#the basket at the little marble bowls were free!

[bluemoonrabbit]

Doing cute girl stuff today

[holykillercake]

HAZY JUSTICE - FILE 004

<<<read preavious file ..... read next file>>>

Cop!Smoker x Military Doctor!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: After eight years serving your country in a war, you returned to your hometown as the new head of Trauma Surgery in one of the best hospitals in the country. You were expecting a calmer life now, but suddenly you see yourself choosing between your brain and your heart, light and dark, justice and evil.

highlight: You won't make it, and I´ll have to eat pie with eggshell.

notes: Theydies and gentlethem, I am officially back! There is much to catch up and tell, but we´ll figure things as we go. Anyway, requests are open, so feel free to send them!

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤!

The little girl's laughter filled the kitchen. She ran towards the beautiful woman near the marble counter and circled the hem of her skirt.

Holding tighter the bowls and ingredients, the mother laughed.

Her little daughter looked like an inexhaustible fuel rocket, and her wide smile spread from ear to ear.

A few meters away, sitting at the top of the table, the place usually occupied by the father was the older child, a pale boy.

He kept the same frown as always. His t-shirt was neatly ironed, his shoes polished, and his hair sloppily brushed back with gel. Despite the effort to imitate the family patriarch's hairstyle, a rebellious streak insisted on falling over his face.

Every Sunday, the mother baked a meat pie with tomatoes. Not ketchup, never ketchup.

¨Where are your shoes, Y / N? ¨ the boy asked as he noticed the white socks on his sister's bare feet.

¨Where are your shoes, Y / N?! ¨ she emulated him in an annoying voice, making his frown increase.

¨Don't worry, Croc. She will be the one to scrub the grimy socks later.¨ Her mother intervened with a mischievous grin.

The girl's smile turned into a pout for a few seconds before she took off her socks and ran to the laundry room, tossing them towards the basket.

Everyone loved Sundays. It was a day without school, without work. It was a day of pure celebration of leisure and small silly things like pie.

Sunday was pie day.

The girl made herself available to help, and the boy continued to stare at the book on the table. They worked just like a mechanic shop, the mother asked for an ingredient, and the little girl reached out for her.

The boy kept his eyes on the books, enjoying the noise they made.

Eventually, his gaze would fix on the ladies, especially when the mother let his sister break an egg in the batter. He would cheer silently and say ¨You won't make it, and I´ll have to eat pie with eggshell.¨

Even when she learned to break them precisely, he continued to say the same words.

She would challenge him to try and do better, but he would respond by saying that boys didn't cook. The mother then would twist her lips and make a sign for the girl to tackle him with flour.

The food war would last only a few minutes. After all, no one should play with food. In the end, with the pie in the oven, the mother sat on the floor, back against the counter. The little girl lay with her head on her mother´s lap, and the boy sat beside them, knees close to his chest.

¨How long, ma? ¨ she asked.

¨40 to 45 minutes, Y/N. Same thing as last week.¨ the brother replied.

¨Today is more humid, big head. It can take longer.¨

¨Mom! ¨ they shouted in unison.

The woman smiled gently, grateful for the healthy children. Happy for another Sunday.

¨Well, the humidity of the air can change the cooking time, it is true. But we have a good oven. In the end, we will have to stay here together, taking care of the pie.¨

The children mumbled something and fell silent again.

¨Mom, can you tell us a story?¨ Crocodile asked.

¨What story? ¨

¨Any story.¨

¨Tell us again about your surgery! ¨ the little girl exclaimed. ¨The apendex.¨

¨It is ¨appendix¨, Y/N.¨ said the boy.

¨Shush, Croque.¨

The woman laughed again and told the story about the removal of her appendix to the girl who wanted to be a doctor and the boy who simply liked to hear the soothing voice of his mother.

*

Breathtaken. That was how you felt. So, places like this really exist? They were not movie fantasies or upper-class rumors.

The magnitude made your eyes water and your lungs lock. The sun was almost no longer shining on the line where the sky met the sea, highlighting the bright shopfronts on Eldorado Avenue.

The shock was plastered across your face as Crocodile gently guided you through his office. Or rather, the entire floor that he casually called an office.

The windows went from the floor to the ceiling, curtains in wet purple velvet fastened to the sides with golden adornments so well positioned that it was as if they were never closed.

The walls were painted in a cold dark brown, and juniper green victorian sofas were perfectly aligned with a carved wood coffee table.

The black terrazzo flooring was so polished it reflected everything placed upon it. There was not a trace of dust, and in the reflection of the floor, you discovered a pompous chandelier of gold and crystal.

¨I thought top floors were for VIP guests?¨ you spoke, letting out an airy laugh.

¨I am the owner of this hotel, Y/N. Is there anyone more VIP than me?¨

Crocodile offered you a smug face. His words made you giggle, helping to release a bit of the tension. When your shoulders finally relaxed, you realized how much pressure you were putting on them.

¨Sorry... for the last eight years, I pretty much slept in a hole in the ground, using bricks as pillows.¨

The man´s eyes hovered lost for a second.

¨You should live here.¨ you turned to him with a raised brow. ¨I mean, not here, this is my office. But in the Light District. I have a place for you here.¨

A genuine smile rose on your lips. So predictable of yours, brother.

¨I appreciate it, Croc. But I have a good place in the Justice District. Besides, it feels like home.¨

¨I can give you a better home here. I will bring your apartment here if you want.¨ he insisted.

You stopped by a beautiful round table decorated with elegant plates, fancy glasses waiting to be filled with expensive wine, and shiny cutlery.

Crocodile pulled the chair for you, offering a napkin to cover your lap. Your eyes sparkled as you watched him make his way to the seat in front of you.

When you were both accommodated, a couple of waiters got closer, one bringing the wine and the other plates closed with cloches.

¨It´s pretty tempting, I´m not gonna lie. But then I would work on the other side of the town.¨ you smiled, mumbling a quiet thank you to the servant.

¨I´ll have-¨

¨I don´t want to spend too long in traffic. Even if you assign your Raven to drive me there.¨

¨Tsk. I thought the war would make you less stubborn, Y/N.¨ he sighed.

¨Quite the opposite. And that statement makes no sense.¨

¨Offers stands forever. All you have to do is say.¨

¨That´s comforting. I appreciate you so much, Croc. Mom and dad would be so proud of you.¨

A brief second of your eyes meeting his, the air seemed oddly heavy, swamped in neglected hurt.

¨Don´t get sentimental on me now, Y/N.¨ his gaze averted from yours ¨Tell me about that place of yours. How is the district treating you?¨

¨Redeeming itself.¨ you smiled sadly. ¨My medal of honor granted me a top floor and a good neighbor.¨

¨Save me from-¨

¨Not like that, jackass!¨ you threatened to throw a napkin at him. ¨For safety issues. My neighbor is a cop.¨

The glass of wine lasted a second longer on his lips, taking in your words with all the attention he could provide you.

¨Oh yeah?¨ he smiled.

¨I know, right? He is like, Police task Commander or something like that.¨

¨What´s his name? I might know him.¨

¨Hm,¨ you hummed, cleaning your mouth. ¨Smoker. That´s all I know.¨

¨Smoker?¨

¨And you´ll never guess! He is friends with Shakky and Rayleigh-san!¨

¨How so?¨ the man seemed surprised, politely cleaning his lips.

¨Yeah, I know. By the way, Shakky said you haven´t been in touch in years. Don´t be like that, Croc. They´re Rayleigh and Shakky.¨ you pleaded.

¨I am and will forever be grateful for the help they provided us in the past, but I have businesses that require my attention all the time.¨

¨How come you have time to have dinner with me then?¨ you teased.

¨I´d always clear my schedule for you, Lieutenant pain in my ass.¨

¨Very mature of yours, Mr.Butthead Businessman.¨ you smiled. ¨Still, you should check in every once in a while.¨

¨Things have changed, Y/N.¨ his voice sounded a decibel more serious, and you found yourself surrounded by the same heavy air you shared with Shakky and Rayleigh earlier.

¨Should I be worried?¨ he raised a brow at you. ¨That.¨ you pointed at his face, bringing the same finger to trace a line on your face, exactly where the scar is. ¨You didn´t have that.¨

¨I told you, Y/N, I´m a businessman. I own this district, and some people might not like that.¨

¨So, should I be worried?¨

And there it was once again. The eerie haze, despite all your efforts to make the moment lighter. You did not want to imagine the sorts of jobs that would lead him to be hurt like that.

Crocodile rested the cutlery on the plate, stiff shoulders relaxing a bit for the first time in the whole night and offering a caring smile that granted you provisionary tranquility, he said ¨No, Y/N. You shouldn´t worry about me. Now let´s finish dinner. I want to visit your place, just to make sure.¨

And with that, you bit the bait, smiling and forgetting about your concerns. After all, Crocodile has a good heart, and he has always been smarter than everyone, he must know better.

[btxtreads]

run away | extra

RUN AWAY: EXTRA

It is so much easier to get people to hate something than to believe. Part of the Grimoire Series

➴ Pairing: Choi Soobin x Reader ➴ Rating: R-16 ➴ Word Count: 2.7k ➴ Genre: Twisted Fairytales, Yandere, Smut ➴ Trigger Warning: Graphic murder, Y/N AND SOOBIN ARE DOING THE DIDDLY DO 😭😭😭, Kai is very babie but will also kill u, Taehyun is just bored, Y/N is psychotic part 4

man idk it was just stuck in the brain rip. not much romance in this part other than some kisses and a very detailed :)))) smut scene between Y/N and Soobin, but this is only in Sungho’s POV. Mostly focused on Kai and Tae rather than Soobin and Y/N whoops. Kinda badly written i just wanted to write murder im sorry.

Sungho never thought he’d see the day where he’d sit on a log on the floor on front of a campfire—eyes locked onto his older sister as she walked around in a beautiful pink dress with a smile on her face. But, here he was.

He sighed, spoon digging into the bowl in his hands silently as he chewed on his food. It was in this moment when a boy sat next to him.

“Hey, I’m Hangyeol. I wasn’t able to introduce myself to you last night!” The cheery boy grinned as he waved over to the king. “I’m kind of the oldest kid here right now.”

“Hi,” the king introduced himself softly with a nod. “I’m Sungho. I’m Y/N’s little brother.”

At this, Hangyeol laughed and shook his head.

“No, you’re not.”

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows as he set his bowl down, tilting his head at the boy.

“Yes, I am?”

“Where did you sleep last night?”

Sungho blinked, wondering why the question was important. Immediately, his eyes flew over to the direction of the Lost Boy camp—remembering the hammock he slept in the night before, and where he’ll sleep again tonight.

“Hammocks? Yeah, you’re not her brother.” Hangyeol snorted, patting Sungho’s back. “it’s okay, though! We’re lost boys, Soobin and Y/N-ie is there not to take care of us, but to lead us to our best selves—our free selves.”

“Wait, wait,” Sungho shook his head, turning to the older boy. “What does the hammocks have to do with whether I’m Y/N’s brother or not?”

Before Hangyeol can reply, a boy with wide eyes and a bright grin plopped down next to them. He wore a thin white shirt that was almost loose on his frame, his blonde hair tousled as if he was somewhere windy—perfect, clean and completely different from the lost boys who almost seemed as if they wore rags.

“Oh, hi Tae.” Hangyeol greeted. “Where were you?”

“I had a race with Kai.” the boy, Tae, snorted as he raised a cup to his lips. “As usual, I was faster.”

“No, you weren’t!” came a loud voice.

Sungho jumped as another body plopped down next to Tae. This time, it was a tall boy with dark brown hair and chubby cheeks. His lips were in a small pout as he clutched a chicken leg in his hands. He wore a fluffy blue sweater that was perfectly clean and spotless—which was also a stark difference from the lost boys’ dirty, patched, dark-colored clothes.

“If I didn’t trip over that rock you put in the middle of the field, I would have won.”

“This is Taehyun and Kai,” Hyangyeol introduced. “Guys, this is Sungho. I’ll leave you guys be.”

As the older left, Taehyun’s gaze flew over to the boy with raised eyebrows, eyes raking him up and down apprehensively.

“So, you’re Sungho?” Taehyun asked slowly, as Hueningkai tilted his head.

“Ah, we were told this morning you were here.” Kai nodded.

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows.

“I didn’t see you two yesterday at the hammocks, though.” Sungho explained, making Taehyun laugh.

“Well, we don’t live there.”

Sungho furrowed his eyebrows, but before he can respond, Y/N arrived—hands on both Kai and Taehyun’s shoulders.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Y/N greeted placing a soft kiss on the crown of Hueningkai’s head. “Where have you two been?”

Kai’s eyes sparkled as he turned over to the girl, almost shaking in excitement as he gasped.

“Tae taught me how to fly today!”

“He barely floated.” Taehyun snorted.

Sungho saw his sister’s eyes light up in curiosity as he reached out to the other boy and running her hands affectionately through his hair.

“That’s still progress, Kai. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!” Y/N cheered before her eyes fell on Taehyun. “Your hair’s not red anymore. You’re blonde.”

“Do you like it?” Taehyun asked, a smile on his face as he gasped excitedly. “Soobin-hyung helped me with it earlier!”

“I love it, you look really good.” Y/N chuckled as she leaned down to fix his hair properly. “My little prince.”

“You two can fly by yourselves?” Sungho gasped in surprise as he regarded the two teens and his sister. “When can I learn how to fly by myself, sis?”

Y/N’s eyes danced with amusement as he turned to Sungho.

“You… want to fly by yourself?” Hueningkai asked, eyes turning confused as he turned to Taehyun. “He’s not allowed to do magic, though?”

Y/N’s lips tilted to a grin as Soobin approached them.

“Did you see my gifts to you two?” Soobin asked the two as he came, ruffling both of their hairs. “I got them earlier.”

“No, we have gifts? Where?” Kai asked.

“I left it on your beds.” Y/N explained.

“Bed?” Sungho asked his sister. “How come they get a bed? I have to sleep in a hammock.”

“Well, they’re my—“

“I’m your little brother!” Sungho complained, making Taehyun turn to him with an irritated sigh.

“No, you’re not.”

Sungho turned over to him with a glare.

“Yes, I am. You aren’t!”

At Sungho’s raised voice, Kai looked shocked. Taehyun only pursed his lips as he gave Sungho a once-over before turning to Y/N with a sigh.

“Kai, Tae,” Y/N said, a forced smile on her lips. “Maybe we should get back to the house, okay?”

“House?” Sungho asked incredulously. “You guys have a house?”

“Sungho,” Y/N sighed as she turned to the young king with an annoyed tone. “Drop it.”

Sungho watched as she whispered to the two boys, who looked at each other with bright smiles before excitedly running towards the forest hand-in-hand. Then, his sister gave him one last annoyed glance before turning her back to him, following the two young boys into the forest. It was only then when Sungho noticed the tall boy—Soobin, Peter Pan, whoever he was—smirk and pat his back.

“In here, you aren’t her brother—that would be Taehyun and Kai. They’re the princes of this island, and we’re the king and queen. Your status means nothing here.” Soobin instructed. “A little tip to help you, since you really don’t want to see her angry: don’t be rude to Taehyun or Kai at all. She doesn’t like that.”

“Who are they?” Sungho asked angrily, turning to his sister’s husband. “I’m her brother—I’m her only brother! Me and Junseo!”

Soobin tilted his head, mirth in his eyes as he stood up, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Not anymore.”

Before he can reply, Soobin flicked his wrist and the campfire died suddenly. The tall boy turned back to the lost boys, calling out.

“Go to your hammocks. Call it a night.”

Sungho frowned as Soobin patted his shoulder.

“Get some rest.”

The young king glared at the tall boy’s back as he walked in the direction where his sister and the two boys disappeared.

That same night, Sungho found himself walking the path where his sister, Soobin and the two boys went to. He couldn’t believe his eyes when the muddy path he was walking turned into concrete, beautiful patterns etched onto the path and lights draped on the trees leading up to a gigantic white house.

The area in front was littered with purple and pink pansies, and he can see the door into the house slightly ajar. Sungho made his way in, mouth dropping open at the marble steps leading up to the many levels above. To his left, he can see a big kitchen area—fruits and pastries set in a basket, plates and utensils neatly stacked in a shelf.

Sungho made his way up, furrowing his eyebrows at the portrait hung at the top of the stairs. It was a portrait of his sister and Soobin, with the two boys from earlier—only Tae had red hair and Kai had longer hair. Sungho frowned as he saw expensive looking decor on the table in front of it.

He made his way down the hallway, fingers brushing books from shelves lining the corridors. he finally ended up in front of a door that’s slightly open. 

He peeked in to see Y/N’s shaking figure on the bed, supporting herself on her hands and knees as Soobin’s tall figure loomed over her, a hand covering her breast and the other pulling on her hair. His head was head buried on her neck as his hips moved against hers, the headboard slamming against the wall rapidly as Y/N cries started to get louder and louder—sobs falling from her lips.

“Soobin, keep going, fuck.” Y/N groaned. “Fucking ruin me, please. God.”

Soobin suddenly stopped his thrusts and lifted his head from Y/N’s neck, smirking as he turned his head over to the door with raised eyebrows. Y/N whimpered as she clutched the sheets underneath her tighter, pleading falling out of her mouth as she begged Soobin to continue.

Sungho gasped silently as he pressed his back against the wall next to the door—hiding himself out of plain view. Sweat pooled on his forehead as he waited. He was expecting Soobin to call him out for walking into their house without permission and walking in while the elder was being intimate with his sister.

However, he only heard soft shuffles as Soobin’s husky voice spoke up.

“Get on top of me, princess.”

Sungho almost gagged when he heard his sister whimper once more just a few seconds later, the bed’s headboard hitting the wall again. At this, Sungho declared himself in the clear and padded back down the stairs—going towards another hallway opposite the kitchen.

He saw another door, silently pushing it open to see two large beds and two forms sleeping peacefully on them.

On one bed was a sleeping figure—Tae, the blonde he met earlier. The one his sister called “little prince.” On the desk next to the boy was a thick novel and a half-eaten bar of milk chocolate. There was also a box of twin daggers with patterned hilts made of gold and silver, a note reading “from Binnie and Y/N-ie” stuck to the package.

With a frown on his face, Sungho’s eyes trailed over to the other sleeping boy in the other bed. This time, it was the other boy—Kai. The boy wore a loose white shirt, hands clutching a soft pillow tightly in his arms.The boy’s table laid a beautiful crossbow with patterns engraved on the wood—a tag still tied to the item with a ribbon, reading “from Binnie and Y/N-ie” on it.

Sungho scoffed as he turned back to the giant door connected to the room—entering a big room full of a variety of clothes and shoes, even more than what he had at home—and he was a king. The items were designed with various different styles and colors, the room divided into sections labelled “Tyunie” and “Ningie.” Sungho made his way further into the room, finding his way onto a big shelf of weapons—knives, arrows, swords, and axes. Sungho frowned, his hands closing in on a dagger—beautifully made with a wooden hilt, engraved with “Kai” on the blade.  He pulled it out of the container, feet making his way back to the two boys sleeping on the beds.

Sungho padded his way over to Taehyun—the little prince and held the dagger over the blonde’s chest. The king pursed his lips angrily, glaring at the young boy’s peaceful face.

Him and this other kid, Kai—they’re the reason why his sister would barely acknowledge him now. “Little princes”—they’re frauds with no title. They aren’t princes at all. Yet his sister, who he hasn’t seen in two years, still chose these strangers over him. It was ridiculous. They had to go.

With red in his gaze, Sungho lifted his hands up—clutch tight on the dagger as he prepared to stab the blonde. However, his eyes flicked over to the blonde boy’s face at the last minute, shocked to see his amused eyes set on him.

Sungho gasped, body stumbling back as he dropped the dagger. Taehyun only reached his hand out, hands catching the dagger and flipping it in his hands expertly.

“What are you doing?” an angry voice asked, making him turn to see Kai sitting up on his bed—sharp eyes trained on Sungho’s form on the floor. “Why do you have my dagger? You’re going to hurt Tae, aren’t you?”

Sungho opened his mouth to try to explain, but nothing came out due to nervousness as Kai pushed his blanket off of him and pulled himself out of bed.

“You were, were you?” Kai asked. “You’re so ungrateful. Y/N and Soobin brought you here to be free, to never grow up—but you try to destroy our family?”

“I-I’m her real brother.” Sungho managed to respod under Kai’s angry glare. “You’re nothing to her—you’re not bound by blood.”

“How stupid of you to say that, especially in our house.” Taehyun drawled lazily, sitting up and propping his head in his palm. “We’re her brothers.”

“And you tried to hurt Tae, my best friend, my brother.” Kai said angrily. “I can’t forgive that.”

Immediately, Sungho felt his body freeze—his limbs stuck in place and he couldn’t move. Tae only flipped the dagger in his hands, nonchalantly hilding it up and offering the hilt to Hueningkai, who snatched the dagger from his hands.

“Can you do it?” Tae asked lazily, yawning—as if waiting for it to finish so he can collapse back to bed.

“I can.” Hueningkai said angrily.

“Then do it.”

Hueningkai didn’t answer or move, only glowering at Sungho.

Sungho didn’t know what to do, or what they were talking about exactly. However, Hueningkai’s grip on the dagger made him nervous. He didn’t know what to plead for.

“I don’t tolerate people trying to hurt my family.” Hueningkai said gruffly. “They’re the only thing that matters.”

The door opened, showing Y/N decked in a loose white shirt and a shirtless Soobin entering with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, what’s happening?” Soobin asked, hands encircling Y/N’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder as he allowed his amused eyes to fall onto Sungho. “You’re still here?”

“He’s about to go.” Hueningkai said angrily before his hands lifted up, swiping a clean, deep line on Sunghoon’s neck.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he choked on blood, eyes darting over to Taehyun who yawned and climbed out of his bed—whining about bloodstains on his sheets. Kai only scoffed, setting the dagger on his bedside table, padding over to Y/N’s open arms. Y/N and Soobin had proud smiles on their faces as Hueningkai grinned at them.

“Did you know he was going to come?”

“No, but I knew he came here,” Soobin snorted. “I knew you could handle it.”

“I’ll make some food, then, since we’re all awake. Tae, Kai, can you guys boil some water?” Y/N hummed, pulling the door open as Taehyun and Kai left the room to do as they were told—followed by Soobin who kissed Y/N’s neck happily before he left. “I’ll be right out.”

Sungho laid on the floor, choking and dying slowly as Y/N walked over to him.

“Well,” Y/N sighed, tracing the slit on his throat. “this is interesting. I thought you’d last longer.”

Sungho tried his hardest to reply, but his vision was turning dark.

“You should’ve known your entitled attitude won’t pass here, you’re not the prince here—Soobin already told you it’s Kai and Tae’s turf here. Still, you didn’t listen.” Y/N shrugged. “So, I guess you got just what was coming for you.”

Y/N stood back up, waving her hand and Sungho found himself on Taehyun’s bed.

“There’s the bed you were so desperate for. Try to die faster, though. Taehyun gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep.” Y/N snorted as she checked the clock. “We still have to clean the bed up after you die. Thank God for magic, I guess.”

Tears pooled in his eyes as Sungho felt his body start to fail on him.

“Thanks for helping us train Kai. He was so scared to kill people back then, but he did it so easily now. I’m really proud of him. ” Y/N said with a lilting tone, a smirk in her face as she turned and closed the door. “Sweet dreams, Sungho. I have to go to my husband and my brothers.”

Sungho closed his eyes, and the king was no more.

[goreprofonde]

“Men of all nations were there, Ligurians and Lusitanians, Balearic Islanders, Negroes, and fugitives from Rome … They lay upon cushions; they squatted around huge trays, and so ate; others, lying upon their bellies, reached out for lumps of meat and gorged themselves, leaning on their elbows in the placid posture of lions dismembering their prey. Late-comers, leaning against the trees, watched the low tables half hidden under the scarlet coverings, and awaited their turn. Since Hamilcar’s kitchens were inadequate, the Council had provided slaves, dishes and couches. Oxen were roasting at great clear fires in the middle of the garden, which thus looked like a battlefield when the dead are being burned. Loaves dusted with aniseed vied with huge cheeses heavier than disks, and great bowls of wine with mighty water tankards, set close to gold filigree baskets full of flowers. Their eyes gleamed wide in delight at being at last free to gorge to their hearts’ content; and here and there they were beginning to sing. First they were served with birds in green sauce upon plates of red clay, decorated in black relief; then with every kind of shellfish that is found on the Punic coasts, with broths thickened with wheat, beans and barley, and with cumin-spiced snails upon yellow amber dishes. After this the tables were loaded with meats: antelopes still with their horns, peacocks still with their feathers, whole sheep cooked in sweet wine, camels’ and buffaloes’ haunches, hedgehogs in garum sauce, fried grasshoppers, and pickled dormice. Great pieces of fat were floating amid saffron in bowls of Tamrapanni wood. Everywhere was a lavish abundance of pickles, truffles, and asafoetida. There were pyramids of fruit tumbling upon honeycombs; and they had not forgotten to serve some of those silky-coated, red, fat-paunched little dogs, fattened on olive lees: a Carthaginian dish which was an abomination to other peoples. Their stomachs’ greed was titillated by the excitement and wonder of such novel fare. The Gauls, with their long hair coiled upon the top of their heads, snatched at water-melons and lemons, and crunched them peel and all. Negroes who had never seen a crawfish, tore their faces on its red spines. The Greeks, who were smooth-shaven and whiter than marble, threw the leavings of their plates behind them; while herdsmen from Brutium, clad in wolf-skins, ate in silence, their faces buried in their plates. Night fell. The awning over the cypress avenue was drawn back, and torches were brought.”

- Gustave Flaubert transl. by Powys Mathers, , Salammbo.

[thewritingstar]

A Royal Heart

This is my fic for the big bang event sponsored by the wonderful @nalugruviaevents ! 

My amazing partner was @goldenmorpho who made a gorgeous piece of art to go along with my fic and big thanks to @rieriebee for being our lovely mod for our group. 

This is a Gruvia princess Au and ive been working on this bad boi for a few months now. So I hope you all enjoy!!!

It was a dark day on the kingdom. The clouds turned foggy and the sky cried viciously as Juvia watched her mother's casket lowered into the earth. Juvia clenched her fists until her knuckles turned a ghostly white as the worms squirmed on top of the carved wood. Even though her burial was filled with all of the people who adored her, it wasn’t good enough. The smile that shone brightly on the princesses face was locked away under her icy heart as she said her final goodbye to her mother and this lands queen. 

In that moment Juvia struggled to hold a smile and her heart was filled with a dark cloud. Every step she took, every breath gasped was held underneath a burden of sorrow that couldn't be shook. Her life became trapped under her mask and eternal rain swarmed inside her. 

-Two Years Later- 

“Juvia my dear.” The door opened to reveal her father. “I have a question for you.” His eyes were trained on his pride and joy. He leaned against the opening to her room and watched as she brushed her hair, a sigh escaped his lips. She looked so much like her mother that he began to question if she was even gone sometimes, but then Juvia turned and mustered up a small smile. His eyes soften and he walked behind her and picked up her tiara. 

“Juvia is listening.” She stated and watched through the mirror as her father placed the silver crown on her head, something he would do since she was a little girl. A simple act, but nonetheless comforting 

“You will be 18 soon my dear.” She knew where this conversation was headed and nodded accordingly. “And that means-”

“Juvia is to be wedded, I understand.” She sighed and slipped on her ring and stood to walk towards her balcony. “Juvia knows her duties as a princess.”

King Loxar followed her. Guilt fled through him knowing how unfair life could be. Since the death of her mother, Juvia refused to be courted, and he couldn’t blame her. However the kingdom needed their next queen and Juvia’s time for match making was coming to an end. 

“His name?” she asked as she picked a flower blooming from the tree. The petals fell onto the marbled balcony as her dainty fingers plucked each petal, a silent wish destined to each. 

“Well, you get to choose.” At these words the princess turned her head. Perfectly plucked eyebrows arched and furrowed as confusion crossed her face. 

“Juvia believed that courting was over, my husband is to be determined already.” 

“Yes but I decided that if you were to be married, it would be for happiness and love. Juvia-” He placed his hand on her shoulder and tilted her chin up. Sapphire orbs glistening in the light, a reflection of emptiness came from the depths of her pupils and he begged for the day that her heart could be free from grief but that possibility would take years and years, maybe even centuries. “I want you to be happy. Marrying your mother was my greatest moment right after your birth. Being a royal means sacrificing your happiness for the sake of the kingdom, but I want you to be able to have a marriage that you are happy with, even if it's just for a moment.” he said. 

A small nod came from the princess. “Thank you father, but Juvia is confused. How will Juvia decide?” 

“I have devised a competition. The rules are simple, the first man to make you laugh shall win your hand.” He smiled brightly and his response was a crooked head and a raise of eyebrows. “It shall start in two months.”  

“Juvia thinks that is a silly way to determine a marriage.” She smiled softly at the thought of her father's plan. 

“Maybe” He kissed the top of her head and turned to leave her room. “But you will be happy.”

Juvia turned her eyes towards the giant willow tree that sat outside her balcony. 

“Happy.” She whispered. The word seemed foreign to her but she wondered if someone could actually bring her joy to her surface. 

--

“Princess Loxar, dinner is ready in the grand dining room.” 

“Thank you Levy.” Juvia spoke. 

She walked down the hallway that was plastered with murals and paintings of past relatives and leaders. The iconic blue hair was traced back for many generations, a true symbol of her family's crest. 

Her eyes were trained to the walls when she bumped into something hard, or someone. Instantly she fell back on her bottom, her plush skirt providing a pillow as the other person let out a groan and a basket filled with rags was tumbled to the ground. Her head was a mess before she came back to her senses and realized what had happened. 

“Ehh, Your majesty my apologies.” The foreign voice spoke as he rushed to her side to help her up. She hadn't seen his face yet but the moment their fingers met, a spark ran through her body. She squeaked as she was toppled onto her feet. 

Her eyes finally met the man who had overthrown her balance and she let out a quiet gasp. 

In the servants clothes was a boy. Dark raven hair that swept across his face and eyes that captured her in a way no one's had. Her was about her age and she didn’t recognize him at all.

He stuttered another apology and it took Juvia a few moments to realize she had been staring at him for far too long. 

“Please it's alright, it was an accident, Juvia wasn’t looking where she was going, my apologies uh?” 

“Oh Gray, Gray Fullbuster, at your service.” His demeanor changed when he did an over the top bow and picked up his basket. 

“Are you new? Juvia doesn’t believe we have met before.” 

“Oh um yeah. I was taken in as a new stable and servant, plus anything else that needs to get done.” His eyes went to the floor, a sense of embarrassment washed over him. “I shouldn't keep you waiting for dinner Princess-”

“Juvia. Just Juvia is fine.” She corrected him and a dust of blush filled his cheeks as he nodded slightly. 

“Oh okay, Juvia. Sorry again for bumping into you.” He bowed slightly and awkwardly for that matter and quickly left the hallway leaving Juvia feeling flustered. 

She took a step forward before turning her head to see him leave, something about him intriguing her but she shook her thoughts away and found her way to her dinner chair. 

As she sat and quietly ate her soup, Juvia’s mind kept bouncing back towards the raven haired boy. 

There was feeling deep in her gut, one she didn’t know how to handle and her thoughts became consumed with him. 

“Juvia? Are you alright? You have been zoned out all through the meal.” The father asked and her eyes widened and she felt a small blush as if she had been caught doing something wrong. 

“Juvia is sorry, she seems a little preoccupied is all with...the competition.” She managed to stutter out. 

“Oh. Yes of course.” He father gave her a nod. 

She set her spoon against her bowl and looked back to her dad that sat across from her. 

“Father? What was like when you first met mom?” She asked. His eyes looked to hers and he was almost in disbelief. The queen was hardly a topic they discussed unless it was for public purposes. 

A soft look arrived on the king's face. “Well it was a slow start. I was quite a stubborn suitor and when I began to court your mother, I really didn’t care all that much about marriage. But then there was the ball and the last dance of the night went to her and I. Under those lights, she glowed like an angel, her smile was breathtaking and then it clicked for us. It’s all a matter of time but you will know when it happens my dear.” He stood and walked to kiss the top of her head before leaving the dining room to attend to his duties. 

Juvia sat in silence with her thoughts, wondering if she would ever feel that moment. 

--

After dinner, Juvia resigned to her bedroom. Her held a glass in one hand and was humming a simple tune before tripping. 

“Ahh” She screeched and saw the glass of water spilled on the carpet, yet her body was inches from the floor. 

“Are you alright Princess?” The voice came and when she stood she was met with the brown eyes of Gray. 

“Oh, um, yes, thank you Gray.” She squirmed and dusted off her dress. She looked down at the mess she had made but Gray was already on the floor cleaning it up. 

“I’ll go fetch you another glass Princess.” 

“Juvia. Please call me Juvia.” 

“Oh right. Sorry Princ-Juvia, still not used to it.” 

“That's alright. Sometimes Juvia gets frustrated at this massive castle,always making her trip and such.” she grumbled. 

“Yeah, I like it. Nice and roomy. Beats my shack any day.” He commented. 

“Y-you live in a shack?” She asked and he nodded. 

“By the rivers edge nice view...I can bring you if you would like?” 

Juvia stopped to think and knew she probably wouldn't be allowed without an escort to go. “Tonight? Juvia could sneak out to see?” 

“Sneak out?” A smile crept to his face. “Sure tonight sounds good. Warning, it's a little small.” 

“Small is perfectly fine.” 

“Then I guess tonight it is” he smiled and walked towards the kitchen. A blush spread onto his face as he realized that the Princess was coming to his see where he lived. 

--

As night fell over the kingdom, the only sound was the click of the princesses balcony double door where she silently slipped out with a simply black cloak covering her body. The giant tree helped guide her way down until her feet felt the earth and the cold air of the night filled her lungs.

A small lantern softly lit her way as she walked through the back gardens and towards the stables. The creak of the wooden door to the horses private stalls let the boy know she had arrived.

“G-Gray?” She softly called and nuzzled her horses nose as she passed by. Her voice let out a speak and she was picked up and the top of her hood fell to reveal her blue locks.

The familiar hands that helped her off the floor during their first encounter held her tightly as she turned in his arms.

“Princess.” He whispered and even in the darkness, she could sense how close they were. His nose brushing against hers before pulling back slightly. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come.”

Her hand brushed his cheek and she gazed at him silently. “Juvia would never break her promise.”

He nodded and guided her out the back door and to his own private quarters. A small wooden shack that was meant for one, or two if you tried, it was small and looked desperate but he assured her that it was more than enough.

They sat on his bed, her back against the wall and him on the other side. The night was filled with conversations.

“And that’s how Juvia will get married.” She sighed. His eyes trailed her face and knew that it must suck to have to be wed to a person you don’t really know.

“Well look on the bright side, you’ll be married to someone who can possibly bring you joy. And since it’s your kingdom, you’ll always have me.” He shrugged and turned his face.

“Yes, Juvia will.” She whispered and they fell into a quiet moment. Her gaze found the window and she looked down. “Juvia must be getting back.” Her voice held sadness and she didn’t want this moment to end but Gray nodded and guided her towards the back gardens.

“Did you climb the tree?” He asked amazed and she simply nodded and began to walk forward. Her feet stopped and she turned back towards Gray who had a look of dread hinted on his face. Quickly her lips pressed against his cheek and left just as fast.

“Thank you Gray for listening to Juvia, she knows it’s a lot to process but she feels much better.” Her legs climbed the tree and she left his with a blush on his face and a heartbeat that was going way too fast.

“Anything for you Juvia.” 

---

The routine of her slipping away into the night became common and they had mastered each others schedules, bumping into each other or her personally asking to go fetch something. They had become closer than ever, a true friendship had blossomed and Juvia felt safe and happy when she saw the familiar face. As the end of the two months were nearing, Juvia's fondness for the servant had grown and he seemed to be returning the favor.

The other servants had noticed the connection and banter and teasing arose from Grays side but he shrugged and folded the silk napkin. 

“I don’t know what you’re getting out of this?” Levy said. She dropped another pile of napkins on his table and he turned to look at her. 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“The competition starts next week, she’s going to be married.” 

“Yeah and?”

“Gray.” Levy sighed. “Once she becomes queen do you really think she’s going to leave her nightly quarters to come see a poor servant boy in a run down stable?” 

“Well its not-”

“Face it. Once that crown is placed on her head, small glances and chit chat are all you are getting.”

“Why do you care so much Levy?” He scoffed but deep down he knew she had a point and a feeling of dread washed over him.

She sighed once more and looked at him sadly. “Because I don’t want you to get disappointed. I know what it's like to grow close to someone you can’t have. It's one of the worst feelings.” 

Gray watched Levy walk out the door with a tray of folded napkins. Her words played over and over in his mind and he wished he had more time before the stupid love fest started. 

That night when Juvia entered the quiet stable, Gray wasted no time.

“Juvia, when you are married, is this going to end?” He asked and stretched his hand to rub the back of his head.

The princess returned her tea cup to the sauer in her hand and looked at him with confusion. “What do you mean Gray?” 

“It’s just that...you’re going to be married soon and have the duties as the queen. You won’t have time for a poor stable boy like me.” He gazed fixated on the window and he lowered his head in shame. That's all he was, a poor stable boy. A boy whose parents were killed and he was shipped to the castle in order to survive. He was sitting with the princess yet when he looked around, all he saw was a damp shack and a lonely place to call home. 

“T-thats not true. Gray, you are one of Juvia's friends, I would never-” But she stopped because she understood what he was saying. “Juvia doesn’t see you as a servant and she never will. Juvia might become queen and sure her responsibilities may take over more of her time but she doesn’t undervalue you at all. You are very important to Juvia.” 

“Thanks Juv.” He smiled. 

“It’s getting late, Juvia should go.” She left quietly as she came, dreading the fact that this might be one of the last times she would have with Gray. 

—-

“Let the completion start!” The guard said and sounded the horns. Juvia watched as many princes from across the lands had shown up to claim her hand.

Her eyes wandered to each man. She knew some faces such as Prince Natsu. There was Prince Loke and she would rather choke to death before marrying a playboy like him. Prince Lyon who was always hot on her tail and didn’t know that her eye rolls meant not interested.

Many other men were there too, some nobles from high class families and just plain rich boys with too much time on their hands.

She sat above the ballroom in the watching throne and her eyes found the dark hair boy dressed in the waiting uniform with a silver tray in his hand. He looked up and noticed her stare and gave her a small smile as he handed one of the suitors a glass of champagne. 

Her attention went back to the announcer and the competition was in full swing. She was lead down to the row of boys and dreaded each moment. 

Juvia moved down the line, each man was to introduce himself and that meant her hand was being kissed more times than she wanted and jokes were being cracked. No one made a lasting impression except for when she turned her head and noticed that Gray looked exceptionally well in his attire. A small blush formed from the thoughts but quickly vanished when Prince Lyon placed his lips to her hand and she suppressed a gag. 

Her usual frown made its way to her face as the group was taken to the back landscape to ride horses and play some sports. Juvia shot a small glare at her father who only offered a thumbs up and a smile. 

“Juvia is not looking forward to this.” She huffed under her breath. 

--

The days passed by and the routine began to wear on the princess. Everyday she would spend countless hours with different men, slightly chatting and trying her best not to let her mind wander. The only thing keeping her going was the thought of her leaving her bedroom door and finding Gray at the stables where she pours her heart out and even makes fun of the suitors as they share a slice of cake she had snuck away from the table. 

The week was coming to a close and her mind felt exhausted. No one, not a single boy had even brought a simple smile to her lips, a few got close but that was because one of them fell. Tonight was the last event, the gala and the most important. Tonight would be the night she would choose a suitor and by the looks of it, she wouldn’t be marrying a man for love but instead one she could tolerate. 

Everyone would show up in their best suits and dresses and dance the night away. Juvia hoped that maybe tonight, she would dance with someone and know they are the one, but she knew not to get her hopes up. 

There were only a few more hours before she had to greet the insane amount of people, and only a few days before she was engaged to someone. 

Her eyes were lost in the mirror as she waited for her corset to be tightened. 

“Princess you look lovely.” Levy stated as she places her silver crown on top of the princesses royal blue locks. Levy was right. Juvia stood draped in a royal blue ball gown with silver linings. Long lace sleeves framed her fingers and her mothers ring proudly shined on her hand. 

“Thank you.” Juvia gave a small smile and stepped off the dressing stand and followed a guard towards the ballroom. 

She entered and all heads turned towards her. Gasps were sent across as she walked with grace and elegant towards the top of the staircase where her thrown and father stood. 

“My dear you look marvelous!”

“Thank you father.”

“Just remember have fun tonight.” 

Juvia tried to smile and turned towards her throne. As she went to sit down, a hand was already in her face and she peered up at the figure. 

“Princess, may I give you the honor of having the first dance with me?” Prince Lyon said and it took every muscle in her body to not scoff at his arrogant ways, but her gloved hand found his and she was lead to the dance floor. 

As she placed herself in the proper dancing position, her eyes found Gray. He hadn’t spotted her yet as he was busy serving food and wine to people much more important to him. 

“Yeah know our children would have magnificent hair and be extremely beautiful.” Lyon said and captured back Juvia’s attention. 

Her face fell flat and she rolled her eyes and finished the dance and left right as the beat stopped. Every time she walked away from a dance, another suitor was in her face and she had no choice but to curtsy and engage in three minutes of pure torture while the boys talked about their future children and how they were the best, Juvia's eyes kept going back to the raven haired boy. 

An hour or two had passed and she finally escaped to the back of the room near the trays of desserts. Picking up a small slice of cake, a gasp escaped her lips as Gray whispered a ‘hi’ in her ears. 

“Oh Gray, it's just you.” For the first time that night Juvia had smiled and Gray returned the gesture. 

“Yep just me.” He smirked and placed his tray down. “How's it going?”

Juvia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Juvia is having the time of her life.”

“I bet.”

She looked around and quickly took his hand and guided him down the hall. She pulled them into the living room and sat them on the couch.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble if you are caught?”

Juvia shrugged and for once she didn't care. “Juvia needed to escape from there. If one more man came up to me I was going to scream.”  

“I can understand that.” 

His gaze went past her blue locks and to the mass amount of picture on the fireplace mantle. He quickly stood and picked up one of a baby Juvia. She was in a blue frilly dress and was smothered in chocolate cake. He noticed her bright smile in the photo and was thankful that he was lucky enough to see her smile now. 

“Juvia thinks those pictures are embarrassing.” Her face was heated up and embarrassment made her hands to cover her face. 

Laughing Gray sat down and took her hand in his. He looked around and brought her face closer. 

“I had a bad stripping habit as a child. My parents would chase me down until they managed to get my clothes back on, even happened in public.”

Juvia’s eyes widened and her cheeks filled with air until she let out a laugh. A true laugh. One that filled the depths of her tummy and sent tears out of her eyes. Gray watched her face get redder as she let to laughs escape. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered to himself and he couldn't help but join. 

After seconds of feeling completely free, her giggles died down and she covered her mouth slightly. 

“Your laugh is amazing.” he commented and she paused. “I’m really glad I heard it.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then I guess you’d be glad to know you’re the first.” Her eyes were still locked with his and their nose brushed against each other. 

“Can I be the first to kiss-” but before he finished she had grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips against his. 

In that moment she felt her armor fall, her iced heart melt more than it had and a warmth fill her. He kissed her back with such passion that she was afraid to pull away and let the moment end. 

In the need for air the pair pulled apart. His lips became tainted with a slight pink and her crown had fallen to the floor but all she cared about was him. 

She let out a small giggle and his lips found her cheek. “I love your laugh.” 

“I love you.” She felt him tense. “I mean I-Juvia-”

“I love you too.” He kissed her once more.

--

The king looked around the ballroom for his daughter. Panicking he excused himself from the place and wandered down the halls knowing she had probably left for a drink in the kitchen. He passed the living room and stopped. Backing up, he carefully peered into the room. 

Sitting on the couch was Juvia. Her knees to her chest and her dress draped over the velvet seating. Next to her was the servant boy, Gray. sat looking at each other and a tear came to the kings eye as he heard it. 

He heard the melody of her laugh. Saw the blush spread to her cheeks as she covered her mouth and playfully slapped him on the arm. Gray continued until she was holding her stomach and wiping a tear from her eye. 

The king left before being spot and smiled brightly. 

--

The pair slipped back into the grand ballroom, each taking their place on the other side of the room. The warm feeling in her stomach didn’t die down as she stole a glance of him before returning to her throne up above. She sat next to her father and didn’t realize her smile was still in motion. 

She turned to look at her father and saw the misty look in his eyes. 

“Father? Are you alright?” She asked and placed the top of her hand on his. 

“Im perfect Raindrop.” He placed his other hand on hers and she smiled at the fact that he used her childhood nickname. 

“It's time to announce the final dance.” He said which made her smile drop a little. 

“Oh, yes of course. However none of them had done what you requested, Juvia is sorry.” 

He kissed the top of her hand and stood. “I know Raindrop.” 

He cleared his throat and was handed a microphone. “Attention everyone! Thank you so much to all the fine men who participated in the challenge for my daughters lovely hand and our kingdoms future. I have decided on the final dance and there has been a clear winner. Juvia my daughter, will you take your position in the center of the floor?” 

She nodded and with each step, her heart grew heavy and heavy until she felt empty standing in the middle. She could hear the whispers of everyone wondering who was the lucky winner but she knew that her father must have chosen a random one. She could feel the intense gaze of Gray and knew that her heart belonged to him but now she would be wed to another man. 

“The only man who is fit and well enough to earn my daughters hand is Gray Fullbuster.” 

Juvia's eyes snapped up and she locked eyes with the raven haired boy who stood with the silver plate to his chest. 

“What?” Both of them whispered but Juvia's heart swelled as Gray was pushed towards her. 

“This is an outrage!” 

“He's a poor boy” 

“A true disgrace” 

People kept yelling and Gray looked down, ready to leave the dance floor until his wrist was grabbed lightly. 

“Juvia I-”

“You did it.” She smiled. 

“What?”

“You made me laugh.” She giggled. “You make me happy. Happier than I have been in a long time.” Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled his face close to hers. 

“Thank you.” She said before kissing him.

Gray shut his eyes as he leaned into the kiss. All eyes were on them and in the moment, Juvia felt happy. A pure and subtle emotion that she had been craving and it was worth the wait. 

They pulled away from their kiss and she heard the final song play. Smiling, she took Grays hand and lead him in the dance. 

Everyone watched as they spun around on the floor, her dress glided along the ballroom floor and small giggles left her mouth. 

Gray thought she looked radiant and he was in awe that he was in love with a girl like her. A part of him fell as the song came to an end but the look on his princesses face told him that she enjoyed it. 

“What now?” He asked as he looked around the room. 

“Now Juvia and Gray live happily ever after.” She smiled. 

“I like that plan.” He smirked and he grabbed her waist and planted another fairy tail kiss on her lips. 

---

[feminarrie]

Niall, a bottle of whiskey, and a drill. use that and write what you will. I want to see what you come up with!! (also you can take your time with this)

kate! once again, thank you for challenging me with this! it was fun to figure out just how i wanted to go about this, but i’m happy with what i’ve come up with!

i’m putting it below a cut bc it’s just 3k+ of smut (it is also unedited sorry!)

As she looks out at Niall, Y/N can’t help but think how utterly domestic the scene is.

It’s midsummer and the California heat was approaching a dry 100 degrees. She had ditched her shirt in favor of a bikini top and a pair of light wash shorts atop her bottoms. She’d even spent the better half of the morning in the pool with Niall. But, as it neared one in the afternoon and the peak temperature of the day, she had gone back inside to cool down and to prepare lunch for the both of them. While Niall had slipped out of the pool and wandered to the patio, where a new patio set is still sat in pieces.

She looks outside at him now, through the kitchen window, as she washes and peels a carrot. His back glistens with sweat as he attempts to line up a metal pole with another piece of the bar that they had bought just a few days ago. They’d offered to assemble it upon delivery, but Niall had insisted that he would be able to put it together. She hadn’t argued it, either. Especially considering that they were on their way out for a scheduled date night.

She’s glad Niall had decided to put the furniture together. Especially when she see the way his broad back tenses when he moves this way or that. Droplets of sweat drip down it and highlight every movement.

The way his arms look now, as he uses a drill to join to pieces together, surpass sinful. With every movement, his biceps flex and Y/N can’t help, but think about how they feel when he’s fucking up into her. Like they had this morning, in the comfort of their air conditioned bedroom. When her back was pressed to his chest and the backs of her thighs and ass bounced in his lap. His arm had wrapped around her middle while his other hand was wound around her throat. Hitting her at angles that she didn’t think were possible.

There’s a different heat that’s building, now. An internal heat that still has sweat developing on the back of her neck and at her hairline despite the heavily air conditioned kitchen. It settles into the apples of her cheeks as continues to prepare their lunch. 

Which, it really is a miracle that she’s capable of finishing all the preparation and plating it by the time Niall walks in. She’s even managed to grab the bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge without asking Niall to retrieve it for her. She pours it over the ice in a short glass, watching as it melts the cubes just slightly. She hopes he’ll like all of it, too. Niall is usually one to drink beer or water in this kind of heat, but she figures that a small glass of whiskey is a treat for all the hard work he’s doing. Plus, it forces him to slow down enough to enjoy the liquor and cool off for awhile. 

Y/N can see the sunburn that has begun its assault on his shoulders. The already tan skin has turned a shade of pink that holds a future of promise of blossoming into a shade of red if he’s outside for any longer. “Whatever you’ve made smells delicious, love.” Niall hums, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head as rounds the corner of the island.

“Thank you.” She grins, leaning upward to receive the peck that Niall has stopped to give her. “Go clean up and I’ll have the table all set when you come back.”

Niall nods and leaves after another peck to her lips.

Y/N busies herself with setting up the table. She places a smaller bowl of salad between two plates of greek wraps. It’s nothing too fancy, but she hardly thinks that Niall is keen on having a hot meal after he’s come inside. Even if he was, she absolutely did not want to be overheating while cooking up a warm meal for him. So, she figures it is more likely a win/win situation for the both of them. Niall returns shortly after she’s set herself down to eat. He’s in a pair of deep blue gym shorts and nothing on top. As he comes to sit down next to her, she can see the freckles that have begun to develop along the expanse of his shoulder and back. Unlike his sunburn, they will likely fade within the next few days. 

“Thanks for lunch, Y/N.” Niall says before his eyes land on the chilled glass of whiskey. “And for this. How’d ya know I was cravin’ something stronger?”

“Figured you would after being outside for most of the day.” Y/N shrugs as she answers. Their conversation dies down after that, both of them being too busy with eating to speak. Especially Niall, who goes back in for a second helping of salad. And Y/N lets him because she knows he’s probably built up an appetite.

“I’ve just got to put a few more pieces together and then I’ll be done.” Niall says after Y/N asks him how much longer he’ll be.

“We’ll stay inside after that then, yeah?” She suggests, hopeful that Niall will want to stay in for the remainder of the evening. “I’ll order takeout for us, if you’d like.”

Niall nods, drying off his hands after having finished washing his dish. Y/N lets the rest sit in the sink for now, her mind having drifted to the idea of having a cool shower while Niall finishes up outside.

He kisses her once more on the cheek before stepping out into the yard once again. Y/N paces herself in heading upstairs into the master bathroom. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table so that she can listen to music while she’s showering. She’s even more eager because she’s got a killer playlist that she’d been adding to for the past few weeks.

But, she’s also got other things on her mind as she makes her way upstairs after turning the temperature down just a little bit more. 

The images of Niall were shoved aside as they ate. She was starving and in that moment, her appetite had far outweighed her desire for Niall. But, now that she had a clearer head and a shower awaiting her, she couldn’t help but to conjure up those images again. 

She’s sure he would be too tired to do much of anything anyway. So, she sees no harm in getting herself off while he put the final touches on their patio furniture. Especially seeing as she doesn’t know how long he will be and Y/N has never been one to be patient about these types of things. 

Before long, she’s come to stand in their shared master bathroom. The heated floors don’t feel quite so warm beneath her feet, but she is still aware of the heat that they exude. Their toothbrushes occupy one marbled cup set between two sinks and white, plush hand towel hangs just slightly over the edge of the dark countertop. Two more navy blue towels hang over separate bars that sit next to the shower. There’s still droplets of condensation against the glass, likely from Niall’s shower earlier that morning. 

Y/N strips after she’s turned the shower on and found a happy medium between too warm and too cold. She kicks her shorts and bottoms to the corner of the room, closer to the laundry basket. Her top is flung in the same direction moments later. All the while, the sounds of her playlist bounce off the walls of the spacious bathroom. 

A soft sigh leaves her lips when the water hits her front. It’s enough of a temperature difference that her nipples pearl and to give her some relief from the high temperatures outside. Her sun kissed skin drinks the moisture as she allows it to wash over her for a prolonged period of time before she turns around. 

She reaches for the bottle of cherry blossom and citrus scented soap that lives on the middle left shelf of the tiled shower. Her other hand reaches for her own loofa that hangs from the shower handle. Once she’s put more than enough of the soap on it, it’s only a matter of seconds before it has begun to lather. Y/N hums along to Postpone by Catfish and the Bottlemen and she nods her head along with the beat. And she’s fully enraptured by the song until she’s reached between her thighs, the soap leaving a soapy lather that drips down her thighs as the water drips down from her back. Where she simply can’t help herself from switching the loofa from her dominant hand to the other.

The pads of her fingers dance over her already slick folds, gliding with ease as she teases herself. She reaches down to slide her middle finger from her entrance to her clit, letting it stay there and adding just a slight amount of pressure. Enough to heighten the stirring in her tummy, but that’s it. She teases herself for awhile. Eventually letting the loofa fall to the floor so that her other hand is free to roam her body. It eventually settles at the base of her throat and she applies just a slight amount of pressure. Her small hands aren’t as good as Niall’s, but they’ll do in the moment. Especially when she’s pushed two fingers inside herself after the images of Niall and her own teasing had become too much to bear.

Y/N is chasing her orgasm when Niall enters the bathroom after having called out for her just a few minutes before. He doesn’t need to see her form to know that either. Instead, her whimpers and occasional pants of his name can be heard loud and clear with the acoustics of the space. When he does look at her, though, it has his cock hardening in his shorts. Enough so that if she looked now, she could see the outline of it with only so much as a glance. But, she doesn’t. Her eyes are squeezed shut as one hand drops to cup her breast, a sure sign that she is close to the edge. Niall watches her as she continues to chase it, too. Her shoulders slouching forward slightly and his name like a mantra as it falls from her lips. She falls apart right before his eyes, unraveling at the seams as she cums. A final yelp of his name as her body quakes with her orgasm and her head lulls backward.

He allows her a moment to recoup and steady herself before he clears his throat. It still makes her jump, though. Which, Niall knew it would but it still pulls a strained chuckle from him.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, “You scared the shit out of me.”

It’s muffled by the sound of the shower and music, but Niall can still (just barely) make out what she is saying. “Sorry, love.” He replies, genuinely sorry that he had scared her so much.

Y/N takes in his half naked form from where she stands. Even with steam rising from the shower and blurring her vision slightly, she can see the outline of his cock. It only serves to make her even wetter. Something that she didn’t think was possible considering she can feel herself dripping down her thigh before it’s washed away by the water. “Got off thinking of you.” Y/N begins and she hopes Niall had been in the room to see what an absolute mess she was at the mere thought of him. A groan sounds from deep within Niall’s chest. Because even after all this time, the idea of her getting off to the thought of him was a nice ego boost. Plus, that thought alone was enough to have him muffling his own cries as he cums in the bunk of his tour bus when he’s been away from her for too long. Again, Y/N has hardly ever been good at being patient. So, when Niall is taking too long and absentmindedly palming at himself, she lets out a huff. She’d like to get her mouth around him, if he’d let her. Swallow all that he had to offer before they toweled off and settled in for the night. (Although, Y/N wouldn’t be opposed to another round once they’ve received their takeout). “Niall,” she whines, a pout setting on her lower lip.

“What is it that you want, love?” Niall raises a brow, his hand stroking across the length of himself as he looks at her.

And normally, Y/N is all about niceties. Even when Niall is nipping and sucking at her clit with three fingers buried inside her. Bringing her closer and closer to her climax, but not allowing her to cum just yet. When she’s frustrated to the point of tears because he could be so cruel and dominating when he wanted to be. She still repeats a series of thank you’s as she comes down from her orgasm. Too blissed and utterly fucked out to form any other words. “For you to let me suck you off.”

The statement is so simple and abrupt that it surprises Niall. His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline and he’s becoming almost painfully hard now. After that, he is quick to peel his only item of clothing off and step into the shower. The water alone could have him close to his own orgasm because it feels so damn good against his sunburnt skin. He can feel the heat radiate from his shoulders as he steps closer to Y/N, effectively putting them both beneath the large shower head.

Y/N glances up at him before trailing her eyes down to where the head of Niall’s cock is tinged pink and a light shade of purple. She bites her lip at the sight of him, eager to get her hands and mouth on him. So, she tears her eyes away to lock her gaze with him once again. He’s smirking at her when she does and takes a step closer until she can feel him pressing into her tummy. She isn’t sure if it’s the precum that has dribbled out of the slightly exposed tip or the moisture that has trapezed down both of their bodies to join together. It only takes a moment after that, that she is lowering herself to the ground. The tiles feel cool and hard against her knees, but she doesn’t mind. Not when she is eye level to Niall’s cock. From here, she can see the vein that travels up the side of it and just how much precum as bubbled up at the head. She looks up at Niall with a question and desperate look in her eyes. The doe-eyed expression makes her look too innocent to be doing such a thing, but it only excites Niall more. Especially knowing that she is more than capable of taking him in until he’s bottoming out and she’s gagging around him. “Go ahead.” Niall nods alongside his affirmation.

Y/N relinquishes her lip from the space between her teeth before parting them. He notices that it is plump and slick before it’s gone from his vision as she wraps her lips around him. His head falls back and his jaw slackens as she swirls her tongue over the tip before taking more of him into her mouth. Her small hand makes up for what her mouth can’t currently cover. And between her mouth on him and how her hand glides so easily across him, Niall can’t help but to let out a long fuck.

His eyes have fallen shut, so Y/N takes it as an opportunity to peek up at him from behind her lashes. And she’s glad she does because Niall looks like an absolute dream above her. Chocolate brown hair matted to his forehead, lashes just barely touching the apples of his cheeks, and body glistening with the water that is running down his body. She keeps watching him as she pulls off of him with a wet pop, allowing herself a moment to breathe. Her hand continues to pump up and down his length, twisting her wrist at the tip like she know he likes. He has one fist clenched at his side while his other hand is pressed to the wall beside her. His tongue darts out to lick over his lower lip and his chest has started to rise and fall with his quickening breaths.

With slight reluctance, she tears her gaze away from him. But, the feeling doesn’t stick once her lips are around him and she can feel the heavy weight of him on her tongue. Her hand holds him at the base, this time, as she slowly begins to build up a rhythm. She allows herself time to enjoy the taste of Niall on her tongue. It’s heady and salty, a familiar and somewhat pleasant taste to her. She alternates between self indulgent licks when she needs a moment to breathe and taking all of him until the tip of him touches the spongey back of her throat.

And it’s not long until Niall is ready to cum. The hand at his side is clenching and unclenching as if searching for purchase. Y/N notices it after Niall’s bucking his hips forward slightly, although he’s trying to control himself. And she knows he is teetering off the edge and into oblivion. So, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and brings it to the back of her head before placing them on his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Niall repeats, each reiteration gaining volume. “I’m gonna cum, Y/N. I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N tightens her grip on his hips, keeping him in place as she takes him as deep as she can go. And that’s all Niall needed before he’s painting the back of her throat with his cum. Y/N swallows all of it with ease and pulls off of him. Though, she’s sure to run her tongue along his slit to collect any remaining cum before she glances up at Niall. Who, like her this morning, looks entirely fucked out. And she prides herself with being the reason that he looks as fucked out as he does. It’s from her position on the floor, as she drinks in his form, that she decides Niall doesn’t just look like an absolute dream. Because a dream isn’t accurate enough to describe the vision above her. She thinks fantasy might be a better way to describe him, but she can’t be sure. Because nothing seems accurate enough.

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Damien) x reader (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's my orc boy Damien, who's a chocolatier (!) with a gender-neutral, bi reader. I really hope you like this one! You folks seemed really excited about this concept, so I hope you like it! If you missed my post about the tiefling in this story, make sure you check out a drawing I did of him here! I hope to give Alexios a male reader in the future. 

The reader has just broken up with their girlfriend, who wasn't really able to deal with the fact that they're into both guys and girls, but other than that, no warnings. (Very very light nsfw (kiss) at one point)

___

Everything hurt. Your throat was raw, your eyes pink and puffy, your cheeks blotchy. You had been crying for what felt like hours in a quiet corner of the park – what had been your bench, where you’d shared your first kiss with her, and where you’d met every day for lunch. To say that you hadn’t seen it coming would have been an understatement. The words she’d used struck you more deeply than you’d care to admit, even to yourself. Nothing felt real, and everything hurt.

Eventually you managed to scrape together the scraps of your pride and courage, and you pushed yourself upright, dusting your palms off reflexively on the front of your jeans. You’d always been quick to laugh and quick to cry, wearing your heart on your sleeve, and you’d been no slower to fall in love this time. But apparently two years of dating no longer meant anything to her, and she was heading back to your apartment to start clearing her stuff out.

No way you wanted to go back there just yet. You trusted her just enough not to be vindictive and take anything that wasn’t hers, so you just wandered round town aimlessly with your hands in your pockets until you saw a sign swinging in the bleak autumn wind, and decided on a complete whim, to go inside.

You actually passed the shop every day on your way to and from the bus station, but you’d never really taken much note of it. Now, however, you saw the welcoming, softly-gilded front window and hand-carved sign, and decided you’d like nothing more than to duck into the beautiful chocolaterie out of the cold and perhaps even buy yourself some fancy-ass chocolates. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do after you had your heart broken after all?

Tastefully decorated in dark teal wood panelling, with temperature controlled glass cases and brass edgings, the interior was gorgeous. The décor trod the line between ‘ostentatious’ and ‘antique’ without ever tipping over into ‘pretentious’. Baskets of sugared almonds and marzipan fruits rested on the top of the glass cases, and pre-boxed packages were arranged in delicate pyramids. There was even a werewolf-friendly chocolate stand, laden with delicious, theobromine-free goodies.

At the back of the shop, a massive marble counter stretched the width of the room, and behind it, the owner and his assistant were engrossed in their work.

On the right, opposite the display cases on your left, was a fin-de-siècle style bar which had been tastefully divided into three levels to accommodate patrons of most sizes. Tall, gilt-frame mirrors lined the wall behind it, and bar stools befitting a range of customers dotted the length of it. There was a space for everyone, from the enormous, snow-white minotaur who sat reading a book at one end, leaning on his elbow and occasionally chatting with the owner, to the tiny goblin who sat at the other, lower end of the bar near the door, debating something heatedly with his human companion, who sat with her wheelchair tucked neatly to one side. Their intense discussion filled the room at that end, but every now and again they broke off, laughing, and sipped frothy mugs of chocolate.

You paused just a moment, a deep, sharp yearning twisting your gut as you watched the goblin reach his hand out delicately towards the woman he was with and let her take a bite of the chocolate from his slender, sharp-clawed fingers. His slate-grey skin looked like condensed shadow and his coal-black eyes glittered, his mouth full of sharp teeth smiling sweetly as she giggled and took it from him, leaning her elbows on the low bar-top.

Already, you had no one to do things like that with, to be silly with, to share food and conversation with, and all because you liked boys as well as girls, and she hadn’t been able to deal with that. The memory of the last time you’d been able to do that with her lanced through your chest suddenly and you turned away, fighting unexpected tears. She’d truly broken your heart and you weren’t sure you’d ever trust anyone again.

“Stop it,” you hissed to yourself, turning your blurry gaze to the rows of immaculately-laid out chocolates and truffles in the glass cases, all labelled in elegant cursive handwriting, with allergy warnings in little symbols. It was a beautiful, beautiful shop and the urge to scoff everything like a baby troll at a birthday party was suddenly almost overwhelming.

By the time you made it to the end of the counter, you could plainly see that the owner was as beautiful, enticing, and delicious as the things he made.

The orc stood at nearly seven feet tall, with a white apron stretched across his impressive chest and embroidered with the symbol of the shop in appropriately cocoa-brown stitching. He had his long hair pulled back off his forehead in a braid which then fell into a long, black ponytail down his back. Thick, tortoiseshell-framed glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose, and he shunted them back up with a knuckle, barely pausing as he went to lift a huge bowl out of a bain-marie, first testing the temperature with a thermometer. Satisfied, he turned the temperature down a little, and then heaved the big bowl aloft as though it weighed nothing at all.

You watched, entranced, as he poured glistening, liquid chocolate over the bare marble counter, his assistant standing back with a smile as his boss set to work. Using a broad, flat, palette knife, the orc swirled it through the chocolate with the confidence of someone who had been doing that for many years, before scraping it with another tool into the centre, beginning all over again, cooling the chocolate gradually, evenly.

His assistant, a tiefling with unusual, cloudy-grey skin and stunning, marbled black and white horns cast his gaze up at you for a moment. He wore his blue-black hair half-tied back in a bun, though some had slipped out of the knot and was beginning to hang into his astonishing, silver-blue eyes. He smiled shyly, long canines flashing, before turning back to watch the enormous orc at his work. You couldn’t fail to miss that his slim, lean body was peppered with beautiful, geometric tattoos, including one right over his throat and Adam’s apple and then down his chest beneath the collar of his shirt. It was only as you gazed at the gorgeous designs that you realised with a little jolt of surprise that his left arm was missing from just above the elbow joint, the shirt sleeve tied in a knot.

Your attention was drawn immediately back to the orc, however, who checked the viscosity of the chocolate with an ostentatious scoop, somehow spilling nothing. He then repeated his routine: drawing it into the centre, spreading it out, drawing it in again and spreading it out All the while his thick arms – beautifully bared up to the short sleeves of his t-shirt to show incredibly toned and sculpted muscles – worked seamlessly without hitch or stutter, as fluid as the chocolate he was tempering.

Once he was happy with it, he returned the chocolate from the counter back into the bowl it had come from with a few economical scrapes, mixing it in with the remainder. His gorgeous arms worked it with ease, muscles flexing and rippling, until he was again satisfied with the consistency. With a final check of the temperature, he set it back in the bain-marie and waved at his assistant, who smiled, nodded, and took over.

Wiping his hands off on his already chocolate-smudged apron, he looked up and saw you watching him with obvious wonder in your still-slightly-pink eyes. He laughed then, a sound so kind and rich, warm and rough, that you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.

“Looking for anything in particular?” he smiled, using a knuckle again to push his glasses back up his nose.

Kicking your brain back into action, you snorted. ��Uhh, is it socially acceptable to say I’m looking for a pick-me-up for myself?”

He laughed, the corners of his warm, brown eyes crinkling. “Absolutely it is! That’s one of the reasons I started this place. Now, would you like to choose something, or perhaps you’d like me to surprise you?”

You licked your lips and then sank your teeth into your lower lip, thinking. His eyes were fixed on you, which was somewhat nerve-inducing but also rather exciting. Fuck it, you thought, and sighed. “Surprise me,” you said coyly.

“Alright,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, which you now saw were actually dark on the outer rim of the iris and a warm caramel colour on the inside. “Any allergies or extreme dislikes?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, anything will do right now.”

A flash of concern flickered across his handsome face, and your stomach lurched wildly as his eyes lit up again, this time with empathy. Standing there, you felt small and fragile, and the desire to be swept up into those massive arms – ridiculous as it was – almost overwhelmed you.

“Sit tight,” he said gently, “And I’ll bring something out to you.”

He waved at the bar against the wall behind you with a massive hand, and as you turned to follow the gesture, the white-haired minotaur grinned at you. Even his horns were pale as cream, with just the very tips fading to a blue-grey. He had ice blue eyes, and a warm smile waiting for you as you took your seat.

“You’ve not been here before, I take it,” he said conversationally as you wiggled inelegantly onto a slightly-too-tall bar stool so you could chat with him rather than sit on your own in the middle of the bar, which was lower. His white tail dangled down behind his seat, swinging casually from side to side, and he had propped his hooves on the low rung of his bar stool, and somehow, despite being easily a full two feet taller than you, and colossally wide at the shoulders, he was far more elegant than you could ever hope to manage.

You snorted a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

He blew out a friendly laugh through his nose, the smooth, silver ring glittering for a moment, and a white-tufted ear twitched. “People always get that look in their eyes when they first see Damien work.”

“Can you blame them?” you replied, adjusting your weight on the bar stool. “It’s amazing watching him work.”

“Oh yeah. See those awards up there?” The minotaur pointed at a series of framed certificates on the wall above the tiled lower section where the other two were working away in perfect harmony, safely out of the way of any splashes or mess.

You nodded, intrigued. There were lots of gold stars and seals visible even at that distance.

“Our Damien only trained with the best chocolatier in all Paris he did…” the minotaur laughed, “A succubus by the name of Elurien. She taught him all he knows… And rumour has it, not just in the kitchen, if you know what I’m –”

“Nik!” the orc growled over the marble countertop. “Come on now…” He raised a beautifully sculpted, dark eyebrow at the minotaur, who only laughed.

A deep flush coloured your cheeks as Damien raised his finger in mock threat at his friend, and you turned your gaze elsewhere. He was really very good-looking. You’d never been with an orc before, but you’d always found them very attractive.

To distract yourself from his looks, you found yourself focusing instead on his assistant, unable to keep looking at the big orc without feeling self-conscious. You watched, fascinated, as the lean tiefling worked with great concentration and focus. He was making what looked like decorative bird cages in chocolate. With stunning precision he laid out the filigree design in semi-liquid chocolate, piping it onto a sheet of acetate, and then, using his cool fingers, and no doubt a little tiefling magic, deftly rolling it up until he had created a perfect cylinder of lace-like chocolate. Having only his right arm to do it didn’t seem to hinder him in the slightest, tucking the piping bag under his chin when he needed to squeeze a little more further down the bag.

Damien obviously saw you watching the tiefling work, your eyes focused on the tip of the piping bag as he traced out filigree swirls for the bird cages. “Alexios is my development chef,” he grinned, slapping the tiefling on the back which inevitably made him mess up the very beginning of the next design.

He looked up and raised a dark eyebrow before casting a look over his shoulder at you.

“You’re both very talented,” you said rather lamely.

“I’m just his assistant,” Alexios said in a warm, dry voice.

“Rubbish,” Damien scoffed, grinning. “You came up with my latest best sellers!” he said, and he beckoned you excitedly over to a refrigerated display cabinet.

There was something indescribably endearing about seeing someone so big being quite so childishly excited. Unable and unwilling to refuse, you slid off the bar stool – on which you’d only just got comfortable – and followed him round on the customer side of the counter. Hanging off a display tree were a myriad of the little bird cages, some in white chocolate, some in dark, some marbled, with a tiny, coloured fondant bird inside, sitting on a trapeze.

“They are stunning,” you said.

“Aren’t they!” Damien boomed, leaning back, hands on his hips.

Alexios’ cheeks flushed a darker grey. “Says the guy who won an award for making an entire doll’s house out of chocolate…”

“What?” you asked, and it was the orc’s turn to look bashful.

“That was a one-off,” he mumbled, turning away and getting back to whatever he’d been doing for you.

Alexios caught your eye over the counter top. “He made it for his little sister’s sixteenth,” he said. “It had chocolate furniture and marzipan food and everything. He ended up winning an award for it.”

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you saw the huge orc trying to make himself smaller, shoulders hunching as he kept his back turned to you. You took the opportunity to admire the way his long ponytail fell down the length of his spine, sleek and thick and shiny.

“Well, like I said, you’re clearly both very talented,” you said.

You returned to your seat, and Alexios to his work, and in no time, Damien was coming over to you with a little hand-made ceramic mug full of steaming chocolate. “Try that,” he said, “And if that doesn’t make you feel better, I’ll close up shop right now, and spend the rest of the day trying out different things with you.”

Something about the way he said it nearly made you burst into tears again, and as you raised your head to look at him, he blushed, but he didn’t break eye contact, only smiling encouragingly.  

Nik returned to reading his book, and you let Damien set the mug down on the bar for you. He then went back behind the counter and fetched a tiny saucer in matching glazed blue and grey earthenware, and gently set that down beside your mug. As he leaned across, he almost touched you, and you could smell the cocoa lingering on his olive green skin.

“Cognac truffle,” he said. “You look like maybe you could use it…”

Swallowing thickly, you smiled and thanked him.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” he said, “But don’t thank me til you’ve tried it, ok?”

You smiled weakly and he placed his hand quietly on your shoulder for just a moment. It was enough to set you off. Your lip wobbled, and then silent tears spilled down your cheeks. You turned away, embarrassed.

“Hey now,” he murmured. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not you,” you sobbed, desperately trying to stop. “I literally just split up with…”  you gulped, the words choking your throat.

“Oh that’s rough,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Look, that’s on the house, ok? Take all the time you need.” You weren’t sure but it seemed like when he spoke that his ears went back like a sad puppy’s. “When you’re done, do you wanna come back and help me with some stuff?” Yes, his ears definitely perked up a little at his question, as though in hope.

“I… I’m not… I’m not sure I’d be any good…” you sniffled.

He smiled, the silver cuffs around his beautiful thick tusks gleaming in the soft light of the shop. “Nonsense,” he smiled. “I think you’d be beautiful at it. Finish that first though, and then decide. Up to you.”

He left you with another gentle touch on your back. His huge hand left a warm imprint that seemed to sear through your woollen jumper to your skin, leaving a lasting impression.

You sipped the hot chocolate and honestly it was the best thing you’d ever tasted. A warming hint of cinnamon with the deep sweetness of vanilla beans and cocoa made you moan out load and you forgot everything, even her, for as long as it took you to finish it.

As you set the mug down for the last time, you saw him looking up at you from the other side of the counter. “Any good?” he asked, but it was clear he already knew the answer.

“Ex girlfriend who?” you said, smiling.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he grinned.

At his side, Alexios muttered something which you could have sworn sounded like ‘maybe not quite what you wanted to hear, boss…’ but before you had the chance to tell him that the cognac truffle had had more kick than a frisky centaur, the orc’s mobile rang, and he stepped into the back room to answer it.

The doors had large glass circles in, and you watched curiously as he clearly began to argue with the person on the other end. At one point he ripped his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing little circles there, alleviating tension that was building up rapidly in his handsome features.

Alexios caught you staring as you returned the mug to the counter, and he sighed, taking it from you and putting it carefully in the big butler sink behind him. He turned back to you and said, “He’s got his own relationship issues going on…”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Look, let me pay for this, please,” and you glanced up at the chalk board on the wall. Not quite seeing anything that matched what you’d had, you drew out a note and laid it on the counter. “I insist.”

The tiefling looked at you for a moment, and then sighed, picking up the money and putting it in the til. “Alright,” he said, “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

He paused, looking shy but determined. “That you come back here again.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “No doubt about that.”

He flashed you a grin.

“Say goodbye and thank you to Damien, for me, will you?”

He nodded. “Take care now.”

“I will,” you said, trying to be brave.

Honestly, being at home in the now-empty apartment was awful. Everything reminded you of her, and you spent the entire evening browsing estate agents’ websites for apartments you knew you couldn’t really afford on your own. The rent was paid for this month, but next month you weren’t sure you’d be able to make it.

Despite promising Alexios that you’d go back to the shop, you didn’t return for another week. After the shock of what had happened truly hit you, you had barely felt like leaving the apartment outside of work, let alone going outside and being sociable. But eventually, on your way back from work one rainy afternoon, you stepped into the shop on a whim.

Damien saw you immediately and grinned as you pushed the door open.

“Hey!” he called the moment the little brass bell announced your presence.

“Hey,” you returned shyly.

“Good to see you again,” he said, dusting his hands off on his apron. “You come to help me this time, or to enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty shop?” he asked, looking around the deserted room.

You shrugged shyly.

“Fancy helping me dip these?” he said, eyeing a batch of fresh truffles to one side as he obviously spotted your discomfort. “Alexios is off with his new boyfriend today and I could really use a hand…”

“Isn’t that, like, against some kind of health and safety laws or something?” you asked playfully, shrugging out of your damp coat and dumping your work bag under the furthest end of the bar.

He hitched a lopsided smirk. “Not if you wear these gorgeously sexy gloves,” he said, waggling his fingers in a pair of his own latex gloves, “And agree to be my intern for the day.”

“Your intern?” you laughed.

His smile was infectious.

“Fine, fine,” you said. “I’ll do it. Though I should warn you, I’m not very artistic…”

“I don’t need you to make sculptures,” he said. “I just need you to dip these in that white chocolate for me. You think you can do that without eating half of them?”

“Half?” you smiled. “How about a quarter?”

“Done,” he chuckled easily, holding up the hinged counter-top for you to pass through. “Grab Alexios’ apron from over there,” he said, pointing at the dark green apron that hung on a peg in the doorway to the back room.

As you slipped it over your head, you felt him standing close behind you and he took the strings at the back and murmured, “Here, let me,” his quiet, gentle hands tying a bow before you could object. Your heart began to hammer at the proximity of the big orc, but he was kind and sweet, and the gesture was oddly intimate in the confined space behind the counter.

“Thanks,” you smiled, turning slowly. “So, show me what I’m doing?”

The rest of the afternoon passed in the blink of an eye, and it was well after closing time before you finally drew back from your work and cracked the tension out of your neck.

“You did great!” Damien smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners again. “Would… Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, eyeing the deepening sky outside.

You turned, picking up your bag and jumped slightly as he appeared right behind you again, silent despite his big stature, and picked your coat up to help you into it. “Thanks,” you whispered. “Sure.”

He locked up the shop, nipping  back inside briefly when he said he’d forgotten something, and once he was done, you headed down the nearly-deserted street together, your collar turned up against the worsening weather.

“I should have grabbed an umbrella for you,” he muttered as you slid your hands into your pockets.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I don’t mind the rain that much.” After another few paces you said, “Can I ask how you got into all this?” you said, gesturing vaguely behind you. “The chocolaterie, I mean…”

He laughed, a natural, beautiful, booming, rich laugh that made your own lips quirk at the corners. “Not the first job you’d think of for an orc, is it?”

You shook your head bashfully.

“My mum and I used to bake all the time when I was a kid. When my mum died, my dad and I raised my lil sis, and I ended up doing all the little things that she used to do for Melody, and it turns out I was pretty good at it…”

“That’s really sweet,” you said, feeling something aching in your chest.

He shrugged. “I enjoy it, and it means I get to meet nice people like you, so…”

“Even when we have mini meltdowns in your shop?”

He chuckled. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, gesturing vaguely.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I do.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said heavily. “My girlfriend and I split up a few days ago.”

“Shit,” you murmured.

Damien shrugged his massive shoulders. “It was a long time coming, you know?”

“No,” you said honestly. “When I got dumped I didn’t see it coming at all.”

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I always put my big foot in it… Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what happened or anything, but…” he pushed his rain-spattered glasses up his nose one more time before apparently deciding to take them off altogether and tucking them into his breast pocket. His big brown eyes peered down at you from his great height as he went on. “I think she made a big mistake, ditching you… Her loss, you know?”

“I wish I could see it like that,” you said.

He paused, and then said, “Let’s go somewhere and grab a drink and something to eat…?”

You paused, the rain sheeting down in a dreary mizzle around you as you stared at the toes of your boots for a moment.

“No pressure if you don’t want to,” he began, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“I’d like that,” you said. “Thanks…”

He grinned, his beautiful, thick tusks gleaming. “C’mon, I know the perfect place.”

He ended up taking you to this olde-worlde pub down by the river, and it was absolutely perfect. You shared a bowl of chips and drank a rather silly amount of craft beer, and chatted about everything from culinary school to family, and by the end of it, you’d both almost forgotten your heartache.

Damien was big and muscular and sweet and funny, clever, kind and he had a wonderful laugh. You could have sat there for the rest of forever, listening to him and trying not to stare in wonder at the vast expanse of his chest and shoulders as he gesticulated with gentle hands and laughed a rumbling, warm laugh that made your insides ache.

More than a little tipsy, you made your way back home afterwards with him by your side, his hands clasped politely behind his back.

“Well, this is me,” you said as you reached your modest apartment block. “Thank you for tonight, and for letting me help out in the shop earlier too. I had fun.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He sighed suddenly and then started to worry his top lip with his tusk.

“Damien?”

He huffed a nervous laugh. “I… um… I guess I want to kiss you,” he said, shuffling anxiously, “But I don’t want you to think it’s just a rebound thing… And, I don’t know if you’re even interested in guys, or orcs so… you know…”

Your heart erupted into a million spasming, fluttering butterflies, and you beamed up at him. “You can, you know,” you said. “I’d… I’d like it if you did.”

And then his big palms were pressing gently around your jaw, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and he lowered his head down to you. His kiss was gentle, almost chaste, and it was surprisingly easy to avoid his big tusks, simply because he was so much bigger than you.

It was the kind of kiss you never wanted to end. It was the kind of kiss you’d not had in over a year, or possibly even ever. It was the kind of kiss that told you that you were beautiful, and loved, and valued, and brave, and kind, and everything you wanted to be, all in a breathless, brief moment.

Stunned, you almost swayed as he pulled back. He ran his fingers through your hair just above your ears, and smiled down at you, brown eyes glassy and bright. “Can I see you again?” he asked in a hoarse, deep rasp.

You nodded mutely, then swallowed. “I’d like that,” you said.

“Perfect,” he smiled. “You should get inside out of this rain. I’ll call you, I promise.”

“You need my number first,” you giggled, fishing your phone out. “What’s yours?”

He laughed. “Right,” he said, and dictated his number to you before taking yours down.

He turned to go in a bit of an awkward rush, leaving you standing on the step into your apartment building, but you grabbed his massive wrist in your fingers before he did. His skin was warm despite the rain and his lack of a jacket. He had only his t-shirt on, and it stuck blessedly to every beautiful contour of his sculpted chest and arms. “Thank you,” you murmured, fighting off tears. “I needed this.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Before he left this time, he leaned down and put his hand behind your head, bringing his lips to the side of your head and leaving the softest, gentlest kiss on your temple before he went. His other hand went to your hip, near your jacket pocket but he didn’t hold you there.

“Take care,” he said, and then he was walking away through the rain.

You watched him go, dizzy with emotion, and finally let yourself into your apartment building. As you fished for your keys, however, your fingers brushed against something in your pocket that you didn’t recognise.

Once inside your apartment, you drew out the mystery object from your pocket and discovered it was a small box of truffles from his shop. He must have grabbed it on a whim when he darted back into his shop, and slipped it into your pocket before leaving that night. On the gift label which hung from an elegantly-knotted gold ribbon, read the words ‘Forgive me for saying this, but these are not half so sweet as you. D.”

Giggling, you tried one, and moaned aloud at how good it was.

Already you couldn’t wait for your next meeting with Damien, and not just because of the sweet chocolates.

___________________________

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Blind Date

Hi hi! How is everyone doing! I hope you’re enjoying the Trick or Treat event going on :) Here is the first one-shot for the Follower Give-Away. This particular one is for our second place winner @darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts  I’ve placed my notes on their prompt idea below! Hope you all enjoy this!

Short idea:Blind date / Mitsuhide

Super incessant friend. Agrees begrudgingly. Dude was fun and there for exactly the same reason. Curse you meddling friends?!

Warnings: There are mentions of Alcohol throughout this story. 

Check out all of my other Ikesen writings here! 

Happy reading Fam!

T~

Blind Date - Mitsuhide

[YN]

“Come on, I know the perfect guy!” Your friend shook your shoulders hoping the added motion would persuade you.

“The last time you said that I had to talk the guy out of getting a tattoo of my face.” you grimaced remembering the last disaster of a blind date you were on.

“Okay, so you had one bad blind date,” quirking an eyebrow up at you “I promise it’ll be different this time!”

“How about no.” you turned around on the stool to face the back wall in the kitchen resting your elbows on the cool marble island.

“How about yes? Please.” your friend took you by the shoulders and began to shake.

“Why are you so hell-bent on getting me to go on this date?” you shifted to face her.

“Well,” rubbing the back of her neck, eyes roving along the lines on the floor. “I sort’ve already told him you’d go…”

“You. Did. What?” Oh hells, now you really had to. I mean you didn’t have to but, if you didn’t, you were going to look like a total jackass. You exhaled, exasperated. “Fine. Fine, you win, but you owe me.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have a blast and then what? Does that mean you owe me?” she wriggled on her stool next to you.

“I owe you nothing but a good swift kick to the ass, and if it goes well, you should be happy I don’t give you your reward.”

---

He let you choose the restaurant stating that it didn’t really matter one way or the other to him. You thought that was nice, at least he was accommodating, better than blind date number two who insisted you went to the new Italian restaurant even after you told him you were allergic to garlic. Jerk.

So there you sat, in the reasonably lit Asian Eatery, it was a favorite of yours, so you were hoping this experience didn’t ruin it for you. The wait staff all knew you by name, and the cooks had a good handle on your allergies, so you trusted them. They made authentic Asian dishes that each had their own personal twist, and it didn’t hurt that they imported all of your favorite Japanese beer.  The chalkboard walls were covered with manga characters and the daily specials written in comic book letters, while re-runs of Sailor Moon played on every TV in the place.

“Am I to presume you’re my date for the evening?” The man in front of you was tall and thin, with snow-white hair and bright yellow eyes that seemed to allude to something a little more sinister.

“That depends on you.” you cocked a smile, trying to size the man up. If he couldn’t put up with your sass you didn’t want to pass go, you’d be fine without your two hundred dollars.

“Ah and what made you change your tune? I heard you were so very excited to meet me.” his eyes shined with mischief as he sat down at your table. “The name is Mitsuhide, Mitsuhide Akechi.” he bowed slightly as he scooted the chair in.

“Odd, I don’t remember being excited to meet anyone. Last I heard you were the one-” you stopped “It appears we’ve been tricked.” you leaned back in your chair crossing your legs as you sipped on the beer already brought to the table.

“It would seem so.” he replied as a waiter came over dropping a glass of water on the table before asking his drink order. “Sake please.”

“Oh? Hard liquor on the first date? Mighty bold of you.” you giggled as he sipped on his water.

“I highly doubt that we’ll be fornicating later, and you don’t seem the type to take advantage of me. Besides, it’s only hard liquor if it puts you out, and I can assure you, my dear, I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works, but however you want to look at it is fine by me. Also fornicating? Really?”

The waiter came back with Mitsuhide's drink and a basket full of warm sesame waffle fries. You hadn’t ordered them, but the staff knew you well enough, and for that you were thankful. He peered at you over his glass before asking his question.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize you had been kept here waiting that long miss?” he paused and you realized you’d never actually told him your name.

“(LN), (LN)(YN).” You bowed like he had earlier. “And no, I just come here often, I’m friends with the chef.”

“Well then miss Friends with the Chef. What would you recommend?” he ran his hand over the menu as he looked on uninterested.

“Well, that depends on what you like.”

“Anything, nothing. I can’t really taste food so whatever you’d enjoy is fine by me.” No wonder he had wanted you to pick the restaurant, but wait. If he couldn’t taste food why had he even wanted to go to a restaurant? You totally could have gone somewhere that didn’t revolve completely around food. Hell, even going out for drinks would have been a better option.

“Alright, then a texture? Do you have a texture you don’t like?” hoping that would help.

“Not particularly, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. May I?” He reached for the bowl of fries.

“Of course.”

You ordered your food and picked up getting to know each other. He was fun to talk to, and though you would never admit it to your friend, this wasn’t a bad date. He seemed happy enough that you imagined he at least wasn’t bored with your conversation, which was good. You in-depth conversation about your jobs was interrupted by the giant Chicken Katsu Bowls being placed in front of the both of you.

“Enjoy.” you waiter smiled before heading to one of his other tables.

It had to be one of your favorite meals, the chicken was breaded in the best panko crumb mix you had ever tasted and was fried to crispy perfection, it sat cut and ready atop a mountain of spicy sauteed cabbage and sweet rice. The entire dish was pulled together with a less than healthy helping of tonkatsu sauce, the meal was to die for.

“It’s not bad.” Mitsuhide appraised the dish

“I didn’t think you could taste it?” you said as you scooped another bit of chicken into your mouth.

“I can’t, but for once all of the textures aren’t melting together. I’ll have to let you pick the dish next time as well.” his smile was disarming, and you felt your brain sputter to a halt for three full seconds before you remembered to keep chewing and breathe.

“Oh, so then there’s going to be a next time?” you asked sipping on your beer, hoping to hide your rapidly spreading blush and keep yourself from choking on your meal.

“As much as I hate to acknowledge Hideyoshi’s meddling I would quite like to do this again.” polishing off his sake from earlier as he finished his statement.

“I had fun. So I’d be down, but how about we accidentally on purpose forget to tell our friends?” you smiled what you knew to be an evil grin. “Make them squirm just a bit.”

“I like the way you think.” His golden eyes flashed, and you instinctively knew his smiled matched your own.

“Thanks, I like the way I think too.” you laughed “So when are you free?”

[mushydesserts]

[fic] professional development expenses [day 1: learning]

Pairing: Aranea/Luna Rating: G Summary: When Aranea and Luna first meet, Aranea's on the job. 

Additional Notes: For @ffxvrarepairsweek​. EDIT: Now at AO3!

So, being an Elite Imperial Officer with a special commission from the Chancellor of Niflheim himself had both its perks and its downsides, Aranea had decided.

Sometimes, the job was cushy. Sometimes, the job was a drag.

Sometimes, it managed to be both at once — and right now, standing at ease just inside the door of the white marble-floored parlor of the penthouse suite of Fenestala Manor above the cloud-covered valleys of Zoldara Henge, it was one of those times.

The older Fleuret was off having a pissing contest with the Chancellor again. She'd just happened to be in-between missions, all her subordinates were off on pass; the Emperor had been all like sneer sneer someone to guard the Oracle slime drawl transport her keep her safe snide snide she is in your hands when she'd reported in, and so now Aranea —

— Aranea was watching over the kid, who was curled up miserably on the white leather couch, her eyes rimmed red and her nose pink, half-heartedly fluffing her pet dog behind the ears as she pored over a datapad with an itinerary for the Oracle's next tour on it, and —

— and she was starting to feel almost as awful as Lunafreya Nox Fleuret looked. 

She wrinkled her nose and adjusted her weight to her other foot.

The day was dreary outside the tall crystal-glass windows, sky a flat shade of blue-slate with just a tinge of silver light to the west. The lofty corridors inside were cut off from the stifling summer fog, but stuffy nonetheless — the air in the grand manor was cool and scented like flowers throughout, but slightly stale, and the rooms were in need of an airing-out. If it had been up to Aranea, she would have cracked open a window or the doors to the balconies. But the Oracle, it seemed, caught chill easily.

Lunafreya for her own part had barely noticed Aranea coming in the door, and she still barely seemed to notice her now. The girl had grown up around guards and probably thought of them as more furniture than anything, Aranea reasoned. Aranea had taken note on her initial check through the spacious flat of the flatscreen television — off, and dust-free in the corner — and the alcove full of old books — half of one of shelf was partway through being packed into a crate, maybe time for a stock rotation? — and the kitchenette, clean and with just enough space to make some coffee and biscuits. There was a beautiful old wooden writing desk in the corner, massive and polished and ink-stained; next to that, an easel, palette and brushes and little pots of unopened paint, and envelopes of thick stock paper. Speakers sitting in a nook in the wall were presumably wired to play music from a datapad, though nothing was playing now. There was always the buzzer for the servants, set in a gold-plated panel next to the door.

Plenty to do on a day in, and plenty of room to enjoy it all.

Lunafreya hadn't moved in hours.

Hadn't gotten up for a stretch, for a glass of water, for a sweater, for the bathroom. Aranea was supposed to be standing at attention, but she was feeling fidgety just looking.

That was some inhumanly intense focus. Either that, or the girl was just feeling too awful to leave her spot.

As Aranea watched, Lunafreya coughed delicately, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. Then she took a deep breath, bent slightly, and made a truly horrible hacking noise that didn't sound like it should've come from a human being so tiny. The dog jumped a little under her palm.

Aranea shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat.

"Uh, hey. Kid." She probably shouldn't be calling her that. Did the Oracle have a title or something? "Kid, you okay?"

Lunafreya looked up, blinking, bright-blue eyes like searchlights hunting for the source of the noise. Aranea waited patiently for her to conclude that yes, the lamp was speaking, the lamp being a five-foot-five leather-clad Imperial airborne division commodore working overtime.

"Ah," Lunafreya said, a tad embarrassed. She ducked to her work again, swiping something on the pad. "Yes. I apologize. I've — I've had a bit of a cold."

Lunafreya didn't seem exceptionally bothered about being spoken to. Aranea figured she could push her luck a little.

"I thought Oracles were supposed to be healers," Aranea said.  

Lunafreya looked up again quickly, flushed, and Aranea was sure for a dismayed moment that she'd gone ahead and crossed a line of some sort.

But Lunafreya merely opened her mouth and said, defiantly, "This is nothing. Many are worse off. My discomfort is nothing in the face of the suffering inflicted by the Scourgfffchoo — "

Aranea gave up standing at attention and lunged to fetch a box of tissues from the coffee table.

"Thank you," Lunafreya whispered, muffled, and took the proffered box delicately.

Aranea sighed as Lunafreya blew her nose. With her knees to her chest, the girl looked — really small and kind of helpless. It made Aranea nervous for reasons she couldn't put a finger on.

"Listen, can I get you something? You want like a tea, or..." That was about the extent of what Aranea could offer here. "There are servants around here, right? Hey," Aranea said, cracking the door open and craning her neck to see if anyone was in the hallway outside. "Hey!"

"No, no, please don't, they needn't — " Lunafreya looked like an anak calf in headlights as she struggled to her feet and turned her offended dog off her lap onto the floor. "I wouldn't be able to enjoy it anyway," she said.

Aranea frowned. "Soup? Blanket?"

Lunafreya hesitated. "I haven't — there are blankets in the closet down the hallway," she said, voice catching.

Aranea strode down the hallway like she knew where she was going and called back over her shoulder. "Soup? What do you like, tomato? Mushroom? Eusciello?"

"Tomato," Lunafreya admitted. "I don't want to bother — "

Aranea was already poking her head back out in the hall. "Hey, can we get a pot of hot tomato soup for the Oracle?" She could feel Lunafreya glaring at the back of her head, but the staff member passing by with a cart in the hallway outside looked gracious enough about it. Aranea tightened her jaw resolutely. "Two bowls, two spoons, pepper and grated cheese — bread rolls, a basket of bread rolls maybe? And butter and jam? Thanks."

Lunafreya looked furious when Aranea withdrew.

And there was the closet; Aranea ducked inside before the girl could try to chew her out and break into a coughing fit instead.

"You didn't have to do that," Lunafreya said faintly from down the hall.

Aranea ignored the feel of her ears reddening at the tips as she rummaged through a chest of throws and knits. Some items looked like actual fur, folded neatly and never touched. It was incredible how everything here looked both brand new and like it cost more than Aranea made in a year. "You heard me, I ordered for both of us," Aranea said. "I wanted some too, just — just, uh, take it from my paycheque." She pulled out a silver-and-periwinkle wool throw that felt heavier than looked and shook it out. No dust. Obviously.

She re-emerged to find Lunafreya sitting back on the couch with a wince and a stretch, pad set aside on the coffee table, her dog curled beneath her ankles. The creature was really... really well-behaved.

Aranea handed the bundle of blanket over. She settled on the armchair adjacent as Lunafreya gratefully draped it across her lap; the dog sniffed and prodded the corner of it, then slipped underneath.

"So. Busy?" Aranea hedged, nodding at the pad.

"Yes," Lunafreya admitted. "I have an upcoming speech needs to be approved by public relations by the end of the week."

"Nobody drafts those things for you?" Aranea's maybe heard one of them, and probably tuned it out halfway, but wow. She did recall it being less... Imperial, than she would've expected. Better than the tripe the Emperor spat out on national television every quarter. Less repetitive, less empty, less insulting.

"They have offered speechwriters. But I like to — speak to the people, when I speak to the people," Lunafreya said, sounding very tired. "I don't like to recite lines."

Aranea nodded. "From the heart," she said, jokingly.

"Yes," Lunafreya said, completely solemnly, and Aranea felt something inside her cower and wilt under the intensity of it.

Aranea scratched her neck. "So... should I... I guess I should leave you to it?"

"It's fine. It's in the best shape it'll be between now and then," Lunafreya sighed, leaning back. "Tell me about yourself. Commodore Highwind? How long have you been with the military?"

Aranea was caught off-guard for a second by the fact that Lunafreya even remembered her name. "Oh. Well. A while now," she said, floundering under Lunafreya's curious gaze.

A knock at the door interrupted her. Thank the sun. Aranea jumped up to retrieve both the meal cart and a shred of coherence, from wherever that'd gone. 

By the time they'd settled in with the soup and rolls spread out on the coffee table before them, Lunafreya knew about Aranea's squadron, and her favorite foods growing up, and the difficulties in getting ahold of standard-issue armor her size. Aranea knew that Lunafreya did have a title, but to call her Luna instead.

"Luna," Aranea said. "What do you do for fun around here?"

Luna smiled, hands cupped around her bowl and blowing at the soup in a way Aranea was sure she didn't do at fancy dinner parties. "Read, mostly."

"Yeah?" Aranea snagged a third roll from the bread basket, which Luna hadn't touched. "What're you reading?"

"Many things," Luna said. "History. Biographies. Romances."

"No thrillers?"

"I prefer the realistic — or the idealistic," Luna said fondly. "Yourself?"

Aranea thought about saying she'd read the same damn book she'd taken on tour with her repeatedly over the last three years and never managed to let herself get to the end of it. "Not much of a reader," she lied.

"Oh?"

"I've been — meaning to get into it," she said. "More."

"I could lend you some," Luna offered.

Aranea winced at the idea of cracking the spines and dog-earing the pages of all those gold-embossed hardcovers. "Oh, no, I — I'd just lose them, probably."

"I have plenty more. Do you like accounts of air combat in the early Expansion Wars? Pirates? Knights? Murders? College students in need of rescue?" Luna paused. "Thrillers could be arranged. I have been ordering more." She nodded at the reading alcove.  

Aranea felt her lips twitch up. "Maybe if come by again," she said.

"Please do," Luna said, brightening up a bit, and Aranea had no idea if she was just being polite or if she really would be happy to have the company. It was hard to tell.

"I — I guess I'll see," Aranea said, because she would've liked to say sure yeah, I'll see you around, but truth was, she couldn't know. This was supposed to be a one-off gig, and she wasn't sure anybody just called up the Oracle to hang out on a day off.

Luna looked guilty at that, like she was embarrassed to have presumed.

If it was an act, it was a good one. Aranea wondered if the kid had ever been able to let her guard down in her life. Or since she'd been twelve, anyway.

"Look," Aranea said, setting down her roll on a plate and taking pity (on herself, probably, and on whatever the melty feeling in her chest was supposed to be). "The television free?"

Luna turned to look at the flatscreen in the corner, surprised. "Oh," she said. "Yes. No. Well, it — it only has so many channels," she said, clearly never having really thought about using it.

"You don't know how to take the signal blocker off?" Aranea was incredulous. Did anybody in this day and age not know how to get around the censorship blockers?

Luna looked blankly at her, and Aranea rolled her eyes. Fucking Imperials.

"All right, where is it," Aranea said, getting up and moving towards the screen.

Luna peered over the back of the couch, dog joining her in poking her nose up over the edge. Aranea pressed a button on the remote and went to hunt down a screwdriver from a toolbox while the device started up.  

Having retrieved the box, Aranea surveyed the screen, and then carefully pried it out from the wall panel. Once the wires were exposed, Aranea paused.

She brandished her screwdriver back towards Luna. "Pay attention," she said. "Learn to do this once, and you and that bitchface brother of yours can enjoy the wonders of satellite programming for the rest of your lives."

Luna grinned, tugging the blanket higher around her shoulders. "I did warn him that his face would stay like that if he kept making it," she said. "I told him."

"He should've listened," Aranea said ruefully. She went to work.

Hours later, with the Oracle dozing on her shoulder, an enormous pet dog curled up in a pile of fluff next to her on the couch, a bottomless pot of soup on the heated cart nearby and a badly-acted serial adaptation of Four Duchesses and A Thief's Honor playing out on the screen before them, Aranea thought that maybe being an Elite Imperial Officer working overtime on the request of the Emperor of Niflheim himself might have both its perks and its downsides.

This? 

This was probably one of the perks.

[joylessholland]

Cinderella

price!TOMXcinderella!READER

(2,847 words wow) Warning: Genderbend on the godmother cuz obvi! 

A/N: So this is the second part of my fairy tale series, it was requested by an anon so thx anon! This part is really long so I feel like the end is kinda rushed, so it wouldn't be like 4000 words or split into parts, I hope you enjoy and again Please send requests for more stories (and feel free to add quirks like a gender bend or whatever!) Thx to @kingquackdaddy wuv you!

Masterlist   Requests   Rapunzel   Godmother?

Illness has a strange way of destroying our happiness, it was true in your case. Ella, daughter of a rich tailor, mothered by the most beautiful women in the kingdom. Her radiance passed itself onto you ten-fold. The day she grew ill was the day sun hid from the world, the day birds didn’t chirp, the day the happiness in the world seemed to flee. Laying in bed she coughed into a silk handkerchief, “Ella, my love” she choked “Yes mother” you sobbed as the doctor stepped out of the room “Ella, I am not long for this world.” “NO” you cry as she clutches your hand coughing violently. When the fit stops she looks into your eyes “Let the kindness I have taught you to be how I live on. I will live on through your generosity and love. Never let go of love and I will be with you always, my dear Ella” a single tear drips from your mother’s eye before her head rests on the pillow and the life leaves her body. “I promise mother, for you”

“You missed a spot” Drizella teased as you mop the marble in the foyer, “And one here” Anastasia scoffs rubbing her foot on the ground leaving a dirt stain on the white marble. Closing your eyes, you hear footsteps coming from the study. “Eh, what is that! This floor will be spotless by the time we are back from town or so help me girl” your stepmother snaps poking you with a thin boney finger. “Yes, stepmother,” you say quietly moving over to the dirty spot Anastasia made. As the door opens the twins turn and send an evil glare your way. “Have dinner ready when we get home” Lady Tremaine calls over her shoulder.

Placing the mop back in the bucket you carry it into the kitchen placing it in the corner. Reaching the cupboard, you grab a basket of potatoes, grabbing a pot you place it above the fireplace and set to peeling. Hearing a small squeak, you screech out in fear when you look down and see a mouse. Jumping back, you bring the bowl of potatoes with you and they fall into the ash of the fireplace. “No” you whimper getting on your knees picking up the small chopped pieces from the ash. To our right you see the small mouse cowering in the corner staring at you, beady eyes blinking rapidly “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You must be hungry, not many scraps around when my stepmother makes me clean all day.” As if seeming to understand you the mouse nods and inches closer. Picking up a small piece of potato you place it on the floor near him. Moving closer with caution the small mouse grabs the food in his little paws and nibbles on it. When another little head pokes out from behind the stove you giggle as the two mice fight for the bit of food. “Here, don’t fight there’s plenty for both of you” you giggle placing another potato bit on the ground for the new fat mouse. “Now, if you two don’t mind, if I don’t clean these I’m doomed”

“Where is dinner” your stepmother demands as you quickly grab the serving bowl and pour soup into it. “Right here” you smile placing the bowl on the table, you serve Lady Tremaine first then move to your stepsisters “What is all over you girl,” your stepmother asks. Closing your eyes, you place Drizella’s bowl in front of her “She’s all dirty, we should call you Cinderwench!” Anastasia laughs “Dirtyella” Drizella says with a snorty laugh before both girls look at one another “Cinderella” they cry before a fit of laughter. A lump in your throat forms as the girls chant your new nickname. A loud knock at the door silences the table, “Go get the door… Cinderella” Lady Tremaine grins as you quickly walk to the door wiping away the wetness in your eyes.

“Hello?” you ask the well dress man at the door “I am here to formally invite the household to a lavish ball at the castle!” handing you an envelope he bows slightly as you thank him. “Who was it…Cinderella?” Lady Tremaine asks slurping her soup “it was someone from the castle they gave me this” You say handing the envelope to your stepmother. Waving her hand at you she shoos you away, retreating to the other side of the table you take a seat and grab the serving bowl. Finding only the scraps of potatoes and a little broth you sigh and place it back on the table. “Girls, wonderful news!” Lady Tremaine laughs Scanning the letter again “We have been invited to the ball at the castle in three days’ time.” She smiles at her daughters as they scream in excitement “It is to help the Prince find a proper young lady to be his new wife.” Anastasia says having snatched the letter from her mother “We’ll need new dresses and…” “TO get our hair done” “Oh, my dear girls don’t fret you will be the most stunning at the ball. Won’t they be Cinderella?” She asks smugly “Of course, I need you to start on those dresses right away.” She grins her evil grin “Of course stepmother” you frown gathering the dishes. “Anastasia, shall we go pick out the fabric?” Drizella asks getting up “I’d be delighted” her sister giggles running upstairs. While your stepmother watches her daughters scurry up the stairs you grab the invitation off the table and scan the words smiling. “Stepmother?” you ask as she faces you, fake sincerity in her voice “Yes” “This invitation says We formally invite any suitable woman. Does that mean I can go?” you ask hopefully. Your words turn Lady Tremaine’s feature sour and mean but soon they soften and she smiles “Of course…” Smiling you think of what to wear “But you’ll first need to finish your chores, the dresses for your stepsisters, and then after that if you look decent enough, I suppose you may accompany us to the ball” she says as your eye brighten “Oh, thank you Stepmother” carrying the dishes to the kitchen you smile all the way.

For three days you work tirelessly to finish any chore your stepmother threw at you, to make your sisters new dresses from the prince’s ball, and to at the end of the day after all that you worked on your own dress. But the evening had finally come, you’d finished mopping, sweeping, and dusting everything you were told to and it was time for the ball. “Oh, Cinderella!” Lady Tremaine called from the front door. Smoothing your dress, you smile at your reflection “Cinderella!” “Coming” you call back descending the stairs. “What took you so lo…” Anastasia starts before gasping at the sight of you. After curling your hair with a few of your stepmother’s old curlers you’d found one of your mother’s old strings of pearls and clasped it around your neck. “What are you wearing” Drizella snapped as her mother walks up to “You said if I…” shushing you she nods “I know what I said” turning she smiles at her daughters “Those pearls really do make you look stunning” she grinned as Drizella fumed “Why you little” she snaps rushing towards you gripping the pearls in her fist tearing them off they spill onto the floor. “And that dress” Lady Tremaine snickers back still turned. In a huff, Anastasia stomps over and rips the sleeve off your dress, while Drizella grabs a layer of silk tearing it. Like a tornado the girls tore your ball gown into rags, turning your stepmother gives a fake gasp” Well Cinderella, you couldn’t possibly go to the ball in that” she smirked opening the door “We’ll be back late” Tears stung your eyes as you watched the carriage pull away towards the castle. Running through the manor you burst out into the back garden, sobbing your run past the garden and towards the back of the yard. Defeated you sit on a bench looking over your mother’s grave “I try mother…so hard. To be the woman you wanted me to be, it’s so hard. First you then father, I don’t know if I can do it anymore. Oh, please mother help me” you cry

“Well I don’t know about her, but I think I may be able to help” a voice says from behind you “Who are you” you ask quite startled, standing in a bright pink suit that seemed to sparkle in the night was a man a bright smile on his face “You know who I am” he said taking a seat next to you. Flicking his wrist in the air a small puff of pink sparkles reveals a handkerchief “Are you my Fairy God…” “Mother…don’t ask” taking the small piece of cloth you dab your eyes. “Don’t you have a ball to get to?” he asks making the damp rag disappear “My stepsisters destroyed my dress, how can I got now” you sigh looking down at the remnants of your dress “Well…” Your godmother says pulling a wand from his sleeve “All you need do is ask” he says with a wink he shakes a sparkle from the tip of the wand “Can you help me get to the ball?” you ask hopefully “Thought you’d never ask” he smiles holding up his wand but stopping thinking for a moment “Is something wrong?” you ask concerned “No, it’s just there’s a word. A pesky word.” Stroking his chin your godmother taps his foot deep in thought “No, not that one, hmmm, No, aha” he smiles holding his wand up once more “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-BOO” he chimes waving his wand in the air your surrounded by a cloud of pink fog. Looking on with eyes of wonder he watches as you lift off the ground and twirl in a circle. When your feet touch the ground a beautiful blue ball gown hugs your body and you smile “Amazing” “Well I was going for pink but this’ll do” he marvels grabbing your hand leading you to the stables “They took the horses” looking in the corner he points his wand at two small mice, repeating his spell the mice begin scurrying away before growing hooves and hairy tails. From the street a dog spots the commotion and begins barking madly at your small group, “Come here boy” he calls and the dog quickly runs over slobber dripping from it’s lips, waving his wad in the air the dog stands on his hind legs growing taller begore a full grown man stand before you “Now go fetch me melon” he asks you as you stare at the new man who smiles back “We…don’t grow melons, we have pumpkins” you reason as the dog man runs to the pumpkin patch grabbing a large pumpkin and brining it to the barn “What do I need a pumpkin for?” looking at you your godmother “After all this you still doubt me” saying his magic word one last time the pumpkin wiggles and stretches a little before swelling in size. The vine from the top weaves itself down and form round wheels at the bottom as the color of the squash changes from a deep orange to a brilliant gold. “One more thing” Your fairy godmother says waving his wand at your feet, looking down you lift your dress “Glass?” you ask looking at your new shoes “Every story need a memorable detail” sending you a wink the Coachman leads you to the carriage door “Ella, the magic. It’s powerful but all magic has limits. All of this will fade after the clock strikes twelve.” “Thank you for everything”

The steps off the palace, a place you’d never thought you’d ever see. The ballroom was full of life as you walked, taking in the sights of your first lavish party. A hush falls over the crowd and all eyes wander to the stairs as Prince Thomas looks out at the sea of people before he descends. “the prince” you hear a familiar voice say from your right, it was Anastasia standing next to the rest of your stepfamily. Gasping you move through the sea of people away from your family. Accidentally stepping on someone’s foot they shove you away and into the center of the room, directly in front of the price “My apologize , your majesty” you bow as the Prince smile “Would you care to dance” at a loss for words the prince grabs your hand and the band begins playing a beautiful waltz “I’ve never danced before” you admit as the price guides you to the empty floor “You’ll do amazing” he assures leading you in a dance you had no idea you could do. The movement flows so fluidly that it’s almost as though you are just one mind competently in sync. Staring into the prince’s big brown eyes you feel your heart soar as he lifts you off the ground twirling you. Even after the song stops he hold your waist for a moment longer “Can we find a place a little quieter” he asks holding out his hand, taking it, he leads you to a balcony looking out at a clock tower. Taking a seat on a bench he looks at you, eyes bright “What do they call you?” he asks “No matter what they call me Prince Thomas” you say shyly knowing full well if your stepmother ever knew you were here she’d throw a fit, all night the two of you talked and laughed. “After tonight may I come visit you, where in the kingdom do you reside” he asks as a loud chime interrupts your answer, looking over to the clock tower you realize the hours had melted away “I have to go” you stand and begin out of the castle “Wait stay please” Tom pleads grabbing your arm pulling you into him, when his eyes meet your something takes over and you press your lips against his, the kiss seams to last forever but as the second trike booms through the hall you pull away running away from the prince who follows closely in toe. Running down the front steps of the castle you stumble and one of your glass slippers slips off your foot, not looking back jump into the carriage “Go FAST” you shout as it pulls away.

The seats had grown mushy and the coachman had a tail but you made it home before the carriage became a small orange pumpkin and the horses two mice again. In the rags of your old dress you run up to the attic where you slept, falling onto your bed you lay your head on the pillow and fall into a deep sleep.

“Wake up, Ella please” whispers your fairy godmother who was just a small little fairy about the size of a potato “What, what’s going on” “You fell asleep, the prince he launched a full search party” “For who” you ask still groggy “You” he chirps grabbing your finger in his tiny hands pulling you to his feet “He got here three minutes ago, you are one heavy sleeper. That nasty stepmother of yours locked you in her but she’s no match for…” waving his wand in the air your godmother mutters his magic words but nothing happens “Anastasia, come here dear it’s your turn” you hear Lady Tremaine yell “My magic, it’s not strong enough I cant open the door” he sighs defeated “I’m sorry Ella” “No I have stayed here for too long, been through too much to give up now” you snap rushing to your vanity pulling out a few hair pins. Sticking them in the lock you godmother hovers over your shoulder. When the lock clicks he cheer and your run down the stair “Go get your prince” he yells

“No, try Drizella one more time please it was her I swear” Lady Tremaine pleads to the price who was holding a beautiful glass slipper “No it wasn’t” you call from the top of the stairs “Who is she?” Tom asks hopefully “No one just my stepdaughter, she’s crazy, utterly deranged” she pleads getting hysterical “You were to bring me every girl in the house,” the prince says pushing past her and meets you at the bottom of the stairs. “This slipper was left at my ball last night, it fits the women I shared true loves kiss with, may I?” he asks kneels. Sticking out your foot your step-sisters watch in horror as the slipper slips effortlessly onto your foot “It is you” Tom beams grabbing you by the waist kissing his lips to yours “I’m so happy it is you” the prince beams leading you from the house ignoring the distressed calls of your stepmother and sisters.

The prince and you had a ball soon after it was a celebration of your engagement, you danced all night and live Happily Ever After!

@midtownvaledictorian@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked@tiemeupspidey@champagneholland@fangirltopic@marveltomjunkie@kingquackdaddy@panicatttckiss@seilamigliorcosacheabbiamaivisto @casualprincess77 @ging3r-fall@rivedale@hollandosterfield101@parkerscupcake@lanilovespsychos@clairesrainbow@tryn25 @chrisayy3 @nialluh

[chestshot]

A Cautionary Tale of India Pale

Prepare for Trouble, B-Side: A Cautionary Tale of India Pale,

Dark Holes and Transformations, or My Love Affair with xoxo<3Ms. Hopps <3xoxo

 Little children were playing behind me. I was in space. Time was forgiving. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. As the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous, the guardians watch over as we sleep. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “So, where were you?”  “I was playing in the dark, and I got lost. I had some breadcrumbs, thankfully.”

“This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice.

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let us just say there was hell to pay.

           The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy. Never an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. My arm, bent around my back. Wrists too tight. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside. The neighbors can hear. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. From the guardians, then from bad decisions, and possibly society. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable, waiting for the blackouts to cast a final spell.

           “God helps those that help themselves”®…Is not in the bible!

           The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young for coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally hungry. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths? Yeah… haven’t been able to hit up hot topic since COVID-19.”

           Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white-collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. Not a child anymore. Learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. The dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies were not ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. Where had the time gone? Playing with little toy cars and dirt, in the streets of his home country, and now using dentures. There was such an age of trusting that the streetlights were guiding him all along. When he could hear his mother’s voice and know in his heart that the night was near, but only to visit. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share maybe their last breakfast. Listened to your guardians. You might live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. Pero esta es la casa de Dios.” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Bandage them up and throw them in the dirt. Suffering is the polished rock for sharp claws and feasting vultures. This psychic in San Francisco told me that I would be responsible for what I touch and what I know. I did not let him read my palm. I was swimming in ignorance, and the spirit would guide me.

Their little Calcutta souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. Those little Calcutta souls were all fucked. I think we suffer because we think we must. We like to convince ourselves that it’s all part of some divine plan. We suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

Last week, and then the week before, and before that. I lost a part of me. I’ve lost a few parts of me. Like a lot. Who was I? I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth. The beer was gone. It was a scared man. No. A big bad wolf. My tail was between my legs. I was pitiful. My drinking career choked on it’s vomit. My guardian told me there was going to be hell to pay.

           I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I see is stars. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if there was a line. Couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? Always have to start a fight during a meal. If you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals, our fists made toasts to live long and pasta. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was sensitive from the binge before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. Nap. Bagel. Throw up.

SpaghettiOs. That’s not pasta. That’s an impasta.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

I had never wanted to grow up. I was so afraid that I would grow up to be a man with a wife and a house. I sounded like one of those kids who shits all over “the nuclear family” and the “white picket fence”. I had even said “I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to bring more suffering into the world.” Then I would roll my eyes, take a puff of my cigarette and be proud of how postmodern I was.

The truth is, I was 26 years old, holding a fucking sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos at some Piano Lounge. Nobody wanted to marry me. I was living at my mothers house. I didn’t have a car or a drivers license. I hated everything I didn’t have. I still had my Lagunitas though. 7.1% a bottle meant I got nice and toasty after a six pack.

The Jack and Coke was just a nice butter and marmalade on top. Can’t have a nice toast without some warm butter and tangerine marmalade, raspberry jam. Ex-Pentecostal Holly Roller. I was so mad about that God Shit. I broke bread with my damaged complexion. I was a messy eater, leaving crumbs everywhere. Licking my claws like that racoon from Pocahontas. Like that, but still a big bad wolf…

           I was on my way to the "party bridge" on the Las Vegas strip. I had just got off the bus, after a 6-8 hour shift holding a sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos. The job was shit, but it didn’t require much interaction with people. God, I used to hate people.

When I got there, the police were harassing a group of street performers. I like to get faded, and I like to do it on the street. I buy some street performers some beers, ask if I can play a couple of songs on their acoustic guitar, and we get smashed. The police were pissing on my parade and I was not going to let that happen.

I went to the CVS and bought a case of PBR. When I got back to the bridge, I started handing out some cans to the street kids being interrogated. The police told me to stop, and I did not listen. I got arrested for obstructing an officer and resisting arrest. This was probably one of the most punk rock things I ever did in my life. Resisting authority was my raspberry jam. I liked that it made me feel bad to the bone. I felt like even more of a bad ass when I offered the holy spirit into my life, on the rocks with a pickle back shot.

           The police officer put me in handcuffs and took me to the cop car, outside of the Aria. I thought that I was standing up for the street performers. Really, I was just sticking my nose where it did not belong. When I got to the detention center downtown, the nurse asked me some questions. “Do you have a history of cocaine use in your family?” “Tu Madre!” I said. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Faster than you can say “Pharmaceutical petty punks pretentiously pandered pedestrians” Five correction officers pin me to the wall. One of them had my arm bent behind my back and they were waiting for any reason to snap off my ring finger.

           I stretched out my ear lobes. The holes were wide enough to stick a sharpy permanent marker through. One of the guards whispered in my ear “I like to rip out gauges.” My body went limp. I was going to get ripped apart like a fucking lasagna. “Please don’t do that.” One of the other guards brought in a retainment seat, on wheels. Think of an elementary school chair with straps. The blue ones, or orange, sometimes. Class was in session.

I was wheeled to a retaining room with another inmate who had acted out. He had asked to use the restroom, so he was granted the privilege to defecate. They wheeled him away. I pissed myself. One of the guards came in to get me and realized what I had done. “Son of a bitch.” He said under his breath, realizing that he still had to maintain professionalism. The female officer following him said “Mark.” With disapproval. Fuck authority. I’m still a big bad wolf. Its society that has to change. Do you know who I think I am? I’m no impasta.

           The secret to having a good time is to show up to the bar with a few ounces of hard liquor already in your system. You save money and time. The bartender can never cut you off because they don’t even know what you act like when you’re sober. They’re not aware of the transformation. Pretty soon, I’m the big bad wolf with a bad haircut and jeans my mother bought for me at Ross. I say “LAGUNITAS” and the bartender takes my five. A cautionary tale of India pale: this shit will turn your brain to shit. Shit toast. From a shithole tavern, or Albertsons if I was emo and wanted to drink alone at the park.

           I always went to the bar by myself. I would try and make conversations if I was feeling sociable. The best way to do this was to smoke a cigarette, and let the acquaintances come rolling in. “I’ll tell you a joke for a cigarette” was always a good conversation starter. I would have also accepted “hey man, can I give you a dollar for a cigarette? I left mine at home.” I didn’t always have spare cash, but when I did, I liked to drink around strangers and not feel the isolation covering me, like stars just beyond my reach. Like aircrafts. Black night sky. The tar in community college lungs. Little Red Riding Hood didn’t show up. Probably cause her sisters were talking shit about me. It’s ok. I’m still big and bad.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish. Deep dish pizza.

Cheap not-the-real-Bel-Air hotel. Right on the corner of Ellis and Jones. Junkies were chasing dragons in high definition on the sidewalk. God checked out. No housekeeping. Ash tray on the nightstand, some beer cans, and $6.14 in cash. What a splash. Making out with Hopps. She gives my stomach purple ulcer butterflies. Sedates my lungs a car crash plum. Mind calming lavender razorblades cut gently. Her love is a condor. She picks at my liver like silver bullets diving into passion fruit scum.

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Luxurious Small Suction Cups

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Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/luxurious-small-suction-cups

[roguelioness]

More Farmer’s Market Solas, because I was asked for a part two, and also because I am weak and couldn’t resist.

Part one is here

Tagging @elfsplaining​, @elvhenaniwa​ and @ladylike-foxes​ because I think you might be interested in this. [I hope I’m not being too presumptuous!] 

Strawberries

“Are you free this Friday?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Excellent. I would like to invite you over for dinner. Would you be comfortable with that?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Are you secretly a murderer?”

“No, but I cannot promise I will not be tempted to eat you. *laughs*”

“....”

“Neria? Are you there?”

“... yes. Sorry, I, ummm... I thought I heard someone at the door.”

“So, how about it? Dinner at seven, my place?”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Perfect. See you on Friday, Solas.”

“Until Friday, Neria. I cannot wait.”

She smooths out the skirt of her dress nervously. He hadn’t told her what kind of meal it was going to be, so she erred on the side of caution and decided on a classic little black dress. The lack of sleeves shows off her lithe, tanned arms, and between the hem that hits her just above the knee and her high heels, her legs look like they were a million miles long.

Adjusting the bottle of wine in the gift basket one last time, she knocks on his door. He responds promptly, and she forgets the greeting on her lips when she sees him. He is wearing a grey shirt - the same color, she thinks idly, as the flecks in his blue eyes - with the collar loose, paired with crisply ironed black slacks.

He looks long, lean, and lethal.

He is luscious.

“Hello,” he says politely, an appreciative glint in his eye as he looks her over.

“Hey,” she replies, cheeks faintly pink under his gaze. “Here, this is for you,” she hands over the wicker basket, “my peach tree is overloaded. The wine’s an Antivan vintage, I hear it pairs well with everything.”

“Thank you, this was unnecessary,” he answers, swinging the door open wider to let her in.

“Oh, it was nothing,” she smiles.

“Would you like a drink first, or the grand tour?”

“A drink, please.” Something to keep her hands - and lips - occupied while she is in such close proximity to him.

“Of course. I happened to pick up a wonderful pear wine yesterday; would you care to try it?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

The wine glass is elegant, the stem covered in vines and leaves. The vintage itself is sweet and crisp, and she enjoys how smooth it feels as it travels down her throat.

“Come, I’ll show you around,” he holds a hand out to her. She places her hand in his, and he draws her closer, tucking her arm into his elbow. This close, she can smell the cedar of his cologne and the musk that is him and wholly him. It is intoxicating, and she debates the propriety of leaning in close and sniffing him out.

She resists.

His apartment is breathtakingly stunning; a penthouse condo with wall-to-wall windows offering a stunning view of the Frostbacks, fireplaces with elegant marble mantles, rugs of the softest bear hide she’s ever felt. The walls are covered in paintings, each one meticulously done and intricate in its details, and she is surprised to hear that they are his own work. The furniture is all clean, modern edges; simple, but she knows quality when she sees it.

He saves the bedroom for last, and she’s not quite sure how to breathe.

The bed is large, long enough to accommodate his height, and is meant to be the centerpiece of the room, but that isn’t what catches her eye. It is the nook tucked away by the window, with bookshelves adorning the walls, and a window seat at the base. It is something so beautifully indulgent, and it makes her want to curl up among the cushions and read. She tells him as such, and he chuckles. “Perhaps one day, hmmm?” he says, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she murmurs, taking a sip from her glass.

Dinner is a simple, but elegant affair. He’s clearly shopped at more than just her stall, the vegetables fresh and full of flavor. The filet mignon is pan seared with herb butter, and practically melts in her mouth. They converse about her work, and his - she is not unsurprised to hear that he is a well-known artist - and between the food, and the wine, and the intoxicating presence of a man who is all charm and wit and masculine essence, she is bedazzled.

“How do you feel about dessert?” he asks, once they are seated on the plush sofa in front of the fireplace, where a cheerful, crackling fire burns.

She laughs. “I believe you mentioned apples?”

“Ahh, yes,” his look is one of mock regret, “Unfortunately, a friend found your apples immensely appealing and claimed them for herself.”

“Oh?” Her heart sinks at herself’. Does he have a woman in his life already?

“Yes,” he says easily. “Mythal is my publicist and manager, and immensely fond of apples. She claimed yours are the best she has ever tasted, by the way.”

She turns pink. It is as though he has read her mind. “T-that’s… umm, tell her I’m flattered she thinks so.”

“I will,” he grins, wide and warm. “To make up for their absence, I hope strawberries will do. Sylaise had some left over from her wine-making, and I promise you these are very good indeed.”

“Well, if you say they’re good,” she laughs, “they must be. You do have excellent taste in fruit, after all.”

He places a bowl of the ripe, red fruit on the table, and another filled with whipped cream on the side. She swallows lightly as she sees the tips of his fingers stained red with their juice.

She wants to suck them clean, one digit at a time.

His eyes are knowing as they meet hers, as he reaches across and picks one up by its delicate stem. His fingers grip the fruit in a firm, yet gentle grip, enough force to keep it from falling back into the bowl, but not so much that he crushes it within his grip. A part of her is disappointed; she wants him to press the fruit between those long, elegant fingers, wants to see the ruby red liquid flow down his hand. She wants to run the tip of her tongue up from his wrist, and drink the juice from his palm.

She wants… she wants him.

“Go ahead, please. Try one.” He’s bitten into the fruit now, lips stained garnet, berry juice dripping from the corners of his mouth. There’s a tiny bit of whipped cream on his upper lip, and his tongue flicks out and cleans it in a fluid motion.

Her mind is in shambles.

Her gut is a long, single, tightly-wound coil of lust.

Hand shaking, she reaches out for the fruit, and bringing it to her lips, bites into it. The sweetness of it spreads immediately across her tongue, and it lingers even when she swallows. She can feel the stickiness of the juice around her mouth, and hopes she doesn’t look too messy.

She gazes up at him, meaning to compliment the fruit, but his pupils are wide now, dark and feral, and there’s something terribly primal about the way his eyes are fixed on her mouth. She bites down on her lower lip, and the soft growl he lets out has a small gush of wetness flood her underwear.

“Solas?” she asks, her voice little better than a mewl.

“You have a little something-” he leans in close to her, and for a second, their breaths mingle, the scent of strawberries ripe in the air. Then his mouth comes crashing down on hers, and he’s devouring her, and she can’t help but let him because he’s so good, and he tastes like berries and heaven, and she wants more…

He pulls back slightly, his lips curled up into a wanton smirk. “Shall we continue this elsewhere?” he asks.

She mirrors his look, her eyes lighting up with mischief. “Lead the way.”

[bob-giovanni]

A Casual Affair

Characters: Simon X OFC

Warnings: Cursing, AU/Pre-Apocalypse, Eventual Smut

Summary: Violet has been out of college for a year and desperately needs a job.

Author’s Notes: I got the idea for this story from @simons-thirst-squad Simon Smut Week but it would’ve been too long to post as a one shot. This is kinda AU I guess as it takes place present day with no zombie apocalypse. Hope ya’ll enjoy!! P.S. - there is some French in here. I got it from Google. If you actually speak French and it’s wrong (which I’m sure it is) please feel free to let me know so I can make changes!!

Background Music: “Casual Affair” by Panic! at the Disco

Violet’s alarm starting blaring at 5AM and she instantly hated everything. She groaned as she sat up, swinging her legs around to hang off the edge of the bed as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. After yawning and stretching her arms over her head, Violet went down the hallway to her small kitchen and immediately brewed herself a cup of coffee. While she was waiting for her coffee, Violet grabbed the nearly empty container of soy milk out of the fridge. She placed it on the counter next to the coffee maker before reaching into the cabinet above to grab sugar. Once the coffee was finished brewing Violet wasted no time in pouring in the milk and sugar, giving the hot liquid a quick stir before drinking half the cup in one sip. It was scalding hot but Violet was so exhausted and she needed to wake up fast.

She finished her cup of coffee and sat her mug down on the counter. She planned on making another cup for breakfast. She went down the hall back towards her bedroom and ducked into the bathroom to turn the shower on. Violet went back to her bedroom stripped out of her PJs, placing the clothing in her laundry basket. She grabbed her phone and put her hair up in a messy bun and headed back to the bathroom. She opened the music app on her phone and clicked ‘Shuffle All’ before stepping under the lukewarm stream of water.

As she started to lather herself up with body wash, she started signing along with the current song playing. “Take any moment, any time. A lover on the left, a sinner on the right.” She curled her lips into a smile as the water washed the soap off her body and started to loosen up her muscles. “Lay in the atmosphere, a casual affair.” Violet grabbed her hairbrush and held it up to her mouth like a microphone. “Lay! In the atmosphere! A casual affair, whoa!” Violet laughed at herself as she started to wash her hair. Once she felt clean, Violet stepped out of the shower and wrapped her long, faded red hair in a towel. She walked to her bedroom and grabbed another towel, drying the rest of her body quickly.

Once she was dry and moisturized, Violet grabbed a white silk bra and matching panties from her underwear drawer and put them on before unwrapping the towel around her head. Her hair fell to just above her elbows. Violet looked at her brown roots in the mirror, making a mental note that she needed to get her hair done. She looked at alarm clock on her bedside table. 6AM. She still had time before she had to leave. Violet decided to blow dry her hair and do a quick waterfall braid on the left side. Once the braid was complete she took a large round brush and used it with her hair dryer to add big, soft, bouncy curls at the bottom of her hair.

Once she was satisfied with her hair, Violet walked to her closet and pulled out a few different options and started trying things on. She felt that dress pants and a button down shirt was too boring but all the dresses she had, she felt, were not entirely work appropriate. Violet walked back over to the closet and dug around before she found what she was looking for. A simple black pencil skirt. She had a white blouse with black polka dots that would look amazing with the skirt. She put the outfit on and looked in the mirror and smiled. She was more than happy with the way she looked. Violet decided to eat breakfast before finishing up her look. She went to the kitchen and made herself some toast and poured herself a bowl of cereal, putting sliced bananas and strawberries in the bowl as well.

Once she finished eating Violet looked at the clock. It was nearing 7AM. She had to hurry if she didn’t want to be late on her first day. She hurried to the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth. She then went to her bedroom and grabbed a pair of black pumps from her closet. She sat at her vanity and slipped the shoes on before grabbing her makeup bag. She didn’t want to go too heavy on the makeup today so she did a simple eye look, no falsies, no highlighter, a little blush, and her favorite red lipstick, Urban Decay’s Gash. Violet took a deep breath and grabbed her purse, dropping the lipstick inside and heading to her coat closet. The sky was a little gray so Violet grabbed her green raincoat and headed out of her apartment and down a flight of stairs to the entrance of her building.

Once outside Violet realized it was slightly chillier than she had been expecting. She slipped her coat on as she walked towards to the train station. It was just 2 blocks from her apartment. She descended the stairs and swiped her metro card as she walked through the turnstiles an onto the platform. The train pulled into the station a less than a minute later. Luckily there were a few open seats. Violet sat down and pulled her earbuds from her purse. She plugged them into her phone and put on some relaxing music to try and calm her nerves.

Today was Violet’s first day at her new job. She had graduated from college a year ago with a Bachelor’s in Drama and Dance. Violet’s parent’s were both lawyers. All of her grandparents were lawyers. Her 2 brothers were lawyers. And so on. But Violet never wanted to be a lawyer. Her parents wanted her to follow in their footsteps and become a defense attorney for white collar criminals. She detested what her parents did. They nearly had heart attacks when she said that changed her major to drama. But she didn’t care. She refused to live her life doing something that she hated. Her parents were miserable and she didn’t want that to be her. Her dream was to be a teacher at a prestigious art school and moved to New York after graduating to fulfill that dream. Unfortunately she soon discovered that NYC was an cold, unforgiving bitch. But she didn’t love it any less.

Being out of work for nearly a year was hard. She blew through most of her savings paying rent and buying groceries. But that all changes today. Violet started humming quietly along to the song currently playing on her phone. 20 minutes later the train pulled into the Christopher Street/Sheridan Square stop. Violet stood and exited the train, hurrying up the steps to the street and heading east. Christopher Street was one of her favorite areas in the city. It was full of life and culture. She would spend hours here on the weekends when she just needed to get out of her apartment. Violet arrived in front of her new office building. It was a 5 story white building with black doors and awnings. It didn’t really stick out much but that didn’t matter. She walked up the faux marble steps and opened one of the black doors, stepping inside and walking up to a large black desk. There was a young woman sitting behind it who greeted her.

“Hello there. Can I help you?” Violet smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m here to see Julia Freeman?” The young woman picked up the phone and dialed an extension. “And who should I tell her is here?” “Violet Durand.” The young woman spoke wield into the receiver for a moment before hanging up. “You can have seat right over there, Ms. Durand. Julia will be out to get you momentarily.” Violet nodded. “Thank you.” She sat on a white leather couch and looked around the lobby. It was very monochromatic. But Violet didn’t mind. It was kinda nice actually. She looked behind the large desk at the entrance. ‘Yellow House Inc.’ it said in gold letters. All Violet knew about the company was that the CEO was an art dealer and that she was going to be his assistant. Being the assistant to a pretentious art dealer prick sounded like hell but Violet was desperate.

A few moments later Violet heard the familiar clinking of heels on tile. She looked up and saw a tall, statuesque woman with short black hair. “Hi, you must be Violet. I’m Julia Freeman, head of Human Resources.” She spoke with a British accent that can only be described as snooty. She extended her hand to Violet. Violet quickly stood and shook the woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Julia smiled and lead Violet through large white double doors. Julia led Violet to a small conference where there was a stack of paper on a small circular table. Julia took a seat and Violet sat across from her. “Here is some paperwork that we need you to sign. Mostly standard stuff, however there is an NDA in there.” Violet furrowed her eyebrows. “May I ask why I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement?” “The CEO is married to Charlotte Scott.” Violet’s eyes widened a bit. “The actress?” She asked softly. Julia bit back a laugh and nodded. “Yes, the actress. As the assistant to the CEO you will sometimes have to go to their home and you are forbidden from discussing anything you see in there or risk losing your job and a $100,000 fine.”

Violet made sure to read the NDA thoroughly before signing. Once all of her paperwork was complete, Julia put it in a neat stack to her left. “So, Violet, do you know what we do here at Yellow House?” Violet chewed her bottom lip a bit. “You buy and sell art from other art dealers or collectors.” Julia nodded. “That’s part of it.” She began explaining more about the company and what they did. It all sounded dreadful but Violet continued to actively listen, making sure to ask a question or two along the way. “Do you know what Yellow House is? What it is a reference to?” Julia asked. “Well, Yellow House is a painting by Van Gogh, so I assume that.” Julia smiled. “Very good. The CEO despises Van Gogh but rich people love him so we are appropriately named after one of his paintings. And do you know who our CEO is?” “His name is Simon, I believe.” Julia chuckled a bit. “Yes, very good. Since you are his assistant it would serve you well to know his name.”

Julia excused herself from the room, taking the stack of papers with her. A few minutes later she peeked her head around the doorframe. “Come. I’m going to take you to meet Simon now.” Violet stood, smoothing out the front of her skirt. She grabbed her purse and coat from the chair and followed Julia to an elevator. They entered and Julia pressed the button for the 5th floor. “A few quick tips. Simon is…a little eccentric so just try to play along if you’re not. Also, he hates it when people call him sir or mister so just call him Simon. And don’t be offended if it takes him a while to learn your name. For the first 2 months that I worked here he called me Natalie.” Violet smiled nervously. “Oh ok.” Julia continued. “And don’t bother correcting him. It will only extend the amount of time he calls you the wrong name.”

The elevator dinged when they reached the 5th floor. Julia led Violet out of the elevator. Straight ahead was a large black desk that was partially surrounded to form half a square. “This will be your desk. You can set your things down here. I’ll make sure that Simon isn’t on a call.” Violet set her things down as Julia approached a large black door, knocking twice. “Yeah, come in.” Violet heard a gruff sounding voice from the other side say. Julia pushed the door open and stepped inside. She couldn’t make out what was being said, all she heard was muffled voices. A moment later Julia stepped partially outside the door. “You can come in, Violet.”

Violet took a deep breath and walked over, stopping outside the door for a moment before finally stepping inside. She was surprised to when she finally laid eyes on Simon. She expected him to be some prick in his late 20s to early 30s with a suit that costs more than a year’s rent and slicked back hair. Instead she saw a tall man in his 40s with graying, slightly crazy hair, a mustache that would give 70s porn stars a run for their money, black jeans, black boots, and a black Sex Pistols t-shirt.

“Simon, this is your new assistant, Violet Durand. She graduated from Tisch last year.” Simon looked up for the first time, giving Violet a once over before speaking. “A Tisch girl, huh? Let me guess…drama? No, dance?” Violet smiled shyly. “Drama and dance.” Simon grinned. “Close enough.” He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, holding his hand out to Violet. “Nice to meet you.” Violet shook his hand, caught off guard briefly by his strong grip. “Likewise.” Simon went back to his desk and pulled out his phone. “Ya know, we’ve never had a Tisch grad before. Maybe this one will actually know what she’s doing.” Violet’s eyebrows raised a bit at Simon’s crassness. Julia smiled a bit. “Well, honestly, Violet does seem very bright.”

Violet jumped as Simon’s hand slammed down on his desk. “Goddammit! Why is this motherfucker always send me shit in French. He knows I don’t speak fucking French! Julia, did you tell this motherfucker I don’t speak French?” Julia walked to his desk, holding her hand out for his phone. “That depends. Which motherfucker are you referring to this time?” Julia was looking at the phone. Her and Simon went back and forth for a few moments before Violet spoke up. “Umm…I might be able to help. If that’s ok?” Simon nodded and Julia handed the phone to Violet. She looked over the words, reading them aloud.

“‘Merci pour votre aide. Votre charmante épouse et vous-même êtes les bienvenus chez nous à tout moment.’"  It means ‘thank you for all of your help. You and your lovely wife are welcome at our home anytime.’” Simon raised an eyebrow. “You take French in college?” Violet shook her head as she handed the phone back to Julia. “No sir…I mean Simon. I was taught by my mother. I was only allowed to speak French in my grandmother’s home. She hated the English language…and most Americans, honestly.” Simon huffed. “Smart lady.” Simon continued to look through e-mails on his phone for a few moments. “Listen uh….” Julia leaned in and whispered. “Violet.” “I know.” Simon said incredulously. “Listen, Violet. Why don’t you finished getting settled. Julia here will take you on a grand tour and finish going over things with you and then after that you can take off. I don’t have much use for ya today. But I expect you here and ready to work at 8am tomorrow. Understood?” Violet nodded. “Yes, si…Simon. Thank you.”

Julia led Violet around the building, introducing her to all of her new co-workers. Violet’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much by the time the tour was over. Julia took her back up to the 5th floor so she could grab her things. As Violet grabbed her purse and coat she could hear Simon yelling in his office, obviously speaking to someone on the phone. Julia took Violet back down to the 1st floor to show her out. As Violet sat on the train on the way back to her apartment,  she had a feeling that this job was going to be a strange and twisted journey. And that made her nervous and excited at the same time. She knew one thing for sure. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day.

Tags: @simons-thirst-squad @jdmfanfiction

Thank you to @66psychotic99 for the proper French translation above!!

[samuelmmarcus]

Inspiring Home Renovation

  Hi, my dear friends. How are today? It’s getting really cold here and I had to take a little break while writing this post to make myself a mug of hot chocolate. I am being so bad about sweets lately! I am really into baking and all I will say is that I have to put myself back on track! Anyone feeling the same way? It’s so hard to avoid these type of temptations at this time of the year, right?

You can’t think about food without thinking of kitchens… unless you love to eat out, which is something I also love doing! But if you enjoy cooking and baking, having a beautiful kitchen certainly can make you feel more inspired and even help make things easier and more practical. If you’re looking for kitchen renovation ideas, this post should really inspire you. In fact, it might even inspire you to renovate not only your kitchen but also extend it to your mudroom and laundry room as well. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Please keep reading to know more details about this beautiful and welcoming home renovation done by Katelyn of KBG Design. She’s a wonderful and talented interior designer and I feel we will learn a thing or two with her today:

  “Our clients wanted a bright and classic white kitchen/ laundry/ mud room with touches of warm grey and accents of marble, brass, and natural wood elements. They wanted to keep the color palette neutral so that colorful accessories could be swapped out during various holidays throughout the year. This project was an addition plus an interior remodel reconfiguration. We were brought in on the project after permits were already pulled, but did some tweaks to the plans during construction to accommodate details that the homeowner wanted. From there, we custom designed all the cabinetry, built-ins and tile layouts and we quite involved during construction to ensure proper design execution.” – Katelyn of KBG Design.

  Inspiring Home Renovation

Designer Tip: “If you want to do away with an eat-in kitchen table, make sure you have plenty of room for seating at your island – and be mindful as to where those are placed. Play close attention to keeping guests out of the kitchen’s main work-triangle i.e. the connection between the sink/fridge/cooktop. I often place the refrigerator right at the transition between the public and private space of the kitchen just like this kitchen. That way, guests can access the refrigerator without crossing through the cook’s work triangle.”

White Kitchen Paint Color

Soft Color Palette: “For the cabinet paint color, I selected Dunn Edward’s “Cool December”, which I feel is the perfect balance of a white that is not too creamy or yellow, but still has hints of warmth to it. It’s basically the perfect white.”

 Vent Hood: Zephyr 42”.

Pot Filler: Kingston Brass.

Backsplash

“For the backsplash, my clients wanted a traditional honed Carrara Marble so we went with the 3” x 6” size in an offset pattern by Bedrosians. This really shows off the variety of veining throughout the natural stone.”

Backsplash: Bedrosians 3×6 Carrara Marble Tile.

Counterstools

Counterstools are Rove Concepts (provided by the client) – similar here.

Beautiful Counterstools: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Eat-in

“Many of our clients are doing away with kitchen tables and opting for super large islands. That way family and guests can be close by or dine informally while still gathering together in the kitchen.”

Dimensions: Kitchen space is 26’-7” x 14’ deep or 365 square feet including the desk command center area.

All Appliances by GE Monogram.

Kitchen Island

“Because this island is so large (7’-8” x 10’), we were larger than any single available engineered quartz material. So, we opted to source a manufacturer that makes consecutive slabs. You’d never know it, but this island has a seam but it’s unnoticeable in real life and in pictures.

The island countertop is Vadara’s Calcatta Blanco, an engineered quartz, which again has ribbons of warm gray mixed with gold on a mostly off-white background.”

Kitchen Sink & Lighting

Kitchen Sink: Kohler Undermount single-bowl farmhouse kitchen sink.

Lighting: Wayfair (provided by the client) – similar here (great quality).

Kitchen Faucet

Kitchen Faucet: Kingston Brass Bridge-Style Kitchen Faucet.

White Oak Island

“The island was custom stained by the cabinet maker to match the warm-toned engineered hardwood flooring by Hallmark Floors, Alta Vista Collection in color Del Mar.”

Other Wide Plank Hardwood Flooring: here, here & here.

Homework Zone

Kitchen Trends: “Many clients are requesting built-in desks areas that I call a command center- if you will. A place for a laptop or desktop computer, file storage, charging stations, etc.”

Shelves: Restoration Hardware Floating Metal Shelf in “Brass” (68” size). Others: here (White Oak).

Chairs: here.

Layout

The mudroom and laundry room are located close by the kitchen. Ahead, you will find the formal dining room.

Beautiful Runners: here, here, here, here, here & here.

Cabinetry

“We went through great lengths to design every inch of the cabinetry to give it a truly custom look. My client has beautiful taste so she was already equipped with several concept images and selections to inspired our designs. Instead of a traditional one-piece crown, we created our our crown by inverting a base moulding plus a 1” x 1” which is traditional with a twist – and might be my favorite part of the kitchen.”

Cabinet Hardware: Rejuvenation Cabinet Pulls & Knobs Mission Collection, unlacquered brass.

Perimeter Countertop

“The perimeter is a velvet Cabrini Grey engineered quartz by Daltile. The grey perimeter broke up all the white cabinetry without weighing the color palette down.”

Family Living

The kitchen opens to a comfy and inviting family room.

Fireplace

The fireplace is flanked by custom cabinets and White Oak floating shelves.

Sconces: here.

Basket: here – similar.

Rug: here.

Accent Chairs

Lounge Chairs: World Market.

Pillow: here – similar.

Fireplace Tile: Bedrosians – Other Beautiful Marble Tiles: here, here, here, here & here.

Sectional

Sofa sectional is by Crate & Barrel.

Pillows: Serena & Lily.

Mudroom

This recently-renovated mudroom is perfect for this growing family.

Cabinet Paint Color

White Mudroom Cabinet Paint Color: “Cool December by Dunn Edwards”.

Hardware

The mudroom cabinetry features black matte cabinet hardware and hooks.

Hardware: here – similar.

Laundry Room

Featuring custom white cabinets and an utility sink, this laundry room is not only beautiful but also very practical. The cabinet and wall color is Cool December by Dunn Edwards.

Lighting: here.

Flooring: here & here – similar.

Backsplash & Sink

This tile is made by Sonoma Tilemakers, Stellar Akira 4 x 8.

Beautiful Tiles: here, here,  here, here, here, here & here.

Utility Sink: Kohler – Utility Faucet: Rejuvenation.

Glass Knobs: Emtek.

  Many thanks to the interior designer for sharing the details above!

Builder: KBG Design (Instagram)

Designer: Katelyn Gilmour, Owner and Principal Designer at KBG Design.

Photography: Konstrukt Photo.

  Bring the Holidays Home!

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Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. For your shopping convenience, this post may contain AFFILIATE LINKS to retailers where you can purchase the products (or similar) featured. I make a small commission if you use these links to make your purchase, at no extra cost to you, so thank you for your support. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

        Wayfair: Huge Cyber Monday Sale – Up to 80% OFF on Furniture and Decor!!!

  Serena & Lily: Thankful Sale 25% OFF Everything!

  Joss & Main: Huge Sales on Early Cyber Monday Deals – Up to 80% Off!

  Pottery Barn: Cyber Monday Sale + Free Shipping.

  West Elm: Cyber Monday Sale.

  Anthropologie: 30% off Everything – New Arrivals!

  Saks Fifith Avenue: Designer sale up to 50% Off.

  Nordstrom: Designer Clearance – Up to 40% Off!

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Extended Black Friday Sales.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Christmas Edition.

Open and Airy Townhouse Design.

2019 New Year Home Tour.

New California Mid-century Modern.

New-Construction California Cottage.

Modern English Country Home Design.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Interior Design.

California Modern Farmhouse for Sale.

French Country Style Home Design.

Builder’s Home.

New Year, New Kitchen!

2020 Kitchen Design Ideas.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Modern Farmhouse.

Black & White Modern Farmhouse.

Neutral Home.

Coastal Farmhouse Home Decor.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Charlotte, NC.

Small Lot Modern Farmhouse.

Florida Beach Cottage.

Dark Cedar Shaker Exterior.

Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Coastal Farmhouse Design.

Grey Kitchen Paint Colors.

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See more Inspiring Interior Design Ideas in my Archives.

“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

from Home https://www.homebunch.com/inspiring-home-renovation/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[biofunmy]

Bye-Bye, Bathroom Attendants? – The New York Times

On a recent Wednesday evening the small, tranquil four-stall bathroom at the “21” Club in Manhattan was free of patrons. Still, Pat Velasquez, 72, dressed in a black blazer and matching pants, and black and white printed silk shirt, stood by the sink, a white paper towel in her hand, ready for someone to enter. Eventually Mary Garrett, a first-time customer, did.

“I’ve not been in a restaurant that has an attendant in a long time,” Ms. Garrett said, looking pleasantly surprised. “The bathroom attendant is a thankless, antiquated job. You’re paying an employee to do something no one understands. This is very genteel. I can’t believe they have one.”

Ms. Velasquez makes $15 an hour and if she’s lucky, takes home an additional $15 to $20 in tips during a shift that lasts six and a half hours. (“21” also employs another attendant, Roseanne Huschle, who has been with the restaurant for 20 years.)

“It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. I’m a people person and you get to meet everyone — tourists and regulars,” Ms. Velasquez said. “The bathroom is the main part of everything. People cry in here. They lean on my shoulder. I’m like a psychiatrist. Sometimes they’re drunk and throw up. Or they come in and make private calls. Or they want to smoke and are disappointed that I’m here, so they can’t.”

Years ago, bathroom attendants were in demand: an essential accouterment to the high-end restaurant or nightclub experience. They often have overseen amenities like perfume, gum, mints, hair accessories, Q-Tips, sprays, even ear plugs for those who want to disregard the table conversation or found the music at a club too loud.

They remain an essential presence in certain department-store “ladies lounges,” where customers might pause with shopping bags that need guarding.

But like, well, department stores, “bathroom attendants have definitely faded,” said Lee Schrager, the founder of the South Beach Wine & Food festival in Miami. “Years ago, they were considered elegant. Now, some might find them creepy because they don’t want another person standing in there while they’re using the bathroom.”

Mr. Schrager did not say why this squeamishness has only emerged recently.

Cash Flow

Thomas Farley, also known as Mister Manners, an etiquette expert who teaches manners workshops around the country, has another theory. “A lot of people don’t carry cash anymore, and even if they do, they don’t feel the need to give someone a dollar to hand them a paper towel,” he said.

Mr. Farley pointed out as well that many establishments are installing gender-neutral bathrooms. “Some of these spots have attendants, but they’re more like air traffic controllers who tell you which stall is free to use,” he said. “They also make sure that the bathroom stays clean and that there’s no untoward behavior going on.”

Ms. Velasquez of “21” is in a different category. When business is slow, she stands outside the door, talks with customers and watches the restaurant traffic.

“I’ve known Pat as long as she’s worked here,” said Andrea Thurlow, a fashion designer and regular at the restaurant. “I love seeing her. We have a good relationship. I know about her personal life, we have a little chat. You need to have the right personality to do this job. Most attendants are rude. They just want their money, and that makes it uncomfortable. But not here.”

Theodore V. Suric, the general manager of “21,” said that its patrons come for the Prohibition Room, the toys on the ceiling, the jockey ornaments — and the bathroom attendants.

“We had one in the men’s room who was here for 25 years, but he died six years ago,” Mr. Suric said. “I tried replacing him, but I can’t find the right person to complement the position, the guests and the restaurant.”

According to Reneta McCarthy, a senior lecturer at the School of Hotel Administration at Cornell University, bathroom attendants today are rare. “Back in the day, you expected to see a bathroom attendant in a nice restaurant, and you would definitely tip him or her,” Ms. McCarthy said. “Now, you hardly see them, and if you do, there’s not that same compulsion to tip them.”

Ms. McCarthy said the role of attendant dates back to the mid- to late-19th-century in Europe, when fancy hotels and restaurants began opening throughout the continent. They became common at urban high-end hotels and restaurants in the United States in the early 20th century.

“Culturally as a society, we’re less formal today, and that puts attendants to the wayside,” she said.

Professional groups like the Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees Union don’t monitor the number of bathroom attendants. But they are missing from a number of restaurants and clubs that formerly had them, like Balthazar and the Four Seasons Restaurant.

The Skylark, a new swanky cocktail bar in Midtown Manhattan, has an attendant for its gender-neutral restrooms, but management declined to be interviewed on the subject.

The Tums, They Are A-Changin’

There are some old holdouts besides “21.” Joe’s Stone Crab, the 100-year-old seafood restaurant in Miami, has had an attendant in the women’s restroom for at least a few decades, according to the general manager Brian Johnson.

“They may not be as appreciated as they once were because we’re a lot less formal now, but they’re still nice to have,” Mr. Johnson said.

The current two attendants, Iris Cedillo and Margarita Romero, have worked at Joe’s for more than 20 years. When Ms. Romero started in 1995, her job primarily involved pumping scented lotion onto women’s hands and helping them with Tums or a soda if they got sick.

But the amenities that the restaurant provides (lotion, tampons, toothpicks and individually wrapped chocolate mints) have been somewhat pared down. So are the tips she receives.

“I used to make $20 a night, now the most I’ll get is $10,” Ms. Romero said through a translator. “Women tell me how friendly I am and how clean the bathroom is, but that doesn’t mean more tips.”

Inebriated patrons have also been known to steal amenities, some of which are purchased by employees.

“People take the perfumes so we don’t leave those out anymore,” Ms. Velasquez said. “We used to keep the lotion out, but someone broke the bottle. It’s in a plastic container and it doesn’t look nice. But if anyone needs hair spray, Advil, bobby pins, tampons, a hair dryer or curling iron, I have those. People just need to ask, and most do.”

Shareef Malnik, the president and chief executive of the Forge Restaurant and Wine Bar, a steakhouse in Miami Beach that opened in 1968, has kept attendants and their lavish offerings in both his men’s and women’s restrooms. (The Forge is temporarily closed for renovations.)

Items are displayed on marble trays or in raised crystal bowls and woven baskets. They include a half dozen expensive perfumes and colognes, like Tom Ford Noir for men and Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb for women.

Men can try shave butter, Spearmint and Big Red gum, Tums, Altoids and mouth wash; women can expect hair ties, hair spray, Trident gum, cocoa butter, Evian facial spray and makeup remover.

“I feel like it’s pampering my diners to have attendants,” Mr. Malnik said. “We’re old-school that way.”

Max Sylvestle has worked as an attendant in the men’s room at the Forge for the last five years. “Men come in and are so surprised at all the fun stuff I offer them,” he said. “They all love using the Tom Ford cologne and are also really into the gum.”

Most tip him a $1, but some give him $10. On a typical night, Mr. Sylvestle collects $120 in tips.

And Timothy Butler, owner of A Royal Flush, a company that provides upscale portable bathrooms for events in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut such as charity galas, golf tournaments and weddings, said that even though restaurants and nightspots may be cutting back, attendants remain an essential part of his business.

“Of the 300 or so events we are hired to do a year, the overwhelming majority involve attendants,” Mr. Butler said. Indeed, he said that compared with a decade ago, “they’re much more popular today. Maybe it’s because people realize that they add a touch of class.”

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