#my person now says he likes me pudgy and soft and that i look good

[the-smallest-gremlin]

i’ve lost almost 5 pounds this month.

i can’t wait to just fucking dive head first into my eating disorder again. i’m kind of already doing it. the anxiety about food is starting to come back. i’m with someone now that wants to eat healthy. that isn’t obese and unfit with health complications due to it.

this might be really bad…

[wormsin]

new shapes AND dvd bonus for twice gold, wolf heart!!

✰ NEW SHAPES: send me a fic and I’ll give you an alternate direction the fic could have gone!

this is easy! the first draft of the fic was pretty different. Russia gave Sid a wolf as a gift for winning gold in Sochi, which he was not prepared for and basically could not refuse. a handler brought Geno over from Russia and they met in Sid's foyer. Sid was like "I'll try my best but this is really inconvenient for my routine" and left Geno alone at home a lot. Geno gets under-stimulated, depressed. then there's a whumpy plot that I won't spill because I might use it later :)))

this version was kind of dragging its feet and I also realized that Sid would be SO into wolves, he would know everything he could about him, he would be PREPARED (as much as he could be). the arc ended up being pretty similar. they learn to trust each other in a tough situation :)

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

bonus scene I had to cut:

Last year during bye week, Sid took a trip on his own to Yellowstone to see the wolves. He saw plenty of other incredible animals too—a bear, moose and bison—but the wolves had a special appeal for him. There was one feral werewolf pack in the Nova Scotia area and Sid grew up hearing stories about them. Even though he knew now that the stories were mostly local folklore, they were still part of his childhood and home, as much as the sounds of boats in the harbor.

In Yellowstone he met with one of the wolf naturalists, a soft spoken old man with the most pronounced jowls of anyone he'd ever met. Sid learned all about the wolf reintroduction program, and every morning Richard would bring him to a new spot to watch the wolves as they wandered around the park. Fewer tourists came to this side, so it was often just the two of them on a road or trail, traveling through the snowy quiet.

Each wolf was known by a number, and Richard had stories to tell about each of them—their personalities, histories, and the drama that unfolded within and without the pack. They never got close, of course, but Sid saw plenty through his binoculars. 

Most of the wolves were just that, but there was one werewolf pack, and Sid caught a glimpse of an older female in human form, pelt over her shoulders and spear in her hand.

Wolves and werewolves alike were majestic creatures, and it was so wonderful to listen to an expert talk about them. He honestly felt changed after that trip, and more appreciative of the natural world. It was the perfect vacation.

"Wow, buddy," Sid says. "Really?"

When he gets back home from the game, he find Geno sprawled in wolf form on the couch with his muzzle practically inside a bag of corn puff chips. Most of the chips made it inside his belly but there are plenty of crumbs on the couch and carpet. 

Geno wakes up with a start, lets out a big sneeze, and then stares at Sid with huge gold eyes. He doesn't look guilty, more betrayed, though Sid isn't sure how well he can read wolf expressions. "You made a mess," Sid says sternly, pointing at the bag. "And it's not good to eat all of those at once, that's a sometimes snack."

He isn't sure if Geno understands any of it, but Sid points to the bag, frowning, and then very pointedly cleans up the mess with the hand vacuum. Geno watches, head ducked.

"We're you hungry? I thought I left you enough food." He goes to the kitchen to check and—yup, Geno's bowl still has food in it, and the premade, high protein wolf lunch is untouched in the fridge. 

Sid sighs. "I don't want you just eating junk food, Geno."

Geno bumps his head against Sid's hip, which might be an apology. Maybe. Sid rubs his ears and Geno wags his tail, nuzzling Sid more. "You're going to get all pudgy, huh?"

[lemonlamblaura]

My Husband is the God of Pestilence - chapter 12

There's a few dark themes in this chapter, including violence and attempted kidnapping, so be careful. Carcharias is setting up his plan.

A few days passed after Kallamar and Lilybell shared their first kiss. They remained mostly secluded together, exploring each other and wanting privacy from prying eyes. A few followers accused Kallamar of neglecting his responsibilities, but Trenaty and the other supervisors were quick to remind them that even gods required personal care and affection.

The two were tangled up in each other on Lilybell's bed, nearly falling off because it was so small, but they made it work, mostly by laying on top of each other. Kallamar rarely stayed at full size when they were alone now, not seeing the point and wanting to be closer to her. It was easier to kiss her when they were the same height anyway.

Kallamar stroked her bare back, feeling the wool between his fingers as they kissed deeply. Nudity was no longer a trouble between them, as they found themselves more than likely naked when alone. He loved the way his fingers got tangled in her thick hair, the way she squeaked when he touched her in just the right place. She loved his soft, stretchy skin and pudgy body, how she could grab handfuls of him and not have him be hurt.

Her long tail thrashed excitedly under the covers as their lips separated and he leaned down to gently bite her neck. Even with her wool in the way, he was always careful not to bite too hard and stain the delicate white with red. She took the opportunity to nibble his ear, moaning softly, and a bolt of arousal shot through him. Even after so much time together they could still find new ways to stimulate each other.

There was a sudden knock on the door. "Lord Kallamar, are you in there?"

The two were quiet, Kallamar holding a finger up to his mouth in a shushing gesture, and Lilybell giggled quietly.

"Of course they're in there," said a second voice. "They've been fucking for days."

"Quiet! Do you want to be punished?"

"I don't think he can turn himself off long enough to punish me."

The voices receded, and the couple relaxed.

"I should punish him," Kallamar grumbled, the heat inside him quickly simmering.

"He's right though," Lilybell laughed. "I don't think you can."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, you think so, do you?" He grinned, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Lilybell smiled and snuggled into him, her head laying on his shoulder. He smiled, but when his eyes drifted to the ruby sitting on her night table, it turned into a frown. He was always so close to forgetting about Narinder's existence, when something red caught his eye and the hurt came flooding back. Needless to say, he was not fond of the colour red lately.

"Darling, let me get you a better crystal."

Lilybell lifted her head to look at him. "Why?"

"It's not very good quality, and you deserve better."

"No, please, I love it! It was the first present you ever gave me. I could never throw it away. Besides, I know why you want to get rid of it. It's because of that guy, isn't it?"

His silence was answer enough.

"Don't give up on the colour red, Kallamar. There's lots of nice things that are red, like roses, strawberries... uh... blood," she giggled at the last suggestion. How could blood ever be considered nice?

Kallamar laughed, stroking her hair. "My sweet, silly girl..." that brought on another kissing session. When they finished, he mumbled, "I can't stand the thought of being inside with these fools all day. Let's go out today, darling."

She perked up immediately. "Where will we go?"

"East, I think. We've not been that way yet."

She grinned in delight and jumped out of bed, throwing open her wardrobe and rifling through her dresses. "Can I tell Trenaty about where we're going? I don't want her to be worried about where we are."

"Yes, yes," he smiled, pulling on his robes.

A little while later, Lilybell found Trenaty watching over the gem cutters. They had progressed immensely in their work, and gems were piling up. Kallamar planned on selling them in order to bring in more money for the temple.

"You look nice," Trenaty said warmly, as Lilybell did a spin around to show off her newest dress. "He certainly spoils you."

"Thank you! He does, huh? I feel like a real princess," Lilybell laughed. Then she leaned in close, saying in a low voice, "Kallamar said I could let you know that we'll be going out for a while, out east. Can you keep an eye on things here?"

"Of course. Have fun."

Trenaty watched the girl leave. She had no problem admitting to anyone who asked that she had grown extremely fond of Lilybell. In a way, she almost saw her as a granddaughter. But what she would never admit was that she was resentful of Kallamar for attaching himself to her. It would make the future much more difficult.

When Lilybell was out of sight, she made her way to a janitors closet, made certain no one was around, and went inside, propping some equipment against the door to keep anyone out. She took out a piece of chalk and drew a pentagram and magical symbols inside it, before putting her hands together and praying. As she prayed the pentagram began to glow, and the floor vanished inside it, a face appearing in its place.

"Speak."

"My lord," Trenaty began, "Kallamar has left the temple once again. He is heading eastward. The temple is still guarded by the incompetent trainees."

"Excellent. Is he alone?"

Trenaty hesitated. She didn't want to tell him about Lilybell.

"I asked you a question, my disciple."

She knew she had no choice. "No, my lord. He is with his lover."

The being in the pentagram was quiet for a moment.

"My lord," Trenaty continued, "I fear that if you act now, my position will be compromised. They have told only myself of where they are going."

"... return to me. You shall be greatly rewarded."

Trenaty stepped into the pentagram and disappeared, leaving the chalk drawing on the floor.

*

"What's that, Kallamar? It looks like a forest!"

Lilybell was pointing to a large patch of green in the distance. Large strips of seaweed were seen dancing in the currents, and fish were seen swimming nearby, visible even from far away.

"That is a kelp forest," he explained. "Large groups of seaweed clumped together. They are just as lively as coral reefs, perhaps even more so."

"Let's go see!" Lilybell pulled his hand with a big grin. Kallamar smiled and pulled her close, as they teleported nearer the forest. Soon they were at the edge of it. The huge towering seaweed blotted out the sunlight similar to trees, and fish and sea creatures swam away at their sudden appearance. "Wow, they're so tall!"

"Some weeds can grow taller than the temple," Kallamar said as they stepped inside. He was glad he was not at full size, as navigating the tightly packed weeds would have been almost impossible. "When I was young, my family were kelp farmers. We harvested seaweed to sell, or kept it for ourselves to eat."

"You never talk about your family," Lilybell said, narrowly missing stepping on a clam that was going by. "Do you miss them?"

Kallamar gripped her hand tightly. "I don't know. So much has changed since my ascension. Maybe they have forgotten all about me. I'm certain they would not recognize me now."

"I don't believe that. Your family doesn't forget about you, no matter what!"

He didn't seem convinced. "Maybe. But ten years is a long time for people to change."

They continued walking, until something clicked in Lilybell's mind, and she stopped them. "Wait, you haven't seen your family for ten years?"

He nodded.

She gave him a curious look. "How old were you when you met Shamura?"

"Fifteen years old."

"So you're only twenty-five?!"

He blinked. "Is that so surprising?"

"Yeah! I thought you were, like... at least a hundred!"

"Does this change how you feel about me?" Kallamar asked worriedly. After Narinder and Shamura's betrayal, the last thing he needed was to feel like Lilybell no longer wanted to be with him.

To his great relief, she quickly replied, "no, of course not! It just surprised me, is all.

He sighed. "If there's one thing I admire in you, darling, it's your honesty."

"I couldn't lie even if I wanted to," she shrugged, "everyone can tell when I'm lying. Or, rather, Mom always could."

Kallamar have her a worried look, thinking that bringing up her mother would make her sad. But she appeared to be unaffected. Perhaps the mishap was just a memory now, and not a painful reminder of years of mistrust.

"My mother was the same," he began, looking off into the kelp ahead, recalling memories for the first time in what felt like eons. "I was the youngest of my siblings, and did many things in order to be noticed. I told many lies, but Mother always found me out because I was never careful. But I didn't mind being punished because even bad attention was good attention. My parents always focused on my oldest siblings, and left me on my own. I was very lonely back then."

Just then, Lilybell spotted something shiny out of the corner of her eye, just past a few stalks of kelp. Kallamar would still be close enough to hear if she checked it out, so she pushed past the seaweed, all the while trying to keep up with his story.

"The blue crown found me one day not long after my fifteenth birthday. When I put it on, it took control of me, to test me. That is what Shamura said, anyway. I went to Silk Cradle and met them, and they trained me."

To Lilybell's surprise, the shiny object turned out to be a huge, glistening pearl, sitting in a large clam. She was mesmerized by it, the light from the surface cascading down to create a rainbow effect on the shiny surface. What a wonderful gift it would make for Kallamar, to thank him for all he'd done for her! She reached out to pick it up, but was confused to find her hands went through it. It wasn't real?

Suddenly, two dark hands came from behind her, covering her mouth. Her first instinct was to scream, but the hands kept her silent. Then she felt something sharp and cold against her neck.

"Quiet, or you die," a male voice hissed in her ear.

She didn't know what to do. What could she do? Two more hands grabbed her wrists and roughly brought them together, tying them with rope, while the hands keeping her silent were removed and another rope was tied around her mouth.

"Move," said the voice, a sharp poke at her back making her jump forward.

The pearl and clam fizzled away to nothing, revealing the magic trick. Three men in dark green cloaks forced her through the kelp. She quickly looked back helplessly, just barely seeing Kallamar in the seaweed. What was he doing, just standing there talking?! Didn't he know she was being kidnapped?!

Tears formed in her eyes and she couldn't help but sob. This couldn't be the last time she'd see him. It just couldn't!

"... and then I met you," Kallamar concluded, still lost in thought. "I think that was the happiest day of my life, looking back. I was such a fool back then, the way I spoke to you. I hope you can forgive me, dear."

He waited for her to speak but heard nothing. Actually, he was quite surprised she hadn't interrupted him as she usually did. He quickly looked around, finding himself alone.

"Lilybell?" He called. Nothing. Ah. "I see, I have played this game before, hiding in the kelp and jumping out at someone. I'm ready to be scared!"

Still nothing.

Now he was beginning to worry. "Lilybell, please come out, this isn't funny." His eyes began darting through the kelp, trying to spot her white wool. "Lilybell! Answer me! Lilybell, I demand you to come out at once!"

Panic finally setting in, he returned to full size, parting the seaweed, trying to find her. "LILYBELL!" He screamed, rushing into the forest, unbeknownst to him, in the completely wrong direction of the small group. How could he have been so stupid to have taken his eyes off her? Especially away from the temple! Now she was gone, and it was all his fault! Who knows who was out there! Why didn't he just suck it up and stay home?

He had to stop, collapsing to the ocean floor, hyperventilating, his heart racing. Terrible thoughts raced through his mind. He couldn't concentrate. He felt like he was going to die!

Behind you.

He whipped around in terror. "Who said that?!"

No one was there. The only thing greeting him was the destroyed kelp, floating away in the current.

Hurry.

Then he realized the voice was not coming from around him, but rather inside him. It had a eerie echo to it that he did not recognize.

Wait, it was coming from above him...!

Help her.

Of course! He was going in the wrong direction! He took off again, a little more confidently now, but his heart was still in his throat. He ignored everything else around him. If there was a chance he could get to her, he didn't dare hesitate, even if he was terrified. The kelp was clearing. He was at the edge of the forest! A group of footprints met him in the sand, one set of which were clearly hooves. In the distance, he saw four people quickly moving through the clearing, heading towards a sunken ship. Though the others were green to blend in with the seaweed, one was white. Lilybell!

Relief filled him, but not for long, as he realized none of the cloaks belonged to his temple, and even from far away he could see that Lilybell's wrists were tied.

And relief was replaced with white hot rage as he sank through the sand, speeding through the ether in the direction of the group.

"Hurry up!" One of the men exclaimed, yanking Lilybell forward, fear evident in his voice. "He'll be on us soon!"

The pushing caused Lilybell to stumble, and she fell on her knees into the sand. The man at her left grabbed her arm, forcefully pulling her to her feet, and she cried out in pain. He was squeezing her arm so hard it felt like he might rip it off.

"Shut up!" He growled. They were almost to the ship, they couldn't stop now. "I hope Carcharias kills you!"

Suddenly the ground opened up in front of them, sand pouring into the shadow as Kallamar emerged. The men screamed in terror, the one who pulled her up throwing her back down into the sand and running. Kallamar held out his hand, and a green energy shot out from it to hit all three of them. They instantly collapsed, holding their stomachs and rolling on the ground in agony.

Kallamar gently took away the ropes and Lilybell ran to him for comfort. "I'm sorry!" She sobbed, clinging to his robes and rubbing her face in them. "I only went away for a second and then they got me, and, and-!"

"Shh, my love. I am not angry," he soothed, stroking her hair as she cried. "Did they harm you?"

She sniffled, "my arm hurts, but I'm okay... I thought I'd never see you again."

He glared at the men, still on the ground. One attempted to stand up but fell back down. "Let's go home," he said. "These wretches must pay for their crime."

They were in the temple lobby in a matter of seconds. The men didn't seem to notice, still in the throws of vertigo. The followers around them clamored in surprise, and some ran and hid at the sight of the strangers.

"Fetch Saleos and his guards immediately," he ordered to the nearest follower. Saleos and the others came quickly, their swords drawn. "Take these prisoners to the dungeon, and hold them there until I come."

The men were taken away. Lilybell wiped away her tears and turned to a female follower. "Where's Trenaty? I have to talk to her."

"I haven't seen her for a few hours, miss," the woman said. "Has anyone seen lady Trenaty?" She asked the others, but no one had seen her either.

"Lord Kallamar," a supervisor said, "we found a magic pentagram in one of the janitors closets. The door was barred, so someone didn't want to be found."

"Show me," demanded Kallamar.

The pentagram was still on the floor, though slightly smudged from forcing the door open. One symbol in the pentagram was alarmingly recognizable to Kallamar: Carcharias' symbol. This was a messaging circle, directly to him.

And Trenaty was missing...

"Find Trenaty," he told the followers. "Search the entire temple top to bottom. She must answer for this."

The followers scattered to search the temple. Lilybell wrapped a hand around his finger. "Kallamar," she said quietly, "one of the guys who tried to take me said something about some guy called Carcharias. Who is that?"

He looked down at her, scowling at her dirty dress and the messy wool on her arm. "He is the God of the ocean. This circle is a communication device to speak to him." He took her other hand and knelt down, speaking more softly. "Lilybell, I'm afraid that maybe Trenaty is the spy and she may be working for him."

Fresh tears formed in her eyes. "It's just a coincidence! Trenaty can't be the spy, she just can't be! She wouldn't do that to us!"

"Darling," he whispered, "I don't enjoy the idea either, but I think it's too much to be a coincidence. This pentagram, you are almost abducted, and now Trenaty is missing?"

"No," Lilybell cried, tears flowing down her face. "Not Trenaty. I can't believe it. She wouldn't do this."

Kallamar had to admit that he had come to appreciate Trenaty as well. He hoped this was not the case. He really did. He walked her to her room.

"Please stay here while I interrogate the prisoners. I will come to you soon."

She went inside, with one last pleading look up at him. It broke his heart to see her cry like this. He hoped the men would prove Trenaty's innocence.

The dungeon was located under the stage in the main hall where sermons took place, hidden by a trapdoor. Long winding stairs led down to the large chamber where a few pillories and cages were set up, the place illuminated by a few glowing crystals as there was no sunlight. The prisoners were locked up in the pillories, looking just as miserable as before. Their cloaks had been removed, leaving only pants, revealing a crab, swordfish and narwhal.

Kallamar approached the swordfish from the front as Saleos held a whip at his back, ready to strike. He held out his hand again, and the green glow came out of the fish and went back into Kallamar. He looked around, confused as to how he was immediately healthy again.

"Tell me who you work for," Kallamar growled.

The swordfish spat in his direction, and Saleos struck him with the whip, the loud crack echoing throughout the room. He screamed in pain, a red welt appearing on his back.

Kallamar let the pain sink in for a moment before asking again, "who do you work for?"

"I... I don't talk to... heretics," the swordfish said. Saleos whipped him again, another welt adding to his flesh.

"You will die here," Kallamar bargained.

"I don't care!" He yelled. Another lash. "You're nothing! My lord will kill you!" Another lash.

Knowing he was getting nowhere, he moved on to the crab. Perhaps seeing their fellows being punished would convince them to talk. The crab stared up at him, whimpering, clearly petrified. "Who do you work for?"

"C-Carcharias," he said, teeth chattering.

"Traitor!" Screamed the swordfish, fighting against the pillory, ignoring the blood running down his back.

"What is he planning?"

"I don't know," the crab cried pitifully. Kallamar believed him, but he was not satisfied.

"Tell me what you do know."

"Don't say anything!" The narwhal begged.

"He told us to take the girl," said the crab. "We weren't told why. He didn't tell us why."

Kallamar narrowed his eyes at him. What kind of sense was that? What did Carcharias have to gain from kidnapping Lilybell?

"He's going to kill you," the swordfish taunted. He had a crazed expression on his face. The pain must have been getting to him. "You and your little whore."

Saleos whipped him again. This time blood splattered out from the wounds, making a mess around him. "Don't talk about our lady that way!"

"That's what she is! The great master said all who follow Kallamar are fools and whores!" He screamed. Since living was no longer an option he spoke freely. "Down with the heretic Kallamar! Long live Carcharias!"

"Lash him," Kallamar snarled, and he was struck, but the manic screaming didn't stop.

"Long live Carcharias!"

"Again."

"Long live Carcharias!"

"Again!"

Blood was pooling at the swordfish's feet. "May the heretic rot in hell!"

"Give me that!" Kallamar roared, grabbing the whip from Saleos and going behind the swordfish. The whip was comically small in his hands, but he didn't care. He reared back and slashed the fish over and over again, watching the blood fly. He poured all his frustration into every hit, Shamura's cold words, Narinder's cocky smirk, Lilybell's tears, the thought of losing her. His hand worked independently of him, hitting the swordfish again and again until they were quiet, and even after that.

"My lord!" Saleos cried, holding up his hands, "he's dead! Please stop!"

But Kallamar didn't stop. The body before him was a mess of gore, but he didn't care. Finally, when his arm grew tired, he threw the whip away before slamming a fist down on the swordfish and the pillory, crushing both. He panted wildly, mind blank, coming back to reality slowly. He lifted up his hand numbly, realizing it was covered in blood and bits of wood.

He turned to look at the other prisoners. The crab had wet himself in fear, and being closest to the swordfish he was covered in blood and stray flesh. The narwhal was frozen in terror.

He picked up the whip again, but he had no questions in mind. Only bloodlust.

[twistedtummies2]

Glamour - Chapter 1 (Trade)

This is the first part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana." I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;) Like with other stories of this nature, the other three parts will be uploaded one a day over the coming few days. So be on the lookout! WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ.

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PLIPP. This was the sound of a gold coin, being flipped deftly up to the water, which replaced the sky in the strange, unfathomable Realm of Monsters. Light filtered down through a tunnel-like portal that led up to the sea above, and into the chamber in which you were now being held captive. “Held,” incidentally, was the most accurate word, for you were quite literally in the grip of one of the most feared and reviled monsters in Lalotai. The Giant Crab smirked down at you, the blue-green eyes filled with malicious excitement and no small amount of vainglorious pride. The pink and purple claw that held you felt tougher than any sea stone, contrasted by the soft, supple-looking flesh visible around the crab’s strangely humanoid mouth and thick, fat neck; you had never expected an arthropod to look plump and pudgy, but this one somehow found a way. You also had never expected one to have a good singing voice…but if there was one thing this creature deserved to be proud of, that was probably it. “Well, Tamatoa hasn’t always been this glam!” the crab admitted, tossing his head with a sneer. “I was a drab little crab once…” The sneer became a grin. You shuddered at the sight of the crab’s huge teeth: they were very square, but also very sharp, like ivory guillotine blades. They were also disgustingly filthy, covered not just in a fine yellowish film, but what appeared to be barnacles. “Now I know I can be happy as a clam,” winked the Crab, and lifted you a little higher as he turned himself about, showing off his shell. “Because I’m beautiful, baby!” While the crab preened, smugly admiring the hoard of gold that had gotten fused to his shell over time, you nervously glanced towards another part of the giant monster’s cave. You saw the Demigod duck down out of sight…but you only just had time to register his presence before the crab’s free pincer - the one not holding you - suddenly swung in and tapped at your chest. Well, one says “tapped,” and to the crab, it probably was just a tap…but to you, it felt like you’d been jabbed in the diaphragm with a bat. HARD. You grunted in a windless, pained way as the crab blithely kept singing, swaying its huge head to a beat only it could seem to hear.

“Did your granny say, ‘listen to your heart: be who you are on the inside’?” the beast teased…then grabbed both your arms with its pincers, and cruelly tugged on them, making you grit your teeth as it felt like it might easily tear each limb from its socket. “I need three words to tear her argument apart: YOUR. GRANNY. LIED.” You yelped as, with newfound energy, the Giant Crab began to spin around, dancing about his lair joyously. You clung desperately to the claw that held you as you were swung about as a result. The light that shone from the water tunnel above caused the golden coins and other treasures upon his shelled back to glisten and shimmer, sparkling yellow light reflecting and refracting onto the walls of the undersea cave. “I’d rather be Shiny!” sang the Giant Crab. “Like the treasure of a sunken pirate wreck! Scrub the deck, and make it look Shiny!” The crab grinned evilly, and drew a claw across his fat throat, making you grimace and shiver. “I will sparkle like a wealthy woman’s neck - crrrk! - just a sec.” The crab then looked up towards the funnel-like passage that led into his lair from above. You looked up as well, and saw the shadowy silhouettes of many silver fish, spiraling around the opening to his hideaway, within a palace of giant, weathered old shells. “Don’tcha know? Fish are dumb, dumb, dumb! They chase anything that glitters!” The crab rolled his eyes as he looked at you with a conspiratorial sort of smile. “Beginners,” he snorted, then looked up again, with eager anticipation. “Oh! And here they come, come, come to the brightest thing that glitters…!” Sure enough, right on cue, the whole school of fish suddenly dived downward…and seconds later, dozens of foolish marine creatures fell through the bottom of the ocean, and into the open space that led down towards the Giant Crab…who awaited them with an open maw and an empty stomach. SCHWOLMPH! In one terrific bite, the giant decapod snarfed up all of the fish at once. It moaned deeply, a look of purest pleasure on its face as its cheeks bulged and it grunted through a full mouth: “Mmmm…fish dinners!” GUUULLLP! You swore you could FEEL the force of that powerful swallow, as the crab-like behemoth gulped down all of the fish in one go. If you looked closely, you could see the ripple-like movements along its neck as it sent all of the swimming things down to its belly… …Then, your blood ran cold, as the crab refocused its attention on you, holding you up high over its head. There was a wild, wicked intensity to its gaze…something unhinged, primal, sadistic…and utterly ravenous. “I just love free food,” the crab crooned. “And YOU look like seafood…”

You shook your head desperately and scrambled to try and escape the claw holding you, as the Giant Crab licked his fat, thick, plump lips with an equally fat, thick, plump, purplish tongue. Then the ghastly mouth of the crab-beast opened. The monster’s maw was mottled purple and pink, the slimy, slippery interior sloping back into a pitch-dark void, from which a terrible rumble came… “N-no! No! NO!” you screamed at the top of your lungs…but if the monster was even listening to your frantic protests, it clearly didn’t care. Or, worse yet, perhaps it did care…because it enjoyed them. You supposed it didn’t matter, for a moment later, the pincer that now seemed like a protector to you opened its grasp. You howled as you plunged headlong into the mouth of the beast, arms and legs flailing as you tried to swim through the air. Nothing could prevent or slow your fall, and your final wail was lost as you were quite literally swallowed up by the darkness- “AH!” You yelped and jolted awake, eyes snapping wide open. Your expression swiftly changed from a slightly red-faced expression that mixed fear with blushing anticipation…to an almost bored look, as you saw the familiar sight of the ceiling overhead. You groaned and ran a hand over your face, mumbling sourly under your breath: you didn’t need to sit up or look around to know you were still in Ramshackle Dorm, and that all you had seen was a vision in a dream. “Well then,” you grumbled, as you quivered with goosebumps from the alarming detail. “I guess not even sleeping pills work anymore…greeeaaat…”

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“Nya…you okay there, Minion?” Grim trotted alongside you, cocking his head. His turquoise eyes showed a rare light of concern as he looked up at you. You could only yawn and shake your head heavily in response as you slumped along through the halls of Night Raven. You could FEEL the bags beneath your eyes. “No,” you droned, and tried to shake off the sleep, but to no avail. Every time you had passed out again throughout the night, you were brought back to the same dream. Each time, you found yourself hovering over the abyss of the monster’s mouth…then shocked away as you tumbled into the belly of the beast. You would have growled like a lion, if you had been anything close to Leona’s level: you weren’t sure what part was more irritating. The fact that the dream had been so confusingly insistent…or the fact it always ended at the GOOD part… You groaned and rubbed at your forehead. You were too tired to even be blushy about that…life freaking sucked sometimes. Seriously. “Maybe we should stop at the cafeteria for some coffee,” smirked Grim. “You look like you’re gonna fall flat on your face! Ha Ha!” “Your concern is touching,” you grunted, then gave a weak smile. “But you do have a point. Maybe some coffee would help, or at least some tea…” Grim grinned and licked his lips, swishing his trident tail. You rolled your eyes; that reaction told you everything: clearly the offer to go to the cafeteria had been given more out of the cat-like imp’s desire to fill his own stomach than any worries he had about you. “Just a quick stop at the cafeteria,” you agreed. “We don’t want to be late for potion-making class, right?” “Fiiiine,” pouted Grim, who clearly had been hoping for a longer stay, no doubt for the sake of more food. The flames that swirled from his ears crackled as he flicked one of those audial receptors upwards and raised an eyebrow. “You have what Crewel told us to bring, right, Minion?” You nodded and patted the breast pocket of your uniform. “Two Lanternblossoms,” you reported. “Got ‘em in here in a bag.” “Be careful not to lose ‘em,” Grim warned. “Getting them wasn’t easy, y’know!” “Of course I know: I’M the one who had to get them, while you just watched.” “Of course! THAT is because YOU’RE the Minion, and I’M the boss,” Grim said, snootily. You shook your head wearily, a tired smile on your face. Some things never changed. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when, turning a corner of the hall, you bumped into something…or, rather, someone. You hadn’t been hurrying, but you supposed perhaps the other party was, and you were too groggy to get out of the way in time. Whatever the case, you let out an “oof!” (which was matched by the person you’d bumped into), and swayed on your feet, staggering back. The impact hadn’t been hard enough to knock you over, but it was enough to throw you off balance. “Nya! Watch it!” snapped Grim, jumping out of the way, as if afraid one of the larger figures might fall on top of him. “Sorry,” you mumbled out in a slurred sort of voice. “Hey, hey, it’s all good, babe!” the voice of the other party replied. It was a flamboyant, high-flying sort of voice, with a sort of eternal edge that sounded…you searched for a word, and “slinky” was all that came to your sleep-addled brain.

You stiffened suddenly and sharply as the other party suddenly took hold of you, trying to help you regain balance - “Here, lemme get you back on track, heh heh…” - and took a look at the newcomer. They seemed to be of fairly average height and build, and dressed - at the moment - in a typical school uniform. A strange sort of smell, though not an unpleasant one, seemed to surround the stranger: it was like the fine scent of a fresh sea breeze, very soothing and yet somewhat briny. It reminded you of the scent that seemed to surround Azul and his cronies at different times of the day…however, the deep blue-violet hue of the vest and armband the young man wore informed you he was from Pomefiore, not Octavinelle. The blazer was open; the vest was fully buttoned up, and the shirt tucked in, but they wore no tie and kept the top button of their shirt unclasped. In short, their demeanor was not quite as loose as Floyd, nor as uptight as Azul or Jade; it was some new mode in-between. Before their uniform details, however, you first took stock of the student’s countenance. He had dark skin, similar in hue to that of Kalim, but with purple eyes the color of twin amethysts. Purple eyeliner accented the irises, and a matching hue was painted thinly over his lips, giving him a somewhat androgynous, “Glam Goth” appearance. Golden earrings dangled from his earlobes, and his hair was colored the same shade as his eyes; whether it was dyed or simply natural in its unusual coloration was hard to say. It was spiky on top and along the back, but sheared short on the sides and styled with multicolored streaks. Two cowlicks sprouted from the front of his scalp, vaguely resembling antennae. A golden necklace dangled about his throat. On his left hand, he wore four golden rings - one for each hand minus the thumb - and a golden wristwatch. Curiously, his right hand - and only his right hand - was covered by a purple leather glove. This was the hand he used to brush you fastidiously off. “There now,” said the young man, and grinned. His teeth seemed a bit longer and sharper than most people’s, but not quite the shark-like grin certain other students had. “You okay there, babe?” “Uh…y-yeah, I’m fine,” you stuttered, a bit startled by all this, and by the term of endearment chosen. “Sorry for running into you like that…” “Aww, don’t worry about it. Takes a lot more than that to ruin this face,” answered the other student, with an almost teasing smile as he gestured to his dolled-up physiognomy. “Who are you?” asked Grim, curiously. “Name��s Taoka,” the Pomefiore student said, then smirked. “Heh…lemme guess, you’re the duo from Ramshackle? The eels talk about you two all the time. Especially Floyd.” “Should we be flattered or terrified?” you replied blandly. “Try both,” chuckled Taoka, and arched one violet-hued eyebrow. “Y’know, yer cuter than I expected.” “I am NOT cute!” Grim snarled, hackles rising as he stomped one foot petulantly. “How come nobody gets that through their skulls?!” “You’re adorable, little guy, but it wasn’t you I was talkin’ about,” said Taoka smoothly. You flushed as you realized his expression was fixed upon you, a seductive gleam in his purple eyes. “Well, uh…thank you, I think?” you said with a nervous little laugh. “You should thank me. I don’t just call anybody cute, seafood,” said Taoka, eyes half-lidded as he continued to smirk almost seductively.

You felt the warmth in your cheeks increase, even as you felt mild confusion rise. “S-Seafood?” you peeped. “Heh. The Octopus and the Twins aren’t the only ones from under the sea,” winked Taoka in response, then lifted his gloved hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, sweetheart: I’m not gonna eatcha…” He suddenly stepped closer. He wasn’t much taller than you were, but somehow, he suddenly felt like he was towering over you. “Unless you WANT me to,” whispered the strange young man, showing off those sharp teeth once more. You gulped nervously. Grim frowned, looking between you and the teasing new student. With a slight growl, the little monster jogged over and tugged on your pant leg. “Come on!” he urged, crossly. “Or did you forget about the coffee and food already?” “Food?” you whispered…then shook your head, snapping out of it. “Oh, uh…right! Right, um…G-Grim and I have to get to the cafeteria before heading to class, so, uh…see you later, alright?” Taoka bowed his head and stepped aside, letting you pass. You smiled, thinking that perhaps you’d just made a new friend here at the college, as you walked past him with Grim, once more ready to continue on your way… “You may wanna take a detour on your way to Crewel’s, though,” Taoka’s voice called out to you. “Nya? Why’s that?” Grim asked, turning around…then froze. “Hey…HEY! MINION!” You turned fast at the sound of frustrated alarm in Grim’s voice…and the smile fell from your face as you saw what had worried him. Taoka’s smile had become sneaky and almost sinister. He he lifted his ungloved hand…and revealed the familiar sight of a small plastic bag, which contained the two Lanternblossoms. You patted your breast pocket, and quickly realized he had picked it at some point while brushing you off! Scowling, you looked back angrily. “Give that back!” you demanded. “Why?” asked Taoka, oh-so-innocently. “Can’t find time to get more of this?” “As a matter of fact, no, I can’t! Those plants are NOT easy to find!” you exclaimed. “I know. That’s why I want ‘em,” grinned Taoka, and looked at the items in the bag with a strange sort of interest. “Look at the way they sparkle, too…” “You better give them back!” shouted your catlike companion. “We need those for an assignment!” “Not my problem,” shrugged the flamboyant fellow, waving his free hand about airily. “Guess you’ll have to hope Crewel’s in a good mood, babe.” “Why, you…!” snarled Grim, and yowled as he dropped to all fours and bounded towards the sneakthief. He pounced through the air…and at the same time, the purple-haired youth’s free hand stretched out, fingers outspread. He muttered something - an incantation, you presumed - under his breath…sensing trouble, you rushed forward to try and help Grim… …But at that moment - ZAM! - there was a brilliant flash of golden light. You heard Taoka laugh tauntingly as you were blinded by the sudden bolt. You staggered back and fell against the wall; all you could see was a yellow haze, as if the whole world had been saturated with metallic golden sparkles. You felt dizzy, and couldn’t think straight. You clutched your head as you heard the faint yelp from Grim as he - equally blinded - flopped onto the floor uselessly. After a few moments, the world cleared and showed its true colors again, and the swimming sensation that had come over your head dissipated. You stepped away from the wall, and then hurried towards Grim, who was just sitting up from the floor.

“You okay?” you asked. “Nya…I think so,” nodded the cat-like creature, and frowned, looking around. “Where’d that creep go?” “I dunno,” you sighed dismally. “Whatever he did, it distracted us long enough for him to get away…” “Awww, man,” groaned Grim, ears dipping downward. “Does this mean we’re gonna get in trouble?” “Maybe not,” you said, with a hopeful sort of smile. “I mean…it wasn’t OUR fault we lost those Lanternblossoms. Maybe…maybe Professor Crewel will give us a chance.” Grim blinked…then smiled back. “Yeah! He can’t be mad at us for something that’s not our fault!” he cheered, then grinned wickedly. “Heh heh…maybe he’ll even go find that dumb thief and put THEM through the ringer!” You chuckled weakly as you helped Grim to his feet, and the two of you hurried on your way again. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you had a feeling every word you’d spoken was a false hope.

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You were very right: every word you’d spoken was, indeed, a false hope. Yourself and Grim grumbled in chorus as you worked together to sweep and mop up the floor to the alchemy lab. Crewel had NOT been understanding: you supposed you couldn’t blame him TOO much. After all, he had no PROOF that what you said about having the Lanternblossoms stolen from you was true. And even if he had, it wasn’t exactly Night Raven policy to “forgive incompetence.” However, he had given the two of you something of a redeeming opportunity: if the two of you agreed to clean up the lab after classes were done that day, he would NOT give you an automatic zero on the assignment, and a chance to try it again in a week’s time, for a lower grade. Some credit seemed better than no credit at all, so - with the fashionable educator holding you both over the proverbial barrel - you saw no alternative but to agree. “If I ever see that creep with the purple eyes again, I’m biting his ankles,” growled Grim. “Aim higher,” you droned sourly. “You might hit something that does PERMANENT damage.” A soft chuckle interrupted you both. “It’s not usual to hear you speaking so aggressively, Prefect,” a crisp, cool sort of voice observed. “I’m guessing today hasn’t been one of your best.” The pair of you paused to look up at the source of the familiar vocals. They belonged to an equally familiar figure - tall, stately, and slightly androgynous in appearance - with blonde hair that was dyed pale purple at the ends, and eyes similar in hue to the thieving rascal you’d met before. While those eyes had been filled with a sort of hungry, sultry heat…these were just as cold and cutting as shards of colored glass. You stiffened immediately, feeling not unlike a soldier reporting to their commander as the owner of these gemstone eyes strode grandly into the laboratory. “Good evening, Vil,” you smiled politely, then cocked your head. “Do you need something from here? I can help you find it, if you’re working on a new poison or something.” “Just don’t use it on us!” piped up Grim. Vil sniffed. “Please, I wouldn’t waste anything like that on you, little potato,” he responded dryly to Grim’s statement, then looked back at you, crossing his arms. His expression was even and calm. “I actually need your help, Prefect. I couldn’t find you at your dorm, and after speaking to the Headmage and Professor Crewel in the main office, they directed me here.” “I see,” you said, and put the mop you were holding to one side before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Well, what’s the problem?”

Grim put aside the scrub brush he had been using and hopped up onto the table behind you. Vil remained standing, pacing slightly as he spoke. Once again, his movements were almost militant, reminding you of a captain addressing their crew. “There is a music tournament coming up here on Sage’s Island. Both Royal Sword and Night Raven will be competing, among others. It’s a bit similar to the VDC, except that in this case, it’s being held in one of the towns, not on either campus…and, in this case, I’m not going to be performing for the Event.” “Is Neige going to perform?” you couldn’t help but ask. Vil paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steeling sort of breath. “Very thankfully, he is not,” Vil answered through an exhalation, then went on. “As a matter of fact, both of us have been asked to act as judges for the Event, along with an instructor from each school. Professor Crewel has been chosen to represent Night Raven, along with myself.” “And Royal Sword?” “That is not my concern,” Vil answered, his voice slow, deliberate, and clearly emphasizing each consonant. Realizing you had probably hit a nerve somehow, you lifted your hands in an apologetic, placating sort of way. Vil nodded to show all was well, then went on, pacing once again: “The contestants will all be soloists. Some will be playing live music and singing, others will be performing to pre-arranged tracks. Regardless, the four of us will be judging them by a standard rubric, and the winner will receive a special prize, which is to be provided by Royal Sword.” “How come they always get to have the fun?” meowed Grim, petulantly. “Can I take a wild guess as to why you’re here?” you asked, ignoring the not-feline’s complaints. “If you wish,” replied Vil, folding his hands behind his back authoritatively. “You brought up the fact this event is similar to the Voice and Dance Competition. Back then, you and the Headmage assigned us to be the Stage Managers. Do you need us to do the same thing for this Event?” “To put it bluntly, yes,” Vil replied…and a rare flicker of vulnerability flashed in his eyes. “Considering you were instrumental not only in keeping order during the rehearsals and performance, but also in solving certain…ISSUES that came up…” “Like somebody yelling they were the ugliest old hag in the world and nobody should look at them?” Grim mocked, somewhat meanly. “Those kindsa issues?” Vil narrowed his eyes dangerously. “I will feed you to Kingscholar, Grim, if you say anything remotely similar to those words again,” he answered icily. Grim paled and hid behind the table. “Ignore him,” you advised Vil, then smiled. “If you need my help behind the scenes, I’ll be happy to give it to you. Maybe if we’re lucky, Professor Crewel will give us some extra credit for the assistance.” “I wouldn’t count on it,” chuckled Vil, and his smile became mildly grateful. “I appreciate the easy cooperation, Prefect. I was a little worried, after previous incidents, I might have to twist your arm.”

“Please, don’t even use that phrase figuratively,” you shuddered. “I’ve SEEN you twist people’s arms, I’m amazed a lot of them still HAVE arms after that…” Vil’s smile became a proud smirk. “I dunno…I mean, the Great Grim is a busy awesome mage!” meowed your fire-eared friend. “What’s in it for us if we agree?” “Aside from my gratitude, the Headmage has also promised to pay you both for your services,” Vil replied. Grim’s eyes lit up at the prospect of money. Money, of course, meant food. And food, naturally, was really all it took to make Grim happy. “Well, what are we waiting for?!” he almost squeaked out excitedly. “If that’s the case, I definitely don’t see any reason to say no,” you said. “It’s something different in the schedule…and after all, a day surrounded by music and song? What could possibly be bad about that?” There was an awkward silence. “...I might have just jinxed it, huh?” you peeped. “I pray you have not, potato,” intoned Vil, only half-sarcastically. “I pray that you have not.”

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The competition Vil spoke of was called the Sage’s Solo Showdown, or Triple S. As stage manager for this event, your job was to make sure all of the performers went onstage at the right time for their cues, and that the people working the tech booth were on top of things. (Most of them were students from Royal Sword; thankfully, they had much less difficulty working with a Night Raven College member than you suspected the other way around might have been.) Grim had, at first, pouted over how the job seemed boring - just walking around with a clipboard, in his mind - but the reminder of how much tuna you could buy with Crowley’s offer quickly shut him up. The contest would begin in the early afternoon on a Friday. The location was not at Royal Sword, nor at Night Raven; instead, a “neutral zone” had been chosen in a town on Sage’s Island, where many of the locals lived. It was an indoor ampitheater, smaller than anything on either of the college campuses…but sufficient for the purposes of the contest, which was also smaller in scale than anything either campus would likely conjure up. This was why it was somewhat surprising that, on the day of the contest, things were pretty darn packed. With the smaller accommodations, you had expected a smaller turnout. “Nya…I guess this is what happens when you have both Neige and Vil involved,” Grim piped up, as the two of you marched along through the backstage areas, checking on the contestants. Each person participating in the contest had been given their own dressing room. It was still morning, and you were doing routine check-ins on every room. You didn’t know the names of each contestant participating; they had been marked with call numbers, which you would use to check on each participant. It made things more efficient that way, or so Vil said. You trusted his judgment. “I guess you’re right,” you said, in a slightly delayed response to Grim’s observation. “I doubt it’s Professor Crewel getting this much attention…and not to sell the contestants short, but I don’t think any of them would be getting so much love otherwise. That’s probably why they called on them.” Grim just shrugged, the tiny creature just jogging alongside you, swishing his trident tail this way and that as he glanced about the backstage areas, checking the doors to the dressing rooms. “Where to next, Minion?” he asked. You checked the clipboard and named the contestant number and the room they were staying in - the former was labeled as simply 23, and the latter was 116. You had actually checked in on the room earlier, but the competitor who was set to occupy it had yet to show up. It was time to make another quick check, before the opening ceremony, and make sure all was going smoothly. So far, none of the contestants had given you any trouble: some of them were people you knew, others were strangers till that time, but none of them had been problematic. For one thing, they were all focused on practicing and prepping one last-minute time before their performances. As you approached Room 116, you could hear that the contestant within had arrived, and was doing much the same; the sound of a guitar being strummed and tuned up could be detected through the ajar door. You supposed you could have cut things off there and simply made a few marks in your paperwork, but - for formality’s sake - you decided to check in personally. So, you knocked on the door, and called out “Stage Management, is everyone decent?”

A voice from the other side answered, “I don’t know about that, but I’m dressed.” You frowned and glanced towards Grim. His expression matched your own. Both of you thought that voice sounded oddly familiar, but neither of you were sure why. You shrugged it off, pushed open the door… …And soon found out the reason when you saw the figure seated at the dressing room mirror inside. “You!” Your exclamation was acknowledged with a lifted head, and a wicked sort of grin. Two uncomfortably familiar purple eyes gleamed deviously on a dark, heavily made-up face. “Well, hey there, babe!” crooned Taoka. “Fancy meeting you here.” You weren’t sure what to say…partially because you were a bit taken aback by the appearance of the Pomefiore student before you. He looked even more flamboyant than you remembered when you first met him: at the time, he’d still had the purple, madly-styled hair, the golden earrings and bangles, and the dolled-up face, of course…but he’d been dressed in a common school uniform. Which was certainly fancy enough, but NOTHING compared to the wild, vibrant ensemble he was now garbed in. The purple-eyed pickpocket wore a long, golden jacket with plum-colored lining, which stretched down past the back of his knees. Beneath this was what looked like a pink and purple tie-dyed shirt, with the emblem of a crab stenciled upon it. His pants were blue, with strange spiral patterns stitched into their length; a similar pattern adorned his belt buckle: the buckle reminded you of something you had seen in a textbook on magical artifacts, but you couldn’t recall what it was. Some sort of “stone heart,” or something. The buckle was bright and brassy, and attached to a matching metallic-colored belt. Bright purple boots with golden lining covered his feet, matching the purple glove on one of his bejeweled hands. You heard Grim let out a strange sound, and looked down at him. The little monster was scrubbing at his turquoise eyes and blinking them repeatedly. “Something wrong?” you asked. “I think my eyes are about to start bleeding,” Grim blandly replied, referring to Taoka’s arraignment. You would have snickered, but Taoka beat you to it. “I know, I know,” he said with a drawling sigh, running his fingers through his spiky hair, as he put the guitar he was strumming to one side. “It’s hard to take it all in. So much fabulousness in one room MUST be too much for yer little eyes to handle. I’ll give ya a minute to soak it up.”

Grim just growled irritatedly in response. You couldn’t blame him. The smug, supercilious smile the over-glitzed youth flashed was infuriating…partially, you had to admit, because of how handsome he was, and how he had teased you last time. Thankfully, it was easy to look past those points and focus on your annoyance; you had not by any means forgotten how he’d spoiled things for you. Still, you had a job to do, so you tried to stay civil. “Are you contestant twenty-three?” you asked, as politely as possible. “Is this contestant twenty-three’s room?” Taoka returned, with a teasing grin. “It’s supposed to be,” you replied. “Then yeah, that’s me, babe,” winked Taoka, and his eyes roamed over you once more. A rumble came from his chest. “You look even tastier dressed all official like that…” “Remind me to thank you when I don’t have business to focus on,” you replied, as primly as you could manage. Taoka seemed to pout. “Awww, now, no need to get all uptight,” he cooed, and grinned anew as he stood up from his place, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he swaggered forward. “Listen, I think you an’ I got off on the wrong claw…” “The wrong what?” muttered Grim. Both of you ignored him. “...I just can’t help myself when I see somethin’ shiny an’ special,” Taoka went on, putting on his most innocent smile. You weren’t fooled for a second. “Like Lanternblossoms, or coins of gold…” He stretched his gloved hand towards you. “...Or a good meal.” You smacked his hand away. You REFUSED to blush. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you sneered. “Everyone at Night Raven knows who you are, and WHAT you are.” “That being?” Taoka’s grin now showed off his oh-so-slightly-sharper-than-they-should-have-been teeth. “A snack,” he hissed with relish, and licked those chompers just to show off. “I told you, Azul and the Leeches aren’t the only sea monsters around here.” Deciding you had enough of this drivel, you turned to leave the room, planning to head back without a word. You saw no reason to encourage the young man (whatever he really was) with attention. Unfortunately, he seemed to determined to get it; Grim yelped as a booted foot fell into the space between you and the imp, and Taoka barred your path, placing one hand on his dressing room door, the other resting on his wide, well-curved hips. “I’d be happy to put a snack like you in your place sometime,” he whispered. “All you’ve gotta do is ask.” You bit your lip. You knew you were blushing now, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making it greater. “I haven’t gotten this far in life, or in school, by just ALLOWING myself to be eaten,” you replied, coldly. “And I wouldn’t be so casual about it here, if I were you.” “Why not?” Taoka asked, raising one eyebrow. He seemed amused. You gave him a daring sort of smirk in return. “Because, as stage manager, if a contestant is causing too much trouble, I can easily have them suspended from the contest at any time,” you replied, smoothly. Taoka’s smarmy smile instantly disappeared.

“You’re bluffing.” “Oh, no,” you said. “Not a bluff at all. All I have to do is tell one of the judges and the coordinator - your Housewarden happens to be both this year - and if they agree with me…” You made a shooing gesture with one hand. Taoka glared. His gloved fist clenched. You glanced down and noticed that one of his fingers seemed to curl slightly less than the rest…a random and minor odd detail you chose to dismiss for now. “I could change into my true form right now and eat you up,” threatened the golden-clad creep. “You wouldn’t be able to throw me out then, would you?” “No,” you agreed, quite casually. “But I think you’d have a hard time explaining where I went to anybody, and if my assistant stage managers found out, you’d still have issues. The way I see it, you eating me causes you more problems than you simply deciding to be civil for a change.” Taoka’s teeth were bared in a snarl. The snarl became a vicious sort of smile. He was fidgeting slightly. “If this competition didn’t mean so much to me,” he whispered dangerously, “You’d be halfway into my stomach right now. You should know that.” You just shrugged with a cheery smile. “As soon as this is over,” he went on, darkly, “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born.” You made a show of yawning. “I’ve had to deal with a lion, a hyena, a werewolf, two psychotic eel-men, a greedy cephalopod, an ogre, a naga, an ink monster, a bug boy, and a very loud crocodile fairy. You’re going to need to try a LOT harder to convince me you’re worth getting worried about,” you said, intentionally mimicking the airy tones of the bullying thief. One of Taoka’s eyes twitched. “What makes you think they’re any better than me?” he growled. Somehow, you sensed you’d struck a nerve. “I didn’t say they were,” you replied…then leaned close and whispered vengefully, “But I was thinking it.” Taoka seethed with fury. Grim just grinned. “I’ll send one of the Assistant SMs later to give you your cue,” you said sweetly, and waved as you cheerfully left the room. “Keep practicing, ‘babe!’ I think you’ll need it!” Grim followed you out. He didn’t start laughing until Taoka slammed the door, and angry guitar string plucks could be heard from inside the room.

To Be Continued in Part 2…

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

debated whether to post this as it is, without contest, THE most deranged thing i have ever done in any fandom.  but this is the deranged fan website so without further ado:

The 2023 F1 Drivers, Ranked By Hands

ID and explanations are under the cut.  explanations are grouped by team instead of in the order of the chart above, because that’s how i typed this out in my google doc and i can’t be arsed to cut them up and shuffle them around.  enjoy.

[ID: a tier ranking list with the categories “✨perfect✨”; “very nice!”; “pretty good”; “Fine I Guess”; and “ugly.”  reading left to right, the photos shown in the “✨perfect✨” tier are george russell, valtteri bottas, and zhou guanyu.  the photos shown in the “very nice!” tier are oscar piastri, kevin magnussen, nico hülkenberg, max verstappen, alex albon, and esteban ocon.  in the “pretty good” tier we have yuki tsunoda, charles leclerc, logan sargeant, fernando alonso, lewis hamilton, and carlos sainz.  in the “Fine I Guess tier” are nyck de vries, lance stroll, and checo pérez.  in the “ugly” tier are pierre gasly and lando norris.  /end ID]

The Explanations

yuki: some nice hands!  smol and well-proportioned.  smooth, pretty skin that looks decently well cared for.  the overall shape gives the impression of a balance between gentle and sturdy.

nyck: similar to yuki’s in size, with the sturdiness & ruggedness sliders bumped up just a couple notches.  big, blunt, round fingerpads.  nothing too special but not unattractive either!

hulkenberg: lovely long fingers!  slight points detracted for the bulge of his pinky muscle which gives his palm an oddly lumpy shape that i personally find aesthetically unattractive.  still, quite pretty overall: a hand that’s clearly built for strength first but also looks like it could have a gentleness to it.

kevin: now just by pure aesthetics this one shouldn’t work, with the combination of the big sprawled-out square palm and the short, small, tapered fingers coming out of it.  but something about the quirkiness of the combo utterly charms me!

oscar: god, i so wanted to place him higher, because these are literally some gorgeous fucking hands.  perfect fingers: long with an elegant taper and a beautiful soft rounded tip.  unfortunately, this boy chews the SHIT out of his cuticles.  they’re not visible in the picture i included here (bc i went for one that showed the overall shape better) but i have other photographic proof where they literally look so fucking ragged and dry and NASTYYYY.

lando: listen i love my dumb little puppyboy but literally what the fuck is this.  the knobbly knuckles, the tendon bumps, the weird asymmetrical squat shape to the palm—absolutely none of it is to my taste.  AND, as if that weren’t enough, he also has the same ripped-up cuticles problem as oscar.  someone please sneak into the mclaren HQ and start sneaking gabapentin into these poor boys’ food like they give to animals to stop gnawing at their stitches after the vet.

logan: what can i say?  they’re good hands, brent.  long fingers, nicely shaped and proportional to the palm, no obvious detractions.  just a nice hand.

alex: minor points detracted for disproportionality—his palm is, like, way too long for his fingers somehow??  but he makes it up in other areas: the skin looks smooth and moisturized, and the fingers themselves are quite nice, long with a blunt pillowy pad.  bonus visual interest points for having a third and fourth finger that are nearly the same length!  willing to bet anything that those two are the fingers he uses for [*LOUD RAPID GUNFIRE*]

guanyu: long and lovely fingers, slim and delicate!  a slight knobbliness to the knuckles but the overall length and gracility of the fingers makes it look elegant.  back of the hand looks well moisturized and smooth.

valtteri: yes they’re so smol and stubby and MEATY but they’re also just very nicely proportioned and shaped!  this is a hand i would be delighted to hold and squeeze: just these cute, soft, almost pudgy little mitts.

esteban: would have loved to go even higher for the long slim fingers, and they do have a gorgeous gentle look to them—unfortunately they are just slightly on the wrong side of too-long, where they start looking almost spidery.  still, despite the slight unsettling aspect i’m nevertheless compelled to rate these pretty highly.  or maybe because of it.

pierre: there’s just really nothing compelling going on here.  kind of a knobbly/lumpy shape; not stubby enough to be smol and cute; not long enough to be elegant and pretty.  ig they look strong-ish but even that’s a reach.

lance: these hands i would call stubby in a cute way: not quite as much as valtteri’s, but still, i like the proportions on these.  points off for the skin looking a bit dry.  you’re literally a billionaire, my guy.  go get a manicure sometime with the paraffin gloves or whatever.

fernando: very well-shaped; smol and cute, a little less knobbly than lance’s.  definitely showing signs of age but i don’t mind that!

checo: yet another basic/“standard” hand.  a decent columnar shape to the fingers.  overall nothing too special for better or for worse.

max: soft-looking, with a lovely broad blunt pad at the tip.  little bit of a knuckle knobble but nothing too bad, and again, the length helps them look nice.

george: yeah so this is basically my perfect hand.  fine, elegant, long-boned fingers, matched by a perfect slim palm that’s exactly in proportion.  has a wee little bit of a nail in this photo, which is interesting; everybody else has had them rounded-off down to the quick, either from trimming/filing, gnawing, simple wear, or some combination of all three.  nothing wrong with that, though: the edge on george’s nail looks smooth (i.e. un-gnawed) and well-shaped.

lewis: these are similar to yuki’s—small and sturdy-looking in a cute way.  slightly lower than yuki since lewis has a slightly bulging/unsightly left pinky; wonder if he broke it at some point or something.

carlos: this is another story of two parts where the fingers are great but the palm shape detracts somewhat.  a very narrow tapered point on these long fingers, but the palm is far too broad to match, thus giving the whole hand a heavy and disproportionate look.

charles: you have no idea how hard it was to actually look at his hands and not get distracted by his face BUT.  sad to say, his palm is another kind of unshapely sprawl; too broad and the silhouette it makes i just don’t find aesthetically pleasing.  the fingers are beautiful, though, columnar in shape with possibly the softest and most pillowy-looking finger pads on the grid, and you can for sure tell he’s a pianist bc he keeps those things AGGRESSIVELY trimmed.

[faebriel]

🤡 , ✨ , an d 🤲 !!

hi cyrus!! thank u for the ask :D

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

okay for the record i tried looking for funnies in it's called freefall given that it is my most recent fic but jesus christ it is really not a very funny fic. good lord. i'm picking this exchange from all's well that ends instead:

“What,” Tommy bellows, watching Tubbo clamber up the black-and-yellow walls that now sit around the hobbit hole he calls a home. He’s been hard at work, apparently – the towers stand tall not only above Tubbo’s head (not that great of a feat, honestly), but Tommy’s too (much more impressive). “What is that."

Tubbo swishes his robe around a bit to demonstrate, pulling on the skirt when it catches on a nail sticking out of the treads of his snowboot. Already, the drying concrete is leaving pudgy marks like yellow fingerprints where it presses against the robe – it’s going to stain, he thinks.

“I’m entering my widow arc,” he explains.

nothing i ever write is going to top "i'm entering my widow arc" or tubbo having every other serious conversation in this fic dressed like this

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

boooo fine :] i think i write character voices okay. specifically i'm always really careful (bc i write in limited third person pov) to make sure narration/internal dialogue/whatever fits character voice just as well as the dialogue does and i think it helps my fics feel more immersed in the mind of the perspective character

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

:3 fine. raincoats be upon ye

“I’m sorry about what you had to see in there,” Wilbur says - his voice, though soft, shatters the silence like glass. Niki suppresses the urge to flinch. There’s no point. There's nothing to hide from here. “I can imagine it was… upsetting.”

She takes another sip of her tea, silent. The cheap film clings to her tongue, fills her nose with that half-stale scent of gone tea, and Niki tries to act like it grounds her. There’s little else that could, out here, besides the slight chill of the wall at her back. She breathes a sigh into her mug, watching steam curl lazily across her view of the street like spring fog.

“...it scared me,” is what she settles on, finally.

Wilbur’s voice is small when he asks, “I did?”

“No!” Niki turns without thinking, jostling her shoulder against the wall - the spilt tea doesn’t bother her, not really, not when she sees the wrecked look on Wilbur’s face dim cautiously into some kind of relief. She wasn’t. She clings to that knowledge stubbornly. She wasn’t - she couldn’t be scared of Wilbur. “No, just - those people, they were - they were awful. Awful to both of you, and then, then they hit him…”

ask game!! ✨

[sirpseudonymphoapish]

Aftermath oneshot for the end of season 3, episode 11. (spoilers!???!) (terry x korvo. not nsfw but they make out a lot)

i wrote this at like 3 am off a whim so its probably not the best but i just wanted to write some fluff so i dont really care about any low detail descriptions or grammar mistakesm. i hope u enjoy :3

-

Hot air wafted into the room and a bright light shone into the corner of Terry's eyes. He squinted as he stared up at the ceiling, the right side of the room being illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light. Shuffling was heard as the pudgy blue alien soaked the last bit of water off himself onto his towel, and changed into his night-time button-up gown. The light soon shut off, and Terry felt the mattress sink from the new guest who had taken space under the covers.

He was so tired, but he couldn't stop staring up at the ceiling of their bedroom. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever, but he was wide "awake." This fraction of time he spent in bed at night was his only ticket out of his regular new life now. he spent the moment while it lasted, even if it was full of dread.

Korvo joined him. he had no words to say, just an uncomfortable silence as he shared the sight of the ceiling. If you stared long enough, you could see the pattern in the walls even through the darkness.

Terry sighed a heavy breath; he must've been holding it without realizing. Korvo tilted his head away from Terry and shifted onto his side, pulling more of the blanket to fit on top of him.

"Goodnight, Terrence."

The weight in his name felt heavy.

"Night, Korv."

Despite the exchange of nightly endings, Terry kept his eyes wide open and up at the ceiling.

A silence crept in once again, but a soft, tired voice cracked it open in reply.

",,,I miss being called that name."

Terry sighed internally.

"Heh heh, yeah. I miss a lot of things."

,,,silence.

"im,,, im so fucking over this, Terry."

Just hearing him be called by his main name lifted a weight off his shoudlers.

"God, me too. I can barely take this anymore! but uh, anything for the pupa i guess."

"Ugh! the pupa SUCKS. i want to go back to being sci-fi! I hate this job! i hate this life, Terry!" Korvo shifted back upright. not entirely facing Terry, but not facing completely away from him. Terry looked at him and listened. "This job is fucking stupid! I-I dont even remember what the fuck we work for! All we do is write documents of already made documents and print out paper of the documents to send to other people to make documents and then collect more documents to write documents about!! its fucking insane, Terry!"

Korvo was, visibly, on the verge of gooblering. Terry reached a hand out for comfort. Not touching him but, keeping him close as a reminder for company.

"oh my god, right??? and i cant even drown out my sorrows in any personal goods because of our damn tight budget."

"I had to cancel our hulu subscription to pay for the pupa's karate classes! I had to cancel hulu!!! We cant get anything for ourselves because we're using all the money on the Pupa! But if we don't he'll go back to being some annoying tween again with his weird gen boomer language or whatever they call it."

Korvo instinctively put his hand on top of Terry's offered one, and shifted to face Terry even more. He never gave direct eye contact.

"I hate having to risk losing my terrible job if i dont cook meals and shine shoes for our boss. I-I want to get rid of this job but the job market is so rough."

"Dont worry, man," Terry squeezed Korvo's hand reasurringly, "once we make enough money, we'll put it aside to try and get some other job! Maybe we'll do youtube video reactions of us reacting to youtubers reacting to youtube web series!"

Korvo squeezed back, but with a tight, aggressive grip. "Oh you know thats never going to happen, Terry. we barely make enough to cover our food. I've been buying SO much crap in cans just so i can keep that karate class subscription. I can't risk the pupa telling me I have "fatherless behavior.""

"Well,,," Terry leaned forward slightly, craving intamacy. "We can dream, and dreams always come true! PBSkids told me!"

"We dream when we sleep. which is 5 hours exactly, usually less when we wake up randomly in the middle of the night multiple times. MAYBE 5 hours and 10 minutes, if we're lucky."

An uncomfortable silence shone over them again. Then Terry felt something land on his arm and dance around.

Korvo pulled Terry close and shoved his face into his chest, bawling his eyes out and gooblering all over.

"I-I want to go back to our old life, Terry!! I hate this! I fucking hate all of this!"

Terry formed a sad expression and stroked the back of Korvo's head, trying to ease out the gooblers.

"Shh, hey, its okay, baby. It'll all end well in the end, right?"

"no it WONT Terry!!!" Korvo brought his fist up in frusteration and slammed it down on Terry, who yelped from the sudden blow.

"O-oh gosh, im sorry Terry! I-I didn't mean it!"

Terry hissed at the soreness, but rubbed it off. "It's fine, man. I wanna punch things too."

Korvo sunk back into Terry again, holding onto his now regular pajamas. "You're the only highlight to all of this, Terry. And even then most of the moments i have with you suck tits. Even if its all for the pupa, i just--" He started to goobler again, so Terry continued rubbing at his head trying to get his skin to calm down. "None of it feels worth it, Terry. i just want to have fun and be with YOU, and be with our family. I want to do fun solar opposites stuff again. that's all i want."

Terry yawned, forgetting how tired he was.

"Well,, i doubt thats ganna happen any time soon. but we can try and do regular minimal fun stuff in the meantime?"

"Oh and when would we HAVE this "meantime"? Our asses are stuck at work almost all day! We can hardly do anything! And on our off days all we do are take short naps the whole day because of how sleep deprived we are!"

"Uhmm,,, well,,,," Terry tried so hard to think. He just wanted to make Korvo feel better, in this instance, at least.

Terry slid his hands to Korvo's back, moving one up to his face and cupping his cheek.

"We have now?"

Korvo sighed in exhaustion. "Yes, i guess, technically we do. but im so tired and we need the sleep for work tomorrow. What can we possibly even do right now?"

"Make out?"

"hmm,, it HAS been a while-"

Before Korvo could start a new thought, Terry brought his face close and locked his lips with his, suckling rythmatically with Korvo as his hands caressed his body. Korvo's grip on Terry's boring pajamas tightened, only to release and wrap his arms around Terry and squeeze hard.

Terry flicked his tongue through the opening of Korvo's lips and licked at the other, Korvo widening the kiss and reciprocating the gesture. Korvo pushed his weight onto Terry's and rolled Terry over onto his back, laying on his lap and continuing to go at it with their mouths. Terry reached his one hand down to rub his thigh while the other remained on his back.

They squeezed and kissed at each other continously, each of them moaning into each other. All they wanted was here, right now. Just some nice time alone, doing something relaxing and comforting.

"Oh god," Korvo spoke between breaths, "I love you Terry. i love you so much. This is all i want right now. I just want to be a happy family again."

"We'll get that soon, Korvotron. For now, just kiss me."

And they went right back at it. This time, Korvo let his weight sink into Terry's instead of pushing on it, and Terry took the opportunity to push Korvo over and straddle him instead, laying over him and pinning him down by the wrists.

A trail of saliva trickled down both their chin's, slobber connecting them both by their mouths. They just wanted each other, to melt all their stress away into quality time spent together. They wanted to have fun again, do sci-fi shit again, be partners and be a family. They wanted to do dumb fun things together again, like binge watch new seasons of their favorite shows on hulu, or more intimate things like make love. All they wanted was to be together and to not have to worry about this shithole planet with their shithole rules and societal functions. some of it was great but, the rest of it was absolute garbage.

After more minutes of kissing passionately at each other, they both parted for a quick breather. Korvo wiped his chin, ridding it of the sticky saliva he shared with his partner.

"Ohhh, we haven't kissed like that in a while."

"Heck yeah, now im all excited! We should totally fuck, too."

"Hm- maybe on our free night. We have to work tomorrow."

Terry was suddenly in shock. "Oh hell, i totally forgot about that." He put a hand to his forehead and leaned over weakly. "Wooah, and i forgot how fucking burnt out i was."

"Yes, lets get some rest. We'll overthrow our shitty jobs and become space nerds again some other day."

Terry scooted back over to his respective side on the bed and patted down at his clothes, and Korvo the same. They repositoned the blanket to be more evenly spread, and after struggling with trying to make sure they both got even amounts of the blanket, Korvo just pulled Terry over to his side to cuddle.

"Oh Great thinkin Korv, now its easier to share!"

"Mhm,," Korvo sunk his face into Terry's shoulder, smiling at the warmth of his partner and at the closeness.

Terry patted Korvo's back and yawned. "Well, now im really tired. eugh. Goodnight Korvy, i love ya."

"I love you too, dummy."

They both held onto each other in a tight embrace and closed their eyes, finally letting themselves wait for sleep to come to their minds.

An hour passed.

"psst, hey korv, i cant sleep. wanna make out again?"

[marshmallowdarling]

♡Favourites (MIC-ZAWA)♡

(Y/N) knows this is wrong, her head resting on one of her captor's chest as he holds her up and walks around the kitchen making himself and his husband a cup of tea, but she's too warm and comfy to give a shit right now.

"Hey baby, want to hop off really quick? I need to pour the water now and I don't want my little baby getting hurt." Hizashi coos at the (H/C) female, her nose scrunches up just a tad at the childish tone but she just shrugs and un-clings from the male.

The blonde male wraps his large hands on her pudgy waist before counting down and lifting her up onto of the kitchen table-top, he turns back around to pour the hot water, but his eyes linger on her position. He's not an idiot, especially knowing how his little one has a past of trying to run away, she hadn't done it in a while, but you can never be too careful and away from the escape attempts she could get hurt.

A black silhouette lumbers into the kitchen, his aura dark and gloomy as he scans his dark eyes over the scene in-front of him. His bubbly husband, with his long blonde hair out neatly, humming a tune while making a delicious smelling cup of tea while his C̶A̶P̶T̶I̶V̶E̶ darling is sitting on the kitchen table kicking her legs.

Clearing his voice, Shota walks to his husband. "What do we have here?" His deep voice is uncharacteristically soft as he kisses Hizashi's cheek, his husband only smiles back and pushes a cup softly into his hands.

"Well-" Hizashi puts the kettle back before turning around and leaning against the counter. "-(Y/N) felt like a little cuddle so we were doing that for a bit until I wanted to make some tea for you."

The camomile tea shifts a bit as Shota looks at it, his lips twitch upwards slightly. His husband always remembers his favourites even if he himself hated them. "Hmm, well I'm free now kitten so if you want to resume the cuddle with me-"

"I'm good." Her voice comes out strong but monotoned, the (H/C) female grabs an apple from the fruit bowl before swiftly exiting the kitchen.

Putting his cup back down, Shota sighs before rubbing his eyes. "Why is she so affectionate to you and not me? I don't get it; I've done everything I can, but it just doesn't-" He cuts himself off with a groan.

Hizashi's lips turn down as he watches his husband's despair. "I'm sure she just needs a little bit more time babe. At least she's finally getting more comfortable, maybe more me than you but she's still improving." He says patting Shota's shoulder lovingly.

The raven head nods, sending a small smile to him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The female sighs before crunching into her ruby apple, she had heard the conversation about her before they switched and started talking about hero stuff.

It's not like she meant to favour one man over the other, actually she didn't want to like either of them, but Hizashi's just so bubbly and outgoing and kind it's impossible to not open up to him.

Shota is the complete opposite, he's mean and strict with a scowl painted on his face 24/7. His pale skin and dark demeanour making (Y/N) immediately become scared and closed off towards him.

If anything, it's his fault not hers!!

But all the same, (Y/N) sighs as she swallows, her stupid heart feeling sad for the male. She scolds herself for feeling sorry for her captor, but her soft and caring personality overrides any sour thoughts about him.

Hearing a pair of footsteps and the couch next to her shift, her (E/C) orbs look up to see Shota, his long black hair thrown into a lazy pony. "There's (Favourite Show) on, want to watch it with me?" He asks, turning the T/V on.

The female shrugs as she takes another bite, her attention fixated more on her apple than the T/V but she doesn't make a move to leave.

He just smiles before turning the volume up, small progress is still progress, he works with teenagers 24/7. Out of everyone, Shota has the most patience, and he doesn't mind waiting if it's for her, they have all the time in the world. As long as she's safe with. . .

T H E M.

[hops-hunny]

Angels on Earth

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Request: “CONGRATS ON 300 FOLLOWERS!!!! I love your writing sm <3

this is my first time ever making a request and recently I found out that the person I was dating is still in love with their ex so I'm looking for comfort rn hehe

could you do a 23, 33, 35 with Ron, a mix of fluff and smut? chubby/plus size fem reader please”

Summary: Ron thought he was obvious, but it was clear (Y/n) was more obvious.

Warnings: Sexual themes

A/N: This took a while but I’ve also been busy but, enjoy!

23. “Cause I never believed there was a heaven till I found you.”

33. “Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” “I’d fuck you right now.”

35. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.”

For as long as Ron could remember, he had always found his potions partner to be beautiful. Who could blame him? (Y/n) was a beautiful girl. Round cheeks, soft all around, beautiful (h/c) hair, and the prettiest set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But that wasn’t originally what drew him in, it was everything else. (Y/n) had an aura that surrounded her that was so bright, so full of life. Everyone who befriended her was always in a positive mood, smiles seen left and right from the jokes she’d tell. Even right now, with her hair pulled back from her face and the cute little goggles she insisted on wearing, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Right. I think that should be it.” She said, pushing the goggles up her face as she turned her head to look at him. His face flushed and if she had noticed, she didn’t say much. “That is unless you fucked something up. Merlin knows how bad you are with Potions Weasley.” she giggled, his heart pulling and racing in his chest. 

“Oi! ‘M not that bad. Plus you didn’t let me touch anything, should be fine unless you managed to make a mistake.” He leaned towards her a bit with a devious smirk. “But it’s impossible for you to do that isn’t it? I forgot you were just a perfect princess.” He pulled away, eyes trained on the potion in the cauldron in front of them. Amortentia, was it? He found it a bit strange because he couldn’t smell anything but the girl’s perfume no matter how far he leaned in. In his own state of confusion, he completely missed the girl’s own shocked look on her face.

“What do you smell?” she questioned, gathering her things due to the period drawing to a close. His eyes widened at his realization before calming down. Now was a better time than ever. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before sighing.

“You.” his eyes shot open at the sound of a snort. (Y/n) had made her way towards the exit of the potions room, (e/c) eyes rolling at him as she shot him a smile. She went to leave the room before giving him an up and down.

“If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.” she teased, shooting him a wink before exiting the room. He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he adjusted the awkward bulge in his pants. He stood, gathering his things as he huffed to himself.

“I’m in deep aren’t I?” he said out loud, ignoring the look his slimy potion’s teacher gave him. Without another word, he left continuing on his path to his next dreadful class of the day.

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

“She probably thought you were joking.” Harry said, causing Ron to give him a glare. Even though there was a big possibility that Harry was right, he didn’t want to believe him. He thought his attempt was a good one! He was direct about what he meant, right?

“He’s got a point. You guys usually joke around and mess with each other a lot. She probably thought you were cracking a joke. Have you tried just telling her how you feel?” Luna asked as if the answer was obvious. Ron felt his brow twitch as he sighed, sinking down in his seat more as he threw his head back.

“What can be more obvious than saying you smell someone in your Amortentia? Do you guys even think?” He questioned.

“Do you? Cause if you did then you’d know that was a poor attempt.” Hermione chimed. Although at first he was sure his attempt was good, that it was obvious, suddenly he was beginning to have second thoughts. Was he clear enough? Sure, you could say one thing but he’d be the first to admit his actions didn’t match. He huffed, looking at his friends, desperation hidden in his eyes.

“Well, what should I say then?” 

“Say something truthful! Let your heart speak for what your actions couldn’t.” Ginny chimed, causing them all to give her a strange look. She crossed her arms, looking away with red cheeks. “What? I think I’d know what chicks like, I do shag em afterall.”

“So tell us, what does your heart say Ron?” Luna asked, he sighed as he racked his brain. He liked her a lot. How could he not? (Y/n) was beautiful, a gift from the heavens above. The softness of her skin, the roundness of her tummy, and those beautiful luscious thighs. He was surprised no one else had made a move on her yet. She was kind too, always willing to help her fellow (y/h/h) in need.

A lovesick dopey look took over his face. “I...I’d say…” he let out a dreamy noise as hearts took over his eyes, “I never believed there was a heaven till I found you. Never believed angels walked among us at Hogwarts, that I think she’s amazing and I-”

“Okay ew that’s enough. I’m gonna be sick. Save it for her.” his sister said, grimacing as she stood up. “And with that note, I’m gone. Why not tell  her at the Gryfindor party tonight? I’m sure she’ll be there!” Ron gulped nervously. That soon? Surely a few hours wasn’t enough time to prepare! Maybe he’d try in a few months…

However as he looked across the hall, seeing some twit practically eye fucking her, it was settled. Tonight he would tell her and if not, he’d at least make some progress.

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

Ron let out a shaky deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands along the front of his jeans. Whether it was the sweltering heat of all the warm bodies, the shots he had taken, or the thought of what he had set out to do tonight he didn’t know, but either way he was burning like a phoenix. His eyes trailed the room nervously, looking for (Y/n). How was he sure she’d be here anyways? She wasn’t a frequent attender to parties, only showing up to them sporadically. However at the sound of a familiar laugh-snort combo, he had all he needed. 

In his buzzed(and slightly drunken) haze, he followed the sound blindly, face heating up at the girl's appearance. She wore a blush colored bodycon dress that clung to the folds and curves of her body nicely.. Her hair was styled differently than usual, but suited her perfectly nonetheless. Most things did. And when she saw him? Her face broke out in a bright smile as she hiccuped, handing her half empty cup to one of her friends. She stumbled her way over to him. He steadied her by placing his hand on her waist, looking down at her.

“Ronnn! Omg Ronnie, what’re you doing here?” she hiccuped again, giggling as she stared up at him. He smiled back at her softly, stroking along the softness of her waist.

“ I could ask you the same thing, love, you’re not much of a drinker usually.” he placed a hand on her cheek, thankful for the liquid courage flowing through his system. “You alright? Come on, let’s sit you down. You don’t seem to be too steady.” he said, guidning her towards the couch. When they got there, he expected her to sit next to him but was in shock as she parked herself in his lap. She wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling down at him drunkenly. He handed her a glass of water, the same one he had been handed earlier when he was getting a bit out of hand. She thanked him, sipping on it at a slow pace. 

After a few minutes, the hiccuping and giggles had died down from her, leaving her to form goosebumps at their current position. She was fully seated on the boy’s lap and he had his arms wrapped around her, rubbing his fingers along her soft pudgy sides. She bit her lip as she looked off to the side, before bringing her eyes back to his.

“Uh, Ron,” she started, looking down as she picked at the skin around her nail beds. Letting out a deep sigh, she continued, “Can I ask you something?” her heart began to race rapidly as she looked at him, watching as he nodded before offering her a soft smile.

“Course. What’s up?” How should she phrase it? Should she be simple? Should she-

“Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” she blurted out, eyes widening. Although she had wanted to ask him something about if he was attracted to her, she hadn’t intended on being so...bold. She was known for speaking her mind but not in situations like this! In a state of panic, she went to stand up but was pulled down by a strong pair of arms, pulling her close to an even stronger, toned chest. He chuckled in her ears, hair tickling the edge of her neck.

“Shit princess, I mean...I’d fuck you right now.” his grip on her sides tightened, trailing one hand on her thigh. Out of all the things she could’ve said, this was the last one Ron expected. (Y/n), his snarky potions partner, in his lap in that god forsaken dress asking if he’d fuck her. He felt his own heart begin to race. Did she mean to say it? Well, did she mean to say it to him? Or did she just want his opinion for someone else?

“O-oh.” she stuttered out. (Y/n) pulled back some, turning her head to look at him, finding that his eyes instantly were drawn to hers. 

“Do you mean that?” they both asked. Ron’s cheeks turned red as (Y/n) felt her own face grow warm. Both of them let out breaths they didn’t even know they were holding, laughing with one another.

“I meant it but, did you?” she asked, breath hitching of the closeness of their faces to one another. She could smell the fire whiskey mixed with hints of cannabis and weed mixing with it making her absolutely intoxicated. He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers.

“‘Course I did, love. You don’t have to be skinny for me to do anything with you, let alone fuck you. Because trust me,” he trailed a hand along her upper thigh, sliding it between the soft expanse of them. “It’d be my pleasure to fuck a woman with a body like yours. A woman so soft, so tender, bet that cunt of yours is tight and dripping. Isn’t it?” the girl squeaked, clenching her thighs around his hand. He leaned down, pecking her lips softly before pulling away, (Y/n) whimpering  in a desperate attempt to let him know she wanted more..

“And if I were to grant you that pleasure right now?” she purred, placing a soft hand on his cheek which he gladly leaned into, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.

“I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

[moregaythanyourealized]

Honey,

Doc ock x reader

(Part 2, smut warning)

The air was thick as you tried move away,

“What’s the matter y/n? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He laughed and stood up fully, your eyes widened when you saw the state he was in. The mechanical arms welded to his body. Scars and blood surrounded the areas where the metal connected with pudgy skin. He saw the way you looked at him and frowned,

“It’s still me...just less so now.” Honey started swatting at one of his appendages hissing when the arm swatted back lightly. Bewildered, you sat down on the floor. It was quiet for a long time. Finally receiving the courage to look him in the eyes you asked,

“Where’s your shirt?” He paused and chuckled before breaking out into a full on evil laugh. Fuck, did you say something to set him off? Getting to your feet you back yourself against the kitchen counter and reached an arm behind you, trying to find a knife.

His tentacles carried him over to your side of the room. One shut the curtain swiftly and the other found a comfortable spot between your body and the kitchen counter. The two free arms holding him slightly above you, his feet barley touching the ground. A human hand cupped your face and rested there. Otto sighed at the feeling of your skin against his. He hadn’t seen you in so long, it was like looking at an old painting long lost in the world of modern art. Your soft plush lips pressed lightly against his thumb. God, you were a sight for sore eyes. Finally your hand grasped the handle of a knife. Swinging your arms out you panicked seeing the bright green spatula in your hands. A quizzical brow made you whimper quietly. Otto slowly pried the utensil from your hands and tossed it aside. Another silence settled between you. His eyes raked over your body. A blouse with embroidered shapes on the sleeves and collar,

“Are you happier without me, darling?” Shaking your head vigorously you found your voice,

“Of course not! I’m happier without the company. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I left. I needed closure but I was afraid to come back.” Along with finding your voice you seemed to find courage too. Dainty hands brushed hair out of his face and rested on his bare chest. How could he leave after he’s known the pleasure and serenity you provide? Ottos never even kissed you but now couldn’t imagine a life without your touch. He needed you. The tentacle resting on the counter pushed your forward and coiled around your waist. The grip tightened when you ran a finger along his jaw. The arms turned you around and you placed your hands on the cool counter top. His lips pressed against your neck making you sigh. Calloused hands caressed your hips and thighs. Doctor Octavius pulled your skirt past your knees and let it drop to the floor. He made a low noise and you prepared yourself. But the arms simply turned you around again and he gazed longingly at you,

“It would be proper to take you out first, wouldn’t it?” You pulled your top over your head and yanked him towards you,

“Fuck being proper. I’ve been proper for the past two years with you. But not anymore, I want you Otto.” That’s all he needed to hear. Devouring your lips he let his tongue wander your mouth and his hands squeeze your breasts. Immersed in your taste he didn’t notice your hands until it groped at his crotch making him groan a bit. God, it drove you crazy. Why did you wait so long to tell him? Whatever! It’s in the past now and the present was a gift. Pulling away from the kiss you held his face and breathed heavily,

“Does anyone know you’re alive?”

“No, they believe I disintegrated, or drowned or some other crazy illusion.” He brought your hands to his lips and pressed them firmly against him,

“I don’t know what to do. But I do know what I want. Tomorrow doesn’t matter y/n, all we have is right now.” Going back in for another kiss his mechanical enhancements lift you up and carry the both of you to your small bedroom. He placed you stomach down and ass up. You could hear him mumbling to himself before you felt wet fingers rub along your folds. You moaned out and held your pillow a little tighter. He began to fuck you roughly with his hands hitting every spot you needed. Whining you bucked your hips and he chuckled,

“Any man would be lucky to see you like this. I’m certainly glad I can not only see it but feel you as well.” The pace he was going at was making you squirm. Warm feelings in your abdomen and lower torso causing moans and sighs before he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You were about to ask him why he stopped before he stuck a hand in front of your face,

“Spit.” After you did he began lubing himself with your saliva. He prodded at your entrance with his tip. He aches for your body around his. He wanted desperately to be rough with you, but he didn’t know how the tentacles would react and treat you if he “lost control”. He couldn’t go wild yet, he needed to keep his mind clear. Pushing his entirety in you gasped and let curses sink into your silk pillow. Rocking back and forth he held your hips tightly and groaned.

“Mmmm Otto, fuck!” He picked up your waist a bit to get better leverage. His hips thudded against yours. You could feel yourself throb and clench against him. He licked the parts of your lower back he could reach. You needed to finish badly. You wanted release and you wanted him to cum inside you. Or on you, you’re not picky. Reaching a shaky hand down you began to rub at your clit and whine. Pushing your head further into the bedding to quiet your noises. Otto must’ve noticed because one cold metal arm yanked your hands behind you while another held your hair up. Now that you were fully immobile the Doctors human hand reached down and began rubbing tight circle on your cunt, mimicking your earlier actions. Not being able to hide you face any longer, erotic noises filled the room. Taking Otto to the edge,

“F-fuck...do you feel good my darling? Worshipped a-as you should be?”

“Yes! Fuck yes yes please!” Starting to shake you let your mouth hang open. No longer caring if he knew just how perfect he felt inside you. Those warm feelings got stronger and louder as your vision went white and you cried out for him. The arms released you, letting you fall to the mattress. With a few more thrusts he let out a low stuttering moan and pulled away. You turned around and looked up at him. He looked at your body. Your slick thighs covered in his cum made him feel in control. It was something he needed right now, he felt as if he’d lost control of everything else in his life. You sat up and motioned him to the bathroom so you could clean each other off. He watched you intently as you prepared yourself for bed. Everything you did seemed effortless. The way you put your hair up, how you looked stunning even without your makeup on. When he realized you were staring back at him Otto turned away blushing. He was surprised when you didn’t bother to put your clothes back on but instead walked around you apartment naked. Fortunately he closed the curtains earlier. You were making tea? Otto didn’t think he could muster the strength to walk around after what just happened. He pulled on his pants before plummeting on the couch. Honey walked up and sat on his leg, less hostile and possibly even nice? You strutted in with two large mugs and sat criss cross beside him,

“Sleepy time tea.” He took the mug and sipped before pulling back. The beverage was way too hot. He set it down politely and began petting the cat. He felt something strange in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt at all in the past few months. Serenity. The calmness of sitting in a dark room with the person you love. Complete silence occasionally broken by the meows of an annoying cat. Serenity was something he could get used to, especially if it meant spending more time with you.

[chubbology]

The Munchies

prompt: a stoner feedee's girlfriend uses him to test out new edibles and deals with his munchies

Remmy returned home from visiting relatives on the last day of December, and he was very glad to be back. They’d fed him well and his pants were tight, but all the small talk and bad vibes had been as much of a drag as usual.

He opened the door to his apartment and breathed in a familiar, potent scent.

“Baby!” Brianna ran from the kitchen and tackled him.

“Happy almost New Year! Wanna hear my resolution? Baking and getting baked. Check it out.”

She brought him over to the counter, where she was almost done filling up three containers of what Remmy had no doubt were various edibles. He ignored the kitchen mess.

“I’m liking what I see,” Remmy laughed.

She preened and then pinched his love handle. “I bet you do."

"These aren’t your typical brownies, though," she said. "This is gourmet.” She kissed her fingertips in a muah.

The first container was full of moist shortbread, the second with a kind of apple crumble dish that looked divine. Last but not least, the third had a jumble of what like peanut butter cups.

“Try something!” Brianna gushed. She seemed to be a little floaty already. “You’re gonna be my new taste tester. I think I could really be good at this. Make some cash, too.”

So Remmy tried one of the peanut butter cups. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Bri, these are incredible.” He ate another.

“Take it easy. Two should get you stoned. So says the recipe anyway.” Brianna rubbed his pudgy forearm as he eyed the rest in the container, biting the inside of his lip. “Hey. If you’re just hungry, I can fix that. You wanna eat?”

“I’m starving,” Remmy said. A lie, since he’d had a big lunch before driving back. But he could eat.

“Okay, I’ll get you something! Pay day was Monday. Let’s splurge. What do you want?”

McDonalds, Remmy’s mind supplied easily, in an almost salacious tone. His relatives thought they were too good for McDonalds, and now his body thrummed with the desire to just get a truckload of those greasy combos and revel in the guilt and satisfaction of eating every last unhealthy bite.

Then again. Brianna probably wasn’t okay to drive right now, he didn’t feel like getting back in the car, and the scale told him he’d hit 240 recently, “Let’s just order in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

That night, as they ignored the idiots on television bringing in the New Year, the two of them picked at the apple crumble - which tasted as brilliant as Remmy had suspected - and lounged around, enjoying their high. Brianna barely touched her Chinese takeout, and Remmy ate all of his. Then hers. Then he started grazing the kitchen for more food.

Over the course of the next week, the two of them finished off the rest of what she made, plus some more recipes that turned out delicious. Brianna got a pleasant high every time, and Remmy enjoyed the edibles, too, although his experience was slightly different. It was just—

He just—

He got hungry. Munchies but on unholy overdrive. Cranked to eleven and a half. With every high, Remmy became a little more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food he felt compelled to pack away, savory and sweet. Takeout and fast food and quarts of ice cream. Nuts and fruits, too. Jar of peanut butter here. Tub of icing there. He’d never been very active, so it came as no surprise when his clothes began stretching over his chest and belly and thighs and ass. He popped a button getting dressed one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. He hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly, his body converting all the calories into flab. Flab that padded him out chubbier than he already was, and then more on top of that. In the mirror, he started to look big.

Brianna seemed unfazed by her boyfriend’s growing girth. She took to her baking resolution with as much gusto as she did anything that interested her, and even into March, April, and May, she was selling the edibles well and raked in money that almost made her day job obsolete. Remmy was constantly praised for being “the bestest taste tester ever” and enjoyed a steady stream of free highs to balance out the lows of spending most of his time working his IT job from home.

Working, gaming, watching old movies. Remmy already stayed sitting most of the day, but as he gained weight, gained a lot, filling out his desk chair to its limits, crumbs becoming his constant companion, he felt even less like standing up. His weight climbed to 280, 290, 300.

June, July, and August passed uneventfully, and pretty happily, too. Brianna stopped asking him what food he wanted from the grocery store and just bought him things. Bought him things she knew he’d eat when he got high, things that made his ass spread wider on the couch, his arms round out like sausages, his pudgy chest start to really droop. The scale said 320, 330, 340.

Remmy gave up trying to gain control of the new appetite Brianna’s heavenly edibles seemed to install in him irrevocably. When he craved, he ate, and he ate. And like a dam breaking, his body surged with so much excess fat he began spilling out of even his newest clothes.

He was a little ashamed, sure. But quite a few of his relatives were fat, so they couldn't talk, and it felt like sweet revenge to embarrass his irritating parents by becoming so overweight. As for everyday life, well, he just moved around from room to room slower, wore the same stretchy clothes a lot, and that was it. Remmy did mention his weight in passing sometimes to gauge Brianna’s feelings about it, but Brianna only ever giggled, called him cute, and passed him her venti sugary monstrosity of a coffee concoction, which he thoughtlessly sucked down to the dregs, ingesting a thousand-plus calories just like that. This made her eyes sparkle, huge and utterly endeared.

“Like a piggy,” she said, thumbing his fat cheek. “Always willing to eat.”

In bed, she made it clear she liked him the way he was, and was becoming. And it wasn’t long before Remmy realized he was into how big he was becoming, too.

They continued like this. Getting high together and watching movies and making out and snacking. Well, Brianna snacked. Remmy feasted. Gorged himself, to put it precisely, with Brianna’s enthusiastic help. “You look good soft,” she’d tell him, playing with belly fat that his stretchiest t-shirts couldn’t cover anymore.

Remmy would swallow another bite of a snickers and spread his huge thighs a little, with effort. “You call it soft, but I’m the one who gets tired moving from the office to the kitchen.” I’m so heavy, he wanted to say. God, I’m so heavy.

“Just move your computer to the kitchen then,” she said. “Duh.”

It was a seed planted that came to fruition a month later - when Remmy’s food cravings became unmanageable and his weight climbed past 360 - that he felt he would simply be more productive during his day job if his breaks to get food from the kitchen were shorter.

By November, whether he was high or not, Remmy was grazing all day, everyday. What Brianna got from the store became insufficient, and he started a habit of ordering take out most days. In big portions. His scale creaked at 375. When Brianna wasn’t home, he sometimes ate takeout on the scale to see if the number would rise.

On Remmy’s birthday in early December, Brianna made a fresh batch of his favorites again: the peanut butter cup edibles. After ordering pizza for delivery, she got in the shower, and Remmy scarfed down three of the big cups as soon as they cooled. Then he waited, leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, belly hanging, feet hurting. He didn’t want to go to the effort of sitting on the couch and getting back up again when he could just stay in the kitchen, where he knew he’d end up anyway.

He scratched his supple underbelly. Found a pack of Twizzlers and started eating those.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed as he felt the high slowly come over him. And, as expected, his whole body immediately began to tingle for satiation. Fattening food sung to him from the pantry and fridge and freezer all at once, and it was all going to make him so huge and heavy he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own wide feet, but he wanted it anyway.

He didn’t care if he was pushing 390 now. He’d blown up, yeah. Inflated from a thick guy to obese and waddling. At this point, he was so pumped so big with blubber that he couldn’t twitch without jiggling, but so what? He was hungry. Being high made him want to consume, and so he did. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

Remmy opened the fridge and took out his birthday cake, which Brianna must have stuck in there after getting home from work. He couldn’t wait to eat it properly. There was no way he could wait until after the pizza came. Besides, it was his birthday. Remmy took off the plastic lid of the round, triple chocolate cake and felt his nerves light up with anticipation. He was going to eat it all, and there was no stopping him.

He found a knife and cut himself a slice three times the size any reasonable person would take. Desperate to get the goodness into his mouth without delay, he skipped a fork and bit right into the gooey, dense cake and mouse and fudge. God, Brianna was so perfect for getting him the unhealthiest cake imaginable. She knew he didn’t care if he was ten pounds heavier tomorrow, if his fat ass ripped his sweatpants open, if he ate so much he couldn’t haul himself to bed—she knew he needed this.

He ate slice after slice, and it was mostly gone when Brianna got out of the shower, looking sexier than usual in her matching purple lingerie. She’d gotten chubbier with so much junk food in the apartment, and fat clung to her in all the right places. But her pudge was a far cry from his angry-red stretch marks and neck rolls. Hell, his moobs had grown bigger than her tits.

She found him in the kitchen, eating and holding his drooping belly, and she rubbed his back, cooing at him when he apologized.

“It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait all night. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Remmy said, but all he could think about was getting his next bite. As she watched him, he tried to hold out. Tried to prove he could stop eating for two seconds. Three seconds, four - his resolve broke and he crammed the rest of a slice into his mouth and chewed, choking back a moan.

“You get the munchies so bad, don’t you?” Brianna grinned and leaned against his belly, patting and cupping his weighty breasts in the way she knew pleased him. “Let’s get you sat down. I’ll bring you what you need. Just sit and relax and watch whatever you want.” They moved to the couch and Remmy sat, the cushions wheezing, his thighs and belly quivering. Brianna tucked the remainder of the cake into his pudgy hands. “Don’t worry about a mess. It’s your birthday. And there’s more where that came from.” She winked. “I just needed to keep this cake refrigerated because it’s fancy. There’s a whole sheet cake on top of the fridge that’s cheap and huge. Covered in icing. Perfect for munchies.”

Remmy could only feel a wave of relief at this news. There would be more cake. And after that, there’d still be more junk in the cabinets. There was pizza coming. His high was just right. Brianna turned on the television to his favorite show and he settled further back into the cushions, feeling his second chin swell out and engulf his first. Everything was just right. He was lucky to have Brianna and food. So much food.

A year later, around the same time, Remmy skipped his usual trip to see his relatives for the holidays. At 520 pounds, it was simply too much effort to move.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[pascalpanic]

so i read this scenario on reddit and i thought it would be a cute and fluffy fic idea if you want to write it :)

one of the Pedro boys (i was thinking frankie or marcus moreno but you can put any one of them that you feel like would fit the story) lands himself in the hospital and the reader visits him often cause they’re friends. they notice that every time they visit, his heart rate monitor speeds up, like not enough to cause alarm but enough to be noticeable, and that’s how she finds out that he likes her and they decide to date (after he gets out of hospital)

Appendicitis (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: ^^

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: talk of being ill, vomit, pain, lots of talk of hospitals and that being a major setting, Frankie is a dad, language

A/N: welcome back to Josie’s quest to clean her inbox! This idea was so precious!! I hope you guys like it!!

Frankie is in fucking agony. Never has he felt something as painful as this, never has such pain radiated through his body so intensely that he has no choice but to vomit out his stomach’s contents.

He spends the day at home, occupying his daughter as best he can while he’s in such suffering. He figures that maybe it’s just really bad gas cramping or constipation. Marisol plays quietly, at her daddy’s request, watching her favorite Disney movies on the couch while nuzzled into his side. Frankie has never been so grateful to get her into bed at the end of the day.

After a full day of the pain, and realizing that it wasn’t going away no matter how many painkillers he took, Frankie gave in around midnight. Lying in his bed, skin turning gray and the pain now decisively in his right side, Frankie called you.

After a few rings, you picked up. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hi.” His voice sounds agonized. “How much do you charge for babysitting again?” He asks, the strain clear.

You’re confused, pushing the phone closer to your ear and thinking it might be the distance that makes him sound so odd. “Uh, you’re my friend, so free. You need me to take Mari?” You ask him.

He nods. “Yeah; how much for like a week though? I don’t want to impose though, and-“

His voice sounds terrible. “Frankie. Shut up. A week? What’s wrong? I can take Marisol for as long as you need, but I gotta know what’s going on.”

Frankie is quiet before he grunts softly in pain. “I think my appendix might be fucked up. It hurts like fucking hell. Mari’s asleep, I don’t wanna wake her or anything, but could you-“

You cut him off once more, sitting bolt upright. “I’m on my way over. Do you think you can hang on until I get there? I can drive you to the hospital, or we’ll get one of the boys.”

“That sounds good,” Frankie agrees. “Fuckin’ ambulances are so expensive.”

You chuckle softly. “Hang in there, Fish, okay? I’m gonna call Will, see if he can drive you and I’ll stay with Mari. How’s that?”

Marisol loves you. There’s no better solution in Frankie’s eyes: she behaves better for you than she does for him. She’ll be in good hands, happy for as long as he needs to be in the hospital healing. “Perfect. God, you’re a fucking angel. Don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better than me,” you snort as you pull on a hoodie and slip on some shoes. “I’m gonna call Will. You got this, Fish. Distract yourself. I’ll send you updates.”

When you arrive at the Morales household, Will’s truck is already in the driveway. He lives closer, so it makes sense. Be quiet and don’t wake Mari, you remember as you slip off your shoes and head up the stairs of Frankie’s home. It’s quiet, unsurprising for this time of night, and you know Mari is a light sleeper. Frankie would never want to wake her at this hour.

Wandering into his room, you find Will standing next to the bed and an incredibly worn-looking Frankie. His skin holds barely any color, his face almost green in nausea. You rush to his side. “Frankie, holy shit,” you exclaim in a loud whisper, taking his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I will be if Miller mans up and gets me out of this bed,” he says, followed by a chuckle with no humor.

Will sighs. He’s wearing pajamas too, looking as exhausted as you are. Frankie groans as he hears Mari’s tiny voice over the baby monitor. “Fuck. You’re staying with her, Will’s bringing me?” He clarifies, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes.

Nodding, you squeeze his hand. “Give me directions quickly and I’ll go get her. You gotta sit up first, Frankie,” you reassure him.

He squeezes your hand back tight and sits up, his face contorting in pain. There’s a flush of redness to his cheeks, and it makes him look more human for a moment until it fades again. “She won’t fall back asleep unless she’s in this bed with you. She needs the attention. Uh, food is in the fridge, you know emergency shit,” he says, with surprising coherence for the pain he’s in.

You nod and ruffle Frankie’s soft bedhead. “Benny- fuck,” you wince, knowing the Miller brothers hate being mixed up. Somehow, even with their distinct personalities, you do it all the time. “Will. Send me updates,” you remind him as you stand. “And you, Francisco,” you murmur and press a kiss to his sweat-beaded forehead, “get some strong pain meds and get better for me and Mari.” You smile softly and walk out of the room.

The room next to Frankie’s is beautiful, a sage green paint and lots of woodland creatures painted on the walls by Frankie’s surprisingly artistic hands. There’s a crib covered by a creamy white canopy and the little girl pokes her head up, tilting to the side in confusion as she sees you.

It’s not fear, of course. Mari loves you, absolutely adores you in fact. She’s just… confused. Her little brain can tell it’s the middle of the night. “Where’s Daddy?” She asks, making uppy arms at you.

You walk over to her crib, picking her up and kissing her head. “Daddy��s got a tummyache, cutie,” you tell her and tickle her tummy gently, making her giggle and bury her tiny face in your chest. “He’s gonna go see the doctor and get it all fixed up, okay? You and I are gonna have so much fun,” you assure her, and she giggles again.

You can hear two sets of feet, slowly moving. “Let’s go give Daddy a kiss goodbye, okay?” Mari nods and rubs her little eyes.

Frankie’s got an arm around Will’s shoulders in the hall, looking absolutely agonized. He smiles a little as he sees you and his baby. “Hey, patita,” he chuckles. He dubbed her duckling from the soft tufts of fluff on her head as a baby. “Be good while I’m gone.”

Mari nods and puts a hand on either side of Frankie’s sweating face, making a little pout and giving him a kiss. “Love you, Daddy,” she says, a yawn overtaking her tiny face.

“Love you too,” he nods and looks up at you. “I owe you.”

“Friends don’t owe each other,” you shake your head. “Now get your a… butt to the hospital, Morales,” you tell him and pat Will on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

He nods at you and the two men shuffle along through the house until they can get Frankie into the car and on his way to (hopefully) sedation and a cure.

Yawning again, Mari’s big brown eyes look up at you from where you hold her on your hip. “Snack?” She asks you, pointing towards the kitchen.

Her little voice and tiny, pudgy fingers are too much. “I suppose. Only because we’re having special girls’ time,” you tease and boop her nose. Setting her on the counter, you grab some cubes of cheese and some berries, which you make sure are in small pieces.

Mari’s content to eat her snacks with you, and you can see her growing sleepier again as the plate empties out. “Sleepy?” You ask her, and she nods. “Alright, cutie pie,” you sigh and lift her, holding her to your chest as she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your torso. “Do you want me to cuddle with you?” You ask.

She nods. “Gotta snuggle for late sleepies. Daddy says that.”

The words melt your heart. Frankie’s always been so good with her, so warm and skilled and precious. It only makes your crush on the man grow every time his little girl babbles about how much she loves her daddy. “Does he?”

She nods. “Daddy sings for me.”

Frankie singing Marisol to sleep. The idea melts your heart. You need in on that. “What does he sing to you?” You ask. “What’s your favorite song that daddy sings to you?”

She thinks for a moment as you sit on the edge of the bed, allowing her to clamber off your lap and into the cozy king-sized bed. “Rocket Man.” It’s hard to decipher in her baby-talk, but you get it.

“He sings that for you?” You ask as you get under the covers, into the blankets that are still warm from Frankie’s body heat, that smell like his cologne.

Mari snuggles into your chest, and nods softly. “Can you sing Rocket Man?”

“Of course,” you nod and trace little circles into the toddler’s back, singing the Elton John song to her in a soft voice. It doesn’t take long, now that she’s in her daddy’s bed and got a snack, for her to fall asleep. She snores softly, and you follow suit not too long after.

-

It did turn out that Frankie had appendicitis. The doctors weren’t entirely sure what caused it, but you and the Miller brothers rotated your time with Marisol at home and the hospital with Frankie, as his stay was painfully long for such an active man. Santiago video chatted often, but being out of town prevented him from physically seeing Fish.

It took him about a week to recover, and that time was mostly spent napping or watching the television in his room. He’d bullshit with the guys or you when you were around, and he especially loved the time of the afternoon every day where one of you brought Marisol to see him.

Usually it was just you or one of the Millers who stayed in the room with him. The other two either stayed with Marisol or got to stay at home and rest for themselves. It was a lucky day when you and Benny got to both be with Frankie for a while, telling stories and laughing. It was your turn to be off-duty, but all you wanted from your free time was to be with the man.

Your presence has always made Frankie’s heart rate a little faster. It’s always made his palms a little clammy, and his pants a little tighter sometimes. At least now he can attribute it to the pain.

Every time his eyes catch yours, his heart monitor gets a little louder. It’s odd, but you shrug it off. It can’t mean anything. It’s just your Frankie. After an hour or so of spending time with the guys, you run to get fast food for the three of you. While you’re away, you receive a text from Benny.

Benny Boy: you’re fucking with his head, bro

You: what?

Benny Boy: the heart rate monitor is nearly silent right now. every time frankie looks at you it spikes, don’t tell me you haven’t been noticing that

You: do you want nuggets or a burger?

You: thats ridiculous, Benny.

Benny Boy: always nuggets. but seriously, his heart rate is at like 54 right now, he’s just chilling and kind of dozed off. let’s check it when you come back.

You: be prepared for the most boring science experiment ever. also, what dip do you want?

After you receive your bulging bags of food, stuffed from both Benny’s and Frankie’s massive appetites, you return to the hospital.

You: walking in. pulse status?

Benny: 60. he’s a little more awake now.

As you enter the room, Frankie turns to you and grins. “Hey. What did you get?” He asks.

You plop the bags on the small table overhanging Frankie’s bed and grin. “Just your usual order. I know what you like,” you shrug as you unpack the food.

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 77

Smiling at the rate of Frankie’s heart, more than you should really, you sit down back next to Benny and the three of you eat your food. It’s somewhat quiet, the chatter dying as you devour the fast food, savoring the grease and salt.

After everyone is finished, you stand and clean up the garbage, tossing it all away. You sit back down on Frankie’s bedside. “So, macho man. How’s the pain?” You ask, your fingers tracing his good side.

Beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 86

He shrugs. “It hurts like a bitch, and they said it’s gonna keep hurting like a bitch.”

“Poor baby,” you chuckle, cupping the side of his face and kissing his forehead softly.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 96

Benny groans and stands. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” He smacks your arm as he walks past, as if rubbing in the evidence he’s found. “And then take a walk, I think.”

You’re still seated at Frankie’s side, on the inflatable hospital mattress. “Oh Benjamin,” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Why’d he leave so quick?”

You shrug, though you know the answer. “Who knows? Benny can’t even predict himself,” you chuckle. Frankie’s hand rests over his chest. You slide your hand over his torso and lace your fingers through his until you’re holding it. You can feel his heart thumping steadily against it. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 104

He smiles. “I’m lucky I have you.”

You sigh softly as you look up at the heart rate monitor again. “I gotta say, you have a really high resting rate,” you say nonchalantly, as if you believe it.

Frankie’s face warms. “I, uh-“

“I’m kidding, Frankie,” you mumble softly to him, smiling a little. “I really like you, and I think that monitor is helping me know you like me too. When you get out of here, can we maybe go on a date some time?”

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. HR: 112

Nodding enthusiastically, those floppy curls move with his head. “I would love that,” he tells you with a beaming smile. “God, have you been able to tell all day?” He asks as he looks up at the monitor, his ears burning with heat as he reads the pulse rate. It’s embarrassingly high.

“Yeah,” you finally admit and smile down at him. “But it’s cute. And it makes me feel all warm inside because I finally know you like me too.”

Big brown eyes stare up at you with all of the love in the world. “If I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, I’d kiss you right now,” he promises. “But that’ll have to wait.”

“Yes it will,” you nod and kiss his forehead again, easing him back against the mattress he’d lifted up from slightly. “Now I’m going to go find Benny, and you slow down that heart rate,” you tease and ruffle his curls.

“I’m not gonna be able to slow it down with you around,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes slipping shut.

-

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Protective P2 - Harry Hook x reader - commission work

(gif by Val on twitter) 

Protective p1 (OG version, bad writing made in early 2019)

Protective p1 (V2 REWRITTEN VER made in October 2020)

commissioned by @thebookbakery

=

You stared wide-eyed at the letter held in your eyes; sent, written, and signed by King Ben himself.

Dear Mr. Harry Hook and Ms. (y/n) of the isle. His Royal Majesty, King Ben of Auradon, and his Councilor Ms. Evie of the Isle, hereby request the pleasure of your company, for the upcoming academic year at Auradon prep. Please notify his Majesty’s couriers of your response to this request.

-we’d love to have you three with us here in Auradon, you and your child deserve a better life, will you come? If you accept you will be picked up one week from your response date and will live in the dorms until graduation. - King Ben

It had been around two months since the whole ‘kidnapping ben for the wand’ situation, and Ben had not been able to get you, Harry, and your baby off his mind. And before anybody else could stop him; he made the arrangements for the three of you to live in Auradon, and sent the very invitation you were holding now.

You stood from the barrel you were sitting on and walked into your shared room with Harry, holding up the letter as he looked up from feeding Arella. “what’s up-“ he paused as you turned the letter around and let him read it. His eyes went wide “holy shit, is-is that fer real?!” he stood, gently moving Arella into your arms and taking the latter, reading it over and over again “holy shit it's real-we-i-you…” he looked back up at you, reaching out for your free hand and intertwined your fingers “should we do this?”

You thought about it for a moment, then looked down at Arella, smiling as she played with your jacket straps “yes…yes we should” you smiled up at Harry, who seemed unsure of this decision but he would follow you into oblivion.

“Okay, I trust yeh” he mumbled, kissing your lips and then Arella’s head.

-

Only a week later, you and Harry were packing the last of your things up to leave for Auradon, Gil had been invited as well, already at the other end of the tunnel to wait for the limo with Dizzy; who had also been invited.

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and picked Arella up off his bed, cradling her carefully in his arms and leading the way out of his room and onto the main deck, where the rest of the crew were waiting.

They all said their goodbyes, Desiree and Drey cooing at Arella and Harry let crew say their personal goodbyes to her. Bonnie squeezing you tightly as you patted her head “stay safe you two” Jonas mumbled, patting Harry’s shoulder as he took Arella from him “and take care of the pirate princess” you and Harry nodded, the crew waving goodbye as you walked off the docks through the tunnel.

You stood with Gil and Dizzy a few moments later, waiting anxiously for the arriving Limo. And behold a minute later it pulled up, the driver stepping out and unlocking the back, helping the four of you load up. Harry took all your bags and stuffed them in the trunk, Dizzy sliding into the car first and taking Arella for you to get in easier.

Harry and Gil soon got in and Harry slid next to you, wrapping one arm around you and the other on Arella, rubbing his thumb on her chest as her tiny little hand curled around his forefinger hanging from your shoulder. “we ready?” Harry whispered, leaning in close to you. You nodded with a nervous smile and Harry kissed your cheek “let’s do this”

-

Two hours later the limo pulled up to Auradon prep, where Ben, Evie, Carlos, Jay, and Ben’s mother all stood ready to welcome the four of you. Dizzy bolted out first as soon as the door open and leaped into Evie’s arms, the two squealing with each other in excitement at Dizzy finally being in Auradon.

You weren’t surprised Mal wasn’t there, she didn’t trust or like Harry or Gil at all and probably felt betrayed by you for siding with Uma after she left.

Ben stepped forward as you, Harry, and Gil climbed out of the car, holding a sleeping Arella in your arms. Evie and Belle immediately went soft at the sight of her but kept their composer as Ben stepped forward with a smile “Welcome to Auradon: Ben said happily, clapping his hands together “first I want to apologize it took so long, and second; thank you for accepting my invitation. I know it was hard to make that choice in both trusting me and leaving behind the isle and your family” you knew he meant the crew “but I promise they will soon follow and now;” he gestured back to the dorm building “let’s get you all set up.” You nodded, letting Evie step closer and coo over Arella.

“oh she’s so cute~” Evie giggled, pressing her fingers into Arella’s (not as pudgy as it should be) cheek softly, your baby girl gurgled and pushed Evie’s hand away, Evie laughing quietly at it “oh I love her already…(y/n)?” you hummed, not looking at her as you followed Ben through the halls of the building “im sorry I left you”

You looked into her eyes, softening a bit as you could only see sincerity in her eyes. “i-“ you started, lifting Arella in your arms a bit, her head cradled in your arm. “i-…don’t forgive you, not just yet but” you smiled at her as her face fell but rose in hope at the ‘but’ “we can start with being friends again?” Evie beamed and nodded, looking over at Jay and Carlos who were letting Evie talk to you first before they tried “and them too, I can tell they want to apologize…Mal thought” Evie winced at that, yeah; Mal would probably take a long time to come around. She had even cussed (y/n) out at the hideout after Evie the boys told her about (y/n)s relationship with Harry and her position on the crew.

‘she betrayed us as soon as we left! We can't trust her! Or Harry! they might lead Uma right into Auradon to destroy it!’

To say the least, Evie and the boys distanced themselves from Mal; after seeing her very narrow tunnel vision, they didn’t want to hear her bitch about (y/n) and Harry’s arrival at Auradon.

Evie hoped she would come around soon though; she missed the days of the five of them running around causing chaos. But reminiscing about the wicked old days could be saved for later, as Ben had led the group to one of the dorm rooms.

“Harry, (y/n)?” Ben called, Harry humming and looking up from Arella as he made faces at her “this will be your dorm room” Harry looked surprised at that, he had expected the dorms to separate them but-

Ben opened the door to reveal a large room, two full-sized beds by the windows (that could be easily pushed together), a crib, a newly installed mini kitchen with a working stovetop, a large dresser (two actually) flowing with baby blankets, baby clothes (designed by Evie), toys, baby food, diapers, wipes, anything a young parent could ask for.

“guys” your voice cracked as you walked into the room, Arella already reaching for the teal octopus plush sitting in her new crib “this is-i-holy shit!” Harry walked up behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders as he looked around the room with watery eyes.

“I don’ know wha’ ta say” Harry croaked out, turning back to Ben; who just smiled.

“a thank you would be nice” Ben joked then waved it off “we’ll let you settle in, Gil, Dizzy?” the two turned to Ben, who waved them out of the room “I’ll show you to your rooms” Gil gave you and Harry a hug and kissed Arella’s forehead, running out of the room after Ben and the others as he closed the door.

“we’re actually here” you breathed out after a moment of silence, slowly spinning around the room. “actually in Auradon”

“aye,” Harry muttered, noticing your bags had already been brought into the room “kinda weird we’re not ‘ere ta destroy it” you chuckled, handing Arella to him and checking over her new items, Harry cooing at her and lifting her into the air, her adorable baby babble echoing around the room.

A few hours later, everything had been unpacked and set up, Arella was dressed in one of her new outfits, of course, designed by Evie; a tiny red jacket that copied Harrys iconic one, black shorts, booties, and a white t-shirt with a spray paint hook on the front. “hi darling” Harry cooed, kissing his daughters cheek multiple times as she giggled “ah yeh look so badass~”

You laughed at his adorable behavior with your kid and walked over to him, slipping on one of your new jackets from Evie and kissing his cheek “and you are so cute” Harry flushed but accepted the compliment, bringing Arella to his chest and enveloping her in his arms as you grabbed Arella’s dinner. “come on, Ben said we were going out for dinner tonight” Harry hummed, grabbing a baby sling and putting it on, then slipping Arella inside.

-

You sighed, setting down your book bag next to the door and closing it with your foot. You appreciated the fact that FG gave you and Harry only four classes a day (and switched the two of you off so Harry took care of her in the afternoon while you took the morning shift) so you could attend to Arella more often than not but that didn’t prevent you from being exhausted from them.

You looked up and cooed, Harry was on your now connected beds, asleep with Arella sleeping on his chest, his arms curled around her safely. you quickly took a picture with your phone and sent it to Evie, who immediately sent back several heart-eye emojis.

You put your phone on the table and walked over to the bed, carefully climbing on and resting your chin on Harry’s shoulder, reaching up and caressing Arella’s soft cheek. Harry grumbled as he felt you and took one of his arms off of Arella and wrapped it around you, pulling you even further into his side “afternoon my love” you mumbled, leaning up and kissing his cheek “how’d she do?”

“ ‘ad a lil’ tantrum afta’ yeh left, missed ‘er mommy but” he yawned in the middle of his sentence and pushed his cheek onto your head “she did good, fell asleep ‘bout n’ ‘our ‘go”

You hummed and rubbed your thumb on Arella’s chest, she hadn’t even moved in the few minutes you had been on the bed “that’s good, did she eat her lunch?” Harry sleepily nodded and was already falling asleep again, following Arella’s lead.

You stared at the two loves of your life, and you thanked whatever gods that had intervened in your life to let you meet Harry almost two years ago and saved you from meeting a bad end with the Gaston twins. And then you had fallen for him and fallen for him hard. And you didn’t regret going behind your friend's backs to be with him; not if it resulted in the greatest thing you had ever made, that was sleeping on his chest.

-end-

so this was a commissioned 2nd part to one of my very first stories i posted on here back in 2019, that was rewritten in late 2020 and i never planned to continue it, but i was commissioned to do so and im happy with how it turned out~!!!! :3

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[choccy-zefirka]

The dreary quiet of the dungeon is punctuated suddenly by the sound of footsteps: a lighthearted, cheerful patter against the cold stone. The drowsy guard looks up, blinking thickly through the slits of his helmet. There’s a protective layer of steel shielding his (rather pudgy) body and hiding his face from view — but somewhere inside that metal bucket, he is smiling. He cannot help it. No-one can. Not even Seeker Pentaghast. Heck, not even the Fereldan members of the Inquisition, who normally recoil at the sound of an Orlesian accent. The Herald just has this effect on people.

 'Good afternoon, Godfrey!' a bright voice chirps, with that telltale soft lilt.

A silhouette of a short, curvy person — half-dwarf, half-elf, a tad bigger than one, a tad smaller than the other — pops up with the flourish of a character in a shadow puppet play. It's inky black against the vivid square of light that floods into the dungeon stairwell from the Chantry’s hall above.

'Is everything all right down here? Flissa sent you your lunch yet? I shared my family’s fruit preserve recipe with her, though there’s not much fruit to choose from, with snow everywhere…'

'Good afternoon m'am!' the guard booms back through the bucket helmet. 'All's well, and thanks for the lunch, to both of you! That was better than anything Andraste cooked for the Maker!'

The Herald snorts with laughter as she approaches Godfrey, tapping lightly at the stone floor with the heels of her well-worn boots, as if she were dancing.

The contrast of light and shadow is now not so stark, and more of her features come into view: the two buns of sleek dark hair, with strands of green woven in, colored with some Orlesian dye. The aquiline nose. The palm-sized, ever so slightly pointed ears. And the large black eyes, which are filled with a genial glow.

‘I heard some Chantry sermons from the humans in my hometown, but I don’t remember the part where Andraste cooked meals for the Maker,' the Herald chuckles.

Godfrey shuffles his feet sheepishly.

'Well, nah... But I figured, even the Maker had to sit down for dinner some time! Maybe He and Andraste take turns cooking, like my old ma and pa did... Please — ' he swivels his head around, rather comically, and looks over his shoulder. 'Please don't tell Mother Giselle or the Lady Seeker that I said that!'

'Don't worry!’

Two soft dimples appear on the Herald’s sun-bronzed cheeks, and she presses her finger against her lips, winking.

'The Canticle of Home-Cooked Meals is safe with me!'

Godfrey breathes a sigh of relief.

'You are awful nice, m'am, for a —'

He stops in mid-sentence and hastens to end it with a loud, awkward sneeze — but fails to deflect the Herald’s attention.

‘I hear that often,’ she says, still smiling — though the light fades from her eyes, a crease cuts across her broad, joined eyebrows, and her jaw hardens, ever so slightly. Godfrey squirms with guilt, as much as his armour allows him.

‘You see someone half the human height, with ears to match, and your mind instantly jumps back and forth between "servant" and “smuggler”… And yet humans are not so quick to let either of my kin learn a trade, no?’

She sighs, and the momentary flash of bitterness on her soft face gives way to sadness.

She shakes her head, chasing the lingering darkness away, and bites into her lower lip to brace herself.

‘The dwarf side of my family was lucky to start a fruit orchard on the surface instead of getting sucked into the Carta… And even then, my sister almost —'

'But that is idle talk. You are a good human, Godfrey, and I know you can do right by me, and the other dwarves in Haven. That is not why I am getting into your…’ she squints hesitantly at the bucket helmet. ‘Your hair? Anyway. I was actually rather hoping... That you would let me talk to the prisoner — alone.’

Godfrey lets out an echoing metallic gasp.

‘But m’am! I can’t just go off and leave you with that... that evil... villain! What if he tries to pull something... blood-magicky?'

'Shush, Godfrey,' the Herald attempts a new smile, but it still looks crooked and forced. 'I have... dealt with him before; I can handle myself. Besides, if he wanted to do something blood-magicky, he would have done so already. Do you know how flimsy the locks are in here? Before the cells started filling up, I would watch Sera — who is a friend, by the way; do not be hard on her — pick them for sport!'

Godfrey mumbles something incoherent, but eventually concedes, clumsily inclining the bucket on his shoulders to look at the Herald's left hand — the source of her wondrous power, which has been helping her slay demons and heal the sky and vanquish evil... villains.

 'Right then,' he says, straining to be heard over the rattle of his key chain, as he fumbles for the key that unlocks the cell. 'I will just... Head out... Drop by at the tavern... And by the time I get back, you better still be alive m'am!'

After the metal door swings open with a dreary creak, and Godfrey ambles off, the Herald freezes on the cell’s threshold. Looking straight ahead, into the rank, slightly humid darkness.

 Even though he must have heard them talking about him, the prisoner never moved an inch. Now too, as the dwarf draws closer and closer to him, bathed in the golden torchlight that does not quite reach his little corner, he refuses to stir.

He is slumped against the far wall, one leg bent slightly in the knee. His face is turned away from her, so that all she can see is the rim of his broad, outlandishly decorated hood, which is now covered in splatters of dirt and smears of mould from contact with stone.

She pauses when there are barely inches of space left to separate them. Then, she swallows, steadies her breath — and, nearly even height with the sitting human, wraps her arms around his shoulders.

Finally shaken out of his stupor, the prisoner shudders violently and lets out a hoarse, hissing curse,

'Kaffas!'

A moment later, he musters some degree of composure; enough for saying curtly,

 'Pardon the language. You startled me with your… arrival. I believe our dealings are completed, Herald. I have submitted to the Inquisition, and now wish to be left in peace. Kindly remove yourself from my cell.’

The dwarf shakes her head, moving a step away yet determined to search his face.

'Not until I say what I came here to say.’

Her voice is quiet yet resolute. The prisoner inhales deeply. As she finally catches a peek of his haggard profile underneath the hood, she sees his weary eyes slide shut.

'And what could that be?' he asks, his voice hollow and expressionless. If you are so eager to gloat, there are many places to do that. Where I can’t see you.’

The dwarf swallows again.

'I wanted to say that I am sorry,' she breathes, her eyes beginning to brim over with tears. 'In... In the future... When the Elder One had taken over the world... I — I had to kill you.’

The prisoner's eyes remain closed.

'Well, we all fought you, actually... ' she corrects herself. 'Cassandra, Leliana, Varric... Even Dorian... had to... strike at you... But — but it was me who made that final blow. And — '

Her voice cracks, and she leans forward again, instinctively gripping at the grimy cloth of the prisoner's once-embellished sleeve.

'And I... held you, bleeding… I looked in the eyes before you... before you slipped away... I am so, so sorry!'

 Something twitches momentarily in the corner of the prisoner's mouth. A ghost of that cold, domineering smile that he gave Grand Enchanter Fiona while announcing that her charges were to join the Imperium's Legion.

'I imagine the experience must have been very gratifying, Herald,' he says venomously. 'I cannot fathom why you would want to apologise.’

'No!’

Her heated, almost pained protest echoes through the dungeon — so loud that it sounds like it’s about to make something crumble.

‘It was not gratifying! It is never gratifying to kill people — not for me! I am a gardener, not a warrior. And even if I was a warrior from the start, I still wouldn’t stop thinking about why every highway robber I “take care of”,’ she mimes very disdainful air quotes, ‘Chose to do what they did… And you... I know what made you choose... all of this. The time magic, the Venatori, the Elder One. It was all to save your son! I — '

A shiver runs up her spine. The prisoner's nostrils quiver; he bites hard into his lower lip and shoots a long glare at the Herald. Yet she continues, undeterred.

‘My eldest sister joined the Grey Wardens many years ago... After the Fifth Blight ended and the Hero of Ferelden vanished, Empress Celene sent her to Amaranthine… to rebuild… And I ran away from home, all the way from Orlais, to visit her.’

She swallows a hard lump.

‘I was scarcely eighteen back then, and I thought it was going to be some grand adventure, but — but instead, I saw the darkspawn come back. I saw an entire city almost fall to the Blight. And I saw what the Taint does to people.’

Her fingers twist and lace frantically together; a moment more like this, and she might start snapping her own bones.

‘It’s — it’s easy to understand why you’d break the world to prevent that terrible darkness from claiming someone you love. I am not saying you are a poor innocent lamb, but I… I understand.’

'Well, I failed, did I not?'

The prisoner still tries to sound sarcastic, but his voice barely escapes from his thin, ashen lips. 'The world is far from being broken, and — '

He scrapes together at least some shreds of strength to make the next sentence sound like a harsh, ringing slap.

'And I think you have outstayed your welcome, Herald.’

He pointedly turns away again, apparently intent on glaring a smoking hole through his prison wall.

‘If I am to be your captive, at least allow me some share of dignity. You were not making a grand discovery when you said I was not innocent. I know that. I will spend my final hours pondering that. Your sympathy is not required.’

The Herald throws her head up, seeming to add a couple inches to her modest height. Behind her, the torch chokes and splutters, suddenly producing a burst of light bright enough to touch the prisoner… Before it sizzles off.

'There will be no talk of final hours. Whatever happens next — whatever the Inquisition decides to do with you... I will vouch for you. No-one who was in that future with me will die a second time. Not Cassandra. Not Varric. Not Leliana. Not Fiona. And not you.’

[sooibian]

“Clay”-doh

Pairing: Baekhyun x fem!Reader

Genre: Parents AU, tooth rotting fluff

Description: "When was the last time we did something together as a family?" you ask Baekhyun and...it backfires.

Word Count: 1.4k unedited!!!

A/N: Thank you for daydreaming about this cute little scenario @littleflowercrown13​ 💗 i hope you enjoy!!!!

Scraping your hair up in a bun, you padded into the living room with an idea floating in your consciousness which fortified upon finding your husband sprawled out on the couch, snoring away a beautiful Saturday afternoon while your two year old’s pony plushie had been merrily galloping along his torso.

This is what your weekends had come to - Baekhyun would snatch every minute he could find to take a nap and your little one would unwind in the company of her inanimate playthings. Family time was simply...non-existent! The three of you were together all the time but not really.

Plopping down on the box arm of the couch with a pointedly loud sigh, you tried to shake him awake, your ringleted doll enthusiastically following suit. Baekhyun fought the two of you off by curling up like a shrimp, shoving his face into the pillow and letting out a muffled groan thus inviting a flurry of giggles from the bright eyed little lady whose marigold sized fists danced on her appa’s arm as she excitedly bounced on the balls of her feeties.

“Ow!” Feigning injury, Baekhyun’s hand flew up to his shoulder to block another blow from the marigold fisted warrior princess. But she was caught unawares when he suddenly scooped her up in his arm and put her down on his chest, playful fingers wiggling along her protruding tummy.

More giggles from both father and daughter.

“Why did you wake me up?” grumbled Baekhyun. The entirety of his attention seized by his own miniature version, he masked the annoyance in his tone by wearing a wide grin on his face.

Poking your husband in the side with a bamboo needle (a failed attempt at knitting), you whined, “You’re sleeping all! the! time! I’m bored!” You lifted her off of Baekhyun’s chest, allowing him to sit up straight and stretch his back, only for her to go flying back into his arms again.

“Jagiya, sometimes I wonder who the real two-year-old is!” Baekhyun exclaimed, peppering the high tension baby's face with soft kisses. Their levels of energy had always been directly proportional - you never failed to notice how Baekhyun's effervescence fuelled her tempo. She suddenly seemed like a whole ‘nother person - in complete contrast to the tiny angelic girl who'd been quietly playing with her pony just a couple of minutes ago.

You protested, "When was the last time we did something together as a family?"

He shot you a look in response that said 'That’s rich coming from you!' but his boxy grin made a revival as soon as he set his eyes on the fluff ball in his hands.

You’d admittedly been a spoilsport when it came to participating in Baekhyun planned “activities” but they were simply “not your jam”.  A couple of weeks ago, the father daughter duo had decided to dress up as murderous clowns after seeing posters of IT Chapter Two around the city! Murderous! Clowns!! So instead of blatantly refusing their invitation to dress up as one yourself, you volunteered to be their photographer and clean up the mess after.

It was a lesson learnt.

So the next time they were ready to play Masterchef with the Sous Chef’s tush parked on the Head Chef’s hip and altered-to-fit toques perched atop their peanut shaped heads, you slyly feigned a work emergency and asked your husband’s best friend to drop in for sometime to keep an eye on them….and well, avert any potential disasters. You were grateful not to have come home to ruin and debris but to your angels well fed and soundly asleep on the couch with the Head Chef’s bright yellow chick apron soaking up Little Miss Sous Chef’s drool. Thank God!

No, thank Kim Minseok!

“We could do something that’s not...umm..well..” you started hesitantly.

Mischief dancing in his eyes, Baekhyun cracked a sly smile and asked, “Stressful?”

Pursing your lips, you gave him a non-committal nod.

***

“SPA DAY!”

Mirroring her father’s enthusiasm, your little one threw her hands in the air and thundered in baby coo.

Baekhyun had laid down an old rug on the living room floor and together you arranged clay masks, lotions, cotton pads, baby oils, moisturizers...the entire shebang. You excused yourself to the bathroom to cleanse your face while the older troublemaker tossed the younger one into the air, the sound of saccharine giggles and gurgles pervading the entire room.

Your lips unconsciously synced to the words of a familiar song stuck in your head...just this one line playing over and over again as you trotted out of the living room.

‘...I can’t even close my eyes and I don’t know why...guess I don’t like surprises..’

A vague foreboding swiftly crept into your consciousness. Dabbing your face dry, you darted towards the living room with a different tune stuck in your head.

‘Everytime I turn around, something don’t feel right! Just might be paranoid!’

From a distance, everything seemed eerily normal.

Gongju-nim was seated cross legged on the rug, with a fluffy cushion placed against her smol lap on which Baekhyun had his head rested. Rubbing your eyes, you blinked furiously to adjust to the baffling scene before you.

Jaw slacked, you stood watching her pudgy fingers work expertly along Baekhyun’s soft facial skin, evenly spreading the blackish grey gooey clay mask all over his face and neck. A sunflower hair band wearing Baekhyun guided her by occasionally tilting his head from side to side so as to avoid the mouth and eye area.

The two thoughts occupying your mind in the moment were the damage that the clay mask would do to her two year old silken tofu skin and ways to throttle Baekhyun without the teensie warrior princess coming to his defence riding her wee little pony plushie.

But before you could do or say anything, her clay mask wielding fist suddenly went whop on his pursed lips.

Baekhyun’s eyes flew open in horror and the little one burst into another fit of giggles upon seeing her appa’s startled face. You bit on your tongue to hold back your laughter as your husband frantically shook his head to dissuade her but with the competence of a professional, she continued to even out the mask all over his lips.

You quietly went and sat next to her as she reached out for another scoop of the mask from the tub. Aiming a gremlin grin at you, she proudly flaunted her clay covered hands and you realized that she had gloves on. Washed over with relief, you ignored Baekhyun’s clay swaddled cry for help and extended your arms out to her.

But Little Miss Esthetician was all fired up!

She enthusiastically struck her father’s forehead with her tinie palms (yet again you ignored Baekhyun’s pained whimper. After all, he had brought this upon himself) and cooed, “Mama~” gesturing that it was your turn now to avail her valued services.

“Oh, my baby!” you chuckled, “Come here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Gently scooping her up in your arms, you laid her down next to her father.

Now that Baekhyun had been shut up for a good twenty minutes or so, you started to clean the mess off of her hands while berating him in a sing-song voice. “Why did you think it was a good idea to allow her to come in contact with these harsh ~ chemical ~ substances ~ ?”

Brows raised, Baekhyun sat up with a start, shook his head in denial and defended himself with a loud, “Mmmm!!!”

You knew that the mask, made entirely out of quality, kid-friendly natural ingredients, was relatively safe but you were simply not the parent who took risks. You were pulled out of your reverie by gongju-nim dissolving into another fit of giggles at the sound that came out of her appa’s sealed mouth. Amused, you smiled down at her and continued, “It could’ve gone into her eyes, Baekhyunnie ~ or her mouth ~” In hindsight, it was an ill-timed joke but Baekhyun’s lips curled up in an endearing clay laced smile and his eyes crinkled into half moons.

Your out-of-tune complaining was drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of love that blossomed in Baekhyun’s heart for his chaotic little family. He quickly sneaked a picture of the three of you - him with his clay mask on and his beautiful ladies in the background, faces lit up by the other’s bright smile - and gleefully shared it with his 20.9 million followers. He then grabbed a box of tissues to help you clean the mess that he'd inadvertently yet expectedly made.