard Institute, a school/university/lab owned by the industrialized men. One of them (Doctor Rush) prevents the others from experimenting on Icky. He then tells Xochiquetzal about Blackwell Asylum where "the people who don't flourish the expected way," including people he believes could help Icky, are held. Xochipili brings every captive at from Blackwell to Vineyard with her teleportation powers.

27: Amaroq admonishes Charles for going after Corn on his own and grounds him. Then Amaroq kicks Emily and Edmonia out of Mictlan. Then Huey enters Mictlan. Amaroq needs a fucking break.

28: We see how Huey ended up in Mictlan. Amaroq kicks Huey out of Mictlan. Charles has run away from home.

29: Sheriff Bass, Calamity, Kitty, and Corn are talking in Kitty's tent. Calamity tells Bass about Charles. They go to bed and Corn has a nightmare about an axolotl spirit and Charles. He wakes up Calamity who goes out to check if Charles is there. She finds him, they try to kill each other, both escape. Charles considers returning to Mictlan but doesn't want to face Amaroq.

30: Angel is mad at Charles for leaving but leaves out food and blankets for him so he doesn't starve/freeze to death. The industrialized men are experimenting on black ick and have discovered that it can't cross any liquid, not just water, and it always has to touch a solid. Charles sneaks into Vineyard.

31: Backstory time: Icky has a long history of getting shamed for being superstitious and 'weird'. Icky is very insecure. Also the concept of aliens exists in people's minds.

32: Amaroq is in Hollow, searching for Charles. Sheriff Bass is sent to Hollow's traditional district to investigate the disappearance of the Blackwell Asylum inmates (most of whom are from the traditional district). Amaroq overhears this and sets out for the Vineyard Institute. Meanwhile, Doctor Rush is realizing that the traditional people from the asylum are no help in solving the problem of the black ick. Charles suddenly attacks the Vineyard Institute, trapping everyone in black ick, including Xochiquetzal. Amaroq arrives just in time to see him absorbing her piece of the Black Tezcatlipoca. Charles still can't remove the black ick, but he can create spiders made of black ick now. Amaroq flees and tell Sheriff Bass what he's seen.

33: Huey, Wrip, and Vinkle go to Mictlan. We see Amaroq's tragic backstory - he was a child of McCoy and was incredibly abused by them.

34: Kitty, Calamity, and Corn arrive down south at the city of Metztli. They keep traveling on to Tonaltzintli. Charles' tragic backstory + more tragic backstory for Amaroq. Charles was a child of both Hatfield and McCoy and was abandoned as a baby. Angel picked him up before he could die and Amaroq, wishing to escape McCoy, followed them into Mictlan.

35: Amaroq seeks out Kitty, Calamity, and Corn to ask for help with Charles. Amaroq reveals that the entire reason he and Charles sought out the Black Tezcatlipoca was so they could scare Hatfield and McCoy into quitting their feud. Calamity suggest killing Charles and Amaroq. Kitty suggests bringing Amaroq along to Tonaltzintli. To stay in Tonaltzintli you must fire the Mercy Bow (the White Tezcatlipoca) which is currently protected (though not wielded) by Xipe Totec. Kitty and Calamity are not wielders of the White Tezcalipoda. Corn and Amaroq never fire it. Then Charles arrives, covering everything and everyone in black ick, with the exception of Kitty who was standing in water. Kitty and Charles break the Red Tezcatlipoca, freeing the Black Tezcatlipoca. The Red Tezcatlipoca severs Charle's right arm and left fingers. It wants to kill everyone but Kitty subdues it and is now its wielder. Charles has all four pieces of the Black Tezcatlipoca. Also Huey is here now.

36: Charles is bleeding to death. Kitty says she'll help him if he frees everyone from the black ick, which he does - including Xipe Totec who was trapped in crystallized ick. He struggles to free Amaroq but eventually manages. Calamity and Huey go looking for Corn. Corn is acting very weird, being sociable and calm. His human form also has a new haircut and different facial markings.

37: Corn is playing ball with some kids when he's hit and the face and momentarily passes out. We see the axolotl again, seemingly trying to break out. Whenever Corn passes by a mirror we see the axolotl. Everyone else can see it too. Corn wants it to go away forever.

38: Kitty asks Charles to fix the temple that was destroyed when they broke the Red Tezcatlipoca. Charles is attacked by the axolotl who can travel on the black ick, like he travels in mirrors and water. Right after the axolotl disappears, Corn enters the room. They all (Charles, Kitty, Calamity, Amaroq, Corn, and Huey) travel back to Hollow, making Charles free everyone trapped by black ick, including Ixtlilton, Xochipili, and Xochiquetzal. Charles is suddenly spirited away to Mama Spider's web. She gives him one of Tlaloc's inventions, clothes meant to contain the magic of the Black Tezcatlipoca.

39: Summary here. Also Corn is taken into prison and Charles gets a magical girl transformation via Mama Spider's gift.

40: Corn is moved to Blackwell Asylum. The axolotl continues to haunt his mirror image. In reference to his mirror image, Corn states that he has "rid himself of his negative qualities."

41: A couple kids from Hollow and Hatfield (Edmonia, Emily, Frida, and Jose) want to bring their towns closer together.

42: Kitty, Icky, and Charles go to break Corn out of prison. The staff of Vineyard have been imprisoned too, but since many of them are actually citizens of Salem, they'd have to go to Salem to argue for their release. A nurse at Blackwell forces Corn to touch his reflection as part of his 'treatment', and he switches place with the axolotl. A tornado is immediately summoned over Blackwell Asylum.

43: Kitty, Icky, Charles, and Clark go to Salem. They travel through Mictlan because it's faster and, while there, Clark steals a leaf from Mictlan. When they get to Salem, Clark files paperwork to free the prisoners in Hollow. Clark returns to Hollow. Kitty, Icky, and Charles return to Tonaltzintli.

44: Calamity and Amaroq want to break Corn out of Blackwell, but there's a tornado in the way. The enter through Mictlan. There are mirrors in every hallway of Blackwell and every resident and staff member is hiding. Calamity sees Corn in a mirror. Corn talks to Calamity: "Being forced to fire the Mercy Bow was the breaking point. I don't wanna hurt anyone anymore so I sealed him back. [Who?] The me that wants to hurt. I tied him back. And everything would've been fine if people stopped trying to bring him back out. He really hates you, by the way. [Aaw, I hate you too.] No, he does. And he's, well, swapped places with me. I see everything he sees. He sees everything I see." The axolotl then attacks Calamity. Amaroq rescues Calamity, bringing her to Tonaltzintli via Mictlan. The bring the Mercy Bow back to Blackwell, thinking it may be able to put Corn and the axolotl back together. Corn says: "I'm sure the Mercy Bow had mercy on me and everyone around me by banishing him to the mirrors. Why should I undo it?" The axolotl grabs the bow, shoots Corn in the mirror, and they immediately swap places. Corn, now fully a snake (without arms) sheds his skin, which looks like the skin of an axolotl. The axolotl in the mirror is no longer in nagual form and Corn is now only in nagual form.

45: Clark experiments on the leaf he took from Mictlan, realizing that it's a "facsimile of a leaf, as though a child wished to build a tree with paper." Clark is suddenly spirited back to Mictlan.

46: The Hollow/Hatfield kids are still trying to bring their towns together. They end up in Mictlan. They rescue Clark and some other guy from a Deadly Desert (as in Wizard of Oz). Clark, Emily, and the guy end up in Salem. Edmonia, Frida, and Jose end up somewhere else.

47: Jose ended up in Wrip's basement, where he finds a shiny golden spike (a railway spike?). He steals it. Calamity and Amaroq visit Corn (still in nagual form), trying to get him to take care of their jackalope because no one else has time. Jose runs into them and Corn tries to trick him into taking care of the jackalope. Jose touches Corn with the golden spike (a reflective surface), and he trades places with the axolotl. The axolotl (still in human form) takes care of the jackalope, crying all the while. When the job is done, they touch him with the spike and he once again trades places with Corn.

48: Frida ended up in a bricked-up room with a clockwork/wind-up soldier (as in Wizard of Oz) The clockwork mechanism has Arabic numbers, not Aztec numbers. The wind-up soldier breaks them out and a guy with glowing eyes threatens them with a gun.

49: Edmonia ended up at Huey's house. Huey, Ixtlilton, Xochiquetzal, and Xochipili are discussing the Blue and White Tezcatlipocas. Huey uses the tuning fork to track down Edmonia's friends, but accidentally leaves behind Edmonia and the triplets in Tonaltzintli. Charles is doing community service. Charles doesn't want to do community service. Edmonia fires the mercy bow; she is not the wielder.

50: Clark is invited to meet the leader of Salem (Scowleyow, as in Wizard of Oz). The camera pans through the city, showing railways, and then through Scowleyow's home (Briarwood House), showing a mural, discussed in the notes of this post. Scowleyow is clearly not human - he might be a sprite, the same kind of being as Angel. Clark and Emily are invited to stay at Briarwood House. There are reflective surfaces everywhere in Briarwood. Scowleyow says that the violet wing (the one with a mural depicting Wrip and Vinkle) is his favorite wing. Scowleyow really wants the golden spike. Huey is also here.

[eminsunnytoons123]

Class of 3000: back to the SING!

THREE Doodle dumps

Since I have Said that I have made some co3k reboot Doodle dumps while I wasnt really on my phone, like, my mama told me to put it in the living room (she sometimes thinks I'm too much on the phone but she sometimes jokes with me like that) And then I took it now because she wants to drink coffee with my babo, but now she doesnt mind sooooo.... anyways, so heres the doodles I have made =^_^=

And these are some treats for @aquamarine-dream-queen @moshywoosh @ducktopia90264 @classywinnerpeace @ghostytoastynights @nightkit92 @nia1sworld @iggyguyy @dackychansworldofhoshino more of my loved ones in my tumblr family that always love me And support my work And I love them all too And love THEIR work =^/////^= And! @alegriacherryblossom is the new member of our tumblr family =^_^= 🩷💖

Anyways, I'll explain the doodles cause I want to lol:

1st Doodle dumps page:

1# Doodle: I Drew Cheddar man And Bianca dressed up as a banana And a chicken, And yes its based on that "IM A BANANA" music video by Onision on youtube. And also, I do NOT support Onision, because I know what he did but I just made this Doodle as a lil' joke or somethin' to laugh at

2# Doodle: I Drew Jan again but this time he is holding his broken "BROOM" while he is saying that he SNAPS like his BROOM, but then he realizes that he called his mop a "broom" >w< And yes, he broke his mop out of Anger 0_0;

3# Doodle: Lucius just being sassy And he is saying his Greeting just like from the episode "Hunt for red blobtober" =^.^=

4# Doodle: Philly Phil is just saying "OOOOHHHH!" he is obviously shocked at somethin' 0.0

5# Doodle: Principal Luna saying the quote he Said from the Show since I kinda found that quote funny, And I dont remember from which episode he Said that ^///^;

2nd Doodle dumps page:

1# Doodle: Sunny is just imagining "Screaming inside", And this is a spoiler of an fanfic episode I'll make called "everyone is stuck in the stage room for the night!" And Sunny in here is probably just tired 0///0;

2# Doodle: a small but cute "cool kitties" a.k.a Kaylie x Mackenzie doodle ship =^_^=

3# Doodle: Brooklyn Bill with some cute pigtails since his hair always made me thought that he actually has pigtails ^///^

4# Doodle: Tanya losing her temper in the fanfic episode And she is yelling that EVERYONE in the stage room is annoying her! And even her face turns red from Anger! 0.0;

5# Doodle: Madison saying her quote from the Show And she just looks like she is trying to think of a plan or Idea or somethin' =^.^=

3rd Doodle dumps page:

1# Doodle: Addison just kinda acting like an dog after Salieri or someone else between the eastley kids threw her a bone 0_0

2# Doodle: Kam was about to say his BORING And ANNOYING nerd talks And then Kim interupts him And says that nobody cares about his talks 0////0;

3# Doodle: A small Doodle of Lil' G just givin' a sassy look =^.^=

4# Doodle: a small Doodle of Mila, Bianca And cheddar man having their faces painted Pink (Mila), yellow (Bianca) And blue (cheddar man) so they can represent a pansexual flag =^.^= 💖💛💙

So those are all the doodles I made, but I'll make more tommorow since I had lots of fun drawing these =^w^=

I hope y'all will like these =^//////^= 🩷💙💖💛💜🧡❤️

[baublekute]

Five songs and three outfits

Rules: post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

Tagged by: @ghostoffuturespast and @elmknight. Thank you! ♡

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Valerie Rose Barrère

Let's start with the song that inspired me to write my fic and its namesake

Death Wish -  LØLØ

I kill everything I've ever loved, oh, oh, oh I got a death kiss (I got a death kiss) I will be the one to mess it up, oh, oh, oh You got a death wish (you got a death wish) I don't know how or when But I know it's gonna have a tragic end 'Cause I kill everything I've ever loved You got a death wish You got a, you got a death wish

W.I.T.C.H. – Devon Cole

Villainous kitty queen, she's got tricks up her sleeve And I got a few up mine She said, "Am I bad to the bone 'cause I get what I want?" Mama said it ain't no crime (ah!)

This is Me (Reimagined Mix) - Keala Settle, Kesha & Missy Elliott

Another round of bullets hits my skin Well, fire away 'cause today I won't let the shame sink in We are burstin' through the barricades And reachin' for the sun (We are warriors) Yeah, that's what we've become (Yeah, that's what we've become)

Here Come the Vultures – Delain

They said you can not sing the blues When you're pretty and young Let me show you a face that fits to neither one This heart is black Like blood that has dried This song is blue Like bruises bright

Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush

You don't wanna hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo) But see how deep the bullet lies (yeah, yeah, yo) Unaware I'm tearin' you asunder (yeah, yeah, yo) Oh, there is thunder in our hearts (yeah, yeah, yo) Is there so much hate for the ones we love? (Yeah, yeah, yo) Oh, tell me, we both matter, don't we? (Yeah, yeah, yo)

Tagging with no pressure! It doesn't have to be a CP2077 OC either! @caliaplays @shimmer-like-agirl @acidjellybean @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @luvwich @dreadfulsanity

[jaxteller87]

Traditions 2

A few days later, I found myself at the shop, and business was slow as it tends to get around this time of year. In fact, the workload has been so manageable that I’ve had the prospects sweep the parking lot just for something to do. I had taken my lunch break early when I received a text message from Amber. The text contained a picture with the caption, “You’re not going to believe this.” In the photo, there was a little black cat nestled inside a box.

I immediately texted Amber: “You bringing the cat home?”

Amber’s response came quickly: “Gonna take it to the vet first, make sure it’s okay. If all’s good, then yeah, we’ll bring it home.”

As I glanced at the picture again, I couldn’t help but notice a small red bird perched nearby, giving the whole situation an eerie sense of déjà vu.

Work at the shop passed quickly despite nothing to do, and after a short bike ride, I joined Amber back home to prepare the introduction of the cat to our kids.

“The vet said that despite being left alone for who knows how long, it seems to be in good shape,” Amber mentioned as we gathered around the big box. Buttercup and Hazel, our dog, curiously approached, sniffing the box before the kitty leaped out, playfully tapping Hazel’s nose and then Buttercup’s.

I was reminded of a similar situation as we watched that cat in the box. “Babe, have I ever told you about what happened at the clubhouse during bike week a few years back when everyone was paranoid about the Mayans?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Amber replied.

“It was during bike week in Charming, and tensions with the Mayans were higher than ever after a little scuffle on the highway. Chibs, Ope, Bobby, Tig, and I had just left the clubhouse one night; it had to be about two in the morning when we heard a commotion coming from behind the shop. Instantly, we all thought the Mayans were here to burn down our clubhouse or something.”

“Oh, damn,” her eyes perked up.

“Yeah, right? So, there we were, circling the area like drunken marines in the night, thinking we were as silent as ghosts. In reality, we were probably louder than Tig’s room that one time he snuck three Thai dancers in.”

“Ew,” she muttered.

“The rustling was plain as day. There we were, guns drawn, and I was even giving out hand signals like some green-beret special forces soldier. We were ready for a showdown. But just before Ope walked up to a pile of boxes and garbage bags, a little black cat shot out and ran right between his legs.” I couldn’t help but start laughing, which, in turn, made Amber start laughing. “I won’t even pretend like it didn’t scare me either. Ope screamed so loud, the neighbor's dogs started barking.”

“So, it was just a cat? Not the Mayans?” she asked amidst her chuckling.

“Yep. Just a cat. But the funny thing was Bobby,” I said with an ear-to-ear grin, “Old Munson jumped higher than all of us, which, considering that he’s, well, Bobby, was not only funny but also damn impressive.”

We stood there with a smile on our faces, watching our newest fur addition get acclimated with the family. “Over the years, I’ve come to understand that some people aren’t animal people, but how could anyone abandon such an innocent soul?” The kitty continued to squirm, eager to explore its newfound surroundings.

Finally, our children arrived home from school and daycare. “Hey! Guess what, you guys? I think Mama might have a surprise for you in the garage!” I said with a smile.

“A surprise!” they exclaimed.

Both kids eagerly followed me, their faces beaming with excitement. “Go look in the box, love bug,” Amber encouraged Mary. She eagerly approached the box, with Thomas trailing behind. “Mommy, Daddy, thank you!” Mary exclaimed when she saw the little kitty hop out of the box.

“Thank you, Mommy!” she squealed happily. I gently picked up the kitten and placed it on Amber’s lap, where it happily curled up, purring contentedly. Thomas waddled over and began gently petting the kitty. We fibbed when Mary asked if Amber had found the cat, as we knew that if we told her it had been abandoned, she would burst into tears. Mary got her soft spot for animals from Amber, who always had a tender heart for them.

Later that night, as we sat in the living room, “So, Mary, are you going to name that kitty Binx?”

Mary thought for a moment before replying, “You know, I think he’s more like Shadow.”

“Shadow?” Amber and I laughed, exchanging a knowing look.

After the kids and animals were sound asleep, I found Amber outside, gazing up at the moon. When I opened the door, she turned to me with a gentle smile.

“I know it was you, Mama. I knew it when I saw the red bird by the box. It’s like how the butterflies are for Mary. I haven’t told Jax this yet, but I know this stuff might seem silly to him. But thank you, Mama. The kids love the cat, and so do I. Lately, I’ve been missing you and Daddy a lot. It’s hard to believe it will be ten years at the start of the new year.”

I walked out onto the back patio and joined Amber, who was in tears. This was a ritual we had developed over the years. After her parents passed away, she would often sit in my lap and cry for hours.

The next morning, as I woke up with a yawn, the cat jumped from the bed and strutted over to Buttercup, giving her a playful tap on the nose.

A few days later, while working in the shop on a car, I noticed two little red birds hopping around. I did something I had never done before. “I’m taking good care of Amber, you know, and the little ones,” I chuckled as I spoke, almost not believing I was doing it. One of the birds edged closer to me, and I continued, “She’s my world, and they all are. We’ve created a little happy life for ourselves.”

“Thank you for sending the cat as a sign,” I smiled at the birds, and with that, they soared up into the sky and disappeared, leaving a sense of connection and comfort in their wake.

[ennaku-sirri-da]

EDIT: I removed the "W"'s because it felt too unnecessary

--

K IM DROPPING ONE MORE HC AND NAPPING MY GOD FASTING( FOR RAMZAN) IS MAKING ME SO GODDAMN HUNGY

Plain text: K I'm dropping one more HC AND napping my god fasting( for ramzan) is making me so goddamn hungry

CONSIDER: Putunia also picking up Habit's speech patterns.

I wrote a little something like this a while back actually. I don't want to post the whole thing but here's excerpts. For some context here- Buddy and Rose( me and my friends OCs, a Habitician and a Flower Kid, a dubiously humanlike cat person and a rose-flower nymph. ) can't figure out what Habit is( cryptid, cartoon, evil, misguided, vampire, human?) so they go around asking every Habitican about him. Keep in mind this is an AU so it has NON- CANON elements.

Also TBH everything I've written here doesn't necessarily have to be AU canon because I'm putting it on indefinite pause...so IDK, man. But I still thought it's neat enough to share.

Here's Putunia's take...(not the whole thing, which I won't be posting ) I'll provide plaintext under the cut!

Setting: We've just questioned the punchiest kid around, who is now officially Regaling us around a campfire, her midnight cape blowing as the fire lights her acting-out up in brush strokes of orange, red and yellow against the dark sky.

THE MENACE!!!!

SHHH.

SHOOSH SHUSH. BE VARY QUIET NOW BIG KID AND BIG KITTY WITTY

HE HEARS

ALL

BEEG COTTON FLUFFY EARS

LIKE THE EVIL DRAGON!

IN LEETLE RED RIDING HOOD

"ALLLL THE BETTERRRR TO HEARR YOU WITH MY DEARRRR-IEEE!!!"

GOODNESS GOODERESTNESS!!! WHAT BEEGBEEG HANDS YOU HAVE!

"THE BEEEETTERRRR TO HUGGGG YOU WITHHH MY DEARRR-IEEE!!~~~"

AND

AND!!!

DONT JUMP SCAREDY KITTY!! HEE HEEE!! ITS JUST A STORY!

FLOWER POWER HERO #2 ROSE IS A WEAK LITTLE BABY. MORE BABIE THAN ME. HE CAN'T CARRY YOU!

ANYWAY

*clears throat* HURRUFF-HUR-AHEH-AHEH

OHKAY! SO!

THE MOST SPINE-BURNING, AFFRIGHTENING, CHICKENS WILL EXPLODED, HERRORIZING PART!

AT THE MOMENT

YOU ARE LEAST EXPECTATING

"GRANDMAMMMAAA DEAR!! WHAT SHARRRPPP TEEFS YOU HAVE!"

HE!

JUMPS!!!!

BEEG

BEEG MOUTH OPEN AT YOU

LAUGHING! SNORTING! BWA HA HA HA! SO BRIGHT!

FIRE BALL

BEEG ONE!! WOWWWWW

[ skip excerpt..]

RUN!

HEE HEE. SILL-EE BUTTI. BUDY. BUDDEDY. DONT BE A PUSSYILANIMOUS NOW.

YOU NEED TO BE BRAVE! [...] DONT CRY! NEVER CRY! BE STRONG! GOOD GIRL! GOOD GIRL! COME HERE TO ME! I WIN!!!!!

[ skip excerpt..]

YOU TWO FLOWER HEROES WILL ALSO WIN

WHEN HE SAYING

"ALLLL THE BETTER TO EATTTTT YOU WITH!!!!!!!" SCREAM!!!!! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

PUTUNIA THE MIDNIGHT PETUNIA KNIGHT ALSO KNOWS ALL! LIKE THE MENACE. BUT SHE IS GOOD. A VERY GOOD LITTLE GIRLIE.

THATS WHAT MAMA MENACE HABIT TOLDEN ME!

HES ALWAYS ALWAYS TELLING ME THAT SOMETIMES I GET BORED AND HIT HIM SOFT THUMP ON HIS SILLY HEAD SO HE STOPS SAY-SAY

SOOOO LONG TIME! ITS HORRIBLE! I LUVER MY MUMMY SO MUCH! BAD! VERY BAD! HES HURTING ALL! YOU! ME! BUDDY!

TALKING YAKKING PUPPET PAPPING BLAPALAPPING SINCE HE STEALED ME AWAY FROM THE BAD PARENTS IN MY SEVENTH FOSTER HOME AT SCARY DARK NIGHT WHEN HE SINGY-SINGY BEAUTIFUL SONG AND I WAS SLEEPY SEEPY ME ZZZZZ......

ZZZZ...

SNORT

HES...A ....MAMA...DRAGON...EVIL.....WARM...WINGS....BEG...BEEG.....

ZZZ

BLOOP.

( She's asleep. )

❤️❤️❤️

( three red hearts divider )

I have a WHOLE THING about Habit and dragons hopefully I'll have the energy later to provide more HSSJK

On a lighter note than this what aboutttt:

:- ) [ Smile emote with straight nose showing Habit ] ----> to :O ) ( Smile emote with big O nose showing Putunia )

Plaintext under the cut!

The Menace!!!!

Shhh.

Shoosh shush. Be vary quiet now big kid and big kitty witty

He hears

All

Beeg cotton fluffy ears

Like the evil dragon!

In leetle red riding hwood

"Allll the betterrrr to hearr you with my dearrrr-ieee!!!"

Goodness gooderestness!!! What beegbeeg hands you have!

"The beeeetterrrr to hugggg you withhh my dearrr-ieee!!~~~"

And

And!!!

Dont jump scaredy kitty!! Hee heee!! Its just a story!

Flower power hero #2 rose is a weak little baby. More babie than me. He can't carry you!

Anyway

*clears throat* hurruff-hur-aheh-aheh

Ohkay! So!

The most spine-burning, affrightening, chickens will exploded, herrorizing part!

At the moment

You are least expectating

"Grandmammmaaa dear!! What sharrrppp teefs you have!"

He!

Jumps!!!!

Beeg

Beeg mouth open at you

Laughing! Snorting! Bwa ha ha ha! So bright!

Fire ball

Beeg one!! Wowwwww

[ skip excerpt..]

Run!

Hee hee. Sill-ee butti. Budy. Buddedy. Dont be a pussyilanimous now.

You need to be brave! [...] dont cry! Never cry! Be strong! Good girl! Good girl! Come here to me! I win!!!!!

[ skip excerpt..]

You two flower heroes will also win

When he saying

"Allll the better to eattttt you with!!!!!!!" scream!!!!! Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

Putunia the midnight petunia knight also knows all! Like the menace. But she is good. A very good little girlie.

Thats what mama menace habit tolden me!

Hes always always telling me that sometimes I get bored and hit him soft thump on his silly head so he stops say-say

Soooo long time! Its horrible! I luver my mummy so much! Bad! Very bad! Hes hurting all! You! Me! Buddy!

Talking yakking puppet papping blapalapping since he stealed me away from the bad parents in my seventh foster home at scary dark night when he singy-singy beautiful song and I was sleepy seepy me zzzzz......

Zzzz...

Snort

Hes...A ....Mama...Dragon...Evil.....Warm...Wings....Beg...Beeg.....

Zzz

Bloop.

( She's asleep.)

[imaginedreamwrite]

But three reasons Becca loves when Neighbor!Bucky watches her

💕💕

There was a frantic knock at the door, the steady noise drawing Bucky from the kitchen. He had opened the door and leaned against the wood, finding you standing outside looking ragged and stressed.

“I need a favour-“ “-are you okay?”

You and Bucky spoke at the same time, cutting each other off and talking over the other. He had waited for you to speak first, looking you over as you stood on the other side with Becca and a duffel bag in your hand.

“I have to go out of town for an emergency and I can’t take Becca with me, and I know that….I don’t have anyone-“

“Can I stay with you, Bucky? Please? Please?” Becca tucked her hands under her chin and looked at him with wide, puppy dog eyes.

And the same kind of energy that reminded him so much of his younger sisters.

“I’m really sorry for asking this, but Becca has school and…I have no one else.” You looked defeated, and Bucky yearned to make you feel better.

“Its okay, Y/N.” he extended a warm smile and tender hand upon yours. “I can watch her, she’ll be safe with me.”

“Thank you, Bucky! Thank you so much!” You hugged him tightly, leaning into him without merit, arms wrapped around his neck.

“You’re welcome, ba-“ he stopped himself from letting the pet name slip, stopped himself from the endearment. “You’re welcome, doll.”

When you had pulled away, you crouched before Becca and straightened her shirt then rest your hands upon her shoulders.

“You promise you’ll be good?”

“Yes mama.” Becca crossed her heart and nodded her head.

“And you’ll listen? You’ll be behaved for Bucky?” You we’re worried, you were anxious about leaving her. Bucky could see it written all over your face, and he could feel it like a slow rolling fog.

“Y/N,” Bucky stirred your attention and caught your gaze, “she’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be good, mama.” Becca hugged you tightly, her arms slipping around your neck like it was an endless goodbye even though you said it would be for a few days.

“Bucky, thank you again.” You stood and physically forced yourself to step away, forced yourself to leave.

“If you need any help, I mean for anything-“

“I might take you up on the offer.” Your smile was small, and you had only departed when Bucky steered Becca inside and slowly closed the door.

“Alpine!” Becca scurried off, chasing after the white cat who had jumped off the windowsill to the couch.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat, Becca.” Bucky confirmed then approached the kitchen and leaned against the cupboards, his eyes closing slowly while he exhaled shakily.

Becca was so much like his sister, Becca was like looking at his younger sister in her childhood and it stirred so many feelings he had thought he’d lost entirely.

The urge…the underlying instinct to protect you and that little girl with every basest part of him, even the darker parts he had tried to hide, had come back with a vengeance.

Because Bucky hadn’t just thought of you and Becca as his neighbours, he knew that he could be more.

He could be a husband and a father, he could be the best damn husband and father in NYC.

And it all started here.

** ** **

“Three reasons why I like being here…” Becca plopped on the couch beside Bucky, bearing her colourful onesie with fuzzy ears.

“Lay it on me.” Bucky had cleaned up from dinner and he had called you to let you know that everyone was happy and fine.

“Reason 1,” Becca sidled up to Bucky, cuddling into his side like she knew he was someone who would keep her safe, “Alpine is the cutest kitty ever, she’s soft.”

“Yeah? You like her?” Bucky had been elated to hear from you, but there was something in your voice that had him worried.

“Reason 2,” Becca looked up at him, hopeful and happy, “you have the best stories, plus you knew Captain America before he was captain America.”

“I like those too.” Bucky had slowly rubbed her arm, comforting her as she tucked her blanket under her chin.

“Reason 3,” Becca yawned, familial affection behind her movements to get comfy, “you’re a good person to my ma. My birth dad is an asshole.”

“Becca-“

“Its true, Bucky.” She opened her eyes, a flicker and surge of sadness and childish anger casted upon her eyes. “Ma says he’s a deadbeat. You’re so good to mama.”

“I like your ma.” Bucky settled in with her, protecting her like she was his own. “Your ma is beautiful.”

“She likes you too.” Becca confirmed, giving him immense hope. “I hope you fall in love with her. Then we could be a family.”

Truly, Bucky knew he was.

Truly, he knew you three would be.

[goldentsum]

━ thirst posts - idol! reader 

CHARACTERS: bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, kirishima eijirou, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki

GENRE: suggestive themes, crack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: finally, another bnha post-- my submissive and overstim fic on my bnha masterlist was lonely so i whipped up another bb HAHAHAHA UNEDITEDDDD

━ bakugou ♡

an angry boy that hides his feelings inside and in social media--.. he has multiple accounts that caters to different moods that he has, there’s the daddydom acct then theres the sweetbabyboi acct-- HE WOULD RATHER DIE THAN SOMEONE FINDING OUT HE HAS THE LATTER ACCOUNT

kacchan loves you because of the fact that you two were different but also similar, with him being angry and intimidating on the surface but a mess of feelings inside and with you being sweet and soft on the surface but a vixen inside 

DUALITY-! TODOROKI DOESN’T EVEN COMPARE TO YOU WHEN IT COMES TO DUALITY-! bakugou would fight anyone for you if someone calls bullshit on you. he would 100% NO HESITATION would deck someone-- 

he def has thousands of pictures of you in his phone and laptop, the ratio of pics of him and other things to you is outstanding,, 1:8 def

HE ALSO SCREAMED ONE TIME WHEN YOU POSTED A VIDEO WITH YOU SHOWING YOUR DUALITY--! everyone in the dorm thought he was angry, in actuality he was hyperventilating because you’re so hot-- also this happens so frequently, class A doesn’t even address it

bakugou: [SCREAMING IN HIS ROOM]

class a: lol, yall hear something--

[(y/n)ssweetboi]: hOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO SOFT THEN TURN SO SINFULLY PRETTY?? I’M SO ANGRY AND SO ATTACKED RN-!! mOMMY NEEDS TO CALM THE TF DOWN AND SHOULD JUST WRAP THE HOLY THIGHS AROUND MY FACE-! 

━ todoroki ♡

he’s basically the epitome of head empty just (y/n) 24/7 pls--

people would look at him and think, “huh, i wonder what goes inside that pretty head of his?” then todoroki’s brain just goes: “rAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) RAIL (Y/N) “

if someone has a mind-reading quirk, press f for them because of how sinful his thoughts are-- 

HE DOESN’T EVEN CARE IF ANYONE KNOWS HE’S THINKING OF LEWD THINGS! HE’S SO BRAVE PLS-! SO BRAVELY STUPID AND THIRSTY 

in his room, he has a wall and altar that is dedicated for you. all of your merch, the past concert tickets and bands, polaroid pics he got in your albums, and polaroid pics of when he bought the royalty ticket are all on that wall-- yall wondering how he has all that money to afford that? three words. endeavor’s credit card. 

this boy goes all out when you have a concert-! HE STAYS UP ALL NIGHT TO WAIT IN YOUR WEBSITE WAITING FOR THE SECOND THE PRE-SELLING OF TICKETS. he refreshes the site every 1 second pls--

shouto: [refreshing the site for the nth time at 3 AM] [clearly sleepy]

site: PRE-SELLING

shouto: [SHOOKEDT] [awake af] i AM SPEED-! CLICK YOU FU-

he’s also so cocky and boast-y on his account pls-! he’s so different in his main and irl 

[officially_(y/n)sbabydaddy]: i GOT THE ROYALTY TICKET-! AGAIN! you peasants can’t relate, huh. press f for all of you. i’m going to see my baby mama again <3 a little fact for yall, (y/n) smells really good <3 especially when she’s sweating 🥴 bet she tastes amazing as she smells <3

━ kirishima ♡

baby kiri is still a little shy about mentioning that he likes you and kpop but that doesn’t mean if someone ask him about kpop, he’ll act like he hates it or he doesn’t know. 

A CLOSET HARD STAN THOUGH

hard stan kiri goes HARD FR like his quirk and his dicc AND HE CAN’T BE STOPPED IF HE STARTS

he has you being pretty as usual as his lockscreen and got all giddy and happy when his grandmother ask if you were his girlfriend,, bet your ass that kiri said that you are-! 

inside his phone though, is a completely different matter-.. this boy has all sort of thirst pics of you! and he gets a little shy when he stares at your pictures for a little too long and makes eye contact with you in the pic LIKE HE WASN’T JUST THINKING ABOUT SOMETHING LEWD-! 

he and kaminari binge watches you and your group’s web series and THEY ALWAYS WATCH YOUR COMEBACK TOGETHER AND SCREAM TOGETHER

kaminari thinks kiri is a soft stan and tries to get him to join the dark side aka the hard stan side of twitter-- what kaminari doesn’t know is that kiri is on there already and also creates contents here and there 👀

kaminari: bruhh-! look at this edit of (y/n) as a demon-! 

kirishima: [looking at the video he edited all night] wow--

[rockhardfor(y/n)]: if you see something in my pants- PLEASE ITS NOT A WEAPON AND JUST MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! i don’t wanna go through that again as i try to explain that a video of a queen throwing it back is the cause of that-- </3

━ shinsou ♡

HIM AND TODOROKI ARE THE SAME WITH HOW THEIR THOUGHTS GET 0-100 REAL QUICK-! LEWD THOUGHTS ARE LIVING RENT FREE IN THEIR BRAIN PLS-- 

also that tired look on shinsou’s face is not showing what really goes on his head bUT unlike todoroki, he gets conscious of his thoughts when he gets to the real nasty parts when he’s daydreaming as he remembers there’s people with quirks around him

shinsou: [thinks about you getting your guts rearranged by him] hehe~ <3

also shinsou internally: [realizes that someone might know what he’s thinking about] 002223444212487537924 lah la la la laaa! i’m thinking of rabbits-... yeah rabbits lol fluffy rabbits that hops across the garden- nothing dirty here. just pure innocent thoughts

shinsou also creates and reads fanfiction-- as soon as that bell rings, he would zoom zoom out of that classroom and into his room to read smuts

then he gets inspired and he stays up all night to write THE DIRTIEST SMUT ANYONE HAS EVER READ-!! the piece gets A LOT of hearts and comments and he’s PROUD PROUD

now he also has commissions for fanfiction and shinsou is getting money because of how perverted his thoughts are-! he’s also so talented in writing! HE LEGIT GOES INTO DETAILS SO PEOPLE ARE LIKE: “WOAH-!! HOLY WATERRR”

it’s a win-win for shinsou, he can turn his fantasies into stories and GETS money for it? bruh, fap material AND GET CASH <3

[(y/n)as_akittycat]: so is anyone not gonna comment on what (y/n) was doing in the background? KITTY WAS ON H E R KNEESS-!! bruh, kitty is flexible- ya’ll know what this means, right? mORE POSITIONS-! <3

━ kaminari ♡

this boy has no filter THEN HAS THE AUDACITY TO GET EMBARRASS BY IT-! LIKE AREN’T YOU THE ONE WHO SAID, “i want to fuck (y/n) so hard that her ancestors could feel it-” 

so are you not gonna do it? bruh, talk about empty promises- 

HE MAKES SHINSOU SHOOKEDT WITH THINGS HE SAYS AND THAT TIRED BOY MAKES SMUTS-! shinsou def uses kaminari’s lines in his fanfics pls whatta power duo

kaminari: i wanna shove my dick down in (y/n)’s throat and cum so deep, you could see it trailing down her throat--

shinsou: [SHOOKEDT] what the fuck dude?

also shinsou internally: wRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN-! 

ONE TIME, he got too excited when you posted a video of your choreography wearing those tiny shorts and he short-circuited-- he really went: “wIEEE~” 

he’s cautious now not too excited, especially when he’s outside and you post out of no where

it’s also a miracle that his twitter account is still running with how erotic and lewd he gets in his tweets-- HE ALSO RETWEETS EDITS OF YOUR MOANS IN HIS FEED-! IN HIS MAIN ACCOUNT! HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A FAN ACCOUNT

he’s either REALLY FUCKING brave or just plain stupid. maybe both idk

[(y/n)k.denki]: have you ever just look at someone and go, “wow, i would really wanna fuck you hard right now” because i do. everytime i see my queen-- LET ME HIT (Y/N)-! I’LL BE GOOD I SWEARRRRRR

[nothing-but-haikyuu]

Black Cat & White Bunny

Reader: F Character: Tetsurõ Kuroo Rating: E Summary: Kuroo was a witch, or was it a wizard? A magic user? He wasn’t too sure what he’d call himself, but he liked his fair share of magic. And in a world where the art was dying, he was very keen on practicing as much as he could. But he wasn’t expecting was to meet a young woman, dressed in white, with a bunny familiar. Her smile dazzling, her eyes sharp and knowing and her skills unmatched.  Warning: Witch AU, Magic, Breeding Kink, Cunnilingus, Riding, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Over use of the word ‘bunny’ Ask Box: Open | Check Out ThreadytoGoDesign | Join me on Patreon 

Kuroo was a witch, or was it a wizard? A magic user? He wasn’t too sure what he’d call himself, but he liked his fair share of magic. And in a world where the art was dying, he was very keen on practicing as much as he could. 

But he wasn’t expecting was to meet a young woman, dressed in white, with a bunny familiar. Her smile dazzling, her eyes sharp and knowing and her skills unmatched. 

And that is how the black cat witch married the white bunny witch. It was a smouldering summer evening, the city bustled and moved past sundown. The lights of the neon from the corner store under the apartment the two of your shared. The rattle of the air conditioning unit in the living room as Kuroo sat across from you at the small kitchen table with books piled high and the scratch of pen against paper. 

  “This isn’t going to work.” You remarked, “Using magic to boost my fertility, isn’t that again some rules?” You looked up at your husband. He pushed hair out of his face and looked back at you. 

  “Not that I know of, plus they’ve been using this for centuries. We’ve been trying for a year with no avail, it’s about time we did things a little out of the ordinary.”

  “A child made from magic could be trouble.” You gave your husband a stern point. But he was right in a way, nothing else seemed to be working. No matter how hard you tried, you never seemed to be able to conceive. But tonight was the night, the moon was high and full, the magic was strong, and you two were determined to make a baby.

  “Not anything we couldn’t handle. Plus, a baby by the two of us, would be trouble. A black cat and a white bunny, no way that kid is gonna be a saint.” He laughed before he reached out and touched your arm, “I want to be with you, baby. I want to have a family, and if a touch of magic is needed, then so be it.” 

You smiled at your husband and said, “Okay.” And gripped his wrist with your other hand, “I think we’re getting close.” Before you pulled away and continued looking. 

Soon enough you had a recipe for fertility. When he blended it all together, you almost gagged at the smell of it, Kuroo grimaced and put a bit of honey in it and said, “Just pinch your nose. Think of it like a tequila shot, a thick, green tequila shot.”

 “If this doesn’t work-”

  “I know. It’s my balls on the cutting board. Now c’mon, moon will be at its highest soon.” He patted you on the head then leaned in for a kiss on your head. He watched you down the mixture, wince and exhale deeply. 

Your loving husband took your hand and led you to the bedroom. Once he got you towards the bed, he started to tug at the bottom of your t-shirt. He said, “Let’s get you more comfortable. “ His lips were at your ear, “I wanna see my witchy wife’s beautiful body before I throughly knock her up.” 

  “Oh shut it.” You exhaled, “You can’t just say stuff like that.” Then peeled off your t-shirt then your bra. Kuroo’s large hands were on your breasts in an instant, your nipples in between his middle and pointer fingers as he licked his lips. 

  “This is the good stuff.” He said, “Soon to be full of milk. I hope you let daddy get a taste.” 

  “I think you have a thing for pregnant women.” 

  “No, no. Only you, my little bunny.” He kissed the shell of your ear before he let go of you, smacked your ass and watched you sit on the bed in an attempt to wrestle your jean shorts off. He chuckled lightly at the struggle before he got down on his knees in between your legs and pulled down the shorts to your knees. Then your thin, pale blue panties. He kissed your inner thigh, not minding the bit of hair that was there. He then carefully pulled off the shorts and underwear, and tossing them over his shoulder.

  “Tetsurō.” You whimpered. 

  “There, there.” He said lovingly, “Just relax. I’m going to take care of you, as a husband should.” 

You were starting to feel the magical mixture start to take effect, you felt warm all over, your nipples were hard. You felt a slight cramp in your stomach and as the moon grew higher, you felt more aroused. It didn’t help that your husband’s head was between your legs, his wet tongue up against your slit. 

 “Mmm.” He said, “Beautiful. Let’s make you nice and wet.” His sharp eyes looked at you, “Let this kitty cat take care of his bunny. Eat her out like the feast she is.” 

  “Tetsur-”

  “No, no. You’re gonna cum at least once before we get started. If it gets too much, you know what to do. I’m not stopping until I am very much planted inside of you.” 

  “Fuck.” You gasped as his tongue brushed against your clit. Pleasure raced up your spine and your hands found his dark hair. You combed your digits through it and gasped.

Kuroo smirked to himself. Loving how you said that word, almost breathless and out of your mind. He knew the mixture was taking effect, a few spells, some out there ingredients, all put together to get his little bunny all knocked up. He was hoping that you were going to have a whole litter by the time was done with you. 

He continued to lick at your clit, two fingers were inserted inside of your wet heat and you moaned even louder while made him quite pleased with himself. He pleasured you with tongue and fingers, feeling your tightness around him. You tasted divine on his tongue, he felt you clench around his fingers as you gripped his hair. 

  “Tetsurõ, please. Fuck. I’m getting close.” You whined as you held onto him tighter and felt pleasure wash over you even more. It was a pleasurable feeling to be adored by your husband, especially one with such a wicked tongue. 

  “That’s it.” He purred, he shoved a third finger inside of you, feeling you clench, “That’s my little bunny, all hyped up on pleasure. It’s okay, cum when you need to.” Then went back to pleasuring you with his tongue, feeling your wetness on his chin.

You soon came, clutching onto his hair and arching your back as you pressed him further against you wet heat. The pleasure was too overwhelming that you squirted around his fingers, your wetness coating his entire hand by the time you started to come down from your high. 

Kuroo pulled his head away and smirked, “That was just the appetizer, my little bunny.” he got back up to his feet and wiped his sticky hand against his jeans, “We’re just getting started.”

He peeled off his white tank top, letting the necklace he wore dangle on his bare skin. Soon came off his blue jeans and underwear. He licked his lips and said, “Get further up, baby. Show your husband how beautiful you look.”

You exhaled deeply and pushed hair out of your eyes before you laid fully on the bed, exposing your wet sex to him, your hard nipples, your warmed face. He couldn’t get enough of your beautiful form. This was the woman he married, with the bunny familiar, the unmatched skills and the beauty to die for..

Your breathing was still heavy as you watched him climb onto the bed and come over to you. He lazily made out with you, his face flushed with his own lust, his cock was full attention and leaking with pre-cum. 

  “Please, Tetsurō. Make me a mama bunny.” You reached out for him and deepened the kiss. You rolled yourself onto of him, you broke the kiss the straddle him before you went back to making out with him. 

Kuroo’s hands found your hips as his cock pressed against you pussy, it was so wet, so tempting. Sweet desire between thick thighs. You were the perfect witch, the perfect wife and soon to be the perfect mother.

  “Ready to start?” You asked. 

  “More than ever.” He smirked. He winced as you sat yourself onto his hard cock, all eight inched buried inside of your wetness. His hands dug into your hips and hi eyes rolled back as he felt your soft walls. 

  “Like that?” You asked playfully, you pushed hair out of your eyes once more before you braced yourself onto 

  “Seems like you’re getting into it.” He chuckled. 

  “With one mind blowing orgasm, I start to see your way of thinking. The moons is gonna be at its highest soon.” You smiled, “That gross potion better be worth it.” You said slyly, “Or I’m fucking you over and over again until I’m pregnant with triplets.”

  “Oh don’t worry.” He said, his voice low and deadly, “I’m gonna be making sure of that.” And thrusted up into you. You rolled your head back and started to move your hips, your nails in the soft skin of his chest. 

  “Good.” You smirked as you moved. You grinded your hips against him as you rode his cock. There was nothing like having sex with your husband, he was such a good fuck. He was a loving man but left your knees jelly. 

  “Fuck, I love you.” He gasped. 

  “I love you too.” You moaned as you moved. He moved with you, a team effort to make a baby. Your little half bunny- half cat witch baby. You wondered who they would take after, but knowing Kuroo, it would be him. 

You continued to make out with him, the creak of the bed, slapping skin and your wet make out filled the air. You rocked your hips back and forth. you felt the second orgasm come up on your rather quickly. Stupid potion. You managed to cum twice on his cock before he was even close to cumming. Three orgasms left you sweaty and flushed, but you kept moving back and forth on his cock. 

Your bodies moved together as you rode him, heavy breathing, loud moans, Kuroo practically panting from the need to cum. You started to leave hickies on his neck, a symbol of your love for him. 

  “You look good marked up.” You chuckled lightly. 

  “Oh don’t worry, you look better. And you’ll be marked up with me pretty soon. Fuck, I’m close.” He panted. 

You two continued to move, the busy outside paid no mind to your love making as the moon hit its peak, magic was at its highest and if all went well, the mixture would work in your favour. 

  “I can’t wait to see you knocked up. I can’t wait to breed you, you’re just so perfect. My bunny is gonna be round with child. The little bunny witch.” He reached out for your stomach and laid both hands on it, “And I’ll be the one impregnating you.” He purred. 

Kuroo kept his hands on your stomach as he finally hit his pea and finished inside of you. Spurts of cum fill your deepest parts, you moans and arched your back as you felt hot heat inside of you. You clamped your legs around his hips as you felt him finish. 

His eyes rolled back, a loud groan mixed with cursing passed his lips and he finished inside of you. Where it should be. When he finished, he relaxed against the bed and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. 

  “Oh, fuck.” He gasped. 

  “That was amazing.” You said as you flopped over beside him on the bed, ass up and completely nude in front of your husband. Kuroo noticed your curves, the dangle of your breasts from the angle.

He reached over and slapped your ass, “And the night isn’t over.” He moved, “I’m not done with you yet. I promise it was going to take.” He rubbed your flesh, “And I know by the time the sunrises, you’ll be very much pregnant, my little bunny.” 

  “Fuck.” You moaned. You knew you were going to be in for a long night. 

Ten months later, you were sitting on the couch nursing your one month old daughter. She was a stunning image of her father, from even the roosterhead. But your little big of magic snuck in, in the tuft of hair that your daughter had there was a white streak. The magic of the white bunny. 

You kissed your daughter on the head as you noticed Kuroo eyeing your breasts. He licked his lips and you rolled your eyes. 

  “When she goes to bed, Tetsurō.”

  “Whatever you say, bunny. But you know this kitty wants his milk too.” He leaned in and kissed you, “And maybe we can start trying for another. This time a cat witch.” He winked. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Whatever you say.” You knew you’d be handling two babies in the near future if your husband kept acting like that. He did promise multiples anyway, and who ever saw a bunny or cat with just one baby?