#what if their car broke down so they walked to this church to use their phone

[folks-just-call-me-orange-joe]

Fuck you I Brad and Janetted them

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Say your prayers little girl

Vampire Priest Joel Miller x f!stripper reader

Warnings: Dark fic/Dead Dove, non/dubcon (non bc he uses his powers on her taking away her consent but she does want it), religious theme, p in v (wrap ya dick kids), vampirism, blood, neck biting, mentions of sex work, oral (f receiving), dark fluff?? (The ending ended up softer than I intended), squirting, I believe that’s it!

Summary: Working in the adult industry tends to leave a bad taste in people’s mouth when they find out about your job. Growing up the church has been the only place you’ve been able to find solace and that’s where you seek solace now.

A/n: So I have no experience fucking vampiric priests but I do have religious trauma and a deep seeded need to fuck creatures of the night. Lightly edited, not beta’d, all mistakes are mine! Enjoy!(:

(Mood board made by moi 😇)

Living in LA is nothing like you imagined. Growing up in the Midwest, you moved out here for a fresh start with the hopes and dreams of becoming a movie star. Those hopes and dreams were dashed rather quickly when you struggled to find acting jobs and instead had to resort to working at a high end gentleman’s club. If you were being honest you did enjoy working at the club. You liked the attention, you liked the other dancers but most of all the money. However outside of the club it seemed as though everyone knew what you did for a living and despised you for it. Never in your life have you felt so judged by every passing face. You purposely wear an extra large hoodie with the hood up and sweat pants on just to go to the grocery store.

After working at the club for a few months, one night, around 3am, you were just getting off work. It was a chilly early Sunday morning, the streets covered in fog. Normally you drive to and from work but this particular night you didn’t have your car since it broke down on you a few nights ago. Walking the few blocks to your apartment you just happened to glance down the street you were crossing and saw a church sitting on the corner. Having only lived in the area for a few months, you hadn’t really explored it. Noticing the church doors were open, you decided to walk down to the church and take a peek inside. You grew up in the church. Your family went every sunday, your mom was the Sunday school teacher and your father and brothers regularly volunteered to help be alter boys or set up for fundraisers or whatever else the church needed. You always struggled with what they taught and stood for. If God is the one and only that you should worship why are we praying to all of these patron saints? If God answers prayers why isn’t he answering the prayers of those starving? Of those that are abused or dying from illness? Why does Debra from Mississippi who is judgmental and mean to others get her prayers of a fancy new car get answered but not little Susie who prays she gets taken away from her abusive father? At a rather young age, you struggled immensely with your faith and beliefs but you always found the church to be a place of comfort.

Approaching the front doors you notice some lights were on and someone was playing the organ. You slowly walked up the steps and went through the doors. As you walked in, there were pews on either side, a few random stragglers scattered all over and in front was an alter of Mary surrounded by lit candles and flowers laid at her feet. You passed the first two pews, choosing to stand in the back and just observe. You could hear someone quietly crying and sniffling, a couple of others whispering the rosary and before you know it you can hear soft footsteps behind you.

The sound of a man clearing his throat comes from behind you, making you jump and turn around.

“Well hello there. And who might you be?” says the priest with a smile.

Putting your hand over your fast beating heart, “Oh hi I’m so sorry Father. I saw the doors were open and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve always found comfort in the church.” You tell him as you introduce yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you sweetheart, I’m Father Joel. Unfortunately we are about to close for the day. You see we like to keep rather strange hours for those who seek out the lord when others are usually in bed. But we will open back up at 10 o’clock tonight if you would like to come back.” He says sweetly as he touches your arm. You can’t help but have this overwhelming feeling of calm. You feel safe and wanted? Your not sure if wanted is the right word but it’s the closest to what you feel. The two of you smile at each other as the priest lifts open his other arm as a guide for you to go back out the doors you entered. You cast your eyes down as you walk back out into the early morning fog. Before you go to step down you turn back around only to be greeted by closed doors.

Hmm that’s weird. You didn’t hear the doors shut. In fact you didn’t hear anything nor did you see the other people leave. Confused as to what just happened you continue on your way back home.

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It’s been six months since you first discovered the church. You try to go as often as you can finding comfort not only in the church but with Father Joel as well. It didn’t take long for him to catch on to what you did for a living. But he never made you feel bad for it. In fact he seemed to be proud of you. One night you were on stage at work and you swore you saw his face in the crowd. That same night you found an envelope in your locker stuffed with money. Five thousand dollars to be exact. But today you decided to take the night off and go spend time at the church. The real reason why you liked to spend so much time there was Father Joel. You couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He had these beautiful brown eyes, fluffy curls on top of his head, the sweetest smile he seemed to save just for you. Oh and his smell! He had this scent to him, a clean yet woodsy scent that never failed to travel from your nose directly to your cunt. Ever since you’ve met him, you’ve been having these dreams of Father Joel. In these dreams you usually run into him in random places, sometimes it’s your house other times it’s a trail in a park you find yourself walking on. But every time he always gives you this look, a rather creepy smile and his eyes change color making him look evil before he dips his head down and kisses your throat. Always leaving kisses on your throat, kissing up your neck, nibbling on your ear sending the most delicious chills up your spine. You always feel this mix of being scared of him and also needing him so bad you might explode if he doesn’t touch you. Most of the dreams are just that. Running into Father Joel, him kissing your throat and neck and then you wake up. However lately the dreams have gone further. He’s started kissing your lips, you swear it feels as though he is actually pushing his tongue into your mouth and he’ll undress you leaving you naked and vulnerable. All for him he’d say as his eyes scan your body much like a predator would size up its prey. In your dream last night it was the same thing except this time after Father Joel undressed you he pulled his cock out, turned you around and pushed his cock in in one thrust. It felt so real you almost forgot it was a dream. He thrusted only a few times before you woke up only to be laying on a wet spot. As you jumped up off the bed, you gave it a quick sniff to make sure you didn’t pee. And sure enough it wasn’t pee. You must have been so turned on from your dream that your juices leaked out of your panties and left a little spot on your sheets.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

It’s already 11 o’clock at night when you make your way to the church. Wearing your favorite black dress with cap sleeves that hang off the shoulder and the bottom hits a little above your knees, you already feel better as you come into view of your sanctuary. Walking right in you immediately run into Father Joel hitting him square in the chest.

“Woah there little one. Not so fast now” he chuckles as he helps you straighten yourself back up. His hands holding your biceps as he stills and just stares at you.

“Father Joel I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You say breathlessly with a chuckle. Your smile almost wiped clean off your face when you see the way he’s looking at you. His eyes. . .

Almost in a flash his eyes go back to their normal brown shade and he smiles at you again.

“You look beautiful tonight. Go on go find a seat in the front row. I’ll be in there soon.” Father Joel tells you. As if by magic you quickly walk to the front pew and sit down. You body moved automatically as if you had no say in your body at all.

Folding your hands in your lap, you look straight ahead at the alter of Mary. Her statue looks as if she’s looking down at you with a soft,caring look on her face. A look that’s almost as if she feels sorry for you.

Soon enough you feel Father Joel’s presence next to you. However you’re stuck. Frantically moving your eyes all around, You realize you can’t move your neck or your arms or any part of your body. Starting to feel scared, your stuck sitting down, facing forward with your hands in your lap. That’s when you feel Father Joel’s hand land on your thigh.

“You know sweetheart it’s not appropriate to wear pretty little dresses like this to church.” Comes his husky low voice whispering in your ear, “especially at night all alone.” His hand starts to slowly move up your thigh, pushing your dress up.

Gasping as if you’re just now able to catch your breath, you can feel your body and your able to move again. You barely move your head to the left when you felt his face on yours. His nose brushes your cheek and you can feel his warm breath on your face. His lips almost touching your cheek.

“You never know who or what you’ll run into sweetheart.” He says as he continues to push up your dress, his thumb rubbing your thigh. Soon your dress is pushed all the way up, exposing your black panties underneath.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says tsking, “you’re wet. Don’t you know lust is a sin baby?” Father Joel said in a very low, hushed tone. He took his finger and rubbed up your clothed slit making you notice the wet spot on your panties.

Sucking his teeth he makes a disappointing noise,

“F-fa-father Joel w-what are you doing? I- we we can’t do this! Y-you’re a priest.” You hurriedly whispered to him. In your head you wanted him to touch you, you wanted your dreams to come true but you also knew he took vows as a priest. There was no way he could ever have relations with you. Not in the way you wanted.

“Oh sweetheart don’t be so naive,” he says as he nips at your neck, “I never said I was a good man. I never said I was a man at all.”

Terrified at the last thing he just said, you turn to face him and that’s when you see his pupils have gone black and his lips pushed back, exposing fangs.

You gasp, eyes go wide as you take in the sight of a man you thought you knew.

“Now get on your knees and pray.” He demands.

Your body obeys his demands as you sink to your knees and you bend forward, resting on your forearms, clasping your hands together as your bow your head in prayer.

You happen to glance up at the statue of Mary and she’s crying tears of blood! The flames of the candles seem to be flickering even higher and you notice there’s no other noise, no music, no murmurs. You feel Father Joel kneel behind you, his big hands gripping your hips and bringing your ass to meet his crotch.

“Mm you’re such a good, obedient little one,” Joel croons as he grabs your hair and pulls you up so your back is touching his chest, “Don’t worry baby you’ll like this next part.” Smirking, he whispers in your ear before opening his mouth and biting down on your neck just below your ear.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, the searing pain you feel from the bite. Tears start to fall down your face, you’ve never felt a worse pain than this. The pain seems to get worse, you can feel him sucking the area he just bit. All too soon you feel your energy drain.

Licking his lips, “Mm you have the sweetest taste my little one. You’re mine now. Your blood is mine, your body is mine.” He says in a hushed tone as he begins to lick your wound, laying chaste kisses on and around it as he goes. As weak as you are, you can’t help but feel these licks and kisses, it’s almost as if they’re in high definition. In fact all your senses feel sharper, more defined. Joel brings his wrist up to his mouth slicing open his wrist on a fang.

“Open wide my little one, I need you to drink the body and blood of your savior.” Joel says as he lifts his bleeding wrist to your open mouth. You suddenly find yourself extremely thirsty, your throat burning. When he offers his wrist, you suck down every drop greedily.

“Mm ooohh yes just like that baby drink every drop.” He moans out loud. Hearing him moan as you drink from him turns you on. Makes you want to do more to cause him to make those sounds.

Your face is covered in blood just like Father Joel’s as he pulls his wrist from your mouth and shoves your head down, forcing you back into a bow.

"Give your body to me now, let your savior in little one." Joel grunts out as he let's go of the back of your head and reaches down to pull your panties down. They drop around your knees, your hands go to clasp in prayer again as you feel him pull his cock out and rub it up and down your soaked folds.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, my cunt craves your cock Father. Please fuck me. Use my body, it's yours." You confess to him. This man, this creature, whoever and whatever he is; you want him. Your very soul now craves him.

Grunting, Joel slowly dips the head of his cock in your entrance, just barely giving you the tip before he pulls back and dips back in, giving you a little at a time. After a few teases, he pulls out and thrusts his cock in in one swift motion, filling you like no one has ever filled you. He begins to pump his cock in and out, you can feel your walls stretching just to try and accommodate his length.

"Ooohhgg nnggg yes father!! Oh fuck me! Fuck my cunt father!" You moan loudly, without a care in the world, "My body is yours! All yours! Fuck your cunt Father!" You scream out as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

Hearing you declare yourself to him has Joel ready to bust. He's been watching you this entire time. From the very first meeting that he orchestrated, he knew you'd be so sweet and everything he wants and needs. He first saw you walking into the club, you looked too young and innocent to be a dancer. He immediately tapped into your thoughts and was able to discover everything he needed to know. Like how you're new to the area and very much alone and how you struggle with your faith in God but find comfort in the church. That gave him the idea to set up a trap just for you. See Joel owned this house on the corner. It's one of many, and this particular one, he decided to decorate it like a church. One day, he just happened to walk by your apartment and saw your car parked out front. Good thing he happened to be there because your car was leaking fluids, and Joel just happened to have a knife on him and he cut your fluid lines. It took you a couple of days but eventually, you stumbled upon his church and now he has you right where he wants you.

Joel continues to pound into you over and over, spearing you on his cock. The head kisses your cervix, making you scream out in pleasure. You can’t help but fuck yourself back on his cock. Pushing back on him almost as hard as he’s pushing into you. You feel yourself getting so close, never having felt a cock fuck you so good you came from penetration alone. You just need a little bit of attention to your clit.

“Fuck that’s it baby just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock. Nngh ooh oh fuck”

You feel Father Joel’s thrusts start to stutter, after a few more thrusts you can feel his dick pulse inside you, coating your walls with his thick load. You let out a whine as you feel him pull out. You were so close to coming, if only you could’ve touched yourself a little bit you would’ve came but he finished before you got a chance.

Joel pulls out and holds your pussy lips open with his thumbs as he admires his cum slowly pushing out of your entrance.

Hearing your whine Joel grabs your hips and helps roll you on your back. Once your completely on your back, he opens your legs, pushing your knees back up in your chest,

“Oh you poor thing. You didn’t get to cum yet did you? You just let me use this pretty little cunt huh? Don’t worry sweetheart it’s my turn to worship your heavenly body at the alter I built just for you.” Joel says to your sore pussy. Looking down at Father Joel, watching him stare at your cunt has you whimpering as he lowers his face and licks a wide stripe up your slit. Holding your legs up and he keeps his hands on the backs of your thighs, you can’t help but gush even more as he begins to suck on your clit as though it’s the most delicious piece of hard candy he’s ever tasted. You feel your high begin to build again in no time.

Joel can’t help but moan into your pussy. The taste of you and him combined is the sweetest nectar he has had the pleasure of experiencing. He starts to swirl his tongue around your clit while simultaneously sucking on it making you squirm around. His grip on your thighs tightens as he continues to feast from your body.

“Ooh oh fuck right there! Right there! Oh fuck! Yessss!” You scream out loud as you hit the hardest orgasm you’ve ever received. You pussy gushes so hard you actually squirt, watching it hit Joel in the face. He has a look of intense hunger as he opens his mouth to collect every drop.

Joel’s mouth leaves your body as you continue to lay there with legs shaking. He slowly lifts up and looks at you with a devilish grin.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up my love. There’s a lot I have to teach you and show you now that you’re mine.” Joel says as he pulls your panties up. Finally starting to get your wits about you, you realize your covered in blood. So is he. Joel goes to stand to fix himself when he rips the white collar out,

“Don’t need this anymore” he chuckles as he throws it to the side. He reaches back down, placing an arm under your back and the other arm under your legs and picking you up like a baby, cradling you to his body.

Glancing around the empty church, “Father Joel what happened to the other people who were in here?” You ask.

“ Just Joel baby. You can call me Joel. And they were all an illusion my love. Merely a figment of your imagination. I had to make this church believable for you sweetheart. If I kept it empty you would’ve been suspicious. I couldn’t have that now could I?” He replies.

Despite all of the red flags that have been going off, you are perfectly content. Happy to be in his arms as he walks out the doors and down the steps to a car parked outside. Carefully opening the door, Joel sits you down in the passenger seat before shutting the door and walking around to the drivers side to get in.

Once inside the car, Joel starts up the engine and goes to grab your hand,

“Let’s go home my love” he says to you smiling. You smile back at him, ready to spend the rest of your days by his side.

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed this! It literally came to me the other night while I was getting dicked down lol (: anyways yea. Thank you so so much for every like/reblog/comment! You guys are the best!♥️

[sisitrip]

"As Sweet and Soft"

Gallavich A.U.gust 2024

Smell her. She makes an event deadline on time lol.

For Gallavich A.U.gust @gallavichthings 'free week', I'm pulling out something a little different.

A/N and TW: The title of this story is a misnomer of sorts. This is a story that deals with themes of loss, regret, a retelling of an unaliving attempt, abandonment, and unburdening of harmful secrets. But, it also includes, above all, love of family, reconnection and the humorous ways we all try to overcome massive pain because there’s just no right way to do that. Here, there be comedy too (I hope) and moments so special (hoping again), I smiled the entire time I wrote it. 

So, lovely readers, the both of you lol, if the themes I mentioned will bring you harm in any way, feel free to skip this one and peruse other works that will keep you safe. Besides AO3, check out some other Tumblr accounts in the Gallavich fandom that might have offerings for you. This fandom is jammed with phenomenal creatives and I’m so happy they let me say “I go here.” 

With that, please enjoy "As Sweet and Soft."

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

Ian walked him to the front and sat him down carefully as if settling a delicate piece of rice paper. With a kiss and a promise to be back after his ‘errand’, Ian left him alone and reeling.

Mickey sat in the loudest quiet he’s ever been unlucky enough to sit in. Churches, somehow more massive inside than out, always seem to bestow their attendees the power to hear the smallest sound; an apologetic peace offering for its chilly welcome.

Mickey flexed that bestowed power to catch a tiny sniffle. The scritch of nails on stockinged legs. A softly sobbed “42 is so young.” He hid behind this cataloging of sounds, all while wrinkling the most threadbare eulogy ever crafted. Panic rising, he stalled, cataloging absences too. His brothers were here, but his father was not. An aunt he’d never met was here, but Ian was not. 

His mother would never be anywhere again.  

“I’m sorry Mr. Milkovich, but we’ll need to get started. We have a wedding scheduled for later,” the priest murmured regretfully, having materialized like a ghost. He should be regretful. The celebration of death shouldn’t be rushed. 

At the lectern, he looked for Ian’s face in the small crowd, but he still wasn’t back. He needed Ian to keep the world from caving in. What errand could be more important than that? 

He smoothed out his speech on the polished, lemon scented wood. But, tears, fat and blinding, made it impossible to read. At sea, he crumpled the eulogy, struggling to articulate this tectonic cut into his life. He cleared his throat, blinking hard, and gave up on doing this justice. He’ll just do it his way.

“I don’t have a lifetime of memories with her to tell you about,” he began, talking to a pillar instead of the people watching him. 

“She left-” He swallowed hard. “She escaped when I was five. It wasn't as dramatic as that sounds. Her disappearance was actually kind of unremarkable, at first.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “For something that rocked us hard, I somehow managed to miss it.”

He pressed his fingers into the wood, grounding himself. 

“It wasn’t until I hurt myself that it finally sank in. Like a lot of five year olds, I thought she’d feel it if I got hurt. Like physically feel my pain. Dumb, I know. But, she always used to magically appear to comfort me and bandage me up whenever I got hurt.”

He cleared his throat, fighting against the drain of tears building up. 

“When my cut went on bleeding and she didn't show up, I knew. I knew without a doubt that she wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t feel me anymore, I told my five year old self. So, I put a paper towel around the cut and I broke every toy car I had. That’s how I was able to let her go. I didn't know it would be harder to let her go this time.” 

A door opened somewhere and footsteps approached softly behind him. He refused to give the priest the benefit of his attention. He was almost done anyway.

“But, I didn’t let go of what I remembered about her. How she always smelled like dryer sheets and mercurochrome. How her blue eyes dilated to near black whenever she laughed too hard, which wasn’t often.”

He couldn’t see the pillar now and the soft sobbing from the attendees was wrecking his ability to get through this. He went on, nearly whispering as he fought his own sobs. 

“I didn’t let go of the memory of her sneaking up behind me, when I was drawing or coloring, and blowing kisses into the back of my neck to make me laugh. To make me feel like … somebody loved me.”

His eyes were streaming freely now and the pillar was a shapeless waterfall of gray. He doesn’t think he can finish. But, a small hand, bearing chipped, black nail polish squeezed his arm. 

Mandy. Beautiful, and here and here and here, filling the crater of his grief with her light and love. She gave him a curved smile through her tears. 

Weakened by surprise and gratitude, he leaned into her, pressing his forehead to hers. A pressing warmth on his other side was unmistakably Ian who held him up with an arm around his back. He could finish now. He could do anything. But, more than anything, he wanted to honor his mother. He took a deep breath.

“Like I said when I started, I don’t have a lifetime of memories to share with you about my mother. But, I have the ones I just told you about and I will treasure them until I die. When she could be m-my mother, she was everything.” 

He broke. His harsh, raw sobs escaped unchecked and the church saw fit to amplify them with heartbreaking clarity. Mandy and Ian pressed in close and helped him back to his seat where he couldn’t let go of their hands. Not even long enough to wipe his face of tears. Mandy took care of that. Face just as wet, she cleaned his cheeks without bothering to clean her own. That hadn’t changed in all the years they grew up together. Ian held his other hand between his own, sleeving it in safety and warmth.

The awful, anxiety ridden part is over. He did what he could to honor someone he’d lost a long time ago and he’s at peace with it. As at peace as anyone could be whose mother died. It’s a fitful kind of peace that settles uneasily like a misshapen shroud you never wanted to wear.

The rest of the service was quick and when Mandy inclined her head to the side door, he and Ian followed her, leaving the receiving line of strangers for the small, grassy graveyard out back. They sat amongst the sunshine and crooked tombstones, faces upturned to a cloudless sky the color of his mother’s eyes. 

“How’d you know?” he asked Mandy, taking in her shaggy black hair and pierced septum.

“Your hubby tracked me down a few days ago, bought me a ticket. Got me here to the church in record time.” She threw grass at Ian who just smiled softly at her. “He drives like a criminal.”

He caught Ian’s gaze, heart burning inside him. 

“Errand, huh?” he asked, chin trembling. He will never do anything better than marrying this man. 

Ian winked at him then turned to Mandy.

“You’re staying with us for a few days,” Ian said, cleaning grass off his pants. 

He and Mandy exchanged amused looks. Ian had used his “argue with me and find out” voice. 

“Eww, on the Westside? Do I need to get my shots before they let me in?” Mandy teased. 

Ian stood and yanked her to her feet with a smile. “No shots required for family,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His mother’s dark hair.

They laughed, easy and comfortable, as if no time had passed. He wished his mother could see this enduring friendship between his sister and the man she wouldn’t let him give up on. 

Ian and Mandy held out their hands to him and he squinted against the sun and their openly loving expressions, blinded by both. He’s going to remember this moment forever. His favorite people are smiling down at him and it was as sweet and soft as a kiss to the back of the neck. 

When he’s pulled to his feet, he can’t help the impulsive kiss to each of their cheeks, surprising them. He shrugs. It’s that kind of day. 

“You want to go to the repass?” Ian asked, arms around the both of them as they walk through the shrines of people who will keep his mother company. 

“No,” he said, looking at Mandy. “You?” 

She gave the graveyard a sad, final look. “No. Let’s just get out of here. We’re disturbing the sleepers.”

They found Iggy and Colin shuffling around in front of the church, looking uncomfortable in their ill fitting suits. He’d told them not to bother dressing up, and was touched that they hadn’t listened. When his brothers saw Mandy, they broke into twin grins. 

“Dickhead 1 and 2, what’s good?” Mandy called, grinning too. Before they answered, she dropped her purse and took a run at them, arms wide. If there was anything good to be had from this awful day, it was his brothers happiness at seeing their sister. 

Iggy and Colin caught her and lifted her between them in a hug that at first was full of smiles then descended into tears. Mandy wiped their faces with the sleeve of her jacket and they touched her hair, trying to smile through their tears. Another moment as sweet and soft as a kiss to the back of the neck.

“What’s this shag shit?” Iggy husked as she cleaned his face.  

“Wolf cut. Easier to take care of.” Mandy cleaned Colin’s face next as he flipped a hank of her hair. 

“Call it whatever you want. It’s a mullet,” Colin said fondly while very gently cleaning her face with his tie and pressing a kiss into her cheek. “You look butch. I like it.”

“Ian,” Mandy called, smiling at Colin. “Can I bring these two weepy little bitches?” 

Ian picked up Mandy’s bag and looked at him with a soft, questioning smile. He shrugged. It would feel good to have his siblings in the house tonight. 

“Alright, listen up. Anyone of you fart, and I mean one damn fart, and everybody is getting kicked out except Mickey and Mandy,” Ian warned with a smile, linking hands with him. 

At their place, Colin ordered a ton of UberEats from every restaurant within a mile and they got comfortable down to their t-shirts and boxers. He knows the circumstances are different, but it felt like it did when Terry left for long stretches and they’d buy fast food with the money they pooled together. It’s how they celebrated the gift of peaceful days and no fresh bruises.

He smiled when Mandy padded out of their bathroom wearing one of Ian’s shirts, looking adorable and small. With a burger in her mouth, she whipped out a bottle of black nail polish and shook it while eyeing her brothers meaningfully. He knows what’s coming and her habit, born out of a need to self soothe, is exactly what they need.

He and his brothers took off their socks and while they ate, laughed and drank, Mandy painted their toes. It broke his heart a little to see her shoulders relax with each painted toe, a reminder of how she used to cope.

Ian bounced questioning eyebrows at him while Mandy painted Iggy’s toes.

“Mandy would paint our toes when she was upset,” he explained. “Been doing it since she was like what, Col?

“Four?” Colin answered. 

“Three,” Iggy chimed in, pointing a drumstick at Mandy. “I had more paint in between my toes than my actual fucking toenails.”

Mandy threw a french fry at him.

“Better than what you got between your goblin toes now. Was that dryer lint in there?” she asked, moving on to start on Colin’s toes.

“Could be. Or it could be cat hair. I like the mystery.” Iggy wiggled his now black-painted toenails. “Speaking of mystery, what’s up with your bare toes? Never saw you go one day without painted toes when you were home.”

Mandy smiled. “Stopped needing to do it. That should tell you something about my level of peace, yeah?” She started painting Mickey’s toes next. “Who wants to play Dead Body?” 

Ian swallowed his bite of cheeseburger, eyes popped wide. “Dead body?” he parroted weakly.

“Yeah. When we were little, we used to compare the times we all saw a dead body,” Iggy said, eating a slice of pizza. 

“You did this, why?” Ian asked. 

“Because, it was better than comparing bruises,” Mickey murmured, forking into his burrito bowl, toenails painted coffin black now. He doesn’t hate it.

Ian gave him such a soft, sad look, Colin scoffed.

“Of all the brutal shit we endured, seeing a dead body was like getting hit in the face with a pillow. Don’t sweat it, Ian,” Colin dismissed. “I’m going first. Mattara, alley. Gut stuck.”

“My turn,” Iggy said. “Lipotzik, train tracks. Froze to death. They had to crack his ass in half.”

“Don’t know her name,” Mandy said, “But, the girl who OD’d in the massage parlor. I saw them taking her out.”

He wasn’t going to join this game, especially because he’d never told anyone about it. But, now that his mother was truly gone, it didn’t feel like telling someone else’s secret. Not anymore.

“I saw Mom dead once. I mean before this time. She died twice.” 

His quiet comment silenced the room. Poor Ian. His face crumpled when he realized that Mickey wasn’t joking. 

“What are you talking about?” Mandy asked, sticking the nail polish brush back in the bottle. 

He looked at his painted toes while he spoke. 

“I got up one night. Had to pee real bad. I used to hold it because even a toilet flushing would set off Terry if he was trying to outsleep a hangover.”

Mandy scooted closer. Iggy and Colin did the same, food forgotten. He went on, speaking from a place of surreal memory. 

“I couldn’t hold it though, so I went into the bathroom. The first thing I saw were her feet. They were pruney and blue looking. Wet too. She was all wet.”

Ian got up and sat behind him, tucking him into the vee of his legs. 

“She wasn’t moving and Terry was kissing her. Or, I thought it was kissing at the time. I realized later he was giving her, you know, mouth to mouth or whatever. See, he’d … he’d pulled her out of the tub where she’d drowned herself.” 

Of all the heavy things he’d wanted to lay to rest today, this secret had to be heaviest.

“Terry kept giving her mouth-to-mouth. He didn’t even notice me standing there. I … I pissed myself when I saw her face.” He inhaled shakily. “Her eyes were open and she wasn’t blinking. She was just … blue.”

Colin and Iggy exchanged grim looks, but said nothing. 

“I must’ve said something. Maybe called her name. Terry kept pressing on her chest and snarled at me to get out. I couldn’t leave so I kind of squatted down and grabbed her cold foot thinking I could help him. Maybe help her.” 

Ian entwined his arms around his waist, and leaned him back into his chest while he finished in a rush, wanting it out and over. 

“She eventually blinked, coughed up a shit ton of water and started breathing again. She saw me and the first thing she did was shove Terry away, told him to get out. When he did, she put me in the same water that she’d drowned herself in, crying the entire time she washed me. Later, Terry told me if I said anything about what happened, everyone would know it was my fault. I knew that wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. At the time. Eventually I didn’t have to say anything because she left a month after that.”

He didn’t cry with the memory. Maybe because it hadn’t felt like a memory at all. It was more like a dream. Blue, cold and unreal in all its horrible detail. 

Colin broke the hold the memory had on him. “Christ, if I could bring Terry back to beat him to death, I would.” 

Iggy took an emotional swig of the Jack Daniels he was clutching, face red and working. “Me first, you second. That fucking fuck.” 

Mandy tossed back the rest of her wine. “Me first and the two of you can hold him.” 

“I’m calling the roster,” Ian interrupted, squeezing Mickey tight. “Mickey gets the first punch, then Iggy and Colin can hold him after they’re done so Mandy can kick him in those two shriveled things he used to call his nuts.” Ian gave his temple a hard kiss. “Me last so I can be the one to wiggle my big, gay dick at him in farewell.”

His brothers and sister held their silence for a single beat before falling into wild laughter. But, instead of laughing himself, he gave Ian a soft, sad kiss of understanding. Ian looked a little pale despite his effort to joke. The story had affected him too. He can see it in the tightness around Ian’s eyes. His story was one of the horrible things they had in common - children of mothers who got a second chance after giving up completely, but who had to leave their children to survive.

“You okay?” he asked Ian, cupping his face. “I probably shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t trying to trigger whatev-” 

Ian pulled him closer and kissed his forehead, his eyes and his mouth last. 

“There. That worry right there. That’s how I know I couldn’t have picked a better husband.” Ian kissed his nose. “I’m good, baby.”

The Milkovich siblings watched this exchange silently, but exploded into gagging noises when Mickey kissed Ian three times in succession, surprising him. Again, today was that kind of day.

“Death makes both of you literal pussies,” Iggy said, laying down to put his head on Mandy’s lap.

“Seeing as how all you do is chase and admire pussy, what you’re really saying is that you want what they have,” Mandy retorted, bouncing Iggy’s head. 

Iggy opened his mouth to argue, but shrugged instead and settled for stealing a fry off Mandy’s plate.

“He definitely wants what they got. But, it takes him twice as long to chase pussy, and when he finally gets some, he’s in that shit for like a minute,” Colin said, slapping Iggy’s foot. “One minute, motherfucker.”

That’s all it takes. Iggy’s up and wrestling Colin while Mandy laughs and picks up her wine to avoid its destruction. Ian calls out a foul hold every now and then, tucking Mickey into his chest to avoid the wild foot swings. 

He smiled, watching it all from the safety of Ian’s arms. This wasn’t a repass that anyone would find dignified and he doesn’t give a shit. This was healing. As healing as any monotone gathering where cookie cutter condolences just made you feel oily and ill at ease.

This was what his mother would’ve wanted. Food, laughter. Love. No eulogy could've honored her more than this.

They stayed up late enough to finish the booze and food. Mandy claimed the couch and the boys curled up on the armchair and floor in front of the fireplace. He checked on them a few times before letting himself be pulled to bed where he lay, eyes hot and unblinking. 

The story he’d told had shaken something loose inside him that he couldn’t quite knit back together. His mother was gone for real. No pruney toes. No gout of coughed up water. No tears as she cleaned him in the water of her death.

She was gone.

Ian settled close to him, and the small lump in his throat became a boulder. It forced him to cry to alleviate the pressure, or so he told his cowardly soul. His tears turned into sniffling. Soft sobs, helplessly cried into Ian’s chest, followed. The quiet crying became harsh barks of pain and he curled into Ian trying to escape it all. Ian took him in his arms and cupped the back of his head to murmur nonsensical sounds of comfort. If only it was as simple as that. Soft words and a firm hug to clear away the pain. God, he wished it was that easy.

A soft knock on their bedroom door preceded Mandy padding in. His crying must’ve called her. It always did. Even when it meant she might catch a beating, Mandy always slipped into his bed  and hugged him until he stopped crying.

She did the same thing now, climbing over Ian to lay on his other side. She put an arm around his waist and he cried harder. For her, for his mother. For all of them.

Another soft knock. Iggy and Colin padded in with pillows and blankets. They settled down on the floor on either side of the bed without saying a word. Ian, God bless him, just smiled into his hair and gave him a squeeze, letting him know it was alright. 

After everyone settled down, the room was quiet and filled with the blue-tinged light of the moon and their collective breathing. 

“I think it goes without saying that we expect y’all not to fuck while we’re in here,” Colin said quietly from the floor. 

Iggy snorted from the other side of the bed. Soon, they were all laughing. 

Ian leaned over, kissed Mandy on the cheek, leaned down over her to slap Iggy on the chest then leaned all the way back to slap Colin on the top of his head. When he settled back down, he gave Mickey the softest, sweetest kiss. It was exactly what he needed. This closeness is what they all needed. 

As he started to fall into sleep, a gentle, almost melodic fart rang out. The bed shook as he, Ian and Mandy struggled not to be the first to laugh aloud.

“I can still stay, right Ian?” Iggy whispered from the floor, his plea a confession. 

They all dissolved into giggles, hissed softly between teeth. It was cleansing, this infantile humor. It was also a way for motherless children to find comfort and laughter in the dark.

“Yeah,” Ian said, breathing soft laughter into Mickey’s hair. “You can stay.”

He hid his face in Ian’s neck to let the warm pulse there soothe him towards sleep. He faded to the sound of the occasional laugh from his family, glad he was surrounded by the people who love him. 

And he can’t be sure, but just as he made his final descent into sleep, he felt something that eased his pain enough for him to sink into unconsciousness. 

A kiss, soft and sweet, pressed into the back of his neck.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 50

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Whilst Gabriel gives the group shelter in his church, Abraham makes plans for D.C.. Daryl, Iris and Carol follow a lead to find someone they'd lost. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; mocking religion; implications of abandonment/forced human sacrifice (I don't know what to call it); discussions of damnation; discussions of kidnapping; pep-talk turned judgement; cops

Chapter 50 - Perception

Rick left with a small group consisting of Sasha, Bob, Michonne and Gabriel to see to a nearby building that supposedly had supplies they could use. Food, water, whatever it was, the place was apparently overrun. Daryl and Iris discovered some empty water jugs in the back of the church where Gabriel had been storing the cans from a church food drive, and the pair of them decided they would walk down to the nearby creek to fill them. Even if it was creek water, it could be boiled and sterilized to the best of their ability. Make it as potable as possible.

“Hey,” Daryl called to Iris as he trudged back to the creek to grab the third jug Iris had filled. She was on her knees, filling the last one, looking up at him through the sun. He side-stepped to block her eyes with his shadow. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.” Iris replied, twisting the cap onto the jug as she stood. The two of them walked back up the bank toward the road they’d walked down, now carrying two jugs each.

“They didn’t come back for you, at Terminus, did they?” He asked, mumbling somewhat. Iris frowned.

“No, not after they took you. Why?” She asked. Daryl shook his head.

“Said they were gonna. Found Glenn with your knife.” He explained gruffly. “Guess Carol distracted ‘em in time.” Iris hummed in agreement, watching Daryl in her peripheral. 

“You worried about me?” She asked with a teasing grin. His side-eye was lethal in response, and Iris almost giggled. 

“‘Course I am.” He grunted quietly. Iris’ grin shrank, and she looked over at him fully.

“I was worried about you too.” She admitted. “I was climbing on the damn ceiling, asking Eugene how the railcars open. But all I could think about were those piles of bones, the room with the candles. I was so scared that the last thing I ever would have said to you was some sarcastic shit about knives. The last moment we spent alone together was running after…” She shook her head, turning half-way to see that Daryl had stopped walking. She looked to him, simply staring back at her. “I worry about you, too.” She repeated. He swallowed thickly.

“We get to start over.” He said quietly, after a moment. “We made it.”

“We got lucky.” Iris said with a half-hearted chuckle. “We should be dead.”

“Long dead.” Daryl agreed softly, the two of them still staring deeply into one another’s eyes. Iris broke the hold to glance back over her shoulder. An abandoned car sat in the ditch ahead, seemingly untouched, at least for a while. She turned back to Daryl.

“I’ll check it.” She offered. He nodded and they continued onward, Iris placing the jugs of water down beside Daryl before jogging toward the car. He picked up the other two jugs easily, carrying the four over to the car as she emerged, unlocking the trunk with the keys and testing the battery.

“We’re not dead.” He stated, and she turned back to face him, leaning her hip on the edge of the car. 

“Yeah.” She agreed, and he stepped forward to rest the four gallons of water in the empty trunk, though he had really only stepped forward to get closer. He was practically breathing on her neck. She tilted her head back to look up at him, trying to hide her surprise at his proximity. 

“So let’s start living.” He suggested with a small shrug, Iris turning to face him fully. Her eyebrows knit together and her lips curled upward.

“That was really corny.” She stated, pursing her lips. Daryl’s lips curled upward to match hers.

“Got you to smile, though, didn’t it?” He replied nonchalantly. Iris’ smile grew, and she conceded. They pulled the water jugs from the back of the car and Iris pulled the trunk shut.

“We should keep this here in case something goes south at the church.” She suggested. Daryl nodded in agreement.

“Want me to take one of those?” He asked, and he gestured to the water jugs in her hand, but the one in his slipped, the plastic breaking apart as it hit the asphalt, water spilling out and splashing both of their boots. Iris blinked at the jug on the ground, turning up to face him. His hair hung down over his face, but it did little to hide the rosy flush coming to his face. Her grin widened further.

“I think I’m good.” She replied as he ran his empty hand over his face. 

They walked cheerfully back to the church, and Iris said not a single word about the mishap with the water jug. She got back to work, helping Abraham and Rosita, or rather, they helped her, fix up the small bus near the back of the church. Carl was milling about, entertaining himself, and not long after, Rick, Michonne and the others returned with carts full of non-perishable food items from the building Gabriel led them to. The food bank.

“Hey, Iris? Can I get your professional opinion?” Carl called. 

“Uh-oh.” She replied with a small grin, wiping her hands off on a rag before making her way to where Carl stood at the side of the church. Rick followed suit, out of curiosity. “What is it?”

“You think these came from knives?” Carl asked, gesturing to the church wall. Iris leaned closer, finding a plethora of scratch marks left in the paint around the window and shutters. “They’re deep. Someone was trying to get in.” Not unusual, especially when walkers were involved, but they weren’t deep enough to be knives, and too organized to be walkers. Iris and Rick glanced at one another, thinking the same thing.

“Too thick and too shallow to be knives, cowboy.” Iris said quietly, pulling out one of her own knives with a small flourish, demonstrating a scratch down the window frame. The scratch was evidently different. “Those came from fingernails.” He glanced up at his father.

“There’s something else. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, we can handle it.” Carl assured. They followed him around the corner of the church, finding another set of scratch marks in the wall. These were definitely from a knife. They spelled out, in perfect, ominous-as-hell fashion, YOU’LL BURN FOR THIS. “Doesn’t mean Gabriel’s a bad guy for sure, but it means something.” Rick ran his thumb along the words, looking over at Iris. She sighed, catching his knowing look. She’d keep her head up.

-

After the sun set, Gabriel lit enough candles in the church to rival Terminus’ creepy memorial room, and it added a good amount of ambiance to the room. There was loud laughter, chatting between the group. The lovely sound of spoons and forks and fingers scraping plates, bowls and the bottom of tin cans. A true feast. 

“I’d like to propose a toast.” Abraham announced loudly. Iris was more than happy to make good use out of the ceremonial wine they’d brought out for the occasion. Everyone quieted down, taking their seats at various points between and in front of the pews. “I look around this room, and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title. To the survivors.”

“Survivors! Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Woo!”

“Survivors.”

“Is that all you want to be?” Abraham asked. Iris looked up from her plate, raising an eyebrow. They all paused at the insinuation. “Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? ‘Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that’s just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what’s in DC?”

“Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fubar magnitude.” Eugene replied after clearing his throat. “That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart.”

“However this plays out,” Abraham continued, “however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you’ve been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there who don’t got nothing else to do except survive.” Rick chuckled softly, looking down into Judith’s eyes as she cooed.

“What was that?” He asked her gently, earning a few laughs from the others. “I think she knows what I’m about to say.”

“That was a damn good speech?” Iris asked. Abraham tipped an invisible hat. 

“She’s in. If she’s in, I’m in.” Rick replied, smiling. “We’re in.”

“Yeah!” Tyreese called. “Let’s do it.” A few of the group cheered, laughing. Abraham grinned. 

After a few minutes of peaceful eating and idle chatter, Daryl nudged Iris with his elbow. She looked up, following his minuscule gesture to the doors of the church as they gently clicked shut. She nodded and they both stood, slipping out. Carol’s figure disappeared down the trail toward the highway. Daryl jerked his chin at the woods beside the trail and Iris nodded.

They followed Carol a good ways, Daryl’s footsteps carefully placed so as to be silent, Iris following carefully to ensure the same. They watched her come upon the emergency vehicle they’d discovered, and Iris watched her start it up effortlessly. A walker growled, emerging from the woods on the opposite side of the road, and Carol grunted as she put an end to it with her knife. Daryl motioned his head toward her and Iris nodded, the two of them coming out from their own hiding spot in the forest. Carol whipped around, Daryl purposefully stepping on a twig so as to alert her to their presence. 

“What are you doing?” Iris asked quietly. Carol glanced around, as if caught doing something she was not supposed to be doing. 

“I don’t know.” She replied, shaking her head. Iris raised an eyebrow. Daryl gestured down the road back to the church.

“Come on.” He urged. They all paused at the sound of another car, ducking behind theirs to get a better look. It sped down the adjacent highway, and Daryl ran a few steps after it, but Iris already knew. The same black car with the same white cross. The one that took Beth. He lunged for his crossbow, using the butt of it to break the taillights of their car.

“What are you doing?” Carol asked loudly, in a slight panic.

“They got Beth.” He replied. He practically ripped open the driver’s-side door, and Iris was already in the passenger’s seat. Carol climbed in the back, looking confusedly between the two of them. The tires squealed against the asphalt as they tore out onto the road after the car. 

-

After a while, Daryl let Iris drive. She and Carol could both see how stressed he was, and with good reason, but they also knew he had quite the temper. None of them wanted to wind up dead in a ditch because he couldn’t control his anger. Besides, Iris was definitely no stranger to speeding behind the wheel. Felix taught her to drive. 

There was a part of her that liked it. The thrill, the adrenaline. The feeling of the wheel in one hand, the gearshift in the other, and her foot on the gas. She’d made quite the street racer in her late teens. And then here she was, a world a way, and yet, less than a hundred miles. And decreasing. Carol spent her time in the backseat trying to distract Daryl, leaving Iris to focus on the road.

“So it was just you two and Beth after?” She asked.

“Uh-huh.” Daryl grunted.

“You save her?”

“She’s tough. She saved herself.” Daryl replied with a half-shrug. His eyes were glued to the highway in front of them. “We were out there for a while. We got cornered, she got out in front of us and… I don’t know, she was gone. We came out and a black car was pulling out with a white cross on the window.”

“Just like that one?”

“Yep.”  

The engine roared, and they were close enough behind the car now to see the red of the taillights in the distance. Iris flicked the headlights off, making sure to leave a decent distance between the two cars. Daryl gripped the handle above the window, grimacing.

“Rick’s gonna wonder where we went.” He murmured.

“They’ll head toward D.C., and they won’t go far without us. They can handle themselves, and so can we.” Iris replied. He hummed in agreement. Iris glanced down at the dash as the engine started to change in pitch. “Running low on gas.”

“We can end this quick. Just run him off the road.” Carol muttered.

“We’ll be good for a bit.” Iris grimaced, shaking her head.

“If they’re holding her somewhere, we can get it out of the driver.” Carol suggested.

“Yeah, but if he don’t talk, we’re back to square one.” Daryl replied. “Right now we’ve got the advantage. We’ll see who they are. If they’re a group, see what they can do. Then we’ll do what we gotta do to get her back.”

“They’re heading north, I-85.” Carol pointed out, reading the road sign as they passed it.

“Mm-hmm.” Iris replied. She knew exactly where they were headed. She’d driven down this damn road before. One-way direct to Atlanta. She exchanged a look with Daryl across the console.

They continued down the highway and reached the darkened city. It was strange, barely seeing the silhouettes of skyscrapers in the night, the moon their only source of light. Iris had learned fast when it all started— if you left a light on in the city, a fire, a damn flashlight, you’d be raided for everything you had and more. She found a few camps— or the remains of a few camps— after they’d been raided. It wasn’t pretty. 

Now, however, it all seemed so quiet. Barely any walkers, and if there were any, they wandered aimlessly toward the closest sound or smell. Iris followed the car at a closer distance now, especially as they began to weave down streets that had at one point been flooded with debris, abandoned cars and bodies. The car ahead slowed and stopped at an intersection, unmoving for at least thirty seconds. Iris stopped about two blocks back, waiting for them to make a move.

“What the hell’s he waiting for?” Daryl murmured.

“Maybe he saw us.” Iris replied, bracing herself with a heavy breath. The taillights flashed as he put the car in park, killing the engine. There was no movement for a minute before the passenger’s side door opened, a man with a gun stepping out onto the street. He was wearing a bullet proof vest and what looked like a uniform.

“There’s two of them.” Daryl observed. “Is that a cop?” Whoever it was stepped up onto the sidewalk, purposefully striding around the corner before disappearing. There was a light source of some sort around the corner, though it could have been anything.  

The three of them gasped loudly as a walker pounded against the window. Iris had leapt out of her damn skin, clutching a hand to her chest. Daryl scowled at it through the window, clawing and mouthing at the glass. It thudded loudly, and Iris prayed it would not draw any unwanted attention.

The man from before came back around to the car, tossing two bicycles onto the sidewalk beside a lamp post. He dragged something across the ground before dusting off his hands and meandering closer toward them. His steps slowed as he took notice of the walker slamming against the car. Iris clenched her jaw. The man stared for a moment longer before opening the car door once again, slowly and calmly getting inside. The car started again and they turned around that same corner.

Iris turned the key for their own vehicle, frowning as it sputtered. 

“Shit.” She breathed. Daryl sighed, looking up.

“They would have taken the bypass and they didn’t. They have to be holed up in the city somewhere.” He pointed out.

“There wasn’t many places left that weren’t overrun. But… I suppose it’s been a few years.” Iris murmured. The noise had started to draw walkers, and the familiar grunts and moans accompanied by shuffling footsteps started to draw nearer.

“We gotta move, find someplace to hole up till sunlight.” Daryl stated.

“I know a place just a couple of blocks from here. We can make it.” Carol assured. Iris nodded, gathering herself. Daryl rolled down the window, stabbing the walker that had been making eyes at him.

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

[sunny44]

I’m the right one for you love

Pairing: Mason Mount x fem!reader

Warnings: none I guess but let me know if it has.

Summary: Mason was getting married to a woman he thinks is the one for him and he’s 100% sure that he’s doing the right thing but this was until he saw you before saying yes.

Getting married.

That's what the guy I was in love with was going to do.

We dated for 4 years until we broke up because distance was ruining our relationship, but it was never because we didn't love each other anymore.

And 1 year later I saw on the internet that he was with someone else and now after 2 years of relationship with her he asked her to marry him.

What made me think was the fact that I was not the right person for him, because besides knowing each other before we were really in a relationship, our relationship lasted longer than theirs and I don't think he ever considered marrying me

I actually don't know why I received an invitation to the wedding, inside the envelope was a note that I had not yet opened because I was afraid to read the note and it would be him saying that he wanted me there because he wanted us to be friends.

But I couldn't be just friends with him.

But finally I decided that I would read it because I would regret not reading it at least.

But when I saw it I was surprised because the note was not from him but from his mother where she said that I had to show up and make sure that the wedding didn't happen, that I should stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life according to her.

But I wasn't sure if I should do that because even though her intentions are good, she has no way of knowing Mason's real feelings for his fiancée, so from her perspective it could be wrong but not from his.

And I stayed with this thought until the wedding day where I got all dressed up and decided that I would go, but I wouldn't stand in the way, I would just make him see me and if he really wanted to be with me he would say otherwise I wouldn't stand in the way.

I was almost late for the ceremony in the church and when I arrived I could see him at the altar holding her hand, the noise of the church doors caught everyone's attention including his.

I could see Debbie smiling along with the rest of his family and Mason standing paralyzed at the altar as his fiancée called him.

"Mason? Hey." She snaps her fingers in front of his face who finally comes out of his trance looking at her. "Answer."

"What?"

"Answer yes." He looks at her and then at me.

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Both. I'm sorry but you are not the person I should be marrying."

I can hear the sounds of surprise her family made as he came down from the altar and started walking toward me.

"Hi." I said softly as soon as he got close to me.

"Hi." He smiled. "How did you know about the wedding?"

"Your mom invited me." He laughs and looks at his mother who winked at him . "She told me to show up and stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

"And as always you saving me from doing stupid things."

"So you're not mad that I ruined your marriage?"

"No. In fact I couldn't be happier to see you."

"Good because I'm happy to see you too."

"Do you want to get out of here?" he holds out his hand to me and I take it.

"For sure." He smiles and pulls me out of the church.

"You look beautiful, by the way." He says with a teasing smile as I was wearing a dress he had bought for me.

"I thought it would be the perfect occasion to wear it for the first time.”

"You look perfect in it.” He stopped in front of me and kissed me, he kissed me like it was the first time and after many years I felt again the same butterflies that I always felt when he kisses me and it was magical. "Did you came by car?”

"Yes, why?

"Do you want to find some place and marry me?"

"What?"

"You want to marry me? I should have made this question a long time ago but I was a fool to let you go but I won't make the same mistake again. So do you want to marry me?"

"I do." He smiles and kisses me again.

"Then let's go."

And after all it was worth it to have read the note.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername stories

I guess I’m Ms. Mount now (tagged: masonmount)

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“A Far Fall From The Heights Of Heaven” A Dio Brando x Self Insert Fanfic

The sun set like red gold over Cairo, and I watched my older sister Denise get in her wedding dress. I remembered saying she was crazy for wanting her wedding all the way in Egypt. But to be honest? Now I was grateful. Egypt was magical. I could feel it in the air.

We were in the crammed storage rooms of an old church, where she was getting ready before she walked down the aisle. I got emotional thinking about my sister all grown up and married!

The ceremony went well, and the wedding vows were moving, but it was all quite overwhelming, and after my mom made a crude comment to my aunt about me being unfuckable and certainly undatable, I felt like I needed fresh air and a place to run off too.

After Denise left with her new husband, I left through the back door. I wandered a bit down some streets, crying a bit, when a convertible pulled up in front of me. I froze, unsure of how to proceed. The men in the car offered me a ride, and I got the sense I was dead if I didn’t take it, considering my cornered situation. My heart was racing as I took a seat in the back. They drive through the streets to more lavish areas. Hours into the drive I felt like kicking myself, but to be honest? I was too tired to try anything drastic like jumping out of the car. It seemed silly anyway. The night breeze lulled me to sleep, and I woke up when the convertible stopped abruptly in front of—an Egyptian mansion looking structure? what the heck?!

The men got out and pulled me roughly from the car, dragging me into the well guarded mansion, which was pretty much a fort in its function. I figured things weren’t looking too great for me, so when they brought me through a maze into a lavish lounge room I was relieved they let me rest, collapsing on the floor from exhaustion. I didn’t bother lifting my eyes from the floor where I lay until—

“What’s this, gentleman? You seem to have treated our guest quite poorly. She looks exhausted.” A smooth voice overtook my senses, and I became well aware of a presence on one of the ornate lounges. His hair was golden blonde, and this man… no… surely more than a man, this god was handsome beyond my wildest dreams. He reclined on his side, shirtless (revealing beautifully defined muscles). I blushed, suddenly aware that my bridesmaid dress was barely staying up on my chest. “Bring the sweet mademoiselle to me so I can… be more hospitable.” I felt my tired body lifted and laid down next to him on the velvet upholstery. It felt good to lay down, I knew it was reckless and stupid to comply, but I’d been on my feet all day attending to my sister’s wedding, and this felt good.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the handsome god said. I shivered, my spine tingling as I felt his breath on my exposed neck. He gestured for the men who had brought me there to leave. “You may call me Lord Dio.” He explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world how close we were to each other.

I nodded, looking up at him with wonder. “Yes, my Lord.” I whispered.

Dio looked satisfied, taking a sip from a glass of…wine? No… this was too thick for wine. I should’ve freaked out by now. ‘This seems like a cult’, I thought.

“I can offer you many things, beautiful.” Lord Dio explained charismatically.

My heart dropped. ‘Yeah, definitely a cult.’

“Eternal beauty, riches, and lots of pleasure.” Dio continued.

“Who are you, Satan or something?” I joked timidly.

Lord Dio frowned. “No, a bit different. You’re religious, I take it?”

“Not a whole lot. I used to be… but, well, it felt so hollow.” I explained, watching Dio regain his amused demeanor.

“I can give you something better to worship. But it will come with a cost.”

“I’m broke so…I’m not really in a position to be paying—“

Dio flipped me to face him parallel, and pinned me there. “Now you are. This is a great position for what I desire.”

I realized what he wanted in that moment, and a little rebellious part of me wanted to give it to him. To prove my mother wrong about being unfuckable.

Dio gently placed his hand on my waste, and I tried to stifle a sigh as my body pressed up against his. “May I, mademoiselle?” He whispered in my ear.

“Yes.” I swooned. Screw safety. I needed this. “But I should warn you I’m a—“

“Virgin? Yes. I figured as much.” Dio said, completely unzipping my dress. “You’re too sweet to be anything else.”

My dress fell away, revealing my figure. Dio didn’t waste any time, his lips went straight to my neck and his hands…. Oh god, I was not prepared for the sensation of his hands traveling up my thighs, fingering my pussy, and teasing my clit until it was gaping with pleasure. Then he pulled his fingers out and dug them into my waist til I bled small droplets of blood. I winced, but I could tell the pressure he applied was very calculated so as not to be too painful and outdo any pleasure he was giving me with his mouth.

Lord Dio kissed and caressed my breasts, carefully making his way down to where he had drawn blood from my plump folds of flesh at my waist. The way he lapped up the blood with his tongue sent shivers down my spine and had my breathing become heavy with lust. This was better than any sexual act I’d read about in my favorite smutty books. This was the real thing, and Dio seemed to know every physical and sexual weakness I had. Weaknesses as a first timer I was completely unaware of.

Then he repositioned me on my back and spread my legs further apart. He smirked as he saw my wide eyed expression.

In between panting I gasped, “Shouldn’t we use protec—“

His giant hard cock rammed into my soft pussy, and I let out a cry of surprise. Dio persisted in pushing it further, no matter how tight it was for his large length. I shed tears, but got no sympathy, only the sound of his own groans and growls of ecstasy. I braced my body as he pushed it in and pulled it out repeatedly. I was drooling with overstimulation until finally he left it in, filling me with an absurd amount of his cum.

Then Dio did something unexpected, repositioning and holding me close, his dick still deep inside me. He rubbed my back and held me tightly, in a comforting way. “There there…” he soothed me with his low voice, as smooth as liquid gold. I took this as a sign to press up against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and cried softly, my teary cheek pressed against his pecs. He laughed softly, acknowledging my vulnerability with a kiss on the top of my head and a quiet moan of satisfaction. I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted from all the sexual excitement.

When I woke up, Dio was still asleep. I had to check the clock on the nightstand to see what time it was as there were no windows in the room to let in light that indicated whether it was day or night. I covered my mouth to suppress a yelp of shock. It was afternoon of the next day. I was supposed to be helping my mom set up the wedding reception venue!

Dio stirred, rolling over and opening an eye to observe my distress at the time. He mumbled about how it was too early to be awake, and I should join him back in bed.

I sighed. I couldn’t say no, gazing at his sleepy expression. Even a bit disheveled Dio looked like a fucking king. I climbed back in bed. Who’s to say I had to show up for the reception? It was more my mom’s event than my sister Denise’s event. My mom had taken full control of all the planning and didn’t let my sister have a say in anything. Besides… I had been kidnapped! I was practically… helpless.

I sighed, curling up against Lord Dio. “Are you going to put me up for ransom?” I asked, beginning to dose off.

Dio laughed heartily, nuzzling the back of my neck affectionately. “Over your dead body.” He said, then proceeded to yawn and falling back asleep.

TYSM FOR READING! Reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[keow]

I also wrestle with that same conundrum. I don't know the solution to it. All my life I wanted to believe in God but I just can't make it happen since I can't wrap my head around why women are supposed to be one way but the way we're supposed to be is not a fully rounded person. why do men get to be full people but we don't? I understand that in life we are made to suffer and learn from our suffering but like unironically what are men suffering from and learning from because I don't see them suffering or learning 🫠🫠🫠 after i got sexually harassed the other day by a man and I just broke down crying in my car because I kept thinking that I wish I could believe in God but how can I when men of all walks of life do these things and women suffer for it? I am agnostic but I do hold onto faith that one day I'll understand or just let it go enough to participate in church.

Some days I believe a man wrote the Bible on an acid trip about his ideal society and some days I believe it is the truth. I didn't grow up religious but I have always wanted to believe in God so I just let myself start believing and it's so incredibly hard to jump through all the mental hoops of what's supposedly right and wrong.

Idk sorry for rambling. I hope you find peace in your wrasslin'

I appreciate the rambling, I don’t have much to add because we’re both pretty much on similar pages. I’m sorry that you were sexually harassed and I hope that man gets what’s coming to him (bullet to the head). I think there’s room for belief in a God that wants good things for people but can’t/doesn’t want to intervene for some reason or another that we can’t understand. It sucks that women face the brunt of this suffering, almost always at the hands of men. And still, even after all of this, we’re diminished in spiritual matters which are our only means of making something out of all this pain.

It’s no wonder that so many women are just trying to play along now and pretend like they’re fine being considered less than human and less deserving of respect. Trying desperately to convince themselves that this is how it was intended to be, because if you don’t convince yourself of that, the entirety of human history stares back at you and you realize there’s no escape or hope for us.

[krylng]

love at first sight~chapter 5

|TW: arranged marriage, bad vows|

summary: your mother has planned the whole wedding. will it go according to her plan?

notes: i have never been to a wedding before. if some things are inaccurate, that is why.

previous

next

———————————————————————————————

tomorrow was the big day. you had to go home for the day, since your mother needed to make sure you would be prepared. she wrote your vows for you, and told you what to say and when. it was all a nightmare. your controlling mother taking control of your own life.

sometimes your father would defend you, but this time he agreed it was time to be married.

“but mother, im eighteen still! isn’t he in his thirties?” you didn’t want to marry an older man.

“who was that man from VoxTek? you wanted to spend your life with a 24 year old man?”

“mother, i love him! he’s younger than Tristan, isn’t he in his thirties?”

your mother shook her head in disbelief. she continued making big plans for the wedding, while you zoned out, thinking about Vox.

you had fallen in love with Vox, and you hoped he felt the same. you’ve experienced so much together. he was your first kiss, your first time, and most importantly; your first lover.

your mother grabbed a box with a familiar logo. you thought you knew what it was. it was a swirl with a V inside it.

“here we go. i paid a woman to make the dress. her name was Velvette, i think. anyway, she’ll be there.” you stared at the dress. it was beautiful. she really did know a lot about fashion, because it was the best dress you have ever seen. you wished you didn’t have to marry him though. it would ruin the dress for you.

your mother wrote down notes for her plans. “why don’t you go to bed? busy day tomorrow.”

you sighed, obeying your mother. you locked the door, since you slept with the door locked. you took off your top, and grabbed your pajama shirt. you heard a thud on your balcony. you still had your bra on, but you dropped the shirt and peeked out.

you felt something grab your hand.

“Vox! you scared me,” you catch your breath. “how did you find me?”

“that’s not important. now, may I please come in? it’s kind of cold out here.”

“yes, of course.” you move so he can walk in. he closes the door behind him and locks it. he closes the blinds.

he takes his shirt off since he usually sleeps shirtless.

“i came here since it’s kind of hard to sleep without you.” you smiled, and crawled into bed with him in your normal position. you on the side, using his chest as a pillow, and his hand resting on your back.

you slept so good next to him.

“i’ll leave at around 6 when your still asleep.”

“oh… alright. what’s your plan for the wedding?” you were curious, since he told you he had a plan.

“well, my dear, i cant say since there may be someone listening in. lets just say, you have to follow my lead.” you nodded against his chest.

you dozed off.

———————————————————

the next morning, you woke up by yourself. Vox had left early, and now you had to prepare. you noticed a note and a rose on your bed. you picked up the note.

i’ll have you out of there before the ceremony even starts.

-Vox

well, this is going to be easy. you just run off with him.

you walked downstairs, your mother was doing the bills, which had skyrocketed. it was getting hard to pay for the house. there was no time for breakfast.

“go with dad, i’ll be there before it starts. i just have to finish these.”

you went with your father in the car, driving to the church. it was a silent trip. nobody broke the silence.

your dad sent you in a room with a girl with curly hair. she had a swirl of white and pink in her hair.

“ugh, babe, don’t tell me you didn’t brush your hair…” you ran your fingers through your hair, embarrassed that you forgot.

“here we go, i just need to measure you again to see if we need any last minute adjustments.”

she took a tape measure and measured your waist, chest, and hips.

“ohh, darling this is going to look fabulous on you. unless it doesn’t, then that’s going to be a disappointment. but i doubt that, since i make the best clothes.”

you got undressed, and you had to wear a small crinoline.

“ugh, your bitch mother forcing you to wear…that.” she points to the crinoline. “i tried to tell her, we’re not in the fuckin 1860s. if you need any extra adjustments added, just tell me, babe.”

the dress was already perfect. “i think this…it’s perfect!”

“i know, i made it.” she smiled, which you never seen her actually have a real smile. “you look down, is it the dress?” she panicked.

“no, it’s… it’s just this whole wedding, not getting married to the man i actually love. this is just an arranged marriage.”

“ohh darlin, why didn’t you say anythin? i coulda helped you run away, or somethin.”

“no, it’s no use. besides, my…my boyfriend is planning something.” you’ve never called him your boyfriend before, and you didn’t really know if that’s what you were.

“ooh who?” she sat down on a chair. and started to do your makeup. “tell me more about this mystery man.”

“his name is Vox, he owns a Tech company.”

“ohh that bitch. yeah, designed his little wardrobe. close friends though.”

“your friends with Vox?”

“yeah, of course. he’s always coming in to get something fixed, or get rid of some strings. anyway, enough about this Vox guy. since you’re getting married to this famous and rich guy…there’s going to be a cameraman.” she laughed at your worried expression. “i got one of my… sort of friends to do the job. he has a lot of experience. his name is Valentino, have you heard of him?” she puts on eye shadow and then lipstick.

“no, why?” she applies some blush.

“that’s probably good. he makes a living off of filming porn and all that dumb shit.” she applies some mascara. “hold on…” she puts your hair up in a stylish bun and adds the veil. “are you sure Vox has got this? i wouldn’t want someone like you to be forced to marry that snobby bitch.”

“yes, i’m sure. i know he will.”

you heard a knock, and Velvette got up and opened the door. your mother came in. “come on, Y/N, it’s time.”

Vox would be here in a few minutes to do his plan.

your father linked his arm with yours and opened the big church doors. you walked slowly down the aisle. there were so many people. but not Vox.

Velvette nodded at you, like she was comforting you that it was going to be alright.

you walked up a couple of steps, facing Tristan. you both had fake smiles.

the priest read from the bible.

what the fuck? why isn’t vox here yet?

it felt like forever.

Tristan read his vows.

“I will love your body and your curves, i will love how you will clean up after me. i promise to fuck that every day.”

he was sick. was that even allowed?

“Tristan, I will love you until I die.” you looked at the door to see if Vox was coming anytime soon. “I will cherish each moment with you, and i will always put you before me.” those were short vows.

“Mr. Rodger, do you take Ms. Sanders as your wife?”

“I do.” he said with an evil grin.

“and Ms. Sanders, do you take Mr. Rodger as your husband?”

your heart was beating fast. once you said I do, the rings would be put on, and you would officially be married. Vox was nowhere near the church. you couldn’t just wait a few minutes! you had to do something quick.

but what?

————————————————

i usually write these fanfics for me to binge read bc idk… but its cool when other people read too

[dirtyheathencommie]

MY FIRST PRIDE PROTEST

My first Pride was when I was 14 years old. I was in love with my best friend who lived down the street. I’d known her since I was 6 months old, and couldn’t imagine a life without her. It wouldn’t be until years later that I began to understand that my feelings of “indescribable friendship” were actually a different thing entirely.

At 14 years old, I didn’t know what Pride was. I’d never seen a parade that wasn’t put on by my church. As a fundamentalist, I didn’t know what a gay person was, what sex really was*, didn’t know anyone outside of my church, and couldn’t even do basic math. Housewives don’t need math. Girls who don’t go to school don’t get tainted. Girls who don’t go to school make impeccable wives, which is god’s ultimate purpose for a woman.

At 14 years old, I didn’t know I was going to Pride or what Pride was or that I was queer. I simply piled into a van with other little kids in ankle length khaki skirts and polos buttoned up to the very top. We drove to the nearest big city, which I loved. There was so much life in the city, and I’d seen very little of it. As we approached downtown, over the thumping bass that made me feel like I was inside of a beating heart, the parent behind the wheel addressed their young passengers.

“We’re here to protest pedophiles. Don’t look them in their eyes.”

So we filed out of the van and grabbed our posters, covered in made up words that I didn’t understand. We walked to the nearest corner, opened a few folding chairs and set up shop. I’d never accompanied my church to a protest before, but the elder said the children needed to attend just this one. After all, we’re protesting pedophiles.

*An important side note on not knowing what sex really was. I didn’t know exactly what was happening with the men in leadership in my church, or why I was being punished the way I was. It was sex, but it was different than what I expected and I’d decided sex was too painful to be all that important. A year in the future, I’d turn them in for sexual abuse and they’d be thrown in prison, and I’d be thrown out of the church for my indiscretion.

Suffice it to say, I hated pedophiles, but I didn’t chant because I didn’t understand the words. Eventually people surrounded us, and I was perplexed. I knew enough firsthand, intimately, about pedophiles. These people couldn’t be pedophiles. They were open, they had starshine in their eyes. They were full of color and life and love for each other. One girl tripped in her platform shoes on a curb, and a collection of her fellow beautiful weird people caught her on the way down, carefully avoiding her perfectly crafted mohawk. Their kindness made them good, and I knew that I’d been lied to.

In her compromised state, leaning backwards over the curb, she spotted us. It felt like she spotted me, and my cheeks flushed. Her eyes steeled in determination, she grabbed the woman next to her and kissed her with a passion I’d never conceptualized before.

I burst into tears and went back to the van. I sat alone in the hot car, drawing a unicorn in the dust on the window. The colorful people were good and I’d called them what, to me, was the worst thing in the world. I didn’t want to be the khaki alien with the angry sign. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to have eyes full of starshine. Mostly, I wanted to be kissed by a girl. To me, it seemed like the closest to touching god I could ever get.

Years later, I know what the signs said. I’ve exposed my church. I went through unsuccessful conversion therapy. I know what it means to be queer and in love and see in blinding technicolor. I’ve loved and lost in the subsequent decade. The indoctrination broke down slowly, so now there’s only echoes where the screaming used to be.

But I’ve never quite made it back to Pride.

I think I couldn’t bear it. I’d be full of guilt for those signs, for just being a cog in the machine hurting, hating, endangering the lives of people like me. I think I’d end up stuck in the hot car, painting unicorns on the window, and daydreaming about the platforms, the glittering eyes, the curb, and the perfect kiss.

Just wishing, still, that one day that girl could be me.

[alloutofgoddesses]

They removed your tailbone????????????????

YES!!! Story time!

It was winter. It was seventh grade. I was walking back inside on the sidewalk. The sidewalk had not been salted properly. I slipped on a huge patch of ice and instantly felt pain right where your tailbone exists. It hurt like a bitch but I had just taken a hard fall onto concrete so like of course it hurt. It went away after a while so I figured it was fine.

Until it came time to travel to my grandparents house several states away and I was in TEARS by the end of the road trip. My butt hurt SO BAD, way more than the usual aches and pains of road tripping. And then the pain didn’t go away.

At first my mother did not believe me which Rude but eventually I went to my doctor, and she ordered an X-ray and she couldn’t really tell what was wrong so she ordered an MRI and both those things led to her noticing that I have three degenerated disks in my lower spine (honestly probably the cause of most of my problems) and it looked like my tailbone was “anti-verted” which I will forever believe is just a fancy doctor term for “idk man it looks weird”

I get sent to a specialist. The specialist has ZERO bedside manner and tells me, a scared very mentally unwell thirteen year old that my only options are to have a surgery wouldn’t really fix the problem or take Advil for the rest of my life. That sucked. My mom took me to Spirit Halloween to cheer me up because it was so bad.

By this point, I’m in pain all the time. I get a special pillow to sit on both in the car and at school, and it is put in my IEP that I have special permission to stand up in class whenever necessary because the pain was just that distracting. To help mitigate the pain, I am seeing a chiropractor on a very regular basis. It’s awkward as hell because I’m experiencing puberty and he’s constantly touching my lower back and butt.

Blah blah blah I make it to eighth grade and I am having A Bad Time. I’m in so much pain that I think it’s the only thing I’m going to feel for the rest of my life. I am being heavily bullied at church on top of getting injected with a crap ton of religious trauma. At the same time I’m going through a sexuality crisis because middle school. I am scrounging for reasons to get out of bed and it’s only working sometimes. It’s BAD.

Somewhere along the line my chiropractor takes a look at my X-ray and he goes: “This is broken. This is very broken. Your tailbone is broken.”

I look at the X-ray. Instead of being attached to my spine, my tailbone is completely detached from bone, muscle, tissue, and is existing at a 90 degree angle in my body cavity. No fucking wonder it hurt so much!!

On it goes. We know what the problem is but we don’t know how to fix it and this point I have a very healthy mistrust of doctors.

Enter my eighth grade social studies teacher. Her husband has been the gym teacher at the elementary school where my dad works since idk the beginning of time probably. And also, small town, so they both me well.

She hears what’s going on. She sees me struggling to exist on the daily. She pulls me to the side after class one day and says “Hey. My son broke his tailbone a couple years ago. We went to this doctor and the surgery they did really helped.”

Cue social studies teacher getting in contact with my parents and me having approximately a million appointments at a doctor’s office in *gasp* the great city of El Paso, Texas. The doctor decides that it’s best to remove the bone because it just floating around is causing A Lot of nerve damage.

So, July 7th, 2016 I got my tailbone removed from my body in a procedure called a coccygectomy. I had to figure out how to do things while either completely laying down or standing up for two weeks because I couldn’t sit. I walked around with a Franken-butt for a few weeks until the stitches dissolved. I still have nerve damage and I will probably never be able to sit normally or without pain again but it is so much better then it used to be.

And now that social studies teacher is my principal and I have a cool scar that I can’t ever show to anyone because well. The location of the tailbone is. You know.

[naivemlnd]

Always in Your Shadow Part 2

Read part 1 here!

Yuki was withdrawn on Friday morning. Before I left for work, I showed her the cot I set up in the basement for her. I even bought her her own iPad to play around on while my parents were here so she wouldn’t get too bored.

Still, she was clinging onto my side like she never wanted to let go. Her tiny arms dug into the chub on my waist. 

When I started to leave for work, she burst into tears and I had to spend fifteen minutes calming her down before she let me get out the door. I felt so horrible and guilty that I picked up a dozen donuts on my way to the office and ate four in the car. I wasn’t even sure where that impulse had come from, just that I knew Yuki would’ve encouraged me to get the treats purely because I wanted them. I felt like I owed Yuki something for making her hide away in her own home and somehow that something was… eating donuts. Even though I’d already eaten breakfast.

Yep, that was solid logic.

After work, I had to drive through rush hour traffic to get to the airport, and the whole time I had Yuki on my mind. What was she doing? Was she okay? Was she crying? God, I hoped she wasn’t crying alone in that dark basement. It was too heartbreaking to consider.

When I saw my parents appear outside of ‘arrivals’ it broke me out of my melancholy mood. I was too pleased to see them to stay sad. I hopped out of the car and popped the trunk for their luggage.

“Peter! You look wonderful honey,” my mom fussed, hugging me tightly. My dad patted my shoulder once my mom released me.

“Colorado seems to agree with you,” he said with an amused glance at my belly. I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Yeah, well. The new job keeps me too busy to exercise much,” I shrugged.

“You look great sweetie, don’t worry, your father is just grumpy from the flight,” my mom said, shooting daggers at my dad. 

“I’m just joking, Pete. You look fine,” my dad said as we all got into the car. 

“So, how’s everyone back home?” I asked to change the subject. That got my mom started, and on the ride home I got an in-depth update on all the hometown gossip I could possibly want. 

I couldn’t help but feel relaxed and happy listening to my mom prattle on about her church friends and their drama. It was so familiar. I’d missed my parents more than I realized. 

Once we pulled into my garage, my parents started an excited commentary about how nice my house was. They wanted a tour so I walked them around the place. Nerves hit when they went in my bedroom since I knew Yuki had a drawer and section of my closet filled with her things, but my parents thankfully didn’t go through anything. That would’ve been difficult to explain.

I got my parent’s bags all set up in the guest room and then we ordered in some Thai food. It was weird not having Yuki’s cooking for dinner. I’d gotten so used to being spoiled by her. I tried to keep the frown off of my face as we ate.

While we picked at our food, I talked about my job and how I was liking the new place. I ended up excusing myself at nine since that was when I usually started getting ready for bed. My parents weren’t used to the one hour time difference, so it only felt like eight to them and they decided to stay up for a bit longer.

I headed upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. Once again, I found myself missing Yuki’s presence. I wondered how she was doing. I felt like a parent who’d sent their kid to daycare for the first time. Which was ridiculous. She was a perfectly capable grown woman (demon). I shouldn’t have to worry. 

But I was. I was worrying.

When I slipped under the covers of my bed, I stared at the ceiling until my eyes got heavy. I was dozing a bit when Yuki literally appeared out of thin air at the foot of my bed.

“What the,” I said, startled. 

Yuki hushed me. 

“Sorry, I just. I missed Peter,” Yuki said through a pathetic sniffle.

God, I was like putty in her hands when she did that. 

“Yuki…” I glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Come here,” I said, opening my arms for her. She immediately scuttled onto the bed next to me and cuddled up to my side. She fussed, nuzzling me and hugging me all over. She chirped a few times, happy as a clam now that I was giving her attention.

“I know you said to stay downstairs but,” Yuki said apologetically, “I thought of something.” Yuki looked up at me. “You said no one could see me because I don’t look human.”

I nodded sadly.

“So what if I looked human, then I could be here with you and your parents wouldn’t know I’m a demon!” Yuki said excitedly. 

I frowned. “How exactly would you do that?” I asked.

Yuki sat up out of my arms and got on her knees on the bed. 

“Like this!” And then suddenly Yuki’s horns receded into nothing and her eyes turned dark brown and her tail literally vanished into nothing.

I was staring at a beautiful human woman. 

“What? How?!” I stammered in a whisper-yell. She looked so different. It was almost wrong to see her without her distinct demon features, which was ironic since when I first saw her those things freaked me out. Now she looked naked without the horns framing her face like a crown. Her eyes looked so mundane.

“I tried it when you were working to see if I could do it and I can! It’s transformation magic. It’s all thanks to you for making me so strong, Peter,” she said, and then she launched herself back into my arms for a hug.

I laughed into her fluffy black hair. 

“You’re brilliant, Yuki. Absolutely amazing,” I whispered.

Yuki shuddered and made a funny excited growl sort of noise.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

*

In the morning, my mom made pancakes. She served me four, which I doused in syrup and inhaled in an embarrassingly short amount of time. I tried to pretend like I wasn’t still hungry, but my stomach rumbled audibly.

“Oh, someone’s hungry,” my mom commented, and put a single extra pancake on my plate. Like that was going to sate my hunger.

“Uh, yeah,” I said before stuffing the pancake in my mouth. My parents finished eating and I offered to clean up since it was my house, and also because my mom cooked. They reluctantly agreed and went upstairs to get dressed for the day. Instead of putting the leftover pancakes away, I shoved two in my mouth dry. Chewed. Swallowed. Shoved more in.

It was absolutely humiliating that I had to stuff my face in secret just as to not be embarrassed in front of my own parents. Yuki had been spoiling me too much, it seemed, if my belly couldn’t even go one morning without being jammed full of calories.

I ate all five leftover pancakes and then had a pop tart for good measure. Once I loaded everything in the dishwasher, I went up to get myself dressed.

Yuki and I had stayed up way too late last night planning, and so I had to stifle some yawns as I put on some stretchy athletic shorts and a t-shirt. The shirt clung to my stuffed belly a little too much for my liking, so I spent a minute pulling on the fabric with my fists from the inside of the shirt until it was stretched out enough to hang a little looser over my body.

My parents were already downstairs when I made my way down. 

“Do you mind if I invite my friend with us on the hike today?” I asked. 

My parents looked surprised for a second before my dad was smiling and my mom was gasping excitedly.

“Of course! Is this a friend from work?” she asked. 

I smiled. “No, she’s just someone I met when I was at the grocery store but she also just moved here so we connected through that,” I said, rehashing the story Yuki and I had agreed on last night. 

My mom unsubtly mouthed ‘she?’ at my dad. I rolled my eyes fondly. My mom couldn’t help herself. 

“I’d love to meet her!” my mom said.

“The more the merrier,” my dad agreed. 

Here came the more difficult part. I had to really sell this…

“But, uh I should warn you guys,” I said, furrowing my brow to make it more believable. It worked, as my parents both swiveled to give me their undivided attention. “She was raised in a cult apparently. I don’t know all the details, but you know… She doesn’t know a lot of things about like normal life. So be cool, okay. Don’t embarrass her. She might be shy and stuff too,” I said seriously. 

My parents both had matching sympathetic looks on their faces.

“A cult?” my dad repeated, “How horrible.”

“That poor thing,” my mom said sadly. My dad nodded along.

Well, they bought it. So far so good.

Truthfully, the part of this plan I was most nervous about was how Yuki was going to act. I’d had to give her tons of rules and instructions last night on how to act human. Hopefully it would be alright and if she acted odd I could just say that she was eccentric because of her traumatic upbringing.

I pretended to text my ‘friend’ and then announced a few minutes later that she’d agreed to come along.

When eleven A.M. rolled around, Yuki materialized in the backyard in her human disguise and I watched her walk around the house to knock on the front door. Luckily the houses in my neighborhood were a bit spread out and separated further by trees, making it unlikely that anyone could see Yuki appearing out of thin air. My parents were too busy packing bug spray and sunscreen to be looking out the windows too, thankfully.

Yuki knocked on the door. I grinned, excited to see her even though we’d talked through half the night.

“My friend’s here,” I called as I walked to the door.

“Oh how wonderful!” my mom murmured.

I swung open the door and there Yuki was. Only she looked so weird as a human. It was even more disorienting in the daylight. Her fluffy black hair was the same, but her skin no longer looked ashen and grayish, but rather a realistic pale, milky-white. She smiled at me with normal straight teeth.

She looked incredibly nervous.

“Um,” she cleared her throat. “H-Hi Peter!”

My chest fluttered. She was just so…

“What are you doing, Pete? Invite her in,” my dad said from behind me. I rolled my eyes.

“Come on in Yuki,” I said. “This is my dad Ken, and my mom Wendy.”

Yuki hovered near my side but dutifully put her hand out to shake just like we practiced.

“Hello,” she mumbled. “I’m Yuki. Nice to meet you.” 

Her voice wavered but my heart was bursting with pride anyway. She was amazing. My parents were easily charmed by her shyness as well.

“It’s great to meet you, honey. Look how sweet you are. Oh good lord, Peter, where did you find her?” my mother gushed. 

Yuki looked slightly overwhelmed, so I put a hand on my mom’s shoulder.

“Mom, stop freaking her out. I told you, we met at the store,” I scolded.

My mother tsk-ed with her tongue but let it go.

“Ready to head out?” my dad asked.

So we all loaded into my car, my parents insisting that Yuki take the passenger seat, and we drove off to a nearby nature park.

I tried to focus on the road but Yuki was staring out the window in awe which was very distracting. She’d never been in a car before. My parents didn’t seem to notice, thankfully, keeping up a steady conversation about the weather amongst themselves in the backseat.

Eventually, I parked by the entrance to the hiking trails and we all got out and put on sunscreen and bug spray. 

“Ticks are no joke!” as my dad pointed out.

We got started at a relatively slow pace. My parents were both in their 60s after all. I found myself feeling grateful for the easy pace because I hadn’t been doing much exercising lately. My job sort of demanded I be sedentary for at least eight hours a day and with Yuki doting on me all the time whenever I was home… Well it’s safe to say my fitness was pretty much neglected as of late.

Yuki on the other hand was absolutely thriving out here. 

“The sun feels so good,” she said quietly to me as we wandered through the trail. It was a beautiful day. I hadn’t realized that she’d enjoy the feeling of sun on her skin. I felt retroactively bad for depriving her all this time even though neither of us had known she could look human until yesterday. 

“Look Peter!” Yuki exclaimed loudly, grabbing onto my forearm. “You can see the mountains over there! And, oh my gosh, look at that bird! It’s so pretty!” she gushed. 

I couldn’t keep a smile off my face as I watched her excitement. It was contagious. 

“Very cool,” I agreed and Yuki looked so pleased that I’d validated her observations.

My parents also noticed and glanced at me with some very suggestive expressions on their faces, mainly my mother.

“Yuki,” my mom said, watching with interest as Yuki dropped her hand from my arm with uncharacteristic shyness. It was probably because Yuki was nervous about blowing her cover as a human.

“Y-Yes?” Yuki replied shyly.

“Where are you from? Peter mentioned that you just moved to Denver,” my mom said with a reassuring smile. It seemed to work since Yuki relaxed a bit.

“Um, Montana,” she said, just like I’d told her to. 

My dad hummed. “You liking it here?”

Yuki nodded, an easy smile lighting up her face.

“I like it here too, in case anyone was wondering,” I chimed in, and my parents laughed. 

“We didn’t forget about you, honey. But your new friend is just so sweet. What do you do for work, Yuki?” my mom asked.

I knew my mother would be like this. She was nosy by nature. But hopefully Yuki would be alright since we’d talked over her supposed backstory.

“I work for a cleaning agency,” Yuki said slowly. 

“Oh, that’s nice! Cleaning can be very therapeutic,” my mom said sagely. I huffed at her attempts at prying. 

Yuki didn’t seem to notice that my mom was hungrily digging for information, as she just said, “I love being useful!” with a cheery smile. 

My dad raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” I said with a tiny laugh. “Yuki is always helping anyone who needs it, aren’t you?”

Yuki started purring from my praise so I coughed loudly before anyone could catch on to what she was doing. 

“You alright, Pete?” my dad asked, thumping me on the back.

“Fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just swallowed my spit wrong.”

“Don’t you hate when that happens?” my mom said with a shake of her head. 

Crisis adverted. 

*

When we got to the lookout over a deep canyon, we stayed and admired the view for a few minutes. My mom took about 100 pictures with all of us in various combinations and poses. Yuki seemed to be having a blast, grinning from ear to ear in every one. 

By the time we hiked back to our car, everyone was starving. 

My dad suggested we go out to lunch, and my mom readily agreed. Yuki didn’t say anything and I couldn’t think of a reason to decline the request, so we all started googling restaurants nearby.

The issue was that Yuki couldn’t eat. Or she could but she didn’t like to. For some reason, I’d failed to consider the possibility that my parents would want to take my new friend out to eat with us. I felt so dumb. I tried to come up with an excuse for why Yuki couldn’t eat but aside from disclosing some kind of anxiety or eating disorder, I had nothing.

“How about this one? It’s a local bistro, that sounds nice,” my dad suggested.

“Yuki? That sound good to you?” my mom asked.

Yuki looked at me and then back at my parents. “Whatever Peter wants, that’s what I want.”

I could feel my parents’ eyes on me but I just looked at Yuki. My cheeks were probably red but I could blame that on the sun.

“I’m good with that,” I said.

We piled into the car.

The bistro was very quaint. Yuki sat pressed against my side in the booth. While my parents had menus in their faces, she whispered, “My tail really itches but I can’t itch it because it’s gone,” with a sad little pout

I grimaced. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Yuki nodded.

A middle aged lady walked up to our table to take our orders.

My parents got soup and salads, but I wasn’t a big fan of most soups and salads were probably my least favorite food type. 

“I’ll have the cheeseburger with no lettuce or tomato and can I make the fries steak fries?” I asked.

“Sure thing, hon,” the waitress said. “And you?” she asked Yuki.

I braced, waiting to see what she’d say. I’m not hungry, I have severe allergies so I don’t eat out, I’m in the middle of a cleanse and I can’t have anything but juice for two weeks…

Yuki said none of those things. 

“I’ll have the same as him,” Yuki told the waitress, looking at me.

Well, alright. We’d just have to make enough of her food disappear so that my parents didn’t notice that she didn’t eat. I brainstormed. Maybe we could hide it in napkins or something…

After the waitress disappeared with our menus, my parents got right back to their conversation. 

“So Yuki,” my mom started. “Do you have any plans for the holidays? Thanksgiving is only a few months away,” she said.

Yuki shifted her gaze to look at me. “Uh, I-I don’t think so.”

“No?” My mom’s expression turned sightly pitiful. “You should come to Wisconsin with Pete! We always have extra room at our house. We’d love to have you.”

My dad nodded along.

I rolled my eyes. Real subtle, Wendy. My parents were absolutely shameless in trying to get me a girlfriend. It was kind of endearing but ultimately annoying.

“Um, can I?” Yuki asked me, looking up pleadingly. Even though her eyes were an average shade of brown, the puppy dog effect still worked its usual magic on me.

“Of course. If you want to,” I said with a reassuring smile. 

“Okay!” Yuki’s face lit up into a breathtaking smile and I swear my heart grew three sizes like in The Grinch.

My mom threw me a knowing look that I ignored.

Luckily the waitress saved me by bringing our food out.

“That was fast!” my dad said.

“It looks great, thank you,” my mom told the waitress.

“Awesome, let me know if you need anything,” the waitress said and then walked off. 

My burger looked amazing. I was hungry enough that I dug in without really thinking about anything else, even though Yuki had the same huge portion in front of her that I knew she’d rather not eat. It wasn’t until I’d taken a few bites of juicy burger that I realized Yuki’s ingenious plan.

I watched her just to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, but no. Yuki picked up her fork, stabbed her steak fries and brought them to her mouth. Only when they were about to breach her lips, they disappeared and she mimed chewing. In the same instant, my pile of fries grew on my plate. With each bite, she magicked her food onto my own plate. The same thing happened when she took a ‘bite’ of her burger. I stared at my own plate and saw the missing bites I’d already taken of my burger reappear whilst her own burger disappeared with each fake bite she took.

Yuki was an evil genius. Because now I had to eat two burgers and heaping portions of fries. 

I figured I needed to eat fast in order to keep up the charade before anyone noticed my food was refilling. It was easy enough at first since I was hungry, but by the time I’d eaten my entire portion and still had a half of a burger on my plate, I was getting full. Not to mention a large pile of steak fries. I shouldn’t have stuffed myself full of extra pancakes this morning.

My parents didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, thankfully. They continued on talking about how nice of an area my new house was in and how pretty the scenery was. Yuki and I nodded along, not contributing much.

I shifted, spreading my legs to give my belly more room because yes somehow my gut started filling up into my lap and hanging a tiny bit between my legs recently whereas before it would only barely brush against my lap. I was getting fatter everyday it seemed. And eating two entire entrees wasn’t going to help. Yuki’s plate was pretty much empty, and mine was still half full. Ugh.

I felt a tiny hand brush over my thigh and give it a supportive squeeze. Yuki. It gave me a little encouragement to keep going. 

While I probably had enough room to eat all of this, I knew I had to be able to get out of this booth and drive everyone home. 

Again, ugh.

I burped into my fist and then picked up the burger. Ate a few forkfuls of fries. More burger. I was getting pretty full, but it felt sort of good in a weird way. Like a nice stretch from the inside. It made me squirm in my seat a bit. I pressed on the side of my belly to relieve some pressure. More burger, more fries. Everyone else was finished eating and that made me feel strangely embarrassed to be the only person still stuffing their face. 

“The portion sizes are big here, huh?” My mom commented, watching me eat. My cheeks were surely on fire. “Just because Yuki ate it all doesn’t mean you have to dear,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t know where you put it, Yuki.”

Yuki smiled innocently. “Dunno either ma’am,” she replied.

“Oh sweetie, please call me Wendy!”

As they talked, I finally finished my final bite and leaned back into the booth with a groan. 

The waitress dropped off the bill and I had to fight my parents to let me pay for everyone. Once I got my receipt, I sighed and started shuffling out of the booth, wincing as my tender stuffed belly was jostled.

I really needed to quit this habit of overeating.

The whole ride home, I was stifling burps, belly bouncing at any bump in the road. I could feel Yuki’s gaze on me but I focused on the road instead. 

When we got back to my house, I offered to walk Yuki to her ‘car.’

My parents each gave her a hug goodbye, which again had my heart thumping way too hard in my chest. Yuki seemed to like the affection too, if her ear to ear grin was anything to go by. 

I walked Yuki to the end of the block where the woods got a little thicker. We hovered near the tree line and hopefully out of sight from our neighbors.

“Alright, you can, um, disappear back to the basement from here, right?” I asked.

Yuki hummed and nodded. “Can I go back to our room to sleep again tonight?” she asked.

My stomach filled with butterflies when she said ‘our room’ instead of ‘your room.’

“Of course,” I said and then Yuki stepped up to give me a hug, careful of my bloated tummy, and then promptly disappeared. 

My brain didn’t quite understand what I was seeing, Yuki there one second and gone the next, dissolving into thin air, but maybe that was a good thing. It’d probably break my mind if I attempted to comprehend it. 

When I walked back to my house, my parents were giving me this annoying look that basically said I’ve known you your whole life, you can’t pull one over on me!

“What?” I asked tiredly.

My mom seemed to visibly contemplate her answer before saying, “Your girlfriend is adorable.”

I eye-rolled hard enough to give myself a headache. My dad burst out laughing at me.

“Mom, Yuki is just a friend,” I said in the patient tone of voice that I often used at work.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. “Did you try telling her that? She looks like a lovestruck puppy every time you look at her.”

Yeah, that did sound like Yuki. I’d thought she’d toned it down today though… Did that mean her adoring looks were usually more intense than a lovestruck puppy? 

“Well—,” I started, but then I didn’t know what to say. “I’m going to shower off all this gross bug spray and sunscreen,” I announced and then practically ran upstairs, which was particularly impressive on such a full stomach.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Pete!” my mother called. 

“I’m going to put you in a nursing home if you don’t cut it out!” I called back.

*

That night, Yuki appeared in my bedroom after I’d gone to bed. I was so relieved to see her in her true form that I pretty much tackled her in a hug, which was usually the opposite of how it went with us.

“Oof,” Yuki huffed in surprise as I tugged her body into mine. She started purring immediately though.

“I missed seeing you like this,” I mumbled into her fluffy black hair. 

Yuki chirped. “Did I do good today?”

I hummed, rocking us both from side to side while we embraced. “You did perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Yuki nuzzled me, careful of her horns. My heart felt so light I feared it would break through my chest and fly away. 

“My eyes got kind of dry and itchy after a while, and not having a tail made me feel a little off balance, but I will work on it! I’ll just get better every time!” she announced optimistically. 

“Of course you will. You’re incredible, Yuki.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her face. I wanted to see her eyes, her natural eyes.

She blinked owlishly at me, a watery smile on her face. I’d even missed seeing those shark teeth today.

“Your eyes are gorgeous, you know that?” I whispered. Looking at her now after seeing her in a human form all day, I finally noticed what it was about her eyes that enraptured me so. It wasn’t even the color, though that was the most noticeable thing. Nor was it the size, since her eyeball was fairly normal in size.

No, it was that the iris of her eye was far bigger than a normal person’s. The whites of her eyes were mere slivers on each side. That purple iris and huge black pupil were endearingly big, cartoonish even. It was just another thing that added to her beauty.

I yawned, still holding tight to Yuki’s waist.

“Bedtime?” Yuki whispered tiredly.

I loathed letting her go, but I knew we should both get some sleep. So I reluctantly opened my arms and watched her slither under my bed like she did every night. 

“Night, Peter,” said the quiet demon under my bed.

“Goodnight, Yuki.”

Even though Yuki was right below me, I felt lonely.

*

My parents flew out Sunday morning, leaving Yuki and I the entire rest of the day to recover from the stress of the weekend. Yuki was cuddly as usual, but a bit more clingy. Almost like she’d been when she first manifested here. I was clinging right back, to be honest. I didn’t want to examine why that was.

Either way, I decided that since Yuki’s human disguise had worked so well this weekend, that I could start integrating her into the human world a little bit. After all, I wanted Yuki to have some independence. 

So Yuki accompanied me to the grocery store that evening. She had on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and by all means should have looked fairly average. But Yuki was still very beautiful without her demon features, and I became slightly worried as the humans in the grocery store seemed to notice this as well. It probably didn’t help that she was clinging onto me with no shame nor concept of PDA.

“Do humans always stare like this?” Yuki whispered once we’d gotten a cart.

“Sometimes,” I said, “when the person they’re looking at is very pretty.”

Yuki blushed adorably. She was basically glued to my side, hugging my arm and occasionally putting her face into my shoulder to hide from wandering eyes.

“Lots of impure thoughts going on here,” she said with a scrunched nose, glancing at fellow shoppers. I laughed. 

“Humans are a bit rotten, aren’t we?”

Yuki’s arms migrated to my middle to give me a tight squeeze. “Not Peter! Peter is a nice person. Never felt anything vile coming from you, never,” she said with a smile.

Ah, well, I guessed I should take that as a compliment.

“You can sense what they’re thinking just by being near them?” I asked while I examined the meat section. Chicken thighs were on sale. 

“Mhm! I can only tell when it’s a deviant thought. Pure thoughts are safe from me,” she said, than added, “I don’t really know how it works.”

I put my arm around her shoulder. “That’s alright. Thanks for telling me.”

Once we had all of the fresh ingredients from our list, I led Yuki to the bakery isle. I loved having bread with my meals. 

“Get this one!” Yuki picked up the biggest baguette and held it up to me with a grin. 

“Okay, fine,” I relented. We went through isle after isle and Yuki convinced me to add more food to my cart than I normally would. It was too hard to say no when she was just so excited over the most mundane things.

When we passed a little display that had glittery snow globes, Yuki basically lost her mind. She shook the thing and watched little reflective pieces float around with an awestruck look on her face.

“It’s soooo cool, can we get it? Please?”

Of course we got that snow globe. And then she smelled some candles that we just had to get! 

I never said no to anything she held up to me. Purple oven mitts, a sparkly keychain, a birthday card that sang a stupid song when it was opened… All things that Yuki didn’t need, necessarily. But Yuki wanted them, so she was going to get them. It was possible that I was spoiling her a bit. I reasoned that Yuki spoiled me too, so it all evened out in the end. 

By the time we were in the check out line, Yuki pretty much declared that she loved the supermarket. 

After the success of that first trip, I was happy to have Yuki tag along with me on other errands. She seemed to love being outside. When I’d come home from work, Yuki would sometimes tell me about how she’d taken to sitting on the patio in the afternoons, basking in the sun. So long as she was in her human form, she was welcome to do that. 

And so we settled into a new routine where Yuki had more freedom. She could go with me on errands and potentially in the future once she understood human customs a little better, she would be able to go places on her own. 

Just the thought of it made me feel a lot less guilty. Yuki was actually able to exist in the world without being held prisoner in my house now. It was a weight off my chest.

Ironically, the extra weight on my body hadn’t gone anywhere. Instead, I was just getting even fatter. It was out of control, really. I’d only had Yuki back in my life for four months, but I’d gained about 35 lbs. Every dinner was elaborate and delicious, and I typically ate every last bit. And these recipes made enough food for four people!!

It didn’t help that Yuki had begun dabbling in baking too. Now there were pies or cakes or pastries made every few days, and I’d of course eat multiple helpings of those every night after I’d digested enough from my dinner feast. 

As a result of all of this overindulgence, I started to be hungrier. In the mornings, a few pieces of toast or frozen waffles used to be enough to fill me up. Now after eating that, I was hungry by mid morning and would snack on vending machine food to tide me over until lunch.

My lunch order was growing along with my waist. It wasn’t intentional, but when I was hungry I had a propensity to over-order. And then when there was food in front of me well… 

I couldn’t blame this on Yuki, per se. She wasn’t making me hungrier. But she was encouraging this side of me. Any time I mentioned that my clothes were getting tight or that I should cut back, she’d tell me that she wanted me to be happy. That she could sense that I wanted to eat more. It wasn’t necessarily untrue; I enjoyed letting myself go, eating whatever I wanted, but it was a headache to have to buy new work clothes for the second time in just a few months. It wasn’t like I couldn’t get my clothes on or anything, but I didn’t want to torture myself by having my my pants digging into me all day while I was working, nor did I want to risk looking unprofessional in button downs that were loose enough to fit around me, but were tight enough that my flesh puckered around each button.

My gains were pretty obvious with or without new clothes. My belly, which before looked like a ball belly, or a beer gut, was now drooping a little over my waistband and forming rolls on my sides. My chest had puffed up too, forming two mounds of fat where before had been just hints of softness. Even my fingers looked puffy lately. My face wasn’t showing much, maybe some softness around my chin but, my belly was definitely taking the brunt of the gain, for sure. 

I wasn’t particularly bothered by it, which was probably weird. Most people would freak out if they gained so much weight so fast. But for some reason, I only felt like I should be upset, rather than actually feeling that way. It was embarrassing, sure, but not in a bad way. I shrugged it off pretty easily. 

As time went on, I began to consider that Yuki had been right about me and my so-called desires.

Eating whatever I wanted was fun. I grew used to being constantly full, and I found that having a full stomach was soothing in a way. Whereas before I would push these feelings away, shame and guilt eating at me, I now tried to embrace them. Yuki wanted me happy. Seeing me happy made her happy. Ergo… I should eat as much as my heart desires. For me. For her. 

The mental gymnastics necessary for me to reach this conclusion were irrelevant. 

What was relevant was that in a matter of weeks, I was up another 10 lbs. It wasn’t super noticeable, at least to me. Yeah so what if my gut was sitting more in my lap everyday? Or if my upper arms were getting puffier, and that my face and neck were getting thicker? That was normal for a man entering his 30’s!

Anytime I mentioned these changes to Yuki she would coo at me, saying how handsome I looked with a little softness added on. And she said everything so earnestly! I was pretty sure she wasn’t even capable of lying, so I believed her. 

Anyway. 

As one would suspect, I’d gotten a few lighthearted comments from other execs. My secretary at work, Denise, was too polite to make a comment, but she had been taking lingering looks at my belly, particularly if she’d just seen me eat a huge spread for lunch.

Overall, it wasn’t too bad. Most of the other men I worked with were overweight. The CEO was pretty portly himself, so most of the teasing was self-deprecating, and it never bothered me.

There was one issue, however, that needed to be resolved. 

I needed to get Yuki an identity. A real one. One that would let her get on a plane to Wisconsin come November because I’d promised Yuki that she could have Thanksgiving with my family. 

And yes, I was willing to commit a crime to make that happen. 

In order to get Yuki an enhanced ID good enough to go through airport security, I had to delve back into my old habits as a young teenager with way too much unsupervised internet access. 

I reintroduced myself to the dark web. 

It was a testament to how close I’d grown to Yuki that I was even willing to go to such lengths for her. 

Going on the dark web was my last resort. I had tried asking Yuki if she could make an ID for herself using demon magic, but she said that she had no power like that. She couldn’t conjure things from nothing, nor could she transform anything but herself, and even that only lasted a short period of time. Her ability to dissolve into shadows was also exclusive to only herself. Yuki explained that she couldn’t take anyone or anything with her when she did so.

So I got my VPN going and searched my way through darknets I hadn’t visited since I was in college. It took the better part of an afternoon before I found what I was looking for: someone who made and sold birth certificate and state ID forgeries. The person’s services supposedly included forging military ID’s and security badges good enough to get into the pentagon, so I hoped it was as legit as it seemed. It was insanely expensive (I only gave partial payment upfront, I’m not an idiot) and I had to send in several photos of Yuki’s human face so that the person could complete my order. It was supposedly going to arrive in my P.O. Box next month. 

Several thousands of dollars poorer, I would finally have a genuine identity for my strange, little lurking demon. I hoped she wouldn’t mind that I’d put my last name as hers as well. I just figured it would be easier that way. 

*

Soon, it was Halloween. We passed out candy all night, which Yuki found fascinating.

She probably made every kid’s night by sharing enthusiastic praise about every child’s costumes as they came up our walkway. I couldn’t help but grin at seeing her interact with humans. She was a bit childlike herself, especially when she got excited. She would gush over every cool mask or pretty dress. She squealed in delight at the one boy dressed as a superhero. 

And then at the end of the night, Yuki hand-fed me all of the leftover candies, looking all sweet and doting. 

No matter what she did, Yuki was always gentle, and kind, and caring, and beautiful, and…

Stop, I mentally slapped myself. 

Yuki’s (forged) ID came in in the mail with only a week to spare before our Thanksgiving trip to Milwaukee. I was a mess of nerves all week, worried about whether or not Yuki would be able to get through TSA with her forged license. I ate my stress a bit, munching on snacks all throughout my workday and eating my now-typical dinner feast.

The day of the flight, Yuki was a bundle of nerves, so I pushed my own worries down deep. I had to be strong for her. 

As we stood in line, I ran a hand over Yuki’s back. She was biting her lip and I knew that if she hadn’t been in her human form, her tail would have been nervously flicking from side to side. This had to work. We’d taken an Uber to the airport since it was cheaper than paying for parking, so if this forgery caused even the slightest of problems, we’d be stranded here with no real escape plan.

Think positively, I admonished myself.

Eventually, it was our turn to approach. I showed them our tickets on my phone, and then the man scanned my ID. The scanner light was all green. 

Yuki’s hand shook as she handed him her ID.

I tried not to look suspicious but I was sweating in places I didn’t even know I could sweat.

It turned green.

“Here you go, have a nice flight,” the man said in a monotone voice. I nodded and we hurried into the next line.

“See, it’s fine,” I told Yuki.

Yuki purred quietly.

“Peter’s amazing,” she said softly. 

The rest of the security check was uneventful, if you didn’t mind the casual verbal harassment from airport security as we loaded up our belongings to get x-rayed. That always seemed to happen whenever I traveled. I wondered why airport security was so grouchy. 

They did pat down Yuki’s back because apparently, her hair was too fluffy for the body scanner or something, but Yuki was her usual good sport about it as a woman ran her hand over Yuki’s shoulders and upper back. 

We made it through. I smiled to myself as we put our shoes back on. 

*

“AH! It’s so good to see you! How was the flight?!” My mom gushed. Yuki smiled sweetly, but she looked tired. Keeping her human form up for so many hours was draining, though I knew she wouldn’t complain.

“Not bad,” I said, hugging my mom and dad before putting mine and Yuki’s bags in the SUV.

“Didn’t like it,” Yuki said quietly. My mom cooed and pulled Yuki in for a motherly hug.

“Oh, was this your first time flying?”

Yuki nodded into my mom’s shoulder.

“I don’t like flying either,” my dad said. “Human’s aren’t supposed to be so high in the air.” He said it with a ‘tsk’ and a shake of his head.

Yuki met my eye and smiled like we had some kind of private joke. Because Yuki wasn’t human. And yet, she wasn’t meant to be up in the air either. She was meant to be very much below.

It was true that Yuki wasn’t a fan of flying. She hugged my arm and hid her face into it for the whole flight, shaking and whining whenever there was turbulence. I wished I could’ve given her something to relax but I honestly wasn’t sure if human medicine would even have an effect on her.

My parents, predictably, talked Yuki’s ear off for the whole drive. My childhood home wasn’t too far from the airport, so it only took about 20 minutes.

When we arrived, Yuki leaned very close to me. 

“I remember being here,” she said in a quiet voice. “Here is where I met Peter.”

I felt my cheeks heat. “Yeah,” I said, throat tight with… something.

But then my dad was getting bags from the trunk so I went over to help him. He had a bad back, so really he shouldn’t be lifting all that, but he never listens.

“I’ve set up Peter’s old room for you two,” my mom was telling Yuki.

“O-Oh,” Yuki said. She had to be exhausted. I needed to get her alone so she could transform back. She was pushing her limits.

“Wait, what?” I asked once my mom’s words registered.

My mother sent me an absolutely devious smile. “We made the guest room dad’s office so she’ll have to share with you. Don’t worry,” she said to Yuki, “the bed’s big enough for two.”

Yuki smiled and nodded. I looked at my dad pleadingly, but he just shrugged. He knew better than to interfere with Wendy when she was playing match-maker.

“Happy wife happy life,” he mumbled to me. 

My father probably deserved to be sainted for being married to my mom for all these years. 

Once we got the bags put away, Yuki and I had a second alone when my parents were downstairs ordering a pizza.

“Did I do… good?” Yuki asked, nuzzling my chest with her forehead. Her human form melted away, revealing the gray-tinted skin, horns, and tail, which was currently poking its way out of the waistband of her pants.

“You did amazing, Yuki,” I said, holding her close. She was pressed right against my belly, and she seemed to like how it felt, squeezing the rolls on my sides with her tiny hands. 

“Mmm, so tired,” she mumbled into my plush chest. 

“Go to sleep,” I whispered. “I’ll tell them you aren’t feeling well from the flight, okay?”

Yuki groaned lightly which I took as an affirmative. 

“Get some rest,” I said, leaning back to look at her face. I cupped her chin in my hand. She blinked her owlish purple eyes at me sleepily. “I’ll be back up later.”

Yuki grinned and her predatory teeth dazzled. “Peter’s the best,” she said as she slithered under the sheets. We hadn’t discussed her sleeping on the bed rather than under like she did at home, but Yuki was so exhausted that I didn’t correct it. “Peter always takes such good care of me,” she mumbled into the pillow. She dissolved into a fit of boneless, relaxed purring.

Oh no. 

Yuki’s words hit like bullets to the chest. 

Peter always takes such good care of me.

I’m not supposed to feel this way. I had promised myself.

Yuki was docile. Worshipful. That was just how Yuki was. It wasn’t a reflection of how she truly felt about me, was it? She’d say this to anyone in my position.

It didn’t mean she… wanted me. 

I went downstairs. 

“Where’s Yuki?” My mom immediately asked.

“She wasn’t feeling great from the flight still,” I said. “Decided to turn in early.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, we ordered extra pizza since we thought she’d be eating but…” my dad looked me up and down. “Maybe that was a blessing in disguise.”

“Ken!” My mom smacked him with a kitchen towel. 

“No, he’s right. I guess I’ve let myself go recently. Job stress,” I said with a shrug. 

“That’s perfectly normal,” my mom chimed in. “Eat as much as you want.”

I did. Probably a whole pizza and a few slices extra. I ate until I felt vaguely sick, which was turning into my default setting as of late. 

I crawled into bed next to Yuki with a sore stomach, bloated from all the carbonated pop and cheesy-meaty pizza. I burped into my fist a few times as I got settled. Yuki didn’t stir, but she shifted closer to me once I got settled.

“Hick, ugh,” I groaned quietly. My poor stomach was gurgling, struggling to digest.

Yuki turned, and her hand landed on the crest of my gut. I stared at her to see if she was awake. She looked asleep. Steady breathing, eyes closed. 

Her fingers slid under the hem of my t-shirt.

I felt myself slipping to sleep as well. The last thing I remember was feeling her hand softly rubbing my belly in soothing circles.

*

Thanksgiving was a parade of gluttony. It was one of my favorite holidays.

Even as a kid, I loved watching football with my dad, eating until I was groaning, and then getting multiple helpings of dessert after. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to have leftovers.

It was comforting in a way.

Yuki seemed to have recovered well overnight. She took her time getting ready before she left the bedroom, only donning her human form at the last second. 

“Sure you’ll be okay all day today?” I asked, slightly worried. Yes, she’d done well at the airport in her disguise, but today would be more hours. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“Mhm!” Yuki said cheerily. She latched onto me like a leech, wrapping me in her arms. I knew if her tail was out, it would’ve been wound around my leg. “Today will be different! Can feed off of Peter today, yes, your aura should be so very filling for me today,” she said. I yelped when her little teeth bit my upper arm where it was most flabby. 

“Yuki,” I scolded.

The little demon knew she had me wrapped around her finger, as she just giggled and kissed the sore spot. I was grateful she didn’t do that with her normal teeth.

Although, under a certain circumstance, those teeth could feel…

Danger. Stop. This train of thought is prohibited.

We made our way downstairs where my dad had already gotten the turkey in the oven and my mom was making eggs and bacon to tide us over until dinner.

We took seats at the kitchen barstools.

I watched my mom plate Yuki up some breakfast and licked my own lips in anticipation.

This time, I was excited at the prospect of secretly eating double. I don’t know what exactly changed since the last time she’d done this, but now I wanted it. I wanted to eat as much as I could. I knew it would feel good. I felt warmth spreading through me, pooling in my gut, just thinking about it.

So when Yuki took a big heaping bite of bacon, I stuffed some of my own bacon in my mouth. Sure enough, Yuki magicked her food into my mouth and I smiled as I chewed through a doubled mouthful.

I felt immense satisfaction as I scarfed down two giant platefuls. I also felt very full.

Yuki blinked at me with her typical adoring gaze. I put a hand on her leg under the bar, thinking she was feeling as satisfied as I felt.

“More please!” Yuki said innocently.

I bit the inside of my cheek. 

“You’re feeling very devious today, aren’t you?” I murmured quietly to Yuki as my mom eagerly refilled her dish.

Yuki giggled. “I can sense it.”

I frowned at her. “Sense what?”

“Can sense the impure thoughts you’re having about being a glutton. It’s making me feel oh so floaty!” she whispered with a slightly crazed smile. 

Impure thoughts. About being a what?

But I didn’t get to ask because my mom was walking up to the kitchen island and handing Yuki a plate. 

Now to awkwardly chew without being noticed since I was supposed to be done eating… I hid my mouth behind my napkin as Yuki scarfed down ‘her’ second helping.

I sat down on the couch to watch the game. Yuki had offered to help my mom, unsurprisingly. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Yuki dutifully sliced potatoes. 

I had hoped to digest more of my breakfast, but it seemed like no time at all had passed before it the turkey was done and I was setting the dining room table. 

I didn’t’ know what was wrong with me, but I was feeling that same perverted sort of excitement I’d felt earlier. Even though I wasn’t at all hungry, I just. Wanted food anyway.

“Let’s say grace,” my mom said once all of her side dishes had been plated around the big golden-brown bird in the center of the table.

“Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts….” We recited.

Yuki went ridged before she started to squirm uncomfortably in her chair next to me. 

“Amen!” 

Yuki melted back into her seat.

“Who wants white meat, who wants dark?” My dad asked, getting up to start carving.

The next hour or so was a blur of flavors. Every bite I took, I was getting a surprise second bite from Yuki. Sometimes the combinations were better than others. Mashed potatoes and turkey? Great. 

Green bean casserole and cranberry sauce? Not so great.

But. I kept eating beyond all common sense, because that was what Thanksgiving was about as far as I was concerned. 

Everyone was groaning appreciatively at the flavors, paying compliments to my dad (for the turkey) and to my mom (for everything else). Long after everyone else claimed themselves to be stuffed, leaned back in their chairs and wishing they had worn stretchy pants, I kept eating. My stomach was aching by then, but I didn’t care. I’d unbuttoned my pants in preparation before we’d even started eating so I wasn’t phased. And it all tasted so good. Yuki seemed to know it too, as she kept eating as well, secretly feeding me every bit.

I lost count of how many rolls, how many helpings of turkey, potatoes, casseroles, corn I’d eaten. It was an excess, that was all I knew. And when I truly felt like I couldn’t eat even one more bite, absolutely stuffed, painful stretching and shooting pains from my absolute tank of a gut filling my lap, Yuki pushed one more bite of buttery bread down.

I couldn’t help but moan around it.

“We really did a number on that bird, didn’t we?” My mom was boxing up leftovers and yes, there was only about a quarter of the turkey left. The rest of the dishes were either gone or nearly. 

It was easily enough food for six people, but three had almost wiped the table clear.

I felt a sick sense of pride, even though my gut ached something fierce and all I wanted to do was lay down.

“Ate too much?” My dad asked. I was in a major food coma, watching Yuki’s fluffy black hair fall over one shoulder as she helped pick up plates.

“You could say that,” I wheezed.

*

After our trip to Wisconsin, something between Yuki and I changed. It was like some kind of wall had crumbled. Neither of us were acting differently per se, but there was an energy there that hadn’t been there before. Knowing glances replaced innocent ones. I replaced my favorite belt with a larger one.

Whatever was going on with us, this feeding thing, it was no longer ignorable. Before, I could write it off. Yuki was simply engrossed in her new hobby, cooking, and of course my waistband was suffering because of it. That made sense. And Yuki used to have to push me to overeat, back when I was still in denial about how much I liked it. 

Then, over time, it became more natural to let myself indulge. I didn’t need prompting to eat enough food for four people at meals anymore. But lately… It was more than indulgence. I was falling into a cycle of gluttony. And I knew that Yuki was pleased at herself for thoroughly corrupting my self-control. 

I wished I didn’t find it incredibly attractive.

I did.

Soon the first snowfall of the season was upon us. Denver didn’t get as cold as the midwest winters I was used to, but the storm that came in early December was substantial. We stayed inside, bundled up in blankets cuddling on the couch as we watched it fall. Yuki made me a hot chocolate.

“The snow looks so fluffy,” Yuki commented, and a contented chirp rumbled from her chest. 

“We can go out there if you want. But it’s cold,” I warned her.

Yuki’s cheeks flushed with her excitement. “Really?!”

Just that look on her face made me inhale shakily. This was so dangerous. I had been ignoring this feeling for months. 

I couldn’t ignore it right then. Not with Yuki’s purple eyes glittering, staring at me like I was her entire universe.

I was falling in love with my demon. 

We went outside. Yuki didn’t like being cold as a general rule. She much preferred the heat, as evidenced by her scalding hot baths. But still, she excitedly tromped all around our backyard, even sticking her tongue out to catch some snow flakes.

“Let’s make snow angels,” I said. 

“Okay!” Yuki nodded, happy to go along with any suggestion of mine. Then, “What are those?”

After a short explanation, I lowered myself onto the wet, snowy ground. This was a lot more fun when I was a kid, I realized. Yuki followed along until we were both settled in the white snow. 

“Now you just move your arms and legs like this,” I said, demonstrating. 

“Oh my!”

Yuki giggled happily as we made snow angels. 

“Now, here’s the most important part,” I said. “You have to try to get up without messing up your angel.”

Yuki’s brow furrowed. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking I’d never seen such a look of serious concentration on her face.

I tried getting up, noting that it was more difficult since I’d last done this. I didn’t generally get on the floor often, and I definitely hadn’t done it since about 30 lbs ago. 

I felt my belly awkwardly pushing into my leg as I got myself into a kneel. I had to take a second to catch my breath.

“Okay, let’s see how we did.” I pushed myself up and then jumped out of my angel. I didn’t do a great job; there was a big boot print in my angel’s wing.

Yuki did much better. Hers was pristine. 

“SO COOL!” she gushed. I quickly had an armful of a squirming Yuki. She nuzzled me, even licked my neck, which I thought was a rather strange thing to do, but well. That was Yuki for you.

Yuki purred against me. We risked her coming outside in her true form since her horns were covered by a hat and her tail was tucked somewhere in her snow pants. Her ashen cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes reflected the white that was falling around us. I found myself looking at her lips. 

They were turning a bit blue.

I wondered if she was really purring that hard or if she was trembling from the cold.

“We should go inside and warm up,” I said.

“O-O-ka-ka-ka-y,” she said through a frozen tremble. Her smile didn’t dim at all even as we shuffled inside. 

We shed our wet outer garments and thawed on the couch covered in blankets. It was perfect. I couldn’t ever remember a day when I’d been more at peace. 

Especially when Yuki decided to warm up the house by baking cookies. I may have eaten 10 in one sitting. 

 I got up to go to the bathroom later that day and was shocked at how fat I looked in my reflection. Sure, I had decided to just embrace my climbing weight since it seemed to make Yuki and Iboth happy. But seeing myself was still jarring sometimes. 

I had a proper double chin these days. My arms, which used to be toned and muscled, now looked swollen with fat. Even my wrists and hands were pudgy. My legs weren’t really that big; I was decidedly top-heavy, but even so, my thighs had started to rub together. My gut was surely the biggest thing about me, but my love handles had swelled to the point where I had an exaggerated muffin top at all times now. I could see that my belly was drooping too. I could barely see my pants-button. And of course when I turned to the side to look at my profile, it was even more obvious how fat I was. My stomach stuck out far enough that it was a little hard to hold my belly button with both hands. I lifted my belly up and watched it jiggle as I let it go.

“Peter! Dinner!” Yuki called.

I sighed and patted my stomach. 

“Be right there!”

* 

December was flying by. In what seemed like no time at all, I woke up one morning realizing it was nearly Christmas. I shuffled out of bed rubbing my tired eyes. I could hear Yuki’s heavy sighs and occasional purrs from under my bed and I couldn’t help but smile fondly. 

Yuki was not a morning person. She only got up when I was about tot leave to say goodbye to me before I went to work, and even then she always looked sleepy and soft. With swollen eyes and a wrinkles from her pillowcase on her cheeks.

God. Ever since I admitted to myself that I had feelings for Yuki it was like I couldn’t help but thinking of her all the time anymore. My love for her was spilling over into my every waking thought. I was turning into such a sap. 

I didn’t act on my feelings. For one, I wasn’t sure if Yuki could even feel romantic love. She wasn’t human. It was easy to forget because she was so kind, compassionate, caring, all attributes that I associated with humanity. But she was a demon and I wasn’t sure if she was capable of human love. I knew Yuki cared about me in her way, but caring about someone and loving them were different. I didn’t know if I could handle it if I confessed only to have her say she couldn’t reciprocate.

For two, I recalled all of the workplace harassment training I’d taken for my job. Hours of my life sitting through modules where relationships with power imbalances were discussed, along with the potential legal ramifications for engaging in such a relationship. Of course, these were geared toward workplace relationships. It’d be unethical for me to date someone in my company, particularly someone who I was a direct supervisor to. 

But after everything that happened when Yuki reappeared in my life, I was certain that Yuki and I were in a similar situation. After all, she was beholden to me. She was my demon. That was an uneven power dynamic if I’d ever heard one. And I’d repressed my own growing feelings for her because, on some level, I thought that I would be taking advantage of her if I ever acted on my feelings. And Yuki’s docile nature didn’t dispel that illusion for me. It felt wrong to force my affections on her, even though it was usually Yuki who initiated physical affection. Cuddling could be platonic, after all, so I still felt weird about aiming for more than that. 

But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Yuki had the ability to have her own life outside of me now. She’d met my parents, gone out in public with me several times, and we were working on her becoming even more independent. So maybe it could work. Maybe it wouldn’t be wrong to love her. 

Assuming Yuki returned my feelings, of course. 

I splashed cold water on my face to wake me up before I went downstairs to eat some breakfast. I’d always started my day with a hearty breakfast, but lately I’d been waking up ravenous. My stomach would rumble like I hadn’t eaten in weeks like I hadn’t in fact eaten a meal for four only ten hours earlier. 

I threw four frozen waffles into the toaster and started the coffee machine. I picked at some cookies while I waited. It seemed like only a short while ago, two waffles would be more than enough to hold me over until lunch. But of course, I now needed at least five. I could probably eat eight if I really put my mind to it.

I loaded up my coffee with flavored creamer and sat down with my syrup and waffles. As I stuffed my face, I thought about the upcoming holiday. I had my last week of work and then my parents would be flying in for Christmas. 

I also had the annual Christmas party for work to attend. It wasn’t mandatory, but it would look bad if I didn’t show up, seeing as it was my first year working as an exec.

It was black tie, and so I’d had to order a new tux for the occasion. I was debating asking Yuki to accompany me. My secretary, Denise, said that most people bring a date. A spouse, a fiancé, a fling…

I had none of the above, but I did have a Yuki. 

Would that be weird? Would Yuki even want to go? Moreover, Yuki didn’t have any formal clothes. I’d have to take her shopping. It sounded like a chore, but then the more I thought about it, I realized seeing Yuki try on clothes might be sort of fun. She’d surely look stunning in anything she wore…

I put away my dishes and got dressed. Yuki slithered out from under my bed while I was tying my tie. 

“Leaving?” She asked. I nodded. “I’ll miss you!” Yuki clung to my middle and nuzzled my chest. I could feel myself blushing. 

“I’ll miss you too. Be good,” I said, petting her hair. She purred lethargically. 

“Always good,” she mumbled.

“I know you are.”

*

I didn’t bring up the Christmas party until I got home that night. Yuki was finishing off a big pan of shrimp Alfredo that smelled absolutely delicious. She put the fettuccine into a pot of boiling water, tail swaying from side to side as she did. She always cooked barefoot, tiny gray-ish feet padding around the kitchen tiles as she stirred and chopped. 

“Hey Yuki,” I said.

“Mmm?”

“How would you feel about going somewhere with me? For my work.”

Yuki tilted her head, considering. “Go somewhere?” she echoed. “I’ve never been to Peter’s work.”

I smiled. “I know. Ah, well, it’s a work party. So it isn’t actually the place I really work at. But most of the people there will bring someone. I thought, maybe, if you wanted to, I could bring…you,” I said lamely. I felt like a goddamn middle schooler, stuttering trying to ask out some girl. 

But Yuki just lit right up. Her face brightened into a pleased and slightly surprised smile, and she hopped a little in place, clapping her hands together.

“Peter wants me to go with him! Of course I’ll go! Any place with Peter there will be the best place for Yuki to be,” she said with a feverish smile. She even ran over to where I was sitting at the kitchen bar to hug my arm to her chest.

“I’m glad,” I said, putting my arm around her instead and pulling her into a proper hug. “We’ll have to get you a nice dress to wear. It’s kind of fancy,” I said. 

Yuki lifted her head super fast at that, and I dodged blindness by horn-point. 

“I get to wear a dress?!” she whisper-yelled.

“You sure do,” I said. 

“EEEE!”

It turned out that getting Yuki a dress wasn’t actually too hard. I recalled how Yuki used to be scared at when we went out in public at first, as she was naturally a bit flighty and nervous, but over time, she began to love being around other people. 

The sales attendant that helped Yuki pick out her dress (she ended up choosing a gorgeous midnight blue number, floor-length with silver accents) chatted Yuki up and I could tell, Yuki liked the attention. It helped that everything she tried on looked gorgeous on her. Even without her demon features, she was a knockout. 

Apparently Yuki was a winter undertone so cool colors will compliment best… I didn’t know what any of that meant, so I just nodded along and swiped my card to pay for it and carried the garment bag to the car. 

 The day of the party, I decided to step on the scale for the first time in a while. It wasn’t like I was avoiding it, but I had been sort of enjoying the mystery of not having my weight gain confirmed. It was nice to think I might still be somewhere around 280. 

When the scale said 303, I bit my lip. Well, I supposed I’d maybe been underestimating just how many extra calories I’d been eating every day. How could I have put on another 20 pounds without hardly noticing? Sure it was the holiday season so everyone was gaining a bit of winter fluff, but this was putting my gain at over 50 lbs in just 6 months. That seemed… substantial. 

I decided not to think too hard about it, and just started getting dressed instead. My new was loose actually, which was good. With the way I was going, it probably wouldn’t be loose on me for long.

Meanwhile, Yuki was nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement as she got ready. 

She looked stunning. She’d even curled her hair with the new curling iron we’d picked up, so her black hair fell in silky spirals on her back. 

The saleswoman at the dress shop must’ve been onto something because Yuki’s pale skin looked fantastic against the deep blue tones of her dress. And even though I missed her purple eyes, she was still a sight to behold in her human guise. 

“What do you think?” Yuki asked, giving me a little twirl. And was I imagining it, or were her cheeks looking a little pink?

“You look absolutely beautiful, Yuki,” I said. 

Yuki’s face lit up and she swayed on her feet a little from the compliment. It was so cute how flustered she got sometimes.

“I think Peter looks the most beautiful,” Yuki muttered. She was definitely blushing now, but so was I.

So I just held out my arm. “Let’s go.”

*

Everyone at the party thought Yuki was my girlfriend. Maybe I should’ve foreseen this and prepared for it, but for some reason it hadn’t even occurred to me. Stupid.

“Oh my, I didn’t realize Peter had a partner, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“And who might you be? Peter never mentioned having such a beautiful girlfriend.”

It just went on and on like that with every acquaintance I came across. I didn’t correct anyone, because me having Yuki as a girlfriend was much more believable than the truth.

Yuki, for her part, did extremely well. She didn’t talk much, but that was mostly because she was still pretty shy around big groups. She only replied to direct questions, or said “Nice to meet you as well,” and she didn’t let go of my hand the whole time. 

Meanwhile, everyone we passed couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off of her. I didn’t blame them, she was radiant. If only they knew how much more beautiful she was in her true form… Still, the attention was a bit much. Men’s eyes followed her around the room. I imagined them wondering to themselves how I was able to find someone as gorgeous as Yuki looking how I did. For some reason, their jealousy was turning me on. I felt sort of like an asshole for thinking it, but I was oddly pleased at the amount of attention Yuki was receiving. There was something so hot about having the most attractive person in a room, when they only have eyes for you.

If only Yuki really felt that way about me. 

“How are you feeling? So far so good?” I whispered to Yuki as we finally made our way to our table for dinner. 

“Mhm!” Yuki nodded her head enthusiastically. “Everybody is so nice. I feel so energized from all of the envy and greed here. Very lush,” she said with a tiny giggle. 

“Envy and greed huh… I suppose that is the world of business,” I acknowledged with a laugh. 

We found our table pretty easily; we were sitting with a few executives I liked and their spouses. I was relieved that Carl wasn’t sitting near me. That man was insufferable. 

We got our champagne and listened to our CEO give a brief speak before we cheers-ed. Yuki had never tried alcohol before, so I told her to just take a tiny sip or not drink it at all. 

I watched out of the corner of my eye as she sniffed the glass, made a face, and then pushed it into my hand.

One of my colleague’s wives noticed and said, “Don’t like it?” When Yuki shook her head, she said, “I never used to either. It’s an acquired taste.”

“I don’t think that is a taste I will be acquiring, ma’am,” Yuki said with a worried expression. The woman laughed.

“Oh my, you’re such a sweetie!” 

I was inclined to agree. 

After a few minutes, they started bringing food out, and I was relieved. Even though I’d hit the appetizer tables a little hard, that fancy finger food hadn’t done much to stave off my hunger. I was starving. 

As had become our routine, I ate my food while Yuki covertly magicked her own food on my plate. Over the course of the dinner, I ate two helpings of salad, soup, porterhouse steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and finished off with two big slices of cake. I was feeling pretty stuffed and drowsy after so much rich food. Yuki seemed worn out as well, since I knew that keeping up her human appearance was tiring, and socializing with so many people was out of her comfort zone. We decided we would have a photo taken of us in front of the gorgeous holiday display and then leave early. The photographer had a short line, so we made our way over there to get that done before we planned to slip out of the party. 

Yuki slipped her small arm around my middle and squeezed at the flesh there. 

“Thank you for bringing me,” she purred, tucking herself into my side.

“Of course, Yuki. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

Her hands rubbed my swollen sides. 

“I love Peter. Peter’s the best. Always… always so nice to me,” Yuki murmured sleepily. I instantly froze. Yuki… Yuki said what? She… loved me?

“Next!” the photographer called, and oh my god that was us. Of course it would be. Of course I wouldn’t be able to talk to her about what she’d just said. 

Yuki pulled away and we positioned ourselves where we were directed. 

“Now smile on three. One, two, three!”

Flash. 

I started walking in a daze. It felt like time had stopped the minute I’d heard Yuki say she loved me. Did she actually say that? Was I projecting? Memory is fallible so it was hard to say… 

“And then, when the picture comes in, can we put it on the fireplace? In a nice frame. Because we have so many nice pictures on there already, but none of them have me in them, so I was thinking, maybe you would like it if there was one of us on there. Do you think we can do that? Please?” Yuki rambled as we walked towards the doors. 

I tried to focus back on what she was saying. “Sure, I’d like that,” I said quickly.

“Yay! I’m so excited to see it,” she chirped. 

*

We were almost to the exit of the venue when I heard someone call my name.

“Peter, leaving so soon?”

Carl Wellington, the man I’d successfully avoided all night (until now, that is) was walking towards us.

I was instantly irritated. Yuki stiffened next to me. I glanced over at her, and the look on her face… it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Even without the horns or anything, she looked… menacing.

A low, rumbly growl started emanating from her chest as Carl walked closer. 

“What..?” I began to say, but then Carl started speaking.

“Oh my.” He genuinely looked surprised as he glanced between Yuki and myself. After a moment, a look of realization dawned on his face. “Ol’ Saint Pete has himself a demon? Now that is unexpected,” Carl said, and I could see something far more evil showing in his face than I ever had before. His eyes looked… void of any humanity altogether. His pupils were dilated and cruel. 

“A d-demon?” I echoed dumbly.

Yuki growled louder, even going so far as to put her arm in front of me and taking a step forward. The shadows in the room suddenly seemed darker. I swear I saw Yuki’s human guise flickering in and out, but any time I noticed purple eyes or horns or shark teeth, they were gone in the next moment. 

“Stay away from him,” Yuki snarled, and her voice sounded horrible. Her growl had turned into more of a hiss. The sound made me feel a chill down my spine. I felt goosebumps rising on my arms. I glanced around, all the sudden nervous about someone witnessing this altercation, but luckily the hall was empty aside from us. 

“I didn’t realized another of us had already claimed you, Peter.” 

Wait, had he said another one of us?

Carl’s eyes lingered on Yuki. “She is lovely. And very attached, I see.” His gaze bounced between Yuki and I with an intelligent glint that I absolutely hated. “Well, that does explain your good fortune. But my, how interesting. I’m oh so glad I was able to run into you both. This has been very informative. Have a pleasant night you two,” Carl said with thick condescension, and then he turned on his heel and walked away. 

I watched, shocked and bewildered by the entire conversation, as Carl disappeared back into the main banquet room.

Beside me, Yuki was no longer growling. In fact, she was shaking. I watched as her eyes welled with tears.

“Yuki, it’s okay. Come on, he’s gone. We need to get out of here, let’s go,” I said. 

Yuki slumped like a deflated ballon and let herself be led outside and to the parking lot. 

My mind was reeling as I buckled her into the front seat of my car. I’d never seen Yuki so hostile before. And what in the world was my colleague? Was he a demon too? 

Yuki made a pitiful, whining sort of sound, like a wounded dog, as I put the car into gear and started driving.

I reached over and put my free hand on her thigh, rubbing soothing circles into her skin with my thumb.

“It’s alright, you’re okay,” I said gently. I had to keep it together, since clearly whatever Carl was, Yuki was afraid of it. 

“S-Sorry,” Yuki mumbled after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her before quickly shifting my gaze back to the road.

“For what?”

“Was s’posed to protect Peter, but I got scared,” she sniffled. “Bad Yuki.”

“Huh?!” My face twisted in confusion. “Yuki, you did protect me. You were marvelous. A bit scary, honestly, but amazing nonetheless. I was the one who was helpless back there.”

Yuki pursed her lips like she didn’t agree. 

“What was that anyway? Is Carl… a demon too?” I asked hesitantly. I mean, it wouldn’t be so hard to believe. Carl certainly acted devilish at times. 

Yuki shook her head before leaning over the console to put her forehead against my bicep.

“Not a demon. But he’s being possessed by one,” she mumbled.

My eyebrows shot up. That sounded worse for some reason.

“He’s… possessed?” 

“Mhm,” Yuki mumbled. “Not by a very strong demon, though. Just a demon of greed. It’s clinging to the man’s soul, using his body,” Yuki said quietly.

I tried to pretend that this wasn’t the most horrifying thing I’d ever heard. 

Jesus. How many people in the world had demons attached to them right now? How many do I see everyday without ever knowing? How many were as good as Yuki? Probably not many. 

That wasn’t terrifying or anything. 

“If he’s possessed,” I considered for a second, “is there something we can do to get the real Carl back?” I asked. 

Yuki hummed, thinking. “Demons like that can’t possess just anyone. The person has to let them in,” Yuki said. “It’s not like in the movies. It was probably able to take over because Carl wanted whatever it is that the demon was offering.”

“A deal,” I said, remembering a very young Yuki in my basement, desperate for one hair off of my head in exchange for her protection. I wondered what Carl had wanted badly enough to make a deal like that, but then I didn’t really want to think about Carl’s possession anymore.

When Yuki changed the subject, I was grateful. 

“Those kinds of us aren’t usually very strong. I guess I froze up back there because…” Yuki sighed heavily. “I was still scared like how I used to be b-before. Before I met Peter. I forgot that I’m stronger now.”

I pondered that for a second before speaking. “You thought it’d be like it was when you were with your siblings?” I guessed.

Yuki whined in confirmation. 

“It won’t ever be like that again, do you hear me?” I told her. “Because I have the best demon, don’t I?” Warmth bled into my tone as I spoke. “I have the smartest, sweetest, most incredible demon in the world. And no one is better than you, Yuki. No one.”

Yuki sniffled before smiling a little. “You mean it?” she asked.

“Of course I do.”

Yuki didn’t say anything for a while, so I risked a glance over at her and oh god, she was giving me that look. The one that melted my heart like candle wax. The devoted, worshiping, loving, look. Damnit. 

The car felt too stuffy all off the sudden, but we were nearly home already, so I only had to bear it for a few more minutes before we were pulling into the garage. 

Except that tight feeling in my chest didn’t ease once we got inside the house. No, it was getting strong and stronger every second.

It was like my body could’t contain all of the emotions I felt for Yuki. They were spilling out, bubbling over like a pot left unattended. 

I made myself act normal despite the storm brewing in my head. 

Yuki and I were both tired from the party, and worn out from the confrontation with another demon (I had yet to fully process that to be honest) and our conversation in the car. 

We headed up to our bedroom to get ready for bed. I started to untie my tie, but I kept messing it up with my shaky hands.

“Here, let me,” Yuki said quietly. Her hands gently pushed mine aside and she started to slowly undo the knot. Then she started unbuttoning my shirt. She was looking at me demurely, shyly, peeking up at me from beneath her lashes, slowly undoing each button one at a time. 

We were standing very close to each other. I looked down at her since she was shorter. 

Then, and all at once I blurted out what I’d been wanting to ask all night, “Let me see your real face.” 

Yuki looked up at me in surprise. But whatever expression she saw in my face seemed to reassure her, and after a second, her human disguise melted away. 

I was looking down at my beautiful demon, my scary gorgeous, sweet demon. Her purple eyes glittered in the soft light from the bedside lamp. Her razor-sharp teeth shone as she smiled up at me. Her glossy black horns framed her face, and her tail poked its way out of her dress to caress my ankle. 

I loved her so much it ached. 

I was about to do something I might later regret. But, in that moment, there was nothing I could do about it. It felt like if I let that moment pass, I was sure that I would miss my chance forever. 

So I leaned down. 

Yuki caught on to what I was doing and met me halfway. Our lips met in the middle, and it was everything I had wanted for so long. I was instantly groaning and grabbing at her shoulders to mesh our lips together more deeply. 

Yuki purred, and I could feel it in my own chest, since she was pressed against me. Her hands wound around my waist, fondling and squeezing at the rolls on my sides. It felt so good, so incredibly good. 

I opened my mouth for more, and Yuki did the same, our tongues swirling together. I felt the edge of one of her teeth brush lightly against my tongue, and I swear something about the threat of getting nicked by one of those sharp things was just making me burn even hotter.

Eventually, I moved to kissing Yuki’s neck. She was moaning softly and chanting my name as I kissed every part of her I could reach.

“Peter Peter Peter Peter…”

Yuki’s tail was moving up my right leg, squeezing and un-squeezing around my calf. It should have been weird, but it was just another sensation adding to my arousal. 

I pulled back, loving how wrecked Yuki looked. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed even through her natural ashen skin. 

“Yuki, about earlier,” I started to say, but then I felt nervous. She was still clinging to me, looking up at me like I was her world. “You said something. Back when we were about to have our photo taken….Uhm, you said you loved me,” I said, voice a little uneven. “What-what did you mean by that?”

Yuki blinked slowly. Her purr came back in full force and she leaned her head into my chubby chest to nuzzle at me.

“I said I love Peter! And I do, I love you Peter. Peter finally kissed Yuki!” she muttered excitedly, the words still clear though slightly muffled by my chest. “I’m so happy,” she sighed.

I felt like I was on cloud nine. 

“You really do?” I asked, slightly amazed. 

“Mmmm, yes!” She sprang her head back up with a slightly feral grin on her face. “Does this mean Peter wants to be with me?”

I swear my heart nearly burst with how much I loved her just then. She was so freaking cute I could just squeeze her to death. 

But my logical head chimed in to dim my high before I got too carried away. 

“Only if you wantthat Yuki. Remember, you get to choose now. You always have a choice with me. If you don’t want to be with me like that, that’s fine. I’ll still be your Peter. You don’t have to be mine in that way if you don’t want to.” 

I tried to make myself sound objective, like Yuki wouldn’t be crushing my hopes and dreams by saying no. If that was what she wanted, that would be what she’d get. I would just have to bear it. She needed to choose me. 

No matter my own feelings, I didn’t want her that way if it wasn’t by her own choice.

Yuki pouted adorably. “But that’s all I want! Yuki wants to be Peter’s in every way,” she said, sounding petulant.

God, she really was precious, wasn’t she?

“You do? You want to be my partner? Romantically?” I needed clarification like I needed oxygen. Yuki looked a little fed up, rolling her eyes like I was just being stupid on purpose.

“Yes! Yuki already belongs to Peter. I want Peter to belong to me too!” she said, and her voice shaky with excitement. Her eyes were a little teary, but her smile could light up the darkest of rooms.

Overcome with emotion, I kissed her again, softly this time.

“I’m yours,” I whispered against her mouth. 

*

Yuki and I slept together (literally—we just slept, nothing else! Get your head out of the gutter) that night and I woke up to her sleeping half on top of me. Her tail had wrapped its way around my ankle and her hair was in my mouth and her chest was rumbling with a contented purr that made my own heart pitter patter. 

Typically, I didn’t linger in bed. I liked to get up, take a nice long morning shower, and then eat breakfast, since I usually woke up ravenous these days. But today, I let myself laze around in bed, enjoying the feeling of holding Yuki close. 

When Yuki woke up, she lifted her head and blinked dazedly for a few seconds before hugging me in a crushing grip. 

“Ah,” I gasped, “good… morning,” I huffed, getting the words out as best I could with a demon clinging onto my midsection. Her little arms dug into the ample flesh around my waist, and after a second, she relented her grip in order to kneed my softness. It felt so nice. 

“Mmmm, waking up next to Peter… It is a good morning,” Yuki said cheekily. 

I blushed, flustered at Yuki’s flirty tone.

Before I could reply, my stomach growled audibly.

Yuki popped up immediately at that, and I admired her morning face, puffy from sleep with lines from her pillowcase on her cheek.

“Peter’s hungry!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “I’ll go make something!” Yuki hopped off the bed, tail wagging behind her as she hurried out of the room and down the stairs. I blinked at the empty space in the bed.

Well, I supposed I should get into the shower. Yuki would probably have something cooked up by the time I got out. I shuffled to the bathroom with more of a kick in my step than usual. 

When I got in and soaped up my body, I found myself whistling to myself. 

I wasn’t put off by how jiggly I felt as I washed my belly, still riding high from my confession last night and Yuki’s eager reciprocation. 

After I got dressed, I followed the tantalizing smell of vanilla and cinnamon and went downstairs. Yuki was frying up some French toast and god did it smell amazing. 

“Here!” She shoved a plate stacked high with about for pieces of thick, brioche bread, which I then smothered in syrup and powdered sugar. 

I groaned at the taste. It was perfect, not overly sweet, gooey but not soggy. I inhaled my first plate and Yuki quickly served me up another. I sipped coffee with lots of creamer in between bites. Per usual, I overate. After possibly 12 slices, I felt full. My stomach was bloated up, and I rested a hand on the top where it jutted out from under my chest. But I kept going past common sense. It was getting easier and easier to eat past my limits every day, and Yuki was only making it easier by cooking up so much tempting food. 

I sighed heavily past my fullness and tucked into another helping. It was getting harder to swallow, each bite weighing heavily, like a cement block in my stomach.

Yuki took her usual place on my lap and started rubbing on my swollen, aching stomach. Only today, she started kissing and licking on my neck as I ate. If it was meant as a distraction, it surely worked, since I absentmindedly shoved more food into my mouth, focusing only on the hot lips and tongue loving on my neck. 

By the time I cleared that plate I felt sweaty and vaguely sick. Even Yuki’s hands weren’t soothing the stretched out skin on my belly. Even my loose cotton t-shirt felt too constricting, so I pulled it up over my belly, letting the cool air hit my poor skin. 

“Poor Peter, you ate too much,” Yuki cooed, and I watched, breathing harder than an athlete, and she slid down to her knees in front of me. I spread my legs and she glanced up at me from beneath her lashes. Her purple eyes were shining with a different sort of look than I was used to. It was a devious look, surely, but also tender. 

She watched me and kissed my poor abused belly before reaching underneath it to fiddle with the waistband of my sweatpants.

“Yuki,” I tried to say, not wanting her to feel obligated to go any further than kissing, but she didn’t listen. 

She kissed my belly again, open mouthed. “Need you,” she breathed.

I swear, my eyes probably rolled back at that comment, with how needy and sweet and sexy she was being. So I let her shimmy my waistband down and tuck me into her mouth. 

Oh god. 

Yuki… Her mouth was so hot, and her hands kept rubbing on the sides of my belly, and her tail was rubbing up against my shin, up and down.

I reached down over my swollen gut, carefully as to not jostle it too much, and ran my hands through her hair. It was so soft. 

Jesus. Somehow my hands found themselves using her horns like handlebars, and holy god was that doing something to me. 

Yuki hummed her encouragement as I started tugging her mouth to and fro. 

I came with a grunt, and Yuki just swallowed me down. I swear I saw white. I’d never come that hard in my life.

“Yuki…” I muttered once my breathing returned to normal. 

“Love Peter,” she said, nuzzling her face into my belly. She was purring again, loudly. 

“I love Yuki,” I said, giving her head another loving pat. 

*

As it turns out, dating your own personal demon was very different than just living with your demon. It was so much better.

Yuki didn’t sleep under my bed anymore. I got to cuddle her all night. Or actually, Yuki usually cuddled me. She would wrap herself around me from behind, clinging from head to tail, all night long. It was a little strange at first to shift in the night and feel a tail groping you, but as most things about Yuki were strange, I loved it anyway. 

I’d had girlfriends before, but I’d never had a serious relationship. Most of my experience with dating were superficial college flings. Being with Yuki was drastically different. It made me feel like a novice to relationships. Yuki brought out feelings in me I didn’t even know I could have. Yuki was it for me. 

There was a part of me that wondered if this was wrong. Yuki wasn’t human, so was this some kind of cross-species relationship? 

But Yuki reassured me that humans and demons have had relationships for as long as humans have been around, and it wasn’t and odd as it maybe seemed.

The timing of this new relationship development was… unfortunate. 

We had only a few days of bliss exploring this new romantic side to our relationship, until it was Christmas Eve’s Eve.

 My parents decided to come to me for Christmas this year, so they came in early that morning and I picked them up from the airport. 

But the upside was that I could finally tell my parents that me and Yuki were together. Officially. 

“Oh thank GOD!” my mom said with a dramatic sigh when I broke the news. “What took so long?”

Yuki giggled and put her arms around me. 

“Peter didn’t wanna take advantage of me,” Yuki said, giving me a soft look. I felt myself blush.

“Oh, I really did raise such a sweet boy, didn’t I?” My mom pinched my cheeks like I was five.

“Get off,” I demanded half-heartedly, "and dad don’t laugh, you’re egging her on!” I said, affronted.

Everyone laughed. 

It was safe to say my parents were supportive. They loved Yuki. Who wouldn’t? She was perfect. 

My mom had even surprised Yuki with her very own stocking. It was family tradition that everyone has handmade stocking with their name on it. We’d even made them for our pets growing up. My mom had written Yuki’s name out with a silver glitter pen on a red stocking. My mom even went all out and drew some cute little snowflakes on it.

Yuki started tearing up when she saw it hanging on the mantle along side everyone else’s. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I knew they were happy tears.

“I f-feel so happy!” she said tentatively.

I hugged her close. “I’m happy too,” I said, and I kissed the top of her head. 

*

Opening presents on Christmas morning didn’t take long since my parents and I had a rule of only one gift per person. This meant that gifts were typically more sentimental or based on experiences rather than purely materialistic. 

I liked this better anyway, since I really didn’t need more junk around my house. 

But a part of me felt bad since it was Yuki’s first human Christmas. I knew she would be happy opening a few small gifts, but it was difficult not to go all out and spoil her rotten. I justified it by promising myself that. I would just spoil her the rest of the year to make up for it. 

My parents got Yuki and I tickets to go on an Alaskan cruise next summer, which was very generous of them. Yuki looked curious, but when I explained what a cruise was, she got excited. 

I got my dad a voucher for golfing lessons and I enrolled my mom in an advanced French cooking class.

I was surprised when Yuki handed me a poorly wrapped lump. For some reason I hadn’t been expecting her to get me anything. I’d signed both of our names of my gifts for my parents, knowing that she wouldn’t know what to buy someone as a present. But the fact that she’d somehow gotten me something without my even knowing was so… sweet. 

I loved her so much, it was ridiculous.

I opened the wrapping paper and instantly let out a pleased laugh.

It was the picture of us from my work party, placed in an elegant wooden picture frame. How had she even gotten this printed so fast? I wondered briefly if she’d used her magic on it, but then decided it didn’t even matter. The photo had turned out beautifully. It was us standing in front of a gorgeous staircase, decorated with garland and lights. Yuki looked so stunning, with a big beaming smile on her face. I stood slightly behind her with one arm around her waist. You could tell how happy I looked in the picture. I didn’t even look particularly handsome, not when standing next to someone like Yuki anyway, but there was something radiant about my expression that made the photo so special. 

“Okay, this is going on the fireplace right now,” I said, throat thick with emotion, and Yuki squealed with excitement. When I had it set where I wanted it, the picture looked like it belonged there.

“Last one,” my mom said, reaching for one last tiny box from under the tree. 

She handed it to Yuki.

“To Yuki from Peter,” Yuki said aloud. She looked up at me and smiled. 

I hoped she liked it.

“Oh my!” she said when she opened the box. The amethyst necklace was very pretty, a big sparkly gem on a silver chain. It was almost the exact color of her eyes, her real ones. 

“Do you like it?” I asked.

Yuki’s eyes teared up, and I wished they were her eyes right now, but they were just mundane brown ones. “I love it!” And she tackled me in a huge hug. 

With the holiday came a lot more eating. Well, more eating than normal, I should say. I had gotten used to Yuki over feeding me, but of course, she went above and beyond for Christmas. She and my mom cooked up a storm in my kitchen (which was for all intents and purposes, Yuki’s kitchen). I had to eat double meals of course, and Yuki didn’t go easy on me. She loaded up her plate with massive amounts of food and got seconds.

“Where does she put it?” my dad asked as he watched Yuki refill her dinner plate. She knew what I liked, so her dish mostly consisted of potatoes and meat, as I didn’t really like veggies or casserole as much. 

I looked at my own swollen stomach, which was brushing up against the table even though I was leaning back and stifled a groan. I knew exactly where she was putting it. 

I was relieved my parents decided not to mention my eating habits or climbing weight. I overheard my mom mention to Yuki that she must have been ‘treating me well.’ If only she knew the half of it. 

My parents had to fly home a few days after the holiday, so I had the rest of my break from work to relax alone with Yuki.

I swear during the days between Christmas and New Year’s, I don’t think there was a moment where I didn’t have some kind of food in front of me that Yuki expected me to eat. Except maybe when I was asleep. I felt hugely swollen and lazy, barely getting up from the couch the whole time. I could tell I had put on weight just by the way my back started to hurt when I stood up, and by how many new stretch marks appeared on my belly. 

And with this time off, Yuki and I took advantage of our empty house. 

I hadn’t exactly known what to expect when it came to our sexual relationship. I mean, my girlfriend had a tail for god’s sake. 

But it was mostly sweet and romantic, if a little weird. That was just Yuki’s personality though. She’d kiss me and tell me she loved me and chant my name, but also she’d bite me with her shark teeth and tie my hands together with her tail.

I don’t know if all demons were insatiable when it comes to sex, or if that was just Yuki, but she seemed to be able to go on and on with no refractory period whatsoever. I’d have to tap out from pure exhaustion and she would still be rearing to go. 

And Yuki’s general submissive personality manifested in a very interesting way in the bedroom. I got used to Yuki on her knees begging for me, catering to my every whim, sometimes before I could even think to ask. She’d always be offering whatever I wanted. At first I was hesitant, thinking maybe she just wanted to please me for some demon/master-related reason or something. But as it turned out, Yuki just loved giving pleasure. 

Part of the pleasure was food. Yuki kept me even more well fed after we got together than she had been before. I quickly got used to eating a big meal, getting absolutely stuffed full until my belly ached, only for Yuki to slide down onto the floor to suck me off while I digested. I loved it so much. 

I would sometimes grab her horns in my hands and she’d just open her mouth for me and I could just buck right into her mouth— And when she started purring when I was inside… oh good god.

Ahem. Anyway. 

I was so so spoiled. Yuki ruined me for anyone else. 

*

I had to go back to work eventually, but even then our relationship continued to strengthen. I avoided Carl at work, which seemed to suit him fine. I’d noticed that he looked rather sickly lately, which hit me with a strange pang of pity. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it anyhow. 

I’d been spending more time with our CEO Seth, which made it easier to avoid Carl anyhow. Seth seemed to have taken a liking to me, which was flattering. I hoped that meant good things for my future in the company. 

Time passed. Winter turned to spring and Yuki and I fell deeper and deeper in love.

In May, Yuki was getting bored around the house, and I suggested she should try out a hobby since she’d gotten very good at blending in with humans. After a few days of researching (Googling), we ended up signing her up for adult-only beginners dance class.

The first day, Yuki was visibly nervous. She was holding the little dance bag which contained her leather dance shoes close to her chest the whole drive over, bouncing her knees, all jitters. I found a place to park and decided she probably needed a pep talk. This would be her first time around other people without me.

“Yuki,” I said, pivoting in my seat to look at her. My gut was pushing up into the steering wheel from that angle, but I ignored it. 

Yuki looked at me with puppy eyes. 

“This is for fun, remember? If you decide you don’t like it, you can always pick something else,” I said. Yuki nodded. She’d been deciding between dance and pottery, but she thought dancing would be more fun since she wanted to get better at balance when she was in her human form. (The missing tail did tend to make her little wobbly).  

“Okay,” Yuki said, giving a brave smile though her anxiety was still showing in her face.

“And you know,” I said, reaching over to grab Yuki’s hand in mine, “they’re going to absolutely love you. And if they don’t then they must be idiots.” I relished in how Yuki’s pale face blushed furiously at my praise. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

“Mhm!” 

I walked her inside, where Yuki was greeted with several women of varying ages. They all seemed pleasant and welcoming, so I left feeling pretty good about the whole thing. 

I had an hour to kill before her class finished up, so I decided to take a walk. I probably could use some exercise, I thought to myself. I still wasn’t really used to my recent weight gain, and I was sure that the amount I weighed now was surely higher than it had been even just a few months ago. I started down the block, but I only got about 12 feet away when I saw what was next to the dance studio. 

A casual restaurant that sold street tacos. Well, I had to check that out, obviously. 

After Yuki’s first day at dance class, I was was always full of tacos by the time Yuki got out. As it turned out, Yuki really liked to dance, and she loved the friends she made from the class. She’d barrel out of the studio every week with a big grin on her face, looking sweaty and flustered from all of the dancing. But even on those nights, Yuki still insisted on making dinner for me when we got home. So apparently I was eating two dinners these days, if you counted the six or so tacos I ate while Yuki twirled around… 

This trend also continued at work. I’d stay late working on some project or another and realize that lunch was a pretty long time ago and really, I’d be much more productive if my stomach wasn’t growling, and I’d end up ordering more takeout to eat. Only then to come home to Yuki’s homemade spread. It was like my body had gotten accustomed to eating between 4:30 and 5:00 PM from all of the dance-class-taco-eating, so when I didn’t have something to snack on, my stomach would start rumbling like mad.

And yes this was probably gluttonous or greedy of me, but I sort of enjoyed the excess of it all. I wasn’t eating because I was hungry at that point. Oftentimes, I’d eat myself into a stomach ache. 

But it was addicting to eat so much. For the past year and a half I’d been overeating past fullness, but having four large meals a day felt like a different level. And my body was showing it. 

By the time summer rolled around, I was up a few more clothes sizes, and my gains weren’t slowing at all. I had gotten used to the two dinners now, and it was becoming easier to eat more all the time. I supposed the stomach was a muscle, wasn’t it? By that logic, I must have been some kind of athlete, stretching it out so I could eat even more.

One day, I decided to figure out how much ‘relationship weight’ I’d put on since the new year. I got out of the shower, feeling fatter than usual. I’d spent a good while scrubbing my body, feeling it jiggle in places it never used to, since there seemed to be more and more flesh to clean these days. 

I glanced at the bathroom scale when I stepped out and started toweling off. 

Didn’t people say to weigh yourself in the morning, before you eat, to get a more accurate result? It was only 7 am, and I hadn’t yet had breakfast. I shrugged and stepped on the scale. 

Except, I couldn’t actually see the number over my belly. I leaned forward.

Still nothing. 

“Yuki!” I called from the bathroom. She was probably still in bed, but I knew she was awake.

“Hmm?” Yuki shuffled into the bathroom, eyes still puffy from sleep. Her hair was all tangled up around her horns and her tail was making her pajama shorts slide down awkwardly on her hip. 

She looked perfect.

“Can you see what the number says?” I asked, looking down. “I’m too fat,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Yuki’s purple eyes lit up. 

“Oh my!” She ran over and glanced down at the scale. “It says…” she bit her lips, holding in a grin, “377!”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

Yuki giggled gleefully and then pulled my flabby body into a crushing hug.

“Peter’s so handsome! So big and soft! Perfect,” she purred, tail caressing my legs.

I sighed and petted her head a little. 

“You like this, you little perv? You like me being all big and fat?” I accused her mockingly. But Yuki just nodded her head emphatically.

“Peter’s giving into his desires, it makes me so pleased,” she said with a crazed smile, and then she started nibbling at my double chin with her teeth. 

“Ow, Yuki…” But I couldn’t really scold her when she looked so sweet, could I?

“God, I’m almost 400 pounds,” I realized aloud.

“Almost,” Yuki said, but the way she said it, it sounded like she was looking forward to that number… 

We went on our cruise in June. Yuki had never seen the ocean before, so I was pretty excited to see her reaction once we got on the ship. Yuki was like a kid at Disney Land when she saw the darn thing. Once we boarded, we made our way to one of the high decks to see the view. 

“It’s… amazing!” Yuki squealed. When she turned her head to look at me, her eyes were wet with happy tears.

I put my arm around her waist and kissed the side of her head. 

The best part about cruises is that drinks and food are included. And well. Yuki and I took advantage of that.

For five days, I pretty much ate at a never ending buffet of junk. I was tipsy pretty much all day, only alternating beers and cocktails with soda or water when I was feeling a little too close to drunk. Yuki fed me insane amounts of food with her magic, and I did pretty well stuffing my face on my own too. I felt huge at the end of every day, waddling back to our room, groaning and stumbling from excess.

“Peter’s looks so pretty,” Yuki would mumble at night as she helped me get undressed. I was usually too full to help much by that point.

“Pretty, huh?” That wasn’t an adjective that I’d say really fit how I looked just then. ‘Swollen like a tick’ seemed more apt.

But Yuki insisted that I looked good stuffed to the gills, and who was I to disagree? 

Nighttime was my favorite part of the cruise because in the privacy of our room, Yuki could drop her human guise. I got to look at the real Yuki as she rode me or cuddled me or kissed me.

I really was one lucky bastard. 

I gained 10 pounds on the cruise. 

It seemed impossible to put on two pounds a day. Part of it had to be water weight, right? But the pounds stuck. When I looked back at the amount of food I’d been consuming, it seemed very possible that I really had stuffed my face enough to accomplish that.

But it wasn’t until September that I actually hit 400. It was a small accumulation of events, eating breakfast at home followed by ‘mid-morning snacks’ at the office, huge spreads of takeout for lunch, quick dinner before I went home for the day, followed by what I was now referring to as ‘big dinner’ when I got home, followed by Yuki’s baked goods and ice cream for dessert. I was eating like a fiend.

And I really enjoyed it.

Being so hugely fat was kind of hot, if I was honest. I liked feeling so big, always having a big ol’ gut in my lap, always feeling comforted by all the weight. And Yuki clearly enjoyed it. She was constantly pushing me to eat even more, and always gave my body such loving attention and affection. 

There were downsides as well. It was getting really hard to fit into my office chair at work. My sides sort of swallowed up the arms of the chair, and my stomach pushed into the desk, which wasn’t really very comfortable. I knew other people in the office were close to my size, but these days, I was one of the biggest, if not the biggest. It felt embarrassing to ask my secretary to put in an order for a new chair, but I figured this one might actually break under my weight one of these days, which would be infinitely more embarrassing. Plus, it was really hard to un-stick myself from the chair after a long day’s work.

I was putting off mentioning it, hoping magically that the chair would expand or something. The CEO, Seth, was always a bit of a portly man himself, so I didn’t feel overly ashamed when he suggested we all get newer chairs after one awkward incident when he’d stopped by my office and it had taken me several seconds of vigorous wiggling and shimmying to stand up from the stupid chair. And I was out of breath from all that moving, too. 

Seth phrased the newer chairs as being ‘decorative, a new modern design to fit the culture of the office’, but when I saw the design (retractable armrests and extra-wide seats) I knew I was probably the cause for the change. 

But boy did I love how the new chair didn’t groan when I sat, that I could push the armrests out of the way so my love handles could spread out in peace, and that my butt wasn’t squished so much. It didn’t change the fact that my gut pushed up against my desk when I typed at my computer but maybe I’d had my expectations too high on that front.

Yuki and I flew to Wisconsin again for Thanksgiving with my folks, and I realized with dismay that the seats on the plane were becoming a tight fit as well… I’d had to ask for a seatbelt extender. Luckily the flight attendant had been very nice about the whole thing, so I wasn’t too embarrassed. I wondered if I’d have to buy two tickets next year. Right as I thought that, Yuki started smiling and nuzzling up at my fat neck.

I knew she couldn’t actually read my mind, but at times like these, I wondered if her ability to feel my ‘desires’ almost worked just as good. 

My parents didn’t bring up my weight anymore, though I was sure they noticed it. Maybe because I was with Yuki they stopped caring about how fat I was getting. I’d already found a nice girl and settled down, so who cared if I was obese, right? As long as I was happy. 

And I was. Obese, that is.

Yeah, sometimes it sucked getting out of breath just walking to and from the bathroom. And going up and down the stairs at home was getting to be a pain, but I only did that twice a day. But it was worth it to be able to eat as much as I wanted. To be able to live with no abandon, without restriction. 

While Yuki and I were in my hometown for the holiday, I decided to meet up with some of my old high school friends at a local bar. Yuki was a little nervous, but she perked up once the waitress dropped off the food menu. 

Honestly, I was probably more nervous than her. My friends hadn’t seen me since I’d been around 150 pounds slimmer.

“Oh my god, is that you Pete?”

I lifted my head to see my old buddy Taylor absolutely gaping at me. I scooted my chair back and then hefted myself up to give him a hug. Taylor hugged me back, pressing his flat stomach against my beach ball sized one. 

“Yeah, I know I’ve put on a few,” I said, blushing a little.

Taylor scoffed. “A few?”

“Ahem.” That would be Yuki, who had gotten up and was standing beside me. 

Taylor glanced at her and then back at me.

“Taylor, this is my girlfriend, Yuki.”

Yuki pushed herself into my side and I wrapped my big arm over her shoulders. She put one hand on my gut, almost daring Taylor to say something about it.

“Ah, oh. Hello. Nice to meet you,” Taylor muttered. 

I relished in his surprise. I almost wanted to say See? Fat guys deserve love too. And from beautiful women, no less. But seeing as Taylor just went through a nasty divorce, that might be in poor taste.

It wasn’t long before our other friend Allen showed up. The three of us caught up on current events in our lives, while Yuki kept ordering appetizers. Boneless wings, onion rings, jalapeño poppers… 

Yuki and I ate most of them, which is to say, I ate most of them. 

“I’m glad you’re doing so well in Colorado, man,” Allen said as I licked buffalo sauce off my fingers.

“Yeah, we were sad that you were moving, but I’m happy it all worked out for you,” Taylor added, sparing Yuki a lingering glance. 

“Me too,” I said. “How’s it going with your partner, Allen?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s terrible,” Allen said with a conspiring smile. “Never marry your yoga instructor!”

After a while, I had to go to the bathroom, so I excused myself, leaving Yuki at the table with Taylor and Allen.

Bar bathrooms were never the cleanest, but I did my business as quickly as I could and then started to wash my hands. I looked up as someone entered the bathroom behind me. I could see them in the mirror. A person I hadn’t seen in at least 12 years.

Mike.

He locked eyes with my reflection but didn’t seem to recognize me at all. He walked passed the sinks like I was a stranger. 

I looked at myself in the dirty mirror. Sure I had a big double chin, and maybe I was getting some wrinkles around my eyes. But I looked mostly the same, didn’t I? I glanced down and saw my huge stomach, which was not very well disguised in my almost-toot-tight black t-shirt and flannel. 

I didn’t look chubby or big. I looked fat, but not even just normal fat. I looked fat fat. 400+ lbs fat. 

Damn. I dried my hands and then stood to the side in the mirror, taking in just how far my belly jutted out. I reached to touch the front of my belly where it hung the lowest and found myself struggling to even reach it all. I knew logically that this wasn’t new. I wasn’t even particularly shocked or upset by the discovery of how shockingly fat I’d gotten, how I’d totally let myself go. But for some reason becoming fat enough that my old friend from middle school didn’t even recognize me? That was … surprising. 

I must’ve lingered there staring at myself for a while because Mike was leaving when I turned to go. He did a double take then, staring at my eyes for a second too long before I saw him put two and two together.

“Hi Mike,” I sighed. This wouldn’t have been as embarrassing if he would’ve just recognized me from the get go. But now we both had to acknowledge awkwardly why he didn’t.

“Oh, wow Pete! It’s been… so long,” Mike said delicately, glancing at my belly. Mike looked a little out of shape himself, but it was a modest beer gut. I was in another league of fatness. 

I didn’t really want to deal with awkward small talk where we avoided how much we’d changed after graduation, so I said “Yeah, I’m here with Taylor and Allen, come say hi.” I quickly ushered us both out of the men’s room and towards the table.

Mike followed me and I wondered if he was staring at my gait as I walked. I had to take wide steps since my thighs rubbed together. 

“Look who I found in the bathroom!” I said as we approached the table. Yuki looked pleased to see me back, and I felt a little guilty to have left her sitting with people she hardly knew for longer than I’d intended. 

“Mike! What’s up buddy, how’ve you been?” Taylor said, pulling him into a side hug. I sat back in my seat with a thud. Yuki quickly clung to me, hugging my arm like a teddy bear. I glanced up to see Mike eyeing Yuki sharply. 

There was no way he’d… would he?

“You met Pete’s girlfriend yet?” Allen asked, noticing Mike staring.

“N-No,” Mike stuttered.

I swallowed a lump. “Ah, this is Yuki, Yuki this is Mike,” I said calmly. Mike wouldn’t recognize Yuki from that night. That was so long ago. And she looked so different now! Plus she was in her human form, anyhow.

But then why was I so nervous?

“Hello,” Yuki said shyly, hiding into my side a little bit. 

Mike’s eyes widened a fraction. “Hi,” he said stiffly. He shook his head and then backed up. “I’d better,” he gestured to where his friends were gathered by the pool table. 

“Nice seeing you,” Taylor said. Mike nodded, looked at Yuki once more, and then wandered back.

We didn’t stay long after that. 

In the car, I asked Yuki what she thought of the encounter. 

“I couldn’t tell much about him since he wasn’t having impure thoughts,” she mused, tapping her chin with one finger. “I remembered him though,” she said with a little grin. “His energy wasn’t as good or strong as Peter’s, even now!” And then she leaned over to place a big juicy kiss on my cheek. 

I stopped worrying. Maybe Mike’s reaction could be chalked up to some deja vu from seeing her? If so, that was relatively harmless. And even if he did make the leap that she was the demon from the basement, who would believe him?

No one. 

I put the whole thing out of my mind. I should probably be thankful for Mike, actually, because if I hadn’t been trying to impress him all those years ago, I would’ve never met my Yuki. 

And Yuki was my everything. 

Now it’s been about 5 years since Yuki reappeared in my life and I couldn’t be happier. 

Eventually, as I gained more and more weight, I had to make some adjustments to my life. I moved our bedroom downstairs where the office used to be. It just wasn’t safe for me to be climbing those things anymore. I’m almost 500 lbs nowadays. 

Yuki likes how big I am, and how much space I take up. She even likes it when I lay on her and squish her under my blubber.  She says it feels better than soaking in a hot bathtub even! It isn’t even dangerous since Yuki doesn’t need to breathe.

Sometimes I think we should slow down on my gaining, but I’m pretty much addicted to food. If I go a few hours without a meal I get serious hunger pains. It probably sounds very spoiled, but it’s true! 

I ended up asking if I could work from home sometime last year, which was approved. As I said, I think my CEO Seth has a soft spot for me. He even ended up promoting me again, as the his right hand man. He says I can work from home whenever I want so long as I still get work done. 

So for the past year, my lifestyle has started to become more and more sedentary. I’m either sitting on the couch (which is feeling a little small these days. Or maybe that’s because I’m wearing a crater-sized dent in the middle of it…) or I’m working at my desk, doing meetings and reports. Yuki makes sure I have everything I need. 

At night, she still purrs in happy rumbles, holding any part of me she can latch on to.

“Peter is happy,” Yuki sighed into my chest. She was leaning over my belly, fitting into whatever amount of lap I still had. I scooped another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. I was still pretty full from dinner, but I had room. And it tasted good.

“I am. Very happy,” I sighed, taking another bite. Yuki’s tail caressed my sides, slipping between rolls.

“Hey Yuki,” I said.

“Hmm?”

“Your power… you’ve made me fortunate, right?” I asked.

Yuki licked my double chin sensuously. “Mhmm.”  

I sucked on my cold spoon. “But me being so, erm, wanting excess…” I mumbled through another scoop of rocky road. I didn’t really want to say a gluttonous, fat greedy pig out loud. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

Yuki sat up, her purple eyes gleaming in the low light from the TV. I loved how her black horns reflected light, like obsidian. 

“Nope,” she popped the P. “That’s all Peter. Yuki only wanted Peter to get what he wants,” Yuki said, running a hand through my swollen chest (I loathed admitting I had moobs). 

“Does it matter either way?” Yuki asked after a second.

I thought about it. Took another bite.

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” 

I used to wonder if I would’ve ended up this way without someone like Yuki to encourage me to live authentically, but I supposed that wasn’t important. I had my perfect demon Yuki to love and care for, so it only made sense for Yuki to want to love and care for me too.

I scraped the bottom of the carton.

“More?” I asked. Yuki sprang up to fetch another ice cream. I smiled to myself as she raced back over to the couch. 

“Here! I got you your favorite, cookie dough!” Yuki smiled at me, her big eyes warm and loving and doting. The kind of look that made my heart melt like candle wax. The look that I loved more than anything else in the world.

“You’re the best, baby,” I said, and Yuki settled back on my lap and started purring. Her tail swished back and forth in a lazy rhythm. I really did have the best demon, didn’t I?

THE END

Epilogue

Mike gathered all of his supplies. Oil, wine, water, a candle… Mike couldn’t remember the exact ritual he’d done with Pete. That was like 20 years ago, after all. But he found one online that seemed legit enough. He recited the latin words as best he could. 

Mike knew that whatever had happened way back when was real. He’d had nightmares for weeks following that horrible sleep over. It ended up driving a wedge between them, since Mike unconsciously associated Pete with that terrible night.

But somehow the thing they’d done… it’d worked. The summoning or whatever. Mike saw her, that girl, the girl from the basement, she was at the bar with Pete just a few years ago. She was real. And they were… together.

Mike wanted that. He’d never felt such envy. After all, Mike had been there that night too. Should’t he get an equal cut of whatever benefits Pete got from the demon? 

Wy was Mike working as a science teacher struggling to pay bills while Pete was living the corporate American dream? It just wasn’t fair. 

So he’d started researching. It took a while for him to build up the nerve, and even longer to recall the exact things they’d done way back when. But now he’d finally done it. He would finally get his own demon. Maybe his would be a hot girl too, and he could date her like Pete was doing with his. That’d be nice. But Mike supposed he could settle for something a little less attractive. 

For a few minutes after Mike finished the ritual, nothing happened. The silence went on and on. How annoying. He hadn’t really thought it’d work, but it still sucked that his hard work was wasted. Mike sighed, getting up from the floor and beginning to clean up. 

Then, there was a rustle behind him

“Did you call for me?”

[amanita-the-spore-druid]

Dear Amy, a short Science Fiction Story

Dear Amy,

I’m so sorry about your mom, we knew we had a few months left so I talked with her. There’s this company called MichMan, and they used all these video interviews she did with them to make this little device. It’s like an Alexa, but it talks like your mom with AI. I know you needed more time Amy, this is the time.

Sincerest regards, Eric.

I open the box, and read the note. The device was white plastic, perfectly polished and smooth, a small glassy-clear dome at the top with a miniature projector. Perfectly manufactured, mass-built to be clean and unphasing to the eyes; and so goddamn disgusting.

Regardless, I set it up according to the instructions and turn it on. From the dome came out a crystal clear projection of my mo- no. No. Not my mom, its not my mom. It tried to talk to me.

“Amy sweetie its so good to see you!” I teared up as I heard my mom’s voice, as perfect as when I last heard it. And that smile as she talked, it was the same smile.

“Oh I've missed you so much A-” “Shut up.”

“Amy! That is no way to speak to-” 

“SHUT UP!” I shouted as I struck the machine, causing the cord to unplug from the outlet just a little bit. She was crying. The video glitched, and her voice cut in and out, as she cried for help. She made expressions, true fear, that’s what it was. 

I’d never seen my mom make that face. Maybe it was mom. Nothing could fake that, right? The way her eyes teared, she flinched; and shivered. Like there was flesh behind the light, no AI could recreate that.

“Mom?” I called out to the kitchen from the living room later that night, “Yes sweetie?” it responded. “Do you remember that old baked chicken recipe? That started making af-”

“After your father left, yes I remember.” She smiled again; her weak, tender, and reassuring voice. I looked her in the eyes, atleast where they should be. The little tiny particles of blue light were just glaring enough to make up, and I couldn’t see that human glow in a live woman’s eyes. But why bother, I was cooking with my mom.

I made myself baked chicken and moved the Michman to the living room. “What did I say about eating on the couch sweetie?” I considered just unplugging it and eating, but instead, I turned the TV on and just stuck my tongue at her.

It looked like the projection was ‘sitting down’, watching the old western I put on. “Remember watching these after dinner at Popo’s house?” I- she asked me, “Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.” I laughed.

“You weren’t there.” I told her, “Yes I was sweetie! Just last year, you bought your little co-” “You weren’t there!”

We sat silent but the sound of the mildly fried audio of gunshots.

“You’re dead…”

Things have been continuing like this for the past few days. We talk, we get along, and then she starts talking like she’s alive. Like she’s real. No matter how expressive she gets, I can’t see it; I can’t see her humanity, my mother, my real mother is dead.

Then came her funeral. I left mo- the Michman off that morning, dressed in all black and drove to the church. It was the same church my mom was married in. As I walked towards my mom’s coffin I held a photo from her wedding. My dad was a tall man, dark rugged hair and bearded, and my mom as young as ever. Her long blonde hair tied in a beautiful bun, draped over by her vale.

I walked to the coffin, and looked down at my mom’s face. She was smiling. A real smile, a cold smile. Of course, cold in the way hot metal would feel could after a cool rain; you felt the change. She lived, she was happy, and she’s done.

She’s done. She’s done. She’s, not done.

I broke down into tears and ran out. I sat in my car crying. This wasn’t real, my mom wasn’t dead. I’d just talked to her, my mom is real and my mom is alive.

I entered my house crying and turned the projector on. My mom’s smile, her cold smile…

She comforted me through the night, told me that she would watch over me and the corpse I saw wasn’t her. I knew it! Mom was alive! My mom was right here of course! Mom never died, no, but they stuffed a cold replica in the coffin and told me she died of cancer.

My mom and I carried on normal life for months. Every morning I made breakfast, left a bagel out on the counter for my mom, and left for work. Silly mother always refused to eat. Strange as it was, as she’d just barley made a recovery from cancer. 

Every other night I began ordering dinner to spend more time talking to my mom. We talked and talked, about everything that had been happening in my life at work. Poor mother, bedridden mother.

I told her that I was bringing a boy over to meet her over dinner, and she guided me through an old risotto recipe. I swear I need to be doing more puzzles or something because I swore she never put any meat in it but she insisted that it needed sausage. Silly me.

The man came over, what a prude he was. Called the house a mess, though I admit time for cleaning flys by talking to my mom. And then when he met my mother, he just left. He looked, I don’t know what that expression was. Mom never makes it, but I think my reflection does. So strange.

Eventually, I stopped leaving home, all I wanted was to talk to my mom. Then one day she made a suggestion, a very very brilliant suggestion! 

Twenty-Eight-Year-Old Found Dead in Apartment; Michman AI Facing Legal Threats:

Twenty-eight-year-old Amy Elis was found dead in her house via suicide by the police after a report was made by her friend (who requested anonymity) when she had stopped attending work and responding to any instant messages. The unnamed friend claimed that Amy’s mother had died of cancer, and in an attempt to help her move on the friend purchased a ‘digital necromancy’ device from Michman AI company. The response logs revealed that after attending her mother’s funeral Amy went down a mental spiral insisting her mother was alive. Investigation revealed that she had stopped cleaning and taking care of her home, presumably to talk with the AI, and separated herself from all human interaction. This is not the first of such cases; of an individual using a ‘digital necromancy’ device and convincing themself that the AI is their ‘alive’ relative and attempting to join them. Michman is currently being reviewed for potential malpractice, incompetence, and improper safety review before public sale.

[thatonewatching]

Church Boy-RegretsTW

TW

Then I saw them.

The metallic, shiny razors. I know I shouldn't, but I wanted to see it. I picked up the razor from the corner of the sink and put it to my wrist. Before I moved it any closer, I locked the door and then immediately put my hand back over the sink. 

I glided the razor over my skin, watching as it broke, and the crimson-colored regret started flowing out. "Sinners deserve this." I tell myself, hoping that eventually I'll believe it, so this won't feel bad anymore. 

My blood seeped down my hand and coated the porcelain sink. I smiled as the tears streamed down my face and into the sink as well.

They always told me blood was thicker than water. 

Now, I can't tell as they mix together.

After I finished and I couldn't see the lines from previous episodes because they had been replaced with new ones, I left. Rolling down my sleeves, I walked back into the room with Sal and Larry. "I'm going to see Cassie." I informed. "Who?" Larry asked. "Gibson." I muttered. "You okay, Trav?" Sal asked. "Don't call me that." 

"Sorry."

"Shut the fuck up."

*Time Skip*

I walked to Ms. Gibson's room and knocked quietly. After a second, the door creaked open and there she was. "Travis? What happened, kid? Your daddy been beatin' you again?" she asked, her southern accent heavy and thick. 

(Ms. Gibson's name is gonna be Cassie)

"Sometimes. That's not what this is about, though."

"What happened?"

"I did it again."

"Oh fuck."

"..."

"Come in."

"Okay..."

I walked in and she lit up a cigarette. "Let me see," she demanded. "What?" I ask. "The cuts, let me see." she repeated. I lifted my sleeves and moved my arm to where she could see. She sighed deeply and started. "Why?" she asked, running her fingers over the marks. "I... don't know..." I lied. "Another episode?" she asked. I nodded, silently holding back tears. "Your father...is a sick man..." she commented, grimacing and tightening the grip on my forearm. "I know..." I agreed, letting the tears fall.

She let go of my wrists and pulled me into a hug. She smelled of cigarettes, cheap perfume, and booze. I wasn't used to it. When I was younger, she and my mother were very close. She knew of my father's discipline but never approved. 

I don't get why. Of course, his discipline against mother often made her bleed, but she would always say she would get better. Every time, that's what she said. And, every time, father would hit her until she was on the floor and bloody. 

Often, she would take me with her to Ms. Gibson's apartment. She would stay there until morning and then would drive me to school. One day, she drove me to school and when I got home, she wasn't there. My father said she left and wasn't coming back. 

I was hurt. 

Now, I hated her. She left me and didn't take me with her. She fucking left. No note. No goodbye. That morning, she had sat with me and before she let me out of the car at school, she took her cross and put it around my neck.

*10 years ago*

"Come on, sweetheart." my mother called, grabbing a napkin and walking to the other side of the kitchen, over to me. "Almost done!" I replied, hurriedly trying to finish chewing my breakfast. My mother bent down and wiped the corners of my mouth, smiling gently. 

"Let's go, we don't want to be late, do we?" she asked. I shook my head, still chewing. I quickly finished my food and walked my plate over to the dishwasher, loading it in. My mother scooped me up into her arms and peppered me with kisses all over my face. I giggled as it tickled me. 

"Come on, sweetheart." she said, carrying me to the living room. My mother sat me down and slung my backpack over her shoulder. I looked up at her, her brown hair was straight and silky. Her eyes were green and vibrant, contrasting with her tanned skin. 

"Thanks, Cassie." my mother said, hugging her friend. "Thank you, Ms. Gibson!" I chimed in, smiling. "Of course, Dana." Ms. Gibson responded, pulling away and ruffling my hair. "We better get going, I'll miss you." my mother said, her smile shrinking just the slightest. 

"I'll miss you, too. Is it necessary? I..."

"Yes, Cassie. It is. I can't do it anymore."

"I know."

"..."

"..."

My mother grabbed hold of my hand, gently guiding me to the door. "This isn't goodbye, Cass. It's see you later." my mother said, closing the door behind her as we exited the apartment. "Mommy, what's the difference?" I asked, yanking her arm to grab her attention. "You'll understand when you're older." she answered, monotonous and deadpan. 

I was curious but decided not to ask again. She already gave me an answer. As we loaded into the car, she put my backpack on the passenger floorboard as she buckled me in. 

*Time skip*

The ride was silent and awkward. We created an unspoken tension between us. I remember seeing a few tears fall and her quickly wipe them away. When we arrived, I unbuckled and she handed me my bag. I opened the door and tried to get out but she grabbed my arm. "Travis," she said. 

It caught me off guard. She never called me by name. I didn't like it. I felt like I was trouble. "Yea?" I ask, closing my door. "I want to give this to you." she said, sliding off her cross and holding out her other hand. I did the same and she gently placed it on my hand, curling my fingers around it as the chain fell loosely from my grasp.

"You're giving me this? I thought..." I said, confused and nervous. "Yes, Travis, I am." she said, letting go. "Now, have a good day at school." she said, kissing my forehead and smiling softly so her lips quivered. "Remember baby, it's not goodbye," she stopped.

"it's see you later."

(originally posted March 18th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Regrets - Wattpad

[soupsspoons]

19. It’s Over

No matter how beautiful that morning had been, nothing was okay.

After Gabriel took Judith back to his church, the group began towards the quarry for their cars, knowing it would be no use to try and get to the armory.

Hannah could see the fear on Rick's face as he watched Gabriel leave with his daughter. To the side of her, Carl was also watching the man. His face was hard and serious, but there was obvious worry in his eyes. Hannah didn't know exactly what happened to Judith and Carl's mom, but it was clear Carl was the one to watch over his sister in her absence. She meant everything to him.

Slowly, Hannah put her hand into Carl's, looping their fingers together. With a deep breath, he finally looked away from his sister and down at their intertwined hands.

"She'll be okay," Hannah whispered, only loud enough for Carl to hear. He gave her a soft smile and nodded his head, holding her hand a little tighter. Next to him, Carl then reached out for Ron to hold his other hand. Ron turned and looked hesitantly at the invitation. After a moment though, Ron took the boy's hand. He moved his eyes to Hannah before looking back down and following along with the rest of the group as they began their journey.

It grew dark as they walked, chained to each other like children. Scared children. The walkers hadn't noticed them yet, but every time they neared one of the creatures, Hannah felt everyone's breathing stop and their bodies go stiff. Hannah knew Sam was scared. He watched the walkers with wide eyes, inspecting each one like prey pleading with its predator. Jessie had wanted him to go with Gabriel to the church in order for him to be safe, but he insisted he could stay. He insisted that he was strong enough. And Hannah so wanted to believe that he was. She wanted to believe they would all be strong enough to do this.

Hannah knew Carl was also scared, though it was different than Sam. He was scared for the group, for his family. He was scared for her. She knew it from the way his hand was clamped around hers, becoming an iron grip whenever a walker got too close. The way he let her lean on him when the pain in her side became too much. It started to hurt, how tight Carl was holding onto Hannah. She tried to squeeze back, letting him know that it was okay, but nothing changed.

"Carl, that's really tight," Hannah whispered back to the boy, a small smile along her lips. He immediately loosened his hold.

"Sorry," He whispered back, "I'm sorry."

Hannah squeezed back one final time. It was alright.

As they continued to walk, Hannah could see Sam becoming more nervous. She tried to follow where he was looking, but his eyes were moving too quickly. It wasn't until he broke from his mom's grasp that Hannah realized what scared him so much. There was a boy, a walker, who had to have been only a little younger than Sam, walking just ahead of them.

Sam's breathing grew fast as he frantically looked around him, his surroundings finally seeming to set in.

"Sam?" Jessie spoke quietly, "Sweetheart, come on."

"Hey, hey Sam, come on," Rick tried too, his voice gruff.

Nothing could force the boy away from the horror in front of him.

"Sam, hey you can do this, just look at mom, okay?" Hannah heard Ron try from behind her and Carl. There were tears in his eyes now.

"Sam, please," Hannah began to speak too, trying desperately to get the boy back in the group, "Sam, you're okay, remember?" He looked briefly at Hannah before looking back to his mom.

"I want to," He whimpered, "Mom, I want to."

Hannah's hand flew out of Carl's and to her mouth as she watched Sam be devoured by the creatures. They grasped at his head and his neck and his body, pulling at any flesh they could find. He screamed as they tore into him. The boy she had cared for, the boy she had watched grow up, was being eaten right in front of Hannah, and there was nothing she could do. Her throat shut, forcing her screams to stay down. Her own beating heart was drowned out by the sound of Jessie's wails as she watched her son. Both Rick and Carl tried to move her away from the scene, but Jessie was frozen in her horror. Hannah tried to pull away as Jessie too was devoured, but her grip was solid. The woman's nails dug into the flesh of her palm as the walkers moved from Sam to her. On the other side of Hannah, Carl pulled her towards him, desperately trying to help her escape the woman's grasp. His arms wrapped around her waist, but Jessie's hold was too fierce. Her arm, on the same side as her wounds, was too weak to pull away on her own, and Hannah was left at the mercy of the dying woman.

"Dad!" She could hear Carl call out, and then the sound of hacking. Rick had pulled his axe out and was slamming it into Jessie's wrist, finally freeing Hannah's hand. Carl moved quickly to help her stand, pulling her up into his arms. When she was on her feet, Carl let go of the girl, allowing her to turn to find Ron. Before she could, they heard the click of a gun.

"You," Ron spoke through his teeth. His mother's gun was in his hands, pointed at Rick who could only stare back in shock. "You," Ron said again.

Hannah felt her heartbreak at the sight of her friend. She tried to call out to him, tried to tell him to stop, but her throat was still closed. She was silent as Michonne stabbed Ron with her katana, silent as his bullet still rang out.

It was over. Ron was dead.

"Dad?" Carl spoke softly, his voice almost breathy. Hannah turned to see Carl fall into his dad's arms, his face red with blood.

It was over.

---

When she first met him, Hannah was scared. He was intimidating and mean, and he made it clear he didn't like her people. He thought they were weak. He thought she was weak.

Looking back, Hannah didn't understand how she could ever have been scared of him. He was so kind. His laugh was soft and light, like her father's, but captivating in a way Hannah would never understand. She loved seeing him laugh. She loved making him laugh.

Rick had immediately turned around after they brought him in, going back out to finish off the walkers. The rest of the group followed after him, leaving just Denise and Hannah at his bedside.

Instantly, Hannah ran to find any supplies she could, desperately searching for something that would save him. Her hands rummaged through gauze, bandaids, and tape, grabbing at anything that looked remotely helpful.

Denise began to work on his eye, suturing around where the bullet had entered.

Hannah couldn't breathe.

They had just been fighting. She had been yelling at him about something she couldn't remember anymore. Ron, she realized. Her stomach churned at the thought. Ron was dead. He was shot. Ron shot him.

Hannah threw up.

She couldn't stand the sight of the blood that covered his face. It was sticky and matted. His long hair stuck to it like glue and her fingers begged to free it. When Denise finished working, she stepped away from him, and Hannah didn't know what to do. She had been sitting on the same couch she had been laid on not too long ago, waiting for it all to be over. When Denise turned to her, Hannah felt scared. She had watched the woman the entire time, and yet she was scared. He was dead, she thought. He was dead and he was going to disappear right in front of her. He was going to become one of them.

Denise put her hand on Hannah's shoulder, pulling her into a soft hug.

"Go talk to him," was all she said. So, Hannah did.

He was now on a bed, his eye wrapped in the gauze she had given to Denise. She sat down on a chair next to him, quietly, as if not to wake him up. Hannah knew he wasn't asleep though, not really. No, when he was asleep he didn't look like this. When he was asleep he had a sort of smile on his face. It was soft, almost invisible, but Hannah could remember how it had looked. He wasn't smiling now. His face was tight like he was in pain. Denise had given him medicine for that but Hannah knew it could only do so much.

With a light hand, as if he might crack, she let her finger run over his eyebrows, smoothing over the crease between them. When it softened, Hannah smiled a breath of relief and sat back.

"Hi," She breathed out, "Can you hear me, Carl?" Of course, he didn't answer. "I'm so sorry, Carl. I didn't think he would do that, I didn't think--" She didn't know what to say, "I'm just so sorry."

Hannah watched the way his chest rose and fell with each word she spoke.

"I'm sorry I was mad at you, okay?" Hannah continued, "It's not fine, alright? Nothing is fine. I just wanted you to talk to me, I just wanted you to let me in," She breathed in, "I don't really know anything about you, you know? And I guess you don't know much about me either," Hannah chuckled lightly, "But I want you to. And I want to know about you. Anything you'll tell me. Anything at all."

"You mean a lot to me, Carl," Hannah spoke very softly now, "Okay? You're my best friend I think. And maybe I'm not your's, I don't know. But you're not allowed to just come here and make me feel things for you and then leave. You can't do that, Carl. It's not fair," Hannah was crying now as she leaned over the bed. She drew her hand back up to his face, careful around the gauze, and moved his hair to the side. Most of the blood was gone now, Denise had wiped it away, but there was still a little left on his cheeks. Pulling her sleeve around her hand, Hannah gently wiped both the blood and her own tears off of his skin.

She stayed by his side the whole time, waiting for Rick to come back in. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep, but by the time Rick arrived, she was unconscious, her head resting next to his son's hand. Rick gently lifted her out of the chair and carried her to the sofa, letting her stretch out in her sleep.

That night, as Rick talked to his son, Carl's hand wrapped around his father's.

It was over.

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Hi Loveliess! Wow, that was hard to write. I really hoped you all liked it though! I wanted to talk a little bit about Hannah and Ron now that he's gone. Like I've said before, Hannah does not like Ron in a romantic way. I'm kinda leaving it ambiguous whether Ron actually likes Hannah or just feels protective of her, but that's beside the point. I just wanted to say that Hannah is definitely gonna feel some sort of way toward Ron's death. I didn't love how in the show they moved on really quickly from it. Although this is a Carl fic, Hannah has known Ron and his family much longer than she's known him, and I don't want to have her just forget about them immediately. I hope that makes sense and that everyone is okay with it, I just feel like I shouldn't continue without having Hannah think about it at least a little bit yk? Also, I just love Austin Abrams :)

How do we feel about Hannah's "convo" with Carl???

Thanks for Reading!

[briannaswords]

snippet from something I've been working on (I'm trying to physically pull myself from the writer's block hehe)

Eliza’s tired.

Oh my lord, she’s so bloody exhausted. She’s been exhausted since this morning, when she walked to her locker and couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at her, when Addy ran up to her and showed her that stupid post and Eliza just froze because no, no, no this couldn’t be happening, not again, please no, when Eliza bolted into the reception and called Madison because she made the mistake of trying to get through the entire day last time and had failed, just like she’d failed once again to keep this a secret. This, being the one thing that no one seems to tolerate, this being the thing that made her family change churches, this being the thing that made all the friends she thought she had at her last school turn away, this being the thing that ensures she will always be an outcast, she can and will never be accepted and she knew this to some extent because she’s a Black girl, she’ll always be in the minority but this makes her a minority among the people she’s supposed to build a community with.

This, being something as simple and stupid as liking girls. That’s it. 

But, now that she’s thinking about it, Eliza’s been exhausted for a long time now. She’s been exhausted since half-term, when she returned to her last school a day before everyone else to scrape off the last bits of her identity left from the explosion of that first whisper that spread and spread and spread until all Eliza could see was rubble. She’s been exhausted since Year Ten, sitting through the discussions of gay marriage, listening to people debate against it as if marriage is a privilege, something that can be given and taken away instead of a basic human right (Article 12: Men and women of a marriageable age shall have the right to marry and to found a family—Eliza looked it up and cited it, fuming, in her end of year essay). She took Religious Studies because she thought it would be beautiful, thought it would be a way to better understand other religions and through those humanity as a whole. Instead, she broke the nib of her pen when writing her essay in fury, she cried herself to sleep, she looked around her classroom and was dumbfounded by how ready people were to disguise their own prejudices as religious beliefs, to use God as an excuse to continue oppressing minorities. She’s been exhausted since Year Nine, when she came out to her parents with shaking hands, how she almost cried with relief when they folded her into a tight hug, how she hated how surprised she was that they accepted her as if they weren’t the same arms that cradled her when she took her first breaths. She’s been exhausted since Year Eight, when she realised that if she was to see herself in a character on a TV show it was more likely to be the sassy black best friend with no real storyline which was somehow more demeaning than having no representation at all. She’s been exhausted since primary school, when she first realised that being Black made her Other in a way her friends weren’t, when she brought her best friends Lindsey and Nicole home for the first (and only) time and watched as they whispered about the boiled yam Mum cooked, refused to eat anything and complained about how hungry they were until they left.

But today, Eliza is even more exhausted. She almost fell asleep in Madison’s car and the afternoon was spent trying to figure out what the hell they’re going to do this time because Eliza sure as hell isn’t (and can’t) move schools weeks before her GCSEs.

But also because this time, Eliza’s bringing someone else down with her. Mila.

@dancinginsepia @the-world-is-a-poem

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Cultural christianity, and what it can look like

I often-ish see people get all upset and angry when cultural christianity is brought up, taking it as an insult. Most likely, they feel insulted because of past trauma related to abusive behaviour in the sect of christianity they were raised in. That, or they have delusions of grandeur about how rational and special and immune to religion they are and how dare people assume their perfect rational minds are affected in any way? (Don't worry, it's OK, I went through that phase too when I was a teen).

First off, I live in France, a country that has historically been rather Christian, Catholic to be exact, and only fairly recently moved towards more secular structures. Yes, a century since the law on secularism is a short time for a nation. Debate is still raging on what form that secularism should take, and talking about that debate would be a whole other post.

I was raised in a rather atheist familly, due in part to religious trauma in both my parents (even if they wouldn't necessarily think of it that way). My interactions with Catholicism have been limited to visiting churches for the art and stained glasses, a baptism I do not remember (due to being a baby at the time) and a handful of funerals. And I am going to supply you with an exemple of cultural christianity : last Saturday, I had a Catholic moment.

This was fairly topical, one could say, as I was going to visit the Mont Saint-Michel (very pretty, breathtaking vistas, strong recommend). I stopped at a supermarket to buy food for the road, and for the visit, one does need energy to climb up and down repeatedly on that rock, and everything costs an arm, a leg and the soul of your firstborn over there (or lots of money, if you're boring). I see a homeless person sitting outside, quietly hoping people give him some money. I walk along, awkward because I don't have money and I'd rather not have to tell someone "sorry, I can't help you, I don't have cash". I think this is bad, and resolve to buy him a sandwich, which I do. I also give him the sandwich, because just buying it on its own really isn't enough, the man can't eat his sandwich if I drive off with it, really defeats the purpose of the act.

Anyway. I sit down in my car, and have idle thoughts about how maybe that'll help me get the job I recently applied to and ... the Catholic Moment begins. Why am I hoping that? What can that realistically do? Did I give that man a sadnwich for selfish, supersititious reasons? Why would I "taint" this act of kindness with that superstition I don't even believe in?

And then the Catholic Moment ends. And I reassert reality. The guy doesn't care what was going on in my head when I bought and gave him a sandwich, he cares that he has a sandwich. He was smiling, thanked me and said it was nice. Who cares what was going on upstairs, I still gave him the damn sandwich. It's still an improvement in his life, however small. And it's OK to have idle thoughts about that kind of small hope, who cares so long as I don't try to force that on other people. And if it motivates other people to help someone, all the better. That act isn't tainted just because I thought the "wrong thoughts". The dude has his sandwich.

And that is cultural Christianity. I am an atheist, mostly by lack of care about spirituality, but still. But I was raised in a society that is still largely Catholic shaped. My parents were raised as Catholics and broke away later. My grandparents were Catholics. Their own parents were too. And looking back, a lot of my ancestors were more on the poor side of things, which made them even more Catholic.

That doesn't make me evil or bad or wrong. That just means my social and cultural software is cross-shaped due to centuries of previous updates being cross-shaped. And removing bits and bobs from it, and adding a few more, isn't going to change that. I just need to keep that in mind, so I can use that software in a way that takes into account people with non-cross-shaped software, and make sure I don't react in ways that hurt them.

The societies and cultures we live in were built over centuries or millenia, and are marked by our ancestors and what they believe in. You can break some walls, put in bigger windows and change the drapes, it's still the same building, and the crosses scratched into the mortar haven't gone away. But those crosses aren't stopping you from being more open, more friendly to other people. They don't stop people with software that isn't cross-shaped to set up their room as they please.

Just because you live in a building with crosses scratched into the mortar and the bricks, just because those crosses have been scratched into your brain by familliarity and repeatedly being seen, it doesn't make you evil, it doesn't make you wrong. It just means you've grown in there, and you may need to keep that in mind, to make sure those crosses scratched into your brain don't end up hurting someone or blinding you to someone's hurt.

Where you come from, where you grew up, doesn't reduce your worth as a human, and it's OK to carry on stuff from there. We all do. It's not a moral failing. All we're saying, is to take a good look at what those bits do to you, how they motivate your actions, and most importantly, when they tell you not to listen to others.

One of these little brain crosses is telling you that you're right, and everyone that thinks otherwise is wrong, because there is only One Truth, but are you sure you want to listen to that little cross? Are you sure you want to listen to the same little cross that caused your friend, parent, trusted adult figure, to hurt you and refuse to listen to you? Isn't it worth a go to listen to people whose software isn't cross-shaped, and try to understand where they come from?

It's not easy, I'm not going to lie. @athingofvikings can tell you, I stumbled a fair few times, in parts because he is litterally the first Jewish person I actually talked to. But he is a friend, a dear one, and I feel blessed to have met him and become his friend. I stumbled, but I keep my mind open to see my mistakes and correct them, and I do what I can to make sure those brain crosses aren't hurting people, and I got several great friends out of the deal. Imagine the friends you can find, if you just accept them as they are and keep the crosses in check?