#there's nowhere i can put it aside from on top of that bookshelf where it was before that he can't eat it

[fooltofancy]

moved the shamrock i brought home from my mom's ancient plant down to my desk 'cause it wasn't getting enough sun where it was before, and mallow has eaten like. three leaves. already.

plant toxic u stupid cat, and BITTER. why are you EATING HIM.

[babbushka]

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch.1)

                                –      A Lawyer AU      –

You and Kylo Ren have hated one another for as long as you can remember. He, a criminal prosecutor, and you, a defense attorney should be natural-born enemies, and you are. But when Kylo comes to you seeking representation after being charged for a murder he didn’t commit, you both learn a thing or two about life, the law, and love…

[5k, no warnings for this first chapter!] 

Available on AO3

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

In a world of ever-changing circumstances, where people do things that cause ripples and shocks through the very fabric of society that shake them to their core, where the sun shines and rain falls and snow blows cold through the streets of Manhattan, where there is life and death and a mess of bullshit in between, there was but one thing that you could ever comfortably rely on in life.

Only one thing remained constant in the grand scheme of it all: your alarm.

With a grunt and sigh, your arm extends out from underneath the covers to smack at the loud blaring jingle that sounds from your phone, hand desperately trying to hit the dismiss button without looking so that you don’t have to face the day just yet. It’s too early, you reason, to pull your whole self out from under the covers.

Eventually you give that thought up though, because dammit now you’re awake and it’s Monday morning and you have an office that’s waiting for you uptown. So, ever grudgingly, you throw the plush comforter off of your body and stretch to greet the day, saying good morning to the city that never sleeps.

You don’t usually dread waking up, but well, the last time you’d been in the office was Friday afternoon, after you lost your case.

After you lost your case, to him.

Glancing at the clock on your phone, you chew your lip for a moment or two, before finally turning off the do not disturb function, immediately going into the bathroom to shower and ready yourself for the day while damn near a hundred backlogged notifications make your phone buzz nearly onto the floor.

There’s a small mirror in the shower, a little compact to make sure there’s nothing left on your face after you scrub your skin clean, and you catch your own reflection in it. You’ve looked better, that was for damn sure – but by that same token, you’ve also looked worse. Mondays were shit, but today was gearing up to be an even worse one than normal.

No, you think as you shake your head adamantly, you have no desire to let him soak up any more of your good mood than he had already. So what if you had forgone your entire weekend, canceling plans and ignoring friends to nurse the sting to your pride that was losing? So what if instead of checking your email or your phone, you sat yourself on the couch and wasted two entire days doing nothing but watching shitty shows on Netflix?

What you did on your downtime was nobodies’ business, and since you live alone in your beautiful one-bedroom in SoHo, no one was there to spill your secrets. If anyone asked – not that anyone would, if they knew what was good for them – you would tell them that you absolutely did not spend the weekend wanting to throw darts onto a photo of his face. That wouldn’t be very professional, now would it?

Shutting off the water, you wrap yourself up in a big plush towel, and pad across the floor to your closet. Briefly, ever so briefly, you glance at your phone on your way, holding your breath, wondering, hoping that there might be something from him.

If there is, it’s buried under a pile of emails and text-threads from your firm, so he’ll have to wait.

Manhattan in January was chilly, so you bundle yourself up in your chicest coat overtop your most well-fitting skirt suit and a pair of heeled boots. Even if you felt like shit, you could look like million fuckin’ bucks, and no one would be the wiser.

And what a wonder the power of confidence was! Through the streets and down to the subway, you smiled at everyone, and they all smiled back. You offered your seat on the train to an elderly man who clearly needed it more than you, and he complimented your gloves. Everyone from the NYPD officer drinking his coffee to the mom scolding her three children brightened as you wished them a good morning, and somehow, along the way to work, your Monday blues disappears into something a little brighter.

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

Your good mood only continues to grow as you exit the elevator of the huge high-rise that you call your home away from home, your office on the twenty-third floor right in the heart of the Upper West Side. Sandwiched between the Hudson and Central Park, you have to admit that getting your ass out of bed was worth it, even if just for this view.

“Morning (Y/N).” The front desk security guard greets you, and you say hello back to him with a performative show of your badge.

HKS Law, so named after the founders and current partners Amilyn Holdo, Ben Kenobi, and Luke Skywalker, is a shining pinnacle of what defense attorneys and opposing counsel at trials should be. Not only had the firm made history time and time again with incredible wins and even more incredible ultimate losses, but it prided itself on being representation for the people no one else could represent.

Most of all, it had you.

If your alarm was a constant, than this was a universal truth: you are a damn good defense attorney. As you walk through the crisp and clean polished floors, you hold your head high, knowing that this loss against him still put you at the lowest loss rate of anyone in the history of HKS, lower than even the founders themselves.

That little reminder has you grinning to yourself. You’d been working with HKS for nearly six years now, and very quickly you saw your office climbing higher and higher up the skyscraper, saw it getting bigger and bigger. And now, you were nearly positive, that your meeting at eleven o’clock would be to discuss partnership with the firm as a reward for your continued hard work.

“Hey (Y/N)!” One of the associates, Rose Tico smiles at you from where she’s chatting with her sister Paige by their desks.  

“Someone looks like they had a nice weekend.” Paige remarks, and you only wink at them, playing the game.

A game, which becomes instantly easier as your assistant, a bright-eyed intern fresh out of law school appears seemingly out of nowhere.

“(Y/N), good morning!” She is already offering you a cup of something nice and hot, her arm cradling a stack of manilla folders that have all sorts of sticky-note flags on them, that she shifts onto her hip ever so slightly to brush a few loose braids out of her face, speaking at what feels like a million miles a second, “I have your coffee ready and there’s a fresh breakfast buffet in the break room if you’d like, I can get you something – ”

“Good morning Neisha.” You accept the coffee gratefully, but interrupting her only to give her a chance to catch her breath. You check your watch, it’s only half-past seven, she’ll wear herself out if she exerts that much energy first thing. “A bagel with the usual would be perfect, thank you.”

“No problem – oh, Rick wanted you to look over those case files before your eleven-o’clock.” She breathes a sigh of relief, and gives you a smile.

Groaning, you accept the manilla folders too, balancing the coffee cup on top of them as Iman follows you into your own private office. Your assistant stands in front of your desk at the ready, looking sharp and put together, as ever.

One thing that you loved about Neisha – aside from the dozens of things that you admired and appreciated about her – was that you have never ever seen her in something other than a pantsuit. She did not wear dresses or skirts, she was almost never in heels, and she did not carry a purse. Instead, Neisha could almost always be found in a very smart trouser and blazer set, often complete with vests, and fun-colored socks in her loafers to coordinate with her ever-expanding collection of ties.

“Rick can go fuck himself.” You mutter under your breath, and she laughs.

“Should I tell him you said that?” With a playful glimmer in her eye, she crosses her arms over her broad chest.

“Yes.” You wink, before checking your watch once again and reminding her about that, “Bagel?”

“Bagel – right, on it.” Neisha snaps her fingers and leaves, closing the office door behind her.

 You like your office, even if you’ve outgrown it. Much like the rest of the firm, it has stayed up to date with the contemporary interior design of the day. However where the open floor of the firm is mostly whites and silvers and glass, your office feels warmer with shades of coffee browns and creamy neutrals. 

Remembering how you had been so excited for the promotion to your own office, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself now – it really was a small office. It consisted of a long dark brown desk situated in front of a wall-unit bookshelf/display area, and a seating arrangement of matching brown chairs situated around a free-edge wooden coffee-table. A soft rug covers the marble flooring, and cream gauzy curtains cover the windows, but that was about it.

You had been to the offices of the higher ups, you knew just what you could achieve if you made partner – even if you made junior partner.

And if all went well during this meeting at eleven, you knew you’d be moving into one of those offices soon.

For the first time all weekend, you sit down in the big leather chair behind your desk and finally check your phone. The case files remain on your desk, and you know you’ll get to them eventually, but until you’ve had some breakfast and that coffee can work its magic, no one could blame you for scrolling through the shit that you had put off since Friday.

It’s mostly work friends taking your side, which you appreciate. They knew losing a case was hard for you – you didn’t do it very often. And even though you never lost to anyone besides him, it still never got easier.

The case had been a simple one, or at least, you had thought so. Murders are so often simple, either the person did it, or they didn’t. If they did, there’s evidence, and if they didn’t, well, there’s evidence too. And when two parties come forward with their own evidence, compelling, strong fucking evidence – evidence of alibis and proof that your client couldn’t have been there, couldn’t have done it – it’s up to the jury to decide who to believe.

In this case, this jury decided to believe him, and there was nothing you could do about it. It was losses like this, losses like the knowledge than an innocent man was going to prison, that make you seriously question the legal system as a whole, frankly.

It’s then that you see it, and your hand freezes.

You have a missed message from him.

He’s saved in your contacts as the dick from VTH, and even though that could refer to any number of people, you know that it’s him. You have five missed messages from him, as a matter of fact, which sends both a rush of adrenaline through you, as well as a spike of anxiety.

The two of you…you’d never been friends, not really. In fact, the closest thing to a relationship that you might have is that of a rivalry, if not flat out enemies. You hated him, and he hated you, and he had hated you ever since the first day he set eyes on you, from the very first moment you walked into the courtroom as a last-minute addition to the defense counsel, and won the case in fifteen minutes.

Which was a shame, because you often find yourself thinking that if he weren’t such a…well, a dick, there could have been something there. Instead of a friendship, or even a civil acquaintanceship, you have over the years developed something of a hate-fucking-enemies-with-benefits arrangement. He was probably pissed that you ignored him all weekend, but that was okay – let him be pissed, you were pissed too.

You don’t open his messages, not yet. You’d need coffee in you and food in your stomach before you’re able to handle whatever mood he has to be in, now that you’ve got the energy to deal with him.

You’re so deep in thought that you nearly miss when Neisha returns with a plate for you, a big spread arranged on your desk for you to enjoy. You’re about to thank her and let her get on with whatever work she has to do, but she holds out a newsletter with a devious smile and curiosity gets the better of you.

“Have you seen?” She asks, and you raise a brow, a smile of your own creeping across your face.

The newsletter was something that circulated through the different firms in the area, keeping everyone up to date – or at least as up to date as legally possible – on the goings on in the sphere of influence that you all found yourselves in. Everything from congratulatory memos to case results, and even high profile celebrity gossip was fair game, but one of the more scandalous parts of the newsletter, was the publication of trouble that various lawyers found themselves in.

The Monday morning newsletter had quite a bit of this from over the weekend, and right there on page sixteen, is none other than his face looking as irritated as he possibly can, as he’s being given a hard time for a DUI on Friday night.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to call him and yell at him for being a fucking idiot, “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

“Whatever he wants, evidently.” Neisha shrugs, no doubt thinking the news would cheer you up in some sort of vengeful way that you appreciate. She reaches for a pumpernickel crisp from the spread on your desk and muses, “I bet the cops are thrilled, they hate that sonofabitch.”

“Yeah them and me both.” You mutter, already rubbing away a headache that’s starting to form across the expanse of your forehead. “He’s not going to be pleased about that photo, he looks rumpled.”

Sighing, you look down at the photo. He’s very clearly intoxicated, you’ve seen that look in his eyes more than once, the blurry out of focused glassy look that he gives you over smiles at dinner sometimes. You blink away the image of him in a nice suit on the other end of a table, reminding yourself that you’re angry with him.

“Doesn’t he have a driver? I wonder why he got behind the wheel himself.” Neisha continues, and bless her you think, for continually giving you a means to not be left alone with your thoughts.

“If there’s one thing I know about that man, it’s that when he sets him mind to something, no one is going to stop him from doing it.” You reply, not able to ignore a bit of gut-wrenching regret.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so mad at him, you could’ve gone with him to wherever he was coming back from, and maybe you could’ve --

“Should I have this framed?” Neisha asks, and you blink again.

You check your watch, it’s only a quarter ‘til eight. Have you really only been at work for fifteen minutes? That stack of folders sits on the edge of your desk, taunting you. You’re gearing up for an extra long day.

“No, that’s okay.” You shake your head, opening the bottom drawer of your desk and dropping the newsletter into it. “I will keep a hold onto it though. Just for fun.”

With a laugh, Neisha leaves and once again closes your office door.

“God dammit.” You grumble, pulling your phone out yet again.

The unread messages from him sit buried beneath thirty other messages that don’t warrant responses, and you hover your thumb over his name.

After all these years, something about getting a text from him made your heart jump. It felt stupid, you weren’t some teenager with a crush in high school, you were an adult, and this was just another adult, who you happened to have developed some sort of attachment to. Not a friendship, or a relationship even, but some kind of attachment.

Right now, you wanted to bitch at him for getting himself into trouble, for driving while he was so very clearly drunk, a whole argument prepared about how he could have seriously hurt or even killed someone, how even though he’s a rich asshole he can’t afford to be so reckless.

But first, in order to bitch at him, you have to read what he’s sent you over the weekend, and that’s where you keep tripping up. You don’t know why, but when you do finally open up his texts, you find that you’re holding your breath until you read them.

You try to ignore the way the thread starts out, try to ignore how if anyone were to squint, they might think something was going on between you two.

 Incoming: [1/8 6:03am] just picking up croissants from that place u like. jam?

[1/8 6:10am] Yeah, raspberry if they have

Incoming: [1/8 6:11am] on it, go back 2 bed.

 That had been just over a week ago, and you remember the day well, how you exchanged smiles over bites of fresh and flaky pastry, how you had dipped the croissants into hot chocolate in his bed, not giving a fuck about the crumbs that weren’t your problem because they weren’t your sheets.

How that was the last time you had seen him, before the conclusion of the case.

Now, now that you’d lost, the tone of the thread has very clearly shifted to something much colder. One thing you’re surprised to see though, is that they’re all from around Friday night, which was unusual.

 Incoming: [1/15 7:43pm] going out 2 celebrate tonight, join me

Incoming: [1/15 8:57pm] u can’t ignore me forever u know

Incoming: [1/16 12:02am] i’m glad u didn’t come, ud fucking hate it here. theyre playing music 2 loud

Incoming: [1/16 12:15am] r u seriously still mad?

Incoming: [1/16 1:09am] Fuck you.

 Rolling your eyes, you rub away more of that headache that starts to form. It was weird that he didn’t text you at all for the whole day of Saturday, or Sunday for that matter. If you didn’t spend the weekend together, he was very content to simply blow your phone up with links to random bullshit or long text conversations in broken grammar because his thumbs were too big for the buttons.

So for there to be radio silence after one o’clock in the morning was strange.

“For fucks sake.” You find yourself texting him back without even thinking about it, your fingers moving over the keyboard easily and quickly, sending off a slightly antagonizing reply after two days of nothing;

 [1/18 7:55am] Looks like you had quite the night on Friday.

 There, you think. That should get a response out of him. No doubt he would be quick to complain about how he had been pulled over and the whole nine yards. You wait for it to come through, the text. Or more accurately, the string of impassioned paragraphs that he tends to send you.

But a minute go by, and there’s nothing.

Five minutes, and nothing still.

You know you have to work, you have shit to do, you have that big meeting in a couple hours that you have to mentally prepare for, there’s no time to be worrying about him not texting you back. Still, you don’t like the silence. Sure that makes you a hypocrite, but he deserved your cold shoulder for beating you in court. At least, that’s how you justify it for yourself.

Getting up from your desk, you hover in the doorframe, where your assistant’s desk sits just outside to act as a buffer for anyone wanting to bother you.

“Hey Neisha?” You ask quietly, getting her attention, “I haven’t missed any calls, have I?”

A crease of confusion dips between her brows as she frowns, and immediately she checks the call logs on the conference phone that sits on her desk next to the big computer that takes up most of her space.

“No not that I can think of, are you expecting someone – ?”

Just as she’s asking, the phone rings. You lean over and see the number is one you don’t recognize, and you frown too.

“Better get that.” Neisha says awkwardly, so you just nod and retreat back into your own office from where you came.

It’s been seven minutes now, and there’s still nothing from him.

“Fine, fuck you too.” You mutter at the phone, locking it and putting it in the shallow drawer of your desk so you can focus on the folders in front of you finally.

 The stack is pretty normal, all the weekend material finally coming in now that it’s the start of a new week. There’s new case files to look through to decide if you’re doing to accept the client, supplementary material from old case files that you’ve asked for to review, notes and evidence belonging to associates’ cases that you said you’d give your opinion on – all mixed into one big pile.

You liked it though, liked staying busy. It was a good distraction from a loss, the ability to win, the ability to prove to yourself and to the world that you’re good at what you do. There are all sorts of awards and pieces of paper displayed on the walls of your office that show that you’re good, but still, there’s nothing like a strong win after a frustrating loss.

But you’re not even halfway through reading the first folder, when Neisha knocks on your door and opens it slowly, a look of preemptive apology on her face.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to cancel your eleven o’clock.” She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that there’s no use in trying to argue with her.

You let the folder fall down onto the desk, and brace yourself for whatever bombshell she’s about to drop on you, what could possibly be so important for you to have to reschedule one of the biggest meetings of your career. They would understand, you’re sure.

You hope, anyway.

“Who is it?” Your tone is already filled with dread, but a resigned kind of dread, knowing that whatever it must be, it has to be big, and you’re the only one in this entire fucking firm who can handle big things like this – it was the reason they wanted you for partner in the first place.

But Neisha hesitates with this response, scratches the back of her neck in a way that makes you instantly curious.

“I…I was instructed not to say, just that you’ve been requested to meet with them regarding representation.” She tells you, and now your headache pounds even harder.

Clients didn’t withhold their identity from you; some used an alias of course, but you can’t say that so far in your career you’ve had a completely anonymous client. Whoever this person was, had to either be royalty, or something very very close.

And though that meant there was going to be a nightmare of a trial – because these high profile people almost never got to simple settle, not when the prosecutor wants to make a show of prosecuting them – you can’t help but think that would be a pretty good notch in your beltloop, as it were.

“Alright, where are they?” You’re already up and away from your desk, shuffling the case files into a locked cabinet.

“Rikers.” She says straight away, and you let out a groan.

“Of course they are.”

You had almost hoped that whoever this mystery client was, they had posted bail and could meet at a nice neutral location. You didn’t have anything against Rikers personally, but rather the entire prison industrial complex as a whole, and as far as New York prisons went, there were few more infamous for being unnecessarily brutal than Rikers Island.

“I can call them back and tell them you’re busy…but they sounded adamant about wanting you in particular.” Neisha nudges gently, and really there’s no need to butter you up, you’ve already made up your mind.

“I’m guessing they didn’t tell you why?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Correct.” She replies with a sheepish shrug.

You look at her, at your watch, at your phone screen which shows no new notifications from the last time that you checked it, and you square your shoulders.  

“Alright, reschedule the eleven o’clock, and let’s get out of here before Holdo freaks the fuck out on me for that.” You say, grabbing your coffee and a few more of the pastries to take in the car with you for the drive.

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

Most times, you have no problem taking the subway wherever you need to get, but visiting Rikers wasn’t as easy as hopping off the train and walking a couple blocks. For times like these, you and Neisha take one of the company cars, a sleek and shiny black thing with dark tinted windows. Cars really aren’t practical in the city, which is why you don’t have one of your own, but it was nice to be driven around from time to time in the peace and quiet of a car like this.

Normally, visitors are not allowed on Mondays or Tuesdays, but you’re not a normal person, and you’re not here for a normal visit, so once you pass through the security gate, the K-9 unit and the metal detector security tests with ease, you find it a pretty quiet lobby.

“Good afternoon Ms. (L/N), here on official duty?” One of the correctional officers that sits up by the front visitation desk beams at you.

“No, I just missed you Jake.” You reply, fishing out your identification for him even though he really doesn’t need it. Jake has worked there only a year or so, and every time you see him you can’t help but think he’s young, too young for this job, you think, too young to become desensitized to the humanity of incarcerated individuals. But that’s not a conversation that you’re here to have today, so instead you keep up the chitchat with, “How’s Lottie and the kids?”

“They’re good, who are you here for?” Jake asks as a matter of protocol, and you give Neisha a look, before looking back at him.

“That’s just the thing, I don’t know. I wasn’t informed for confidentiality reasons.” You try to explain, before leaning forward and mock-whispering to him, “Please tell me someone has me on the list and I didn’t drive all this way for nothing.”

Jake laughs, a sound that feels out of place in a place like this, and pulls something up on his computer. You can’t really see it, the list, and that’s okay. Whoever this mysterious person is, you’ll find out within just a few minutes.

“You know the drill, they’re waiting for you in the back.” Jake waves you off, and you’re glad to go.

“Wait out here.” You tell Neisha, who clearly looks uncomfortable even being in the lobby, and with good reason. She doesn’t argue you on that, instead takes a seat on a bench near Jake’s table, and the two of them get to chatting while your boots click on the floors as you walk away.

There’s a couple different visitation areas in the jail, and the deeper into the building you go, the more that you’re glad that visitation isn’t allowed on Mondays. You don’t want the chance of running into someone that you had failed. Granted there had only been a handful of those instances, but the thought of any one of them being here is not outside the realm of possibility.

Through the sea of empty tables and chairs that are reserved for long term inmates who happen to have visitation privileges for good behavior, you find yourself moving deeper and deeper, until you’re at the door of another room, a closed off one more typical to that seen in movies and television shows.

Opening the door, you hang in the hallway to confirm that there’s no one else there, as there shouldn’t be. There’s eight stations, four on each side of the small room, with a phone and a pane of bulletproof glass. Right away, you have a feeling this is going to be a murder trial, if they’re not even letting you meet with the client out in the open, if they’re monitoring the phone conversation that you’re about to have.

You see a shuffle of movement out of the corner of your eye, and assume that that’s who you’re here to meet, so with your chin held high, you step into the room, and make your way to the visitation booth where a man in a bright orange jumpsuit is waiting on the other side of the glass.

Stopping as quickly as you’ve started, you stand frozen in the middle of the room, blinking away and desperately shoving aside a wave of feelings that have crashed over you at the familiar face behind the glass.

The dark hair, the deep eyes, that proud nose, those full lips, you take it all in with some strange sense of disbelief – surely this must be a dream? It has to be, even as you sit on the little stool and yank the phone off the wall, shoving it against your ear, not even knowing where to start as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man, this mystery client…

“Hey sweetheart.” He says, and you could smack him upside the head if only there weren’t this glass between you and Kylo Ren.

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

Tagging some pals, please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off the taglist! @safarigirlsp​ @steeevienicks​ @mochabucky​ @sacklerscumrag​ @artsymaddie​ @bitchydecisions​ @direnightshade​ @reyloaddict55​ @kylorenswhxre​ @sunflowersinthesnow​ @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief​ @drake-bells-waxed-penis @littleevilme13 @rennaissance-mama @materialisthicc​ 

[zaynmirrors]

Fire on Fire: Part 16 (10k)

Pairing: 10k x mom!reader

                                                Chapter 16

I had made it back to Illinois with little to no problems, surprising to say the least. The dirt path in front of me stretched for what felt like miles. 

The farmhouse was well protected. Reinforced fences, and a giant metal gate at the entrance. As I continued to walk a thought hit me, what if I’d come all this and she wasn’t alive. 

I shook my head ridding the thought but not completely. I looked up at the gate unsure of how to get past as if by magic it opened, revealing a man holding a shotgun. 

I put my hands up, “sorry to bother you but I think you may have my daughter” I said trying to come off confident. 

He lowered his gun slightly and asked, “y/n?” I nodded and he gave a small smile. “Murphy said you’d be coming back, just thought there’d be more of you” 

I shook my head, “no sir, just me” He frowned but moved to the side allowing me in then he shut the gate behind us. 

From the moment he had shut that gate I was treated like family. Welcomed in by strangers who didn’t feel like strangers, strangers who had raised my daughter. 

Speaking of my daughter, Emma had grown quite a bit. She was almost three now, and her hair was long and unruly as ever. Truly it was just a mop of curls, taking after Angel. 

“Y/n dear, do you mind getting some water?” I looked over at Maggie, the woman who had been so kind to take in my daughter. Her face set with wrinkles, and grey peppering her auburn hair. 

I nodded and headed out to the well pump. Aware of the shadow I had trailing my heels. I smiled to myself and played oblivious. 

I set down the pail under the faucet and began to pump the handle until the water ran. I let go and let it fill the bucket while I awaited my attacker. 

Almost out of nowhere something small grabs a hold of my leg trying to knock me down, which some of her force caused me to stumble. 

I quickly fell to the ground and said “you got me” before hanging my tongue from my mouth causing her to giggle. Smiling, I sat up and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. 

Emma wasn’t really verbal especially for a developing toddler. It reminded me of 10K who never left my mind, he was always there.I pushed the thought aside, choosing not to dwell. 

She crawled out of my lap, walking toward the barn cat she was obsessed with. Shaking my head with a smile I stood and headed inside with the bucket. “Here you go Mrs. Maggie” as I placed it on the counter. 

She said her thank you and started a fire in the wood stove, ready to boil the water to make something delicious for dinner. 

I have to say the best thing about staying here has been the home cooked meals. It’s been nice to have warm food. All the food is grown here by the hands of Davis, Maggie's husband. 

Dinner was made and ate, with light conversation and a few laughs. Maggie and Davis were the first to turn in, Emma and I following behind shortly. 

I never got much sleep though, the bed was too soft after getting accustomed to falling asleep sitting up or on the ground. 

Emma snored softly next to me, I stared out the window at the starry night sky. Listening to the silence which sometimes seemed deafening. I closed my eyes with a small sigh and tried to drift off. 

10k stood, a frown prominent on his face. His arms crossed over his chest he opened his mouth to speak but only thick crimson rolled out. The liquid covered his chin and began to drip, some fell on his jumpsuit and the rest fell to the sand. 

He began making his way towards me, a thick crimson tear falling from his eye. 

“You left me” his voice quivered, the blood making his voice wet. “I needed you” 

“I know, I’m so sorry” my stomach turned, sick at the knowledge I had done this. 

He whimpered in pain as another red tear fell, leaving a Scarlett path down his cheek to join the pool on his chin. “I needed you too!” He spat blood flying onto my face, “I’m always going to come second to her aren’t I?” His voice was emotionless, and thick with blood. 

“You know that's not-“ he cut me off, shoving me backwards I noticed my feet were on the edge of the cliff. Another push and I was done for. 

“You’re going to have to choose between me and her, so who’s it going to be y/n” his eyes pierced mine coldly, they held no warmth or comfort. They stared harsh and venomously. “Choose!” He shouted, shaking me. 

I cried out, “I can’t! I can’t!” A tear rolled down my cheek. I looked back into his eyes hoping that this time there would be some sense of home but they were still a deep black hole full of cruelty. 

“You can’t have both” 10k deadpanned, letting go. He moved further and further away, it registered that I was falling the moment I felt like I was flying. 

Inhaling sharply I awoke as I hit the ground in that torment of a dream. Emma still slept soundly beside me, and the sky outside the window was still pitch black. 

Nightmares were another reason I didn’t sleep. They were always different, but unfailingly including Emma and 10K in some sense. I figured they were from leaving 10k the way I did, but now I have no clue.  As I stared out the window I wondered what he was doing and if he was alright. If he just so happened to be staring at the sky wondering the same thing. 

I jolted awake from another nightmare, unaware I had fallen asleep again. By the looks of it Emma was already up for the day. I stretched and got myself ready.  The smell of biscuits wafted through the house, “sure smells good Mrs. Maggie” I said a smile on my face as she came into view. 

“Thank you dear, Emma’s outside helping Davis in the field” she chuckles “that girl sure doesn’t sit still for long, always has to do something” I nodded, it was true. Emma had a constant need to be doing something, didn’t matter what it was as long as she was occupied. While being here there was plenty for her to do. 

I took a biscuit and headed to the bookshelf which was one of many and plucked out a book. I made my way outside to the porch, taking a seat on the creaky wooden porch swing. This would most likely be where I spent my morning. 

It indeed was, Emma had joined me for an hour before she went with Davis to feed the livestock. Maggie had joined not too long after that propping up in her rocking chair reading a book too. 

What felt like hours went by, listening to the peacefulness of no Zs. Emma crawled into my lap ready to curl up for her afternoon nap. She made herself comfortable, falling asleep in minutes. I set the book down marking my page. Resting back I closed my eyes hoping to get some rest without a nightmare, that was wishful thinking though. 

Gasping awake I realized Emma was gone again, quickly I wiped the tear from my eye and looked around to ground myself. 

I knew they weren’t real but sometimes they just feel like they are. “Bad dream?” Davis asked as he started up the steps, I just nodded. “I think I might have something for that��� with that he went inside to which I followed. We went down into the basement, where he handed me a dream catcher. 

“Our son used to swore it helped” he smiled sadly at the memory, “maybe it can help you” I gave him a small smile and a thank you as I gingerly took it. Their son was about my age from what they had told me, lost out there in the apocalypse. They had no clue if he was alive or undead. I sometimes wonder if not knowing would’ve been better. 

“Honey are you down there?” Maggies voice floated down the stairs. Davis replied with a ‘yeah is everything alright’ to which she replied, “I think there’s someone at the gate” Davis sprung into action running up the stairs, Maggie and Emma were ushered down and told to stay put with me. I grabbed the nearest thing I could use as a weapon which happened to be a screw-driver. 

“Mama?” Emma asked small as she held onto my leg. There was not fear in the voice just curiosity. 

I shushed her, “It’s fine Em, we’re fine” making sure my voice was steady and unwavering. Unsure of what was about to happen, I was thankful I got to spend some time with my daughter if we were about to die. 

“-shoot you” My ears picked up the last line as, I heard the pounding of boots above us, I glanced at Maggie who had a bat, when she had gotten that I have no Idea. 

“I know they’re here” The voice was muffled and somewhat unplaceable, it didn't sound like someone I knew. Emma dug into my leg a little more, rubbing her back I quietly shushed her. There was a loud thud causing me to furrow my eyebrows. Maggie and I shared a look before hearing Davis say “Ah shit”

Part 17

[crystalrose555]

Slap me, I dare you! pt.8

“Yup, definitely should have just let Luke bake me alive.” Marley muttered to herself.

Not that anyone would hear her since they were all bombarding her with questions and comments. In fact, each time she tried to answer, they would just sweep her voice aside with their loud side comments. Finally, after far too many words, the brothers finally calmed down enough to take in the situation.

“Alright, are we done now? Great, see ya.” Marley claimed quickly as she got up and started to walk briskly toward the edge of the table.

However, her path was blocked by a large hand which led to a questioning Satan.

“Hold on, after all the trouble you put us through with your disappearing act, you owe us an explanation, Marley.” He scolded.

“Yeah, like how did you end up here like this? And more importantly, who kidnapped you?” Levi asked lowly as his horns threatened to pop out.

Marley sighed heavily before turning around.

“No one kidnapped me. I asked Luke to take me to Purgatory hall until this wore off.” She answered flatly, motioning to herself.

“Ha! I knew that chihuahua had her!” Mammon yelled as he popped up behind his brothers, only to receive a wave of shushing from various library patrons.

“Mammon, shut your mouth.” Levi hissed.

The avatar of greed just pouted as his eyes gleamed at the tiny woman on the table.

“Woah, you’re downright puny, huh?” He pointed out as he tried to poke Marley.

Marley just simply swatted in his direction, sending a spark of lightning to singe and shock his finger. Mammon yelped as he pulled his hand away and licked his faint wound, the others, on the other hand, stared at the snorting Marley in awe.

“Marley, since when have you learned arc magic?” Satan asked.

“If you must know, Solomon has been teaching me.”

“What, why him? I could’ve taught you that!” Levi shrieked out.

Everyone looked at the third born who looked away as if to distance himself from his own words.

“You? Yeah, the last time you messed with lightning, you were flaking for a week.” Belphie pointed out.

“S-Shut up, I just have to grind a bit more and put my EXP in the proper stats, but that doesn’t matter. So come on, Marley, we don’t need these normies.” He claimed proudly as he stood up straight with his chest puffed out.

Levi then reached out, preparing to pick up the diminished selkie only for Belphie to slap away his hand.

“Levi, what makes you think that Marley wants you to take care of her?”

“What? You think a gross otaku like me can’t do it? For your information, all my Ruri-chan figurines are in pristine condition.”

Satan sighed.

“Marley’s a living creature, not plastic and resin. She needs someone who understands that.” He claimed as he motioned closer.

Asmo raised his eyebrow while Belphie chuckled rudely, grabbing Satan’s attention.

“Yeah, either a cat or one of your book piles is going to get her killed.” Belphie responded.

“And you think you can do better?” Satan sneered.

“Me? No, I would probably fall asleep on her. That’s why I think Beel should be the one.” Belphie smiled as he motioned to his grinning twin.

“I give it an hour before you’re fishin’ her out Beel’s stomach!” Mammon laughed.

“At least he isn’t going to sell her to some random witch to pay off his debt.”

“Oi, I’d get her back!”

“Wow, you’re not even going to deny it?!”

“Why? Y’all know what I’m about and it’s not like any of you are gonna believe me otherwise!”

The squabbling turned into a fully heated argument as Asmo and Beel watched from the sidelines. The fifth-born shook his head while the sixth stared at the top of a bookshelf. With a sigh, Asmo looked down at the table, preparing to snatch Marley away while the others were distracted but she was nowhere to be found. Asmo scanned the entire surface before turning to Beelzebub who was still staring high above him.

“Beel, Marley’s gone! Did you see where she went?” He cried quietly.

Beel simply pointed up to where Marley was making her way to the library entrance, scampering across the top of the bookshelves. Keeping her momentum, she cleared the treacherous gaps by floating across with her gown. Speechless, Asmo grabbed hold of Mammon and Levi before shaking them and directing everyone to Marley. The quarreling brothers grew wide-eyed as some of their jaws

“Oh my Diavolo, she’s pulling a Princess Pomegranate from Super Maria Sis!”

“Levi, now’s not the time! Marley, get back down here before you get hurt!” Satan called out quietly as he and his brothers followed her from below.

Marley paid them no mind, if she could just get to the hallway, she could lose them and find one of the Purgatory hall crew. Increasing her speed, she flung herself from one shelf top to another while the brothers fumbled over themselves, knocking over books and students alike just to keep up with her. A bookcase nearly toppled over only to be caught by a ready Beelzebub. The other students raised their eyebrows and muttered to one another, wondering why the lords of hell were chasing what looks like a mouse across the library. Marley cursed herself as she felt her body burning from the excess exercise, while she was unmatched in the water, running on land had always proven a challenge, especially over long distances.

“Dammit, I’m almost there.” She heaved out as she prepared to jump off the towering bookcase and head for the door that was within sight.

She leaped with all her might but instead of floating, her body felt heavier and was growing even more so. While all the brothers nearly shrieked, Marley just felt a bubbling deep inside herself that was unfamiliar and ticklish. Unaware of what was happening to her, she continued to fall to the floor which grew closer and closer. In fact, she reached the ground faster than expected as she landed with a hardy thud. She turned towards the brothers behind her with wide eyes that mirrored theirs.

There in the demons’ eyes stood their Marley, her skin and hair glimmering from the magical residue, at full size adorned in a ball gown of shimmering white petals. Levi felt his face turn bright red as every magical girl anime ran through his mind while his brothers had varying reactions from surprise to delight. They all locked eyes with Marley’s annoyed watery purple orbs only to be brought back to reality by the sound of several dropped books. As much as they hoped it was from the bookshelves they nearly toppled over, the source came from the countless students who had their eyes locked on the selkie whose appearance was practically begging to be noticed.

“Marley, whatever you do, don’t. Run.” Satan whispered slowly.

However, fighting her instincts was never Marley’s strong suit. In a flash, she bolted into the hallway with all her might, leaving the brothers to fight against the oncoming swarm of gossip-starved students stampeding out of the library.

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

“Who are you?!”

“Where’d you come from!?”

“Are you dating anyone!?”

The flurry of questions flung from the mob of demonic students bolting after the panicked selkie down the hall. Frantically, Marley looked for any place to hide but each nook and cranny was filled with even more students who only joined the chase. What started as a small group grew to nearly half of the student body chasing after her and was growing larger by the second. Marley was losing her moxie as desperation grew inside her like a weed. Being chased by predators was one thing but this was on a whole new level. Looking over her shoulder, she could only see the piercing eyes of the devilish student body along with flailing arms and claws. Solomon told her demons are fueled by their desires and they could very well tear her apart from the sheer overwhelming curiosity.

“Leave me alone!” She screamed, creating a ice floor to deter her pursuers from following her.

The ice, however, was just crunched underneath the stomping feet of the mob. Her eyes widened as she looked forward and screamed profanities in the air. She didn’t want to hurt them, she just wanted to be left alone. Her mind raced back and forth, thinking about everything that led to this, from coming to Devildom in the first place all the way to the picture she posted on Diavolo’s Devilgram. The picture lingered the longest as her face darkened from the sheer anger and embarrassment. “God Dammit, it was just a stupid picture!!!” She shrieked at the top of her lungs as the mob grew more restless upon hearing her unintentional confession.

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

“Dammit, why did she run off!? A legion of demons is always going to give chase if someone runs!” Satan yelled out as he huffed for breath.

“I can’t run anymore, I’m getting all sweaty and not in a fun way.” Asmo whined as his running turned into a lazy trot.

Levi just grabbed Asmo’s arm and pulled on it.

“Come on, we have to save my Henry!” He heaved out as he struggled to keep up with the group as well.

Belphie said nothing as his own body tried to flop on the floor from the sudden physical activity. Mammon growled underneath his breath as he heard his younger brothers whining.

“If y’all can’t keep up, then stop complain’ and go do somethin’ helpful!” He yelled back to his slower brothers.

“But we have to save my Henry from the jaws of death!”

“She ain’t gonna die! Besides, what's the worst they could do?” Mammon asked.

“Remember the last time Asmo held a private concert for his fan club?” Satan commented sternly.

“Oh, I remember that day, they were so excited that they couldn’t help swarming me like a bunch of cute bumblebees~”

“Asmo, they went crazy and ripped your clothes off! Barbatos had to break it up and your club was suspended for two months!”

“I know, and it was getting to the good part too. It’s not my fault I’m too beautiful~” Asmo pouted, leaving his brothers with concerned and annoyed faces.

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

“Hear me, O Wind, Hasten my step!”

Marley had been chanting this spell continuously to stay ahead of the rampaging mob. And to make matters worse, students were leaving their classes just to have a chance to grab her. Luckily, the spell helped her to dodge their unwanted embraces but she needed to figure out where she could possibly go if every class was a trap in waiting. She could feel the fatigue of spellcasting and running but she had no choice, she had to keep going. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to her, the students hadn’t gone completely insane from hype and were actually brewing a plan to catch her. With a series of group texts spreading through the school like wildfire, they managed to corral the speedy woman down the corridor where their plan would be executed.

Meanwhile, Marley considered running to Lucifer’s office for sanctuary but her stomach turned thinking about him never letting her forget it. Deep down, she rather be mobbed than give that man another reason to flaunt his ego. However, the cries and roars of the crowd behind her was crawling up her skin to the point where she could feel their grabby fingers. She shook her head and bolted down the hall, she bit her lips hard and cried out with all her might.

“Help me, anyone, help!!!”

To the legion of demons behind her, the woman they were chasing suddenly gave off a blinding flash of light that nearly stopped them in their tracks. By the time they got their sight back, Marley had already made a turn down a hallway. Seeing this, the mob divided into small search teams that spread out far and wide through RAD.

[illfoandillfie]

please give me Anything himbo roger i need this like perhaps... him being obsessed with eating pussy? pls? - cloud anon

I’m so so so glad you requested more himbo rog because i love any excuse to write him lmao. This is a bit of a long one, certainly well over blurb length but what are you gonna do. I just have a lot of thots where himbo rog is concerned and then there was that convo a little while ago about dressing him in a maid uniform and I had to use it in here. 

warnings: smut, hypnosis & bimbofication, dom!reader, fingering, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, a little bit of spanking, a little choking, a very brief mention of public sex, free use (perhaps leaning ever so slightly into consensual non consent), humiliation and degradation

Blurb Advent: Day 15

Future Management Series (all my bimbo/himbo writing)

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini  

The costume shop was quiet when you entered it, one of the fluorescent lights at the far end flickering. The lady at the counter looked up from her magazine, her gaze lingering on Roger for a moment before she looked back down.

“What was the theme again?” you asked Roger as you flicked through a rack of women’s costumes.

“The letter M,” he replied from one of the other racks.

“How did Freddie pick that?”

“Dunno, you’d have to ask him. Bigger question is what are we going to wear.”

“What about Mickey and Minnie Mouse?” you shrugged.

“That sounds easy. And we’d look cute as fuck.”

“Sorry, hun,” the woman at the counter piped up, “Sold out of them two days ago.”

“Rats.”

“Mice, love,” Roger teased poking his tongue out as he went to check out another row of costumes, “We could make them from scratch I suppose.”

“Left it a bit late though. We’re meant to have them by Saturday.” You headed to the counter in the hopes that the woman there would be able to speed things up, “Do you have any other costumes starting with M then?”

She sighed as she were being interrupted in a very important task before putting down her magazine and pulling out a binder full of lists of stock. Flicking through it she located the section with M. An awful lot of it had been crossed out.

“How many people are invited to this thing? And do they all shop here?”

He shrugged as he joined you at the counter, “Roughly half of London if his last party was anything to go by. What are our options?”

The women smiled at Roger, her attitude becoming much friendlier now that he was involved, “Not a lot I’m afraid. We’ve still got a Mummy, as in Ancient Egypt, ummm, a Maid, as in French, Marilyn Monroe, Mary Poppins, a Monk, Mrs Clause, Medieval Princess…”

“Looks like you’ll be easy to sort out,” Roger said to you, “not much in the way of mens costumes though. I’d be an alright Mummy I guess,”

“Sorry, should have specified. It’s a women’s costume that one. Very sexy,”

“How do you make a Mummy sexy?”

“Strategically removed bandages. I can show you if you like,” she said this last part to Roger, suggestion dripping from every word.

“What about the Monk?” you suggested.

“Ehhhh,”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Rog.”

“Alright, it’s the backup idea. Would I be able to fit in any of those other costumes though?”

The woman thought about it, giving Roger a once over as if measuring him with just her eyeballs, “The Maid maybe. Think we should have one large enough.”

“Alright I’ll try that.”

“And I’ll go Marilyn Monroe?”

“You as Marilyn? Oh there’s a joke in there somewhere…something about How To Mary A Millionaire?”

You shook your head at him, “Just go and try on your dress,”

It was a good thing Roger had no qualms about cross dressing because the maid outfit fit perfectly. One look at Roger’s legs in the short, ruffled skirt had your mind whirring with ideas. He bought both your costumes, adding in a maid’s headband and fishnet stockings for himself and a blond Marilyn wig for you. And on Saturday night you watched him don the outfit once more, struggling to keep your hands off him. Without you knowing, he’d gone and bought himself a pair of simple black heels, explaining that if he was going to do it he might as well do it properly. Unfortunately for you they just emphasised the shape of his legs in the fishnets and made his hips sway as he walked.

 The party itself was fun but you constantly found yourself zoning out, thinking about what you’d like to do to Roger before he got out of the dress.

“Love?” he asked, making you blink yourself back to the thumping music and loud voices, “You alright?’

“Fine,” you nodded.

Roger frowned and grabbed your hand, leading you away from the main throng of people, “You’ve been zoning out all night, are you sure you’re okay? Haven’t had too much to drink or anything?”

“No, it’s fine. Someone lit up a joint before and I must have breathed in some of it without meaning to.”

He gave you a look like he knew there was more to it.

“Also, maybe I can’t stop thinking about trancing you in that dress.”

“Oh,” his eyes widened and if it hadn’t been as dark as it was you would have seen a light pink stain creeping up his neck. He glanced around and then pulled you off down the hall and towards an even quieter spot, “and um, what might that look like?”

“I don’t know, got a few ideas,” your breath hitched as Roger pushed you into a dark corner of whichever room you’d ended up in, “like the idea of you on your knees. Bet I could see your arse if you leaned forward enough.”

Roger attached his lips to your throat, oblivious of if anyone else was around.

“Maybe spanking you or edg – ” you were cut off as Roger kissed you full on the mouth, his hands already working at getting his underwear and stockings down far enough to get his dick out.

“We’ll continue this conversation at home,” he said as he lifted you up, pushing your back against the wall as he moved your underwear aside.

 It took a couple of days for the topic to come up again but Roger was still just as into it as he had been at the party. He’d clearly been thinking about it too because he had almost as many ideas as you did and for a week or so you discussed it on and off. It came up intermittently, sometimes a single idea out of nowhere.

“What if you tranced me and made me think I was your maid or uhhh servant? Maybe like acted really strict? Or mean even?”

“What about I get a bell to ring to get your attention but use the hypnosis to condition you to get hornier when you hear it?”

Or sometimes it was more of a conversation with each of you building on what the other said.

“What do you think about exploring that free use thing we talked about a few months ago? Like me just having you how I want and when I want.”

“Would that require a more extended hypnosis? A whole day maybe? More?”

“No I don’t think so. I mean, maybe longer than the usual couple of hours. An afternoon? Not longer than a day though, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that to you.”

“Then yeah okay, we did agree it sounded hot in a non-hypno way so mixing them together should work. Um, what about that pegging thing we tried?”

“You wanna do it again?”

“Yeah I think so. Again, it was pretty hot last time so doing it while I’m hypnotised can only be better, right?”

“Are you sure? We’re both pretty new to it.”

“Yeah I’m sure. I really enjoyed it,” he laughed nervously, “and I would have suggested doing it again anyway, this just seems like a good excuse.”

By the end of the week you had a pretty solid idea about what you were both looking for from the scene and what you’d both feel comfortable doing. And you arranged it so you were both at home on Friday, free to spend the morning relaxing and the afternoon playing.

After an early lunch in which you made sure to mess up the kitchen, Roger went and changed, once again putting on the dress, fishnets, hair piece and shoes. Only this time he wore one of your thongs, sheer black, underneath and a butt plug you’d picked up for him, complete with a pink jewel on the end. For your part, you dressed in one of your work outfits with a grey pencil skirt and white blouse, hopeful that it would make you seem more authoritative. Roger did a little spin for you when he was dressed and then sat in one of the kitchen chairs so you could talk him down into his trance. The scenario you’d agreed upon had him believing he was your silly brainless maid, hired to do whatever you asked. The sound of your bell meant you had another task for him, but it also made him extra horny. So horny in fact that he’d have trouble remembering what he was meant to be doing. As you dropped him deeper and he relaxed more, you noticed his legs spreading further open, making you laugh to yourself. Finally you rang the bell to wake him.

Roger grinned at you from the chair, “What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Your first job of the day, Dummy,” you said, putting on a stern voice that left no room for argument, “is to dust off the bookshelf in the living room. It’s filthy up there.”

“Where?”

“Through this doorway,” you pointed and he dutifully stood up and began to walk toward it.

“You’ll need a duster,” you reminded him.

“Oh! Of course, Ma’am. Umm….”

“In that cupboard,”

Roger nodded, cheeks pink with embarrassment and retrieved the feather duster.

You followed him out to the living room, watching his skirt bounce with each step. He started off with the shelves at eye level, humming to himself as he brushed the duster over them, but soon had to move on to the shelves higher up. You perched yourself on the couch, acting as if you were reading though your eyes were on Roger, watching as he wobbled on his tip toes, his skirt riding up. You rang the bell and Roger jolted, looking around for you as he bit his lip.

“Yes Ma’am?”

“I think you might need to stand on a chair, Dummy. It doesn’t seem like you can reach the top shelves.”

He nodded and hurried to retrieve one, nearly running in his haste to please you.

The chair was a stroke of genius on your part. It gave you a good view up his skirt as he happily continued his dusting, especially when he leant over to get the far end of each shelf without moving his chair. You could clearly see the pink jewel every time and it made you eager to get him onto the next task. With another ring of the bell Roger jumped down to the ground and hurried to ask what he could do now.

“My shoes,” you said, pointing at the heels on your feet, “they need polishing. I want you to spit shine them for me.”

Roger blinked at you.

You clicked and pointed at your shoes again, “On your knees. C’mon, I’m not paying you to stand around and look pretty. Lick my shoes clean.”

“Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am,” he bowed his head and dropped to his knees where he stood, crawling over to you.

“Good Dummy,” you said as he trailed his tongue over the toe of your shoe. You’d wiped down the shoes earlier just to make sure Roger wouldn’t pick up any germs from them, but he was too brainless to notice they were already clean, enthusiastically licking at them. You made it clear you were watching him closely though. Midway through the second shoe you saw him brush his hand over the front of the skirt and stopped his shoe shining.

“I’m sorry, Dummy, is this making you horny?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,”

“Show me how much,” you wiggled your shoe under the hem of the skirt and pressed it lightly up, rubbing the toe against his crotch, “Hump my shoe, Maid.”

Without any more encouragement he began doing exactly as you’d asked, dragging his clothed cock along the top of your shoe, letting his eyes shut as he bit his lip.

“Alright, enough.” You pulled your food free and held it out in front of you, “Is it my imagination or did you make a mess on my shoe?”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I think you’re so fucking horny you’ve got precum all over my shoe. Is that right?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well,” you grabbed him by the hair and pushed him over the streak, “clean it up and tell me.”

Roger whimpered as you pulled his hair to move him where you wanted but thanked you for helping him and confirmed you were right. After that you felt he deserved a reward so you readjusted yourself, pulling your pencil skirt a little higher up your legs before you rang the bell again.

Roger groaned quietly at the sound, his breathing a little harder than before and then sat back. His eyes fell to where your skirt was gathered against your thigh as you crossed your legs.

“What now Ma’am?” he watched closely as you recrossed your legs, “Is there something else you’d like me to lick?”

“I don’t know. Is there something else you’d like to lick?”

He nodded, eyes still firmly on your thighs.

“Aren’t you just a pathetic little slut.”

“Am I?”

“I’m afraid so. Do you understand why?”

Roger nodded, still staring at your crotch, and then shook his head.

“Oh Dummy. It’s one thing to be my good little maid and eat me out when I tell you to, it’s entirely different for you to ask to do it. Do you see how slutty that makes you?”

Roger tilted his head and then shook it.

You tutted at him and knocked the bell as if on accident.

He whined at the sound.

“Crawl to the dining room. I want you to wash the floor in there.”

“But…please? I want to lick you soooooo bad and I’d be so good at it.”

“Careful, Maid. Now crawl.

“Yes Ma’am.” Roger dipped his head in apology and began crawling to the next room.

You stepped around him to retrieve a bucket of water and a cloth, placing both on the floor of the dining room where he stopped, “You know what to do.”

He looked at the bucket and back to you, confusion written all over his face.

With an exaggerated and exasperated sigh you handed him the cloth and, taking hold of his wrist, plunged his hand into the warm water. He gasped as you then wrenched it free and dropped it to the floorboards.

“Scrub.”

He nodded, looking mildly upset and dragged the cloth slowly over the floor.

You watched for a little while before coming up behind him, “Put your back into it, stop being lazy.” you pressed his upper back with your foot to make him bend forward.

His neck and face were bright pink, though it was hard to say whether it was arousal or embarrassment that was making him flush more. He did as you asked though, scrubbing the floor harder. You stepped behind him again, admiring the view and occasionally reminding him what you expected. After you felt you’d watched him struggle enough you stepped up behind him again. He pushed the cloth harder, expecting another reprimand. Instead you trailed you hand over the curve of his arse, pushing his skirt up higher.

Roger stilled, though you heard him whine softly into the floor.

“You’re doing a very good job, Dummy.”

He gasped when you suddenly spanked him but he pushed his arse back against your hand.

“You want another?”

He shook his head but kept pressing back against you.

“But I think you do,” You gave him another spank, “Now keep being good and see if you can earn some more.”

He nodded and smiled, though there were tears in his eyes, and then returned to scrubbing the floor.

 You let him go for a while, stepping out into the other room to calm down and get ready for the next part of the plan. You could feel your wetness pooling in your underwear with how turned on you were at ordering Roger around and how much he was enjoying it. Originally you were going to make him wait to get you off until after you’d fucked him but perhaps you could have your cake and eat it too. All the same you headed to the bedroom to gather the strap and dildo you’d bought when the topic of pegging had first arisen between you. You grabbed them and the lube and then put them down again as you considered your next move. The conclusion you came to was that there wasn’t much point having a desperate bimbo toy if you were only going to deny yourself. Roger came as much as he wanted when you were the one under his influence, so why shouldn’t you do the same. You quickly shimmied out of your underwear, and then picked everything up again, dropping it on the couch in the living room on your way back to see how Roger was getting along. He was still scrubbing though he’d spilt some of the water as he’d moved the bucket, the top of his dress wet in patches. You pulled out one of the chairs, standing in front of it as you rang the bell, and watched as Roger squirmed at the sound.  

“What can I do for you Ma’am?”

“Come here.”

He immediately dropped the cloth and crawled towards you.

“Good Dummy. Need your fingers to make me feel good.” You rucked your skirt up and dropped onto the seat, placing one leg up on the table.

Rogers eyes lit up and he leaned forward as if to lick hungrily along your slit.

You grabbed his hair and held him back.

“Ma’am?” Roger whined, struggling against your grip with his tongue hanging out, desperate to reach your cunt.

“I said fingers, slut.”

Roger whimpered again but brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along your slit.

“That’s right Dummy. You’re gonna finger me and make me cum and you’re going to keep your eyes up here so I know you’ll behave yourself.”

He nodded rapidly, his eyes on yours, “You’re wet,”

“You know how much I like watching your cute little arse work. C’mon, finger me,” you instructed, waiting until he’d sunk one digit into you before continuing, “Love seeing you with that pretty plug. Makes me want to use you.”

“Ma’am can I…?”

“I didn’t say you could talk. Focus.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his finger out and pressed it back in.

“You look confused Slut. What’s the matter?”

“Is this good?”

You smiled indulgently at that, half convinced he’d been about to ask to eat you out again, “So good Dummy. Add a second finger.”

He did as you asked, automatically curling them against you as he pulled them out.

“You’re such a good, obedient servant.” You relaxed back into the chair, letting Roger find a good rhythm.

He was quiet for a bit, concentrating, and then “Can I lick you now?”

You made a tutting noise, “I thought you understood your position.”

“Pos-tition?”

“I guess I have to explain it again then. I don’t care if you like licking cunt, this isn’t about you. You’re my maid. Your job is to serve me however I want, remember? I don’t care if you want something different. You’re mine to use how and when I want. Those were the conditions I hired you under, do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,”

“Are you sure? Then why haven’t I cum yet?”

Roger kept his eyes locked on yours as he sunk a third finger into you, pumping them faster and bringing his other hand up to rub your clit.

“Better,” you managed to get out, though it was much breathier than you’d intended.

Roger poked his tongue out between his teeth as he put all his energy into pleasuring you. You let your head drop back, rocking your hips in time with his thrusts as he sank his fingers deep into you, his other hand firmly occupied too. He slid his thumb between your lips and up to circle your clit, spreading your arousal over your cunt. The mixture of sensations sent you over the edge without too much delay, your legs clamping shut to keep his hand where you wanted it until you’d come down. Afterwards you made Roger hold his fingers up, cleaning them off with your own tongue. He whined and pouted as he watched you lick up your juices, so desperate to taste you for himself. You gave him a small concession though, grabbing his cheeks when you were done to force his mouth open. He looked confused as you brought your face close and spat onto his tongue, your saliva tinged with what you’d just licked from his fingers. But he thanked you with a big smile and a small hum of satisfaction as he swallowed it.

“What now Ma’am?” he asked softly, sitting up straighter and glancing at the bell.

You bumped the bell against your palm as if in thought, watching Roger wince with each ring, “The kitchen needs a tidy up. Go in there and wipe down all the benches for me, okay? I’ll be back soon to check on you.”

Roger nodded and walked on unsteady legs back through the house. You followed him, needing to point him in the right direction a couple of times, and then continued on to the living room to collect your supplies and remove your skirt. It took you a little while to figure out the harness. Last time Roger had helped you get set up so doing it on your own was a little confusing. You took a breath and reminded yourself you were a smart and capable woman and that you could figure out a simple sex toy on your own, and eventually got it on right. When you were comfortable you popped open the lube and spread more than you thought you’d need along the shaft of the toy. It still felt a little bizarre to look down and see a penis, even if it was obviously fake. The first time you’d tried it on you’d wondered aloud if the work you did for those living rough would have been easier to achieve if you had a real one and Roger had suggested you wear it to work one day and find out. You’d laughed at how ridiculous that was and the memory made you chuckle again as you double checked everything was in the right place.

Roger was in the kitchen when you arrived, standing at the bench with a cloth in his hand, humming to himself, though he seemed to have forgotten what he was meant to be doing. You stepped behind him and ran your hand up the inside of his thigh, over the stockings.

The humming stopped and he stilled, “Ma’am?”

“Bend over.”

He did as you asked, his chest and arms leaning on the bench.

You felt him up, letting your hands roam under his skirt, brushing over his cock and along his thigh and over his arse, making his shiver and whine. “Good thing this dress is so short, Dummy. Makes it so much easier for me. And it makes you look like a slut. You’re very hard by the way, does that mean you like it when I tell you what to do?”

His voice was soft when he spoke to the bench top, “Yes, Ma’am,”

“That’s good because I like telling you what to do. And you should be happy to know that I’m wet from watching my brainless maid working all day.”

“I am happy!”

“You are?”

“Mmhmm. Maybe I could help you Ma’am, I love cunt so much.”

“Aww Dummy,” you cooed, stroking your fingers through his hair, “That’s sweet of you to offer but it’s not what I want right now,” you took the fishnets in both hands and tugged until a rip formed right along the back, “For now I want you to stay bent over for me so I can use you. Just like I talked about before, remember?”

“When you said I’m yours to use how you want?”

“You do remember! Good boy!”

“And you said, ummmm,” he gasped as you moved his underwear aside and began slowly working the plug out of him, adding lube to make it easier

“Go one, what else did I say?” you asked as you pushed the plug back in, fucking him with it, adding more lube as necessary.

“Umm, you said they were the,” he stretched out the word as he thought hard, “oh! The co-com-bit-ons and that its, umm, my job to serve you?”

“Very good! That was so much to remember, I’m very impressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dummy. I think I’ll have to give you a reward for remembering it all so well.”

Roger looked over his shoulder at you, grinning, “Thank you Ma’am,”

“Alright, turn back around, I’m still going to use you. Because….?”

“Because I’m yours?”

“Good boy,” you pulled the plug free and placed it on the bench beside you. Squeezing some more lube onto your fingers you began spreading it over his arsehole.

“‘s cold,” he said softly to the bench.

“I know baby, but it won’t be for long. And I gotta make sure there’s enough so that I don’t hurt you. And then you’ll be all ready for my cock.”

Roger nodded, flattening himself on the bench as you lined up the tip of the dildo and slowly sank into him.

Roger made a high pitched keening noise and you reached out to stroke his hair again as he adjusted.

“You okay, baby?” you asked letting the stern act drop for a moment.

Roger nodded, “yeah, ‘m okay. Just feels funny.”

“But good though?”

“Mmhmm. Good.”

“Good. I want you to like it. It’s more fun when you do.”

“I do!” as if to prove it he pushed his hips back, making you sink a little deeper.

“I can see that,” you laughed, “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay Dummy, and you’re going to enjoy it, right?”

He nodded, whining as you pulled your hips back slowly and then thrust forward again, figuring out your rhythm and adjusting to the sort of muscle movement it required. As you got more comfortable with it you let yourself be a little firmer, grasping Roger’s waist and fucking him harder, drawing more gasps and whines and moans from him. You varied your speed, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, keeping Roger from knowing exactly what you would do next (and giving yourself a break every so often). He’d taken your instruction to enjoy it to heart though. His fingernails scraped along the top of the bench as he tried to ground himself, rocking his hips back against you whenever you slowed.

“I want you to cum, Dummy. Rub your cock through your pretty sheer panties.”

“Th-through?”

“Over your panties.”

“Um,”

You stilled your hips and pulled out of him so you could grab his hand and lift his skirt, placing his palm over his cock, “now rub.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he began to stroke himself. His hand stilled as you plunged into him again but a warning word made him remember what you wanted and he shakily followed your orders as you fucked him hard.

“How does it feel, Maid, being used for my entertainment?”

Roger babbled something incomprehensible in response. You couldn’t tell if it was just noise or if he’d been trying to form words but it was hot either way.

“C’mon, show me how much you like being my pretty little fuck doll. Be the pathetic little slut I know you are, and cum.” You panted between the words but Roger didn’t seem to notice or if he did he didn’t care. It must have sounded authoritative enough because a few seconds later he was moaning, his fingers twitching and legs shaking as he came. You slowed to a stop and replaced the dildo with his plug again before fixing his underwear and smoothing down his skirt.

“There, all pretty again,”

“Thank you Ma’am,” he sighed.

You patted his head, “Finish up cleaning off the benches in here and I’ll have another job for you.” You walked off, releasing a long breath once you were out of his hearing.

 In the time it took you to get out of the harness, put your skirt back on, throw the dildo into a sink of hot water and relocate the bell, Roger achieved very little. He hadn’t moved from where you’d bent him over though he had stood up and grabbed his cloth again, drawing circles with it over the benchtop. When you came back to get him for his next job he was shifting from foot to foot.

“What’s the matter, Dummy?”

“Nothing,”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded though he didn’t meet your eye.

“Tell me.”

“My panties…”

“Aww, is it a bit uncomfortable?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Well maybe I can distract you.” You rang the bell and watched as his eyes glazed over and his hips jolted. “The bed needs to be made Dummy. Go on, off you go.”

He nodded and hurried off, his heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, his step awkward as he squirmed in discomfort. You followed him and showed him where to get a clean sheet from, watching as he pottered around the bed pulling off all the bedding, throwing them into a pile on the floor. Putting a new fitted sheet on the mattress seemed to be too hard a task though. It was almost cartoonish how much he struggled, placing the wrong corner of the sheet on the wrong corner of the bed and then somehow repeating the same mistake when he tried to turn the sheet around. He wouldn’t stand still, uncomfortably dancing around in his cum soaked underwear, getting more and more frustrated as the corner he thought he’d got on flew up when he tried to fit the next one. Every so often you jangled the bell under the guise of getting his attention to give him a helpful tip or reprimand him for taking so long, but it had the added effect of turning him on more than he already was, his face flushed and his eyes begging. You let him continue for a few minutes and then, when he next turned in response to your bell, you surprised him by pushing him onto the mattress.

“Ma’am?” he asked, voice trembling as you positioned yourself on his thigh and pushed his dress up.

“You made such a mess before, didn’t you? Ruined your panties and I’m afraid it’s spread to your pretty dress,” you showed him the patches on the inside of the skirt from where it had rubbed against the sheer fabric of his knickers and been stained. “Lucky for you I like messy little sluts. And” you palmed him roughly, “I think you like it too. Already hard again?”

Roger shook his head but tilted his head back and whined.

You placed your hand over his throat, “Don’t lie to me, Maid. I can see it; I can feel it. You’re a dirty little slut who gets off on being my property. My dumb little fuck doll.” You punctuated the last sentence by grinding against his thigh with each word, squeezing his length through his stained underwear. “I’m going to make you cum again now and if you’re good I might see about letting you eat me out. I did promise you a reward earlier,”

“Please,” Roger whimpered, “I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

“I know, Dummy. But not yet.” You squeezed his throat at the same time you rubbed your hand over his cock, choking off the moan that had begun to build. Roger squirmed under you as you wanked him off, cooing at him about how pretty he looked and how wet it was making you. Each stroke along his shaft was accompanied by a breathy whine or moan, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut. It was always fun to watch Roger be pushed towards release when he was tranced. It was fun when he wasn’t hypnotised either but there was something about taking his brain away that made him more animated and vocal. He babbled at you again, his hand grabbing your wrist as he got closer, his back arching as he tried to buck his hips up into you.

“Good boy, good Dummy,” you praised him as he finished, able to feel the warmth of his release fill the material again as you kept stroking him, milking every drop you could. He whined loudly as he became more sensitive, but you kept toying with him until tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright, Dummy, stay there while I take my skirt off.”

Roger remained lying where you left him, so you gave him a soft kiss and wiped away his tears, praising him a little more, before you swung your leg over his face and finally let him have what he wanted.  

 It was as if you’d told him he’d won the lottery. He just about cheered as he thanked you repeatedly and then wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his tongue. You had to stick out an arm to try and steady yourself as he devoured you, excitedly tracing your lips with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth. He hummed and whimpered against you and used his hands to encourage you to rock yourself against his mouth, spreading your wetness across his face. At one point, so giddy with joy, he giggled, and you jolted at the bizarre tickling sensation of his breath. But that just seemed to spur him on as he licked and sucked every inch of your cunt he could reach. You weren’t sure if his end goal was to make you cum or if he just got very excited and enthusiastic about pussy but, either way, the result was the same. It was impossible to hold back your release as his tongue slid along your folds and his lips latched onto you. He hummed as you gasped and tensed above him, refusing to stop until you pried his hands from your thighs and let yourself fall back to the bed. He pouted as if he wanted to throw a tantrum at having his favourite food taken away, but you managed to make him smile by telling him how incredible you felt and how good he was.

He let you lie down next to him and listened quietly as you talked him out of the trance, reminding him who he was and the reality of your situation. You waited as Roger opened his eyes, stroking his hair back from his face softly as everything returned to him.

“Wow,” was the first thing he said, “That was,” he cleared his throat and pushed himself to sit up, “that was something.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, a very fun something,” he hurried to clarify so you wouldn’t worry, “I take it you enjoyed yourself too?”

You laughed and nodded, “Definitely. This is going to sound bad but I like being mean to you.”

“I get it,” he leaned over to kiss you softly, “I like being mean to you too.”

“And the pegging and free use stuff? All of that was okay? How do you feel now?”

“Oh, better than okay. That was brilliant. We’re definitely playing with them more in the future. Bit sore now and I really, really want to get out of this thong. Also take the plug out.”

“I can arrange that. D’you want some help with the plug?”

“Yes please.” Roger shifted onto his stomach, trying to relax so you could peel off the underwear and slowly wiggle the plug out of his arse, “Add these knickers to the list of ones I’ve ruined though.”

“That’s only cause I get such a kick out of making you cum in your pants.”

He hummed, wincing a little as the plug slipped all the way out, “y’know one of these days I’m going to wake up from a trance and decide to gag you with whatever underwear you made me destroy while I keep eating you out. I still have a bit of a lingering need to have my head between your legs and I do so enjoy overstimulating you.”

“Save that for a special occasion,” you laughed, giving his bum a tap to let him know he could roll over, “C’mon, shall I run us a bath?”

Roger nodded and let you pull him up, kissing you softly before he stood on slightly wobbly legs followed you out of the bedroom.

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

Day 6 - Mermaid AU (but seeing as they’re already Mermaids we’re doing Human AU)

(Sorry it’s a little late)

Pairing: Rita/Veridia

Words: 1,634

Rating: T 

Moving to a new school is hard. Moving to a new high school, even harder. She should know. She’d done both. 

When Rita and her family first moved to the Gold Coast at the age of six she hated it. She knew no one and her parents were too busy to take her out so they left her with some woman she didn’t know and it was boring. All the lady wanted to do was read her books or tidy the house.

There wasn’t even a proper garden, just concrete. There was grass outside between the houses but she wasn’t allowed out there without supervision.

It was only marginally better when she started school a few days later. At least she made a friend - Nerissa. They bonded over both being new to Miami Primary School and spent break times and lunch together. 

School was fun but home was boring. All Rita was really allowed to do was read and a lot of her books had yet to arrive. 

They’d been in Brakes Crescent just over a week when the next door neighbour came round to introduce himself. A single man on his own, about the same age as Rita’s parents, who had a young daughter the same age as her, Veridia. They invited Rita round to their house to play while her parents were out.

The very first day Rita officially met Veridia they became best friends. Every spare moment they had was spent together, usually at Veridia’s house but sometimes they managed to sneak to hers. They had a really cool ‘secret room’ that was technically the basement but the previous owners had put in a cool hidden door that was disguised as a bookshelf. 

It was dull and dusty down there but there was lots of cool little alcoves and even an actual pool of sea water. They never went in the pool in case a great white shark sneaked in somehow, but were both fine with swimming in the actual sea at the beach. 

Veridia’s dad took them to the beach on Sunday’s where they would play in the waves for hours. They saw dolphins once, grey fins glinting in the sun as the dolphins dove and splashed around. It was always Veridia’s dad that took them places, the beach, the cafes, and let Rita stay over.

That first sleepover  had neither of them could sleep. They bundled up in Veridia’s bed, a bunk bed and turned the bottom bunk into a blanket fort lit up with fairy lights. Veridia’s dad had brought the hot chocolate with marshmallows and let them eat biscuits and go without brushing their teeth. The last one was especially big for six year olds. 

As six turned into seven, Rita was spending every weekend at each Veridia’s house. Veridia went to a different school than her so during the week time together was rare. Veridia’s dad was rather strict on keeping school nights for school work and making sure Veridia actually went to bed. Which was fair enough, they usually didn’t sleep much over the weekend. 

As the years went on, it stayed the same. Weekend sleepovers, swimming at the beach, drinking hot chocolate in a blanket fort. Things changed when they moved up to high school. Like with primary school they both ended up in separate schools. Veridia went to Suncoast High, a private school not too far from their street while Rita went to Miami State High School with Nerissa.

After that neither had much time to meet up. They tried to but time became scarer.  

It didn’t really come as any surprise to Rita when her parents split up. It was just after she moved into her second year at high school. Her mum moved up, moved back down to Sydney where Rita’s aunt and cousins lived while Rita stayed with her dad in the Gold Coast. She’d never lived in Brisbane, moving there would mean starting over. Again. And moving away from Veridia, even if she had hardly seen her. Sometimes she’d see Veridia through the window, they’d wave at each other and pull faces. 

Rita ended up having to start over again anyways when she moved from Miami State to Suncoast High. Her heart fluttered when her dad suggested the move. That was the school Veridia went to. 

On her first day, instead of trailing in alone, Veridia walked with her, chatting away about all the classes and the different teachers and who to watch out for and who was pretty nice. She felt bad about leaving Nerissa, but she’d be fine - Nerissa was one of those people that people loved to be around. She had tons of friends aside from Rita. 

In all, Suncoast High wasn’t that bad, and her and Veridia became fast friends again, like that year with minimal contact had never happened. Veridia came round to Rita’s house most nights after school for ‘study sessions’. Over the summer before Rita started high school her and her dad had given the secret cave a proper clean out and turned it into a sort of study/hang out area with cushioned seatings, bean bags and all of the different treasures the family had collected over the years. 

Her dad had a lot of stuff that her mum never liked him having on display. Parts of a real life pirate ship, animals bones - mainly skulls, and a lot of shells. Rita had a lot of shells too, many collected on her weekends at the beach with Veridia. 

The study sessions down in ‘The Grotto’ has her dad had dubbed it, were mostly just Rita and Veridia lounging on the bean bags, eating crisps and sneaking cans of juice from the fridge all while pretending to study. 

Sometimes they went swimming the pool, the irrational childhood fear of the shark in the swimming pool, long gone. There was one night when Rita’s dad was off on a business trip and Rita was left home alone, Veridia came over to stay and they spent the night seeing who could do the best dive into the pool and who could hold their breath the longest. 

Those days spent with Veridia just hanging out in the Grotto were the best times. Rita looked forward to the next day every time Veridia left. Even after she left they’d usually make a point of seeing each other through the window. 

Rita was sixteen when she finally let herself admit that she liked girls the same way she liked boys. She was seventeen when she finally let herself admit that she had a crush on Veridia. It was hard not too, she was so pretty. And she was really nice. To Rita at least, Veridia could be very cold towards people, a lot of the boys in particular. Which was a good thing, to say the least, it kept her hope up that maybe Veridia could be open to returning her feelings. If she ever told Veridia that was. Right now school was more important than dating. She was top of almost all of her classes and intended to keep it that way so she could ace her exams and get into Griffiths Uni. It was one of the best for teaching and that’s all she wanted to do - be a teacher.

Veridia meanwhile was leaning more towards working within politics or nursing. She kept changing her mind. 

Rita soon learned that just because her head said one thing didn’t mean her heart would listen. She was good at ignoring problems though, why would this be any different? 

It worked. For about a month after she decided to ignore her feelings; she got by but pretending she felt nothing when Veridia’s hand accidentally brushed her’s, or when Veridia asked her to braid her hair for her before trying to do the same for Rita. Until finally she couldn’t any longer.

Rita’s dad was away again, off to Brisbane for some client so Veridia came over, armed with crisps, sweets, and enough fizzy drinks for their entire class. 

“We having a party?” Rita joked as Veridia piled her supplies on the kitchen counter.

“Hell no. I don’t like enough people to have a party. I was thinking we could try something we’ve always wanted to do.”

“And what would that be?” Rita raised an eyebrow.

“See if that tunnel in the pool really does lead out the sea.”

The pool in the Grotto had an open tunnel at one end. They’d swum a little ways into it but never the full length of it, just in case it lead to nowhere and they both drowned. The tunnel was dark, but wide enough for two people to swim through easily.

“Okay,” Rita agreed.

“Really? I thought you’d say no.”

“I still might.”

Veridia laughed and slipped her arm in Rita’s. 

“We should go now before it gets dark.”

The swim out was terrifying. The tunnel was dark, Rita hit her arm against the side and her lungs were burning by the time they both made it out in the sea. At least they were right about that part. 

Veridia took her hand and Rita kicked up to the surface. They both surfaced laughing, salt water in their eyes and hands still in each other’s.

“We made it!” Veridia cheered.

Veridia slung her arm over Rita’s shoulder and pulled her in closer.

“I almost died.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I could’ve been dead right -”

Rita swore her heart stopped when Veridia kissed her. It took her brain a second to process that this was actually happening. That Veridia was really kissing her. When her brain finally kicked in she closed her eyes and leaned into it. Veridia tasted like the salt from the sea and very faintly of strawberry lip balm. 

[creativeskullcreations]

HTaHHQ episode 4: Unarmed part 1

Whoops, sorry, no new Outside chapter this week, or the next. Wanted to get this posted too so I could start getting more episodes written. Don't worry though, it will return next month! :D

"I don't see why we have to come here today. Can't you just do this at home?" Stacy complained as Mary led them into the Studio. It was a dark, stormy Saturday, perfect for staying inside. Instead, her and Danny had to go to "work" with Mary.

"Stacy, honey, I would love to just stay home but Nick's stupid edits to my script mean I have to come in. All of us writers have to." She sighed irritably.

"Yeah, but why can't Danny and I just stay home? I can watch him." She tried desperately.

"Because... it's illegal." Mary swept her unbrushed hair back. "Besides, I thought you liked Scout. You told me you wanted to spend the weekend with her."

"Yeah. At home. Not here." The thirteen year old deadpanned as Mary moved towards the offices. The woman sighed in response, reaching the end of her patience.

"Look, why don't you take your brother and go find her? It'll be a lot more interesting than what I'm doing."

"You mean tearing Nick a new one?" She asked, sounding interested. "Cause I want to watch that."

"You don't get to watch that. Go find Scout." Were the last words Mary said before towards the offices.

"Fine." Stacy groaned as her stepmother went into her office. She grabbed Danny's arm with her left and led him in the direction of the Sound Stage. He followed her eagerly, just excited to be there at a time he normally wasn't.

Her intent was to find Daisy and have her let them into the elevator to go upstairs. If they couldn't find her, she was planning on using the vents to get into the playroom instead. She remembered the way, mostly, and it'd be easier than trying to work up the courage to ask someone else.

Unfortunately, Daisy was nowhere to be found. They looked all over the Sound Stage, checked her House Set, and then looked in the cafeteria. But, sadly, no Daisy. Which meant Stacy had to pick the lock on one of the prop closets to reach the vents.

"Hmm, two children where they're not supposed to be." Stacy froze mid break in as Danny ran over to the Puppet, who sighed and leaned down to ruffle his hair. "Yes yes, it's nice to see you too, Danny."

Stacy struggled to keep her voice even. "Uh, w-where's Daisy?" She stowed the picks back under her glove as she stood up and turned to face the scientist.

She wasn't the scariest looking Puppet(poor Nick held that title, even among the other staff). But, Stacy had always held a fear of doctors, dentists, anyone who wore scrubs and a lab coat basically. Which Riley did, unfortunately, and it made the girl more nervous than the others did.

Well, that, and the forums talking about how she must be doing unethical experiments to get a dog as big as the Rosco puppet. But Stacy was pretty sure that was for in the show, not real life. Probably.

Riley let out a huff of annoyance. "In the writer's room with our annoying brat of a brother. His edits to the script have caused her scenes to be quite a bother." She sighed. "What do you need her for, anyway? And why are you two here on this day?"

"... Mary's the head writer." Stacy told her, clenching her sleeves in her fists. "And it's, like, illegal to leave us home alone or something. I don't know."

"Ah, I see, but you only answered question number two." She pointed out in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "What for you, could Daisy do?"

Stacy thought that rhyme was a little bit of a stretch, with the wording and all. But, before she could respond Danny clapped his hands, and pointed towards the ceiling. "Scout!" He told her excitedly. "We're here to see Scout!"

"Ah, I understand now." She did not look happy about it either. Stacy wondered why. "Fine then, I'll call the elevator down."

She led the two kids to the elevator doors and inserted her own key-card, unlocking them. Stacy waited uncomfortably as it slowly descended, trying to keep between her brother and Riley. It was difficult, as he kept leaning around her to talk at the Puppet, who listened politely.

When the elevator arrived, Stacy pulled Danny into it with a quickly muttered "Thanks". It took everything in her to not button mash the floor number she wanted. She did her best not to stare at the Puppet as the doors closed, but it was difficult when she could feel her weird wooden eyes piercing into her soul.

When they reached the upper floor, Stacy practically dragged her brother out of the elevator. It started to go back down almost immediately, so she hurried to the playroom, rushing through Daisy's sewing room to get to it. She didn't knock, but did ease the door open slowly so as not to startle them. When she got it fully opened, Scout flung herself and landed on her face.

"Stacy!" She screamed, and the girl almost had to peel her off her face. She lifted the small Puppet up to let her rest on top of her head.

"Hi, Scout. Mom's here to deal with some... script issues, I guess, and she brought me and Danny." Danny waved, and Scout waved back. "So I brought some movies for us all to watch."

"Yay, movies!" Bonzai latched onto her backpack, working the zipper open so he could climb inside. Stacy put the bag on the floor and he burst out a second later, with a video in his hands. "Terminatooooor!" He yelled, and Canon facepalmed.

"Yeah, we can watch that one first." Stacy told them and grabbed the tape, going over to put it in the player. She put it in and turned on the TV, hitting play once it had booted up. They sat back to watch, most of the Puppets migrating to sit on the human children.

Surprisingly, they managed to watch in silence, though Stacy and Danny did have their own commentary in sign language. Only Scout really understood it, but she didn't understand much. She had only just started to learn, after all, and was looking at the signs backwards.

The movie ended, and Bonzai immediately dove back into the backpack with Bit. Together they searched for another action movie while Stacy rewound the Terminator.

"Hey, how come there are only baby movies in here?" Bit asked angrily, popping out of the bag with a tape in her arms.

"I'd hardly call Shrek or Spirited Away 'baby' movies." Stacy frowned, picking up the anime movie. "Mom wouldn't even let me watch this one until just last year."

"But they're cartoons, and cartoons are so boring!" Bonzai complained.

"What kind of cartoons are you watching?" She muttered as she took the film out of it's box and crouched by the player. Louder, she said "I promise, Spirited Away isn't boring. Anime is awesome."

"Mom never lets us watch anime. She says it's inappropriate for kids." Canon told her, and Stacy sighed.

"Well, she's wrong. Sailor Moon and Digimon and Pokemon are all for kids." She told the Puppets, with Danny nodding along beside her. "And there's a lot more than just that. I'll record some episodes to bring next time."

"Okay but we can't tell Mom." A pause as Canon raised her voice so her siblings could hear. "Nobody tell Mom Stacy's showing us anime."

"Okay!"

"Sure!"

"Whatever."

Were the three answers she got, which she called good enough for now. At least she knew nobody would tell Mom, if only for the promise of Forbidden Goods.

While they watched the movie, Stacy sat with her arms full of Handpuppets. It was like holding a litter of puppies, as they never stopped moving and sometimes crawled away to do other stuff. At one point, Bonzai pulled out a couple of magnets to play with. As he pulled them apart to let them fly back together, he was startled when they instead attached themselves to Stacy's right arm.

"Stacy's a terminator!" He shrieked, and immediately teleported away.

"What?! No I-!" She jolted when a small, stuffed bear hit her on the head. "Dude!"

"Bonzai, what the heck?!" Canon followed him onto the bookcase he'd hidden on top of.

"She's an evil robot! The magnets are sticking to her arm!" He cried, and when Stacy looked there were two small magnets caught on her. She pulled them off and tossed them aside while Canon tried to calm her brother down.

"Hey! Stacy's not a robot!" Scout angrily shouted up at her siblings.

"Then what is she?" Bit asked, having picked up a small stick. Scout opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

"I... can't tell you that." She finally said. "But I swear she's not a robot."

A long pause of silence, and then Canon figured it out and smacked Bonzai off the bookshelf. "It's a prosthetic, you idiot!"

"Oh." Was all the fallen Puppet said as he laid limply where he'd landed. Canon face-palmed, followed by Bit, while Stitch went to check on their brother.

"Can we see it?" Bit asked excitedly, already trying to pull back her sleeve. Stacy yanked her arm up and away from the Puppet.

"No! You can't see it!" She snapped.

"Yeah, it's not that interesting anyways." Scout tried to help, very unhelpfully.

"You've seen it?! That's not fair!" Bit complained, and Bonzai Jumped over too.

"Yeah! You can't just show Scout! She's lame!" He insisted, to the human teen's unamused look.

"Scout's my favorite." Stacy told them bluntly, to two offended gasps while Scout cheered and then mocked them.

"Yeah, I'm her favorite! Who's lame now? Losers. Ow!" Canon smacked her head, turning on her eye lights.

"Don't be smug about it!" She scolded her younger sister, who grumbled and retreated to the top of Stacy's head.

"Hey, no hitting." Stacy tried to scold, then just gave a tired sigh. "Look. let's just go back to the movie, it's fine."

"No! I wanna see the robot arm!" Bonzai lunged for her, but Stacy yanked her arm away again and he landed on the carpet instead. "Come on! You showed it to Scout!"

"Yeah, and I'm not showing it to anybody else!" She retorted, while Danny picked up Bonzai. The puppet struggled against the five year old's hold, but ultimately failed to escape.

"I'm helping!" Danny pipped up happily as he sat back down to finish the movie.

"Yep. You are." His sister muttered. They managed about five more minutes of movie before Bonzai managed to escape Danny's grasp. He instantly went back over to her, draping himself over her arm.

"I still wanna see the arm." He said, and Stacy groaned as she fell back against the carpet, hands pressed against her face.

"Noooooo." She moaned out. "I. Don't. Wanna. Show you."

"Please! We all wanna see!" Bit piped up. Stacy uncovered her face and looked over at Stitch, who nodded. Her gaze turned to Canon, who looked away sheepishly.

"I mean, it's not like I don't want to see it..." She admitted quietly, and Stacy gave an irritated sigh.

"Fine! Fine. But you only get one look! And none of you get to ask me again!" She waited until they all nodded, before starting to roll up her sleeve, revealing just how long her glove really was. Carefully, she pulled it off, revealing gleaming silver metal that ended just above her elbow. The flesh that met the metal was scarred, rough and pale against the smooth brown that was the rest of her skin.

"Oooooh, so shiny..." Bonzai muttered. The four Puppets that hadn't seen it yet stared, transfixed, at the limb. Scout, who had also reacted that same way, just rolled her eyes.

"Weirdos." She muttered, though she also couldn't help but watch as Stacy flexed her hand and showed off the arm.

"It's really advanced, and really expensive." She told them. "And I'm supposed to go in for upgrades in a few months due to growth spurts."

"Why are you even hiding this? It makes you so much cooler than anyone else." Bit told her, and she shrugged, pulling the glove back on.

"Because I don't want them to know about it." Stacy said bluntly, letting her sleeve drop back down. "Now can we please go back to the movie? It's one of my favorites."

"Yeah, we can do that." Canon said, and then forced her siblings to turn back to the screen, which had been playing the movie the whole time. Giving a relieved sigh, Stacy did the same, settling in as she made sure her glove was on straight.

They watched the movie silently, the small Puppets getting way too into it in Stacy's opinion. But, at least they liked it, and that was all she really cared about. By the end of it, however, most of them were still riled up, including Danny, so Stacy put in Barbie Swan Lake instead.

"But that's a girls movie!" Bonzai complained, to which Stitch shushed him.

"You should give the movie a chance. The story is about a rather interesting dance." She told him, to which he groaned louder.

"Stacy can dance!" Danny piped up, to which Stacy internally sighed.

'Great word association there. Does everything have to come back to me?' She shook her head slightly, trying to keep from sounding resentful.

"You can?!" That was Scout, now staring up at her with wide eyes. "You never told me that!"

"That's because I can't do it anymore. The weight distribution is off with my arm." She told her.

"Can you still show us some moves? Please?" Five Puppets, and one younger brother, stared up at her, begging with surprisingly good puppy-dog-eyes. She could feel her resolve wavering,even as she focused on the TV.

"Ugh..." She hated being the oldest. Why did all the younger kids think she was cool? "Fine. I'll do a dance. But don't ask me for anything else today."

"Yay!" Everyone, including Danny, cheered, as Stacy moved to get ready. Lucky her, they were dancing on the movie, so she could just do what they were doing. It wasn't terribly complicated, as she'd been in a production of Swan Lake before, though not as Odette. The moves that were a little too complex, were easy to fake with a bit of effort.

It was easy to lose herself in it, just like she used to. Easy enough that she stopped looking at the screen, and simply did the dance from memory.

And thus, it was easy enough to misstep and slide on a piece of paper during a spin. A yell, and a loud, sharp thud as she landed, and things went black.

[heyktula]

Closer, Chapter Five: Aftercare - Bonus Features

Chapter five of Closer, the first installment in Somewhere in Canada (the Terror kink AU)... is now up! And with that--this installment is finished, and I'm all up in my feelings about it. (My various inboxes are always open in case you would like to be all up in your feelings in my direction.)

For the last time--technical notes first, story notes after, line notes to finish it all up.

Alright, here we go.

Technical Considerations:

Timing: So I put a lot of thought into what I wanted to cover for the rest of the weekend. We're at Sunday afternoon now, and the conference is coming to a close. There's some stuff that happens in the afternoon while they're packing up, there's some stuff that happens at the airport, but it gets to a point where plot is just, like, events that are happening on the page, you know? The actual story is the resolution of the arcs, and Edward and Jopson can resolve their arcs perfectly fine by going to their hotel room and fucking it out. I suspect we'll get bits and pieces of the missing bits--packing up the booths, actually getting onto the plane, and all that kind of thing--through the Tozer/Irving story anyways, since I don't think Tozer's arc is properly resolved until he makes it back to London.

(One could argue (correctly, I think) that the actual resolution of their arcs was probably the ability to successfully navigate through the aftermath of the dungeon scene, having the Ross scene go well, and generally the way that Edward and Jopson have tightened their orbit around each other over the course of the weekend, but it's nice to formalize that a bit, I think, by letting them fuck and have some casual non-sex time together just to verify that, yes, it isn't just about the sex or the BDSM, they are having a nice time together hanging out otherwise as well.)

POV Structure: Please forgive me my extra Jopson POV at the end, I needed it so that we could have one more chance at appreciating Edward's muttonchops, piercings, tattoo, and sweatpants dick, because Edward himself spends zero time thinking about any of these things, and they're all such very good things.

The Full Monty: So this is the first chapter in which they're both completely naked. Edward is fairly casual about his own nudity, so it wasn't really a thing for him--after all, Jopson has already seen his dick, and as Edward would be the first to tell you, the metal is about as exciting as it gets. (Jopson would argue that, I think.) The nudity wasn't really a thing for Jopson either--his body is his body--but Edward's reaction to his body is important. When I'm deciding whose POV certain events happen in, I try to select the POV where there's more feelings happening. So that meant that Jopson was getting naked in his own POV, which gives us that whole entire face journey Edward goes on, the brief distraction of poking Jopson's bruises, and then the rest of the clothing removal, bracketed with the visual of Edward standing there with his visible hardon and his hands behind his head. Technically, the "I'm not scared" dialogue is more important to Edward--Jopson just happens into the right words there--but since we already know that's a big deal for Ned from his prior POV, we can stay in Jopson's head for that here.

Story Considerations:

Comfort Reading: I'm pretty sure that Edward has read Foundation approximately nine million times. I also think this is the second or third copy of the book that he's on, because he keeps reading them to pieces. But I think that having a familiar book that he can just sink into instead of stressing about the whole entire ~~~convention experience~~~ is probably integral to him being a "reasonable human being" and not a "grumpy bastard" (thanks for that analysis, Tozer). I didn't think too hard about this--I just thought about Edward Little for point five seconds, and what kind of books he probably liked, and I thought about the Discovery Service, and science fiction, and then went--yeah, Asimov has the right blend of classic literature and hard science, and Autumn backed me up on it, so here we are. (I also should mention, because I saw some discussion of it on twitter and went wow I don't remember that that I was, um. Maybe fourteen the last time I read Foundation? So I think this is really a comfort read for Edward in that he's been reading and rereading it since about that age as well.)

(As an addendum, I feel like Edward probably has a carefully curated book collection back at his flat of books that are nice and new and pristine and I feel like he probably keeps his battered Asimovs, like, under his bed or something where nobody can see them. (As if he has visitors, lol.) Jopson, on the other hand, probably has a place on his desk for five or six books, because the bookshelf is being used for storage of other stuff, and the desk books are constantly rotating as he swaps paperbacks back and forth with his family.)

Edward's Hands: I do feel there's a very good chance Edward isn't going to be doing up any buttons. I also feel as though just getting his sweatpants on involved some profanity. The thing about masochism, though, is that when you're presented with a new sensation, such as going into a scene bare-handed instead of wearing gloves like you regularly do, often times the new sensation feels good even if it hurts, sooooo you keep doing it, and in Edward's case, he has that extra pressure of Trying Really Hard To Impress Jopson, so, yeah. He's gonna need some time to recover from that physically, and he won't be punching anything for a bit here.

Scene Planning: So the thing that I really love here, that's really not obvious unless you squint and look at the scene sideways, is that Edward had everything perfectly planned out when they were in the dungeon. He scouted out the area in advance. He had a chair handy to put Jopson's clothes on. He talked to the DMs in advance. And then everything went according to plan.

But you put the same man into a hotel room for fucking? He can't remember if he has lube or condoms. His sex bag is nowhere near the vicinity of the place they're having sex. (They don't even make it to the bed initially--Edward is eating ass on the floor, for fuck's sake.) When they finally get onto the bed with the sex bag, the contents end up scattered across the bed, and Edward still needs to get off the bed in order to retrieve the cock ring.

In short, give a man a dungeon and a scene to plan, and everything goes perfectly. Offer to fuck a man, and all planning immediately goes out the window. I mean, they had great sex. But Edward, sweetheart.

(And if we're talking about interpretations that happen when you squint? It's entirely likely that Edward doesn't actually have a whole lot of sex, usually, and that would definitely explain why he's much smoother on the mats than he is in the bedroom.)

The Second Collar: So, the second collar, rather deliberately on Edward's part, did not make an appearance. The first collar, the heavier one, is the type of collar that's used for play. It can be worn in regular kink spaces as well, but it's heavy, and a little bulky. And it's obvious that Jopson is taking comfort from it--he's reluctant to let go of it once he's taken it off to get into the shower with Edward, and it keeps showing back up again on his neck even though it's removed a couple of times throughout the course of the evening/night. The second collar, the fancier one that won't hold up to any kind of play, will be a lot more comfortable for Jopson to wear on a regular basis, but Jopson doesn't know that it exists, and Edward doesn't offer.

It's Significant that Edward is hanging on to that second collar, and if I was going to hazard a guess, I'd guess that Edward is working on a plan to make a formal gift of it at some point in the future. Formally giving someone a collar (as opposed to a collar that's just being used for play) usually signifies an arrangement between the people involved. Kind of like, you know, formally declaring yourselves partners, or whatever it is people do these days.

(As an aside--it could be considered rude that Jopson keeps putting the collar back on when they haven't discussed a formal arrangement outside of play, but Edward clearly doesn't see it that way, so there's no reason for it to come up. It's always better to ask for clarification re: collars, because sometimes there's a lot of symbolism involved with them, but sometimes a collar is just a collar.)

Line Notes:

“Would have been faster if you hadn’t kissed me in the car park,” Edward grumbles.

Trust Edward to find a way to be grumpy about makeouts. (To be fair, I think Edward was very pleased about the makeouts, and grumpy about subsequently having to adjust his dick in the car park just to be even moderately comfortable for the rest of the packing up.)

“Got something for you, if you want it,” Edward says.

I really like deep POV, because we know damn well from Edward's POV that he's been considering how to word this for hours and regrets this particular combination of words the moment it comes out of his mouth, but since we're in Jopson's head, Edward just looks like a proper alpha dominant, and it's hilarious.

He wants to kneel right here, get Edward’s trousers undone, open his—

Tom Jopson has a marked lack of aversion to public sex, and everyone should keep this in mind for *checks watch* six months from now in-universe, when they're back for the winter convention.

“Left my dicks back in London,” Thomas says, deadpan. He’s looking at Edward when he says it, trying to gauge the look on his face.

And if we squint and tilt our head sideways, this is another hint at ways in which relationships have gone wrong for Tom Jopson, and it's that same false dominant-sadist-top / submissive-masochist-bottom dichotomy we were talking about last week with poor Nedward. It's also an indication that Jopson hadn't really planned on hooking up with anybody this weekend at all--he came with his business hat on, ready to sell all of Francis' books, and bootblack for charity, and then, you know, work himself into exhaustion and not do anything other than casually flirt with--whoa, now, who's the pierced guy?

“That’s right,” Edward says softly. “You can handle this. You can handle what I’m doing to you. What I’m going to do to you.”

There it is--the resolution of that internalized kinkshaming that Edward was fighting with on Friday, in that it's no longer something Edward is questioning. He knows that Tom is good for it.

One of the really interesting things about the way this fic worked out is that the entire fic could have gone really differently if Hickey had applied himself to his shitdisturbing in the opposite order of the order that he chose--after he derailed Edward's panel, Hickey basically stepped back to let Edward self-destruct, and focused back in on Tozer, which left a huge open space for Jopson to step right into, and lo, the joplittle happened. If Hickey had stayed focused on Edward, he could have fucked Edward's entire weekend up, and neither the joplittle nor the solving* would have happened.

*Trust me on this, I swear it's related, and we'll get to it in the Tozer/Irving fic.

Jopson’s accent has shifted. It’s rougher, now. He wonders if this is how Jopson sounds at home, if this is how Jopson sounds with his family, if this is how—

There it is! The real accent, underneath the one that he taught himself! It's there! And he's letting Edward hear it!

“Face to face,” Jopson says quietly. This time, his eyes don’t shift away from Edward’s, and Edward loves him for it. “I know it’s not very, uh—”

JUST ASK FOR WHAT YOU WANT, TOM, please, you're hurting all three of my feelings here.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look,” Edward warns as he gets back onto the bed, hard cock swaying as he moves. “Takes me a bit to get a condom on over all this.”

I learned this while I was researching cock piercings. I don't know as I would actually want to learn how to get a condom on over all that, it seems like it's finicky and takes a long time. But, that being said, I'm not convinced they're going to stick with condoms for all that long either, Jopson is clearly ready to pretend he's never heard of them.

Edward shuts his eyes, strokes his cock. Reaches between his legs, tugs on the ring in his guiche piercing, pleasure curling up his spine. “Won’t be much of a show,” he manages.

Edward's not kidding about this--one of the downsides to a Prince Albert is that apparently it generally removes the ability to come with any sort of velocity, and everything just sort of...oozes out. We don't really directly see that here, because Edward's thinking about something else while he's coming, but it's implied in the next bit when Jopson is dragging Edward's come from his stomach up to his chest, ie, it didn't get there on its own, but Jopson is creating the aesthetic that he wants to see, so good for him.

“Might have marked you a bit, there,” he admits.

Jopson's fine by the time the poutine shows up, no worries. Edward slapped him pretty hard, but Jopson doesn't mark easily, so the redness on his cheek will fade.

“I’ll pinch if I have to,” Jopson says dryly. He glances into the shower. “...you’re not just using the hotel toiletries, are you?”

Edward was not, in fact, using the hotel toiletries, but he definitely is now. The jury is out as to whether Tozer took them on purpose or by accident, and, to be honest, I don't know which way the cookie is gonna crumble on that one! It'll be an adventure of discovery.

Eating and looking at him at the same time, with absolutely no care as to how he looks.

It's a love letter to the eating-out-of-a-can scene, yes, thank you for noticing.

“Oh thank god,” Edward says. He relaxes into Jopson’s lap, turns his head and nuzzles Jopson’s bare stomach. “I’d hate to think I’d made an ass out of myself for nothing.”

Only in Edward Little's head would 'confessing your deepest feelings to someone who clearly wanted to hear the confession' be translated as 'making an ass out of yourself'. There's a lot of things to be said in there about previous relationships, but ugh, I don't want to say any of them, they're not nice.

(Also, as an aside, Jopson didn't say it back--but, then, he didn't need to. The important bit is that Edward said it when he felt like he needed to, and Jopson will say it when he feels like he needs to, and they're going to be very happy together.)

"And let us not forget that you also stole the hotel key out of my trouser pocket in order to let yourself quietly back into the room, in order to…"

Jopson is a snoop and a thief and Edward wouldn't have him any other way. I think, in a lot of ways, Edward is used to people being too intimidated by him to play...and Jopson has made it quite clear, in this way and many other ways, that he's not scared, and that he's having a fun time, and he's carving out his own enjoyment, and that's really important.

And, uh. That's it, that's the fic!

I think this is the softest thing I've ever written with the hardest kink in it, haha. I'm really pleased with how it's turned out, though--I love kink conventions, I love BDSM, and I'm really passionate about the opportunities for valuable, committed relationships that don't follow the "standard" definition of what a relationship is and what it looks like. I think the thing Edward and Tom are carving out for themselves is intense, and more than a little weird, but I also think it's exactly what both of them want, and when it gets right down to it, that's the important thing. So there you have it.

I'm going to be drafting the Tozer/Irving fic next, since it chronologically overlaps with Closer, and then I'm going to draft the Fitzier, which takes place at the winter conference (ie, six in-universe months from Closer). Unfortunately, since I want to release them in the opposite order (Fitzier first, Solving second), there's probably going to be a bit of dead air for a while here.

The good news, though, is that Little and Jopson are living their best lives and don't have any major plot-related incidents over the next six months, so I'm free to release little one-shots of the various things they're up to while I'm drafting more longfics.

If you have any questions or anything, or you just wanna yell at me, I'm around! My inboxes are open! I spend more time on Twitter than I do on anything else, but I check my tumblr a couple times a day too.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. Closer (and the kink verse in general) are very near and dear to my heart, and I'm so happy that it's been warmly received.

[violet-knox]

Summer Plans

Year 6 - Chapter 49

Summary: You owl Severus after arriving back home and plan to meet up later that week.  

Word count: 3521

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1 

~

‘Love is missing someone whenever you’re apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you’re close in heart.’ 

Severus smiled as he read over that line from the old muggle book he’d dug up the morning after arriving back at Spinner’s End. That line had played over in his mind overnight and he couldn’t help but find comfort in it. The first time he’d read this book he thought the author was living in some fantasy world with an absurd view on love. But he had to admit, he’d simply been a foolish naive boy who’d never truly experienced love the way it was described. How hypocritical was he now to feel his heart swell with warmth at the thought of you after deeming that book absolute rubbish? Even now, waking up knowing he couldn’t see you, he still felt happy despite the fact that he desperately missed you.

It felt rather odd to break from his usual routine of sneaking out of his dorm early to meet you in the astronomy tower. He felt lost when he woke up today, unsure of what to do with his time if it wasn’t being spent with you. Of course, anything would be an improvement to sitting in bed, listening to yet another argument emitting from the kitchen below. 

You’d proven to be such a distraction on the train, he’d forgotten the somber look on his mother’s face was awaiting him at Kings Crossing. His father’s disapproval of every little thing, lost to him. Even now, the sound of their voices muffled through the walls was something he thought he’d gotten used to, but it seemed louder somehow, like he’d stepped into a house that wasn’t his own. Though he supposed in a way, it never was. The little house at the edge of Spinner’s End had provided him with a shelter, a place to sleep while he waited to be sent home. To his real home at Hogwarts, the only place he’d felt a sense of belonging. The home he shared with you. 

Severus shut the book and placed it back in the old bookshelf that stood in the corner of his room. One of these days he will have to learn to let go of some of these books or find another place to store them before the wood panels they stood on snapped in two. Turning back, he went to his trunk and took out the book you gave him for his birthday and began rereading it in hopes of finding a distraction from the noise below. He sat against the wall where his bed had been shoved with the book open in his lap when an owl landed on his window sill. Looking up he stared at the creature that stuck out its leg at him, patiently waiting for the letter attached to be removed. Severus closed his book and placed it aside as he eyes the owl in surprise. He wasn’t one to receive letters often, especially when he’d just returned to Spinner’s End. 

Sitting up, he reached over and untied the letter, watching as the owl took a few steps to the side and made itself comfortable. Severus traced over his name, smiling when the identity of the sender finally registered. Excitement pumped through his body as he turned over the envelope and tore it open, unfolding its contents.

Severus,

We only got off the train 12 hours ago and I already miss you. I was wondering if you would want to accompany me to a local bookstore that I like to visit over the summer. Does Thursday work for you? Send me an owl as soon as you can. 

Can’t wait to see you again. 

Love you, 

(Y/N)

He read it over again, the grin on his face growing wider with every word. He absolutely adored seeing you miss him so much, already making plans to see him. If this was how he would spend his days in this wretched house, perhaps the summer wouldn’t be so awful after all. Severus reset his gaze as his eyes scanned over his own name printed so neatly at the top of the page when he heard the owl on his window hoot in annoyance. His head shot up and noticed the owl edging closer to him, stretching out its neck as it eyed the letter in his hand. Realizing you must have paid to have it send his response as well, he quickly made his way to his trunk and retrieved a quill and inkwell before taking a seat and pulling out a spare piece of paper.

(Y/N),

Thursday sounds great, I’ll meet you at the park at eight o’clock.

Love you too, 

Severus

He looked down at the letter, his cramped writing giving the appearance its length was shorter than it truly was. He had so much to say, so many emotions, yet he knew words somehow would never be enough. He folded his letter instead, placed it inside an envelope and wrote your name on it before he reached over and tied it to the owl who’d already had it’s leg out in anticipation. Severus leaned over the window sill and watched the owl sore into the air until it disappeared before plopping himself back on his bed and resumed rereading your letter. 

Receiving your confirmation letter had Severus counting down the days as if he would be soon returning back to Hogwarts. He felt like a child who’d been promised a trip to the toy store, ready to pick out anything he pleased and only you would ever have such an effect on him. 

After never ending days of reading, shouting and distractions, the Thursday sun finally shinned through Severus’ window, piercing his pupils as he opened his eyes. Though it seemed improbable, the bright outdoors had him wonder if mother nature was as happy as him today.  

Severus shoved his face in his hands, grateful he wasn’t sharing a room with dozens of Slytherin boys who’d surly make fun of the eager grin and splatter of rose on his cheeks. This had to be the first time he’d woken up in Spinner’s End excited to start the day and he wasn’t about to waste a second of it. 

Throwing his covers to the side, he quickly got out of bed and began rummaging through his closet until he found a decent pair of trousers along with simple black short-sleeve shirt. He changed as quickly as he could just in time to see his father slam the door shut on his way out for work. His mother was no doubt in the kitchen as always. Cooking was the only thing that brought her joy anymore, something about stirring a pot reminded her of her times as a Potioner and it only strengthened Severus’ resentment for her choice to give up her life as a witch for a muggle. She’d taught him so much when he was young, as if bestowing her knowledge, putting it to use would somehow make up for the fact that she couldn’t contribute as a functioning member of the to the Wizarding World anymore.

There she was, as he’d suspected, hunched over the stove with breakfast already on the table. Eileen Snape, former member of the once honorable Prince family, cooking in a muggle house when she could have assigned a house elf to such a treacherous task if she hadn’t been disowned. It didn’t matter now. She’d made her choice and Severus was sure to take note as to not make the same mistakes his mother had chosen to make. He would make something of himself despite his tainted bloodline. 

“I have some errands to run today Mum,” he said as he shuffled through the kitchen and head straight for the rightmost cabinet where the tea was stored. He grabbed an earl grey tea bag and placed it into his mug before he poured in the hot water his mother had boiled that morning. 

“Errands? You’ve been back three days. Where are you off to then?” She asked, turning off the stove and let whatever sauce she was making steep as she reached for the defrosted chicken to begin slicing it. 

“Nowhere, just to a nearby bookstore.” Severus opened the fridge and looked for cream for his tea but found none. With a sigh of disappointment, he opted to sit at the table and pop two sugar cubes into his tea instead. 

“Are you meeting with that Evan’s girl again?” 

Severus kept his eye on his tea, watching the sugar slowly dissolve as he stirred it while his mother spoke. “Or perhaps that girl you rode the train with?”

His head shot up to see his mother eyeing him with a mischievous grin, eyes still so heavy as always. Pupils dilated, he felt his cheeks heat up before he snapped his attention back to his tea, his hair falling forward to cover whatever embarrassment leaked out onto his face. 

“Who is she?” she asked, turning her attention back to the task at hand. 

Severus removed the teaspoon, licking it clean before placing it on the empty plate and taking a sip of his tea. He wasn’t ashamed of you of course. He was rather proud of his relationship, especially after bounding with you for so long. But he never once thought of mentioning you to his parents when they were always so busy with each other. It never once crossed his mind his mum would care about his personal life in the slightest. 

“A friend,” Severus mumbled as he made his way through his morning beverage, downing it to try and escape before this conversation took a turn he couldn’t get away from. 

“Just a friend?” she cooed. With her attention focused on the chicken, Severus quickly gulped down the rest of his tea, picking up the plate and placed his used cutlery in the sink before heading towards the exit. “The way you were smiling at King’s Crossing I would have thought-”

“Bye Mum!” he shouted as he scurried off towards the exit. Smiling, he shut the door and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the park to meet you. 

Merlin only knows what would have happened if he’d stayed to continue conversing with his mother. And since when did she care about his personal life? He was surprised she even knew Lily’s family name, let alone notice him smiling at you when she picked him up from King’s crossing.

He was early. You were nowhere to be found, the park completely empty including the swing set where he’d found you last time you’d met here. He went and leaned against the old tree sitting at the parameter of the park and waited, wondering what this bookstore you were so eager to show him entailed. Cokeworth wasn’t exactly known for its selection of literature, one of the many reasons he’d become a sort of book hoarder. Though he didn’t really get out much in the muggle world and any money he made he’d rather spend on Magical books so he wouldn’t exactly call himself a Cokeworth bookstore expert. 

It didn’t really matter where you took him, if it be a bookstore or night club, he would enjoy your company either way. Although a nice quiet place would be ideal. And one away from Muggles as well, so perhaps a bookstore was the perfect place for you both to spend time if not at Hogwarts.

Finally, he spotted you heading towards the park from the main road, cheerful as ever. Severus pushed his back against the tree trunk, propping himself upright, and began making his way over towards you as he admired the angelic glow around you in the summer sun, the simple dress and your hair high in a ponytail complimenting your form. That Hogwarts uniform really did you no justice.  

Neither of you said a word as you approached one another and instead came together in an embrace as your lips pressed together. You tightened your hold around his neck as you felt him pressing you closer into him, your lips desperate to make up for the lack of contact over the last few days.

“I missed you,” you whispered, keeping your lips ghosted over his. He hummed and placed a hand on your cheek before leaning in to connect your lips in response. You giggled, eager to meet his quick movements. 

“So what about this bookstore you wanted to show me?” he asked as you both walked hand in hand towards the main road. 

“Yes, I’ve been working there during the summer for the last few years,” you said, excited to show him the one place in the muggle world that meant almost as much to you as Hogwarts. “You’ll love it, they have the best selection of books and the owner is so nice.”

“I didn’t know you worked over the summer.” Severus dropped his shoulders in disappointment, realizing how little he knew about your life outside of Hogwarts. He had never thought to ask because he was never one to talk about his own muggle life.

“Where do you think I got my money from? My parents didn’t exactly leave me anything.”

He gave you a quick smile as you both hopped onto the bus and found a seat. Feeling guilty, Severus began asking questions, wanting to know every detail of your life until your stop finally arrived, and he found himself standing in front of the quaintest bookstore he’d ever seen. It looked quite small on the outside and he wondered where they could keep all those books you’d been going on about. This was a muggle store, they didn’t have the ability to charm their rooms and make them appear smaller on the outside. 

You eagerly stepped through the door and Severus followed only to pause and peer over the anticlimactic room he’d just stepped into. He could only spot a few simple shelves, holding what appeared to be their best sellers and a cashier's counter. It wasn’t until he spotted the stairwell in the left corner of the room that he understood the main floor of the store was a level below. 

He passed by a few Muggles as he followed you down the stairs opening to a rather generous floor that seemed to be littered in books. Peering around, he tried to keep track of all the different sections only to feel rather overwhelmed by how many there were. He was reminded of the first time he’d stepped into the Hogwarts library and in fact, this bookstore did appear like a mini replica of the most extravagant library in the Wizarding World, which he found to be rather ironic. He could definitely see why you were so fond of this bookstore. 

“Mr.Davis!” you said as you spotted the owner. Severus turned his head and quickly followed you as you made your way over to the older gentlemen speaking to what he assumed was one of the workers.  

“(Y/N), I thought your first shift wasn’t until tomorrow?” he said, greeting you with a gentle smile. 

“It is, I just wanted to show my boyfriend around today,” you gestured for Severus to come forward as you introduced him. “This is Severus.”

“Nice to meet you Severus,” Mr.Davis shook his hand before turning to you and inviting you to the back room. The man seemed rather enthusiastic for someone who’s income relied on the people of Cokeworth buying the books he had to offer. Living in an industrial town, Severus never imagined finding such an extravagant bookstore, especially one located in the middle of nowhere. And he surly didn’t imagine finding anyone in a bookstore though he supposed most muggles needed some sort of hobby to pass the time.

“All yours (Y/N).” Mr.Davis shot you a quick smile before leaving you and Severus in a room even more cluttered with books. 

Severus couldn’t believe the number of books stuffed into this room. It’s as if a Doubling Charm had been placed on each book and when he spotted some stacks with the same cover, he had to take a step back and remind himself he was in a muggle store. 

“He keeps all the old books back here,” you explained, making your way to the very back of the room. “Any returned books that he can’t sell or extra copies of retired titles get stored here. He lets me go through them whenever I come visit and keep whatever I want.”

“So this is where you get most of your books then?” Severus finally began to understand how you were always able to keep your selection of books fresh while he continuously reread the few books he owned. 

“Yes. Well obviously, I can’t get any wizarding books here, but some of these muggle authors write really well.” You began shifting through one of the many boxes, took out a book by your favorite author and handed it to him. “Here, this author is amazing, I’ve read all her books.”

“How many books do you have?”

“Well, I don’t keep them all, I only keep the ones I want to reread and give the rest to the other kids at the orphanage. You’re welcome to take whatever you want in this room,” you said before picking up another box that caught your eye and placed it on the floor. 

Severus smiled, watching you sift through the box, pick up a book and open it to the first page before opening the book you handed him to read the summary. It seemed interesting enough so he thought he would give it a shot. He then joined you in rummaging through the rest of the boxes. Both of you creating a rather generous book collection to take home

An hour went by before Mr.Davis came in to check up on you two, bring two paper bags with him knowing you had already picked out too many books to carry. 

“Thank you Mr.Davis,” you said as you handed Severus the bags and asked him to pack up the books you had piled on the floor. You stood up and made your way to the door to catch the store owner before he made his way back to the floor. “Listen, I know you’re a bit understaffed this summer with Angela still at college and Steven staying home to take care of his mother, so I was wondering if you would consider hiring Severus to work around the store with me.”

Mr.Davis looked over at the boy who was carefully placing each one of your books into the store bags he’d provided before turning his attention back to you. “Well, I could use the help. You’ve probably noticed our stock has increased a lot while you were at school,” he took a moment to think before he continued. “Alright, send him to my office in ten minutes so I can interview him.” 

“Thanks Mr.Davis!” You held back your excitement as you closed the door behind him and made your way back to Severus to tell him the good news.

Severus was surprised by your proposition, never considering willingly taking a job in a muggle shop and he wondered if doing so would only upset his father further since he’d spent most of his summers helping him at the cigarette factory. He’d no doubt be forced to hand over anything he made from this job if he told them. Then again, he was getting older and he was of age now, meaning he was allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts, giving him a leg up against his father if he were to protest.    

“Come on,” you said, “It’ll be fun! We can see each other practically every day and Mr.Davis is really nice. Just go talk to him, you can ask him about whatever is giving you reservations.”

He smiled at the thought of seeing you so often and imagined how peaceful it would be to work here with you. His parents’ approval be damned. He’ll come up with an excuse and keep the money himself if the store owner would have him. 

“Alright,” he said as he stood up and followed you to the owner’s office. You waited anxiously as ten minutes went by, then twenty, then thirty. Finally, the door opened and you sprung up from your spot and immediately closed the book in your hand as you watched Mr.Davis chuckle while letting Severus out of his office. You smiled when you saw the happy look on his face.

“Severus, you can start tomorrow with (Y/N), if you like,” Mr.Davis said, shaking his hand one last time. 

“Thank you sir,” Severus replied before heading back over to you. 

“I’m so happy,” you said as you lunged at him, throwing your arms tightly around his neck. You both left the store shortly after that as you wrapped your arm around his and clutched the bag of books in your other hand, ready to begin a summer filled with nothing but joy and content.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @malfoymendes @sparklingkeylimepie @nameless-sovereign @living-in-margins @justanobodyinthisbigworld @soft-slytherin-sweetie @youtube4life10 @scarletmoon83 @fluffymadamina

[hotforharrison]

Unholy Divinity ch 8

Chapter 7 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 9

Amazing moodboard by hazssouthernbelle <3

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader/Tom Holland

Summary: Choosing to spend your eternity in heaven or hell should be easy, right? Yeah, not so much.

Word Count: 1,730

Warnings: Language & Smut

A/N: After reading an entirely unsatisfying smutty fic involving a fucking machine, in which reader got absolutely no action herself from the fucking machine, I am now starting to write a oneshot to fill the gap that fic left in my life. That’ll probably be the next thing I post.

While you were waiting for your turn under the warm spray of the shower, Tom’s fingers swiped through the mess he’d left between your legs, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“Do you want us to get you really messy, darling? Take turns filling you up with cum until you’re absolutely dripping with it?” Tom asked, kissing you deeply.

You whimpered into his mouth.

Harrison chuckled. “Jesus, Tom, the filthy things that come out of your mouth.”

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you panting. “Not something you want, Harrison?”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Harrison told Tom.

“Thought so,” Tom said, grinning.

“I think you’re traumatizing our girl, though,” Harrison commented, looking amused.

You laughed softly. “I’m not traumatized, just...surprised, I guess. I mean we’re in heaven.”

“And creampies don’t seem very heavenly to you?” Tom asked.

You laughed again. “Yes and no. I’ve never been, like, staunchly vanilla.”

“I sense a ‘but’ here,” Tom said.

You nodded. “But I didn’t expect to be sleeping with two men at the same time in the afterlife, with all that entails in bed. Where do you even get lube?”

“It’s not that hard. I’ve got some already. I can get some more, and anything else you might want,” Harrison told you.

Tom’s eyes glinted mischievously. “I might have a list.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” you asked, teasingly.

“I know what I’ve gotten myself into,” Tom said.

After Harrison finished, you got under the spray. “And what would that be?”

“You. Repeatedly,” Tom answered, smirking.

You giggled, washing yourself clean with a neutrally scented soap. You watched the water bead on your wings as it cascaded down your body. Your wings were apparently water resistant, even the soft downy parts nearest to your skin.

When you finished and moved aside, Tom took his turn, scrubbing himself from head to toe. After he was finished, he turned off the water.

Harrison grabbed three towels from the linen closet, handing one to you and one to Tom.

You dried yourself in a comfortable silence, careful of your wings, and followed Harrison and Tom out into the bedroom.

“Ready for the grand tour?” Harrison asked.

“Definitely!” you responded.

“Alright. This is obviously my room. Not much to see here,” Harrison started.

The next door in the hallway was another bedroom, colors and decor a muted masculine, the bed a queen size instead of the king in Harrison’s.

“This is my room,” Tom said. “I have a smaller bed because I didn’t really think I’d be entertaining two people in it. I could technically get a larger one, but Harrison’s room should be fine for now.”

He showed you his attached bathroom, which had a large tub that would be nice for soaking in or bubble baths. “Not really big enough for three people, but if we wanted to take turns with you.” He shrugged.

The last door in the hallway led to what looked like a home office with two desks with computer monitors on top and another bookshelf, this one less full.

“We can add a third desk in for you, if you like,” Harrison offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you said.

“It’s not,” Tom quickly responded. “This is your home, too, now.”

The thought that you now shared a home with your two, well, boyfriends? Is that what they were? You hadn’t really had a talk about putting labels on your relationship yet.

After showing you the office, they led you through the hallway back into the living room, large with a couple of recliners, a sofa, and a loveseat surrounding a glass coffee table, centered around the wall-mounted television. Below the television was a media chest. There were a couple of video game controllers on top of it.

“You can play games in heaven?” you asked, surprised.

Tom stepped up to the media chest and opened a drawer to reveal a bunch of video game controllers for different gaming systems. “Whatever system or game you’re in the mood for.”

“Wow, heaven is cooler than I thought it would be,” you told him. “I thought it would be kind of boring.”

Both boys chuckled.

There were a couple of bookshelves against the wall with two floor to ceiling windows on it. The bookshelves were mostly full of books and knickknacks. You’d explore those later.

Next was the kitchen, decked out with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

“This is really nice for not even needing to eat,” you commented.

“I still like to cook,” Harrison said. “I’ll make you dinner sometime.”

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

Attached to the kitchen was a pantry and a laundry room.

“And that’s it. Now that there’s three of us, we could move somewhere with more space, a house instead of an apartment. I’m fine with it either way,” Harrison told you.

You shrugged. “I’m fine here. It’s not like I need my own bedroom when I don’t sleep, and even if I did, I’d prefer to share with both of you.”

“We can make space in one of our closets for your wardrobe, after you get some more clothes,” Tom said. “Harrison can take you out to get some more things to wear later.”

You frowned that Tom didn’t want to come along, but you understood. The other angels didn’t seem to appreciate his presence. You wondered if the risk of getting overthrown as king of hell was better or worse than being a pariah.

“Hey,” Tom said, apparently knowing where the expression on your face came from. “I’m nowhere I don’t want to be. There’s no place better than where I get to spend eternity with my girl and best mate.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry things are harder for you here.”

“Thanks, love. They’re not really harder, not at all. Just different. It’ll take some getting used to, but I’m 100% genuinely happy to be here with you and Harrison,” he reassured you.

“What do you guys do for fun here?” you asked, curious.

Harrison and Tom exchanged a glance before Harrison responded, “well, we can watch TV or a movie, play a video game together…”

“And there’s always fucking like bunnies some more,” Tom added with a laugh.

You laughed, too, for a moment. “But you used to do something else?”

“Yeah, we used to go out a lot,” Harrison admitted. “There’s enough to do that you’ll never get bored, even with not needing sleep anymore.”

You bit your lip, thinking. “Are there times when things are less busy?”

“Since no one needs to sleep, it’s pretty unpredictable,” Tom answered. “There’s still daytime and nighttime here, and some things are less popular during one or the other. I’ll probably try to golf one night soon, see how it goes. I have missed that.”

“Can I go with you?” you asked.

“You’re always welcome to go with me anywhere I go, darling,” Tom told you, wrapping his arms around you, careful of your wings, and kissing you.

You smiled into the kiss when his tongue found its way into your mouth, and his hands slid down to grab your ass. Your hand reached out in Harrison’s general direction, encouraging him to join you.

Harrison pressed himself into you from behind, right up against your wings. His lips brushed against your neck, moving down to where your wings met your skin.

You broke the kiss and tipped your head back against Harrison.

He lifted his head from your wings and looked at you.

Your lips met his in a brief kiss. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he responded.

“I really want you inside me,” you told him.

Tom stepped back and turned you around wordlessly.

Harrison easily lifted you, and you lined him up with your entrance so he could sink inside you in one long thrust.

“God, you fill me up so good,” you commented.

Harrison paused for you to adjust. “And you’re so hot and wet for me. Feels fucking amazing, pretty girl.”

Tom pressed against you from behind, his dick sliding against your crack.

“What are you…” you trailed off.

“Do you want us to fill you up real good, darling? Take my big hard cock up your tight little arse while Harrison’s filling up your pussy? I bet we could fuck you so good and make you cum so many times that all you could remember is our names, and only because you’d be screaming them over and over,” Tom said against your ear.

Arousal overwhelmed your underlying nervousness, and you grinded back against him eagerly.

“Considering how much wetter she just got, I think she likes the idea, mate,” Harrison commented, grinning.

You met Tom’s eyes as he smirked down at you.

“Please?” you begged.

“Not right now,” Tom said.

You whimpered pathetically.

“Shh, I know, darling,” Tom soothed you. “We’ll need to prep you first, though, and take things nice and slow. I’m never going to hurt you when I can prevent it.”

You nodded, but the thought was enough that it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge, with Harrison already fucking you so nicely. Your hand snaked between your body and Harrison’s to find your clit.

“Nope.” Tom pulled it to the side and replaced it with his own, fingers briefly exploring. “God, you were right about her being wet, Harrison. She’s fucking soaked.”

“Tom?” you asked.

“Yeah, love?” he responded.

“Make me cum?” you requested.

“Of course,” he said and rubbed slick circles on your clit, obviously not intending to tease.

Your climax hit you hard, legs squeezing more tightly around Harrison while white hot pleasure shot through you.

Harrison fucked you roughly through it while Tom rocked his hips against you from behind.

When you gradually drifted down from your high, you noticed you were practically dripping cum from both the front and the back. “Tom, did you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, sheepishly. “I didn’t really intend to, but…”

“I love when I make either or both of you cum. I’m a mess, though. I think we need another shower,” you commented.

Your boys put you down for a brief moment, before Tom lifted you up and moved his wings out of the way to heft you over his shoulder and carry you toward Harrison’s room.

“Hey!” you complained, feigning annoyance, but your giggles betrayed you.

tag list: @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @relise-thefury @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @eeyore101247 @unholyhaz @definitely-not-black-cat @vintageroses1014516 @spidermanffh3000 @superheroesaremytea @worldoftom

[ladywinchester1967]

Hot for Teacher: Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Kelly Frazier (OFC) 

Warnings: Age gap (Kelly is 26, Dean is 35), SMUT (and all the wonderful yummy stuff that goes with it), feels, a little fluff, alcohol usage, language.  

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of ?? I guess I’ll quit writing it when it stops being fun :) Until then, you guys enjoy!! Unbeta’d, all mistakes and text simulator images are mine; the rest are NOT. I found them on tumblr and Pinterest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I laid in bed after my shower, scrolling through my Twitter feed when I got a text.

I went to bed that night with his grunts and him moaning my name filling my ears.

The next day, I walked into Dean’s class and waited toward the back of the room. He was talking about the goddess Odessa and showing a slide show. I had already heard this lecture the day before, so I took the time to observe him. He talked with his hands, and with an enthusiastic smile on his face. To the casual observer, it looked like he was just teaching, however, I could see the passion behind his words and motions. I hid my smile behind my hand as he caught my eye.

“Okay; ten minute’s break,” he said and clicked on the light “stretch, go to the bathroom and we’ll pick this up again.”

The class gratefully dissipated as I walked forward. He gave me a tight lipped smile and pressed a set of keys into my hand.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said in a low tone “I’ll head that way in half an hour or so.”

I nodded and said

“See you.” And gave him a subtle wink.

He gave me that legendary smirk again and I trotted off.

Once I was inside his office; I found a stack of papers that had a yellow sticky note on it.

Grade these please :)

The next stack also had a sticky note on it

These as well :D

I smiled and sat down in his chair and began to work.

I didn’t notice that forty five minutes had gone by until Dean walked in.

“Good lord.” He said exasperated as he shut the door.

“Long day?” I asked, looking up from the paper I was reading.

He rolled his eyes

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he groaned “how’s the grading going?”

I rolled my eyes

“I hate this paper,” I told him as I held it up “How can a second year be so,” I trailed off, looking for the right words.

“Let me guess,” he said as he threw his coat down “Cassie, period four?”

I nodded

“It’s pretentious okay?” I asked “Every word in here REEKS of pretension and I hate it.”

He laughed as he took his tie off

“You and me both sweetness,” he said fondly “sounds like we need a drink.”

“We drank the beer you had remember?” I asked

“I keep the good stuff hidden,” he said and walked over to a bookshelf and opened a shelf, producing a bottle of whiskey seemingly from nowhere “for just such an occasion.”

I smiled and stood up as he fished around, finding two shot glasses. He poured both of us one and handed me a glass.

“Don’t shoot it,” he said “you sip this.”

“Very dignified,” I smiled “Professor.”

We clinked our glasses together and I sipped the whiskey down. Much to my surprise, it didn’t burn on the way down like I expected it to, in fact it was smooth.

“Hm,” I said “doesn’t burn like I thought.”

“I’m not fond of the burning myself,” he said “an old friend gave me this and said I’d know when to drink it.” He said as he held the bottle.

“Good friend,” I said and sipped from the glass “now, how can I put this so she understands her paper isn’t the best?”

For another hour, I graded papers while Dean worked on his article. I stole glances at him as he typed on his laptop, he brow was furrowed with concentration and he sipped from his glass of whiskey. I got up to stretch and walked behind him. I placed my hands on his shoulders and began to massage his tense muscles. He looked over his shoulder and said

“Thank you, I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” I said “I find a good stretch or shoulder rub helps me concentrate when I have writer’s block.”

He hummed in agreement, surrendering to my touch as he leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes as I worked out the knots in his shoulders, and then lightly rubbed his temples. He looked so relaxed that I never wanted to stop, but his eyes fluttered open.

“Keep that up and I’ll go to sleep.” He said gruffly and sat up. I smiled and said

“Anything to make you comfortable.” And patted his shoulder.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough for one night.” He said and shut his laptop “Looks like you got over half of period four’s papers graded, which is a huge help.”

I nodded, marking where I had left off

“Looks like you’ll make your deadline after all.” I said as I gathered my things. He did the same and nodded

“Yeah, finally, hand back papers when I say I’m going to.”

We walked out of the building together and once again, he insisted on driving me home. He knew the route now, so I didn’t have to give him directions. When he pulled up in front of my apartment, I asked 

“Do you have anywhere you need to be?”

He thought and asked

“No, why?”

“Did you want to come in or?” I asked, motioning toward my front door. At first, he looked confused and I worried I had over stepped my boundaries. I watched as a grin slowly spread across his face.

“I would like that,” he said “a lot.”

“Come on in.” I told him and got out of his car. He shut off the car’s engine and climbed out, locking the door behind him. He followed me to the door and I unlocked it, letting both of us in. I lived alone, so I didn’t have to worry about a roommate bothering us, I thought as I flicked on the light switch. I suddenly realized how dirty my apartment was; random shoes, sweaters and scarves, various magazines and piles of mail were laying around. It looked like a closet had mailbox had thrown up and my cheeks flushed.

“Sorry,” I said as I locked the door behind us “it’s kind of messy right now.”

He looked around and said

“It isn’t that bad, I’ve seen WAY worse.”

I gave him a tentative smile and set my bags down in their usual place as he took off his coat, stowing his keys in his coat pocket.

“Are you hungry?” I asked “or want anything to drink?”

He shook his head and turned to face me.

“No, I’m fine.” He said and then walked toward me, closing the gap between us. It had been a long day for both of us and it felt like we both needed some relief from that tension. He swiped his finger tips across my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear as he leaned in, kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him back; the electricity between us from the night before seemed to be renewed as we both dove in for another kiss. I ran my hands up and down his back as he pulled me close to him, pressing my breasts fully against him.

“Mmmhhh, Dean.” I sighed as I pulled back a little and unbuttoned his dress shirt.

He sighed as I reached the last button and ran my hands up his torso. I slid his shirt off and as it hit the ground, he backed me against the wall, his palms flat against the wall. I ran my hands up his back as he moaned against my mouth.

“Bedroom?” He asked

I pulled back, took his hand and guided him back to my room. Once I turned on the light, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against him, his chest pressed into my back. “Been thinking about you since last night.” he murmured in my ear as I felt his teeth scrape against the outer shell. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to play it cool.

“That right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady “What’d you think about?”

He snapped his hips into my butt; he was rock hard. His hands running all over my body, which he seemed to cover in no time, due to the size of his hands.

“This gorgeous body,” he said “all pink and strung out for me.”

I let out a moan as his fingertips dragged along my arms as he started to kiss my neck. I squirmed, grinding my ass into his erection and he let out a growl.

“Mhhhh,” He said and swiftly spun me around. He picked me up and carried me over to the bed where he laid me on my back “grinding into me like that is gonna get you in trouble.” He said and pinned my hands above my head using only one of his hands.

Our eyes met and I grinned

“Aw, I thought you LIKED when I’m a trouble maker.” I said playfully.

“Oh I do,” he said “you may not.”

“Show me.” I said

His mouth dropped open a little, but then he regained his composure.

“Another time,” he said and kissed me “I want something different this time.”

He released my hands only to thread his fingers through mine. He pressed his hips into mine as I moaned below him. I felt totally consumed by him, like I was drowning but I wasn’t afraid. I wanted it. I wanted him, all of him. He sat up a little bit and let go of my hands as we both removed our shirts, tossing them to the floor and kicking our shoes off. I sat up with him on his knees between my legs. I placed my hands on his hips and kissed all over his bare torso. He gently gripped my hair and let out a shaky breath.

“You okay?” I asked quietly and looked up at him. His eyes met mine and he nodded, biting his lip.

“Feels good.” Was all he mustered out before our mouths collided. His hand slid down my back where he quickly unhooked my bra. I slid the garment off and he gently ran his fingers up and down my spine.

He pulled back as he moved his hand over my shoulder, giving me a crooked grin.

“What?” I asked, hooking my fingers into his belt loops.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asked.

My cheeks immediately turned pink and I looked away from him, grinning like an idiot. “What? You are.” He said, tucking my hair behind my ear and tilting my face up, using his fingers. His gorgeous green eyes held my gaze as my heart thudded in my ears. He lowered his face to mine and kissed me oh so gently, like I was made of glass. I unbuckled his belt and slid his pants off as he laid down on top of me. He kicked his pants aside and slid my leggings down and off of me. He gently caressed my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. I let out a sigh as our eyes met again.

“You’re being very gentle with me.” I commented as I slid my hands up his back.

“Too gentle?” He asked, stroking my face.

I shook my head

“No, not at all.” I said

In truth, I’d never had anyone be this gentle with me. Sure, I’d fucked guys and made love with them, but this felt different than anything I’d experienced up until this point. He dipped his head down and planted feather light kisses down my neck and chest. He cupped my breasts in his hands and tweaked my nipples between his fingers. The sensation shot straight between my legs and I let out a moan as I dug my nails into his shoulders.

“Deeeeeeean,” I moaned, my back arching as he rutted his covered erection into me.

“You want me inside you baby girl?” He asked as he took my right nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

“Oh god,” I said quietly “yes, please.”

He switched to the left nipple and did the same thing until I was writhing under him. It didn’t take long for both of us to rid ourselves of our underwear and then he was buried in me to the hilt with a moan. I placed my feet flat on the bed as he began to move. His fingers tangled with mine again and he used this leverage to pump into me. Our moans and sighs mixed with the sounds of kissing, skin hitting skin and the bed moving under us.

I breathed his name over and over again as he moaned in my ear.

“Fuck sweetheart.” he said, sounding wrecked.

I cried out as his movements became more and more erratic, he was hitting my sweet spot relentlessly and making my toes curl.

“Oh fuck, Dean, please I wanna-“ I cried out

“That’s it,” he answered “come for me baby.”

His mouth sealed over mine. I cried out, squeezing his hands as I came. He thrust harder into me, finding his own release as he moaned into my mouth. He rolled off of me and we laid in silence for a minute before I looked up at him, grinning like an idiot.

“That’s a happy face if I’ve ever seen one.” He said and I laughed, nodding.

“Definitely.” I said and we kissed.

After a few more minutes, we laid our heads on the pillows and talked quietly.

“So we may be past the point of no return on this,” Dean said as he traced nonsensical patterns on my palm “but we haven’t exactly been practicing safe sex.”

I laughed

“Definitely past that,” I told him as I watched his fingers “I’m clean, I got tested two months ago if you want to see my results.”

He shook his head

“I believe you, and I’m clean too, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” He said.

I looked up at him and he looked scared. I softly smiled at him.

“You don’t have to worry,” I told him “it’s physically impossible for me to get pregnant so you’re off the hook for that.”

He raised an eyebrow at me

“I’ve heard that before.” He said

I shook my head

“No, I’m being totally serious. I can’t get pregnant.” I told him

“No offense, and if I sound like an asshole, I’m sorry in advance, but how?” He asked 

I shrugged

“I haven’t had ovaries for,” I trailed off an counted back “like six years? And if I remember sex ed correctly, I need those to have babies, so yeah.”

He looked shocked

“Wait, what?!” He asked and I laughed.

“I’m not a freak of nature or anything.” I told him

“You just said it so nonchalantly,” he said “that’s the shocking part.”

I scratched my head, and said

“It happened okay? It’s part of who I am,” I sighed and then said “I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer at eighteen, so to keep it from spreading, I had to get my ovaries removed and undergo intense chemo.”

He blinked and I went on

“Yes, all my hair fell out, yes it sucked and yes, that’s why I waited so long to start college; just to answer some of the commonly asked questions.” He stared at me, studying my face as if looking for a trace of a lie. “That’s what the scars on my stomach are from.” I told him and pulled back the sheet; I pointed to two, small but identical scars on my abdomen. He glanced at the scars and then up at me as I covered myself back up. “So, you won’t be getting any surprises out of me.” I told him.

“So, never for you?” He asked

“I had the option to freeze some of of eggs, which I did. Just in case I ever wanted that option,” I told him “but without medical help, no. I can’t, at all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking sad “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” I told him “the most important thing is that I’m alive.” I sighed “In a way? Going through that gave me a second chance at life. I was coasting; I didn’t have direction and I didn’t care. I figured I was young and I was going to enjoy it. Getting that news,” I bit my lower lip “put everything in perspective, as cheesy as that sounds. After surgery and chemo, once I was better, my grandmother and I lived in France for a year and that was one of the best times of my life.”

“Why France?” He asked, he seemed genuinely curious.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.” I told him

“Scout’s honor,” he said “I won’t laugh.”

I smiled

“Because Beauty and the Beast is my favorite Disney movie and it took place in France.” I told him. I watched as a grin crossed his face.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked and I nodded “It’s one of my favorites too.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up and he nodded.

“The beginning, where the narrator opens the story? Always gives me goosebumps.” He said

I gasped

“No shit, me too!” I said excitedly and he squeezed my hand.

“I knew I liked you for a reason.” He said.

We laid in bed talking for so long that we were both shocked when we looked at the time.

“It’s after one a.m,” he said and yawned as he put his phone down “I better get going.”

“Or you could stay,” I suggested “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He gave me a sideways grin and shrugged.

“I can go for that,” he said “since you don’t mind.”

I shook my head

“No, not at all.” I said. I switched off the light and curled up next to him; my head on his chest. He gently wrapped his arm around me and stroked my hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Did ya ‘ll like that?! A little more fluff than what I normally do, and the smut was more tame than normal but hopefully it was a nice change. 

I think you guys are gonna like part 3 though; so brace yourselves for that! Kind feedback is always welcome; please like, comment and follow (if you want). My boxes (in, submission and request) are all OPEN, so feel free to drop me a line!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @girlborninstorms @dacleverfox @emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @salvachester @myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict @theworldiscolorful

Hot For Teacher:

@wayward-gypsy

[dunewizard]

D&D Improvised Practice

I completely improvised a D&D encounter for my friend in a Discord Chat!  I’ve been practicing random encounters and making intrigue from the top of my head ready to fill my games with similar things. I find making things up as I go along is a really good way to practice GMing and making sure I am prepared mentally for whatever comes out of it! If you’d like to read the encounter it’ll be under the cut.

Blondie: (GM) enchantingHunter: (Player - he doesnt quite know who he is/ what he has equipped, what race he is. It was all improvised. Hes the type of player not to run amok because he was a GM before I was :P) Blondie - “You are walking along the path and you see a little hit to the west. It’s derelict and indecent looking. The wood looks rotted and burnt away. Suddenly a beautiful elven maiden walks out the front door humming to herself, she’s picking flowers and doesn’t pay you any mind from the road. She strides back into the house with s small bundle of flowers and walks back inside.

As the door closes it looks like the house could fall in. Suddenly you hear an unearthly shriek and several nude, dirty and bruised humans with chains around their necks come running out.

enchantingHunter - Oh no

Blondie - They stop in their tracks, their chains glow purple and they walk themselves back to the house, Crying as they do so. Idk if a roadside hut is the correct location. I’d say that this scene happens deep in the forest.

enchantingHunter - I draw my sword and carefully creep forward

Blondie - The house is quiet, A owl hoots solemnly.

enchantingHunter - I sidle up to the hut, trying to peer into a window to see inside Blondie - Through the grime of the window it’s tough to see, but you can make the shape of a bed, a nightstand, and a bookshelf.

enchantingHunter - I turn my head away and slowly move around the hut to the front door, my sword in hand and at the ready

Blondie - As you approach the door you hear another unearthly shriek

enchantingHunter - I duck instinctively

Blondie - Followed by two more

enchantingHunter - I dash through the door, sword at the ready!

Blondie - You break down the door and end up breaking the whole house in.

enchantingHunter - I try and dive free of the debris!

Blondie - The walls and floor fall away with a crumble and shatter, You dive to safety unscathed, You see the furniture hasn’t moved, They are nailed to the floor. The only thing left is the door frame.

enchantingHunter - I sheathe my sword and begin to try and clear any rubble

Blondie - You can hear another shriek come from the direction of the house - but at this point you’re not sure where it came from, As there is sans house in front of you.

enchantingHunter - I close my eyes and focus, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound.

Blondie - Waiting for the next shriek, you close your eyes. When you open them you are face to face with a hag. Who in her sullen, coarse and croaky voice says “What are you doing in my forest?” She raises her arms.

enchantingHunter - I jump back, startled

Blondie - She is about to cast a really big spell!

enchantingHunter - I bow lowly "Forgive me, I have intruded"

Blondie - A purple mass of light builds above her head

enchantingHunter - "Well, it was going south anyway", I draw both my long swords and leap aside, readying to pounce

Blondie - She throws her purple ball she’s been building at your feet, it creates a huge rune on the floor that activates immediately - you feel yourself get tired and dizzy. You suddenly have 4 levels of exhaustion.

enchantingHunter - I fall backwards into my misty step, landing behind her I try to place my swords around her.

Blondie - As you fall back into misty step you land behind her, but as you raise your swords around her neck, she grabs them and hoists you onto her back

enchantingHunter - (holy shit)

Blondie - To which she takes you and passes through the door frame of the house. enchantingHunter - I grunt in pain, trying desperately to hold on

Blondie -  You wake up to the sound of cracking electricity and a searing pain in your left and right sides of your stomach. You’re nude and tied down.

enchantingHunter - I groggily try and open my eyes, taking in my surroundings

Blondie - You’ve got a lot of sleep crust, you must have been out for a long time, but you manage to open your eyes. Around you is a strange glen, there’s an ambient hue of green and brown everywhere. Appearing almost as if out of nowhere, the hag appears and says “why do they always try to fight?” And pats you on the head.

enchantingHunter - I scowl

Blondie - You can’t see where but more familiar shrieks come from somewhere below you.

enchantingHunter - I try and look down

Blondie - You see that you are on a bed, you see your body beneath you. But you can reach and see that you’re in a bunking sort of system with nearly 5 other bunks below you, one on top of the other. You notice your gear is about 10ft away.

The hag climbs over to a cauldron and stirs a green broth some more. She scoops out a ladle full and hands it to the man in the bed beneath you.

enchantingHunter - I watch in horror

Blondie - He screams but eventually you hear him drink, As he drinks the hag looks satisfied, and leaves the area. The man gasps for air.

enchantingHunter - (oh no)

Blondie - He’s balding with black tattoos all down his front. But it’s hard to see with all the blood around.

enchantingHunter - (OH NO)

Blondie - He notices you looking at him

enchantingHunter - I move my eyes from him to the cauldron, looking expectant

Blondie - He gives you a dire look. His pupils dilate fully as he shuffles left and right in his bed, coiling and contorting his body with what the ropes allow. He he shuffles out of his binds.

enchantingHunter - I sigh and subtly try to wriggle out of my bindings, my eyebrows shoot up, I try and gesture him over to me with my head.

Blondie - He’s standing on his bed now, and holding onto your bed with his hands, they’re grimy and dirty looking. He looks at you and nods knowingly. As he climbs up onto your bed he rests his hand on your belly and then points to the cauldron, and makes a sipping motion, pouring at your mouth. Gesturing as if asking a question.

enchantingHunter - I shake my head from side to side

Blondie - You see him smile then ball a fist, He punches your ropes

enchantingHunter - My eyes widen

Blondie - As he punches his fists glow brighter and brighter

enchantingHunter - (ahhhhh)

Blondie - The punches burn the ropes through

enchantingHunter - I lean back into the bed as far as I can.

Blondie - He freed one arm

enchantingHunter - I take a quick look over to the hag to make sure she hasn't noticed, then use my free arm to start pulling at my other restraints

Blondie - She’s currently not in the area

enchantingHunter - (oh thank god)

Blondie - so you  feel free to do that. As you get through your other arm restraint the other prisoner has gotten through your leg constraints. You’re free. You feel groggy but you can stand up.

enchantingHunter - I look for the best way to get to my gear, leaning against my new friend for support.

Blondie - Your gear sits like a towel on a rack about 10ft from you on the wall. You’re a fair way high up. You’re the 6th bunk in this system.

enchantingHunter - Oof

Blondie - Though you and this other man are the only prisoners atm

enchantingHunter - I try and carefully climb down towards the ground

Blondie - While carefully climbing down the first 4 rows. Something on the second to last bed makes you slip. You belly flop into some mud.

enchantingHunter - I groan in pain. I pull my face out of the muck and wipe it off.

Blondie - You look around the ground level and see many carvings and runes on the walls. There’s a large chest and a door to what you feel is north.

enchantingHunter - I stumble over to belongings and start to rummage around for my component pouch.

Blondie - It’s back up there. On the wall. On the towel rack 6 bunks up.

enchantingHunter - I sigh, and begin the perilous climb toward it Wait I ask the guy up there to throw my stuff down to me Slowly

Blondie - He can’t reach that far but seeing you motion that all the way from down there he can’t quite make out what you mean So He leaps to the towel rack below your gear. Landing safely on the rail and reaches up to grasp what he can

enchantingHunter - I marvel at his athleticism, letting out a small gasp I move to a place where I can more easily catch anything he drops.

Blondie - He can throw you down your things individually or your whole pack at once. By this time he puts on his own backpack and a pair of pants from the towel rack below.

enchantingHunter - I just beckon him to throw the lot down.

Blondie - He yanks at your pack and throws the whole thing down, the weight knocks you a bit but you catch it.

enchantingHunter - I try and cast Silence before he throws anything

Blondie - You try that but you remember you haven’t cast a spell since you were very young

enchantingHunter - Oh no

Blondie - Darn :P

enchantingHunter - I rummage through my pack, looking for my armour and weapons

Blondie - You adorn yourself in your chainmail, two longswords and your dungeoneers pack. You also have a splint buckler shield you equip.

enchantingHunter - I look up to my flaming fist friend.

Blondie - He has his pants on, he leaps to the bunks again and used them like a ladder to get down to you. He points at you and then at the door.

enchantingHunter - "Thank you, friend". All equipped, I move to the north, but stop as I pass the chest.

Blondie - The chest sits by the door

enchantingHunter - I slowly move back towards it and then inspect it

Blondie - It is metallic and looks very sturdy. It almost looks like a large metal fish tank.

enchantingHunter - I frown, feeling puzzled, before pulling out a dagger and trying to jimmy open the lid

Blondie - Your jimmying is to no avail. Your flaming fist friend looks at you wide eyed, He lifts the chest above his head.

enchantingHunter - Whoa

Blondie - It’s sturdy but it’s maybe 13kg at most

enchantingHunter - I slowly nod my head, turning my attention back to the door I move up to it and see if there is any way to see what's on the other side.

Blondie - It is a large door / there, many runes lay upon / luminescent blue Imagine if all descriptions were 5,7,5 haiku.

enchantingHunter - I can't wait for the one character that speaks only in haiku

Blondie - Jesu christo

enchantingHunter - "You know anything about these?" I ask, pointing at the runes.

Blondie - He sees your finger pointing at the door and puts the chest down. He looks puzzled, but throws a fire bolt at the door.

enchantingHunter - WHOA! I turn around and look at him with a look of shock on my face. "Huh".

Blondie - The door stands firm, runes still applied.

enchantingHunter - "Uh". I venture back into the bunk room, looking for any kind of worktable or place where the hag has personal items.

Blondie - You notice the area is circular with a 7.5ft radius. She didn’t seem to keep anything but you guys and the chest in here.

enchantingHunter - I gaze around this small room, and look up the ceiling

Blondie - It’s so high you can’t seem to see the top, it hides in darkness.

enchantingHunter - I look over to the cauldron and see if the vapours rise up towards the darkness above

Blondie - The cauldron, sitting on its own personal ledge within the area, its high  up. Its between the 5th and 6th bunk but it’s vapours do not break the darkness.

enchantingHunter - I head back to the door, unsheathe one of my swords, and slowly walk forward to poke the rune.

Blondie - As you poke the rune it pushes you back against the opposite wall with great force, You feel cut by this damage.

enchantingHunter - Ooof

Blondie - When you look at the door you notice the rune has been spent. It’s nolonger there.

enchantingHunter - I smile to myself, and with my sword in hand advance to the door and try to quietly open it.

Blondie - As you open the door you feel the door pull itself open with surprising force.

enchantingHunter - (crap)

Blondie - The hag arrives and meets your face, Your fiery friend looks confident.

enchantingHunter - I grimace, draw my second blade and leap at her, trying to slice her apart!

Blondie - She clamps a neck brace over your neck like how handsome Jack does to Lilith in Borderlands 2

enchantingHunter - I look desperately to my fire-fisted friend. "Help...me" I mumble from behind the neck brace.

Blondie - She then holds you aloft. She turns to the fire monk fellow and lifts him up into the air. He perspires a green fluid that makes hissing noises as it enters the air. He’s steaming.

enchantingHunter - I drop my swords and my hands reach for the hag's hair, and I try and distract her by tearing at it.

Blondie - As the hag is dealing with the monk, her hair gets pulled on! You pull some. Out.

enchantingHunter - "Gross"

Blondie - At the end of the hair is some scalp. Ugh enchantingHunter - "GROSS"

Blondie - I can’t believe I said that.

enchantingHunter - I try and claw at her face, scratching and punching with everything I've got!

Blondie - You see an exposed spot in her head from the pull. She takes a beating. She throws you to the ground as hard as she can. You’re bloodied.

enchantingHunter - I scream out in pain. I spit out a mouthful of blood, and try and ease myself back to my feet.

Blondie - She looks at you and sizes you up.

enchantingHunter - I look over to my fire fisted friend and reach behind my back, drawing my dagger.

Blondie - She starts to move for the chest beside the monk. She opens the chest. The monk is a little busy, He’s steaming on the floor in a cannonball position.

enchantingHunter - As she is occupied with the chest I try and leap towards her, aiming my dagger at the exposed patch on her head.

Blondie - As you sneak up on her rummaging through her things she picks up a crested wand. You drive the dagger into the exposed patch and she wails in pain, turning  to you and swiping you across the stomach with the wand. Missing barely.

enchantingHunter - I leave the dagger in there, grab her head and try and force her into the chest.

Blondie - You suplex her into the chest. Perfectly. Luckily she fits neatly in there. (20).

enchantingHunter -  I say a quick prayer of thanks to Kord, god of suplexes. I immediately shut the lid, then rush over to my friend on the floor

Blondie - He’s writhing around now due to the first attack from the hag. He is still steaming but he awakens. His eyes ablaze. He turns and looks for the hag.

enchantingHunter - I point to the chest.

Blondie - He launches a huge stream of fire from his open hands, the stream continues for a good 15 seconds as he screams like a dragon ball hero. Searing heat that you can feel all the way where you are across the room.

enchantingHunter - (his monk level is over 9000!) I watch in awe at this truly awesome display of power.

Blondie - His Purified Monk Body blood helped save the poison. But he is mortally wounded. Also you notice the walls are on fire.

enchantingHunter - I rush over to him, holding his head in my hands.

Blondie - There is a precarious cauldron about to drop on you.

enchantingHunter - I carefully try and drag him out of the way!

Blondie - You move his body out of the way and through the door. Out of the derelict house. There’s only a door frame.

enchantingHunter - I look back into the room to see if there are others on the bunks

Blondie - But looking inside again you see no one else on the bunks. Suddenly the cauldron drops. The portal closes. You’re back in the woods again. Congradulations, youve won!

[avengers-sweethearts]

In Deep Water (Peter Parker x Reader)

The bell had just rung telling you it was finally time to go home and watch your favorite television show. You happily walked to your locker to grab the books you needed for the weekend.

Unexpectedly, a few of your friends came up to you as you were shutting your locker to invite you to this awesome lake party you'd heard about around school, and you accepted before they could even finish asking if you wanted to come. Your couch could wait.

You spent a lot of time around the water, it was one of your favorite things. Your father had taken you to his family's lake house ever since you learned how to swim, needless to say you were really excited for this party.

The four of you decided to hang out until it was time to go. As you were walking Flash came up behind you asking if he could join in on your plans, which you found strange because all he ever does is torment you and a select member of the group. But you could tell as soon as he started walking with you guys, he was just there for your other two girl friends.

The two girls ran off like bunnies to go obsess over their outfits, making sure their hair and makeup was done to perfection. Probably trying to impress Flash, which you had no intention of doing. You wanted nothing to do with that mess, so you stayed out in the living room with the two guys to avoid being dragged into any drama.

"Hey Parker, is Ned coming to the party?" You asked.

"He said he'd pass on this one, he prefers lighter crowds when it comes to boats and water," Peter replied.

"Oh, that's unfortunate. He sure is fun to have around..."

"I can't tell what makes him more of a loser, going to the party or not going," Flash responded in a monotonous tone.

"Hey! Don't talk about him that way, he's a good guy! You exclaimed.

"As you wish," Flash rolled his eyes at you. You heard him say something else under his breath but you couldn't make it out completely, although you tried your hardest to block him out because all he ever has to say to you usually involves name calling or insults.

You made you're way over to the bay window in the living room, leaving Flash to sulk in the kitchen, and sunk to the ground to try and hide yourself from him. Your attention turned to Peter across the room playing with his fingers, staring intently at the ground.

You had been friends with Peter for as long as you can remember. Although as of late, he had become more distant and it was really hard to keep his attention during a conversation or even get him to talk to you at times.

You were taken out of your thoughts as Peter briskly walked across the room grabbing a deck of cards from the bookshelf, and sat down across from you. You instinctively split the deck in half, as evenly as you could, and flipped your first card over.

"What game are we playing?" Peter questioned.

"Slapjack, have you ever played?"

"Actually no I haven't..." Peter shrugged.

"Okay it's exactly like it sounds. All you have to do is take turns flipping your top card over with me and wait for a jack to show up and slap it. If you slap it first you take the pile of cards and whoever takes the whole deck wins. I know it's a stupid game, but I thought it would be an easy pass time while waiting for the others. Plus I'm really imagining the jack is Flash's face so it'll make me feel better," you reasoned.

"No, it's not stupid," Peter said as he flipped his first card over. You focused on the game noticing that Peter had really fast reflexes. The jacks were no where to be found, and the speed of the game increased.

"Are there even any jacks in this deck?" You exclaimed.

"Just gotta keep looking." At that a jack appeared and you both went to slap it. Your hand ended up underneath Peters’ and you quickly put your free hand on top of his. You noticed how warm and comforting his hand felt, but quickly pushed the thought away as he made eye contact with you.

"Y/n, oh my gosh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to slap that hard, I got so excited when I saw the card and..." Peter trailed off. Your mind went blank seeing him worry and care for you, and your hands stayed in the position sandwiched between Peters's.

"No no it's okay that's the game, this was just a reflex I guess," you gestured toward your hand on top of his.

"Ooooooh, Parker hit a girl Parker hit a girl," Flash chanted.

"Go away Flash," you yelled at him.

"Feisty Y/n, wow my bad. I'll just retreat to this nearby kitchen," he taunted.

Peter took your slightly red hand and held it in his rubbing slowly over the irritated skin. You were taken out of the moment when your two girl friends ran down the hall and loudly announced they were ready to go, Flash whistled and led them to the door.

"Great timing," Peter said under his breath as he put the cards away. He helped you up and offered you his arm to link in his as you walked out together, you were ready for a great night.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Flash insisted he drove over any other transportation idea. His dad had rented a SUV since his convertible was too small for the five of you. Flash spent most of his time focused on the girls rather than the road. You could tell that this was going to be a bumpy ride. Peter could sense that you were nervous as you sat up as straight as you could and gripped the edge of the seat to the point where your knuckles turned white.

Peter set his hand palm up on the center console that separated you. Without thought you quickly took his hand in yours and squeezed tightly.

"Don't let go, please," you pleaded. Peter stroked the back of your hand with his thumb which was enough to comfort you.

Peter wondered why you were so anxious about the ride, but didn't want to ask in fear of upsetting you. He snuck glances at you when you weren't looking, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. He'd never seen you like this before. He always saw you as the strong, independent individual you were.

On the other hand, you knew you looked like a baby in front of Peter which embarrassed the heck out of you. You wanted to tell him why, but thought it might just be an excuse so you stayed quiet. But at the same time, Peter hasn't been there for you as of late so you felt like you didn't need to explain yourself to him. Although, if he really cared he would've asked a long time ago.

You have had a strong history of distracted driving in your family and always got emotional whenever you saw it in person and was reminded of the memories. Specifically of your dad who was involved in an accident which led to the selling of your lake house for there was no one to care for it. Sadly, you weren't bold enough to speak up about those issues and kept to yourself.  

With the thoughts of your dad and Peter swirling around in your head, you thought to yourself how things have changed. Peter was the closest friend you had, but you realized that he actually probably doesn't know you that well. This was enough for a single tear to fall down your cheek, which led to many more tears. You turned your head towards the window to try to hide yourself, but Peter was very well aware that you were crying.

You were taken from your misery when Peter tapped your hand to show you the view. The lake was huge, and the sun reflected so bright off the water. You began to relax at the sight and then the car stopped. You turned to look at the house and your eyes went wide.

"Woah, this is so cool. This is way different than my cozy apartment," you said aloud.

"Yeah no kidding Sherlock," Flash snarks at you. You don't even listen to the two boys bicker as you were just awestruck by this mansion like house in front of you. You were used to the one story little quaint houses along the water where you were from, but this was amazing. It just looked so modern, like it was supposed to be in a movie.

You walked toward the music playing in the backyard and was greeted to the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers. The patio was converted to the dance floor for the night, and the beach area was full of laughter.

You wanted to venture inside to explore, but thought it might be rude as everyone else was outside. You heard an announcement from the DJ that a pontoon ride was leaving soon for whoever wanted to go and swim in the middle of the lake.

You were taken out of your thoughts when Flash forcefully took your arm and dragged you to where Peter and the girls were.

"Hey, stop! Let go of me!” You screeched as you pried his fingers off of you.

"Whatever you insecure little goody two-shoes," he said as he pushed you into the bush behind you. Your blood started to boil and you felt yourself charging at Flash, but before you could get your hands on him you felt a strong pair of arms hold tightly around your waist lifting you off the ground.

"Woah woah woah, Y/n calm down, you're fine!" Peter said as you resisted against his grip.

"I can't take it anymore, let me at him!” You almost screamed. Flash made faces at you claiming you were overreacting. You soon became limp in Peters arms. It wasn't worth it to fight anymore, he was way too strong. Peter turned you around so you weren't facing Flash and held you by your shoulders steadying you. Your gaze turned to the ground, ashamed at what you just did.

"Just ignore him. Hey, look at me, it's okay" Peter almost whispered taking his thumb under your chin guiding your head to look up at him.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You questioned with tears in your eyes.

"Oh come on Y/n, you know why. Let's go for a ride, maybe that'll lift your spirits."

You didn't exactly like that Peter avoided your question but nevertheless you followed him to the dock. Flash and your girl friends followed close behind down the path. You noticed that there wasn't just one pontoon, there were three. They also didn't look like pontoons, they looked like mini yachts. What is this place and who owns it, like seriously?

Peter pulled you aside so you wouldn't get trampled by the people that came out of nowhere impatiently filing onto the boats. You stayed in silence looking out to the water admiring the sun that was just about to set.

"I'm so sorry Y/n, ummm I-I have to go," Peter stammered.

"Wait why? Where are you going?" You asked.

"I'm sorry, I'll be back," Peter shouted as he ran back up towards the house. You were shocked by his sudden urge to leave, kind of angry actually. Flash shouted your name for you to get on the boat, kind of like a parent would scold a child, and you found your way to your friends, focusing on the humming of the engine taking you away from the house.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Peter watched as the boats departed from the dock. He felt incredibly guilty and selfish for leaving you, but he was convinced that he was needed elsewhere.

He frantically ran through the house, stripping off his clothes, and into the Spiderman suit. He found himself on the roof of the mansion overlooking the large body of water. He put the mask on and Karen's voice came to life.

“Good evening Peter, where are you taking me tonight?” The AI questioned.

“Yeah Peter, where are you taking me tonight? I sure hope it’s not anywhere outside of this near friendly neighborhood,” a male voice cockily calls out from behind him, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Mr. Stark... What are you doing here? Ummm I just was checking out the view,” Peter tried to play off.

“No no, you were about to do something stupid again. First off, I own this house. Second, remember last time when I took the suit away. You’re better than that,” Tony remarked.

Peter broke eye contact and looked out on the water. He could see the boats off in the distance. Peter saw a strange ripple in the water, sensing something was wrong, and quickly excused himself from Tony, and headed towards the scene.

“Hey kid, get back here!” Tony shouted feeling responsible for Peter, yet laid back at the same time letting him do his own thing. “Teenagers these days,” Tony remarked to himself as he took a sip of his drink.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Hey loser, where's your swimsuit?" Flash asked you as the boat picked up speed.

“Yeah, we're gonna jump in," one of your friends yelled over the engine. It seemed that was almost a cue for both of them to strip out of their glamorous outfits, revealing their bikinis.

"I honestly don't know why you took so long to get all dolled up, your makeup will most likely be ruined in the water," you say.

"We've got this all figured out Y/n, what a party pooper!" The other exclaims as they both turn to Flash and scoff over you.

You roll your eyes and look out on the sparkling water. You don't know why you even tried having friends and going to parties. You just wanted to fit in, but now you were just all too angry. It didn't seem fair that the people you thought cared about you, treated you like crap.

The wind started to pick up, and being close to the water, you felt a little chill go down your spine. You climbed over the back seat of the boat to sit closer to the engine. All you really wanted was Peter by your side, even though you were a little angry with him too.

You hated the mindset you were in, thinking that the world was working against you. You knew that it wasn't. You turned to look back at your so called "friends" to find them missing from where they had left you earlier. You had no time to process what came next.

"One... Two... Three... Yeah!!! Woohoo way to go Flash," one girl shouted.

In that sudden moment, you felt your spirit disconnect from your body and into total darkness. You began to sink farther and farther into the depths of the water, completely helpless.

Flash had been brilliant enough to think that pushing you off the back of the boat would be a great party trick. But instead, you had hit your head on the edge of the deck during the fall, leading you into unconsciousness as you continued to drown into the cold nothingness.

The boat sped away as you thought you were left to your doom. It felt as if you were being encompassed by warm arms and life was closing in on you, taking you to its end. Your body felt light as a feather, like you were flying through thin air taking you up and away.

You suddenly began to feel incredible pressure on your chest. Your lungs were on fire and you immediately turned over on your side and began a coughing fit as your eyes fluttered open.

You tried to sit up but it felt as if a ton of bricks were weighing you down. You were on some sort of beach, but you couldn’t see your surroundings all too well.

Someone was rubbing soft circles on your back, you then became aware that you were being cradled by them for support. You looked down to your side to see red and blue fabric surrounding you. You felt overwhelmed and confused, your heart was racing. Your mind was overloaded with confusion and curiosity. You felt your vision start to blacken, and you were yet again taken away to your unconscious state.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Peter carried you back to the house and found a bedroom on the main floor to suffice as a recovery room. He took his mask off, and set you down on the plush mattress. You looked so peaceful, but he was worried. He paced back and forth across the room, not knowing what to do to help you. He know that you were fine, that your body was just in shock, but nevertheless he quietly panicked.

He eventually convinced himself pacing wouldn’t do him any good, and found himself standing between you and the window looking out on the water.

You on the other hand had woken up moments ago. You were frozen.

“P...Peter?” You questioned to get the unfamiliar male’s attention.

“Y/n, I’m so glad you’re ok!” Peter exclaimed with too much excitement in his tone, prancing to your side. He took your hands in his and helped sit you up on the edge of the bed. You looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“You’re Spiderman?” You looked up at him.

“What do you mean? How would you come to that conclusion?” You pulled at his suit and grabbed his mask from the night stand.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you?” You said with tears overflowing your vision.

“Y/n, I couldn’t. You would’ve gotten hurt. I had to keep it a secret. I couldn’t bear to lose you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” Peter half whispered.

You couldn’t listen to it anymore. You didn’t understand why you were feeling so many things. Your blood rushing through your veins, your skin tingling, your throat burning. You never were honest with yourself until this moment, you cared immensely for Peter Parker. By hearing this, you heart was torn to shreds.

Your instinct was to stand up as fast as you could and move as far away from him as possible. At the sudden movement, you went light headed and your legs gave out on you. You kind of forgot you just underwent a slight drowning incident.

Before you could even hit the ground, Peter caught you in a swift motion bringing you to stand up straight with barely any room between the two of you. His arms around your waist, and your arms wrapped around his neck to try and balance yourself.

You heart thumped so hard you swore Peter could hear it. Your breathing quickened, and before you could even think, the space between you was closed. His lips were so soft, dancing upon yours. His touch made you feel at ease, but yet it was so electric.

The kiss was broken and you rested your head on his shoulder. You had no idea how to address what just happened or your past with him. You didn’t know how to explain.

“Peter?” Your voice was muffled by his suit.

“I love you too, Y/n. Always have.”

[prevariicator-archive]

ooc update

I haven’t really had the energy to be on recently. It isn’t even because I am swamped with work, I have reading and Japanese to self-teach (because my teacher sucks) but that’s about it. And some of that reading I can just listen to recordings of (Shakespeare). 

I’m exhausted from the heat, from the shitty way the buses are now which means that a)I’m crammed into a bus that is so full it’s practically got people squished against the doors (seriously there was a STAMPEDE of people trying to get on a bus before it got too full and there was over 50 people, dare I say close to 100, waiting for the bus) b)the bus stops at a new point on campus, and while I like this point it only works well for two of the buildings I go to out of three. The third is farther away, taking the bus that circles campus would require leaving an hour early to catch it, and even then I’d have to walk a long ways from the nearest bus stop. So I have been walking to it -that’s near 15-20 minutes across campus, with an injured ankle that shows no sign of healing, plantar fasciitis, being easily heat exhausted/susceptible to sun poisoning, and being fat does not help at all. My feet, especially the left which is the one I have both the injured ankle and the plantar fasciitis in,  are a mess. The left is in complete pain, both are sore and covered in blisters, cracked skin, and are swollen by the end of each day. Just going to the mall and shopping with my mom yesterday left me barely able to walk when we got back to my apartment. Even today, without having walked much-not even having left the apartment- my left foot especially is SCREAMING in pain. 

This semester is hell and I don’t have the ability to get a bike because what money I have left after setting money aside for rent until January and buying clothes and groceries for the next two weeks (and still needing to go buy razors and some other things that I forgot) - has to last until December. 

‘Get a job’ -I put in so many applications but no one will hire me. I can’t even begin to try most places because I have 0 transportation. Hell, my learner's permit is expiring in a month. Not that it did any good when no one would teach me to drive. 

All that, and my mother hit me with a very low blow.

 When my sister moved in the kids had to go in my room. As time passed, and my sister is still living with my parents, the kids took over my room. I have pretty much nothing in there and I don’t have a closet in the house. What I do have at home, a bookshelf of books, random items I didn’t bring with me stored in the top of a closet boxed up, my desk and a shitty bed that is way too old- is barely even mine now. I go home for holidays, the bed is claimed by my niece when I am not there. She has her own. The desk is covered in the kids shit. The bookshelf goes relatively untouched, but there are additional toys and trash. My boxes are not reachable. to even me.  So naturally, I’m frustrated already about all that. I have no privacy, I have no use of my own room, and posters have gone missing-I know it’s my niece because she doesn’t like gothy things since she started going to a real school and met bratty cliche girls at her school who want to sing Katy Perry and be little cliche girls with no individuality or taste. 

So the low blow- 

I was talking to my mom about how I refuse to renew a lease here, and if I have to -if I don’t graduate in May but I think I do- I will take time off school, get a job and get a better place to live. One where I don’t hear gun shots at night. -So I mention how I have nowhere to put my stuff. Her solution? ‘Well, if your brother is out of the house by then you can have the back room.’ 

The back room. That isn’t a room. It was a shitty add on the last people made and it looks like they gave up half way. The backdoor is there. There’s a door to the garage, a window that used to look out into the back yard but now looks into this room, there is a large empty wall space where windows used to be, the floor is uneven, the door and walls leak during storms,there is a sunlight, there is no door to separate the room, with the back door there is always people going through. 

My brother deserves something that shitty. He doesn’t help my parents out, he is verbally abusive, he makes my mom cry, he tells her he hates her, he eats all the food and buys his own and never buys to replace what he’s eaten, he can’t keep a job and where my sister pays rent-which is why she got his old room after he willingly left and didn’t come back for a few weeks until my uncle kicked him out of his house after he finally saw how much of a pathetic lump my brother is- he doesn’t pay a dime. He’s a piece of shit, a racist cunt, a manist, and Alex Jones is his personal jesus. That’s the kind of shit head he is. 

But me? I HAVE A ROOM that’s been invaded and taken over, or I thought I did. Now, I’m being told I don’t even have my own room anymore. That it is officially ‘the kids’. And my brother leaving will NEVER happen. He’s too much of a fucking mess and I really think he needs to be mentally evaluated but my parents won't hear of it and are tired of everyone complaining about him, tired of dealing with him, they gave up and yet still try with him, and it is horrible because every time they upset him he pulls the ‘I’m going to kill myself’ card. 

Basically, I’ve been slapped in the face with ‘You don’t fit in at home because there isn’t any room’ and ‘You need to get a job as soon as you’re back so you can get your own place’ -which, I mean, that is ideal, but how is it fair that I’ve done everything they wanted me to, to try and finish school when they know I despise it, suffered because of it and my own depressions and suicidal thoughts, suffered loneliness because I have no friends at school and I am unable to make any, wasted my entire life doing shit I don’t like and that isn’t effective in teaching me anything based on the way the teachers teach?

I have wasted my entire life on school. I’ve never been able to do anything else because I’ve always been focused on school. As a kid I would have to sit up for HOURS trying to finish homework I didn’t understand, crying myself to sleep out of frustration and self-loathing, that habit never ended, I never got to do extra curricular classes because of the few years I didn’t go to a real school and was lied to about credits at a fake school, I wanted to be in theater or choir but instead had to take classes to take multiple classes throughout my high school years to get just enough credits to graduate on time, I had summer school, I had to leave my art class to study in a ‘Taks’ preparation class because I kept failing math, even in community college I took the same class like 3 times because I just don’t understand numbers. All this while having the basic pressures of life, body image issues, social awkwardness, a failure to connect to almost everyone I met that was my own age, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harming, and being bullied relentlessly. 

I’m not as bad now- but I still get upset and cry myself to sleep or wish I’d drown somehow when feeling really low. (And yet freak out if water gets too far up my face when soaking in a bath) 

I did all this, and I’m basically told in subtle ways, even if not intentional, that I am a burden my family can’t afford or have, not even to let me get my own room back.  

I know my family is struggling badly, and I want to help, and I know they love me, but I don’t feel like I belong anymore. I feel like an outsider. Someone that is too burdensome to exist because it troubles everyone when I am around, and even when I’m not because my mom buys my groceries (except this week, I bought them and everything else I needed with Pell Grant money) 

If anything, I just want a place to exist and belong and people who accept me. Friends. Face to face friends. Online friends are fine, but it isn’t the human contact you need. Hell, I haven’t had a real date since 2009, and my last relationship, an online one, died two years ago. 

I think I’m hopeless. I’ve struggled to make friends all my life, love confuses me and I know I’m a terrible girlfriend because I get clingy and too focused on the person I’m dating and lose myself in them, even take verbal abuse from them-and in the case of my first ex, let molestation happen.  But through all this, you’d think the one place you have is home, with family, but when it’s apparent that you don’t have that either...where do you go from there? 

My moving back in is just going to cause more problems for my parents. I have nowhere to fit in in the house, and everyone makes me feel like I don’t belong there when I do go home for visits. 

If I don’t belong, and no one else is budging, I guess it’s time for me to try and decide what to do for myself. Of course, there’s really nothing I can do since I’m broke, unemployed, and my major in creative writing is fucking useless. 

[travelguy4444]

The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell

Posted: 4/4/2019 | April 4th, 2019

A few years ago, I read the book The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell. I think it originally came up as a suggested book on Amazon. I can’t fully remember. But, I stuck it in my queue, ordered it, and it sat on my bookshelf until it was time to read it. I couldn’t put it down. It was funny, well written, interesting, and an insightful look into Danish culture. It was one of my favorite books I read that year.

Last year, I somehow convinced Helen to speak at TravelCon and got to meet her in person. Now, she has a new book out called The Atlas of Happiness. It’s about why people in certain places are happier than others. It’s a phenomenal book (you should get it). Today, Helen shares some of what she learned in researching that book!

Here’s a funny thing: if you’ve been online today for more than a fraction of a second, you may have started to get the sense that the world is A Terrible Place. Even the committed traveler with an open mind could be forgiven for thinking that the outlook is pretty bleak.

And if you’ve seen the headlines today or been on social media and you’re feeling low as a result, you’re not alone.

It’s easy to get the idea that the world is becoming more miserable by the minute and that happiness is a luxury in these troubled times.

But over the past six years, I’ve learned that there are people all around the world finding ways to stay happy, every day. And that happiness is something we’re hardwired to seek out – wherever we are.

I started researching happiness in 2013 when I relocated from the UK to Denmark. I’d spent 12 years living and working in London as a journalist, and I had no intention of leaving, until out of the blue one wet Wednesday, my husband came home and told me he’d been offered his dream job…working for Lego in rural Jutland. I was skeptical to start with — I had a good career, a nice flat, great friends, close family — I had a life.

Okay, so my husband and I both worked long hours, we were tired all the time, and never seemed to be able to see each other very much. We regularly had to bribe ourselves to get through the day and we’d both been ill on and off for the past six months.

But that was normal, right?

We thought we were ‘living the dream.’ I was 33 years old and we’d also been trying for a baby for as long as either of us could remember, enduring years of fertility treatment, but we were always so stressed that it never quite happened.

So when my husband was offered a job in Denmark, this ‘other life’ possibility was dangled in front of us — the chance to swap everything we knew for the unknown. Denmark had just been voted the world’s happiest country in the UN’s annual report and I became fascinated by this. How had a tiny country of just 5.5m people managed to pull off the happiest nation on earth title? Was there something in the water? And if we couldn’t get happier in Denmark, where could we get happier?

During our first visit, we noticed that there was something a bit different about the Danes we met. They didn’t look like us, for starters — quite apart from the fact that they were all strapping Vikings towering over my 5’3” frame — they looked more relaxed and healthier. They walked more slowly. They took their time to stop and eat together, or talk, or just…breathe.

And we were impressed.

My Lego Man husband was sold on the idea and begged me to move, promising we’d relocate for my career next time. And I was so worn out by my hectic London life that I found myself agreeing. I quit my job to go freelance and decided I would give it a year, investigating the Danish happiness phenomenon first hand — looking at a different area of living each month to find out what Danes did differently.

From food to family life; work culture to working out; and design to the Danish welfare state — each month I would throw myself into living ‘Danishly’ to see if it made me any happier and if I could change the way I lived as a result. I decided I would interview as many Danes, expats, psychologists, scientists, economists, historians, sociologists, politicians, everyone, in fact, to try to uncover the secrets to living Danishly.

I documented my experiences for two UK newspapers before being asked to write a book: The Year of Living Danishly, Uncovering the Secrets of the World’s Happiest Country.

Since then, I’ve been humbled and moved to hear from readers from across the globe with wide-ranging life perspectives, but the one constant was a need to share the happiness secrets of their own cultures. Some of the themes that sprung out were universal — such as social interactions, exercising out of doors and finding a balance in life — while others were intriguingly unique.

So I set out to research into unique happiness concepts from around the world, interviewing people internationally until The Atlas of Happiness — my new book-baby — was born. It isn’t a compendium of the happiest countries; instead, it’s a look at what’s making people happier in different places. Because if we only look at the countries already coming top of the happiness polls, we miss out on ideas and knowledge from cultures we’re less familiar with.

Nowhere is perfect. Every country has faults. But I wanted to celebrate the best parts of a country’s culture as well as national characteristics at their finest – because that’s what we should all be aiming for.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Did you know, for example, that in Portuguese there’s something called saudade — a feeling of longing, melancholy, and nostalgia for a happiness that once was — or even a happiness you merely hoped for?

And while Brazil may be famous for its carnival spirit, the flipside of this, saudade, is so central to the Brazilian psyche that it’s even been given its own official ‘day’ on the 30th of January every year.

Most of us will have experienced a bittersweet pleasure in moments of melancholy — flicking through old photos, or caring about anyone enough to miss them when they’re gone.

And scientists have found that this temporary sadness — counter-intuitively — makes us happier: providing catharsis; improving our attention to detail; increasing perseverance and promoting generosity. So we should all spend time remembering those we’ve loved and lost — then practice being a little more grateful for the ones still around.

Finland ranked number one in this year’s UN World Happiness report thanks to a great quality of life, free healthcare, and education funded by high taxes.

But there’s also something else the Finns enjoy that’s infinitely more exportable: kalsarikännit — defined as ‘drinking at home in your underwear with no intention of going out’ — a pursuit so popular it even has its own emoji, commissioned by The Finnish Foreign Ministry.

In common with most Scandinavians, Finns aren’t shy about disrobing, and they all have such enviably well-insulated houses that stripping down to their pants is apparently completely okay even when it’s minus 35 degrees outside. What you drink and crucially how much of it you knock back is down to the individual, but it’s a uniquely Finnish form of happiness and mode of relaxation that we can all give a go.

In Greece, they have a concept called meraki that refers to an introspective, precise expression of care, usually applied to a cherished pastime — and it’s keeping Greeks happy despite turbulent times. This is because having a hobby improves our quality of life according to scientists, and challenging ourselves to do something different also creates new neural pathways in our brain. Having a passion that you take pride can be of extra benefit to those who can’t say the same for their primary occupation.

Because meraki can make life worthwhile if your 9-5 is more of a daily grind. Many tasks that need to be taken care of on a day-to-day basis aren’t particularly challenging or inspiring – from filing, to raising purchase orders or even — dare I say it — some of the more gruelling aspects of parenting.

But we can break up the never-ending cycle of mundane work with our own personal challenges — things that we’re passionate about that we can genuinely look forward to doing. Our meraki.

Dolce far niente — or the sweetness of doing nothing — is a much-treasured concept in Italy — often hashtagged on Instagram accompanying pictures of Italians in hammocks. Okay, so Italy hasn’t exactly topped any happiness rankings in recent years, but the cliché of the carefree Italian still exists – and with good reason.

Italians do ‘nothing’ like no other nation and perfecting the art takes style and skill – because there’s more to it than meets the eye. It’s watching the world go by over coffee and a cornetto. It’s laughing at tourists. Or politicians. And crucially it’s about savoring the moment and really enjoying the present. Many of us search for relaxation by traveling to exotic locations, drinking to oblivion, or trying to blot out the noise of modern life.

But Italians let the chaos wash over them. Instead of saving up our ‘fun quota’ for an annual escape, they spread it over the minutes, hours and days throughout the year and ‘enjoy life’ in all its messy reality.

One of the happiest countries in the world, the Norwegians must be doing something right. And quite aside from their enviable Scandi-lifestyles and the safety net of all that oil, Norwegians have a secret ace card up their sleeves: a concept called friluftsliv. This roughly translates as ‘free air life’ and it’s a code of conduct as well as a life goal for most Norwegians – who like to spend time outdoors and get high, as often as possible.

Anyone who’s ever visited the country will know that if you meet a Norwegian out in nature, their objective tends to be the highest mountain nearby – and there’s a saying in Norway that “You must make an effort before you can have pleasure’.

Most Norwegians believe you have to work for things, to earn them with physical endeavors, battling the elements. Only once you’ve climbed a mountain in the rain and cold, can you truly enjoy your dinner. It’s an old fashioned approach to the good life but numerous studies show that using our bodies and getting out into nature as often as possible boosts mental and physical wellbeing.

Which is all very well, on paper. But how to apply these principles and all the things I’d learned in real life? Well, I took it slowly — dolce far niente style. I had to learn not to be the archetypal Londoner, working all hours. Instead, I had to try relaxing once in a while.

Radical, I know.

Next, I got on the hobby train. I found my meraki in pottery, in cooking and trying out new recipes, often inspired by the countries I was researching. Some weeks, we ate well. Others, not so much (my husband still hasn’t forgiven me for ‘Russian month’). I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve done a fair amount of underwear-drinking, too.

The Finnish concept of kalsarikännit and I are now firm friends. And because I was working less and being more mindful of living well and looking after myself, it was relatively easy to adopt the Norwegian ethos of friluftsliv.

So now I try to ask myself: what did I do today? What did I climb? Where did I go? But the biggest mind shift was the realization that to be happy, we have to be comfortable being sad sometimes, too. That we’re at our healthiest and happiest when we can reconcile ourselves to all our emotions, good and bad.

The Portuguese saudade was a game changer for me — helping me to come to terms with the life I thought I’d have and find a way to move on, without resentment or bitterness. Because when you let go of these things, something pretty amazing can happen.

By learning from other cultures about happiness, wellbeing and how to stay healthy (and sane), I found a way to be less stressed than I was in my old life. I developed a better understanding of the challenges and subtleties of coming from another culture. My empathy levels went up. I learned to care, more.

Optimism isn’t frivolous: it’s necessary. You’re travelers. You get this. But we need to spread the word, now, more than ever. Because we only have one world, so it would be really great if we didn’t mess it up.

Hellen Russell is a British journalist, speaker, and the author of the international bestseller The Year of Living Danishly. Her most recent book, The Atlas of Happiness, examines the cultural habits and traditions of happiness around the globe. Formerly the editor of marieclaire.co.uk, she now writes for magazines and newspapers around the world, including Stylist, The Times, Grazia, Metro, and The i Newspaper.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and cheap hotels. I use them all the time.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those over 70)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all the ones I use to save money when I travel – and that will save you time and money too!

The post The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

source https://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-blogs/atlas-of-happiness/

[vidovicart]

The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell

Posted: 4/4/2019 | April 4th, 2019

A few years ago, I read the book The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell. I think it originally came up as a suggested book on Amazon. I can’t fully remember. But, I stuck it in my queue, ordered it, and it sat on my bookshelf until it was time to read it. I couldn’t put it down. It was funny, well written, interesting, and an insightful look into Danish culture. It was one of my favorite books I read that year.

Last year, I somehow convinced Helen to speak at TravelCon and got to meet her in person. Now, she has a new book out called The Atlas of Happiness. It’s about why people in certain places are happier than others. It’s a phenomenal book (you should get it). Today, Helen shares some of what she learned in researching that book!

Here’s a funny thing: if you’ve been online today for more than a fraction of a second, you may have started to get the sense that the world is A Terrible Place. Even the committed traveler with an open mind could be forgiven for thinking that the outlook is pretty bleak.

And if you’ve seen the headlines today or been on social media and you’re feeling low as a result, you’re not alone.

It’s easy to get the idea that the world is becoming more miserable by the minute and that happiness is a luxury in these troubled times.

But over the past six years, I’ve learned that there are people all around the world finding ways to stay happy, every day. And that happiness is something we’re hardwired to seek out – wherever we are.

I started researching happiness in 2013 when I relocated from the UK to Denmark. I’d spent 12 years living and working in London as a journalist, and I had no intention of leaving, until out of the blue one wet Wednesday, my husband came home and told me he’d been offered his dream job…working for Lego in rural Jutland. I was skeptical to start with — I had a good career, a nice flat, great friends, close family — I had a life.

Okay, so my husband and I both worked long hours, we were tired all the time, and never seemed to be able to see each other very much. We regularly had to bribe ourselves to get through the day and we’d both been ill on and off for the past six months.

But that was normal, right?

We thought we were ‘living the dream.’ I was 33 years old and we’d also been trying for a baby for as long as either of us could remember, enduring years of fertility treatment, but we were always so stressed that it never quite happened.

So when my husband was offered a job in Denmark, this ‘other life’ possibility was dangled in front of us — the chance to swap everything we knew for the unknown. Denmark had just been voted the world’s happiest country in the UN’s annual report and I became fascinated by this. How had a tiny country of just 5.5m people managed to pull off the happiest nation on earth title? Was there something in the water? And if we couldn’t get happier in Denmark, where could we get happier?

During our first visit, we noticed that there was something a bit different about the Danes we met. They didn’t look like us, for starters — quite apart from the fact that they were all strapping Vikings towering over my 5’3” frame — they looked more relaxed and healthier. They walked more slowly. They took their time to stop and eat together, or talk, or just…breathe.

And we were impressed.

My Lego Man husband was sold on the idea and begged me to move, promising we’d relocate for my career next time. And I was so worn out by my hectic London life that I found myself agreeing. I quit my job to go freelance and decided I would give it a year, investigating the Danish happiness phenomenon first hand — looking at a different area of living each month to find out what Danes did differently.

From food to family life; work culture to working out; and design to the Danish welfare state — each month I would throw myself into living ‘Danishly’ to see if it made me any happier and if I could change the way I lived as a result. I decided I would interview as many Danes, expats, psychologists, scientists, economists, historians, sociologists, politicians, everyone, in fact, to try to uncover the secrets to living Danishly.

I documented my experiences for two UK newspapers before being asked to write a book: The Year of Living Danishly, Uncovering the Secrets of the World’s Happiest Country.

Since then, I’ve been humbled and moved to hear from readers from across the globe with wide-ranging life perspectives, but the one constant was a need to share the happiness secrets of their own cultures. Some of the themes that sprung out were universal — such as social interactions, exercising out of doors and finding a balance in life — while others were intriguingly unique.

So I set out to research into unique happiness concepts from around the world, interviewing people internationally until The Atlas of Happiness — my new book-baby — was born. It isn’t a compendium of the happiest countries; instead, it’s a look at what’s making people happier in different places. Because if we only look at the countries already coming top of the happiness polls, we miss out on ideas and knowledge from cultures we’re less familiar with.

Nowhere is perfect. Every country has faults. But I wanted to celebrate the best parts of a country’s culture as well as national characteristics at their finest – because that’s what we should all be aiming for.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Did you know, for example, that in Portuguese there’s something called saudade — a feeling of longing, melancholy, and nostalgia for a happiness that once was — or even a happiness you merely hoped for?

And while Brazil may be famous for its carnival spirit, the flipside of this, saudade, is so central to the Brazilian psyche that it’s even been given its own official ‘day’ on the 30th of January every year.

Most of us will have experienced a bittersweet pleasure in moments of melancholy — flicking through old photos, or caring about anyone enough to miss them when they’re gone.

And scientists have found that this temporary sadness — counter-intuitively — makes us happier: providing catharsis; improving our attention to detail; increasing perseverance and promoting generosity. So we should all spend time remembering those we’ve loved and lost — then practice being a little more grateful for the ones still around.

Finland ranked number one in this year’s UN World Happiness report thanks to a great quality of life, free healthcare, and education funded by high taxes.

But there’s also something else the Finns enjoy that’s infinitely more exportable: kalsarikännit — defined as ‘drinking at home in your underwear with no intention of going out’ — a pursuit so popular it even has its own emoji, commissioned by The Finnish Foreign Ministry.

In common with most Scandinavians, Finns aren’t shy about disrobing, and they all have such enviably well-insulated houses that stripping down to their pants is apparently completely okay even when it’s minus 35 degrees outside. What you drink and crucially how much of it you knock back is down to the individual, but it’s a uniquely Finnish form of happiness and mode of relaxation that we can all give a go.

In Greece, they have a concept called meraki that refers to an introspective, precise expression of care, usually applied to a cherished pastime — and it’s keeping Greeks happy despite turbulent times. This is because having a hobby improves our quality of life according to scientists, and challenging ourselves to do something different also creates new neural pathways in our brain. Having a passion that you take pride can be of extra benefit to those who can’t say the same for their primary occupation.

Because meraki can make life worthwhile if your 9-5 is more of a daily grind. Many tasks that need to be taken care of on a day-to-day basis aren’t particularly challenging or inspiring – from filing, to raising purchase orders or even — dare I say it — some of the more gruelling aspects of parenting.

But we can break up the never-ending cycle of mundane work with our own personal challenges — things that we’re passionate about that we can genuinely look forward to doing. Our meraki.

Dolce far niente — or the sweetness of doing nothing — is a much-treasured concept in Italy — often hashtagged on Instagram accompanying pictures of Italians in hammocks. Okay, so Italy hasn’t exactly topped any happiness rankings in recent years, but the cliché of the carefree Italian still exists – and with good reason.

Italians do ‘nothing’ like no other nation and perfecting the art takes style and skill – because there’s more to it than meets the eye. It’s watching the world go by over coffee and a cornetto. It’s laughing at tourists. Or politicians. And crucially it’s about savoring the moment and really enjoying the present. Many of us search for relaxation by traveling to exotic locations, drinking to oblivion, or trying to blot out the noise of modern life.

But Italians let the chaos wash over them. Instead of saving up our ‘fun quota’ for an annual escape, they spread it over the minutes, hours and days throughout the year and ‘enjoy life’ in all its messy reality.

One of the happiest countries in the world, the Norwegians must be doing something right. And quite aside from their enviable Scandi-lifestyles and the safety net of all that oil, Norwegians have a secret ace card up their sleeves: a concept called friluftsliv. This roughly translates as ‘free air life’ and it’s a code of conduct as well as a life goal for most Norwegians – who like to spend time outdoors and get high, as often as possible.

Anyone who’s ever visited the country will know that if you meet a Norwegian out in nature, their objective tends to be the highest mountain nearby – and there’s a saying in Norway that “You must make an effort before you can have pleasure’.

Most Norwegians believe you have to work for things, to earn them with physical endeavors, battling the elements. Only once you’ve climbed a mountain in the rain and cold, can you truly enjoy your dinner. It’s an old fashioned approach to the good life but numerous studies show that using our bodies and getting out into nature as often as possible boosts mental and physical wellbeing.

Which is all very well, on paper. But how to apply these principles and all the things I’d learned in real life? Well, I took it slowly — dolce far niente style. I had to learn not to be the archetypal Londoner, working all hours. Instead, I had to try relaxing once in a while.

Radical, I know.

Next, I got on the hobby train. I found my meraki in pottery, in cooking and trying out new recipes, often inspired by the countries I was researching. Some weeks, we ate well. Others, not so much (my husband still hasn’t forgiven me for ‘Russian month’). I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve done a fair amount of underwear-drinking, too.

The Finnish concept of kalsarikännit and I are now firm friends. And because I was working less and being more mindful of living well and looking after myself, it was relatively easy to adopt the Norwegian ethos of friluftsliv.

So now I try to ask myself: what did I do today? What did I climb? Where did I go? But the biggest mind shift was the realization that to be happy, we have to be comfortable being sad sometimes, too. That we’re at our healthiest and happiest when we can reconcile ourselves to all our emotions, good and bad.

The Portuguese saudade was a game changer for me — helping me to come to terms with the life I thought I’d have and find a way to move on, without resentment or bitterness. Because when you let go of these things, something pretty amazing can happen.

By learning from other cultures about happiness, wellbeing and how to stay healthy (and sane), I found a way to be less stressed than I was in my old life. I developed a better understanding of the challenges and subtleties of coming from another culture. My empathy levels went up. I learned to care, more.

Optimism isn’t frivolous: it’s necessary. You’re travelers. You get this. But we need to spread the word, now, more than ever. Because we only have one world, so it would be really great if we didn’t mess it up.

Hellen Russell is a British journalist, speaker, and the author of the international bestseller The Year of Living Danishly. Her most recent book, The Atlas of Happiness, examines the cultural habits and traditions of happiness around the globe. Formerly the editor of marieclaire.co.uk, she now writes for magazines and newspapers around the world, including Stylist, The Times, Grazia, Metro, and The i Newspaper.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and cheap hotels. I use them all the time.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those over 70)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all the ones I use to save money when I travel – and that will save you time and money too!

The post The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.