#so many of the places give full size chocolate bars and then more candy

[artsy-book]

got back from trick or treating with my sister a bit ago and at the age of 19 I got a whole grocery bag full of candy. one of my favourite things about living just north of the village I live next to ^-^

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Must Be A Full Moon 🌕 (Werewolf!Nico x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Nicolas “Nico” Brown x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Nico for about five months now and you couldn’t be happier with him. He’s big, he’s sexy, he’s protective, and he listens! He’s the perfect boyfriend…except for one thing: you haven’t had sex yet. Every time you come close to it, he always makes an excuse and leaves your apartment before anything more than kissing can happen. What is it, you wonder? Is he not sexually attracted to you? Is he nervous? What could it be? One dark night, while the moon is high in the sky after a costume party, you get your answer…and everything you’ve been craving from your big, strong, sexy boyfriend.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Boyfriend!Nico; Established Relationship; Transformation; Monsterf*cking; Dom!Nico + sub!Reader; Black-Coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Spanking; Biting; Marking; Scent Play; 69; Knotting; Doggystyle; Sex Against The Window; Voyeurism; Creampie; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I haven’t something for my baby daddy Nicolas in a minute now. I just adore him. Enjoy & HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃🖤 -Jazz

***********

It is dark tonight, this Halloween. Very dark. The darkest it’s ever been, the newspapers said.

But not even the tiniest bit of fear runs through you. Not with your big, scary man at your side.

You giggle under the glowing gaslamp illuminating the cobblestones and darkened windows of the barren town. You turn on your heeled Mary Jane that goes with your Red Riding Hood costume, smiling shyly at your boyfriend.

“I had a really good time tonight, Nicolas,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Seductive. You hope he catches on, glad that the alcohol from the party earlier has emboldened you. The many vodka shots, sweetened with chocolate, candy corn, and sour apple, have also softened the edges of your vision, making everything look softer, rosey, and nice…including your boyfriend.

The corner of his lips lift into a small, sexy smile that makes your stomach and lady parts flutter. “I’m glad,” he mutters.

But he always looks nice. Nice and sexy. You could barely keep your hands off of him at the costume party tonight, your hands stroking his chest, arms, or anywhere else you could that wasn’t his cock. He, on the other hand, had no issue putting a hand on your thigh under a table or placing a hand on your ass if someone even looked at you and your cute costume.

Worick and Alex had invited you out for the party about a week ago, something they do every Halloween in your small, shitty town. Every Halloween-lover, drinker, and young, dumb person in town came to your favorite bar/nightclub to dress up and party. You’re usually weary about large crowds in condensed spaces, but Nico being there made you feel 100% better.

You can’t explain how his presence makes you feel. You love him near you, even when you’re just sitting on the couch or cuddling in bed. He makes you feel so safe. So protected. Despite his bigger size, you love feeling so small beside him. Plus, the fact that he’s big enough to pick you up and break you like a toothpick turns you on more than words can say.

You have a thing for big men, hence why Worick and Nico caught your eye when Alex introduced you to them at a bar once. But it’s Nico who grabbed your attention…sweet, attentive, quiet, shy, awkward, and slightly terrifying Nico.

You’ve been dating him for five months and they’ve been the best! The dates are exciting and romantic. The kisses are electric. You find yourself falling deeper and deeper for him every day you talk to him or see him which he often does when he’s passing through your neighborhood for a mission. You can’t ask for a better partner.

Except for one thing: the sex is nonexistent. While yes, you don’t have to be sexual with EVERY man you date, you want to be sexual with YOUR man now. You can’t help it! Nico is too delicious to not be in your bed or on your couch completely naked and buried in one of your holes.

For the past month, your nights have been filled with hot dreams of the two of you locked together, Nico fucking you stupid. You often daydream about what his cock looks like or how he’d taste. What do his moans sound like? How does he look when he cums?

In addition to the past month, you’ve been trying in vain to get him to come into your apartment after date nights with promises of more wine or a cup of tea. You’ve tried other things too: wearing tighter dresses and low-cut tops to show off your ample chest and shapely figure; sending him flirty, late night voicemails; kissing him just a little longer than usual when he or you have to go home.

But alas…nothing has happened. It’s disappointing and disheartening, but you won’t give up. Not until your stud of a boyfriend is buried in your sheets AND in you. Hence why you invited him out tonight.

“I hope you had fun too,” you say, taking his bigger hand in your smaller, daniter ones. Even his hand is bigger than your wrist. God, why won’t he just fuck you already?! “I know you’re not much of a party person, but I appreciate you taking me.”

You give him a shy, loving smile that he returns. To anyone watching, you look like two lovebirds falling deeper for each other under the lamplight. “I hope Worick didn’t scare you off too much,” he signs, momentarily dropping your hands to do so.

You’ve been studying sign language for years now having someone in your family who is deaf. Not to mention that you’ve had deaf patients as a nurse working at your local hospital. Nico has also been teaching you other signs, his eyes brightening when you sign back to him. You love seeing that bright look of joy and pride in his gaze.

You sign a little bit now, only doing what you know. “Please! He’s annoying sober, so him acting up off theBourbon is nothing. I just hope Alex knows what she’s in for.” Nico laughs and you laugh with him, knowing that Warwick is loose monster when he’s drunk and will no doubt want to roleplay with Alex tonight in her cat costume.

The laughter dies now and you’re soon left with the sounds of the night: a lone owl hooting, a dog barking, a crisp breeze blowing in the trees. “Oh!” you say just because you want him to stay. “And thank you for, uh….dressing up. I knew you weren’t gonna wear that fursuit.”

Nico smirks as you play with the furry tail that he attached to his back pocket just for you. Strangely, it fits well with his black jeans, tight black V-neck, and leather jacket. “Glad I didn’t disappoint you,” he signs. His soft brown eyes roam over your hood and frilly, velvet dress that you paired with some white thigh-high stockings, Mary Jane heels, and a corset that pushes your breasts enticingly up in his face.

“You?!” you scoff, your eyes widening at him. You wave a passive, freshly-manicured hand. Your nails are shiny and blood red. Pretty…probably prettier wrapped around your man’s cock.”No way! I’m just happy you went along with my costume for tonight. Alex helped me pick it out.”

You begin to swish your hips in your dress, making the red and white frills sway around your thighs. Nico watches, transfixed by your legs and the way your titties jiggle in your corset. “Cute,” he sighs, his voice deep and raspy. It makes something tingle in you.

Your heart pounds against your chest, somehow making your ears ring. “Really?” you whisper. “You think so?” You fill the gap between you, just a mere inch that you fill with only two steps towards him.

You wrap your arms around Nico’s thick neck while he ropes his around your waist, nearly lifting you up off of the ground. You giggle, your nose brushing with his. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums. “So pretty.” Then he’s kissing you, his soft, juicy lips tasting of whiskey. He smells faintly of smoke from the bar and his favorite Irish Spring soap.

God, this man! He seduces you with one mere touch. One whiff of him. One kiss. You want him so badly. Your nipples harden under your costume and your panties are already soaked. You deepen the kiss, hoping he can understand just what you need.

But just as quickly as the kiss happens, it ends and Nico slowly lowers you down onto your feet. “I should leave,” he signs, looking wearily down the road. He gets anxious around this time of night as anyone would.

Your heart droops like a wilted flower at the mention of his departure. “Oh,” you say, disappointed. “You don’t wanna come in and stay awhile? I-I mean, it’s so late and you pounded as much as Warwick.” You recall the whiskey shot challenge he had with his longtime friend and the apple vodka he shared with you by pouring it into your mouth from his. You were so horny after that.

“Nah,” he signs. “Tired. You need rest too.” He pats your head, only disappointing you further. You want that hand on your throat or spanking your ass till it stings.

The alcohol works its damned magic and soon, you’re spilling out the words you’ve been keeping in: “Nicolas,” you say, swallowing hard. “Why don’t you wanna sleep with me?”

Nico’s brown eyes widen at you, stunned into silence. The only sounds are of a distant owl hooting and your blood pumping in your ears. “What?” he says, too shocked to sign.

You gasp, covering your mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you say that?! “I-I’m sorry!” you squeak. “It’s the booze! I-It’s just that we’ve been dating for months and you only come over during the day….a-and you don’t stay the night! I want you to stay the night!”

The truth comes tumbling out, unable to be bottled up anymore. Nico stands there in silence, mouth parted in shock. He had no idea you felt this way and of course, he didn’t. You never told him till now. “Is it me?” you blubber, nervously playing with the tie to your hood. “Are you not sexually attracted to me?”

“No,” he immediately says, his voice gruff and low. He closes the gap between you, his hand on your cheek. “I’m fuckin’ crazy about you, Y/N.” His words are so passionate that they make your face grow hot. He steps back, looking gutted. “I’m sorry,” he signs. “I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. It’s not any of that.”

“Then what is it?” you gently push. He looks away from you then, staring off to the side at a street lamp. “I need you so much, Nico,” you whimper, pressing your hands against his hard chest. “I hug my pillow at night thinking of you next to me….which I wouldn’t have admired without the booze.” Your face feels like it’s on fire, but so does your body. You’re alight with need.

Nico’s eyes switch back to yours, interest and a small flame in them. “Really?” he asks. You nod and he uses his big hands to sign for you: “I think about you too. All of the time.” You smile at this, hope fluttering in your breast. “There’s just something I couldn’t tell you before about me.”

He looks down at his shoes, biting his plump lower lip. You scowl at him, confused and a little scared. Is it something bad? From the way he looks so anxious, it must be. “Something about you?” you parrot. “Then what is it? You can tell me.”

Nico looks back up at you and you can see the moon in them. “I’ll show you,” he says. “C‘mon.” He suddenly takes your hand and leads you to the front door of your apartment building. “Where are we going?” you ask, unable to hide your excitement.

“To bed,” he grunts. You wrench your hand out of his grasp, gaping at him. “What?!” you exclaim. “B-But you’re supposed to show me why you’re not…”

You pause, a sudden yawn escaping your lips. Your boyfriend leans against the doorframe, smirking at you. “M’not tired,” you whine with a cute little pout.

He nods, snickering to himself as you get your key out to unlock the door. “Uh-huh,” he chuckles. “Upstairs.” He presses a hand to your waist as you walk inside with him. You believe you feel his hand trail down to your behind, but you’re not too sure.

“But are you gonna show me what you needed to show me?” you tiredly ask as he leads you up the steps to your floor. “Soon, baby,” he softly says. “Bedtime.”

Bedtime, it is. You don’t fight him as he leads you up to your floor and helps you into your tiny apartment. And you don’t fight him when he helps you out of your costume, into your PJs, wipes your makeup off for you, and then tucks you into bed. Sleepily, you watch as he strips down to his briefs before he climbs in next to you, his hard body curled up next to yours.

You want to touch him, feel him, make him feel as hot as you are. But sleep takes you before you can even think about reaching over to grab his cock and stroke him through his briefs. The alcohol and the long night take over, leaving you sound asleep. Nico falls asleep soon after, his soft snores filling the tiny, dark bedroom.

But somewhere in the night that is creeping towards morning, you awaken to a sudden noise. You sit up straight out of your hot dream of you and Nico in a hot tub somewhere, hands roaming and lips caressing, reality crashing down onto you. Immediately, your eyes catch the sliver of light coming from across the room where your private bathroom is.

You hear the sound of running sink water, but also something else. It sounds like…breathing. Harsh, distressed breathing. You look to where Nico should be in your bed, but you find the space empty and warm as if he just got up. Worried, you swallow the lump in your throat to call to him. “Nico?” you tentatively call. “Honey? Is everything okay?”

He grunts in response, making your heart leap in fear. Is he hurt? “Nicolas!” you call, seriously now. “What’s going on?”

“Stay away!” a deep, rasped voice calls from the other side of the door. “Don’t come in!” He grunts again, his breathing becoming more ragged. You press a hand to your mouth, fear gripping you. That didn’t sound like Nico at all. This voice is much, much deeper. “N-Nico?” you whimper, confused and scared.

He doesn’t answer you anymore. He continues to grunt and snarl as if he’s an animal. ‘He must be sick,’ you think and quickly toss the duvet covering you away to tent to your boyfriend.

But before you can get out of bed, the bathroom door opens. Suddenly, you are faced with the silhouette of Nico, but all you can see is black. You can’t see his face nor any of his other features. He might as well be a shadow. You’re not sure anymore if you’re even awake. “Nico?” you whisper, fear crawling into your veins. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he instantly replies, but he sounds…wrong. His voice is even raspier and deeper as if it dropped an octave in the time he was in the washroom. “Are you afraid?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, unsure of how to answer him. You press the duvet to your chest, covering yourself. “N-No,” you stammer.

Nico then steps forward and you see that his eyes are nothing but slits with gold irises in the moonlight. “You should be.”

And right before your very naked eyes, your boyfriend’s shape begins to change. He grows bigger and larger in size, growing in muscle mass. He lowers over you so much that you have to tilt your head up to look at him. As the moonlight cuts into your bedroom, creating a silver spotlight on him, he begins to grunt and snarl to himself, his face scrunched in pain.

His clothes grow smaller on his bigger body and suddenly rip off of him, tearing to shreds and fluttering to the floor. His skin disappears, replaced with fine black fur that coats his entire body. His ears elongate and point. His nose forms a dripping snout. His nails sharpen and his teeth grow bigger and longer, sharpening into fangs that gleam like knives at you. But the kicker it seems is the big, furry, wagging tail that drops between his furry thighs.

Finally finished, he falls to his knees in the light before you, heaving from whatever energy his transformation took out of him. You gape at him, all kinds of emotions swimming in you, but fear is the number one. “N-N-N—“ You can’t even get his name out.

Slowly, he looks up at you and somehow, you see your sweet boyfriend in the eyes of the wolf staring back at you. “This is me,” he growls out. “The real me.”

You continue to stare, wide-eyed and alarmed. You’re dreaming. You have to be. You pinch yourself, hissing at the sting. No…this is real. Nico stands but doesn’t come near you, too afraid to do so. “I won’t hurt you,” he signs and you almost laugh at the sight of his big, clawed paws signing for you. This is Nico!

“I’d never. But the moon makes me like this.” He motions over his new form, looking absolutely ashamed…and horny. You can see his cock bulging from his briefs that have just managed to cling to his groin despite his bigger size.

Slowly, you creep out of the bed and tentatively walk over to him. He stands firmly still, afraid of spooking you. Once you’re near him, you first gently touch his snout and then move your fingers over his soft, thick fur. He sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Then you move farther down, getting on your knees to move his briefs out of the way.

There, you gasp at the sight. His cock has swollen at least four sizes up from his original size as a human…which is pretty thick already judging from what you’ve seen in his pants. He is thicker, longer, and flushed red. “My knot,” he raspily explains, sounding embarrassed. “I…can’t help it.”

And you can’t help the way your pussy throbs staring at it. Despite how strange it looks, it also makes you hotter than you’ve ever been in your life. Gently, you wrap a hand around it, trying to see how thick it is. Your fingers can barely fit around the base!

You begin to stroke your boyfriend up and down, getting used to his size and eventually using another hand to hold him. Nico hoarsely moans above you, staring down at you through hooded eyes. “Baby,” he hoarsely says. “W-What are you—“

You silence him by taking a kitten lick of his tip, making him groan. “Take me, Nico,” you whisper, staring up at him through your lashes. “Take my mouth. Fuck my face as much as you need.”

Then you take him into your mouth, first sucking gently on the head. Nico watches on, unable to fulfill your request…yet. He lets you take the reins, watching with clenched fists as you take him deeper with every slow second, his cock sinking between your soft lips. He can’t believe what he’s witnessing. His beautiful, hot, cute girl on her knees for him taking his werewolf cock in her mouth.

“F-Fuck, darlin’,” he groans, unable to keep his sounds of pleasure back. He trembles under your wet tongue and soft, little hands stroking up and down his length. His big, heavy balls swinging like pendulums grow heavier with cum at the sight of you.

You pop his cock out of your mouth to smile up at him. “Feels good?” you purr, your heart exploding with pride when he frantically nods. “Good. Just relax for me, Nico. I’m right here.”

You continue to take him in your mouth, gradually growing bolder and more relaxed to take him deeper. He is much thicker than normal, stretching your mouth out to the point where your jaw aches. You alternate between eagerly stroking and eagerly sucking, bobbing your head up and down as you moan, sending vibrations throughout his thick, red cock.

“Shit!” Nico hisses, watching through slits as you give him a long lick from base to tip like a lollipop. Unable to take anymore, he gently grasps the back of your head and pushes you back down. You moan in joy, letting him thrust in and out of your mouth at a slow, gentle pace, obviously afraid of hurting you.

But that doesn’t last long. Feeling your soft, hot, wet mouth wrapped around him tears Nico’s self-control to shreds. Quickly, he pulls his cock out of your mouth and scoops you up as if you weigh nothing. You squeak in surprise as he carries you to the bed, carrying you like you’re a precious jewel.

And he takes care of you like you are one. Once on the bed, he lays down first before he places you on top facing his cock. You feel his clawed hands on your ass, cascading down your panties, and then rrrrrip. “Nico!” you whine, pouting at the sound of your lace panties tearing. “Those were my favorite!”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, but you can tell he isn’t. You’re not even that mad once his hands grasp your ass and spreads your cheeks apart. You hiss at the cool air hitting your puckered asshole and sobbing cunt. “Fuck,” Nico shudderingly says, his hot breath hitting your quivering pussy lips.

And there’s his tongue. His tongue. You’ve never felt anything like it. It is so big, fat, and long. It reaches every part of your pussy outside and in when it slides between your wet folds, caressing every sensitive spot. He fills you up in a way your fingers can’t, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

For this to be the first time he’s ever eaten you out, it’s fucking magical. You can’t help but toss your ass back and grind against his face which Nico happily invites. He moans and growls into your cunt, messily eating and lapping at your juices. “Oh, Nico!” you moan. “Nico, fuck yes, that’s so good! Keep going, baby! Keep—“

You’re silenced by his cock suddenly popping you in the lip as it lurches forward, standing up at attention. “Sorry,” he chuckles, but pushes his hips up towards your inviting mouth. “Go ahead.”

He doesn’t even have to tell you. You’re salivating at the chance to have him in your mouth again. You proceed to bob your head up and down as he thrusts up into your mouth, shoving his knot a bit deeper each time down your throat. Saliva drips from your mouth as Nico fucks your face, using your mouth as a toy. You love every minute of it, causing your pussy to grow wetter in his mouth.

The lewd sounds of moans and wet licking fills the air that is thick with sex. The moonlight hits your brown skin and body, illuminating both of your beautiful features as Nico stares up at you. He adores the way you throw your ass back into his face. Loves how you look riding his tongue, twerking that soft, luscious ass of yours as you do. He grips and spanks it to his heart’s delight, growing rock at the sound of your pretty moans that bounce off of the bedroom walls.

He eats you faster, becoming more determined to bring you to orgasm with his tongue strokes. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick up your slit while one of his thick fingers toys with your pretty rosebud, rolling the needy button around in semi-circles. He has wanted to know your body for so long and now that he does, he wants to know more.

You ride his face like a stolen car, chasing your own high. “Fuck, Nico, I’m gonna cum!” you whine, your voice loud and squeaky. “Y-You’re gonna…I’m gonna!” Nico gripped your ass, giving you a bite of pain as his claws nearly dig into your flesh. “Cum, baby,” he growls into your cunt. “Cum for me!”

You continue to ride him, stroking his cock with both hands as you do to give him pleasure too. Finally, you feel yourself tumble off of that hill and into a sea of bliss. Your orgasm is intense and overwhelming, drawing all kinds of high-pitched moans and gasps out of you. Nico hums “mmm-hmm” into your pussy, lapping up all that you give him like a grateful dog would for water. He even licks along your asscrack, catching the droplets that fell there.

By the time he finishes, you are absolutely drained and shuddering above him. “Oh. My. God.” You gasp out each word. That was the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life!

Nico chuckles below you, pressing a kiss to your clit that makes you shudder. Looking down, you find his bobbing knot has grown a lot harder and redder, practically flushed. “You’re still hard,” you giggle, slowly stroking up and down his shaft. He moans in response, fucking your hand without abandon. The poor baby is desperate. “Guess you still need more too.”

You look back at him, seeing the need in his piercing gaze. “Do you?” he asks, a question in his golden eyes. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. You know exactly what he means: do you want him to fuck you?

Is the sky blue and the grass green? You giggle, positioning yourself so you’re now turned around and facing him. You press your hands against his furry chest, your fingers burying in his fur. “Yes, honey,” you coo, nuzzling your nose with his. “I want you too. Fuck me right here, right now. I’m all yours.”

That is all Nico needs to hear. Minutes later, you are on all fours, face down in the pillow with your ass hiked in the air, receiving the deep dicking of your life. Nico mounts you from behind, one clawed hand pressing you down into the bed while the other is on your ass, spanking you here and there and making you wail.

His strokes are slow but deep and hard, stealing the breath from your body with every thrust. It sends your clit into a pleasured frenzy, leading you to frantically rub it in time with his thrusts, and your brain turns to mush. His cock fills you up in a way you’ve never been before, his balls swinging against your clit.

“Oh, my God!” you practically scream. “Oh, my God!” Your moans are broken and loud as your boyfriend fucks you like an animal, bullying your pussy into taking his cock…and then eventually his knot. “Take it,” he growls, pressing a hand on your back. “Take me, darlin’.”

Embarrassing squelching sounds mingle with the creaking of the bed springs as he ruts into you, making your pussy wetter. And it isn’t just his cock. It’s him. It’s the way his fur tickles your skin. It’s the way he smells. It’s the way he sounds. Your pussy belongs to him, your velvety walls squeezing around him with every slow, deep thrust.

“I-I am!” you whimper out. “I will, Daddy, I promise!” You gasp as you feel him slide in deeper as he hooks an arm around you, drawing you closer to him. A loud, desperate whine escapes you at the feeling of him pistoling into you, making your tits and ass jiggle with every thrust.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his tongue caressing your earlobe and neck. “My good fuckin’ girl.” His teeth nibble on the tender skin of your neck, leaving little love marks of him. Something to let anyone know that you are his. The idea of being his, of being owned by him….fuck, you’re about to cum. You can feel it building again.

“Oh, Nico, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob to the heavens. “You’re gonna make me cum! O-Oh, f-f-fuck!”

Nico doesn’t stop even as you orgasm, your body bucking and writhing in his arms and underneath his big, furry body. He toys with your neck with his tongue and teeth, stimulating each sensitive part of you which only makes your orgasm that much more intense. He groans into your sweet, coconut-scented hair as your walls clench around him, pushing him to cum too.

But not yet.

When your orgasm finally fades, you snuggle back into his furry chest that pillows the back of your head. “Nico, I…” Your mind, sluggish from the two intense orgasms, can’t process the words quick enough.

Even if it could, Nico doesn’t give you a chance. He is suddenly turning you around, scooping you up, and taking you over to the window where the moonlight is bright and beautiful. He hooks his big paws underneath your thighs, keeping his cock inside of you as he pushes you against the wall, your thighs pinned open for him.

You weakly moan as you feel his fingers toy with your clit, your eyes fluttering at the intense pleasure. Your pussy shudders and throbs from the stimulation despite just orgasmic. You don’t know if you can take anymore of it. “Look at me,” Nico softly growls.

You open your eyes, staring into his. All you see is yourself reflecting back like two golden mirrors. “Beautiful,” he sighs. “So beautiful.” He thrusts deeper and suddenly, his knot is pushing inside of you. You let out a broken moan as he groans, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“N-Nico,” you whimper, gripping his back. Your nails dig into his skin littered in fur, no doubt leaving your own marks. But he embraces it, enjoying the bite of pain as your soft, velvet pussy squeezes around his knot. He begins to fuck you pinned against the wall, rutting as deep as he can go. Your breath comes out in short puffs as you take his knot, your mind briefly thinking about if he is to get stuck.

Would you even mind that?

Your boyfriend begins to thrust harder, faster, fucking you up and up and up against the wall in the moonlight. Your body is forced to near another orgasm, your pussy gripping around him tighter than a vice. “Nico,” you whine. “N-Nicolas, it’s too much! I-I can’t take much more!”

Nico pulls away to stare at you, his canine eyes filled with unshed tears. His teeth are bared and his jaw is tight. He, too, is holding back. You cup his face in your hands, your fingers caressing through his thick, coarse fur. “I need you to cum,” you beg. “Please fuck me and cum deep in my pussy. Fill me up. Make me yours.”

You’ve never wanted anything more than you want his cum…well, maybe sex with him. And now you’re getting it. You couldn’t be more blessed to get dicked down the way you are now. Little Red Riding Hood with her big, bad, sexy wolf.

Nico’s eyes flash with a fire that is almost animalistic. Untamed. It thrills you yet frightens you. This isn’t your Nico anymore. This is a beast. A monster who needs his fill. And you’re more than happy to give it to him.

He grips you to him as if you’ll vanish if he doesn’t and proceeds to fuck your brains out. “Gonna fill you,” he groans. “Gonna fill my baby up.” You frantically nod, locking your limbs around him to trap him against you. “Yes!” you moan. “Do it! Cum with me, Nico, baby, please!”

You can feel his knot swelling up inside of you, begging to be released from its torture. “I love you,” he growls into your ear. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too!” you sob, the throws of your third orgasm taking over. “C-Cumming! Nic, I’m cumming!”

And finally, you do. Like a spray of champagne shooting out of a corked bottle, you explode all around Nico’s knot. The feeling is so intense that your fingers and toes cramp. You toss your head back and moan to the skies, letting the Gods above know of the ecstasy you feel. Nico frantically pistons into you, chasing his own orgasm until he finally cums with a low grunt that gradually grows louder.

He begins to roar, the sound muffled by your breast as he nuzzles his face into your chest. You gasp at the steady warm stream of cum that enters you, filling you to the brim. There is so much that it drips down your thighs, sticky and wet. You are now officially, unmistakably his.

Once your highs fade, Nico’s body relaxes against yours and his roars of pleasure die down to soft growls and grunts. Exhaustion soon takes over and he crashes to the floor with you still in his arms. Gently, after giving you a nimble squeeze of your tit, he gently pulls out of you and rolls onto his back beside you. You moan at the loss of his cock, your pussy feeling sore yet tingly.

Together, you lie on your bedroom floor side by side, panting, sweating, and absolutely drained. You’ve never felt this way before. You feel like you just ran a marathon! But the ache you feel is so delicious that you almost want to go again. “Oh, Nico,” you sigh, tired yet satisfied.

You turn to stare at your beast of a boyfriend only to find that your beast is now a human hunk again. “Oh, you’re back!” you joyfully exclaim. He wordlessly stares at you, his tan skin and toned body slick with sweat. His cock, no longer knotted, is soft and flaccid from his intense orgasm between his thick, muscular thighs. It’s still thick but much smaller compared to his werewolf size and a beautiful shade of tan.

Unable to keep yourself off of him, you snuggle up next to him, laying a hand on his toned stomach. “You feelin’ okay now?” You softly ask.

“Mmm,” he hums, looking absolutely energized now. He has a glint in his eye and he is almost glowing from the inside out. He tilts his chin down to kiss you, his lips soft and supple. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, giving him another chaste kiss. “It was my pleasure…seriously.” You both laugh at his, the tension in the air thick with sexual chemistry. Only the two of you will know of this night…and maybe the neighbors too. You yawn, feeling exhaustion grip you again. “Now, let’s—“

“Uh-uh,” he interrupts, a crooked smile on his face. He points down at his now-human cock that is now semi-hard.

“Again?!” you gasp, ogling at him. “What, are one of the symptoms of a full moon being increasingly horny too?!”

Nico smiles at you, playfulness in his eyes. “Don’t answer that,” you sigh, already hooking a leg around his waist. You press your tits up against his hard chest, feeling his dog tags against your heated skin. “Just fuck me again.”

And your boyfriend does just that. Again and again again, making you cum your brains out in every position you can think of. That night, you get exactly what you’ve been wanting for months now.

You don’t get much sleep until dawn, but you don’t complain. Not a bit.

THE END.

[mk-wizard]

Top 10 Reasons It's Better to DIY Baskets for ANY Occasion

1- You're gifting people stuff they actually LIKE. There's no gambling, no fear of food allergies, no awkwardness about getting something yucky and no disappointed children. Just the good stuff.

2- Most of it actually stuff you can eat (or use if you're including toys or non-edible goodies). Nobody likes getting a gift full of tissue paper, packing peanuts or straw. Not to mention it's a total waste.

3- Which brings me to my next point: they're more eco-friendly. If the basket consists of stuff you're actually using, nothing gets thrown away. In fact, the container itself can be made of something reusable like plastic or metal (it's what I do) or if it is paper, simply recycle it.

4- It's inexpensive. A bought pre-made basket can cost up to $100 and have all the flaws listed above. Meanwhile, if you DIY yours, it will probably cost you less than half that especially if you are putting in homemade cookies, cake or fun sized chocolates which people love better than fancy stuff anyway.

5- You're less likely to give away something broken. It is very embarrassing to give someone a gift basket and for it to be broken. When it comes DIY, you have control of how you package it, so you're more sure that everything is going to be intact.

6- It is more personal. A gift with thought behind it will put a bigger smile on someone's face than something generic. Sure, surprises are nice, but taking time to remember your friend's favourite treat is even better.

7- It is fun and a great way to bond. At least in my family, my son and I have fun putting together gift baskets and choosing what to give each family.

8- You don't need to go to fifty different places just to find a basket. When you make one yourself, you have at most two places to go to. Maybe three if you're also filling it with toys, crayons, soaps, etc.

9- You're not limited to what the contents can be. Not everyone likes chocolate or candy for that matter. I have a relative who doesn't, so I fill his basket with a variety pack of Doritos, pretzels and crackers. Heck, you can do variety pack of mustards, tea, coffee, alcohol bath soaps (my grandmother liked those because she wasn't a snacker) or other. There's no law stating it has to be sweets.

10- Deep down... NOBODY likes fancy chocolate. Sure the boxes are pretty and the chocolates look pretty, but how many of them are flavors we actually like? And if I had the choice between that or a Dairy Milk bar, I would choose option B. Even for Valentine's Day. If I want decoration, I'll get a lamp or a new frame for a picture.

[diegos-butt]

A trip to the grocery store

Summary: The fridge is empty, so a trip to the supermarket is inevitable. The only problem? Walter isn't in the mood to behave. 👀

Walter Marshall x Melody Williams (Curvy/Plus size OFC)

I didn't mention her name (he calls her doll y'all) so you could see this as a reader insert I guess!

Warnings: Walter being a cheeky bastard. Walter being a little touchy. Cute ass behaviour 🍑 (pun intented, you'll understand later)

Wordcount: 3k

A/N: Wooohooooo!!!! In celebration of reaching 🎉100 followers🎉, I’m posting this fic as a thank you! Thank you all!! 🥺

This is written for my babies from Electricity, but you can read it without having read that. I make a few references to the first chapter, but they’re explained so you’ll get in anyway. 😘

•••

“No, let’s just stay home!” Walter whined. “We can just order take out tonight!” He looked at me from the couch with puppy eyes.

“Walter, take a look at the fridge. That thing is empty, and you eat for like three people,” I said with my hand on my hip, in my other hand I waved with the car keys. It had been a busy week, and we both didn’t had time to run errands. “We need to go to the grocery store, and you know it.”

“I don’t eat that much,” he grumbled.

“Yes, you do. And again, you know it,” I shot back. “Now get that thick ass of the couch.”

Faster than the speed of light he stood up. Standing behind me he grabbed my hips. “Look who’s saying that,” he growled. I laughed and swayed my butt against my boyfriend.

“Not now Walter, first groceries,” I turned around and winked at him. Quickly I walked away and grabbed my phone from the dining table and shoved it in the pocket of my jeans. He sighed loudly behind me, but he gave in. I walked to the hallway and grabbed his shoes, which I threw at him.

“No need to be so violent doll, might get you in trouble,” he warned. He tied his shoelaces and grabbed his wallet from the dining table.

“Might be looking for some trouble detective.” I waited by the door, and after one final warning glance at Walter, he walked towards me. He stepped close, pressed his forehead against mine before he kissed me deeply. His hands wandered over my butt. With a gasp I broke the kiss, and pressed my hands against his chest, creating a little space between us.

“I really can’t convince you to just stay home uh?” he asked and tried to pull me closer again.

I shook my head and grabbed his hand while I opened the door and pulled him outside with me. “Damn right.”

“A woman on a mission, those are the dangerous ones,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

“What was that?” I looked at him while narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing doll,” he grinned. We walked towards the car. It was a soft, spring day, no need for a jacket or coat. Walter was wearing one of his characteristic grey sweaters, and I was wearing a blue deep vee blouse with high rise jeans.

I was about to open the driver’s side when Walter snatched the car keys out of my hands.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“I’m driving,” he simply stated. He placed his hand on the small of my back and escorted me to the passenger’s side. He opened the door and gestured me to get in. I huffed but did what he wanted. After he closed my door, and took his seat behind the driver’s wheel, I could see the smug grin on his face.

Soon after we had left the house, Walter parked the car in the parking lot of the grocery store. I opened the door and heard him groan next to me. Quickly, I stepped out and shut the door. He looked at me, his eyes begging me to let him stay in the car. While shaking my head, I walked around the car and opened his door.

“The quicker we do this, we quicker we are home again,” I told him.

“Do we even have a list? Do we even know what we need?” he said as he climbed out of the car. We walked towards the entrance and I grabbed a cart. Well, he walked a few steps behind me.

“Uh, no? We know what we need right?” I turned around and didn’t miss his eyes leaving my butt. He gave me a cheeky grin and came to stand beside me.

“Well, this is going to be fun.” He put an arm around my shoulder and ushered me inside. “Not having a list means I can put everything I want in the cart.” The grin on his face grew even wider.

“Good luck with throwing me in the cart. I’m all you want right?” I couldn’t hide the smile that formed on my face. “Now, come on. We’re just going to walk through all the aisles, alright?”

He sighed beside me, but I ignored it and made my way to the first aisle. While putting a few items we needed in the cart, we discussed what else we needed. I thought he finally came around, and he would stop whining. I was wrong. Oh boy, what was I wrong.

While I pushed the cart through the next aisle, he suddenly left my side and walked further into the aisle. I furrowed my eyebrows, but continued shopping. A few seconds later he came back with his hands behind him.

“Oh no, what did you get?” I asked and tried to give him a stern look.

“Nothing baby, absolutely nothing,” he responded. The look on his face told me something else. I turned around to grab something, and when I turned back, I noticed something that wasn’t in the cart before.

“Walt, what is this?” I said as I picked up the box he had obviously threw in when I couldn’t see it. “You’re going to make a cake? Since when do you bake? You cook, you don’t bake.” I cocked an eyebrow.

“I feel like eating cake. So why not make one!”

“Alright, fine, but no more unnecessary things okay?” I sighed in defeat. “What else do you need to make this?”

“See, that’s the best part. You only have to add water.” He came to stand behind me and put his hands on my hips. Slowly his hands started to wander lower.

“This cake is going to be disgusting, you know that right?” He pressed his body against mine and hummed. I was having a hard time to not give in to his body heat, and just stay there like that for a couple minutes. But I came back to my senses. I turned around and slapped him on his chest.

“Focus baby, we are not even halfway through the store. If you would just cooperate with me here, we could be home way quicker,” I said and pushed the cart away from him. He sighed behind me. Nevertheless, he followed me to the next aisle.

I stood in front of all kinds of soup, debating with myself which one I wanted, when I felt a large hand squeeze my ass.

“Walter!” I sissed.

“What’s wrong baby, it’s just us in this aisle,” he chuckled. I looked around and we were indeed the only two people in the aisle.

“How wonderful.” I rolled my eyes. “But get that hand off my ass sir. We are in public.”

However, he did not remove his hand. Instead, he came to stand in front of me, blocking my view from the cans of soup. His other hand grabbed my ass as well and he smirked at me. Slowly he leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on my left cheek. Then, he placed a kiss on my right cheek. His beard scraping my face.

“What is going on baby?” I chuckled and grabbed his face between my hands. He looked at me with his big blue puppy eyes and gave me a sweet kiss on my soft lips.

“I just want to go home and show you how much I like this big butt of yours.” He squeezed my ass another time and gave me a kiss.

“Well, if you would let me go, we could continue shopping. The quicker we finish shopping, the quicker you can show me that,” I said. I grabbed his hands and pulled them off my butt. “I have told you that before!”

He shook his head and groaned. Laughing, I started to walk away. Quickly, he followed me and slapped my bum before jogging off. Before he was out of the aisle, he looked over his shoulder and shot me a cheeky grin.

I continued colleting the necessary items, without Walter by my side. Where is he and what is he doing? The answer to that became clear when he came into my sight again, with his arms full of groceries. Smiling, he walked towards me and dumped all of it in the cart.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Since you wanted to hurry up, I went ahead and collected some items myself. You know, to speed this up,” he answered. I looked at the items he picked.

“You think we need a block of cheese that big?” I wondered while I looked at a giant block of cheese.

“I like cheese, you like cheese. We definitely need it,” he stated. “I also grabbed the things we need for dinner tonight and tomorrow, so I’m helping big time you right now.”

“You better be cooking as well,” I mumbled. “Alright, but do we need that much candy?” I held up at least 5 different packs. He simply shrugged his shoulders and freed them from my hands and put them back in the cart. He kissed my cheek and mumbled ‘yes we do’.

“Oh boy. Well, we do need the chocolate,” I said and pointed to the chocolate bars he picked. I wanted to move along when I felt his hand on my bum again.

“Why aren’t you wearing that cute skirt you bought the other day?” he asked and placed his head on my shoulder. I was thanking the gods that there weren’t many people doing groceries at that moment. It was just us, some employees and a few other customers.

“I thought you liked my butt in these jeans,” I pouted.

“Oh, I do, trust me, I do,” he said, and checked out my behind very obviously. “But the skirt has easy access.” The last part he whispered in my ear with a low, deep voice. A shiver went down my spine and I giggled.

“Walter, seriously, behave. I will have to leave your ass behind otherwise.”

“That would be a shame, considering how much you like my ass,” he smirked.

“You know what. You need to go do something. Why don’t you find those cookies Faye likes, we’re out of them,” I suggested. I had to give him something do to, otherwise he would just linger around me, making shopping a little harder. He groaned, but took his hand of my bum and walked away.

My eyes followed him; he did have an amazing ass. I shook my head and focussed on doing groceries again. I was almost done, just one more aisle. I made my way through the last one when Walter appeared again, with three boxes of cookies in his hands.

“Before you tell me we don’t need all of these, we do,” he began. He placed the boxes in the cart and held his hands up in the air.

“Please tell me why,” I sighed.

“First of all, these are Faye her favourite cookies.” He pointed at one of the boxes. “And these are mine.” He pointed at another box. “And these doll, are yours.” He pointed at the last box with a large smile on his face. He was right, those were indeed my favourite cookies.

“I don’t think we need three boxes, but I don’t feel like arguing with you now so it’s fine,” I said and placed my hand on his bicep. I felt the muscle flex a little, and I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Show off.”

“What? You like it that I’m strong right?” He was now obviously flexing his muscles. I laughed and removed my hand. He placed one of his hands on the small of my back instead, and it slowly travelled down.

“Oh, look. We are in the cereal aisle!” I exclaimed, suddenly realizing we stood at the place we first met. I remembered that moment. I was zoned out, when he suddenly reached around me to grab a box of cereal while I was doing the same. We bumped into each other, and when I looked into those blue eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

He smiled at me and placed a kiss on my lips. He tried to deepen the kiss when we heard a cough behind us. An older woman walked past us with a scolding look. We chuckled, and watched her leave the aisle, which was now empty.

I turned to look at the boxes of cereal and realized the one I wanted was placed at the top of the high shelf. There was only one box left, which was placed all the way to the back. I tried to reach it, even stood on my toes, but I couldn’t. I was surprised, normally I could reach anything.

Suddenly, Walter came to stand behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist. With his other arm, he grabbed the box of cereal and threw it in the cart. While he did that, he pressed his body flush against mine. Why and how is he so warm.

He didn’t step back, no, he brushed my hair to the side, creating access to my neck. Gently, he placed kisses up my neck and behind my ear. I had to contain myself to not moan out loud. His hand travelled down to my butt, again, and squeezed it.

“Not right now baby, come on.” Quickly, I turned around and pushed him away a little. He gave me the puppy eyes. “No, don’t make me feel bad! We are almost done! When we get home, you can give me all the kisses you want.” I pressed my lips to his.

“Fine, fine. What else do we need?” Walter ran his hands through his curls and sighed in defeat.

“Uhm, let me think,” I said and pushed the cart out of the aisle. “Oh, we need toilet paper!”

“We’re already out of that?” he wondered.

“Walter, you don’t only eat for three, you also-” I couldn’t finish my sentence because he interrupted me.

“Yeah, yeah. There is something called a little too much information doll.”

“Why don’t you go get that and meet me in the fruit section. Go be useful.” I said and gave him a sweet smile.

“Anything for you doll. And as I recall, I was pretty useful between those thick thighs of yours last night,” he snickered. I gasped and tried to come up with a witty comeback. Before I could he walked away, slapping my ass in the process.

“Hey!” I yelled as he laughingly walked away.

I made my way towards the fruit section and picked up a few apples. I placed them in a little plastic bag, so I wouldn’t drop them. I had learned from my mistakes in the past. Smiling I thought back at the day I met Walter. While we bumped into each other in the cereal aisle, I was carrying a few apples that I dropped.

“Try not to drop those doll,” Walter said as he showed up beside me again. He placed the toilet paper in the cart and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Dropping them in the first place made you fall for me.” I winked at him and laughed. “Maybe that’s my way of seducing men.”

“Men? Only one man you need to seduce honey and you’re already doing a pretty good job with that,” he whispered in my ear, and placed a sweet kiss behind it.

“Uh, that’s good to know. That means you’re attracted to me even though I live in your sweaters and baggy sweatpants,” I said and leaned back against him. He nuzzled his face in my neck. His beard tickled me, making me chuckle.

“How could I not be attracted to you? Look at you doll,” he growled. His hand wandered lower and squeezed my butt.

“Oh my God, can’t you just wait until we’re home?” I pleaded. “We only need some more fruit, and then we can go home.”

He laughed, slapped my ass, and walked over to grab two melons. “I know two other melons I prefer,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

I covered my eyes with my hand. “Mine are not nearly that big.” I tried not to smile but failed horribly. He placed the melons in the cart, winked at me, and pushed the cart towards the cash registers.

While we paid for the groceries, Walter couldn’t stop touching me, he kept smacking my bum. Finally, we reached the car and loaded the groceries in the trunk.

“I’m going to take a nap when we’re home. You are being very exhausting today,” I said as Walter closed the trunk.

“In that case, I’m going to take that nap with you. You are being very exhausting yourself as well. Dragging me all the way here to do groceries while we could have ordered take out. You’re evil,” he teased. He fished the car keys out of the pocket of his jeans and stepped closer to me to press a kiss to my cheek. I saw my opportunity and grabbed the keys from his hand. Quickly, I opened the door on the driver’s side, and crawled behind the wheel.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. Before I could close the door, he stood next to me. One hand on top of the roof, and one hand on top of the door. He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m driving.”

“No, you are not driving. In fact, I’m driving. We both know I’m the better driver between us,” I teased and smiled at him.

“Yeah right,” he muttered, but he closed the car door and walked around it to take place on the passengers’ seat.

“I know you like it when I drive, so don’t pretend you don’t like this baby,” I said as I drove off. I looked to my right, and saw he was fighting the smile that formed on his face.

“If we are really going to take a nap, can I use your butt as my pillow?” he asked with a mischievous grin. He placed his hand on my thigh, and I interlaced my fingers with his.

“Fine, but I’ll get to be the little spoon tonight.”

•••

Taglist: @keanureevesisbae / @klaine-92 / @xxxkatxo / @stxlemate / @oddsnendsfanfics / @amberangel112 / @seriouslygoodlookinggents / @sillyrabbit81 / @pixie88 / @cynic-spirit / @rn7rocks / @daddys-littlewhitegirl / @little-brattyangel / @omgkatinka / @myloveforhenrycavill / @eldarwen333 / @kebabgirl67

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[smediumsmeatbae]

You Only Hear What You Want

PAIRING: Ransom Drysdale × Reader SUMMARY: Ransom is at a party with his girlfriend and spots you.  WARNINGS: Ransom trying to get into your pants, flirting, Ransom’s cheating ass, swearing, drinking, a bit of angst WORDS: 1430 A/N:  This (not) drunk drabble is from @the-ce-horniest-book-club with the prompt: “No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.” To be fair, I was a bit drunk when I asked for the prompt list so hopefully that counts? This is my first fic writing for our favorite bad boy in a sweater and I have to say I loved writing him! His POV was so much fun.  You do not have my permission to post this anywhere else. As always, likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated

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The scotch that Ransom sipped from the glass didn't seem to be enough to keep his mind occupied. He was at a work party his grandfather was hosting for his newest book. Harlan had insisted that Ransom come, so he could mingle with publishing insiders and try to make some contacts. Harlan was forever trying to get Ransom to “make something of his life”, but as far as Ransom was concerned, he was. He did what he wanted, he fucked who he wanted, he had all the best clothes, cars, and houses. Why would he want to work when he already had everything he needed? That’s what Harlan didn't get about Ransom. He liked to claim that he knew his grandson so well, that Ransom reminded him so much of himself when he was Ransom’s age. If that were true, then he would stop trying to make him go to these asinine parties and just let him be.   

He declined the invitation, initially. Ransome told Harlan that he would rather be dead than go to one of his awful parties. But then both Harlan and his mother threatened to cut him off for good and while death seemed like a good alternative to the party, he could never stand to be poor. So with a fake as hell smile plastered to his face, he changed his mind and said he would love to go to the party, on the condition that he was allowed to bring his newest girlfriend. 

Candy’s (or was it Cindy?) laughter pulled him back to the boring conversation they were having at this equally boring party. She was some young, blonde, undergrad, sorority thing he had picked up at a bar about a month or so ago and just kind of stuck around. She was nice enough, he guessed, and she was good in bed. But she was vapid and her laugh was like razor blades to his brain. He sighed out a huff as his free hand lingered on the small of her back. He wasn't paying attention to a word but at least she felt good against him, for the moment at least. 

His eyes started to scan the room, looking for something, anything, to distract him from the soul crushing conversation he was having to endure. He was about to give up, take the girl and get the hell out of there. After all he had spent enough time mingling and the scotch wasn't doing shit anymore. He stopped, however,  when he spotted you. 

Ransom had never seen you at one of these tedious events before, that alone caught his attention. Usually the same exact people always came to these things. But you, you were fresh, you were new. Maybe... maybe you hadn’t yet heard about him and his proclivity to “pump and dump” women, as he had been so crudely described. (Not that it wasn't true, but whatever.) He looked you over and he couldn't help but salivate just a bit; you were slightly curvy with long legs that seemed to go on forever. This was accentuated by the coral colored dress that had a slit that went halfway up your thigh. You had ample perky breasts he could see himself motor boating. Your chocolate colored eyes seemed to hold some kind of secret as you chatted casually with people and your sun kissed skin looked delicious enough for him to eat.  

Without a word, Ransom left Cindy (maybe Susan?) with her current conversation, giggling like an idiot. She called out to Ransom and asked him for another cran-vodka, which he decided to ignore. If luck was with him that night, he wasn't leaving with her anyway.  He stalked toward you, silently maneuvering through the crowd. For how broad he was, he always took pride with how well he moved. He wasn't bumbling around like other guys his size. It took only mere seconds for him to be beside you and immediately he had his arm around your waist, his mouth close to your ear. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Ransom’s voice low.

****

Your body froze as you felt a foreign arm surround you, interrupting your conversation with a coworker. You had just started at Blood Like Wine two months ago as a copy editor and this was the first event that you had been invited to by your boss so you could get to know the upper management in a more relaxed setting. It was something you had been looking forward to, until some creep muttered in your ear about a drink. 

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” You replied curtly, swirling your almost full wine glass at him to signal so.  “C’mon, babe. Lemme get you something better than that house wine. Trust me, it’s not that good.”  “Look…” You started, not really feeling like being chatted up. 

Looking up at his crystal blue eyes, your sentence stopped. You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach as you took a good look at him. He was gorgeous. Tall and muscular, with a small waist, and built chest and arms. You could tell he loved working out his upper half. He smiled at you cooly, eyes twinkling back with a seductive charm you felt like he had used on many women before you and after you. You were smitten, you had to admit, and you couldn't place exactly where you knew him from but he looked oddly familiar. 

You had no idea how, but Ransom, as he had introduced himself, had led you to a more secluded area of the party, chatting and shamelessly flirting with you. He was standing dangerously close to you, hands squeezing and releasing your hip. His other arm above you, tall body towering over your frame. He was talking to you about different countries he visited, art that he loved, music he was obsessed with. In turn, you told him about how you had come to be at the publishing company, how lilies were your favorite flower, and how you wanted to travel the world one day. 

"Maybe I'll take you with me next time; be your own personal tour guide." He smirked that confident smile again as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

It was so easy to talk to him. He made it that way with his easy laugh, his cologne that smelled like cedar mixed with musk, and his perfect lips. They were like pillows, pillows that you could see yourself kissing. You leaned towards Ransom. Reading you, he moved towards you as well, cupping your cheek. Your hand found purchase wrapped around his forearm. He was so close, you could smell the scotch on his breath. Your heart was slamming through your chest.

"Ransom!" You heard someone call out. 

You could feel Ransom's body tense up as he pulled away from you. 

“Ho-oooooney, where have you been?” A blond haired young woman with a baby pink dress suction cupped herself to Ransom, pulling on his neck and nuzzling herself into him. “You left me an hour ago to get drinks and you never came back.” “I’ve been right here, Princess.”  He smiled down at her.  “Can we go? I have class in the morning.” “Sure thing, just give me one minute. Go up to the front and I’ll meet you there.” He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and watched her leave before he turned back to you. “Sorry about that.” He muttered. “Think you can wait about 30 minutes while I drive her home? She lives just down the street at the college.”  “I don't think I can, Ransom.” You shook your head, collecting yourself. “You have a girlfriend. That’s not something I’m into.” “Oh… her? She’s not really my girlfriend. She’s more of a friend with benefits type of situation.” “She doesn’t seem to think so.” You crossed your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. “C’mon don’t be like that, baby.” Ransom cooed as he leaned back towards you. “I really like you and would like to get to know you better, if you’d just let me.”   “I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.” You told him flatly, trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. 

You didn’t care about his rebuttal, and didn’t want to stick around to hear more of his lies. You handed him your drink and brushed past him, walking out of the party and into the cool night air. You had enough mingling for the night. 

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TAGS: 

@angrythingstarlight

@cheeseburgersstuff

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Halloween prompt: Alfred is getting increasingly annoyed at whoever is eating the halloween candy. No one will confess. (Bruce is sitting in a corner somewhere with a bag of... [insert Batfamily appropriate candy here])

Three Musketeers

Rating: G 1,844 words Gen AO3

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Except when it came to Halloween.

The residents of Bristol were more than happy to hold their trick-or-treat night during the same time as the rest of Gotham. Mostly, because it discouraged the city’s poorer residents from coming out to ask for literal handouts from them. The time it would take to sit in train stations and bus stops to get there ate up a large chunk of trick-or-treat’s two-hour window. And the walk from the last stop and between the houses took up the rest.

Despite all this, many made the trek out to Wayne Manor and its residents always made it well worth the work.

It was known that the Manor didn’t simply give out full-sized candy bars, no, they gave a whole bag of king’s sized bars. And from the entrance way to the ballroom off to the side were decked out and fitted to be a haunted house with games and entertainment and even more snacks. There was no reason to go anywhere else when you went to Wayne Manor.

Except, this year the seemingly endless supply of candy was mysteriously missing in the week leading up to the big night. Which was ironic considering the Manor was populated by detectives.

Alfred was suspicious. And annoyed. But mostly suspicious. He had raised the world’s greatest detective and then helped raise the current world’s greatest detective. In addition to the other seven vigilantes he’d actively cared for over the years. And countless others who hadn’t lived under his roof. Which meant that he was extremely hard to pull something over on. Extremely.

Yet, his stockpile of trick-or-treat candy was gone. Completely. And his list of suspects was long and skilled.

First, was Barbara because he loved the young woman dearly but she was a bit of a chocolate fiend. Also, if he could rule her out then he could enlist her assistance. It was easy enough to make her coffee just the way she liked and message her to come to the kitchen when she was working in the Cave one evening. She was happy enough to come up, thinking it was just for a chat but knowing something was up when Alfred passed her the mug.

They studied each other from across the long wooden table that took up the far side of the kitchen. Alfred sipped his tea from the good china that after the last family debacle was his alone to use. Barbara narrowed her eyes as her glasses slipped down her nose. They were playing a high stakes game of chicken and they both knew it.

Barbara broke first. “Is there something you wanted to talk about, Alfred?” she asked sweetly, setting her coffee down and pushing her glasses back up in the same movement.

“Now that you mention it, yes. I was wondering if you happened to know where my trick-or-treat supply is disappearing to?” Alfred’s lips turned up in kindness, but his eyes were hard and steady as he held her gaze.

An adult, a seasoned crimefighter, an honest to god superhero and yet Barbara wanted to wriggle in her chair, knot her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt, under that look. Pure willpower was the only thing that stopped her. Though it didn’t extend to her mouth. “No, I’ve been out of town most of the week.”

This was true, Alfred knew, but not necessarily an airtight alibi.

“Besides,” Barbara continued, “I have a Costco card. The Birds and I split it. If I wanted to eat a whole bag of candy, I’d just buy my own.”

Alfred nodded, lifting his tea to take another sip. He accepted that answer, she knew better than to lie to him. “In that case, might I enlist your skills to uncover the real culprit?”

This was what Alfred had truly wanted to ask, they both knew, and Barbara smiled in delight at the prospect. “I’d love to.”

The next suspect was Tim. He knew exactly how to cover his tracks and misdirect their attention. Tim was sly, smart, and still technically a teenaged boy so sugar was irresistible. Barbara set the trap, crashing the Batcomputer one afternoon when everyone else was out. This forced Tim up, out of the Cave and to Alfred lying in wait in the kitchen.

Tim had climbed up onto a kitchen chair to get at the stash of poptarts on the top shelf of the cabinet above the stove. Proving that he had means, motive, and a record.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred drawled as he stepped out of the shadows. Bruce had to learn the skill from somewhere.

Startling, Tim whirled around and nearly fell from the chair. Dropping the silver packet in the process. It landed on the tile with a crunch. “Look I need the brain power to get the computer back up,” he said hastily, glancing guiltily between Alfred and the fallen junk food.

“I am not here to reprimand you about the poptarts,” Alfred said and Tim immediately relaxed, shooting him a relieved little grin. “But I may have to reprimand you for sneaking something else,” Alfred continued, causing Tim’s face to fall.

“I swear, I only had the one Monster the other week. And I split it with Kon ‘cause we were trying to keep Bart from drinking it. Me and him on an energy drink bouncing round the Tower is way better than a speedster on an energy drink.” Tim’s eyes were wide and the blood that had drained from his face made the boy almost impossibly paler.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow at the confession. Not what he was looking for but good to know all the same. “And what of the candy for trick-or-treat?”

Tim’s brows drew together in confusion. “Uh, I don’t know? I suggested we get milkyways but if you got snickers again then I’m not going to complain.”

“So, you did not eat the supply?” Alfred confirmed, though the fact that Tim was already feeling guilty and hesitant to lie on top of the fact that he had no idea Alfred had purchased boxes of three musketeers cleared him of the crime.

“No?” Tim shook his head as he shrugged.

Satisfied, Alfred nodded. “Enjoy your poptarts, Master Timothy. I shall be moving them shortly.”

“It wasn’t Jason,” Barbara said over the phone. “I have a couple different angles of him being in Paraguay all last week.”

“I never suspected him to begin with,” Alfred admitted as he pushed the shopping cart, restocking for the big night tomorrow. “He never liked three musketeers. Dark chocolate kit-kats are a separate story.” He smiled at the memory of a young Jason carrying a huge box of the candy bars to drop in the cart during his first Halloween with them.

“Cass and Dick are out too,” she continued. “Cass laughed at me when I even suggested it and then confirmed Dick was telling the truth when I questioned him.”

Alfred hummed. Richard had been his next guess, though he was more likely to take them to hand out while on patrol or pass on to his friends’ children than to eat himself. “Master Damian is innocent as well. He scoffed at the implication he would, quote, ‘stoop so low as to steal candy from children.’ He also vouched for Master Duke and neither were anywhere near the spare pantry recently to begin with.”

“Security cameras confirm that.”

“That leaves Miss Stephanie,” Alfred frowned. Stephanie tended to decline any offers of assistance from the Manor’s residents that weren’t directly related to masked vigilantism. Though she recently had allowed Alfred to slip her gas money when she visited during daylight hours. The thought of her taking the Halloween candy just did not sit right with him. It was almost as impossible to imagine as Damian taking it. Cassandra was more likely to be playing a trick on them all, having hidden it for some soon to be revealed reason. “Are you positive Miss Cassandra is not the culprit?”

Barbara chuckled. “I mean, not really. But at the same time why would she? Though why would Steph either? I don’t think it was either of them but I can vouch for Steph. She hasn’t been anywhere near the Cave or the Manor since last month. What with school she’s been staying close.”

“Which leaves us back to the beginning,” Alfred sighed and got in line. “We could create a sting operation though I’d loathe to lose this supply as well. There’s nearly no candy left in the entire state.”

“That I believe. Alright, I’ve got the feed from the events kitchen running on one of my screens. I’ll keep an eye on it for the rest of the night, see if anyone stupid enough to try it again.”

“Thank you, Miss Barbara. I really appreciate your assistance in this matter,” Alfred told her before exchanging their goodbyes. He had plans for a little stakeout of his own.

Placing the boxes in the spare pantry, Alfred settled himself on a stool next to the industrial fridge in the dark. He typed out a careful message in the family’s groupchat informing them all that the missing candy had been replaced and politely asking that it not disappear again before the next night. They would all be getting ready to go out for the night so there is no doubt they would see it. And he would have plenty of time to wait for them to strike.

Hours later, the family was returning and Alfred was still lying in wait. A creak echoed in from the ballroom where decorations were mostly in place. The light padding of rubber soles on the marble tile came closer and closer. Alfred leant further back into the shadows as the door swung open. He held his breath, waiting as the guilty party walked into the kitchen proper, headed directly towards the pantry. Alfred slipped from his hiding spot, keeping low as he crept around the island to come up behind the culprit.

Alfred contained his gasp of shock and annoyance as he flipped on the light. Forcing the candy thief to whirl on him. “Master Bruce!” Alfred scolded. He hadn’t thought his first charge would do such a thing and hadn’t even considered him as a suspect.

Having the good sense to look ashamed and like a ten-year-old boy again, Bruce offered a wavering grin in apology. “You bought three musketeers,” he said as his only defense.

Alfred frowned as he crossed his arms. “And your penance will be handing them out tomorrow night.”

[detective-keen]

A wonderful Christmas time / Chloe and Agatha

Where : Christmas marker When : Christmas week Who : @chloeinbetween & @detective-keen

Summary : Agatha drags Chloe out to get some fresh air and rediscover the warmth of Christmas time.

TW: chronic illness, domestic abuse mention, emotional abuse mention, lydiaplot cw

The sky cleared shortly after lunch, and when Chloe suggested a trip to the  Christmas market, Agatha immediately agreed. Did she feel guilty for not being able to help her more? Nothing was more uncertain. Agatha reassured herself by telling herself that she was helping her by offering her a place to stay while she could settle in a place all to herself, but she could see that the young woman was not doing well. And she wondered how it was possible that Lydia could have orchestrated such horrors for so long, without ever having been arrested. Agatha told herself that it was impossible that no one suspected her. She wasn't really like other humans, that infamous woman, that monster hiding behind her picturesque beauty, but she must have been spotted at one point or another. Her crimes had started a long time ago. Agatha found it hard to conceptualize all of this, but she firmly believed that the oldest ID cards they had found were those of the baleful fae's oldest victims. So many lives destroyed couldn’t possibly leave anyone undisturbed…

The lights at the Christmas market weren't bright enough to bring joy back to the young woman's heart, while her mind remained troubled by the whole ordeal. She often thought about it. Although Agatha shared the case with others, she was determined to find Lydia, and put her behind bars, the murderous bitch. That was all she deserved: to have all power taken away from her, and to rot, to turn dull, and to die out. To suffer as she had made all these people suffer. This was an adequate punishment.

A mulled wine stand brought her back years, and pulled her out of her thoughts. As a child, she remembered that her father and mother made that. The scent of spices then perfumed the whole house, announcing the arrival of Christmas dinner, the gifts, of her cousins, and Christmas movies while the grown-ups conversed about subjects that did not interest her.

Agatha approached it. Her cheeks rose from the cold, she turned to Chloe and smiled at her before asking if she wanted some. "It was kind of a tradition in my family," she explained, as she pulled out her wallet to pay the seller.

 Chloe had bought herself a new coat, new woolen sweater, new hat and gloves, all so that in the hours she had energy to, she could enjoy being outside. Even the most wretched places could be made to look magical with the right collection of LEDs and pretty market stalls. In the early afternoon, the sun was already low, and the air was refreshingly biting against her skin. Since she’d moved her things over to Agatha’s, she’d seen Agatha’s concerned looks on more than one occasion. A dozen pills for a dozen different ailments, all brought on by her last four years. Not that the doctors saw it like that. Not that Chloe really cared what the doctors thought was the cause for everything. She just wanted to manage it, day by day, so that she could do things like this. Walk around the christmas market with Agatha, drinking in all the sights and smells. Cinnamon and cloves and hand made candles in every shape and size. She followed Agatha with almost a childlike wonder at all the lights, not even realising where they’d stopped until she looked around. “Yeah, yeah I would. This and… and peppermint bark was always something I picked up around christmas time.”

Agatha handed the paper cup to Chloe. She was delighted to see that there was an ingenuous and awe-inspiring glow in the other woman's gaze, as she was surrounded by equally heartwarming lights, sounds and smells. If Chloe felt like a lump of coal on the verge of going out most of the time, and though she was far from a fanned flame now, there was a light in her and that was already a lot. 

Agatha couldn't help but worry. She knew full well that Chloe was not out of the woods, that leaving Lydia had cost her dearly, and that no one could guess what would happen next. So it was foolish to get attached to this young woman in any way - Agatha had never been one to depend on others and was not too worried about that- and yet that was what she did when spending time with Chloe. Maybe she would regret it, but for the moment it seemed more important to help her rebuild. She owed her that much, she who still felt so guilty for shooting her colleague, for having seen Todd die without being able to intervene, for not understanding, for not being able to really help as she wanted.

"Peppermint bark?" Agatha couldn't recall the last time she had eaten that. It had never really been a thing that they had done with her parents, but she could understand how important those things were. The market was a bit crowded, and she had to squeeze through passersby to access the stall. They sold all kinds of things here. If her eyes were caught by the sight of waffles the size of her head, she searched for the sought after bark instead. "Ah, there we go," Turning her back to the tempting waffles, Agatha, wide-eyed, couldn't escape what she had in front of her. A stall as ostentatious as it was in bad taste faced her. In the middle of a decor entirely done in black and white, people in black leotards, their faces painted white, squirmed silently around a large box covered with stripes. Although she didn't yet believe that mimes were innately evil creatures, she still felt deeply uncomfortable when confronted with their weirdness. “We should get away from here,” she turned to check on Chloe, and once again her eyes were caught by the food. Food certainly was a good way to make her forget about the cursed sights of this town. “I’ve never heard of that,” narrowing her eyes at a label, she read out “Hops in the stomach ?” The little gums, shaped like rabbits, looked quite adorable, but she simply couldn’t believe that tagline. Still she was intrigued. “Well now I have to try that. Do you want to pick a mix with me Chloe?” She offered, hoping that she wouldn’t end up eating these on her own.

Chloe chuckled at the way Agatha’s eyes clung to the waffles greedily, and when Chloe inhaled the smell of warm caramelised sugar was incredibly tantalising. “You can have some, you know, I don’t mind waiting!” Chloe said softly, her protest mild. it felt wrong, trying to give people permission to do things, which made it all the more important to do, right? But as Agatha turned, Chloe froze as well, staring at the black and white theme. It was one thing to awkwardly dodge a security guard, another to see a stall covered in stripes. The mimes…. signed at her silently and without malice, but she still shivered and shuffled past them awkwardly. For a second, Chloe lost sight of Agatha in the crowd and began to panic, before realising that she was in front of a different stall. Candies of every stripe and flavour were lined up in cotton bags, offered up for them to build their own pick and mix bag from. Chloe touched Agatha’s arm for a split second just to reassure herself that she was real and there, before smiling nervously and nodding. “Yeah, sure.” The cashier offered them a paper bag, and Chloe started with a small scoop of ‘Fizzing fireworks,” that looked like little liquorice beans. “Your turn to choose the next ones?”

Agatha pursed her lips to the side, as if she doubted her ability to gobble up one of those waffles whole. If she couldn't finish it, she could always give a piece to her new friend. Finally deciding to order one, she walked away to get some napkins at the other end of the stall and lost sight of Chloe for a moment. The latter approaching her, she gave him a beaming smile, before trying to wipe away the sugar from the corners of her lips. “Let’s see…” she glanced at the paper bag, watching the liquorice bean cover the rabbits. “Mmmh, what about… Coco bombs.” The white chocolate balls were covered in coconut flakes, looking like they begged to end up in her stomach. “Would you like a piece of my waffle?” She wanted to save space for the candy now, and knew that the waffle would take too much room if she were to finish it alone. Giving Chloe a puppy eyed look, she tore a piece of waffle off, handing it to her : “Come on, it’s great. You won’t regret it,” she assured her.

“Oh, uh, just a small piece,” Chloe agreed, her eyes widening as Agatha dropped a chunk in her hand before she’d even finished her sentence. She took a small bite, and smiled gratefully. Even if she wanted to there was a lump in her throat that held back the word thank you. As the sugar of the waffle dissolved in Chloe‘s mouth, she remembered that she was not used to this kind of sweetness, neither the kind from the waffle nor the kind from Agatha. Between the two of them, they quickly selected a few more flavours for their bag of sweets before putting it on the weighing scale. Chloe tapped her card against the reader – contactless was also something that she was still getting used to – and picked up the bag offering the first one to Agatha. “My treat,” she said, before looking around. “Let’s get away from the mimes first, actually.”

Agatha deadpanned. "I'm nothing but generous," she was not usually one to share her food with others, but she told herself that Chloe had been deprived for too long of the greatness of waffles, and that anyway, she needed room for the candy they were picking out. And if it could let Chloe see that there were kind people still populating the Earth then all the better. She licked her lips and wiped her mouth clean all at once, which now that she had done it, didn't seem like the brightest thing she had ever done. Her eyebrows raised, she looked at Chloe as she rubbed her hand against her slacks. "Don't. I'm clearly not as smart as I claim to be," with a giggle, she looked back at her waffle and sighed. Thank God she did not believe in things being too pretty to be eaten. What kind of nonsense was that?

"You know what, excellent idea," she didn't protest about Chloe paying for the sweets, although she had that thankful look in her eyes as she looked at her. "I gotta say, I don't feel comfortable around them either. They are just so weird, you know?" She shook her head, mimicking a shiver. "You should see their bar and restaurant. Awful. I mean the food's alright, but... Well let's just say I'll never bring you to those," some people claimed that mimes were evil. While Agatha rolled her eyes at that, she understood why someone might think so. There was an uncanny, unsettling vibe that seemed to envelop these artists. Taking a piece of candy from the bag, she put it in her mouth and while she was pleased with the taste, she felt as if there was something tickling her throat and she couldn't repress laughter as she put her hand to her neck. "No, no. I hate being tickled," she cried.

“Oh! Someone gave me a map of all the mime related places to avoid. I was almost…. well, I was attacked by one a while back, so, they’re high on my radar to avoid,” Chloe whispered, looking furtively at the mimes to see if they were listening. One mimed a smile at her, and she quickly jerked back to look at Agatha. “I’m shocked to learn that the food is enjoyable at all. Their meal delivery service leaves… a lot to be desired.” Once they were out of sight of the mimes, Chloe was more than comfortable to pluck a treat out of the bag for herself/. Chloe bit down on the candy as she turned back to Agatha in bemusion. “I’m… not tickling you?” Chloe replied, staring at Agatha in growing concern as the woman jerked and flinched while laughing unrelentingly. “Are... you okay?” The candy in her mouth began to pop and fizz like pop rocks on steroids, and when she opened her mouth little sparks like fireworks popped out. Chloe’s eyes widened with alarm, although the sweet sour flavour was in fact… surprisingly enjoyable.

“That’s a thoughtful thing to do,” she might have not been scared by those mimes, they were unsettling to her, and the only reason she had pushed the door to their restaurant was for the food. Her mother had made her promise not to take her there ever again, which while it seemed a bit much, also did not feel too weird to her. The music being played on loop alone could have justified this permanent decision. “It’s not the best food in town, but there’s something about it, I couldn’t be able to tell what it is, that makes you want to get more.” It was only her promise to her mother that had kept her from going back. Then, after a while, this need to go back had faded naturally. Of course Agatha could not suspect that it had to do with a very special ingredient. 

“I had no idea they did meal deliveries, although if you say that it’s atrocious, I think I’ll save myself from this pain.” She remembered that the former sergeant used to eat food from such services. She wondered if he had been a customer of this one too. 

The mimes now at a distance, she could tell that Chloe was a little bit more relaxed, to the point of giving her tickles. I’m… not tickling you? She was not. Her eyes a bit wider, she looked at Chloe with worry as she saw light, bursts of light, almost like tiny fireworks escaping her mouth. Still, the detective wiggled her torso, holding her arm to protect herself from tickles, only for those to start somewhere else. It was when she felt it reach her feet (and then promptly fade away) that she was left with this odd feeling : what did I just eat? The candy was really good, but that kind of effect was not one she ever had experienced with food. Carefully, she picked another. It must have been the one Chloe had just eaten, because along with the fizziness, came the same outburst of light: sparks shooted out of her mouth, but it was the flavour of the candy that satisfied her the most. She couldn’t recall trying any that had been so intense with their taste. “Those are so good?!” 

“I don’t know if it’s from the actual restaurant, because Lydia actually kinda liked the restaurant, but the food is so bad,” Chloe replied almost thoughtlessly, before freezing. People always got weird when she mentioned Lydia, because for them it was such a nightmare while for Chloe it… had been a nightmare, but it had also been her reality. Talking about Lydia was habit… just not for anyone else. She had no idea how Agatha would respond, if at all, but she was relieved for the distraction. 

Chloe was not convinced good was the word she’d describe the flavour she was experiencing. It was as if her tongue was completely incapable of tasting anything else ever, she’d hit maximum flavour capacity. How did they even do that?/ Had candy making technologies really improve that much in just four years? As quickly as it had been there, it melted away into her mouth, not even leaving a trace. Intrigued, Chloe plucked  another out of the bag. She balked. In her hand was a small black and white striped hard candy, even though neither of them had selected them. Making an executive decision, Chloe chucked the mime candy on the ground and stamped on it. The hard candy cracked under her heel silently, and when she checked underneath her shoe, it was gone. “I hate that,” chloe said softly, before plopping another candy in her mouth. “Oh, oh, this one is a little like a jawbreaker? It keeps, oh, this is good, each layer is changing flavour.” Apple, cherry, cola, strawberry, mint, it was changing very fast but the effect was never too jarring.

The name of Lydia should have brought an eyebrow raise from Agatha. Instead, she glanced at Chloe, wondering if she should have said something. The woman chose to remain quiet. Chloe must have spoken about what had happened with Lydia hundreds of times already, to her, to other detectives, to psychiatrists and more, each time reliving it over again. It was only cruel to ask if she wanted to talk about it every time Lydia’s name would be mentioned. Someone eager to get details might pretend to “care”, but caring was allowing Chloe to talk about it when she wanted to, listening and being there for her. 

A change in the conversation came, naturally, unexpectedly, in the shape of a striped round hard candy. She watched as the other woman crushed it under her shoe, expecting a satisfying sight, but there was no trace left of it. “Holy fucking Mary, what in the goddamn,” it seemed Chloe was not so impressed, but rather blasée. It must have seemed weak compared to what she had been through, Agatha figured. “Hate is the word,” she agreed. She picked through the bag to check whether some other black and white horrors had found their way in it. “I wonder how those ended up here. The shop owner didn’t seem like one of them,” there she was, speaking like those she once considered agents of chaos ; people that she once put in the same box as flat earthers or evolution theory deniers : the mime haters. She did not want to be so prejudiced against them, but they did not do much to help their case. “Really? Isn’t it a bit too much?” She wondered how they had achieved that without it all feeling like a tasteless mixture. “I’m sorry about the mimes. But hey, those weirdos aside, how do you like the market so far? Pretty nice, huh? It’s not Germany, but I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

“I’m definitely just pretending that didn’t exist,” Chloe said weakly about the mime candy, with a false smile that didn’t quite match her jitters. “Seriously, seriously don’t eat any striped food.” She walked them along the stalls as Agatha checked for more dangerous treats, chewing on the red wine flavoured sweet in her mouth. “It is a bit much,” Chloe chuckled, but finished the treat all the same, gulping it down when it tasted like cinnamon and apple crumble. “No! I’m enjoying it. Really. Thanks for… hauling me out here. I know I took some convincing.” Because of the fae she was sure she’d encounter between the fairy lights. It was good to be reminded that sweetness lingered in this town too. “Let’s go experience the rest of it?” Chloe suggested quietly. It had been so long since she’d been allowed to want. She would cherish every christmas-light moment of it.

[astralsweetness]

Gravity (Jinho/Reader/Hyunggu)(m)

➣ I have never once thought about this duo outside of duets before this damn song - which I had to translate by hand because I couldn’t find any English lyrics for it. >_> thank you @re-sugance and @forevertrashforbae for letting me show off my translation afterwards like a proud kid lmao

➣ Reader is domme. I accept nothing less. | Warnings include: mentions of drinking, multiple descriptions of various sexual encounters, humiliation, handjob, blowjob, cockwarming, choking (slight), noona kink (kind of, it’s more of a title in general and less sexual), pain kink, mentions of spanking, multiple orgasms, edging, overstimulation, pegging, referenced size kink, exhibitionism (slight), biting, jfc it’s a lot but it’s all consensual | This is basically just a collection of different little scenes in the life of a Jinho/Reader/Hyunggu relationship 👀 If there’s typos I’ll just throw myself off a cliff because I can’t be bothered to proof-read, yikes

➣ “You’re making me nervous, kiss me slowly. You teach me love.”

You notice two minutes into the night that they are orbiting around you like planets, never straying too far nor too close. The bartender gives you a sympathetic smile but says nothing – no doubt he thinks you’re being hounded by two boys trying to win your heart.

The assumption wasn’t too far off, to be honest, but they’d already acquired your affections long ago.

The weight of the wine on your tongue was only mildly unpleasant – it was too sweet for your liking, but you felt their gazes on you every time you tilted your head back to swallow it, so you kept drinking. You noticed that while both of them were matching you drink for drink only Hyunggu was becoming more competitive – Jinho seemed more than willing to take a passive, backseat role to any flirtation. You didn’t necessarily blame him, either. Hyunggu got fiercely competitive when he got a few drinks in him (and it wasn’t like you were going to give one of them more attention than the other anyway).

“Noona.” Age had long ago lost its meaning to the three of you – noona was a title of honor, of power, one only occasionally used. Hyunggu slid into the seat next to you, finally taking the plunge to enter your orbit. He bites his lip in a way he knows makes him look sexy, looks at you through his lashes in an attempt to be seductive and demure. His body language aside from that is too open though, too cocky and commanding, so you don’t reward him with your full attention, keeping your gaze ahead.

“Yes, Hyunggu?”

You can see his pout from your peripheral and you hide your little smile behind another sip of red liquid. He was absolutely adorable sometimes, and oh so easy to play.

“You’re being mean.” He’s instantly sulking, and you just laugh softly at him, toying with the rim of your wine glass. “And you’re laughing at me -”

“Lots of people laugh at you.” Jinho has suddenly decided to appear – he looks somehow more at ease with a drink in his hand than he should, and suddenly Hyunggu is focused on him instead, like he hadn’t noticed what Jinho had looked like all night because he’d been so focused on you.

It’s endearing, you think, to watch the way his eyes gloss over as he takes in his hyung’s visage – you wonder if that’s how you look when you stare at either of them.

Hyunggu, always more proactive than either of you, takes the initiative and leans forward – you’re not sure if he actually says anything to Jinho or just breathes against his ear, but the elder stiffens and his gaze drifts, suddenly unsteady. His fingers stay curled around the stem of his glass until you gently pry them away, and then he stuffs them into his pocket where you can’t see if they’re clenched tight or trembling.

“He’s so easy to get riled up.” Hyunggu says this to you like it’s a secret he’s sharing, and you grin and nod at him, happy to pretend like you’re both conspiring together. Jinho just swallows hard and watches you both, the tables turned on him so suddenly that he’s not sure what to do except stand beside the two of you who were still sitting at the bar.

“We should take him home.” Your words could mean so many things, but to Hyunggu it’s a promise of fun and to Jinho a promise to be wrecked. You get a nod from Hyunggu in response, who leans in close to Jinho again, close enough to kiss – Jinho’s eyes flutter but Hyunggu just pulls away, drawing the elder towards him as he heads towards the exit like a moth to a flame.

The bartender seems thoroughly confused with the way this has turned out, but you just smile and place down the payment for the drinks, in an extremely good mood. It wasn’t like the two rarely got along, but it was always fun when Jinho was the one thrown off balance instead of Hyunggu.

Still, in the end, you were the one who always had the last say. It’s that knowledge that fills you with a power that makes you feel weightless as you move through the room, smile turning dangerous when you see your two boys waiting for you obediently at the door.

.｡..｡.

It’s ten at night in some hotel room, and you’re busy edging Hyunggu while Jinho lounges serenely to the side. The energy in the space around you is a strange mixture of sleepy contentment and electric tension. You absolutely love the dichotomy between the two halves of the room, love and lust managing to coexist at the same time, similar but oh-so-separate from one another.

“You really get off on this, don’t you?” Your taunting cuts straight to Hyunggu’s core and his hips jerk under you, cock red and weeping viscous pre-cum into your hand. “Being so debauched and whorish with your hyung right over there, listening to it all. It just gets to you, doesn’t it, having one of your bandmates watch you get put in your place.”

“Dirty~” Jinho hums from his own hotel bed, impossibly cheerful as he flips between channels on the TV. He’s not really actively watching the two of you, though his gaze does occasionally flick over to look. Hyunggu just lets out a thoroughly pitiful sounding sob in response, twisting to try to bury his face in the pillow his head rested on – your hand on his neck stops him from twisting too far and he gasps, face red from a heady mixture of humiliation and arousal.

“Ple-ase –” Hyunggu is begging for you to stop, for you to touch him, for you to keep talking – he’s really not even sure what for at this point but he babbles anyway, tears collecting in his lashes, unshed.

“What does it feel like, knowing every time he sees you on stage, or has to sing a duet with you, he’ll just remember you moaning and begging to cum like some sort of slut?”

“Every time I see him on stage I’ll only be able to think about this.” Jinho confirms, voice chipper and upbeat, always ready to help you out – Hyunggu’s fingernails dig into your arm as he explodes, throwing his head back, painting his upper chest white. His hips stutter beneath your hands long after the initial orgasm and you lovingly swipe your finger back and forth over the head of his cock until he’s shaking and locking his jaw, cumming a second time from your teasing ministrations. The second time is weaker than the first, but he still bucks at the sensation, moans more like pleading sobs now as the orgasmic fire burns him from the inside.

Covered in sweat and cum, dark hair plastered to his forehead with tear-tracks on his face and spit-slicked lips – Hyunggu is wrecked and he stares at you unfocusedly, gaze drifting around the hotel room unsteadily as he comes back to himself. His grip on your arm has loosened but he hasn’t released you entirely, so you uncurl his fingers from your forearm and kiss his knuckles lovingly.

“You came a lot.” Jinho appears at the side of the bed, inquisitive and unbothered by the wreck that was his dongsaeng. “Woooow.” He drags the word out, sliding one digit through the mess of cum and sweat that had collected in the other’s collarbones. Hyunggu, ever so sensitive, shivers from the mere contact alone, his eyes fluttering open. As exhausted as he is, he looks at his hyung hungrily – you’re amused, and go about gathering his attention again. You know his body better than he does and he’s at his physical limit right now.

“He did well, right Jinho?” Your praise is followed by a kiss pressed to the younger’s hairline, and a responding sound of acknowledgement from the elder who cards fingers softly through Hyunggu’s hair. He’s a bit disappointed that Jinho didn’t take his bait but he settles down with a sigh pushed out through his nose, tilting his head back invitingly as you run a damp washcloth across the skin there.

.｡..｡.

“Open.” You command Jinho and he looks up from his phone in confusion, dutifully opening his mouth anyway. His face lights up into a brilliant smile when you place a square of chocolate onto his pink tongue. Sweat sticks his clothes to his body and his hair to his forehead, and you think he is stunning.

“You’re ruining my diet.” He reminds you, focus back on his phone but smile still on his lips. You can tell he doesn’t mind your little interference overly much.

To be honest, maybe you were trying to ruin his diet – recently you’d noticed that whenever Hyunggu stretched you were able to count the individual ribs beneath the skin of his sternum, and it kicked your protective instincts into overdrive. You didn’t want either of your boys suffering like that, and while Jinho wasn’t nearly as thin that didn’t mean he was at a healthy weight. (You didn’t want any of their brothers in the same boat either. When you’d walked back-stage you’d given each of them some sort of candy or treat – even Hongseok, who you were sure had accepted just to make you happy. You were the favorite noona of the day because of that.)

Hyunggu had managed to escape you though, already off to get his makeup removed after the concert, so now you were sitting cross-legged beside Jinho, watching him watch his phone. He’d flick his gaze over to you every now and then, small smile widening when he saw you were still focused on him.

“You did well.” You praise, and he smiles with teeth and dips his head at you as he says his thanks. You always praised him after every performance and he always reacted just as genuinely as the first time. It makes your heart hurt with how much you love him.

When Hui sidles up beside you both you think he’s after more of your chocolate – you’re reaching for it when he nudges your shoulder, posture relaxed and open despite the knowing smirk adorning his face.

“We’ll be leaving soon, maybe twenty-five minutes or so.” It’s such a casual statement but his eyes glitter with amusement – he was probably the best wingman anyone could ask for, and you make a mental promise to think of a way to pay him back later. In the meantime you settle for thanking and giving him the remaining candy - he just laughs and says that he’ll probably get accosted now by everyone else instead of you. (Which works well towards your sudden plan, you both know.)

It takes another five minutes after that before you gently tug Jinho towards one of the many utility closets in the winding underbelly of the building, dodging past stylists and backstage workers who couldn’t care less where the two of you were headed so long as it didn’t interfere with their own job.

He whines at you that it’s a bad idea but almost outpaces you when you slow down, sulking as you pause to let a group slip by you, sweatier than Jinho, fresh off the stage. His gaze follows them for a split second, as if suddenly realizing where he was, before he goes right back to sulking.

In the closet he shifts from sulky indignance to compliant submissiveness, tilts his head to the side invitingly for your lips to press upon his pulse point. It’s always hard to refuse him when he’s like this, but you do anyway, pushing at his shoulders gently to back him up as far as he can go in the small space.

“You have makeup all over you, baby. I’m not putting my mouth anywhere above your neck.” Your words are, of course, met with a whine, but you place a finger against his lips to quiet him. When you pull it away it’s tinged slightly pink from the lip tint, silently proving your point. “Everyone would know if you went back out there with everything suddenly smudged.”

“Then what –“ He’s just so absolutely sulky that you can’t help but reach for his arm, pressing kisses to his forearm, up to his bicep. He goes silent instantly, swallowing hard, eyes wide. Simply kissing like this shouldn’t have been so.. erotic.

You can feel him stiffening against your thigh with every graze of your teeth over thin skin, and when he begins trying to grind against your leg you hike it up higher, watching with a piercing gaze as he tries not to make eye-contact with you. The way his eyes dart as he gets himself off gives you a warm feeling that coils contentedly in your chest, one that only grows whenever he locks eyes with you and instantly looks away, cheeks darkening.

His breath stutters and almost full-on stops when you reach for his slim-fitted pants – there’s not much room but you fit your hand inside anyway, not bothering to pull them down. Your thumb presses into his slit, leaking pre-cum, and he mewls pitifully at the feeling.

“Ahnn-n-no..” He tries to object but it’s a weak whisper, and his fingers curling around your wrist draw you closer instead of pushing you away. You step in front of him, slot one of your hips against his to pin him against the back wall, even as your hand continues its steady motion.

“No? Jinho, sweetie, do you want me to stop?” The words are spoken into the heated air between the two of you, and while you’d much rather say them into the soft skin of his neck you want him to be able to properly verbalize his response.

It’s a moot point anyhow, because he just squints his eyes shut and shakes his head quickly, almost frantically. His fingers tighten around your hand, as if afraid you’d decide this was a bad idea and leave him high and dry.

He didn’t need to worry about that – you nudge aside the collar of his ridiculously sequined stage jacket, nip at his inner shoulder. He tastes of sweat and bruises easily, arches into any of the sensations you deign to give him. The heat around your hand, shoved down the front of his pants, is humid and wet and you let him thrust into the loose ring your fingers have become, watching with predatory eyes as he ruts against your hand like some sort of horny teen, comes undone and bites hard into his wrist to stay quiet. (You sink your own teeth into the opposite side of his wrist and his moan manages to get out anyway, all of his weight against the wall as he fights to keep from collapsing.)

It takes little to no time at all to make yourself presentable again, but Jinho is a different story – no matter how outwardly casual he looks his gaze is still glassy, and dual teeth-marks dot one of his hands.

When you exit the closet Jinho tries to melt into your side, inconspicuous, when the maknae trio comes up to you to thank you again for the chocolate (even if Hyunggu hadn’t taken any in the beginning). You know he wants to escape to the bathroom right away to clean up and become orderly again, but he’s caged in by three of his dongsaengs, so he instead tries to take solace in the warmth of standing so close to you. In a distant corner of the room you can see Shinwon has, as predicted, stolen most of the candy you’d given to Hui.

It’s mostly Wooseok who’s thanking you, all big eyes and admiration, while Yuto stands slightly to the side murmuring his own thanks shyly whenever you turn your full focus to him. You find them both adorable, this youthful infatuation they have for you absolutely endearing.

Hyunggu just finds it funny, arms crossed as he watches them, Wooseok unable to stop talking and Yuto unable to talk at all. His gaze is stolen by Jinho though, and it takes him all of five seconds to send you an accusatory glance after taking in the way Jinho is still slightly red-faced, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, gaze flicking between different occupants of the room at random intervals.

You just send him a serene smile. If he hadn’t avoided you earlier then that could have been him.

.｡..｡.

It was a running joke that Hyunggu was overly sensitive, cried too easily – you were used to seeing him tear up suddenly at some sweet thing either of you did or said to him. Jinho teased him relentlessly for it, poking at his cheek playfully while calling him ‘the cutest baby’. (The irony was not lost on any of you that Jinho was arguably smaller and more baby-like than anyone in the room, but it always made Hyunggu smile again anyway, which was the aim of the comment.)

During sex he cried just as easily, quick to tears if edged or over-stimulated, full on sobbing whenever he got the paddle. It was one of your favorite things about him, how responsive he was to everything, how unashamed of these things he was.

So, in short, Hyunggu crying was never really an issue and usually not a cause for concern.

It’s when you get home and he sees you, smiling and shining with love seconds before he crumples, voice evaporating midway through “welcome back” that you know there’s something seriously wrong.

He’s not laughing it off, his fingers clenched into fists as he ducks his head and clenches his eyes shut, shoulders hunched and bending inwards as if he was trying to physically protect his vulnerable front from the world. He tries to speak again and ends up just cramming one of his fists against his teeth, trembling.

“Oh, honey..” You have to draw him into your arms since he doesn’t move towards you at all, and he resists at first, keeping his arms stiff at his sides while simply resting his forehead on your shoulder. “What happened?”

It’s your question that gets to him, and he melts into your warmth, hands flying up to clutch at your sweater. You cup the back of his head and let him cry into your neck, his sobs nearly silent but still just loud enough you can hear them.

It’s breaking your fucking heart.

He never does answer your questions, just eventually stops crying and keeps his arms wrapped around you while you go about your tasks until you finally give up and sit down on the couch with him, letting him curl against your side. He falls asleep almost instantly, tear tracks on his face at heartbreaking odds with how relaxed he now looks.

When you ask Jinho about it later you get vague explanations – the elder is clearly keeping anything regarding the issue close to his chest, and eventually you stop pressing. As annoying as it was to not know, you understood why he was so intent on keeping it private, especially if it involved their career. (And while his not-an-answer-answer didn’t totally sate your worry, you knew Jinho was just as capable of taking care of Hyunggu as you were, and you trusted him to make these kinds of decisions just as he trusted you to do the same.)

Later that night Hyunggu automatically gets the middle position in bed – he blushes intensely at the combined concentration on him, usually so cocky about being the center of attention but shy this time in the wake of his breakdown, hides his flush in Jinho’s shoulder as you kiss down his neck with tongue and teeth.

Everything is kept soft that night, sweet and sensual, and when Jinho slots his mouth against Hyunggu’s you watch them in a sort of lovestruck daze. Despite all the hardships, you really never thought it possible to feel this happy and content in life.

.｡..｡.

You press a hand on Jinho’s lower back and force him into more of an arch, fucking into him aggressively – he splays out his hand in front of him and sobs, cock dangling heavy and abused between he and the wall. His hands are in fists after having been ordered not to touch himself, and it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard when all he wants is to reach down and wrap his fingers around himself, a single touch is really all he needs to finally get the release he’s seeking –

It’s almost painful, how often you can hit his prostate dead-on with your infamous strap-on, and he bites his tongue hard enough he tastes blood. A few rooms away are the rest of his members, Hyunggu included, and while it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been caught before (you were still apologizing to Changgu for what he’d walked in on) it still sent a sharp thrill down to his stomach to try not to get caught again.

Not that it was easy – he wasn’t exactly known for his deep or quiet voice. You were pretty sure he’d been heard more often than you’d been caught.

“I’m –“ His voice is thin, and he has to swallow once before beginning again, body stiffening after a particularly hard thrust. “I’m so – so close..” The moans he’d been fighting so hard to keep silent slip from his mouth as you sink your teeth into his shoulder, stalling your hips in favor of taking his cock in hand. In seconds his release is covering your hand, dripping down your knuckles – he reaches to help keep the mess minimal but ends up just gripping your wrist tightly, head lolling back and eyes closing.

Jinho slides down the wall to his knees once you pull out, full-body trembling as he rests his forehead against the smooth, cool surface. He’s breathing hard, shoulders heaving as he sucks in deep breaths. Your rake your fingers through his hair and he lets out one last soft moan at the feeling, how impossibly tender you are with him now that you’d completely wrecked him.

“You did well.” Your praise is like a physical balm to his exhausted body, the kiss you drop onto his lips as you hand over tissues a type of physical warmth that envelopes him and makes it impossible for a content smile not to linger on his face.

You can’t help but laugh softly after checking your phone, which garners Jinho’s attention as he pulls his clothes back on. When you show him your screen he just smiles even more and murmurs something softly about sensitive maknaes always needing attention, a scoff to his voice that doesn’t quite match his fond expression.

Hui’s text to you is stark black against the white background: Whenever you’re done corrupting our hyung you need to come out here and console Hyunggu, he’s been sulking ever since he realized what you two were doing :(

.｡..｡.

Hyunggu makes a soft sound and you glance up at him, knee beside your face bouncing anxiously – he’s looking back at you dazedly, dark hair ruffled from where he’d pushed his hand through it moments before. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and his fingers curl against the edge of the studio’s desk. His phone sits forgotten somewhere on its surface, his promise to start a V Live completely abandoned. An old recording of a live performance from Ella Fitzgerald plays quietly in the background, a track he’d intended to use as background music for the stream.

You smile and rest your head against his thigh, thumbing the head of his cock lovingly, reveling in the way his hips roll minutely into it. His breathing has turned harsh and all you’ve done so far was wrap your hand around him.

“You knew what I was going to do when I got down here.” While you’re speaking his hand reaches towards you, but a sharp glance has it hesitantly freezing before gripping the arm of the chair instead. “Didn’t you?”

He swallows hard once and nods, eyes so infinitely dark that the light reflects off of them in little astral bursts. “Y-yeah..” His voice is rough, and you drink in the sound of it. “I just – I mean, it was kind of.. hard to imagine – to come to terms with you really doing it..”

“Relax.” Your murmur is soft, and he glances at the studio door once – the unlocked studio door. He makes no move to change that. “I just want you to feel good before you meet Universe, yeah? You look so tense right now that you’d just worry them.”

You know some of the tension is because you’re right there, mouth inches from his cock and fingers looped loosely around it, but you can’t accredit yourself for all of it. He’s been undeniably strained ever since the fansign was canceled, a tightness to his shoulders every time they had to go out and perform for the cameras without an audience to dance for –  not to mention the fact that ever since promotions had started he’d kept himself busy enough that the two of you hadn’t had any solo time together for about two weeks.

“So, I’m going to make you orgasm.” You say it straight-forwardly, eyebrows raised, waiting for an objection – you never get one. Hyunggu instead just shifts lower into his seat, trying to mentally prepare himself.

He knows, the moment he feels the first blindingly hot stripe licked up his cock, that he could never have been prepared.

Two weeks of abstinence has left him sensitive and more desperate than he realized, and he’s almost embarrassed by how quickly turned on he gets, the feeling of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva making his head spin.

One of his hands is half-covering his face while the other clutches at his side in a desperate attempt to hold on to something, anything – when you offer your hand it takes mere seconds before his fingers are interlacing with your own, a grounding, loving connection even as you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper.

He swears he’s fucking dying.

There’s a fire in his stomach, pure white-hot flames licking at his muscles, his skin, causing sweat to collect under his shirt, and the tightness in his shoulders and neck can’t compete with the feeling building up in his hips, bone-deep and aching. He can’t do much else than breathe harshly out through his nose, eyes falling shut. It was too much effort, energy, and focus to keep them open, and he feels so completely ripped apart by your tongue and lips and fucking mouth that any of the usual sounds he makes have been stolen from him, replaced by wheezing gasps of pleasured pain.

He doesn’t manage to warn you he’s close verbally, but you recognize it anyway – his entire body locks, fingers crushing your own, and you have just enough time to pull your mouth off of him so he can cum in your hand.

Between each gasping heave of his chest he murmurs a thank you, until his words run together and he bites his tongue to stop from sounding like even more of a fool in front of you. He can feel your lips pressing tender kisses against his cock even as you clean your hand off, and he can’t stop the way he shakes at the feeling.

Tears are caught in his lashes by the time you’re finished, and you cup his feverish face in your hands and draw him towards you, pressing more kisses against his eyelids. He is an absolute wreck, emotionally and physically, so when you try to remove your hands and he grasps for them and keeps them pressed to his collar you let him do as he pleases.

“You feel better, sweetheart?” Your words aren’t answered, but you keep talking all the same. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? Perfect and wonderful and talented, and so so good. You know I love you, right? Because I do, so much, Hyunggu, I love you so much.”

He sniffs, finally pulling one of his hands away to scrub furiously at his face, a watery sounding laugh escaping him – and you know he’s okay now, safe to be left on his own. Still, you linger in the room until he’s fully composed, checking his appearance in his phone’s camera. When he catches you watching him through it he smiles, a genuine smile that drags at your heart and makes your knees feel weak.

“I love you too.” He’s saying it late, but that doesn’t mean he means it any less. When you press your lips to his all you can think of is how you’d give anything to make sure he kept smiling like that.

.｡..｡.

Love, you think, can be shown in many different ways. One of the biggest is seeing Jinho under the covers, nestled down on his phone, waiting for you to come and join him before he falls asleep.

“You should have gone to sleep!” Your chiding is gentle and so affectionate that it loses any edge you’d wanted it to have had. “You’ve been complaining about being tired so often – why wouldn’t you take advantage of any free time you had?”

“It’ll be better with you.” His answer is so direct and short that you can’t help but laugh – his face crinkles into a smile at the sound, and he pats the empty space next to him invitingly.

By the time you’re ready to crawl into bed with him he’s become restless, and as soon as you’re semi-laying down you find yourself being clung to. His head rests easily on your chest, fingers curling into your night-shirt, lashes dark against his skin as he heaves a sigh that relaxes his entire body.

“Sweet dreams.” You whisper your words into his hair, one hand at the base of his skull and the other on his back. He doesn’t respond with much more than an acknowledging hum, already slipping into a deep sleep.

You’re not tired at all, but you settle down anyway, content with stroking fingers through his hair. The resulting silence is almost suffocating, but you don’t find it uncomfortable – there’s a warmth in your bones that isn’t from the blankets or the body on top of you, a harsh lurch in your chest that flows through your veins. It’s almost staggering how much you care for the man asleep on you.

Yes, love didn’t have to be verbally exclaimed. Actions could show your devotion to someone just as well.

.｡..｡.

“Stay still now, honey.” You smooth a hand over Hyunggu’s sweat slicked chest, his breathing an endless staccato that matched in time with the fluttering of your innermost walls around his thoroughly abused cock. “Just relax.”

It was so easy for you to say that, laying yourself down on top of him and pillowing your head on your forearms across his collarbones, a comforting weight that would have been soothing if not for the blinding heat surrounding him. Every time he started to relax one of you would shift and painful electric shocks would shoot through his nerves all over again.

“I’m not good at this sort of thing..!” Hyunggu’s mewls are lost to your lips, and he switches from whining with words to letting out pathetic sounds into your mouth, pliant despite his protests. He can already feel himself hardening again despite knowing it wasn’t what you wanted.

“Baby, I’m not in the mood to go again.” Pet-names flow from your mouth like a stream as you apologize, pressing kisses against his cheeks and temple. “I thought you’d be able to handle this sort of thing by now.” More kisses are dotted in between his shaky “me too”, and his sucked in breath becomes a thin and fragile moan as you slowly rise up and off him. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, sweetheart, and Jinho will –“

“I’m back!” The very first thing he’s greeted with upon arrival is the sight of Hyunggu staring at him hungrily as his essence drips from your slit in viscous rivulets. His cheerful, upbeat demeanor is frozen on his face as a congenial smile, even as his mind flashes to dark places and he swears he can suddenly taste the combined arousals from the both of you on his tongue.

“Broke him.” Hyunggu’s soft laugh is breathless and aroused, even as he pushes himself up and tries to cover his bottom half with the sheets, as if being shielded would make everyone forget about how red and wet his cock was at the moment.

Jinho’s gaze locks with yours briefly, assessing the room – at your small nod his fingers are unzipping his jacket, losing it to the floor somewhere as he tugs his shirt over his head. Fading bruises swarm his naturally tanned skin, still a bit purple but not nearly dark enough for your liking. You’d gotten so much shit for that, from his stylists and bandmates and everyone else except for him who had worn them with a type of embarrassed pride, ducking his head and not looking at all upset that he’d had to cover up for their performance.

The bed dips as he crawls onto it, Hyunggu’s swallow audible in your ear as Jinho reaches for your bare calf tentatively, settles on his stomach and rests his head on your crossed ankles. He’s always been the more obedient one, knowing that he’d end up more satisfied if he played by your rules.

“You should learn from Jinho.” Hyunggu scoffs at your words, wrapping his arms around your waist. You can feel the tension in his forearms threaded across your midriff, the way his hands grip at his own skin to keep himself from taking the pleasure he wants so badly. Jinho, meanwhile, has crawled up your body with the behest of a single one of your fingers hooked beneath his chin, gaze glassy.

“I’ll clean up after him..?” Jinho’s statement shifts to a question last second, dark eyes switching to his dongsaeng briefly – there’s a strange feeling at parodying the hierarchical ladder they usually exist in, the idea that as the eldest hyung Jinho had to clean up after the messes Hyunggu made. It feels.. wrong, in a very satisfying way, to apply that logic to a sexual encounter.

At a nod from you his tongue darts out, tentative and shy at first – you let out a sigh of encouragement and contentment, fingers threading through his dark hair. He tilts his head into your hand and closes his eyes, shuffling forward the last few centimeters so he can attach his lips to you. Hyunggu’s chin has come to rest on your shoulder as he watches Jinho work with eyes that are equally dark as they are sparkling, intense hunger for the moment overridden by a sort of awed reverence as he observes how his elder pays tribute to you.

Even once you are clean he doesn’t let up, continues to lap and suck as he was instructed until you are content and release your grip on his hair, fingers trailing down his cheek to his chin. Lips slick with saliva curl into a smile at your gentle touch, eyelids fluttering open.

“Take notes, Hyunggu.” Your words are lost to the younger, who was still staring at Jinho intently with eyes blown wide – whether or not he was going to be able to recollect any of this was up for debate, more likely to remember everything as a blur of sexual need.

“I think he does an okay job already.” Jinho’s voice is slightly rough as he speaks, grinning widely when you shoot him a look before becoming conveniently focused on taking his pants off. Your gaze burns into his back as he does so, filling him with a giddy sort of excitement. He knew you weren’t actually upset, maybe a bit miffed at most.

“Just come here, you mouthy little thing.” You reach out to him and he goes to you instantly, posture suddenly less open, doing his best to fade into your commanding aura. His body language was always so easy for you to read, even without the very obvious sign of his arousal out on full display now.

Jinho nestles onto his back, squirming a bit until he’s comfortable – he doesn’t stop squirming until you wrap an arm around him and guide his head to rest on your inner shoulder, a convenient place for him if you want to be able to drop a kiss to his temple. (Or just an easy way to make him feel small and protected all over, since he could turn his head and have it buried in your chest with your arms around him.)

Hyunggu’s plastered against your back, practically vibrating at this point, his cock an annoying bother poking into your side. Jinho notices his intense gaze and flushes, amused and embarrassed in equal measure.

“I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me or eat me.” Jinho’s comment has Hyunggu flushing this time, ducking his head – it wipes away the ravenous expression that has lingered ever since Jinho got home, replacing it with a type of happy embarrassment. Being teased by one of you always made him feel warm inside, accepted, instead of ridiculed.

“Fuck you.” He promises, and then dips his head to nip at your shoulder impatiently. You can feel his tongue dart out against your skin before he’s trailing open-mouthed kisses towards your neck, too riled up for his own good.

“Then you’re focused on the wrong person..” Jinho’s grumbling is met by your laughter, a gentle tug at the crook of Hyunggu’s arm to direct him away from you and towards his real goal. A bruise blooms along the gentle sweeping of Jinho’s hipbone, left behind by Hyunggu as he gets into position. His fingers frame it nicely, surrounding but never pressing down on it.

“Fuck..” It’s more a whimper than anything else, Jinho’s nails digging into your arm as you press kisses to his furrowed brow. Hyunggu trails his hands up his hyung’s side, willing him to relax, to take all of him. A low groan is tugged from Hyunggu’s chest at the feeling.

Jinho squirms once Hyunggu bottoms out, clearly uncomfortable – it’s not uncommon for him to take a while to acclimate to the stretch, and the two of you have become pros at soothing him until he does. It takes a little while, but between your soft caresses against his face and Hyunggu’s open-mouthed kisses against his neck his shifting becomes more needy and less pained.

To be completely honest, you were incredibly impressed with Hyunggu’s self-control – for someone who had been so horny he’d barely remembered the need to prep he was being immensely tender to Jinho, holding as still as possible until he was given the okay to move. Even over-come by lust he was always so thoughtful.

“Perfect boy.” The compliment comes out instantly, not directed at either of them but instead just said to the room – Jinho, feeling exposed, tucks his face into your shoulder while Hyunggu lowers his head and smiles, edges softening just a bit at such blatant love.

You apologize for killing the mood by wrapping your fingers around Jinho’s cock, paying extra attention to the pre-cum trailing down its side – it causes a chain reaction of movements that culminate in hands grabbing hard at hips and mouths falling open helplessly, a beautiful display of the best kind of agony.

Lithe fingers tug at yours insistently until you allow them to take your place, dark eyes watching you as you watch Hyunggu take over. He’s more aggressive with his touch than you are, falling into the same pace his hips are making, and Jinho’s moan gets lodged in his throat as a choke, muscles tightening.

“Ohh –“ Hyunggu’s back bows and his forehead knocks against Jinho’s collarbone, hips pressing as close to the elder as he can – you can tell by the way he’s just folded that the orgasm took him completely by surprise. Jinho, even with his eyes squeezed shut and his mind somewhere far away, pushes his hand through Hyunggu’s hair comfortingly. It makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Hyunggu, baby, Jinho hasn’t cum yet.” Your gentle scolding has the younger trying to move again, rising up on trembling forearms, weak thrusts that are uncoordinated and shaky yet make Jinho cry out all the same. “I know you must be so sensitive by now, you’re doing so good.”

Jinho’s bottom lip has been torn to shreds and his hips roll against Hyunggu’s, doing the job for him as he chases after his orgasm with a single-minded mentality – his eyes are squeezed shut but he still turns his face into your shoulder, pants open-mouthed against your bare skin as you hug him closer to you.

“Can’t –“ Hyunggu is shaking, his head bowed and back arched, shuddering – everything is too much for him now, pleasure white-hot and bursting across his vision in a way that makes him more than dizzy, makes him feel close to fainting. He knows he’s supposed to be doing something, moving his hand for some reason, but he really can’t remember why anymore – he feels slender fingers wrap around his own, his hyung’s fingers, and they’re moving again and Jinho is moaning louder now and he’s not really sure what’s happening with the way his head is spinning but he’s glad Jinho sounds like he feels good. “I can’t –“

“You can, baby, I know you can.” You hold out your free hand, the one not on Jinho’s shoulder, and Hyunggu cranes his head towards it and presses a kiss to your palm, lets your thumb slip past his plush lips. “Just a little bit longer.” His silent moan can be felt vibrating through your fingertip, hips twitching. Jinho is still making enough noise on his own for three people, the hand that’s not occupied curled so tightly into the bedsheets you’re almost positive they’ll be cramping later.

He stops moving entirely when Jinho seizes and then thrashes violently, the same fingers that had been guiding his hand now wrapped so tightly around them that they begin to lose feeling. (He manages to crack his eyes open to send you a grateful glance when you reach out and loosen them, drawing Jinho’s hand into your own instead.)

Jinho’s pants are high and exhausted, covered in his own cum and sweat from exertion, and you can tell from the way Hyunggu’s biting his lip that he isn’t going to be able to crash over the edge himself this time – you quietly tap his shoulder and all the tension drains out of his body immediately as he takes your cue to finally pull out. He and Jinho make a sound that is so surprisingly similar you wonder which one of them picked it up from the other.

“So tired..” Hyunggu collapses across Jinho’s legs and neither of them move after that – you stifle a laugh and disentangle yourself from them both, going in search of washcloths and comfortable outfits they could easily pull on.

It’s a bit of an ordeal to work around two limp and exhausted bodies, but as someone who was used to dealing with two idols who were constantly over-worked (or over-sexed) you had it down to an art form, and both of your boys are fast asleep in a tangle of limbs under the covers and in soft clothes in short order.

It gives you time to settle down next to them and just breathe, safe in this little pocket of time and space the three of you had managed to carve out and solidify for yourselves. When you glance over at them they’re dead to the world, and to be completely honest you’re not totally sure where one of them ends and the other begins. You like it that way, though.

In fact, you liked everything about this, the way they made your life feel a little brighter or warmer, how it was so easy to connect with one or both of them despite how rarely your projected paths would usually cross unless one of the three of you didn’t actively change courses to make it happen.

The gravity that love had was seemingly inescapable, and you were immensely grateful for it.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

Have you got any chubby headcanons for some of the male characters of veep to celebrate the election news?

Thanks ☺️

omg this ask made me SCREAM, HAPPY FUCK FASCISM DAY Y’ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK U 4 VOTING!!!!

I haven’t caught up on Veep since ..... s5 maybe?? But I do love that Dan Egan so: he is mostly definitely a stress eater, and remember how he takes that mental health break in s2 or 3? I want Dan to really TREAT himself during that break (which I wrote a lil fic about way back when) but I also want him to .... stretch his appetite a little after that, where like ... one lunch isn’t quite enough anymore. it’s like, lunch shoveled down between meetings and then another second lunch a few hours later. at first it’s just a couple of protein bars wolfed down in the elevator but after a while that’s not enough! after a month or so it’s a whole second meal on top of his first lunch (the button on his suit pants pinching a LOT around his bloated belly), and then a big dinner when he gets home late at night, and then rolling himself into bed to sleep it off. he gets really chubby in his belly first and then his face, and Amy never lets him hear the end of it. she’s a big fan of pinching his cheeks and poking at his belly. when they hook up periodically, she’s very grabby and REALLY likes to call his attention to it .... but Dan kinda likes when Amy teases him, even when it’s about the way his clothes are all too tight and his belly is bursting out of his button-downs. and Amy is a little chubby too, so it all works out. so long as she keeps it in the bedroom and holds him afterward.

anon, you have also unlocked some certified Lil Pudge bonus content, which is the beginning of a Dan Egan fic I began in literally twenty fifteen and almost definitely will not finish, so??? here you go, HAPPY DUMP-THAT-LOSER’S-ASS DAY!!!!

cw: anxiety/panic attack

Dan's desk in Senator Hallowes's office - although desk is a generous term; he tends to think of it more in terms of a time-out seat he's tethered to while he waits on the rest of his career - is dangerously placed. He's steps away from her tiny wannabe office kitchen, and to measure in steps is an exaggeration in itself. One push of his wheelie chair and bam, he's front and center to as much shitty coffee as his system can process and as many fun-size candy bars as his willpower will allow.

He's good, at first. He lets himself negotiate on how much coffee he's allotted, because coffee keeps him alive and operating at a functional capacity, but he's strict about the candy bars. One in the middle of the morning, to abate the post-protein bar hunger that creeps into his belly around 10:30, and one around 3:45, a little sugar rush to propel him through the rest of the day.

And then one morning he's late, and he skips his protein bar in favor of keeping his job, and Hallowes rails into him anyway, dangling that East Wing position in front of him like those fucking fun-size candy bars, and when she finally storms out he can't catch his breath. His hands are shaking - probably from the triple-shot latte he downed on his way into work, he tells himself, definitely not an anxious reaction - and he sinks back into his chair, woozy, an alarming sense of antigravity overtaking him.

He refuses to believe that it's Hallowes's doing, no matter how frantically his brain ticks back to her flat, brusque voice threatening to yank this job away from him. Low blood sugar, he tells himself, too much caffeine. Not panic. Never panic.

He wheels himself over to the kitchenette, scoops a handful of candy bars out of the bowl, and dumps them into one of his desk drawers. It takes him a minute to rip open the first wrapper through the trembling of his hands. He's not even sure what he's eating, but the mechanical process of chewing and swallowing helps him focus for a second, gets him breathing again, and he systematically works through the pile in the drawer until he feels himself start to stabilize.

He ducks his head between his knees for a moment as the sugar takes effect, and when he sits back up he's vaguely horrified by the number of wrappers on his desk. It looks like more than he remembers eating, but it should be enough to get his blood sugar where it needs to be, steady his hands.

Because it is just low blood sugar. Not panic. Never panic.

His stomach twinges when he reaches forward to check his phone, but compared to the dizzying weightlessness of almost losing his job, the slight discomfort is preferable. Absently, he wheels himself backward and grabs another couple chocolate bars from the dish as he refreshes his inbox. A text from Amy rolls in as he's sifting through emails, and his bloated stomach gives a quick churn of anticipation.

Heard you almost got the gallows from Hallowes. Better luck next time.

His mouth twists into a frown against his will, and he rips open a Reese's Cup savagely. Fuck you too, Amy.

---

Selina hires him less than an hour after he jumps ship from Hallowes's office, and he celebrates with a dinner date. That is, if stuffing himself with filet mignon and hitting up a Tinder match for the night counts as a dinner date.

He's starting to realize, with a little edge of shame, that he likes the way sex feels when he's full.

---

Amy, up close, is colder and more mesmerizing than he remembers, and it throws him.

He’s interacted with her since sleeping with her, of course, because DC is the smallest and most incestuous of small worlds, but he’s never had the questionable luxury of working directly alongside her. Her hair is darker than the shade she used to dye it in college; her hips are thicker in a way that makes him want to wrap his hands around them and pull them against his own.

But he keeps his distance with a steady volley of verbal backhands, as he always has with her. Amy makes his stomach squirm in a way that makes him want to squash every last bit of emotion inside him. He tries so hard not to form attachments, but she's magnetic and their poles are too close now to be able to avoid the attraction.

So he eats. The more food in his stomach, the less anxious he is about impressing her. It's easier to be mellow with a bellyful of lobster or steak or an expensive wheel of baked Brie that was almost definitely meant for more than one person.

[yikes-xander]

forever stuck in our youth

word count: 1.2k

summary: carlos is feeling a little bummed out the week before halloween and julie is determined to change that.

October 24, 2020

Halloween was about a week away and usually, Carlos would be buzzing with excitement. But instead, Julie hadn’t heard anything from him about it and decided to confront him.

“Don’t tell me you’re not dressing up for Halloween,” Julie questioned, approaching the boy sitting at the dinner table.

“I don’t dress up anymore. That’s for kids.” Carlos looked up from his tablet, seeming to deflate, slipping farther down into his seat.

Julie gave him a quizzical look, sputtering out noises of disbelief. He always loved dressing up, so why the sudden change? Maybe something happened at school, if his friends didn’t want to go with him then he’d just have to join her group.

“The boys, Flynn, and I are all dressing up if that makes you feel better. Halloween is fun for everyone, it doesn’t matter how old you are, you can dress up if you want.” She saw the slight hint of a smile gracing his face, of course mentioning the boys would make perk up. Carlos and Reggie had a special bond, but all three of them held special places in Carlos’ heart. They brought back the light in Julie’s eyes and the spark in her heart, of course he would love them for it.

Luke, Reggie, and Alex already knew what they were going as; sheet ghosts, for obvious reasons. They matched well with Carlos’s ghostbuster costume too, so that was a plus. Julie and Flynn decided against going as ghosts, opting for witches instead, just so they could look cute.

They had spent a portion of the next few days getting everything ready. The boys’ costumes didn’t take that much effort, just some sheets with dark spots for the eyes, and Reggie added a black cowboy hat to his. Carlos’s costume was a bit more complex, him opting to DIY with the help of Ray instead of just buying everything. Flynn and Julie’s costumes were something they had a lot of fun putting together; they planned cute makeup looks and got some accessories from their local Spirit Halloween.

October 28, 2020

“If you guys don’t carve pumpkins with me, the band is breaking up.” The group wanted to get Carlos back into the Halloween spirit, so they planned on doing as many fun activities as they could fit into the week.

“Flynn- I mean, we’ll do it, obviously, but- I don’t think you have that much control over the band?” By the straight look on her face, he didn’t think she was joking around. The others tried to cover their laughs, trying not to make Reggie feel bad.

One day, after band practice, the six of them had decided to convince Ray to go to the pumpkin patch. They had each picked out the perfect looking pumpkins, as well as a few extra small ones. Reggie suggested they get hot apple cider before going home, it was a favorite of his growing up, and Ray just couldn’t tell the boy no.

“I have an idea!” Carlos exclaimed.

“How about we have a contest? Whoever makes the scariest pumpkin wins,” He continued. The rest of them nodded in agreement, whatever Carlos wanted to do, they would do it.

Soon after they arrived back at Julie’s house, they set up the dining room table. They laid out a plastic tablecloth for easy cleanup, taping down the edges. Spoons and knives were strewn across carelessly, which if Ray were to see, he would have to have a talk with the teens.

By the end of the night, they had all come to a decision. Even though he was the one who suggested the contest in the first place, Carlos won. Maybe the others chose him just to make him feel a bit better, but his pumpkin was also pretty good anyway. They didn’t have a prize, just bragging rights they supposed, but they ended up baking the seeds per Julie’s request.

October 31, 2020

Halloween day had finally arrived and everyone was buzzing with excitement. Alex, Luke, and Reggie were still trying to get caught up with the things they had missed out on over the last 25 years, so the other three decided that tonight would be the perfect time to show them some iconic Halloween Disney movies.

“Do you want tea or hot chocolate?” Julie asked, mostly just to Flynn and Carlos.

“I drank a gallon of cider all by myself. I regret nothing, but I don’t think I can handle drinking anything else,” Flynn replied. It wasn’t unlike her to go a little overboard, considering she’s downed seven sodas consecutively on multiple occasions.

Julie walked back into the studio with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, one for herself and one for Carlos. They had asked Ray to join them, but he declined saying they should have a night to themselves. The kids had gotten some popcorn ready, tons of blankets and pillows, and all piled on to the couch to start their Halloweentown marathon that afternoon. They were as squished together as they could get, but all content.

About 6 hours later they had gone through all the films and were ready to get the spooky time shenanigans started. The four boys had gotten dressed fairly fast, their costumes weren't complicated so no one was surprised, but they were very impatiently waiting for Julie and Flynn to be ready to go. Once the girls were all dolled up, they grabbed some candy buckets and went on their way down the street to start trick or treating.

A few hours later, the group had hit all the houses giving out king size candy bars near them and they were tired, so they were ready to go back to Julie’s relax again. It seemed Ray had decided to order pizza for dinner that night and everyone was grateful, that was just what they needed. Once everyone was full they decided to get some comfy clothes on and watch one last movie to end the night.

An idea struck Flynn, they should do face masks! Skin care is always a nice activity to do at night, she and Julie needed to do it in the first place, and maybe they could rope the boys into it as well. They protested a bit but ultimately gave in, they painted each other nails as well, which Alex ended up loving the most.

As Ray went into the living room to check on the kids at the end of the night, he stumbled upon them all passed out on the floor. Each one of them had a smile on their face, the movie credits rolling quietly in the background.

[somanyfuckingdrinks]

OC-Tober: Day 9; Mentor

hey! i’m late and starting on day 9- i’m still working on previous days and i’ll be posting links to them (on archive) here in the next week as i finish them <3

all my prompts for this year are from @oc-growth-and-development !

i’ll put the link here for anyone who’d rather read on AO3 

for this prompt, i decided to give y’all an introduction to my favorite friendship in the universe: camila and grant

camila has been going to grant’s coffeeshop for years, she becomes his “apprentice” after high school (with the help of certain connections ;) ), and four years later here we are after months of a pandemic

yes this takes place in the pandemic; no i did not think two years ago it would

here it is <3 =)

my mentor in americanos and strawberry scones

october 1, 2020

The long winded whir of the coffee machine downstairs stirred Grant awake. His eyes cracked open to the still darkness of the odd quiet atmosphere surrounding him. He looked over to Summer noticing that she was still asleep. He looked over to the clock. He was confused at his wife’s slumber, knowing she’d be up knitting by now. The red animosity of 4:27 A.M made him groan inwardly, realizing exactly why that was. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes tiredly. 

Grant sat up slowly, as to not disturb his peaceful wife. He slipped his feet into his worn slippers and rose up slowly, all the creaks and pops making his age known to the room. He grabbed his cardigan from the bedpost, slipping it on and making his way into the living room. He grabbed his phone from the kitchen island, the bright light suddenly blinding him.

He moved his face away from the light, bringing his hand to his eyes once again to rub at them. He sighed, whispering a curse to whoever made him wake up this early. He moved to sit in one of the barstools, making sure he was comfortable before dealing with the new day’s nonsense.

Blinking his eyes open to readjust, he turned the screen back on. A slew of messages popped into focus. Several from his insufferable granddaughter, one about a pesky neighbor from his own daughter, and multiple from the cafe’s order website. No cheerful greetings and “hi, how are you”s; not even from his own family. He exhaled exasperatedly. He decided to ignore the messages, and scroll quickly to his game. 

The soft padding of footsteps outside the door disrupted his peaceful round of Sudoku. However, as quick as the footsteps on the landing appeared, they vanished. He frowned towards the door, but made his way off the bar stool, closing his abandoned game.

The door creaked open, the lock on it blocking most of his vision. Through the crack he could see two medium sized cups and a plate of steaming pastries on the accent table outside the door. He peered to the right and saw a flash of a ponytail waiting at the bottom steps. He unlatched the lock and opened the door, glimpsing at his employee. Upon seeing him step out onto the front step, she pulled herself from the doorjamb, making her way towards the back of the kitchen. 

He moved back over to the table to investigate the goodies. A note was attached to the to-go cups and the plate was stacked with several scones. Strawberry. Grant read the note carefully.

“morning grant! sorry to wake you up if i did. It’s the loyals delivery day, so i thought i’d come in early to start up packaging and stuff. monty and peyton will be here around 5 to start sending them out. i brought up your americano and summer’s ginger tea. p.s the scones are fresh :)”

He smiled at the note before putting it on the plate. Grabbing the cup holder and plate of scones, he pushed his way back into the compact living space. He placed the plate down near the fridge, along with the tea. He pocketed the note, grabbed the coffee and a scone, and made his way back out of the door. He closed the door behind him, taking a sip of the hot drink in his hand. He made a little grimace at the taste and chuckled. He started his way down the steps.

When he reached the bottom step, he glanced at the scene in front of him. The kitchen was a bustle. Boxes were lined up along the front counter, their contents clearly placed in a specifically organized way. Little bags of candy, mason jars of an amber liquid, and sheets of tissue paper were piled next to even more cardboard boxes. The espresso machine sat dormant, but looked freshly wiped down and tidy. The beans and fridges looked restocked. The chairs were still stacked high on the tables, but there was no change there over the past few months. The space was calm, even with the natural flurry in the middle of it.

Camila took a sip from the metal straw, the ice clinking against glass and metal. She set the drink down, grabbing another box. She crumpled a cluster of tissue together and placed it at the bottom. She wrapped a jar of apple cider in a couple spins of tissue, setting it gently in the corner of the box at a diagonal. She placed two bags of assorted candy against the glass, then made her way over to the pastry counter. She picked out three packaged pastries at random and set them haphazardly in front of the candy. She stuck the special note card in the other corner of the box before grabbing the industrial tape. She sealed the box twice, swiftly pinning the address and cafe logo onto the box, running the tape over that as well. She let out a sigh as she gingerly shoved the box to the side. 

Grant took tiny sips from his coffee as he watched her repeat the process a handful of times before setting the cup down. He took a bite of his scone finally deciding to announce his presence.

“For someone who’s worked here for four years, you still can’t make an Americano.”

Camila jumped, dropping the newly picked up mason jar onto the counter with a loud thunk. She turned around, suddenly startled. Her shock turned into a quick scowl before grabbing her coffee glass again, forgetting about her packaging task.

“How long have you been standing there?!” She hissed, the scowl easing back into a smaller frown.

“Long enough. How many boxes you got there?” Grant walked over to the full counter, starting to count before she could respond. He didn’t pay attention to the number in his head.

“About fourteen. I was just finishing up Ms. Crabtree’s box before you so rudely interrupted.” She aimed the glare at her boss, setting her cup down on the cold marble. Grant peeked over at the extra item in the box. A small bundle of pet treats that he knew she probably made when she first got here this morning.

“Ah. The old woman asking for pet treats for her Snookums again?” He let out a light chuckle.

Camila only nodded. She moved toward the pastries again, this time grabbing two snickerdoodles and one chocolate croissant for the picky old lady. She laid them neatly in the box, pulling back to grab the tape again. 

Grant looked on to his former mentee with an appreciative smile. She had come a long way from tripping over air and focusing on only one task at a time. Now she was packaging specific likes for customers who had been coming here for longer than she was alive. He remembered a small eighteen year old, still unsure of who she was but knowing where she wanted to go. Now a grown woman with her head placed firmly on her shoulders stood in front of him, still trying to hide the easy smile behind a fake frown. Still the ever dramatic child she was at heart.

“Once you’re done there I want to go over how to make an Americano again, since you still don’t have the proportions right. Preferably before Dumb and Dumber get here.” Grant pulled his cardigan around him, hearing the tape pass over the box. Camila just kept closing the box.

“Please. You can come back to being a gold star employee later. I need to make fun of you a little bit while I still can. Lillian will clobber me if she knows how much I’ve made fun of you.” He said hurriedly. It was a known truth. His granddaughter would kick his ass for the years of teasing he made the ‘love of her life’ endure. The tape made one final whoosh over the box.

Camila made a show of rolling her eyes, setting the tape down to the side. She made her way over to the espresso machine and crossed her arms. When Grant didn’t move, she waved her arm out towards the machine, annoyed but now letting a smile show.

Grant moved towards the espresso machine, making quick work of removing the portafilter* and flushing the grouphead*. He wiped the filter down before stepping slightly over to the coffee grinder. Making sure to go at a teasingly slow pace, he filled the bowl, leveled it, and grabbed the tamper*. He tamped the grounds to make a puck*, looking over to see Camila still watching attentively, and promptly wiping the excess off the sides.

Camila made a grab for the filter, but Grant pulled his arm away out of her reach. He locked it back into the grouphead and hit start. The machine came to life quickly, the deep whir louder than it was earlier.

“Grant. I know how to make an espresso shot,” Camila huffed out.

“I know you do. Just like you know how to make everything else in here. I’m just showing you the whole process, like old times,” right then the machine stopped and the smell of fresh caffeine hit his nostrils. He grabbed the small cup and made his way over to the serving station. Luckily, Camila was right behind him with the boiling water.

He noticed the small smirk she held had disappeared into a bittersweet smile.

“It hasn’t been that long. Besides it’s not like I’m going anywhere,” she turned towards him, sure of her words. He only nodded, causing her to turn away. “I’ll still be here tomorrow to make fun of too,” she partially muttered. He slapped her arm lightly, letting out a croaky laugh.

“I know Mila. I know.” 

A peaceful silence fell over them as Grant poured the hot espresso over the perfectly proportioned water. He put the cup on a saucer and pushed it over towards Camila. She carefully grabbed the edge of the cup, bringing it to her lips. She blew on it and took a small sip, then gently placed the cup back down. She let out a small sound of approval, nodding her head vigorously. She stared at the cup’s contents.

“Yeah no, that tastes exactly like when I make it.” Grant gave her a look. ���Okay maybe a tad bit less bitter, but overall it’s the same thing.” She gave him a look right back.

Incidentally, a soft knock at the front brought both of their attentions to the windowed door. Monty and Peyton stood out front, hugging themselves from the chilly wind out front. Monty simply waved through the door, his eyes hinting at his normally goofy grin on his face behind the mask. Peyton sported her signature uncaring look, the mask hiding her scowl, even more uncaring due to the cold temperatures. Grant nodded in the door’s direction, Camila immediately pacing to the door, pulling her mask over her face, to open it for their helpful volunteers.

Grant pulled his mask from his cardigan’s pocket, pulling it on as the door swung open. He grabbed two cups and two bags of black tea that were to the left of him. He shifted back over to the serving station with the hot water in hand. He prepped the tea bags and poured the water over them, the color seeping immediately into the clear water. He secured the lids on top and pushed them towards the boxes.

Camila had already started going down the list of customers and their respective addresses on their walk over to the counter. The mask made her slow down her average lecturing speed.

“- there’s Mr. Richfair on Newberry. If you see his newspaper on the driveway, can you put it on top of the box. I don’t want him hurting his back more. Then make sure to ring the Leminwells doorbell. They’ll be up at this time-”

Grant sat down in the stool under the station counter. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, clicking on the first notification he saw. Of course it was his granddaughter’s. The ghost of an amused smile passed on his face.

“camila is coming in an hour early, sorry in advance :)”

“i tried to tell her that she didn’t have to, but she kept going on about time management and keeping the loyals happy, especially that old Crabtree”

An hour went by between the last and next message.

“she’s starting to sound more and more like you, might as well just hand down the crown now”

“i was kidding in the last message”

A brief pause before another one was sent in.

“kinda ;)”

“love u, tell grandma morning for me <3”</i>

Grant sent off a quick message, now looking back up to his prized worker. She was still rattling off instructions. He made eye contact with the two teens, signaling them to the counter, where their drinks had cooled considerably. Camila noticed the silent exchange and sighed begrudgingly.

“Fine. Each of you have seven deliveries today, but who wants to take the extra special one?” Camila crossed her arms at the two of them. Grant could tell she was smirking.

“Is the delivery to our precious Liliian,” Grant questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yup!” Camila’s eyes crinkled more in a hidden beam of a smile while the two groaned loudly.

“We don’t get paid enough for this,” Monty wheezed out from behind his mask.

“Aye! You get paid in experience, free treats, and any tips you get while delivering,” Camila scolded. She glanced at their blank stares before promptly deflating, “And I’ll give you gas money for a week.”

Monty quickly raised his hand, beating Peyton to it. Grant made his way back to the fridge grabbing the pre-bagged treats and the small bottle of pink lemonade from the back of it for Lillian’s impromptu order. He pushed them toward the smaller teen without a word.

“Be safe. Keep your ringer on and if there’s anyone that bothers you, you better call me.”

“Yes sir!” Monty chanted out, quickly snorting at Camila’s dejected look. Peyton only gave a small, uninterested nod her way.

Peyton started walking to the door, followed by a still giddy Monty.

“See you later Mr. Park!” They threw a wave over their shoulders, letting the door shut behind them softly. Camila exhaled loudly, making her way back behind the counter.

“Teenagers.” She pulled one of the mask’s ear loops off, letting the mask hang, and making her exhaustion clear to him again. Grant lightly pushed Camila with his shoulder.

“You were like that- no excuse me, you still are that. Especially around my granddaughter!”

“Leave Lillian out of this!” Camila turned red, still beaming anyway.

Grant huffed a laugh, standing up from his stool. He put his hands to his back, another litany of cracks and pops sounding out loud. Camila grimaced and huffed at the sound.

“Go on and take your break. She probably wants to scold you still from coming in early. I’ll start the opening shift and you just come on back after you’ve eaten something.” Camila silently nodded at him in a questioning motion. “Yes, I’m sure. I gotta practice making the specialty drinks again anyway.” Camila let out a boisterous laugh at his remark. Grant laughed, annoyed. “Now get on outta here!”

“Ah so the apprentice becomes the master-” Grant kicked his leg out smoothly, aiming for Camila’s right one. Camila jumped away from it and sat down in the stool he had risen from. A grin reappeared on her face.

“Yes it appears so.” He smiled right back at her as the whir of the machine came back to life.

——–

- translations for those who do not understand coffee jargon + portafilter = attaches to the grouphead; holds the actual espresso grounds + grouphead = metal, permanent attachment that brings water out of the machine and into the filter + tamper =  tool used to pack the espresso grounds into the filter; makes the grounds compressed + puck = the compressed coffee grounds look like a hockey puck

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXII: Wendy City

As I sat outside with a few friends at the break of dawn, my mind kept returning to just last night. That scene couldn’t be shaken away and while those folks conversed with pudding cups and oranges in hand, I mulled over that lady’s words.

“Rhea? Is that you?” She asked.

“Rheain’t,” I should’ve replied with. Rather than such a statement as, “now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years.” God damn, could I have been any more ambiguous? Sure, it made sense to me at the time, but I probably gave my would-be bounty hunter the wrong impression.

Now that I thought of it, we were similar in stature and I suppose (although it was a bit of a stretch) that in the dark, my purple hair could have been mistaken for her blue. Still...the implications of being mistaken for such a person left me just a little unsettled.

Pensive, I fixed my gaze on the space between the four of us, then allowed a smile to form.

“Last night I ran into someone who mistook me for an old co-worker of mine,” I announced to the group.

My arms were crossed and I glanced around now and took note of the food in each person’s hand; Otis, with his thick red mittens which held a queen sized candy bar. Gloria, frail and heavy in perfume (who knows how she got hold of such a thing) shook her hands as she spooned pudding into her mouth. Bernard, whose brown and balding hair matched his brown leather clothing, all full of holes. He held an orange in his hand. All the while, my stomach growled.

“You had a job?” Bernard grunted in disbelief.

“Yes, I had a job. Why is that so hard to believe?” I protested. “In fact, it was a little over a couple years ago that I was laid off. Well, all of us were laid off. The company is no more. Just like that office building beside us. Whatever occupied it once doesn’t occupy it now.”

In some respects, good riddance. In others, good grief.

“What kind of job was it?” Gloria, now interested, set down her pudding cup and asked. Bless her frail heart.

Now what can I tell them to make it palatable?

“We were housekeepers, of sorts,” was the answer I came up with.

“What, like you cleaned houses?” Bernard again.

I put my elbow over my knee, palm on my forehead, and shook my head.

“We cleaned...messes. Going from place to place, each of us with our little jobs. Some of us were really good at getting rid of things, while others, it was more about tidying up or moving things around. Brooms, mops, sprays, vacuums, feather dusters. You name it. Everyone had their specialty.”

In truth, our organization never had a name. Those who knew of us outside of the organization would call us ‘janitors’. Then again, some of us did as well. That, or something like it. Custodians, waste disposal, cleaners, plumbers, renovators, whatever. To think that it all stemmed from a joke we all passed around about how we ‘cleaned up after others’ messes’. Then again, how many messes did we clean up and how many did we make?

“You know, back in the day there used to be a term for mafia hitmen. ‘Guy who paints houses’. Were you something like that?” Otis at last gave some input, and I wondered where he heard that bit of trivia. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

“No, nothing like that,” I chuckled. “Get that idea out of your head.”

Because it’s too close to the truth for comfort.

“Anyway, about this old co-worker of mine…” I began, but I was no storyteller; I could spend the rest of my bloody life reminiscing, but that didn’t mean I could give a recollection worth a damn. Yet I tried. Important or not, the need to tell these strangers I’ve shared light meals with tugged at me. “What you have to understand is that many of us shared a bond together. Despite the fact we’d always have our jobs at different places from one another and although sometimes we’d be asked to work as a group or paired together, more often than not, we were off doing our own thing. But we still got together, whether it be at taverns, or the…” headquarters. “Office.”

I paused. Not for effect. Not for feedback. But for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure what name to give this mystery co-worker.

“So if you think of us like a grade school classroom, this co-worker, let’s call her Rhonda. Rhonda…Civic. Yeah, that works. Anyway, Rhonda would’ve been the quiet kid in the back. She kept to herself, didn’t really interact with anyone, and had a few quirks. Some odd ways of speaking. Feeling. Others picked up on it, and of course, like a grade school, she’d get teased. Others would talk about her behind her back,” kinda what I’m doing now, except how else am I supposed to talk about someone who’s no longer around?

“I’ve had situations like that,” Bernard grunted as he gave his input. “I used to operate a forklift for a pet food company. Me an’ the boys would shoot the shit when the manager wasn’t watchin’. Most of us, ‘nyway. There was this youngish guy, flannel shirt and overalls. Same attire every day. Didn’t know how he got away wit’ it, but that’s what he wore. He moved bag after bag of dog food, but never once so much as said hi. Not a peep from the kid. We all thought it was weird. Anyway, he quit one day, we never found out why, and that was that. I didn’t even think much of him ‘til you mentioned somethin’.”

“Yeah, it was the same for me,” I replied, and I looked up at the clouds in the sky. “Funny that, I didn’t think much of her back when I worked for that company and now out of the blue someone mistook me for her and it was like, ‘oh yeah…’”

“What about you, Wendy? You’re always off on your own at night, going at it with your projects,” he countered.

“We all have our eccentricities,” I concurred. “I’m also not much for conversation, either, most of the time, but I still enjoy the company of others. If for nothing else than the spectacle.”

It was far too early in the morning, but how I wished to have a warm cup of tea or sake in my hands so I could take little sips as I spoke.

“I never thought anyone outside of the company ever knew her, be it an old friend or an old enemy,” I carried on, unsure if I had any conclusion to this or if it was just early morning rambling.

“What? You think she had enemies?” Otis spat and I could swear that bits of chocolate just flew right by me.

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. There wasn’t really anything I knew about her apart from I heard. Sure, I watched her a few times, but that didn’t tell me much. Whether she had friends or enemies, I could never tell. When I think back on it, I wish I did know. That I had tried to find out more. But it’s kind of that whole ‘you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone’ type of thing. Then again, here she is gone, and I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“Gone?” Gloria must have taken notice of my choice of words. For the record, I didn’t know what became of her. Not any more than I knew what became of the rest of the people I once associated with. Considering that I couldn’t go back to the headquarters (not that I had any desire to return), I had to assume they were all dead and that the place was no more. It made the most sense to me.

“Yeah. Terminated. It’s funny that way, how to them we were all replaceable and they had no problem exploiting us, but even that couldn’t save them.”

“Damn if I don’t know that,” Otis bemoaned. “I have a nephew, and my nephew has a friend who was working when a sign fell on him. Broke his leg. Next thing he knew, management fired him, worker’s comp didn’t cover for his injury, and when he tried to sue, the company’s lawyers blocked him. Then, I knew this other guy who did what he was supposed to. But he got paid scraps and the stress got to him, so one day he came to work all hopped up on coke and his boss fired him on the spot. All those days of doing what he was told and scraping by, and one day was all it took for it to come crashing down. He ended up killing himself some time after that,” after those last words came a sniffle. No tears, though. Maybe it was a runny nose.

I shook my head. Sympathy and grief was a difficult thing to muster given the life I had; countless moments of killing and watching others die. Those I worked with, laughed and shared drinks with, gone at any moment. It wasn’t a case of ‘kill or be killed’, but it was a life defined by the death of others, all the same. So what I felt when Otis relayed his tales of people he knew, all I could feel was hatred and disgust. If I knew their bosses, I would have killed them on the spot.

“You okay, Wendy?” Otis’ voice of concern broke through my thoughts. How I must have stared with that same pensive look I often did when lost in thought.

“It’s just not right, though, is it?” I glanced from person to person as I asked, my question rhetorical in nature. They all shook their heads and murmured, “no” or “not at all”.

Then Bernard waved his hand away and grumbled.

“Bah! Right, wrong, who gives a damn? I’m still alive,” he retorted, then turned to his back and laid himself down over sheets of newspaper.

That was a point I was willing to consider. To some, there was a profound difference between ‘alive’ and ‘survive’, but really, he was no less alive than someone with the privilege of a roof over their head and a bed to sleep in. Food in the pantry and some form of stability. Such things were all an illusion, anyway. People get busy, food goes bad. Bills pile up, costs increase, wage stays the same. To compensate, work extra hours, sleep less. Everything comes at a price few can afford and the compromises are seldom in one’s favor. Locked into a system in which the average person is always just on the verge of homelessness, yet the state of being homeless itself was punished.

Once I had asked Bernard, “if you were given a home, would you take it?” Based on that premise some other minds had, that people such as Bernard only lived that way because they wanted to. That it’s ‘on them’ or whatever. His response? Something like, “show me something that won’t be taken from me, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

That may have sounded like, “I’m here because I want to,” but at least to me, the difference couldn’t have been any more clear.

But enough rants. I stretched my arms out and yawned, then smiled a cheeky grin.

“Well, you know what they say, duty calls,” I announced as I got up. “Time for me to go digging for cash and get myself a bite to eat.”

That was how I went about most of my day: I’d get up, chat with a few folks around the docks, walk around the city ‘til I got a bit of cash, spend it on deep dish pizza and cheap beer (the staple of Chicago), then head back to the docks, bathe in the lake water, and resume my work in the office building. One of those days I’d have working lights, and then I could get to work on giving those folks a more comfortable place to sleep at night. Something like a home. Although it was unfortunate to think that in the eyes of the law, they’d still be considered homeless. Even the most idealistic of endeavors could result in a losing battle.

Whatever actions I might have to take in the future, I focused on the agenda for the day. It was during the day in which I was neither a rumor nor a killer. Daylight meant that I was just a person. Hell, at times a superhero; case in point, an old lady gave me a few bucks after I got her cat out of a tree (yes, as cliché as it was, such a thing happened quite often). Soon after that, I headed down to Cosmo Corner (a popular downtown tavern).

It was about noon now and my favorite bartender would be in soon: Wanda. Nice young lady, all covered in tattoos. At least a dozen on each arm, when I first met her I thought she was part of a crime ring or in a street gang, but nah. Apparently on the side, she liked to paint in her studio, but that was as hardcore as she got. Oh, well, being a bartender could be hardcore too. Not everyone can handle being a bartender.

Right now it was Stickbug (no, I don’t know why he was called that, but everyone called him that. Maybe that’s just his name). Fitness guru with a pencil thin mustache who was disastrous at mixing drinks. But amiable, I’d give him that. None of the conversations he’d strike up were ever ones I was interested in having, but he didn’t have a mean word to say about anyone. Maybe that was the problem: you had to have boundaries. You couldn’t show everyone the same level of sympathy.

“Say Wendy, have you heard of the fall of Constantinople?” Stickbug asked whilst he flung glass after glass in the air and began juggling them. Upon a quick glance, I noticed that there weren’t many people at the moment. Fine enough. I guess no one would give him dirty looks. As for me, I let my head fall onto the counter, the effects of my lack of sleep setting in.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied.

“D’ya wanna hear about it?” He continued to ask, and I already knew how insistent he could be with his topics.

“No,” I told him, to no avail.

“Okay, so we’ve got this city named Istanbul and…” he began, but it didn’t take long for my thoughts to drown out anything else he said.

Why couldn’t I have come in just a little bit later? No, it’s not bad. I could learn things if I listen, I’m just not in the mood to do so. I just want to eat and drink and...oh. Oh my. This must be what Rhea had to deal with all the time...wanting to order food, but never wanting to socialize. Not to mention how anxious she seemed to be in any situation that didn’t have to do with violence. Girl could kick ass but had trouble ordering a sandwich at a sub shop. Not to mention the general bodily discomfort she apparently dealt with.

‘I, and I cannot stressed this enough, am stressed’ I imagine she must have said at one point or another. Seemed to fit, anyway. That, or ‘I, and I cannot stress this enough, need a sweater’ or a blanket. Ugh. Why am I thinking of some weirdo who had such a minuscule presence in my life? Could it have to do with that woman last night? Yeah, probably. Well, a name’s a name. It could have been anyone named ‘Rhea’. Hell, the one I’m thinking of used a different name for each person she met, so I doubt anyone would know her by that name. Probably something else instead, like Sharpay D. Em.

Anyway, I ought to be thinking of more important things. Like the fact that the woman last night wanted to kill me. First of all, couldn’t she have waited? I was busy and I don’t really like being interrupted from my work. All I’m asking for is some fair warning and furthermore –

“...And that is why if you suspect you have a mouse in your home, you should leave a piece of cheese on the floor overnight,” Stickbug seemed to have concluded his little history lesson, except I must have missed many steps, because I wasn’t really sure how we got there.

“Wait, what?” I lifted my head and asked with a dull expression planted on my face.

“Want me to start all over?” He beamed, and I’m sure he could have talked all day and night if someone let him.

“How about later? Isn’t your shift over soon?” I reminded him with a slight sense of pride.

“Oh yeah! You’re right! So glad I got someone to remind me! Otherwise I’d be here all day!”

And nobody wants that. Hell, I don’t even think you’d want that.

“Before you go, I may as well order, seeing as I haven’t done that yet.”

“Oh no!” He gasped. “I hope you haven’t been hungry!”

Funny to think that his concern is real and not sarcasm.

“In fact, I am hungry right now,” I corrected him. “By the way, I’ll get my usual: pepperoni and spinach, large.”

“Right on!” I handed him the cash I had gotten from that old lady earlier. I still had some left over for sake, but I wanted to wait until Wanda got in.

I wonder what kind of food that woman from last night likes to eat. I feel like she’d eat chicken legs and large chunks of steaks. Just, a lot of steak. You know, why am I wondering such a thing? I’ve got better things to think about.

About five minutes later and a glass of water downed, Stickbug waved goodbye. In his place came Wanda with a bandanna over her head and covered in sweat which ran down her face.

“Intense painting session?” I asked.

She wiped her forehead and huffed.

“You know it. Were you waiting for me?”

“Heh,” I flashed her a smile. “It’s just not the same with Stickbug.” Really, how did that name come about? I think he said his name was Steven once, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.

“Is that so?” She asked, then went to the back to put her stuff away and get settled in. About the same time she came back out, the pizza arrived as well.

I took a heaping slice as layer upon layer of cheese and bits of spinach fell off of the pizza and back down onto the plate, unable to sustain itself on the thick cake of dough. Upon taking a large bite, my mouth was filled with the warm and gooey taste along with the combination of squishy spinach and savory pepperoni. One strong gulp later, and I was ready to take a drink. Next to me was my cup of sake, and when I looked up, Wanda winked.

“By the way, someone came in last night asking about any abandoned buildings,” Wanda mentioned as I sipped my cup of sake.

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, which came out more like a “mm-hmm.”

“Yeah. I just told her about the office building you’ve been hanging out in.”

I spat out my drink. Some might have gotten on her apron, but that was her problem, not mine.

“What did you do that for?! I don’t want people coming in and interrupting me while I’m working!”

Then I thought it over.

“Say, what did she look like?”

She put her finger on her chin and looked up.

“Hmm...big and muscular, brown poofy hair.”

Ugh. Yeah.

“Oh yeah. She came by and visited. Tried to kill me,” I replied, almost nonchalant about the whole ordeal, despite how much it had been on my mind.

“What? Are you serious?” She balked.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

“Yeah, but she wasn’t hard to deal with or anything.”

My main concern was why she was there at all. It’s not that I never expected anyone to come after me, especially when I all but deserted my job. But when no one came, I just expected that I was free and I could live out my life as I pleased.

“Jeez, did you kill her?” She accused. Rather baseless, too.

“No,” I scoffed. “I just sent her back home. Don’t know why she went after me, either.”

“Look, Wendy, I know you’ve killed people. Can’t really say I didn’t see something like this coming.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong: I get why, I just don’t get why, y’know?”

She shook her head.

“It’s like, she said there was a request for my death. She didn’t even know who I was, she mistook me for someone else. What I don’t get is why, rather, how such a request came about. Like, someone knows about me, but is sending people who don’t know about me to do the job.”

“Well, do you know what the request says?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then maybe whoever made it didn’t know who you were either, but noticed some things around the area.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It was all too possible I was overthinking things. But when it came to things like that, a fair deal of suspicion was necessary. “Whatever the case, if such a request like that is out there, then I doubt the person last night will be the only one.

“It’s kind of an open secret among the circle you talk to that you’re the one behind the murder of those cops. I don’t blame you, plenty of people around here don’t like the police and I really do wish you well, but most people don’t have the privilege to do what you do. Most people don’t have the ability to murder those they see as committing an injustice. Not only that, but most people don’t have confidantes that would be willing to keep their secret. You know why?”

Great. Just what I wanted while I was at the bar with some good food and drinks: a lecture.

“If you’re going to tell me because it’s illegal, I’m going to argue that it’s only illegal if you don’t have a badge and a uniform. Most serial killers are the ones who are hired by the state and demand your respect.”

Her face lowered and she turned from me.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not saying I disagree, just that the average person isn’t capable of doing such things, even if they wanted to. Even if they ignored the legality, it doesn’t matter. Just as you said, you’ve got got hordes willing to kill whoever they see fit without consequence, decked in highly-militarized outfits and weapons. Their numbers are too great, their power is too great, and if you even show the least bit resistance, they’ll throw in the rest of the military alongside them. So the best most of us can ask for is to avoid them as much as possible. But here you go, picking off anyone who rubs you the wrong way and not only do you manage to sneak on by and keep going, but it’s like you boast about it, too.”

“I don’t boast – I never said I enjoy it.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, sorry.”

“But you’re right: I am very fortunate. In the past, I’ve evaded my demise and have slaughtered entire armies that wished to pursue me. I’m not saying that to boast, though it is quite a feat, I admit. I’ve had a long life, a storied and bloody past, and I really wish I could stay out of trouble, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Old habits, I guess.”

“You’re not that old, are you? You don’t look much over thirty.”

I managed a chuckle.

“Would you believe me if I said I was well over five hundred years old?”

“Quit joking around.”

It’s not exactly wrong. I was born sometime early in the Sengoku period, but time travel sure does let you skip ahead a few years. There’s no way I could explain something like that, though.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a good skincare routine.”

That time, I was joking. There’s no way in hell that bathing in Lake Michigan would preserve your youth.

“Either way, I’m used to not sticking around places for very long. If things get too hot, I’ll leave town. So don’t worry about me,” I assured Wanda.

“I’d like it if it wouldn’t have to come to that,” she replied. “You’re a good customer, and make for good conversation.”

Well, I couldn’t say I wasn’t flattered, but hopefully she wouldn’t hold it against me if I did decide to ditch this place, reside elsewhere and try to lay low. Eventually I would have liked to settle down and be an old lady. Maybe knit sweaters in my spare time, or get a dog and a garden. Become the friendly old lady in the neighborhood that no one knows anything about.

None of that was likely. People like me weren’t meant to last long. As far as age went, I was already pushing it and as far as I knew, I really wasn’t much over thirty. It was just hard to tell where in my thirties, since my concept of time has been all screwed up.

I left the bar soon after. Despite my enjoyment of Wanda’s presence, my head just wasn’t as much in it as I thought it would be. So, still middle of the day, I returned to the docks, ready to get back to work.

I still don’t have the solution. Not enough power. Every time I think I’ve got a spark, it only lights one area. What I need is a lightning rod. Maybe I could stand one of my swords up to the roof to collect electricity. Or antennae. No. That still wouldn’t be enough, not without the right circuitry and places to send the electricity to. There’s more than one component and I can’t just do one without the other. If I’m lucky, there might be some generators downstairs I haven’t discovered. But even if I have to steal or build power generators, I want to give these places a semblance of a home. Some place to rest.

But even if I’m successful, it still wouldn’t be legal for them to reside there. What would I do, then? Fight off a whole force? Or would I run with the knowledge that I would be outnumbered? When I consider the eventual outcome, it was a futile effort and good intentions will only get me so far.

I shook my head as I entered the darkened building through an opening with a loose board. If that woman had been more attentive, she would have seen that not all of those boards were as well covered, and one of them actually served as a door.

Inside, an absence of light. I reached to my right and grabbed my helmet and katana which lay on top of a tall cabinet.

Upon placing the helmet on my head, I had a much clearer view of my surroundings. The infrared visor on my helmet allowed me to see in the dark, albeit some objects showed up blurry.

Outside, it was still light. Dusk wasn’t expected for another few hours. In other words, I had time. I could do my work in peace, take a little nap, not worry about anything. If no one was going to come after me until well after dark, then I could prepare.

So I did just that; I patrolled the area, climbed up each floor, checked out each room, then headed back down to the first floor. All around the first floor I searched for a hatch or a door, a flight of stairs, something that would lead to a basement. No such luck. It seemed that there were no passages, hidden or otherwise. No basement. No generators.

Maybe that’s what I’ll have to resort to. I’ll have to dig out a basement, fill it with concrete, get some generators built or setup...argh! Why is it so hard to get this going? I should just tell everyone, “sorry guys, I know I hate to make false promises, but looks like I just set my sights too high!”

I sunk down to the floor along a wall, right next to a door which would have led to someone’s office.

“Who am I kidding? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t leave before I get the chance to figure this out.”

I leaned my head over and soon felt the weight of the darkness creep up on me as it guided me to a gentle sleep.

When I awoke, I brought myself up to my feet and decided to climb up the many flight of stairs once more.

If I’m lucky, I’d like to at least get the elevator working. Something.

Short rests were all that were ever afforded to me. If I had gotten three hours or more, that was oversleep for me. With the way my body operated, perhaps adapted, I never worried myself with dreams. On the rare occasion where I had a dream, they were brief windows, photographs, still frames cascading down. Images of being beheaded. Of watching my head roll down into a river. Typical things like that. Such things weren’t memories, but just reminders of what should have been long ago.

Never mind. Several flights later, I saw the bits of collapsed roof on the floor. Above, the glow of the moon illuminated the floor. It was the only source of light I was afforded, save for the helmet.

So I see. It’s evening now.

“Damn, couldn’t she have found a different way in other than breaking down the roof? Now I’m going to have to repair that as well…”

If another came after me, I really hoped they wouldn’t drop down from the roof. That would make things too easy for me.

I’m going to consider that it’s still too early for something like that. Not that I have a watch or a phone, but I doubt it’s been night for very long. I just can’t imagine anyone attacking me until late into the night. Any time earlier and it would just be rude.

Just like the night before, I went down to where the top of the elevator was, along with the open panel in the wall. If I had to start somewhere, I figured I’d get done what I could. That was, if I could get anything done at all.

So as I crouched down and got to work, my helmet lifted as I did so. I struck a match and held it between my lips as I worked, plucking it out every now and then to help bind the wires together. There were two wires left with just a little bit of juice. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, then held the two wires together and rubbed them; as soon as there was a spark, I used the flame from the match to bind them together. Behind me, a couple rooms away, a light turned on.

Now let’s hope it stays on. Which reminds me: I need to get new light bulbs.

One day, if I ever got (or built) a generator and a basement to place it in, I would test the breaker board. It would be a beautiful sight if one day the whole building could light up. Even as it was, the light from the room remained and leaked out. I was impressed to see that it had stayed on.

Now if I flick the switch off, then on again, will it turn back on?

As I turned to work on the elevator, I was stopped in my place when I heard a thump in the distance. It could have been nothing. Those pipes were old, after all. The vents too.

But even if it was nothing, I had to check it out.

Down one flight of stairs, the sound of movement and creaks against the vents could be heard.

Could it be that I’ve got a guest?

That same sound continued in little spurts. Less noise, but still there. Unavoidable. I could tell, there was movement of some kind. Rat, pebble, raccoon, or a person. Further down the hallway, the sound grew closer, more pronounced. Little shimmies and brushes. Metallic clangs.

I stood in place as the sound seemed to be just above my head. I took off my helmet. No need for it.

“I know you’re up there,” I announced.

Silence. No more movement. Nothing.

Seconds went by. Still nothing.

Stillness passed through the air, and so I had no choice but to accept that I may have just been hearing the old building making noises.

I let out a heavy sigh. Defeat. So soon, too.

“Guess I was just hearing things. I’ll head back now.”

Still no sound of movement. How disappointing. I unsheathed my sword and flashed a toothy smile.

“...Just kidding,” I said before I plunged my katana into the vent and sliced the thing in half.

If there had been a person, or just a rat, surely they felt that.

As I did so, the noise of steel against steel, the grating being slashed apart couldn’t mask the undeniable sound of movement heading backward.

I held my katana up and dragged it against the ceiling as I walked toward the sound of someone retreating from within the vents.

Around the corner, I heard a drop, and the hard tap of a shoe against the floor.

So it was a person. And I missed. I really must be losing my touch.

As I approached, someone small and frail looking peeked out from the corner and threw a knife my way. I caught it between my fingertips and just as fast, threw it back. In a panic, the intruder let out a squeak and ducked back behind the corner, then picked up their knife and ran.

“Were you thinking you could kill me with that? Or were you planning on me blocking it, then running toward me with another knife, the thrown knife being a distraction?” My smile grew wider, almost a grin. It didn’t take much to know their strategy; too many times I’ve dealt with similar tactics. Smart, but amateurish.

Does this person really think they stand more of a chance than the person last night? Or are they just expecting to run around like this is some endurance test?

I wasn’t about to let them experience such a luxury. I ran after and watched as they almost got behind the door to an adjacent room, but before they could do so, I grabbed their wrist and held on tight. Once I pulled them forward, closer to me, it turned out the intruder was a young woman with wavy, green hair.

With my other hand, I raised my knife and readied myself to slice down against her arm.

She scowled, then with her free arm reached for my wrist to free herself. Before she could puncture me, I swung my blade down, at the same time let go of her wrist. Just in time, she jumped out of the way. I turned to make a quick slash, but she blocked it with her knife. Such a measly thing. All I had to do was push harder and it began to show little cracks.

She let go and jumped out of the way again.

“Nimble one, aren’t you?” I observed. Then she charged, but I moved out of the way. She tried to slash with her knife from the side, but I blocked it with my blade, then let go and kicked her to the floor.

Short on breath, she picked herself up. So far all of her efforts, while quick-witted, had been feeble at best.

“Let me ask you this: why do you want to kill me? Is there money involved?”

“I...I don’t want to kill you. That’s...that’s not why I came here,” she spoke, her voice rough, but high in pitch and she fixed her gaze on me as she tried to recover her breath.

“Then why?”

“I want to know who you are,” she answered.

That was such a ridiculous answer. But at least it was some kind of answer.

“I’m a serial killer,” I replied through my teeth. “I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. Sliced open, stabbed through the chest. Cut to ribbons. Does that answer your question?”

Her face turned to shock and she took a step back, but shook her head.

“No, I already knew that much from the request.”

“That again. The request to kill me, correct?”

She gave a nod.

“But I would rather not have to try. Not if you’re anything like who Sunny thought you were.”

“Sunny?”

“The one who tried to kill you last night and got herself beat real good. She thought you were –” I stopped her.

“Rhea?” I asked.

Another nod.

“What was so special about that name? There’s probably plenty of people in this city with that name.”

“Yes. And I looked up every single person with that name in Chicago. There were a lot more names than I thought, and not all of them were happy about receiving a phone call from a stranger.”

…

“Are you a dunce? Did you really?”

“Yes.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of someone actually doing that. I sunk down to the wall and sat.

“Sit,” I commanded. “And if you try anything funny, I will kill you.”

Wordless, she crouched down and sat against the wall across from me.

“So what does that name mean to you?” I questioned.

“Nothing. But it means plenty to a few of the people around me. Rhea Flection, they call her. Apparently she was both feared and admired. Some people want her dead, or revenge on her, others just seem to wish they could see her in action. My cousin and her wife were apparently one of her targets. Someone I admire apparently worked in the same company as her. Says that she died. Yet all these other people keep bringing her up.”

Damn. That name. So it really was the same one that I knew.

“Heh,” I leaned my head back. Absurd as it was, I not only stopped the fight, but also let my guard down. “I wonder if I’ll have my own fan club as well when I die.”

“I take it to mean that you’re not her?” She asked, something which I would have thought was obvious.

“You mean that socially awkward iceberg? No. I’m not her.”

“Iceberg?” She tilted her head, which made me wonder just how much she actually knew.

“You’d have to have been there.”

“So I take it you knew her?”

“Yes. We worked in the same company. But that’s ancient history. For the record, I’m Wendy Day. You?”

“Demetria. What kind of name is that, by the way?”

“I picked it out because I wanted an English sounding name, and it sounds like ‘windy day’. Not very clever, I know. I used to be called Mizue Soyokaze, but I threw that name away long ago, along with the rest of my younger self.”

“Cool. Lore. Can I sit next to you?” She asked, rather sudden, too.

“Go ahead. But I’ll remind you not to get any ideas.”

She got up and as she approached me, she looked away, ashamed or uneasy.

“I probably should have tried to kill you, seeing as I don’t want you to go around killing people, but I was more focused on getting some kind of answers,” she said as she sat down. Then turned away from me. I took it to mean she was shy.

“You don’t want me to go around killing people?” I scoffed. “I don’t want me to go around killing people. I’ve tried to put this life behind me, not get myself into trouble, but then I see others do things that I just can’t abide by.”

“Like what?” She asked, and her voice quivered. If only I had dragged out the battle, maybe she would have shown more bravery.

“Sexual abusers, for starters, but that should be obvious. Then there’s people like landlords and debt collectors who couldn’t care less if they let others die in the name of money. Greedy fucks all around. Still, I can’t catch everyone out there, only the ones that I see. Even then, I try not to let my blood boil, not let it get to me. I try to sit by, abide by the law, but then I witness a child running around with a toy gun with his best friend playing some kind of game, like cops and robbers. Then an actual cop comes and shoots the kid dead, a cruel irony. Said cop walks off, no remorse or recourse, all the while that kid just wanted to play and now their life ended. That I can’t abide by.”

“Wow,” she mouthed.

“But, in case you start thinking I’m some savior, acting only in the name of justice, let me remind you that I’m a murderer and violence is what I know. If anything, I find excuses to take lives, not unlike some of the people I so despise. It’s not even so much a craving or an addiction, but I don’t think this world will ever grow kind, and neither will I.”

“But why did you ever start?”

“Because,” I began. I had to pause, and I thought to myself, wait. Am I really going to go through my life story with a stranger I assumed wanted to kill me? Fuck it. I’m doing this. “I’m all too familiar with authority abusing their power. Back in my old life, when I was young and still had a family, there was a high ranking member of society who was found dead, a puncture wound through their chest. I was blamed for it, an unassuming girl who stayed home all the time and helped out with her family. But once I was accused, that same family disowned me, regardless of whether or not I had actually committed such a thing.”

“Did you?”

“No. But that didn’t matter, I was just a commoner, so my word didn’t mean much, and there was less proof that I didn’t than proof that I did, even if either way was inconclusive. Regardless, I was set to be executed; beheaded, actually. Two men with swords beside me, one in front. All against my throat. However, I managed to fight back and steal the two men’s swords, then cut them all down. After that, I hid out in an abandoned shack. Later on, I found out who the real killer had been and killed him myself. After, I fled. That didn’t stop me from being pursued, but I cut anyone down who dared to try.”

“That’s kinda badass,” she commented. I had to stop her right there.

“No, just bad. My life should have ended that day, as the person I am now was the person I was once accused of being. But no matter how many close calls I’ve had, I’m still here, like some kind of cockroach.”

“And your company?” She asked, and I knew where her real focus was.

“They picked me up a few years back, though in my mind it was centuries ago. They told me that they could offer me protection, be paid to take out those who would abuse their authority. By then, I knew it was only a matter of time, with whole armadas after me. So I accepted.”

“I see.”

“Do you know what we did in that company?” I pondered.

“I get the gist of it. It’s unpleasant, but I can’t just fault everyone when I don’t know them.”

“Huh. Interesting answer.”

I stared down at my blade, then sheathed it. It had been a while, but not unheard of, since I just...sat next to a would-be victim and heard them out. I kind of missed it, as often when it did happen, I would end up sparing said person and coming to a better understanding of them.

“Say, back when you worked there, did you know of someone named Remora?” She asked again.

Remora...Remora...does that ring any bells? No, I don’t think it does.

“No, sorry,” I replied.

“Uh...shivers a lot, always cold, doesn’t understand people well. Looks kind of like you, except not really. I mean, your guys’ faces and hair is totally different.”

“Oh, you mean Rhea,” I corrected, as there was no other person I could think of who was like that.

“No, no. Her name’s Remora. She says she knew of Rhea, but was never in the same place as her.”

Hmm...that was a curious thing, all right.

“Sorry, but I don’t think there was anyone named Remora, but you definitely described Rhea. One time, we were all at the bar, and she ordered a screwdriver. So I watched as she sat alone at a table and she pulled out an actual screwdriver. I watched her lick the screw driver, make a disgusted face, then looked around to make sure no one saw her. But I saw everything.”

“Is there a difference in taste?” Demetria asked, and I really had to wonder how someone so dense could exist.

“That’s not the point. The point is that she may have been this serious person who wanted to be left alone, but she was also just a total oddball. Even her attempts to be serious could be odd sometimes. Like one time, she tried to do this verbal takedown on a guy named Douglas Fir by listing out all his negative traits in alphabetical order.”

“I don’t think I could do that, but then again sometimes I wonder if I’m dyslexic,” she replied. Again, not the point.

“Whatever the case may be, I didn’t really think of her that much at the time, other than a few notable occurrences, but looking back, I kinda miss her. Then again, I miss most everyone in that company. Save the really shitty ones, but that’s neither here nor there. I know we were all eccentric amoral people, but it was like a community to me, and it felt like the closest thing I had to a home at the time.”

Really, I could reminisce for days.

“There was this other woman, Aurora B, and I suppose her, Rhea, and I could’ve been a ‘dream team’ except if put in a group, one of us would have killed the other two rather fast, thus negating the need for a group. Aurora because she wouldn’t be able to get us all to cooperate, Rhea because she prefers to work alone and would probably use her teammates as bait, and I’d probably notice something about the both of them that wouldn’t sit right with me and decide they’re both scum. Still, the idea is fun.”

“Wait, Aurora B? There’s an Aurora B in the arctic! She’s got a train and a band of thieves! I stabbed her and she robbed the restaurant I worked at!”

I blinked, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! There’s a version of her in this timeline and I bet she’s still just as rowdy! Oh, that must be fun!”

“What? Version of? This timeline?” She seemed confused.

“Yeah, like, you know, time travel and all that. Multiple universes, multiple versions of the same person.” I was surprised she knew about the company and yet didn’t know about that.

“I never considered that…” she muttered, then got up. “I think I’ll take off now. Thank you for that.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, I’ll just say that you were too strong for me and leave it at that.”

“Well if that’s all you needed, you should’ve just come by in the daytime. We could’ve had a nice chat over pizza.”

She waved goodbye, as if I wasn’t some dangerous force of nature, and I continued to sit and shake my head.

“I must be getting soft. First I injured someone rather than killed them, then I let the second person just walk away unscathed, and we had a nice little chat. I’m betting the third person who comes by I’ll end up buying them a drink.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the insanity of it all. My howls and laughter echoed through the almost empty building.

Once I calmed myself down, I stared up at the ceiling. How I wished I could fix up the place. Now I had to fix up the vents as well. There was always one more problem.

“What about you?” I addressed my last guest of the evening. “Have you come to kill me or just to chat?”

In one of the nearby rooms, a door opened up. Soon a figure approached me, a long rifle in hand.

“I’ll be quick. I just wanted to confirm that you were who I thought you were,” replied a low, icy voice.

“What, did you stalk her? Were you listening in on the whole thing?” Whoever said guest was, I would have at least liked a knock or something.

“No to the first one. Yes to the second.”

Direct. I liked that, at least.

“So what about the gun? I take it you’re the only person so far who even stands a chance against me.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Mm,” I mulled it over. “I see. So I take it you know who I am already, but that’s what bothers me. I don’t seem to know who you are.”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you ever saw me. I was never around at the same time she was. I couldn’t have been. For the most part, I was kept isolated from most everybody else. Not that I minded.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. So, why Remora?” I wondered. “You’ve got over a thousand different names, don’t you? Couldn’t you have started a new life with one of those?”

“It’s because...I met someone important to me the day I chose that name.”

I shrugged. “Who am I to judge? One time an old man decided to call me Trout. True story.”

It didn’t take much for me to figure out what was going on. Who I was talking to.

“So you’re an alternate version, huh?” I asked. Rhetorical, I know.

“Yes. I am younger than she was, but I went through similar things and took on missions all the same.”

“They used you like a back up, I take it. In case the main one died. Which is what happened. Doesn’t that disgust you?”

“It is what it is.”

Right. Such emotionless responses.

“In a way, though, it’s relieving. Knowing that there’s a version of her that’s still around and can experience freedom, like me.”

“I’m just a version of myself. I’m me. Not her.”

“But you do share several names and a background, yes?”

“She was irresponsible. She knew what her job was and she got tired of it, so she died. That’s all. She didn’t even have to, she just wanted to. Yet people won’t shut up about her when she was never worth the attention to begin with,” she growled, working up a rant. It seemed I actually struck something of a nerve.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about. Don’t talk about my friend that way,” I shot back.

“You two weren’t friends,” she scoffed. I wondered if that was the most mad she had been in a while.

“I just decided that we were. Seeing as she’s not alive to object, I think I can make that decision,” I gave a sly grin.

“That’s not how that works. Did you two even talk?”

I lifted up my index finger and closed my eyes.

“Once. Just once.”

“About what?”

“Some guy was bothering her and she was uncomfortable, that much I could tell. She also looked ready to break a bottle over his head, and I wasn’t really interested in a fight breaking out. I think I said something like, ‘is he bothering you, queen?’ Then pushed him aside. She looked confused, asked ‘queen?’ And I think I laughed and said not to worry about it. I remember she thanked me, and chattered her teeth while trying to sound out the words to do so. I told her not to mention it and offered to help her with anything if she ever came to me.”

“And?”

“Needless to say, she never came to me. I think when I told her that, she said something like, ‘thanks, I’ll think about it’ while turning her head from side to side, so she probably wasn’t ever going to consider it. But makes me wonder about what could’ve been. Like maybe it would’ve changed something.”

“It wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done. That’s just how she was,” she replied, all brisk and choppy.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still –”

“Shut up about her,” she snapped, although her voice didn’t even manage to raise all that much. I could just tell with her gestures. The shake of her fist. Everywhere shook, in fact, like it was more than just a shiver.

“It bothers you that much, huh? Is it the name, or just being reminded?” I really wasn’t trying to push any buttons. I didn’t even realize there were any buttons to push. But I guess that’s what I needed to expect, with there being differences and all.

“No. I’m not bothered. It’s just a name. Just someone who’s not around anymore. That’s just why I think people should shut up about it. That person’s gone. Gone. Poof.”

Real convincing.

“Is it because it feels like you’re constantly being compared to with another version of yourself? Or how people might see her as a superior version of you?”

I waited for a response. When I got none, I figured I hit the nail on the head.

“I’m me. Just me. I’m the only version of me there is,” she concluded. Less robotic, but still choppy. Almost downtrodden in her tone.

That’s fine as long as you believe that.

“What about that friend of yours? Demetria?”

“We’re not friends.”

“But she’s important to you, isn’t she?”

“In a way.”

“So you care about her, then?”

“No.”

“Were you worried I was going to kill her if she found me, so you followed behind?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Oh bother. It was fun at first, but now it’s like I was talking to a child.

“That whole aloof thing you got going isn’t a very good look for you,” I lectured.

“I’m not aloof.”

“Sure Jan,” I looked over and replied. “Look, I used to be like you, so I get it. I wanted to do everything on my own and I didn’t have much to share with others. But I’ve been blessed to have met a few good people here and there. I’ve survived due in part to the kindness of others.”

“Well…” She thought it over. “I don’t want to be aloof.”

“Bark like a dog, then,” I commanded.

To my surprise, she did just that: her best impression of a dog barking, anyway. I expected more of a Shiba Inu, but instead it came out as a yip, like a Chihuahua.

I cracked up; burst into laughter. Sides split and everything.

“Now you’re a woof,” I told her.

She growled, and I was inclined to say like a dog, as well.

“I hate you, you know that?” She whined.

“Aw, but I thought you loved puns,” I teased.

Changing the subject, she went back to a topic I thought would make her uncomfortable.

“By the way, do you even know what her last job was?”

Probably referring to the R-word.

“No. I was already here doing my own thing when it happened, so I never got to find out,” I explained.

“Well, if you ever want to know, I can give you Ves’ number.”

OK. Someone I don’t know about. Not useful at all.

“Why? Is she single?”

“Stop that. She’s got a cute wife.”

“Oh? Cute?” I should’ve told her I wasn’t really interested in either, as I knew she was the type to take everything seriously. “Like Demetria?”

“She’s cute too, yes.”

“So you admitted it,” I observed.

“Objectively speaking, anyway. Besides, that’s not the point – Ves was the one who killed her. She could fill you in better than I could.”

I see. She should’ve explained that sooner. I looked over and blinked.

“I don’t have a phone.”

She stared as well, then said, “oh.”

“Well, look: I’m working at this diner in the arctic for these people named Sunny and Ray. They thought I would be fun to work with, and not, well...me,” it seemed like Remora was just trying to proposition me with something, anything. I didn’t understand why. “So if you want to sometime, you could go up there. You’re probably more what they were looking for to begin with.”

I shook my head.

“No thanks. The cold’s your thing. I’m not really tied down to a motif. Besides, I’m a homeless old bat. How do you expect me to get up there?”

“I don’t know. You’re resourceful.”

True. I couldn’t deny that bit. Before I could answer, I started to cough. Like a tickle or a scratch at the back of my throat.

I leaned over and covered my mouth with my fist. Remora looked down.

“Are you sick?”

“Why do you care?” I smiled, even as I continued to cough.

“I don’t, but if you are, I don’t want to catch anything.”

As soon as she said that, the cough went away.

“Don’t worry. It’s not something you can catch.”

“What is it, then?”

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with meso – no, it’s not that. I don’t think so, anyway.

“Sometimes a cough is just a cough. I’m getting old, anyway. I might die any day now.”

“Somehow I doubt it. You’re like a cockroach.”

“Yeah, but even cockroaches aren’t immortal,” I reminded her.

There was a moment of silence. That moment grew. Nothing more was said. Nothing more that I could recall. I soon drifted off to sleep, the silence having consumed me. In spite of the intrusions, I think I got the deepest sleep I had in a while.

[hlvrai-loving]

Tricks, Treats, And a Falling Out

"Spooky scary skeletons~" Josh softly hums, dabbing a bit of white face paint onto his cheeks. He wouldn't be doing his whole face, of course, but what little he did put would serve as a nice nod to the Batter's monochrome appearance.

"... send shivers down your spiiine~" Then again... monochrome is black, white, and gray, right? There's probably another word for just the two opposing shades...

His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message reminding him to bring water and to be ready in five. Well, what luck it was that he was already dressed, wasn't it? As for water... Josh decided to bring his backpack for any refreshments he'd inevitably end up carrying, starting with a few bottles filled to the brim with cold water.

With most of his costume ready in advance, Joshua placed the cap on his head and checked in on his room, just to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything.

And it was then that his eyes fell on the aluminum bat.

Things... Stakes, you could call them, seemed to be mounting these days. Whatever the hell happened with the eyes and... that man... they wouldn't stop just for the sake of a holiday. He'd kept himself from bringing it to school, of course, but... trick or treating would be different. Even with his friends and Tiff around, he wouldn't be safe... Even if he'd hate to admit it, Joshua knew it'd be better safe than sorry.

And so went the bat into the bag, for later protection.

After that little debate with himself, Josh made his way to the device, explaining to CB and his "friends on the other side" that he'd be unavailable for the night and that he wished for them to take care and keep an eye out. And with that, another buzz of his phone let him know the time had come.

Tossing the bag onto his back, the teen hit the lights and left the room.

Upon opening the front door, he was greeted to the sight of Allen, a jumpy tune coming from his person as the visualizer displayed on his jacket danced. "Yo yo yoooo~! Wassup Dorkman? Ready to purify?" He let out, causing Josh to giggle.

"Yeah yeah, just about. What is going on theeere?" He questioned, referring to the animated clothing. Al grinned, glancing down at it.

"Awe, this ol' thing? Just a little something foster Pops helped me out with. It's connected to the music on my phone and lights up to the beat. Hook in a few speakers here and there and you've got the KING OF DUBSTEP, BUDDY! Heh, same thing's going on with the glasses, but, uh, can't really see shit when it's going off so I'm only turning that on when I really don't need to use my eyes anyways."

"Ghdfff!! What!! You're telling me you just invented a new kind of jacket like it was nothing??"

Al shrugged. ""Invented" is too strong a word for something like this. I'd rather call it "pushing the limits of reality". Much more humble."

J laughed softly. "H-humble my ass, you douche! God damn it, Al."

"Mweh mweh, can we getta move on? The girls are waiting for us a little ways down the road."

"Ey, don't you tell me what to do!"

"Oi, you talking back ta me? Ya givin' me liiip?" The pale teen made sure to pop the "p" as best as he could. Josh couldn't help but smile, shutting and locking the door behind him as he made his way out.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Al."

The night air hung cold, Autumn managing to chill even this town it seemed. As far as Joshua knew, this was the first time he could recall actually shivering upon heading outside. Allen seemed to notice this, lightly hitting his arm.

"Cold cuz you haven't been out in months, ey Joshie?"

"Oh shut it, I'm not cold. Just... It's a bit chillier than I remember."

"Yeah yeah, Mr "I wear a blanket while cruising the space-web"!"

"Shut uuuupp! I do nooot!"

"Do toooo! I saw you when I visited!"

The teen lightly punched his friend's arm right back. "Hush it, would you? Now, where're the girls?" He pondered, resulting in Allen taking him by the wrist and leading him forward as a new song started.

"Riiiight over here, Dorkman."

And sure enough, there they were. Clera was gushing over Tiff's modern take on the stitched together monstrosity, while Tiff was doing her damndest to deny that it was really anything to be impressed over. Upon seeing the boys arrive, Clera quickly made her way over, excited as ever. Her black top and adjoining skirt were riddled with hearts and flowery patterns, which shimmered ever so slightly in the light of the street lamps.

"Joshie!! Hiiii! Your costume looks great!" She chirped out, her contagious enthusiasm causing even Joshua's woes to fade onto his mind's abyss for a little bit longer.

He smiled. "Hahah, it's really nothing. Especially not compared to yours! Did you make it yourself, Cler?"

Her eyes lit up at his kind words, fingers trailing the lace hem of the skirt. "Ehehee! You know it! I sketched it out then I coloured it and me and dad had to go out to get the right fabrics for it, then we went ahead and made it proper! I had to buy the shoes though."

"Wow... How long'd that take you?"

"Around a month!" She giggled.

"Jesus, just a month? Where'd you find the time to make it?" Allen butted in, rather surprised.

She shrugged. "Ooh, but mine's nothing compared to Tiff's!! Give it a looook! Doesn't she look great?" She cheered, the other girl bashfully turning away.

"Cler, mine's not that gooood! Stoooop!" She pleaded, looking away. And, true, it wasn't much. Just a leather jacket, an electric blue shirt, some torn black jeans, and the more "monsterful" additions the studs, makeup, and spray dye gave. It was for the most part the bare minimum one would need to say they were in costume, but... it was still a costume nonetheless.

May as well praise the effort.

"Yeah, hah, she looks amazing, Cler." Josh smiled. Allen, on the other hand...

"Well... It's not exactly creative, is it?" He grinned, earning an annoyed glare from Tiff and an unamused pout from Clera.

"Sooo? She still did her best! I think it looks incredible!" The petite witch told, reassuringly holding her girlfriend's arm.

"Yeah, at least I'm not a walking light show. How was that creative?" Tiff retorted.

"Ey ey, excuse my goddamn French, but did you just diss the drip, Tiffy?"

"That is not "drip"! That's a jacket that lights up! You may as well have gone as a lamp!"

"Oh ho ho! Is that whatcha think?? Well, listen here-"

"Guys!" Joshua interjected. Evidently, it seemed something may have happened between the two beforehand to cause such tension... "Let's just... wh-why don't we just get started, huh? We're, uh, h-here to trick or treat, aren't we? S-so, heh..."

At Tiff's side, Clera uncomfortably shifted. The taller teen let out a sigh. "Fine fine. Might as well... My folks want me to be home at 11, so we're better off not wasting time."

"We won't. I promise you, we'll have more than enough time to get all the candy we could ever need before 11." Josh gave a small smile as Tiff coldly stared down at him.

"Yeah yeah..." She muttered, heading to the house nearest to them with Clera. Before he could follow, Josh pulled Allen aside.

"What was that about?" He asked.

"What'dya mean?"

"Al, don't play dumb with me. Did you and Tiff have a fight or something? You looked like you were both on the verge of throwing hands or something!"

Allen shrugged, clearly uninterested in providing an actual response. "Dunno... Didn't you just say a second ago that we have to start? Shouldn't we join 'em before they hit up too many houses?"

Joshua sighed, figuring Al would just keep denying it if he continued. "Fine, but I'm not dropping the subject."

"Oh, you will." The pale boy reassured, patting Joshua's shoulder as he passed him by. He frowned slightly. Later, he would get to the bottom of this, but for now?... For now, he supposed he had no choice but to follow his friend and truly start their night of candy hunting.

With a quick glance at the emptiness behind him, Joshua made his way forward to their first house of the night.

~~~~~~~

"Never thought I'd see the day." Al smirked, tearing open a chocolate bar. "Figured full-sized treats were but a legend these days!"

"Dude, aren't you supposed to, like, look through those?" Tiff regarded, dismissively running her fingers through her hair.

"Pfft, why? Not like anyone would bother tampering with these." He sneered, messily devouring the entire confection as the girl turned away in disgust.

The group had decided to take a short break, hydrating and taking a short sit on a park bench. They'd amassed quite an impressive stash of sugary goodness, as well as more than a few snide remarks surrounding their age, but the latter wasn't important at the moment.

Instead, Joshua's attention was focused solely on the empty playground ahead, the swings swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Seemed like only yesterday, he was still having fun in a set just like this. He and his friends would play for hours, making up silly games with whatever imaginary rules their minds could come up with. Running around, getting scrapes and bruises and thinking it was the end of the world, as if that was the worst they would ever get hurt...

He sat back against the bench, feeling more tired than ever. Things... were practically unrecognizable now than how they were when he was a kid. The idea of play and fun forever being within his reach had withered into nothing years ago, and the fears he had then couldn't hold a candle to whatever monsters kept him up on particularly stressful nights. It was all surreal... Unfamiliar, yet...

Josh shook his head slightly, he'd worry about all of that when the time came. It always did in the end. Might as well deny that bridge when he inevitably came to it, right?

"Joshie, hey..." Clera lightly nudged him, tearing the boy from his thoughts. He gave her a glance, and she happily showed him a chocolate witch someone placed in her bag. "It's a me!"

Joshua couldn't help but laugh. Once again, Cler unknowingly saves the day. "It sure is. Could do with a lot more hearts though, huh?"

"Ehehe! You know it!" She placed it back into her bag, lightly swinging her legs. "... So, Joshie?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do all day when you're not at school?"

"... Ah, I..." He began playing with his fingers. "... Just... c-coding, mostly. Nothing m-much else, why?"

"Mmm... We don't get to see you much anymore."

"... R-right, I... I'm real sorry about that, I just-"

"I even had good ideas on what we could do together." She continued, her head down. "Better than the mall and a movie, i-if that's why. I can come up with better ones too if you don't like them."

"... Clera, you... I haven't stopped hanging with you guys because I didn't like it, I'm just... I'm going through a lot right now. Things that I... I can't explain to you correctly. I hardly-"

She cut him off, fidgeting slightly. "Because I wouldn't understand, right?"

He fell silent for a few brief moments, "I... C-Clera, it's more than th-that... I'm... It's a f-family matter... You know, p-personal. I haven't told a-anyone."

The girl remained unresponsive for a few moments, staring down at her feet. Then, she only answered with a quiet "Oh."

"... Hey, we... we've still got a few more houses to go before 11. Why don't we get back to it, huh?" He forced a gentle smile. "Maybe someone will give you more chocowitches..."

Clera gazed up at him with sad eyes, but nodded regardless, picking up her candy bag, standing from her seat, and brushing off her skirt. Josh went ahead and informed the other two that they were ready to head off once more.

And unseen from a nearby rooftop, a skeleton sang out a few notes of blue as it watched them leave.

[ellaofoakhill]

Oak and Stone, Part Two

Oak and Stone was a bustling town, with fey and creatures briskly going about their business. There were mice like Jasper here, as well as voles, weasels, ground squirrels, tree squirrels, stoats, a few bats, and many other creatures Ella knew.

As well as a few she didn’t.

Creatures like the lizards Ella had encountered on Gaea, or a bit more commonly on Fey. But no lizard she’d heard of had four arms. The smallest of these was a head taller than her. Tusks twisted down from their jaws. Their bodies were a uniform grey-brown or mottled green, with frills on their jaws and crests on their heads, which many had painted or tattooed or pierced with rings and studs. According to Meline, they called themselves drakles, and most of those in Oak and Stone were sailors.

What most surprised Ella about this place—unknown beings were really to be expected—was the abundance of elves. Well, relatively speaking; abundance was not a word that fit well with elves. But there were more of them here than Ella had ever seen outside of Fey. To be fair, impeccable manners and upturned noses aside, elves were known more than anything for their love of the sea. And the sea Oak and Stone did have in abundance.

Meline showed her down to the shipyards, where vessels from across this world—the drakles called it Nidd—docked and unloaded their goods. These went to the seaside market, a paved square by the water with a stream running through. The stream allowed smaller boats to paddle or pole into town and drop their goods right by the stalls.

There were fabrics Ella had never seen, some softer than velvet, others smoother than silk, still others so strong Ella’s knife couldn’t cut them; according to Meline, those needed crystal-edged scissors to cut into shape. There were spices alien to Ella’s nose and tongue, including one somewhere between lemon and banana that she particularly liked; Meline laughed at the incredulous delight that flashed across Ella’s face when she tasted it. There were strange rocks and shells, scales shed by massive beasts, and gems that seemed commonplace here which Ella had only read about. There was a wood here, one a fairy could mould with her bare hands while it was green—or, more accurately, orange—and once it seasoned became like fairy silver. Ella shaved the hair from her arm with a knife made from it. There were metals as well—the mayor had banned the import of iron for all but a few specialized purposes—but this claywood, as it was called, was so easy to work hardly anyone used any metal not found as a nugget.

The moonbeams were strange too. Nidd had four moons and two suns, and each moon made beams different not only from Gaea’s moon, but from Nidd’s other moons as well.

Beyond the market were shops. There was a shop bordering the market that sold crepes filled with berry and honeyed cream; Ella laughed at the white moustache on Meline’s upper lip. Another sold kebabs of sweet and spicy fruits, of roots savoury, sweet, and spicy, and of the spiced meats of different fish and insects, or whatever the equivalent was here.

There were shops that sold fine berry wines, cordials, and ciders, and shops that sold candied chocolate mixed with granules of nuts and dried fruits. There was stronger drink as well, but Ella had hardly more than a sip of a spiced liqueur that made her fingers and toes tingle. Too much made a fool of anyone, and Ella was in a town she didn’t know, in a world she didn’t know, surrounded by fey and creatures she didn’t know.

And Meline knew a great deal about this town in another world. Many shopkeepers and stall-owners in the market waved or greeted her by name, and she knew not only them, but their families, and how business was doing. And she presented it all masterfully.

After they were quite full, Meline led Ella across the bridge and out of the square. Ella had heard the sounds of industry from this section of town for some time, but she suspected Meline had been building toward this.

Ella worked a wide variety of metals, woods, and some fabrics, but would have freely admitted her grasp of other materials was lacking. She saw a water fairy weaving six different materials into one cloth, a mole and a frog setting gemstones into a brooch, a squat, spiny

local—they called themselves ekidnes, according to Meline—throwing a clay pot, and a squirrel blowing glass.

Meline led Ella around a corner, and Ella’s fingers thrummed to the melody of hammer on metal. A shop with a sign depicting a hammer and anvil drew her. Beneath a slate lean-to, a drakle so green he was almost yellow held a bronze bar in two pairs of tongs while his upper arms operated a hammer and punch. Ella watched as he twisted and worked the cherry-red metal into a whorl of vines and leaves. He’d already finished the central portion, which had what looked like three vines braided around each other. He had two trays of tools in easy reach, and the fluidity and precision with which he picked up and set down tools—hardly taking his eyes off his work—gave Ella to know this drakle might have plied his trade as long as she had.

Finally he set the piece on a frame and stood, reaching for the ceiling. His crest and frills were bright red. He wore a thick apron, and heavy trousers with a third leg for his tail. He wore a grey sleeveless shirt with two wide armholes.

His eye wandered in their direction. “Ah, Meline,” he said, stepping out from under the awning, “good to see you again.” He had a thick, unfamiliar accent, with something of a lisp.

Meline went forward and took his hands—well, two of them, anyway—with a bow. “And you, Art.” She turned to Ella. “Ella, this is Arthur Bronzemonger, the best metalworker in Oak and Stone.”

Ella bowed. “It’s always nice to meet another of my kind.”

Meline turned back to Art. “Art, this is Lord Ella of Oakhill. She recently did me a great service, and to repay her I’m showing her around town.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Her smithing might give you a run for your money.”

Art raised a pair of scaly eyebrows as he took Ella’s hands and bowed. A forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. “You smell of metal, charcoal, and wood—mostly oak, but also willow and poplar—but you have overlaid it with lavender.” Ella reflexively moved back from the tongue. Art’s eyes widened, and he sucked it back into his mouth. His frill reddened more. “Forgive me. Fairies are new to Nidd, and your ways do not always come easily.”

“I could forgive a smith of your caliber far worse than a small eccentricity,” Ella said. She felt a flush creep up her neck. “Could you… would you honour me by showing us around your forge?”

Art’s eyes gleamed. “I would be delighted to show another smith my work.”

“Then lead on, good sir!” Ella said.

Arthur reached for a clay pitcher by a sturdy door leading into what was probably his house. “Would you like a glass of ice water?” he asked. “Smithing is good work, but hot.”

“How do you keep your ice?” Meline’s ear-points wiggled. With interest, as far as Ella could tell.

“Carters bring the ice down the mountain packed in crates with sawdust,” Art said as he opened the door to his cellar and hopped down. He came back up with several finger-sized chunks of ice, dropped one in each glass, and put the rest in his pitcher. “and I put it in my ice

box downstairs.” He took a long draught from his cup. Ella noticed his frill start to pale. “You can also have a water fairy freeze some water for you. But the genuine article tastes better. Now,” he rubbed two of his four hands together, “let me show you some of my projects.”

Hanging from the ceiling was a bronze-bladed scythe. On two hooks on the far wall were a pair of axes, one with a silver head, the other copper. Tools of various kinds hung on the wall, including a number Meline was unfamiliar with; the only one that stumped Ella turned out to be a set of scale clippers. A pair of silver shields shaped like gigantic scales intrigued her.

Art, unsurprisingly, proved a fount of knowledge regarding his craft. There were a few points he was unable to clarify for Ella, though she suspected this was due more to a slight want in his vocabulary than a lack of understanding. He’d no trouble making silver and gold as hard and strong as any fairy.

“I have a question,” Meline said, as she examined a set of caterpillar shears. Art and Ella both raised their eyes from the minutia of a serpentine-handled camp knife (which had a blade below the municipal length limit).

“What is it?” Art said.

Meline looked around the shop. “You have a lot of high-quality items here.”

Art’s eyes lit with understanding. “You are wondering how, in a busy port town, I keep thieves from walking away with my wares.” Meline nodded. Art looked between her and Ella. Ella felt her own eyes widen as a thought occurred to her.

“We’ve just met,” Ella said, “so I understand if you’re uncomfortable talking about the security of your forge. I don’t tell strangers about mine, either.”

Art smiled; Ella hadn’t realized a drakle’s grin split its head in two. He gave a coughing, raspy laugh. “From anyone else, I might have taken the question amiss.” He shook his head. “I will not go into details,” he lowered his voice. “But it stems from my kind being dragonkin.”

Ella felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered from long ago the whump of colossal wings, a roar that shook the bowels of the world, a column of flame so hot it burned white. A pair of eyes larger than she was, a five-part pupil so huge it could have swallowed her, slamming shut as the flame poured out. And a voice, so deep Ella felt it in her bones, howling fire and blood.

“Ella?” She jumped at Meline’s touch on her shoulder. Judging by her and Art’s concerned looks, she’d been elsewhere for a while.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, handing the knife back to Art. “Dragons have occasionally wandered into Fey.”

“And massacred and extorted everyone they could, I would guess?” Art asked. Ella nodded. “It is good to know, I suppose, that they are consistent.” Art hung the knife back on the wall. “They have been exacting the same cruelty on us since before our most ancient writings.”

He refilled their cups. “I have set foot beyond Nidd thrice in my life. Once to visit Gaea and learn a special technique for forging steel.” He held up a hand. “I have not used it in Oak and Stone, if anyone asks. Twice I visited Fey; yes, I visited your home world. Once when I was

still in my father’s care, and much later with my wife.” He sipped his water. “And it seems to me both worlds are less wild than mine. Though still full of dangerous creatures, I’m sure.

“Dragons are the worst, though wyverns and drakes are plenty vicious. Wyrms cause serious problems, though they usually stay deep underground. Sea wyrms are actually good to deal with; we give them baubles," he gestured to the silver shields, “and they leave our fishing vessels in peace. And the lung are kindly creatures.”

Ella leaned back. “So… this is where the lung come from?”

Art and Meline both stared at her. “I mean, yes,” Art said. “But they are rare on Gaea, much like the dragons, yes?”

Ella nodded. “I saw one once, shortly after I left Fey.” She sipped her water. “It danced on the clouds, even though it had no wings. And it conjured rainclouds as it danced, weaving in the sky like a glittering ribbon.”

She met Art’s eye. “They’re so different from dragons, I never made the connection before.”

Art shrugged. “Understandable. Take away the long bodies and scaly hides and there is hardly any similarity.” He looked at his own scaly hide. “But kin we all are.”

Ella did not ask which drakles were closer to, dragon or lung. Maybe they didn’t know. Either way, it seemed an unpleasant topic.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 4

Warnings: none. Just some cute Ovi and little kids ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It is a fifteen-minute drive into town; a picturesque central area with a healthy mixture of both low and high end shops and numerous eateries and cafes. In the winter it is reminiscent of a Dickens novel; snow covered trees and streets, the Victorian area store fronts boasting immaculate decorations and displays in their front windows,  white lights strung from almost every available surface, and a skating rink in the centre of it all.  In the summer, when tourists flowed into the area and brought in the most money for the economy, the sidewalks were full of patios and lined with immaculate floral gardens. Telluride is a small town, and regular residents all seemed to know one another; conversing in front of the bank and post office, catching up on gossip and talking about high school sports. Tyler’s already exchanged pleasantries and small talk with five people, and that was when just stepping out of the car.

 When they’d first arrived, talk had spread fast about the new family in town.  They’d spent four months living with her parents and getting on their feet before buying able to buy a home with their joint savings and money that Mahajan had managed to scrap together and give as thanks for taking care of his son. Nik had taken it upon herself to act as the ‘small town gossip’, quickly using some of her contacts to spread small little rumours about who they were: an ex Australian Army soldier who’d been injured in Afghanistan and forced to retire at a young age, his young pregnant wife and their baby girl, and a kid that they’d adopted after losing both of his parents. It had managed to keep people from asking too many questions when they’d show up unannounced at the house with various casseroles and baked goods and welcoming gifts. Every so often someone would ask about his service record and just what happened that forced him to leave at such a young age and Tyler would just repeat the same old bullshit about arthritis and nagging injuries and show off some of the more prominent scars that marred his body. Just like five years ago in Dhaka, people had taken to them.  They were young, friendly, always willing to lend a hand if someone needed it.  Never too accessible, but just accessible enough.  Never free and easy with their personal information, but giving out just enough that kept people curious. And when he started his own business, word travelled fast and within a week he had a client list of over two dozen. On his first day of school, Ovi already had people waiting to meet him. Interested in who the kid with the ex Army Aussie dad was.

Even five years later it is a novelty of sorts: an Australian living in their small town. They’re intrigued by his accent and his slang and always want to hear stories about ‘the land down under’. Even now he couldn’t go into the hardware store or into the pharmacy to buy diapers without someone wanting to hear all about kangaroos and koalas and was it really true they had spiders the size of dinner plates? He humoured them for the most part; slightly annoyed when they attempted to copy the way he talked. What was the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? He’d just laugh it off and they’d think it was hilarious whenever he called them mate.

The twins and Millie had decided to tag along; the boys wanting mohawks done at the barber and their sister wanting ice cream. The little mom and pop candy store was always one of their stops when they happened to make it into town, and she wasn’t about to let her father forget about it.

“I can take her,” Ovi offers, still trying to make up for his huge fuck up the night before. “I could use some ice cream too.”

“Oh please, daddy?! Please?!” Millie gushes, as she waits for him to unload her brothers from their car seats before tending to her. “Can Ovi take me for ice cream? Let Ovi take me for ice cream!”

“Sometimes I think you love him more than me,” he teases, as he leans across the back seat to unbuckle her, and in response she curls both arms around his neck and gives him a sloppy, noisy kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t love anyone more than you daddy.”

“Not even mommy?”

“Mommy is a close second. Don’t tell her that though. It might make her sad.”

“What about your brothers? Where are they on your list?”

“Oh they are wayyyy down there. Like between broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

“You hate broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

Her eyes narrow. “Exactly.”

He can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in her voice, at the frown that takes over her face, the way her normally brilliant blue eyes grow dark.  So much like him in so many ways. He sees it all the time; in all of his kids. Certain facial expressions and mannerisms that he long ago recognized in himself.

“Okay, I know they piss you off, but they’re still your brothers,” he reminds her, as she clambers out of the SUV.

“Maybe they’re adopted,” she sounds hopeful at the idea, and then rolls her eyes at them when they start harassing her about her dress and her pig tails.

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not. They definitely came out of mommy’s tummy. I was there. I saw it happen.”

“But how’d they get in there? Maybe other babies got put in her tummy by accident.”

“Naw, I was there for that too. So sorry. You’re stuck with the brothers you have.”

She’s side eyeing them now, with absolute disdain despite the fact they’re actually behaving and just waiting patiently for their dad to lock the car and set the alarm.  He recognizes that look, too. He’s used it many times himself when someone’s mere presence has annoyed the shit out him.

“They’re just so…ughhh…” she huffs dramatically.

That’s definitely more her mother coming out.

“But at least I have you, right Ovi?” she curls a hand around two of his fingers and gazes up at him adoringly. “At least you won’t pick on me and pull my hair and do stupid boy stuff. You’re like an older brother, right? That’s what mommy always says. That you’re practically my big brother. Is that true?”

The kid looks as if he may burst into tears at the mere thought of it. “If that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your big brother? I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He’s always seen her that way. She’d been his first hands on experience with babies and he’d relished every moment. Never once complaining when he was asked to change a dirty diaper or she threw up on his clothes. He was a natural, calm, patient, compassionate. A surprise, considering he’d never been brought up experiencing any of those traits.

“I can be your little sister,” she offers, and picks his arm up and slings it around her shoulders.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. And he blinks his eyes several times and clears his throat and then smiles down at her.

“I’d like that.”

 ****

When he was a kid, this place would have been paradise. An entire wall devoted to clear plastic cylinders filled with a rainbow of various candy, display cases showing of chocolates in all kinds of shapes and even cartoon characters and over two dozen different flavours of fudge. There’s even an old fashion milkshake and ice cream bar on the far wall, serving everything from basic cones to sundaes with dozens of available toppings, and enormous banana splits.

Oh, to be a child again! He longed for those days. Not his childhood and his previous life in India; spent as a prisoner in his own home because of his father’s evil misdoings. But a childhood that would be much simpler. Worry free. Where he could actually be a kid and enjoy all the innocence that came with it. If he could choose, he would pick this moment, this place, this family, to experience as a child. In a home where he felt safe. Valued. Respected. Loved. Where his opinions and his feelings are validated, and he can speak without being spoken to. Where there is more laughter than there were tears. More smiles than harsh raised voices.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

That is what he witnessed in his new home, with his new family.  He’d been made to feel as if he was loved just as much as the biological children. He was valued. Seen as a person and not a thing. Tyler and Esme never said those three little yet powerful words, but he felt them. In the way they expressed pride in his school accomplishments, in the way they helped him battled his issues since the incident in Dhaka five years ago, how they encouraged him to always try his best and learn from his mistakes. Even when he was younger and being disciplined, there was love in it.  They only wanted what was best for him and hated to see him wandering down difficult paths.

No. They never said it. Neither did he. But it was all around him. And inside of him.

Half a dozen customers linger in the store; a small family picking out candy, a couple sitting on the stools at the counter, and a solo man sitting in one booth at the very back.  A trucker style hat pulled low over his eyes, sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos visible under his t-shirt, a mug of black coffee and that day’s newspaper in front of him.  He glances up as they enter; his eyes locking on Ovi’s for a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ovi finds it a tad unsettling. He’s spent a lot of time wandering the town and in and out of the various shops and he’s never seen that face before. And in Telluride, newcomers stick out like sore thumbs.

Millie tightly holds his hand and happily skips alongside of him, pausing every couple of feet to spin in a circle; commenting on the way her dress looked when she twirled. Because that’s how the princesses’ dresses moved in all the movies she’s seen, and she would very much like to be a princess when she’s old.

And a firefighter.

“That’s quite the combination,” he remarks. “A princess and a firefighter? Are you going to wear your tiara and your princess dress when you go to fires?”

“Maybe the dress, but not the tiara,” she says. “Because I wouldn’t be able to get my helmet on.”

Pretty sound logic.

He notices the way people watch them, mostly out of curiosity. That sweet little girl in her blue and white gingham dress and her light up Frozen sandals.  With her unruly hair and her huge blue eyes, her hand tightly clutching his. They probably think he’s a babysitter. Or a family friend. But truth be told, he is closer to her than he’s ever been to any of his blood family.

“Let’s see what we want,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms, settling her on his hip in the same fashion he’s seen Tyler use so many times.  And she curls an arm around his neck and pushes her unruly hair out of her eyes and leans forward as far she can go in order to get a closer look at the tubs of ice cream laid out in the freezer before them. He doesn’t know why he bothers. She orders the same thing every time they’re there.

“Aren’t you a lucky little girl,” the cashier says, as she rings up their order. “Having a friend take you out for ice cream.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Millie informs her. “He’s my brother.”

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“What she means is…” Ovi attempts an explanation of his own, but Millie jumps right in.

“Just ‘cause we look different doesn’t mean he’s not my brother. ‘Cause he is. My mommy and daddy adopted him when his mommy and daddy died. He didn’t have anywhere else to live so mommy and daddy let him live with us. I also have three other brothers.”

“Are they adopted to or…”

“Nope. They’re my real brothers. They have the same mommy and daddy as I do. Two little brothers were enough and when mommy was having another baby, I really wanted a little sister. Or a puppy. Puppies don’t cry all the time and wake me up in the middle of the night and steal my toys. But nope, another brother,” she’s clearly disgusted by that fact. “How come so many boys? Daddy says that some people just have lots of boys and others have lots of girls and some just have a little of both. But mommy says daddy is a boy making machine. Whatever that means.”

“I am so sorry,” Ovi apologizes. “She likes to talk.”

“My brothers that came right after me are twins,” she continues, taking the cashier’s wide-eyed interest and awe at her precociousness as her cue to keep going. “Tanner. And Tyler. Tyler’s my daddy’s name too. My baby brother is Declan. He’s the cutest one. The other two are just way too annoying.  And Declan doesn’t pick on me and pull my hair. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t…” she makes a fist, as if to signify she’s going to punch him in the face if he doesn’t tow the line.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ovi notices the tattooed man in the trucker hat slipping out of his booth; mug of coffee and newspaper in his hands as he moved closer to them. Dropping into one of the stools closest to the entrance.  He shifts nervously from foot to foot; keeping one arm tight around Millie as he pocked his change and then carries her and their treats to the nearest table. He makes sure that he’s facing the door. Tyler has always told him that is was the smart thing to do; you didn’t want to be surprised by trouble sneaking up on you.

He hates that he’s still so paranoid. That the nightmare he’d gone through in Dhaka still bothers him to this day. It’s his cross to bear; painful and heavy. And some days he just wishes he could ease the burden on his tired shoulders.

Instead of taking the seat across from him, Millie slips in right beside him, kneeling on the vinyl bench in order to reach her ice cream.  She happily digs in; spooning the bubble gum flavoured concoction into her mouth as she rattles on about gymnastics and martial arts and how she really wishes that daddy didn’t hate hockey so much, because she’d really like to learn how to play it. And how to hit people really hard and fight them. And as he listens intently and offers up nods and appropriate responses, he casually keeps an eye on the stranger seated at the counter.  Ovi knows he’s watching them. He can feel it every time he looks away to pay attention to Millie.

“Ovi?” she suddenly asks, as she licks ice cream off her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“What does daddy do? What’s his job?”

“He fixes up houses and makes them nice again. And helps people do things they’re not able to do in their own homes. You know that.”

“I don’t mean that job. I mean his other job. The one that Auntie Nik always calls him on the phone about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“He always leaves in the middle of the night and then he’s gone in the morning and I’m mad that he didn’t even say goodbye,” she continues. “And then he’s gone a long time and mommy is really sad and cries about it. She tries to say that she doesn’t cry, but I hear her when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s worried about daddy. Is he doing bad things?”

“No,” he assures her. “He’s not.”

“I don’t like that he’s gone all the time. It makes me sad. And then I can’t sleep because I’m sad and daddy isn’t there to tuck me in and read me a story.  Where is he? Where does he go? Mommy says he’s far away, but he still calls us every night. It makes me feel better when he calls. ‘Cause I can hear his voice.”

“He’s a lot of different places,” Ovi explains. “He travels a lot.”

“But what does he do? What kind of job is it?”

“He helps people. People that are in trouble.”

“Are bad guys after the people?”

He nods. “The bad guys are after them and your dad goes and helps them get away. He rescues good people from bad people.”

Her eyes widen and her voice is above a whisper, speaking in astonished awe. “You mean like a superhero?!”

He grins. “Just like a superhero.”

“Like the Avengers?!”

“Just like them. Just like Thor.”

“Oh, he’s my favourite!” she gushes.  “Mommy’s too because she says he’s a total snack.”

“I wouldn’t tell your dad that. About mom thinking Thor’s a snack. Or about how you know he’s a superhero. He doesn’t see himself that way and he doesn’t like to talk about it. You know how some superhero’s keep it a secret and no one knows who they are? That’s how it is with your dad. So we’ll just keep it between us, okay? You don’t want to embarrass him, right?”

“I’m not brave, mate.”

“Of course you are. You rescue people.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“You mean like killing people?”

Ovi can hear that conversation as if it were just yesterday. At Gaspar’s house, when he’d asked Tyler if he’d always been brave.  How could you not be? When you willingly put your own life on the line to save the lives of others? Even if there was money involved, it still took a lot of courage to go into a situation where you didn’t know if you’d survive or not.  Tyler and his father were nothing alike. His father had killed people with horrible intentions. Tyler kills because he has to. To save others and himself.  He would never tell the little girl beside him that. Those details are difficult to digest and painful to hear about, and she doesn’t need to know them until she is older.

And maybe not even then.

“Ovi?” she asks once again, and he uses the tip of his thumb to clear ice cream from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“That man is giving me the creeps.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tries to play it cool. “What man?”

“That one,” her eyes narrow once more as she glares at the stranger in question.  “He keeps looking at us. Why does he keep looking at us?”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute. Or he’s jealous because you have ice cream and he doesn’t.”

“We could always ask him,” she suggests. “About why he’s staring at us.”

“Or we could just mind our own business and eat our ice cream. We don’t want it to melt, do we?” he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer and a little tighter to his side. 

***

The chime above the door sounds as it swings open and Ovi watches as Tyler and the boys enter; the twins being maneuvered over the threshold with a large, strong hand gripping the back of their shirts, effectively steering them in the right direction. Both have mohawks now; one with frosted green tips, the other blue, and Ovi grins at the sight of Tyler’s own new look. Or was it in an old look? Newish oldish perhaps? The same cut he’d sported when they first five years ago. He remembers how he’d been intrigued by it; no one at school would dare have their hair cut like that and there was no way his own father or any of those paid to watch him would have ever allowed him to get it done.

He also notices it’s a bad knee day. That limp a little more prominent than usual.

“Over here boys,” he says to his sons, and with a gentle push with his thighs sends them the right way.

Ovi clears his throat noisily, making it a point to catch Tyler’s attention. And when their eyes lock, he makes a small nod in the direction of the man sitting at the counter.  Pretending to be immersed in his paper as the cashier refills his coffee mug.  Through the lenses of his sunglasses, Tyler’s able to check him out without even being noticed, and Ovi sees the way his head barely moves as he gives the stranger a once over; his brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a thin line.

“Hi daddy!” Millie cheerfully greets as he approaches the table, and Ovi notices how the stranger finally looks up; no expression on his face as he eyes Tyler from head to toe. “What’s up with your hair?”

“Most of it’s gone. Why? You don’t like it?”

She frowns. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Blame your mother. She likes it like this. Get in,” he instructs his sons, and helps each of them by grabbing the back of their shorts and lifting them onto the bench.

“Nice hair cuts boys,” Ovi enthuses, and he gets high fives from each of them. “Very cool. What’s up with the colour though?”

“My wife’s going to kill me,” Tyler laments, and then heads off to purchase ice cream for the twins. Ovi notices yet again that the man at the counter watches him intently; brows arching as he takes in the tall, powerful frame.

Impressed, maybe? A little intimidated? Even now Ovi himself found it hard not to be. When you’re that tall and you’re back and shoulders are that broad and your muscles are that big, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Mostly it was from women. Ovi noticed that a lot. The females like Tyler’s big muscles and his blue eyes.

Tyler slides into the seat across from him, removing his sunglasses, placing them on the tabletop and then getting the twins settled with their ice cream.  He’s a good dad.  Ovi has always thought so. He’s a gentler version of himself when he’s in ‘dad mode’; his features softening, his voice not as gruff.  Calm and patient.  

“What’s up with that guy?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the counter.

“He’s been staring at us,” Millie answers for Ovi, as she ducks under the table, crawls to the other side and then resurfaces and climbs onto her dad’s lap.  “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute,” her father reasons. “Or he wants your ice cream.”

“That’s what Ovi said. Hey!” she flashes a dramatic pout when he helps himself to some of her treat.

“He’s just been sitting there,” Ovi says. “He was here before we got here.”

“What’s he be doing?”

“Sitting. Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

“And watching us,” Millie pipes up. “Super creepy. I don’t like creepers.”

Tyler chuckles at the use of the word ‘creepers’, and running a palm over her hair, drops a kiss on the top of her head.  “You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”

“You ever seen him before?” Ovi asks. Tyler’s in town more than he is; always at the hardware store picking things up for his side business.

“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember a face like that. Definitely doesn’t fit in around here.” But then again, neither did he really. With the accent and the tattoos and the scars. And now the haircut.

“People are weird,” Tanner chimes in.  He’s the observant one out of the two boys; the kind that sits back and quietly takes in a situation or an environment, brain coming up with different scenarios and outcomes. Wise and intelligent beyond his years.

“You’re one to talk with that haircut,” his father teases, and nudges him playfully with his elbow. “You realize your mother is going to seriously hurt me, yeah? She’s not going to be happy at all. Think it’s worth it? Think it’s worth me having to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life?”

His son nods enthusiastically.

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus. Now I remember why your brother is my favourite,” he’s teasing of course, and reaches across the bench to gently and playfully pinch his name sake just below the ribs.

Ovi notices just how much they all actually do like alike.  The same facial features: blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes, almost the exact same colour and texture of hair, the same noses and ears. Even the same smiles and mannerisms.  The way they will each smirk and cock their heads to the side when they’re sensing someone else’s bullshit.  

There are definitely some extremely strong genes on Tyler’s side of the family.

“He’s coming this way,” Ovi whispers, as the stranger slides off his stool, and folds his newspaper and puts it under his arm before carrying his empty cup to the cash register.

He’s average height and has a stocky build. Nothing remarkable about him at all save for the arms full of tattoos.

Tyler casually watches him; legs stretched out under the table, an arm across the back of the booth.   If he senses something is up, Ovi can’t tell for sure.  There’s no darkness to his eyes or furrows across his brow.

The other man turns towards them now, briefly pausing at the side of their table as he looks down at Tyler, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I help you, mate?” Tyler asks. Calm. Cool. Collected.  It was a trait that Ovi admired; the ability to stare someone down yet remain completely relaxed and expressionless.

“Just admiring your family. I’ve got a few kids of my own back home. Just made me miss them seeing you all together.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I could say the same about you. Accent and all.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Here for business or…?”

Ovi enjoys watching the process. The way the questions come so easily and never seem prodding or invasive. Tyler’s expression and tone never wavering.

“You could say that. What brought you here?”

“The wife’s from Colorado. Decided to move here when we started having kids.”

“Definitely a nice place to be. Well you all take care. Enjoy your family.  Kids are a special gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Tyler nods, then casts a casual glance over his shoulder, watching as the man heads through the shop and out the front door.

“Anything?” Ovi asks expectantly.  “Feels weird, right?”

“Felt like it’s just a guy away from home and missing his family. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. He probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

“But the way he was watching us. The way he was watching Millie…”

“Maybe he has a little girl of his own and she reminds him of her.”

“So you felt nothing? You didn’t feel like there’s something weird? Something’s going on?”

Tyler smirks. “Not every strange person is out to get us, mate. Sometimes people are just weird. Or lonely.  Sometimes they just want someone to talk to and don’t know how to go about it. Remember how you felt when you first moved here? How different it was and you didn’t have any friends? It’s like that. But a hundred times worse. A guy’s thousands of miles from home, missing his wife, missing his kids, maybe having a shit day. So he wants to reach out to someone.”

“So you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Just a normal guy missing his family, kid. That’s all.  Thought you were getting a handle on this. The paranoia. It’s been five years. If someone from back home was after you, they’d have found you by now.”

“You don’t worry? About people from your past coming to find you?”

“If I just my entire time worrying about stuff like that, I’d never leave the house. And let’s not get too into it, yeah?” he nods down at Millie and then over at the twins. “Little ears and all.”

He likes to keep things on the downlow as far as the kids are concerned. They’re young and vulnerable. Impressionable. And telling them that their dad helps people is one thing, but telling them that he sometimes has to hurt and even kill people to do it, is a different beast all on its own.

“Does chocolate milk come from brown cows?” TJ suddenly asks, effectively breaking the mood.

“Excuse me?” his father laughs. “What?”

“Well if the white milk comes from the black and white cows, where does the chocolate milk come from?” his son continues. “Brown cows, right?”

“That’s not how it works,” Tyler chuckles. “That’s not how any of that works. It comes from putting chocolate in white milk.”

“What about the grass?” Tanner’s turn now. “How come the grass is green and the sky is blue?”

“That’s a simple one,” Tyler says.  “If the sky was green like the grass, you wouldn’t know where to stop mowing.”

Ovi can’t help but laugh at that. The way it is said with the utmost seriousness and how the kids are now both in awe that their dad knew that and thinking he’s apparently the smartest man on the planet.  He’s able to relax again. Calmed by the fact that he’s with his people.

His family.

[mcsmmafia]

Round VIII of MC:SM Mafia 🍬

THE 8TH ROUND OF MAFIA

It was cold, it was snowy… and it was an enormous swamp that you got lost in. For days you have been wandering around the wetland, desperately looking for any sorts of food, but to no avail. But then you saw what might just save you from starving to death: A big, light brown mansion in the distance!

You hurried to the stranger’s house – something about it’s shape and size reminded you of something, but you were too hungry to remember what exactly – and considered your options. Eating the old, dirty crust on the outside of the walls? Eww, hell no! You had to get inside and get the good stuff, even if you had to break and enter. Or maybe you could eat and enter?

But to your surprise, the candy cane-bar door was open. You went inside, and it was pitch black, but the smell didn’t lie. THE WALLS WERE GINGERBREAD, THE WINDOWS WERE WOVEN WITH COTTON CANDY, AND YOU WERE HUNGRY!

So you immediately abandoned any common sense and started feasting. Until you suddenly heard a voice behind you –

"Nibble, nibble, gnaw, who is nibbling at my little mansion?"

You turned around to see a red-haired girl grinning gleefully in the twilight of the gaps in the door. Oh wait, you remember this face – it was Cassie, Cassie Rose, the evil witch of the swamps!!! And she was blocking the entrance, she’s probably gonna EAT YOU TOO-

But to your surprise, she pulled out something white and quite delicious smelling. Was that… white pumpkin pie??? Could you actually be in heaven???

And then, she threw it right into your face. Rude!

You tried to rub it off, but it stuck like superglue. How much honey did you use to make it this sticky!?

You were interrupted in your thoughts abruptly when you heard another splash and looked back up to see Cassie having disappeared. Uh-oh.

Knowing that you would starve outside – c’mon, seriously, nobody likes the crust –, you stumbled your way into the next room, where there was light. And more scents of delicate pie. A walking scent – IT’S THE WALKING PIE, EVERYONE, RUUUN!!!

Dear dinner guests, it is time.

To eat.

BEFORE YOU DIE OF DIABETES!

Or possibly also of murder, whatever comes first!

☀ Results of Day 1:

The first thing the guests did was discuss what could and could not be eaten in the mansion. Turns out: Absolutely everything is edible! So they set out to eat everything.

CASSIE asked the guests if they think the witch – or their hips and pancreas, for that matter – would forgive them if they eat the house, in hopes of subtly restraining them, but they ignored her warning.

After the guests had eaten all they could in one day, Stacy told everyone to say something if they saw someone without a pet, as there’s a 50/50 chance that they’re Cassie.

🌑 Results of Night 1:

First things first, Sparklez had to assess what could and could not be eaten in this big mansion, to come to the conclusion… everything. Absolutely everything was edible. He tried his best to tag along in the big feasting, but eventually got nauseous from all the sugar. Oof, he needed some real food, or else his stomach might not forgive him! He was a bit stunned when he realized that CASSIE didn’t have a pet. He tried to talk to her, but she would just outright ignore him… so Sparklez quickly grabbed some healthy salad sandwiches and ran to the entrance hall to avoid potentially being murdered. It was probably for the best…

CASSIE’s beautiful, hand-baked mansion… and they’re eating EVERYTHING, despite her subtle warning… arrrgh!! She’ll have to go and rebake everything NOW, or her guests will eat their way out! After shoving three more tables worth of cake into her all-automatic oven, she decided to utilize the waiting time for some trap-activation. Very efficient she was! She pulled the lever and listened in for the scream – but to her surprise, it wasn’t Sparklez’ – but… Reuben’s!? Uhm-

Oh no. Oooooohhh NO! Harper had a dark, troubled past with candy. Even one bite would… it would make her… NO, THAT COULD NOT HAPPEN!!! So she ran to the living room, hoping that that way, she could survive her own addiction… Too bad everything in the living room was made of candy, too! She knew she would eventually give in if she had to smell the delicious scent of gingerbread any longer, so she opened a window, embraced the cold winter night air and went to sleep right next to it. Better freeze than eat to death!

Oh no, what Stacy said means that they will probably throw Gabriel out sooner or later… so he better has fun while he still can and IMPERSONATE CASSIE! First things first, he would try to follow Jesse… but they wouldn’t stop eating… and then it became dark, and they still wouldn’t stop eating… Maybe Jesse thought they could bore him by doing absolutely nothing, but they had thought wrong! Gabriel kept an close eye on them… even when it became too dark to see, he still stared in their direction while wildly waving around with his wooden sword.

Jesse was so busy eating THE WHOLE MANSION, they didn’t even notice when darkness fell. It was only when they couldn’t see where the cake was anymore that they stopped eating and began to worry about where they were gonna sleep. But they still couldn’t stop thinking about food, so the only room that came to their mind was the kitchen. They went to sleep there… but suddenly, they were awakened by Reuben’s scream. Oh my god, it’s a trap, nO, REUBEN, NOOOOO! 😭 But now was not the time to grief – if they didn’t get a move on and ran to the attic right NOW, Reuben’s death would all be for nothing! However, they soon found Winslow patrolling the hallway between library and dining room, so they had to head to the entrance hall instead.

Stella has always wondered what paint tasted like… and now was her chance to finally find it out! Well… it actually tastes like marzipan! That’s good to know, in case she ever goes hungry again! After nibbling a bit more on some Mona Stella, she eventually grew tired and fell asleep on the couch.

Yeah, yeah, cake is great and all, but what about that delicious pumpkin pie thrown on your face!? How could someone just waste a pumpkin pie like this!? They don’t understand!!! Ah, but anyway, Stacy had a plan about Cassie, so she tried to forget her anger and headed to the library. The first step of her plan was to brew as many swiftness potions as she could. She succeded, and forgot all about her anger in the process, killing two birds with one stone!

Reuben was hit by a trap and died!

☀ Results of Day 2:

After someone apparently has fed cholocate to poor little Reuben, Sparklez cried in disbelief, but then realized that they needed to find out who Reuben’s owner was. A long moment of silence followed, before Stacy rose to speak and claimed that she didn’t have him, asking everyone about their alibis. After Harper and Sparklez answered, Sparzklez stated that they needed to figure out who had a pet and who didn’t. Jesse was the only one who didn’t answer. Nobody lied.

After all of that, Sparklez and CASSIE agreed that it was better to not lock anyone up yet.

🌒 Results of Night 2:

Can slimes die from chocolate consumption? Sparklez kinda doubted it, seeing as they seemed to absorb pretty much everything without a problem. So he didn’t have to worry about Jerry, but wished the other pet owners good luck in their quest to eliminate all cocoa products before heading to the bed chamber. There, he figured that he probably wouldn’t become part of the floor, since Winslow wasn’t around, so he snuggled into the tenderness of candy floss bedding and drifted off to sleep.

How has CASSIE never thought of that – well, Winslow was smart enough to know that he should’nt eat chocolate, but… what if some of their guests tried to feed him!? WHAT IF THEY KILLED HER PET!??! So she was seriously glad when the guests decided to eat up ALL the chocolate in the mansion, and decided to not replenish it. Pheww… now, let’s go back on track and to the living room! Alright, let’s set off that trap and – hopefully – catch Harper! …Was the plan, alright. But she seems to have survived… and not only that, more witnesses have joined CASSIE’s room! Freaking-

Harper could barely stand watching the others eat chocolate. Why didn’t they know, this was so triggering for her – PAMA helped her by hovering in front of her face the whole time, and when the sun began to set, she quickly headed back to the living room to follow the same strategy. Not today, sugar addiction! When she saw CASSIE in her sacred panic room, she lost her nerves. CASSIE could start to eat in front of her, who knows! So she played it safe and ran to the entrance hall. Luckily, the groaning of the zombies was enough to keep her from thinking of candy…

Gabriel didn’t have a pet, so he couldn’t understand this self-sacrifice the others were doing. Eat chocolate until none was left… Chocolate is terrible for your muscles, as everyone knows! But anyway, back to his quest of acting as suspicious as he could – time to stalk Jesse! Gabriel watched them eat all the chocolate – and eventually, they just… sat down, exhausted. They were looking pretty nauseous, too. Okay, maybe staring at Jesse all night was getting a bit boring – and Gabriel felt quite exhausted, too… so he decided to pay the library a visit. However, as he stepped into the hallway, he saw Winslow’s silhouette right in front of him – it made him look really big and scary, okay! So he might or might not have retrieved to the living room… so what! He definitely didn’t have any nightmares of him afterwards, so it was all fine!

Jesse was actually so full from the chocolate, they were sure if they moved one step they would throw up. So they stayed right in place, instead… They waited for the nausea to go away for a bit, then slowly made their way to the bed chamber. However, when they saw Winslow in the hallway, their sickness returned – I mean, look at him, BLEUGH – and they had to run back to the living room, open a window and… well… After that, they slept pretty well though. They felt quite alleviated.

Noo, Lluna, don’t eat those chocolate crumbs – Stella had to distract her somehow, for her own safety- oh, she got it! She’d just needed to send her on a treasure hunt! Let’s follow Gabriel and see if he has any weapon, alright! …But he didn’t move one bit. Well. Whatever, then let’s pinch the sword from Jesse! Go, Lluna – Huh? They’re already gone? Maaan, what a pity. With nothing left to do, Stella gave Lluna a hot cookie massage for the whole night. She really appreciated it.

Stacy was really really worried about Wink, so she brang herself to eat all that chocolate. In the end, she was sure Wink was thankful, but her stomach was less… she couldn’t even move one bit, she was THAT full. Oof… What could help with a serious overdose of chocolate…? – Of course, it had to be a serious overdose of sugar to even out the unhealthy elements in her body! After she chugged down one potion of swiftness, she was ready to scoot in flash speed to the attic, when she suddenly tripped over something in the hallway – oh no, it was Winslow! The kitty very terrifyingly hissed at her, so she meekly made her way back to the living room. There, she seeked out a nice, comfy corner and shut her eye… when suddenly, a mountain of M&Ms dropped down onto her. Ack, HeLp! Somebody, HELP! She tried to scream, but not a single word could escape her mouth as she drowned in the worst sweet imaginable.

Stacy was hit by a trap and died!

☀ Results of Day 3:

Sparklez immediately started by asking where everyone was, and stating that he had his suspicions on Jesse, Gabriel and CASSIE. Gabriel accidentally said library and retracted his statement, which made Sparklez suspicious. Next, Stella and CASSIE answered. Then Harper revealed that Stella was Stella, much to her shock. In return, she said that Harper was Harper. Stella added that Lluna dected a weapon on Jesse last night. 🪓

Sparklez repeated what has been said so far, and Stella asked if they should lock Jesse up. Sparklez agreed, and Stella stated that they felt bad for locking them up on their birthday of all days. 🍰

However, Sparklez was the only one who actually voted, and also volunteered to guard. He continued to ask if anyone had any objection. Nobody (but Jesse) did. Jesse then began to speak by saying that they had their suspicions on Gabriel, since they saw CASSIE, them, Stacy, and Wink in the living room, but Stacy and Wink were gone the next day. Jesse then change their mind to have their bigger sus on CASSIE, since she was in the kitchen the night Reuben died. Stella agreed and stated that CASSIE wasn’t talking as much as well.  

They went on to ask Jesse about their archetype. They said Adventurer.

Sparklez was the last one to speak, repeating his statement.

🌓 Results of Night 3:

Sparklez got so many crafting materials for christmas… wood, wool, iron, flint, it was great! He wanted to go and craft something so badly, but he had to remember his duties and shoved Jesse into the closet. He poked his frustration away on Jesse. Simultaneously, he thought of all the cool things he would soon craft with his new stuff… it kept him occupied, at least, and made the night be over in a flash, almost. Well, almost.

CASSIE didn’t get what she wanted. No. She got a superfine brush for Winslow, an extremely rare elytra, some collars made of diamonds… but not what she needed. Not what she invited them all in here for. Therefore, everyone shall be PUNISHED! …She thought to herself and headed to the library. After a bit of contemplating, she decided to set off traps in the library, gallery and the dining room, and went to sleep afterwards in a thrill of anticipation for who was going to die next. But, alas, the next morning, a suspicous void yawned from her machines…

Harper was too scared for unexpected surprises, so she had PAMA open up all her presents for her. And of course, among some redstone dust, batteries for PAMA from some idiot who didn’t know PAMA obtains its power from ordinary sockets, and a daylight detector, someone had the nerves to gift her a CaNDy BaR. Candy. She couldn’t move, she was that aggravated. She waited until it was too dark to see where PAMA hid the candy, then she followed its beam of light to find her way to the trusty old living room and slept at her usual spot, under the window, almost freezing to death.

Guess what Gabriel got for christmas… coal! Apparently, even pretending to be naughty counts as naughty in this world. Welp. To make things even worse – because why not! – he followed Rush to the kitchen, spreading an as murderous vibe as he could. He stared at Stella the whole night… he saw everything. The envy in her eyes… yes, she must’ve been getting presents all for Lluna this year, and was upset about it. But then, she ate her sorrow away and went to sleep… and in the morning, Lluna bleated a don’t be sad, Gabriel could hear it so clearly. And Stella was super touched by it. Also, Stella snored.

Jesse teared up when they saw what they got for christmas… it was a figurine of Reuben. Someone had made them a little statue of Reuben to remember his sacrifice. It was so beautiful and sad at the same time… They would keep it with them for all times, even when they got shoved into the closet, it was there, in their pockets, the spirit of Reuben… Sparklez was not joking when he said he would poke them all night long… Jesse laughed it away, saying that they were too tired from being sus to everyone to be kept awake, but really, they were busy the whole night anyway, thinking sentimentally about their christmas present…

Stella got so many presents – a brush, some nice, silken blankets, an extra-soft leash, tiny boots for stony grounds… yeah, they were all for Lluna. Every single one of them. Yes, she loved her darling Lluna more than anything else, but she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her… Lluna noticed that, but only bleated snobbishly. Stella went to the kitchen to comfort eat her diappointment away. After having some good real food, she slept her envy away. And look at that, in the morning, Lluna had snuggled to her side, bleating a don’t be sad about it. It was still kinda cheeky, like she was simultaneously bragging about it, but Stella was touched either way.

☀ Results of Day 4:

Sparklez once again immediately broke the ice by asking what happened last night. Stella confirmed that Lluna didn’t detect weapons on Gabriel in the kitchen. Sparklez then concluded that he probably isn’t Cassie, but Jesse, and that Jesse must be the murderer. But then Stella interposed if they ever cleared CASSIE. Sparklez answered with CASSIE’s whereabouts in the first night, aka the night where Reuben disappeared. CASSIE verified this.

Medi then started to vote for Jesse’s elimination, and Gabriel and CASSIE followed.

Jesse then made the plot-twisting decision to vote themself out to prove that they’re not Cassie. Stella noted that this seemed counterproductive. Nobody changed their mind after this.

Rani got thrown out and died!

The Last Night 🌔

"Ha!", CASSIE laughed and clapped her hands when she arrived in the kitchen, all by herself. Jesse was kind enough to voluntarily starve to death outside, but Winslow could not retrieve the FLINT & STEEL from them, so… t’was time for some traps! And to replenish what the guests had eaten off the mansion, or else they would find an escape – and that was definitely not the plan! 🍰

Meanwhile, Stella was getting nervous. She already had a bad feeling back when Jesse was being accused earlier… and now she had to be extra careful. She decided to make a run for the attic, but was stopped by nasty Winslow appearing in front of her in the hallway between the dining room and the library. She tried to ignore him, but then suddenly, Winslow jumped onto her, extending claws. Stella screamed in terror; luckily, Lluna managed to back-kick Winslow off of her and pull her to flee back to the living room.

Panting, Stella sat down on the couch and thought of where to go instead. But she didn’t sit for too long – as soon she was devoured by the seat giving in and revealing a dark, deep pit underneath it! Stella thought it was the end for her, but the fall wasn’t too deep – and she landed right on a mountain of cookie dough. Oh, yummy~! 🎵

They couldn’t resist nibbling on it, but something was wrong… it was kinda hot in here… and the cookie dough was getting suspiciously hard to bite. Oh shoot, oH SHoOt, Stella was… getting baked alive?!?

She looked back up from where she had fallen; she could barely see the surface, as steam was coming from the ground and beclouding the view. The cookie dough was getting super crispy… "H… HHHel… HH… HHHel… Hel… HELP!", she cried out loud, hoping someone would come and rescue her.

Lluna could not just let this happen – and she knew exactly who was the only one with a metallic weapon left. 🪓

She searched the whole house until she found her, just minding her own baking business. There CASSIE was, and she did NOT know what Lluna had coming for her-

"BAH!" she bloated, causing CASSIE to cringe and look right into her hooves – Lluna hit as hard as she could, making CASSIE stumble and fall backwards.

"Bah! Bah! Bah!", she continued, demanding Stella’s rescue – or else. "Okay, okay, alright, fine, geez-", CASSIE said, adjusting her classes and carefully standing up to enter the secret passage way, with Lluna breathing down her neck.

She pressed some random buttons to buy some time… then suddenly, something jumped up on Lluna – it was of course Winslow, raging for revenge!

Lluna run into reverse and tried to shake him off, but his claws dud deep into her fur and left some bloody scratches. She then rolled around the floor, causing Winslow to leap off and hiss at her. Lluna bloated back, and the both of them continued to fight.

Meanwhile, CASSIE went to observe Stella suffer to death. There she went… and looks like she dropped something shiny-

Lluna suddenly stopped as Winslow bit her in her leg. Something wasn’t right… why was there smoke coming from the kitchen, did CASSIE actually burn some food-?

Then she realized that it was indeed not coming from the kitchen, but from everywhere. Soon, she was cornered by flames, and Winslow jumped out of the window, leaving her to die alone.

And with her, everyone else died too, everyone but CASSIE and her 372,026,931 calico cats. And honestly, the thing she was most glad about was that she finally didn’t have to play the cook anymore. FREEDOM!!! 😼 😼😼😼😼😼😼😼😼

Cassie has won the game! 🍬