#so i bought her some new tips in tiny person sizes as a thank you lol

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

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[coldsandfluff]

Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

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Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

[holykillercake]

Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got. 

highlight:  ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end! 

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them.  Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game. 

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one. 

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams. 

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.  

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him. 

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms. 

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him. 

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted. 

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it. 

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen. 

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked. 

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying. 

Charming, loving, but still annoying. 

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat. 

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal. 

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools. 

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women. 

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job. 

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette. 

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free. 

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨ 

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded. 

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile. 

Oh, how you love this cook. 

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes. 

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts. 

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨ 

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

 ¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile. 

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen. 

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨ 

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would. 

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did. 

You would always notice. And you had an idea why. 

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple.  The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess. 

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created. 

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy. 

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨ 

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨ 

¨It´s me!¨ 

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨ 

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨ 

He looked back at you, confused.  Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still. 

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression. 

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy. 

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.  

Did he get upset because of your lie? 

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves. 

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you. 

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too. 

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨ 

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love. 

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore. 

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron. 

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger. 

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨ 

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨ 

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [bonus]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–nudity boobies! w.c; 2.2k a/n; why did a week go by so stinkin’ fast? i’m not ready to let go of this couple! that being said, i wouldnt mind posting some drabble babbles about these two or four. im utterly thankful for the love and passion my readers had for this, i had so many kind readers that kept me afloat through all of. i can’t wait to see you in the next one, and i hope you enjoy this little glimpse💕

[final] [bonus] -> masterpost

“You’re not Jimin.” 

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he takes note of the change in air. Chalk it up to the open window or the fact that the rain’s evaporated, but he can’t help the pinch of pain in his heart as he realizes that you’re far, far gone from this world. 

And in your place, is you. Not quite you, but it’s almost scary how easy it is to regard your visage and simple conversation. 

“Jimin,” he repeats, as if he heard you wrong. “As in, Park Jimin? Tiny guy with a big ego?” 

“Yes,” you reply blandly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes are sparkless, flickering between your state of nakedness and his state of nakedness. “I know I wasn’t exactly sober last night, but I distinctly remember telling him he’d be in my bed tonight,” and you regard Jungkook with a sort of pointed look, unable to decipher your situation, “but here you are. Still cupping by boob.” 

Out of reflex, he squeezes his palm. Yep, that’s yours. 

A little part of him also wants to yell to the heavens because you failed to tell him you were hooking up with Park Jimin before all of this. 

Okay technically you didn’t, but the person in front of him did. 

His heart is fresh and stinging like a hot cut on the asphalt. He watches you take in your surroundings, humming when you notice the new clothes on the rack and the way your desk has been rearranged. Jungkook is trying very hard to be patient, after all you’re a stranger and suddenly he feels like he’s the one that’s known you all his life. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

You stretch, testing out your limbs as they pop and crackle at your command. You run a hand through your strawberry-smelling hair, and Jungkook has to grip the sheets to not go by instinct and take you right then and there on this mattress. With a shameless groan of satisfaction, you flop against your bed. Jungkook tries, emphasis on try, to not watch as your breasts bounce and the way your hair flows around your pillow like the angel you are, but he’s rendered smitten. 

“Uh,” boobies boobies boobies. 

You pointedly ignore his piss-poor attempt at coherent conversation, staring up at the ceiling.  “Ho—ly shit,” you curse freely, heaving an exhausted sigh, “I feel so sore.” 

“S-sore?” Great, he found his voice. 

“Yeah, like I’ve been in a coma or something,” but you think nothing of it, summing it up as a crazy dream from alcohol poisoning. You sit up straight, reaching for your phone. It’s not on your desk, but instead you find something far more interesting. 

You reach for your Midnight Blue Citrus candle, frowning at the contents. The wax is nearly burnt to the end, the tips of the wicks charcoal black and frayed. Waving your used candle in Jungkook’s face you blame, “What the fuck, did you use all of this last night? I just bought this like, literally yesterday!” 

His face falls, “What? You’ve had that candle for forever—”

“And why the heck it is so hot in the middle of February?” 

Oh. 

Something dark and sad creeps up Jungkook’s stomach, and he hates to be the one to tell you. February was when it all started, and his life changed with the presence of you. Jungkook tells himself repeatedly that the woman in this room is simultaneously the person he’s loved since winter and the stranger he feels that he’s meant to love with time. Considering everything’s happening all at once understanding it is still hard, but he’ll try for you. 

It breaks his heart to see how you look lost and confused, like a child woken up from a debilitating nightmare. Your lips are bitten red and purple, trying your hardest not to show fear in front of him, a stranger. You’re frustrated as you try your hardest to shut the windows to block the incoming humidity from last night’s rain. 

He says your name, sweet and soft. “It’s almost summer,” he says, his voice calm and collected. 

“So are you telling me, that wasn’t a dream?” 

The two of you stare at each other, unmoving. He tries not to squirm under your gaze, you watch him intently, scraping at the edge of your brain for any ideas. You’re hugging yourself, arms wrapping against your breasts as if you’re trying to hold your body together in a way that alludes to any brokenness you felt over these past two months. 

Neither of you break the silence, and there’s a bang and a crash. Jungkook flinches at the tell-tale signs of the unwanted intruder, the fling of keys across your wooden table and a shrill call of your name. 

“Who’s that?” 

“Probably Hoseok,” Jungkook answers reluctantly, his thumb rubbing between his brows. 

He ignores the extra cool air against his naked bits when he throws the blankets off his lap. Ignores the way you pointedly, shamelessly check him out as he throws on his sweats and a t-shirt. To his dismay he can’t ignore the burn in his cheeks when he knows how you’re scrutinizing him like a one-night stand, trying to recollect any type of concrete thought that would seem plausible enough to explain why you woke up in bed with him. 

Throwing open your bedroom door and leaving you there, he cards a hand through his rogue bedhead to face a frantic Hoseok. 

“It’s so early,” Hoseok warbles to himself, impressed that he’s managed to cop fresh donuts and coffee at nearly 7AM. 

Jungkook sees nothing but an orange blob and Hoseok’s head, bleary and vibrating. Rubbing his eyes he says, “You just realized how early it is? Couldn’t you have stopped by a little later?” 

“No, I couldn’t!” Hoseok’s now invading Jungkook’s personal space, as if you weren’t the bridge between their threads of a relationship, as if he and Hoseok could be friends. “I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt it, Jungkook. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. The air shifted and I felt like I was between two parallel universes—I swear on my bad knee that I’m not going through a drug trip—and I felt the world turning and changing and it was so fuckin’ weird I had to come here as soon as Dunkin’ opened. Didn’t you feel it too?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook exhales, not bothering to hide the disappointment. He smiles sadly, “it’s definitely not her.” 

Hoseok’s expression and excitement over the world’s converging falters, and he pulls Jungkook into a hug. They’re not particularly close and Hoseok’s smaller in size compared to Jungkook, but for those five seconds he feels comforted as he hugs him back. 

“Why don’t you go home and chill out, I don’t mind explaining things to her,” Hoseok offers, “and I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook replies, voice slow, “that sounds like a good idea, actually.” 

The situation is royally messed up, and he hates that he can’t blame it on anyone. Jungkook is a practical man, and he knows that he has no use when Hoseok is here with donuts and coffee. More importantly, there is no use torturing himself by letting his heart break in the presence of  you. 

“What is this, a party?” Taehyung’s bare feet smack against the hardwood, and he plops himself in the chair next to Hoseok, “did you get me coffee this time?” 

The two of them bicker good-naturedly, with Hoseok explaining a little kindness goes a long way and Taehyung muttering that kindness doesn’t happen without caffeine. Jungkook excuses himself, feeling very much out of place as he moves to your bedroom to pack his things. 

“You’re leaving?” you’re standing in the middle of your bedroom, now dressed in a long t-shirt and your hair tied clean and away from your face. You look pretty. 

“Yeah,” he says shortly, stuffing his jeans in his bag and making sure all traces of him are gone from your bedroom. “Need to sort things out,” he excuses, and while you may not buy it, he really does. He feels heartbroken, angry at the world. Maybe he could visit Yoongi today and get a demo in, put all this pent-up emotion to good use. “But Hoseok brought you breakfast, he’s a good friend, he’ll explain everything.” 

“But I don’t know Hoseok,” you mumble, picking at the hem of your band shirt. You’re pouting, stubborn. 

“But you don’t know me either,” Jungkook retorts, not unkindly, but not exactly gentle. “I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

There’s a hard rip at his zipper, putting in a little too much force as he seals away all his things into a compact backpack. Heck, he even went as far as to take back the hoodie he lent you last month, making sure the fabric is crisp and folded so he can stow it away from your curious eyes. He shoves on his denim jacket from last night, still lingering with the scents of sand and saltwater. It makes him sombre, and the selfish part of him wishes to bottle up that scent and tuck it away forever. 

“You’re wrong,” you blurt when he moves toward the door. His hand lingers over the knob, “I do know you.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, taking in your honest expression, “At Jimin’s job, maybe? I did a couple interviews in the beginning of February. Maybe we passed each other while you had lunch with him.” 

“No. You sang to me, talked to me, as much as you could up until this moment.” 

He remembers the stories you fed to him last night under the stars, shameless and full of love as you explained to him of his other self. The life where he’s a renowned singer, a Golden Boy, one of the most revered in his industry. A life he could only dream of, yet somewhere out there he’s living it in another body making that dream come true. 

Thoughts are running through his head, memories that aren’t his own. He could only imagine what you must’ve gone through, recovering in a hospital bed for two months, unable to move but actively aware of the pain and anguish. How confused you must’ve been, aching to figure out what the hell is going on, acutely aware of the voices constantly chattering about your well-being. 

One of those voices being Jeon Jungkook, who was probably taking care of you night and day. 

His head is starting to throb, and he feels like he’s five seconds away from spiraling. 

“I’d… I’d feel more comfortable around you, Jungkook,” you confess, reaching for his hand, “but if you need to, you can go,” you bite your lip, folding in on yourself once more, “if it hurts too much to be around me right now.” 

He gladly takes your hand, rubbing his thumb between your palm. The familiar sparks he feels when he holds it return, but tamps it down for the sake of your vulnerability. It’s not your fault you’re in this situation. “No… I’m just gonna go home for a bit, clear my schedule,” he gives you a little smile, and he inflates a bit when you give him one of your own. “I’ll come back for you after breakfast.”

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” 

You pull him into an unexpected hug, suddenly fearing he may never come back. 

“I always wondered what the man looked like behind the voice,” and you’re suddenly melting, feeling a sense of familiarity as you let your heart run faster than your brain when you let him hold you in his arms. He smells just like him, too. 

His embrace is tight, and his arms fit in all the little curves and spots that make you feel warm and safe. “And am I living up to your expectations?” it’s a half-joke, after all the both of you are  going simply by feeling and there’s no way in hell would he even attempt to compare himself to well, himself. 

You pull away to look at him, really look at him. Honest, clear eyes. Jungkook thinks he sees the world in your gaze. “Only if you eat a donut before you go,” you reply with a shy smile. 

At your defiant mention of food he can’t help but grin like a maniac, letting you tug him back out to sit at the counter with him and have breakfast. Like he said before, he can’t wait to fall in love all over again. 

[whumpbby]

I leaf you<3

Just a little bit based on this adorable piece by @flaffizz TT

Little Plant Jay and Dick who bought him on sale:D 

Dick wasn’t really a plant person, he wasn’t even shopping for one. He went to the hardware store to pick up plywood and the counter top he had ordered a week prior, and some smaller pieces necessary for the renovation of his new flat. Of course, every visit to Home Depot was a bit of an adventure that warranted at least an hour spent traversing narrow pathways of the DIY heaven, surveying tools and materials just in case a shiny towel hook or a toilet lid adorned with shells caught his attention. 

And that’s how Dick found it –he was reaching for a funky angular night lamp (because he didn't need one now, but no one charged for looking) that stood behind a salt-rock shaped one that, once moved, revealed something that didn't belong in the lighting section. 

A flower pot that has seen better days; just a shoddy black plastic affair with a crack running down one side and a bit of dirt spilling out onto the shelf. Some asshole probably changed their mind and left it wherever they were at the moment without care. 

Dick picked the pot up a bit carelessly, his innate need to look with his hands guiding his brain. There was no tag stuck into the pot to tell him what sort of a plant it was, and the dirt was bone dry when he poked it. But there was life still in it. A little green head, browning at the edges, rose slowly and a pair of big shiny eyes looked at him from the little dusty face. 

Now, Dick wasn’t a plant person, but he wasn’t an asshole like some people. 

“He, little guy,” he smiled at the plant. “What are you?”

It shied away from his finger when he wanted to poke it, unsuccessfully trying to bury itself in the dirt –the soil was too packed and dry, and its arms were thin and shaking with exertion as it struggled. 

Dick’s heart gave a pang. The little guy had to be dehydrated and starving, who knows how long he was stuck on that shelf out of sight? 

Not thinking much of it, he put the pot into his trolley and directed his steps towards the gardening section of the store. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll get you some water and food.”

However, as it was often the case when one crossed the threshold of a Home Depot in the middle of a project, one thing after another was pulling Dick off course. He needed acrylic paint for the bathroom and then he needed the right knobs for the cupboard, then painter’s tape. A new shaving mirror. Another silicone gun. A new right angle. Size 8 diamond drill bit. A list of odds and ends that steadily pulled him further and further away from the garden centre and by the time he remembered about the little fella in his cart, he was already 3rd in a queue to the till with 4 more people behind him and a stomach grumbling in demand of food. 

He was prepared to tell the cashier to put the pot away, sure it will somehow land in the proper environment at some point, but before he managed to utter more than a “Hello,” the woman looked at the pathetic looking plant and shook her head in pity. 

“Sure you want this? Doesn’t look like it will live long.”

And, well, after that he just had to prove her wrong. 

**

He called the plant Jason, because he was a lonely dork who talked to everything in his flat and it seemed easier to use a name –and Jason was the name of his favourite Power Ranger. He knew some people named their fish, so each to their own, eh? 

Internet search told him the little guy was a pothos plant, epipremnum aureum, known also as Devil’s Ivy. Luckily, it was apparently one of the easiest houseplants to care for, considered by some to be a perfect getaway to a green home. Thank God, Dick wasn’t sure he was up to something more demanding. 

In an act of defiance, after leaving Home Depot, he stopped on the way by a small local flower shop. The girl behind the counter supplied him with a bag of potting soil appropriate for Dick’s new acquisition and a quick rundown of what to do to keep it alive. She also helped him pick up a new pot. 

“You want something with holes on the bottom,” she said, showing him the underside of one. “See? This way water can drain and won’t go bad in the pot, rotting his roots. Pothos likes water, but it has to be fresh, so keep that in mind. Drop some gravel on the bottom for good drainage and some moss on top to cover the soil and it should be fine.”

Armed with knowledge, a bag of supplies and a wallet lighter by a twenty, Dick returned home and got to work on saving his new little friend. 

Repotting wasn’t easy, Jay wiggled and squirmed, and Dick had trouble dusting off the clumps of old dirt that clung to him; he was afraid to squeeze the plant too hard or cause it some sort of damage. In the end, he gave up and decided to proceed to the next step –soaking in water. 

He prepared the bath in a cereal bowl, as advised, with an upturned peanut butter lid to sit on. He mixed lukewarm tap water with the purchased supplement and placed the little scamp in it. 

As soon as his little legs touched the water, Jay’s struggling stopped. He allowed Dick to place him on the edge of the lid, water reaching his shoulders, and looked around the bowl with the air of mystified wonder that had Dick’s heart softening even more. 

“How is it, buddy, not too warm?” He asked gently, leaning over the improvised ‘bath’. “Never had a nice long soak before, eh?” 

Poor little guy. 

This time when Dick touched the plant with a tip of his finger the flinch was tiny, more unsure than wary. He dipped his finger into the water and used it to deliver a few drops onto the top of the green head, hoping it will wash off the dust and stop the browning of the tiny leaves. 

Jay shivered when the drops ran down and pushed the finger away, much to Dick’s amusement. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you to it. Have to prepare your new bed.” 

Mixing of the soil thankfully didn't require instructions. Dick dropped a handful of gravel he’d earlier picked up on the pathway around the parking lot (that he had properly rinsed, of course) into the bottom of the new pot and filled it up with soil from the bag that promised to have all the nutrients and minerals necessary for a healthy houseplant growth. He topped it all off with a clump of moss and put the pot into the nice ceramic cover –it was dark red and glossy, and simple. A very manly pot for a very manly man and his manly plant.  

After ten minutes of soaking Jay already looked much healthier. He was less pale and more supple, the lines on his skin smoothed out and the leaves on his head rose a bit from their lifeless faint. He was sitting on the lid just as Dick has left him, but now he was swinging his little arms around, watching the water rippling around them. 

Dick had a phone in his hand before he thought of it. 

However, when Jay noticed him, he stopped moving and only stared with these big curious eyes. 

“Hey, buddy, look at this.”

The pot landed on the counter next to him with a slight clunk. The plant measured it top to bottom, once more looking unsure. It was bigger than the previous broken affair, but Dick hoped that added space won’t be a problem.

“What do you think?” He asked, pointing at the pot. “Want to explore the accommodation or would you like to soak a bit more?”  

He trusted Jay to know when enough was enough and so, when the plant started to climb out of the bowl, he picked it up and gently placed it on top of the moss. Afterwards, there was a lot of adorable wiggling and pushing and rearranging the moss, all of that ending up on Dick’s phone. Jay dug himself a little hole in the soft foil and squeezed himself into it, leaving only the top of his head visible. 

Poor little guy had to be exhausted after all the excitement of the day, so Dick left him to rest. He only poured a bit of the leftover water into the pot cover, so the soil could pull it up gradually and keep Jay moist. 

Since the kitchen was in the middle of renovation, Dick picked up the pot and placed it on the windowsill in the living room; it was a South facing window that had light for most of the day, something that pothos apparently liked.

“Here we go,” he said, using a fingertip to rustle the little leaves on top of the little head and chuckling when a tiny hand swung out of the moss to push him away. “Welcome to your new home, Jay.”

[ancientmagusbride23]

Dark Nights ch.1

by ancientmagusbride23

Summary: (Explicit sexual warning)

When Chise sold herself she didn't care who bought her or why. She didn't care what they did to her. Then the creature known as Elias Ainsworth bought her and said he would use her fluids whenever he wanted, even sell some on the black market. It's a sound investment and he plans to teach her about carnal pleasures to help her juices flow. What if Elias is a part-fae magus who's also a sex addict?

Notes:

I don't actually know how this story began. Too much time in my head, and dealing with some dark themes that I'm working through. Being stuck inside too much can mess with your head. I also wondered what if Elias was like a raging horny beast? No one would be safe from him? Why not buy a girl at a black market that you can train to be your own personal sex toy? Yep, pretty dark. I know. But it could've happened. We didn't know why he wanted a girl the first time we read the manga or watched the anime. Tell me I'm wrong.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Management

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Chapter 1

: First NightNotes:

Chise has Stockholm syndrome, that is the only real explanation.

Chapter Text

She didn’t care what happened to her, so she sold herself. Chise Hatori was soon amazed by the creature that stood above her that had paid a large sum and bought her at the auction. Dressed all in a black suit with bolo tie, and black shoes and tall, large, and intimidating, yet she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t afraid of what might happen to her or body. Nothing mattered to her anymore. He, she was pretty sure it was male, had large powerful looking wolf -jaws covered by a red veil and long spiraling horns jutting out from the top of his head, perhaps he would eat her and then her miserable existence would end. She hadn’t expected to be brought to a cute country cottage, nor like the lady in pink who greeted her at the door and seemed very kind. After the kind lady in pink bathed her and put new clean clothes on her, Chise was taken to the living room to sit with the man who purchased her.

“You are very valuable,” he began to say sitting in a tall chair in long black robe, legs crossed, with the red veil still covering his large skull-face and wearing white gloves. He sat so straight in his chair it made Chise think of an English gentleman, and even his voice and way of speaking were very proper. “You are a slay vegga. That is to say a human that is also a magical battery. Like all your kind, you'll most likely burn out soon, but until then I will keep others from hurting you or trying to eat you or use your power for themselves. I, of course, will partake of that power whenever it pleases me. Your juices are especially potent and delicious to my kind.” She could only stare at the large head as she got the impression, he truly did want to devour her, she swallowed nervously as the Lady in Pink gave her some tiny triangle sandwiches and hot cup of tea.

He waited seeming to want all of that to sink in. “I-is that why they always tried to eat me?” Chise asked quietly.

“Of course, even just your smell must have driven them quite made with hunger, but rest assured I will not eat you. I will only partake of your body’s fluids from time to time. You will live in relative comfort and safety the rest of your life as part of my household. All other creatures are intimidated by my power. I have barriers and wards to keep the unsavory riffraff out. I also plan to harvest some of your fluids, and hair to sell on the black market. People of the magical realm will pay handsomely for any part of you, witches, alchemists, and mages, such as myself. We can use your parts to aid our magic. As I said, you are very valuable, and I paid a great deal for you. There are not many of your kind that live to be your age and are still whole and relatively intact. I will make back 10 times what I invested in you this way. Do you understand all of this?”

She looked down at her lap and nodded. Although, not taking it all in really. Besides, she’d already accepted any fate, even death, torture, or dismemberment as her end. “I..I understand.”

“Come,” he told her and motioned for her to come to sit on his lap. She did so, reluctantly. “Hmm, you are too thin and frail. You will need many weeks of treatment before I can begin collecting samples. And I have a long waiting list of customers already. Well, they will simply have to wait,” he ran his large hands down her legs and back up to her stomach and breasts and squeezed as she squirmed. He laughed as she struggled. “Chise Hatori? Have you ever had experience of the carnal variety?” he asked.

Chise blushed feeling uncomfortable for a different reason, knowing what he meant. She looked at his massive chest as she shook her head. “N-no, sir.” He laughed again his large bony snout coming close to her neck and sniffing making her cringe with recent memories of things biting, and, trying to get to her and eat her.

“I like that! How enjoyable! To be the first to break you in. My name is Elias Ainsworth. You may call me that or master, whatever you prefer,” his hands never stopped caressing Chise, but his grip was too strong for her to break away from him as she tried a few times.

“Yes, Ainsworth-san...?” she replied, wondering if that was appropriate.

“Hmm,” he made a deep rumbling noise inside his chest. “Yes, that will do, nicely,” he said quietly as his jaw opened and a long tongue crept out to lick Chise’s cheek startling her. Then his tongue roved down her neck causing her to gasp and try to pull away again. “I’m only teasing you, Chise Hatori.” The tip of his tongue crept under her shirt and into her bra as it moved across her nipple causing her to cringe.

As she cried out, she struggled not liking this sensation at all. No matter how she tried Chise could not break his grip, he was so strong, but suddenly the Pink Lady appeared beside her and stared at the man holding her. Ainsworth, her master, sighed and released her. The Pink Lady pulled Chise into a tight hug. It was the first true affection Chise had felt since her mother killed herself and left her all alone in the world. “Arigato, um I mean thank you,” Chise told the lady. The Lady in a puffy pink old-fashioned dress had blonde hair, a pink bonnet, and white gloves. She only smiled at Chsie, but did not reply. “Can you talk?” Chise asked wondering, since she had helped her bathe and change earlier but never responded.

The Pink Lady only tilted her head with a smile and patted Chise’s cheek with her gloved hand. “She refuses or is unable to speak. She understands you, though. I call her the Silver Lady, she is a brownie or a creature that is bound to a location, like this house. She is more of a landlady, as it were, and keeps the house neat and clean. Thank you for reminding me, Silver Lady. Please show Chise how to prep for bed and then show her to her room.” The Silver Lady nodded and pulled Chise along with her up the stairs.

Chise was shown where all the soaps and hygiene products were in the bathroom along with a toothbrush. Afterward, Chise was taken to a room down the hall. It was large and clean with a good sized bed by the window. “Is all this space mine?” She asked the Silver Lady. She only responded by smiling and nodding. Then she showed her a set of drawers with some clothing in it. Chise let her help get herself undressed and put on a white pajama dress. “Are you sure I can wear any of these clothes?” Chise asked the Silver Lady who only nodded again.

The Silver Lady turned down the bed for her and even tucked her in and closed the window. She wagged a finger in front of her back and forth. “What? Don't open the window?” She nodded. “Oh, okay,” Chise yawned as she settled into the soft bed. “This is so nice and soft. I always had to share space with other kids and usually slept on the floor. Thank you, Silver Lady.”

Then Chise was alone and fell asleep quickly as she'd been through a strange and long day. Sometime during the night Chise's disturbing dreams were interrupted by a tapping sound. She woke to look around the room afraid something was coming for her. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and why. Then she heard the tapping again. She looked around to see creatures at the window with glowy eyes and wings. Pixies or Fairies is what she thought immediately. “Sweet Robin, let us in! Or come play with us in the forest. All your dreams will come true. Come away with us to play before the Thorn spears the Robin! Come!”

Chise was intrigued as she sat up on her knees and looked through the glass at the creature. “I've never seen anything like you before. Sounds like a familiar promise the yokai would give to the unwary in ancient Japan.”

A deep chuckled reverberated from behind her as she looked backed, “Very wise of you, Chise, they would lead you into the forest and play with you until you died or let other creatures devour you. It is all fun and games to them.”

The little green fairy growled, “Grr, Thorn Mage, you ruin our fun! And hogging our precious Robin all to yourself. Wait till the Queen of the Fae hears about this!”

“Begone!” Elias Ainsworth commanded. And Thorny vines covered the window from the outside. Chise stared at him for a moment seeing he's veil was gone and only dimly could she see the white skull-face and two red glowing eyes.

“I-I have never seen those types of creatures before. We have a lot of kinds in Japan, but not those,” Chise said, very aware of Elias's towering presence in her room as she covered herself with her blanket.

“They are called arials, and exist all over the world. Be assured they, nor any other fae creatures may enter my domain,” he sat down heavily on the bed. “Come,” he opened his arms for her to sit on his lap again. She hesitated a moments, but slipped easily from her covers to his lap and looked up to stare at him in the moonlight. “You have many scars from past encounters with lesser creatures?”

“Yes. They always come. Especially at night,” she said quietly.

His gloved hand gently picked up her arm and pushed pack the sleeve to see a fairly fresh wound that had scabbed over. The large skull leaned down and sniffed several times and he hummed as his tongue slipped out and he lapped at her wound. Chise's instinct was to pull away, this was strange and scary. He would not let go so easily. Then the scab was pulled off and she flinched from the pain. Fresh blood pooled there quickly. He lapped it up slowly with his tongue. His bone white jaw open wide. His glowing eyes seeming to be even brighter and fiercer in the darkness. Elias Ainsworth pulled her closer and held her tighter as he made noises. Chise wondered if they were from pleasure. “Oh, Chise! You are delicious! I will have a hard time stopping myself. It is like...a drug. You are quite intoxicating.”

As the slow lapping continued, Chise squirmed and gasped but knew it was no use to try to get away. And anyway, what did it really matter if he devoured her.?Soon his tongue had moved from the wound and began inching it's way toward her neck. One of his gloved hands tugged her night gown down off her shoulders to reveal her pale skin and small breasts. His tongue found it's way there and wrapped itself around her nipples. Beneath her lap she could feel something poke through his pants making a tight tent.

Chise began to make noises. At first, in protest because the sensation was so weird and intense and she didn't like it. Soon she found the continual licking of her breasts made her feel something new. Something she'd never felt before. She felt a warmth start to spread in her body. She grabbed at his robe and held on with tight her fists. His tongue moved back up her neck slowly and then got to her mouth. “Open your mouth, Chise,” he said quietly. She did so and was shocked when he inserted his tongue into her mouth as his large jaw moved closer to her face. She tried to pull back but his gloved hand came up to hold her head still. His tongue sought hers.

At first she was disgusted, but as his tongue massaged hers gently she began to relax. It wasn't completely unpleasant. She let her tongue timidly reach for his making him gasp. He made deep moaning sounds as his hands caressed her back and bottom, and then slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdrew.

Elias Ainsworth closed his jaw and looked down at his plaything. Her face was wet with his saliva and her nightgown was disheveled. He chuckled at her. “Your face is red, and your pulse has quickened. I think you will be a fast learner. Have you ever touched your privates to bring youself pleasure?” She looked away embarrassed by the question, and shook her head. He replaced her nightgown to its rightful place. And moved her back to the bed as he began to straighten his clothing. “Well, goodnight, Chise,” he said, walking to the door and opened it.

Standing there was the Silver Lady. She was looking very concerned as she looked past Elias over at Chise. “She has not been harmed, nor deflowered, yet. I assure you, Silky.” The Silver Lady looked at him and nodded as they both backed out her Chise's room. She heard footsteps heading away from her door. Chise relaxed then feeling her ordeal was over for tonight. Her body still hummed with the sensations that man or creature had brought on her body. She felt her breasts tingle. She reached out to touch them and they still felt very sensitive to the touch. She felt between her legs and felt more moisture than usual. She'd never felt this way before.

Chise had expected to have strange experiences in her new life after auction, but nothing like this. It was not what she'd expected. And her owner was not what she'd expected. Was this her new life? She wasn't getting attacked and bitten by random creatures she mused. However, this man, Ainsworth-san, might be the one to bite and molest her from now on. Not that it mattered to Chise really, nothing mattered, she reminded herself.

Chise lay back down and covered herself to get some sleep. As she was drifting off to sleep she heard strange sounds. Someone was moaning. It sounded like Ainsworth-san. They were the sounds similar to the ones he'd made when he was licking her and clearly enjoying himself. Another voice joined his in their moans, a female voice. Chise also heard rhythmic thumping. Chise wondered what that was. She listened carefully for awhile to see if it would go away. It was clearly not coming from outside, but from inside the house. Chise got up from her bed and walked to her door. She opened it just a crack, but saw nothing in the darkened hallway. Across from her was another door and underneath she saw light and shadows moving to the rhythm of the thumping.

A moment more and a loud groan echoed from the room into the hall, and the thumping stopped. Chise heard the door handle turn. “Thank you, Silver Lady,” said Ainsworth-san as the Silver Lady stepped out of his room. She was fixing her bonnet and pushing down her dress. She nodded to him as she quickly made her way down the hall and down the stairs. Chise didn't know what to think. What had just happened? “Goodnight, Chise, please get some rest,” he told her as he moved back into his room and closed his door. Chise went back to bed with many unanswered questions floating in her head.

[tortleofwar]

Jethroe

Jethroe sat at the bar sipping his Crown Royal as tears rolled down his face and splashed on the counter.  You would think that was what drew the crowd's attention but that was just the beginning.  He wore a dark grey tuxedo with a sky blue tie and pocket square.  His rhinestone shoes bounced the light around as if it were a disco ball.  The bartender had served him three drinks so far and heard his story.

Although Jethroe slapped money on the counter he refused to take it.  A few tears rolled down his face as he listened to Jethroe’s story.  Any guy or floozy trying to bum a drink was shooed away.  Until a medium sized lady approached Jethroe.  She was wearing a sky blue dress and wore grey heels.  The dress had a slit which showed off her toned legs.  An anklet dangled as she strode over to him.

“Please cut him off.  I can’t have him going home like this,” she demanded as she pushed Jethroe’s glass away from him.  She turned to face him.  “What are you doing here?  Everyone is searching for you.”

“I bought a room here Mrs. Hellen.  We were supposed to consummate the marriage right upstairs.”  Jethroe reached for his glass and got his hand slapped away.  “Can’t consummate something that didn’t happen.”

“You’re pathetic.  Is this how you respond to hard times?  Drowning your sorrows instead of fighting for your love?”  She was attempting to drag Jethroe out of the bar to have this conversation.  But his heavier frame prevented that.

Jethroe held up his other hand for another drink.  He grimaced when one wasn’t offered.  Now his attention was focused on Mrs. Helen.

“You’re daughter left me.  At the alter.  As she ran away with some guy that just landed in town.  And you expect me to buck up and go after her?”  With each word his anger grew.  The barkeep slid closer in case he needed to restrain Jethroe.

Helen dismissed him with a hand and moved closer to Jethroe.  She lowered her voice and began to whisper in his ear.  “Please.  Let’s go upstairs and talk about this.  Your personal business doesn’t need to become this town’s next headline in the gossip column.”

Jethroe looked down into her clear blue eyes and tears welled up again.  Despite his feelings he lowered himself from the bar and clung to her.  Jethroe’s head spun as he stumbled with the tiny Helen around his waist.

“Miss.”  A hotel bellhop caught her and handed her a room key.  “He gave that to the barkeep to make sure he made it back to his room.”

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” Helen asked as she attempted to grab the key.

He scooped Jethroe’s arm over his shoulders and helped him meander towards the elevator.  The room was on the tenth floor.  As they walked down the hall Helen admired the beauty she ignored earlier.  This had to have cost a pretty penny.  But her daughter had told her Jethroe didn’t have much money.  Something wasn’t adding up.

Helen opened the door and had the bellhop lay Jethroe on the bed.  He stood in the doorway rocking back and forth with expectation.  Helen huffed as she rolled her eyes.  It soon became apparent her purse was empty.  She rushed over to Jethroe and checked in his pockets.

As her hands fumbled around inside his pockets she grazed his cock and she felt it harden.  Finding the money she snatched her hand out and walked to the door.  She counted it out as she walked to the bellhop.  Helen froze midway as she realized what was in her hands.  There were five $100 bills and a stack of $20 that added up to $500.  If $1000 were in his pockets how much was in his bank account?  She pulled out a $20 and handed it to the bellhop as she shooed him away.  As she strode back to the bed, conflict stormed within her.  Jethroe had an impressive package but this was borderline rape.  Aside from that he was supposed to have married her god-daughter that afternoon. But she had arrived in town with every intention to play.

She crossed the room and sat Jethroe up after an extended struggle.  Helen began to undress the abandoned groom.  There was no way the rental place would accept this back if something were to happen to it.  She giggled as she removed his shoes.  Nobody was ready for the blinding reflection of the sun as he danced down the aisle.  She ignored the route this memory would take and began talking Jethroe through everything she was doing.  He still possessed enough motor skills to move which helped to undress him.

Helen collapsed in the chair with a loud huff.  With Jethroe lying on the bed she was finally able to look around the room.  The room was huge with a high ceiling.  A chandelier with ornate decorations hung in the center of the room.  A set of large double doors separated the bedroom from the living space.  A plaid pull out couch sat between two beautiful dracaenas.  Placed in the center of the living area was a circular glass table.

Helen could see the city skyline outside of the glass doors.  It was breathtaking.  She rose and crossed the room and discovered they led to a balcony.  Her mind flashed back to her honeymoon weekend.  Theodore had bought a room that looked out over the ocean.  Each night he fucked Helen as the sun set over the horizon.  Her body instantly reacted to the memory.  Her legs trembled as her womanhood began to moisten.

Helen shook the memory from her head and continued to look out on the horizon.  She was so caught up in the moment she didn’t hear Jethroe approach her from behind.  A muffled yelp was let out as he wrapped his arms around her waist and took a deep breath.

“Persephone,” Jethroe breathed out.  His arms tightened as he gave her a playful squeeze.  “I knew you’d be back.  I knew you hadn’t left me.”

Helen was too shocked to say anything.  Thed hadn’t held her like this in years.  She felt safe and secure in Jethroe’s arms as he swayed back and forth with her.  Afraid that he would react wrongly if she revealed herself she remained silent.

“You don’t have to say a word.  As long as you are back with me, I promise to do better and never make you feel neglected again.”

Jethroe pushed her brown hair to the side and nuzzled his face in her neck.  He began to kiss and lick Helen mistaking her for Persephone.  One of Jethroe’s hands slid up Helen’s stomach and cupped her right breast fondling it as he pulled Helen closer.  She moaned and squirmed as this boy 20 years younger than her made her feel things she hadn’t felt in decades.

Jethroe continued to squeeze and caress who he thought was Persephone.  Enjoying the noises and reactions he was getting from her.  She hadn’t been this animated when they made out in years.  As Jethroe caught the zipper to her dress in his teeth he gave a hard squeeze on her breasts.  Helen’s legs slammed together as she fought off a tiny orgasm caused by this rough and unfamiliar foreplay.  Jethroe undid the zipper and turned Helen around.  Without looking up he kissed his way to her pussy.  Licking and nibbling as he worked his way up.

Helen put her hands on his head to keep him from going up.  Try as she might, Jethroe’s misplaced passion weakened her knees and chipped away at her resolve to stop him.  Her arms felt like jelly as Helen went from pushing his head down to playing with Jethroe’s hair as he ventured up her legs.  With her ass pressed against the cool glass Helen tossed her head back and searched for a shooting star.

As Jethroe approached her pussy Helen’s body trembled with expectation.  His warm, slick tongue traced the outer lips of her vagina. Jethroe’s strong hands gripping the back of her thighs to press his face deeper into her sex.  Helen twisted her fingers into Jethroe’s tiny locks as an orgasm ripped through her body.  As her body trembled and legs gave way, Helens cursed and thanked the gods Herbert had given her permission to play today.  Jethroe’s skills far surpassed his age.

Now Jethroe kissed his way up the front of Helen’s body as his hands kneaded Helen’s ass.  Still reeling from that massive orgasm Helen’s legs were giving out.  Herb hadn’t done anything close to this since Persephone was born.  Her mind returned swiftly when Jethroe caught one of her nipples in his mouth and bit down sharply.  The jolt of pain returning her to her senses but also causing her to dance in the palm of his  hand.

Her pussy wet with anticipation she began grinding the air as he worked his way up to kiss her for the first time.  It was deep, forceful and full of passion.  The warmth from the kiss caused her to melt even more as Helen gave herself completely to Jethroe.  Arms tangled, tongues wrestling, the two lovers gave in to their base desires to physical enjoyment.  Helen broke the kiss and  untied her hair allowing it to fall to the middle of her back still curled from being tied.

Jethroe spun her to once again face the city as he lined up his dick to her pussy. A tinge of fear crossed Helen’s mind as she did not know if it was a safe time for her or not. However, Jethroe’s tweaking of her nipples replaced that with a desire to feel filled. As she pushed back to feel him enter her he pulled away.

“Be patient, my pet.”  Jethroe thrust forward allowing his crown to hit the engorged clit of Helen.  His entire length stimulating her.  A new fear entered Helen’s mind.  Jethroe was almost twice Herb’s size and much thicker.  How would she handle this?  Would Herbert feel the same after this?

Another thrust and Helen was almost brought to her knees.  A strong arm caught her waist and she felt a tug on her hair.  Jethroe was in complete control and there was no way to escape.  Not that she’d wanted to.  Pulling harder, Jethroe brought Helen’s face to his and planted another kiss square on her lips.  Her wiggling hips made him chuckle.  The deep rumble that emitted from his chest made her wetter.

Jethroe lined his cock up once again and allowed Helen to wiggle and push the tip into her pussy.  Helen’s eye’s shot open as the realization hit.  How did her daughter take all of this and not walk funny?  Jethroe was going to destroy her pussy and leave nothing for Herb to enjoy.  Slowly Jethroe worked his dick into Helen by moving his hips in slow circles. Opening her up little by little.

“I know this is our first time.  So I’m going to take it slow.  But once you start pushing back, I’m not holding back,” Jethroe growled in Helen’s ear.  He pulled her hair so she was staring into the star lit sky and nibbled on her earlobe.  Fondling her breast as he toyed with her nipple.  Helen was able to relax knowing she wasn’t going to get pounded until she was ready.

As she relaxed her hips pushed back and a bit more of Jethroe’s penis slid into her tight vagina.  Jethroe’s hands quickly snapped to her waist as he plunged forward.  In one swift motion he was buried to the base in Helen.  Her breath caught in her throat as her head snapped back and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.  For a brief moment Helen felt as if she was going to explode.  Had she not relaxed before this she may have passed out from pain.

Jethroe began to grind his hips into Helen’s ass allowing her to adjust to his size.  A moment of impatience made him jump the gun.  But waiting so long to have his dream girl was torture.  Always within his reach but never within his bed.  Tonight was the night.  She was here, smelling sweet, body squeezable and fluffy, moaning softly as he dug himself deep into her love.

Helen’s face was frozen as her body shook violently with an orgasm. Jethroe’s hips gyrated pushing him ever so slightly deeper.  As Helen returned to her body she could feel Jethtoe start to pump in and out of her at a slow steady pace.  With each stroke she was adjusting but felt less and less of him inside of her.  On the final stroke his crown almost came out. Her lips squeezing to prevent him slipping out.  A loud smack was drowned out by the traffic below as Jethroe plunged in deep yet again.  Helen could feel her wetness flow down her inner thigh and down her legs.

She closed her eyes hoping he wouldn’t think she just relieved herself on him.  To her delight it seemed as if he didn’t notice, as Jethroe pulled out slowly and plunged in again.  With each thrust Helen began to forget that her daughter was supposed to have married this man hours ago.  Jethroe had reached places no man had tread in nearly two decades.  As her mind gave way her body began to respond honestly to Jethroe’s touch and body.

Helen began grinding against Jethroe’s hips, slowly building up another orgasm.  Just as she was about to go over the edge, he pulled out.  Helen’s look of surprise turned to one of joy as she felt a hot liquid splatter onto her ass and lower back.  Jethroe had let out enough cum that it dribbled down her legs. An exhausted Jethroe stepped back to enjoy his work as he gasped for air.

Helen wiggled her ass to give him a show and hurry the process of cum running down her legs.  She reached around rubbing the milky substance into her skin.  Jethroe’s inebriation was beginning to fade as he looked up.  Persephone’s frame seemed smaller.  It was just as shapely but the size seemed off.  Jethroe’s eyes trailed up what he thought to be Persephone’s body ticking off differences. Toned legs, but they aren’t as thick as before.  Her ass is still fat but hips seem wider.  Breast bigger but hanging a little lower.

If he didn’t know better, Jethroe would swear he had just fucked his former mother-in-law.  Bouncing brown curls hung to the middle of her back and realization dawned on Jethroe.  His eyes darted from the naked body in front of him and his dick.  There was no way that he could have done what he thinks happened.  But the shock turned into fear and dismay as Helen turned to reveal her flushed and sweaty face.

“By now I’m sure you’re aware of what just happened.”  She brought her finger to her lips and sucked the cum off of it.  “Once the fear drains away feel free to join me in the bed.”

Helen sauntered by Jethroe as she fondled her breast and tweaked her nipples.  Lust filled eyes staring at the dick that had just fulfilled her wants.  Helen’s hand absentmindedly trailed down to her pussy so she could spread them for Jethroe to see.

“She will be waiting.”

Alone and shaking from discovery, Jethroe calmed his beating heart and collected his breath.  What was done couldn’t be undone.  His dick twitched at the idea of a follow up performance.  Even though he had been drunk, Helen was in her right mind and did nothing to stop it.  He turned his head and found Helen lying on the bed staring at him.  She licked her lips and winked, beckoning him to join her.  With a shrug Jethroe rose and walked to the bed, his blood flowing and hardening his dick.

“Is this alright for us to do?”  Jethroe stood at the edge of the bed.  His dick now pointing straight at Helen’s mouth.  “Your husband could kill me or divorce you.”

Helen rolled onto her back and kicked up her right leg to reveal the anklet.  “He gave me his blessing to play tonight.  There weren’t any restrictions.  But he does want to hear who made me happy and how they did it.”

She placed a playfully kiss on the underside of Jethroe’s dick.  It jumped in response while he tensed up.  Soon her tongue lapped at his dick followed by more kisses trailing it up and down.  Jethroe reached out to play with Helen’s breast as he moved his hips in circles.  Helen reached a hand up to stroke Jethroe and get him harder.

“If you give me one more good show, I’ll call up Herbert and have the wedding taken care of.”  Helen opened her mouth to take Jethroe in.  A low moan escaped as her warm mouth engulfed his cock.  Helen flicked her tongue playfully Jethroe’s tip as her hand slid up his leg to massage his balls.  For balance Jethroe reached for the posts.  Unconsciously he began rolling his hips pulling back when Helen squeezed a little too hard on his sack.

“Fuck,” Jethroe whispered as Helen popped his fully erect cock out of her mouth and planted gentle kisses on it.  “You are amazing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”  Helen shifted onto her back and wagged a finger to coax Jethroe onto the bed.  He did as requested and began kissing up Helen’s leg.  At her erogenous spots he would linger and apply some tongue.  Watching her body, he would move on once her shivering calmed down.  With each stop, a mini orgasm was reached.  Jethroe made his way to Helen’s pussy.  This time sober and fully aware of what he was doing, he licked the wet folds and nibbled at her labia.

“Please Jethroe,” Helen breathed heavily.  “I need this more than you know.”

As his lips clamped down on Helens clit, Jethroe snaked a hand up her thigh.  Two fingers expertly slipped inside of her and curled up to massage the roof of her vagina.  Helen’s eyes shot open as her back arched wildly.  Her breath hitched in her throat as Jethroe’s tongue lashed at her clit eradictly and his fingers strumbed inside of her.  Helen’s legs locked as her orgasm reached peak. In the midst of her climax Jethroe released his mouth from Helen’s coochie.

A stream of fluid followed him as he backed away.  His eyes traced up Helen’s body as Jethroe admired the mature beauty of this woman.  He frowned as his eyes were blocked from Helen’s due to her hands hiding her face.  Jethroe slowly pried her fingers away and kissed her deeply.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your body is just letting me know how much you are enjoying this, me.”  Jethroe kissed Helen again as he lined up his cock to her slit.  “Now I need you to want it as bad as your body needs this.”

Jethroe teased her opening, rotating his hips in small circles. Helen began to thrust her hips to meet Jethroe’s downward rotation forcing more of him into herself little by little.  Her moans of desire blended perfectly with Jethroe’s grunts of pleasure.

[purplesurveys]

961

What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen? Unsettling films are my jam, man. To name a few, there’s Eraserhead, Room, Midsommar, Eyes Wide Shut, Misery, and most recently, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Eraserhead takes the cake though. That movie always makes me queasy...

What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole? I’m a firm believer in nothing good ever comes out of unethical practices. I’ll never forget reading about an experiment where a group of newborn babies were given basic needs like food and being bathed, but weren’t shown any affection whatsoever and it was meant to see if humans can survive with just the most basic physiological needs. By the end of the experiment period half of the babies were dead. The results were honestly a lot bleaker than how I’ve put it, but I don’t wanna be a downer lol. Suffice it to say that experiment haunted me for days after reading it.

When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t? It was around a week or so ago, I’m pretty sure.

Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base? My sister is into K-pop and I hear insights from her all the time, but her one constant is that BTS breeds the most annoying, toxic fans. I’d have to agree. Ariana Grande’s fandom was also annoying at one point, but I haven’t heard much from them making a mess these days.

What are you interested in that most people aren’t? Autobiographies.

If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you? Why would I deserve a PhD on something I’m clearly not qualified for...I’m not sure I’m following this question right, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard about it.

What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement? I’m happy with the features that are widespread now, but I wish companies adhere more to countries other than the common ones like US, UK, Australia, etc. I always see ads about phones being able to tell you how much movie tickets cost or track boarding passes, but those are all irrelevant here. It makes a lot of Apple’s basic apps useless on this side of the world haha.

What’s something people don’t worry about but really should? Long-term effects of poor habits like not getting enough sleep or drinking too many cups of coffee. I know because I’m guilty of this.

What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis? “I won’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow,” but I usually say it to myself, especially when I feel stressed.

Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents? Better, but idk if that’s just me being biased because my generation will be the next parents lol. I just think that a lot of Gen X parents still have a lot of dated prejudices and mindsets that my generation was able to learn better from. For example my mom doesn’t like using people’s preferred names, especially if they’ve transitioned -_____- and I know I’d never want to set such an example for my kids.

What’s the funniest joke you know by heart? I know I’ve come across hilarious ones but I always fail to come up with one when asked on the spot.

When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life? LOL RIGHT NOW

What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having? It’s more stupid than funny and I know I’ve already mentioned this before, but Covid Bryant as a first and second name still takes the cake for me. My sister went to school with a girl whose name is just her surname backwards, and for a time I was really weirded out by it. But in the times I’ve seen her she really owns her name and never looks bothered by it, so I quickly stopped caring.

Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money? For me it would have to be organizations for animal welfare.

What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week? Post-El Camino Jesse Pinkman. I wouldn’t want to live through his chaotic shit  from Breaking Bad, but his fate after El Camino is something I’m super envious of.

What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now? Flip phones, Blackberry phones, Roshes, Frappuccinos.

If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack? Phone, laptop, their chargers, important IDs, some of my favorite tops and jeans, underwear, essential toiletries, wallet, a family photo, a journal and pen, earphones, certain knickknacks to remember Gab and my dogs by. Minus the clothes, all of these are pretty tiny so I think these would all fit in the bag just fine.

What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen? I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of rating the most/worst this and that stuff in my life, either. I feel like I unnecessarily rack my brain too hard for them when I take surveys to have a chill time.

If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first? Probably something that’d keep my dogs from dying.

If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do? No thanks. I’d be the chillest ghost tbh, I’d like to just sneak up on people’s business and hang out but never interfere in them.

What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving? Climate change, global warming, alleviation of poverty. Corporations and the few people who actually have the power and money to change things only ever come up with short-term shit like donations and never look at the big picture. What problem are you currently grappling with? So many personal ones. But just like the recurring theme of my surveys so far, “I don’t want to get into it.”

What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role? As much as I love Kristen Stewart, I heard she was cast as Princess Diana for an upcoming film and I’m not really feeling that decision. They could’ve gone with a British actress for starters?????? The movie is still in production but it is pretty annoying to think about lmao.

What game have you spent the most hours playing? Probably GTA: San Andreas as a kid.

What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in? Luxury hotel beds are always so fluffy and comfortable.

What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard? Omg one time at a coffee shop Gabie and I sat beside this older couple that obviously was going through some heavy SHIT. There was a lot of animosity and tension between them and I caught the lady silently break into tears a few times. I never overheard anything but then again they sat in silence for hours until the lady finally walked out on him. Never knew what it was about but I’ve always guessed that the man did something crappy, like cheat, and was discovered. It was a really sad sight and a crazy situation to witness and I think I felt even more sorry because they were obviously in their 50s or 60s. I hope the woman is in a better place now as she looked rough as fuck that evening.

What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked? I wore a lot of hats when I was in my college org, and that was on top of balancing my acads as well.

What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it? That scene from Friends where Ross plays the keyboard for Chandler, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel.

What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation? It depends on what music they’re into and if I have actually have a recommendation in mind for them. I obviously can’t suggest Paramore to someone who mainly listens to metal.

If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose? I’m down for any monuments that are super ancient like Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza.

If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying? I’d go with frogs, but only because they get annoyingly loud in the evening.

What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been? Playing The Sims, Mario Kart, Rock Band, or games in the Burnout franchise.

What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? Japan was so fucking cold when I was there. Didn’t do my research and ended up being dressed poorly, and I was so cold I could barely talk to my parents or fully enjoy my time. Sagada was also nearly unbearable in the early morning.

Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate? Not from a book or movie, but BoJack Horseman. Diane can also be in the running as I always found her too whiny. I get that she had her personal shit to deal with, but I don’t think living with her would be good for my own sanity and mental health.

Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine? It annoys my chef dad to death that I don’t lol. No matter how great it looks, I’d bounce. I once ate expired Kit Kats that tasted like cardboard and that scared me off of expired food forever.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought? I once bought a stupid novelty soap that to this day I’ve never even opened. It’s in one of my drawers, and I plan to just throw it out at some point.

What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen? Not a fan of these but one that got to me is Dear Sister from SNL.

What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten? A few years ago there was a local breakfast place that offered red velvet pancakes for a limited time and I was all over that crap, so I went and ordered. The actual pancakes ended up not being any bigger than my palm, and I remember not being able to hide my disappointment once the server placed the dish on my table haha. I felt so scammed. I had to order something else to feel full, because those pancakes were stupidly small.

What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job/jobs? One of my superiors, when she was presenting a pitch to our director yesterday, kept asking questions and picking at the director’s brain so that she can get suggestions and answers straight from the director herself and so that she didn’t have to do any brainstorming anymore. I thought that was a pretty nifty and clever hack.

What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? Hiking a mountain!

What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them? Umbrella by Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.

What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone? Idk, anything can be the worst depending on the context. I’m not a fan of giving those, though.

What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched? Unsolved Mysteries’ Dupont de Ligonnès episode was a lot of fun to watch.

What was the last song you sang along to? I think it was Thinking of You by Katy Perry? but I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t sung along to anything in a while.

What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet? I don’t really download and use a lot of apps other than the basic ones, so I don’t care too much.

When was the last time you face palmed? Last night.

If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create? I’d give it away to the Martial Law museum currently being made near my university so that it can do more to show the atrocities of the Marcoses. And so that I can piss off my pro-Marcos relatives.

Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up? Uh hating myself, if that counts.

What really needs to be modernized? Public transportation systems in this country.

[mimymomo]

They May Not Have My Smile, But They Have All My Heart

Okay, I spent so long on this story and it’s finally finished! @hollywoodx4 I hope I did your prompt of Orphydice adopting a kid okay. Thank you flower-anon for beta-reading and helping me edit and for coming up with the title. You are a lifesaver! 

Also, the song lyrics are from “I Think of You” by Reeve Carney (I’m obsessed)

“When it's time to say goodbye

And a tear wells in my eye

I can hold my head up high

When I think of You

My flesh is weak, but Your Spirit wills

That my heart and mind ooh, will think of You”

Orpheus trailed off, strumming softly at his guitar that was placed down in his lap. With his eyes shut, he let his thoughts and daydreams drift him away, far away, to the corners of his mind where inspiration would fill his head and soon, the many crumbled pages of his worn notebook.

It was a dreary fall afternoon; the grey sky was beginning to peer out from behind puffy, dirty clouds. The air smelled of freshly poured rain, the browning grass wet from the morning dew. The once colorful leaves that hung bountiful from the trees now littered the muddy ground, stomped and tattered.

Eurydice had left for a midday walk earlier that afternoon. Orpheus could sense something was off with his wife; the poor woman had grown antsier and antsier in the last few weeks. Orpheus had chalked the shifting mood up to the changing weather. The warm and sweet summer had morphed into breezy, frigid fall. And with that change came all the worries and pressures the season provided.

Orpheus had been the one to suggest the walk. It was their first day off in weeks. And due to the weather, the two had been cramped in their tiny cabin. Cabin fever was harshly setting in. Eurydice sat silently perched in their ratty recliner, a near busted thing they found in a junk pile. Bundled under a sheet, she watched the clouds drift away from out the window.

“Love, why don’t you go for a walk?” Orpheus suggested, in a warm, enthused tone.

“Trying to kick me out of the house, Lover?” she shot back with no real bite.

“Oh no, not at all!” Orpheus scrambled, cheeks and ears red and hot like the sun. “I just thought maybe some fresh air would cheer you up a bit and-”

Eurydice let out a single snort and smiled at her stuttering husband- a tiny one where only the corners of her mouth curled the slightest bit up, purely genuine. Orpheus felt the air get caught in his throat. Married for two years and the sight of Eurydice’s smile never failed to send giddy sensations throughout his body, stalling his body into a trance. “Maybe you’re right. A walk could do me some good.”

With a wide toothy grin, Orpheus grabbed her hand. With a slight tug, he pulled his wife from her spot on the chair, the sheet falling slowly to the ground. Eurydice wrapped her arms around Orpheus’ neck, perched herself on the top of her toes, and brought Orpheus down to place a slow, chaste kiss on his lips. It was moments like this that the two loves the most, huddled close together in a warm embrace, completely enamored with one another. They knew each other's strengths and weak spots, and in response, how to soothe and to inspire. Their love knew no bounds, and it showed in times like this.

Eurydice left shortly afterward. In the few hours since Eurydice’s departure, Orpheus spent his free time with not only his lyre but now his guitar he received as a present from the town when he and Eurydice returned. Since coming back from Hadestown, he tried to devote more time to work and Eurydice, never wanting her to feel neglected or lonely again. But in return, it meant fewer hours with his music. Sure, he still performed at Hermes bar quite frequently, but whenever free time was available, he could be found sprawled out on the floor, at the bar counter, music sheets spread to the wind, strumming away.

The sun was beginning to set over the trees; Eurydice would usually be home by now. Just then, Orpheus heard the sound of their creaky door being swung open. A familiar pattern of footsteps: Eurydice’s.

“Oh ‘Rydice, welcome back,” Orpheus called out gleefully, gently placing down his lyre and lifting himself from his spot on the old worn rug. “I think I’ve finally worked out the final verse for that new song and was just about to start dinner. How was your wa-” as Orpheus turned towards the direction of the front door, he couldn’t help but stop mid-sentence. Tucked behind his wife’s small stature was the even smaller frame of a very young boy, no older than six, in a dark, oversized sweatshirt.

The first thing Orpheus noticed was his eyes, a striking teal-ish green that perfectly contrasted with his brown skin. They looked so tired, hard yet sad, hungry; they reminded Orpheus of Eurydice’s when he first met her. Eyes of someone who’s had to deal with more than one person ever should. Leaves and debris protruded from the mop of greasy, ultra-dark hair that curled at the ends to reach the tip of his eyes. The boy’s hoodie was an old thing. Dirt-stained and navy blue. Tattered with rips and holes and the thing completely drowned out his figure. A few cuts and swelling purple-blue bruises covered his arms, cheeks, and neck, instantly making Orpheus’ skin crawl and blood run cold. ‘Did someone hurt this poor boy? He’s so small…’ Orpheus locked eyes with the child who quickly averted his gaze in fear. He violently trembled where he stood, still hiding close behind Eurydice’s legs, little pudgy fingers grasping tight to the woman's ripped black tights. Using all the willpower he could muster, Orpheus held himself back from rushing over and scooping the wee boy up into his arms, wanting nothing more than to sing his pain away. Instead, he chose to address his much calmer wife whose hand was softly brushing through the boy's tangled hair.

“I was just about to start dinner,” Orpheus continued as composed as he could be, not wanting to distress the boy any further. “I was just thinking about making some soup from those beans and other vegetables Lady Persephone gave us.”

Eurydice blew out a relieved sigh, something she nor Orpheus even realized she was holding. The tension in her muscles relaxed, shoulders dropping back down to size, no more bravado needed, “that sounds wonderful, I’m starving. I brought back a few more ingredients from the market that we can use.”

‘That’s not the only thing you brought back…’ Orpheus thought humorously, still stunned by the unknown child in his home.

“Orpheus, hun, would you begin prepping the vegetables?  I need to run a quick bath, and then I’ll be out to join you.” Orpheus nodded his head at his wife’s request. Eurydice directed her attention back to the boy, crouching down to his level. She circled her hand back and forth over his head and the side of his face. She looked so...maternal. It was so different from the usually hardened exterior she put on display for others, but not unwelcome. She was quite entrancing when she acted like this.

“Miko, this is my husband Orpheus, remember I told you about him back at the market?”

Miko meekly nodded his head and with a bit more courage, peeked further out from his spot to stare up at Orpheus, hesitance evident. ‘Miko, huh?’ Orpheus took note of the teeny birthmarks near the corners of his eyes. “Hello, Miko. I’m Orpheus,” he smiled, “but I think my wife told you that already.”

The boy didn’t say anything, just continuing to stare. Orpheus frowned, he couldn’t help but wonder if the child didn’t like him. He knew that it was irrational, he just met the child for Gods sake, who was most likely just nervous about being in a new place, but still, Orpheus couldn’t help but be fraught with worry.

“Alright then,” Eurydice chimed in, snapping the two boys out of their reverie, “I’ll go draw a bath for Miko while you, Orpheus, start prepping the vegetables for me. Come, Miko, I’ll get the tub ready for you.” She grabbed the child’s hand and guided him in the direction of the couple's compact bathroom.

Orpheus rushed to the kitchen to start with dinner. He chopped, peeled, and quartered various ingredients- peppers, potatoes, carrots, squash, an onion, some fresh herbs. Most had been a gift from Persephone. He tried to ignore out the sounds of running water and faint chatter of Eurydice. He hoped that by busying himself with his assigned tasks, he could keep his mind from wandering to who and what was happening in his washroom. Soon minutes passed, and Orpheus was so engrossed in his actions, he failed to notice his wife walk out of the bathroom, holding a filthy sweatshirt and pants. She dropped them to the floor and stepped into their kitchen, right next to her husband, who was humming a song she didn’t recognize.

“Looks yummy,” she whispered as she placed her hand on his forearm, causing Orpheus to jump.

“You scared me,” he breathed, turning away from the counter and pulling Eurydice in close.

“‘Rydice-” Orpheus started but was quickly cut off by his wife.

“Oh, before you get too far with cooking, I bought some special ingredients for tonight.” She pulled away from Orpheus and quickly marched back towards the front door to retrieve her satchel. She yanked out a small parcel wrapped in thin, brown paper and tied tightly with white string. She pushed it into Orpheus’ hands. “Open it,” she lightly commanded.

Orpheus undid the string and pulled back the layers of paper: a chain of sausages. Orpheus felt his eyes go wide; actual ground sausages, six of them to be exact. Eurydice smiled, “I also went ahead and bought a loaf of bread. Nothing big or fancy, but it’s freshly baked from this morning instead of days old.” Orpheus was stunned, the two rarely ever purchased meat or fancy bread during their routine trips to the market in the center of town. It was much cheaper to buy freshly grown produce and canned goods or bargain for near stale bread than to buy things like meat and baked goods. And with Eurydice’s anxieties over their expenses, the two figured they would be okay without. They only splurged on such delicacies on the most special of occasions. Tonight must have been bigger than he thought.

“‘Rydice, I’m...what-”

“Do you think you can handle cooking the rest of dinner? I need to get washing Miko’s clothes.” She picked up the pile of laundry from off of the floor, “they’re absolutely disgusting. They probably need to be resown as well…”

“Eurydice.” 

Eurydice stopped her rambling and faced her husband. She sees the look in Orpheus’ eyes, he was confused and concerned, and that it was driving him mad. But absent was any sign of resentment or anger. “Eurydice, please, what’s going on with Miko? Who exactly is he?”

Eurydice was silent for a few moments, peering down at the clothes in her hands. “I was finishing up my trip to the market, and on my way back I heard screaming. I ran over to an alleyway, and I saw this older man beating on this little boy. According to the man, the boy stole some food from his stall and started to run away. Which meant, in the man’s words, that he was in the right to beat and berate this poor small child,” Eurydice huffed, her eyes hard and glassy. “I paid for the food he stole, and I asked him where his family was...he said, he said…” Hot, angry tears started to fall from her eyes as she gripped the crumpled clothes still in her hands. “He had no one. Nowhere else to go and he, he reminded me of myself...I just couldn’t-”

Orpheus didn’t need to hear anymore. He pulled Eurydice in his arms as she softly sobbed, memories of her past flooded her mind. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, Eurydice, my love. You’re home. Everything is gonna be okay.” He copied what she did with Miko, running his fingers through her hair as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, kissing along her forehead and temples.

After a few minutes, Eurydice’s sobs subsided. She roughly wiped at her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for crying ‘Rydice,” Orpheus cooed, using the pad of his thumb to brush away a stray tear. “We all have to sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less strong.”

She sniffed, giving a quick rub at her nose, “please don’t be mad. I know money and food are tight sometimes, but I couldn’t leave him there! I just couldn’t.” She sounded so desperate.

“Hey, why would I ever be mad?” Orpheus asked. Sure he was beyond surprised when his wife, miss lone survivor, brought back a young child home with her from her walk, but he could never be mad at her.

Eurydice gazed at Orpheus, hesitance wavering in her voice, “so Miko, can stay…?”

“Of course, he can!”

A wide grin broke out over Eurydice’s face as she laughed in Orpheus’ neck. Orpheus smiled again at Eurydice’s excitement; he never thought she was the type who wanted to be a mother. He had always wanted to be a dad. To raise a child and teach them many things like how to play the lyre, to sing them lullabies to sleep, watch them grow, be a better father than his own. The happiness in the air turned sour. What if he was a worse parent than his own? Orpheus’ concerns began to manifest on his face, his soft and almost boyish features furrowing at the thought. 

“Orpheus? What’s wrong?”

“What if I’m a terrible father? Miko didn’t exactly enjoy my presence earlier when we met.”

Eurydice chuckled, “oh poor, great Orpheus, fretting over how a child sees him.”

“I’m being serious Eurydice,” Orpheus replied somberly.

“And I am too,” she said, bringing her hands up to cup his face. “Orpheus, I need you to listen to me: you are the kindest, sweetest soul I’ve ever had the chance to meet. Your heart is so full of love, and I know you will be a great dad. You’re nothing like your parents; you’re loyal and brave and so, so caring. And yes, you’re not perfect, but no one is, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. I love you, and I’m sure Miko will learn to love you too.”

Orpheus pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, and Eurydice quickly reciprocated it. “I love you,” he said once he pulled back.

“I love you too. Now, let’s make dinner. I wasn’t joking when I said I was starving.”

The two got to work: Orpheus cooking, Eurydice washing, and hanging Miko’s clothes. Just as they were wrapping up, they heard the bathroom door quietly open.

“Euri?” a quiet voice called out. The two turn around and see Miko all clean and wearing an old white button-up of Eurydice’s. It was too big for him, the fabric reaching past his knees, but it would work for the night.

“Euri?” Orpheus asked with a raised eyebrow.

Eurydice rolled her eyes, “oh, Miko! You’re just in time,” she smiled, pouring hot broth into three different bowls. “Dinner’s just about ready.” Miko gingerly padded over to the kitchen. He stands close Eurydice, rising on his toes, poking his head up to look over the counter. “You wanna hold your bowl, or do you want me to carry it?”

“I can do it, Euri,” Miko said, his demure voice now a bit more determined.

Eurydice handed him the smallest bowl they had, “careful, the bowl’s very hot.”

Miko nodded once more before taking the bowl. With small, cautious steps and a stern face, Miko made his way out the kitchen, past the couples measly make-shift dinner table, then abruptly stopped and sat on an empty spot on the floor.

“Uh, um Miko?” Orpheus said puzzled, “why are you sitting on the floor?”

“I ‘posed to sit here,” he said as if by muscle memory.

“Who said that?” Eurydice pressed.

Miko didn’t speak at first, stirring his spoon in his bowl. The couples waited with bated breath, not wanting the boy to continue if he was uncomfortable. “...the mean man and his wife.”

“Mean man and his wife?” Eurydice repeated.

Miko lowered his head. “Dirty boys don’t get to eat at the table.”

Orpheus swore he could feel hot, burning steam radiating off Eurydice. She was angry, no, furious, pissed off even. She took a deep, shaky breath. Eyes glued to the boy alone on the floor, “Miko, for as long as you stay with us, which will hopefully be a for a long while, we will never, and I mean NEVER, make you eat on the floor.”

Miko raised his head, “you want me to stay?”

Eurydice bopped her up and down, “we’d love for you stay with us.”

“A-and no floor?”

“No floor.”

“...never ever?”

Eurydice smiled, “never ever never.”

Miko grinned, letting out an airy giggle at Eurydice’s words. Both adults felt their chest grow warm, filled to the brim with pure, tender joy. As he grinned, Orpheus noticed a few of Miko’s baby teeth were missing. Eurydice spoke again, “so Miko, do you want to eat up here with us?”

Miko’s smile dropped once again. Maybe it was too soon to expect him to be ready for such a major change. Suddenly, Orpheus thought of a brilliant idea, “Miko, how about instead of you sitting up here, we come and eat with you on the floor? We can sit on the rug near the fireplace. It can be like a picnic!”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Eurydice agreed, blown away at how sweet and quickly her husband had come up with the suggestion. “What do ya say, Miko? Can we join you?”

Miko’s eyes widened, tiny tears popping up in his eyes. In a quiet voice, no louder than a whisper, he said, “yes, please.”

…

After their lively meal on the living room floor: jammed packed with giggles, soup slurping contests, and funny stories, the three now lay spread out, bellies full from bowls of hearty soup. The soft sounds of the crackling fire echoed the home. Miko was cuddled up in Eurydice’s side, his arms wrapped around her middle and one of hers going down his back. Orpheus had just finished washing the dishes and returned to join his wife and the young boy. He reached out to grab his guitar, giving the old instrument a few good strums. Miko’s attention promptly fell on Orpheus, curiosity evident on his face.

“Want to hear Orpheus play?” Eurydice asked Miko, fingers back to playing with his hair. “He’s the best musician in the world.”

Without even looking in a mirror, Orpheus could tell his cheeks were aflame. Beaming from his wife’s praise, he stopped his strumming, “any request you two?”

“How about the new one you’ve been working one?” Eurydice suggested. “You mentioned when we came home that you figured out that part you were stuck on.”

“It’s not finished yet.”

“Don’t matter. I still want to hear it. And I’m sure Miko wouldn’t mind. Right, Miko?” Miko, whose eyes were still locked on the guitar in Orpheus’ lap, gave a quick nod.

Orpheus grinned, “okay, if you insist.”

Then he began. Fingers skillfully plucking strings, a beautiful melody floated through the air. After a short instrumental, he opened his mouth and started to sing:

“When I'm lost, you bring me back

When I cry, you make me glad

When I think I have it bad

I think of You

“When I don't know where to go

And I feel like I'm alone

When I hang my head down low

I think of You

“Each night You wait outside my door

Cause You want to know ohh, I think of You…”

Miko was completely enthralled- eyes open and locked, his body leaning forward as if to be closer to the sound. Eurydice had to check that he was still breathing. She had suspected the young boy would enjoy her husband's music, but to see him, this enthused filled her heart with pride. She wiggled her fingers on Miko’s stomach, causing the boy to giggle loudly. Orpheus smiled at the exchange and continued his song until the end, or well until he got to where he last let off. “So, how was that?”

“As lovely as ever lover boy,” Eurydice swooned. “What did you think, Miko?” Miko nodded his head so fast Eurydice was scared it would come flying right off.

“Thanks,” Orpheus said. He watched Miko stare down the guitar, balancing on his legs. “You wanna touch it?”

“Can I?”

Orpheus pushed the guitar away and patted his lap, “come sit here.” Miko crawled over to Orpheus, who scooped him up and placed the boy in his lap. He put the guitar over their laps, then guided Miko’s fingers over the strings and fretboard. “Okay, put your fingers here, and one right there, and...strum!”

Miko did as instructed, and a slightly off note rang out. Miko was all smiles regardless, “You hear Euri?”

“I did, Miko, good job hun,” Eurydice cheered.

“Orphe, did I do a good job?” Orphe? ‘Well, I guess that’s my new name.’

“That was very good. You wanna try the next one?”

“Yes!”

So they continued, learning one chord to the next. Soon the lesson was forgotten altogether as Orpheus began to play some simple song that he was most definitely making up as he went:

“Miko, oh Miko,

A young boy dressed in blue

Look out here comes a pack of…uhh...”

“Puppies!” Miko giggled loudly. Orpheus glanced at his wife, eyebrows high. Was this cheery boy in their room even the same child from earlier in the evening?

“Puppies! Oh, Gods please let that be true!”

Eurydice watched the two in awe: Miko all smiles and laughs and Orpheus singing aloud, playing music without a care. She could get used to this; early mornings laughs as the sun blared through the windows, midday walks through the forest, cold fingers entwined as the wind blew, late evening songs bundled up near the fire. She and her now, two boys, yeah, she could get used to this.

[writing-in-winter]

dream catcher (prologue)

three things that didn’t make sense until they did.

characters: tony stark x gifted!reader

word count: 2k

trigger warnings: depression, suicide

summary: you wanted a fresh start. you have it. but then the avengers find you, insisting that a life, which you have no recollection of, is yours.

a/n: i am finally posting a series, holy shit. i understand the prologue makes absolutely no sense, but hopefully, with the upcoming updates (i am finishing high school in two weeks hooray!) things start to become clear. in the prologue, y/n does not know she is gifted, because her memories has been locked away. also, i am blatantly ignoring canon *cough* especially iw and endgame *cough* (i’m too lazy to thoroughly proofread this because i have a paper to sit for tomorrow so feel free to slide into my inbox if you catch any mistakes. love y’all for reading!)

one—it is true when they say ‘what if’s haunt you forever.

you couldn’t remember the reason you were looking for tony, but you wished you hadn’t. it only reopened doors that you worked so hard to shut a long time ago. what despairs you the most is that it only took a short second to unwind the effort you had put in, for the insecurity and doubt to pour out of the tiny crack.

and then the emptiness you thought you had left behind for good comes rushing in all at once without a warning. it hits when you were crunching on cereals alone at the oversized island, which was meant to fit ten people comfortably.

most of the avengers are either away on a mission or had breakfast earlier that morning, and tony is… you look down at the cereal floating around in milk, frowning. you didn’t know where he is. when did that start?

you relish in the silence – it meant you need not bother with putting on a front and shrouding your unexplainable sadness from anyone – but after a while, it became deafening.

sliding into his audi, you draw your hand over the steering wheel, recalling the last time you drove this car. it was another aimless drive, but with tony in the passenger seat and you stepping on the gas on a lesser used road.

now, in his place is your bulky coat instead. it’s an complicated feeling. to hate the constant supervision, but wanting him with you. just the two of you alone, with no worries or fears for your safety or your unborn child’s.

for miles in the distance, all you can see is the white snow collecting on the dirty brown earth. finally, the car whirs to a stop at an abandoned park.

you just cannot resist the pull of it and the calm nature brings you, especially when you are alone.

the world lulls to a quiet hum as you drew the thick brown fabric closer to your body and wrapped your arms around your belly. your child. she wouldn’t be here if tony hadn’t insisted on keeping the accidental pregnancy. but as the months flew by, your love for your unborn daughter grew in size until it is rivaled only by your love for your fiance.

early winter is soft, though still a stark difference against the colors of spring. white blankets the ground, the arching tree branches, and everything in your vision. oh, how peaceful it is, to be away from any human and an extremely smart ai.

the silent supervision is suffocating at times, sending someone to assist you with the slightest of things when tony isn’t around. courtesy of him, no doubt. you had protested against the protocol, though you eventually relented, knowing that it gives tony some peace of mind when he isn’t near you.

how perfect would it be, if you could go back to the woman you were, free to roam the end of earth without anything or anyone holding you back? seemingly impossible, given the lengths of your love for tony, that you would leave him behind. but just for a moment, you imagine if you had never met him. perhaps you will still be the lone traveller, doing what you love in person.

you close your eyes, resting at the metal bench. just a minute, you told yourself. just a minute.

the steady beep emanating from the device beside you sends you gasping awake. the bright lights in the ceiling are blinding to your unfocused eyes, making you wince and twist away from it. wait, ceiling?

it is white all around, but for a minute you couldn’t get your eyesight straight. you curse at the contact lens which probably slid when you were asleep. heavy breaths run through your lungs, working, pushing, to make sure you stay alive. tony appears in the clear vision in your right eye, eyes lined with worry and rubbing your back in a soothing manner.

“i think the left contact lens slipped to the back.” you blink, slightly panicked at the sure ache at the back of your eye. your fingers make to force the lens out, but he grips your hand and tells you to lie down as he calls for a nurse. ah, so the compound med bay then.

shortly after the contact lens issue is resolved and the doctor on duty successfully convinced tony for the hundredth time that ‘no, sir, ms (y/n) is not experiencing frostbite’, you move back to your quarters.

apparently, instead of a minute, you had fallen asleep at the park, for two whole hours. you feel guilty for being a constant worry on his mind, promising to check in with him whenever you left the compound. you just didn’t realise the extent of the damage done until vision phases into the garage as you unlock a car.

he is a terrible actor. you knew FRIDAY sent him, but still, you listen as he asks to accompany you to wherever you are going because he needed to get something from the grocery store. you lie that you are simply retrieving your belongings left in the car.

that is when you knew you wouldn’t be leaving the building without supervision anytime soon. it shouldn’t suffocate you as much as it does.

two—it is true when they say family hurts you the most.

his lab is locked. again. FRIDAY confirms that tony is in there, but she isn’t allowed to let you enter the workspace.

you would ask her to connect you to tony, but he had been snappy lately. the sadness was gaining too, and normally you would be outside, soaking in the vastness of nature. you had long since gave up trying to sneak out the building by yourself. it is annoying and embarrassing for FRIDAY to keep sending people to find you. once, steve caught you as you were descending the emergency staircase with your pajamas on underneath the winter coat. with FRIDAY watching, you don’t even know why you are trying at all.

talking to tony about his protocols is a dead end. the last time you attempted to sweet talk him into lifting his most recently added protocol, it ended with him giving you the silent treatment for two days straight.

too tired to argue with anyone, even FRIDAY, you made to leave. you decided an early dinner with yourself would be nice. maybe some wine.

the kitchen is eerily silent without your playlists humming in the background. ironically, it brings you some peace. what a horrible resonance, reflecting your state of mind. when will this end?

you hobble around the wide kitchen for a little bit, bringing out the pot and the utensils you needed to make soup. loud clicks that must have came from stiletto heels make you look up from your chopping board.

you break into a smile at the sight of your best friend waving the bouquet of tulips at you. she wraps you into a tight hug, exclaiming her wonder at how far along you were in your pregnancy. pulling back to actually look at you after kissing your cheek, she frowns.

“i’m bloated, i know” you laugh for the first time in forever, accepting the bouquet from her.

caressing the indigo petals, and just relishing in the beauty of the tulips, you thank her. it has been so long since you have set foot outside that you miss the feelings of fresh morning dew on grass under your feet so badly.

you place the tulips on the countertop, careful not to squish any of the buds. it is a little hard to bend with the large baby bump, but you manage alright to bend and open the lower cupboard where you stored your vases.

your favorite china vase with tiny red buds dotted along the blue vines is missing. a frown sets itself on your brows as you purse your lips and straighten your back with a hand supporting your lower back. you begin to rummage through the rest of the cupboard.

“are you looking for this one?” she passes you the vase you are looking for.

you huff good-naturedly but exasperatedly. “tony loves misplacing my things.”

“oh, it isn’t his fault, i bought a new vase for the flowers he got the other day and i had no idea where to keep this one here.” she leans over you standing at the sink and fills the vase with water.

you are still standing there stunned by her seemingly offhand comment. “when?”

“like last last week? i can’t remember.”

“oh.” the smile is forced this time around. you pretend as if everything was alright. as if you are not bitter about tony blowing you off for someone else. everything is fine.

“friday, can you ask tony if he is joining us for lunch?”

you pray she hadn’t replied in a heartbeat before friday could respond. “he’s going out.” was she in there while i am locked out?

the ground is ripped from under you in an instant. you are drowning, struggling for air, but everything is fine.

three—it is true when they say truth kills.

he had been tip-toeing around you for two months now. and he doesn’t look at you the same. maybe it’s been awhile, but you only started to notice after your best friend paid you a visit that day.

to be so familiar with your kitchen, you gather, she had to have been over frequently. more frequent than you know of anyway.

it hurts. it physically hurts. to see him look at her with even a fraction of that glint that was once reserved for you. and only you.

you should have known better. you should have trusted that pit of darkness rolling in your belly. no man can be trusted. and yet, you maintain the facade.

the torture of knowing and seeing the man you love fall for another when he has promised you forever was an unending agony. death may be your only reprieve, but even then, would he allow you to be free?

would you allow yourself to be free of him?

pretending feels like the only way you seem in control of your life.

so you pretend. you pretend you didn’t mind when he said he is taking her sightseeing around New York City. you pretend you didn’t see him taking her out to the most expensive restaurant on the magazine cover. you pretend you didn’t see his hand on her thigh during dinner. you pretend and pretend and pretend.

and when you saw him kissing her on the driveway, you pretend.

as if every single day, every waking moment, even in your sleep, every breath you take, fire isn’t burning you alive. as if you aren’t hollowed out by the lies you are both making. as if the cursed image isn’t burned into the back of your eyelids, haunting you whenever you close your eyes.

it is a burning hell with no end in sight. no peace to be had. and you just wanted it to end. you wanted to start over. and maybe, just maybe, you can run away and never look back before this drives you insane.

but the only way you will be able to truly leave is through death. because he will never let you leave.

so you wait. you play by his suffocating protocols until you forgot what it felt like to be free. you smile and nod until your love turned to resentment and finally, acceptance. you lie and say you dreamt of him dying when all you see when you close your eyes is him kissing her and fucking her like his life depended on it. you smile through the pain and the rot of your former self until you can no longer tell the difference between hallucination and reality.

you pretend everything is fine when nothing is.

everything will be alright. you hug steve, who accompanied you on your daily walk. then, with his back facing you, looking for your phone that you dropped on purpose, a real smile graces your tired face for the first time in months.

you plunge down the cliff laughing.

reblog previous chapter to be automatically tagged in next chapter. (you will be tagged in one if you reblogged prologue, and two if you reblogged one, etc.) i do not keep a taglist.

[writemarvelousthings]

The Runaway Circus: Chapter 6

PAIRING: Reader x Bucky AU

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: Fluff!!

Summary:  The Maximoff Circus was a band of ragtag misfits who had no place in the world around them. When a handsome stranger quite literally stumbles into their home is it a good thing to welcome a runaway into the circus?

A/N: I’m on a bit of a writing streak so I’m rolling with it and posting the next part of this series!

Previously 

Bucky didn’t realise the changing of the weather, he was helping Thor pull at the rope heaving up the big top on the circus’s first morning in Washington when he noticed the sharp prick in the back of his throat as he breathed. Six months he had been travelling with Maximoff Circus and he hadn’t realised just how much he had fitted in with the company. Utilising his strength and slightly intimidating look Pietro had Bucky in various roles within the Circus. From grunt work helping set up the tents and move performance equipment, too security stationed outside the women's train carriages. Even herding the crowds into the big top on busy nights. But the one thing Bucky loved to do was watch you perform. It didn't matter if you were flying through the air with Sam or perched in the large human-sized birdcage on your ring, situated in the outside area of the circus waving to patients. Bucky was completely spellbound by you, he couldn't help be drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Now I know the colder months are going to be hitting us very soon. Please make sure you are taking care of yourselves” Bucky stood towards the back, Pietro was giving his annual new location speech to the company but Bucky’s attention was focused on you, standing with Natasha wrapped in your thick blue coat. Your eyes drifting back to his ice blue ones making his heart leap into his throat each time.

“Today is going to be a half day, you’ll all have the morning off before our performance tonight, I suggest getting those yuletide gifts in order before the big day” A soft mummer of chuckling flowed through the crowd. Bucky wished he was closer to you to hear your laughter, to see the plumes of mist escaping from your lips.

“If you keep staring you’re going to burn a hole in the side of her head” Bucky pointedly ignored the amused tone in Steve’s voice.

“I don’t know what you mean” Bucky sniffed indifferently, pulling the red scarf around his neck tighter. Steve made an unconvinced humming noise.

“So who you buying gifts for?” Bucky was really starting to think Steve was part bloodhound with the amount of sniffing around he was doing in his personal life. After sharing a train cabin for six months with the blonde man Bucky, reluctantly admitted. That for the first time he had found a friend in Steve. An annoying, punkish, insistent friend, but a friend never the less.

“Why, have something in mind Rogers. I think I saw a nice little fusion number in one of the girl's magazines”

“You’re a real jerk you know that” Bucky grinned waving him off as he peeled away from the dissipating crowds heading into town. He had some shopping to do.

If Bucky had learned anything it was that the depression had hit many people from many walks of life. Gone were the lavish house parties from his childhood, now he had to sidestep the small children scampering around his feet. Pietro paid well, a lot better than his previous employer but it still wasn’t anything to be throwing around unnecessarily. Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets he browsed the very few windows still open for business. Blue eyes roamed over the few pieces in the display, the light caught each jewel and gem making them sparkle. Then he saw it and his heart leaps again. It was almost too good to be true, his rational mind left on the curb as he stumbled inside the shop.

“It’s a beautiful piece, I’m sure your wife will be very happy with it”  Bucky was sure he’d have choked on his own spit if his mouth hadn’t dried up at that the mention of the word, wife.

“Oh it’s not for.. I mean she’s not..” The old man behind the counter grinned knowingly.

“I remember when I first bought a gift for my sweetheart, nothing gets the heart racing more thinking about the look on her face when she opens it” Bucky smiles bashfully as the clerk wraps up his item.

“Anything else you’d like son?” Bucky scanned the shelves behind the clerk, before looking back down at the money in his hand.

“Two of those please sir” old eyes flick to where younger ones were staring longly at.

“You’re full of mysteries son, I’ll give you that”

“Looking for someone in particular?” Pouring the dark liquid into the tin cup you ignored Wanda as she danced around you to perch herself on the tabletop.

“Because I think I saw him come back not twenty minutes ago, then disappeared into the forest. If you were looking for someone” you give her a tight-lipped smile lifting the coffee to your lips.

“I’m not looking for anyone Wan” taking a gulp you wince at the bitter after taste, your heart drops when you see no signs of cream or sugar. Those were luxuries the Circus couldn’t afford.

“Well, if you change your mind. He went that way” you tried not to look in the direction she was gesturing in. Making a point to watch Peter and Sam throw pitiful looking snowballs at each other, it wasn't until Wanda was safely back in her compartment before you poured another cup of coffee waking into the forest.

You were thankful for the sweater you were wearing over your dress and under your coat, the air seemed to get colder the further you walked into the forest biting your lip you burrow down into your coat. You and Bucky had gotten closer. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t noticed Bucky’s presence at all of your performances. The warm smiles he threw your way in the morning, the soft goodnights as he walked you to your cabin each night. Your feelings for Bucky were growing slow and steady like a heartbeat. Spreading warmth all over your body settling into your bones.

“Thuwak”  The dull hollow thumb made your head snap to the left, frowning you waited. Silent and still as a deer. Until your suspicions were confirmed with the second identical noise, the snow crunched softly under your boots as you made your way into the clearing. Bucky was at the tree, a crude bullseye was carved into the wood of the tree trunk. From what you could see the centre was carved out almost perfectly. You watched as Bucky walked back to his position, taking a moment to gather himself the knife sailed out of his hand.

“Thuwak” You felt your breath leave your body, the sight of Bucky wielding a very dangerous weapon shouldn’t make you feel weak at the knees. Yet here you were, the two cups in your hand shook slightly as your world spun.

“You gonna stand there all day darlin?” You suddenly didn't feel cold, gingerly picking your way towards him you eye the knife embedded in the tree.

“Didn’t want to get caught in the firing line, I didn’t know you threw knives” Bucky shrugs, twirling the other knife in his hand.

“I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve doll” You were sure the snow under your feet was melting, trying to ignore the way the innocent nickname made you tinge all over you hand him the cup of steaming coffee.

“It’s just black” he thanks you, fingertips brushing against your hand leaving sparks in their wake.

“So why all the secrecy?” You gesture to the knife in his hand, looking down at the ornate dagger Bucky ponders on it for a while. Leading you over to a fallen down tree he helps you sit, plunging the knife into the wood between you.

“It’s a part of my past I’m too proud of” you’re not sure how to respond, images of him laying on Steve’s bed covered in his blood. You sit in awkward silence, you desperately want to ask more. To know more, to ask him why he had been stabbed. Why he was running, who he was running from? But your tongue felt like lead as your brain swam desperately for something to say.  

“I bought you something today” you suddnely found yourself looking up at ice blue eyes, you could see the apprehension and vulnerability in them.

“You took Pietros suggestion of buying gifts very seriously” You couldn't help the small smile that spread on your lips as Bucky laughed, it was the kind of laugh that seeped into your soul and became part of it.

“Well, I’m a very serious guy” you rolled your eyes smirking into your cup. The awkward tension faded away like the snow melting into the ground. The sound of Bucky clearing his throat turned your attention to the small box in his hand.

“I know Christmas is a week away, but I thought… I just.. Here” you swap your cup for the box. The red ribbon tied around it was almost too perfect to unlace, but you did. Gently and with great care until it was laying across your lap, lifting the lid you couldn't help the sharp gasp escaping from your lips.

It was a sparrow, the most beautiful sparrow brooch, the body and wing tips were made of the most delicate blue glass. The rest of the bird was covered in tiny diamonds it was perfect and beautiful.

“Oh, Bucky... It’s... it's so beautiful. But I can’t it’s too..” The feeling of Bucky’s hand covering yours, pushing it back into your stomach.

“Don’t say it’s too much, please. I want you to have it”

“But why?” your voice was barely a whisper, Bucky’s thumb rubbed circles on top of your hand.

“I’m not very good at.. Well... it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way. About anyone, but with you. I just feel..” there's a moment in everyone's life, where the world seems to stop turning. Stop moving, solely focusing on you. And at this moment you take the plunge into those ice blue eyes, leaning forward to capture Bucky’s lips with your own and your word explode. A kaleidoscope of colours and stars burst behind your eyelids, soft snowflakes rain down on you. You vaguely register the coffee cups falling from Bucky’s hands as he pulls you closer, you clutch the small box in one hand as your other cups Bucky’s jaw. It felt like an eternity and no time at all as you pull away from him, but still close enough to see the small snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes.

“I feel the same way too”

In the snow-covered forest, you realised something profound, blue might be your new favourite colour. Especially when the colour is looking at you like your the only thing that exists in the universe.

Tags: 

@bucky-plums-barnes @abovethesmokestacks  @kittyisabel @emolordisme  @nevaeh-potter15  @fly-little-butterfly @marvelrevival @founduebitches @frostsoldier  @thekayceenicole @jixstarfire @mazarinqueen @hazeofeleven  @sistasarah-sallysaidso @unic0rns-taking-0ver-th3-w0rld @leanoreblack @void-life @n3rdybird @pseudonymfox @jennylovelyheart  @directionerfae @prudencebeer @twotreesbadbitch @teapartydreams @lunacajun @dontcallmella @ultrakawaiinerd @rattlingbones   @lovejessejay @lostinspace33 @thedevilwearsvibranium @kyngiesimp @l0kisbitch @izbelross @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @buckybarneshairpullingkink 

[periperimommy79-blog]

Don't give up

This is my first scribble - knowing me it'll be a novel sized scribble, apologies -, and it will be about my breastfeeding journey in the UK.

Nothing I write should be considered medical or professional advice, it is only my personal experience and loads - no, really, LOADS - of researching the internet (even translating Spanish, Italian, French and German articles - thanks Google). And of course my final conclusion on the matter. Which is: do not panic or stress, relax and it will fall into place. Emotions are more important than I believed before. Mind over matter? Sure. But heart and soul over mind. Always. So do not despair as it will hold you back.

My journey began in May 2013 when I've truly understood love, holding my baby girl for the first time❤. I was set on breastfeeding and never gave it a second thought. I believed it was the natural way, so formula feeding was a choice for those who did not WANT to breastfeed.

5 days after her arrival we were back in hospital as my little angel lost over 16% of her birthweight. When we talking of a 6.8 lb baby that is a lot.

She wasn't getting fed enough, probably was getting some as she managed to stay hydrated... just above the ouchy line, but not enough to sustain her weight.

So we were told to supplement after offering the breast. She needed to get stronger to be able to suck properly, as feeding on the breast takes a lot of energy, especially if the reward is near nothing.

I was devastated. It felt like I've failed my baby. I kept beating myself up for starving my child. Up till today when I look at her early pictures my heart goes out to that baby with so much pain and sadness in her tiny eyes. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not pressing harder when my instinct told me something was wrong after 2 days. As a new mum I was not given credit by the seasoned professionals visiting us every day for 5 days when I said she sleeps too much, she doesn't eat only goes on for a few sucks then falls asleep. Her latch was checked and seemed good, so I was labelled a worrier. Until the day 5 weight check when our world collapsed.

Not for a moment did I want her to starve any longer but I also wanted her to get breast milk. So I've followed professional advice. Increased and increased then increaed the formula again and kept offering the breast before each feed. Also followed the set time for feeding, every 3 then 4 hours, and so on as she grew.

Tried expressing after feeds as well, but it was a disaster and disheartened me even further. The lack of milk when expressing made me accept that I am one of those women who just can't produce milk. It happens. It's not my fault. It's just how it is. I gave exclusive breast feeding my best shot and by offering the breast until she was 6 months old I did give her the "best of both worlds".

5 years down the line I can see where I went wrong. In November 2018 my little man arrived. He was a surprise: we were trying for nearly 5 years with no luck, then decided it isn't happening for us, sold all baby and toddler stuff. Was about to sell the nursery furniture when we found out about him 😊 everything else had to be bought again 🙈

What did I do different?

1. With my girl we had help, honest help, but untrained and unexperienced help from lovely people. If you want to breastfeed and it's not working, having professional help is important. Finding the right one is key. With our son we had picked up on the "not enough milk" on day 3. Again, started formula topups. We were upping it to 30ml each feed and he wa gaining well so we stopped the topups. Then weighed him 3 days after. He lost weight again. Back to formula. Gaining again, decrease formula. Baby lost weight again. Hospital as his weight is up and down. We know why but go in anyway. So luckily we went. And met 3 amazing and experienced feeding specialists.

Turns out if you look at an already latched baby feeding you will not be able to establish if the latch is good or not. You'll need a feed observed from start to finish to tell. He wasn't latching properly. So with help and instructions he was latching fine after 5 hours of trying. He fed with big gulps for 10 minutes on each breast then followed with lots of sucks and fewer swallows on each. We were in there for 2 days, BF, express, topup. I felt more sure of myself when we left and very greatful for "my 3 angels" and their knowledge.

2. Have support. With my girl I had the understanding and backing of our family - I was shaken of what happened and feeling an utter failure. But I was not pressing breastfeeding, scared of her losing weight again I accepted formula as the only way.

With my boy I decided I will not give up as I did with my girl. Unfortunately my partner and our family did not believe I can breastfeed and my partner was very agressivly against it - being told I'm selfish for trying to breastfeed, that I rather starve him than accept that I will never have milk and the best one: he'll call social services if I don't give up the idea of not giving him formula - not the support I needed.

His whole family gave me the cold stare for carrying on and even my own mother said just give him the bottle and spend the time gained with my daughter. Emotional pressure...hmmm, mother knows best. Good thing I'm now a mother too, so took the tiny gold out of this comment and spoke to my girly, explaining what and why is mommy doing what she's doing. I swear that little girl is more supportive than some of the adults close to me.

So I ignored all negativity, got courage from 3 of my friends and told my other half if he can't be supportive then at least keep his mouth shut and stay away from me as stress has serious negative effects on my supply. He stayed away and kept his mouth shut and I've carried on. It was hard times. To carry on and not give in. Even harder that the people I expected to back me had turned their back.

So surround yourself with people who raise your spirits, who will assure you and make you believe that you can do it. Ignore the nay sayers. It is your baby and body, as long as you're both safe you call the shots and do what feels right.

3. Research. Knowledge is power. Gather as much info, as many tips and methods as possible. Watch videos, read, go on forums and ask questions. Find groups. Shape all info so it fits the two of you.

With my daughter I just accepted what I was told by the professionals in the hospital and after we left it. I did not know of other moms who struggled but succeeded. I did not know there are ways to try to increase milk supply. I did not know I was breaking the demand and supply ring by increasing formula and not boobie time.

With my boy I was constantly reading, watching, getting in touch.

What worked for us? These:

1. Did not follow rules of timed feeding.

Yes, I've kept to the 3 hrs with him, but only that I didn't let him go longer than 3 hrs between feeds. Not even at night. Not until he was gaining weight well. If he wanted to eat 30 minutes after he came off the breast then I've put him back on.

Ever heard of supply and demand? SOOOO TRUE! When your baby is sucking for 3-5 hours non stop (cluster feeding)? Or eating for 1 hr then 40 minutes break and another hour session aaaand repeat? They just ordering their meals ahead. Telling your body they need more. Let them.

When we were topping up with over 30ml formula, I did it in smaller portions during his cluster feeding periods which were always evening meals - 60ml topup: 2x30ml or 3x20ml and put him back on the boob in between. It is time consuming, but works. Sometimes he refused the last portion cuz he was too tired/full. If it was only one meal, I let him skip that formula amount.

2. I started expressing only after his last feed before his big sleep each night. It saves time during the day and I can sleep more during the night. It is app. the same time each day, so my body is expecting it.

Now I can get 3x as much out as what I've staryed with. He drinks this still as a topup after his last meal of the day the next evening. Past few days he doesn't even drink it all and it makes me happy! They're hungrier in the evenings - getting filled up for longer time to sleep - and if he refuses his favourite meal with the easy access (he prefers breast milk over formula, but prefers the bottle to the breast as it is easier) must mean he had enough already 😀.

3. I had looked at pictures of how my breast is built up, where he needs to press to get the milk going.

I finally understood that I did have milk, even with my daughter - she kept sucking for 6 months and never took more than 90ml of formula, looking back I was such a fool not to realise that she wouldn't have gained weight as well as she did on 360ml of formula a day - they just could not get to it efficiently.

Once I worked out where his mouth needs to be on my aerola I looked for ways to put it in. It sounds funny, but my aerola is rather large and his cute mouth is so little, so he needed help to "stuff it in". Now he doesn't need it as he learnt to do it himself as well as his mouth is a bit bigger.

4. Made myself realise, understand and trust that I have enough milk for my baby and stop worrying over it.

I looked for proof and reminded myself every time I started to doubt myself again (maybe because a look from other half, or baba wanting to eat and eat - not because I did not have enough now but because he will need more soon so he is ordering) that I have milk. So when he was gaining on 420ml formula a day until he was 7 weeks old I convinced myself and reduced the amount to 360ml. Then 300ml. Always checked his gain. Now we're 180ml a day and reducing. And he is gaining.

It was hard not to increase formula as suggested by some people, but I knew he is safely gaining and worse case senario he will not gain enough, but he will not lose weight again, even if my supply decreases or can't keep up with his demand.

5. Stopped timing our feeds. I take note of the bottles still - will do until they're out of the picture -, but not of how long he is on each breasts. It is not important. I'll put him on when he asks. And because he is gaining he will ask when he is hungry because he has the energy to let me know. He will now not sleep if he's hungry no matter what I do. Dare to go shopping too long and the roof comes down!

This way feeding feels natural, not a must do thing which commands my day and full attention. I even enjoy it now, that I relax. No clocking in and out 😊 honestly? This is one of the best feelings other than seeing the numbers go up on the scale and down in the bottle.

Do not get me wrong. I have nothing against formula, we're lucky that is available. I do not judge anyone who chose to formula feed their LO. Mixed feeding has it's advantages as well. Not the way I am doing it now, but when you replace meals with a bottle to gain some time off boob duty.

But to me exclusive breastfeeding is the end game, so at mo formula is an unwanted must.

I will stop here for now, my eyelids are getting glued at each blink.

[obsoletelibrarian]

Hello, friends, family, countrymen!  I am off on a new adventure!  I am trying to keep a better track of this year than the one I spent in Toronto.  I did better in Oxford, so I will try to go back to that dedication.  For those of you who don’t know, my husband Dan was recently offered a position working as an instructor and researcher for ETH Zurich, a position where he will earn a full salary, and also leave in 3-ish years with a PhD.  Not a bad deal!  I always knew he was a smart one.  A real keeper.

Anywho, I am therefore now in Zurich, Switzerland.  We just decided to pack up and leave in fairly short notice.  We had to fly to San Francisco to get Visas, which was a terrible process which involved me at 3:00 am demanding that an airline give me a flight so that their delayed flight wouldn’t prevent us from reaching our consulate appointment, and several other such hiccups.  Especially difficult was the fact that while we tried to prepare to move, I was working very hard to participate in a version of Comedy of Errors in Clement Park, Colorado.  Brutal.

But we have made it!  I have now been here a little less than a week.  It has been about 94 degrees or hotter all week, which is insane, particularly with the humidity.  I feel like I have been just damp forever.  The Swiss spend their summer weekends in the lake and the river, but due to the airline accidentally leaving part of my luggage in Minnesota for the time being, I have no swimsuit.  I just bought the cheapest swim top money can buy, so that I can wear it with Sofi shorts as a bathing suit next weekend, to cope with the heat.

Our new apartment is nice.  350 square feet is more than I thought it was.  Our kitchen is actually quite nice, although the appliances are all half sized!  Food is in smaller portions here anyways, so it actually all fits.  This complex is actually for both students and retired individuals (it is government-run housing).  So our bathroom has a shower seat for a more elderly person than either of us.  There’s also a tiny cot/bed that smells strange.  We only use it for storage.  We sleep on an air mattress we brought with us.  We have a small issue with cockroaches, but it is nothing our boot soles cannot handle (thus far).  The two windows are open until we go to sleep, and we bought a rotating fan to deal with the heat.

Getting settled has been difficult.  The immigration office didn’t want to accept us without our marriage license, which was hard.  I was praying harder than I’d ever prayed that the guy would let us off easy on that one, and he did, so thanks to God for that one.  We still have to have our biometrics taken to get residency, and we are really worried that we won’t get full residency until our current entry visas run out, so we’re just moving as fast as we can and praying for the best.  We got Swiss health insurance, which also took some doing, but was necessary to get residency.  

At the immigration office, we were also mandated nuclear medication, because Zurich is so close to many nuclear sites.  It is a weird thing, and we still have to go to the “Apothece,” or Pharmacy, to get those pills.  This goes with the missile barn (not nuclear missiles, I think it’s just anti-aircraft or something--the nuclear is from power plants) we saw just in the city.  You can tell that it’s a missile barn because of the large “VERBOT” (forbidden) signs and the roof the comes off with a pulley system.  We had read about these before arriving here.

We just got Swiss bank accounts, but it’s taken some doing.  They are really worried about Americans doing illegal offshore stuff out here, so we really had to prove our poverty and good intentions.  But we ended up with the nicest banker of all time, who had learned German and English in the past couple of years, after having to learn Italian first when his family moved from eastern Europe.  His dream is to move to America and become a painter.  He was so nice, and gave us espresso, mineral water, and chocolates on a fancy tray as if we were the rich clients he normally works with.  He did a great job, and I hope he gets to paint someday.

We both bought year long bus passes for the greater Zurich area, which are great.  I hope onto any transportation I want and get wherever I want to go in no time.  Yesterday, Dan was at work, so I went over to the Altstadtt, the Old City, where you can see the Alps across Zurichsee, the big lake here.  I walked around the lake, and also saw more of Bahnhofstrausse than I saw from our banking time.  

I also went to the two old churches in the Altstadtt:  Grossmunster and Fraumunster.  GM was founded by Charlemagne himself, and FM was founded by his grandson, so you can imagine that I was absolutely elated to visit them.  They both have been redone many times, so actually the coolest part to me about each is the crypts underneath.  In GM, there is this ancient medieval statue of Charlemagne that used to be on the roof, but it weathered away too much, and there are these very old drawings/pictures on the wall from medieval times.  In FM, they actually have taken cross sections out of the floors in the crypts, because you can see all the levels of church buildings that have been erected at the cite, from old nun housing to waterways, all intersecting each other with different-aged stones.  They even have parts of columns from the era when Charlemagne’s grandson started the church.  Truly breathtaking.  FM also has a Chagall window, which is just gorgeous.  It is actually 5 panes, each a different color and scene from the Bible, and I just sat in the church, staring up at them and crying, because there is something about that beautiful old church with those beautiful new windows that is holy.

Dan actually couldn’t buy those bus passes before I got here though, because he made the mistake of speaking English at the counter.  They told him, “We speak German here” and turned him away.  Whether it was my meager amount of German (we eventually spoke English at the counter anyways) or our newly stamped paperwork from the Swiss government, it was much easier to get passes the second time.

Overall, we hear, “You are in Switzerland, and we speak German here,” a lot.  It’s like karma for every USA person who has mocked someone who speaks Spanish.  The older man in the apartment next to us told us that right away, and then explained the rules of the apartment complex, eying us warily.  He took us to the mailroom, and asked us where the name “Hammerland” was from, sighing that “you never could tell where people were from, nowadays.”  At first, I was worried that he didn’t like us at all, because we were Americans.  But he warmed right up to us, and now I believe he is the best friend we have out here thus far.  He gave me a book of German “Weisheit,” or wise sayings, and a card to get into Fraumunster for free (it is normally 5 franc).  He also has given us tips for everything from fashion to tourism to life.  His English is excellent, because in the 60s and 70s he was part of the music scene in New York.  After that, he studied Renaissance art and music in the Sorbonne!!!  How cool is that?!  

Dan hasn’t met many people at school thus far, but that’s because his group mates are on a trip, and he is going to get to hang out with them much more when they get back!  And we did make some friends at church.  We went to the IPC, the international protestant church, where they speak English and are very welcoming.  They offered us friendship and help, and one of them attends Dan’s school in the chemistry department.  Additionally, the assistant pastor’s wife is from Colorado, with family in Minnesota, she left her career to follow her husband here, and her name is Jenna.  It was such a relief to have a person who understood me well so immediately.  So we think we might make some friends here.

Dan and I have been having some good adventures, finding good places to buy groceries (the main stores are called Migros, Coop, and Denner, but boy, are they all expensive!), walking by the river and seeing all of the people in intertubes or swimming in the dammed sections, seeing art in the Wasserkirche (the Water Church), and trying to adjust to the very cheese-and-small-bits-of-bread diet we have out here (Dan has to adjust.  I think I’ve been eating Swiss accidentally all along!).  So things are starting well, despite some setbacks.

Some things you may not know about Switzerland, because I surely did not:

1) They don’t believe in air conditioning.  Ever.  They only have it in supermarkets and banks (and some busses, but rarely).  So most stores, churches, and our apartment are approximately a billion degrees at the moment.  And sticky.  Swiss women (especially the elderly and pregnant) all carry these white collapsible fans with little flowers painted on them in the Swiss style, and the bus is filled with the sound of little fans going back and forth.

2) The Swiss are all SO TAN.  Every single person has a golden summer glow.  I am about eight shades whiter than anyone here, which definitely sets me apart.  Dan looks much more like a Swiss person than me, but he dresses American so it is a dead give away.  Luckily, in public, I keep being mistaken for a Brit (unlike poor Dan who has been really lashed out at for his USA heritage), which is overall less of a problem than being an American.

3) Pretty much all bottled water is sparkling, or “mit gass”

4) It doesn’t look like pictures.  Most of Zurich is a bunch of concrete apartments, trying to fit as much as possible into the smallest space.  It reminds me a lot of London in that way--there are beautiful old buildings, but a lot of the city is just overcrowded and overbusy.  I kind of like it, though.  The bustle reminds me of Toronto.

5) They don’t get married in Switzerland.  People hardly date, but if they do fall in love, they just live together until they die.  People literally cannot comprehend me and my situation when we explain it.  Get married?  And then move somewhere without a job prepared, simply because of a partner?  As one person curtly informed me when I suggested it, “Well, the Junge do not do that here.  Here, we are all supposed to function.”  That has been a little disheartening.  Only that other Jenna at church understood my predicament.

6) The healthcare isn’t free.  Indeed, we will be paying quite a lot for it.

7) There are no taxes on food!  What you see on a pricetag is what you get!  Huzzah!

8) Swiss croissants are called “Gipfeli” and are delicious

9) Swiss German is a cross between half of the world languages, I feel like.  There are signs in French talking about hair stylists, advertisements with English puns, Italian menu items, and weirdly almost-German greetings.  When you meet someone, you say “Gruezi,” and when you bump into someone you say “Ӓxcusi,” and if someone bumps into you, you say “Scho guen” (it’s all good).  None of these things is German, but they are all quite Swiss.

[seenashwrite]

SNIPED (Part Two)

Status: Complete (Part 2 of 5) Word Count: 8K Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit for Adult Themes including - Graphic sexual situations; Mild-to-moderate violence; Coarse language Categories: Drama; Action; Romance; Porn-with-Plot; Smut; On-the-hunt Character(s): Dean; Sam; Reader/O.C. Female; Jody; Crowley [briefly]; Alex & Claire [mentioned]; Castiel [mentioned] Pairings: Dean x Reader/OC Female [Pts. 2 & 5]; Sam x Reader/OC Female [Pt. 3] Warning(s): See “Rating” section above Author’s Note(s): see Part One Overall Summary: The Winchesters receive assistance on their case from a sniper. Part Two Summary: Stuck in the bunker for the night following her confrontation with Dean, the sniper's past continues to invade her present.

              || SNIPED Master Post ||

"Thought you could use this," Dean said, stepping just inside before stopping, looking at me cautiously.

He was holding one of the two small glasses he carried out in my direction. I took it, then lifted it higher, sniffing. I glanced up at him, knowing I had a pleased look on my face.

"Wow. Thanks, that's... wow."

Dean didn't really smile but his eyes twinkled, a touch of creasing at the corners. "Yeah, a little birdie up north mentioned it to me. Said if you came through for us, we should reward you."

"Oh, really?" I asked, feeling a grin come to my lips. I took a sip. It was whiskey, but really top shelf. As in, look at the top shelf at any bar or restaurant, then say to the bartender - No. The other top shelf. The one in the back. That was my brand. Because I was an unapologetic snob on this matter.

"We got you a bottle," Dean reported.

"The big bottle?"

He nodded.

"No, not the size you're probably thinking of, I mean the big economy size bottle, for a family of six, the size housewives would get at Costco if they sold it."

Dean grinned, too. "We're talking the same bottle. It was stashed in the weapons locker of the trunk. I doubled-back after you and Sammy left the garage."

"That right?"

He nodded. "I was pissed. Thought I'd make a healthy dent in it, maybe fill it back up with some rotgut, really piss you off while I was at it."

"Ha!" I blurted out, throwing my head back a little. I laughed. I genuinely laughed, and informed him, “Next go-round, even if I’m the cause of it, if your kind of misery loves company, feel free to come sit by me anytime. I gotcha covered.”

Dean's face fell a little then, but mine hadn't, I was in a pretty great mood as I continued to sip on the drink. I swallowed, eyeing him. “What?" I finally asked him. "What is your deal, man?”

He narrowed his eyes, then rolled them, turned to walk away. "Never mind," he mumbled.

Oh, for...

I grabbed his bicep and he stopped, let himself be turned back toward me. We looked at each other for a moment, then I took a deep breath. I was shitty at conversation, and I was even shittier at apologies. I exhaled, hoping it didn't sound like a huff. “I am… Dean, I’m a difficult person. I know this. Many, many other people know this. Trust me, I could be off-putting long before my husband got possessed and my life imploded.”

A spark of understanding... or something that at least wasn't anger... crossed over his face. Okay. Score. I wasn't striking out. It was just the top of the first, but who was counting?

I was. Me. I was counting. It's what I did. I always knew how many rounds I had left, how many my partner had left, how many that other dude over there had left. Curse/blessing.

"And I'm defensive to a fault. I can get bitchy and bossy when it comes to things I know damn well I'm good at. But..." I trailed off a little, glancing around the room, finally landing on the pool of brown liquid in the glass I held, before raising my eyes to his again. "But I'm loyal. I am fiercely loyal. I'd take a bullet for Jody. And I mean it: any time you and Sam need a crack shot, I'll be there." I paused, holding up the glass a bit. "There will possibly be a small fee next time..."

Dean chuckled.

"...but I'll be there. Assuming you can tolerate me. And I can bring my own wheels. And you stay the fuck out of my perch."

Now he full-on laughed, and I joined in. Then we clinked glasses and drank a little more. This next part was going to suck. I looked down at one of the Cookie Monster faces on my feet.

"You, um... I've been harsh with you," I admitted. Ugh, my voice sounded so tiny and weak in my head. "There's just something in your very nature that reminds me of... you just... jerk me back in time to..."

Mother-effing-stupid-stupid-STUPID tear ducts, how did I have any tears left. I raised my head then, rolling my eyes heavenward, as if gravity would defy itself, or something above me would suck the moisture out of my eyes.

"Anyway I'm sorry," I finished in a rush, lowering my gaze, flying straight past his face, focusing on my glass so I could get it to my mouth and not ram it into my chin. I chugged the rest of my drink, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. A tiny sniffle got away from me. I dared to look at him once more.

Dean had an unreadable expression at first, then it turned to being a bit amused. He shrugged, following my lead, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. He took my glass from me, set both it and his on the nearby desk.

"That is a waste," I was commenting as he turned back around, "I mean, it really is a sipping kind of----" I cut myself off. I couldn't finish. My breath had been taken away.

Dean had come in close, closer than I'd gotten to him back in the car, and this time he did manage to sneak his hands up, holding either side of my face, brushing traitorous tears away with his thumbs. Tingly chills ran all over me, everywhere.

Everywhere.

I thought he might kiss me, and I didn't know what to do with that. Truly. It had been so long since I'd kissed anyone - I mean really kissed anyone - that I felt for sure I'd likely regressed. Jody'd drilled into me all that keeping-my-skills-honed crap, and god help me, I was starting to regret not honing these skills with a few meaningless bar pick-ups a year. I'd left a trail of motels and condoms in my wake after my back had healed, but... that had been many moons ago. I wouldn't mind a good hate fuck. Dean just didn't seem to be on the same page, because he did not go for my mouth, apparently having other ideas.

Keeping the pressure feather-light, he kissed my forehead; I let my eyes close.

Left eye lid.

Left temple.

Tip of nose.

Right jaw line.

I was growing so relaxed at this point, I actually swayed a little. A few more tears slipped out on their own. Dean kissed those away, too. I felt his lips brush against mine on his way to capture the last renegade tear on the opposite side of my face, and I jumped away so abruptly, I caused our foreheads to knock together.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, then he seemed to catch himself, even though what he'd said didn't bother me - I was thinking the exact same thing. "You okay?" he asked me.

I had one hand up on my hip, the other raised and rubbing my forehead. One socked foot had started tapping nervously. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; it looked like I was mentally trying to name all the state capitals in backwards alphabetical order, my face was so pinched. "I'm... ah... need to... to go," I managed.

"Go?" he repeated.

I sprang to life, going over to the bed, grabbing the shirts and the socks and the underwear, everything, quickly stuffing it all back in the bag. "Imma go take a shower," I said really fast, snatching up the backpack and holding it tight against me like it was a newborn, brushing against him as I got the hell outta Dodge.

STRIKE ONE! called the umpire in my mind.

"Oh shut up," I hissed.

I almost sprinted to the bathroom.

Sam was just setting a pile of towels on a chair that I suppose had come from - oh who cared where it came from, I just wanted him to go away. He had a shirt and pajama pants thrown over one shoulder. I tossed my bag by the chair, started unbuttoning my pants.

"Okay, so here's this and these - whoa," Sam said, blinking in surprise at me.

I paused in my undressing, snatching the pants from him. "Just need these everything else is perfect thank you so much you're the best," I said quickly, the word vomit coming back with a passion. 

He didn't come out of his trance til I smiled and gave the doorway an obvious glance. "Well just... I guess just call out if you need anything else," he told me, making his way towards the door.

"This is perfect!" I repeated.

After Sam left, I leaned against the tile, letting myself slowly slide down. I winced a little from my sore back. Shit. Shitty shit shit. The stress was swirling, starting to ball up into knots. I would compensate so much for the nerve pain that I would never realize until too late that the musculature, the tendons, the ligaments - I'd pushed them to the max, and locking up was their ever-so-kind way of saying thank you.

I went through the stack Sam had left - huh, how about that, men living alone who had hand towels. New one for me. And he'd left such an unnecessary amount of washcloths, I wondered how dirty he thought I was. I looked down at myself.

Answer: possibly beyond hope.

I took the stack, set it on a sink, moved the chair near the closest shower to the door. I planned on having my back to the shower head, keeping the entry point within my sight, just like I did in restaurants and anywhere else I wasn't alone. I picked up a towel and washcloth to bring back over; then, on second thought, went ahead and picked up the whole shebang. As I assembled my toiletries, it occurred to me that everything I had was scentless - more old habits that wouldn’t die. The soap, the lotion, the deodorant, even the lip balm. It was just good practice. We had to concentrate on our surroundings, always, any distraction was unacceptable. I got used to the nothingness.

My husband had bought me perfume for an anniversary once when we were still dating. I remember giving him a look when I saw the box. But then I'd smelled it, and it was heaven in a bottle. So faint, so airy, such barely-there perfection. I'd sprayed it between my breasts. Then I'd climbed on his lap. We'd made love right there on the sofa, not even bothering to get undressed all the way. I would always associate that smell with that night. It still made me nauseated to get a whiff of it whenever I’d pass by someone wearing it. 

I'd brought the bottle with me the first time I'd been able to go to the range after the surgeons cleared me for some basic activity, though I’m sure my idea of basic was hell and gone from their other patients. The owner of the range knew me, knew what happened, felt sorry for me, and let me in before they opened one morning. I'd chucked that bottle as far up and out as I could, kept the rifle lowered til the last second. Nailed it with a .44, turning it into powder. Annie Oakley, eat your heart out.

I stripped out of my nasty, sweaty clothing, tossing it to the side. I noted I’d absently brought the Glock out, too, set in within my reach on top of the towel before I caught what I'd done. Didn't need that here, I reminded myself as I put it away. Our wedding bands, and that - always on me. Always a motivator, and always something to blow the next one to back to hell should one of the bastards want another dance.

The water was hot. I went through every washcloth, scrubbing my reddened skin til it stung, moving at a brisk pace. Practically clawed at my scalp, washing my hair twice. Shaved everywhere, wanting to make sure every possible bit of the dirt and sweat of the past few days was gone. Went so fast on my legs, I nicked my ankles.

I bent over at the waist when I was satisfied with my level of cleanliness. Letting the stress out with a stretch, letting the water pound my back, letting myself sink til my fingertips drug the floor. Watched the little trails of blood blend with the soapy water, swirl down the drain. As I stood, I let my hands drift up, run over my inner thighs, then higher. Just a brief touch; I didn't have time for that now.

Sam's towels were slightly rough, but I didn't care. I stood naked by the chair for a moment, enjoying the coolness as the steam faded, applying the lotion quickly, then pulling on my underwear. The briefs were snug against my silk-smooth pussy, though they were a little too tight against my ass; probably should've thought to upgrade their size, too.

After some fierce squeezing, I pulled my hair back up into a topknot. The hairs escaping from the ponytail holder still dripped a little onto the collar of the shirt when I pulled it over my head. But oh god, how good it felt to just have thin cotton against my breasts. The thick sports bra I'd been wearing had been almost rib-crushing. I had to roll the waistband of the flannel pajama pants; they were Dean's, I could tell. My husband and I were almost exactly the same height, hence my ability to manage wearing his old cargos without tripping. A pair of Sam's would've been far too long.

Back in the room, I found myself smiling, noting my lone glass on the desk, with a nearly-full whiskey bottle now beside it. I threw the dirty clothes on the floor, backpack too, then pulled on new socks and poured a modest glass. I heard a shower start up. I enjoyed this drink slowly, studying the room while I sipped. I always memorized my surroundings, no matter the size, no matter the claimed level of security. The shower cut off around the time I finished. I glanced out in the hallway but didn't see a soul. I was feeling dehydrated after the near-sauna I'd created and the second whiskey.

Padding around the circular hall, I wandered a bit, ended up in that crazy room with the ancient equipment, wandered further, then finally found the kitchen. Got nosy, rooted around in the fridge, snagged a cold water bottle. As I drank, I opted to look around a little more. There was one last hitch in my lower back, just above one of my cheeks and to the side of the first of many reconstructed vertebrae. I rubbed the palpable knot as I walked. I needed to work it out before falling asleep or else I'd heartily regret it in the morning.

I'd scoped out the table and stools in the kitchen for possible use, but the heights were all wrong. Jody's kid - the brunette, who'd been a cheerleader or something - had showed me a trick the last time I couldn't shake a knot, and damn if it didn't work. She'd had me get a foot up onto a rung of a ladder in Jody's garage, putting it at almost the level of my waist, directing me how to lean and tip my pelvis and rotate my hips around. Then when I hit the spot where it flared, I was to push into it with my fingers as hard as I could.

It only partially worked that day, at least with me trying to push it into oblivion. The other kid - the blonde one, who was usually pissed off and was shockingly strong - ended up grinding a fist into it from a different angle, and it dissipated like a dream. I'd almost hugged them. Almost.

Now I'd ended up in a library. There was a telescope. Underground. Well, that trumped the bizarreness of the sinks that seemed to be everywhere. Still checking for something of use, everything I saw was too tall or too short, though a few of the chairs around the library were getting closer. But when I turned, found myself looking into that weird equipment room again, I found what I hoped was the perfect solution in the staircase.

Adjusting the flannel pants for more wiggle room, I tried out some different steps, thankfully without slipping in my socked feet. The last one I tried was the winner. Just that little bit of a change in angle, and it was better already. I was in the midst of the rotations, pressing around, feeling for the edges of the knot, when I heard footsteps approach.

I knew it was him without looking.

"Gonna need to put a bell on you," I commented, strain in my voice as I kept up the slight re-positioning, trying to find a sweet spot.

"Uh, Snipes? That ain't how stairs work."

I cut my eyes over. So he'd been the one in the shower. His hair was still wet, feet in slippers. He wore a loose robe over a white t-shirt and striped blue boxers. The scent of his soap or maybe shampoo drifted over. It had a note of cedar, a touch of citrus, but very light, none of that overly sharp, comes-in-the-room-before-you-do, high school sophomore garbage.

I gave him a wink, and the side of his mouth turned up. "I'm aware. Just borrowing for a sec, trying to get my stretch on before I lie down."

Dean watched for a moment. I stopped the movement, felt my head tilt in concentration as I thought I had it. I winced as I pressed in. Yup. Right there. "Shit," I muttered, wincing again.

I was so focused, I hadn't realized he'd come closer.

"Knot?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmmm. I'm trying to get a good angle on it."

A few beats of silence passed, then he said, "Want me to try?"

The answer was yes, as I had no doubt he'd trounce blondie in the driving-a-fist-into-my-back category. But. 

But.

Eh, screw it.

"Yeah, actually," I told him. "Here. Get behind me. Make a fist."

"Okay."

"See where my fingers are? It's right in there."

"Okay," Dean said again. I felt his knuckles against me. "You ready?"

"We'll find out," I replied, grabbing the rails to brace myself just in case. Good thing, too. "Ooh," I gasped, my upper body pitching forward a little.

A soft chuckle behind me. "That it?"

"Oh yeah," I said through a chuckle of my own. "You can press in more. Now that I know what's coming."

I felt Dean ease forward, up against me now. His left arm went around me like when he'd helped me before, but higher than my waist, since my raised leg was in the way. He gripped me securely around my upper torso, his forearm brushing up against the underside of my breasts.

"All right - one, two, three," Dean told me. His breath tickled the damp hairs on the back of my neck. I felt a release in the pressure, involuntarily sunk back into him. He felt so solid. I fought back a shiver when his nose grazed the back of my ear. "More?"

That deep voice, that single word. I nodded. I didn't want to risk speaking. Dean repeated what he'd done, then lingered, kneading the area with his knuckles, rotating his wrist up and down.

"Okay, uh... I think we're good," I said, then cleared my throat, as the quality of my voice was growing closer to a whisper and I did not like that. At all.

Dean slowly slid his arm from around me, but I still felt his presence close by as I reached back again with my hand, pressing with my fingertips onto the spot that was just below the start of the waistband, more on my cheek than my back.

"Will you let me try something else?"

I nearly froze at the unexpected request, but recovered quickly. "Um, sure?" A clipped, nervous laugh escaped my lips before I knew it.

No laugh from Dean. His expression was serious, focused, maybe driven, even, as he came around, facing me, turning me a little so I was tilted out more toward the room versus the staircase.

Ah. Now I understood. It would've been in his way.

He stepped into my personal space, wrapping his arm all the way around my torso again, his face close to mine. He gently nudged my fingertips off the spot as he slid his own just barely under the waist band. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I brought them up, let them rest lightly on his shoulders. I kept my eyes trained on a random freckle on his neck. I could not look at him, not this close. Dean pushed with a decent amount of pressure, but not even as much as I'd done.

"Harder," I said.

He pulled me in a little closer, adjusted his hand, pressed harder. His feet were on either side of the foot I still had on the floor. I could smell him under the soap now. Ducking his head, his lips next to my ear, that damn word again:

"More?"

I didn't mean to, I really didn't, but I felt myself lean into him. My hands drifted from his broad shoulders, arms now making a loop, resting atop them. 

"Harder," I instructed him again. I gripped my own forearms tightly, grit my teeth when Dean did as he was told. "Keep doing that. Right there. Don't stop," I said into the side of his neck, now virtually completely pressed against him; a shiver passed over Dean.

I closed my eyes. He was hitting exactly the right spot. I felt it fading, I could tell he did, too, as the force he delivered incrementally lessened. Before I realized it, I was arching ever-so-slightly backwards, meeting his fingertips as he moved them over me.

The grasp around my torso strengthened. Dean's breaths were beginning to sound ragged. His head moved from the side, never breaking contact as he slid it around, his forehead coming to rest against mine. His eyes were barely open. But I knew it wasn't because he was tired. He was wide awake. And so was I.

"Tell me what you need," Dean whispered, his voice husky.

My heart fluttered. As an answer, I took away whatever fraction of a space remained between us, pressing in fully, smashing my breasts against him. I felt the vibration of his response travel across my chest.

"Mmmm." 

The arm wrapped around me pulled away, followed by the other, as Dean raised his hands to my head, smoothed a few fly-away hairs out of my face. "Can we lose this?" he whispered, his fingers already drifting to the twists of hair.

I nodded, keeping our eye contact as I reached up, quickly pulled the ponytail holder away, let it fall to the floor as my hair fell down my back. A tiny smile across his lips, then those lips were back against my neck, the arm wrapped back around me, settling me into his embrace. He'd returned his other hand to my lower back, though no more fingertips - his whole hand was pushing, rubbing, more of a massage. All across my lower back. Then lower, across the top of the curves of my ass. Then higher again, to where my bra strap would've been.

Dean let his head drift once more, now bringing it up and around, coming to rest on the other side, keeping his face turned in so when he sighed, I could feel the movement of his lips. My own lips were parted and my breaths were getting shallow. I began to lightly grind my pelvis, like it was an involuntary reaction, into the thigh of the leg that was in the space between mine. I had been wet since he walked in the room.

"Mmmm," Dean hummed again, his hand moving faster up and down my back, now slipping it under the shirt. He brought his leg up to the first step. I pushed into it.

I shivered against him, ground a little more, felt his erection as I gyrated higher. And when he felt me begin to move my other leg off of the stair -

"Not yet," he told me softly but firmly.

I was disappointed to sense the thigh he'd just offered me being moved away. Had I messed up? Had I overstepped?

No. As I shortly found out, oh-but-no. I had not.

Dean switched the arm he had around me, freeing up his dominant hand. I felt the back of the hand against my belly, moving gently to and fro, fingers slowly edging further and further under the elastic waistband of the pajama pants. The tiniest of pauses as the fingertips found the waistband of my underwear, the process resuming, back and forth, back and forth.

My eyes had long fallen closed, but I opened them slightly when he'd stopped, just after the tips of his fingers were nearing so, so close to where I wanted them. Dean's head had eased up, his forehead coming to rest against mine once more, eyes focused, unwavering, asking a silent question. So I took a page from his book; bringing my lips right up against his, I whispered:

"More."

Now his eyes fell closed as he inhaled sharply. I did not want to kiss him. Not yet. So I tilted my face, running my nose against the side of his, moving further, letting my cheek be scratched gently by the scruff along his jaw, my lips ending up pressed into that little space behind his jaw and under his earlobe. I returned his favor from earlier, sprinkling wisps of kisses here and there.

Dean's hand flipped then, palm beginning to cup me, his fingers almost cautiously making their way down, then angling back. His knuckles ran against the damp spot in my underwear, eliciting another sharp breath. I felt the fingers finally go upwards at my taint, making contact there first, then slowly dragging forward. 

"Fuck," he gasped into my neck, the stroking of my back coming to a stark halt, hand dropping to grip an ass cheek almost harshly, as his fingers had arrived at their destination and he realized just how wet he'd made me.

Part of me wanted to slam myself down onto the fingers that were delicately tracing around my entrance. But I knew better. Killing taught me patience. Killing taught me focus. My own little deaths were so much sweeter than any impossible shot I'd made, but only when the same amount of patient focus was applied.

My arms were locked tightly around his neck, one of my hands snaking up into his hair, as his free hand released its grip on my ass, again traveling up under the shirt and then stopping, flattened in the middle, fingers splayed, keeping me close.

All of Dean's concentration was in one place, and one place only.

I'd have thought he was teasing me when the barest bit of his middle and index fingers dipped inside of me, except that they immediately slid up, landing perfectly on my clit. Not that it would have been difficult to find - it was so engorged, I had already felt it pressing against the fabric of my underwear before Dean had even sent his fingers on their journey.

Dean and I both made soft grunting sounds at the same time.

A slide back - a quick dip of his middle finger again - and Dean's fingers flew easily now, rotating around my clit, over it, up and down, back and forth, squeezing it gently between his fingers. But it was too brisk. I would come too quickly. Then it wouldn't be as good. I brought my hands to the sides of his face then, put mine right in front of it, tilted away from his touch.

His forehead creased in disappointment.

"Slower," I told him, letting my lips ease into a smile. My eyes flicked from his down to his mouth, then back again. When I saw his eyes had gone to my lips, I ran my tongue across them.

"Damn," he whispered, then tried to come in for a kiss. 

I dodged, bringing my head to the side, closer to his ear again. Then I brought my pelvis back to where it was. And for extra measure, re-positioned a little, letting the hip of the leg on the stair rotate, opening myself to him even more.

"Slower," I reiterated in his ear.

And Dean obeyed. Using just his index finger, he slid gently over my clit, just one last time for the moment, then eased it inside me, pulling it out slowly, letting his middle finger have a turn, this time rotating, pressing around the walls. Dean pulled the finger away. I was sopping wet.

Now he eased both fingers inside, an actual groan coming from him. His other hand came higher up on my back, like he needed something to grasp, briefly doing so with my hair, but eventually letting it come down to grip my hip. His fingers hadn't moved, but he'd quickly maneuvered his head up so that we were once again facing each other.

Dean's expression was a combination of confusion and borderline awe. Interspersed between his breaths, he managed a question. "How the fuck are you so tight?"

To answer, I grabbed one of his hips, urging him forward, to remedy the gap that had grown between us due to creating some space for his hand before it curved under my pussy. Now I could slip my fingers under his waistband, causing his eyes to briefly flutter closed, then open widely again as my thumb ran slowly over the head of his cock.

Drops of moisture had begun to emerge, sticky on my thumb. I brought my hand up, let him watch me put the thumb in my mouth and pull it out. I ran the thumb across his lips, planted a small, close-lipped kiss on just the bottom one, then told him what he wanted to know.

"Practice."

I tensed my core around his fingers.

"Shit," he muttered, letting his head fall against my shoulder, now pumping his fingers in and out, switching up the pace here and there, penetrating both deep and shallow, and I was loving every push and pull, clamping down occasionally to remind him of what might lay down the road. I hadn't yet decided. This was fun. I didn't want this to stop. I couldn't tell how big he was; I wanted to know. I'm not ashamed - size is important to me.

My husband had a beautiful cock, he loved how much I loved sucking him off, actually felt guilty sometimes about our reciprocation ratio. It just wasn't particularly long, or thick. It was fine. It also wasn't the reason I married him. I'd been fucked by plenty of assholes who had such huge packages, I'd be sore for days after just one roll in the hay. So was it a big-picture deal-breaker for me? Obviously not.

I wasn't considering marrying Dean. A relationship with Dean. I didn't even know if I was going to actually fuck Dean. But seeing as how he was on deck for a one-night-stand, this was part of the interview process. Otherwise, clearly we'd have a grand ol' time doing what we had been, I'd probably give him the blowjob of his life, and hell, maybe we'd even start diving back into that yummy bottle waiting in my room. Once we were done playing.

All of that took a backseat, though - Dean hit a particularly good spot that gave me chills, and also boosted my resolve to free his cock from his shorts. I pulled at the waistband of the boxers again, this time going for it, gently encircling what turned out to be an impressive girth with my hand, slowly moving it up and down, but not gripping - just hovering.

Dean's head raised a little from my shoulder, the kisses he'd been lining up on my neck pausing at my touch. Then the kisses began again, once more inching to my mouth, his free hand leaving my hip to come up and cup the side of my face.

I met his eye and subtly shook my head.

A touch of a smile came to Dean's lips, and that twinkle in his eye kicked off again. "Little late to play hard-to-get," he mumbled near my mouth, kissing my chin instead.

"Patience is rewarded," I replied. Keeping one hand on his cock, I used my other hand to pull his out of my pants. He looked truly bummed. More so when I brought my leg down from the stair. "You're not going to fuck me, Dean," I whispered.

His eyebrows raised, glancing down at his hard cock as my thumb kept running up, over, around the head, just like he'd done with my clit."Oh yeah?" he whispered back.

I stared at him, enjoying those eyes, those eyelashes, the tiny beads of sweat that had come up on his brow. I nodded. I wanted him in my mouth. And told him so.

We didn't go to his room or mine - Dean chose another room for us altogether, one far away from Sam's. I suppose he thought I'd be loud. Or maybe he knew he'd be loud. Either way. I was always up for a covert op.

The door had barely clicked closed before the robe was tossed away, and Dean whipped his shirt off, then pulled mine up over my breasts in two seconds flat. And god help me, I actually giggled when he grabbed me, dipped me back slightly like we were practicing a dance, and immediately clamped his mouth over one of my nipples. And in what seemed like his mantra for the night, a low Mmmmm came from his throat.

He tipped me back up, edged us over to the wall, pressing into me, that gorgeous smile coming at me full-blast. "Where were these hiding?" he asked in faux-seriousness, keeping his eyes on mine as he kneaded my breasts with both hands, gently tweaking my nipples erect between his fingers.

"Well, I put them away ‘til there's a different sort of business to tend to." I felt my face twitch briefly then - he'd gotten a good roll.

"Did I pinch?" he asked in a remorseful tone, then immediately bent over, put his lips on the offended nipple, ran his tongue over it in such a careful manner, I almost came right then.

I grabbed his biceps, urging him to stand up straight, and as he did so, I lowered myself, kissing a trail from his belly button on down, carefully pulling the elastic of his boxers over his erection, easing them down and letting them drop to the floor.

I began at the base, licking slowly from there all the way up the shaft, but stopping short of the head. And then repeated that, all the way around, varying how much tongue I used, how much pressure I applied. I ran my fingers gently up and down his inner thighs, almost tickling them, no scratching or grasping. He was so swollen and hard, I didn't need my hands to keep his cock upright.

Dean kept starting and stopping to wind his fingers through my hair, got fidgety the further along I got, little sounds reaching my ears with every lick. Finally I circled the base with a few fingers and my thumb, raising myself up a bit to get a different angle, firmly bringing the ring I'd made up to meet my mouth as I engulfed the head and the first inch or so.

"Fuck fuck fuck," I heard Dean breathlessly chanting.

I was surprised - I'd only just gotten started, swirling my tongue, running the tip inside the slit, varying the pressure of my fingers as I'd done with my tongue, gentle but purposeful with my strokes - when he suddenly reached down, grabbed me by the shoulders, standing me up.

"What's---" I started, but was cut off by Dean pulling my shirt up and over my head. Then he pulled me against him, pinning his dick between us.

"You feel how much I want you?" he practically growled, each of his hands grabbing an ass cheek, pushing me into him further.

Again, I borrowed a play from his book, placing my hands on either side of his face, saying, "Tell me what you need."

He looked me dead in the eyes, so intensely it threw me off my game a bit, and his voice strained when he spoke. "I want... I need to be inside you."

It was a variation on a familiar line for most women. Honestly, it typically fell flat. Two people in my entire life had ever said it and meant it. Both had been demons. One had made me a widow.

I let a tiny smile cross my lips, informing him, "Then that's where you should be."

Dean leaned in, no doubt wanting to absolutely crush his tongue against my lips, push it into my mouth. But he respected what my stance had been all night, and so we stood there for a moment, faces touching, not hugging but groping aimlessly at each other. The pajamas started to come off my hips as we were grinding, our mouths open but not kissing, just panting into each other.

Dean suddenly looped his thumbs inside the pants and my underwear, pulling them off in one movement, then he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me over with him. I ended up with my knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, his hands gripping my ass as I was getting ready to lower myself onto him, when he spoke.

"Stop."

He removed his hands, and I leaned back, careful to avoid his cock, then perched on his lap and gave him a concerned look.

"I just wanna... I want to make sure that you... that you..." he said, stopping and starting.

He was going to have to sharpen up those thoughts a bit. Then I noticed his eyes were fighting looking away from my face and further down, like he was catching something out of his periphery but didn't want to look. So I did it for him.

Oh damn it to hell.

My necklace. He was about to have his face directly in my dead husband's wedding band while I was riding his cock. I huffed, irritated at myself. I reached under my hair, sliding the clasp around to the front so I could take it off. Dean grabbed one of my hands.

"If you're not ready, it's fine."

I raised an eyebrow.

He frowned. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm bullshitting you."

"I'm looking at you like: Shut up, let me get this thing off so it won't distract you and we can fuck."

Dean just stared at me.

"So now I'm the one bullshitting," I stated, climbing off his lab.

He sighed. "Snipes---"

"Nope," I said, squatting and picking up my clothes.

Let his balls stay blue. Or let that throbbing cock enjoy his hand instead of my pussy. His call. I wouldn't be around to find out which he chose. Asshole. I heard the mattress squeak as he stood up. In two strides, he stalled my retreat, putting a hand against the door, not stopping me really, just... just...

"Just tell me you're not doing this to pretend I'm him."

My head snapped up to look at him. "Fuck off, Dean," I heard myself snarl, reaching for the door handle.

"Why didn't you take that off before?" he pressed, still not moving.

I glared. "Because I didn't know this was going to happen, okay? I didn't plan on getting stuck with you people and ending up here. I didn't plan on having to tell you my life story. I didn't plan on meeting someone who makes me feel ---"

Dean cut me off with the beginnings of what was potentially the sweetest kiss of my life. But I pushed him back. Neither of us moved. I felt him looking at me as I looked at the door. We stood in silence. He spoke first.

"You hungry?"

And not five minutes later, there we were, sitting across from each other, spoons in our hands, working on the gallon tub of chocolate ice cream opened between us, not bothering with bowls. In a different timeline, we'd have taken it with us to the showers, eaten it off of each other before I'd have let him wash me off, then bend me over. Another time, perhaps.

We had gotten dressed again. Didn't want to cause Sam to have a stroke if he happened to come into the kitchen. We smelled of sex, but I knew he wouldn't have commented on it. Again, that whole nice guy thing. Dries me right up.

"People say such stupid things, when the other person in the relationship dies," I commented.

I glanced up. Dean was eating, but listening.

"You ever have that happen? Engaged or whatever, and they die?"

He shook his head.

"People say stuff like - 'He'd want you to find love again'." I rolled my eyes, pried up another spoonful.

"You don't think so?" Dean asked.

"Ha. My husband? Oh, hell no. He could be a real prick. Jealous little piece of work."

"Gotta give me more than that," he prodded with a touch of a grin.

I shrugged. "Not much to tell. It was so cliché. Any of my male colleagues I was buddies with, especially my partner prior to him - because, you know, the list of elite snipers is just filled with chicks, I had so many I could've chosen as friends."

Dean chuckled.

"He even got suspicious of Jody at one point, asked if she and I got bi-curious every now and then."

Dean had been looking down, loading up his spoon, but I caught the expression on his face that indicated he thought it wasn't a half-bad question to ask.

"Most cliché though - how jealous he'd get, when I outranked his stats, when they wanted me to be team leader, all that professional competitive garbage."

"Did you ever pull back?"

"Nope. He should've nutted up. If he wanted to beat me? Be better."

“Damn right,” he said, and we clinked spoons, ate in silence for a few minutes.

Then I had to do what I do - wrecking good moments, that is - so set my spoon down and sighed. "Dean, when you ask me if I wanted to... to have a good time tonight for any reason that has to do with him, I can promise you: I do it for me, and only me. Not to remember him, or to spite him, or to forget him."

Dean set his spoon down as well, then put the lid back on the container. He picked it up, took it to the freezer, put it away. Paused for a moment after he'd closed the door.

"When I've planned ahead - yeah, of course I leave this in a pocket or a purse or the car,” I went on. “I don't wear it out of sentimentality. It's not a reminder of a perfect life. I wear it to keep me on point, never doubt those fuckers could be hiding out in anyone."

Dean turned, looked at me with a somewhat grim expression. "So you don't think one's still hiding in me?"

I met his grimness with some of my own. "Don't got a bullet through your head, do you?"

A fraction of a smile - albeit a slightly sad one - hit his lips. "Fair enough." He padded back over, grabbed our spoons, chucked them in the sink, and walked back around the table but didn't sit down, so I looked up, and found his face was more relaxed, that deep voice a little softer when he added, “I'd still risk it."

I stared at him for a few beats while I regrouped. I didn't like the mood in the air. "Wow. Pretty and stupid," I stated.

He stared back; then, serious as a heart attack -

"So you think I'm pretty."

I burst into laughter, raised my hands to cover my mouth, absolutely cracking up.

I assumed I wasn't the first woman to think it - that Dean Winchester was going to be the death of me. I was also sure there was another group of women who thought they'd be the death of him. Maybe I belonged in that club, instead. I'd be willing to bet the company I'd be in could end me, too. I should look them up, tuck the info away as a backup plan if my life went sideways again.

Another best practice in my line of work: always have a way out.

Dean and I did go back to the room together. We slowly took off each others' clothes. The plan for us had changed, but not what our bodies wanted, even though the shift of our mindsets for the moment was clear.

I spread out on the bed, propped up against the pillows, let him watch me pleasure myself as I watched him sit in the desk chair and jack himself off, neither of us making much noise beyond gasps, heavy breathing. He wiped off a bit, then we licked each other clean, climbed under the covers. I am not a cuddler, didn't take him for one either, but as Dean snuggled into me from behind, he almost immediately fell asleep.

I was lucky there was a healthy amount of older cars in that garage. Like I say - I always memorize my surroundings. I didn't waste time looking for keys, easier to just yank the wires on the odd bird of the garage, an old sedan, spark it to life. I'd leave it at Jody's for them to pick up; not like Dean was going to report it stolen, anyway. He'd know exactly who took it.

And now Dean would know yet another secret of mine, I thought, returning my set of lock picks to my backpack after I popped open the Impala's trunk. I removed my rifle case, closed the trunk again. They really should think about putting an alarm on that thing.

I drove down the road. It was close to sun-up. I pushed my foot further down on the accelerator, needed to get a good amount of distance between us in case he woke up earlier than I'd predicted. I doubted he'd come after me; still good to be prudent. I thought to text Jody at the next red light, warn her she might get a call.

I didn't leave a note because (A), not my style for one-night stands, even when there was a chance I'd have to interact with the person again, and (B), it wasn't my style to explain myself. My job called sounded like the fraidy-cat excuse of some weepy chick who was getting attached, especially since he knew I freelanced - it would've reeked of bullshit.

Except it was the truth. Well, more a contact than a client. But still my job.

Like I told Dean: sentimental was not a word to describe me. I didn't get attached. I taught my students not to get attached to their clients - emotions distract. You assess the danger. You act accordingly. You determine if a suspicious person has targeted your client. You give a fuck about why they're doing it, because if you know the motivation, you'll know the triggers, and if you know the triggers, you'll be anticipatory, and being anticipatory keeps you from getting dead.

Which is why I wanted to know the demon's motivation. It was patient. It was practiced. It was focused. And it waited to possess my husband, the one person I trusted implicitly, waited for an op where we were paired, and he was behind me, all so it could get the upper hand.

All to target me.

My work with various supernatural investigators had yielded some facts. The demon who possessed my husband hadn't been spotted in several years, apparently having been exorcised to who knew where. I also knew he'd been a lackey. Assigned to take me out. Not the one giving the orders.

Normally, I wouldn’t have left a fun time - and I’d planned on a fun time, waking Dean up with a surprise or two. But, once more, seemed the world had other plans. When I'd gotten up to pee at some point during the night, I'd swung by the room where my backpack and phone were, saw a text I'd been waiting for. I'd gotten like messages off-and-on over the years, never panning out. My most recent P.I., however, had proven himself with the minor tasks I'd tested him with.

I got the tingles, maybe even better than the ones Dean's touch had given me, seeing those words.

SOLID LEAD ON RED SMOKE

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[officialgomezaddams]

Riverdale preference: Pocket sized

BETTY COOPER

You first met her by almost crushing her with a textbook trying to study in your schools library. And at first you were both a little bit frightened because A) She was almost crushed 2) you were meeting a tiny human. It ended with her helping you study, and ended up bringing her home because you couldn't let someone so small be left alone in a high school. Often you would bring her to school, she would hangout in the inside pockets of your jackets and help you take notes and occasionally give you answers to tests. At night she would search textbook after textbook trying to find a way for her to turn “normal sized” so she could finally confess her feelings for you.

JUGHEAD JONES

You would find this poor boy outside on a rainy day, while you were running to your door. You would see him huddled under a leaf near the door hoping that who ever lived in the house would let him in. So of course you took him in, gave him a rag to dry off, and he would thank you a ton, the moment you offered to bring him in, when you brought him in ect. And after the storm had passed he looked off into the window and muttered, “I guess I have to go now.”  And you felt your heart actually break by his sad voice so you told him he could stay with you if he wanted. Jughead loved living with you, going from having no where to stay, using tree leaves as shelter to living in a house was his dream. At night he would fall asleep dreaming of being big one day so he could care for you the way you did for him. 

VERONICA LODGE

You would find her sleeping in a new Gucci purse you bought. Once you opened it you jumped because inside your $1,690 dollar bag was a tiny sleeping human. After waking her up, you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t just call Gucci up and tell them that they accidentally sent a tiny pocket sized person in your bag! You and Veronica became best of friends, giving each other fashion advice and make up tips. She would also insist you get her a “suitable living arrangement” which basically meant she got to live in a Barbie Dream House. Other than shopping she would always look online to see if she could buy something that would match her height with yours believing that one day you and her could spend days shopping together while she treats you like a queen. 

ARCHIE ANDREWS

All he wanted to do was pet your dog, but some how ended up being dragged inside your house by the dog. And of course when you found him covered in slobber, hurt from your dog you offered to patch him up. Day after day the same thing happened. You would find Archie around your house hurt from trying to pet your dog and you would take care of him. Eventually he just began staying at your house so you could keep an eye on him no matter how many times he protested that he was okay walking on a twisted ankle. “This should be the other way around.” He told you one day while you were fixing him up. “I should be taking care of you. I promise I will, I just have to find a way to become big and then I can protect you.”  

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Pulling into a dance for Rona and Val

I went. Very overboard on this one. Not that anyone is surprise, lmao.

1,820 words, from this meme again. I hope you like it, love!

There was a celebration in the town square.

Val didn’t know which one - traveling as often as she did as achild and then being out at sea meant that she had long since forgottenanything that wasn’t a ‘crossing of the line’ celebration or a wake of somekind - but she could smell the festival sweetbread even through the walls ofthe inn. She watched at the window as the sun dipped down over the horizon, anda thin, pulsing halo of light bubbled up from the center of town. Then sheturned and slipped quietly out the door.

The air outside was cold, already turned for autumn, and Valimmediately felt herself begin to shiver. Coastal cold was bad enough, butinland cold was somehow even worse, and she was the least prepared of all ofher companions for the thick of it. She scrubbed at her arms and grit her teethto keep them from chattering as she walked, vowing to buy the first woolenthing she could find when morning came.

But the aching chill in her bones began to peel away the closershe got to the square, until she was only shivering when the breeze gotparticularly stiff. At first, she thought that it might just be exposure - thatshe had been long enough in the cold that she was starting to take to it alittle more. It took rounding a corner, and nearly being blinded, to realizewhat was really going on.

The square was practically on fire. Every surface, fromstorefronts to windowsills to the great stone fountain in the center of town,were covered with thousands upon thousands of candles of every color and size;thick pillar candles as wide as her arm dripping rivulets of wax down theirsides, tiny tea lights already burning through their short wicks, squat ballsof tallow that inevitably sagged to one side as they burned down. Someparticularly enterprising individuals had even hollowed out pumpkins and placedthe candles inside, sprinkling cinnamon and clove alongside them so the wholething gave off a warm orange glow and a sharp smell of spices that made Val’snose wrinkle. She watched as a couple - human - whirled through the middle ofthe sea of flame in time to the music being played and marveled that they didnot burn.

She stood for a long moment in quiet awe as more groups of peoplemoved into the path left open around the square, hands clasped together andtaking up positions as the band’s song picked up speed. A few threw unsettledglances her way, and Val blinked herself awake long enough to duck behind thepartial cover of a cart vendor that was pulled into the crux of the street. Badenough to be standing in the middle of a road staring open-mouthed at thefestivities like a child through a locked window - worse to be a tiefling, andwreathed in flame.

She settled herself just behind the wide base of the cart, farenough back that she wasn’t bothering the man working it. Habit prevented herfrom completely ignoring the thick slices of bread he was doling out, and thewarm brown apple butter slathered on each piece, but her attention quicklyreturned to the square and the dancers gathered around it. Here, on the outsideof the wide ring of candles, the chill caught up with her again, but she almostdidn’t notice her shivering as she watched the flame flicker around the anklesof the people stepping nimbly through them.

Halfway through the second dance, Val suddenly felt a nudge at herside and looked down to find a small figure grinning and holding out a tankard.

“Snuck out too, huh?” said Rona as she pressed the cup into Val’shands. It was hot on her half-frozen fingers and she reeled it in close to her,savoring the heat and the smell of hot apples and cinnamon wafting up. She tooka little sip and the liquid burned pleasantly on the way down, from somethingthat Val was vaguely certain was not actually heat. She sighed deeply asthe warmth began to spread, then offered the cup back. Rona just fluttered ahand.

“Go on,” she said. “I only bought one, but I’m not going to drinkit all.”

Val grinned despite herself, hiding it behind the lip of the cupas she took another sip. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Fine,” Rona said with a dramatic sigh that almost covered thegrin she was fighting. “Buy me one of those then, and we’ll call it even.”

She gestured to the man in the cart in front of them as he passedanother slice of bread over the counter. Val shrugged and set the tankardaside, pushing herself up onto her feet.

“Sounds fair.”

The baker gave her a stern once-over as she approached, butaccepted her coin with a gracious nod. He must have noticed Rona too, becausehe cut the bread in half, and even managed a little half smile and a wink asVal thanked him.

Rona had already picked up the tankard and move to stand closer tothe square, clearly determined to keep Val from sitting out of sight of themasses and pretending it didn’t bother her.

“I don’t make it to most festivals like this anymore, but we usedto have them all the time back home,” she said fondly as she traded the tankardfor half of the bread. Val took another swig, deeper this time, until the heatraised goosebumps down her back.

“Must be hard,” she said after a moment. Rona turned to glance upat her, and she felt a smile pull at the corners of her lips as she lookeddown. “I heard you lot are the best at parties. You hear plenty about bards’colleges and nobles’ balls, sure, but from what I gather? You never drink, eat,laugh or dance more than at a halfling shindig.”

Rona tipped her head back and laughed, a deep, genuine thing thatsent a new run of pleasant shivers up Val’s back. Had she always had such a nicelaugh? Val was sure she would have noticed it before if she had.

“The next time I find myself invited to one, I’ll be sure to bringyou along,” Rona said when she had collected herself, with a good-natured rollof her eyes. The particular way she said it made Val think that was highlyunlikely. “They’re certainly not boring, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

They slipped into companionable silence after that, nibbling attheir bread and passing the cider back and forth as they watched the people inthe square. The locals had already turned out in spades and were sweepingthrough, dodging the children weaving between them with long matchsticks thatwere sparkling at one end. Groups of people still buckled into traveling gearlingered near the edges of the circle, clapping in tempo and glancing betweenone another like they were daring everyone else to join the dance. Everyonce in awhile, a couple in the middle of the square would break apart andsnatch the hands of unsuspecting onlookers, and the poor bastards would bepulled away from their laughing party members and into the fray. They, and oneman that was trying to make a particularly good impression on the several womenstanding around him, were the only additions for a long, long while.

Then the song changed.

Val didn’t know it well enough to give it a name, but it wasfamiliar as a worn pair of boots and a trident in her hand, and she found sheknew the melody nearly before it began. And so did everyone else - she watchedas realization swept through locals and travelers alike, and at once, thesquare was flooded with people all clamoring for space. She laughed as theypacked in together, jostling shoulders and too caught up in their excitement toworry about little things like decorum and personal space.

Beside her, Rona tipped the last of the cider back in one giantswig, then dropped the tankard onto the nearest cart with a thunderous clang.

“I’ve just decided that I’m feeling a little homesick,” sheannounced loudly, then turned, snatched Val by the hands, and dragged hertowards the gathering crowd.

Surprise and a sudden, giddy warmth that she tried very hard notto name suddenly bubbled up in her chest, sending little bursts of breathlesslaughter in between her protests that she couldn’t, that there wasn’t room,that she was just awful at dancing. But Rona ignored every single one,pulling her straight into the first open space she could find and then whippingaround, eyes glittering with the thousands of lights around them.

“Don’t worry,” she said, grinning so brilliantly that Val felt herstomach flip. “I know this one.”

And she did. She took every advantage of the wide berth that thetownsfolk gave Val, spinning them both in big, graceful circles, whirlingbetween the walls of flame, stretching her arm far to one side as she hiked her skirt all the way up to her waist. She wove betweenchildren and couples and Val’s clumsy tail like they were just another part ofthe dance, laughing and singing and nudging the latter back out of the way ofless careful feet with a touch that warmed more than cider and a thousandcandles ever could.

Val found that the steps came easier thanks to the rhythm thathad, at some point, pounded itself into her brain, but mostly, she just letherself be moved by the veritable force that was Rona Greenbottle with a goodsong at her back.

It was either a minute or a lifetime before the last note warbledinto the air, and the dancers all bowed to one another and then turned toapplaud the band. Rona didn’t move, though. She still had her hands wrappedaround Val’s and was staring up at her, smiling and red-cheeked and breathless,her curls all in disarray. Val heart suddenly became a sledgehammer in the drumof her chest, and she silently prayed to every god that she could name that itwasn’t visible through the fall of her thin shirt.

“Not bad,” Rona said after a long moment, with an airy tinge inher voice that made Val’s stomach twist. Then her smile became a sly littlegrin, and she gestured with a nod of her head to where the band was flexing outtheir fingers in preparation for the next song.

“I think we’ll need to do that at least afew more times before you’re ready for one of my family’s parties, though. Just to besure.”