#been thinking of some fucking freakishly tall men

[inkyquince]

There's something about freakishly tall men. Towering over. Freak tall men. Using their height against you. You have absolutely no hope of getting away from hands pining your hands above your head, thighs pressed against your crotch, mean mean mean. MEAN freakishly tall men.

So Bailey, but freakishly tall. So so mean, so so freakish. The way he's leaning over his poor little orphan, his body curving unnaturally, hissing in their face.

Morgan. A towering beast in the sewers, following close to his prey, silent despite how fucking big he is. Of course you cannot get away, he's too fucking big, just lugs you around. Picking you up around your middle, huffing his hot breath against the top of your head, dragging you around no matter how much you squirm, your feet never touching the floor.

Veteran Guard, a fucking monster as he stalks the halls of the prison, cap nearly brushing the ceiling of the narrow halls, filling up the entire fucking space. You have no hope of getting away from him. His eyes gleaming from under his cap, a predator, can grab you and pin you down, and encompass your entire body. Lying on top of you, suffocating you, broad chest pressing against your shoulder blades, his legs extending over yours, his breath hitting your temple as he pins you down.

Also all of these men, would fucking have you ragdolling as they grip your waist and bounce you up and down on their cock, unrelenting as they pound your hole, ruining it as they just use you endlessly. You can barely even hold onto their shoulders as they break you in for them.

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[bigwishes]

I’m sick and tired of the asian stereotypes. Others keep saying that we’re small, short, weak, polite, smart, sexually repressive, submissive and so many more. Can you make me a complete opposite of what people expect from an Asian man as a hypersexualised, hyper grown and hyper masculine piece of bull meat?

I definitely think I can help with that. It sucks when people press assumptions on you, especially if you don't like the assumptions they make so I think its time we shake up your life to make sure the worlds sees you for how you want to be seen.

First lets start with your first wish, to be hypersexualised. I'm sure you already have an obsession for mega muscled beef cakes with little to no brains but lets turn that obsession up to eleven. You find that whenever you see a buff meat head you are instantly hard, and everyone else will notice it too with a new 15 inch dick, but lets not stop there. Once you get hard your body will almost instantly go on auto pilot as you cant help yourself but rub your dick through your pants, adjusting it, sometimes even straight up soft core jerking off in the middle of the gym. An alpha sex and masturbation addict. You just can't help yourself no matter what you try once you get hard you are forced to cum. Trying to ignore it just makes it worse as you'll get so hard and pent up it will almost be painful and your dick will be forced to leak pre until you give it the attention it demands, and you'll need to take care of it at least twelve times a day or else risk immediately cumming in your pants as soon as you get even slightly turned on.

Second, the hyper grown part of your wish. One of my favourites, there is no such thing as too big and you've got no other choice to agree. There is no going back now. We could just go and make you have to wear 4XL shirts and and baggy work out shorts but honestly dudes like that art still too small for my taste.

You find every inch of yourself growing, You slowly get taller and taller until you stand at a freakishly tall 8ft, your already muscled arms swell with extreme size as you feel your biceps and triceps start to compete for space with your over grown chest and lats. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room as you thighs inflate into thick muscled tree trunks. You watch as your feet burst out of your sneakers. Your underwear feels strange and rubbery as it begins to stretch, and you feel your ass get bigger by the second and the fabric of your new rubbery underwear ride up giving you a uncomfortable roid wedgie.

The thing about wanting to be Hyper-Grown means you dwarf even the biggest bodybuilders but a body like that has its limits. 8ft tall and over 500 pounds of muscle the only thing you can wear is uncomfortably tight stage posers.

and leggings so tight it feels like its crushing your dick.

If you want to get naked it'll take a good fifteen to twenty minutes of struggling and wrestling with the skin tight fabric and your extreme size just to get it off yourself.

and now for the final stage of your transformation Hyper masculinity. Say goodbye to clear communication dude as a majority of your vocabulary has been replaced with grunts, groans and moans. You spend more time grunting than speaking some people might mistake you for a cave man. Your blood also boils at the drop of a hat, any guy who even makes a joke about your freakish size you take as a personal challenge, stumping up to him and pressing him against the wall and your roided out body.

Your body starts to sweat, and a raw masculine stench fills the air around you. Even if you cared about washing the sweat off your body it wouldn't work anymore. You love how bad you reek, you love how your stench and sweat communicates to weaker men that you are a fucking beast. You don't clean any machine at the gym after using it, you leave a disgusting sweat puddle over everything like marking your territory.

Your mind starts to feel empty, like you have forgotten how to think, the only things that you seem to remember is you love muscle, getting bigger, flexing, your own sweat and jerking off. Even when dominating a guy smaller than you, you can't help but check yourself out in the mirror and love how big you are and how much bigger you're gonna force yourself to become.

Your head being so empty now means your personality has devolved into nothing more but the word bro, grunting and giggling like a typical gym bro.

But that hyper masculinity you wished for keeps that happy go lucky attitude in check as the slightly thing can set you off and make you go on a roided out rampage.

There we go, all your wishes granted, nobody will ever look at you and think of the typical Asian stereotypes ever again.

Unfortunately I can't stop people from assuming you are nothing more than a stupid sweaty roid bull, but honestly how far away from the truth is that.

[kyloandtheknights]

Just saw that you are writing a young flip blurb right now! I am so excited! I would love it if it could be really fluffy and from flips perspective. I just want to know how he feels about me! Thank you so much and I am so excited for your work :)

in which… flip is nervous and y/n loves to knit

a/n: hello darling! i love me some flip, so here’s some fluff for you, all from his perspective. just a lil sumn sumn where he admires you for the absolute GODDESS you are! have an amazing day!

pairing: young!flip zimmerman x reader

summary: flip doesn’t want to admit what he is nervous about… or who

warnings: swearing, y/n is not jewish, fluff fo’ dayyys, pining and desperation from flip because i luv it when men struggle ;)

word count: just under 1k (she’s an itty bitty one)

Flip was not the type of person to get nervous. Sure, he had been nervous before in his life-he wasn’t a robot. But when it came to feeling anxious about a situation, he was not the type to fuss. And when it came to people, he was most definitely not nervous. Usually, unless it was a family member or one of his few friends, he was more so annoyed that they had disturbed his peace or alone time to bother him with silly small talk and questions.

The bottom line was: Phillip Zimmerman did not get nervous.

So the clammy fidgeting hands that are constantly being wiped against his trousers, the giant lump in his throat and the erratic stuttering of his heart were definitely not because he was nervous, because he doesn’t get nervous. No- it must have been all of the coffee he had drank before he left with his parents and got into the car to go to temple. And, hypothetically speaking of course, if he was nervous, (which he most definitely was not), it definitely wasn’t because he walked past her while entering the synagogue, watching her wave goodbye at what Flip presumed to be a friend of hers who got lost in the crowd of people entering the temple, before plopping down on a picnic blanket splayed over the front grass in the driveway and pulling out her knitting needles and yarn from her bag, already halfway through another scarf in a pretty lilac colour- her camp set up to wait her friend out until the end of the session so that they could hang out afterwards.

No- he definitely wasn’t nervous because he didn’t know if she was pleased with his formal attire and hair when she gave him a once over and a gentle friendly smile- it was probably out of pity. An insanely pretty girl just minding her own business with a freakishly tall boy around her age just staring her down, dress shirt and formal trousers clad, topped off with reddened cheeks and ear tips, making direct eye contact for only a second before immediately looking away towards the floor, quickly nodding to her to show he acknowledges her presence before turning and walking inside.

She must think he was such a maniac. Why the fuck didn’t he smile at her? Why did he just nod? What was all that about? His mother had taught him proper manners, so why was it that as soon as he saw her, everything else he was thinking about or had ever known faded into nothingness and was replaced with small things he picked up about her. The part of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the sweet colour of her skin, the small moles and scars from old pimples that had faded with time. Every time he saw her, he seemed to walk away with a new fact about her. Her accent, her lip shape, the natural creases her face holds. Every single time.

He was snapped back into reality when his mother sitting next to him nudged his arm with her elbow, and when he looked to her, her face held a stern look that told him to pay attention to the rabbi, which she probably noticed he wasn’t doing after watching him stare off at the stained windows on the walls to check if he could possibly see her through them, even though he knew it was almost impossible with the opacity of the windows being damn near opaque with the intensity of the colour and due to her positioning on her picnic blanket being so close to the ground. God, he was crazy for even trying to see if he could spot her through the window. Why was he like this? It wasn’t like him to be actively looking for someone, let alone a girl. Nor was it like him to be fidgety and nerv-

No… he was not nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? He was Flip fuckin’ Zimmerman for God’s Sake. He scares men older than him with his strength at the lumber mill he worked at, chopping log after log with his trusty axe, his flannel off revealing his muscles, which flexed and glistened with his movements in his sweaty wife beater and jeans. Girls frothed over him. Guys wanted to be him. He was hot, he was stoic, he was strong and he was tall. And most importantly, he didn’t have to act like he cared about it, because he didn’t care about it, which somehow racked his appeal up even more.

But as he walked out of the synagogue and watched you, your brow furrowed behind your glasses that you had put on while he was inside, legs criss crossed as you continued to work on your knitting before meeting his eyes, he knew that none of it mattered. None of the “Flip Zimmerman- Hot Guy” mattered. Because it didn’t matter to her either. She didn’t know him. And that made him want to be with you even more.

So, he would never admit that he got nervous- but there’s a reason as to why he has watched her wait outside the synagogue for three months but has never said a word.

[wandering-travesty]

Call Me By Your Name

    You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

 “I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

 “I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

 “You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

 “Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

 “Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

 “They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

 Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

 “I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

 “I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

 The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

 So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

 So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

 “Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

 “Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

 Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

 “Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

 “I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

 “I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

 “Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

 “’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

 “Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

 “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

 “My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

 He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

 Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

 “Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

 “Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

 “My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

 “Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

 “Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

 “Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

 “Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

 “Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

 “Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

 “Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

 The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

 “Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

 “Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

 “I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

 “Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

 “Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

 “Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

 “Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

 “You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

 He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

 “You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

 “God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

 You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

 “Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

 You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

 “I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

 You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

 He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

 “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

 “Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

 “Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

 He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

 “Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

 “That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

 “Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

 “Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

 “Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

 “Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

 “Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

 “You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

 As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

 “God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

 “And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

 “Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

 “Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

 “Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

 “How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

 “Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

 “Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

 “Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

 “Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

 “Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

 “Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

 “Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

 “I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

 “You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

 “You’re not too unbearable either.”

[astrandofgold]

take me as i am

chapter 6: fell in love in the only way i knew

Here it is, the latest chapter! It’s only been….forever? I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long because I wasn’t quite sure how to finish it off, but I finally figured it out. This one focuses on the sweet, with some minor suggestive content. The song I referenced is Q&A by Kishi Bashi, and I’m absolutely obsessed with it! Also, is it even a story about Higgs if there isn’t a part where he plays guitar? 😂

___________________________

A well-worn blanket, a pack of beers, and a guitar. That’s what was strapped onto Leo’s back. The guitar was awkward, but she’d be damned if she hadn’t carried worse cargo. And besides, Higgs had promised her, with a chuckle, that he’d play for her if she managed to carry it all the way to their destination, of which, was now within view of the two former porters. Out of the corner of her eye, Leo caught Higgs giving her a side glance, smirking. She rolled her eyes, flipped him off, and grinned, trekking forward.

Higgs had to hand it to Leo, the girl had some real grit. It was one of the many reasons why he was smitten with her. She reminded him of himself, and she carried that spark in her that he had misplaced long ago. Higgs mused to himself, thinking about how she was helping him find that spark again. Life had a funny way of placing into his hands the very thing he never dared to dream would come into his life. He could still see his daddy sneering down at him, telling him all the lies that shattered his young child’s heart. The scars still remained, littering his body like constellations. Each one formed the story of a boy wincing at the sound of a cracking belt, a boy covering his face with his arms as tears silently fell, a boy tending to burn marks in the cover of the night. A boy that grew up believing he was as ugly and worthless as his daddy was.

Despite that, Higgs was starting to come around on the concept that maybe he wasn’t as ugly of a person as he was led to believe. If it were true, then why the hell would Leo be with him? Maybe she was batshit crazy to be with him, the thought had crossed his mind more than a few times. But regardless, he was happy that she chose to stick with him. He remembered the night that he finally revealed his scars to Leo, she held him close, placing gentle kisses on each one, eyelashes glistening with fragments of tears. He didn’t know what she saw in him, but he definitely knew what he saw in her. As Leo coughed, Higgs was brought back to the present moment as he focused his attention and realized that Leo’s orange eyes were peering curiously into his own blues.

“What’re you thinking about, babe? You’ve been staring off like that ever since we passed the hot springs.” Higgs smiled gently in response, then chuckled. “I’m thinking about the fuckin’ food I’ve been carrying on my back for the last half hour. I’m starving!”

Leo scowled at him, teasingly smacking his toned upper arm.

“Dammit, Higgs, didn’t you eat right before we left? Where the hell do you store all that food?”

Higgs turned a mischievous eye to her as he patted her head, the height difference becoming strikingly apparent.

“Well, darlin’, you tell me where you think I store it all.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.”

“And it’s not mine that you’re adorably short. I’m so glad we’ve had this conversation, but now I’m gonna eat something.”

“No, Higgs, just-just wait a second! Look, that’s the spot right there!”

Leo quickened her pace just a little, walking down the slight hill to a spot next to the riverbank. Small, white flowers grew in the lush grass, giving the area an aura of safety. This portion of the valley hadn’t seen timefall for quite some time, yet had a consistent supply of river water, which led to a unique ecosystem developing. Fauna had begun to return to the valley floor, birds chirped in the taller grass, and small deer ran in the woods where Homo Demens had once declared their base. Higgs still shuttered to think about his time there, as infrequent as it was. Surrounded by men who were just as delusional as he had been, who sought to bring about the same thing he had wanted. As he glanced over to the woods with the ghosts of his past, he let out a sigh of relief knowing that they hadn’t succeeded in their goals. He never would have been here with Leo, watching life return to the mountain base. It almost reflected his own healing, and he wryly smirked at the thought.

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The sun was setting as Leo and Higgs reveled at their picnic spread, the worn Bridges blanket hosting a multitude of food items. Higgs couldn’t even begin to figure out where Leo had sourced it all from. She stood there, hands on hips, grinning at the selection. She was resourceful, and Higgs knew that the local preppers gave her gifts on occasion, but some of the stuff was unheard of. Chocolate? Fresh fruit? Those words alone would have caused Mules to come running from across the region to have a go at claiming it as their own. A wave of satisfaction and pride spread throughout Higgs as he thought about his partner’s success, and the fact that she chose to share it with him. He knew he was one lucky bastard.

The meal consisted of attempts at trying to throw bits of food in each other’s mouths, a few delectable favorites hand fed to the other followed by laughter, and one episode of Leo rolling her eyes when Higgs blew right through an entire loaf of fresh bread that she had procured all the way from the Timefall Farm. The light in the sky changed from yellow to orange, and now bathed the valley in soft shades of lavender as mist slowly filled the basin. Leo gasped as the flicker of a firefly appeared near them, low to the grass, but unmistakable in its glow. One after the other appeared, and soon, Leo and Higgs were surrounded by a field of light. Higgs unwrapped his arms from where he had been holding Leo as they watched the light show, and leaned over to grab the unforgotten guitar from the case. He knew Leo had been waiting for this moment with much patience. Her bright eyes, made even more orange by the fireflies, flickered with anticipation.

“Now don’t get your hopes up. It’s been a long time since I’ve played one of these things, and, well…you never know.” Higgs messed with the tuning, strumming until he seemed satisfied, a peaceful smile washing over his face. Leo, despite his protestations, had always thought Higgs attractive. But now, here in his element, surrounded by the glow of the evening and hair falling over his face, with his blue eyes shining, she thought he was absolutely beautiful.

Higgs broke the silence with a hesitant strum, getting the feel for the strings, forming a melody. It was a full, warm sound, and reverberated in Leo’s heart. Higgs looked up at her as he played, beaming.

“It’s somethin’ I heard on the network the other day. I think you were humming to it, and it kinda reminded me of you.”

He continued playing, and Leo laid on her back, folding her hands underneath her head as she listened. The stars twinkled in the sky, something she would never take for granted after a lifetime of chiralium-filled skies.

“You are the answer to my question

You are my accomplice in a crime…”

Leo sat up and looked over at Higgs, a smile breaking out on her face as she processed that Higgs was singing to her. He was absolutely beaming as he sang, the happiest she had ever seen him.

“You are my wing woman and did I mention

We were together in another life?”

Higgs wasn’t one to vocally voice his emotions, Leo knew that. He showed them through actions, through caring touches, hands on the small of her back, fingers gently moving strands of hair, lips whispering on skin in the dark of the night. Leo was surprised when she felt drops fall on her arms. She hadn’t realized she was crying. Higgs looked up at her, eyes earnestly exploring her own. He held her gaze as he sang the next line.

“…in that dream, you probably were my wife.”

With a final strum, the notes gave way to the quiet noise of the night. Crickets chirped, wind gently caressed the two bodies, and the nearby stream bubbled. Higgs set the guitar down next to him on the blanket, and Leo could see he had a hint of blush on his cheeks. Leaning over, slowly and softly, Higgs reached out and caressed Leo’s face. Thumb running over her cheek, over her lips. He wanted to take in every bit of her that he could. Blue eyes met golden eyes, each hungrily taking the other’s features in. Higgs moved in closer until his nose brushed against hers, lips a breath away. Leo closed the distance, softly kissing him, brushing her fingers against his neck, then running them into his hair. He gave a hum of pleasure at the motion, and broke the kiss, only to rest his forehead against hers.

“Leo, I-I love you…I know I don’t say it much, but I do. I really fuckin’ do. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and…I don’t deserve you. I just don’t—“ Leo cut him off with a finger to his lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Higgs, please….please listen to me. I want you to know that every morning, you’re the first thing I think about. When I open my eyes, you’re the only thing I want to see. At night, I want the feeling of you holding me to be what stays with me as I fall asleep.” Leo couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as she earnestly gazed into his eyes, and she gave a laugh amidst them. “I want to live a thousand lifetimes with you by my side, and….I never want anyone to take your place. Higgs Monaghan, I love you. I fucking love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my everything.”

The next moment found Higgs and Leo tangled in one another, clothing rapidly abandoned. Tender hands grasping to bring the other closer still, lips writing their own unique love stories on skin. Hands running through hair, hands running down hips, hands staking claim on bodies that willingly offered. Passionate prayers left Higgs’ lips and spread to the sky, prayers offered up at the alter of Leo’s body. Higgs was by no means religious, but at that moment, he found god in the form of the woman gasping his name from underneath him.

___________________________

Lying under the stars with nothing between them and the balmy night air, the two wrapped up in the blanket. Leo rested her head in the crook of Higgs’ shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, placing his chin on the top of her head. The night was peaceful, and Leo had never felt safer than she did in Higgs’ embrace. The rise and fall of his chest, rhythmic and soothing, quickly lulled her to sleep. As he lie there, drowsily watching the stars twinkle and absentmindedly rubbing Leo’s shoulder, he thought about how his life led him to this point. How this woman, making soft sighs as she slept, accepted him and loved him with an incredible fierceness, showing him a facet of life he had never known. In that moment, as night in the valley settled and he drifted off to sleep, Higgs knew that for the first time ever, he had a long life to look forward to.

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part One

Link to Masterpost

This was supposed to be a drabble, but there will be at least two more parts because the two other drabble prompts I’ve received so far all fit perfectly into the same theme as this one!

The prompt:

“I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.” / “I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen.” 

I did tweak the precise wording as even in an AU I couldn’t picture a world where Rowan or Aelin’s parents were still alive into their adulthood, but I hope this meets the spirit of what my anonymous prompter was looking for!

If y’all have any more prompts or suggestions you would like to throw my way for things you would like to see as this relationship develops, my ask box is always open! But without further ado...

~*~*~

Aelin stretched her arms over her head with a yawn as she finally gave up on sleeping in. Her shift at the bar had run long, even more so than usual, and yet it seemed she still couldn’t sleep past ten in the morning no matter what she did. Perhaps it was time to invest in blackout curtains, after all.

Thankfully, even managing to sleep this late meant that she wouldn’t have to deal with her roommate as she started her day, so she slipped out of her bedroom and into the bathroom wearing nothing but an oversized shirt a former boyfriend had left behind when he left her. The guy had been an ass, but the shirt was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept in, and so she had long since decided it would be fine to keep.

As she glanced at the wreck that was her hair in the mirror and decided to leave it until she was more awake, she gave quiet thanks once more that Rowan would be off to his corporate job at wherever-it-was and not around to critique her messy hair and her messy life. They had been living together for about three months now, ever since her cousin Aedion had left his house behind for another deployment and Rowan had suddenly relocated from Doranelle. In theory it was meant to be a temporary arrangement, Aedion doing a favor for a friend since he wasn’t around to live in his own room, but if Rowan had actually made plans to move out yet he hadn’t informed Aelin.

Not that Aelin was doing much better in that regard. She had spent a year and a half now living in her cousin’s spare bedroom and working dead-end jobs. She felt she had a better excuse, though, since she was actually related to Aedion and was still trying to get her bearings after everything that had caused her to leave Rifthold.

Shaking her head in an attempt to dislodge that line of thinking, Aelin instead bent over the sink and hastily washed her face clean of the remnants of makeup that had lingered from the night before. She had crept back into the house sometime after three in the morning, and it had been late enough that her usual shower had been absolutely out of the question, so instead she had made do with sleepily swiping a washcloth over her face before dragging herself to bed. If her reflection was any indication, the effort had failed miserably.

Once she deemed her face to be clean enough for now, Aelin padded down the stairs with another yawn, intent on making coffee. After the late night she had had, she would absolutely need it if she had any hope of getting through her day.

Keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally trip on something in her exhausted shuffle to the kitchen, she passed through the living room and successfully resisted the temptation to curl up on the couch for another nap. Instead, she finally reached the coffee machine that was sitting on the counter and began looking for wherever the hell Rowan had stored the coffee beans in his latest reorganization of the kitchen. Grumbling about men who were entirely too interested in organizing cabinets, she flung doors open at random until she saw the container resting on the very top shelf.

Damn Rowan and his freakishly tall self, he had hidden the coffee away where she could barely reach it. She was too exhausted still to find wherever he had tucked her stepstool away, though, so instead she sighed and reached for it. She let out a quiet noise of triumph as her fingertips brushed the container, edging it closer and closer to tipping off the shelf until she could grasp it more fully. Beans obtained, she set the container on the counter beside the coffee maker and froze when she heard a throat clearing behind her.

Fuck. In her exhausted daze, she had forgotten that it was Saturday and that Rowan wouldn’t be at his corporate job. Aelin took a deep breath to help steady her nerves and turned to meet his furious pine-green eyes.

She had not been expecting to also see a pair of dark eyes glimmering with amusement, but when she did it took everything she had not to immediately flee the kitchen.

The dark eyes belonged to a woman with equally dark hair and pale skin, lips painted red and curled in a smirk that immediately set Aelin on edge. “Why, Rowan,” she purred, sultry voice curling around the same accent that Rowan spoke with, “I wasn’t aware you had… company.”

“I don’t,” Rowan replied, voice clipped with barely-restrained irritation. “Aunt Maeve, this is my roommate. Aelin.”

“Um. Hi,” she managed as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. They barely spoke, but she had overheard Rowan talking about his aunt before. The woman had raised him, as his own parents had died when he was young just as Aelin’s had. It appeared they were still close enough for her to come all the way from Doranelle to Orynth just to visit.

And Aelin had just met her wearing nothing but an oversized shirt, with her hair tangled in a wild halo around her face. There was no way for her to salvage this first impression, not now.

Suddenly her humiliation flared into anger. Why should she make a good first impression? This wasn’t any relation of hers, and Rowan hadn’t even bothered to tell her he’d have a guest over. It went completely against the house rules he’d been so insistent on having, and she couldn’t possibly be held responsible for what had just happened.

Her anger only sparked further as Maeve laughed, the humor in her voice not reaching those dark eyes. “It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” the woman replied.

Before either of them could say anything else, Rowan stood. “Aelin. A word?”

She nodded quietly and one of his hands closed around her upper arm as he pulled her into the living room. Once they got there, he turned to face her, eyebrows drawn together in anger and one hand carding through his platinum hair. “You couldn’t get dressed before leaving your room just one morning?” he hissed.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here,” she replied hotly, struggling to keep her voice to a whisper as well. “Besides, if you were going to be like this about it I really would’ve liked it if you told me the woman who raised you was coming to town!”

“Yeah, well, I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen, and yet here. We. Are.” As he bit out the last words he grabbed her arm again, tugging her closer as he towered over her.

Aelin froze again, just as she had when he had alerted her to their presence. “How did you—?”

“You’re wearing a shirt and nothing else, Aelin. Did you really think it would cover everything when you were stretching your arms over your head?”

Fuck. So not only had she made an absolute fool of herself, she had exposed herself to a woman she hadn’t even met and to Rowan as well. And to think she had thought her morning couldn’t get any worse.

Finally, Rowan sighed. “Look, just… go upstairs and put some clothes on. Real clothes. I’ll start the coffee for you and deal with my aunt. Deal?”

Aelin nodded and darted up the stairs, not stopping to try to hear how Rowan was going to try to explain this to the woman in their kitchen.

By the time she had dressed and tamed her golden waves, Maeve had left and Rowan was sitting on the living room couch, two mugs of coffee steaming on the table in front of him. She swiped the one that was clearly meant for her, choosing for once to ignore the fact that he had to have touched her favorite mug in order to prepare it for her and instead inhaling the scent of the coffee. It had already been sweetened judging by the smell, and she blinked at her roommate over the rim of her mug.

“What?” he asked.

“You put sugar in this,” she accused.

Rowan snorted in reply. “Of course I did. I learned in three days you take your coffee as sweet as you can make it.”

It was completely true, of course, but Aelin wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying as much out loud. Instead she took a small sip of her coffee, moaning softly at the taste. It was perfect, of course, and it was infuriating how he had picked up on such a small detail of her morning routine when they barely interacted.

After a moment of silence, Rowan continued. “My aunt won’t be coming back,” he revealed. “I may have yelled at her for showing up unannounced and uninvited before you woke up, and you showing up as you did only solidified my argument for why that was a terrible idea.”

Aelin laughed. “So I actually did you a favor?”

“Don’t press your luck,” he retorted, but she took satisfaction in the almost-concealed smile that she barely saw cross his face. “I’m still annoyed with you.”

“Oh, come on,” she grinned. “You learned how I like my coffee, I saved you from overbearing parental figures. Maybe we can even figure out how to be friends.”

“What did I just say about pressing your luck?”

“Please, I press my luck every single day. I make a point of it, in fact. It usually works out.”

Aelin drained her coffee mug and set it back on the table before glancing over at Rowan. As she watched, he slowly shook his head. “You are absolutely unbelievable. You know that, right?”

Aelin laughed. “Of course I do. It’s all part of my charm.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rowan replied, obviously skeptical.

“What? It is! Two days ago you wouldn’t even talk to me, and look at us having coffee together like roommates who actually like each other.”

Rowan glanced at his own mug of coffee and smiled. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she grinned. “Who knows, maybe we can actually learn to like each other. We’ll find the way together.”

Rowan sighed. “As long as it doesn’t involve you escalating from flashing my aunt to stripping for my coworkers.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Aelin mused.

As Rowan’s eyes widened in fear, Aelin doubled over laughing. “Gods help me, you actually thought I would do it!”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “At this point? I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire

[deansmom]

this is a draft from some time in s12 with background established deancas, tattooed!dean and mary getting to know dean. (ao3)

The first time Mary patches Dean up after a hunt, he tries not to squirm. 

He’s sitting on the motel bed in Cas’ running shorts and nothing else because he’s got a huge gash across his chest and twenty minutes ago he had a knife sticking out of his shin. Vonnegut is staring up at him from his thigh. 

Dean’s had worse. Hell, he’s stitched up worse on his own - but this time his mom was there.

Mary comes out of the bathroom and freezes in the doorway, blinking at him.

He offers her and awkward wave and winces at the movement.

It seems to snap Mary out of it because she shakes her head a little and walks over, “Sorry, I just...” 

She makes a noise that Dean thinks is supposed to be a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

Dean smiles a little bit to himself, amused, “You’ve seen the protection sigil.”

Mary rolls her eyes and sets the first aid kit on the bed next to him, “Yeah, I’ve seen the protection sigil but I didn’t know that you had Vonnegut on your thigh.”

Something in Dean’s chest clenches and melts all at once and the sudden rush of emotion knocks all the wind out of him.

He licks his lips and has to clear his throat to get any words to come out. His voice cracks, “You like Vonnegut?”

Mary laughs quietly as she pours the vodka from the trunk over the stab wound. Dean sucks in a breath and grips the mattress, biting his tongue to keep from yelping. 

“He was one of my favorite authors,” she explains, dabbing the wound with some gauze. “Slaughterhouse-Five is one of the only books I read after graduating.”

Dean hisses, not sure what to say.

Mary finishes cleaning the wound up and out and sits back against the other bed while she gets the bandage, gauze and tape together. 

“It’s... beautiful.” 

Dean looks up, surprised and a little embarrassed. It’s nothing special. It’s old and faded now and it needs to be touched up soon. Some random kid the year he dropped out of high school threw a party and his older brother had a tattoo gun. Dean gave the kid his last twenty bucks and got a pretty solid, but still shit tattoo at sixteen.

John wanted to kill him.

He tells Mary as much as he leans back on the bed, “He didn’t see it until we were on a hunt when I was eighteen. I thought he was gonna hand me over to the vampires we were hunting.”

She doesn’t say much, just lets Dean talk and tell her about how angry John was and all the awful stuff he said to their son.

Mary can see some other tattoos peeking out from under Dean’s shorts and on his lower calf. They’re all older and faded, and she feels like she’s stumbled onto something she’s not supposed to see. 

She finishes bandaging up his shin and pats the other knee gently, “Ok kiddo, you ready for me to clean up your chest?”

It takes her a moment to get off the floor, using Dean’s good knee as a brace to do so. He offers her a hand but she just waves him off, “I’m fine, you’re the one who looks like shit.”

Dean laughs, a genuine laugh, before moving to lay fully on the bed.

“Gee, thanks mom. That makes me feel better.”

Mary pokes his armpit as she sits next to him, reorganizing the first aid kit. She catches a glimpse of another tattoo near Dean’s armpit and spends half a second too long staring at it.

Dean shifts a little bit on the bed, “You’re gonna give a guy a complex.”

She shakes her head, laughing at herself, “Sorry, sorry, I just -”

Mary looks at him again, trying to broadcast acceptance with her expressions and body language. 

“I’ve been around you for a while now Dean and I had no idea you had tattoos.”

She smiles tiredly and looks away quickly, grabbing the vodka again. 

“Just seems like something a mom should know.”

The room goes quiet again while Mary works on cleaning Dean up. The tick tick ticking of the old clock in the kitchen fills the silence of the motel room.

In the room next to them the TV is blasting some infomercial. There’s a car in the parking lot that has their bass turned all the way up and if Dean closes his eyes, he can almost feel the bass.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, anything, and Cas opens up the motel door with dinner in hand. 

He lets out a breath and smiles, some of the tension in the room and most of the tension in Dean’s body dissipates.

“Burgers? You’re awesome.”

  Once the case is done and they make it back to the bunker, Dean finds Mary in the library. She’s flipping through one of the big tombs. 

Sometimes Dean thinks it’s funny just how much of his mom he sees in Sam. If Mary had brown hair and was freakishly tall, they’d look identical in this moment.

The air switches on and the clank of the old metal startles Mary, making her look up at Dean. “Oh, hey.”

Dean offers her a small smile, “Hey.”

He’s nervous. He hasn't’ been able to stop thinking about what Mary said in the hotel room - things that a mom should know about her son. 

It’s not a big deal, it really isn’t, but... it is. His tattoos are all small and objectively bad, but they’re little pieces of who he is. They represent all the different parts and important people of Dean’s life and they’re... personal. 

“I, um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a couple tattoos.”

If Mary’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. “Oh,” she says. “Ok.”

“The Vonnegut one, you saw...” Dean clears his throat and shifts on his feet, “And uh, I have dad’s dog tags - that’s what was by my armpit.”

He raises his arm just enough so that Mary can see the edge poking out of his sleeve. She lets out a small breath and gets out of the chair like she wants to walk over to Dean.

He interrupts her before she can say or do anything else, “And, uh, I have the opening chord progression from Hey Jude on the other thigh. Cause...” Dean shrugs kinda helplessly, “Y’know.”

Mary looks like she wants to cry.

Dean coughs, clearing his throat, “And, uh, Sam’s birth and death days on this side of my ribs.” He pauses for a beat, something occurring to him, “I should probably update that one.”

That startles a laugh out of Mary, “Yeah, probably.”

He hesitates for a moment, suddenly nervous to tell her what the other two are.

They’ve made a conscious decision to never hide their relationship, but they don’t go around parading it either. And for one terrifying moment, Dean wonders if his mom knows that he’s in love with his best friend who’s also an angel. 

“Um,” Dean clears his throat, his voice going deeper all of a sudden. “And uh - this one.”

He pulls his jeans down just about an inch on his left hip to reveal a line of enochian in white ink. It’s the newest one Dean has even though it’s already a couple years old. It’s beautiful small, fragile line work with some red outlining to make certain letters pop. 

Mary steps closer, about to lean down to look at it before realizing what she’s doing.

Dean laughs nervously and shrugs, “It’s fine.”

She smiles and gets close enough to just look at it, but not touch, “It’s beautiful.”

The compliment makes Dean’s heart swell a little bit, “Thanks. It’s my favorite one.”

Mary stands up fully, meeting his eyes with a kind smile, “What’s it say?”

The frankness of the question catches Dean off guard for a moment, but it shouldn’t. It also steals the wind out of him for a moment, because, well -

“It, uh,” Dean clears his throat, tucking his shirt back in. “It says beloved.”

Before Mary can say anything, Dean clears his throat again, trying to make himself sound normal and not like he’s freaking out. “And, uh, the last one is just... a C.”

It’s another white ink tattoo and it’s fading, always fading, but Dean loves it. It’s on the webbing of his ring finger.

The library is quiet for a moment, the only sound filling the room is Cas and Sam in the kitchen. The air kicks off, making Dean jump this time with the old metal settling.

“So,” Dean rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at his mom. “Yeah. I just - I... y’know.”

Wanted you to know, he wants to say. Thought you might care, he thinks. 

Mary smiles and sets a hand on Dean’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Dean looks up again, meeting her eyes and smiles nervously, “S’no big deal.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, but is interrupted.

“Dean!” Castiel pokes his head in the doorway, smiling at them, “Hello, Mary. Dinner is ready if you’re hungry.”

Mary can’t help but notice the way all the tension leaves Dean’s body again, but she doesn’t dare say anything about it.

It’s not her place. It’s no more her place than if they were two strangers at a gas station.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean offers, a small private smile on his face. “We’ll be in there in a minute.”

Castiel nods and leaves without preamble.

Mary still doesn’t know what to make of him.

Dean clears his throat, the deeply awkward feeling settling in around them, “I, uh… I know that you’re, y’know.”

He cringes before he can stop himself, “Not entirely comfortable. But I just…” Dean harrumphs, his arms coming up to wrap around himself, “I don’t know. You’re… my mom.”

Even if he’s not her Dean, which he understands, he still wants her to know him.

And he thinks she wants that too. To know them as men, as people… to just be a friend.

Mary just squeezes his elbow gently, too scared to say something that will fuck up the moment.

Dean gets it.

“Come on.” He offers her a smile, his head inclined towards the kitchen, “Let’s get some food.”

[daiseukiis]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ┊ 02 ┊ 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 ┊ 04

⠀

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀"HERE, IT'S FROM YOUR SISTER." mizuki reaches out to gojo who passes by the hallway of the dorms. she was in her normal clothing, her off day. a dark blue sweater engulfs her body along with the black jeans and hair that was tied in a mess with a single clip. she took a few steps to catch up the male that walked pass her room.

"huh? what is it." gojo turns to face her, taking in her homey look before inspecting the white paper bag in her hands. mizuki brings it out for the sorcerer to grab as she straightens up her posture.

"she's doing well, she talked a lot about you when i visited." she explains and exhales softly, catching her breath after having a hectic schedule.

"my giri no ani and nephew?" gojo takes the bag and looks through the contents which his sister had brought him from overseas.

"he's still capable of protecting them and safe delivery to onee-san." she puts her hand on her hip, a defeated smile to see how after all these years there was still that small distrust he felt towards his in-law. 'what an overgrown protective goof.'

"snacks, photos and... a letter?" he grabs out the small white envelope for both of them to see.

"letter?" mizuki repeats after him and watches as he opens up the envelope to read what was written inside. seeing that her job to deliver the presents that his sister had bought for him, her presence there was no longer needed. it's not as if he also would share what was the contents in the letter either, so mizuki went to take her leave.

"alright, your turn." gojo hums.

"what?" mizuki snaps back, turning her head to face him after her hand just reached her doorknob. gojo walks towards the short figure, "where's my souvenir?"

"what?" she asks once again, she had to know that he was messing around because, well, this is gojo we're talking about. her face scrunched up her nose, filling her expression with confusion and mild taste of shock when he didn't respond in the next seconds that he was joking.

"you heard me, mizuki fuyusame." gojo stands tall in front of her figure, to the point mizuki had to stretch her neck more than usual to see his blindfolded face. he let's out a small chuckle as he watches her expression transition into a scowl.

'ugh, i hate being called by my full name.' it wasn't something gojo would do often, but he did have a knack for annoying the other sensei of their school. "what makes you think i bought anything for you?"

"our precious yukihana told me so." he takes a step back, smirking mischievously as he watches mizuki's face start to slowly pale as dust of pink appear on her cheeks. "then again, you never give them to me and just keep them stuffed in your closet."

'that's why all the souvenirs i buy disappear. it was mari's doing.' mizuki's palm lands on her forehead, causing strands of her hair to fall on to her face. she really needed to fix her appearance right now, but dismissed that fact. groaning, she looks straight at gojo with full confidence.

"i didn't buy you anything, now leave me alone." clasping her hand onto her hair clip, she releases her silky brown locks so it would fall down her waist, stuffing the clamp into her hoodie's pocket. mizuki's wrist turns to open her door and leave, that was until gojo catches her attention.

"are you sure about that? what's this then." he holds up a light beige button up shirt in front of her, making her turn to look back at him. eyes went wide the moment it fell on the article, reaching out for the shirt only for him to bring it higher to a point which she couldn't reach.

"that's for me!" mizuki tries to jump up for the shirt, it was still too high for her to reach. 'stupid tall bastard!'

"mens size?" he hums out. mizuki who had given up trying to take back the shirt took a step back, crossing her arms and staring at the blindfolded man, "clothes have no gender. what does it being in the mens section have anything to do with what i wear?"

"how about wearing my shirts next then?" he took a step closer to mizuki as he plants a hand beside her head, trapping her between the suddenly closed door and his body. the smirk on his face was once more teasing the female, one which she quickly mirrored back.

"the same one you're wearing that's going to have a hole in it?" mizuki's hand gently laid atop gojo's chest, above his heart as she inches her face closer to his. her lips even centimeters away from touching his, tension built up.

"my pleasure, but let me kill you first."

"you never cease to give me chills."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"as much as i would love to stay and watch your teamwork flourish, i got some business to attend to." gojo grins and waves his hand to his four students who stare at him.

their mission was around the outskirts of shizuoka prefecture, many said that there were paranoia activity happening in the abandoned school building just right behind them. this was the mission mizuki had mentioned that day before.

"fuck off, you just didn't wanna be here for this mission." kiyara quickly swears at her sensei, eyes and lips flat as she knew this was just some sort of facade for the said man so he could go sugar hunting. if anything, she was confused exactly how he didn't develope diabetes yet with his sweet tooth.

"bingo! but you're all more than capable of clearing a grade two mission." gojo gives them a thumbs up along with his grin to brighten up their gloomy atmosphere.

to say the least the weather was completely terrible. rain clouds were approaching to the point it looked like even a storm was brewing, despite the fact it was morning. they were going to kill off curses in a shady abandoned school, to top it off, their sensei was irresponsible and decided he would leave his students up to the task as he goes to buy souvenirs while they could possibly die.

all was so dandy for him.

"i'm going to seriously punch you." fushiguro declares.

"anyways, i'll be back to pick you four up." turning on his heels he waves out to them.

"we got this. just go do whatever the hell you want and by the time you get back here, we'll already be out eating ramen." kiyara mirrors his actions, walking past her colleagues and towards the building.

"oh? is that some sort of encouragement for your classmates?" gojo glances behind him, looking to see any sort of reaction from her or even the rest of his students.

"no," stopping a few steps from her three classmates, she turns her head back to lock eye contact with her sensei ( or so she hoped she did ) and sends a smile. "just a fact."

'wow, she's either really confident or really stupid.' kugisaki furrows her brows at kiyara, she knew her opinion on her was a questionable one. but then again, maybe this was how all tokyo girls acted. she never really could put a certain thought on her.

"let's go." fushiguro was the first to follow her lead, the two catching up to them as they entered the building.

"this is one creepy school." kiyara states as she inspects the dark halls. her eyes look around to see if there were any curses that were lingering, while fushiguro's divine dogs continue to sniff them out.

"it's abandoned for a reason." fushiguro comments back at kiyara who lets a nervous giggle out.

"so, what was up with this place again?" itadori watches as shivers run down his spine, witnessing kiyara throw a dagger straight into fourth grade curse head without blinking an eye. both him and kugisaki give each other glances, this was different than the kiyara they first met.

"missing teens that would dare each other to come, appearently screams at night and moving shadows. the basics." picking up the cursed dagger on the wall after disposing of the curse, she slid it back by her right thigh.

"there's not a lot of curses here." kugisaki looks throughout the place, she too, threw a nail and slammed it with her hammer to exorcise a low grade curse.

"isn't this is a grade two mission?" itadori ponders and stares through ruined classroom windows, desks were broken and was completely dusted. 'probably been over fifteen years since someone last used this place...'

"it's in the gym." their advances came to a stop, fushiguro's divine dogs growling and barking at the door sealed with chains in front of them. itadori was the first to react, walking forwards and effortlessly kicking the metal door with ease. both doors fly across the gym auditorium causing dust to fly around the dimly lit room.

"what the hell does he eat?!" kiyara's mouth drops, kugisaki standing behind her also adds on, "right?! that isn't normal! it's freakishly weird! to top it off he chomped down sukuna fingers!"

"it was only backed up with aluminum metal and it's just old." itadori turns around and gives them a blank look, blinking as he scratches the nape of his neck.

"like hell that changes anything!" they scream.

"help me! please!" their eyes dart to a high school girl, one that seemed to be older than them. even in the dark, they can see the tint of blue that coloured her hair. a curse was holding her by the neck while their nail was stabbing through her waist.

"it has a hostage!" fushiguro screams out as all four of them run in only to be greeted with multiple lower grade curses.

"the gym's infested!" kugisaki brings out more of her nails, itadori grabbing hold of his slaughter demon as kiyara takes out her daggers.

"yuji, you're with me!" kiyara grabs hold of the pinkett's foresleeve and makes him dash with her towards the hostage.

"wait!ー huh? why are they suddenly fighting each other?" itadori stares at the scenes where a few curses had start to fight and destroy each other, confusing him. "is this your jujutsushiki?"

"faded." kiyara and itadori quickly split when a curse separates them, but suddenly it got confused when they 'disappeared' from it's sight. in complete sync the teenagers cut each arm off from both sides and sliced it in half before continuing.

"it let's me to make illusions and change my presence." she threw her daggers at the head of curse causing it to fly back, as itadori did the finishing touches by slicing it by the fingers and thrusting his weapon right through.

"that's pretty cool!" he grins and catches the hostage that fell into his arms, she instinctively wrapped her limbs around his body as itadori carried her bridal style.

"thank you so much... i was so scared." the girl hugs on to itadori, tears seeping through her deep forest hues as he crouches down on the floor, setting her to the ground. "you'll be fine now, onee-san."

'wait, this seems too easy...' kiyara picks up her daggers which were indented on the floor of the gym, throwing it once more for a curse to fade away. she felt something wrong with the scenery, like something was missing from the big picture.

'something's off.' she wasn't the only one that felt different about this mission, kugisaki and fushiguro were unsettled about the amount of low grade curses which grouped together.

'my shikigamo are still picking up curses, but where?' fushiguro watches as his one dog chewed the remaining corpse of a curse, the other growling in attack mode. he raises his brow, looking towards the direction it was barking at.

his eyes fell on itadori, kiyara and the girl they saved. he saw the tears which fell to the floor which glistened through the gloomy room. but from closer inspection, something moved around them, chains started to move.

"shit! she's a cursed spirit!" fushiguro screams to their direction as his heart starts to pound, no, no. eyes widen when his connected with kiyara's amethyst hues that were only filled with late realization. he tries to run to them, hand out to try and grasp her body.

"smart cookie, aren't ya?"

tags ; @to-move-on-means-to-grow @dearsukuna @sukun4s @inumakiful

notes ; these are probs gonna be all qued bc im lazy

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

DO NOT REPOST 、 MODIFY 、 CLAIM WORK OR LAYOUT AS YOURS.

© MGUQIIS 、 2021

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (6/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

Pretending things hadn't changed might've been the dumbest thing Clarke had ever agreed to do. When Lexa dropped in the following days, sometimes in the morning and other times in the afternoon, Clarke knew there was no going back to whatever their normal had been.

This was the woman she'd shared a vision with - that didn't go away after one rushed conversation. But Lexa seemed to choose the busiest moments and Clarke couldn't exactly leave Gaia and Harper to manage the orders so she could pick Lexa Woods' brain.

It was the doodles she thought about the most. Lexa had mentioned seeing some framed, but Clarke didn't have anything like that at her place. She had sketches and portraits from college lying around in closets and pressed between the pages of the books on her coffee table, but that was it. The only piece she'd framed had been a charcoal landscape her dad had liked and specifically requested for his birthday. Clarke didn't frame any of her art, let alone doodles. Those were for her own piece of mind; a way to entertain herself when all the coffee machines were cleaned, all their customers were happy, and the phone was quiet.

So what could she have possibly scribbled that would be worth framing? And how far in the future could it be?

Clarke was pondering the very question while she went through stock in the back of the café. It was a small, cramped room with her desk in a corner, but it was tidy and, most importantly, it was quiet. Until people bust in announced, that was.

"Hey!"

Clarke clutched her heart. "Raven, oh my God! Why do you hate knocking so much?"

Raven laughed. "Because then I miss that look on your face."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"It's 6:30pm and you didn't answer my text about the party."

"It is?" Clarke glanced at her watch. "Fuck." She focused back on Raven and vaguely remembered the email she'd gotten earlier this week. Octavia and Lincoln were having a housewarming party tonight and had invited her. Clarke knew she'd clicked on it but the café had gotten a call at the same time and she'd forgotten about it after. She didn't know Octavia or Lincoln beyond meeting them once, so she was fairly certain they'd invited her on Raven's request.

"I forgot. I'm not going," she decided.

"It was rhetorical, grandma!" Raven exclaimed. "Wells and I are stopping by his parents for a bite and then we're picking you up. It starts at nine."

Clarke shook her head. "I barely know these people."

Raven paused. "You know what? I'm not doing this again. You don't want to go, that's fine."

"Raven."

"No, I'm serious. I'm not responsible for your social life anymore. I quit."

Clarke crossed her arms. "For someone who works in a theater you're a really shitty actress."

Raven narrowed her eyes at her. Clarke held her gaze before huffing and throwing her hands up. "Fine. I'll go."

Raven smirked. "Pick you up at 8:45. Oh and I'm pretty sure Lexa will be there. Bye!"

"What? Raven!"

Clarke was in a grumpy mood that entire evening, pulling clothes out of her closet and putting them back in for a good thirty minutes before she settled on what to wear. She didn't get like this. She knew what worked on her body and what made her look like a potato sack barely stitched together. This wasn't a date or even an intimate get-together. It was going to be an apartment packed with new faces and most likely very little room to walk around, let alone take in what people were wearing beyond blotches of fabric and color. With that in mind, she stuck to a navy blue dress and a sweater, having spotted some angry clouds on her way home. She grabbed her coat when Raven called to tell her they were waiting in their car, and was out the door after taking a deep breath.

There was absolutely no reason to be nervous.

* * *

Octavia and Lincoln's apartment in the Green Strip was on the highest floor of their building, a spacious three bedroom with earthy tones and wooden furniture. There was something immediately welcoming about it when Clarke stepped inside behind Wells and Raven, smiling at Octavia when they were all greeted with a hug.

"You made it," Octavia beamed, soon ushering them into another room where they could put their coats.  

They were directed to the living room, a wide open floor plan with the kitchen on one side. Tall windows opened to a balcony, still empty from what Clarke could see. The room was already buzzing with at least twenty people, some that Clarke recognized from the night at Barton, others not at all. She could see why Octavia and Lincoln would want to show off the place - it was perfect for entertaining.

"See Wells, this is a couple's place, not your den beneath the ground," Raven elbowed him playfully.

"You like my den. You moved into my den," Wells reminded her.

"Only because you're freakishly clean and it always smells like apple pie."

Octavia laughed. "Trust me, you have it good. It took Linc' and I forever to settle on a place together."

"Is it pure coincidence you're this far from the Polis Hotel?" Raven asked jokingly.

Lincoln rubbed the back of his head with a smile. "I appreciate my heritage, but some distance from it never hurts. Besides, this is close to Octavia's work and I can write anywhere."

Octavia gave his arm a gentle squeeze, their eyes locking while Raven fussed with the collar of Wells' shirt. Clarke was used to it by now - feeling like the third or fifth wheel, that was - but it didn't prevent her heart from sinking a little bit. The front door buzzer seemed like her saving grace from the display of domestic bliss. 

"Please, feel free to grab a beer, wine, chips - we've got it all!" Octavia told them before darting away.

Raven grabbed Clarke's arm. "Let's leave the men to find common ground," she said, giving Wells a subtle wink before ushering Clarke toward the drinks set up in the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Clarke asked.

"Wells thinks Lincoln is going to be the next playwright superstar. He's crushing hard."

"He hasn't even seen his play yet."

Raven poured herself a glass of red. "Octavia sent us a copy of the script after I told her about his birthday gift. Wells practically peed himself when he opened the email."

"Cute."

"You know him, he only read the first ten pages to preserve the theatergoing experience."

They shared a knowing look and laughed. "Nerd," they both said affectionately.

Raven glanced over Clarke’s shoulder and then smiled widely. "Speaking of nerds, yours seems to be having a ball."

Clarke turned around in confusion. When two people moved, she caught a glimpse of Lexa in a plaid shirt sitting on a couch alone, head down while she typed something on her phone.

"Definitely not mine," Clarke muttered while grabbing a beer on the table.

"What do you think is her deal?" Raven asked. 

"I don't know. It's none of my business."

Lexa had shown at the Polis Hotel she could be the center of attention if she wanted, so Clarke had given up on guessing. 

Raven arched a brow. "You want it to be, don't you?"

"I'm not going to pine over someone who isn't sure if they want me or not."

Raven took her shoulders and turned her around to face the room. "Good thing there's other eligible people here. And we're talking crew; that's carpenters and painters and electricians - plenty of talented, rough hands to make your dreams come true."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I should've never told you."

"You started a business from the ground up. I know you have it in you to charm the pants and skirts off of everyone here."

"Raven. I don't want..."

"What? What do you want, Clarke?"

Unsure how to even start answering, Clarke took a sip of her beer and shook her head. "Forget it. Let's just have a good time."

Raven squeezed her shoulder. "Let me make sure my boyfriend hasn't started sweating his ass off."

"You really make him sound so lovely."

Raven laughed. "Yep, and he's all mine!"

* * *

No one started a business without some talent in schmoozing. Raven was right about that. But it was one thing to be driven by passion and another to be driven by... well, Clarke wasn't entirely sure. She knew her dry spell wasn't sustainable, as evidenced by how tense she felt most of the time, but the end of her casual relationship with Niylah hadn't been for no reason either. Casual wasn't what she wanted anymore.

So tonight she'd learned some names and talked about her café, laughed at jokes and listened to stories, a lot of them about the visions, still the go-to topic that could last for hours. But inevitably Clarke knew she'd be asked about hers, which was why she discreetly excused herself from a group before it could come to that.

She was sipping on her second beer when the person whose gaze she'd carefully avoided all night approached her.  

"Hello."

Clarke turned from her spot by the wall, her grip on her beer tightening. "This is a surprise. I thought you were hiding in some other room."

Lexa shrugged. "Stay too long in one spot and someone is bound to notice you. Theater people can be… enthusiastic after one too many drinks."

"Something tells me it's not just theater people you keep at arm's length."

Clarke saw something flash on Lexa's face, almost like hurt. It was true though - Clarke had never seen Lexa with a friend. She'd always come to the shop alone; sat alone; worked alone. She'd never been around with a colleague either on her lunch breaks, which told Clarke she possibly kept her life carefully split. Clearly she hung out with her cousin and his entourage, but didn't she have a Wells or Raven in her own life? 

"Well, I'm here now. I was hoping we could get to know each other," Lexa said.

Clarke looked away with a curt laugh. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Feel obliged to talk to me because you go to my coffee shop. We don't need to make weird small talk because we're at the same party."

"That's a bit harsh."

Clarke's head snapped toward her. "Harsh?"

"'Weird small-talk' - is that what we do?" Lexa asked.

"I think you made it pretty clear there is no we."

"Lex!" Octavia called out, prompting her to turn around.

Octavia walked toward her with one of the houseguests, an older man with salt and pepper hair.

"This is Semet. We were just talking about his vision- I think you want to hear him out."

He smiled at her. "Octavia told me you were compiling stories?"

Clarke felt she was the odd one out and slipped away.

"Oh uh, yes, I am," Lexa told him, briefly looking over her shoulder before she extended her hand. "I'm Lexa."

Clarke didn't hear the rest, but as she saw the various groups of people talking, she felt out of place. Even Wells and Raven were deep in conversation with another couple, his hand casually resting on her waist.  

The party was nice, and Lincoln and Octavia couldn't have been more welcoming. They clearly kept good company and, in any other situation, Clarke might've been more comfortable easing her way into another conversation. As it was, she realized just how unsociable she'd been in the past year and habits died hard.

Feeling unsettled, she sneaked out the open front door for a breather. Raven's words after Barton came back to her - the deliberate choices she'd made to stay home instead of going out. She'd kept her distances and now it was no surprise she felt so rusty. Nothing had really changed aside from the café's opening. The change in lifestyle had been a shock, but Wells had worked just as hard as her - if not more, especially on their bakes - and had still managed to find a balance in his life. She'd never really asked him about it, assuming it was simply in his DNA to be absolutely brilliant at everything.

But Clarke wasn't horrible at managing her time either. It wouldn't be that difficult to have a life outside of her business, she could admit that much. She just hadn't put in the work and now it showed. 

Dipping her toe back in the dating pool felt daunting. She'd never tried dating apps and couldn't imagine putting her energy into that. Harper was on three different ones and from the chats she'd overheard with Gaia, it always seemed like an endless struggle of deciding what was appropriate and what wasn't. 

Clutching her beer close, Clarke spotted a stairwell at her right and decided to try her luck. She made her way up and stepped out to the rooftop. There was an area with planter boxes and some chairs, which Clarke figured had to be communal. It was a pretty relaxing setup and she was sure summer saw a lot of tenants up here, but the promise of rain and the chilly wind tonight left it empty.

Unperturbed, Clarke walked to the area and stood by the tall parapet, resting her forearms on it. She took deep, calming breaths as she looked over the residential streets of Costial, the city she'd called home for ten years now. She could barely make out the mountain chain in the distance, but she knew it was there, majestic as ever surrounded by the sprawling forest. She briefly thought about the Mountain Men and how they'd survived for a century beneath the ground. What it must've felt like to see the same people every day, to never meet a stranger, or to never feel the sun on their faces.

"So maybe you don't like small-talk with anyone."

Clarke didn't need to turn around to know that voice by now. "I just needed some air for a few minutes."

Lexa leaned against the parapet next to her, though with a good three feet between them.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I was thinking about the Mountain Men actually. How abandoned they must've felt."

Lexa looked toward the horizon, where the mountains hid in the night. "They were forgotten, but I don't think they dwelled on it. You'd be surprised how many good stories I had to leave out to fit my report. Memories about times where their parents and their grandparents laughed, kissed each other, and danced together. People are resilient no matter the cards they're dealt. They made lives for themselves - different from ours, but who's to say they were any less fulfilling?"

Clarke turned to her, not knowing what to say for a moment. It didn’t escape her that Lexa seemed to genuinely want to engage with her. 

"It must've been fascinating to listen to them."

"It was. Opening the channels of communication took time, but I went into journalism for these stories."

"Have they had visions?" Clarke asked, curious.

Lexa shook her head before taking a sip of her own beer. "I didn't ask. It wasn't appropriate at the time and looking back I know it would've made them uncomfortable. They're very… spiritual. Connected to the world in a way we could never be. I'm sure their insight would be fascinating, but some lines shouldn't be crossed."

Clarke lifted her bottle. "I'll drink to that."

Lexa smiled back, drinking another sip of her own.

"So did Semet say anything that throws a wrench in your theories?" Clarke wondered.

Lexa chuckled and looked over at the city again. "He gave me his number to talk further, but he did mention he wasn't in it. Only saw his brother."

Clarke's eyebrows rose. "His brother?"

"Hm-mm. That got my attention too. I don't think I've ever heard about someone not being in their own vision."

"Seems like we still have new things to learn."

Lexa considered her next words carefully. "Writing about people's visions has been… the most gratifying experience of my career. It's pushed me to think differently and it's changed the way I work."

Clarke could tell it wasn't easy for Lexa to talk about it. Not her work, but the way it made her feel. Maybe it was just a morsel, but she was opening up and it was more than Clarke had ever heard from her.

"I haven’t drawn any conclusions and I probably don't know any more than a blogger or someone's Twitter thread," Lexa continued with a small shrug. "But there's still a part of me that questions the degree of influence. I've heard too many stories about people being changed to their core to not be slightly wary."

Clarke frowned: "You don't think they're a positive thing?"

"I told you about the woman who left her husband because of a vision. Do you think he'd see her vision as a positive? I wouldn't say they're either/or, but the repercussions aren't negligible."

"Leaving him was her interpretation of it, though. We can't know for sure that's what the vision meant."

Lexa nodded. "You're right. It'll always be up to the person who has it."

Clarke cleared her throat. "You and I - we had the same one. I had the during, you had the after. Has that ever happened?"

Lexa tilted her head to the side. "Not that I've heard of, but it might not have been…" she trailed off, tongue-tied.

"What? The same time?"

"Hm."

Clarke laughed before taking another sip of her beer. "Alright then."

Lexa looked away with a growing smile. "You're the one who brought up interpretation."

"Uh-huh. If that's what you want to tell yourself."

It was flirting plain and simple and Clarke was very aware they both knew it. She'd missed it - that flutter in the pit of her stomach when flirting with someone. The first steps around each other; testing the waters; knowing the attraction had to be mutual by now. This was a game she could play. 

"Twice," Clarke hummed. "That's very presumptuous of you."

"I'm just taking the facts at face value. There's no clear indication of a timeline and-"

"Do you know I'm not even sure it was you?" Clarke interrupted.

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "You said it was."

"I guessed. Messy brown hair, slim but fit - could be anyone."

Lexa pushed off from the parapet, stepping closer. "I don't believe you."

Clarke stood her ground, feeling a throb of desire. When Lexa was intense like this, she had no doubts it'd been her. But then there was that other side of her - distant, impenetrable - and the clear image in her mind shifted into a blur again.

"Why not? Does it upset you that it might be someone else?" Clarke asked, challenging.

"You wouldn't have told me if you weren’t certain."

"Maybe I wanted to get you off my back."

Lexa smiled slowly. "I think that's exactly where you want me."

Clarke's mouth dropped open. "Are you drunk?"

"Barely tipsy."

"Lexa. What are you doing?"

Lexa stopped short. "I'm sorry, I thought-"

Clarke was the one stepping closer this time. "No, I don't want an apology, I want an explanation. Clearly, you want… something from this. You talk to me; you flirt; you asked me out."

"I had a spa-"

"Come on. You don't even believe that."

Lexa swallowed. "Maybe I was wrong too. Maybe it wasn't you."

"It's one step forward, two steps back with you. I don't get it." Clarke set her bottle down. "Fine then, there is one way for me to be sure. We can settle this right here, right now."

Lexa's eyes flickered down to her lips before she caught herself. "There is?" She asked barely audibly.

"If you'll let me…"

Slowly, Clarke reached for her wrist. She felt Lexa tense and then relax, holding her eyes while Clarke undid the buttons of her sleeve. When they were loose, she pushed the sleeve up her arm. Clarke felt her heart beat faster the more skin she uncovered, gently pushing the fabric past Lexa's elbow. She tried not to think how soft and warm she felt beneath her fingertips, or if she was imagining the way Lexa's breathing stuttered a bit.

Lexa must've known what Clarke was trying to find out. Her eyes darkened when Clarke finally glanced at her arm. The bottom of a tattoo peeked out from beneath the bunched up sleeve, thick lines wrapping all around her bicep. Clarke's hand fell like she was burned, but a quick Lexa reached out to take it in hers.

"Lexa," Clarke gasped.

"Is that all you need to be sure?" Lexa asked quietly, face drawing closer.

Clarke found it hard to even think. "I-I could always find another way."

"Oh?"

Clarke's eyes closed when she felt Lexa's nose brush against hers, but the anticipation of a kiss remained just that. 

"Then make sure of it," Lexa ordered tenderly in her ear as their fingers laced together. "Close your eyes tonight and make sure it was me."

Clarke felt her skin become heated, the pulsing between her legs desperate for attention. "What if it is? What if it's not?"

Lexa stepped back, her eyes hooded like she was drunk. "I guess we can put my theory to the test."

"Your theory?"

"Whether we're inevitable or not."

"Lexa-"

Lexa let go of her hand and walked toward the exit. "Have a good night, Clarke."

* * *

When Clarke got home after Wells and Raven dropped her off, the stillness of everything was in stark contrast to the apartment full of life and laughter she had been in for hours. She didn't mind the quiet though - loved it, even, especially after long days at the café. But maybe there could be... a little more life to the place. 

By the time she got to bed, her body was buzzing. Clarke turned on her back and took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Lexa had touched her. What she had husked in her ear. 

She hadn't… dared. Not even once. Getting herself off to the thought of Lexa had felt all sorts of wrong, especially knowing she'd have to face her at the café on a regular basis. But it was unbearable now. Clarke slid a hand beneath the hem of her sleep shorts and between her legs, moaning when she found herself wanting. It was no surprise - not after the rooftop. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, remembering her vision in fragments at first.

But her vision wasn't what she wanted. Her vision was just that - a fantasy. She wanted the reality of Lexa; the Lexa she'd felt against her tonight; the Lexa who'd made her dizzy with mere words.

So she imagined the rooftop instead: her, pressed against the parapet, and Lexa pressed against her. She imagined Lexa's hand going up her thigh, slowly pushing up the fabric of her dress. She could still smell her, could still feel her mouth by her neck. Lexa hooked her fingers in her underwear and slid it down, encouraged when she felt how wet Clarke was. Clarke had to imagine how Lexa would moan; if she would be vocal or not; how deep her fingers might reach. She touched herself slowly at first, head thrown back and mouth agape.

She didn't know if Lexa was a talker in bed, but it was easy to recall the shiver down her spine when she'd told her to think of her. This time her words were dirtier, spurring her on. Clarke's thighs widened as the ache inside her swelled and she added a second finger. 

"Lexa," she gasped, bringing her other hand to her breast to squeeze it roughly.

Her thoughts scattered all over: Lexa gripping her hips to turn her around, leaning down so that Clarke felt her weight on her back. Lexa taking her from behind, filling her with two and then three fingers. Overwhelmed, Clarke turned on her stomach and groaned in desperation, knees pressing into her mattress while she brought herself over the brink. She moaned loudly into her pillow, her orgasm blindsiding her. 

Clutching her sheets with one hand, Clarke's grip loosened slowly. She let out a small moan and felt her muscles loosen as her knees finally caved and she flopped onto her mattress. It had been far too long.

Turning on her back, Clarke kept her eyes closed as her breathing returned to normal. She wasn't too eager to open them to a lonely room, at least not for now. She moved her body to drag the sheets atop her and slipped her hands beneath her pillow, her stomach already in knots at the prospect of seeing Lexa tomorrow. 

But there was no going back now. Clarke was sure Lexa knew it too. No matter what this was between them, if two nights were all they'd need to work out the tension between them, denying it was not in the cards. At least not the ones Clarke held.

-

[part seven]

[fatbottombucky]

You Just Gotta Push Through *Dean Winchester x Reader*

Request: Halloween request: Dean Winchester/male!reader: Dean comforting M!R after nightmares because a monster made M!R relive his worst memory?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Male!Reader

Rating: [PG-13] Teen

Warnings: mentions of mental illness and trauma- also Male x Male relations, kissing also

“That was the longest case,” Sam sighs when stomping down the stairs to the bunker, a hefty sigh leaving his lips once he slumps into a chair. “Remind me to never let Dean trick me into hunting a nest of vamps, during Halloween...again.”

You chuckle and fall into the chair beside him, “hey, wherever he goes, you go, them the rules.”

Sam chuckles but nods in agreement. You both watch Dean enter, walking down the metal stairs languidly. He leaves his duffle on the table next to yours, telling you both he’s going to make a sandwich.

You both fall into silence, you glance at Sam for a moment before kicking your feet up and thinking. It was a long case, too long. But Dean had been looking for the long ones, ones that took weeks at a time because he wanted his mind focused. Not focused on The Mark.

“Hey, man. How are you holdin’ up?”

Now that’s a question. You tried to not focus on this weeks events, tried to keep your mind on the mission and task at hand; not straying to the past.

“I’m- I’m good, yeah, fine,” you faintly smiled and Sam didn’t look convinced, “how is Dean? The Mark seems to not be making him a psycho killer.”

Sam nods silently, “I’m still worried about him. He seems... too calm, like he’s trying to prove he’s absolutely fine now. We all know he isn’t.”

“I mean,” you sigh, “at least he’s not a demon, right? Now we just gotta make sure he don’t go back, Crowley is even on our side, that’s how messed up this is.”

Sam nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed together and tapping the table top with his knuckles. This is how it’s been for a few days, Sam silently worrying about Dean, and Dean, well, Dean trying to play off everything is A-Okay.

They’re Winchester’s they seem to pull through everything that is thrown at them, hopefully, this isn’t the thing that breaks them.

“Well, Imma get some shut eye. Sharing a bed with you in a lousy motel has not be fun,” Sam does a mock gasp, holding a hand over his heart, “motel beds aren’t made for Giants, Sammy.”

He throws his head back laughing, probably, remembering the night that he pushed you out in his sleep. You aren’t that much smaller than Sam, around Dean’s height- so average for a man (Sam is freakishly tall)- but trying to sleep in the same bed as Sam Winchester... well, it proved to be more of a challenge than the vamps.

Only one room to share between three grown men, a few of the nights Dean didn’t use his bed but when he did, you had to top-and-tail with Sammy. Something you’ll never do again.

You grab your bag, heaving it over your shoulder and walking off towards you room. Walking past Dean’s room you notice he’s sat on his bed, plate of food beside him and a book opened up, you smile once he notices you.

“What you doing?” You lean on his door frame, smiling at his surroundings. Dean really went in on decorating this place, making it feel like home; heck, he even helped you.

“Just doing some reading, these nerds really wrote everything down,” he patted the giant hardback before looking at you, “how you holdin’ up? Sorry if I pushed you into working that case-“

You shrug him off, “it’s fine, really I’m fine. It’s been 12 years, I’m a grown man now, it doesn’t bother me anymore. That night- that memory- It’s fingers prints on a window now,” Dean nods slowly at you. “Anywayyyyy I’m beat, gonna catch some sleep before you hull ass on another case.”

You walk to your room, that’s opposite Dean’s. A deep sigh leaving your lips as you sit on your bed, the softness inciting you to fall asleep a lot quicker than any motel bed yourve slept on.

Falling back against the mattress, feet still planted firmly on the ground. Your eyes close slowly and you slip into a peaceful slumber.

~Dream~

You wake up to screaming. A familiar screaming, but you can’t figure out who is screaming. Your heart beats rapidly when the screaming is suddenly stopped, a gurgling but then nothingness.

You walk to your door, you’ve been here before. It’s your old room, yet you’re the age you are now. Unusual for this nightmare. The only nightmare you ever have.

Opening the door, your bare feet make contact with the slippery, and sticky floor. You shudder violently at the thought of it, this is not a nightmare it’s a memory. Only something feels different about this.

That’s when you see him, laying on the floor, pale and lifeless with a vampire over him. Sam... this isn’t normal, this isn’t right. No, this is not how it went down twelve years ago. In fact, it was your little sister that was killed, not Sam Winchester- you didn’t even know him back then.

You run down the stairs, smacking into the front door. Trying and failing to open it, you swiftly turn and there before you... Dean... ripped to shreds on the floor of your old living room.

Only this time you make no move to stop this, you’re glued to the spot and shaking. The Winchester’s dead... you’re completely alone. This is your fault.

~End Of Dream~

You’re shaken awake, a voice yelling at you. The gun that’s clenched in your hand is pulled out of it, you blink and it’s Dean... alive and well, well, as he could be.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” His voice is firm but his face is soft, hands holding your shaken shoulders. You’re trembling, crying even, “you’re okay, I promise.”

Your breathing eventually regains to normalcy. You nod slowly, a deep sigh leaves Dean. “Bad dream?”

You nod, “yeah. It’s something... I’m- I used to have this nightmare all the time about, well, you know. But this time it was... it was you and Sam, dead and bloody, god. Blood was everywhere and I couldn’t- I was scared, I did... nothing.”

Dean is silent for a long pause, “...Y/N, it was just a nightmare. I ain’t falling at the hands of no vampires,” you let out a shaky chuckle, “and I’d never let Sammy die... or you.”

You nod slowly and look at him, the concern and worry on his face. It reminds you of the same face you had when he turned into a demon, a sigh escapes you.

“We’re kinda fucked,” Dean chuckles and nods, “you can’t die Dean, I mean it. I can’t do this alone, Sam can’t do this alone. We need you, I need you, you’ve gotta fight every single fight.”

Dean nods, eyebrows raised and a smile on his face.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you’re stuck with me. You gotta know that by now,” he nudges you and stands up, offering a hand which you gladly take. “Let’s go get some good, greasy food because that’s the only home remedy for this.”

You grab your jacket with the other hand, still holding Dean’s because if you let go you’re scared he’d disappear again. Leave you again.

“Maybe see if there’s any Halloween candy to buy,” his calmness is intoxicating. It calms you, but the deep dread that is, the fact, The Mark is still scorned on his skin. The itch he can’t scratch.

Maybe you should come clean about your feelings. Before it’s too late. Before he isn’t Dean anymore, before Cass has to put him down.

[goodnightallwhites]

Welcome to the Blackworth Family By BlackingPacking

Welcome to the Blackworth Family 

By BlackingPacking 

Submitted: December 9, 2019 Updated: December 10, 2019 

Blackworth Home is one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country. A boarding school where the students are a family. 

That's not why Ashley went there though. She went there because She's an eager young snowbunny who needs to go to the only school that lets her have all the big black cock she could ever want. 

A discord request. 

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 1 - I go to a Blacked school 2 

Chapter 2 - I watch Dorothy get Blacked 8 

1 - I go to a Blacked school 

I spent most of my time at home in my room, behind the tall, artificial wood door that read ‘ASHLEY’ in big letters. The room wasn’t much. It was square with light blue walls, a bed right opposite from the door with a shelf on its left and a chair on its right, and my desk for homework in the corner. Nothing much fun. 

It was just another feature of my family’s plain, boring little suburban home, with a boring life forced onto me. 

I tried to have my fun of course. I kept in touch with as many friends as possible, spent plenty of time online, and even got a boyfriend. My best friend in the world was Dorothy, a girl I loved so much, most people thought we were lesbians. Not that we didn’t have our fun, but I still love dick. Well, at least as a concept. My boyfriend had a 3 inch little shrimp dick, complete with a hentai collection and getting turned on by the Human Centipede. Why I stayed with him I didn’t know. I didn’t even spend much time with him, and he wasn’t my type. What I really needed was someone more... rebellious. I was a bit of a troublemaker. I didn’t behave for teachers or parents and I skipped school often. I’d even watch porn. People said I looked like Riley Reid, but with bigger tits. I even experimented with a few drugs and got all slutty at parties, but that was a secret for only Dorothy and me. 

Dorothy was even more of a slut than I was, despite her smaller tits. I sure loves the occasional sexytime with her. A shame, though, that her ditching school and porn viewing was less safe than mine. She got caught, bad. Now she was at some boarding school, year round. It sounded awful. 

That’s what I thought, at least. 

But then, in the mail one day, I got a letter from her. Well, technically it was a few days late, since neither of my parents bother to get the mail. Still, I was surprised to get the formal letter, reading 

BLACKWORTH HOME FOR TROUBLED STUDENTS 

I opened the letter. To my shock, the first thing I saw inside were... polaroid pictures? 

Yeah, about half a dozen polaroid pictures, all with Dorothy’s tight holes by some of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen. All the guys were black, with freakishly huge cocks. I thought cocks like that only existed in porn, and that my boyfriend’s penis was just average. But nope, those black cocks were real. Plenty looked way bigger than in porn too. 

I just had to read what she actually sent. The letter read: 

Dear Ashley, 

I’ve missed you here! I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing or texting or calling but it’s been so much fun here! I’ve totally converted to big black cock! And I want you to too. I hope you aren’t dating that 

little loser anymore but if you are you’d better stop RIGHT NOW because I’m about to change your life. 

As a fellow white girl you should really consider what nature intended...let me tell you about how great it is to be a true snowbunny. A snowbunny can help save other white girls from disappointing relationships with white guys, nature truly intended for black men to rule over us. White boys have no place here in the ideal world us girls must forge a path and share our knowledge with other girls and together we can all worship and achieve happiness with our black masters,your body should help breed more black men we need to get rid of gross white boys together. When they are all gone the world will be perfect and we can all feast on black cock. 

I’ve filled out an application for you, so don’t worry about having to bother. You deserve this, I know I did. 

XOXO, 

Dorothy 

Attached to it was an acceptance letter from Blackworth Home. 

I didn’t tell my parents about the letter or the pictures, but I was eager as fuck to tell them about the whole boarding school thing. It seemed like a sort of fantasy, going to a school like that. I fucking hated the idea of being sent a way to a boarding school that wasn’t magical, but I think this one just damn may well have been. 

My parents were thrilled at the idea. The school had great student reviews, and was said to promote a healthy racial environment. I smiled when I heard that, since I knew exactly what that meant. My parents saw it as a good thing too, since my school had a bit of a racism problem. Thankfully, the problem kids weren’t anybody I knew. 

People I know! I forgot all about my boyfriend! Little shrimp dick was small enough to always slip out of my pussy, so he totally slipped my mind too. That day was the last time I ever spoke to him, texting him simply 

I’m sorry, this isn’t working. 

I didn’t need to see him at school because I didn’t go there anymore. I worked hard to talk to the Blackworth admissions team, and managed to get myself an ASAP entry to the school. In just a few weeks, I would be boarding a train and heading to the academy. No boyfriend, no old school, no judgement. And Dorothy too! 

I had never felt so liberated. And I haven’t even left yet! 

The arrangement was that I arrive a few weeks before Winter break, and spend exam time catching up on the material for next semester. I ordered all my books ahead of time, and even began studying. I wanted to spend my time at school doing what Dorothy sent me right away, and I wasn’t going to let a bit of homework get in the way of me sitting on a massive, black cock like she told me filled the school. 

With her letters as a guide, I went shopping too. All brand new clothes that were mostly ripped, low-cut, or sluttier than anything I’d ever worn before. I loved the school uniform too. 

On the ride there, I wore a simple grey hoodie and black leggings on the train, with my black hair tied back. I had never ridden on a train before, but this wouldn’t be the last train run with where I was going. That thought made me grin as a pulled my big suitcase and full backpack into the corner I would ride in. I watched the scenery go by in a big, cushioned chair hidden in the corner. I got it wet through my leggings, I was just so horny. So ready for this. 

I pulled up some porn on my phone, put my headphones in, and listened to the star’s sweet voice narrate how she met up with her tall, muscular, black pool boy, and they fucked like there was no tomorrow. I stealthily took my arm out of my hoodie’s sleeve and snuck it down to my crotch, where I fingered my soaking pussy right there, on the public train. 

Soon, I was there. I got a few looks with how soaking wet the insides of my leggings were, and when I took the headphones out I think the sound kept playing for half a second, but I didn’t even care. I wasn’t ever going to see these people again, now that I was at my new home. Blackworth. 

It was a huge campus, in the middle of the woods on the border of the Carolinas where a massive old slave plantation used to be, before the slaves revolted in the 1830’s. Now it had a few massive, brick and stone buildings, all square, tall, and imposing. I walked in, got my picture taken, and got a photo ID with a room number- 1573. Building one, floor 5, room 73. Right where Dorothy told me her room was. 

I went up there on the old elevator. It felt like the stairs would be quicker, this thing was so old. There were drawings carved into the wooden walls. Most were “girl x boy” and “name was here”, but somewhere hotter. One was a phone number, saying ‘white girls text me’, another was a room number for the boys dorm that just said ‘orgy?’. One was a tiny dick carved next to a huge one saying ‘white vs black’. Fun. The ride took so long that I almost fingered myself right there. The floor was a little sticky, so it wouldn’t be the first time I thought. Gross, but kinda hot. 

The door opened, and there waiting for me was my best friend. 

“Ashley!” Dorothy smiled, jumping up to give me a huge hug. I was shocked to see how she was dressed. She had a peach yellow crop top on that barely went below her nipples (and her tits weren’t even that big!), and hot pink and black short shorts that where basically a small rectangle around her hips. It left nothing to the imagination, and I liked it. 

“Dorothy! You look so good!” I said, hugging her back, squeezing against her perky little tits. 

“Ow-ow!” she mutters, pulling away. 

“What is it?” I ask 

“Nothing,” she grins, “It’s just that I got a tattoo the other day and it’s still kinda sore.” 

“A tattoo? Didn’t you used to say you never wanted to get a tattoo?” 

“Well, that was before I became a snowbunny, silly. Wanna see it?” 

“Sure,” I said. She turned around, pulling up the back of her shirt to show on her back, in big, curly letters, 

SNOW - BUNNY with a little heart in the middle. 

“Like it?” my brown-haired best friend asked. 

“I love it! How do you get a tattoo in a place like this?” 

“This isn’t some stuffy old normal boarding school, you know,” she started walking down the hall, “We’ve got a tattoo parlor, a movie theater, an sex toy store, a hair salon- it’s so great. You’ll love it.” 

As I walked behind her, I noticed she had another tattoo on her thigh. A little queen of spades. It wasn’t there in the polaroids she sent. 

“So how come you can’t use your phone?” 

“Oh- that’s just because of the school’s network. We can use them in class even, but it’s really hard to communicate with people outside of campus without the computers, and I don’t much like email. Sorry about that.” 

“No problem,” I said. Then, in front of us, I saw a tall, skinny white boy turn the corner a walk into a room, looking at Dorothy with pervy eyes. “Wait-” I asked her, “Isn’t this the girl’s dorm?” 

“No, no, this is the white dorm- white boys got really uncomfortable and black guys got really weirded out by having to live in the same dorms, so they changed it. It’s kinda weird, with all these tiny white guys around, but they’re harmless. Flash your tits once a week or so and they’ll do literally anything for you. Besides, you can always just live in the black dorm if you find a guy you like,” she grinned and nudged me in the shoulder, “But I get first dibs at orgies- remember that.” 

“How often are orgies?” I asked. 

“All the time. Ah, here’s our room,” she unlocked the door and pushed it open, showing me our place. It had brown and blue walls with a wooden bunk bed, carved desks for both of us, and a fluffy carpet that Dorothy bought. I recognized it. 

“Is this-” 

“Where the polaroids were taken?” she grinned, “Yeah. I don’t like orgies on the carpet, it’s messy- they cum a lot. The beds are good though, the white boys clean it up.” 

“They do that for you?” 

“For us. If they work really hard, tell ‘em about the fun you’ve had with black guys. The white boys love it.” 

“Really? They’re always so insecure about black guys-” 

“At our old school? I know, Ash, but here they learn fast. Besides, there’s no pretense anymore about them not having little dicks.” 

I laughed. “Haha! So is that, like, more than just a rumor here?” 

She laughed too, “Yeah, it is! They’ve done all sorts of studies on it. We learned about it in Anatomy class. Ask Mrs. McMeekin about it.” 

Just my luck, Mrs. McMeekin, our grade’s science teacher, was my first tutor. Thankfully, I had everything ready from my old school. The curriculum I wasn’t caught up with wasn’t hard to get down, so I got to talk with Mrs. McMeekin. I didn’t like talking to teachers much, but I loved talking to the ones here. 

“So- um, Dorothy told me to ask you about white boys being- um-” 

“Small?” she asked, smiling. She was a beautiful woman with long, brown hair, a long, thin face, and some round but a little aged boobs. In between them was a Queen of Spades necklace. 

“Y-yeah.” I said, looking away from her cleavage, down at her feet. She had a QoS tattoo on her ankle too. Dayum. 

She smiled again. “No need to feel weird. I know Dorothy- one of the most enthusiastic little snowbunnies I’ve ever taught. And yes, white boys are uniquely sexually unsatisfying for us modern women,” she explained. 

“How?” I asked, more confident. 

“It’s about how the nerves work, you see. White males are used to growing up comfortably, as such, evolution has made them lose their defense mechanisms. When they feel something brush up against their penis, it’s usually intentional, so they cum very fast, just getting the sex over with once the stimulation gets to them. Black males come from a more dangerous life- in Africa for thousands of years, then in slavery, they had to adapt to only use their valuable seed when absolutely nescecary. So they are genetically predisposed to needing a long, long time of intense sexual stimulation to achieve ejaculation.” 

“Wow- that makes so much sense!” 

“Well, it’s just my job,” she smiled with happy blue eyes. 

“So- you said you know Dorothy? Has she been a good student?” 

“Well, she’s a lot better at English and History than science, but she’s pretty good, when she’s not with Jason,” she shook her head. Her boobs jiggled. 

“Jason?” I asked. 

“Jason Blackwolf. His family’s been going to this school for generations. You’ll probably know him soon- he’s a year older than you, but he’s huge. Tall, muscled. Big- nnf” she poked her cheek with her tongue and made a grabbing motion at her crotch like she was holding a huge bulge.” 

“And Dorothy- and him?” 

“Well, I know she’s obsessed with him. Really goes into the whole ‘master’ thing with him.” 

“Uh- Master?” 

“Oh! Did you not read the school’s webpage? The heads of houses are called the house Mistress and Master, with some houses preferring Mother and Father, usually a black man and white girl.” I nodded along, “Since that tradition started, girls have been called sisters, black guys masters, and white boys brothers. It fits the whole family thing we try to make this school. It’s called a house, not an academy, for just that reason.” 

“Oh, cool. So I’m Sister Ashley, and she’s Sister Dorothy?” 

“Yup. And No problem. I don’t blame you for reading everything this school gives you. I didn’t when I was your age, and I’m doing just fine.” 

I smiled. She sure was. Then I looked at my watch. “I- uh, have a meeting with Mr. Bates in like five minutes, so I have to go- but thank you for helping me, Miss McMeekin!” I walked off. 

“It’s Mrs!” she told me, flashing a ring with another smile. “And yes, he’s white. If you need any more help, I’ll be here.” 

2 - I watch Dorothy get Blacked 

Wow. What a first meeting. 

Sadly, none of the other teachers were that fun. They had a diverse faculty, both in sex and race, which was definitely a plus, but I guess it was a school first and foremost. It wasn’t a waste of time though, since I managed to get to know the layout of the school. 

When I went back to the dorm room, I was ready for the fun night Dorothy had promised she had every night. 

Instead, I found her walking around the white student’s common room. “Where is it? Where is it?” She kept asking. 

“What is it?” I walked up to her. 

“I wanna go introduce you to Jason, my favorite black master! But I can’t find the key card to the boy’s dorm he gave me, and I don’t wanna wait to be let in like some horny freshman girl! Help me look!” 

Looking under the couch at my feet, I saw a boy- a white boy! A small guy, looking about my age but barely masculine, with dark brown hair and a smooth face. 

“Uh- who is that?” I asked. 

“Oh- that’s Bill- or, Bob, whatever. He’s a friend of mine! He does my homework. He’s helping me look.” 

“Oh,” I got down to his level. “Hey. I’m Ashely. Nice to meet you.” 

“Hi-” He got up to shake my head, blushing as I looked into his eyes. “Everyone just calls me BP.” 

“Ok, uh, BP. Why do you do Dorothy’s homework? She’s smart. Hell, she even did my homework.” 

“Um- she spends her time outside of class with her black friends. Usually Jason. So I do it for her.” 

“Really? Nice.” 

“Found it!” Dorothy lifted the card up, now come on, I wanna see Jason!” 

I followed her, and BP walked with us to get to his dorm. 

“So,” I asked BP, “Could you do my homework too? Because I’m kinda ass at the things Dorothy’s good at.” 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

“And- could you tutor me too? I’m kinda scared, going to a private boarding school, and you seem smart enough.” 

“R-really?” he asked, looking at me with wide eyes. He’s just a little shorter than me. “T-that’d be nice. Are you going home for Christmas? I’m gonna stay here.” 

“I think I wanna stay here,” I smiled, “What about you, Dorothy?” I asked. 

“Of course I wanna spend Christmas here! Hell, I wanna spend summer here to. You’ll see soon.” We kept walking. “And you better not be flirting with my friend, BP. Trust me, Ash, his dick’s like this big,” she held up her pinky, “Don’t even bother.” 

He turned bright red. “I-I wasn’t.” 

I elbowed him. “Hey, I know. Don’t feel bad. I’m gonna see Jason anyway soon, you know that.” 

He nodded. “Trust me, you’re gonna like him. He’s-” he gulped, “Really big. And you’ll get that big bed all to yourself- the black guys get a whole room with a queen size bed.” 

“Nice,” I said, smiling. 

Dorothy opened the double doors to the boy’s dorm, then going to the black guy’s half. She made sure we quickly closed the door behind us so no freshman girls could get in. That made them mad. 

The black boy’s hallway was as beautiful as the rest of the school. It was brown wood with green carpet and big natural light pouring in with yellow evening light. In the middle of the hallway stood a huge guy, over six feet tall with perfect muscles through his Blackworth fleece and jeans. He looked like a bit of a rebel, with a fade cut with the top left messy. He had diamond stud earrings and a silver chain in his pocket. On his feet were expensive brand sneakers. He smirked possessively. 

“Ayo Dorothy!” he smiled, raising his arm. She ran up and hugged him tightly. 

“Ashley,” she said, “this is Master Jason. We’re gonna have fun tonight, aren’t we babe?” she looked up at him. 

“You know it bitch,” he smiled. “Nice to meetcha Ashley,” he shook my hand. Damn, it was so big and warm. I could already see a bulge in his pants. I wondered how big and warm that was. “Sup BP?” he fistbumped BP too. They clearly knew each other. And damn, Jason’ hand dwarfed the white boy’s. 

I noticed that plenty of white girls were kissing black guys, or getting their asses groped. I even saw some tits being sucked and dicks being choked on. Everyone walked past like it was nothing. It looked like Jason and Dorothy would join them very soon. 

“I’m sorry for not being able to come last night! I had to get the dorm ready for Ashley.” 

“It’s fine, babe. You just gotta make up for it when I cum tonight,” he said. She smiled at his little joke. 

BP walked back and sat on a bench, making himself small while I watched Dorothy feel up Jason. 

“So, how’s your first day been?” he asked me as Dorothy helped him take off his button down uniform shirt and fleece. She opened his room’s door and tossed them in. 

“Um, pretty good. I talked to some of the teachers, I really like what this school’s about. I- um- haven’t been blacked for real yet, but as soon as Dorothy introduced me to it, I broke up with my loser white boyfriend and have only masturbated to porn with black guys. It’s so much better- more real too.” 

“It damn is,” he smiled, grabbing her ass through her shorts. “Dorothy’s the best little slut at this school. Gives me the best blowjobs too- and god damn I’m horny.” I could tell. His bulge snaked down his pants, and it was fucking massive. It’d probably look bigger if Dorothy could take her hands off of it. Not that I could blame her for wanting to touch that thing. 

“Please, my black king,” she kneeled down in front of Jason, “Your snowbunny is ready to serve.” 

“Very well then, babe,” he breathed, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock ou- 

FUCK! That thing was fucking huge! When he pulled it out, the whole thing fell out like it was a waterfall. It was pretty soft, but still flopped around like a bean bag as long as my arm! No wonder Dorothy was drooling and falling to her knees. 

“Thank you master!” she drooled. With the mouth she spent hours talking about black guys with, she sloppily licked up and down his black shaft. 

“Yes baby girl, lick up and down my big rod,” He smiled at her as her mouth made his cock get hard. 

She wrapped her arm and legs around his strong leg. Still drooling, she kissed his balls, his base, and right above his cock. Then, she grabbed his bobbing dick and took it down her throat and back out with ease. I had no idea she could do that. “Stupid white cocks get awawy from me and master!” She yelled at BP and some white boys which walked past. 

“Princess- would you like to continue this more.. Privately?” 

“Y-yes black master! Let’s go!” 

“Nooo,” whined BP, getting his little dick out of his pants. I elbowed him in the ribs, not wanting his whines to stop me from seeing this. 

They entered their room without so much as closing the door. It wasn’t too long until I heard a bunch of loud ‘SLAP SLAP SLAP’. I didn’t want to just sit there next to BP as he pulled down his pants and showed off the full 2 inches he had. Jeez, he was smaller than my ex. I let myself in. 

I exptected them to be fucking already, based on the noises, but instead she was tossed over the bed on her back with his cock ramming down her throat. They were so huge and massive that when they 

slapped against her face, it was loud enough to sound like a girl’s whole ass bouncing on a guys cock. He pulled it out and covered her face with her juicy drool. 

“Yess master, slap my snowbunny face with your huge balls! It’s such an honor!” I wasn’t even sure if she noticed me. 

“How my balls taste, slut?” 

“Like hard working black sweat! Tastes like heaven, my king?” 

BP stepped up behind me with his soft little feet against the tile. “I want sis to taste my balls,” he muttered, stroking off. I told him to shut the fuck up. 

It seemed Dorothy did notice us. “Bye bye white boys I only suck black cock!” She held up two peace signs. 

“B-but she wouldn’t even have to put in an effort” he argued with a wimpy whisper. 

“The answer is no,” boomed Jason. 

“N-not even a good luck kiss?” whimpered BP. 

“No girl would ever want that little dick!” she rolled around onto her stomach. Then she grabbed his cock and deepthroated her master’s cock. 

He lit up with pleasure and began to face fuck his little princess. “Fuck yeah bitch!” The sounds of wet slapping and groaning can be heard throughout the room. She stuck out her tongue while her mouth was pounded to lick his huge balls. 

“RAAGH!” he scared BP with his scream, “FUCK YES!" 

She sucked his shaft, taking it in and out of his throat while she pulled herself in with her arms, wrapped around his legs. 

“Fuckin workin for that nigga nut God DAYUM!” He pulled it out and slapped it against her face. 

She gently kissed his shaft with each time it strongly hit her face. “Yes my black king, please cover me with your godly seed!” 

“Unnnngh SHIT!” He yelled, jacking his wet dick over her face. 

She smothered her face in his soaking wet cock. It was big enough to cover her entire face. No wonder it was so hard for him to get his dick blown well. “Please my king give me seed! Let me taste you master!” BP let out a little moan. Just like Mrs. McCaa said, he came a few dribbles on the floor. They both looked over. “HOW DARE YOU?!” she shrieked at him. I only heard Dorothy yell like that when she heard I was once groped at a party by a senior when I was a freshman. “His divine cock is only for snowbunnies to climb on!” BP was scared, and tried to run off, but slipped on the floor. Not on his cum, 

of course. I’m pretty sure it already evaporated. 

“Get out here, short lil white boy!” yelled Jason, stuffing his dick down her throat to cum down. He filled her whole stomach and esophagus. BP ran out to the hallway and got his little dick laughed at. 

“You know that doesn’t satisfy me,” breathed Dorothy. She turned around to lay on her back and spread her legs. “M-master? Please help..” 

He got on his knee, licking his lips then licking his princess’ pink pussy. “Mmmm- MMM!’ 

“P-please breed with me my kind please! I can’t control myself!” 

“Alright bitch,” he got up and slurped his lips. 

“One step closer to white boy extinction my king!” He slid his rock hard black cock into her pussy. She instantly groaned as his beast penetrates her. “O-ooooo---- my king!” He jammed the rest of his cock in her tight pussy as he cackled happily. She moaned with pure bliss as her mind got hazy. “Being blacked is great!” 

I started to give into temptation and took a seat in the corner. I slipped my hand down my leggings to touch my pussier. It had never been wetter. 

“You love my big black cock in that pussy baby?” 

She arched her back and forced herself on his gargantuan thing, “Yes my King!! A white boy could never please a woman like you can, my king!!” 

“Glad to HEAR IT!” He lifted her whole body up with his huge strength and began to fuck her. He was thorough and clearly knew exactly how to fit the whole thing in her. She wrapped her legs around him as he fucked her. The walls of her pussy squelched out juices and they tightly hugged her cock. “UNG! FUCKING TIGHT PUSSY!” he fucked her faster and harder. 

She moaned as her pussy loosened. “A-AH!” 

“You cummin on this DICK?!” 

“S-soon my king! My pussy loves black cock!” 

“Cum on this big nigga dick!!!” he slammed his cock deeper in her pussy. 

She tightly wrapped her arms and legs around her master and thrashed on his huge cock. She pulled herself up to hug close to his sweaty chest. “Black boys are so gooood!” She started squirting sticky fluids from her pussy and throbbing clit. 

“Uh! Uh! Keep cumming!” 

She groaned and moaned loudly as her pussy convulsed on his cock, “Ughhhhh master feels so 

good!!” “UNNNN! FUCK yes!” She clung to her master and gasped for air. “Oh, it ain’t over yet, bitch!” he tossed her down, forced her legs apart, and looked right into my eyes. Then, just to show off, he took out his cock and shot in incredibly thick load of ropy cum right in her gaped pussy hole. It all went in. 

“U-ughhhhh black cokkkkkk.” I’d be moaning the same thing if I were her. Fuck, I’d love to fuck a black guy half Blackwolf’s size. To shove more fingers into my converted snowbunny pussy. I ripped off my leggings. Plenty of people outside were naked anyways. 

“Damn, bitch! I’m gonna sleep well tonight!” 

I just noticed then that BP and one of his white loser friends were peeking in. The didn’t even look at me, naked and fingering myself juicily. They stared at that huge black cock, enchanted by jealousy and horniness. 

“M-hmm,” she said, closing her eyes and wiggling herself around as she enjoyed the black cum inside her. “H-hey, white boys!” she said deliriously. “You too, Ashley! Only a black man could ever make a white girl like myself have so much pleasure! Think about THAT when you sleep, white loser boys! And my king- thank you for blacking me... I love black cocks forever.” 

“That’s my girl,” he slapped her thigh, letting her legs close. 

“That makes me hard... muttered the other white boy. 

Dorothy blushed at that and put her hands over her eyes. “Be quiet loser, you never will! Go tug your little shrimp dick while thinking of master. Gross little white boys!” Jason got up and walked out of the room. I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw his huge thing swung past his knees. Compared to that, BP and his gooning friend looked like insects. 

“You’re both undeserving to be around master!” his friend opened his mouth, but Dorothy shut him up. “Your little dicks will never be good enough- because you know what? Size does matter.” 

Jason shoved his way back into the dorm, drinking a gatorade. “Spoken like a true size queen.” 

“Thank you for the praise my master.” 

BP stroked his stiff little thing. “I think it can get a little bigger...” 

“HAHAHAHAHA! Oh PLEASE!” laughed Jason. 

“You both disgust me. White dicks mean nothing to me!” She gently rubbed her master’s cock and points it to the whiteboys. “THIS is what a girl wants!” 

The new boy shook and leaked at the BBC. “Yes ma’am I am weak.” 

“D-didn’t Master Jason say he wants more?” asked BP, loyal as he promised he would be. “Master wants more? Good. Let’s mate all night long, my king! My holes will be stuffed with superior 

black seed! White boys exist only to serve their black kings and white queens!” 

“Whitebois like me are weak and pathetic. Let us worship!” moaned BP’s friend. 

“Yes you are.” 

“Worship what? You stupid loser.” 

“I- I wanna worship your ass,” begged BP, “As it’s pounded by BBC.” 

“Pathetic and Horny. Fitting for white trash like you. I bet if I twerked all the white boys here would cum instantly. You know why? Because you are all gross worthless cucks.” 

“Mm- yes I would. I’d shoot my cums all over the floor!” BP blushed, “M-master’s cum is so thick, sis.” 

“Thicker than my thighs.” She smiled at him and turned around, showing off her ass to Jason and twerking with all her might. 

“Awww, I wish I could watch...” whined BP, “I’m sure his cum’s like glue. 

“C’mon babe, spread my ass cheeks wide and cum inside! Your princess’ ass is nothing but a black man’s cum dumpster!” I climbed over onto the bed next to them, not wanting to stay next to those pathetic white boys. 

“W-what do we do when he cums?” 

“Princess? What do you think?” asked Jason, looking at her as he started finger me. His hands were huge! I tossed my head back as he did his magic. 

“Let the whiteboys lick your cum if they want, their cum goes in the trash though! And if any of their white cum touches me, please beat them up!” 

The boys just moaned. 

“SAY THANK YOU! Master’s cum is glorious, not just anyone gets to lick it up!” 

“THANK YOU SISTER DOROTHY!” the white boys yelled. 

“Now go splurt in the trash, sis is about to get pounded.” 

They both started moaning. The new one kept fapping, but BP came in pathetic seconds, before I even got to see his black cock stretch my best friend’s asshole. 

“Dangit... I always cum first!” already soft, BP walked over to grab a tissue, and got down to clean up his load. 

“Your cum is worthless,” huffed Dorothy as her asshole got pounded, “If it touches me I will vomit. And 

don’t get it on the floor! Get it into the trash! Or the toilet!” 

“I- I jerk my little white thing every time I go to the bathroom!” moaned BP as his friend ran to the toilet. TMI, dude. 

Dorothy’s master- no, our master, had enough of it too. He pushed his cockhead deeper in her stretchy asshole and smacked her cheeks. “Twerk more babygirl! Shut the fuck up about them!” 

“Y-yes my king!” She bent over further and twerked for her. Both me and him were enchanted by how she took his cock anally. 

“Unf! Some BOOTY cheeks!” He stroked the lengthy part of his monster cock that wasn’t in her ass yet. 

She bit her lip and twerked faster. He shoved another finger in my horny pussy. “Watch, white boys!” she cheered. They said something, sounding like moaning little girls. I was in too much bliss to hear it. “I’m gonna vomit if you keep talking!” 

He finally stuck the rest of his rod right into her. “UNNGH! GET IN THERE! DEEP IN THAT TIGHT BUBBLE BOOTY!” he shouted. She groaned as he fully entered her ass and she drooled on his bed. 

“M-my ass feels so good!” 

“DAMN this ass!” 

Her ass convulsed, opening up to fit his cock to the hilt as she trained it. “Ugh ughhh ohhhh fuck- mmmmm” 

“Tell daddy how you want it, and beg for it.” 

She bit her lip and twerked as he fucked her, “D-daddy please I want it rough! Show Ashley how you break my snowbunny ass!” I decided then that we would be friends for life then and there. I just closed my eyes and listen to what they said. “Stretch it out daddy please do it... I want it so bad these stupid white boys are so pathetic, show them daddy, show them how a woman should be pleasured!” She sounded delirious. I loved this school. 

“RRrrrr FUCK YEAH!” he pulled me closer with one hand, easily muscling my whole body over so he could better finger me while he fucked Dorothy’s ass. He was just fingering me, and wasn’t even paying much attention to me, but it was already the best sex I’d ever had. “You like the way Daddy FUCKS YOU, BITCH?!” 

“O-oh daddy!! YES!!!” 

For what felt like half an hour, I heard him yell about how tight her butthole was and how tight her ass was and how much he loved her butt shaking and how red he was making it. She screeched about how much she loved his big black cock, and how her asshole was gonna be permanently stretched after tonight. 

The room was filled with sharp moans. Her mind was slowly shattered as she came at least a few times from her asshole being stretched into a gaping hole.. I definitely did. 

“FUCK YES!” he tore his hands from my pussy after I came twice to slap her ass. I missed his warm fingers... “Damn, you’re STRETCHED,” he slapped her ass. She groaned in bliss as her asshole was completely broken by her master. “You want this bitch?” He ripped his hard cock out of her hole and stroked it. 

She collapsed weekly on the bed, eyes rolled back in her head as she groaned, “Black cooooooock.” 

He flipped her over to put it back in. Once again, muscled young man pounded that black ass. Her eyes opened again, then quickly crossed as she moaned as loud as she could. “UNG! FUCK! I’M GONNA NUT IN YOU, BABY GIRL!” 

I could see her stomach stretch as he slammed his cock as deep as it could go. “Cummmmmmmmm,” she moaned, her ass still gaping as she groaned loudly. 

“AAARRRRRRRGH!” he yelled, blasting a fat, huge load deep in her ass. 

Oh, fuck. I came again. I didn’t even notice I was touching myself. 

Dorothy’s tongue came out of her mouth, leaving a trail of drool as it slid off his cock, “Ugggghhhghghgh cockkkkkkkk.” Her ass was left a gaping, filled, cummy mess as she lay on the bed drooling with a soaking wet pussy. Master had broken her. 

“Fuck,” he said, plopping back on his pillows as his huge cock flopped out from between her asscheeks. “God-dayum. That was the best fuck I think I’ve ever had.” 

I got up, my own cum between my thighs. My nose wrinkled as I smelled the sweaty, dirty, cum-covered sheets. In my heart though, I loved it. “C-can I go next? I asked.” 

“Maybe later, babe. I kinda tired. Did you see.. Did you see where those white boys ran off to?” 

I shook my head. 

“Good. Fuck ‘em, right? Or don’t.” He grinned at me. I smiled black, blushing. I couldn’t believe a naked black guy who just fucked my best friend in front of me was flirting with me, and I liked it! 

“So... I’ll just take Dorothy back to her room?” 

“Sounds good, babe.” 

I got up, pulling Dorothy’s sticky body off the bed. Thankfully she was smaller than me. I carried her bridal style out of the room. 

“Hey,” he called back right before I left. He grinned devilishly. “See you tomorrow.” 

I carried my sexy, dripping friend through the halls and to our dorm, plopping her on our bunk bed once we got there. I’d have to get my clothes back tomorrow. 

Steamy black cum leaked from her ass as she groaned in monotone. She looked in pure bliss. The kind of bliss only a black man could give. To that, I sat on the floor and fingered myself again. 

My first night at Blackworth, I didn’t sleep at all. And I fucking loved it. 

[vore-scientist]

The Machine of Dreams

[G/t M/m platonic safe soft vore]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Yonah (the “evil” giant wizard) deals with thieves on a regular basis. They are rather a nuisance but they do taste good!

Almost every encounter with a thief follows a pattern: 1) Thief breaks in to the tower. 2) Yonah catches and eats the thief. 3) Yonah releases the thief and if they accept it, gives them some money for their trouble. but what happens when a thief figures out his bluff?

Warnings: fearplay until it’s not scary anymore... Very vague mention of fa/tal vore (none occurs). Minor skin irritation due to stomach acids occurs but no permanent harm is done.

-----

It was late afternoon in the Tower in the Woods. A lazy late afternoon. The tower’s resident evil giant wizard and his captive princess were playing cards in the living room. Both sitting on the coffee table in human sized chairs with a human sized table between them. Cards was one of those things where it was hard to play with players at different scales.

The stakes were high in this game! If Sophia lost she would get eaten! So she was determined to win. Not because she wanted to avoid getting eaten, but to deprive Yonah of his prize. Even knowing he could eat her regardless, she knew he liked to feel as if he earned a treat.

“HA! A king! I go again!” Sophia drew a second card which she did not have to announce in order to progress with her turn. It was a Jack of Stars! Hell yeah! She discarded a 4 of Reeds into pile 3 and a 9 of Stars into pile 1. Still in her hand was the King of Spirals, the Jack of Stars, a Two of Diamonds, and a 4 of Diamonds. She sent a quick prayer to the gods of fortune as Yonah drew a card.

He examined it, he had an excellent FizzFace.

“I play this Jester,” he declared. This could change the entire game!

It was an Apprentice Jester, so not as chaotic a move as it could have been but still! Fuck! She held out her cards face down and he took one. Then he did the same. They both placed their cards facedown in front of them, they were not able to see what card was taken.

Then yonah chose two of the four piles, added the two cards and shuffled the piles together. He took his sweet time, doing a bunch of card tricks, no magic needed. Show-off. Sophia was never good at card tricks, and with Yonah’s oversized deck she could never, the cards didn’t fit her hands that way. She couldn’t even shuffle them!

Finally he dealt them each a new card and Sophia was able to look at her hand. Now she was the one who had to put on a FizzFace.

Playing a Jester didn’t count as a turn, Yonah still had to draw and discard.

“FIZZBIN!” Sophia yelled and flipped her cards:

King, Two, and a pair of Jacks.

A ROYAL FIZZBIN, an automatic win!

“Thanks for playing that Jester!” Sophia got up and hugged Yonah, who sighed and smiled. Aw well, he’d win next time for sure.

“Another round?” he gathered the cards and started shuffling, “Maybe best two out of three?”

The more they played the more likely he was to win at some point. But Sophia liked the idea of winning too. Even if there was no reward for her other than victory. If they were going to make this a game night, then it should be a game night!

“Yes but not Fizzbin, maybe Dragon’s Hoard?” if Yonah was so set on winning for winning sake, there was no better choice.

“That one is all luck of the deal! There’s no skill involved,” Yonah complained. Though as he did he thought that a 50% chance of random victory was appealing, but was a reward truly earned if he did nothing but get dealt the winning hand at the start?

“Elf’s Gambit then!”

“You’re too good at that one,” Yonah had no idea why but he’d never beaten her at Elf’s Gambit.

“Fine not a card game then-” Sophia stopped as Yonah sat up straight, and saw his big ears twitch every so slightly.

“A thief?” she didn’t hear anything but his hearing was astonishingly good. Even if he was currently physically reduced in stature, his senses were just as keen.

Yonah smiled, “just heard them hit the floor upstairs. I’ll be right back” he jumped off the table, returning to normal size, and went to the stairwell. Then turned back.

“Did you want to come with?”

Hmmmm. She kinda did. It would be a continuation of game night.

“No thanks, I’m good. Have fun!”

He disappeared upstairs and Sophia heard him say his classic line. Blah blah blah.

Damn, now that she came down from the minor high of winning Fizzbin she did kinda want to see what was going on. She climbed down to the floor. maybe she would get up stairs in time. Maybe.

She arrived at the workshop in time to see Yonah, sitting at his desk, smiling as he swallowed and the bulge in his throat fell away. A Few more swallows later his midsection filled out, and the wizard took a long couple of sighs.

It was… way too quiet. She got closer.

No screaming, no visible struggling. Had this been a slayer?! She approached and Yonah smiled down at her. No. His mood was too pleasant. Killing slayers always made him irritable for at least one night.

/Something funny was going on/ Sophia thought as Yonah lifted her onto the desk and poked at his stomach.

Now there was movement and Sophia’s heart rate returned to normal.

“I’m letting you out,” he informed whoever was in there.

“Wait already? Is everything- YIPE!”

Yonah didn’t let them finish their sentence as he hacked and heaved until he was red in the face and his throat swelled.

A pair of hands appeared at the front of his mouth and Yonah provided a finger for them to grasp. A well dressed young man with bright red hair and a smiling face full of freckles slid out of the giant’s mouth. Yonah set him down gently in between himself and Sophia. He stood up with Yonah’s hand for assistance.

While not freakishly tall he had a good foot over Sophia. He wiped his face, looked at the gobsmacked princess and then back to Yonah with a sparkly-eyed smile.

“Is that her?”

Yonah nodded and the man approached the princess.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, your highness,” his voice was low, lower than Yonah’s, but infinitely softer. He spoke slowly, putting consideration into and savoring each choice of words.

Still processing, Sophia did not take his hand. His smile faltered a bit but looking at his hand; strings of drying mucus webbed between a few fingers. He laughed lightly, “Of course. Ah- I would not want to shake my hand either-”

“Oh! No,” she took his sticky hand. There was only one reason someone would be so happy after being eaten. “Yes, I am Sophia of Orr. And you’ve been here before haven’t you?” She glared at Yonah.

His smile fell, but not much, “Surely he’s mentioned me?”

“Must have slipped his mind,” Sophia smiled fakely at both men. Yonah rolled his eyes, though his cheeks had flushed a bit.

“But,” she said, “I think introductions can wait until you’ve washed up.” she almost wiped her hand on her tunic. Instead she cleaned it on Yonah’s sleeve. Yonah glowered And touched the man, casting prestidigitation. The smell still lingered but he was dry!

Sophia climbed onto Yonah’s shoulder to look down at the man who’s innocent face followed her. Crossing her arms she directed a very proper Royal Order at this mystery human.

“So, who the fuck are you?”

---

Dang. It had been a while since he took a proper breath! That was a sign he needed a break. That And his eyes stung from looking down at diagrams through a magnifying glass for so long.

Yonah marked the place in the book and went downstairs to make some tea. Maybe he would have a small mug of soup too. Something light but rejuvenating.

He had only just taken a sip of the tea and poured cold soup into a metal mup, preparing to heat it up in his hands, when he heard it.

CRASH! Clanky-clank-tink tink

That came from his Workshop. Abandoning his tea and soup he silently made his way upstairs. What he found nearly sent him into an explosive rage.

About a month ago King Ben's Arcane Archeologists had unearthed some sort of device. About the size of a carriage, and made of precious alloys And spelled jewels. It was like a big puzzle box. The pieces slid and twisted. Not that anyone was stupid enough to try and solve it.

From the half-decipherable warnings, it was some sort of weapon, and it brought ruin to an ancient kingdom. While not functional it was full of magic. One of the rookie Archeologists had looked into one of the embedded jewels and had nightmares for 2 weeks. Someone else touched it with their bare hands and believed their hands to be made of butterflies until given a drought of 5 times distilled passion fruit gin with wing dust of fire cave moths.

Neither Ben nor his Archeologists wanted to deal with it after that. So it got sent to him.

This wasn’t because of his skill and knowledge as a wizard, it was because he was sturdy. he was resistant to whatever dream magic was leaking out of it. He could safely hold and examine it. And if he felt confident, attempt to solve it.

And he was… disposable. If went off and he died… well. That would be a small annoyance to the kingdom but ultimately not detrimental.  It’s not like he was important to the prosperity of the kingdom in any way. He was just a quest point and guardian of magical items too dangerous for other mages to handle.

All this to say, it was that very device which had been pushed off its stand and lay in pieces.

It had not, thankfully, sent out a pulse across the forest, putting all the residents to sleep and condemning them to a shared nightmare curse that needed to be broken in a hundred years by some hero kissing awake a long lost heir who had been hidden away in The Woods since birth.

Nope. It had simply broke into a danger-zone of sharp metal and crystal across the floor.

The most intact section was by the table, and so was the human. They were wrenching off pieces of gold and prying out gems, for some reason ignoring the easily picked up debris behind them.

Weeks of work GONE! The shove of one human and it was all for NOTHING! And he would have to report this to the king! UGH! He had more than half a mind to kill this Jack.

As his stomach, already wanting from the still cold soup downstairs, rumbled in agreement the idea soured in his mind. No. He didn’t want or need a human as a meal. But the thought of eating this human, enjoying the flavor and getting to fill his belly with the wriggling panicking bastard, even temporarily, was keeping him from blowing up in anger. Smoke would be a dead giveaway, and this fucker, so focused on their task, deserved a good scare.

——

The shadow fell across him and his heart nearly stopped. This could only mean one thing.

“Hello little one,” a low rumble fell upon him like an avalanche.

“Oh don’t be so surprised. With that crash I would have heard you from 3km away.”

Not even bothering to turn around he bolted towards the window.

And immediately fell over in agony as his pants snagged on a sharp bit of metal which sliced into his left calf. A second later giant fingers wrapped around his waist and lifted him up.

“I supposed I should get the formalities over with” said the giant.

If he was screaming before he forgot as the Giant’s voice blasted him like a blank canon shot.

“FEE FI FO FUM, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND, IT MATTERS NOT THE THINGS YOU STOLE, I’VE CAPTURED YOU AND WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE!”

When he opened his eyes he looked into glowing orange ones! The giants hair also glowed And smoked from the roots. The Giant was indeed dressed as the wizard who must surely live in this tower. But all of these things were trivial.

No no no no no!!! Eaten!!! He couldn’t get eaten!!!

The giant walked over to his desk and sat down.

“I’ll make this quick ok? Though you deserve a slow and agonizing death for this.”

Now he was shoved, face first, into the drooling maw. The tongue drew across his chest and face, forcing him to bump into the teeth as the giant gleefully tasted him.

He tried to fight it, but space was almost nil! He could elbow the cheeks but that achieved nothing and placed his arms between the teeth! So he tried to wrestle the tongue. Scratching, punching, wrapping his arms around and squeezing when it lifted up one time. Oof the bottom front teeth pressed into his chest before the tongue broke free of his flimsy hold and slipped between them.

Then it pulled him back! And gravity shifted as he slid to the throat. The rough surface of the tongue gave way to the slick walls of the esophagus as he was engulfed.

The crushing was nearly unbearable! He couldn’t BREATHE! The worst part was when there was a terrific pounding from in front of him as he passed by the heart. And it was slow going. The Giant was making sure he got to savor every moment of flavor, and Jake wished he could cry out as the tongue brushed over his wound. His legs were fully in the giant’s mouth now, about to be sucked into the throat with the rest of him.

As that happened, his arms and face breached into the stomach. The first breath of “air” was filled with despair and death. Before his knees were free from the esophagus he had completely filled the space, but it stretched to easily fit the rest of him.

Not that the air was pushed out, thank fuck, so there was some space to move around.

“Let! me! go!!”

—

A bit of the human’s blood mixed with spit dribbled down his chin. While Yonah preferred smallfolk to be uninjured, the human wasn’t bleeding out, so it didn’t bother him. It was a minor laceration and blood didn’t taste bad at all.  

And even with such a wound this human fought so wonderfully! Quite a performance against his tongue, letting him really experience Jack’s flavor.

Now the Jack was sitting comfortably in his stomach. Well, Jack was probably uncomfortable. Yonah was the one with a smile on his face. This human wasn’t exactly big but he was tall, a nice size to struggle and stretch.

When he was done giving his full attention to savoring the struggles and had licked away the remnants of flavor, he let a piece of his mind tune into the human’s pleas.

Jack was attempting to bargain for his life.

“I don’t know if you realized this; but destroying a magical relic under study by a royal wizard with a taste for smallfolk was very very stupid.” Yonah informed his guest, “I guess I got a treat out of it. Though one little snack, no matter how delicious, cannot equal the loss of knowledge and history”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!!” Jack insisted.

“Gods your pathetic! And you’re wasting your precious air,” Yonah rubbed at his stomach and sighed with delight as Jack protested.

He ignored all subsequent remarks, responding only with pats to his belly or pressing in his fingers.

Until Jack’s voice cracked. “PLEAAESE!!! IT’S STARTING TO HURT! MISTER WIZARD I BEG OF YOU! DON’T DO THIS!”

Yonah gave Jack a very forceful shove, “I really should though. Besides ruining priceless research, you tasted so good, and fill my belly so perfectly.”

Jack cried. It was about time. thieves normally broke down long before now. And Yonah knew it was time to get him out.

“But I’m not.”

Jack stopped crying.

—-

Before he could fully register the statement the angry walls convulsed around him, his leg burned and stabbed his brain with white hot pain as the rest of his skin stung and itches horribly. The air which was soon to be depleted for oxygen was now forced out, followed by him!

The retching sounds of the giant were muffled but carried so much hope and relief. Even as he fell onto the rough wooden desk, the fresh air and lack of impending death was as sweet as fresh honey.

He didn’t care that he was picked up again for he was carried to the window.

“Thank you!” he was still crying. “Thank you - for sparing me!”

That made the giant angry again

“I almost didn’t!” spat the Giant, “All that work WORTHLESS! THANKS TO YOU! And now I get to tell King Ben that his relic got broken, and I let the one who did it get away! Do not forget my kindness today for you do not deserve it!”

The Giant leaned in close and growled hot air over me.

“Now, Get out of my sight before I change my mind, Little tasty one.”

Aching, burning, still bleeding, He descended the vines and without a look back, gave himself to the mercy of the Woods.

Which was considerable mercy today! It was only about 20 minutes of limp-running before he knew he was no longer in the magical, dangerous, Mystic Woods. It was safe now to find a stream and clean himself and most importantly his wound.

Once that was done it was time to get home. Sure he had no treasure but he was lucky enough to get away with his life!

It was nightfall when he got to the cottage at the edge of town, and his mother burst through the door followed by his little sister.

“JAKE! Where have you been!!! Gods around what happened to you!”

Jake’s skin was almost as red as his hair.

“Sunburn” he said, voice hoarse.

—-

This was possibly the stupidest thing he had EVER done.

The guilt over the last week had gotten so bad it was making Jake sick.

He had not only failed to steal from a giant to feed his family, he had broken something important! Something valuable! He had really made that giant mad. And if the Giant was to be believed, he, Jake, got off easy. It was the giant who would feel the wrath of the Mystic King.

He had to do something. It was a long shot, but maybe he could fix the device!

All he had to do was sneak back into the tower to examine it, somehow make money for parts, learn how to make the parts, and get tools to make and implement them… and learn magic to Enchant the gems and metal. Oh and money for the gems too…

This would involve many more trips to that tower. Eventually he should be able to avoid the giant. And hopefully he wouldn’t be eaten if caught.

Stupid. Immesurably stupid.

He was caught.

Not before finding the device. Downstairs in a storage room in a crate. Not before making a few notes. He had come prepared with pen and parchment. Not before finding some loose gems and coins. Exactly what he needed to buy parts! He had everything he needed, and he could leave!

That was when he was found and once again swallowed whole.

“Please!!! Don’t kill me!!!” He begged, even though knew that this was a possible outcome he was not ok with dying! Being trapped in the giant’s gut was just as bad as the first time!! Just as slimy, just as confining, just as…

Huh!?

For some reason the giant spat him back out again!

Jake was so stunned It wasn’t until he was back in the forest that he realized the Giant hadn’t recognized him.

Then he realized he was clutching something in his hands. Something he had not brought with him. The giant had taken the treasure Jake found, but had given him a purse of gold coins!

WHAT THE FUCK? Jake couldn’t begin to imagine why.

Fortunately, the giant had not taken his notes!

Unfortunately the notes were ruined by stomach fluids. Shit. Well. He would wait at least a week or two before going back.

That depended on if-when he could get a waterproof folder. If by two weeks he could he would simply hide the notes in the tower and get them later. Somehow.

It only took him a week, but he wanted to plan this out, so it was a week and 4 days before he returned to the tower.

Thankfully the money the giant had given him meant he didn’t need to do odd jobs to help put food on the table! And there was a reasonable amount left so even if he failed… well. He wouldn’t fail!

—

This was the third thief in a MONTH!

Though Yonah wasn’t really ready to complain or get suspicious just yet. If life wanted to send him treats who was he to question it?

A half-giant who loved the taste of smallfolk, thats who. Not one to question it at all. And this human was delicious! He spent a while licking the human before even putting him in his mouth, where he continued to run his tongue over Jack’s body.

This one had given him a good chase! He was impressed. That And for tasting so good and the fantastic internal massage, he decided to give this Jack a nicer reward.

He liked that this one hadn’t screamed the entire time. That hurt his sensitive giant ears. Instead he swore and demanded to be let go. Such gumption! Ahhhh whatever this Jack was doing, he was stretching out his stomach to the max and it felt so good!

He told Jack this and Jack snarled back at him.

—-

Well, Jake guessed that third time wasn’t the charm! He was caught AGAIN! No way he was going to be lucky a third time and- holy shit!

For the third time the giant hacked him out, sparing his life.

He rolled over to look up at the happy to be angry giant wiping the spittle from his goatee. He was on the desk in the Workshop, the giant had eaten him downstairs in the kitchen, which connected to the storage room.

“Thank you- mister- I don’t think I-

“The name’s Yonah, and you better be welcome. Do you know how awful it is to spit up a human! Fucking sucks! Anyways, thanks for the little diversion from my work, I would appreciate it if you kindly fucked off.”

Once again the giant tossed him a coin purse! This one heavier than the last! Also did the giant. Yonah,  still not recognize him?! The attitude of the giant was not the same as either other times.

The first time he had been furious. Understandable. But the second time it felt like something practiced.

And this time he seemed a bit more playful. Like a cat with a mouse, but had gotten bored and dropped the act once he was done playing. Maybe because Jake was getting better at prolonging capture.

Oh well. It had worked out in the end. He had notes and more importantly he had MONEY! Money to buy tools and parts and training!

He ran home and bought an apprenticeship with a local metallurgist. Soon to be 19 was a bit old to start, but the Master in town quickly changed his tune when presented with Jake’s diagrams of the device. And the gold coins.

It was time to get learning.

—-

Gods there was no avoiding this damn wizard!

This was what? The sixth time he’d visited Yonah? Jake kept returning every two weeks or so, and while he kind of enjoyed the little game (which the giant didn’t know he was a player in), getting eaten was never fun.

Jake had decided after the fourth time he would see how long it would take for the giant to remember him. Part of him hoped it would never happen and he would get to waltz into the tower one day, finish his work, and announce his presence and what he had done.

Also after the fourth time swallowed and spat up, Jake didn’t think this giant was actually as man-eating as he claimed in all the villainous declarations. For whatever reason, Yonah never followed through on his threat.

The track record was now 6 for 6. If Yonah was a killer it was either so infrequent or Jake was a statistical anomaly.

Still, Jake tried a new plan to get away without being found, or at least a way to win the chase game. None of his strategies had been successful.

Just to play along Jake made sure to scream and struggled as if he still believed he was going to die.

At least he was never found until he was trying to sneak out. It would ruin the game if he was caught with all of his notes and supplies! Or if the parts he brought were ruined by stomach fluids.

However, Jake nearly fucked it all up on the sixth visit. He just didn’t have the energy to continue fighting the giant from the inside so after a minute he relaxed. He’d be let out soon and he wanted to catch his breath.

That was a mistake.

“HEY!” The voice of the wizard shook him, physically prodding at him. “You better not be dead! I aint done with you!”

Ok. Now this was different. Normally Yonah taunted him with his “inevitable” demise. He never checked in on him. And that was what Yonah was doing. The phrasing was an attempt at malice but to the not-scared-out-of-his-mind-Jake, Yonah failed to hide the genuine concern. He wondered what could have brought this mood. Maybe he should ask!

Then he remembered he was pretending to never have been through this.

—-

The abrupt change from pleasant thrashing to no movement at all brought Yonah out of his light torpor. He hoped Jack hadn’t fainted, he had not yet recovered enough to spit the human back out. An unconscious human could easily drown… Yonah was reasonably aware of how much fluid accumulated while his victims sat waiting to be released.

Yonah relaxed when Jack moved again, retaliating against his fingers which pressed into his gut.

“NOT YET. I was simply er planning my next move. I will get out of here.”

Where had all this spunk come from? The kicks and punches were much stronger than before. The Jack’s confidence was a bit worrying, Yonah was sure he had disarmed Jack properly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, Not much you can do against my stomach.”

It gurgled a bit and Yonah smiled, “I think it likes you.”

“Well... I hate it.”

“Awwww come on now. You fit so perfectly in it, like you were made for each other.”

There was no response so Yonah figured it was time to wrap it up. “Such a shame to break up the happy couple.”

——

If Jake had to he honest, even if the stomach would eventually kill him, getting spit back up was the worst part. Fluids came with him and the pressure was (for some gods awful reason) much greater than when being swallowed.

Once he was spat out Jake took stock of his surroundings. Still in the kitchen, on the table. His things were scattered about. He gathered his things, mocking panic. Then he turned to see the giant studying him. Had he done something to give away his rouse?

“Why… why did you let me go?” Jake asked in his best ‘oh fuck please don’t kill me for asking’ voice.

Yonah licked his lips and Jake didn’t have to fake a cringing response.

“Dunno. Maybe I’m not feeling it today. Maybe you just seemed so sad I would feel bad if you met your end in me.” The giant sighed and the hot breath dried the sticky fluids. Yech! “I don’t much like killing the poor ones who are obviously being forced by their shitty parents to risk becoming my meal trying to earn one for themselves. Unless, that’s not your situation. I can just finish the job, little one. ”

Wow. Did he really exude that much patheticness? But Jake didn’t let Yonah see his drop in self esteem. Instead he brightened.

“No no. I’m grateful.  Uh- I’ll get out of your hair now,”

“Please do.” Yonah sat there as Jack climbed down the table and made his way to the stairs.

A grumble came from behind him. Then footsteps. A moment later Yonah had scooped him up, carrying him to the window in record time. “I wasn’t gonna watch you climb stairs for 15 minutes.”

Then the Giant’s eyes flashed, very briefly.

“Wait here, I forgot something.”

He ran back downstairs.

Jake sat down, looking out the window. He had never lingered in the garden, and it was a stunning sight from above. Organized in patterns and colors, the meticulously kept plants flourished under the Giant’s care.

“Still here?”

Jake spun around as Yonah returned.

“Why… wouldn’t I?”

“Most flee at the first chance they get.”

“But you told me- I didn’t think it smart to disobey you,” Which for anyone else would have been the truth. Jake on the other hand hadn’t even considered running.

Yonah accepted this reasoning, “well, be glad you stayed. here, for your trouble.”

Ah! Right, the gold. Jake caught the purse that Yonah tossed towards him. He bowed before climbing down.

—-

It just wasn’t fucking worth it was it.

If he managed to avoid capture he would have to get out of the tower himself! And he would have to find another source of funds for the project. Yes, he knew where Yonah kept some coin and unEnchanted jewels, of course he had tried that a few times. Each time it was during that attempt when he was discovered.

It wasn’t worth genuinely trying to escape.

It was just so much easier to get caught, get eaten, get spit up, and be given money. And Yonah would carry him back upstairs! Either while still in his stomach or afterwards. Regardless, it was considerably less work for Jake.

So by the seventh visit, He let Yonah catch him.

But there was another reason.

He finally had the know-how to start repairing the device. Up until now he was only examining it.

In addition to having to make fresh pieces on site, which was difficult and took forever, The magic of this thing was gods fucking bananas!  Connecting certain pieces would induce visions, which he had to resist and ride out. Some were more convincing than others, that he forgot where he was and nearly got lost in the fiction.

This had occurred while picking it apart, but unless he touched the gems the side effects were much less intense. It had made taking a gem back for study impossible. He wasn’t very magical, no one in his village was. That was a bridge he would eventually cross. Shaping the metal pieces didn’t take magic. Not much at least. Nothing too difficult to learn, and Jake had applied himself rigorously.

To maximize his time he snuck into to tower in the morning and planned to “sneak” out at night. Rather than just a few hours later. With all of the components and materials he carried with him, he couldn't bring much food, and stealing any risked early discovery!

All of this left him exhausted.

He should really plan better.

This is what he realized the ninth visit, when he passed out in the crate.

And woke up to The now familiar but no less alarming:

FEE FI FO FUM, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE HUMAN KIND, IT MATTERS NOT THE THINGS YOU STOLE, I’LL CAPTURE YOU AND WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE

SHIT! Time to go! And no time to gather his notes. He had enough familiarity to know what to bring next time. He would definitely bring supplies and just leave it here, that would make things much easier!

But that was next time, he was dealing with the big bad giant now.

Fuck. he was so tired. Even the adrenaline from Yonah’s shout he was barely keeping his eyes open. His brain felt so sour and heavy with sleep And lists And diagrams and figures and plans.

Better to get it over with.

His sleepy brain ran him right into Yonah’s hands. Sturdy, rough yet plush, warm hands. No wait he’s supposed to be scared! The terror he managed to muster was very half-hearted. He just flopped over the fingers.

“Ah- no- dont eat me-”

—-

That sounded sarcastic. Why had this Jack given up so easily. Did he have a deathwish? He hated those types. Admittedly, none of them really wanted to die once they spent a few minutes in his stomach. However it was not a constructive way to dissuade suicidal aspiration, and he wasn’t in a position to get them help afterwards.

This Jack didn’t seem suicidal. He seemed, unphased. Yonah brought him to his face. Jack just closed his eyes and breathed softly. Or maybe he was just sleepy.

Yonah flicked him gently in the face “Hey! Don’t fall asleep, Im eating you!”

“Wha-?” Jack sputtered awake.

That was enough for Yonah, he just wanted to make sure Jack hadn’t fainted. With great enthusiasm he proceeded to eat the human. A bit disappointed by Jack’s performance; no struggle at all! Yonah decided that the proper punishment was to take his time tasting Jack.  

And this one tasted pretty damn good. Though something nagged at him. It was impossible to give that any attention as he swallowed the thief, concentrating on the suffocating pain. Once the thief was out of his throat and in his stomach it hit him.

It took a few seconds for him to process it and his mind reeled, his heart pounded.

“You!! You rotten- you little shit, I recognize your taste!”

The thief was still not struggling. As far as Yonah could tell, he moved around until he was comfortable. THE NERVE!

“Should I be concerned you didn’t recognize my face?”

Yonah ignored the question. He was so furious!

“I thought I made it clear that my generosity and mercy is a one time thing!” He poked Jack so hard that Jack yelped.

“Are you going to digest me! Please, I-”

“No! No…” Yonah rubbed at panicking human in his stomach, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Blinking away the rage-distortion he made his way to the living room. He did his best to stomp down the stairs, and flopped down forcefully into his armchair. If only he wasn’t so upset, he couldn’t fully appreciate Jack’s terror at being tossed about .

“How many times?” He looked down as his stomach as if to see Jack speaking. There was some movement as Jack thought about the answer.

“Um, including this time, 9.”

“NINE TIMES!” Yonah bellowed. His hair started to smoke and his glasses fogged up.

There had been 11 thieves in the last 3 months when it’s usually once or twice a month. Thrice if the gods found him lucky and deserving. He had been worried that a rumor had been spread of a giant who gave thieves money after eating them. But no, it was really three thieves. At least that was a relief. Not that it was good that one HAD figured out he was merciful more often than not.

“This scam stops now! I’m not giving you anymore money!” He poked at his stomach and Jack kicked back at him. “And I’d better not see your face around here again!”

-[I DON'T KNOW WHY BUT AT THIS PART I STOPPED LIMITING/SWITCHING THE POV! It’s just both now!!!] -

“I- I wasn’t scamming you,” Jake insisted. He was starting to get concerned about how long he had been in the wizard’s stomach. Was it normally so hot? He should be sweating but it was so wet and slimy he couldn’t be sure.

“Really?” Yonah didn’t believe him, and had no reason to, “Because it seems like you figured to use me like some weird benefactor who gives out money to people I eat!”

Oh, so he does this for everyone. Where did he get the money? Jake thought. Surely this wasn’t a sustainable system, just handing bags of gold to thieves!

“I’m not as clever as you think. I’m not even here for money. ”

“Then why the fuck did you keep breaking into my tower!?”

He really wanted to get out soon. It was sweltering and his skin was itching something fierce. At least he wasn’t wanting for air. Usually by this time he had worked himself up pretending to be scared, using up precious oxygen. Still, best not to waste breath.

“The device, I don’t know what it is. But I broke it my first time here. YAH.”

Yonah stood up and stormed to the storage closet. At least that was on the same floor.

“If you’ve been messing with my shit-!” he growled as he pulled out the crate, knelt beside it, and, using his eyes, illuminated the contents.

The device was still there, not surprising, it was large. But it was all there. As far as he could tell, Jack had not been slowly taking pieces of it. And he would have noticed if that was the case. He would have found scrap metal and magic crystals on Jack, right? He couldn’t recall any thieves with more than a pouch of random coins and a few normal gems.

What halted his tirade was everything else.

Strewn around the crate were pieces of the device, what could only be a bunch of odd looking tools, and a small platform that one could use as a workbench. Pieces of parchment were everywhere, on the bench, the bottom of the crate, and tacked on the sides! He couldn’t see the details of the scribbles, his vision was too distorted by his now dwindling rage. However, it was obvious what Jake had been up to.

“You… You’ve been sneaking in to fix it?” He let out a heavy painful breath.

Jake scrambled to his knees, pounding at the front of the stomach.

“Yeah... I felt kinda bad so- YIPE.”

Careful to not spit Jack up and into the device he caught the human in his hands. Jack recovered quickly and looked Yonah in the eyes. Blinking in the light, Jack smiled nervously at him.  

“You must be the dumbest thief i’ve ever eaten.”

Jake didn’t know how to take that. And didn’t have much chance to respond as the Giant stood up and took him back to the kitchen. Jake practically jumped out of Yonah’s hands once Yonah had filled the sink with warm water.

He’d never gotten a chance to clean off before leaving! It felt so good to be rid of the stinking And previously stinging fluids. He could have done without the giant watching him like one would watch a pet mouse groom.

“So,” Jake said, once he was clean and being dried off in a rough towel, “Why am I so dumb?”

It was hard for Jake to register Yonah’s answer as the Giant was very handsy with the towel. It wasn’t necessary for the giant to do this.. jake could try himself off… but he wasn’t about to protest. As nice as the Giant was...

“I’ve caught you each time…” he said, gently rubbing The Jack’s hair with a section of cloth,  “ATE you each time!” He pressed the towel into Jack’s back, patting him dry, “and you weren’t even stealing anything! I’m just... Why did you put up with it?”  He put his arms on the counter and head in his arms, face to face with Jack.

Before Jake could answer Yonah blew a stream of foul smelling hot air to finish the job. He waited for Jake to check himself over and calm his hair.

“I kinda liked the idea of it being a surprise,” Jake shrugged, “And you seemed to like chasing me around, and I know you like eating me.”

It was Yonah’s turn to chuckle uncomfortably, he couldn’t deny he definitely liked both of those things. “But… weren’t you scared that I might not let you go? Or that I might just mess up and hurt you?”

“Sure I was, but after the third time you… spit me up… I figured that was just par for the course and you seemed to know what you were doing; it wasn’t worth the effort to avoid it.”

“So you were letting me catch you! I knew it!”

“Yeah but just because I didn’t… didnt want tooooooahhhhh…. climb up the stairs,” said Jake before yawning so wide his jaw popped.

“Tired?”

“Been here all…. *yawn* all day, I snuck in at dawn.”

That… that was a long time. No wonder the kid was tired! Not just tired, if he’d been here since morning…

“You must be starving!”

Jake blinked, “I… brought some food.”

Yonah picked up the human, placed him on his shoulder, and wheeled around to gesture at the kitchen, and then opened the door to the pantry. It had a decent stock of food,“one of the perks of being a giant is I always have plenty to share with visiting smallfolk!”

He walked to the back of the pantry and pressed his hand on the wall.

Then there wasn’t a wall. Or there was but it was made of silver mist.

“Oh” Jack gasped, and Yonah quickly snatched him into his hands.

His warm hands. Held against the wizard’s warm chest. Oh. It was… soft, in the embrace. Kinda like the wizard’s insides but way less deadly. Or rather, more controlled. The wizard’s massive hands could snap him in half, but that was up to the wizard. His stomach would punish you for staying there too long unless he intervened, the hands… Jake could stay forever in these hands.

And good thing too! The room they were in was COLD. And dark. Yonah’s eyes produced a warm glow that failed to pierce the darkness.

Until he purposefully set them ablaze making them into two beams of bright orange torchlight. Projecting through the wizard’s glasses.

The room was full of jars! Just jars upon jars, and in one corner a small arrangement of meats.

Yonah picked out one of the jars. A rather small one, but still bigger than Jake.

“I made this lamb stew last week, gotta eat it soon or it will go bad, do you like lamb stew?” He turned his eyes on the human who shielded his eyes from the light.

“Uh, Yes.”

He still clung to Yonah’s hands as they left the cold storage, the mist turning back to stone. And then left the pantry.

Even out of the cold, Jake was perfectly content to remain held by the giant. He curled up into the elbow, leaning into the pillow-like chest. And fell asleep immediately.

Yonah looked down in surprise as the human snuggled up to him. Just like… just like his friends did. Jack was that comfortable with him? He supposed after being eaten 9 times, this Jack felt pretty safe around him. Good. He liked that.

Since he was just reheating stew he didn’t need two hands. He could get out a pot, light the stove, he had to use magic to open the jar but that was the only instance. Ok he lit the fire with a snap of his fingers, but he always did that! Oh, and a simple charm on a Spoon to stir the pot.

With one free hand he was able to set the table. Both his set and the human sized set, which included a second table (and chair) placed upon his.

“Hey, little one,” Yonah cooed, jostling his arm slightly. The human gasped from his snooze. For a moment Jack looked fearful, as if he forgot what had happened, until he looked into the bark brown eyes of the handsome half-giant, and the scent of stewed meat met his nostrils.

“You can continue to sleep after dinner,” Yonah said, setting the human on the table, indicating the smaller place setting.

The stew was more vegetables and grain than lamb, but he supposed getting enough meat to feed a Giant wasn’t easy. It was very spicy but Jake liked it a lot! He still had to take a drink of  The incredibly sweet wine Yonah had served after nearly every bite.

By the time he had finished he wasn’t sure he was still awake. Yonah, who drank most of the wine, looked tired too.

Wordlessly Yonah picked him up, and Jake fell into his hands. Asleep before they even reached the bedroom.

If Yonah hadn’t had the alcohol he might have prepared a bed for Jack. However he did have alcohol so Yonah quickly changed into a nightgown and got into bed. He placed the human by his face, on his pillow, and wrapped an arm protectively around the small form. Jack’s scent permeated his senses but he resisted licking the human by falling asleep a few seconds later.

—

Jake awoke in an unfamiliar place. He awoke next to a giant’s face! He awoke inside a giant’s embrace!

The giant! He. He had slept… in his arms!? Like some kind of doll. Jake wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he knew he felt rejuvenated. That had been the best night’s sleep he’d had in quite a while. The Giant was certainly much less scary when he wasn’t pretending to kill him, even if his face was pressed into Jake’s side. The facial hair was kinda itchy, but Jake didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to move!

Even though he wasn’t tired he was so comfortable, that and he definitely didn’t want to wake the giant up. He was kinda trapped under the giant’s rather prodigious nose. He couldn’t hope to get out of this hold without waking Yonah up.

That would certainly earn him another trip down into Yonah’s stomach. Jake was certain Yonah would spit him up, but getting eaten twice in less than 25 hours did not appeal to him.

So he lay there.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before the giant started to wake. Jake scrambled out of his arms and stood wobbling on the uneven bedspread.

He watched the giant stretch and yawn, mouth stretching even wider than when he’d eaten Jake.

“Oh fuck,” the Giant said as he put on his glasses, “I meant to make you a bed.”

“It’s alright” Jake assured him, “I slept great.”

Now it was Jakes to turn observe as Yonah magically swapped his nightgown for fresh set of robes. Just as brightly colored and garishly patterned as the other 9 outfits Jake had seen.

Yonah noticed Jake watching. “I’m not going to just change in front of you!” He half squat by his bed, hands on his knees.

“I don’t know if you had plans today, I was going to make breakfast.”

Jake had to be at the metallurgist’s an hour past sunrise.

“I just gotta be home by sundown. If I’m missing for two nights my mom will start to worry.”

He stepped onto Yonah’s outstretched palm.

After breakfast Yonah took Jake and the crate with the device to the Workshop. He cleared off his spare bench and carefully laid out the device and the broken pieces. Jake took out all of notes which Yonah wanted to take a look at under his magnifying glass.

“For 3 months work starting from absolutely nothing, this is impressive!”

“What do you mean?”

Yonah looked down at Jake.

“I mean, Jack, that for someone who had never worked with mechanical contraptions let alone magical ones until a few months ago, you actually started to make little progress on this in an incredibly short amount of time!”

“I used the money you’ve been giving me to train with a metallurgist…” Jake was a bit annoyed that he made so little progress but he was distracted by something else the giant had said.

“Did you just call me ‘Jack?’”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“I never told you my name,”

“Thieves are always named Jack.” Yonah said as if it were some universal truth.

“Well my name is Jake, uh, Silverman” He held out his hand.

“Silverman, and you have a talent for metal work?” The wizard laughed.

“Yonah, HaEsh,” Yonah took the hand in a finger and thumb.

“I know, you told me,”

“Did I?”

“Not your last name.” Jake held onto Yonah’s finger, “You’re laughing at mine but yours is The Fire. A bit on the nose for someone with fire powers.”

“Touché.” Yonah freed his finger by poking Jake’s middle.

“Now that I am aware of your little project it’s sure to go much quicker, much smoother, and actually get finished” he said looking at the notes again.

It took Jake nearly a minute to process.

“Finish? You… want to work with me?”

Yonah nodded but didn’t look at him. “I’m not so good with detailed tinkering. If you don’t continue, it’s likely The Machine would just end up sitting here long after I, and whoever takes over after me, and whoever comes after them, are long dead.”

Now he looked at Jake again, his eyes flashed for a second, “And you do want to fix your mistake, right?”

“Y-yes... I do!”

Yonah nodded, “Without my help you never would have, and with it you won't die in the process.”

“Die?” Jake’s heart skipped a beat, “would you have-“

Yonah gave him a strange look as Jake finished “killed me…”

The giant smiled, showing off his rather large canine teeth. For all Yonah looked human, there were a few easily missed giantfolk-ish traits.

“Probably not,” he started examining the device itself, “but your metallurgist master is not  a magician are they?”

Jake looked at his feet, “No.”

“Would have been a fun mystery for me when I found your body, though not so difficult as long as your notes were intact…”

Yonah turned to Jake with a stern teacher stare.

“This thing is dangerous and powerful, you’re lucky you’re still in one piece as it is. Or you’re a natural artificer,” Yonah said, giving all of his attention to Jake.

“An artificer?” Jake had never heard of such a thing.

“A specialist who works with magical items,” Yonah explained.

Jake quite liked that. Silverman the Artificer! Had a nice ring to it.

“So,” Yonah said, “Can I expect to see you again soon?”

———

“And that’s how we became friends!”

Yonah concluded.

“You forgot to add that I am an artificer now.” Jake added, “I travel around the world in search of artifacts to study, and I make my own. I’m Yonah’s supplier of precious metals and gems.”

Sophia had listened with rapt attention as Yonah and Jake told the story. She and Jake were now sitting on Yonah’s chest as he lay on his couch in the living room. She had resisted asking asking questions until the end. Now she leaned back against Yonah’s left hand and tried to look as philosophical as she could.

“Did you finish fixing the device?”

Jake’s pale face turned an amusing shade of red.

“I’m actually still searching for parts, it’s why I’m an explorer now.”

“Probably for the best,” Yonah said, using his right hand to stroke’s Jake back, “We need to know more about it first.”

“You mean it’s HERE IN THE TOWER STILL!”

“Of course it is,” Yonah poked her shoulder, “this is still the most secure place. I just moved it to.”

“No, don’t tell me,” She knew exactly how much self control she had and it wasn’t enough to stop her from doing something stupid. “I don’t want to know,” she lied.

“How often do you make it out here?” Sophia asked, “I’ve been here for nearly a year!”

Not that Yonah didn’t have a tendency to not tell her shit about his life. He seemed to like having her discover pieces of his social network one at a time.

“I used to aim for once a month, but with all my traveling it’s been whenever I can for a few years now. Also I called on the mirror many times! He mentioned you, I’m really surprised he didn’t tell you about me.”

“I’m not, Yonah likes to keep me out of the loop,” Sophia huffed, “regardless, on these, visits, he… he eats you… every time?” time to get to the important stuff, like how Yonah has a secret friend snack that he neglected to mention!

“Pretty much. Back when working on the machine I was here a few days a week and sometimes we would play games of chase. If he caught me he would eat me, and he always wins. But as my visits became less frequent I started sneaking back in and letting him find me. It’s just our thing now.” he winked at Yonah who’s face had slowly been turning crimson. Sophia giggled.

Jake sighed, recalling the last five years.

“I know it’s stupid, but I kinda like it. I kinda missed it,” Jake mused, “Sure it’s stupidly dangerous, it’s a giant’s stomach after all. But for the few minutes im there it’s nice. Very warm, soft padding…”

“If you’re trying to suggest I let him eat me,” Sophia glowered with a smile up at Yonah, “he does, all the time.”

Jake’s eyes didn’t widen but his they did spark as his brows raised with interest, “Does he now? He risks the life of the princess he is sworn to protect?”

“No, he risks your life,” she said with pride, and climbed up to Yonah’s shoulder. He turned his face to peck her side and give her a little lick, “This bastard cursed me so I can’t die when he eats me.”

“It’s much more generally beneficial than that!” Yonah protested. “I engineered a partial curse that allows her transform into indestructible glass for four hours. There’s plenty of situations where that can save your Royal Behind. Like the attack on Ilana’s wedding, or when you wandered off into the forest and attacked by those suspiciously normal wolves!”

“Sure, sure” she waved away his words, “but you still did it so you could eat me,” Sophia sat down and let him kiss her face but put her arm out as he went for a second taste. She didn’t want to wash her hair a second time today.

“Wow, can he do that to me?”

He could, but after he explained the process Jake decided he didn’t want to waste all that money. And Yonah agreed, so far there had been no problems with getting Jake spat out safely for years. There was no reason to add extra protection, it would only be if Jake wanted his stays in Yonah’s stomach to last longer than five minutes.

While Jake had planned to show Yonah his latest finds, after telling the story and making a new friend, he could wait. He and Sophia spent the next hour chatting as Yonah prepared dinner. Yonah always prepared something fresh and at least slightly new when Jake popped in.

Sophia found that Jake wasn’t just Yonah’s supplier. Because of his connection to Yonah, Jake dealt with many of her father’s mages and Yonah’s friends. He quickly became in-demand. But he always saved the best stuff for Yonah to look at before any other buyers.

Most of the time Yonah didn’t even pay Jake.Jake may be good at working with magical items and not exploding, and had learned a decent amount of magic, but he couldn’t hope to achieve Yonah’s level of skill or power. So Yonah paid in enchantments and spelled gems which Jake incorporated into his crafts.

Sometimes Jake would stay for a week or more depending on the spells he needed. And after being away for a year they had a lot of work to do.

“This sounds like the perfect time to teach me about magic gems!”

Sophia told Yonah over dinner.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that. You’ve only just gotten a handle on basic enchantments,” Yonah said.

Sophia pouted.

“It can’t hurt, I have some simple spells I need put into some crystals,” Jake suggested and Yonah shot him a fiery glare. Jake was unphased, “what else is she to do? This will be several hours a day.”

“Maybe she can just sit in my stomach?” Yonah chose that moment to take a large bite of bread and swallow very loudly.

“Oh, Yonah, you wouldn’t,” Jake looked from Yonah to Sophia, but there was no actually animosity between the two. Sophia just rolled her eyes.

“He’d like to, I’m sure. You’ve known him for years, you know he’s a dumbass glutton. But he also knows I won’t stand for it.”

Yonah grinned, then to Jake, “Instructing her while we work will take time. How long can you stay?”

“I am able to stay as long as necessary.” Jake smiled warmly, “I’ve been gone for so long on work, this will be like a vacation.

“A vacation where you do more work?” Sophia asked, but Jake and Yonah laughed.

—-

After dinner, Jake took a bath while Yonah and Sophia cleaned up. She was practicing cleaning spells on dirty dishes. Or rather, spells that could be used for cleaning. Like create and manipulate water, leveraging large objects. Etc. She was… pretty terrible at it. She always broke a few things. No big deal with repair spells on hand.

Yonah was very patient with her. He knew that it was relatively easy for the mind to use magic to pick things up that hey body could normally. Because one knew how it should feel to pick such things up. Anything larger was extremely difficult. It took a lot of practice.

It made doing the dishes take forever. And Sophia got nervous when Jake got back. Not so used to having someone else watch her fuck up.

“So what will we be looking at tomorrow?” Sophia asked Jake as they all settled into bed.

For the first night at least, they were all sleeping in the same bed, tucked under Yonah’s arms against his chest. Though Jake had marveled at Sophia’s grand bird cage bedroom with its padded hammock bed.

“Oh. Something very special. I found it buried in the infinity dunes of the wondrous desert, a snake charm.”

“Infinity dunes! No wonder you were gone for a year!”

“Yeah, see, only a few weeks had passed for me, but months had gone by outside. Anyways. Snake. Pendant. It has impressively large emerald eyes. I wish I had found more treasures.”

“All those weeks/months and all you found was one charm?”

“Yeah, though I acquired many unique items in the various cities through trade...”

They continued back and forth for a few minutes before Yonah grumbled at them.

“I thought we were going to sleep” he didn’t open his eyes, but a very dim orange light escaped between his eyelids.

“Oh but Jake is telling me all about his travels! I’m guessing he told you all of this over your secret mirror chats. But I wasn’t privy to those!”

Yonah hugged them both tighter to him.

“But I am privy to your conversations whether I want to be or not.” Sometimes sensitive ears were a curse.

“But-“ Sophia wanted to stay up!

“Do I have to eat you to separate you two? Because I will.” He ran his fingers down Sophia’s back. Perfectly positioned to snatch her up no problem.

“I can still talk to him if you do!” Sophia countered. and Jake could sense her wicked smile. “You aren’t that fat!”

Yonah’s chest rose and fell with great vibrations as he groaned at the prospect. To the two humans it was 30 second massage. Intensely soothing.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow,” Jake yawned, getting comfortable against the wizard’s chest. Sophia did the same but punched Yonah a few times for good luck.

And they slept.

[FIN]

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! for more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/+mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’ on my blog! For thief stories only search “MW Thieves”]

[seven-oomen]

Take me to church | Owen Grady/Male OC | Jurassic World Fanfiction

Because I want to share some of my old work I guess? I don’t think this is particularly good, but it’s a way to see how I progressed over the years and I think that’s pretty cool. Also, I’m in my Jurassic World/ Detroit Become Human phase right now. So, have some old Jurassic World fanfic.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of mpreg, mating cycles/in heat, Alpha Beta Omega dynamics, canon typical violence, creepy old men.

“Attention all Masrani Corp. employees heading for San Jose, we are now boarding flight eighteen. Please check-in at Gate twelve.”

He stood up with a soft sigh and hoisted his backpack on his shoulders. This was it, the chance of a lifetime. His big shot in getting somewhere in life. For years he had studied and worked his ass off to get where he was now. A smile worked its way upon his features as he slowly sauntered his way to the gate.

Like always, people stared after him wherever he went. It was sort of a given thing if you were 6’8 tall with a muscular frame. People were scared of him and nobody was stupid enough to piss him off by coming closer. Even if he was as harmless as a puppy.

His golden blond hair and bright blue eyes stood out on his angled and well-defined face. Not to mention the faded scar that ran across his face. People were terrified of him, but none of that was going to matter anymore.

Jarek Pitka had done it, he’d finally achieved his dream. Not many vets could say that they worked with actual living dinosaurs, but in just a few hours' time, he’d be one of the first to call himself a Dino-vet.

Jarek chuckled and smiled softly as he thought on the start of his new life. This could be the break he so desperately needs. With the money he would be making he could- He collided with another solid object, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him.

“What the-?”

It wasn’t an object, Jarek deduced, as he looked down and cringed at the sight of the man sprawled out onto the floor. “I am so, so sorry.” He quickly apologized as he helped the poor man back onto his feet. Why did these things always happen to him? Big clumsy log that he was.

The man was smaller than he was, like everybody else. Around 6’2 to his own 6’8, with dark sandy blond hair and green eyes. The man was wearing a leather vest with a clean blue shirt under it and a pair of simple jeans and combat boots. He was a pretty average, but yet a good looking man.

The man brushed himself off and looked up at him in annoyance. “Dude, you gotta watch where you’re going.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey” The stranger reached for his jacket and tapped the Jurassic World Logo that was stitched onto it rather sloppily “What did they hire you for?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m the new lead veterinarian. I got a call yesterday.”

“Really, yesterday, huh?” The man seemed rather amused at his answer, the frown on his face slowly turning into a friendly smile. Maybe he hadn’t screwed this up completely. “So you just packed your bags and jumped on a plane, because you got a call?”

“Well… when you say it like that, it sounds kinda crazy.”

“No offense, man. But it kinda is.”

“Then why are you here?”

The other man laughed and grinned up at him “I like you, you’re funny when you’re not barging into me. I got a call a couple of weeks ago. They hired me outta the Navy, now I get to work with raptors.”

“That’s so cool..” It didn’t explain the ‘why’ though, Jarek had been hired because of his outstanding credentials. But this guy just came from the Navy? Sure that was impressive, but why this guy specifically? “But why were you hired? I mean, no offense, but what did you do in the Navy?”

“I trained the canine unit, and I studied animal behavioral patterns on the side. Got my master's degree six months ago.”

That explained it. Sort of.

“Flight eighteen is now boarding at Gate twelve. Attention all passengers, flight eighteen is now boarding at Gate twelve.” The female voice of the intercom sounded through the gate, urging the remaining passengers to stand up and get onto the plane.

“So what’s your seat number?” The raptor guy looked up at him as he picked up his bag.

“B two, it’s an aisle seat.” Jarek pulled the ticket out of his pocket and showed it to his newfound friend.

“No way.. I got B one. Guess you’re my flight buddy. I’m Owen, by the way, Owen Grady.”

Jarek chuckled and took the hand Owen offered him. “Jarek, Jarek Pitka. And it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, flight buddy.” He liked Owen so far, the man was nice. Despite Jarek’s initial clumsiness, Owen had been friendly, and he seemed genuinely interested in what Jarek had to say. Owen seemed so different from those he’d met before.

Owen let out a soft laugh and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s board before they leave without us.”

Jarek shook his head but followed Owen to the boarding desk anyway. He couldn’t wait to see the island or the dinosaurs. His new life was starting right now, with a new friend to support him along the way, and with Owen as a friend he doubted his new life would be a boring one.

~*~ ~*~

Flying was a pretty boring way to travel, even with Owen at his side. Five hours into the flight and he was ready to jank the door open and jump out of the plane. Anything to counter the mind-numbing nothingness that he was experiencing right now. “What time is it?”

“About eight pm, we’ve been in the air for five hours,” Owen mumbled, barely lifting his head off Jarek’s shoulder. The behavioral expert had fallen asleep an hour ago and was now dozing, using the veterinarian as his personal pillow.

Jarek couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped him and groaned softly. “That means we got two and a half hours to kill.” There had to be something he could occupy himself with...

“I’m not gonna tell,” Owen smirked, looking up at Jarek.

“Tell what?” What was Owen talking about? He couldn’t possibly be talking about that one little thing. Jarek didn’t have much to hide, but what he did have to hide was kind of a big thing.

“About what you are, you hide it well, but I can smell it.”

He tensed up, slowly turning to look more closely at Owen. “What?” How did he figure it out? He usually wore scent blockers to prevent anyone from finding out. Would this change the budding friendship between them? Would Owen see him as the others saw him? He didn’t really want to find that out to be honest. He didn’t want anything to change.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m not gonna tell, or try to get into your pants.” Owen gently pushed him back into his seat and squeezed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

Not that it was working… “How? I hide it, I block my scent, suppress my cycles…” Owen knew… Owen knew and this little friendship between them was probably shattered until eternity. The raptor trainer had to hate him for what he was, all the others of Owen’s kind did. Jarek knew what he was, he was weak, he was disgusting, an outcast, he should never have gotten this far...

“Hey, cut that out. I just have a freakishly good nose, alright?” Owen sighed and made himself comfortable against Jarek’s side once again. “Now stop squirming, and stop worrying. One, I’m trying to catch some sleep, and two,” Owen leaned a little closer, whispering as he spoke his next words “I don’t fucking care that you’re an Omega.”

Jarek blinked at the smaller Alpha and stared at him for a moment or two. He was studying Owen’s face for any sign of dishonesty, any sign that the Alpha was gonna turn on him. But he found none. Owen was telling the truth as far as he could tell. “Really?”

“Really. Now lean back, a little. I’m trying to sleep you big log.” Owen yawned and made himself comfortable again, curling up against the Omega once more. This was gonna be a long flight, but at least he had Owen at his side. Just as he should be.

~*~ ~*~

It had been nearly one month since their arrival at Isla Sorna and so far, things were running smoothly. InGen had secured an area near the Southern docks and isolated it from the rest of the island. The Lagoon was their safe haven, base camp, the place they returned to every night after a day in the forest.

Jarek looked up from his book as laughter echoed through the camp. Owen and Barry had returned from their observation of the raptors and were having a good time by the look of it. Currently, the vet was sitting on a log right by the campfire. A chirp next to him made Jarek look down with a slight smile. “Who’s that? Who’s coming, Mishu?”

The little Compsognathus next to him chirped again and jumped around in excitement. She had been somewhat of an accident because they usually didn’t try to domesticate the dinosaurs on this island. Their studies wouldn’t be reliable or scientific, otherwise. Mishu was the only exception. Jarek had found her egg, lying abandoned on a small path near the lagoon. Her egg was still warm when he picked it up and he decided to hatch her after recognizing it was a Compsognathus egg. Jarek had been the first creature she ever saw, causing her to imprint on him. And the rest was history.

Mishu rumbled softly and stared up at Jarek, almost as if she was pleading at him to let her go over.

“Okay, okay. Go say hi.” Jarek laughed, grinning as he watched her run across the campsite, dodging and zigzagging her way across. The little Compy jumped in front of Owen and Barry and chirped loudly to gain their attention, much to the amusement of the two humans.

“Hey girl!” Owen bend down on one knee and scooped up the little Compy. The tiny dinosaur made herself comfortable by perching on his shoulder.

“Hello, Mishu.” Barry gently stroked the top of the Compy’s head and chuckled. “N'êtes-vous pas une douce petite fille?” The dark-skinned Cajun petted the Compy one last time before making his way over to Jarek. “She’s getting cheekier every day.”

“Only when it comes to you, my friend,” Jarek answered, smiling at Owen as the Alpha sat down beside him, before turning his attention on Barry once more. “She respects Owen and I.”

The Beta simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in amusement. “Really? Maybe she doesn’t want to upset mama and papa?”

“Oh, haha. Funny. I know Owen’s not as tall as me, but that’s no reason to call him mama.”

“Hey!” Owen elbowed in the ribs and faked an insulted look on his face, but Jarek could see the corners of his mouth curl up, the Alpha was fighting back a smile. “Be nice, or this mamma’s gonna spank both your asses.”

“Yes, dear.” Jarek dodged Owen’s hand and laughed at the Alpha’s pout. That was Owen alright, always up for a good laugh or prank. Usually at Jarek’s expense.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trio..”

Vic Hoskins was a pretty rounded man, particularly around the stomach, and at first glance, he seemed like a normal guy. Mid-forties, grey hair, a little beard and a general air around him that screamed Alpha. One conversation with him though, and you knew just what to expect from the military man. Hoskins was obsessed with the dinosaurs. Jarek couldn’t tell for what reasons, but he knew it wasn��t gonna be a good thing.

“Hoskins, what’s the occasion?” Owen instinctively leaned into him and laid his hand on Jarek’s thigh. Jarek knew what Owen was doing and he didn’t like it one bit. Owen was always saying he wasn’t weak, and yet the Alpha still pushed him to the background and defended him. It was kind of a contradiction, an unintentional one, but a contradiction nonetheless.

“I’ve got a proposition for you boys, one that’ll benefit us all.”

“Not interested.” Jarek glared at the older Alpha, staring up at him in defiance. Oh no, he didn’t like Vic Hoskins at all, but working with him was one of the job requirements. He hated it, but he had to take the bullshit Hoskins was badgering him with.

“Now, hear me out-”

“Sorry man, but the big guy has spoken.” Owen was picking his side again, which wasn’t surprising, considering that Vic had ticked Owen off more times then he could count. And it had only been one month since their arrival at the camp. That had to be a new record.

“Don’t forget who brought you here, Grady. You still work for me.”

“That doesn’t mean I gotta take shit from you, Hoskins. You’re not getting into his pants.”

“He is sitting right here and he can speak for himself, thank you.” Jarek stood up and faced Hoskins right on, he wouldn’t show his discomfort around the man, wouldn’t become weak. “And the answer is still no. Not interested.” He started to walk away from the scene when a thought occurred to him, and he turned to Barry and Owen once again. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, the Omega stalked off. Disappearing into the campsite that housed the tents and bungalows.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Hey! For the Writing Prompts thing, I'd like to ask for a hand-holding prompt :) with a side of closeted bi Dean please! Throw in online dating if you can! Thank you!

Thank you for the prompt! I enjoyed writing this, except for the part where I had to end it abruptly to fit in the general limit; but it was a great prompt! Here ya go -

Dean Winchester doesn’t do ‘online dating’.

But what he can agree to, while sufficiently drunk and not thinking, is setting up a profile on one of those sites that Charlie says are for gays who aren’t looking to put out on the first date - as long as the Impala is his profile picture.

(They work out a compromise, and @impala67 ends up having Dean on the profile himself, but he’s leaning against the Impala so that’s something.)

Another thing Dean didn’t expect to do was meet men like Castiel on there. Or find himself looking, for that matter. This time, its far from a compromise when they ‘match’ according to the site programming crap, and end up talking - its more like one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.

He even starts using punctuations and honest to god grammar in his texts, so that’s saying something.

Castiel Novak is something of a regular in Dean’s head now, and texting him is easy and fun and when they talk, sometimes he’s laughing at his screen - and when they flirt, sometimes he ends up red, so that’s how it was. It was good. Cas was awesome, and funny, and smart, and dorky, and sorta into him - and Dean was more pleased than he’d expect.

Until, one average grey evening, after a morning of sparsely talking about zucchini fries and Led Zepp - Cas ups and sends him a ’I think we should meet soon’ with a smiley face, and the lack of snark is a reminder of how serious this is - and Dean is so completely thrown off that he reads the message another seven times and then shoves the phone away instead of replying.

It must be noted, right around this point, that Dean Winchester was still an emotionally repressed, closeted asshole who’d probably never said the word ’bisexual’ out loud in general public, ever.

*

He’s made aware, with equal alarm and surprise, of the intensity of his attraction to Cas freakishly soon, because when Cas hesitantly follows it up with a question tag, Dean’s thumbs are rushing to type out the ’yes’.

Because, apparently, he thinks they should meet soon, too.

*

Cas insists, coming off as happy, that he’d make the plans for the date. Dean doesn’t put up much of an opposition to that anyways.

So when Thursday comes along, Dean drives to the largest Starbucks on 4th, where they decided to meet, and waits outside in his car for Cas to show up first - still indecisive and fighting with the resolute voice in his head which asked him to ditch, and delete Cas’s phone number, and move to Alaska for good measures.

When its three minutes past seven, his sonuvabitch alter-ego is fucking winning. Some part of Dean is making it impossible to get the car in gear and leave - but it’s getting weaker and weaker. Sure, he’s slept around with men and women alike, enough to be assured of his 'equal preferences’ character - but he hasn’t done this before. Hasn’t been on a motherfucking date with a man. Hasn’t met somebody he’s been texting for almost a month now, at a goddamn Starbucks, for a date. He hasn’t done any of this shit, and he’s freaking out.

But Cas is Cas.

And Dean knows that guy, even though he only has a mental picture of a black-haired Caucasian male to go with it (Cas wasn’t big on descriptions or exchanging selfies anymore than Dean was) and he knows that he’s gonna regret leaving if he does.

So in spite of the fact that it’s probably the wrong decision, Dean for once doesn’t act out in a rush of adrenaline and speed off, but waits.

And then his phone buzzes, and Dean anxiously reads the notification of a new text.

Dean whips his head up to look for Cas, because the message implies that Cas is there already.

>>> you at starbucks already?

Fucking where, Dean mutters to himself, looking around even more keenly. He can’t, for the sake of anything, see someone who resembles his mental image of the guy. Suddenly, everyone has blonde hair and everyone has boobs. No one looks like what Dean imagines the source of that magnificent whiskey-over-gravel voice to look like.

He’s a fucking idiot. He should’ve asked for a photo. For a snap of his fucking passport, maybe.

>>> me too

Dean pauses, sucking in a breath. He doesn’t know what to do, and now the voice in his head is getting louder than ever. Perhaps this was a sign or some of that philosophical Universe crap.

But now’s too late to bail.

Dean should’ve been more of himself (an asshole) to Cas, and he wouldn’t have wanted to meet then. Screw him for bringing out a side of Dean he didn’t know he even had - charming without the disgusting, funny without being obnoxious, interested and not just pretending to listen for the sake of getting laid.

His thumbs did an anxious dance, hovering over his keyboard, wondering how to tell Cas in the most sane-ish way ever, that he thought that they should depart and continue to text and call for the rest of their goddamn lives, if Cas would have him - but just not have to be here at this moment.

But just then, there’s a sound, and Dean could get freaking whiplash as he turns, with a yelp.

A sharp tap on his window.

Followed by a man bending to come into Dean’s line of sight through the frosted window - blue eyes and a jawline, a seven-o'clock shadow and chapped lips - gorgeous and fucking black hair.

He wore a beige trenchcoat, and his somehow blue eyes were widened in surprise and recognition, though Dean knew they’d never seen each other before - because you don’t forget a man who looks like that. He was tall, judging from how low he bent from his hip, and strongly built. He didn’t say a word but “Dean?”, and yep. It was Cas.

Dean sort of slammed his door against Castiel as he scrambled out - all of his thoughts of running away, fading gradually in the backdrop of meeting this man. He was face to face, with a man who’d been making him chuckle and blush and stay awake most of the night - and the man apparently had a handsome fucking face too.

Cas stared back, having to look up a mere inch to meet Dean’s eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

And Dean knew that he wasn’t gonna walk out on this evening, even if Cas’s idea of a good date was gardening.

*

As the evening goes on, Cas’s voice begins to drown out most of Dean’s insecurities.

He’s fully assured in his capability to freak, and knows that he’ll probably have a passable panic attack the moment he returns to the solitude of his apartment - but at the moment, walking next to Cas, after a lovely dinner at a burger joint - talking and listening and exchanging stories punctuated by private glances; he isn’t really thinking anymore of the fact that he’s on a serious-as-fuck date with a man.

A date that involved dinner, dessert, and now walking. If there was moonlight, and it was a secluded area of the town, it had to be an overlookable event.

Then Cas suddenly turns to him, and his eyes are wide with a new excitement and Dean is intrigued and has to ask. “What, Cas?”

“What are your thoughts on carriages, Dean?” He says, in a voice which is a tad bit softer than his usual baritone.

“Huh?”

“Well,” Cas begins to ramble, and Dean listens with raised eyebrows. “You knowthis is new to me, and I’ve hardly ever dated someone I don’t know like you - but this is you and here we are, and to say the least, this evening is sort of like a surprise dream for a thirty-one years old nonentity in accountancy like me - and it’s been all comfortable and mellow, but I want a spark -”

“It’s not even been four hours yet, and we’ve lost our spark?” Dean threw back, grinning. Cas rolled his eyes, and shook his head - adorably not composed for perhaps the first time.

“I mean, its been a good date, but I want this to be more memorable, and I want us to do something spontaneously that’s not just dinner and walks - and for the sake of saying that we did it someday, and I want that we -” Cas paused, breathless. “Am I being weird, Dean?”

“Nah, you’re being sorta cute.” Dean muttered, only loud enough for Cas to hear. “Go on, you want us to do something impulsive, for no reason?” He can’t help but grin. “Like what, Cas?”

And Cas slowly turns his head, deliberating Dean to follow his gaze to the actual carriage on the road. Its larger than Baby, and has wheels, and is attached to a couple of white horses, and is, all in all, a goddamn carriage.

“So,” Cas mumbled, looking up at him through his eyelashes and making Dean’s chest hurt with the intensity of the throbbing. “What are your thoughts on carriages, Dean?”

*

“This is ridiculous.” Dean declares, after Cas has climbed up after him, and sat down next to Dean, thighs brushing, looking fucking pleased with the entire situation.

The carriage was goddamn moving. And Dean Winchester was sat in it.

It was a difficult thing to process. Horses were trotting (or doing their cantor thing) and there was a man in a tuxedo sitting a metre in front of them - who’s job was to conduct stupid people like Dean and Cas wherever they want, in his black carriage.

Which looked like it was out of a goddamn storybook.

Dean exchanged a glance with Cas, who’d been steadily beaming at Dean.

“Why?” Dean mouthed, because he didn’t know if he wanted to say anything out loud, since the tuxedo guy in front could hear them clearly.

“Because we’d already walked a long way, and you had to get to your car, to get home.” Cas reasoned, with a grin - and a little part of Dean could roll his eyes but most of him fucking melted because Castiel fucking Novak was adorable, and liked carriages and spoke about what he wanted to do, and needed reassurance that he wasn’t being weird in the middle of a proposal - and made him sit in a real carriage.

Instead, outwardly, Dean blinked twice, and stopped speaking completely.

*

Okay.

So maybe the carriage wasn’t totally a bad thing. There was some fun in the idea of it, if he could get past the terrifying thought of people who knew Dean, seeing him ride a carriage with a man. If he could get past it, there was the whole element of freaking awesome.

But the guy driving it (can it be called driving if there isn’t a motor, Dean couldn’t decide) was a real fucking issue.

Dean hadn’t even thought about it, really.

The more he spoke to his passengers - starting from the weather, moving to the Mets - the more they came to know that the guy was a hot-blooded homophobic redneck, who genuinely believed Dean and Cas were platonically riding his carriage as bros hanging out - against the alternative of believing that two (sorta) homosexual men were on a date in this scenario.

Frankly speaking, he felt like a goddamn mirror for Dean’s dad - and he hated it with a passion but it closed him up completely.

The guy even looked largely like John.

Silent to the point of hostile, Dean stared out the carriage. Cas carried on a customary, small-talk conversation which sounded uncomfortable.

“…so that’s what I meant when I said, girls really love these carriages, man.” The man guffawed, and when Cas only politely grinned in response, he was silent for a moment.

Dean’s eyes finally met Cas’s.

Cas looked at him, upset. “Do you want to get off?” He whispered, and before Dean could answer that he didn’t mind the ride, but how can you not see the circumstances in which we’re riding this romantic-as-hell thing, Cas - the man spoke up himself.

“What, you want to get off?” He asked, peeping at Dean over his shoulder. “Don’t like the speed? You want me to make it go faster, you know you only gotta ask me once, brother.”

“I’m good.” Dean gritted through his teeth, barely meeting Cas’s eyes again.

“Dean,” Cas repeated, imploring. “I’m sorry, and we can really get off -”

“No, Cas,” Dean snapped. “I’m having a good time.” And it was not bothering him that the driver reminded him of his fucking dad - the infamous John Winchester, who had screwed Dean up in a million different ways, and was the foremost to blame for his current state of closeted asshole-ness, after perhaps himself.

Cas looked disappointed, and Dean hated himself for making the guy frown as upset as that, but he swallowed and let it go.

“You enjoy yourself, dude.” Dean conjured up the most manly voice he could, unthinking.

And the 'dude’ would probably be replaced by ’bro’, if the driver resembled John Winchester anymore than he already did, and okay. This wasn’t a good decision at all. Dean wasn’t ready for this. For any of this.

Alaska was back on the map, and Cas’s eyes flashed with a sensitive vulnerability before turning away.

Awesome. Dean fucking sucked, in more ways than just one.

*

Having an internal identity crisis, combined with the nagging reminder that Cas didn’t do nothing to deserve Dean, and a recurring flashback of John Winchester calling Dean’s first celebrity male crush at eleven bullshit - plus the fear of accidentally outing himself to a complete stranger who probably walked antimarches from his manner of speaking of politics and culture - topped off by the sexuality issues Dean eternally festered in; it was not a good evening.

Then suddenly, something happens.

Right at the verge of the driver - Ron, he said his name was - probably asking Cas or Dean about the ladies in their lives or some shit - Dean’s phone buzzed.

Absent minded, Dean picked it up, and skimmed through the 3-word-message twice before looking back up at the sender Cas.

Dean gives Cas a look that is supposed to mean a lot of things like, I can’t, because I can’t fucking hold hands in public, especially when we’re sitting behind a man who reminds me of my intensely homophobic dad, even though I know I could take him alone if there rose a need to, but I don’t want that, any of the drama, because its too hard, and that’s why, lets not hold hands though I have a feeling that’d feel real good

But Cas misreads it.

Okay, maybe Dean doesn’t exactly give him the right cue, especially when he moved his hand to an approachable position between both of their laps, and maybe he’s not that good at telling stuff through looks -

Or maybe he didn’t even try to tell him that, and instead went yes.

Because Cas is holding Dean’s hand the next moment, stroking the soft skin of the back of his hand with a thumb, even while Dean’s traitorous heart thumps against his chest and butterflies take over his insides. Dean’s hand is enveloped in Cas’s warm one, palm against palm, and the fact that Dean’s sweaty palm is practically clammy and gross, Cas doesn’t budge, and keeps up the stroking rhythm until Dean’s breathing even again.

He looks at Cas with a look which is most definitely supposed to mean he doesn’t know we’re gay. Why are you -

Now Cas is clearly bad at reading his signs, because he merely gives Dean’s hand a squeeze, and as he relaxes, it’s as if some of the tension settled in Dean’s muscles go away.

Well, at least their hands are invisible when entwined in the dark silhouette of the night.

*

They get down, next to Baby, pretty soon after that. Dean and Cas split the bill, and Ron goes away.

The pit in Dean’s stomach does not.

“Cas,” He whispers, because he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna say it.

“Yes?” Cas smiles.

“I - I ought to tell you, right a-away,” Dean stammers through his hesitations. “There’s a reason I can’t do this.” Cas’s face falls, but Dean knows he has to go on. “I’m not - I’m not out, Cas. I don’t know if I ever will be. Its just - not a thing on my agenda.” I’m a coward. Also, I was raised by John Winchester. I’ve been conditioned to live with it.

Cas looks surprised, which is surprising too. Dean thought he was fucking crystal clear.

“So, I can’t -” He’s supposed to say, he can’t date him. This is goodbye. “Hold hands.” He finishes, awkward.

“But you just did.”

“Because you -”

“- did I force you to?” Cas looked terrified of Dean’s answer.

Dean leapt to his rescue. “No! That’s because you’re you! And because you texted me - and because I needed to, I dunno what, I just did! But I can’t anymore! Because that guy was - was not okay with it, and no one is gonna be.”

Its when he says it out loud that he realizes how stupid he sounds.

“So Ron wasn’t okay with you holding my hand.” Cas repeated.

Dean nodded, because he was fresh out of words for tonight. It was, in fact, uncharacteristic for him to have said as much as he did. It was Dean. Dean didn’t talk about his feelings. He either rode them through, or repressed them so deep that his wise pain-in-the-ass brother too wouldn’t be able to get at them.

So he shut up, and nodded.

“But did you enjoy it?”

Dean didn’t exactly want to lie, so he nodded carefully.

“So, you’re gonna not do something that you enjoyed doing, because Ron - who I believe stands as a mirror for our heteronormative and largely homophobic society - doesn’t want you to.” Cas pronounced, as if it was that simple.

Dean shook his head at first, then opened his mouth to protest, realised Cas was right, and shut up. He even nodded, deliberately slow and not meeting Cas’s eyes.

“I’m not Oprah, Dean,” Cas went on. “But why do you wanna do that to yourself? You don’t think you deserve to be happy by just doing the thing you want to do, in the first place, without bothering for the Rons?”

Dean squirmed. It was a fucking first date. Cas wasn’t his therapist. He knew him pretty well, but he didn’t know the tip of the iceberg when it came to how screwed up his head was. “Just - don’t, Cas.”

“I know what its like, Dean,” Cas threw back, concern in his eyes. “Why would you think I don’t get it?”

Because you didn’t grow up with John Winchester.

“Can we move on?” Dean dodges. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll hold hands if you want us to.”

And that’s where he goes wrong, because Cas begins to glare at him. Okay, he did not mean to make it sound like that. He wasn’t doing a favor to Cas by holding his hand, Cas didn’t need him to do anything like that. Cas was speaking for Dean’s good and Dean was being a jerk to him in return.

“I don’t -” He fumbles. “I don’t wanna talk about this! I cannot!”

“Fine.” Cas draws back, eyes narrowed. “I guess I should leave then.”

Dean purses his lips.

Don’t?

Stay.

Please.

“Cas.” Dean says, tired.

“Yes?” He bristles.

Please don’t stop texting me.

Maybe we can get back to my apartment and hold hands.

I want you to stay.

“Can I drop you home?”

“Do you really want to do that right now?” Cas blinked.

“I want to do this.” Dean replied. “But I’m not ready to come out yet, and can you take that?”

Cas hesitates. Dean balks. Then Cas nods. “As long as you allow me to help you through it.”

“I need it,” Dean accepts. “Thank you for respecting my, uh, crap.”

“Boundaries.” Cas prompts.

“I’m sticking with crap.”

*

Dean kisses him off his own free will, outside his apartment, and decides that its worth working on, if it means getting to hold hands with, and kiss this man all the time - rather than just when alone.

Its gonna be a long journey. Its gonna be complicated and Dean’s gonna fall on his face and flail. But he’s gonna have Cas at his side, and he’s gonna do it.

And its gonna end with him holding hands with Cas, and marching through fucking Kansas proudly.

[jessahmewren]

“One of Us,” Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction/ Poly!Queen Week: Day Four

Summary: Roger joins Queen and realizes that means more than just joining a band. 

Prompt: One of the boys is struggling with mental illness, and the other three are there to support them.

Rating T: for totally tame

Pairing: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Brian May & Eventually John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Brian May/Roger Taylor

Words: 2505

Also on Ao3

--0-0-0-

Roger groaned into the pillow, cracking one eye open to find only the chill darkness of his bedroom.  He reached over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, swiping a finger across the screen.  It was barely 3am. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered to himself.  He’d hoped he would make it until daybreak.  This time he’d slept only a few hours.  The night before had only been marginally better. 

He flopped back into bed, swiping through to access the calendar on his phone. There, in stark white against a black background was the appointment for his audition for a new band.  “5:30,” he spoke in the quiet.  “I’ll feel bloody awful with no sleep,” he said to no one. 

And you’ll play awful, too, a little voice within him whispered.  But that was just the beginning of his doubts, as a tidal wave of anxieties began to assault him from all directions…insecurities about his drumming, his intellect, even his looks.  He pressed his palms against his ears to will them quiet before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

Getting up would help.  It always did.  He could never rest in bed unless he was sleeping.  He had to be moving.  Always had to be moving. 

Roger padded to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  On the counter lay his bag from the pharmacy.  He frowned at it, then headed into the living room where he sagged against the couch where he drifted into a fitful sleep.

When he woke up, it was half past nine, and he was late for art appreciation.  He hurriedly scooped up his things and ran off to class. 

The school day passed in a whirlwind…a dizzying array of lecture after lecture that left Roger drained and no less informed.  He had trouble concentrating, and the lack of sleep only made things worse. 

Before he realized it, it was nearing 5:30 and he was both wired from anxiety and dead on his feet.  He popped into an on campus coffee shop for a quick shot of caffeine, hoping it would equalize him somewhat. 

That bitter liquid made him jittery, but gave him the energy he needed to hold his eyes open.  He tossed the cup and made his way over to the rehearsal hall where the auditions would be held. 

He stood in front of the large double doors, his sticks in his back pocket.  A cold sweat sprang out over his entire body, and he could feel a blush creep up his chest.  It became harder to breathe, and he began to pray to God or whoever was listening “not now, please not now” as he felt the tell-tale signs of a panic attack.  He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he would be playing soon, and playing music was the only thing that ever truly helped. 

The double doors opened, cool air dusting his overheated skin.  A tall, curly-haired man greeted him, a kind smile on his face.  “Hi mate.  You must be here to audition.” 

Roger still couldn’t speak, so he just held up his sticks, a wry grin on his face.  He’d gotten very good at faking it over the years. 

“Come on in then…meet the boys.”  The man gestured him inside the small auditorium space, and Roger’s eyes immediately settled on the very nice drumset setup…the drumset he would soon be playing. His throat began to relax. 

“I’m Brian, by the way.  And this is John and Freddie.” 

Roger turned around, surveying the remaining men.  They were all…beautiful.  He wished he had another word for them, but it was true.  It was as if they had all been grown on some freakishly experimental farm where only amazingly good looking people are produced.  He felt sorely out of place. 

“Roger,” he half croaked.  “My name’s Roger.” 

“Lovely,” one of them spoke.  He had the blackest hair Roger had ever seen, and it shined like a mirror.  “How long have you been drumming, darling?” 

Roger stood a little straighter.  “Since I was a kid.”

The other man, Roger believed his name was John, the one with the long brown hair and cute bum (yes, he’d looked), smiled at him sweetly.  “Let’s see what you’ve got Roger.”

Without another word, Roger crossed to the drumset, settling behind it.  Instantly, all of his anxieties melted away.  A peace fell over him, and for a moment he felt like the only person in the room.  He set about tuning the drums. 

Brian frowned at him.  “What are you doing?” 

Roger looked at him curiously.  “Tuning them?  They’re really out mate.  Have people been playing them like this all day?” 

Brian looked at the others with an interesting expression, and then simply watched Roger as he made quick work of tuning the drums.  Then he began his audition. 

Roger quickly became lost in the music, lost in the way his body became an instrument to produce sound, how he could feel the vibrations of the drums through his hands, reverberating in his ears...with his lightning fast rhythms he created a wall of sound rising through the small auditorium that left the three men watching a little breathless. 

Roger finished his solo, holding up his sticks and finally realizing he was back in the auditorium space.  He’d been so lost in the music he’d forgotten himself for a moment.  He looked up to see Brian, John, and Freddie staring at him, a bit of wonder on their faces. 

Instantly, Roger became anxious. Was that good enough?  Did he make a mistake?  How did it even sound?  The old insecurities came rushing back, self-doubt and anxiety a trusted friend that would never leave him. 

Brian cleared his throat, interrupting his racing thoughts. 

“Thank you Roger.  Can we uh…have a few moments alone?”

Roger paled.  “Yeah, sure,” he said quickly.  That’s it you really fucked it up you really blew it “I’ll just be outside,” he said to the three of them. 

He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest.  He needed a cigarette, but he was certain he couldn’t smoke inside the building.  He began thinking about what he would do when he went home.  Go to bed, his inner voice supplied.  Go to bed and forget this day ever happened.  Roger agreed. 

Roger sat for a few more moments before the door to the auditorium hall opened and John poked his head out.  He smiled sweetly, and Roger noticed for the first time he had a cute little tooth gap.  No use noticing now, he thought.  I’ll never see any of these chaps again. 

He walked in with his sticks in his hand, facing the three of them.  He shuffled his feet a bit, suddenly interested in the toes of his sparkly Converse. 

“Welcome to Queen,” Freddie said dramatically. 

Roger’s head shot up, and he blinked a few times, not understanding. 

Brian laughed.  “You’re in.  We love you.  Now let’s go to the pub and celebrate.” 

---

Roger didn’t really do public places well, but he went along with his new friends because it was really important to him that he didn’t disappoint them.  So he sat in a booth at the Lucky Horseshoe nursing a beer and hedging questions about himself. 

“What are you studying,” John asked.  His hair was more of a golden brown than a dark brown, and Roger wanted to run his fingers through it.  “Um, Biology,” he said a little tight-lipped. 

“Do you like it?” 

Roger shrugged.  He really hated himself, how boring he was.  Maybe if he drank some more beer he could be engaging like Freddie, Freddie with the beautiful kohl-lined eyes who was laughing, high and sweet.  Or maybe he could be charming like Brian, with the lustrous curls and pretty hands who was talking about the stars.  God, he was boring as hell.

“It’s ok,” he elaborated, but not by much.  Come on Rog…try.  “I um, wanted to be a dentist, but that didn’t work out.”

John smiled at him, and something warm spooled in his gut.  “And why is that love?” 

Roger found himself smiling back.  “Too many maths.”

Brian overheard him, and placed a hand on his arm.  Where he touched him was warm and a bit rough…Roger could feel the callouses where Brian played the guitar, and it sent a thrill through him.  He shifted a bit in his seat. 

“Love, if you need help with maths, all you have to do is ask,” Brian said sweetly.  He smelled of beer and of something uniquely him, like cinnamon and earth. 

Freddie smiled, his toothy grin stretching over his soft plum lips.  “Brian here is our resident genius.”  Freddie teased a finger over Brian’s thin arm, rubbing it softly, and Roger’s mouth fell open.  “Our little astrophysicist.” 

Roger swallowed.  Could they be together?  The thought sent him spiraling.  They certainly would make a beautiful couple.  A pang of jealousy shot through him.  Why couldn’t he ever get someone to love him like that? 

Because you’re ugly. 

His eyes welled with tears, but he hid them behind his mug of beer. 

Brian grabbed Freddie’s hand, playfully toying with his fingers.  “Not yet, darling.  But one day.  Besides, what would I do without my artist and my engineer?” 

John grinned widely, falling into Freddie as he rested his head on his shoulder.  He nuzzled him softly and then planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  Roger gasped quietly, eyes wide.  He had it wrong.  They all were together. 

And you’re the odd man out. 

Roger clenched his fist to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay, but more often than not, they won. 

Freddie nuzzled John back, his eyes locking on Roger.  “So you got tired of dentistry dear…I don’t blame you.  So what do you plan to do with your degree?”

Roger’s hand tightened on his mug.  “I uh, haven’t decided.” 

Brian touched him again, this time on the shoulder, and a shiver went through him.  “There’s nothing wrong with that love.  You’ve got plenty of time.”

John tipped his mug until it was empty.  “Well you’re one hell of a drummer,” John said a little drunkenly.  “You could always do that.” 

Roger blushed, looking down like he always did whenever anyone complimented him. 

Freddie playfully slapped John on the arm.  “You’ve gone and embarrassed him now Deaky.  And he’s so pretty when he blushes.” 

You look like a tomato when you blush.

“You don’t have to say that,” Roger said hurriedly. 

Freddie just blinked.  “Say what dear?  That you’re attractive?  I bloody well might.  You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

“Freddie—“ Brian began.

“No, Brian…looks like our friend here might need to hear it.” 

Roger wished the pub floor would open up and take him into hell.  His face was burning, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

Freddie reached across the table and tipped his chin up.  “Roger, darling.  Look at me.” 

Roger managed to look up, his lip trembling. 

“You know how beautiful you are?  Hmm?  And I’m not talking about just on the outside, darling, but on the inside too.  I know we just met but I can tell you’re a good person.” 

Roger couldn’t stop the tears from flowing hotly down his face, and Freddie wiped them with his thumb.  He sniffed miserably, trying to keep his head up under Freddie’s gaze. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” John added, his little tooth gap flashing. 

“So do I,” Brian said, warm calloused fingers wrapping around his arm. 

No intrusive thoughts opposed. 

---

The next day Roger couldn’t get out of bed.  It’s not that he didn’t want to; he knew he had school, and he needed to eat and shower and he had band practice, but a heavy blackness had settled over him, sucking his energy and will to do anything other than sleep.  So that’s what he did. 

Until a knock came at the door.  Several knocks, actually, and since the door was unlocked, they came right in. 

Freddie, John and Brian entered Roger’s flat with worried expressions on their faces.  When Roger refused to return their calls and messages, they decided to go check on him where they had dropped him off from the pub the night before.  But as they entered the flat, all was quiet. 

The flat was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the living room.  There were no dishes in the sink, however suggesting Roger hadn’t been eating properly.  And there was a bag of medicine from a week ago that hadn’t been touched. 

“Found him!” Freddie cried out from a back bedroom as he stood over Roger’s sleeping form.  He had the covers pulled up tight, and his blond hair was messily spread over the pillow. 

Brian stood over Roger, shaking him gently.  “Roger…Roger…it’s us.  Are you ok?”

“Leave me alone,” Roger grumbled.  “I just want to sleep.” 

John came in with the bag of medicine.  “Are you supposed to be taking these pills Roger?  They were filled a week ago.” 

Roger focused on the young man holding his bag of medicine, and he became suddenly angry.  “Fuck off!” he cried out.  “I didn’t ask for you to be in my personal business like this!” 

Brian soothed the hair back from his forehead, the seething, spitting Roger shrinking back from his touch. 

“Ah, love you are our business now.  You’re in our circle.  We care about you whether you like it or not.  Now let’s get you sat up so you can have a bit of food, yeah?” 

Roger scowled at him.  “I don’t want anything, Brian.  I don’t want you here. I just want to be left alone.” 

John sat down on the edge of the bed.  “I know you do.  But that’s not what you need right now.” 

Roger crossed his arms, looking at John defiantly.  “And how do you know what I need?” 

John looked at him sympathetically.  “Because these prescriptions are for anxiety and depression love, and being alone only makes those worse.” 

Brian leaned over and kissed his head, and Roger’s frown dissipated, his face going lax under Brian’s gentle touch. 

Freddie had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and some juice, and he set it on a tray over Roger’s lap. He kissed him on the cheek.  “When you’re feeling better, we’ll go out properly, but for right now, this is a start.  Eat all of it darling.  It was made with love.” 

John stepped forward with a pill bottle.  “And after your sandwich, you’re gonna take this medicine.  And you’ll do the same thing every day.  Eat. Take medicine.  Repeat.” 

Roger looked up, his eyes large.  “Why are you doing this?”

Freddie smiled.  “Because you’re one of us now darling.”  He moved to put an arm around John and Brian, pulling them close.  “And we always take care of our own.”

-0-0-0-