#the first one is my beautiful mind transitioning could fix her

[sentient-cloud]

What if you were big and you were purple and you ran an atheist church camp in the jungle

[miange1]

HYUN-JU

male reader, reader is a college student, talks of dysphoria, hyun-ju's past, reader doesn't know hyun ju's trans, pining/being smitten, death, crying, scuicidal thoughts, im in love with this woman.

note: i am not trans, im a cis dude. if i ever get something wrong or offensive and you're trans just let me know and i'll fix it. Also I saw something where someone said gyeong-seok probably just thought hyun ju was a cis woman who had a really deep voice and i thought it was funny.

You had been lucky to pass the first game. You were scared out of your mind, and the small group you made from the first few games had died. It was terrible, you had no one. It's surprising how despite everyone being in the same situation— you found no more comfort.

But there was this girl you had seen. She had shoulder length hair, and earrings that truly just suit her. She was really pretty, you wanted to talk to her yet she was always with her own group.

Yet this time, she wasn't. She was just by herself for a moment, was she thinking to herself? Maybe you should talk to her? No, that's a bad idea. Okay, but what else was there to do? You might die without talking to the woman of your dreams.

Mustering up the little courage you had, you went over to her. Hands sweaty the closer you got to her. You wiped it on your slightly blood stained uniform, feeling even more icky realizing you were bloody.

Getting closer to her, you sat on a mattress. Shit, what now? You cleared your throat, "H..hi." you felt like you were back in highschool. Mouth dry as if you were talking to your fist crush. She looked over to you, a small smile on her curious face. "Hi."

She spoke to you, holy crap she spoke to you.

"How uh— how are you?" You stuttered.

But before she could answer you shook your head, blurting for her not to answer that stupid question. Jesus your face was burning up, felt like you had a fever.

"I'm sorry," You were able to get that out. "This is dumb, I just thought you were really pretty and.." She hadn't broken eye contact with you, but you could barely look at her. "In a situation like this it's pretty weird to say something like that to someone isn't it?"

"You think I'm pretty?"

You shut your mouth, looking at her oddly. "Yeah..of course i do. Do you not think so?" She scoffed, thinking you were joking. She had just gotten called beautiful by young-mi, and she believed it she truly did. But hearing it from someone she barely knew? Made her feel like crying again.

"I have been called a lot of things, yet not pretty. I only expected to be called pretty after my transition." That was where you made another face more confused than before. "Transition?" Your voice spoke with genuine confusion.

She raised her eyebrow at you, then rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you can tell." You really couldn't. There was nothing you had against transgender people at all, but it doesn't change the fact you couldn't tell.

"I really wasn't aware, was that offensive to you?" She stared at you for a moment, bursting out laughing after a while and earning some stares. "My voice? Even hearing me, you weren't aware?" You shook your head and shrugged.

"I just thought you had a naturally deep voice." Oh you were making her feel so much better, even if you didn't know it. She couldn't stop laughing, grabbing onto your shoulder as a touch of affection. It made you smile and laugh with her, your own hand touching hers to reciprocate.

The two of you had deeper talks over time until the next game. She told you what you guessed she told the others, about her plan on what to do with the money, how she had others distance themselves from her when she told them she felt like a woman. It made you feel bad, but you were happy she was telling you this because it felt like you had known each other for so long.

You wished it lasted longer

—

"Six." The moment it was spoke, you had been pulled by hyun ju. It was a habit she was making, always grabbing you the moment the she heard the number. But this time, she made a mistake. She realized last minute young-mi was too behind.

She panicked, no one else seemed to have room and it was a moment of time before she absolutely had to close the door.

Hyun ju's grip stayed on you, it seemed to get tighter the more stressed she got. Young mi was just a kid, she deserved to live on.

"10, 9, 8,"

You only had so much time to decide. You yanked yourself from hyun ju's grip, and she instantly gave you a look as if you were stupid. "What are you doing?" She wanted to save you both, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You didn't speak, only letting your lips touch hers quickly, yet you stayed as long as you could. Even in death you would always remember her lips, they trembled against yours, confused, yet wanting and needing more. You let yourself run out, pushing the girl inside. "1."

It was done, and there was nothing that could be done. You heard the yell of her voice, panicking and shaking the door trying to get it to open. "No, no, unlock the door! God damn it!"

"I love you." She stopped, looking at you in your eyes. You were scared too, crying even. You didn't want to die, and she knew it. She was so deeply in love with someone she only knew for a few hours, but it felt like years. She needed you, she wanted you to live. Get to know you better when this was all over, maybe even go further if it could!

She couldn't even say it back while you were conscious. The life left your eyes, and your body fell. "No.." she was in disbelief. No, you weren't dead.

"Please, please, I love you too.." She couldn't be upset at anyone, she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

"Unnie." Arms wrapped around her, "Come on..you have to get up..the next round." She didn't want to play anymore, she didn't feel like she could. If only it was her, she could have at least had hope for you and young-mi.

Damn it

[rhenysz]

Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 3

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all life, manu people say that death was lurking around your eyes, Maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.

A/n: I... Well, hello. So, Merry Christmas? I didn't fix this properly...

*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with a little help from a A.i. So, let me know if there are any grammatical errors*

Word count: 3k

Warnings: None that I can remember, some humor, tension , Azriel being a dumb mother hen

previous x next

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand had already left when you came downstairs for breakfast. Nesta grumbled that they hadn't even eaten before spreading their wings to the sky, making everything around them flutter – including the newly planted rose saplings of Elain, to her great displeasure.

Feyre often returned home in hopes that the queens had already responded. The delay was noticeable given how long ago the letter had been sent, and it was a shot in the dark trying to guess what might have happened, though you doubted the letter had gotten lost in transit, and, mind you, you weren't foolish enough to think it was their indecision.

They were making the High Lord wait for pure amusement, and maybe a little bit of sadism. The human queens were in control of the situation, and that made everything even more delicious. A power struggle where, for the first time, the weaker ones were in charge. It must have been painful to even consider discarding this succulent opportunity that had been handed to them on a golden platter—one in a million, truly.

Bringing the steaming cup of tea to your lips, you sipped cautiously to avoid burning yourself; there was no pain worse than burning your tongue – well, maybe stubbing your toe, you mused with a hum. A gust of wind passed through your hair, signaling that someone was passing by in a hurry.

“Don’t run around the house, Elain,” Nesta grumbled from her spot at the table, clearly not a morning person. Your second eldest sister slipped on the floor and turned back to stop by your side, placing one of her delicate hands on your shoulder to alert you of her presence.

Taking a deep breath, Elain spoke breathlessly, “A new batch of letters is arriving today!”

Now, this was interesting. You placed your hand on hers, squeezing her hand on your shoulder, turning your head slightly to show your interest in the topic. Not because of the letters, obviously.

“Why don’t you come with me, sister? We can stop by that little craft shop too,” Elain suggested. She certainly knew how to brighten your day, and even though you were avoiding crowds, especially those zealots who called themselves the enlightened ones – and that made your skin crawl – it was hard to resist the opportunity to get out of the house. God knows this place could be suffocating.

Nesta was irritated with anyone who breathed in her direction, Elain would shudder at the mere mention of meetings and queens, and you missed Merina and her pies. No matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to connect with your sisters as well as with Feyre, who no longer lived a human life filled with nuances like yours.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the chair and blindly grabbed your beautiful cane, intending to head for the door alone, but Elain was quicker and grabbed your wrist, guiding you somewhat hurriedly toward the exit without saying goodbye to a very grumpy Nesta.

The morning wind hit your face as you crossed the threshold, and the birds’ song pierced your ears like a sweet melody. However, as beautiful as it was, your brow furrowed at the hurry in your sister's movements. Surely, the letters couldn’t be that interesting, not to Elain, at least. She could barely stand still when the topic was on the table. Ah, the gossip you'd have today, sweet sister.

“Is there anything else you want from the city besides the letters?” Your tone was dismissive, but even the dullest of men would see the curiosity behind the question.

Elain tripped over something on the ground and almost pulled you down with her, making you question who the blind sister really was here.

She cleared her throat and finally slowed her pace. The hesitation was palpable, and the arm linked to yours grew tense as she nervously began fiddling with the sleeve of her dress.

“I... I was thinking about looking at some prettier engagement rings, maybe gold...” It came out like a croak, and that left you a little more confused. There was no doubt that Elain had good taste and could spot something beautiful from afar, so it was strange that she wanted to see new rings when she loved hers so much.

“I thought you were crazy about that one,” the sounds of people talking grew louder, and your nose wrinkled from the variety of smells; sweets, savory foods, pig dung, and, beneath it all, the fresh scent of pine and whiskey filled your lungs with a warm, inviting sensation.

“Steel” and “Feyre” and “shame” were the only words you managed to catch through the intoxicating fog of the delicious perfume you inhaled. But that was enough for no question to leave your lips.

Turning your focus back to the surroundings as your sister and cane guided you through the streets, bodies occasionally brushed past you, nearly knocking you down; shouts proclaiming devotion to the divine; more frantic cries from merchants trying to sell their goods to eat at the end of the day, and other sounds that were impossible to decipher.

As you walked, Elain stopped abruptly in her tracks. Confused, you turned your head to look at her but got no answer. Without saying a word, your sister started walking again, leaving the noise of the city behind. You quickened your steps to keep up with her, the wind certainly making your hair a tangled mess. At least you wouldn’t have to see it.

Elain slid a bit in the mud, and with a squeak, you stopped by her side. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her lungs struggled to keep up with her breathing. Gods, your sister was trying to kill you just so she wouldn’t have to share the inheritance.

“What in the hell-” you began but didn’t finish. The breeze had risen up your legs, making the hem of your dress flutter and leaving a coolness on your skin, only to disappear faster than it came.

“Azriel?” Azriel? He was the cause of your little sprint? Damn him, what was he doing in such an obvious place?

“Elain,” he greeted your sister, and as he turned to you, he spoke your name in a deep purr, sending a chill down your spine with the tone. You nodded in acknowledgment; your voice no longer belonged to you. “The letter. It’s here.”

Ah, he knew. He already knew the queens' letter had arrived today. How? You didn’t know.

“We were going to see it now,” Elain’s voice was syrupy, soft and sweet, almost like she didn’t know how to speak anymore.

A hum left Azriel’s throat. His trained eyes watched your shy form beside Elain, the corners of his lips tugged upwards but quickly disappeared as he turned his attention back to the eldest Archeron sister.

“Could you fetch it for me, Elain?” Azriel asked gently, and your sister nodded quickly, like a soldier. Not letting go of your hand, she motioned for you to go with her to fetch the letter. “Only you, please.”

Your feet stayed firmly planted, and now the air felt thin. Whatever the Shadowsinger had to say to you was making your nerves bubble.

Elain muttered in discomfort, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with someone she barely knew. Her hand squeezed yours lightly, and you pulled your hand free from her grip, distancing yourself from your sister. With your body facing the man, you encouraged Elain to go. He certainly wouldn’t kill you.

Still, your treacherous mind whispered.

With lips set in a line, Elain quickly made her way to her destination, disappearing into the crowd. The faster she went, the faster she’d be back.

Without your sister nearby, the silence was deafening and uncomfortable, and despite your brief interaction with Azriel, you still found the way his presence surrounded you intimidating.

“Do you have something to say? Or did you just make me stay here for your company?” The words came out sharper than you intended, and perhaps challenging such a powerful fae like him in broad daylight wasn’t the best idea. Shifting your weight, you crossed your arms like a shield. Not that you expected it to stop him.

Your ears perked up when you heard a rough chuckle leave Azriel. His lips pressed together; it wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“I didn’t,” he paused and licked his lips, thinking carefully about his next words. “But I feel like I do now.”

Ah, so much for being mysterious. If this non-human man wanted to make you squirm with anxiety, he was succeeding beautifully.

“And…” your voice carried impatience.

“And I don’t think you should be part of the meeting with the queens.”

Your mind stopped. It felt completely empty, focused only on trying to process Azriel’s words. Letting your arms fall to your sides, you lifted your chin, hoping you were looking at his face as you spoke. “Why? Is there a reason for this?

Simple and shyer than you intended.

Azriel was no longer amused. His face darkened into a scowl as he studied you from your structure to your features – sculpted nose, mouth pulled down, and then, eyes. His eyes were windows to his soul, so sweet that, even if not fully functional, could bring legions to their knees.

And that was the problem.

“The queens aren’t trustworthy, and I don’t want you to be a target. They’re bitter and vile with people…” His words rushed out, his wings tightening behind him, letting the weight of what he had to say burn his tongue. “...weaker ones.”

You bit your cheek until you tasted the faint copper of your blood. Indignation wasn’t the right word to describe what you were feeling, but the disbelief on your flushed face certainly expressed it.

Fragile. The Illyrian who barely knew you for more than a week was insulting you so openly, without a shred of shame. You might not see things like other people, but this made you grow a pair of balls like nothing else, and it wasn’t this male who was going to put you down now.

With clenched fists, you took a step toward him, closing the distance to a breath’s length. The smell of whiskey that had been so enticing returned, but now that you knew who it belonged to, it didn’t seem so intoxicating. Or maybe it was, a little, your mind whispered.

“I don’t think I gave you any right to make assumptions about me, fairy.” You spat the words, especially the scornful nickname you secretly used for him and his brothers.

Azriel growled low, and ah, it wasn’t because of your words.

The rustling of leaves made you step back from the winged male, and quickly, his features softened. Elain stopped next to you, breathless, handing the letter to Azriel, as if it were burning her.

“Here, it arrived last night,” she said before taking your arm and walking away as quickly as possible.

“Thank you,” Azriel acknowledged with a nod. Elain smiled tightly, already guiding you away. His voice came again, but this time as a warning, making your shoulders tense. “Don’t forget what I said.” And then he was gone, swallowed by his shadows as if he had never been there.

Elain furrowed her brow and turned to you, questioning what Azriel had meant.

“Nothing, he didn’t say anything.” Nothing you cared about, at least.

“Hold your breath,” Nesta reprimanded you, her fingers pulling tighter on your corset strings, her delicate fingers and the crushing leather threatening to break your ribs.

“Tighten it any more, and watch me turn purple on this floor, sister.” You gasped out the words with difficulty. Nesta clearly wanted to kill you. You knew she was against you exposing yourself at the meeting, but you never thought she'd deliberately try to kill you.

“Stop whining, it's ready.” Nesta grumbled, and then her presence pulled away from you, her footsteps echoing as she walked to the vanity in front of you. Your head tilted to the side at the sound of objects clinking. She was making a mess, no doubt.

Nesta's heat returned as she stopped in front of you. Her warm hand held your chin firmly but gently, and the bristles of a brush tickled your lips. It was soft, sticky, with a faint scent of roses. Lipstick.

Nesta was dressing you up like a doll. Your chest warmed at the feeling. Having your sister care for and pamper you like this was a delight. It was fleeting, but so appreciated when it happened.

Pulling the brush from your lips, Nesta glanced at you. Long, trembling lashes, cheeks rosy with powder, angelic features. You were beautiful. A slight tug appeared on her lips, satisfied with her work.

“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to start thinking you like me.” Your playful voice earned an eye roll from Nesta, who, with a huff, stepped away from you, already missing the warmth of her presence.

"Don't be fooled," Nesta retorted playfully, you expected it to be a joke as she took your arm in hers and began guiding you out of your room and into the living room. The shrill creak of the door alerted you that you were passing through the main hall, just a few steps away from the comfortable armchairs that Elain had arranged for you. "Sit down, they should be arriving soon."

Groping for the armchair, you slowly lowered yourself until you were seated. Your sister settled beside you, and barely half a second later, a knock echoed on the door. Nesta took a deep breath beside you, and abruptly stood up, walking toward the door. As much for a brief break, a laugh escaped you. Hopefully, she wouldn't hear it.

The sound of what seemed like a crowd of footsteps approached where you were, low, nervous murmurs could be heard, and a melodic voice, different from those you already knew, made your eyebrow raise in curiosity.

"Sister, you look beautiful," Feyre greeted you warmly, her hands on your shoulder for a hug. A little awkwardly, you stood to hug her better. Nestling your face into her neck, you squeezed her tighter. It felt like you hadn't seen her in a decade. The sound of someone clearing their throat made your sister pull away from the hug, to your disappointment. "Sorry. Mor, this is my younger sister."

Mor? Another fae? You turned to where you thought she was. Mor smiled and approached, taking your hand in hers. Her sudden action made you jump slightly.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Feyre has told me so much about you." Her voice was gentle, her shoulders relaxed, and you let yourself return her smile. She seemed like a woman with a strong spirit. Perhaps Nesta could find a friend in her.

"I'm happy to meet another one of my sister’s friends." You greeted her properly with a nod.

"That's enough, Mor. You're suffocating her." A cold shiver ran down your spine when Azriel's rough voice reached you. The memory of your last encounter still vivid in your mind. Your face twisted into a grimace. Mor huffed and pulled away, muttering about how Azriel was a joy-killer. You could agree with that.

Feyre, beside you, looked at the two of you with suspicion. Since you entered, Azriel hadn't taken his eyes off you, following every movement like a hawk. Your reaction to him only seemed to intrigue her more. With a kiss on your forehead, she guided you to sit again.

It seemed everyone was settling into their places, Elain arriving elegantly late and sitting to your right, Nesta a little farther to your left. You couldn’t tell exactly where everyone else was, but someone was behind you. You could feel the warmth of their presence.

"Stubborn artisan." Damn fae.

Azriel teased you with the nickname. If you could give him nicknames, why not? He took a step closer, leaning against your chair, ignoring the sharp look you shot at him. He bent down slightly, just enough for you to hear, his velvety tone making your hairs stand on end.

"You seemed more inclined to listen that night." Your face heated with the memory. With a small grin, Azriel stood up and turned his gaze away, completely satisfied with himself.

Before you could think of a witty retort, a loud bang echoed through the house, making everyone tense. They’ve arrived. The human queens were finally here. It was time to begin the meeting that would put everything at stake.

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[ruru195]

I completely went overboard with this story, but I must say I take challenges very seriously.

This is a story based on the theories I've created about what @tqftimpost-canon said about Cuphead's heels. I came up with so many ideas and just started adding them to the story that would make it flow better.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a story that explains the idea of ​​this post from Cuphead's point of view.

I hope you enjoy it because I honestly can't feel my ass from sitting all day writing it TvT.

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

Porcelain Dreams

I used to be loud. Brash. Sharp like a bullet fresh from the chamber, never stopping to think twice—only forward, only faster, only more. I had a body that moved like fire and laughed like thunder. I could dance all night, get into a fight, fall in love and out of it before breakfast.

Then I gave it away. My soul, I mean.

It wasn't out of courage. It wasn’t some noble sacrifice. I was scared. The Devil came to collect my debt, and I panicked. I handed over what made me me, thinking I'd still be there when it was done. But all I was left with was a hollow frame and a stupid grin that wouldn't come off no matter how many mirrors I broke.

They said I looked like the perfect doll—porcelain skin, elegant smile, and those heels that clacked like I owned every room I entered. I smiled when they said it. I laughed. I flipped my hair and winked. But inside... I couldn't feel a damn thing.

Touch was gone. Warmth was gone. The weight of a hug, the sting of a slap, the brush of wind through my fingers—it all vanished. My body was mine, but I was only a tenant, squatting in what was left of something human.

So I changed. Transitioned.

Not because it would fix me. Not because it would bring the feeling back. But because it was the only thing I still had control over. I looked at that empty shell every day and refused to let it stay as the Devil left it. If I was going to be hollow, I’d at least make it beautiful.

And for a while, I was.

Heels every day. Long coats that whipped in the wind. Goofy hair that made me laugh for no reason. People stared. They called me radiant, stunning, unreal. "She's like a doll!" they’d say. "So perfect, so poised."

But they didn’t know what they were looking at. Not really.

The cracks came first. Tiny fractures in my ankles from the constant pressure of standing too tall for too long. My feet gave out one morning as I walked down a sunlit street. I laughed as I fell, like it was a joke. I dragged myself home.

I didn’t fix it.

Then my knees. One by one. Collapsing under the weight of all the days I kept pretending I was still whole. I tried to dance again once—just once—and I crumpled like a dropped figurine. My spine followed, slipping down like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit anymore. I started needing to sit. Then lie down. Then... just stay still.

The days blurred. No more makeup. No more coats. Just hair falling over a face that didn’t smile as easily. Then that started to go too—my jaw cracking, a chunk of cheek falling off in my sleep. I couldn’t speak anymore.

But my mind never left. I was still there.

Still me.

Still her.

Years passed like slow drips of water in a cavern, echoing with memories. Laughter I used to make. Friends I used to chase. A lover I used to kiss. All gone. All just shadows flickering on the inside of a porcelain skull.

Now, I sit.

No legs. No voice. Just pieces. Just the hollow shell of a girl they once called a doll.

Funny, isn’t it? I became everything they said I was. Beautiful. Fragile. Silent. Perfect.

And forgotten.

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 2

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: M (corpses, harvesting violence) will be E in later chapters ❤️

a/n: thank you endlessly to @the-scandalorian who lent me her big beautiful beta brain, to @bageldaddy who made me blush with pride and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed my Ezra nerves by checking this dialogue like the queen she is ❤️

Series Masterlist

—

You know he’s waiting for you to speak, but you…can’t.

He takes his helmet off, and you can see his features more clearly. His skin has a ruddy look to it, like it’s been days since he’s last bathed or eaten well, or gotten a decent sleep. He looks older, more weary without the reflective dome hiding the finer lines of his tired features – but still, no less intimidating. 

He looks rougher, his sharp eyes darker and more assessing. 

Your eyes make a slow circuit between his hand, which still loosely holds a weapon, and his dead partner. 

There is no deal to be made here. Not for you, and you know it. 

“Kevva waits, girl.” The sharp snap of his words brings your attention back to his face. He looks impatient. “You ready to talk about that deal?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, trying hard to fight against the sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you want.” 

It comes out more of a defeated statement than a question, and he studies you for a moment. 

“To be perfectly candid, I am in need of transit.”

You stare at him blankly, and he sighs with impatience. 

“I want your ship,” he states plainly. “However, I am not suggesting to leave you stranded if that’s what you’re thinking. As I find myself lacking….” He glances over at his dead partner for a moment. “I am generously proposing we join forces. Protection, for transport.”

“Protection?” you spit. “You gonna protect me as a partner like you did him?”

“He needed no protection, I can assure you that,” he huffs wryly. “But you?” He pauses in his speech, narrowing his gaze. “What is your plan here, anyway?”

Trying to appear like you have one, you steady your voice. “I’m here to dig.”

He laughs as if your statement is absurd. “I find myself disinclined to believe that, but let’s pretend for a moment that is the case. You dig. What then?”

“I’ll repair my ship and be on my way. Home, with something to sell when I get back.”

“And who is going to help you repair your ship?” he mocks. “You know how to do that too?” His eyes drift to your father’s lifeless form. “Seems your partner is out of commission. I think perhaps he was the mechanic?”

“He wasn’t my partner, I told you.” The corner he’s got you backed in displays plainly on your face. You shift your jaw, looking away. “I’ll find someone to help me. Someone –”

“A girl like you?” he interrupts, raising his eyebrows. “You wander into a camp of fringely mercs, raw, at the end of their tour, what happens? You appeal to their sympathies?” He shakes his head. “They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.”

The emphasis he puts on the last few words makes his implication clear, and panic creeps into your limbs. 

“We’re in the same trough, you and I. Can’t say I was pleased to find your mare all black and cockways as she was supposed to be my redemption as well,” he muses, looking around at the poor state of the pod. “But I know how to fix her up. I can help you.”

He seems sincere enough in his offer, but everything he’s done thus far shows you his supposed sincerity means absolutely nothing. 

“I want someone else.” A childish statement, but the truth.

“Well I want a lot of things too, little bird.” He looks almost regretful for a moment, before leveling you with his gaze. ”Starting with your ship.”

Your mind still stuck on what he said about the other mercs on this planet, you wonder what’s stopping him from doing the same. 

“They will find something to take from you.”

Will he?

You could try to go it alone, but your first fucking hour alone on this planet has been nightmare enough to dissuade you from that course of action. If he doesn’t kill you to get this ship, the next person will. If he found you, others will, too. 

You think, buying yourself some time. 

“It’s clear you don’t belong here, little bird. I’m your safest route home,” he argues. “That is the goal, right?”

You bring your eyes back to him, wary and he seems to recognize something in your expression. When he slowly steps forward like he’s approaching a wild animal, you scoot back. 

“Hey,” his tone softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re no threat to me, a fragile little thing like you. Anyone else would have killed you outright by now, I promise you that. You have a functioning ship – a rarity in these parts. I can help you protect it.”

“Only because you want to use it,” you sneer, and the edge of his lips lift. 

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m not foolish enough to offer my services for nothing. I promise you no harm if you promise me the same.”

“You killed your partner. Just now, right in front of me. What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I could have killed you a thousand different ways by now.” His voice slips into something lower, menacing yet truthful. “Like I said, you’re no threat to me. Besides, I think your ship would be better piloted by two, am I right?”

Seeing no way out, you deflate. 

And nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, little bird,” he tilts his head with a light scold. 

You glare up at him. “Yes. I accept.”

“Excellent!” he says, clapping his hands together, the sound making you jump. “First things first. Let’s move these bodies.”

The bodies.

Forgetting all about your new deal with a murderer, your stomach drops at the reminder of moving your dad’s body. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” The stranger grunts with exertion, lifting his partner’s feet to drag his body into a prone position. Crouching, he begins to pat the dead man’s pockets down. 

He’s callous about it, perfunctory. Not gentle in the slightest which makes sense since the man is dead, but still, there is something about the deft way he’s going through everything he had on him that makes it known that this is not the first time he’s done this. Not by a long shot. You wonder if it’s just from his experience on this planet, or an indicator of something larger.

“Mine’s Ezra, if you were wondering.” He gives a teasing glance, making note of your rudeness. 

When you don’t offer it, he merely shrugs. “S’okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I understand your apprehension. But I’ll have to call you something.” He seems to ponder for a moment, placing loose items he’s deemed useful in a pile by the man’s hip. “Since you came down from out of the sky, I would say “Birdie” is a suitable choice.”

You pull a face he doesn’t see, and then he’s moving the belongings to the side, making a clear path to the door of the pod. When his eyes shift to rest on your dad’s body, a sudden urge flares within you to stop him.

“He got anything useful on him?” Ezra’s chin jerks towards it. 

On instinct, you follow his gaze, immediately regretting it. You turn away in revulsion, the pooled blood a dark, congealed mass that sticks in your vision. Closing your eyes, you shake your head with a tight movement. “I don’t think he had anything on him besides his, uh…drops. Everything else is here in the pod.”

If he wonders what you mean by “drops,” he doesn’t ask. Instead, he approaches the body and glancing back, frowns at your hesitant expression.

“Look. You don’t—” he sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice lowers. “I’ll need your help with the big guy, but I can do this one by myself.”

“No,” you protest, forcing yourself to move forward. You can still taste bile, sharp on your tongue. “I should be the one—”

He puts his hand on your arm, shaking his head. “No,” he says kindly, but firm. “You shouldn’t be. A girl shouldn’t have to put her own father in the ground.” He steps around you gently. “Tell you what. Why don’t you head outside and keep watch, little bird. Let me know if you see anyone coming. Make no mistake, there will be scavengers looking for the same opportunity I was, and we’ve got to protect our only means of escaping this planet.”

He gathers your helmet to place in your hands, checking your filters are connected and charged. 

In your hurry to get out of the pod and away from the body, you’re already sealing your helmet into place when he snatches the thrower off the floor.

“Hey,” he calls out sharply, just as you’re about to step out of the hatch. He thrusts the weapon towards you. “Don’t forget your thrower. Armed. Always armed here. Understood?” His gaze holds yours in weighted significance. 

You nod, taking it from his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

Opening the hatch, you step outside for the first time. 

Everything is green. The brush, the trees, the sky–all varying shades of the color. Dust floats through the air; aimless, toxic, suffocating. You wonder how long you would last if you took your helmet off. Studying the lush, towering trees, your eyes follow the paths of thick vines that both climb up the trunks and spill over the dark soil, coming to rest on the soft dirt that your boots sink into. You lift your foot and the imprint you leave behind is as clear as the two sets that lead from the edge of the forest to your pod. 

The footprints circle the pod, and your stomach lurches at the thought that they were circling without you even knowing. 

Resolutely keeping your back towards the ramp, you tighten your grip on your thrower and use the moment to take stock of your situation. Your father told you a couple of things about this planet: the air is toxic, the population is non-existent, and the main reason anyone comes is for the aurelac. An amber colored gem found within the bowels of pit sites, the price it can fetch is significant. His drops clutched tightly in his hand, he told you of a neglected site filled with treasure—a rumor, the Queen’s Lair–his eyes wild and clouded with liquid that made them shine with foolish hope. 

That’s it, though. No map left behind, no coordinates. No solid confirmation it even exists. He only brought you along because it would be dangerous to leave you completely orphaned for however long it took him, and to take advantage of your (limited) skills as a co-pilot. 

When you hear a heavy slide and a grunt behind you, you keep your eyes on the forest, scanning the trees. 

Nothing to offer the man who has offered you partnership, you wonder how long it’s going to take him to figure out you’re of no value. Completely useless, better off dead and out of the way. Your mind scrambles for leverage, and you’re still thinking when you feel a tap on the shoulder. 

Swinging around, you point your thrower – directly at Ezra’s chest. 

His hands fly up in surrender. 

“Steady now. It’s just me.”

He must have connected your comlinks because you can hear his words, low and slightly modulated through your helmet. Lowering your weapon and assuming he’s going to take it from you, you offer it up, but he waves it away, resting his hand on a pistol strapped to his hip. 

“Good to see you’re quick on the draw,” he smirks. He jerks his head towards the pod. “I need your help with the other one now.”

You glance over his shoulder towards the woods, trying to find a sign of your father’s body and his voice snaps your attention back to him. 

“Hey. Don’t…” he pauses. “Don’t. Say your goodbyes to the Green, girl, but don’t go lookin’. You don’t need to see that anymore.”

Surprised by the consideration in his statement, you follow him up the ramp. Inside the pod, he lifts under his former partner's arms. 

“Grab the feet – go ahead and push, while I pull.”

It takes ages getting the massive, limp body down and out, but eventually it’s rolled down the ramp with a thud. Ezra’s breathing sounds loud, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

“What you want to do is cover the body with rocks. Try to hide it, so as to not attract any attention. The locals, they –” he grunts, dragging the man towards the brush, “—they leave bodies out in the open, as part of their ritual to honor the memory but I think it’s rather–” he shoves the man down a slope, letting gravity do the work for him, “uncouth.”

Slowly descending down the slant of dirt, you follow behind him. Not used to an explanation following orders, you listen closely to his words. He gives you more context for his decisions than your father ever did, and you pocket every piece of information, eager for it all. Anything to help your survival in this place. 

With both your heads bent in task, he breaks the silence after a few moments. “What was your father here to harvest?”

Lifting a rock from the ground, you toss it in the general direction of the body. “Gems.”

Ezra huffs a laugh. “Most gems are long gone. Discovered and harvested during the rush.” He looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Got any information on where he was hoping to find unfound riches?”

“If most gems have been harvested, what are you doing here?”

He laughs in delight. “Rapport, how I’ve missed it.”

You take note of the way he side steps your question. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What did he tell you about this place?”

Easy to talk to, charming and affable, you can see how easily he would wheedle information out of others. Unsure how much you should really be confiding in him, you decide less is better for now. 

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that we were going to come here to dig – or rather, he was.”

“Nothing?” he asks, surprised. “He led you here, unprepared?”

You say nothing, and his expression turns more solemn. He shakes his head. “Foolish, keeping you in the dark like that. My own partner was more of a utility. Seems like your father treated you the same way.”

His statement hurts, though you try not to let it show. You shrug instead, watching your steps as you pick through the rocks. 

He gives you time to reply, and when you offer nothing up, he continues. “Did you ever want to learn how to dig? Harvest gems?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been asked that question, and when you look up at him to find him looking at the ground, you can hear the smile he has on his face through the commlink when you don’t answer. He continues, “I stumped you, didn’t I.”

“I don’t…” you flounder. You’ve always had a distaste for the profession, spending your life around the seedy people who do it. However, it seems rude to say that outright to his face. “I’ve never really thought about it. It would be useful to learn, I guess.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Depends on what you want from this life. It’s a big world out there, Birdie. If you could have your pick, what would you do?”

“Go home.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and though it’s such a small thing to ask in such an endless universe, he just nods like he understands. 

 –

The bodies taken care of, he leads you back to the pod and tells you to wait there for him. He’s got a camp close by – a tent, filled with his belongings – and while he’s gone collecting it, you clean the disorganized mess inside the pod. 

Go home. You don’t even know why you said that, there isn’t much of a home to go home to. This pod has been more of a home than anything else has; the only constant in your transient life. What you meant was some place that felt like a home. A comforting place, where you felt safe and wanted and cared for. The place itself didn’t really matter, more the feeling it represented. You had yet to find it, but you knew it wasn’t here. 

The metal cabinets that line the walls had burst open upon impact, so you take your time methodically putting everything right. Medical supplies, vac packs of food, your father’s harvesting tools. His case, with his initials stamped on it. His supply of chemicals, his various scalpels unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You snap them carefully back into their case, and put them away. 

Then your things: your bedding, your sparse collection of clothing, your journal. Wrapping the bound book in a shirt, you tuck it into your pillowcase, hiding it. Your headphones appear undamaged, and you test them with a couple of the cassettes that lay scattered across the floor. The music flows through them uninterrupted, and for the first time today, you feel a small sliver of relief. 

You find his drops underneath his chair. 

The tiny brown vial with the stopper you’ve seen him hover above his eye a million times, you aren’t ready for the resentment and rage you feel as you hold it in your palm. You can’t remember a time when your father didn’t have them on him. Slices of time flash through your mind: the sight of his back as he left you for days on end, the slow, syrupy drag of his words when he mumbled after putting the drops in, the feverish need in his eyes as he slipped the bottle from his pocket to calm the trembling in his hands – right before an emergency sensor went off in the pod and everything went to hell. 

The urge to crush it underneath your boot or take it outside and smash it against a tree flares bright, and a scream builds at the base of your throat. 

In your mind, you let it out. In real life, you tuck the bottle into a cabinet and shut the door. 

A signal agreed upon when he left, you know Ezra is back when he knocks rhythmically before entering. Busy scrubbing the dash clean, you’re going over the blood spots for the third time. You can’t see them anymore, but you still feel them there.  

“Got everything,” he states, removing his helmet. Tossing it on the ground, he rakes his fingers through his sweat damp curls with a sigh. “Quite the load to carry back. I’ll need space within your vessel to store my things.”

He steps towards a cabinet, and you stand, alarmed.

“Wait. You’re staying in here? With me? I thought you said you have a tent.”

He ignores the way your voice gets higher and tighter with every word, opening a door to peer inside. “I do, but it would be foolish to separate. If you’re opposed to discomfort, then you never had any business being on the Green, girl.”

It wasn’t my choice, you want to scream at him, but you hold your tongue. 

“Can’t you sleep outside in front of the hatch? To make sure no one gets in?”

He shakes his head, opening another cabinet. He rifles through your medical supplies, impressed. “This beauty really is fully stocked, isn’t she? No wonder I thought she’d be my redemption. Riches beyond belief hidden within her unassuming depths.”

He’s murmuring more to himself than anyone, and annoyance begins to simmer at the careless way he’s putting your freshly organized things back. You’re just about to repeat yourself when he closes the door and turns to you. 

“It won’t do to sleep outside. I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

He opens another cabinet, and your cassettes spill out with a slide. 

“What are these?” he asks, already bending to pick one up. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Snatching it from his hand, you kneel down to gather them up. Huffing with frustration, you cram them back into their storage and shut the door quickly. 

He watches it all, his jaw shifting in thought. 

“Look,” he ventures. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s gonna be a long couple of months if you don’t trust me.”

You say nothing, and he sighs. 

“A good partnership is only made so by candid discourse.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, and yet you don’t have it in you to acknowledge it out loud. How he expects you trust him you truly don’t know, and yet in the hours since you’ve met him, he has shown you kindness. A partnership offer when you don’t deserve it, protection against his former partner, burying your father for you. Whether that kindness is real or a ruse to have you lower your defenses, you don’t know. 

Either way, you don’t really have a choice. 

“There are a couple of spare storage bins over there,” you gesture at the corner, defeated. “You can put your things in there.”

“My sincerest thanks,” he replies with a slip of sarcasm, and turning back to your cleaning, you roll your eyes. 

–

“I need to protect this pod just as much as I need to watch over you.”

The words repeat on a loop in your mind; your body shifting on the stiff cot. His presence in the small space feels foreign, your body hyper aware of it. You’ve never slept in this pod with anyone but your father. 

Your father. 

You wait for the grief to come, but when it doesn’t, you blame shock. The alternative would be to think about how you feel nothing, which, what kind of a daughter loses her father and feels nothing? Tendrils of shame seep through your thoughts, and you roll away from Ezra as if he can see into your mind. Your back facing him, you try to shut him out, focusing instead on the moon outside the window. 

It’s full, high and clear above the horizon, suspended in the inky sky. Your eyes study the craters carved into the surface, and you take slow and steady breaths out, mimicking sleep. You wish you could slip your headphones on and drown out the tension that fills the small space, but you don’t want to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

You hear him shuffle behind you, and your shoulders brace themselves with tension – but when he doesn’t make any other sound, you go back to watching the floating dust. 

Isolated, alone. No different than any of the other thousands of nights you’ve spent staring out at the moon while waiting for your father to come home. The weight of your situation compresses the air in your lungs, and you feel the sharp, hot sting of tears behind your eyes. Squeezing them shut, you will them away. 

You won’t cry in here with him. You won’t. 

Both resentfully frustrated with his presence and deep down, grateful for it, you cross your arms tight across your chest and squeeze. Pouring all your emotions into the pocket of your chest, you squeeze and you squeeze, soothing yourself. 

He shuffles around quietly behind you, getting comfortable on his own cot and you’re thinking it’s going to be a long night just before the weight of the day presses upon your eyelids. 

They flutter shut, and you fall into a dreamless sleep.

[mimiwritcs]

FIGHT FOR YOU (4/?)

FANDOM: Divergent

PAIRING: Eric Coulter x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: this is after four+eric's initiation and before tris'. this will be the build up of the characters as we got introduced to them as well as maybe the society. not just a love story but we aim for characters' growth and storytelling.

WORDS: 2.5K

A/N: so the slow burning is already starting, trying to make everything very realistic. i'm currently on vacation and haven't had much time, hopefully you are able to trace along my imagination and with time i'll improve with these action scenes, enjoy bc next one will be a ride

Although you weren't sure how much time had passed, you didn't believe it would be enough. You were faced with a ton of work, several weapons that were quite similar, and many that you had never even seen in person. Nevertheless, you believed that you needed to learn as much as you could before tomorrow in order to be ready for everything. Even if you received the book, your situation did not improve. Even though you hadn't said anything irrational, you still caused yourself a lot of trouble and perhaps even Four as well. You had to figure out how to fix it.

"What are you supposed to be doing?" You heard someone asking as you looked up to see Rose, the girl who made a ruckus the first day on tour. "It's a long story…" you commented without much desire to talk about it. "Are you aware that you are no longer in Erudite. Why did you choose Dauntless to end up locked in a room with a damn book?" she asked you. "It's a direct order, okay?" As you gathered your belongings, you hissed, "Mind your own business." She managed to touch on a sensitive subject for you and immediately put you in a poor mood: your clear Erudite behavior.

You were aware that if they had permitted you to, it wouldn't have been as unusual, but you didn't appreciate staying locked up while studying this with everything going on outside. You didn't mean it to end it this way, you just wanted to have some paper to back up in order to review. But it was obvious that, whether intentionally or not, you had earned it. What time would it be? You questioned as you felt your stomach grumbling as you were walking. As you walked toward the cafeteria, you noticed that the majority of them had already left. You quickly took the first thing you saw that was left and ate fast at a table that was only partially occupied. You scanned the room to see who was still present. People were chatting and laughing, and you were sitting with your book. You felt extremely foolish and out of place.

Winter and Milan yelled, "Y/M we've been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing?" they asked you while you updated them on the situation. "God, you couldn't shut your mouth, you seem from Candor" Milan teased you as he took the book from you quickly flipping through the pages. "You all thought the same, it was too much information. We have a lot of pressure, I just wanted to be one step ahead even though I think I've done three behind" you grumbled as you tackled the dessert.

"Well don't worry, you were very smart, surely if you answer the questions well they will forget about it" Milan encouraged you. "Of course, you'll see" Winter said as she reached across the table to caress you. Then you realized, "You guys went to get a tattoo!?" you exclaimed, changing the topic of conversation as you grabbed Winter's arm and admired her new tattoo. "Do you like?" Winter asked you while her face lit up. "It was Milan's idea, I never imagined myself with one but I thought it would help me in with the transition" Winter spoke. "It's beautiful, damn and meanwhile I'm locked up there with all my problems, let's see yours" You asked Milan while he was showing it to you. "That's cool, this stuff really suits you, even you Winter, I already see you different" you laughed.

But it wasn't a joke; it was real. As you saw your buddies develop into outstanding initiates, a part of you was wounded, as you continued going back to your old behaviors. Why was it so hard for you to do? You were talking a little more, Milan left while Winter stayed helping you review, asking you questions and learning something else along the way. "Thank you very much, you didn't have to" you thanked her once in the bedroom preparing to go to sleep.

The following morning, you awoke a half-hour earlier than anticipated; just one person was having a shower, and the rest were still asleep. You weren't sure if this was due to nerves or for some other reason. You quickly changed into your clothes and stayed in the hallway where more light was coming in to review what you had learned. You discovered that you had learnt all the weapons that you had prioritized and that were in the armory, and that despite having numerous words floating around in your head randomly, you knew a good number of them. You hoped that would be enough.

When you noticed that there were just ten minutes left, you walked to the room to leave your things, people were already starting to get up and you went directly to the training room. Four had arrived earlier. Both of you were alone. Lucky you. You took a big breath of bravery and said, "Good morning" as you pulled your hair back in a high ponytail. He greets you with "Y/M". He appeared irate."You truly have no idea what's going to happen to you today, so I hope you're prepared," Four advised, as he greeted the next initiate to enter. You were taken aback by his attitude, which made you wonder what he was trying to warn you, but from what? Had Eric intervened? Your arrogance was going to cause them kick you out? It would be funny if you got kicked out something they're so well aware to be, however you had put yourself in opposition to a coach and a leader, thus it was inevitable that you would face consequences.

The morning began calmly. You all went to a modest training facility where you were divided up sets on the treadmills while others performed weightlifting exercises. Changing sets every fifteen minutes, increasing the pace each time while attempting to maintain it. Even though it was difficult for you, you knew that you couldn't let your guard down today, since you felt you had to make up for yesterday's incident and knew that there would be repercussions today. You also didn't want to attract unwanted attention once more.

Even though you could run on the treadmill, it was difficult for you to keep up, even though Four was being very generous in the beginning by alternating between low and high speeds to let you start to build resistance. But in the weight room, you were far worse; you could hardly lift some of the lightest weights, and you were aware that your arms would be completely devastated the next day. There were many who had it worse off, but it didn't work for you. You knew that everything would be examined, even if it was your second day, but you didn't want to push yourself to the point of exhaustion and then have a few days where you couldn't accomplish anything. You were taken aback by Milan's and especially Winter's power. Even though the Amity girl seemed like a damsel in distress since she was so shy and gentle, you could see she was unstoppable because she was able to tolerate far stronger handcuffs than many man in the room.

The only sounds were Four's voice and the machines; you had all been practicing for an hour, maybe two, when suddenly someone entered the room without muzzling the noise. "Four," yelled Eric. Four gave the command as he moved to the side to speak with Eric, "Continue with the routine as before and don't slow down." Even though they spoke softly, you couldn't help but notice Four's annoyance as he spoke and Eric's hatred as he responded. You knew you probably shouldn't be looking there, but you couldn't stop it as you raced. Eric, who exuded a sense of triumph and self-assurance, started to look at us before his eyes locked with yours. Four grumbled as he took a few steps back and attempted to breathe normally. You instinctively looked away, you knew your time had come. "Initiates finish this round and come with me" he ordered as he approached us taking the strings of the class.

It was a good thing there aren't many minutes left because the anticipation was making it difficult to focus. Your heart was about to come out of your chest and your hearing almost stopped because of the palpitations. Eric commanded, "Come on, follow me" as Four positioned himself in the back of the group keeping an eye on everyone. You sipped some water, patted the sweat off your forehead with a tiny towel, and then you followed the group. Everyone was talking among themselves, but you were too preoccupied to listen.

They moved silently out from the compound and toward the city streets while you followed them. Eric yelled, "Let's go, we have a little path," and they started to run. Even though it was your first time passing through the Dauntless district's streets, you were still too frightened to take in your surroundings. Nothing particularly attracted your eye.

It only took 15 minut run to arrive at a desert explation where a circuit had been made. You relocated to a circle, with Eric and Four in the middle. "Well, I suppose you all know about the big incident yesterday when a supposed Dauntless asked for school supplies forgetting that this isn't Erudite." Eric commanded, "Y/M to the middle, we'll see what you've learnt." Your whole body tensed, why did these things always have to happen to you? In an effort to project the confidence that everyone knew you lacked, you straightened up. You were now unable to fail. Eric started by asking you a series of straightforward questions, during which you were able to inquire about the weaponry present in the compound. Identifying parts, reasons for use and even selecting which option would be best for the supposed theoretical case that they were proposing. You surprised yourself at your retention capacity, you had always been a good student, it was not your vocation, that was clear if you hadn't stayed there but without a doubt you had learned some things in a few hours.

And although Four seemed to look at you surprised by that ability, Eric remained rigid but you couldn't tell a hint of irritation to each correct answer you gave. He wanted you to fail. Now you saw it clearly but you knew you couldn't afford it. You were afraid that if you said everything correctly they would accuse you of Erudite but if you failed to take your task seriously, you were going to lose anyway. Even so, when the far-fetched questions began, various concepts crossed your mind and your answers were no longer so clear. If you had been taught anything at home, it was not to ask, but to affirm. So you tried to answer as precisely as possible, sometimes trying to turn a question around by answering what you did know instead of what was asked, but Eric quickly corrected you and returned to the main topic of the question.

"It's not bad, know-it-all. It's clear that your book has helped you learn something, but let's see if it helps you in your staging" he challenged while throwing a weapon at you. You caught it on the fly and recognized it. It was commonly used with neurostim darts, which simulate the pain of a gunshot. "Come on, let's see if your book helps you out with this too" He said as he advanced through the group to the other side where some sort of circuit was, you followed him while you saw the faces of your companions. You didn't understand why he made them submit to watch this show, you felt bad for wasting their time like this. The angry face was noticeable in more than one. We all had a lot to learn and improve to get closer to the level of those born here and because of you they were wasting their time.

Even though the circuit was hidden, it was protected by some wood fences that blended in with the vegetation and trees. Inside, there were a number of passages that led to various zones and were separated by metal, both of which condensed the area. All roads lead to Rome or was it like a maze? You assumed that you would soon find out once inside. The circuit was wide but above all long, it surrounded the entire field in which you were so more than one thing awaited you.

"This is a circuit of weapons, it is intended for the final stages of your physical training but surely you will have no problem doing it since you know so much. It is simple, follow the path and you will find different objectives, some fixed others not so much. Don't let anything you find in there shoot you first. See you on the other side, smartass." Eric explained while you looked at the circuit concentrated. You sighed. You took a deep breath and got into the circuit in position to shoot. You didn't know you could wait in there. Fixed targets, others not, so they don't shoot me first? Who was going to shoot me first? A mannequin? Therefore, why using neurostim darts? What did they have prepared? Whatever it was, nothing good.

Your mind was racing as you made your way slowly through the grates, scanning through them for anything you may uncover. Anything might happen. Targets, animals, people. Eric called at you from outside, hurriedly, "We don't have all day" You went a little further and decided when you saw the first shadow on your right, you turned quickly and shot, a dummy. It was after shooting it that you saw that he had a target, and you had focused on the first place you saw, they had not warned you about that. "Good reflexes, but next time wait to hit the target" advised Four and you nodded your head thinking that they could have warned you before but at least you appeared to receive assistance.

You were still moving along, taking in your surroundings, when you noticed a slight movement of the rope. Unsure of where it was coming from, you turned around and tried to find it. You instinctively looked down, but you quickly realized that it might be up through the trees. In fact, there was a rope with numerous targets attached to it, all of which had marks for shooters to aim from, and they were all moving in a circle. You made two shots, one on target and the other rather close, and you continued to move to your left. More fixed targets; too simple. There was a problem. It couldn't be that simple.

Without knowing where you were firing or what you were going to find, you turned and fired out of instinct. As soon as he received the bullet, he shouted in agony. He had a gun, too, and you weren't shot from behind. You anticipated that would also be a rule. You hastily remarked, "Sorry, take the bullet out, it lessens the pain," and ducked behind a tree to hide your back. Other initiatives had been put into the circuit. You looked and saw how much bullets you had, for the supposed fixed targets and hopefully some more for some margin of error. You figured it would be better not to waste them. You took a deep breath. It was time to fight.

[studioahead]

Artist Spotlight: Gay Outlaw

Perhaps the title given to her JSMA exhibition, “Mutable Object,” is the best description of Gay Outlaw’s work: sculptures and prints that seem pure explorations of form and color, going wherever the imagination leads. The treasures found during these adventures of the mind were everywhere on display in her Outer Richmond studio when we visited last month, where, like a page out of Euclid, the shapes of the universe are pared down to their essentials so that they can be built up again in new and surprising ways. Although Outlaw prefers the shapes to speak for themselves, she had no problem telling us what each evokes—“Ellipses are so beautiful and they feel like they are slipping around”—how to stay creative throughout a long career, and why she uses puff pastry as a medium.

Studio AHEAD: Tell us about the piece you are showing at Superhouse in NYC in June. It is based on an earlier piece, “Puff Supports,” made out of pastry.

Gay Outlaw: The piece for Superhouse is a reprise of a piece I made first in 1996. I made it again for a show in Los Angeles in 2010. This will be its third iteration. It’s a temporary, site-specific work, so it has to be remade, or rebaked, for every exhibition.

Just after moving to San Francisco, I experienced the Loma Prieta earthquake and the memory of it really stayed with me. I grew up on the Gulf Coast with hurricanes, which we could obviously see coming well ahead of landfall. It was the unexpected nature of the earthquake that really threw me—the fact that the architecture all around us, which one minute seemed completely stable, could liquify in what seemed like an instant of shaking. Thus the title “Puff Supports.” I could never look at solid walls the same way again.

Studio AHEAD: Can viewers eat it?

Outlaw: It is not intended for consumption, except maybe by mice…?

Studio AHEAD: You studied at the ­­­École de Cuisine la Varenne in Paris. Was it there you decided to become an artist? Besides the obvious connection between your use of perishable materials and the ­­­École de Cuisine, I’m curious what made you transition from culinary school to arts.

Outlaw: I think I decided to be an artist when I was a little kid. I kept it to myself for a long time, and even tried to repress the urge when it seemed an impractical choice for so many reasons. My father wanted me to go to law school. But art eventually won out.

There was really no transition from cooking school to art making. I think of it all as part of the same path. I just went to cooking school instead of art school. I couldn’t see myself working in a kitchen afterward—I am not that physically strong. I had a string of jobs in food sales and marketing and did a little cooking, and while I was doing that I started making photographs. Which eventually led me to want to make sculpture.

Studio AHEAD: What shape is really speaking to you right now?

Outlaw: At the moment I am studying paper pleating, and thinking of ways to transfer that geometry and energy to other materials… see what shapes present themselves in the process. I see pleating everywhere now, and I can see that it has qualities that have caught my eye before. Vibration. Rhythm. Triangles, which I view as feminine and stable forms.

Studio AHEAD: What about circles, squares, rhombuses…

Outlaw: I’ve always thought of circles as symbols of the self, of a fixed set of qualities or experiences. I love Venn diagrams as a way of presenting a situation.

But I work more often with ellipses. Ellipses are so beautiful and they feel like they are slipping around—more dynamic than circles. I designed a perforated cube when my kids were little and it’s a very specific thing. The perforations come through the faces of the cube and make elliptical openings. I have photographed them and incorporated them into my sculptures for years.

The other shape that I often return to is the hexagon. I learned from bees and wasps that hexagons pack very efficiently into a very stable form. Fun fact: an isometric drawing of a cube yields a hexagon which I think is very cool.

Studio AHEAD: A lot of your work seems to be built around exploration of material and form. At the end of this exploration, what do you hope to find? How do you know when you’ve gotten to that place?

Outlaw: I have found the key to making art for a lifetime is to work with a really open, present mind. I don’t ask myself whether what I am fiddling around with will lead me to a certain place. I just go with the flow of my hands and brain. I finish a piece when I have no more time, or when it stops making demands of me.

Photos: Ekaterina Izmestieva

[shining-gem34]

Data Bank: Rook Recordings

Interactive Voices

>First Meeting: "Yo! The names’ Rook, a guy with too much free time. If you ever need anything, just call my name."

>Greeting: "What’s the agenda today, Boss?"

>Parting: "Geeze! It’s already that late? I can never tell the time anymore. Ah, don’t mind me. You should go rest, Boss. I’ll take the first watch."

>About Self (Pessimism): "There’s nothing for me when I go back home. Nothing except for a bullet for my head or there's…Nothing. Nothing at all." 

>About Self (Positivity): "I wasn't always like this. The person I used to be was…quite something else. I think we wouldn't have gotten along if you met me at my worst back then. Now, I just try to see the bright side of things and hope for the best."

>Chat (Combat): "Everyone has a weapon they're a master at but they also have to think about the environment around them. No one is going to be swinging a spear or a longsword in a cave without it getting stuck. You can't also shoot magic or bombs left and right. Sure, the enemies are hit by it but so will your allies. Just…be mindful where you're swinging that thing around. I don't want a broken skull or lose a limb."

>Chat (Armor): "Are you worried about my armor? Thanks. I'm fine. Really. I'll change out of these once I find something better. Until then, they're pretty good to use against those monsters."

>Hobbies: "When the roads are clear, the sun is setting, it's the best time to take my bike around town. There's nothing better than enjoying the breeze, the engines purring, and the smell of gasoline as you drive down the road. I'll take you around for a spin next time!"

>Annoyances: "I wish I can have one week- No, a month where nothing bad is happening! I could be relaxing in the middle of space and next thing I know, my ship gets headbutted by a giant space monster and I go down into some unknown planet!"

>Something to share: "I thought I was ready to leave that life behind and transition into a normal civilian life. But now all the hard work I did became undone like pulling a thread out. It makes me question what I want to do with my life…"

>Knowledge: "My homeworld, Earth, is described to be a beautiful blue jewel. Such a shame I never got to see it. Funny, isn't it? I have seen so many planets in space but I never saw what Earth looks like."

>About Bernie Maxwell (First Meeting): "He reminded me why I should never trust someone so easily. A nice guy who was all smiles, but behind it all? Greedy snake. I'll put a bullet in his head the next time we meet."

>About Chenhua (First Meeting): "Chenhua is the sweetest gal I've had the pleasure of meeting. She helped me during my first visit to Luofu while I was lost and gave a tour around the Artisan Commission. Imagine my surprise when she told me she works there…I should check out her workshop and see if she's interested in taking a commission from me."

>About Chenhua (Romantic): "Hunniecrisps? Did I ever say she's the sweetest gal I've met? Oh yeah, I did! Haha. How did we get together? That's our little secret.~ If you want to know, pay up 10,000 credits per hour and I might be willing to tell our story."

>About Chenhua (Longing): "I didn't think I have a strong attachment to the Luofu. It's not my place or my home, but I've made quite few friends and...Chenhua. Chenhua- Whenever I leave the Luofu, I miss her already and want to turn around to see her cute face again."

>About Eros (First Meeting): "Do I know Eros? Sheesh. I think about everybody who hangs around in the under city long enough seen him at least once. Cute doctor, won't hesitate to call your ass dumb, and awe-insprisingly good at his job. He fixed me up a few times I got hurt...and scolded me for trying to leave his clinic five minutes after."

>About Eros (Secret): "Let me in you on something. See, there's someone who has been following me whenever I am in Belebog. They've been harmless so far so I've let it be. BUT for some reason, they stop trailing me whenever I walk into Eros clinic. Weird, am I right? It's like the doctor is my good luck charm. Haha. Don't give me that look, it's our little secret.~"

>About Muyang (First Meeting): "I remember him at the Central Starskiff. I think he remembered too since he gave me the stink eye after he handed me a ticket for reckless driving. But outside of that, a nice dude with a soft heart. I wish his boyfriend would stop glaring at me."

>About Boothill (First Meeting): "The silver cowboy with a heart of gold. He's the kind of guy I usually see in my jobs; lots of talk and lots of swagger. Those types of people though, they can really pull through and get the job done."

>Eidolon Activation: "My burdens feel lighter somehow."

>Character Ascension: "Everyday is a new day, and that means a new me."

>Max Level Reached: "So then, what do you think? Impressive, right?"

>Trace Activation: "I can still learn something new after all."

>Added to Team With Chenhua: "You're fighting too? Hah. I'll be in your care then, Chenhua! Just leave the dirty work to me!"

>Added to Team With Eros: "If you're joining the fight, I guess I can rest easy knowing you're here. Ain't that right, my little good luck charm?"

Combat Voices

>Battle Begins (Weakness Break): "Bet you didn't see that coming!"

>Battle Begins (Danger Alert): "You got a few tricks up your sleeves…"

>Turn Begin: "Let's see what you're made of./ Come on, I'll finish you one by one."

>Turn Idling: "Hmph. Got cold feet?"

>Basic ATK: "Eat some of this!"

>Enhanced Basic ATK: [N/A]

>Skill: "I'll tear you apart! / Don't blink now!"

>Hit by Light Attack: "Is that all you got?"

>Hit by Heavy Attack: "Okay, I felt that one just now."

>Ultimate (Activate): "Hope you said your last prayers…"

>Ultimate (Unleash): "…Now let's end this quickly!"

>Talent: "A parting gift for your journey to the afterlife!"

>Downed: "In the end…I never made a difference…"

>Return to Battle: "Guess this isn't the end of the line for me just yet."

>Health Recovery: "Cheers! /Just in the nick of time!"

>Technique: "Preparation is always the key to winning a battle."

>Battle Won: "I told you we won! Have a bit more confidence in me, boss."

>Treasure Opening: "They look usable. I'll put this aside."

>Precious Treasure Opening: "They look valuable. I can get some cash with this."

>Successful Puzzle-Solving: "Phew! That wasn't too bad."

>Enemy Target Found: "What's the plan, boss?"

>Returning to Town: "I'm beat. Let's take a breather and restock on supplies."

|| Updated: 12/11/24

[justjessame]

Light Through the Darkness: Chapter 44

Damon was silent as Stefan went with him to see Bonnie. He hated to admit it, but having his baby brother along might actually be helpful since the Bennet witch didn’t exactly like him. He couldn’t actually blame her for not trusting him, her grandmother died because of him, tangentially. Not that she liked Stefan much more. Maybe they should have brought Elena along to smooth the way, but since she was in bed with the devil, so to speak, he doubted that pathway forward would help either.

How would he explain it to Bonnie, and then how the hell could she even begin to fix it? He had no clue how the overwhelming urge to keep her safe even happened. And why the hell wasn’t he hit the hardest by it?

When they finally pulled up outside the Bennet house, Stefan turned to him and waited for an explanation. Sighing, he gave him the upshot of what he felt certain of, but unsure of how to fix. “Do you remember how focused on Abigail you were when you transitioned?” Stefan’s eyes slitted at the memory and a tilt of his head told Damon to go on. “How about the way you could break Katherine’s compulsion when it came to Abigail? Do you remember finding her after Katherine’s first attempt, even after she told you to stay with her?” It had hurt him at the time, Katherine’s insistence that Stefan stay with her, but he’d blinked past it and left her, alone with him and for that he’d pushed away his annoyance and congratulated his good luck. A small nod meant that Stefan recalled what Damon mentioned, if vaguely. “Ric is having the same urge to protect Abi, Stefan, the same urge to risk my ire that you had even if I can’t compel his ass. That tells me there’s something more going on than just Abi’s sparkling personality and beauty. Something magical, maybe?” He gestured at the Bennet house, where he hoped the witch was in residence. “Hopefully Bonnie will be willing to listen, and help.”

While Damon and Stefan worked up the courage and a way to explain why they were coming to Bonnie for help, Abigail was still napping in her hotel room. What overtook her as she rested wasn’t a normal dream, because of course it wouldn’t be.

She was back in the room that she’d woken up in, the curtains swaying gently in a breeze that came from nowhere, since she knew the windows were closed. Sitting on the bed, waiting, for what she wasn’t sure.

“You look much better,” a deep voice offered from the doorway. Turning she was met with a face that was only slightly familiar. “You don’t remember me? It was a long time ago that we first met, in the garden-” And the memory of this strange man came back to her in sharp relief.

She’d been in the garden after her parents had died. Only a week or so after her terrible loss, she’d sought peace away from Lily’s concern and Damon’s need to make sure she was alright. Abigail had been seated on the same bench that one day in the near future Katherine would kill her when a stranger approached. Dressed as well as anyone of her status, he was tall, dark and unbearably handsome. He asked to sit, and she assumed he was one of Mr. Salvatore’s associates so she agreed, moving slightly to give him room past her dress skirt. He’d sat with her and spoke about loss, family, and grief. As though he knew her, and it brought her such peace. Before he’d left, he kissed her knuckles and told her he hoped they’d meet again.

“You never told me your name,” she realized, smiling up at him, seeing that he was garbed as she was, in the current style of the time she woke up in.

“That I didn’t.” He gestured to the space on the bed beside her and she nodded her assent. Once seated, he studied her face. “You’ve grown up,” his hand rose as though of its own accord, but he stopped himself before he could touch her face. “I apologize.”

Abigail reached out and touched the still hovering hand, and closed the gap between the fingertips and her skin, letting him know that he was free to touch her face. “I don’t mind.” She closed her eyes as he traced the subtle changes, the sharpness that replaced the softness of youth, the way her lips had become more plush with age. Her eyes opened when his hand left her skin.

“Soon.” The man, dark hair and eyes promised, and then he was gone like a whisper.

Bonnie was looking at Damon like he’d lost his mind, which he was starting to feel like he had. She wouldn’t invite them inside, which made sense, but agreed to speak to them on the porch. As Damon told her about Abigail Morgan, and his suspicions, he watched a flicker cross her face before her expression returned to irritated indifference.

“And what precisely do you want from me?” Her question was sharp and probing. A witch still coming into her power.

Stefan answered for him. “We don’t know, Bonnie, but I can tell you this. What I felt when I transitioned about Abi was stronger than any type of obsession I have ever felt. The urge to be with her, near her, was almost as strong as the call of human blood. And that’s incredibly disturbing considering-”

“Your past?” She offered. Sighing she leaned against the doorframe. “And you say that Ric is showing the same protectiveness?” Damon nodded. “I think you’re fine as long as no one turns Ric into a vampire.” She started to go back inside, but Damon’s voice stopped her.

“You flinched.” Bonnie swallowed and waited. “When I told you about Abigail, you flinched, why?”

“I remembered that story about the real life sleeping beauty,” she was trying to be flippant, but Damon and from the way Stefan stiffened so did his brother, knew it was forced. “Not everyday that a local legend is confirmed, right?” “Bullshit,” Damon replied. “Don’t forget that I can HEAR your pulse quickening, Bonnie Bennet. What made you flinch, honestly?”

Bonnie’s back went ramrod straight and she looked Damon dead in the eye from the safety of her house. “And don’t you forget, Damon Salvatore, that I’m Emily’s descendent and I can and will make you hurt.”

“Bonnie,” Stefan’s voice came out pleading, and Damon was thankful for his brother’s ability to whine. “Please.”

Bonnie’s eyes never left Damon’s as she answered. “After Caroline brought up the legend of Morgan House, I talked to Grams, she told me to stay away from the house, that whatever or WHOMEVER was inside was meant to stay in safety until the time was right. When she died,” her eyes pinched at the memory, but she went on. “I started looking through the family histories that she kept. Emily was burned, but her book was kept safe. She mentioned Abigail, and how she wasn’t sure WHAT she was, only that her power was great and that the protection of her was paramount.” She sighed. “I don’t know what that means, or how to figure it out, and that’s the truth. Honestly.” And with that, she closed the door and left the brothers standing in stunned silence.

“What the literal-” Damon shook his head and looked at Stefan. “What are we supposed to do with that?”

Stefan’s head shake mirrored his older brother. “No clue, but let’s talk about it at the house.” More questions than answers, the Salvatore brothers returned to their home, wondering how the hell they would figure out the mystery that was Abigail Morgan.

Abigail’s dreams didn’t stop with the return of her mysterious visitor, instead they morphed to her childhood home, before her parents died. She was in her room, touching the things she’d long forgot about. Her bedspread, had it really been pale blue? The line of dolls on her windowsill looked forlorn, but that wasn’t a surprise, books had always been her preference. The shelves of books, not as high or as filled as their library, but holding her favorites. Her fingertips traced their spins, wishing that she could tote them all back to the reality she left behind.

“There you are,” she swallowed as the voice she hadn’t heard, not even in the shadow people garden that she fought through to come back, pierced her heart. “I was wondering when you’d find me.”

Abi turned and drunk in the vision her mother presented. A taller, but not by much, version of herself. Posture perfect, hair arranged carefully, and her dress immaculate. “Mother,” her voice was so quiet she wondered if this mirage could hear her.

“Abigail,” her mother walked forward and took her hand. “You look just like me,” she sounded satisfied by that knowledge. “Tinier, perhaps, but your face-” unlike the gentleman who came before, her mother showed no hesitance at touching her face. Like him, she traced the changes that came after she’d died. “You’re beautiful.”

Abigail’s smile was small, since the compliment seemed more for her mother than herself. “I never got to say goodbye.” Seemed more appropriate an answer.

A rueful smile graced her mother’s face, far from ruining the beauty it simply gave her a new angle of attractiveness. “Yes, about that. Your father, his family were a dangerous lot.” Family? “A knife hung over us our entire life, Abigail, threatening to slice us apart. It was simply a matter of when.” She sighed, her hand squeezing Abi’s. “I wish we’d had more time to prepare you.”

“For your deaths?” Abi sounded incredulous. As though warning would have helped. “Is there such a thing?”

Her mother’s smile tightened, still not comfortable with being questioned about her actions. “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She took a more disconcerting look at Abi’s attire. “What is this that you’re wearing? I can see your knees.”

“Yes, well, this is what’s deemed appropriate in 2010, Mother.” Abigail refused to bend to a dead woman’s ire. “I was scandalized myself when Damon brought me the first dress.” Her mother’s eyes lit up at the mention of Damon’s name. “Not that he matters much, since-”

“Of course he matters,” her mother’s interruption startled her. “Damon Salvatore was the entire point of naming Lily and Giuseppe your guardians, Abigail.” She pulled her hand from Abi’s and started pacing. “Haven’t you read the book? Did you read the letter?” Abigail started to speak, but once again her mother kept speaking. “It’s all there, everything, who you are, what you are, and most importantly why he’s important.” When her mother’s eyes met hers again they were blazing and Abigail felt shocked by the seriousness she saw. “You must learn, and then you must study, and you have to know him. Fully, Abigail.” And then she was gone, like the man before, but this time the abruptness woke Abigail.

Gasping awake, she looked around at a rapidly darkening hotel room. What the hell? She felt like she’d run miles without water, so once she had a drink, she sat down and tried to focus on what her mother had said. The book and letter were more important than she’d taken stock of, clearly, but Damon? Why the hell was he so important?

[okaylorrainee]

her way of water

characters. neteyam & female reader. sully family. tsireya.

synopsis. neteyam and his family left their clan to seek uturu from yours. on their first night, neteyam wanders by the shore to clear his mind. he finds himself away from everyone’s marui pods and comes across you as you bathed - he couldn’t get you out of his mind since then.

note. heyy sorry for the delay of this chapter despite my announcement of its scheduled release. a lot has happened in just a few days and i couldn't find the time to write. thank u to everyone who noted the previous chapters!

taglist. @rainbowsocks @mashiromochi @anm3mi @fanboyluvr @anxietydrogz @sakura-onesan @amortencjja @kaealowri

ch 04 [ previous . masterlist . next ]

tuk’s laughter was loud as she fed her ilu with tsireya and kiri. their glee was contagious when the animal let out sounds of joy; everyone watching smiled with them. 

it was heartwarming moments like this when neteyam appreciated awa’atlu and the beauty it offered them. he was reminded of his firsts as a child back at the omatikaya clan. every memory was pleasant; from his first hunt, his first tsaheylu with the pa’li, his coming-of-age ceremony, and his first raid, recognized as a reliable warrior by his father - these were all moments he cherished about the clan he grew up in. but for tuk, it would be different.

tuk would be growing up in this clan now, and that meant she would learn more about the ocean than the forest. unlike the rest of the sully family who experienced great transitions in their lives, tuk would just be starting hers. neteyam was glad that his little sister was enjoying herself here so far. he wanted her to create beautiful memories like he did when he was a child. it would be a privilege, especially because this generation was in another time of war.

neteyam was interrupted in his thoughts when lo’ak went in front of him and started waving in his face. “what’re you thinking about, smiling to yourself like that, bro? is it that girl who ghosted you?” he teased. “what was her name again?”

neteyam stood up and head locked his brother in a playful manner, rubbing his fist on top of lo’ak’s head as he said with gritted teeth, “her name is for me to know, and for you to not mention again, baby bro. you understand?”

lo’ak freed himself from neteyam’s arm, “damn. already possessive?”

neteyam scoffs at him. “her name was already introduced to you and you just forgot, skxawng.” 

“yeah, yeah.” he rolled his eyes. lo’ak then catches sight of a figure nearby who was approaching them; he smirks. “speaking of.” he tapped his older brother’s arm before pointing to her direction.

neteyam looked behind him, standing up, and in an instant, his heart pounded with nervousness. you were here? why were you here? are you finally willing to talk to him?

“hello.” he greeted as soon as you got closer. “you came. i am glad-“ but you walked past him, eyes fixed on his sisters. neteyam stood dumbfounded and lo’ak snickered beside him; he hasn’t seen his perfect older brother like this before.

lo’ak put his arm on neteyam’s shoulder. “let’s go, bro.”

you waited for the girls to finish feeding the ilu. they gave it a final pet before letting it swim away. tsireya was the first to notice your presence that she hurried to your side, happy that you listened to her and came. tuk and kiri follow behind her, the former sending you a shy smile.

everyone already knew the drill when tsireya gestured to come quickly and sit to form a circle. neteyam could only purse his lips as he watched you move further away from him and squeeze yourself in between rotxo and his sisters, kiri indifferent to your actions.

neteyam tried not to frown. why were you there when you were supposed to be training him? wasn’t that agreed upon every time ao’nung was not present? at least no one was pestering him and his siblings with the chief’s son absent. but even with that fact, neteyam could not compose himself completely.

neteyam kept his eyes on you like an eagle when rotxo awkwardly stood to replace your spot as his guide. even so, the man failed to observe how much you were panicking inside, slightly shivering from the looks he was boring into you. 

before you knew it, everyone had started their breathing exercise and you were helping kiri and tuk with theirs. even as you were sideways from neteyam, you could feel his intense stare that was focused on you. you tried your best to ignore him even if you came here expecting to talk. it was an internal debate; you were too nervous to talk to him because you didn’t know what to say. if you didn’t get over your anxiety, you’d be fine with letting this day end without clearing things up. you’d be back tomorrow anyway.

neteyam was barely paying attention to rotxo even as he followed the man’s instructions. soon enough, he came to decide that he couldn’t bear this anymore and had to talk to you. neteyam stood up all of a sudden and went to you with no hesitation, strands of his hair flew in the air and he caught the eyes of everyone in the circle.

a shadow towered over your form and spoke before you could look to see who it was. “i am having trouble understanding.” neteyam declared in a neutral voice, and your head shot in his direction because of his sudden appearance. “can you help me? you are the expert, right?”

you saw how tsireya was nodding her head and urging you to go from behind neteyam. you sighed, grabbing his wrist without a word and yanking him away from the group.

neteyam is surprised, but he doesn’t say anything and just lets you drag him. you took him to the water, and without warning, you pulled him to dive with you. bubbles came out of his mouth when he coughed from the water that rapidly entered him. you let his wrist go and watched him swim up the surface from underwater.

neteyam gasped, taking in as much air in his lungs to mellow out his breathing. you stayed underwater, almost lying on the seabed to observe him. you almost felt kind of bad, but your smile did not reflect what you felt.

neteyam took his time to breathe before looking back down to find you. he floated on the surface, squinting his eyes as they tried to adjust to the water. and there you were, just right below him, observing him as he did with you.

rays of sun formed reflections on the water, and they were blurred on your skin that it made parts of you glow. he watched as your third eyelids delayed every time you blinked, a distinct feature of the metkayina he found interesting. your hair swayed with the water below you, as did your tail trying to keep you in your position. you looked so beautiful to him, and he admits that no woman he has known could compare to you; this fact hasn’t changed since he first saw you.

neteyam began signing and telling you to come up, but you signed back ‘why? swim.’ he only shook his head.

when he lifted himself to breathe again, you swam up in front of him. you watched him fix a few strands of his hair before he said, “let me make it up to you. whatever i did, i won’t do it again.”

you tilted your head, “how?”

“i’ve noticed you liked creating ornaments and decorative garments for yourself. allow me to help you by hunting for you.” he offered. the determined look on his face couldn’t mask the confidence he had for his skills as a warrior. but the forest was different as the water had its own ways. this caused you to have doubts for him.

you shook your head. “i can hunt very well on my own. i do not need you to do that for me.”

he stared at you as if he was thinking about how to salvage his only plan. looks like he hadn’t thought about a backup.

but perhaps this was something that should be done to serve as the catalyst for the improvement of your relationship. you thought about it all night after all, and you decided to give him a chance.

“okay, fine.” you sighed. “there is one thing i’ve had my eye on for a while. you can help me get it.”

a smile finds its way on his face. “you can count on me.”

–

neteyam woke up much earlier than he usually did the next morning. the sun had risen but it was too early for anybody else to wake up. careful not to wake his sleeping family members, he snuck his way out the pod and went to the beach - it was where you agreed to meet up.

you told him that what you wanted was located a little further from the reef. but getting there meant getting in trouble, so you were expecting him to back out. after all, he had told you before how strict it was in their family, his father especially. but neteyam did not waver. he stood firmly by what he offered you and agreed to come with you. he was a man of his word, and you were impressed.

neteyam found you in his line of sight when he got closer to the meet up place. you were feeding an ilu with one hand, while your other held a decorated wooden spear much taller than yourself. you didn’t notice him arriving behind you.

“i’m here.” he uttered.

you turned around to look at him, and he noticed how you wore a different top from yesterday. he acknowledged how talented you were with your hands. 

“you are just in time.” you nodded. “are you ready? where is your weapon?”

he took out the hunting knife from his belt and raised it to show you. “i would have brought my bow and arrow, but that would be useless underwater, wouldn’t it?”

you chuckled. “whatever you have to protect yourself, forest boy.” you moved to mount your ilu. “we won’t be hunting anyway. our weapons are for protection only. what i want is not from an animal.”

neteyam went closer to the water and began calling for his ilu. “then? what is it that you want?” he asked as he mounted his ilu.

you met with his eyes once again. “a pearl, found inside the cave. it is being guarded.”

–

neteyam was trailing behind you as you led the way in front of him. you had passed the three brothers island chain quite a while ago and the journey was quiet. neteyam scouted the area, he had never been here before of course, as he was new to the clan. but have you?

“have you hunted here before? you seem to have memorized the area.” 

you hummed. “a couple of times. but only when the adults with me forget i am with them. i never swim too far though.” you turned your upper body to face him, “it is against the clan rules, and my parents have lost their way there.”

he nods, looking down. “i see.”

you observed his expression, unconsciously making your ilu slow down to match his pace. “neteyam, why are you so keen on making it up to me?” your question made him raise his head to meet your gaze. “you have even disobeyed the rules just because i told you to. you are risking yourself to get in trouble with the clan, with your father. i do not understand.”

“i don’t want there to be anything negative between us. i never wanted to upset you in the first place.”

your brows furrowed. “then why did you...?” your voice trailed, unable to continue your words. why did you want to look for me so much, neteyam? were you hoping to get me in trouble? did you want me to feel ashamed?

so many questions ran through your head, but his voice interrupted your thoughts. “i wanted to find you, because i thought you were beautiful.” he answered firmly, as if he knew what you were asking in your mind.

you stared at him in shock; his answer was not what you expected. you searched his face for any sign of lie, but you found nothing. his steady gaze on you made your heart thump from a feeling you haven’t felt before. 

©️ okaylorrainee 2023. please do not re-upload, translate my content anywhere without permission.

ch 04 [ previous . masterlist . next ]

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 1: Secret New Beginnings

Masterlist ° Chapter List (Coming soon)

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Now that you and Michael are somewhat together, you have to navigate your relationship, but there is something hanging over you, untold secrets that keep you from fully trusting each other. But Michael finally feels safe around you and he cares, and you might just be falling for him, after all.

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, self-doubt, cussing, talk about sex and violence as well as murder

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: SO I finally got the first chapter done, yay me! I struggled a little with the transition from Butterfly Effect to this, but I hope you like it anyway. See it as a kind of prologue to set the scene. It's my starting point for this series. I will be posting a list of Installments soon, I just need to make it look nice.

The butterfly effect is often used in context with chaos theory, but they don’t equal each other. The notion is that a seemingly insignificant event, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, could set in motion a chain of events with far-reaching and unpredictable consequences. 

In the aftermath of a shattered soul, Michael finds himself standing on the precipice that could perhaps lead to a new beginning. No, he is sure that the second chance he was given already set the new beginning in motion, and he owes that to you.

His past, as so often, blurs with his present. It’s tumultuous and it echoes deafeningly loud in his mind, but he can’t help but ponder the path of destiny that led him straight into the arms of a woman that has been looking the darkness inside of him straight into its poisonous eyes from the beginning, not once turning away. 

His past decision had wings that flapped ever so slightly and caused the world around him to collapse. People got hurt. He, himself, got hurt in the process. In the blink of an eye, his life changed. He saw it coming, deep down. He’s been a Kinsella from the beginning and he knew that getting close to him would eventually lead to destruction for every kind soul that decided to have mercy on him. But he was naive, he became careless, he did his work and thought that was enough to keep his loved ones safe – he failed, and then, when he tried to get back up, he failed again and he paid the ultimate price. 

But he has tasted the light. He caught a peak of what his life could look like, and for the first time in a long time, he feels the seeds of hope grow into a field of beautiful flowers in his chest. The sun came, shone its light into his life, and the rain met its rays just right to lay the foundation for a rainbow. 

Michael wouldn’t consider himself happy, but he saw what could be and he thought to himself, “I have to at least try.” So that is what he promises himself to do, every day, as long as it takes for his life to find the right path again. He doesn’t know if there even is happiness in the cards for him, but he can try to fix what he broke, and he finally doesn’t feel alone in it anymore. 

Chaos isn’t limited to the realms of science – it is an undeniable force that ripples through everyone’s existence. And for Michael, the bullet holes in his house and the gaping black void in his chest function as a stark reminder of the chaos that rippled through his existence eight years ago. 

Each decision he makes can change the course of his life and those around him inevitably forever, and that is a huge burden to carry. Once you realize the effect even the smallest events can have, there is no turning back. Anxiety grows fast, faster than poison ivy, and it threatens to consume you whole. 

You – you and him – made a silent promise to take the wheel before it would be too late, take the pen, rewrite your story, and find a way to make a happy ending happen for both of you. You are the one who convinced him to have a little faith, and you taught him that trying to be optimistic might just make life a little easier to deal with. 

Michael doesn’t deserve you and yet, he has you.

 The day he walked into the café looking for something familiar was the best day of his life, even though it was littered with gray clouds. Meeting you changed everything, and all it took was your conviction to sell him a cup of coffee that wouldn’t taste as simple as a double espresso and a gentle smile, and he was hooked. 

The Butterfly Effect brought you together; it has a double meaning. For one, you work at a café with the same name as one of the effects that are born from chaos theory, and two, the day he met you, he is convinced your decision to write that note on his coffee cup was you flapping your wings and setting everything into motion – and now he’s lying in your bed with you by his side, the sun streaming in through the slit in the curtains, and he can’t believe his eyes as he gazes upon you.

Your features are peaceful. You are peaceful. You are his safe haven. He didn’t expect himself to get infatuated with another person so soon after escaping literal hell, but there is something so sweet and innocent about you, so normal, so serene, he couldn’t help himself. It’s what he craved without even knowing, and maybe it’s selfish to ignore the danger just for a little while, but he couldn’t hold back any longer – he needed you and now he has you. If it were that simple, he could rest, but deep down he knows that this is only the beginning, and not all new beginnings are always good. Some beginnings start perfectly fine and then they drop and lose themselves in darkness, and in the process, you fall with them. Deep down he knows that nothing is ever as it seems, not with the life he lives, his history, his past, and his family. 

As he looks at your sleeping frame next to him, he wonders if you have secrets of your own. Well, maybe you have; it would be only human of you to do so. But then he thinks about your tendency to say yes to everything, to forgive and to give back so easily, always ready to please people, always on top of your game, and he begins to worry if there is a darkness in you he hasn’t quite caught yet. He realizes your story isn’t as clear as his. You only told him about your parents briefly, but that’s it. He considers you a breath of fresh air, but behind every bright smile often lies a deeper meaning. 

Michael gets lost in thought, hoping no one seriously hurt you to make you the person you are now – you told him you fought hard to get where you are now, but what problems did you have to tackle in the past? He only then realizes that you are still a mystery to him. But he hasn’t told you everything either, so you both have parts of yourselves you are not ready to share yet, and perhaps that’s good the way it is.  

You stir. His hazel eyes are still glued to you. You look so lovely like this. His lip curls up into a tired smile as he watches you come to life, your fists coming up to your eyes to rub them. You stretch, causing the covers to slip from your body just enough to catch a glimpse of the top of your breasts. You’re an ephemeral creature and he can’t believe he’s allowed to call you his now. 

His lips press to your cheek. Your eyes are still not open, but you smile a little at the gesture. Slowly but steadily, his lips move lower. This is the second night he has stayed with you now, and he is addicted to you.

A soft gasp escapes your lips when he reaches your neck. His hand cups your jaw, the other keeping himself up as he comes closer. His beard tickles, scratching at your sensitive neck as he nips and kisses you everywhere he can reach, but his touch is gentle as if you’re glass in his eyes. His lips suction around your pulse point then, marking you to be his. The blood pools under the skin and it is quick to turn purple. He licks over it with a smirk; it isn’t the first and won’t be the last mark he will leave on your perfect skin that is softer than any silk he has felt before. 

You wrap a sleepy arm around his shoulders. “Mhmm,” you mumble, a subtle sign that you’ve awoken from your slumber. 

He smiles into your neck, giving the hickey another peck before lifting his head to look at you. “Mornin’,” he says. 

You open an eye. “Morning,” you say. 

He brushes a strand of hair out of your face before planting his lips on yours. 

“How long were you staring at me for?”

“A while.”

“Why?”

“Yer just too gorgeous, pet.” His accent is thicker in the early hours of the morning, you’ve noted. “Besides, you look so peaceful when yer sleepin’. Makes me want ta squish your pretty face.” 

A giggle slips past your lips. “That’s a bit extensive, don’t you think?” you tease. 

He shakes his head. “Never.”

You open your eyes fully now and turn your body in his direction. “I could get used to this,” the admission comes in a quiet puff of air.

He tangles his fingers in your hair and only hums in response. He could get used to waking up next to you as well, but words fail him. You look like an Angel in the soft sunlight. He swears he can see a halo above your head, that’s how divine you are. 

“What’s on your mind?” you ask him. 

He blinks out of his daze and meets your eyes. “Nothin’ important,” he says. 

“All of your thoughts are important to me.”

“Not those.”

You furrow your eyebrows, but you leave it be. Forcing him to talk is not something you want to start or you could ruin the trust that persists between you. He will hopefully come to you when he feels ready to talk, or if that ever happens.  

With a peek at the clock, you notice that your alarm is about to ring. With a heavy sigh, you entangle yourself from him and sit up. 

Michael pouts when your warmth leaves him, his fingers slipping from your hair and down your bare back. He brushes the skin there, tracing your moles and stroking down your spine. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you pause your movements, reveling in the feeling of his calloused fingers painting gentle shapes over your heated skin. 

“I have to get ready soon,” you say. It’s torture, almost, to have to leave him like this. 

Michael in your bed, shirtless and with his brown locks standing in all directions is a sight to uphold. You want to capture this moment, brand it into your brain and never erase it again. You want his perfect lips to be etched into your skin, his fingers tattooed, his voice injected into your bloodstream – you’re not sure where this desire comes from, this need to be close to him at all times, you are just getting to know each other, but he makes it impossible to think straight. You get lost in his eyes, his soul, and the desperate need to protect him fills you up like an empty cup until it’s overflowing. 

He’s not trying to sleep with you, you know that, he’s simply trying to keep you close a little while longer. He doesn’t want to face the day. He doesn’t want to be without you. You haven’t talked about how to navigate this, you just thought you would figure it out as you go, but there is sadness in his eyes when you look at him. 

There is a beat of silence before he speaks, and his words deliver cracks to your heart. “I don’t want to go home,” he says, and his voice borders heavily on a breathless whisper. 

You pick your shirt off the floor, slip it on, then turn around to face him. “I know,” you say just as quietly. “I would offer you to stay, but–“

“We haven’t reached tha’ level of trust yet? 

Your silence serves as an answer to his question. Michael nods, understanding where you’re coming from, but part of him is still hurt. You trust him to a certain extent, but he has a dark past and there are things not yet resolved between you, things unsaid that haven’t been addressed, and until you’ve figured that out, you have to take baby steps in the direction you want the both of you to go. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you when he sees the pained expression of guilt and regret flash across your face. “I have ta talk to my brother, to Amanda, about my job. I– I have ta think about Anna. Talk to my solicitor. I couldn’t stay even if I wanted.”

Part of that is a lie; he can easily talk to his attorney over the phone and he doesn’t feel like Amanda or Jimmy deserve even a tad bit of his attention, but he has responsibilities and he can’t ignore them forever. Besides, he has no money left and he has to find a way to get through that, too. Those are the things he can’t tell you because he feels so stupid like he would be a bad influence on you, and they are treacherous thoughts. 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s go through your application tonight,” you offer, picking up on your idea from the day before.

The Butterfly Effect is understaffed to the point you sometimes have to work seven times a week instead of getting your day off like you did yesterday, but that’s not the only reason you suggested offering him a job. You told him that your boss gives everyone a second chance if they need one, especially those fresh out of prison who have nowhere to go because even the most minuscule changes can change the course of what happens next, of what happens in the future. It’s not just the name of the café, it is a metaphor, and everyone you work with is so vulnerable and human, you know Michael would feel a lot more comfortable there than having his family breathing down his neck all the time.

He didn’t tell you much, but you already don’t like them. 

Michael thinks about your words, his chest heaving with a heavy sigh. He looks at the ceiling, his hand, then back at you. He nods. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah.”

“Hey–“ you lean over to press a kiss to his lips. “I care about you, you know that?” 

His hand finds its way to the small of your back, eyes fluttering close as you come closer. “Mhm.” He leans in for another kiss. He knows you care. He can feel it in his bones. You care with utmost devotion, and he doesn’t understand what he did to deserve you. 

“I’ll get you that job, and then I’ll help you get your daughter back. I don’t know her, but you sound like you love her and she should get the chance to reconnect with you. You’re not alone anymore, Mikey. You have me now, and I’m with you, every step of the way. I choose you.” 

God knows your father failed with his duties to actually be one. In Michael’s case, it wasn’t voluntary that he left for so long and he deserves a second chance as much as Anna deserves a father. 

“I choose you too,” he whispers. “And I can’t thank you enough…”

“Lucky for you that you don’t have to thank me. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay,” – you kiss him again before getting up – “I promise.” You flash him a smile as you make your way out of the bedroom, leaving him behind. 

His hand drops to the mattress in defeat. He wants to spend forever in bed with you, wrapped in your cocoon, but he knows that’s not possible. So he lets you go. 

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re in love, not yet, but you’re getting damn close to falling for him. It’s as terrifying as it is exciting, and maybe it’s a little nerve-wracking, too. You’ve never been truly in love, you never learned how to love, and yet Michael pushes you a little closer to the edge every day. You just have to make sure you’re attached to a parachute in case you plummet to your demise. In that case, there’s not much that can help you anymore, and you’re not sure if you’d survive it, either. But probably – highly likely – not. 

You put his dirty clothes in the washer the day before and then hung them out to dry. You spent most of your day in your underwear with him, anyway. But now it’s time to leave and he has to get dressed into something. You don’t want to sound possessive, but this is a sight you want to reserve only for yourself.

You’re doing your makeup when he comes in to brush his teeth. You step aside to make some room for him in your small bathroom that’s meant for one person only, but you make it fit. He stands behind you, watching you through the mirror. You can tell he’s avoiding himself and only staring at you, and you can weirdly relate to that. Some days, or most days, actually, you can’t stand your reflection either. There was a time when it was exceptionally bad, but you don’t want to go into that. Your mind has been reeling enough, and it’s only morning. 

The conversation and the revelations about Michael have lit something inside of you, a candle you had long believed to have gone out, and that candle sparked a wave of nostalgia that you can’t shake now. You are eerily similar when it comes to personality, except you have learned how to handle your burdens, and he hasn’t even begun. Still, there is a part of you that is and will always somehow remain stuck in the past. But you’re not ready to share that with him yet. You doubt you could share it with anyone but the demons in your head, which are luckily still sleeping and haven’t planned to attack and tear you down just yet. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” he breaks the silence and the thread of your thoughts. 

You look at him. “Just some things,” you say. 

“Anything you might want ta talk about?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m okay.”

“Okay.” He leaves it at that, although his hand lands on your waist almost protectively. 

Michael walks you to work. You insist he doesn’t have to, but he does so anyway. Taking his hand, he stiffens for a moment and you fear he might pull away, that this is too much for him, but then he squeezes your hand back and you realize he doesn’t mind. 

You walk to the café in silence. The birds chirp in the trees around you. A soft breeze moves through the streets of Dublin. The sun is out, which is nice, and the temperatures are a little more bearable today. You watch as the leaf shakes in sync with the wind and the oxygen you breathe tastes clean. 

“You can come in if you want,” you say when you reach it, “I can make you a nice Americano, maybe? Or I could introduce you to the world of caramel Frappucinos...”

Michael’s heart swells, but he shakes his head with a soft smile. “I’m good,” he says. “Thanks though.”

“You sure?” You step closer to cradle his cheek. “You look a little tired, darling. A good caramel Frappucino with extra strong espresso might help you come back to life.” You’re only half-joking.

He chuckles. “I’m gonna be okay, ya said that yerself. Don’t worry, love, I’ll survive without coffee.”

You purse your lips; it’s cute, the way you pout and expect him to change his mind. You don’t want him to leave, he suspects. 

Now that you crossed all boundaries, had sex, and qualify as a couple now, there is nothing more you want than keep your routine. You have gotten used to turning his head with your coffee skills, and he seemed to always enjoy them. But things are different now, there is no denying the obvious. Things won’t go back to the way they were because your dynamic has changed. 

“Okay,” you cave, “Well, call me if anything’s wrong or if you need me.”

“Yer at work, I wouldn’t want ta disturb you.”

“Just do it,” you give him a stern look, “and I’ll text when I’m off so you can come over and we can work on making sure your application fits our requirements.”

“I doubt tha’,” he says, “but I love how much you want ta try.” His smile is genuine, but somehow, his words remind you of what he said only a few days ago.

People would like you more if ya wouldn’t try so hard. 

You swallow. He notices. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“No, it’s okay,” you say. 

People pleaser, a voice calls in your head. You can’t even admit that his kind words today hurt you almost the same as his cruel words did. 

“Hey–” he pulls you closer by the waist. “When I said tha’, I didn’t mean it.” 

Your forehead leans against his almost naturally and you breathe the same air as him. You can feel his heartbeat under where your hand touches his chest, searching for silent support, and his hands cradling your face offers more than that. He’s genuinely sorry. He didn’t mean it. If he had, you probably wouldn’t be able to stand with him here now. He opened old wounds, and he apologized. They’re not fully healed, not fully stitched up, but you can accept that. 

“Your kind heart is special, and I hold it very dear to me,” Michael says. 

You nod. You’re not a lie detector, but you can see in his eyes that he’s determined to mend what he did, especially now that he sees what an effect it had on you, and how much it still affects you. His words cut deeper than a knife ever could. 

“Okay, thank you,” you say softly. “I needed that.”

He kisses your forehead. “Have a good day at work, pet.”

You never thought you would say it, but you love it when he calls you that. It’s intimate, much more than ‘love’ could ever be. 

“And you take care of yourself,” you shoot back at him. 

He smiles, planting another loving kiss on your lips. They move softly against yours, savoring every last second you get with each other. And then, with one last glimpse at your watch, your break free. 

“I’ll see you tonight, Mikey.”

“Yeah,” he says your name, “See ya tonight.”

He’s about to say ‘Love ya’, but he quickly realizes that it’s too soon and you’re not even sure he means it yet. His definition of love got a little confusing over time. After losing Allison, he’s never paid another thought about falling in love again, and he still feels so hollow inside, he’s not sure if he’s even capable of feeling like that again. But he likes you and he cares and he wants to be with you – he wants to see where it goes, and if he ends up feeling the same spark again that he did when he first met his wife, he won’t hesitate to claim you forever. 

It’s a surprising thought, but he accepts it. 

You can’t help the smile on your lips as you enter the café. You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine again. Though when you look up and see Sarah behind the counter, her face pale and bewildered as she stares outside at Michael, your smile fades. 

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath. 

You forgot she was working with you today, and you told her about what you found out, so she knows what he did. She doesn’t know the truth behind his story though, which means she thinks he’s some kind of psychopath and would tell you over and over again to stay away from him, and she just saw you kissing the man you both cursed to hell the night you told her about it. 

She’s your friend and she cares, and you probably fucked up now. You and Michael, whatever it is between you, is fresh and you wanted to keep it a secret until you could be sure it wouldn’t be met with too much judgment. That’s too late now, the cat is out of the bag. 

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Sarah hisses as soon as you’re behind the counter. 

“Sarah–” you begin, but she cuts you off again. 

“Did ya just– why did you kiss the same guy ya told me was a cold-blooded murderer who just got out of prison?!”

“I can explain.”

“Yer insane, that’s the explanation!”

“Would you quiet down?” You look around yourself. The café is crowded with people. 

You take a deep breath, trying to stay as calm as possible as so not to disturb anyone. They don't need to hear about your love life or your bad decisions or how Sarah is out for blood because her eyes darken and you could swear she's ready to tear Michael's head off if he ever comes near the café again. "I understand that you're worried, but you need to trust my judgment on this one," you say. "I can't tell you everything because this is his story to tell, not mine, but he came to my apartment and he needed someone and we talked, and... I've spent time with Michael, and I've seen a different side of him. He's working on changing his life, and he deserves a chance."

She shakes her head, the disbelief evident in her eyes. She is fuming inside, you can tell. If you were alone, she would give you a full run-down and leave you as shocked as you are whenever your boss does the same, and it scares you a little. You know it's tough love, but the way she's talking about him doesn't sit right with you. "I can't wrap me fuckin' head around it, especially after everythin' ya told me about his past. Killing his wife, leaving a daughter behind, eight years in prison... I mean honestly," she says your name, "What is fucking wrong with you? It's like you're willingly walking into a dangerous situation, ready to risk your life for a guy ya barely know. And I don't doubt that the two of you fucked, didn't ya?"

"Sarah, be quiet," you growl. You don't often get angry and you hate confrontation, but this is Michael she's talking about. "If you're gonna slut shame me, at least do it in private."

But she shakes her head, a little bit of guilt coming through. "I didn't mean it like tha', I meant your general tendency to fuck with the wrong guys."

You raise your voice slightly, "It's not like that, Sarah! People can change. I believe in redemption, in giving second chances. And I'm willing to see past his mistakes. If you knew his story... you would think the same because Michael... he is not heartless, okay? He is compassionate and loving and he's been through a lot of shit in the past and he just needs someone. He needs me and he cares just as much as I do. He pushed me away because of his family, to protect me, but I chose to stay. It's not his fault. I accept him, I choose him and I stand by that."

With a groan, he lifts a red towel from the counter. "What color is this?" she asks abruptly.

Confused by the sudden question, you reply, "Red, obviously. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Sarah's voice grows sharper if that is even possible. "Oh, so ya do see colors. Good. Because this is a red towel, and tha' bastard, he's a walkin' red flag. Can't you see that?"

"Don't talk about him like he's evil."

"Oh, I will and I fuckin' am 'cause you can't see clearly fer the life of ya."

You purse your lips. “I can see that you're concerned, Sarah," you say, "but you're also letting your judgment cloud your understanding. Michael's trying to make amends. He's not the same person he was before."

"Yer risking so much for someone who may not even deserve it. Is that what you want? To be with a man with a questionable past, a man who could potentially hurt ya? Are you sexually attracted to danger or somethin'?"

Maybe you are just a little, but that doesn't matter now. Michael is different. Every last bit of doubt you had about your relationship evaporates. 

Hurt and anger blend. "You don't understand. I thought as my friend, you would support me no matter what, but instead, you're just tearing me down because you’re not okay with my decision. Mine. It is my life, Sarah! Michael deserves a chance to prove himself, just like anyone else."

"I care about you," – her expression softens – "and it scares me to see ya making choices that might put you in harm's way. I don't want to lose ya."

"I need you to trust me on this."

Sarah sighs. "Promise me that if you smell even the slightest whiff of danger, ya'll walk away?" she says.

You reach out and grasp her hand. "I promise,” you say. 

But you know that this is far from over.

Unbeknownst to you, her words planted a little seed of an entirely different kind of doubt in the garden of your soul, and it would soon have every right to grow, but not into a flower this time; this seed of doubt has the potential to turn into a terrifyingly large tree, and its roots are going to be the death of you. 

Maybe even quite literally. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms

[mercurygray]

A Ghost! Joan AU, because @shoshiwrites started it.

He was only doing this as a favor.

Every time he said that, people laughed - that’s a pretty big favor, renovating a whole house, but none of them understood what Lew had done for him, really done for him, since he’d gotten home, and if fixing up the ancestral mansion so that Lew could sell it was the way he could pay it all back, then that was just what he was going to do.

It was a beautiful house, with turn of the century wood paneling and built-ins for days, but Lew’s mother had made some renovations in the 80s that hadn’t aged well, and after no one had lived in the house for the last fifteen years there were problems that needed to be solved before it went on the market again, desirable features to be added back in so the real estate listing would sound good - new furnace, new roof, granite countertops, refinished hardwood floors.

“And the ghost, of course.”

Yes - the ghost. Dick had actually laughed when Lew had brought it up the first time, like this was actually a feature people would be interested in, but his friend was adamant. “She’s pretty benign, as far as spirits go -  Story goes that they were having a party celebrating the war being over and then she got the telegram that her fiance was dead. She was so overcome she wandered outside into traffic - got hit by a car. My sister claimed she could see her, sometimes, when my parents had people over, but I never did." Lew grinned. "Makes for a great story, though, doesn't it? It'll be a nice story for the buyers - people love that kind of stuff."

‘People’ might, but the idea held little appeal to Dick. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in ghosts - he was just as prepared as the next guy to admit there were some things that he simply couldn’t understand. But an actual ghost, haunting this house? Just a story, as far as he was concerned - and after three weeks of living here, he had no evidence of any spirit, benign or no. Drapes stayed unruffled, paint remained in its cans, no doors closed of their own accord. It was an old house, like any old house, filled with the remnants of several lives - loads of furniture to be junked or salvaged, old photo albums to be hauled out of corners, closets of clothes that needed to be consigned to the junk bin - or the local charity shop. 

It was the first time in a while that he’d had a place to think of as his own, and he was finding he quite enjoyed it - he was living out of what had once been the drawing room, on the first floor, pocket doors open to the sitting room beyond. These spaces had needed the least work, so it was the easiest to set up his bed here. It was a room in transition - a little of everything. He’d moved in a kitchen table to use as a desk, sheets still over some of the room’s armchairs. The truly ancient couches had gone to the curb, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the record player, a huge sideboard thing in dark mahogany that somehow matched the paneling, if not the feel of the rest of the house. The records, too, had stayed - a time capsule of a different era, mostly light listening from the 40s and 50s. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

Dick flipped idly through the records in the cabinet and selected one at random - some big band conductor. The machine turned on straightaway when he moved the arm, carefully settling it along the record's edge so that the vinyl could crackle and pop for a moment before starting up.

He fiddled with the volume knob for a moment and sat back down with his coca cola and the parts catalog for the kitchen cabinets, legal pad and pencil at the ready. He already had the measurements and if he made the list, it would be easier to go shopping tomorrow with a complete picture in mind.

"You have good taste."

Dick didn't scare easily, but he nearly jumped out of his chair, eternally glad he didn't spill his soda pop in the process.

There was a woman on the other side of the room - vaguely misty, like he needed to clean his glasses to see her better. Her short, dark hair was elegantly arranged, and she was wearing pearls and a party dress - or what looked like a party dress, anyway. 

"Did I...leave the door open?"

She shook her head, still smiling a little. "I heard the music and thought I'd...make an appearance. Tuxedo Junction," she offered. "By Glenn Miller. Our favorite."

Dick realized what she was saying, really saying, and tried to get his galloping heart under control. "You're the ghost."

"My mother taught me it was impolite to address people when you don't know their names," she said, just a little pointedly, and he felt himself blush.

"Dick Winters," he said, hurriedly, though he wasn't sure why, holding out his hand and then realizing, belatedly, that she wasn't going to be able to take it. "I'm sorry, Lew never said -"

"Joan Warren," she said, smiling at the brief comedy of him offering his hand, looking down at it, and then shoving it into his pocket. (She had a nice smile. Could he say that?) "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Winters. And I'm sure Lewis has forgotten my name - if he ever knew it at all." 

Lewis - like he was a younger brother or a cousin she had to put up with occasionally. Well, he'd grown up in this house, hadn't he? If she'd been here that long, maybe he was still a child to her. The prospect of being forgotten didn't seem to make her very happy, and Dick decided to change the subject. "So have you...been here long?" God, Dick, what kind of question is that?

Another enignmatic, patient smile. "Since the night I left. Isn't there always something about unfinished business? I think you know what mine was."

"I'm sorry," Dick offered, not knowing what else there was to say. The record had moved on to the next song, and he was forming an image in his mind of what this room must have looked like, the night of that party - men in tuxedos and women in party dresses, everyone drinking champagne and high on life.  Lew's...grandfather, probably, or his great-grandfather, presiding over the whole thing. The war was over, and soon everyone would be coming home. Everyone except her fellow, I guess.  "That must have been...indescribable."

"Truth be told, I don't remember much of it," she admitted. "Mrs. Nixon was wearing gardenias, and there was too much rum in the punch. Then I remember - the buttons on the Western Union man's jacket. After that..." she gave a slight shrug. "I was gone, and then I...came back."

"Do you...make appearances very often?"

She shook her head. "No, not often. But when emotions are high - a party, or a fight." A brief, dry chuckle. "I think you know this house has seen a lot of fights." God, did he ever. "Blanche and I had an understanding. I'd sit by her bed and sing to her." A thought occurred. “Is she doing all right? Blanche? I haven’t seen her in the longest time.”

Dick thought about Lew’s younger sister, last seen on Instagram in Bali on a yoga retreat for the rich and famous after having dumped yet another deadbeat boyfriend. Still trying to find herself - that was what he always thought of when Lew’s sister came to mind. Both of the Nixons were trying to find themselves - Lew at the bottom of a bottle for a while, and Blanche by - wandering. “She’s doing okay,” he said.

“I suppose I should let you go. You were - in the middle of things.”

He shrugged. As hauntings went, this one had been pretty pleasant - and if he was being really honest, he was glad for the company. "It was very nice to meet you, Miss Warren. I know you're around, but you're welcome...any time.”

She smiled at that, turning around and walking out of the room, slowly fading out as she went. Dick stared at the empty space near the doors into the hall, and suddenly realized something. If there wasn’t a fight or a party - why did she come? He looked at the record player, circling now in silence, and rose from his chair to turn it off, reading off the eventual real estate listing in his head. 

Recently refinished hardwood floors and exterior landscaping. Also comes with well-behaved ghost who enjoys Glenn Miller.

[tojitiddies]

✰ TEACH

pairing ⋆ toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ in all your years of teaching you’ve never encountered a parent like toji.

warnings ⋆ vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint, dumbification

ꔵ the first time you ever saw toji fushiguro was around second month of school, when megumi had began acting up in class. you knew megumi to be a spoiled rich kid, as he was always being dropped off and picked up in sleek black cars with tinted windows, along with his older sister tsumiki. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of the driver if megumi ever needed assistance getting his bag out the car, but that was the only semblance of adult supervision you’d seen megumi receive outside of school faculty.

megumi was always dressed crisply and his meals efficiently packed. he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of sharing or caring and relied on his tiny fists to solve conflicts. this was all a stark contrast to his sister tsumiki, seeing as his older sister’s teachers only sang her praises. truly you had tried to get through to the seven year old, but out of all the trouble makers you’d ever taught, megumi really liked to work your nerves.

which brought you here, at a parent-teacher conference with megumi’s father, toji fushiguro. his large figure looked comical as he sat in one of the small plastic, colored chairs, usually inhabited by first graders of course. he wore a plain black t-shirt and white slacks. he also had a black blazer that he he had draped over the side of his chair. the side of his lips was decorated with a menacingly large scar that twitched occasionally as he listened to you speak.

“... all i want is for megumi to have a good time here in first grade. i know he and his sister are new so making an adjustment may be difficult, but i’d like to make the transition for young megumi as smooth as possible.” you finished as you fiddled with your fingers.

toji shifted in his chair with a slight grunt. “mrs. ____ is it?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just miss actually.” you corrected him shyly. his entire demeanor was so intimidating you didn’t want to insult him. you almost miss the mischievous glint in his eye as you lift your eyes to face him again.

“i understand your concerns with my son. i had no idea what a little shit he was being. especially to such a beautiful young woman as yourself.” his tone is suggestive, contradicting the polite smile adorning his lips.

you smiled uncomfortably. “thank you, but i would never think of your son as...a little shit. i’m sure he has a sweet side somewhere. which is why, i thought maybe megumi could benefit from some sort of counseling?” you suggested, pushing forward a slip of paper. toji leaned forward taking the document from the desk and began to read over it, his brow quirking up in interest. “alongside being a first grade teacher i also serve as a counselor here at the elementary school.” you began to explain. “although i’ve never counseled a student of my own in fear of bias, i think it would be wise if megumi had someone whom he was acquainted with.”

toji set the slip back down and set his gaze on you. you squeezed your thighs together as he fixed you with his stare. he really was intensely attractive. “hm, how unfair is it that my son gets more alone time with you than i do?” this time he smirked. so it wasn’t your imagination, he was flirting with you.

“mr. fushiguro?”

“i’m only teasing teach.” he chuckled. “i agree. i think we could all benefit from megumi’s counseling,” he folded his arms over his broad chest, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “so when does he start?” your eyes zoned in on toji’s biceps before blinking back up at him he pretended not notice you ogling him. “ah well...next wednesday perhaps? all i need is for you to sign the slip.” you said sliding him a pen from your desk.

your fingers brushed against his as he took the pen. you tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably only try to get a rise out of you. he began to scribble his signature, once he finished he stood up from his seat and you followed suit. “thank you mrs. ____ for contacting me.” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you took it, letting his large hands envelope yours. “ah...again it’s just ms. ____. i’m not married.” you corrected him again with a lighthearted laugh. toji smirked at that before he leant in towards you. startled, you froze, afraid he might kiss you, until you realized he was only leaning towards your ear. “we’ll be in touch then, ms. ____.” he spoke in a lower tone. you were left standing there completely dumbstruck as he retrieved his blazer and threw it over his shoulder.

“yes...” you murmured quietly in response as he left you alone in the classroom.

ꔵ three months into counseling with megumi you had begun to see progress. his angered outbursts only came in waves and he had stopped using his hands and started using his words. his attitude toward you had also warmed up and he had even began giving you hugs. you were happy all the exercises you’d been working on with him were finally starting to pay off.

the only big issue? his father.

every time you spoke to him there was always a flirty or suggestive undertone. he never crossed the line but he would constantly get close to doing so. there was one counseling session a couple weeks ago when he came to pick up megumi (something he had suspiciously started doing ever since your counseling had started). you were both standing outside the door of the classroom, with megumi inside coloring, as you briefed toji on his counseling session.

“so he’s doing well then, i’m glad. but how are you doing teach? i know dealing with these little brats all day can’t be good on your stress.” he said, resting his hand on your forearm. you glanced down at his thumb caressing your skin before laughing nervously, brushing his hand down. “ah...really i’m alright mr. fushi - “

“i’ve told you to call me toji.” he interrupted, his voice dropping to that low tone once again.

you cleared your throat, trying to settle the butterflies that formed in your stomach. “thank you toji. but really i don’t mind it. i’ve been doing this for almost eight years now..” you tried your best not to let your voice waver under this suggestive tension.

toji stepped forward, the space between the both of you becoming almost non existent as your breasts came in contact with his chest. “well just know teach...” he murmured, lifting his fingers to your chin, “if you ever need any stress relief - “

“papa!”

you jumped back from toji like a frightened feline, while toji stood in place clearly unfazed by his child’s sudden presence. you’d been so focused on trying not to jump toji’s bones right then and there, you hadn’t even noticed megumi open the classroom door. “can we go home now? i’m hungry.” he whined, brandishing a cute pout on his face.

you couldn’t help but smile at the cute kid. toji bent down and picked him up, resting him on his hip. “hungry huh? well you can eat this knuckle sandwich for interrupting ms. ____ and i.” he teased, playfully twisting his fist into megumi’s face. megumi giggled slapping away his large hand before turning to look at you. “sorry ms. ____.” he apologized sweetly. yet another skill he’d learned from his counseling sessions.

you grinned and leaned forward to pinch his cheek. “don’t worry about it lovebug! it wasn’t that important anyway.” you chirped, glancing over at toji to see his lips twitch into a frown. you held back a giggle at how identical his pout was to little megumi’s. you leaned into the classroom to take megumi’s backpack off the hook, which toji took and swung over his free arm.

“say goodbye to ms. ____, megumi.” toji instructed. megumi raise his arm to wave, which you met with a small high five instead. “i’ll see you in the morning megumi!” you cheered. toji glanced back at you briefly. “don’t forget about my offer ms. ___.” he said with a wink, before turning back around and walking off with his son.

once he and megumi were out if sight you fell back against the classroom door with a whine. toji fushiguro would truly be the end of you.

ꔵ the afternoon sun shone through your window as you finished up the last of your student reports. as you began to pack up, you heard a knock at your classroom door. “come in!” you called out, not bothering to look up from your work.

you sighed as you gave up on organization and just began to sweep the papers into a folder, but before you could finish, a large hand fell on top of yours. you let out a yelp, looking up to find toji fushiguro smirking down at you. he looked as though he’d come straight from work, blessing you with a tight button down shirt and black slacks. god, he was a work of art.

“afternoon teach.” he greeted you.

“mr. fushiguro what a surprise. what are you doing here? megumi’s gone home already hasn’t he?” you asked, trying to keep calm as a million more thoughts raced through your mind.

“ah, that’s right. he’s long gone. ‘s just you and me.” he said as he fixed you with his strong gaze, his hand closing around yours. “i came because i wanted to thank you. i haven’t seen megumi like this in awhile. i know this was mostly a school thing, but he’s been less of a little shit at home too,” he informed you, his thumb slowly caressing your hand.

you were becoming putty under his touch. “yes...i’m glad gumi’s doing do well at home too. all i want is the best for him.” you answered, stumbling over your words a bit. toji brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles. “mhm...so i was wondering if you’d thought about my offer?” he asked, looking back at you through those lustful eyes.

“mr. fushiguro - “

“toji.”

“t-toji...i’m delighted you would pay me a visit simply to thank me, but it really isn’t necessary.” you could feel his aura start to envelope you, the tension between you two thickening with lust. the most he’d done was kiss your knuckles and already you were trying to keep from rubbing your thighs together.

still holding firmly onto your hand, toji began to walk around your desk. “ms. ____, i insist you let me properly thank you because i feel you’re deserving of it. do you not?” he murmured, gingerly pulling you up out of your seat, guiding your hand towards his chest. your fingers instinctively hooked around the fabric where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned. his other arm snaked its way around your waist.

“toji...we shouldn’t. this is highly unprofessional, i could get fired. and what about megumi?” you rambled, trying to keep your composure. toji leaned down and began to press sweet wet kisses down your neck. you sighed out, letting your hand fan out across his chest.

“megumi will be fine teach. no one has to know anything as long as you can keep a secret. now let me take care of you.” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. his knee came to situate between your thighs, you wasted no time grinding against him. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against your shoulders.

“kiss me...please?” you mumured, hooking your arm around his neck. toji’s scar twitched as his lips formed a smirk. he lifted his head, grazing your lips against his before pressing forward. the kiss was rough and sensual, both of you devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongue. you moaned into his mouth, continuing to grind against his thigh. when your lips finally separated, a string of saliva connected you before dripping down onto your blouse.

“enjoying my thigh teach?” he taunted, flexing his thigh muscles and causing you to let out a breathy moan again. “y-you’re teasing me.” you whined desperately trying to grind your clothed clit against his thigh muscles. the hand on your waist slid down taking your thigh and pinning it to his waist, granting you better access. “so needy for me hm?” he murmured into your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “tell me what you want baby.”

your hand fisted his collar as you desperately ground yourself against him. “please fuck me toji. i can’t take your constant teasing anymore.” you whimpered, nuzzling into his shoulder. toji chuckled at that before reaching behind you, clearing your desk in one fell swoop. papers and files fluttered to the ground as he lifted you up on top of your desk, spreading your legs.

you both hastily begin unbuttoning your shirts, one of your buttons popping off in the frenzy. toji chuckles as he lowers himself to his knees, his chest muscles rippling as he moves. “i can’t believe you have the nerve to walk around in a tight little skirt like this.” he laughs wickedly, sliding up your pencil skirt until it bunches up at your waist. you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the wet spot in your panties becomes noticeable. toji slides his finger up your covered folds, the slick coating his finger prints. “how lovely.” he purrs to himself.

“please...” you whine breathily, scooting forward hoping he’d take the hint. he chuckles darkly blowing against your clothed clit before pulling aside your underwear to marvel at your dripping cunt. “look at that.” he marvels before letting his tongue dip between your folds. you let out a choked moan. it had been so long since you’d been touched this way by someone other than yourself, it felt like heaven. he paused only to hook his fingers around your panties and discard them who knows where.

just as quick as he was gone, he’s back to hungrily bury his tongue in your cunt, switching between prodding your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit. your fingers fisted his raven hair, as you loudly praised his skill through moans and chants. the wet sounds of him slurping and licking up your arousal egged you on to grind against his mouth. waves of arousal just keep coming, whatever his tongue couldn’t catch dripping onto the desk.

your thighs threatened to close around his head as you felt yourself coming close to climaxing. “fuck stop! toji i’m gonna cum,” you whine out, weakly trying to push his head away. you hear him hum in amusement as he instead, moves his hands up to spread your thighs back further. his tongue works your hole, slowly spreading it wider before he’s able to curl his tongue inside. you let out a loud cry, your hips jerking and bucking as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. your vision spots as you cum all over his tongue, your thighs threatening to snap around his head but his hands keep you in place.

toji finishes licking up the rest of your arousal before rising up from between your legs, towering over your trembling figure. one hand comes up to your chin, roughly tilting your head up to look directly at him. “open,” he commands, to which you obey immediately. your tongue rolls out lewdly as he spits your arousal down your throat. “good girl,” he purrs. “now turn around, i’m about to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

eagerly you turn around on your stomach, thankful for the desk supporting your torso as your sure your wobbly legs would not be able to. you hear toji unbuckling behind you as your spread your legs slightly, swaying your hips hoping to entice him to move a bit faster. toji’s hands come to spread over the globe of your ass cheeks, kneading them in his palms.

“you’re so fucking sexy. i’m sure you already know ever since we’ve met this ass has been all i ever think about.” he chuckled, letting his hardened cock slide back and forth between your folds. you let out a whine moving your hips back against him. “i want you to fill me up so badly, please hurry.” your croak out, your voice hoarse from your previous climax. toji brings down his hand against your ass harshly, receiving a yelp in response. “and who you do you think you are ordering me, huh teach? i’m not one of your little first graders baby,” he grunts, spreading your ass cheeks again, letting the tip of his cock tease your aching hole.

“beg for it.” he taunts in a sing-song tone, sliding his cock up and down and against your cunt. your let out a small puff of air as you turn your head back to look at him with your pleading eyes. “please toji...please stuff me full. i haven’t been fucked in so long i wanna be filled up please.” you whimpered, your hips stuttering against his cock, now lubed up with all the juices he’d collected. your begging seemed to please toji, his scar twitching as his lips formed a smug smirk. “good girl.”

toji slammed his cock inside you, no regard for easing you on to his length whatsoever. tears pricked your eyes at the sharp pain, your insides spasming around him. “shit, you feel like a fucking virgin squeezing me so tight. you weren’t kidding about not being fucked in so long, hm?” he chuckled. you didn’t get the chance to respond as he was already pulling out to slam back in. it hurt so good, the pain and the pleasure of being stretched around his girth. he continued to thrust harshly inside your cunt only receiving broken moans and strings of curses from your lips.

his hand came to your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing your head back. your arousal began to return once more, dripping down his cock and making the most obscene squelching and sucking noises. “such a naughty teacher, letting a parent fuck her right in the classroom, huh?” toji’s gruff voice came from behind you. you whined, one of your hands reaching behind you to spread your ass cheeks to grabt him more access. “feels so fucking good, fuck me harder, please.” you manage to say through clenched teeth. “harder baby? you got it.”

before you can even think to react, his arms come to circle around your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. you let out a small cry, your arm instinctively circling around his neck for upper support. toji holds you up, legs spread over his cock. the cool air of the classroom hits your clit causing you whine out in frustration. toji chuckles. “impatient, are we teach?” he murmurs before ramming his hips up into you, his cock sliding back in immediately. “fuck!” you blurt out in surprise.

this new position had him hitting you in places no one had ever discovered and your tits bouncing up and down with fervor. your cunt fluttered, hearing his grunts so much closer to your ear. your lips fall slack, your tongue rolling out ever so slightly as he fucks you dumb. everything just feels so fucking good. “fuck keep squeezing around me just like that teach, i’m gonna cum.” he growls into your ear “fuck...stuff me full of your cum t-toji,” you sob, feeling yourself come closer to your second climax as well.

you bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing it slow in contrast his quick thrusting. you wanted to savor this feeling. “god, keep touching yourself just like that baby,” he moans, swiveling his head to sink his teeth into to your shoulder. everything seems to slow, the pleasurable drag of his hardened cock against your walls, him hitting your spot just right, the way you sucked him back in as he pulled out...

“toji i’m - “ you can’t even finish before a wave of pleasure knocks over you, your vision spotting once again as he brings you to your climax for a second time. toji continues to fuck into you faster chasing his own high before you feel the spurts of thick cum filling your insides. you’re barely able to think, your fucked out daze taking over. you barely notice him move you off his softening length to set you down. you immediately grab ahold of him, your legs unable to support you at the time. you can feel his cum and your arousal begin to trickle out from your cunt, earning a satisfied whine from your lips. toji laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i haven’t had a good fuck like that in awhile. you were better than i imagined, taking me like that.” he spoke, his voice sounding muffled to you as your daze still hadn’t worn off. you hum softly nuzzling into his warm chest.

toji bites his lip as he looks down at you, you’re just so fucking cute clinging to him that way. he lifts you up on to the desk, carefully dressing you back up. he can’t find your panties so he just pulls you skirt back down from where it had gathered at your waist. he tucks your breasts back into your bra and picks up your blouse from the floor. he smirks at the missing button, doing what he can to close your blouse back up.

you smile gently, watching toji perform his aftercare. this must be the fatherly side of him you rarely get to see. after he’s finished dressing you both back up, he sets his gaze back on you. “so, i’ll see you next wednesday ms. ____?” he asks, settling back into his usual smug demeanor. you scoff before muttering out a small confirmation. he grins that smug toji grin. “perfect then. i’ll be sure to tell megumi you said hello.” he walks out shutting the door behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

authors note ⋆ hi! this is my first time ever writing and posting something here on tumblr <3 i really hope this wasn’t too bad this took me like three days to write and i deleted and added a bunch of stuff so i hope it isn’t too wacky. thank you for reading!

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 134: Sunday May 14, 2023 - “Saying Goodbye to a Regal Friend”

We knew it was coming, but it wasn’t until after dinner last night that I became aware, that it was coming soon.  And as much as we’ve mentally prepared for the idea that our boy Havarti wouldn’t be with us much longer, we were both shocked that today we’d have to say goodbye.  He was regal in all ways, from where he chose to sit in the most comfortable possible cushiest spot, to the way he’d wash his face like a cat, and I’d like think that he chose to go out in the most regal way he could; after William was in bed, on a Saturday night when Audrie was at work, just me and him.  No one had to choose his time to go.  He waited until I lifted him up into the bed, one last time, where he’d spent so much time with me over the last 9 years, both day and night. And while I spooned him and comforted him, and called his Mama to let him know he was really struggling, he stretched all four his legs out straight in his classic way, then relaxed and stopped breathing. I had to let Audrie go for a moment, to check him and make really sure and think about how I would share this sad news with Audrie.  The day had come. Our prince had passed. 

I wrapped him up, and tucked him in with his baby blue puppy blanket that he had first come into Audrie’s life with.  I closed his eyes and sat there with him for a time, comforting him as I imagined his good soul slowly transitioning and saying goodbye to our world, our home.  It was a sad finality to it when I pushed his eyes shut, something that will always stick with me.  Havarti’s eyes were always so alive and expressive,  and though they’d been harder to read in his old age, he was still in there - even tonight.  His eyes were always so beautiful, as brown and bright as his young fur and I thought about how beautiful he was as I closed those eyes and said goodbye.  A very handsome dog. I thought he was beautiful the first time I saw him at that coffee shop, just like the love at first sight I experienced with his mama a few days before.  Strong, athletic, lean, with a dark healthy brown coat.  Even his breed sounded regal - Rhodesian Ridgeback. Incredibly handsome dog and everyone commented on it every where we went.  And it was the least of his best qualities.

I told him I appreciated everything he’s done for me, and how I hoped I always made him feel like the big dog in the house; Audrie’s first love and I knew my place.  I told him that I hoped he knew how much I appreciated him and that I was generous with my love for him.  I told him I was sorry for all those times we’d fought and I’d made him shake, and I shed my first tear with that confession.    I thought about that first Christmas, and getting him a well deserved steak, that morphed into piggy platter for his birthday which became a yearly tradition. It crossed my mind that I knew this last December it’d be his last and how I worked hard to get the board fixed just for him, knowing itd be a big deal.   Still, it all seems too fast now.  I patted his head, and promised to still do a piggy platter in December to celebrate him.  And we’d all enjoy it.  We’ll think of him every time we all take a birthday platter off his board.

I patted his head and thought about Audrie and how bad she’ll feel about not being here.  And had the realization that this was maybe the way he intended it.  It would be like him - not one for the center of attention, wanting to be sweet and protective of his mama, knowing how sad and traumatic it’d be if it had to be a production with needles and the like. “You did this for her, didn’t you.”  I respected that, and understood my responsibility for him.  I remember how he’d been there for me when I was storming with work real bad in 2019, the time I tried to quit my job, and Havarti brought my stuffy friends for comfort, and never left my side.  I told him then that Id never forget that, and thought about how some day Havarti would pass, and how Id be there for him just like he was for me then, and promised him to hold up my end of that and surround him with love and peace now, and to help him do this the best way he could and try to help his Mama understand why this was best.  It was an honor to be by his side as he passed and to make sure he got all the respect he earned.

He was a special dog, I knew, from the moment I met him.  His sweet mama had trained him well - which was my first clue at how good she’d be raising a family.   He knew tricks and commands which was no surprise because it always felt like he knew exactly what we were saying, all the time.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if all of a sudden he’d bust out the ABCs.   You could talk to Havarti for more than just sit and come here, you really could feel like you were having a whole conversation with him.   He’d army crawl, put his head down and relax, and best of all - he’d give you a big high Ten, his best trick; things just havent been the same these last couple years when his hind legs couldn’t spring him up for that trick anymore.  He would give me so so so many Tens while cheering on his favorite sports team, the Blues.  This dog loved playoff hockey, mostly for the treats-for-goals deal we worked out, but I imagined he just loved seeing me happy, because he was that kind of dog.   He could not catch a tater tot, no matter how much we’d practice, but never stopped trying as if he understood the entertainment value of watching him chomp at the air; “its ok buddy, I could never catch a fly ball either.”  He really really struggled with his relationship with walking on a leash, but always knew how to reign it in when a child was a the reigns  and that always frustrated me when he would pull me around with all of his weight....”I know you can do better if you wanted to!”   As difficult as he always was on the leash, some of my favorite memories were those cold nights and mornings in Denver where Id have to take him out and practiced going all the way to the park and all the way back with no leash.   We made a lot of walks to that dog park and back in all kinds of weather, I suppose he was trying to teach me how to parent.  And even when we lived way up there on that fifth floor with no dog door, this regal man was above having any kind of accident in the house.   Smarter and better behaved than most people.  What the hell would he ever need a leash for?  This was a dog that would get excited (red rocket level excited) to go the Vet, and it was probably because his vet Dr. Nightengale, loved him and thought of him as a very special dog, and he would know.  And the vet wasn’t the only one that noticed...every dog sitter we ever had just thought Havarti was the best dog, even offering to watch him and take him for free - really it was their pleasure, they’d say. I am sure if we tried, we could probably even get them to pay us to come spend time with our wonder dog, in the crocheted sweaters from Grandma, though we never tried.  Some dogs are special like that, and I patted his head now again, telling him over and over again that he was a good dog.  The only thing I could think to say as I reflected back on all these nice memories of him.  Just such a good kind dog.  He weathered every funny hat, and funny costume we threw on him, and embraced it. His winters as our Reindog was by far my favorite.  And as playful and lightheared and go with the flow he was, by far and away, his most special trait was his gentleness.  As regal as he was, distinguished as he looked, he was the most loving gentle animal.  As soon as I moved in, I noticed something different about this dog.  He actually played with his stuffed toys like they were his friends.  He didn’t chew or destroy them.  I patted his head now and remembered that silly stinky gross little mouse that Havarti moved from Arizona to Michigan to Denver and back.  I am sure its around here in The Finca somewhere.   How gentle he was with that little play mouse, probably says everything that really needed to be said about Havarti.  He took care of all his little buddies. He loved any toy with a face on it.  It was really wild witnessing this when we lived at the 5th Street House and he’d carry his toys outside in the morning and bring them back in at the end of the day.  Did that just happen?  Oh yes, itd happen every day.  I swore he was some kind of wizard reincarnated as a dog.  As gentle as he was with his toys, he was even more lovey with us.  Loved to cuddle, and even tolerated when Mama picked him up to hold him like a baby....I swear it was his favorite thing, even as he got older.  You could see it on his face.   “This is so embarrassing but I love it” As handsome and smart as he was, what made him so lovable was how quirky he was.   He’d go coo-coo for Dungeness crab from Pikes Place, was an All-Star at the “Find It” game, enjoyed the water safely from the beach, and was shameless in his desire to never be in trouble, even when chewing through his own rope leash.  Just a special dog, all around.  He brought our family so much joy, and I missed the first 6 years!  I can only imagine how full Audrie’s heart must be with all those extra special memories of him as a puppy and growing into his clumsy body with all those legs.

We could have just let Havarti cruise to the finish line and enjoy his old man years, but instead Audrie had the idea of getting him a puppy to help keep him young.  I mean the logic made sense, right?  Maybe Havarti could teach a young pup the ropes and pass along his learned wisdom and calm since we couldn’t afford to clone him (an idea Audrie actively entertained for a time).  That plan didn’t work of course, with Huckleberry just being wired totally different than the old man.  But Havarti, out of love for his mama, gave all his best effort and patience in being thrown into being a big brother after 12 years as an only child.  He taught his brother how to play bitey face, graciously shared his toys and watched as Huck destroyed them, tried to show Huck how to walk on a leash properly though he himself had never figured it out, and where to poop so as to make it easier on us (fun remembering getting frustrated with Havarti when Huck was slow to the house training!)  Havarti probably kept things together way more than we would ever know, like any big brother would, and probably got a good kick out of every time we left the house and joked about Huckleberry being in charge.    As much time as these two spent together, I have to assume that years from now, with Huck as the only dog in the house, we’ll notice something and think “Havarti showed him that” - I’ll be real impressed if Huck ever learns “put your head down” but I just hope that just a little bit of that goodness sunk in, for all those times these two slept and dreamed and snored butt to butt.  Its one of the most shining examples of Havarti’s regal charm, the way that he accepted and tolerated his little brother, afterall its going to be Huck thats going to have to patrol this house and keep us safe now that he’s gone...and its almost like he knew that, so he poured as much love into Huck as we tried to.  He was a great brother for Huck knowing that he’d have an important job ahead.  He had a legacy to try to carry and live up to, especially after years of Havarti spoiling us as dog parents.

And then suddenly, Huck was the middle child and we had a baby in the house and one of the greatest gifts that Havarti gave our family was to hang around with us these last two years to give us memories of him with William.   As time goes on, I imagine it will be those photos of William with Havarti we’ll cherish the most.  From that first Halloween where they both dressed as Lions, to being the first dog William walked, I am so grateful for the overlap of our very special dog with our very special boy.   William learned to be gentle with old man Havarti, to give sweet taps and be empathetic and say Good Dog.  William’s first sign was Dog, his first words were “bow wow” and if he grows up to be a dog lover, it will be in part because of the contribution Havarti made to the wiring in his heart.  William was sure to say goodnight to Havarti every night and give him a little head bonk and a kiss, and this last night was no different, even while Havarti laid there suffering, I could imagine he was happy to see William’s smiling sleepy face to say goodnight, like he was waiting for that - within 30 minutes, he’d be gone.  While Huckleberry will always be William’s dog, Havarti became extra vigilant around the house with a baby boy in the house, and gave extra care for his mama who now split her love amongst the four of us men in her life, knowing that he’d always be the one she’d have to worry about the least. Her most steady love. He would now patiently wait for his affection and loves, and eventually move on without complaint to sleeping on the couch in the living room now that life had grown up on us all and we shared the bed not with our extra-leggy-fur-baby anymore, but with an actual baby instead.  And he didn’t bother her with any extra tasks or things to do in these last couple years, just continued to exist in his routine, soaking in the naps, and the comfortable quiet spots in the house,  cruising out his final days.   We were all lucky to have Havarti’s love, but Audrie was lucky to be loved by him most of all.   He understood William to be his Mama’s other son, and rather than look for a play date (he got more than enough of that from Huckleberry), he accepted his old role as guard dog, and would often setup shop for watch in the nursery  to be close to the action (though it could also be argued it was the coolest room in the house and the rug was comfortable, after-all Havarti was no dummy).

One thing is for absolutely sure; Havarti was always a good car dog; down to go anywhere, just like his itinerant parents.   He drove cross country twice including once with his two brothers in the back seat with him.  No problem - he set the tone for the other two.  He joined us on our every move, as we searched for a place to lay our roots.  From the little two-room temporary place where we had no furniture, to the snows of Denver where we had to drag (and sometimes carry if it was too cold) him up and down three floors of stairs several times a day to use the bathroom (and where we registered his poop and him as an ESA!).  Back to Tucson in an Airbnb, then a rental with a perfect backyard for him, and then finally to his retirement home here on Baker, complete with his own private dining room.  The Finca, his final resting place.  Everywhere we went, he was happy to settle in, and be happy. - we literally never had to worry about Havarti. The only thing that would ever rattle him would be if the local kitten tried to eat his food! We got pretty good about getting him into Hotels out on the road, and he was always really great about quietly staying under the radar.  He was very judicious with his bark, always.  From New Mexico to Arkansas Hot Springs, Havarti was a good well travelled dog.  He saw a lot more of this country out the back window of my Prius than most people will ever see.   My favorite trip that I ever took with him was when we went North and camped outside Flagstaff on a cold 9-dog-night.   I warmed two cans of dog food over the flame for him so that he could eat like a king, before cuddling with me in my sleeping bag to keep me warm.  The next day we’d hike up to see the Aspens.  I remember thinking how nice it was to share that with him, and as we watched the sunset at sno-bowl, I swore he enjoyed it more than I did.   Just like that one sunset at the Tetons.  An aesthetic voyager in his own right.  He was a great travel mate, and durable sidekick.  I appreciated him for that.  From the Flat Irons to the White Sands and  Great Sand Dunes, off leash at Soldier Trail or Nordhouse Dunes, Havarti was never an anchor, and I respected him always as a fellow voyager.

And now for that last voyage.  I remember thinking just a week ago, as William and I strolled Havarti and Huck around the neighborhood, that this will probably be Havarti’s last walk.  I stopped and let him pee on every fire hydrant and tried to not tell him to keep up, just let him enjoy it, and go at his speed in the nice cool morning air.  I thought how selfish it was to wish for him to stay for one last summer.  He’d had enough Tucson summers for one dog’s life.  I pat him on the head and told him he was a good boy as I took of his leash and joked about how he probably didn’t need it anymore, even if he did go along on our walks.  And I was right.  Today I picked him up in his bed, and carried him to the back of mama’s car, and we drove him to the cremation place.   His last walk.   I was sure to give him all the respect and love that he had earned, and set him down as softly as I could.  Moments before, we’d brought William in to explain and say goodbye and it was in that moment, that I finally broke down and lost it for the first time.  Just overcome with all of it.  I knew it was coming, but the finality of it - how thered be no more fun or quirky Havarti stories to add or fun trips we’d remember him on, no more high tens or hockey games. This was it.  Our last memories of Havarti and I was open heartedly sad.  I spent several months dreading this day and thinking about how hard it would be for Audrie, but In that moment, saying goodbye, I barely thought of her at all -  I thought about my friend, My Dog and how really blessed I was to be in his life and was more sad that I ever imagined I would be.   Havarti was a really big tree.  Larger than any life to be expected from a rescued Tucson Tan mut.  There will never be a dog like him in my life, and I knew it. He was, indeed, the best good boy.  It wasn’t just cliche talk but in the end those simple words summed it up best.  I loved him very much and while I had dutifully gotten everything together best I could, and comforted him, and had been mindful of supporting Audrie, now in these last few moments all the love burst out of me and I wept.  It was now my responsibility to help him live on forever, in our home and in our stories, and as a very special member of our family forever.  We gave him the very best life that we could, and he repaid us ten-fold and we’ll never let him be forgotten.

After we were home from saying goodbye to Havarti my Dad texted and said something about Grandma greeting Havarti with pats in heaven. It reminded me of the time we went and visited them in Apache Junction and how even though Audrie had really wanted me to ask and make sure it was ok, we brought Havarti unannounced.  “They love dogs!” I exclaimed assuredly.  Didn’t know their park had a policy against dogs!   My Grandma whooshed the dog in the back door and closed all the blinds and went on and on about the contraband dog and how we had to sneak him into the car to take him to the bathroom and keep his head down and don’t tell anyone he was here, knowing full well she was enjoying the fact that this all gave her something to talk about! And sure enough the whole thing was so amusing the next day that she herself was telling the head of security.   What a great story - grandma’s contraband dog. We took a picture together that night in 2014, and as Havarti would consistently do with the camera on a timer, he’d turn and look at the very last second and pose perfectly for the shot.  I can’t even train my kid to do that!  Fun memory to look back on.  It got me thinking and hoping that if it were at all possible now for Grandma to smuggle him through the back door into our Heaven instead of the doggo heaven, that he would be certainly a deserving candidate.   The only bad thing he ever did in his life was to eat Rocks and to run off on a classic walkabout and get lost once.  Regardless of those two blemishes on his record, it would seem to me, that if any being was good enough for a place in Heaven, itd be him.  He was the smartest, most respectful (as long as he wasnt on a leash), and sweetest gentle animal that no doubt any of us have ever met.   He lived a full life with so many happy, playful memories, and thats how I’ll try to  remember him > jumping into Cherry Creek doing splash and dash and carrying around a gross play cat toy mouse.  This last day was tough, and was very heavy, and I am still shocked at how fast it went.  But I am so blessed to have had a truly good dog in my life to tell about and all these amazing pictures of wonderful places that we shared with him.  One of those truly accidental blessings that I didn’t know that I needed or wanted that my stars fated to me back in May 2014.  His steady companionship and friendship these last 9 years through all the tides of our life set a great legacy and model for the four of us he left behind.  He left all of us better than he found us, and for a life lived, there is no greater compliment.  I broke down one last time, as they took him away, thinking about that.  He left all four of us better than he found us.  He had done more than his fair share and left this world so loved; the one thing that lives forever and more than any of us can expect.

Song: Willie Nelson - Live Forever

Quote: “I am my mother’s son. All other identities are artificial and recent. Naked, basic, actually, I am my mother’s son. I emerged from her womb and set out on this earth. The earth gave me another identity, that of name, personality, appearance, character, and spirit. The earth is my grandmother; I am the earth’s grandson. The way I comb my hair today has nothing to do with myself, who am my mother’s son and the earth’s grandson. I am put on this earth to prove that I am my mother’s son. I am also on this earth, my grandmother, to be her spokesman, in my chosen and natural way. The earth owns the least to myself; she shall take me back, and my mother too. We have proven the earth’s truth and meaning, which is, simply life and death." ― Jack Kerouac

[queenshelby]

The Necklace

31 Days of Kink: Day 24

Pairing: Chris (Free Fire) x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 1788

Your husband Chris was perfect. Caring and loving, always needing and wanting to spoil you with gifts.

Quite often, during his deals, he would get some extra for you as part of the transaction and it was just yesterday that he gifted you a beautiful necklace for which you hadn’t even thanked him yet.

Your surprises and gifts for him were different, physical and erotic.

When he came home after a long day, you would often wait for him in some nice lingerie and then let him have his way with you.

But it was hardly his way alone. He always made sure to please you. Yet, you enjoyed the thought of being taken by him and he sure didn’t mind to play along.

It was just like that tonight, when he walked through the door of your condo and you didn’t even bother wearing anything at all this time around. Anything but the necklace he had given you.

‘Jesus Fucking Christ’ Chris huffed out as he walked into the door and saw you sitting there, completely nude, on one of the bar chairs.

‘Well hello there husband’ you winked and he immediately dropped his bag which contained cash and several guns, before taking off his jacket, shoes, shirt and jeans in a haste.

‘What do you want Love?’ he then asked, smirking at you through his moustache, while wearing nothing but his sexy black briefs.

‘What I want is for you to throw me down onto the couch and do what you want with me’ you said eagerly and, just like that, a sense of heat spread across Chris’s body, making it difficult for him to think of any retort.

When he finally walked over towards you, instead of kissing him, you grabbed his hand, pushed it against your already wet mound to collect some of your wetness and then brought that hand to your mouth and sucked at a finger.

‘Have me the way you want Chris’ you said with your finger in his mouth.

His cock strained at his boxers, screaming out for deliverance. You moved on to the other fingers, sucking at each one to taste the wetness that dappled them. The sight floored him, the desire rising higher, the heat burning hotter.

When you finished cleaning his fingers of your own wetness, you stared straight at him.

‘Please, Chris, take me, take me right fucking now...’ you said and you knew that he loved it when you begged for him.

Chris grabbed you by the hips, carried you across the room and tossed your down onto the couch.

‘Is that what you want Love?’ Chris smirked as pushed down his briefs, letting his hard cock spring free.

‘Oh yes’ you cried excitedly and, just as you did, his hands went to slide down your thighs before he positioned himself on top of you.

He was ready and eager and, without losing any time, he quickly pushed inside you, the warmth and wetness of your channel eagerly welcoming him. That sensation made him buck his hips, sending more of his length through that slit. As you moaned, he took a firm hold of your thighs, and drove forward, fitting every inch inside you.

Your moan turned into a squeal, your back arching sharply, your legs trembling in his grasp.

Chris took his time indulging in the moment. The silky heat of your pussy was an exquisite present. Quivers ran over him as he let his eyes drink in the expression currently plastered across your face, the raw desire etched there, your eyes lit up with lust, your lips gasping open as you took shallow breaths, your cheeks flushing darker.

Oh god yes’ you moaned, reciprocating with your own intent gaze.

His hips drew back, and he glanced down to watch your slit letting him leave, the inches of his shaft now gleaming with juices. A whine came from you, but fortunately for you, his retreat was only halfway, as he shoved forward, driving back inside you, making your squeal happily.

He growled at how desperately your pussy clutched at him. His grip on your thighs was unforgiving, his fingers digging into the flesh there. Your squeal calmed into purrs, and you wriggled restlessly, your hands clenched on the arm of the couch just above your head.

Again, his hips drew back, and again that retreat was met with a whine. Once again, your misery was short-lived, his cock only slipping out halfway before he sent it back all the way into that welcoming channel, the slightly harder thrust jarring you.

‘Ooh fuck yes, Chris, fuck’ you moaned and your coo of praise drew another growl from him, and he slid back again, watching your delight morph into misery, watching the misery revert to delight thanks to another thrust.

The misery disappeared altogether as he began to fuck you, holding tightly to your thighs, using that grip to keep your legs raised and spread, making sure there was nothing that could get in between your bodies. His hips pumped smoothly, the rhythm insistent but not too harsh, keeping some strength in reserve.

Full-throated cries erupted from you. They were mostly wordless expressions of pleasure, but every so often, there would come a wail of ‘Chris’. Hearing you call out to him made him fuck you harder, his cock screwing through your channel, his balls whacking loudly against your taint.

Those cries calmed then, and he felt your pussy spasming around him. Your orgasm was strong, shudders breaking over your figure, juices streaming from your sex. You were staring up towards him, but your eyes were unfocused.

He thrust to the base inside you, and held himself there, wanting to luxuriate in the moment once again, thrilled that he had so easily brought about ecstasy for you.

‘Chris’ you purred as your tongue peeked out to run over your lips, drawing his attention to them.

He stared into your eyes and then kissed you passionately, his moustache tingling your skin above your lips as he did.  You moaned into his mouth with your legs wrapped around him. He let his tongue sneak past your lips to wriggle against you.

Your squirming was restless, your legs tightening around him, your hands grabbing at his shoulders. The slick warmth surrounding his cock was a wondrous delight, those tender muscles clutching desperately, hoping to keep him entrenched there.

Besides the squirming, you were content to be underneath him, to let him have his way with you, to let his tongue roam around in your mouth. There was no attempt to make him start thrusting again.

Chris drew back, breaking the kiss before he caught your hands by the wrists. There was a squeak of surprise from you as he pulled you up and pinned those hands to the armrest. You were face to face and Chris had immobilised you, causing you to moan in almost fearful lust and hunger for him.

He kissed you again. There was no fight in you, no resistance, no struggling. You only moaned into his mouth as you made out.

Moments later, he drew his hips back, and began to fuck you again, slowly working his way up to the previous pace.

Another orgasm soon ran over you, as evidenced by your muffled cry and the wild spasming of your channel.

Again, he broke the kiss, partly to better hear that cry. It rang out loud in the living room, the ecstatic notes provoking him to fuck you even harder. His hips snapped back and forth, pinning you to the couch along with his hands, that combination making sure you was completely helpless.

‘Fuck yes’ he groaned and you squealed giddily, delighted that Chris was fucking you so ruthlessly.

More ecstasy washed over your already wracked frame and the thrusts still carried on, sending Chris’s cock deep inside you again and again. The repeating whack of his balls slapping against your taint was loud in the room. As he fucked you, he groaned and grunted, sucking at your neck. His hands were tight around your wrists, almost to the point of pain, but whatever discomfort there was only accentuated your helplessness.

There was no doubt now in him, no restraint, no hesitation. The couch creaked from his efforts, his grunts and groans loud in your ears, the smell of his sweat tickling her nose. You complemented his grunts and groans with your moans and mewls.

His hands squeezed harder at your wrists, a delicious pain sparking there. And then he thrust deep and stopped, his cock throbbing dangerously.

‘Fill me up Chris, please’ you cooed, anticipating the gift he was about to give you.

He came inside you, the first burst sending you straight into another orgasm, the following ones increasing your ecstasy. As much as you had wanted to say something when you had felt that heated flood roiling through you, all that you had managed was a soft mewl, a meek and pitiful sound. Your pussy met the deluge with a gush of its own and you shuddered amidst the euphoria, feeling the rest of the spurts fire off inside you.

Your legs relaxed from around his waist as your ecstasy dwindled, and by the time it had transitioned into afterglow, were slumped on the couch. The last spurt joined the rest, and Chris sighed in satisfaction, burying his face into the crook of your neck, not claiming another mouthful of flesh but rather just resting there.

After a few moments, he slid his hips back, letting that softening shaft slip from you.

By now, he had let go of your wrists, and was sitting back, his eyes fixed intently on your slit. Understanding what he wanted to see, and all too eager to give it to him, you spread your legs wider, showing off your slit and the river of semen starting to ooze forth. A blush bloomed on your skin at how entranced he was by the sight of you leaking his cum.

You purred happily, sinking back into the couch, your body unwinding. The afterglow was glorious, suffusing you with a luxurious calm. Your eyes closed, all the better to savor it.

‘I love coming home to my beautiful wife’ Chris then barely managed to say as his breathing returned to normal, taking you into his arms as he did.

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[anjiefiction]

Hello.

First of all, I would like to say that your story is amazing! Thank you for writing it, and for sharing it with the world. :)

Despite little interaction with the main cast, at this early point of the story, they have already grown close to my heart. Also thank you for breaking the stereotype of an obnoxiously intrusive reporter - despite being persistent in uncovering the truth, Ezann seems like a person with her heart at the right place. Also, I really liked the way you passed between various timelines - I found the transitions smooth and comprehensible.

Besides that, I hope you wouldn't mind, but I would like to point out one continuity error, which I encountered during my playthrough. During the little Q&A after MC woke up, I purposefully left the question about their state unsaid (as some sort of hopeless effort of MC to delay knowing the truth). So, after asking all the other questions I jumped straight to the question about the octopus plushie. But later when everyone came into the room (together with the doctor) the situation looked as if MC had asked that question, after all:

...And then, your mind flickers back to the question your friend had so adamantly avoided answering. Your stomach drops, unease flickering to life in your gut.

I'm not sure if it was purposeful or not, but I hope this feedback helps.

I apologize for any grammar mistakes which hijacked this ask along the way and am (patiently) looking forward to the continuation of your beautiful story. :D

Have a nice day.

Thank you so much! (๑♡⌓♡๑) You're too kind to spend the time to send such a sweet message...

And please don't apologize for highlighting improvement areas. I didn't realize that you could proceed without asking all questions - it's definitely an area that needs fixing. And your grammar is fine, don't apologize for that too!