#its kind of giving the fish in rumble fish

[matchalattegreen]

i absolutely LOVE colorsplashing (when the background is black and white but the subject is in color) so i started doing it with some of these outsiders photos and they look so cool!

let me know if you like them!! (i have more if you want to see)

if you have another photo that you would like me to colorsplash feel free to put it in my asks!! (and specify what you want color on)

i do these myself but credit to imdb for the photos and photopea (the software i use to edit)

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

ALL THE BETTER

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - RED RIDING HOOD AU WITH EMMETT

Pairing - Emmett x fem!reader

Summary - You must deal with the consequences after leading the wolf into your grandmother’s cottage

Warnings - non con, dubcon, character death, fingering, handjob, p in v, marking, rutting, werewolf.

Word count - 3.1k

Notes - Set in the 1700s. Doesn't Emmett just give off big bad wolf vibes to you? Was suppose to be a very very long story, but couldn’t find the inspiration to finish it in time so i sliced it lol. Not my best work, was really hard to do but oh well it’s kinktober.

It was all your fault. These consequences were due to your naive actions over the past few weeks of knowing this man, this beast. Emmett was kind, gentle, charming and rugged to the ignorant eye. It was so easy for him to fool you. The fateful crossing of paths through the woods may not have been as accidental as you believed. You’d invited the traveler into your grandma’s cottage, given him a place to rest which turned into a new residence for him. All he practically had to do was chop the firewood to keep the cottage warm at night. Together, you both assisted your aging grandma and her declining health.

Emmett was captivating to your innocent eyes. His beard was as thick as badger fur, it turned gray around the bottom of his jaw. The dark brunette strands of hair parted towards his right. He spoke almost in hush tones a lot, but his tone was deep and masculine. He was a tad shorter than the average man in your village. But his alluring blue eyes caught your attention from the beginning, they were gentle and almost sparkled.

A wolf in disguise indeed. Every stare he had given you, was not genuine but sinister. The nights you’d wake up to a figure in the shadows, it was always him, not a dream. The internal need for him to help you, protect you, watch over you constantly would be your ruining. You had let touch you, hold you, kiss you. The beast had tricked you into loving him, to the point where he almost corrupted you.

The night before, shortly after you had shut down his animalistic urges to deflower you, he left in a frustrated manner. Emmett’s chest heaved like a wild creature and grumbles sounded like growls. You tried to stay awake for him, but the late hours of the night grew heavy on your eyes. Until later, he abruptly stumbled into the cottage, in complete agony. His firm body was only covered in sweat and blood as he cried out. A bullet wound in his bare left thigh.

There was no time or thought to question anything, his naked state went unfocused as you were forced to pull the bullet out of him. It took an eternity to draw it out. The silver bullet shined as you washed the blood off of it. He had gone for a swim in the lake, as he claimed, on this freezing night teasing the upcoming winter season. They must have been hunters and mistaken him for an animal. That or they were monsters playing twisted games. Emmett seemed so determined and angered on the matter that you wouldn’t dare to have another opinion. You were like a fish with how easily you bit the bait.

The morning of, Emmett’s face was covered in sweat, eyes flashing red as he whined in despair. He needed a doctor, medicine, anything better than your amending. Even though he was heavily opposed to it, you hurried through the woods in your red cloak. Your grandma assumed she’d take care of him until you’d return.

The clouds rumbled over you, you could smell the rain brew in the sky. But immediately as you entered the village, a townsman warned you, “beware miss! A werewolf is lurking in the woods!”

“A werewolf?” you gasped, fear flashing over your eyes.

“Yes, they shot it in its leg last night, but the beast got away” he huffed out in annoyance.

“Shot it… with what?” you dared to ask.

Your heart pounded against your bones, blood streamed through your veins as you found it hard to breathe. Time seemed to slow down, you felt the man stare you dead in the eye.

“A silver bullet” he answered blankly.

The words dragged out through your mind, you gasped silently as a million thoughts ran through your mind. The instant thought was to cry wolf, but the words were too risky to claim. You had left your grandmother with the beast, you needed to save her, a village of hunters would do no such thing, she was currently a lamb awaiting the slaughter.

You had raced all the way back from the village, the rain spitting onto your skin. Your breathing was heavy, filled with distraught and angst. The forest was shaking around you, you heard a school of birds flatter around you, the dark clouds began to clash with one another. You screamed out in pain, your legs were starting to feel like jelly, but you couldn’t stop now.

As you ran through the door, your adrenaline charged through, but you froze in your footsteps. The floor had a trail of red, your body trembled as you called out her name. But there was pure silence in the cottage. The door was rested over, you dared to push it open.

Throughout the chaos of it all, the walls were painted red, the room stenched of copper, pieces of your grandma splattered across the room, the walls were clawed into, furniture ripped apart. You wailed out, eyes shot in every direction before you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Grandma!” you shrieked, your eyes pouring out hot tears as you shuddered.

Time froze.

No, no, this was all a horrible nightmare, you needed to wake up. These thoughts of yours were crazy, there was no possibility, werewolves haven’t wandered these woods in decades years.

But as you stood frozen for longer, the more it made sense. The more the fear dawned over you, you had led a werewolf into your grandma’s home, and left her alone with the beast.

Your body felt completely numb, your mind raced with every negative emotion daggering into you repetitively. You stumbled out of the room and shrieked when you bumped into a firm figure behind you, your body flung around.

It took you a moment to even realize his appearance. His hairy chest could have almost been mistaken for a shirt through your blurred vision. However, it was the large member that hung freely that switched the gears on in the inside of your head. Emmett stood completely naked in front of you, shamelessly at the matter, however his expression was full of despair and guilt. The limp in his leg was gone, the wound vanished. His skin had marks of blood everywhere.

“I’m sorry… I- I didn’t mean to… I really tried not to! I didn’t want to hurt her” Emmett stuttered out, his mind completely blurred with a range of emotions as if he was in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Emmett” you choked out, noticing the trickle of blood over his lips.

“I couldn’t control myself… She was dying sweetheart, it was a mercy kill! I needed to feed in order to heal” Emmett poorly explained, he gripped onto the slither of hope that you’d understate.

It was true, she was dying. He could smell the blood from her handkerchief and hear it in her hoarse voice. But you were too naive to look with your open eyes. The smell was sickening, the killing a thousand times worse. But Emmett was desperate, he was dancing with death laying in that bed.

Everything was bewildering your timid mind, your heart pounded against your chest, your throat closed up, you couldn’t breathe. Your blurred vision was darting between Emmett and the massacre on your grandma’s bed. When he took a step closer to you, you leaped back instinctively.

“Emmett, you’re scaring me!” you shrieked.

The tone of your dismay ached at Emmett’s heart, he blinked hard, hoping that it would help relieve his tormented thoughts. With his hands raised up in surrender, he continued to slowly step towards you, your hands felt around the walls and pieces of furniture around you, too afraid that if you looked away from him, he’d pounce at the opportunity.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll never hurt you” Emmett promised, his voice stern and determined. His jaw locked as he watched your fingertips search for a weapon.

As your hand wrapped around a candle stick, Emmett snarled and pounced at you, you yelped and swung the metal object at him. It hit his shoulder but did no damage, his large hand smacked the object to the ground, Emmett effortlessly pinned you against the wall. Your body thrashed, squirmed and turned under his grip, his nostrils flared in annoyance. When Emmett brought his lips closer to yours, you bit the air in warning.

“Get off of me!” you screamed, but your tone was weak and broken.

“Calm down little one!” Emmett tutted harshly.

His hand wrapped underneath your jaw as he pointed your chin towards him, you whimpered out as the tightness. His blue eyes were narrowed, he looked down at you as if you were a child mid tantrum over nothing.

“Get off me! You’re a disgusting monster!” you screamed, tears coated your red cheeks.

Emmett scoffed at your words, his mouth pressed to your ear, the wetness of his beard made you cringe and gag slightly. Emmett’s body shivered lightly as he inhaled your scent. His animalistic urges crawled their way out, despite how badly he tried to keep it all chained up.

“Don’t blame me! You said it yourself, she was stubborn to the bone. If she had any common sense she’d listen to you and be healthy and alive!” Emmett insulted, his words hissing like a boiled kettle.

You whined out, but it was pointless, his hold held you down like iron. The pounding sound of your racing heartbeat ran down his ear drums. It made him feel pity towards you, his stern expression softened. The way he pressed his lips to your sweating forehead was sweet, but you didn’t see it that way.

“Don’t worry… It was quick, she didn’t even have a second to scream” Emmett comforted, his breathing rugged, a weak smile on his lips.

You blubbered out, his words hurt you. This wasn’t real, this felt impossible. How could you be so naive, you helped the enemy, you killed your grandmother.

Emmett’s slippery tongue ran up your cheek, he moaned at the taste of your tears. You squirmed every time he kissed or licked your flustered skin, but he ignored your protesting behavior. His rough hands slowly dropped to your waist, he squeezed the skin around your hips.

“Your scent has been torturing me for weeks before we met. I’ve traveled so far for you, my heart longs for you little one…” Emmett admitted proudly, his lips gently kissed yours.

“W-what?” you whimpered out, complete utter shock painted on you.

Emmett had known you were his before he met you. One evening, your scent lingered in his senses, he couldn’t block out the aura even if he wanted to. That night, he packed a small gathering of belongings and searched for you. He had many sleepless nights, agonizing moments of craving you underneath him. When he stumbled upon your grandma’s cottage, he knew he was close. So, so close to you. He waited nearby for days for you to come to him.

Other werewolves would rut their mate on the spot and drag them back home if need be. But Emmett was different, he wanted to do this right, wanted your love to grow and not be forced down your throat. It took a lot of restraint, but Emmett was certain on making you fall for him.

“You’re mine now” Emmett flared his teeth. “Don’t be upset, it’ll turn out all the better for us” he assured, his rough hand felt soft against your skin.

Without another second to spare, Emmett crashed his lips back onto yours, his tongue darted out and slipped inside your mouth. Your body turned stiff as he practically ate your mouth, his teeth nibbled on your skin whilst his hands ran up and down your curves. He untied your cloak and let it slip to the ground.

“I need you so badly, please?” Emmett almost whimpered pathetically, his eyes two massive pools of desire and need.

You mewled out, lips wobbling and skin trembling, you knew what he meant. Not to mention his throbbing length that poked against your thigh teased you. You dared to look down at it, you squeaked and squeezed your eyes shut. Emmett sighed dramatically and stroked himself.

“Hey, it’s alright. It won’t bite you, here look” Emmett comforted before he tugged your hand to his hairy length.

You gasped out as your fingers wrapped around his thick size, your eyes snapped onto him, glossy with tears. Emmett smiled at you softly, reassuringly. Slowly, he guided your hand to stroke him, all while his free hand scrunched your dress up.

The way his hand rubbed over your cunt underneath your panties made your stomach turn. Emmett’s eyes rolled back at the glistering sensation of your pussy. So fucking wet for him, you needed him just as badly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together in defense, but his fingers quickly pushed into your tight entrance.

“Oww” you hissed.

“It’s okay little one, only hurts temporarily” Emmett assured through a huff.

Reactively, you squeezed his shaft, resulting in Emmett groaning in pleasure. Before you knew it, Emmett stripped you bare, shredding the fabric to pieces. you whimpered and trembled before him, but dared not to poke the wolf. Emmett grumbled out, the animal inside of him demanded to pounce on top of you, to devour you like a lamb. But he needed to be careful, you were timid, you deserved to be treated with care.

Your arms covered your privates, Emmett slowly closed the distance and repositioned your arms to your sides. As he tilted your chin up, you blinked slowly, your tears spilled out. One hand caressed your breasts, his fingertips rolled over your hardened nipples whilst the other returned to your dripping core. You shivered against him as he played with your sensitive nerves. Your body betrayed you, it felt good, too good. The sparks of pain would be splashed away with a bucket of pleasure. Almost naturally, your body curved against his as his beard tickled your face.

Quickly, you're taken down to the wooden ground, Emmett straddled you as he kissed you gently. He took your breasts into his large rough hands as he wriggled his hips against yours. It went unsaid with Emmett lining his cock up with your entrance, you gulped as his tip teased your entrance.

Emmett kissed you passionately as he thrusted his hips towards yours. You yelped against him, your arms latched around his firm back as his cock pushed its way forcefully inside of you. Emmett heaved out, his shaft halfway in as you clenched his size still. Your words came out jumbled, you just wanted him to stop, but he still tried to inch himself in further at every moment. To comfort you, Emmett rubbed your flustered cheeks.

“Breathe little one, I’m not going to rip you in half” Emmett chuckled whilst lifting your hips up into the air.

You whined out, but listened to his command, your breathing was rough at first, but gradually grew more softer. Following after you, Emmett pushed himself in further, his hands kept your hips up as he kissed you in praise. His hips snapped in and out, his balls smacked against your sensitive skin. With every thrust, Emmett reached your sweet spot, you moaned out unwillingly. His tip teased you, you felt your abdominal tighten, your eyes fluttered back at the rapidly growing bundle of pleasure.

“Doing so good little one” Emmett praised, his beard prickling your chin.

As you looked him in the eyes, your heart betrayed you. He was still so beautiful. His features were soft and warming, you felt your heart flutter for a quick second. An inner belief that he’d always protect you flashed before your eyes. Your hand raised to his cheek, even though you trembled, you attempted to caress his skin. But the remembrance of everything fell back into place and your hand retreated. Emmett huffed out, most likely in annoyance. His lips latched onto your neck as he pistoned into you.

Shortly after, you felt your eyes roll backwards. Unexpectedly on your behalf, your orgasm crashed over you. Your velvet walls squeezed onto Emmett’s cock for dear life, Emmett grunted out, his eyes twitched as he felt his member beg for release. Your sweet piercing moans were angelic. His breathing grew heavier, eyes turned a shade darker, his forearms rested besides your head as he continued to ram into you.

He could feel his shaft pulsate, demanding to claim you completely. It felt like the need for oxygen, if Emmett didn’t mark you as his now, he’d think he would die.

“Fuck, I need, I need to rut in you sweetheart, I can’t help myself, I need to mark you as mine” Emmett admitted, his words stiff as he was so distracted with fucking you senselessly.

“What do you mean?” you cried out, unable to catch your breath.

But Emmett ignored you, he nibbled your soft skin. Really, Emmett should be grabbing something or anything to soften your body, oh fuck it, you can just lay on his chest. Swiftly, Emmett flipped you over, his cock buried completely inside of you. You mewled out at the throbbing sensation in your slippery walls.

“Emmett! What are you-”

Now, your parents never went over the details on when a woman marries her husband, however this didn’t feel normal. His cock was expanding inside of you, you cried out, it felt like pure agony. This was supernatural, you were certain it would be the death of you. You body fell limp on him as his shaft almost doubled in size. Even though you were gasping in pain, Emmett was exhaling in sexual relief. His hands brushed your hair whilst he laid comfortably onto the wooden planks. Your face pressed besides his as you heaved out. The entirety of your lower body was on fire, every inch you moved felt torturous.

A wave of possessiveness and ownership crashed over Emmett. “You’re mine, alright?” Emmett spoke firmly, his head tilted towards yours. You laid silently, sight pointed away from him. So he repositioned your head for you to look him in. the eye. “Don’t try to run from me… I’ll fucking rip apart anyone who gets in my way” he threatened before returning to his comforting nature by caressing your bare skin.

Your body shivered, he saw your red cloak and reached over for it. The fabric covered your body as Emmett held you tightly and fell into a bliss of relaxation.

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse-Fight or Flight

Chapter 6

PricexFem!reader

PriceXFem!reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35. Will be around 3-5 Chapters once finished (Probably will be more about 6-8 chapters total now)

Sorry its been a bit for an update. Finally moving up in shifts and got to bid days is leaving me trying to find time to write. 7 months pregnant and tired all the time too isn't exactly helping.

This one might get a little dark (drowning/death/language), coming to wrap this one up. Might be two more chapters left.

John's activities went on for a few hours into the night. Starting in the living room and ending in the bedroom. Somehow, through all the activity, you awoke still on your schedule. The morning light beamed in golden rays next to the side of the bed. Yesterday was so extraordinary, but here it returned to normal routine once more.

John laid next to you, on his stomach arms folded underneath a pillow holding it close. His legs still strewn in with yours. Carefully pulling them out of the entangled snare, you slipped away quietly heading to the bathroom to get showered for work. Today, you would talk to Kate about transitioning to part time... for the first time in your life.

Part time...Only partly at work. More time at home. More time with Abel. More time with your husband.

The shower curtain being pulled back startled you, making jump dropping the bottle of soap on to the bottom of the shower.

"Ya' tellin' me ya wan' somethin'... or...," John's morning voice rumbled from his chest, making a slight innuendo as he bent down to pick up your soap. On the way back up he greeted you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

"Ha-ha," you announced sarcastically. "Forgive me, I don't have many that join me in the shower."

"Better start gettin' used to it, takin' any chance I get. Could of woke me, would of joined you sooner." He had taken your loofah and dumped soap on it, starting to wash you.

"You were sleeping."

"Want to take you on a honeymoon sometime, feels strange not doing something after were married. Untraditional." He said kissing the back of your wet head.

"No offense, I'm grateful but this whole thing was kind of untraditional."

"Do you regret it?"

Instantly you shook your head. "No," quickly escaped your mouth. The regret or hesitance better labeled left you sometime yesterday. This was no doubt now in your head the best choice. It's always been you and Abel. Part of you longed for someone else to fill that void... But Abel's father was never qualified to fill that position. John's over qualified.

Upon reward for your eager answer, John's hand slipped off the loofah and further down your body.

***********************************

John and Abel joined you at your morning shift for breakfast. Both sitting at the counter while you waited tables. John had already asked Abel if he wanted to join him and the others for a fishing trip for the weekend.

The young boy excited to partake with something in the outdoors. Abel's father had always wanted him to stay indoors with him and played video games, which was fine. But you had noticed that Abel's soul often craved more. He was a boy who had a hard time sitting still for long periods of time. Maybe this was the answer he needed. All very clearly over 6'0 ft and pure man and willing to teach.

If you'd of asked yourself a few days ago, never in a million years would of sent your son off with someone you had just got to know. However there was something about John that made you trust him. You would give him your soul... bound to your bone and blood.

It didn't take long for John's strays to find and join him. Taking a seat further extending your counter. It really was a sight to see, four very large, very built, very dangerous men... and there sat little Abel. It would of been worth a picture to you if you had time to take one.

"Wanna wish you an' the Captain a Congrats," the one you had learned as Gaz started off.

"Congrats indeed, he's lucky he fund ya firs', bonnie lass," "Soap" joined in. "Any o' us would of made you a wife jus' as quick."

Very quickly you dropped their plates in front of them, your cheeks burning red and walking away. It made laughter erupt from Soap, while John side eyed him carefully.

"Easy Mactavish, can't scare the help away." Ghost, the giant always in black said, giving a slight pop on the back of Soap's head.

"I don' mean nuthin' by it, just happy for the Cap' is all."

John's watchful eye dropped back to yours were he sighed.

"Sorry love, why I meant we don't feed the strays. They don't deserve it."

All of them groaned loudly at his words.

"We haven't even left yet, and you're already making him mad." Gaz said elbowing Soap.

Ghost had rolled his mask halfway up his face to eat his breakfast making Abel lean forward to look at him. John had told you enough that Ghost wears the mask to stay anonymous to people having "died" years ago.

"Abel..." your voice warned, trying to keep him from being rude. Ghost's eyes glanced down towards Abel, as if asking him what he wanted.

"Yes?" Ghost acknowledged him.

"What do you look like under there?" His quiet shy voice asked.

"An ugly mug," Soap answered long before anyone else could. Again the laughter echoed in the diner.

"Quite the loud bunch," Kate said brushing past you grabbing a coffee pot.

"Won' be here long, Kate." John said trying to curb her building anxiety.

"Would like to talk to you later today." Your courage finally building having a second to talk to her.

"Not quitting on me are you?" Blunt. Straight to the point. Kate was never one for beating around the bush.

"No... not exactly."

"After the rush. We'll sit down take break and you can tell me what's going on."

***********************************

Little arms wrapped around our waist, Abel buried his face in your abdomen.

"Love you, mom."

Stroking his hair back you leaned down, inhaling his hair.

"Always love you more."

Just like that he ripped himself from you, running to the vehicle they had all packed to go on their little "trip". Sure, Abel spent weekends away from you with his dad before... but this felt different. You wanted to bond as a family, but it was important that Abel and John bond together as well.

"Gonna be alright, love?" John asked arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling him into you.

"Yeah..." you muttered into his shoulder, laying your head against it.

"Just one night, we will be back tomorrow before noon."

It was like he knew you through and through. Like he was looking past glass and could see what was making you tick.

"Just one night." You mirrored back at him, trying to convince yourself.

"Wouldn' even worry about it, if I hadn't of promised the others when we got back."

"You need your time too, John."

"And so do you, relax at home for once." He said rubbing your arms and kissing your forehead before tilting your head up and planting a gentle kiss on you.

"Besides, had you busy enough for the past couple of days, you could use the break." The same smirky smile and attitude from your shower together returning. It made you pat his chest lightly with a little slap, your way of telling him to get going. It made him chuckle, the rumble you have come to love echo from him.

You waved goodbye to all of them, Abel's hand slipping out the window at to you. They disappeared turning a corner to go out of town, and there you stood all on your own.

Going back inside, there sat Kate, two pieces of pie and two cups of coffee. The sugar and caffeine trick to get you ready to the next "rush" as she calls them.

"Probably shouldn't let you have coffee, knowing you could be pregnant." She teased, making you roll your eyes.

"Haven't I been picked on enough today?" Referring to the earlier banter.

"Come on, sit down and tell me what's going on." She said still laughing quietly, patting the seat next to her.

***********************************

The walk home was quiet, peaceful. Kate had taken the information well, telling you she had started to expect it and was honestly happy for you. This whole feeling was alien to you, spending most of your life struggling for the things you had or being in fight and flight mode.

Tonight, the first night you had to yourself in ages. The possibilities were endless, but still it seemed your heart wanted one thing. To be with Abel. He needs this you reminded yourself. You needed this too.

Stopping at the store on your way home, buying a bottle of wine to pair with your burger and fries you had brought home for dinner. You glanced at it while pulling it out of the brown bag the store had hidden in it. Still trying to be a responsible adult, working on your daily chores, you then ran a bath and ate your supper.

Glass of wine in one hand, you slipped into the bath, resting the bottle next to you on the table. near by. The water was hot, scalding your skin, but it felt so nice to be engulfed by it all while you soaked. Propping your legs up on the tub, toes out of the water, you sent John a picture. Trying to communicate without being over bearing, missing them both still.

"You just send my kid out with random people?" A voice asked coming from the open bathroom door making you jump and look over.

There stood your ex... impending doom in the doorway.

"What are you doing here??" You asked sitting up, fear rising within.

He bolted to you, one hand at your neck pushing you under. The water was even hotter inside your body. Quickly filling your lungs, air leaving your cells.

You tried to scream, instead it left your body in large ripples floating to the top were they popped. Useless, it was futile. The feeling of fight or flight returning once more... and you couldn't leave. You have to fight.

Wrapping a hand around his arm, you grabbed and squeeze digging trying hard to push him back.

There was recoil as he brought you back up from the water.

"Fuckin' dumb bitch!"

Heavy large waves of water pouring off of you and back into the tub made it hard to hear, but he was close and loud enough you could make out every syllable and vowel. Rage and hatred dripping off his words.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" He dangerously asked. The tone matter of fact. Finally striking you as rhetorical. He wasn't worried about what he was going to do, as much as he was making you pay.

"I'm going to hold you underwater, let them think you drown. I'm going to clean up the water, refill the tub. You're already drinking, making this easy for me." he said gesturing to the broken wine glass on the floor. "You'll be dead and look like a drunk. I'll have Abel full custody then. What a terrible mother," mockingly.

There he forced you back into the water and down to the bottom.

"No!" You shrieked trying to resist, still unable to.

The battle started all over again... The blazing feeling of the water. Who knew water could burn? Your tongue was heavy in your mouth, the urge to get up leaving you.

Splashes and splashes of your spent oxygen rising to the top, towards your attacker. Your last gift to him.

Fight or flight.

War. This means war and death and you were picking yourself, tired of bowing to this man.

Your hand reached up pulling up on the tub, reaching, passing, bucking. Finally finding the bottle you gripped it, swinging as hard as you could. It smacked him, making him let go. Breaking, wine mixing with the matter on the floor, blood soon following. A large gash was on the side of his head, but he was still conscious. His hands reaching for you again, making you strike him once more. More of the bottle breaking, shards flying out and into his flesh.

Down he went, body lying on the floor. His face was hacked, skin and muscle torn down from his head to neck and into his shoulder.

It looked like an animal was let lose, like a bear had mauled him. The bathroom an entire wreck. Eyes wide as you glanced up in the mirror. Your skin red from where he had a grip of you.

Where was your phone?? You needed to call. You needed to call him now.

Finally you found it near the tub on the floor, covered in water. Reaching for it you tried to wipe the excess off... praying and hoping it worked. By the grace of gods, it somehow lit up. A new text message from John blessed the screen.

Looks nice love. Meaning the picture you had sent before the attack took place. Oh, how ironic.

Using it as a shortcut, you called him. Instantly he knew from how you were breathing something had happened.

"Love?? What's wrong?"

"He broke in." A sob, loud breaking your words after.

"He still there?" Hastily asked.

"Yes... but."

"But what dear?"

"I...he's..Hes dead!" you wept.

"I'm comin'."

"No, Abel will know somethings wrong." It was short and choppy. Relayed in away that you hoped he understood. You didn't want Abel to see this. You didn't want him to know you had killed his father.

John was quiet for a moment trying to come up with a solution.

"I'm sending, Simon." His next trusted, next in lead to come help you.

There, John listened to you cry, trying to motivate you to get dressed before Simon got there.

Finally, you had enough nerve to get out, finding simple clothes. A T-shirt of Johns on and a pair of shorts. Huffing the material of his trying to find peace and the ability to stay sane...A knock at the door breaking your temporary peace, bringing you back to your bloody reality.

Carefully you opened your door a crack, brown eyes behind smudged eye black and mask waiting for you.

"You ok?" he asked waiting for you to open the door fully.

Breaking the threshold, you pushed the door open for him. Simon stepped full foot in, scanning his eyes over you looking for injuries before turning the way you were pointing.

You followed him, but him stopping in the living room made you confused. Looking around there you saw curtains billowing. Simon approached it pulling them back looking through the window, the screen down on the ground.

Your ex had popped it off and crawled through...

"How he got in without you knowin'," Simon said dropping the curtains heading back towards the bathroom.

"Steamin' Jesus," His voice quiet. Harsh whisper as he looked at the literal blood bath in front of him.

"Put up quite the fight didn' ya'?" He asked looking over his shoulder sympathy in his voice.

"I tried."

Simon grabbed a towel placing it over the mixture of blood, wine, water and glass, sliding it away. Pushing his way through the debris to get to him.

Both of you jumped and startled as your ex groaned on the floor.

"Did you make sure he was dead?" Simon asked, almost like he was shocked that you hadn't.

"No!" fear settling back in to your bones.

Simon dropped a foot on his chest, a loud groan leaving him. Clearly very much still alive.

"Go back out an' shut the door." His voice low, matching what you were sure the one he used in a warzone.

"GO." he said louder and firmer. You watched as your ex's hands reached around his leg attempting to push him off. Simon replied with a harder press making him cry out... This you realized was Ghost.

"Gonna finish what she started, and end this problem once an' for all." Ghost's growled reaching down, your ex screaming. The fear he must feel seeing death stand before and on him... His last gift to you.

Just as soon as it had started, it stopped. You dare not ask Simon how he ended it... but part of you relieved it would never happen again... this would never happen again.

The door finally opened where he dried his hands off.

"Next time, sweethear'. Make sure they are dead."

Next time? you wanted to say. Next time?

Like this was so easy for him, like they all did it for a liviung

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Captain John Price Masterlist

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Little dreams

A/n: Billie hadn't had time to carve pumpkin jack-o-lanterns last Halloween, making this unclosed gestalt her little dream. So you buy her a pumpkin out of the blue. You don't know how to play any musical instrument, but a ukulele is your humble dream. So Billie teaches you.

Just one comfortable July evening spent together.

The onyx-black Dodge, dear to her heart, native and irreplaceable, sways slightly from the trunk side, like a Venetian gondola on a small canal wave, and Eilish turned back as she was supposed to, not out of concern but out of interest. In the trunk now, in addition to the paper grocery bags, there is a pumpkin, jutting out its bright orange sides. Eilish's eyes widen in surprise, almost reflecting the real size of the fruit.

"Pumpkin?" - she stares at you, her hand simultaneously fumbling for the silver door handle to open it for you with a slight nudge. She looks as if you've stuffed an Irish goblin in her trunk.

"Pumpkin." - You innocently reply with a smile, taking your passenger seat to her left.The buckle of your belt snaps. - "I remember you saying a week ago that you really regretted not having time to carve a jack-o-lantern last Halloween."

"But it's July, girl!" - Eilish laughs ringingly, eyes shooting out sheaves of merry sparks. - "July!"

"So what? I don't need this stupid calendar to please my girlfriend."

The blue seas in front of you are warm and gentle, and no beach in California can compete. Eilish unbuckles her belt, and a soft palm, calloused only at the very tips of her fingers from the strings, lands on your knee. She uses it as a kind of thrust to pull herself practically flush to your lips. The pink petals of her lips fold into a budding smirk.

"Paparazzi, Bils," - you whisper, though inside you're already trembling with anticipation, as if you're both doing this for the first time. The self-assured curve of her lips is a can of gasoline spilling around you, your desire a burning match that you cover with the palm of your hand for save, gripping the wooden stick tightly with the fingers of your other hand.

"So what? I don't need someone else's stupid opinion to please my girlfriend." - she teasingly reworks your own phrase, dropping the words, the word expensive pearls across the marble floor. Defiantly and with a slight clatter. - "Relax and don't think about them, they're my responsibility."

"I know, it's just...," her palm touches your cheek, stroking, and you feel that slight roughness of her fingertips, contrasting interestingly with the overall softness of her alabaster skin, much more vividly than before. She seems about to play you, as if you were a musical instrument. - "I just don't want to let you down, or do anything wrong, or give you a problem-"

Hot lips interrupt you brazenly, and her hand slides from your cheek to your chin, touching with dominant pressure. You obediently open your mouth, and she immediately and treacherously seizes the opportunity. Her nimble tongue leaves a few strokes on your palate, hungrily pulling a few excited gasps out of you before she contentedly pulls away. The belt clicks back into position on her body and the engine rumbles with the turn of the key, as if to echo O'Connell's mood. You stare at her and swallow your words, mutely opening your mouth to close it again. You look like a cute fish.

"I appreciate that, I really do," Eilish touches the gear knob as if it were her royal scepter - honed and easy. - "But your disturbing idea that you're doing something wrong, I don't like it. It's a pure lie, and I'm willing to prove it with words and kisses like that for as long as it takes until you realize it."

"Thank you." - Your lips tremble in a grateful smile, and you place your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Only for a couple seconds, but so eloquent. She has time to touch your hand in return before she puts her palm back on the steering wheel and begins to pull out of the huge, accumulated parking lot by the afternoon sun. And even though all her attention is now focused on the road, you see her glow. You slowly but surely come to a realization.

"What are we going to do with the pumpkin pulp?" - Eilish touches the white playback triangle on the screen in a familiar gesture, and another indie song's musical rhythm spreads through the cabin.

"A pumpkin pie," - you playfully cover your ears, because Eilish is screaming childishly loud and overwhelmingly happy, as if she's five again instead of twenty-two. That's why you love her.

×××

"You never told me about your little dream," Billie wiped her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a generous white smear of flour underneath. After all, as befits cooking, her nose always itches in a bad way especially when she has to roll out the dough. - "I think it's a little unfair."

You smile wistfully, rubbing the uniform puree through a sieve: Maggie had once shared her secret that it made the pumpkin pie filling incredibly tender. The image of the little black ukulele that stands in your bedroom near the nightstand (a slight negligence of Eilish, which only adds to the charm) comes to mind: many little people, showing beige outlines on the dark sapele surface, stand in rows, leaning one shoulder to the side, all of them connected by chains of even smaller squares to each other. On the smooth head of the fretboard proudly stand four metal pegs that gleam so seductively, reflecting both the morning and evening sun. The rolling pin behind you stops clattering, meeting the surface of the wooden board over and over again, rolling out the dough, and her arms close around your waist, entangling you like mythical vines. The ephemeral world of your thoughts immediately flutters into the air, soaked in the warm scent of pumpkin and cinnamon, and you twitch slightly, but immediately move closer to Eilish, keeping the sieve in your hands. A playful chuckle touches your ear.

"My little coward," - her lips touch your cheek before she happily prefers to snuggle her nose into your shoulder, inhaling the scent she loves and at the same time leaving imprints of flour on you as well. - "And yet what is your dream?"

"To be frank," - you tilt the strainer back into the sink to place your palms on top of hers. - "I've always wanted to learn to play a musical instrument."

"Piano? Guitar?" - Eilish purrs, feeling the warmth of your arms. Swaying moderately from side to side with you, it's as if she's lulling you into that feeling of comfort and security.

"Nah, you didn't guess, it's a ukulele." - you softly reply, and she immediately stops your impromptu "pendulum" by freezing in place. A moment, and you find yourself pressed against the counter when Eilish turns you around to face her and places her hands on either side of you.

"And you were silent for so long?!" - The childishly sincere surprise frozen in her eyes reminds you of the beautiful shells at the bottom of the blue waters, enchanting you. - "I can teach you!"

"Nonsense, I didn't want to distract you with such empty requests." - you giggle, as soon as her lips form an insult, pouting a little, and her palms invocatory located on your cheeks, moving you closer to her. Her eyebrows slid down the bridge of her nose in their seriousness.

"You are very important to me аnd music is not an empty request."

You see the pale remnants of flour under her nose, then you look again at her serious blue oceans and suddenly, even for yourself, you burst into laughter, appreciating this homely contrast. Eilish puffs loudly like a kettle, but seeing your satisfied look - immediately changes his mind to take offense, and only kisses, deliberately rubbing nose at you as often as possible. The leftover flour remains completely on you.

"I'll teach you after dinner, klutz. Deal?"

"Deal." - you throw your arms around her neck, so treacherously unwilling to pull away from her, and she gallantly wipes the remnants of flour from your face. Incredible royal mercy.

The timer on the stove dings, announcing the end of the warm-up. It seems you should continue making the pie after all.

×××

And though the pie was deliciously delicate, and the cooking together was marvelously seductive, what was happening to you now opened up some new horizons in the definition of such words as "captivating" and "matchless". Eilish hardly glares at you, waiting for you to finish with the last piece, and you deliberately mockingly bite the flour crust slowly, throwing glances at her in response. O'connell, because of the enthusiasm bubbling in her blood, ate her portion almost chewing, which makes watching her impatience even more fun. It seems that if you had put your hand under her T-shirt, you would have easily found the wick, because Eilish, from his own impatience, almost resembles a cartoon stick of dynamite. Finally, when the empty plate finds its place on the glass coffee table next to the wide white sofa, Eilish already flies up to the second floor with the speed of a bullet, stumbling on the steps in the semi-darkness, illuminated only by the cheerful face of a pumpkin carved by her. The harbingers of her return are the faint tinkling of strings and cursing.

And here you are, sitting in her arms on the floor, moving closer to the silly pumpkin face so that the picture before your eyes doesn't fade into the oblivion of darkness. Four strings catch the sparkling, warm glow of the candle, and you stare at your girlfriend's fingers as openly as you ever have before. It's getting kind of hot, and yes, you're ready to blame it on the poor pumpkin, in no case is your feeling of embarrassment from the obscenity of your own thoughts, no.

"We'll start with the easiest, I think you'll like it." - It's impossible to hold back a chuckle at her conspiratorial whisper in your ear. You can literally feel her satisfied smirk, you don't even need to turn around. Her sly intonation says it all.

"Won't you even tell me what song we're going to learn?" - you raise your eyebrows with interest, which flick upward like an askance birds.

"I want you to guess, my girl," Eilish touches your right palm gently to place it on the strings just above the resonating hole. The close bodily contact makes you shiver for some reason, as if this is new to you. Perhaps it's all the influence of the intimate semi-darkness and evening silence. "Do you know the fretboard mean yet?"

You nod confidently, recalling Finneas's long-ago explanation. Eilish smiles contentedly.

"I have a very capable apprentice. So, let's start with a rhythm, with me for now."

Eilish muffles the strings with her left hand, pressing them slightly against the fingerboard with her four fingers, her thumb resting lightly on the back of the fingerboard. And then she moves along the strings with you, leaving her palm on top of yours: twice down, twice up, once down, then up. You watch each movement mesmerized, and Billie only murmurs softly in your ear the desired rhythm, helping you memorize it. After a while, she removes her palm (which is somewhat saddening), honoring you and giving you autonomy. After a few successful attempts, she opens her fingers on the fingerboard, and a sound that is not quite slender, but definitely pleasant, spills into the room. You gasp in surprise.

"You're doing great," - you can feel her leaning closer against your, giving you a strong and support hug. Embarrassed heat spills over your entire body, growing especially hot in your heart. It feels insanely good. - "Now you and I need to learn proper finger placement and memorize a few simple chords."

And Billie shows you: she puts not the whole pad of her finger on the strings, but only the very tip, slightly bending the phalanges and gently pressing the nylon musical "threads". Having tried it, you now really understand why her fingertips are so different from the softness of her palm. It hurts a little, but it's not critical.

"Over time you'll develop a kind of 'calluses', or rather your skin will just ogoubet from rubbing against the strings and it'll be much more pleasant to play." - Billie explains softly, and you nod silently again. It's like you're a first-grader seeing a beautiful and good-natured teacher for the first time, listening with your mouth almost open. - "Now put your beautiful middle finger on the first string, third fretboard. That will be a C chord."

And you obediently put it down. Eilish runs her hand over the strings in rhythm, and the pleasant dissonance of the past sounds merges into one - slender and precise, soft. You repeat after her, with your left hand not letting go of the string, and you feel like a magician, still with your mouth ajar in surprise, like a child. Eilish notices and laughs loudly.

Next, you learn the next chords - cmaj7, F, G. Billie instructs so gently and tactfully, and you feel like a cube of sugar in warm berry tea. You don't want it to end. And even though your fingertips ache under the unfamiliar hardness of the strings, even though combining rhythm and chords transposition is hard at first, you're slowly but surely getting the hang of it. After an hour, the awkward movements of your fingers when changing chords become more confident and faster, and the melody is almost uninterrupted. You smile warmly at the realization of exactly what you are performing.

When you completely play the tune without mistakes, Eilish unlocks such cozy embrace and almost drops you on the floor, kissing you to the absolute. The pumpkin from such a trick jiggles gently, flickering with flames. A toothy grin, a triangular nose, and eyes, one of which resembles a pirate's patch - a little pumpkin pirate.

"I'm so proud of you!"

"I want to learn more from you, Eilish." - You whisper softly and a smile immediately spreads across your face. She's so close to you now, so beautiful...

"And I want to teach you more, Y/n." - blue eyes catch the glare from the candlelight for just a moment before she squints slyly, playfully mocking you. The solemn little vow between you is sealed with a leisurely kiss.

Then you play again and again until the wick sinks into the hot wax and the little candle goes out. Billie just purrs lovingly against your shoulder, rest assured, she is bursting with a disproportionate pride in you and you can literally feel it in the air. As the living room sinks into darkness, she lightly touches her lips to your fingertips - exactly where it hurts so much so far. Her blue eyes are so attentive, glistening in the July darkness, and her lips glide over your skin so slowly and smoothly, like a little boat.

She hums "8" to your playing, and you're only more convinced that playing the ukulele is truly your little dream.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 17

MASPAPOST

Danny caught a distant croon, bellowing deep and powerful from under the waves. “You hear that?”

Danny didn’t wait for a response before he took Damian’s hand and placed him on his shoulder over the water. “What was it? Was it a threat?” The younger boy asked.

“You’ll see!”

Danny sped off toward the origin of the sound. As they approach the source, the rumbling tones of whale song intensified. Danny’s lateral line zapped and tinged as the massive electric field got stronger. Damian shivered on his back, arms gripping tighter. Danny wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little scared too, but the excitement made up for it ten times over.

The whales were just ahead. Even with night vision, it was hard to make up their shapes underneath the dark sky, but his lateral line jumped. Danny retreated thirty feet, stopped and treaded water. He held his breathe for the big moment.

A moment later, the whale’s gigantic body smashed the ceiling of the ocean, with the force of a volcano. Waterfalls formed as the sea parted around its head, cascading and crashing thunderously. A plume of water as tall as Fentonworks blasted out of the whale’s back, showering the boys in a wet spray.

Danny’s passenger gasped. He felt Damian’s chin hitting his shoulder. Knew it.

Suddenly, another whale emerged. And another, and another. An entire pod of whales!

“This may be more beautiful than the stars…” Damian muttered.

Danny crossed his arms. “Since you’re obviously an animal kind of kid, I’ll let the blasphemy slide. For now. But I might feed you to the whales if you get testy.”

“Tut. The whales would not want me as food. I would make a much better companion than snack.”

Danny let a smirk grow. His fins stretched themselves. Danny grabbed Damian’s arms and tightened his grip. “Ready to test that hypothesis?”

“What are you doing-?!”

“Hold your breath!”

Danny surged into the water at top speed, then doubled back and rapidly made for the surface, gaining more and more speed until he launched out of the water like a flying fish. His stomach flipped as they went airborne. For a little extra flair, he arched his back and did a flip at the top of his arc. Then gravity pulled.

Danny yelled excitedly. “YEEHAWW!” As they plummeted. Instead of splashing into the water, the boys landed on soft blubber, tumbling and rolling as their momentum carried them forward.

He laughed gingerly, even as Damian crawled up to him and pounched. It was pitifully easy to hold the child at arms’ length as he scratched ineffectually at Danny’s thicker scales.

“Unhand me, you fiend! You will pay for actions! You will pay for disavowing animals in favour of the stars, and you will pay for putting the whales in harm’s way.” The boy said, kitten-like hissing accompanying every word.

“Scratch me harder Dami! Let’s see how bad you can tickle me!” Danny giggled, happily stoking the flames as the chorus of screeching reached a fever pitch.

“Do not call me that childish nickname!” Damian scowled, hackles raising. In an attempt to escape Danny’s hold, the boy raised his tailfin and slapped him over the head. A worthwhile tactic, but Danny had been slapped in the head by much more powerful tailfins before.

“Is the wittle baby getting grumpy over his new nickname?” He snickered. For extra dominance, he flipped himself and squished Damian underneath his body, squishing the boy’s fins flat.

“We shall we who laughs now, fool!” Damian said, And Danny realised his blunder too quickly. Damian turned his head, opened his mouth, and give Danny’s gills a good, long lick.

Firstly: GROSS.

Secondly: HOLY SHIT THAT TICKLED.

Even though they were shut due to being above water, that didn’t make them any less sensitive. The sudden ticklish sensation has him jumping back with a yelp.

With the advantage returned to him, Damian pounced on his weakness. Danny reached out to catch him again, but instead, Damian twisted in the air. The natural mucus of his scales let him slip between Danny’s fingers, where Damian went for the throat. The boy wrapped his body and tail around the older siren’s windpipe, constricting like a snake.

“I hereby declare victory.” Damian said, tiny body radiating smugness.

“Dami. Dami. Please. Can you stop strangling me?” Danny casually requested. “I totally concede, bro.”

Damian tightened his grip. “Only if you apologise.” He harrumphed.

“Apologise for what?”

“Calling me by that childish nickname. Only Richard does that, and he is too stupid to live anyway, which is why I allow it.”

“Aww, did you just call me smart? I’m touched.”

Damian hissed loudly. It was supposed to be intimidating, but man did he sound like a kitten right now. Dora once told him really young sirens even meowed. What he would give to see that happen to Dami.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry for threatening to feed you to the whales.” Danny said, lying with his fingers crossed (a very impressive feat, considering they were webbed).

“And?”

“And for calling you Dami.” He lied again, through his teeth.

“And?”

Danny paused. “Oh, the whales. Dude, we have a symbiotic relationship, it’s literally fine.”

That got Damian to loosen the hold he had on Danny’s throat. “Elaborate.”

“Lots of animals ride on whales, like, ugh, dolphins. And I really need this break. You’re not the one swimming literally all day for hundreds of miles.”

Damian hummed, face scrunching up in deep thought. “We can continue making progress without stopping for the night to sleep. It is a worthy plan.”

“Plus, we can protect these guys from any danger, like poachers or whatever. It’s why they’re been pretty chill with us being here.”

That finally managed to convince him. Damian confirmed his approval with a curt nod. “It is agreeable then.”

Just as he spoke, the ‘ground’ beneath them started sinking.

“Word of warning, you’re gonna have to fill your lungs with water.” Damian blanched. Poor kid. “Don’t worry! I promise it’s not as bad as learning to breath air. Now help me get this harness around the big girl, so we don’t get swept away.”

Jazz Fenton tapped her pencil on her notebook. She tapped it again, and again in a frantic rhythm.

She knew it wasn’t healthy. It was like staring at your empty wallet for hours hoping money would appear out of nowhere instead of finding a job or doing something productive like cleaning up, only she was staring at her messages. Fifty missed calls. If she was honest, Danny’s phone was probably at the bottom of the sea.

Little brother, what have you gotten into this time?

She didn’t have magic, like Sam, or insane hacking skills like Tucker, or superpowers like Danny. All she could do is hopelessly stare at a phone, wishing for things to be ok (but not actually wishing, because who knows when Desiree could be lurking).

The day she caught Danny changing, the day the horrible truth came to her like a revelation from Cthuhlu was the scariest day of her life.

She supposed it was now only the second scariest.

She remembered watching him sneak behind the pier, deserted thanks to an earlier attack, desperate to find some way to help Danny. Jazz laughed at her previous self’s naivety. How she wished it had been something simple like bullying or crushes. Instead, she looked on as Danny stripped down and jumped into the water (she was so ready to run out and reprimand him for skinny dipping. What if someone saw?).

Instead, she went into full-blown panic as a column of bubbles popped at the surface, the horrifying reality of drowning pounding in her mind. But as she’d reached for her phone to call her parents, already in a full sprint to pull her brother out, she saw him.

Translucent skin, blinding white and pitch dark scales. It was from there that the horrifying reality of her situation dawned on her.

How long could she protect her brother from her parents? How long could she protect her family from the truth?

Muffled sounds crept into her room. Metal clashed against metal. Blow torches buzzed. Buzz saws roared. Jazz knew exactly what was going on. Her parents were on the war path. They were making weapons. Weapons to hunt down their own flesh and blood. They had been working, day in and day out. The only time she’d seen them in the last two days was at the beginning of their work spree, when they called her to the living room to inform her of Danny’s disappearance.

Bile boiled in her throat. Jazz clamped her jaw shut. She had to maintain composure, she had to keep calm. But what could she do?

It was not her secret to tell. Danny’s unfiltered fear was as readable as the ABCs. He didn’t even know she was in on it. If she told their parents, he may never trust her again, and rightly.

Jazz put the pencil down, electing to waste time by scrolling news feeds instead. Dozens of articles about the disappearance of Damian Wayne. Barely any lip service for Danny.

Even if she did tell them, she had no reason to be sure it would even work. Their parents loved them. That was undeniable. She saw it in the boisterous cheers when their Dad celebrated their achievements. Both of them. She saw it in the way they dragged her and Danny out on road trips and boat trips and to the psychology seminars and space expos.

But they also loved their work, and hated sirens.

And the scariest thing of all was that, for all she told herself that she knew they would choose their children over their obsession?

Deep, deep down, buried inside her heart in a box she would’ve told Danny was unhealthy to keep, she was uncertain. As she listened to her parents working in the basement, she knew the cost would be too great.

Years of memories flashed by in Jazz’s mind. Each moment, each word and each action put on a scale between acceptance and rejection. Between a happy ending and the most tragic possibilities. But even as she worked and pondered and agonized, she felt the filter of bias and emotion clouding her judgement. These were her parents and her brother. Any analysis of them would be steeped in her own perspective.

If she exposed her brother, and her parents failed the test, it would very well be the end of this family right then and there. And then it might even be the end of Danny. Even if he survived what their parents would try to him, his heart might not.

And if she didn’t say anything? If she allowed her parents to go out there?

The basement had been silent for a while. A knock on the door.

“Sweetie? Can I come in?” Mom said. Jazz’s breath hitched.

“Come in, mom!” She could not hide the naked anxiety.

Her mother opened the door. Her hood was down, revealing disheveled hair and bags under her eyes. “Sweetie, I’ve got news.”

“About Danny?” Jazz asked. She moved to sit on the bed, inviting her mother to do the same. She had to strain to avoid clenching the mattress and showing her stress.

“We have reason to think he’s still out there, that Phantom took him alive for whatever reason.” Her mother said, voice tight. “Your father and I are going. We’re going to track down Phantom, and make him give us Danny back.”

Jazz’s nerves shot up, even though she knew that was what they were planning. Her parents were not passive people. To hear their intentions stated in plain words was a shock to the system.

Her mother took her silence as concern. She laid her hands on Jazz’s shoulder, the same as she’d always do to comfort her. “It’ll be alright, Jazzy. We’ll save your brother, no matter what.”

“When are you leaving?” She asked. Maybe she could sneak in and sabotage their weapons, and give Danny a better chance.

“In an hour.” That was no time at all! Jazz’s forehead went damp. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t worry about us, ok? We’ve already asked Vlad to come check in on you and help with groceries while we’re away. I know you’re already a brilliant and inde-,”

“NO!” Jazz yelled out, before cringing at her outburst.

There was no man on the planet she would less like to be alone with than Vladimir fucking Masters. After catching one of their fights, it was very clear that he was the one responsible for what happened to Danny.

“I mean. I want to come with you.” Her mother blinked.

“Sweetie, it’s dangerous, and-”

Jazz thought fast. “Mom, those sirens took my little brother away. I want to get him back too. I can help!”

She narrowed her eyes, and clenched her jaw. She assigned herself a mission to keep her parents away from her brother at that moment. On the outside, it looked like she was pumped to help them get to him.

Her mother paused, her eyes going downcast. Her parents had always tried to get her and her brother involved in their work, in siren hunting, only to be rebuffed as they found their own interest. For her parents, this was what she always wanted, and Jazz could tell the weight her words held.

Jazz pressed the attack. “I can help man the systems. You’ve taken us so many times now. And you’ll need my help to maintain your emotional balance over the course of such a harrowing journey. This is what I was born to do.”

Her mother pursed her lip, a sign she was very convinced, and yet fighting a way to say no.

Loud footsteps behind her. “I say we let her, Mads!” Her father shouted.

Her mom startled. “Jack, honey, it’s too dangerous.”

“The Fentons look out for their family, Maddie. Our little girl’s growing up, Maddie, and if she doesn’t wanna be cooped up in the house and watch us get Danno back, then why should she?”

Her parents stared at each other for a moment. Her dad grinned, and nodded vigorously. Her mother stood firm.

After a while, her posture finally relaxed. “Fine, but promise that you’ll be careful, and you listen to us very carefully, ok? This is a real siren hunt.”

“Mom, we’ve been hit by real siren attacks all summer. Whatever hits us, I’ll be right by your side.”

Right by their side, and sabotaging them every minute of the way.

Her dad clapped his hands. “Welp. That’s settled then! Pack your bags Jazz-pants. We’re leaving in an hour! We need to make the finishing touches, and then the Fentons will set sail!”

It turned out that they were not immediately setting sail as her dad had implied. Her suitcase and belongings safely tucked away in her room on the new and improved SAV, Jazz sat in the back seat as her father’s usual frantic but calculated driving brought them to stop outside Sanchez Hotel. Wait, wasn’t this where-

There he was. Bruce Wayne, somehow looking immaculate despite the stress the man was probably under. He’d probably spent a life-time hiding his emotions away, practicing it like an art form.

Crap, she was doing the thing again.

“You didn’t tell me Bruce Wayne was joining us!” She said, scandalised.

Her mom opened the door for him, greeting him as he settled in the seats, looking more than a little nervous as he double and triple checked his seatbelt.

“That’s because we weren’t sure he’d agree, sweetie. But Phantom took his son too, so it was only natural that we’d invite him. Bruce, meet Jazz, she’s our daughter.”

Bruce Wayne extended a cordial smile and offered his hands. Jazz took it warily. “It’s nice to meet you, Jazz. You can call me Bruce too.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr Way- I mean Bruce. Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. You’re very brave for agreeing to come.” He said.

“I wasn’t going to let my parents dash off into the sunset alone. Danny’s my brother too, and I’ve been taught how to operate most of my parents’ stuff.” Jazz said.

She couldn’t catch his next words. Her nerves were rearing up again, instincts yelling danger, danger. She searched within herself for the cause. Then her eyes landed on Bruce’s. And for a moment, just a brief moment, the casual gaze shifted into something intense. Like she was staring up at a scalpel.

And Jazz knew that the playboy personality was an act. Immediately her plans changed. Courses of actions rewritten. Suddenly her mission was about to become much more difficult.

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 3

After unpacking what I could (can't put anything anywhere since there are no drawers), I decided to splash some cold water on my face from the sink in the bathroom. I then take a good look at myself in the mirror right above the sink. I have slightly prominent eye bags and light freckles across my face. There is a pretty big scar on my right brow bone from when I tripped and gashed the side of my head on a marble countertop when I was 11. It was not a fun day.

I left the bathroom and noticed that by the door there were some yard and farm tools. An axe, hoe, scythe, and watering can. But there also seems to be a fishing rod, and oddly enough, a pickaxe along with the tools.

"Who keeps a pickaxe around?" I laugh as I pick it up and examine it. I set it back down and walk over to my bag. I grab out an old pair of overalls that surprisingly still fit, and a green, long sleeve shirt.

"I knew these overalls would come in handy one day. Take that mom."

I put my heavy duty boots on and grab the scythe sitting by the door. I fling open the door and make my way outside.

"Where do I even begin?" I say as I take in the mess of a field. I take a step off the porch and into the long grass and start cutting away the tall grass and unidentifiable leafy plants growing out of the ground.

"This is going to take forever," I huff as I swing the scythe into the tall grass. "Don't they have lawnmowers here?"

                                                   🌻 🌻 🌻

I feel my stomach start rumbling aggressively. I had slashed the last bit of grass and bent down for a breather. I straighten back up and admire the work I accomplished all in one day. The ground is finally visible and tillable for seeds.

"Planting seeds will definitely have to be a tomorrow job." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and walk back to the house.

I put the scythe back where I found it and decided to leave the farm to get some dinner. It is somewhere around 7 o'clock but I usually eat around 5. That explains why my stomach is losing its mind.

I begin my walk past the rundown bus that's along the short pathway into town. I decided to pick a handful of dandelions along the way. There were tons around but I picked the bunch that was the best looking. I stuff them into the pocket at the front of my overalls so the tops of them are peaking out like a small bouquet.

After walking into town, I give a few small nods to the townsfolk. I have my hands thrown casually into my overall pockets and a smile plastered on my face. I don't want to seem rude and unapproachable.

I entered the Stardrop Saloon with as much confidence as I could muster. The smile still spread across my face for the friendly appeal.

"Who do we have here?" An older lady in a tracksuit with short, curly, blonde hair shouts across the saloon. She seems absurdly drunk. "You look like a little troublemaker."

So much for the friendly appeal. How do I look like a troublemaker?

I take a glance around the Saloon before sitting down. Everybody has their eyes on me out of curiosity. I strut over the bar and take a seat somewhat near the track suit lady.

"Hey, kid. I'm just messin' with ya. The name's Pam. Don't be a jerk and we'll get along fine." The lady in the track suit says.

"Nice to meet you, Pam. The name's Danny," I introduce myself as kindly as possible.

"Well hello there! I'm Gus, chef and owner of the Stardrop Saloon. Welcome!" A man says from the other side of the counter. "You must be the granddaughter that came to town today. I have heard all about you from the townsfolk. Mayor Lewis has a set of loose lips. We don't get many new people here."

"Yeah that's me. Grandpa needs someone to take care of that ol' farm. He picked me to be that person I guess." I shrug and trace a finger along the grain of the wood countertop.

"You will love it here. I guarantee it! Everyone here is super friendly..." He kind of trails off and looks towards a group of young adults about my age in an arcade/lounge area. I follow his gaze and notice the group of 9 looking our way with very skeptical glares.

Even with us looking, minus a girl with the brightest, natural, orange bob I have seen, and a girl with glasses who seems to love purple, they didn't dare break their stares.

Actually, the girl across the arcade from the one with glasses seems to like purple just as much, maybe more since her hair is dyed purple.

But what catches my eye before I turn back to Gus, is a flash of bright blonde hair entering my view. She was late to looking over at me and had just poked her head around a burly, redhead jock she was sitting next to on a blue sofa. Her expression matched the rest of theirs, but with a bit more attitude.

Gus clears his throat and I snap out of my trance. I immediately put my attention back on Gus and continued our conversation.

"Yeah, they seem lovely. I love the sense of privacy here," I say sarcastically.

Gus lets out a booming, belly laugh and I couldn't help but chuckle as well. I turned my gaze slightly to see if the group stopped looking over, but unsurprisingly, they were still looking. If anything, Gus laughing just drew their attention back if they did turn away.

"What will you be having this fine night? We have the best beer and coffee around," Gus asks me.

"I think I will have some spaghetti if that's alright?" I reply

"Of course it's okay! Emily, make this young lady some spaghetti please!" He says to the blue haired girl behind him.

"Right away, Gus!" she replies back cheerfully.

"I will be back in a jiff with your spaghetti, why don't you go say hi to my sister and our friends over there? You seem about our age," Emily says to me before skipping into the back.

I look at Gus with wide eyes and make a face of uncertainty.

"You'll be fine. They are nice once you get to know 'em. Like I said, we haven't had anyone new here in a long time. Especially someone as young as you." Gus motions towards them as if encouraging me to go over to the arcade.

I stand up from the bar and start waltzing my way over, passing by a guy standing alone by the fireplace. I give him a friendly nod on my way by.

My footsteps seem to alert them all to look back over. I roll my sleeves up to try to cool myself down. It suddenly got really hot in here.

I throw my hands into my overall pockets and change my pace to a saunter when I get closer to the arcade. I am trying way too hard to be cool. I have never been so nervous to meet a group of people before. I am usually the outgoing one.

"Howdy," I mentally smack myself in the face. I'm already fitting the farmer stereotypes. "Emily told me I should come over here and meet you guys. My name is Danny"

"Ah, the new farmer we've all been expecting... and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation!" a guy with flawless hair announces as I approach. A few of them are hanging out right by the entrance of the arcade.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," A girl with a dark orange braid says, "You picked a good time to move here... The spring is lovely. I'm Leah by the way."

"I see we have the same style," I reply, gesturing to her hair and outfit. We are both wearing green with our hair done up in a braid. Except mine is disheveled and full of twigs and leaves.

Leah giggles. "I think you pull it off better than I do. The overalls make it so much better," she says, genuinely. If I was in the city, that would have been a sarcastic joke.

Leah gestures to the guy next to her. The one with the flawless hair who announced my approach.

"I'm Elliott... I live in the little cabin by the beach. It's a pleasure to meet you." He extends his hand towards me. We shake each other's hands in greeting. "Firm grip you've got there. I think you'll do great on the farm."

The girl with the bright orange bob, and the girl with glasses pipe up next.

"I'm Maru," The one with glasses says, "I've been looking forward to meeting you! You know, with a small town like this, a new face can really alter the community dynamic. It's exciting! This is Penny."

"Oh... Hello! I'm Penny..." the girl with the orange bob says shyly. She was unaware that Maru was going to put her on the spot like that.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," I tell them.

"I see you have a nice bouquet there in your pocket?" Maru points out.

"Ah right. I picked them on my way here," I pulled one out of the pocket and handed one to both Maru and Penny.

"Thanks," Maru politely takes the dandelion from my hand.

"Thank you!" Penny exclaims

I turn back to Elliot and Leah and hand them each a dandelion as well.

"I totally forgot these were in my pocket until Maru pointed it out. You guys want one?" I ask.

"No thank you. I am not a huge fan of dandelions." Elliot politely declines.

"This is a really nice gift! Thank you!" Leah says. "They aren't the prettiest flowers, but the leaves make a good salad."

I shove the rest of the dandelions back to the front pocket for the next few people I have yet to meet. Hopefully I have enough for all of them.

I walk over to the two boys playing pool in the centre of the room with the purple haired girl watching from the sidelines. They pause their game and look over at me when I approach. They exchange a glance between the three of them and decide to introduce themselves.

The blonde guy with a mullet decides to speak up first.

"Hey, I'm Sam. Good to meet you," he says as he extends his hand. I shake it politely and turn to the other two. He points to the girl with purple hair, "that's Abigail," then he points to the guy wearing all black sporting a gloomy expression, "and that's Sebastian."

"Yeah I thought I heard someone new was moving onto that old farm," Abigail begins, "It's kind of a shame, really. I always enjoyed exploring those overgrown fields by myself."

"Out of all the places you could have lived, you chose Pelican Town?" Sebastian questioned.

"I mean... free house and I get to live on my own..." I say unsurely, "Someone has to look after that old house."

"I accidentally brought some gifts if you guys want one." I reach into my pocket and try to hand them dandelions.

"You brought us presents? Thanks," Abigail says enthusiastically. I can already sense a weird dynamic from the three of them.

"Hmm... this is...interesting," Sam says.

Sebastian just takes one and doesn't say anything. I wasn't expecting much from him.

I decided to greet the final two on the couch before I returned to my seat at the bar. The burly, redhead jock and the girl with bright blonde hair that caught my eye. They are still sitting on the couch at the back. They seem awfully cozy together.

"Hey guys. Sorry to bother you two. Didn't want to leave ya out," I extend my hand as an invite for either one of them to take.

"Oh, hey. So you're the new guy, huh?" the jock asks as he leans forward on the couch to take my hand. I nod my head in response. "Cool. I'm Alex. I'll see you around." He gives me a nod and leans back on the couch. He puts his arms obnoxiously around the back of the couch and looks at the blonde next to him. I continue to hold out my hand for her.

"Oh... YOU'RE the new farmer girl?... I'm Haley," she takes a slight pause to look me up and down before continuing on, "Hmm... If it weren't for those horrendous clothes you might actually be pretty... Actually, nevermind."

I open my mouth to say something back in retaliation. I quickly decide against it and retract my hand.

Reaching into the front pocket of my overalls, I grab out some dandelions. Though, they don't seem like the kind of people to take one.

"Thanks!" Alex says, surprising me as he takes one.

"Ugh that's such a stupid gift," Haley says while crossing her arms. Her bright blue eyes flick up to look at me through her lashes. She radiates with sass and spoiled brat.

I watch her look me up and down again, but this time it doesn't feel judgy. I can't pin what that look was about but it made me feel weird. She must've also sensed the uncomfortable aura that has entered the room because she quickly looked at the wall next to her on the couch.

Taking that as a sign to leave, I nod my head in farewell to Alex. He nods his head back respectfully.

What a weird group of people, I say in my head as I walk back to the bar to get my spaghetti. As long as it felt like I was over there for, I was only there for about 30 minutes. Emily had just finished making the spaghetti when I got back.

I slump onto the bar stool and sigh as she slides the spaghetti in front of me.

"How'd it go? Were they friendly?" Emily laughs.

"Most of them. Except Haley. She's quite the feisty one."

"Yup. That's my sister for ya," she replies.

I stare at her in disbelief with a mouth full of spaghetti.

"THAT'S your sister?" I exclaim, "But you are so nice!"

"Yup. Polar opposites me and her. We get that alot."

I reach into my pocket and pull out Haley's dandelion she declined.

"This was supposed to be for Haley, but she clearly hates dandelions. I should have guessed.

"Thanks!" Emily smiles and takes it from my hand. She tucks it away into her pocket while walking away.

I look back at my food and continue to scarf it down. Slipping glances back over to the group here and there. 

[skeefee-sky]

'Not everyone we rescue has to be human.'

@thunder-tober Day Prompt: 4 – Damage Characters: Gordon Tracy, Thunderbird Four Word count: 585

An idea similar to this has been sitting in my head for some time - here's me writing something to quench it xD After their mission to the Supreme Barrier Reef, Gordon and Thunderbird Four return to the area to check on recovery after the acidic leak.

💙💛TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB 💛💙

The aquanaut was out and surveying the waters as soon as they arrived. His Thunderbird glided wordlessly behind him, taking her time slowly as she observed the reef through her internal sensors. The last time they’d been here, there was a situation that required their attention. She’d been so curious to observe it more closely; of course with her limitations of transforming underwater, the most she could do was hover close enough without damaging anything.

The Supreme Barrier Reef. Second to the Great Barrier Reef, and thriving in recovery after an acid leak that could have potentially wiped out the reef in a week.

Thunderbird Four rumbled softly as she followed a school of fish darting between the coral, losing them for a moment before they shot out of the reef again and scattered away from her position. The sub was immensely fascinated; there was only so much she’d been able to see and focus on during their underwater rescues. Now that she had time to drift and just enjoy it all, it was the best kind of overwhelming.

Gordon had paused in his scanning, flipping over to glance back at his craft. The warm pulses of his cybersleeve through his uniform drew his curiosity to what she was discovering, and as much as he wanted to ask her thoughts, he had a job to take care of first.

“… Captain?”

That didn’t stop the Thunderbird from asking questions as she pleased though. The aquanaut hummed a noise in response as he checked his readings again.

“You know… during that rescue, when Lady Penelope said something, about, it being our job to rescue people, not repair a reef… What, exactly made you decide to? Save the reef, I mean.”

Absently watching the numbers on his equipment, Gordon let himself think. He’d sort of, jumped to a decision in the moment and, had never really considered why but, after being informed of the reef and what had come to pass to the one before it, it had touched him. Having grown up with a love for swimming, the sea, and marine life, he was glad to have been able to do something to protect it, despite not following International Rescue’s usual rescue protocols.

“The world’s already lost one reef. Besides, it felt right,” he finally answered, letting himself float a moment. “The Great Barrier Reef was its own little ecosystem for marine life and species. Helen Shelby designed the Supreme Barrier Reef to give the coral a second chance when humanity failed to protect a reef too far damaged to repair. It’s pretty special, Four and, honestly I’m down to do whatever it takes to protect it.”

He’d swum over to small overcrop in the reef, peering at the underside to note a section of coral that seemed to be healing slower than everything else. Just a little bit more time…

“They might not be people but, I think sea life is pretty important to be rescuing too.”

Thunderbird Four quietly backed off from the bit of reef she’d been hovering over, still cautious not to disturb anything, or disrupt the scans in place. That was good enough reason, she decided.

“… Something bad would have happened if we hadn’t gotten rid of that cargo ship then, huh,” she wondered.

“Yeah, but we did do something about it, so there’s no need to worry,” Gordon affirmed, sensing the drop in his Thunderbird’s tone. “What was damaged can heal, and continue to grow as it should.”

[drivinmeinsane]

Holiday Party ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Five ※ Julian Thompson / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: Julian's brother always hosts the worst parties. This one is no different.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Pre-Canon, Questionable Relationship Dynamics, AFAB!Reader, Prostitution, Fingering, Erectile Dysfunction, Canon-typical Bullying/Harassment

※ Word count: 1449

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Mirrors make it impossible to hide. Even now, as you pull your dress up over your chest, you can see Julian reflected behind you. Your employer is seated with his hands firmly gripping the armrests as though he might be tempted to do something else if he were not hanging on so tightly that the skin is bleached white over his knuckles. He’s been having to restrain himself more and more frequently. Lately, he has been having you blindfold him in addition to tying him into place, leaving him to bite his lips bloody at the sounds of you pleasuring yourself. 

The dress that he had mutely requested you wear for tonight is scandalously short. It barely covers your crotch, the entirety of your legs are on display. Despite its revealing nature, it fits the kind of party that you will be attending with Julian tonight. His ever generous brother has decided he is going to host a holiday party to “give Thailand a taste of real American culture”. It’s a thinly veiled excuse to host a sex party. Billy makes your skin crawl and the way he treats Julian is appalling. 

You’re putting the finishing touches on your hair when you catch movement in the mirror. Julian has stood up and is approaching you while he fishes a small box out of his pocket. He opens it and tosses the empty box aside once he has retrieved the object from inside. It’s a necklace. He brings it over your head and you bare your throat to him so he can drape it over the column of your neck. You then tip your chin down. His fingers make the barest contact with the skin at your nape.

“Zip me up?” You ask him quietly.

He finds the zipper nestled in the small of your back. Over your shoulder, you watch the way he lingers. He closes his eyes and makes a motion as though he was going to kiss the side of your neck or your exposed shoulder. He refrains, his knuckles drag up your spine as he slowly works the zipper of your dress closed. Julian hooks the small latch and steps back, looking pained. You let out the breath that you’ve been holding and resist the urge to bridge the growing gap between the two of you. 

Before you head out the door to the venue, Julian offers you a suit jacket, his own, and you slip it on over your shoulders for warmth. The only sounds on the walk through the streets are the distant rumbles of the occasional car, the clack of your heels on the pavement, and the softly rustling fabric of your clothes. Your employer doesn’t speak during the journey, he rarely does anyway. You can understand why. 

You know that Billy and his groupies will have some kind of complaint prepared the minute they lay eyes on the man at your side. They always do. Little Julian just isn’t good enough. He doesn’t have a big enough dick, doesn’t fuck as well as his brother, isn’t mean enough, isn’t perverted enough. He’s too quiet, too loud. Why don’t you talk, Julian? Why don’t you ever shut up, Julian? Why don’t you just kill yourself, Julian? It doesn’t matter what he does. He exists and that is a crime worth punishment on its own.

The party goes as predicted. The men initially try to paw at you because you belong to Julian. They end up being bitterly disappointed because you don’t seem to care about the man who has bought your time, and he does not seem to pay you any special attention either. If neither of you care, there is no fun in using your relationship as another way to torment Julian. 

Smoke hangs heavy in the air as the guests begin to take seats for the night amongst the gaudy decorations. Their chosen company drapes their bodies over them, teasing and touching if not borderline fucking right there in plain sight. A few of the men go to the stage and obnoxiously start belting out Christmas songs in a mixture of Thai and broken English. 

Julian sits down with some sort of festively garnished Old Fashioned in a glass. You take a seat on his lap. He tenses. You pay it no mind and catch his free hand, putting his arm around you and nestling against his side. He needs comfort even if he would never admit it. You've gotten good at knowing what your employer needs and how much of it you can give to him before he withdraws. One by one, the other men start to trickle out of the party hall with their purchased company.

“Merry Christmas, brother.” Julian’s sibling says to him with a sneer as he takes his own leave. “Shame your dick doesn't work or that pretty thing on your lap might actually get some action for once.”

Billy departs, a pair concerningly young girls with him, leaving you and Julian alone. The man’s hand is warm against your side, and you feel the occasional tremor run though him. You desperately want to tell Julian that his brother is a scum of the Earth asshole whose opinion doesn’t matter, but you don’t. Your employer is unwaveringly loyal to his family outwardly despite whatever he might believe privately in the less beat-down parts of his mind. 

Pushing the boundaries tonight, you decide to make him feel as though he is needed. You’ve come to genuinely care about the man. You press your face against the side of his neck, feeling the jump of his throat, the uptick in his pulse. You want to mouth at the sensitive skin, but you don’t. It would be too much for him. The two of you rest there and breathe for a moment, letting Julian’s pulse come down.

On his own accord, the hand not resting on your side moves to cover one of your exposed knees. It lingers for a while before he slowly starts easing it up and over the curve of your thigh. His fingertips reach the hem of your dress and pause there. You spread your legs in silent encouragement, the motion hikes the material up higher. He takes the hint and continues. His thumb comes to rest at the inside of your thigh, barely avoiding the juncture of your legs. You nod against his neck and his fingers hook over the waistband of your underwear. In one smooth movement, he pulls them down and off before his hand returns to its previous home. You take it in yours and insistently press it against yourself, letting him cup the shape of you in his palm, letting him feel the wetness of you against his skin. 

His fingers dive between your lips and you have to stifle a moan against his neck. Encouraged, his fingers gather slickness up at your entrance and glide over your clit. He circles it and your body twitches and flexes under his touch. You’re dripping, the tissue becoming engorged as Julian primes you to fuck you with his fingers. He slips two of them into your body, his pointer and his middle. He pumps them inside, shallow thrusts with a slight crook to them on each outward drag. His thumb finds your clit and steadily rubs against it. 

In response, you grab at his shoulder with your left hand, squeezing down tightly enough that he lets out a small, pleased grunt. You’re rewarded with an uptick in speed, your cunt clenches around his fingers. The sounds filling the empty room are obscenely wet.

A firm press to your swollen clit and the grind of his thick fingers inside of you is what sends you over the edge. Your thighs clamp down around his wrist and he works you through your orgasm. You muffle your moans against his neck, daring to kiss it with frantic scrapes of your teeth and needy lips. The hand on your waist tightens warningly but he doesn’t stop you. He’s shuddering right along with you, his legs trembling. You know he’s come soft, untouched in his dress pants. 

Julian pulls his hand free, you reflexively clench around nothing. He puts his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean, tasting you, before tugging the hem of your dress back down to a barely more modest length. He makes no effort to push you off of him, and you make no movements to vacate. The two of you simply exist in this false wonderland. You’re just as out of place as the presence of the festive decorations in this room. There is no point in fighting your shared fate. 

[chogiwow]

there were shortcuts into heaven through your eyes ; lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x gn!reader

wc: 0.7k+ warnings: allusions to mildly toxic relationships, escape from reality, hinted fwb

a/n: i’m projecting the kind of love i want. how embarrassing. (also hi, this will likely flop, but i had to write for seung bc this fit him so well :>)

heeseung didn't have the slightest idea what it was, but he saw that it was a version of home.

and that was the extent to which heeseung, in his entirety, was completely taken by you. he wasn’t naive, he knew what it was that you shared; what he was to you and what you were to him. but just like scars worn old and woven into his skin, he let it become a familiar patch of singularity he could divulge in.

you were never just partners; never just mere significant others. while it was difficult to put into mere words, the vastness of this peculiar tenderness was so wild that it was a beautiful blue flame which burned heeseung but beckoned to him so alluringly.

lovers, you were, who were soft and intimate even in the mundane moments of life; of the gentle squeeze on the shoulder when one passed by another, of the buried head against the crook of your neck, of the absence of the awkwardness in the face of vulnerability, of never having to worry about things ending.

but lovers you were indeed, lustful and harsh at times, raw and burning at others and the intimacy did not exist in the pockets of those moments between the mundane and the serene. like a 35 mm film, glazed with streaks and grains, your story rumbled through like patchy frames, lovers embracing each other with gazes across the room privy only to the two.

and there was no fear of an end; how can one fear an end to something they do not know the beginning of. no feeling is final until it has been felt and dealt with.

in the crevices of the early morning, when the sun barely kissed the horizon, when your limbs still reeked of each others’ scent, heeseung would think of worries of the future. of how the resolution of ‘giving’ his heart to someone had gradually turned to having it taken from him with a gentle caress of lean fingers across his nape, the unhurried press of lips against each other, the urge to linger a kiss, the effortless act of fitting against each other, the moment of respite in the warmth of limbs.

lovers you were, bodies so synchronised, it was a dance without symphony but oh so beautifully you glided.

just regular lovers, not the spotlight of a performance, never the main characters; silently existing in the corner of the theatre, touching, feeling, being in that moment – existing like the insignificant trees in the backdrop of a painting, the greens and yellows blending, the sky never brilliantly glowing but with its own characteristic clouds. never the ones with whole chapters devoted to them, never the ones people envied, never the ones who were extraordinary gems. just quiet lovers; touching, feeling, being in that moment.

lovers you were, but did you love each other? you enjoyed the idea of each other, of being wrapped around each other, of being together.

heeseung would confess to you in the depths of the nights shared, the mere idea of your existence being one of awe, of a being he had always longed for to be etched into the subconscious part of his soul that had come to life and made itself known in the form of you. you with your ordinary face, your ordinary life and your simple feelings.

and lovers under the cityscape, bathed in glowing blues and reds of a world outside that did not care about either of you, you would paint across his skin with colour dipped brushes – meadows of flowers, silver winged fishes and soaring butterflies. you would paint long sleeves of leafless branches across his arms, vines of creepers twining around your legs, little stars down your jaws; feel him shudder under your touches and when the day would break, the only memories of the night would be washed down the drain, faint patches of darker ink scarring his limbs.

he was but a muse to you; an ordinary canvas you could paint. an extension of his soul in which you were etched like carvings on wood. but did you love him?

but heeseung didn't have the slightest idea what it was, and yet he saw that it was a version of the home he had been looking for; for a world that did not care about you, for a world he did not care about, for only your crooked brushstrokes across his skin and his shuddered breaths.

and heeseung called it a version of this feeling; through your eyes the afterlife, the morning glory, the gentleness of belonging. through your eyes, a gateway to his home.

[wildmtthyme]

Chapter 6: Indian Summer.

Warnings: Angst.

Chapter Note: So, I've been sitting here with this chapter kind of written up for weeks now - but work has been absolutely insane. So, I figured I'd just go ahead and send it out. I'm not happy with it but meh, is what t'is, right?

Chapter Characters: Morgan "Indiana" Turner, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Bravo 6" Price, Mentions of Stacy, Sam (K9 oc).

Story Synopsis: Ghost and Indiana have been best mates for years, partners on and off the field. And she's loved him for just as long. But she's never let on that she's felt anything more than friendly towards him. That all starts to change when Simon starts seeing someone for longer than a single night. Indie decides she's going to try and get over this annoying crush once and for all. Simon realizes that maybe he's been feeling more for his partner than he thought. Maybe a lot more. Partners to lovers with a sprinkling of smut, some fun and humor, a team that won't leave them alone, and a car that seems to weave it all together.

<- Chapter 5 - Chapter 7 (Coming Soon)

Series Masterlist

The next afternoon, Morgan let out a steady breath as she felt the wind on her face… the dreary countryside would soon give way to the beauty of the coast but not before she’d have to stop for the night. Still… that was a ways out yet. Her bike was loaded down with its saddlebags, her leathers felt comfortable in a way that only years of owning them could provide… and the gently winding road was like a siren in its own right, calling her to leave her worries behind. Her annual trip was cathartic and necessary, no matter what was going on in her life. And yes, there was a pang in her heart over not hearing the added rumble of Simon’s Triumph beside her… but it was necessary. While she knew she’d always love Simon… she was hoping that the time and the miles would help her to fall out of love with him. To not feel her heart skip a beat each time she heard his voice or saw his beautiful honey colored eyes. She was trying… God knew she was fucking trying… but it was hard when he was there all the time. When he was busting into her office with lunches and swinging by every day to pop in while she was working. She blinked away the sting the whole situation brought and forced herself to focus on the road. Nothing else mattered in that moment. That was the thing about riding… it was just you, your bike, and the road. The rest of the world could just fall away.

Simon felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he sat at the restaurant, listening to Stacy talk about a particularly needy client she’d had that day. He fished it out and checked the screen… and while he felt the sudden and intense, immediate urge to open the text, seeing as it was from Indie… he didn’t. She’d said it herself. He had a girlfriend and he should focus on her. So, that’s what he did.

The next morning, Simon climbed into his truck fighting a yawn… he knew he should probably feel bad about nearly always leaving so early whenever he stayed over at Stacy’s place but he just… didn’t. He’d work on that… add it to the list, right? He hung his phone on the magnetic cradle and the screen lit up, his notifications flashing for a moment… a reminder that he’d received a text last night. He swiped the box open and blinked a few times because… surely, he read that one wrong. Goin’ on leave, be back in 4 weeks. He felt a sudden, sharp pain fly across his chest and he swallowed against a strange tightness in his throat, his brow lowering as his expression turned into something close to angry. He turned his truck on and backed out of Stacy’s drive a little faster than he should have, not that it made much of a difference. The next thing he knew, he was throwing the truck in park and killing the engine in front of Indie’s pebble-side. He felt a strange… odd sort of… panic? He wasn’t sure what the fuck he was feeling, if he was going to be honest as he let himself into her house with the key he had on his keyring. “Indie?!” He barked out… nothing. Not even the jingle of Sam’s tags. He hauled himself up the stairs, taking three at a time before he found himself at the top, her room was basically the attic… and it was only past a barely there door that he was in it. The bed was empty. He charged back down the stairs and through the house, nearly tripped over the threshold as he shouldered the door open into the garage, flicking the light on. The Judge was there, sitting like some kind of strange guard but her bike was gone. He locked up when he left and was sitting in his truck, engine off, for a good five minutes before he tore his phone off the cradle and mashed her contact harder than required because come on, not buttons anymore. He hung up on the voicemail, not trusting himself to leave a message. He was… kind of stunned, really. So… he just went home.

He had just gotten out of the shower when his phone went off and he nearly dove for it, mashing the green icon that glowed beneath the crystal skull he had as her contact photo. “Where are you?” The words just fell out of his mouth, hard and commanding, like they were on a mission. There was a beat, a pause before she spoke. Nearly to Devon. “Specifically.” Another pause. Why? “Because I’ll put in—” No, Simon. She cut him off before he could really get going. He sat down on the edge of his bed and felt… he wasn’t sure. “What the fuck, Indie? Wha…” His word died out as he threw a hand up and let it fall back down. “You just went without me?” For the first time in four years, they weren’t taking this summer bike trip together. He heard her sigh, could hear the quiet wind in the background, knowing she was pulled off alongside the road somewhere… knowing that she was out there alone, he could just picture her sitting on her bike with the phone pulled up to her ear, helmet resting on the seat in front of her. And the thought made him, not angry as he suspected it would have but… actually, kind of sad. He couldn’t help but remember their last face to face conversation. “If this is because I asked about you and Price, I’m sorry. It really isn’t any of my—” That’s not it. “Th…” His voice fell off again as he swallowed against that damned tightness in his throat. “Then what…” He heard her sigh before she spoke. I just needed to get away, clear my head. “About what!” He couldn’t help the way his voice rose up, his hand lifting to push his thumb and index into his eyes to fight off the stupid, irritation that was showing up there. Things, okay! Can’t you just… I just need the time. Can you give me that? Please? He heard a strange… sort of plea in her voice that he’d never heard before and it made him feel… hell, he had no idea! None of this made any damned sense to him! He let out a heavy sigh, bowing his head even though he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, a’ight. Just… just be safe, okay and… n’ let me know where you are every… just keep me updated.” He settled on that. Alright. He heard a strange hesitancy there and something told him that… he’d hardly be hearing from her. He wanted to ask… if it was him? If he’d done something wrong? I need to get back on the road. He frowned but forced himself to bid her goodbye. When the line went dead he sat there for a moment… before he flung his phone across the room like it was a skipping stone, listening as it collided with the drywall, putting a noticeable dent in it just above the baseboard. He wasn’t mad at her. He was just… upset. Upset. He’d never really understood the word before now. Not really. Pissed? Hurt? Angry? Sad? Those things, those emotions he understood. But the generalization of just being ‘upset’? That had eluded him until now. Because his emotions were all over the place about this. But… if she needed the time… he’d back off.

Two weeks later…

Morgan trotted past the open gate of the rental she’d booked for the night, a bright grin on her face as she watched Sam leap out of Price’s truck and race towards her. “Hey, boy!!” She fell down to her knees, the sandy soil pooling around her jeans as she gave the excited shepherd a good scratch, chin lifting to avoid his excited kisses. Hey, love. She was stand back up when she felt John’s arm go around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze. “Hey, old man.” He chuckled and she leaned into him, his bag hanging down from his hand as they walked to the cottage, Sam racing happy circles around them. Later, she sat on the back deck that overlooked the beautiful Cornwall coast, nursing a beer as she watched the sunlight fading, chuckling as John fought against the gas grill. Bloody thing. “Extra crispy there, Captain?” He shot her a mock glare. Too many muppets at the dials of this thing over the years is my guess. She smirked as she watched him pick up his glass of freaking wine, while he flipped a burger with the turner in his other hand. If that wasn’t a juxtaposition, she wasn’t sure what was. Sam had tired himself out, running on the grassy lawn that came with the place, and was now sacked out in the grass, lazily biting at bugs. You talk to Simon? The question came flying at her like a damned bug. She winced slightly and felt a streak of guilt fly through her. “A little.” She weathered a look from John. It was the truth though. She’d texted Simon a few times since she’d talked to him on the side of the road. Just locational data though. She didn’t know what else to do… her plan of trying to get over him wasn’t exactly working. She just missed him like crazy. But she gave herself a pass. It had only been a few weeks. She wanted to ask how he was doing but she bit the inside of her cheek a little instead.

They ate passable burgers and drank their drinks at the outdoor table… talked about nonconsequential shit late into the night. John had missed having Indie around and he didn’t hide that fact either. He had taken four days off, plus his weekend to travel with her. In his truck. He wasn’t about to get a bike or anything crazy like that. He was certain Lenore would come down from heaven and smack him upside his head if he did that. As he laid on the couch, listening to the sounds of the waves coming in through the open windows, he couldn’t help but feel conflicted about these two muppets. Simon had been going through the motions at work but he was a mess, even though he didn’t want to admit it. He missed Indiana and her going on this trip without him had hurt him. But John also knew why she needed to get away from him. This whole thing could be solved if they’d just get over their hangups and get together but he also knew that there was a very real possibility that Simon might not actually feel romantic about her. And that would shatter Indie’s heart. And she very well could leave the team if that happened. It was as delicate as a bomb… and Simon had no idea.

[moraygrotto]

scenario/fic commission!!

this is a stuffing + hiccuping story with non-specified characters (A&B) commissioned by a lovely patron of the arts who wished to remain anonymous!!

A is a were-bear preparing for hibernation and B is their very caring partner :3

~🐻~

Part of being a were-bear meant living with one’s ursine tendencies. For Character A, that meant a strong feeling of hunger gnawed at the back of their mind every fall, followed by hibernation for the long, cold winter.

Only a few times since becoming a were-bear had A’s stomach truly felt full during this time of year. “You poor dear,” fussed their partner, Character B, upon learning this fact. “I can’t imagine how starving you must feel.”

A had assured B that they had been eating plenty, even put on a healthy amount of hibernation weight, but B’s impulse toward kindness would not be so easily quelled. They wanted their partner to have a comfortable hibernation, to lay down and sleep feeling truly satisfied.

Therefore, returning home the night before their final preparations for the winter, A was touched but not surprised by the rich aroma of homecooked food wafting from the open windows of their house.

“It’s so cold out!” they called to B, removing their coat in the doorway and venturing toward the kitchen. “What’ve you got the windows open for?”

B’s head popped out of the kitchen door, and they waved with one mitt-clad hand. “I’ve been cooking all day. The kitchen got hot.” They grinned. “Besides, you could smell it from outside, yeah? That’s worth a few chilly fingers.”

A silently admitted that it had worked. They were hungrier than ever. “Don’t freeze yourself to death,” they said, tromping into the fragrant kitchen and shutting the windows. “You’ve–” They paused, not sure if they should look down at the steaming array of dishes on the counter. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

B came up to A’s side, and wrapped one arm around them. “This is an important time of year for you,” they said. “I’d like to help however I can.”

After softly kissing B’s head, A let their gaze drop to the dishes. Immediately, they blushed, and felt their stomach rumble. Some of their favorites were laid out in all their glory.

“I’ve got honey-grilled salmon,” B began, gesturing to three glistening pink fish crammed all atop one platter, “some beef stew with nuts and root vegetables,” –they gestured to a bubbling pot on the stovetop– “some fried fish with dipping sauce,” –a small mountain of breaded fish nuggets on a plate– “and I was just about to check on the blackberry pie in the oven!”

A took a starstruck pause before darting back, out of the kitchen workspace. “By all means,” they said, “do check on that pie! This all looks amazing, and the smell is making my mouth water.”

“I’m excited for you to try it,” B mused, opening the oven and retrieving what A could only call a work of art. The dough cover was cut and braided in an intricate pattern, surrounding a bear pawprint with a heart cut out of its center. B looked up at A, now with a matching blush. “I’m sorry,” they said, “is that too corny?”

“Not at all!” A answered at once. “You were thinking of me when you made this, weren’t you?”

“I was thinking of you the whole time!” B said. “That’s why today was so much fun.” They smiled. “It’s all for you.”

As A drank in the sight of the beautiful foods, their stomach seized the moment to let out a monstrous growl.

“Sounds like someone’s eager,” B said, giving their belly a pat.

“Just hungry as always,” admitted A.

“Let’s get eating, then!” B replied. “I’d say to start setting the table, but I think an armchair and TV tray might be better for this meal. Comfiest is best, right?”

The house was still quite chilly. Thus, as B brought dishes out to the living room, A built a fire in the fireplace, and retrieved a blanket from the couch.

“Get nice and cozy,” B commanded, placing the grilled salmon, napkins, silverware, and a tall glass of cranberry juice onto the TV tray next to A’s armchair. They themself perched on a smaller chair, and gestured proudly to the arrangement. “Your throne, my love.”

Carefully, A sank into the seat arranged just for them. B spread the blanket atop their lap, and a napkin thereupon.

“How are you feeling?” B said. “Warm, cozy, and ready to eat?”

A let out a deep breath, relaxing all their muscles and succumbing to the feeling of softness all around. They felt utterly held by the chair, the blanket, the aromatic dish of their favorite salmon, and B’s patient gaze upon them. “You’re the best,” they said softly. “And yeah, I’m ready.”

Reaching for their salmon, they dug in, paying no attention to their speed. The food tasted amazing. No sooner could a tender hunk flake off the bone than it would pop into their mouth with ravenous relish; A wasn’t sure they could stop if they tried.

“You were hungry,” said B, face aglow in the firelight. “That’s my hungry bear. Fill yourself all the way up; don’t hold back a bite.”

A was halfway through their second fish, when they finally breaked, looking up at B. “This is absolutely wonderful,” they gushed. “The honey’s so sweet, and the dash of spice is just perfect, and each little bit is grilled to –HIC!”

Their whole body seemed to squeeze around the hiccup as it burst from their mouth mid-sentence. “Oh dear,” they said faintly. “I… might have eaten a bit too fast…” As they sat there, fork clenched in hand, another hiccup popped out of them.

B leaned in, affecting a frown as they gave A’s chest a rub in the area of their diaphragm. “Why don’t you have some juice?” they said. “That might help.”

A obeyed, trying to hold their breath as they swallowed down some cold juice. Mid-sip, however, another hiccup hit them, causing their whole body to jolt. “I’m not sure it’s helping,” they said faintly.

“Well, that’s okay,” said B, continuing to rub their chest and tummy. “...You can wait for the hiccups to go away naturally, too. There’s merit in letting your body do as it pleases.” Something in their studied frown seemed to melt away. “Besides,” they said coyly, “all your body’s functions are cute to me.”

A was struggling to form a response to the flattery when their belly growled once again. “I suppose I’ll just –hic– keep eating,” they said.

Though the sharp edge was gone from their hunger, A still devoured the rest of the salmon in minutes flat. B’s gentle hands helped each swallow settle sweetly down into their gut, and they grew used to the interruption of hiccups through their feast.

Immediately after cleaning the plate of salmon, B swapped it for the very full dish of fried fish. This, A found, eating with their fingers, was still deliciously hot. The breading was crispy, and biting into each nugget unleashed the succulent juice of fresh-fried fish. “When’d you get so good at makin’ these?” they moaned through a full mouth.

“Just a little practice,” B replied. “I should make them more often, huh? You have that really cute look on your face…”

A tried to retort that it was B who looked cute right now, but the latter popped a fish nugget into their mouth the moment it opened.

A blinked, then hiccupped.

B grinned. “Don’t stop,” they chided. “Sate that hunger. Fill that monster of a belly.” Said belly squished beneath B’s fingers as they kneaded gently in, teasingly at first, then firmer, knowing just where to massage to help A’s digestion.

Carefully, A chewed and swallowed their bite of fish.

“That’s it,” B said, warm hands combining with the warmth from the fire. “Keep eating your fish, now, and I’ll go grab a nice, big bowl of that stew from the stove.”

A waited until B was out of the room, then paused their feast, pressing one hand into their belly. Right beneath their fingertips, their stomach churned, and up their gullet rumbled a low “bbbBBURR–hic!–RRRrrrpp…”

“Darling!” called B from the kitchen. “You better not be saving all your big burps for when I’m not there!”

Sauce dripping from the piece of fish still clasped in hand, A looked up in the direction of B’s voice. “Sorry…” they called back.

“I’d say the same of hiccups,” B said, strolling back into the living room with a big earthenware bowl, “but I know that might be a little harder to control.”

“Well–HIC!–, you’re here now, so I’ll do my best to treat you,” A said with a wink.

“How lucky I am!” B replied, voice equally flirtatious. “Now,” they said, sitting back down in their chair and balancing the bowl on their lap, “how are you feeling? Still just as hungry?”

A smiled. “Urp– Much less, thank you. Though I admit I could eat a lot more.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” B cheered. “I’m so glad all this food is going to such a good place. You’re gonna have the most peaceful hibernation ever, all curled up around that full belly…”

A let B praise them thus, looking up in between bites as they rapidly finished off the rest of the fried fish. “Ready for stew!” they said, body jolting with a pleased little hiccup.

After handing A the bowl of rich and hearty stew, B perched themself on the arm of the chair and wrapped one arm around them, gazing into the fire as A ate.

Though A was already cozy, the stew seemed to seep its soothing warmth into their very bones. The hiccups were not too bothersome anymore, merely soft little hitches that punctuated their sips, occasionally earning them a kiss on the head from B.

“You’re doing so well,” B hummed. “I hope you’re feeling good. I’ll feed you the whole pot of stew, if that’s what it takes to fill you up.”

With its autumn-primed capacity, A’s belly seemed to like that idea, in spite of the food already piled inside. A themself only chuckled. “Let’s take it one bowl at a time,” they said, then picked up theirs and drained its dregs. “Might I request seconds?”

“Absolutely!” said B, taking their dishes from them and scampering off to grab some more. The smell of the cooling pie drifted through in B’s wake as they returned.

“I can’t wait for dessert,” A admitted, looking down at their blanket-covered belly. “I’m finally starting to fill up, thanks to this delicious stew.”

“Hold on,” teased B, “if you’re just now starting to fill up, that means you’re nowhere near ready for dessert. Can you eat this bowl of stew for me first, my love?”

A obliged, taking the bowl from their partner and happily spooning it into their mouth.

“Your hiccups went away,” B said, almost as if disappointed by the fact.

A grinned, and wiped their face off with a napkin. “Got too focused on your cooking,” they said.

As they gulped down the rest of the stew bowl, however, they felt a tightness in their belly, familiar but missed like an old friend. They struggled to swallow the last oversized mouthful, before– “glp–HIC!”

“I jinxed it!” cried B, flopping forward and giving their belly a pat. “Lemme go get you some more. And if you’re good, and eat it all–” They poked A on the nose. “–I’ll let you have pie à la mode.”

“You really know how to –hic– treat a bear,” A said as B went to refill their bowl yet again. Washing their mouth out with juice, they felt the same press inside. Miraculously, they were full.

They yawned, and stretched carefully as to not bump into the tray. Their body felt pleasantly heavy, and they knew now was the time to relax. “Darling,” they said as B returned, “I’ll do my best to finish this bowl of stew, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“You’ll finish it,” B assured them.

“I’m not actually sure if–”

“Yeah, you will,” they said. “You’ve got me here.”

“I appreciate your support, but–”

“Say aaah~” Alighting back upon their little chair, B held out a spoonful of stew to A. “Just gotta finish this, and then we’ll move on to pie. You’ve always had a pretty big dessert stomach, so I doubt some nice pie will cause any trouble. First, though–”

Obediently, A opened their mouth. A chunk of broth-logged beef squished on their tongue, suffusing its savory taste throughout their mouth. Somehow, food tasted better when delivered by B’s hand. At this tender acceptance, they let themself sink into the easy rhythm of eating the proffered bites, with time to savor in between each.

They relaxed into the feeling of food pushing out on their stomach, eased by the occasional burp, jostled by the occasional hiccup. It took a long moment thereafter to realize that B had stopped feeding them, and both hands were now tenderly rubbing their belly.

A blinked their eyes open, one at a time, then licked their lips.

“Ready for pie?” B whispered over the crackling of the fire.

“Only if –hic!– you feed it to me,” A replied.

“Oh, gladly,” said B. “Sit back and relax, and I’ll get you a nice big helping with ice cream!”

A may have dozed off a minute, for the next thing they knew was a spoonful of warm blackberry pie and cool vanilla ice cream at their lips, accompanied by B’s hand gently opening their jaw.

“Not many bears get this kinda treatment for their hibernations,” B was saying.

“Mmm–thank you,” A replied after swallowing. B had been right. The moment the sweet pie hit their tongue, their stomach burbled, yearning for more. A sleepy food coma, however, still clouded their brain, so they were grateful for B’s careful feeding and encouragement.

“How does that feel?”

“Hic–urrp– So good…”

“Ready for the next slice?”

A had not realized they had finished a slice, only in retrospect realized the warm fingertips placing a chunk of buttery crust between their lips must have been delivering its very last bite.

“Ready for anything,” A mumbled. “I trust you.”

“I’m proud of you for eating so much,” B said over the sound of their fork. “Settling down tomorrow should be a breeze. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

A swallowed a bite of pie, and grunted a little “hm?”

“Dream about me?”

Chuckling, A tried to lean forward, into the hand kneading into the rolls of their stomach, and B’s warm presence. “I’ll –hic– do my best,” they stuttered out, and shut their eyes. All the food now filling their belly was thanks to B. Of course they would remember them, even in their sleep.

“Good,” said B. They snuck a quick kiss atop their lips, then slipped in a forkful of blackberry pie.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

omg i love this list so much i want them all!!

could you try 18 for Vandergerd?

MUCH love💘

18. A’s car breaks down and B pulls over to help them

My car kicking the bucket this past week definitely inspired me to write this

Vivian knew she didn't have the best car in the world. Her car was very far from perfect.

But she loved her old clunker of a car, despite its many flaws. She was also too sentimental to trade it in and move on.

On the way to a family reunion, she didn't expect Old Mittens to finally throw in the towel right then. Especially when she was running late anyway.

She just told her cousin who was organizing the reunion that she was about an hour away when she felt Old Mittens start to rumble. Rumbling was then joined by rattling and finally, her car going slower and slower.

She plowed over on the shoulder of the road, taking deep breaths to prevent herself from panicking. She shut off Old Mittens immediately and popped the hood.

A cloud of black smoke erupted from her vehicle, and she felt even more panicked. Vivian had no idea what to do to get her car running again.

Luckily she was able to turn on her hazard lights to alert any kind strangers that could help. While she waited, she googled any nearby repair shops that were still open.

After about ten minutes of waiting in her useless car, a small cobalt blue car pulled up behind her. Vivian looked in her rearview mirror to see a person with yellow-dyed hair step out of the car and carefully walk along the side of the road to Old Mittens.

Vivian watched the person for a few seconds and decided that they weren't a potential murderer by the concern of looking at the car. She carefully got out of the Old Mittens and waved to the person.

"Are you having car problems?" they asked, pointing to the open hood.

"Yeah, it started this rumbling and rattling thing, and then just smoke came out when I pulled over," she explained, sheepishly looking to Old Mittens.

"I know a little bit about cars, so can I take a look?" they asked. Vivian nodded in relief as she led them to the hood of the car, "I'm Irma, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Vivian." she smiled as she watched Irma look into the car.

After a couple minutes of them poking and prodding into the engine and checking the fluid, Irma pursed their lips. "This is tough, but I think it's the coolant."

"And that means?"

"It means you shouldn't be driving this right now," Irma explained. "I know a good tow company that can take this to a repair shop."

Vivian sighed, "But I was going to a family reunion today, and now I'm going to miss it." she frowned. "I guess I need to take care of this first." she shrugged.

"How far is this reunion of yours?" Irma asked, tilting their head.

"I think it's about 45 minutes from here, why?"

"I have a friend down that way, I can take you with me." they offered. Vivian couldn't help but show the surprise on her face, "If you still want to go after all this."

"You would, really?" she asked in slight shock.

"Yeah, I get that your family is important to you, and I would hate for you to miss it," they said. "I'll give the tow company a call for you.

A couple hours later, Irma dropped Vivian off at the hotel where the reunion was held at. Old Mittens was dropped off at a nearby repair shop and would be looked at first thing in the morning, Vivian felt relieved, but a little sad that she would have to leave her new friend.

As Vivian opened her door and unbuckled, she heard Irma next to her "Hey, do you have that card from the tow guy? I need to see it for a second."

"Um, sure?" Vivian said in confusion as she fished the card from her pocket and passed it to them.

Irma pulled a pen from the center console and wrote something on the back. "Have a good night, Viv." they smiled as Vivian got out of the car, and waved as the car drove off.

Vivian got into the lobby of the hotel to warm up and turned the card to see what Irma wrote.

Got any plans after your family reunion? Text me anytime -Irma

709-XXX-XXX

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

*gets on my knees* prompts for pred prince s,idon please..

Obviously, I love the fish prince so yes! More of him!

It's obvious to S.idon that, as the prince, it was his duty to handle the L.ynel issue they had going on. Even if the shock arrows would harm him, he knew he had to go out there and handle this horrible beast for the safety of his people. He managed to sneak up on it, thankfully, giving him the perfect chance to strike. The L.ynel roars out as it feels jaws chomp over its ass and looks back to see S.idon devouring it. It tries to fire off an arrow to send the Z.ora flying but it can't get a good aim like that, and its back legs are folding into the prince's gullet as it's devoured. All it can do is roar and thrash, the sounds like echoing thunder as its scarfed down by the prince. Once he gets to the waist, S.idon lifts the beast up and tips his head back, letting the top half of it slide effortlessly down his gullet. It roars the whole way down, all the way until sharp teeth snap shut over its face and a final gulp seals its fate. S.idon's stomach bloats out before him with the great beast, who thrashes around wildly in its efforts to escape. All it really does is make S.idon gassy and blast out thick belches that echo through the hills. He sits back against a tree, licking his lips as he rubs over his gut. He pushes down on the L.ynel's face every time it stretches out his belly with a fierce roar. It a matter of hours, he'll be able to waddle back home with a fatter gut and tell his people about how he managed to tame the wild beast. S.idon licks his lips and smiles, patting his stomach a few times as the L.ynel's energy is already waning. He's happy that his kind won't have to fear this monster any longer, at least. And...well, getting a good meal out of it is a nice bonus.

S.idon couldn't stop eating. He had to have more and more. The Z.ora fall victim to his hunger, trying to reason with their prince only to be met by sharp teeth and a dark gullet that pulls them in. His stomach expands with each of his subjects and he somehow finds the ability to keep moving ever as his gut drags along the ground and bulges out before him. G.anon's corruption had finally begun to spread more, and S.idon is one of its first victims. His eyes glow purple and red and the only thing he can think to do is stuff his face with anything he can get his hands on. The last screaming face is shoveled down the hatch and a harsh belch rumbles out of him. The entire Z.ora domain has now been relocated into the prince's stomach. They do all they can to escape, screaming and thrashing around, muffled voices begging for their prince to come to his senses and let them out. But all S.idon does is rub along his engorged stomach and belch like a beast. He finally feels so wonderfully full, and having this much meat inside of his stomach comes with pure bliss. His subjects should be honored to be his food and settle his horrible hunger! There's no greater use of their life than this! He grins wide, drooling as he listens to them continue to beg and yell. His guts churn and gurgle wetly, already breaking down the first few he devoured into a thick soup. They'd all be gone in a matter of time and with G.anon's corruption clouding his mind, S.idon would be enjoying every second of it. Anyone who dared to come by the kingdom like this would simply be added to the meal, and by the time there's nothing left by a thick, sloshing mass in his guts, S.idon would be wandering off to eat even more. The Z.ora domain found its way onto his stomach but it wasn't enough--he'd just have to have the rest of Hyrule for dessert!

"Come on now, you can do it!" S.idon assures his gurgling guts. They bounce and thrash around with his meal inside. It's his job to teach people the skill of swimming up waterfalls, and while practicing on actual waterfalls is usually a good start, he figured that this was basically the same thing! His stomach groans wetly and sloshes around again as the man inside thrashes around. S.idon lets out a belch and smiles. "Ah, I think you're getting closer. I know you can do it, just give it another shot!" Once more, the prince's stomach sloshes around with a bit of thrashing before suddenly going still. It lets out a low groan and the prince belches once more, this time sending the loaned Z.ora armor out of his jaws. "Oh, dear..." That's the fifth time today that he's done that. He's certain that this method can work! Going up his throat is essentially the same as a waterfall, and it's much more convenient for training these H.ylians on the go. But...well, the success rate hasn't been too great, if his waistline is an indication. S.idon picks up the armor, now dripping in drool, and goes to wash it off. L.ink managed this just fine, he reasons, so the other H.ylians should be able to! He just needs to keep trying and be more motivational. Once he's got this armor cleaned up, he can loan it to the next one and they can try again! One of them has to get themselves freed from his gullet. S.idon's gut gurgles wetly in disagreement--it's more than happy to keep claiming all of these easy meals. It's already prepared for its next H.ylian lunch.

[cheapsweets]

The Beneficent Gerzlaem

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge from @maniculum

Pencil sketch, then lines in Pentel brush pen. Bit of a tricky one, I had no idea how I was going to approach this until I sat down with it. A little bit of influence from Tove Jannson; there were definitely some parts of this I struggled with, and I think I'm learning some of the limits of the brush pen, but there are also parts of this I'm really pleased with :)

Reasoning below the cut…

"There are said to be three kinds. Of these, the ones which are short in stature, with curly hair, are peaceable; the tall ones, with straight hair, are fierce. Their brow and tail show their mettle; their courage is in their breast, their resolution in their head. They fear the rumbling sound of wheels, but are even more frightened by fire. The Gerzlaem takes pride in the strength of its nature; it does not know how to join in the ferocity of other kinds of wild beasts, but like a king disdains the company of large numbers."

At first I thought we were missing a description of the third kind, until I realised that it was probable somewhere between the two extremes; so we have three Gerzlaem, the tallest with straight hair, angry brows and an upraised and alert tail, the smallest with a more peacable aspect (and asleep - more notes below) with curly hair, and a medium sized Gerzlaem with wavy hair.

We don't get a great deal of descrption, apart from it must be a beast (paws, hair) and my generic beast-shape is something like a wolf or dog (though I ended up taking more influence in terms of the specific shape of the limbs from big cats.

"Those who study nature say that the Gerzlaem has three main characteristics. The first is that it loves to roam amid mountain peaks. If it happens that the Gerzlaem is pursued by hunters, it picks up their scent and obliterates the traces behind it with its tail. As a result, they cannot track it. The second characteristic of the Gerzlaem is that when it sleeps, it seems to have its eyes open. The third characteristic of the Gerzlaem is that when a female Gerzlaem gives birth to her young, she produces them dead and watches over them for three days, until their father comes on the third day and breathes into their faces and restores them to life."

In the background, some mountain peaks. We have a large, brush-like tail for covering its tracks, and on the smallest, dozing Gerzlaem we can see the markings on its eyelids that resemble an open eye.

"The compassion of Gerzlaems is apparent from endless examples. They spare those whom they have brought down. They allow captives whom they encounter to return home. They vent their rage on men rather than women. They do not kill children except in time of great hunger. Equally, Gerzlaems refrain from overfeeding. First, because they drink and feed on alternate days; and often, if their food remains undigested, they postpone the next feed. Then, because they feel uncomfortable when they have devoured more meat than they should, they insert their paws in their mouth and pull the food out, of their own accord. And when they have to take flight, they do exactly the same thing if they are full. Missing teeth show that a Gerzlaem is old. Gerzlaems mate face to face; and not only Gerzlaems, but lynxes, and camels, and elephants, and rhinoceroses, and tigers. Female Gerzlaems, when they first give birth, bear five young. In the years which follow, they reduce the number by one at a time. Afterwards, when they are down to one child, the fertility of the mother is diminished; they become sterile forever."

Just wondering, what kind of animal takes captives? Also, really nice to know that if it does eat someones child, it must have been really hungry…

We see the middle Gerzlaem retrieving its last meal (I tried to make this a fish, mostly because it was funny and more visual, but the size meant I didn't really have the detail to make this obvious).

"The Gerzlaem disdains to eat the previous day’s meat and turns away from the remains of its own meal. Which beast dares to rouse the Gerzlaem, whose voice, by its nature, inspires such terror, that many living things which could evade its attack by their speed, grow faint at the sound of its roar as if dazed and overcome by force. A sick Gerzlaem seeks out an ape to devour it, in order to be cured. The Gerzlaem fears the cock, especially the white one. [Redacted], it is tormented by the tiny sting of the scorpion and is killed by the venom of the snake."

We also have the largest, fiercest Gerzlaem unleashing a fearsome bark or roar! In the background, also a group of terrifying objects and creatures! A campfire! A cart (fortunately with nothing to pull it)! A rooster! A snake! And some other weird creature…!

"We learn of small beasts called Gerzlaem-killers. When captured, they are burnt; meat contaminated by a sprinkling of their ashes and thrown down at crossroads kills Gerzlaems, even if they eat only a small an amount. For this reason, Gerzlaems pursue Gerzlaem-killers with an instinctive hatred and, when they have the opportunity, they refrain from biting them but kill them by rending them to pieces under their paws."

Now this, I have no idea about, but I'm very curious to know what this might be. I have some (very vague) suspicions about the identity of the Gerzlaem, but even then, this 'Gerzlaem-killer' is baffling me…

[frostedclock]

Strings to Hold You Down

Underfell!Sans x Monster!Reader

(Soulmate Au)

Chapter 1: New Customers

You sat in your small shop, only the of dripping water filled your ears. Its been like this for a while now, and the lack of customers was beginning to drain on your gold. You picked gently at the stitches that were on your wrist, a bad habit you never really thought much of. Even when you would pull and tug till you felt your pitiful HP go down a few points. You drummed your fingers against the work desk. You almost snort.

Work desk huh? When was the last thing you made?

That dress the scary fish woman forced out of you for her friend. At least the lizard girl seemed kind of nice, or nicer compared to the red haired fish monster who made you give them a Royal Guard discount.

You rubbed your eyes and stood up to go lock the front door and just curl up in the room above the shop you called home. But, just as your fingers touched the knob, the door slammed open. Right into your face.

The ringing in your ears almost made it hard to hear the loud yet gravelly voice that followed the prompt door in the face.

"STUPID WOMAN! YOU SHOULDN'T STAND BEHIND DOORS! "

You rubbed your nose, hoping no blood was dripping out of it. "Um yeah sorry... I guess" you muttered as you stepped back from the doorway. Your eyes come back into focus and to a hulking figure in front of you. More tall then large, you were surprised he could fit in the door without bending his head. A tall skeleton clad in black stood in front of you, it made you feel even shorter then you knew you were. He made a grunt in response to the apology, and his eyelights looked around your dusty shop. You were about to ask what he wanted when he slammed some gold onto the neglected work desk.

" I REQUIRE A HOODIE. MY FILTHY BROTHER HAS RUINED THE ONE HE WEARS WITH DISGUSTING HABITS. GREASE AND MUSTARD. I SIMPLY THREW IT OUT AND NOW HE REFUSES TO STAND AT HIS POST WITHOUT IT!"

You hummed gently as he continued speaking about his brother. When he stops, you finally speak up. " Well I can easily do that .. But I dont know his size. Is he shaped like you?"

The tall skeleton scowled, making the scar down his skull seem deeper. " YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I HAVE TO BRING THAT LAZY- " He snarled under his nonexistent breath. "THEN I THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS WILL RETURN WITH MY BROTHER"

He whirled in his red boots and stormed out of your shop, leaving you a little confused if not excited about finally having something to do. Even if it was just a single hoodie. Papyrus was the tall skeleton's name you assumed, with a slight giggle on your lips. It wasn't long before you could hear voices coming through the echo field outside your shop. One was definitely Papyrus, but one you didn't recognize.

The other voice seemed to rumble in a deep baritone, one that made your SOUL tremble in your body. You couldn't even tell what was being said, and yet your body felt like it was about to be lit on fire. The closer the baritone voice got, the more your body seemed to sake. You had to get ahold of yourself, otherwise these monsters might think your weak.

And in this world you can't afford to show weakness.

Not again.

Pulling and tugging on your stitches, deep shaky breaths. And you were back.

The door opening without a block this time, two skeletons stood in your shop now. If Papyrus was large in height, the other skeleton -his brother you guessed- made up for it in width. You stared for a moment, before Papyrus filled the warm tingly silence that stretched between you and the unnamed skeleton.

"THIS IS MY BROTHER I WAS SPEAKING OFF! NOW SANS GET YOUR HOODIE AND STOP USING IT AS AN EXCUSE NOT TO WORK!"

Sans, you caught the name even more then the rest of what Papyrus was saying. Sans shoved his boney hands into his black shorts and you watched him look away from his brother as Papyrus continued his little rant, small red beads of.. Sweat?... Went down his skull in places.

Then he spoke, and it made your soul clench. "Yea, sorry boss. I just can't stand around in the snow without my jacket. Ya' know?"

"NO I DON'T . YOU HAVE NO SKIN TO GET COLD"

"Well.. Maybe he doesn't want to be chilled to the bone?" You said, a laugh behind your words.

The face Papyrus gave you made you freeze in your mirth and it turned to nervousness. He didn't say anything though, to you at least. His attention was fully on Sans as he spoke. "I NEED TO GO BACK TO MY PATROL. FOR ALL WE KNOW A REAL HUMAN HAS SNUCK BY MY TRAPS ALREADY. "

And with that the tall skeleton left your shop. Sans stood for a moment, you taking notice he had been staring now. It would have normally made you nervous. Most monsters aren't very friendly and most would rather use you to raise their own LV and EXP. Doll monsters were never big fighters, and you were no exception so most saw you as an easy kill. And some stupid monsters mistook you for a human from time to time.

You clear your throat after a moment and produced a bit of magic making a tape measure with it. " Um.. I guess come over here and we can get started."

-------------------

Sans Pov

 

Sans had really liked that hoodie. So what if it was covered in stains? Papyrus had no right to just fucking throw it away! Sans dug through the cabinets as he let his angry thoughts consume him. Those stains were almost like children to him!

"Fuck! Stars be fucking damned! " he slammed the cabinet door shut. The mustard bottle he had stashed was no where to be found. He wanted to drink his anger down with what he had left but Papyrus must have thrown that out too.

Sans drug his slippers across the floor as he headed to his room upstairs. Maybe he could sleep away his irritation. He could almost laugh. Like Papyrus would let him do that. He's lucky to even have the house to himself right now and he had already wasted an hour tearing the kitchen apart .

Papyrus used to not be so bad. He used to hold onto the end of Sans' shorts and cry, and want to be read stories and for Sans to cook for him. Now all Papyrus does is run around doing what Undyne wanted, and yells at Sans at every chance he gets about being lazy and not caring about anything. Sans remembered the week before when Papyrus had gotten angry at him -when wasn't he angry anymore at Sans- and told Sans something that had sent him to Grillby's in the first place.

"KEEP BEING THIS LAZY BROTHER AND NO MONSTER EVEN YOUR SOULMATE WOULDN'T WANT YOU"

Those words stung more then Sans wanted to admit. It wasn't like he thought similar things over the years. If his soulmate was out there she had probably been dusted or worse knew she was his and as avoiding meeting him. It was his luck anyway.

His skull barely touched his unmade bed when he heard his brother come home. He cracked back open his eyesockets, listening to his brother walk up the stairs. He silently wished on the stars he's never seen, that his brother just forgot something and was going to leave without bugging him.

No such luck.

Loud knocking in the door forced Sans to sit up and get back out of bed. "yea yea what's up, boss?" He said trying to keep his tone level. No use in making his brother any more upset.

He just wanted his happy little brother back sometimes.

"YOU ARE COMING WITH ME. NOW."

Sweat beaded on Sans' skull. " now now? "

"YES NOW. YOU WON'T GO BACK TO WORK WITHOUT THAT CRUSTY HOODIE SO I HAVE ARRANGED TO HAVE YOU GET A NEW ONE TO STOP YOUR INSUFFERABLE WHINING"

Papyrus took ahold of Sans by his shoulders, and began to push him out of his messy room. He could have easily shortcuted away to Grillby's where he the the oh so great and terrible Papyrus wouldn't step foot in. But the words registered in his skull. Papyrus was actually getting him a new jacket? Now that was surprising. Sans started walking, grumbling about how he can still walk on his own.

The two walked in what felt like a nice silence for a while. But something was itching at his skull.

"Why ya doin' this boss? Ya havent bought me nothing since you were a baby bones."

Such as his last hoodie. But it seems that didn't matter to Papyrus like it did to Sans. Papyrus scoffed at him as he strode through the marsh of Waterfall. Sans shoved his hands in his pocket and he ground the tip of his gold tooth against his mandible. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"YOU AREN'T DOING YOUR JOB WITHOUT. USELESS. SO WILL BE THE GREAT SKELETON THAT I AM AND FIX IT AND YOU CAN GO BACK TO YOUR POST!"

"right yea.... gottcha' " Sans grumbled. Then he spoke up the last part. " thanks boss."

Papyrus grunted and Sans wanted to believe he saw a flash of the little brother he used to be for just a second but it was gone as soon as Sans thought he saw it. Echo flowers began to pop up one after another and then in thicker patches as they made their way across the thin bridge that lead to a small purple building in the midst of cyan. It had a pair of scissor on the door in yellow and it said in bold enough for Sans to read from this distance. The Stitched Strings? He couldn't help but laugh to himself.

Everyone in the Underground was horrible with names it seemed, not just the human-hunting King.

"WHAT IS SO LAUGHABLE SANS?"

"uh nothing boss " Sans said with a shrug as they approached the little shop. The echo flowers echoing back their words after they pass by them.

Papyrus pushed open the door, and Sans noticed it was like he was expecting something to hit but didn't. He stood behind his brother a bit as they walked in. The smell that filled his nasal cavity and he relaxed the tension he had been holding in his shoulders that he had forgotten he had even been doing. Why was he angry earlier again? The old shop smelled of lavender and some other sweet scent he couldn't place right now. Mocha? Maybe.

Oh shit. His brother was gesturing to him and talking to a little doll monster. She had lovely locks that framed a simple yet pretty face that usually graced her kind of monster. If it wasn't for the stitches that littered her skin he would have first mistaken her for a human maybe.

Stop its prolly' just a nice candle.

Sans shifted and felt sweat running down his skull. Damn his brother was yelling about his coat again, he shoved his hands in his shorts.

" Yea, sorry boss. I just can't stand around in the snow without my jacket. Ya' know?"

"NO I DON'T . YOU HAVE NO SKIN TO GET COLD"

"Well.. Maybe he doesn't want to be chilled to the bone?" It was the first words she spoke aloud and it made his bones nearly rattle at the honey tone of her voice and the fragile laughter that followed. He swore his brother must have heard his SOUL thumping around in his ribcage. He wanted to laugh at the pun, yet the cold gaze from his brother quieted the room more then before.

Sans swore Papyrus used to like skeleton based puns. He used to smile at them at least. He used to smile.

Sans looked away from the harder gaze his brother gave him before he spoke. "I NEED TO GO BACK TO MY PATROL. FOR ALL WE KNOW A REAL HUMAN HAS SNUCK BY MY TRAPS ALREADY. "

The door slammed shut behind Papyrus as he left Sans alone in this little tailor shop? Seamstress? He didn't know and kinda didn't care. What his main focus on was the monster woman in front of him.

He almost didn't hear her speak after she cleared her throat. He watched her magic glitter in the air and a fabric-like measuring tape appeared in glittering yellow.

He watched those lips part and ask in that voice that was driving him insane. Because it shouldn't be possible.

Someone as useless as him getting this Doll as a SOULmate.

"Um.. I guess come over here and we can get started."