#but i’ll eat the meat of the main as long as the other stuff on the plate hasn’t touched it 🙃

[timoswerner]

nah i need heavy snow on the 29th/30th so that i can’t get to this fucking wedding

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

MAJOR OFMD S2 SPOILERS!!

talkin' about the most recent leaked audition tape below the cut!

so we now have the leaked archie audition tape, archie being one of the two probable s2 lesbians and who will be played by madeleine sami (who is not actually the woman in the audition tape, for those of you who are also faceblind like me lol). i want to talk about the first scene from the audition tape

it's hard to tell what's going on, since it sounds like there's at least three characters in this scene and two of those characters are being read by someone off-screen. but here's a rough transcript of that scene:

READER(CHARACTER 1?): Let me die you cunts! Archie: Woah, hey! Easy on the c-word, compadre. That word just—makes me feel really uncomfortable READER(CHARACTER 2?): Sorry, man, we got orders. ARCHIE: Bite down on this. [HOLDS OUT BELT] READER(CHARACTER 1?): Bite down on my nob you bugging twat! ARCHIE: ...Okay. [ARCHIE SMACKS THE BELT ONTO A TABLE OFF-SCREEN, POSSIBLY KNOCKING CHARACTER 1? UNCONSCIOUS] ARCHIE: Um, do you think you could do the honors? Cause I’m—I’ll be honest I’m more of a, um, stabber than a chopper. I don’t love chopping. [SMACK NOISE FROM SOMEWHERE OFF-CAMERA, PRESUMABLY THE CHOPPING] ARCHIE: Ooh, haha, ugh. Icky. Icky yucky. READER(CHARACTER 2?): Well that was um, that was intense. ARCHIE: Haha. Super intense, eh? Superrr intense. [LONG PAUSE, ARCHIE MAKES PROLONGED EYE CONTACT WITH PERSON OFF-CAMERA] ARCHIE: [WHISPERS] Do you wanna...? [ARCHIE GRINS AND RUNS OFF-CAMERA]

so, obviously we have to take scenes from auditions tapes with a grain of salt. like, i doubt this is finalized dialogue. it's possible the plot has changed in some way since casting the role of archie. and also, again, it's kind of hard to really tell what's going on

but from what i can see, here's what i personally think is going on:

izzy is character 1

izzy is getting something amputated. probably his foot or part of his leg.

izzy calls the people in the room "cunts"

archie expresses discomfort with the word "cunt"

izzy then calls her a bugging twat

archie knocks him unconscious

the other person in the room proceeds to chop off izzy's body part

archie and the other person in the room... get horny from this? and leave to go hook up

(that last one tracks with the next scene, where it sounds like ed is making archie and another person fight to the death because "all love dies." this could be the same person who did the "chopping" in the scene above.)

and again, we don't know for sure that this is what's going on here! the plot might change, and it's kinda hard to tell who's saying what. but here's my main takeaways from this bit:

1. this scene is meant to be funny

unlike the toe scene, this scene seems tonally in-line with lucius's amputation scene in s1e06. just like how roach saying "knives are knives, meat's meat" was meant to be funny, archie's "icky, icky yucky!" is meant to be funny. it's also meant to be funny that and then she makes bedroom eyes at the person behind the camera and they presumably go hook up, after just having chopped a body part off izzy.

and yeah, that's pretty gross and fucked up! yknow what else is fucked up? the nose jar. lucius cutting off his own finger. making a turtle fight a crab. beating each other up for "vacation." lighting people on fire. turning people into furniture. "making some poor bloke eat his own toe for a laugh."

the show treats stuff like this as funny. this is nothing new. this should absolutely not be a surprise to anyone. izzy's foot (or other body part, but most likely his foot as a result of an infection) getting cut off in a comedy scene is very on-brand for this show.

2. izzy's misogynistic language is given a female target

izzy's probably delirious and feverish from his infection, just like lucius was in s1e06. interestingly enough, lucius did not call anyone misogynistic slurs when he was delirious and in pain. and lucius especially didn't call anyone a misogynistic slur after they told him they were uncomfortable with the first misogynistic slur he called them.

yeah, izzy's probably delirious in this scene. but the writers who wrote this dialogue probably weren't. in this scene, a woman expresses discomfort with being called a misogynistic slur, and when izzy then tells her to "bite down on my knob you bugging twat" she proceeds to hit him, possibly knocking him out. this is not the final cut of the show, so this scene might play out differently on screen, or maybe this scene will be cut altogether. but i think there's three possibilities for what this means for izzy's character arc in season 2:

they cut this scene entirely and we never see izzy say sexist slurs to a woman at any point in season two. if/when he continues to say "twat" or "cunt" it does not get called out

izzy gets the same feminism 101 arc that black pete got in season 1

the story punishes izzy for using sexist slurs but he doesn't have any character growth about it. izzy getting body parts chopped off becomes a running gag.

and on a smaller scale, here's what i think it means for this scene alone, provided that the final cut of the show has similar dialogue:

the writers chose to have izzy call a woman a cunt to her face because they want to make it clear that he is the butt of the joke in this scene

this is different from lucius's amputation scene, where he was still the butt of the joke but he was portrayed more sympathetically. this decision to write izzy less sympathetically was done deliberately.

3. medical inaccuracy in ofmd is alive (lol) and well

bro they literally just leave him there. like they chop a body part off this man and then leave him there. they don't stitch him up or anything they just leave his unidentified body part as a bleeding stump. whatever they cut off is probably still on the goddamn table.

this shit is hilarious i love this show so fucking much.

[modern-inheritance]

I bashed out a short fic featuring Alston. It needs some cleaning and a few added details but once I do that and make some people read it for child behavior analysis then I’ll probably post.

To be clear on this: I don’t know how much I will do with Al. He’s a nice addition to the post war stuff, but my main focus has always been the war and it’s effects on the MIC characters. I’m not as familiar with post war/civilian life coping strategies (and neither are the characters tbh). There’s also a LOT of behind the scenes fretting over writing proper child behavior and development, while also trying to create an entirely new yet reasonable set of milestones for a half-elf child. This, of course, would require a set of developmental milestones for both human children (have that, with a lot of help from one of my awesome readers and friends!) AND elf children (which we very much do not have and have to science the shit out of with what scraps Paolini gave us). So essentially making two whole new behavioral and developmental milestones guides. This is not something I ever thought I’d be researching.

There’s also the more nitty-gritty science of how elf and human genetics and traits would mash up and how they would present or be removed/buried. That’s more my speed. If I continue writing stories about Al it can give me a chance to introduce the more science-y explanation stuff I’ve been cultivating over the years regarding how elves work physically, ie bone strength to resist their natural enhanced strength, why eating meat isn’t just an ethical choice for a majority of elves, the more draconic traits that were passed down via the bond, and other fantasy-and-magic-meets-somewhat-plausible-explanation stuff. These things have long been a part of why I wrote MIC and why I keep coming back to it.

So. Anyway. I’ve sort of forgotten why I was writing this. On mobile and have a bloody wicked headache and don’t want to scroll up. Al is a new canon addition to the MIC post-war, but once I get the short fic out don’t come clamoring asking for more. You can always ask me general questions about Al, but some things I want to reveal via story rather than exposition, so some things won’t get a straight answer.

Looking forward to getting the short out soon! I also do commencement/walk for graduation this coming Saturday, and I finished my (hopefully) last final exam as an undergrad today. So. More time for tumblr, writing and research for writing 😁 ask me questions!! Not just about Al but about anything MIC! And I’ll actually have time to answer!

Cheers mates!

[littlegoldenbirdie]

The Dragon and the Maiden (sort of) #6

I can't believe I left out a chunk of this! Here it is, but... How did I miss this part?

Chapter #6: Conversations

“I’ll just give you some meat to begin with,” she said from the other room as she audibly rummaged around. “Best to start simple, you know? You buy this stuff at the market and there’s no telling what kind of critter it came from. It’s good, though. I’ve just taken to calling it roast beast.” She stepped back into his view holding an unrecognizable wad of meat, gristle and bone that nevertheless piqued his appetite to almost unbearable levels. “I should probably slice this up, get the bad bits out, unless…” The look on his face made her pause. “I’m guessing you’re fine with it as is. Oh!” she yelped as he practically snatched it out of her hands to scarf it down with no thought for even dignity. “Watch out for the…” Powerful jaws crunched and crushed bones as if they were nothing, easily dealing with gristle and cartilage alike before he looked to her as he licked his chops like a happily sated cat. “I was about to warn you about the bones,” she managed sheepishly, embarrassed at having forgotten how such things meant very little to a dragon like him. Bolas tilted his head ever so slightly at her words. “Oh? I was about to thank you for including them. I’ve sampled the finest cuisines on planes beyond numbering, but I must admit I’ve always had a special place for the simple raw meat that I grew up eating. I hunted for prey in Dominaria’s primordial forests in my youth, after all.” She quietly smiled again, choosing not to point out that he had thanked her. “I was going to get things ready while you ate, but since you’re already done eating… Just relax a bit and give me a few minutes, okay?” He nodded, already feeling a bit stronger from having gotten to eat something.

She continued to speak to him as she worked in the other room. “Given how badly your ordeal weakened you, we’re going to have to be very careful about how we proceed from here. Your wings are the main priority. They have to be if you ever want to fly again. I’m going to clean out the cuts on your body and bandage them up, then focus on using healing magic on your wings. The rest will have to heal naturally. Like I said, this is how it’s going to have to be if you’re to stand a chance of using your wings again.” He suddenly found himself feeling glad she wasn’t in the room as a violent shiver ran through his broken body at the very thought of that. Never flying again… That was a fate he had never considered before, and now that he had, it seemed like the worst of all. The movement caused his whole body to erupt in agony, agony that he welcomed as it drove the horror from his mind. He shook himself more, like a wet dog, not caring about the pain, trying his hardest to forget the awful thought that had come to him, that her words had planted in his mind.

“What are you doing? Bolas, stop it!” Counting herself glad she had the presence of mind to set down what she had been carrying, she rushed to his side before he could fall off the footstool he’d been sitting on. Heaving him back up into a sitting position, her face was inches from his as she gave him a somewhat unhappy look as his eyes regained their focus and met her gaze. “What were you thinking, shaking like that? Your wings are so badly broken they’re barely attached to your body right now! You have to be careful so I can save them!” The look that took shape on his face upon hearing those words gave her chills and made her regret saying them. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should never have said that to you,” she said abruptly. “It’ll be all right. I’ve got this. Your wings will be fine as long as we stick to the plan, in that I focus all my magic on them and let everything else heal naturally.”

Helping him get seated comfortably again, she went back to pick up what she had set down… a bowl full of warm water and a small cloth with some soap on it. “I’m going to clean your wounds now. Hold still, please.” He nodded quietly, not very pleased with how undignified he had been acting. He had felt fear. He had shown fear. He could vividly remember a time, not so long ago, when he would have preferred death over that, and would have killed any witnesses with no hesitation. But he wasn’t that prideful fool of a dragon now, was he? Perhaps Ugin was right in saying he didn’t deserve his name anymore. Accepting help from a human at all should have been unthinkable for a mighty dragon, let alone a human who had been embroiled in the battle against him! He had seen her atop his Citadel when Niv-Mizzet stabbed him and Ugin tried to capture him. Aside from seeing her there he had no idea what role she had played, but that didn’t matter in the end.

An utterly alien sting coming from his raw, torn flesh ripped him from his thoughts and he gave a serpentine hiss as he recoiled from the woman’s gentle touch. “Gah, what is that?” She had to catch him as he overbalanced and almost landed on his back. “It’s just soap, you big baby. Nothing to worry about.” He almost growled at the insult, but not quite since his pride was already pretty much dead. “I had mastered the most powerful of healing spells long before the puny mortals of Dominaria had even conceived of this… soap you speak of.” She just smiled again. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’m also sure you’ve seen a lot of things in your time. The stories you could tell would probably be amazing!” Seeing her smile, he had the feeling that he was in the presence of one of the few beings who would never mock him for his downfall. Perhaps Ugin might have been another, but there was no chance he would ever get to find out, he was sure. He sighed to himself at the thought of his brother. Perhaps the death of his pride was allowing these feelings to come to the fore…

-------

I'll do my best to not make this mistake again.

[sekhisadventures]

Jaie's Favorite Recipes

Jaie has been all over Azeroth and beyond and in each land one of her main goals is ‘learn what they cook here and how to cook it.’ From Azuremyst Island to Zandalar, she’s learned enough cooking techniques to fill several books, and has several favorites from each land. A sample of which follows.

Sea Mist Rice Noodles

3 cups Rice Flour

5 Tiger Gourami

5 cuts Fresh Turtle Meat

25 Fresh Scallions

Jaie’s Notes: “This is actually a traditional dish from my home on the Wandering Isle. Yes I know its odd to eat something with Turtle Meat in it when we live on a giant turtle, but I think Shen-zin Su didn’t really mind… or notice… he’s kind of big and its not like the other turtles are related to him. I find this is a good snack whenever I’m not feeling cheerful. It reminds me of home…”

Calamari Crepes

5 Rylak Eggs

10 Fire Ammonite Tentacles

1 Nagrand Arrowbloom, dried and crumbled.

Jaie’s Notes: “This one is really unusual, its actually from Draenor. The rylaks are these huge two-headed monsters that live there, while the Fire Ammonite is a type of squid that believe it or not lives in molten lava! Spicy! Sadly… this is also one I doubt I’ll ever be able to make again. With the Dark Portal closed and the Hourglass of Eternity destroyed we can’t go to Draenor anymore. I’ve tried making it with Azerothian ingredients, but its just not the same…”

Leybeque Ribs

5 Tablespoons Leyblood

5 Racks of Ribs (big and or gamey preferably)

5 Dalapeno Peppers (medium size)

Jaie’s Notes: “Wow this stuff is spicy! The Dalapeno Peppers on their own pack a punch but mix in Leyblood and it really has a kick to it! I remember when Nomi and I first tried using Leyblood in cooking… that stuff is so volatile that it almost blew up the kitchen! Oh man Nelen was upset… but we promised to help repair it. The ribs were worth it too once we worked out how to cook with Leyblood without… well… THAT happening.”

Wildberry Bread

8 cups Wild Flour

8 handfulls Wild Berries

5 cups Powdered Sugar

2 Tablespoons Aromatic Fish Oil

Jaie’s Notes: “A Kul’tirian special. Dried fruit, flour, and sugar keep well on long voyages, and of course it’s easy to get fish oil when you’re out at sea, so it makes a sweet and nutritious snack for sailors. Its also good if you’re going to spend a long time out in the wilderness too. This stuff takes a while to go stale, so it’ll keep you going for weeks.”

Tenebrous Crown Roast Aspic

3 racks Tenebrous Ribs

3 pounds Creeping Crawler Meat

4 tablespoons Multispice

2 cups Rich Grazer Milk

Jaie’s Notes: “Now hear me out! Yes it has crawler meat! Yes that’s the stuff that comes from those huge bugs in Maldraxxus! But its really good! It’s a meat gelatin that’s super savory and just melts right in your mouth, and the juices are sooooooo tasty! Yeah okay so you’re kinda sorta eating something made with a huge crawler that lives in a world made of dead flesh but… wait come back!”

Thrice-Spiced Mammoth Kabob

4 cuts of whatever meat you prefer

4 racks Mammoth Ribs

Spice to taste

Jaie's Notes: "Do you know how hard it is to feed six people every day? It doesn't help that for all his bookishness Nelen is a worgen and he eats about twice what most humans do because of it. With Zhan-min on our team now add two more Nelen to that. Well, Mammoth Kabobs help a lot. Mammoth meat is easy to get since its, well, from a mammoth! They're HUGE! I take down one and I'll have enough meat to last at least a couple weeks! I can even swap out whats on the kabobs for whoever is eating. I'll put some veggies in for me, Shalandrae, and Dareley, but Nelen, Sam, and Zhan-min like it meat all the way down... especially Nelen. Infact I notice he really doesn't like veggies at all. Must be a worgen thing."

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, and @hoebii​​ for editing this for me.

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When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[cherrycocaineee]

13. Dean Winchester - Confession

    Bobby was sitting at his desk flipping through the millions of dusty, old, torn books he had collected over the years when I came down the stairs, carrying my purse along my shoulder. The sound of my small feet thumping against his creaky wooden floors caused him to look at me. He was already drinking scotch this early in the morning and the tired, purple bags under his eyes proved that he had a restless night just like usual. I smiled sympathetically at him as I approached, getting a large whiff of the liquor he was pouring down his throat. I could hardly count the number of times I’ve warned him and the boys about drinking so much, yet they never listened. Though I didn’t really expect them to, considering all of the things they’ve seen in their lifetime.

  “Where are you off to?” He asked, pouring himself another glass of scotch.

 “We’re low on groceries,” I hummed, “so I’m going down to the market to pick some stuff up. I’ll make breakfast when I come back, okay?”

   “I’ll hold ya to that. You need any money?”

 I shook my head and patted the side of my purse before leaving for the market. It wasn’t a long trip, it was literally a block from where Bobby lived. When I arrived at the small, yet vibrant place, I inhaled the sweet scent of freshly picked produce and other aromas. Inside I pushed the basket around and collected everything we needed for the house: fresh produce, meats, bread, eggs, and much more. Considering how much fast food I use while travelling with the boys, I was happy to find a place that sold freshly grown fruits and vegetables, and freshly cut chops of meat, and more. I spent an hour in total at the market before paying for my groceries and heading back to the house.

  While carrying all of the paper bags inside, I could hear talking going on inside. I shook it off as Bobby being on the phone and continued.

  “Bobby, I’m home,” I called, “I’m about to start breakfast, so why don’t you trade that scotch in for a cup of coffee.”

  The voices from the other room quieted down just as I placed the groceries on the kitchen table. I walked out of the kitchen and saw Bobby standing in the middle of the room with none other than Dean and Sam. My eyes widened at the sight of them. The last time I saw Sam was when he jumped into the cage, holding Lucifer in and knocking Michael inside too. And Dean, well, I hadn’t seen him since he went to live with Lisa and Ben. It had hurt a lot when he left too, not wanting to stay with Bobby. Not wanting to stay with me. But I didn’t make a big deal about it despite being madly in love with him. Though I’d never tell him that since he was in love with Lisa.

  “Hey, Persephone,” Sam and Dean said simultaneously, making my eyes water.

  “Hey,” I whispered, a smile forming on my face.

  I walked over to them and embraced them both, feeling their large, muscular arms wrap around my thin frame as they held me close. As I pulled away from the hug, Lisa popped her head around the corner. My chest was tightening as I saw Dean walk over to her. They went off to speak to one another, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Sam.

  “When did you get back from hell?” I asked.

  From the look on his face and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck with his rough hands, I knew there was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell me. Or at least the truth anyway. But he decided that he’d tell me in the end.

 “A year, actually,” he muttered.

  My forest green eyes widened at his words. I spent the next fifteen minutes tearing a new one into both Sam and Bobby, who had been hiding this from me the entire year, then returned to the kitchen to cook breakfast. There was a mix of frustration, betrayal, and other emotions mixing up inside of me as I started scrambling the eggs and cooking the sausage and bacon. Quiet sizzling could be heard throughout the kitchen, masking the sound of my humming while I cooked. As I was moving on to the coffee, I heard footsteps coming from behind me so I swirled around to see Dean walking in. He didn’t look too happy either.

  “Did you just find out that Sam’s been back for a year too?” I questioned, throwing away the old coffee grounds into the trash.

 “Well yes,” he stated, “but that’s not while I’m upset.”

  I had started plating the food by then, starting off with Ben’s since he was here and was probably hungry.

  “What’s going on?”

  I set a cup of coffee down in front of him.

  “Sam needs my help hunting a Djinn,” he answered, “and I’m worried because the things might come after Lisa and Ben.”

  Honestly, I should have seen that coming. Sam, despite being back from hell, wouldn’t have asked Dean for help if it wasn’t life or death. It made me wonder if they’d only come to drop off Dean's family or to ask me to help. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t jealous of Lisa, in fact, I was happy for her and Dean. It just hurt every time I saw them together.

  “So that’s why you brought them to Bobby’s,” I whispered, buttering some fresh French bread, “so we could watch them while you guys hunted the Djinn?”

  “Well actually,” Dean said, placing his cup on the table, “just for Bobby to watch them. You’re coming with us right?”

  A small, sad smile appeared on my face as I lifted up Bobby’s plate while shaking my head.

 “I don’t hunt anymore, Dean. When Sam jumped into that cage and you left to go live with Lisa and Ben, the two of you left me behind. So I just stopped hunting. Now I just clean up and cook while studying.”

  “Studying?”

  “I started going back to school. Granted it’s online but I figured I might as well get an education.”

  It was silent between us, so I just walked away and headed towards Bobby with his breakfast. He was sitting at his desk once again when I arrived and graciously welcomed the warm food. I went back into the kitchen, where Dean was still sitting, and picked up the plate for Ben then headed upstairs to give it to him.

  Lisa was unpacking their overnight bags when I reached the room they were staying in. Ben was sitting on the bed, playing some video game on his gaming device. Tapping on the door, I caught their attention and smiled welcomingly.

  “Hey,” I said, “I’m Persephone, a friend of Sam and Dean’s. I made your son some breakfast if he’d like to eat.”

  A smile appeared on her face in return, “thank you, Persephone. I’m Lisa and this is Ben.”

  I didn’t tell her that I already knew her name, that would be rude. Instead, I shook her hand and placed Ben’s food down on one of the nightstands. He thanked me and started shoveling food inside his mouth fast. It reminded me of how Dean would eat when he was in a rush. Swallowing the forming lump inside my throat, I left the two of them to finish unpacking. Halfway down the stairs, I froze and gripped the railing tight. My heart felt like it was racing, tears were streaming down my cheek as I tried to collect myself. Wiping away the unwanted water leaks, I sighed softly and went downstairs. Sam and Dean were getting ready to leave when I made it to the main room. The two Winchester brother’s faced me when I entered.

  “You sure you don’t want to come, Perse?” Sam inquired.

 I held up my hands and giggled, “no thanks. You guys be safe.”

  I hugged them tightly, almost relaxing when I felt the safety of their embrace. They said a final goodbye to Bobby and I then left for wherever it was they were going to hunt this monster. Bobby returned to his breakfast and I went into the kitchen to pack up the leftovers and clean up. Once the kitchen was tidied up, I headed back upstairs to my room to get some reading done. I had some homework assignments that were in desperate need of doing before midnight tomorrow and I liked to stay ahead of the clock.

  Hours and hours passed before I finally passed out while reading my book. No dreams occupied my slumber while I napped, however, I was eventually awakened by the sound of someone knocking on my door. Stirring around in my covers, both eyes pried themselves open and stared at the dimly lit ceiling before looking to my right and seeing it was well past three o’clock in the morning. Another knock echoed throughout the room and I finally dragged myself out of the comforting quilt and onto the assaulting, cold floor. I rubbed my eyes to wipe the sleep away and pulled the door open. Lisa was standing on the other side, holding a plate in her hand.

  “Bobby said that you were up here studying, and you missed dinner,” she said, “did I wake you?”

 “Yeah,” I groggily whispered, “but it’s okay.”

  I took the plate from her and saw that she had cooked some chicken noodle soup. It smelled great, reminding me of my early years in life when I still lived with my mom. She followed me inside of the room as I sat criss crossed on my bed with the soup in hand, smelling the melted butter on the toast. My eyes met the clock once again and was astonished to see that I had slept and studied for such a long time. It felt like only seconds ago that it was morning and I had just finished cooking breakfast.

 “Persephone,” Lisa said while I slurped the soup up, “I’m sure you’re aware of the things Sam and Dean do, right?”

  “Of course,” I answered before scooping another spoonful of soup in my mouth.

 “How were you okay with it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Dean and I understand that he’s gotta do what he has to, but sometimes I worry that he’ll come home hurt or something will follow him home.”

   Though there was a ping in my chest when she said she loved Dean, I couldn’t help but smile at how worried she was for him. It was something that he definitely needed since he was always worrying about other people. I placed the plate onto the empty nightstand and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to me. When Lisa sat down, I took her hands into my own.

  “It’s a lot to process,” I whispered, “when I met Sam and Dean, I was so unsure about leaving everything I knew to travel with them and fight all of those monsters. But I know deep down in my heart that they would never let people they love get hurt and they’ll die trying to protect those they consider family. Especially Dean. What you can do for him, is just be there, even if it’s hard. Because at the end of the day, he needs that most of all.”

   The two of us shared a hug before she agreed she would do her best to make Dean feel loved and secure. After saying goodnight to me, she retreated back to her room, closing the door behind her. When she was out of sight, I grabbed my soup again and slowly started slurping it up again. It was comforting knowing that she would be taking care of Dean. Once he came back, I’d persuade him to go back with Lisa, telling him that he deserved to be with someone that made him happy.

   The next day came quickly and I hadn’t fallen back asleep after my conversation with Lisa, so I spent the rest of the entire night reading. Soft, illuminating rays of sunshine burst through the clear, white curtains in my room as I finished throwing on a short-sleeve, white, shirt that only tied close. Running my fingers through my brushed hair, I fixed up any lumps that were visible.

  Bobby was asleep at his desk when I reached downstairs, so I went over to him and wrapped a blanket around his snoring body. Picking up his almost empty bottle of scotch, I carried it back to the kitchen to put it away and make a new pot of coffee. Wanting nothing more than to sit outside with a non-school book and my delicious morning nectar, reading as the sun played against my pale skin. There was no telling when Sam and Dean would be home, along with there being no way of knowing when they would wake up. So I wanted to get in as much peace and quiet as possible before the day began.

  With the coffee cup in my right hand and a good book in the other, I sat on the back of one of Bobby’s rundown cars and started reading. Four chapters in and I was already getting up to make myself a second cup of joe. Just as I slipped off the back of the rusted car, Dean and Sam pulled up. The sun was only just inching towards the middle of the sky when they arrived. Both climbing out of their seats, I noticed that they were not only tired but relieved.

  “How’d it go?” I inquired, “seemed pretty quick.”

 “It went fine,” Sam replied, “except Dean’s got a big slash on his arm. They came right at us.”

   I went over to Dean and saw that he had wrapped his cut in a cloth but the blood was still leaking through. Clicking my tongue, I shook my head while leading the two of them inside. Sam explained on the way that they had figured that the Djinn were targeting both of them, so they went back to Dean’s home and waited there. When Dean noticed that his friends and neighbors were being killed, he ran to help and ended up almost dying. But Sam helped him. The fight raged on but in the end, the Winchester boys came out on top. Sam went to wash up while I started taking care of Dean’s wound.

  With the First Aid Kit laying beside me on the kitchen table, I unwrapped his wound and gulped at the sight of it. Dean chuckled.

  “Makes you miss the old days, huh?” He laughed.

 “Not really,” I giggled, “a lot of it may have been great but watching the two people I cared the most about get injured was never easy.”

  “It was never easy watching you get hurt either.”

 I cleaned up the wound and sprayed some of the cleaning solution on it causing Dean to wince. It made me laugh because of how soft he had become in the last year. After rewrapping the wound in a proper bandage, I threw everything else away and put the first aid kit back in its rightful spot. When I looked back at him, I saw that he was staring at his hands.

  “Are you thinking about leaving Lisa and Ben?” I asked, returning to the table.

  “I’m not sure,” he stated, “if I leave them, more monsters could show up looking for me and hurt them, but if I stay then even more monsters will show up and hurt them to get to me.”

  “But at least you’d be there to protect them.”

 His perfect, bright green eyes met my own darker, emerald ones.

  “If you left Lisa and Ben today, then you would never be able to forgive yourself if they got hurt without you being there. However, I know, and Lisa knows, that you would do anything for the people you love. So maybe you being there is what’s best right now.”

   The words seemed to sink in before he nodded in agreement.

 “Then it’s settled. I’ll be going back with Lisa and Ben when they wake up.”

   I squeezed his shoulder and sat down at the table. Running a shaking hand through my hair as a soft sigh left my lips. I don’t know what came over me, all of a sudden I felt that maybe I should say something to him if this was the last time I’d see him. I had no intention of breaking him and Lisa up but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. It was practically tearing me up inside.

  “Dean, there’s something I need to tell you before you go,” I whispered.

 “What is it?” He asked, his eyes never wavering away from me.

  My palms felt sweaty and my throat felt drier than I had ever felt before. Taking a deep breath, I faced him and smiled. I chickened out.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  I went to go back to my room, but Dean grabbed my wrist stopping me from leaving. I clenched my fist tight and turned around, not ready to face him because I knew he could read my face like a book. He stood there holding my arm, not tight but not lightly so I would stay there.

  “That’s definitely not what you were going to say,” he said, “tell me.”

  With a final deep breath, I nodded my head, “I love you.”

  His eyes widened and he dropped my hand, letting it drop to my side. I felt it sway before coming to a slow stop. Then I held it to defend myself.

  “I’m not saying this to break you and Lisa up,” I said, “I want you to go with her and be there for Ben. But I also wanted to let you know, in case we never saw each other again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He croaked, and I thought that I could see tears in his eyes.

 I could only shrug my shoulders, “with everything going on, it just didn’t feel right. And then you wanted to go live with Lisa after Sam was gone so I just never told you.”

   Our conversation was interrupted by Ben and Lisa running into the kitchen, Bobby walking behind them, and embracing Dean. They were happy that he had come home with hardly any injuries. Dean wrapped his arms around them both but he was staring at me. I smiled sweetly, holding my hands in front of me while watching them be reunited. Lisa and Ben were ready to go home with Dean, and even though I knew Dean wanted to stay and talk more about what I had just confessed, I helped push him out the door. If he stayed any longer, I was definitely going to want him to stay forever. But I couldn’t be selfish. Sam, Bobby, and I stood at the front door and waved as the three of them drove off. When they were out of sight, my hand dropped. I felt Bobby place his hand on my shoulder and look at me with understanding.

  I wasn’t sure when the next time I would see Dean again, but I knew that it wasn’t going to be any time soon. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to see him again. He needed to be with Lisa.

[meat-husband]

I need more dad Thomas.... With his babies and his s/o. Just soft stuff™

You’re right. You are so right. 

 —

The farmhouse was a noisy place to be, so early in the morning. 

You had been asleep not long ago, waking only when Tommy’s big hands had lifted you out of the bed and into his arms. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, gray light filtering in through the dusty window screens, but it was enough to make you hide your face against his chest, shielding your eyes. He was already dressed, warm from doing chores out in the yard before the sun was up, and you could smell the scent of sweat and grass clinging to his clothes. 

There is the faint noise of cooking, sizzling meat and eggs, pans clanging and the table being set, the indistinct sound of someone talking over the clamor. Breakfast was being readied by the sound of it, but you didn’t feel much like eating, stomach rolling uncomfortably at the thought of food. 

Thomas sets you on the couch, already made up with pillows and a light blanket, but you can tell that he’s reluctant to let you go. He keeps his hands on your sides, one on your hip and the other pressed against your belly, guiding you down into the cushions. He doesn’t let go even after you’re settled in, patting your shoulders and swiping hair out of your face. 

“M’ fine,” you mutter, looking up at him with one eye cracked open. “You better hurry up, before Charlie comes looking for you.”

Thomas shuffles a few steps away, looking you up and down before apparently deciding that you were okay to be left alone on the couch. You bury your face into the pillows, trying to block out the light and noise. 

You would have much preferred to stay in bed, but without Thomas at home to help you up and down the stairs, it was easier on everyone to simply have you on the main floor. It was unnecessary in your opinion, you could handle the stairs just fine despite your heavy belly, but Thomas had been aggressively insistent and no one was going to argue with him. It was normal now to find yourself being carried down in the mornings and curling up on the couch while Thomas and Charlie prepared to leave for the day. 

Now that you’re used to the routine, it’s easy enough to drift back into a light sleep. The noise from the kitchen eventually dies away, dissolving into distant chatter and disappearing completely with the slam of the screen door. Over the last few months you’ve found yourself spending most of your time like this, tucked up on the couch and dozing. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping when a gentle shake of your shoulders wakes you up, drawing a low noise of confusion from you. A pair of hands on your shoulders help to steady you as you sit up, pulling yourself out of the comfortable nest of blankets.

“What is it?”

Your voice is raspy and low, eyes blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from your vision. Looking up, the face you see is a familiar one and so is the expression on it. 

Mama watches you, mouth turned down in a frown of disapproval. 

“Get up, honey,” she says, soft but firm. “Boys are on their way back, gotta have you put up before they come in here, trailin’ a mess behind them.”

You frown back at her, wondering if you had slept for longer than you realized. 

“Already?” You ask, glancing towards the window that was still bright with early morning light. “It’s still early, isn’t it?”

“It’s still morning,” Luda Mae confirms. “But they got lucky, caught one up quick. Hurry up now, I’ll help you up the stairs since Tommy ain’t here.”

She helps you stand, although it was hardly necessary. The weight of your stomach wasn’t yet a burden, you could still move around perfectly fine, although no one else seemed to think so. 

It was understandable, knowing that this was going to be Luda Mae’s first grandchild, that you might be treated more gently as your pregnancy progressed. And it had been nice, at first, to have your usual workload taken away and replaced with nothing but free time. Very quickly, however, you had found yourself being suddenly coddled, almost smothered with concern and attention.

Most of the attention came from Thomas, admittedly. Mama was stern when it came to upholding the new limits that had been placed on you, but Tommy was unshakable in his desire to keep you fed, comfortable and off your feet at any cost. No amount of protests could sway him from the idea that you now needed to be supervised wherever you went and as your stomach grew, he only became more convinced that everything needed to be done for you. 

You make your way up the stairs, Luda Mae at your side and firmly gripping your hand. She walks you down the hall, to the door of the room you shared with Tommy, ushering you inside and watching from the doorway as you settled back down on the bed. 

“Go on and get some rest,” she says. “I’ll try and keep the noise down. Tommy will come get you once lunch is ready.”

Sighing, you curl up in the messy sheets. It was hotter in here than it had been on the couch and you could already feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin. With any luck everything would be taken care of quickly and you could settle back down in the living room, maybe with enough time to sit with Thomas for a moment before he had to get to work. 

You close your eyes, already drowsy, but only a few minutes later you realize that you probably aren’t going to be getting anymore rest this morning. The window is open, letting in the unmistakable noise of a car approaching the house. It had to be Hoyt and Thomas, back with whatever catch they had grabbed earlier, and this was confirmed when a car door opened, immediately followed by a loud cry. 

One woman at least, you think, listening as the noise grew louder and more shrill. It was nearing the end of summer and the freezers downstairs were packed full, more than enough to last through the slow winter months. Going after groups wasn’t practical now, but the occasional lone traveler could be kept downstairs for weeks before butchering was necessary.

Turning over, you slip out of bed and walk to the window, looking down into the yard. The cruiser is parked to the side of the house, out of your sight, but you can see Mama standing in the yard, arms crossed and looking impatient. 

“Hurry it up,” she barks, keeping a distance from the car. “Get her downstairs quick, I don’t want any noise.”

Hoyt calls out an answer, but you don’t hear it over the wailing. Mama shakes her head and heads back inside, but you watch for a moment longer. There is a few minutes of nothing but high-pitched crying and car doors opening and closing, but finally you see Thomas step into view. 

You expect him to be carrying the woman, but he’s alone, stomping towards the porch without a body slung over his shoulders. He’s hunched over, both arms held to his chest as he enters the house, and you feel a spark of panic hit you. He had come home injured before and you had helped more than once to sew him up, but you didn’t want to see another scar added to his skin.

Moving away from the window, you head for the door, stepping into the hall with your heart beating in your throat. Mama is downstairs, speaking to Thomas by the sound of it, and you calm yourself a little as you reach the top of the stairs. She didn’t sound alarmed, so he couldn’t be hurt too badly. 

“Oh, Tommy,” you hear her say, her voice unusually soft. “Poor little thing. Lucky we found it, isn’t it?”

You linger at the top step, unsure if you should go down.

“Tommy?”

You know immediately that he’s heard you, shuffling footsteps heading towards the stairs at the mention of his name. When he appears at the bottom of the stairs the first thing that you notice is the bundle in his arms, held close to his chest, something small wrapped up in a stained sweatshirt. When he starts up the steps, Mama is close behind.

“Look what Tommy found,” she says, an uncharacteristic excitement in her voice. “Show her, Thomas!”

You have to back up to make room for them in the narrow hall, but Thomas doesn’t let you get far. A thick arm hooks around your shoulders, pulling you against his torso with a rough tug. He huffs warm breath into your hair, face pressed against the crown of your head in greeting. Impatiently, Mama reaches forward and grabs at the thing in his arms, pulling aside fabric until you can see what Tommy has brought home.

“So little,” Luda Mae coos, fingers tracing the round curves of a small, chubby face. “And a boy, too.”

You look at the infant in Tommy’s arms with wide eyes. A few months old, you guess, with a head of black, curly hair and dark eyes that stare back at you with a vague curiosity.

“… a baby?”

Thomas loosens his hold on you, turning to eagerly pressing the child into your arms. You take him awkwardly, unsure of how you were supposed to position the little thing in your arms, his head leaning against the crook of your elbow and legs dangling over your hand. The baby squirms in your hold, a tiny foot kicking out into the air. 

You don’t quite know what to think of the infant in your arms, glancing back and forth between it and Thomas. “How did you find it?”

You knew very well how they had come across the baby, but it was an unspoken rule to ignore travelers with children. Whether it was to avoid harming an innocent child, or simply to avoid the increased scrutiny a missing child would bring, you weren’t entirely sure. 

Mama clucks her tongue. “Charlie says he didn’t see it ‘til it was too late, or he wouldn’t have stopped them.”

Beside you, Thomas reaches down to pet the baby’s curly hair with a finger, patting it with the restrained gentleness he had learned to use around you. The soft gesture makes you smile, shifting to cuddle the baby a little closer. 

“He’s cute,” you say, peering down at it with a more eager expression. “What’s his name?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Luda Mae answers, watching you both fussing over the baby. “His momma should be the one to name him, I expect.”

[jkknight98]

My G/T promt challenge attempt inspiration.

This was my first attempt at ever doing a collective prompt challenge so it’s very safe to say I am a little nervous posting this story, especially since I suck at writing standard stories and fell back into my comfort zone, but I hope that everyone who reads enjoys it. It's from @bittydragon idea ( If I knew how to link the original post I would, but I am not very well versed in Tumblr writing yet).

The prompt was to have the tiny protect the giant, I was faced with two options that I could do, protecting the mental self vs the physical self. I chose protecting from the physical since a giant can easily protect the outside of their bodies, but their insides can be easily hurt without them knowing until much later.

Here’s Tommy protecting a gaint Wilbur from his own poor judgement plus interactions from the rest of the sleepybois inc.

Warnings : Blood warning, slight mention of regurgitating meal, soft vore, cursing.

(I have always viewed soft vore as a sfw interest but I know others may not so I’ll leave it out of the main collective tag just to be safe until I’ve been given the all clear to add it, but otherwise I’ll say its just an inspiration from all the wonderful work already posted through the challenge.)

G/T Prompt Challenge

Wilbur should have known that his habit of eating sand would come back to bite him one day, but who could blame him when he enjoyed the texture of sand crunching in his teeth and the feeling it made tumbling around in his stomach. It was supposed to be a normal day when the sands decided to strike back against him. He was just enjoying a warm summers day with his family at the nearby beach, techno was asleep under a umbrella while Phil was trying to keep his tiny brother Tommy from accidentally drowning himself by jumping from the giant's knee and then pinching them to make the man jump and create massive waves for the little gremlin. He couldn't hide his smile as he took hold of another handful of sand and let it fall in clumps into his mouth, not noticing the hidden treasure chest even when it landed in the middle of his tongue with the copious sand, he didn’t get a chance to chew the sand before his father yelled at him after seeing what he had done, swallowing the mouthful quickly before the giant avian could force him to spit it out,” Alright Alright Phil, I've had my two mouthfuls for the day.”

“ You shouldn’t be eating any, what are you going to do if you swallow something that isn’t just sand, what are we going to do then!”

Wilbur just laughed at his yelling father as he leaned backwards on his hands, smiling as he watched Tommy get his fathers attention again by using his feathers as a climbing frame, he shook his head at the sight. He really did love his mixed-up family.

~~

It wasn't until they were having dinner that night did they all find out the true dangers of his habit. They haven't been eating long, Phil chatting with Techno about who knows what while Tommy darted around the table pulling himself chunks of food from everyone's plate, Phil had learned quickly not to make one for Tommy since the tiny always said that everyone else's looked better, and Willbur was waiting for the next pass of the tiny so he could pull his target out of reach. He had pulled up a giant piece of pork away from the tiny, quickly stuffing it into his mouth and laughing as the gremlin child raged at him, he quickly chewed and swallowed down the meat as he dodged the tiny pea that was thrown at him, ” Come on Tomms, I know you have a better arm than that.” He continued to eat a bit more on his plate, subtly feeling how much he ate already before he stopped, feeling a touch of pain from his stomach.

“That's weird?”

“What's weird Will?”

His father looked at him slightly concerned when he had pushed his chair back a bit to look down at himself, taking a hand to gently place on his stomach, ” I don't know dad, my stomach just started hur-ghh.” The moment he put a slight amount of pressure on his stomach it felt as if something was ripping inside, the pain was bad enough that it nearly brought him to tears. He quickly pulled up his shirt to see if it was something on the outside, but the skin was perfectly clear with no signs of irritation.

“Wilbur walk me through what hurts.”

The avian was already up and at his side while Techno was holding Tommy at his other side, but still out of the way of their father, both looking equally as concerned.

“What's wrong with you big man, finally bite off more than you could chew?” The tiny looked as ridiculous as usual trying to act indifferent like the oldest, but it was easy to see the real concern hidden behind his normal snark.

“Oh shut up before I feed you to a bird Bratt, ” Wilbur stuck his tongue out at him before wincing again when he felt his fathers cool touch, ” hurts right where your pressing.” He watched as Phil's hand began pressing at different parts of his body, telling him about how the pain was worse in that spot, but could feel it throbbing into other areas.

He watched his father frown before he went to stand fully, he looked more concerned than he had before, but didn't voice anything to clue his sons into what he was thinking. The avain walked over to a side room to grab a small bucket and set it into Wilbur’s lap, taking care to not press it against his stomach, before sitting back in his chair to look at his son, ” I'm going to need you to empty your stomach a small amount, I don't want you to empty it fully just in case it's something I hope it's not, but I want to check just in case.

Wilbur felt a little annoyed at the thought, they were just eating dinner and now dad wants him to spit up half of it just because of a little stomach pain? “ Really dad I'm sure I'm fine, it's probably something stupid like I ate to big-.”

The avians wings puffed up in an attempt to show how serious he was to his son,

“Dont argue with me Will, just do it.”

Wilbur looked at the sternness on his father's face and sighed, ” fine, ” he began flexing the muscles he used for whenever Tommy used his stomach as his personal sleeping bag and nearly cried when he felt his stomach explode in pain again. It was as if every moment his stomach made was like it was ripping itself open. He only got a little bit into his throat before he had to stop because the pain was too much, quickly spitting the mouthful into the bucket and thrusting it into Phils arms as he leaned over and and gently wrapped his arms around himself, ” please don't make me do that again, it really fucking hurt.”

He didn't see the concern on Phil’s face as he looked into the bucket and showed it to his other two sons, Techno looking equally as concerned while Tommy looked confused. The tiny leaned further over the slightly tinted pink fingers and wrinkled his nose at the almost coffee ground looking substance that rested in the bottom.

“What is that brown stuff, Wilbur didn't eat any mud before we had dinner.”

The father figure kept up his concerned expression as he set down the bucket to run a hand through his hair,”That's because that isn’t mud, that's what it looks like when someone is suffering from internal bleeding.” Phil looked back at Wilbur's plate and the others quickly as he used his hands to feel for anything that could have been hidden inside,” I don’t know what you could have swallowed Wil, I made sure to not have any bones in anything.”

Wilbur just shook his head as it swam a little bit in pain,” I don’t know either, all I've eaten before it started hurting was dinner and the sand at the beach.” he gave another groan as his stomach gave another contraction and sent another wave of pain,” I'm just going to stall my system until we figure out what to do.” He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt the change gradually, his stomach calming and finally coming to a standstill to prevent the walls from churning at the rate that they were, no longer trying to digest the little bit of dinner he consumed.

Techno was the first to gently move Tommy to one hand as he used his other to gently grip his brother on the shoulder,” You sure you didn’t eat anything between our beach trip to now, nothing at all?” The piglin hybrid was clearly a little on edge, he was fully capable of protecting his family from the outside, but even he was powerless when a threat came from their own insides.

Everyone was a panicking a bit more as they tried to think what could be doing this to the musically inclined son before Tommy spoke up, the tiny brightening as he thought of a good idea in his mind,” Why don’t I go inside to check, I can go and see whats wreaking up your insides, that would work wouldn't it?”

The thought made Will turn a little green, ” I don't know if I could get you down with how bad it hurts,” he managed to make a teasing smirk though,” you sure you want to see that porkchop again.” He laughed at the face the tiny had made, but winced again when a flash of pain punished him for this action. He took a slow breath and tried to raise up as slow as he could, wincing as he got to his full sitting height,” are you really sure you want to do that, it’s going to be more gross than ever.”

The tiny just smiled as he pushed up his sleeves and held up his arms in a clear ‘pick me up’ gesture,” I can’t really protect you guys from the outside, but I am able to help you from the inside, besides a little gunk isn’t going to stop me from keeping my big brother safe.”  

The response brought a small smile to Will's face as he lifted the tiny,” alright you sap, let's get a plan put together before you go saving me from what's hurting me.”

`~`

Tommy stood in Will’s hand and gently shuffled the duffle bag on his shoulder that held a small knife and a small splash healing potion to reduce the damage before a proper healing potion could be taken, he looked up with another smile,” alright, let's get this over with before you get even worse.”

Will smiled lightly before opening his mouth, feeling his smaller brother clamber his way inside and curling up, and slowly closed his mouth and tilted his head back. He felt a mild wave of sickness at the thought of the heavy weight his brother would unintentionally create, but forced it away as he gave a quick swallow,using a hand to gently touch the firm bulge before it slipped behind his collarbone. He looked up to his dad and other brother with a weak smile,” let's hope he finds what's wrong and not cause any more damage.”

Tommy couldn’t help the soft noise of disgust as he slid into the stomach, landing in knee high mix of the stomach's contents, but he also noticed a strange glowing that was coming from what he suspected to be the front of Willbur’s stomach. He was quick to wade his way over to the object, also taking note of a few other things that shouldn’t have been there floating in the muck. “When did he manage to eat chainmail….oh my god.” Sticking out the stomach wall that looked very inflamed under the shiny purple glow was an iron sword, the handle looking a little worse for wear like the armor but the blade looked perfectly fine as it held firmly in the slowly bleeding wall. Tommy was momentarily shocked before he went to inspect the wound, wincing as he yelled up to Wilbur to inform him what he found.

Wilbur heard the tiny voice of Tommy yell out at him, listening for a moment before looking at the two other giants in pure confusion,” He found a sword sticking into me, as well as chain mail armour… when the hell did that get in there.” He jerked and gave a loud yelp as the pain in his middle got more intense before he felt the normal tingling of a healing potion,” You could have warned me before you pulled it out you little shit.”

Phil was the first to slap a hand to his head,” we were on a beach next to the ocean, you probably ate a buried treasure without realizing, this is what you get for eating sand all the time, be thankful tommy was here or else things could have been way worse.” The elder left the room quickly with a yell on how he's going to get a large healing potion to ensure the wound would fully heal once the youngest was released. The second eldest looked at Wilbur with a small smirk as he got up, giving a quiet ‘ I told you so’ before also leaving the room.

The remaining son sighed as he placed a hand over his stomach, softly rubbing where he felt his tiny brother was leaning,”Let's get you out of there Toms.”

`~`

“I really can’t thank you enough Tommy, if what you were saying was true, there would have been no way for us to get that sword out on my own. Also what enchantments did it have on it.”

Tommy smiled up from his cosy position in a towel placed on Wilburs chest, snuggling further into the softness and warmth the two provided together,” It had unbreaking on it, it would have taken you ages to digest the thing, and you would have to go through so many healing potions since you couldn;t heal around it.”

The elder nodded and placed his hand over the towel as he laid his head on his pillow, using his thumb to stroke the tiny in thanks,” what would I do without you, you little gremlin.” He smiled when he felt a small pair of arms wrap around his thumb tightly and pull it to rest on the tiny’s chest where he could feel the gentle breathing.

“ You wouldn’t be able to shit, someone has to protect you giant bastards when you think nothing can hurt you, especially things at my size.”

[idkvoreiguess]

Little Black Shop

Zach had had a pretty uneventful day, just kind of wandering around town not really doing much. He'd been blown off by his friends but had decided to try and make a day of it. He'd been walking about town aimlessly for around an hour until he noticed a small shop with blacked out windows. The faded sign on the wall read "V. SERUMS." Zach was enticed by the seemingly hidden shop, so he decided to enter and see what it was about.

The interior was well lit and brightly coloured compared to the gloomy exterior. The shelves were lined with what looked like skin tonics and creams in multi-coloured bottles. Zach figured that it was some kind of beauty or skincare shop, which wasn't really his thing so he decided to leave and look around town some more. As he went to leave, though, he noticed a man standing by the door. He was a tall man of at least 6 foot 5 with shoulder-length black hair; even though he was pretty skinny he still felt very imposing compared to Zach, who only clocked in at 5"10.

"Welcome!" He said with a friendly smile that put Zach at ease. He had a deep, low voice that managed to echo across the whole shop. "What can we do for you today?" He asked, approaching Zach from across the room and putting his arm around his shoulder. Zach felt small next to his dominating figure, only just reaching the man's chin. He walked Zach over to the shelves, examining the various tonics with him.

He still didn't quite understand what the tonics did, and was pretty amused by some of the labels, which included "ORAL V. ANAL V. SPERM V." Stifling a giggle, Zach continued to examine the products, trying to understand their functions. "I think I might have wondered into the wrong shop" he finally said, realising he couldn't make heads or tails of what any of the products did. "I'm not quite sure what any of this stuff does."

"Ah, not to worry, you're what we call an unsuspecting wanderer. Sometimes people just accidently walk in, enticed by the shop itself" the store worker said. "Come with me to the back office, I'm sure I can find a use for you!" Zach didn't quite understand what the attendant mean by a use FOR him, but he was curious to see what the shop actually did so he decided to follow.

The back of the shop was significantly darker than the main area. It looked like they stored Halloween decorations there, with fake skulls and bones along with raggedy clothes that had holes in them. "First of all let's get you out of those clothes!" The man said cheerfully. Zach had noticed that they sold clothes at the front of the shop so he figured he was going to have some sort of outfit picked out for him.

He swiftly stripped down into his underwear in front of the worker, who appeared to be eyeing up his skinny, slender figure. Once he was stripped he expected to have an outfit picked out for him but the man was still standing there, smiling at Zach's almost naked body. "Very good!" He said happily, "this will make things much easier than usual." Without warning he lifted Zach up above his head, suspending him in midair.

He thrashed about in the air, trying hard to escape the man's strong grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Put me down!" Zach yelled, slightly surprised that the man was able to hold him with total ease. "Sorry man, if you're not a customer then you're on the menu for the staff." He sounded as though he was trying to sound sympathetic but Zach could tell he was very much enjoying himself.

He promptly unhinged his jaw to an unnatural level and managed to fit both of Zach's feet in his mouth. He could feel his tongue exploring the flavours of his skin, moving up and down and covering Zach's feet in wet saliva. From there he slowly slipped Zach's feet into his throat, consuming more of his body in the process.

Zach was soon up to his knees, his legs now restricted and unable to fight the predator's powerful mouth with them. "Let me go!" He yelled, "this isn't funny get my legs out your mouth!" He continued to try and convince his attacker to release him from his wet, slippery grasp. But he could see the hunger in his eyes, there might be no getting out of this for Zach no matter how hard he tried.

Soon the pred had Zach past his hips. He felt his stomach open up and his feet dip inside the humid tank that was awaiting him. His feet were already sweating from the heat and they'd barely been in there a few seconds, he knew he would not be surviving long if his whole body ended up in there. All the while he was panicing and thinking about how he could escape he hadn't realised that he was up to his neck in this powerful man's mouth.

"SOMEONE HELP" he screamed, hoping someone outside the shop would hear him. Sadly, no one could hear his cries for help. "I'M BEING EATE-" Before he could finish his head was quickly engulfed by the pred's wet, slippery mouth. It was a quick trip down his throat and into the stomach that awaited him. Soon he was curled up inside the humid, slimy belly that was making his skin tingle.

Digestive juices quickly came rushing in, coating Zach's entire body in thick stomach acid. He felt it cover every inch of his skin, causing him to tingle all over and go red under the extreme heat. The inside of his capture's stomach smelt strongly of acid and burnt meat, which were held in by the thick walls that prevented anything escaping. Zach punched on the walls of his new home, but his hands just slipped down the walls of the fleshy sack, doing very little to help him escape.

From the outside world the shop attendant felt the helpless prey squirm around in his stomach. "Damn, you keep doing that and I'll make sure to keep as much air as possible in for you" he sighed, he always loved it when his prey desperately thrashed about to escape his stomach. He took in a large gulp of air to let the oxygen in his stomach keep circulating for his helpless meal.

Inside the stomach Zach was beginning to feel the effects of the digestion. His skin had begun blistering and he felt itchy all over. He'd accidently let some of the digestive fluids into his mouth, burning his tongue and melting away part of his cheeks in the process. He could already feel the flesh on his feet had almost completely gone, exposing his bone to the digestive juices.

Most of his nerves had been completely burnt away so instead of pain he felt a more subtle itchy numbness in his skin. This didn't spare him from the horror of watching his body gradually be eaten away at and dissolved though. Pretty soon most of his hands were just bone, and he could feel his joints begging to weaken as they were penetrated by the strong acids.

Moments later several fingers detached from his hands and fell into the soupy liquid below, which had turned a murky brown from the melted skin. As he went down to inspected his legs he inadvertently pulled his right leg off and was forced to watch as it fizzed away into the pool of stomach acid he was sitting in. He went to scratch his head to relieve some of the itching but was surprised to find that instead of hair he was mostly just scratching at loose skin and bone.

Zach realised that he'd soon be consumed by the powerful gut he was stewing away in and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to lay back and close his eyes but his eyelids had been burnt off in the process. So he was forced to watch as the rest of his body was eaten away by the predator's body. His entire lower half had completely gone by now, and he could feel his core beginning to give way.

His left arm soon detached at the shoulder and fell into the mixture of stomach acid and his melted remains. The final thing Zach saw before he faded out of consciousness and was consumed by the shop attendant's stomach was his insides bubbling away as he looked down at his fleshless torso. He then faded out of consciousness, to be converted into fat for the man who had eaten him simply for wondering into the wrong shop.

As the worker felt Zach finally give in and stop moving inside his stomach he gave his now huge belly a gentle pat. "Another satisfied customer" he said, letting out a small burp. "UUUUUUUUUURP." He let out a louder, wetter burp, feeling something force its way up in the process. He quickly spat out a slippery skull covered in digestive fluids, along with a few acid-burnt ribs and a tattered pair of boxers.

He threw the remains in the pile of other clueless preyboys who had made their way into the shop without realising what it was. The only people who left the vore shop alive were proper preds, anyone else got digested into more belly fat for the ravenous staff. With that the shop boy went about his day, hoping someone else would wander in from the streets by mistake.

[puppy-phum]

WIP Game

thank you for tagging me @hils79 ♥ also going to blame this one on @s1utspeare whose wips i love to death. you have such amazing ideas ♥

Rules: Posting a list of current writing works in progress. Feel free to ask me for info on any of them, whether snippets of writing, plot details, main characters, etc. Send me a title listed below and I’ll share something related to it. ;)

have to say that after i finished my liu sang oneshot i haven’t been writing that much. uni has hit me like a truck and i’ve been super busy and too tired to even think about words. but i have hazy images and a strong will. maybe this time period is just me working on stuff in my head and figuring everything out, who knows. 

but here’s a couple of wips i have in my folders:

forgotten, recalled (working title) - my pingxie reincarnation au that happens during the events of ultimate note but has slowly been growing beyond that too. includes two past lives on top of their current one. 

bloodplay (working title) - the beast au where i try to make sense of whatever it was that was going on with xiaoge during the end of tlt2. includes a lot of blood and eating of raw meat and hunting images and maybe just. sex stuff (help me)

my liu sang fic that i have not touched in ages but feel like i still want to write. or at least snippets of liu sang and bai haotian plus liu sang in the middle of pingxie and then with pangzi 

journey for us (working title) - thoughts about the main trio in jatn and how they may or may not be in love with each other (pls don’t ask any snippets of this bc i have basically nothing to give)

in the shadow of the mountain - my thoughts on the love triangle in the long ballad. i loved haoyan to bits and then ended up falling for wei shuyu instead. they could work as a trio and i have many thoughts on that especially from wei shuyu’s pov (also if it’s not obvious, hao du is the mountain) 

my heihua fic that happens in the same universe as binding but before those events (aka hei xiazi’s thoughts on death, immortality, love, and children)

i will not name these as wips but i have a couple of thoughts on a pingxie vampire au plus i always think about my and @ashenlights‘s dmbj cultivator au very fondly and am up to sharing anything about that 

none of these wips are that much words quite yet as they are simple images and vibes in my head. am trying to focus on the reincarnation au and sorting out all the details but it’s going very slowly. i am up for any thoughts however ^^

tagging: @i-am-just-a-kiddo @rose-of-tori @foxofninetales @inessencedevided @laireshi @humanlighthouse (no pressure ^^ and some of you might have been tagged already so sorry about that)

[orangeoctopi7]

All of Your So-Called Problems

[AO3 link]

Stan was trying to find room for the leftover Mac and Cheese in the fridge when he heard the doorbell. He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath as he trudged towards the door. He was NOT in the mood for visitors tonight, even if they might be paying customers. The fact that a demon was trying to break into the house to steal some world-ending piece of junk from Ford didn’t help.

"We're closed!" He shouted before he even peeked out the window. He pulled back the blinds just enough to glare at whoever thought it was a good idea to drop by this late, and his eyebrows raised nearly to his receding hairline when he saw who it was.

"Wendy!? Since when do you knock?" Stan couldn't think of a single time she hadn't just come in and made herself at home since she'd started working at the Shack.

"Since Dipper told me you answered the door with a loaded gun earlier today." The teen answered as Stan opened the door.

"Gonna have to have a talk with that runt about blabbing." Stan rolled his eyes. "What, you having a movie night with the kids?"

"Not exactly." The teen jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and Stan finally noticed the rest of the Corduroy family standing just behind her, right off the porch. They were all carrying sleeping bags and pillows.

"...Wha?" Stan could only utter a surprised grunt as his brain tried to piece together why it looked like the entire Corduroy family was here for a sleepover. 

"Dipper called me and said we could stay here until your brother puts up a barrier around our house." Wendy explained, noticing her boss's confusion. "...Aaand he never even told you anything about it, did he?"

"He sure didn't." Stan deadpanned.

As if on cue, Dipper and Ford both stepped into the entryway.

"Oh, Wendy, you're here already!" Dipper said, voice dripping with faked surprise. "I forgot to ask Grunkle Stan if it was ok for you guys to stay the night. But gosh, since you're already here, I guess we can't turn you away!"

"You can drop the act, bucko, I wrote the book on It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Stan folded his arms disapprovingly. "The answer's still no. We're already putting up one freeloader."

"I'm the one who said they could stay." Ford said firmly.

Stan turned his glare to his brother. "This isn't a safehouse, genius!"

"It's my house, Stanley!"

"Where are they even gonna sleep!?"

"Well, perhaps we'd have some place to put up guests if you hadn't turned the two largest rooms into a tourist trap!"

"Oh, like you kept the place ready for company when you lived here!" Stan countered. "These rooms were both filled to the brim with your weird experiments when I got here!"

“Hey, we can sleep outside like men, if it’s too much trouble to put us up!” Manly Dan interrupted the brothers’ argument.

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” Ford shook his head. “The barrier barely extends past the front porch.” 

Ford quickly took a mental survey of where there might be extra room. The basement lab was out. He’d finished dismantling the portal, but he was storing the rift down there for now. His secret study was supposed to be a secret, and he still needed to clear out all that old Bill memorabilia. The attic was already taken by Dipper and Mabel. Stanley still had the main bedroom, and Fiddleford was currently sleeping on the couch in the upstairs study. That left the den, which might be large enough for one or two people, but certainly not a family of five. If only Stan hadn’t filled his old experiment and specimen rooms with useless junk! Sure, the rooms hadn’t exactly been empty before, but Ford at least would have known what things could be moved where to make room for their guests. Even his old thinking parlor was… wait…

“What about the parlor?” The old researcher asked.

Stan shrugged. “I kinda use it as a space for rotating exhibits, or whatever else I need at the time. Pretty sure it’s still full of leftover campaigning junk.”

“So, nothing we can’t throw out then.”

“Not so fast, genius, I still haven’t agreed to letting anyone stay here.”

“This is an emergency, Stanley!” Ford fumed. “And besides, it’s not your decision to make!”

Stan regarded the Corduroy family still standing awkwardly on his porch, and tried to imagine Manly Dan with those disturbing yellow eyes he’d seen on that time traveler earlier. He tried to picture the hulking lumberjack acting like that erratic demon. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Alright, fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But only because I don’t want any of these ax-weidling giants possessed by a triangular serial-killer. And don’t expect me to provide any bedding or food!”

“Yeah, we can probably snare ourselves a few squirrels or something.” Wendy’s oldest brother assured Stan.

Stan grimaced. “On second thought, help yourselves to some canned meat. Only the stuff that’s expired though!”

“Thanks Stan.” Wendy said. “For giving us a place to stay until this blows over, not for the expired meat.”

“What? They pad that date out by at least a year. As long as it smells fine, it’s good to eat.” Stan defended himself.

The teen rolled her eyes but stepped into the Shack, followed by her family.

Ford observed them all carefully as they entered. No hesitation or sign of even noticing it as they crossed over the barrier. So they definitely weren’t possessed now. He would have to keep a close eye on them while they stayed. He knew that Dipper trusted Wendy, and that was good enough for him, for now, but the others? Ford vaguely remembered Dan from when he’d been a young man, building this very cabin for him. He’d been friendly, loud, and boisterous. It appeared his sons were cut from the same cloth. But it was hard to say whether or not Bill could convince any of them to try and smash the rift.

“So Wendy, did you manage to get more unicorn hair?” Dipper asked as he helped her lay out a sleeping bag in the parlor.

“Oh yeah. I just snuck into that glade again with a pair of shears and a tranq dart. Works just as well as fairy dust.” She handed a grocery bag full of rainbow hair to Ford.

Ford made a mental note to add that tidbit to the Journal 1 entry on unicorns later. “I’ll get started on it first thing tomorrow.”

Mabel came downstairs to help just a minute later. After a lot of rearranging of campaign signs and novelty phones, everyone had a sleeping space set out. Dan took Stan’s recliner in the den, and his youngest son set out a sleeping bag at his feet. The oldest three children laid out their sleeping bags between the piles of junk in the parlor. 

“Ohmigosh, Dipper, we should pull our mattresses down here and have a mega-sleepover!” Mabel gasped as she pushed the last of the campaign signs into a corner.

“What was the point of clearing out all this junk if we aren’t even gonna sleep in our own beds?” Dipper asked tiredly.

“Hmm, good point. Maybe Barry and Stuart can sleep in our beds, and we can sleep down here with Wendy!”

Dipper and Wendy’s middle brother both blushed beet red.

“Uh… I mean… I, uh, I don’t think Wendy would want to sleep with me--US! With us!” Dipper stammered.

“M-me? Sleep in a g-girl’s room? Like a room that a girl sleeps in?” The middle brother gulped.

“Yyyeah, I think we’re good where we are.” Wendy said cooly, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

“Aw man!” Mabel pouted, but she didn’t put up any other protest than that. Dipper suspected she was still pretty worn out from the rescue mission this morning.

Eventually, everyone got settled down and the children all fell asleep. The elder Pines twins moved back to the living room to check on Dan one more time.

"Hey, now that the kids are asleep, I've been meaning to ask you something." The lumberjack said in a low rumble that was probably his version of a whisper. "How long have there been two of you?"

"Hooboy…" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to retread this again.

"I'm Stanford. I'm the one you first met when you built this place for me. My brother Stanley has been living here under my name for the last 30 years." Ford summarized tiredly. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to make a big deal out of it right now either.

Stan could practically see the gears turning in Manly Dan's head. Eventually the grizzled lumberjack nodded. "Yeah, that adds up."

With that, he turned over and went to sleep. Stan was a little surprised that the guy accepted their explanation just like that. But then again, Dan had lived in Gravity Falls his whole life.

Ford grabbed a folding chair from the card table and carried it out into the giftshop.

"Are you seriously gonna stay up and keep watch over that snowglobe thing all night?" Stan asked incredulously.

"My usual sleeping place is already occupied, I may as well." 

"Y’know, operating on so little sleep just makes you more likely to screw up.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well accustomed to it.”

“Not reassuring.” Stan said flatly, turning and climbing the stairs up to his room. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight either. But at least he was going to try. Ford was going to run himself ragged if he kept up this pace.

- - -

Nights in prison were the worst part of the whole ordeal, in Gideon's opinion. At least during the day, he was able to sway the other inmates to do what he wanted. There was a sort of mob mentality that he could take control of. But at night, it was just Gideon and his cell-mate, and there was nothing the boy could do to stop the hulking man from taking his pillow and doing whatever he wanted with it. 

Last week, the convicted felon had staged a wedding in their cell. He’d made a veil out of toilet paper and hummed “Here Comes the Bride” and everything. Tonight, he seemed to be discussing the possibility of children with his new “wife”.

“But Tessa, your mother and your aunt both died in childbirth! I’m just worried about you, honey!” He paused for whatever imagined reply the pillow gave. “Adoption, you say? I’ll admit, I had not considered it.”

Gideon groaned. He couldn’t even put a pillow over his ears to try and block out the nonsense! He’d tried to persuade the warden to let him switch cell mates so he could room with Ghost Eyes, but apparently they were “both instigators” and putting them both in the same cell would be “asking for a prison riot”.

The boy’s eyes flicked with annoyance to the cat poster still hiding his last attempt to summon Bill Cipher. The triangle had appeared and promised he was working on something, but so far Bill had failed to deliver.

“Stupid useless demon!” Gideon muttered under his breath. He rolled over, expecting another sleepless night.

Well, it did turn out to be sleepless, but not for the reason he’d anticipated.

It was a little past 10 PM when Gideon heard the familiar sound of an old van’s engine revving. He’d heard it many times on his father’s used car lot, but what on earth would one of those junkers be doing here?

That’s when he heard the unmistakable sound of a van crashing through a wall. Followed by the even more unmistakable sound of a machine gun.

“Heavens to Betsy, what was that!?” Gideon ran to his barred window just in time to see a pudgy man with a machine gun walk away from the wreckage of where a large van had burst through the prison wall. His maniacal laughter sounded familiar.

“Well whaddya know? Bill came through!” Gideon said in a hushed whisper. 

He dove away from the window with a yelp a second later when the machine gun started firing in his direction. A few seconds later there was a much quieter bang as a tall ladder hit the wall just outside the window. 

“HEY GIDEON, I HEARD YOU WERE GETTING TIRED OF YOUR PRISON AND WANT TO FIND SOMEPLACE NEW TO PARTY?”

“Bill!?”

“THE ONE AND ONLY!”

“Are you trying to kill me, you maniac!?” 

“YEESH, YOU FLESH-SACKS ARE SO SENSITIVE! YOU’RE FINE. BESIDES, I NEEDED TO LOOSEN THESE BARS!” He ripped out the bars on the window with ease. They’d already been loosened by the machine gun fire. “YOU COMING OR NOT? I NEED YOUR HELP STAGING A LITTLE PRISON BREAK OF MY OWN.”

Gideon pouted and followed the demon down the ladder, grumbling the whole way.

“... You know what, Tessa? I don’t think I want kids after all.” Gideon’s cowering cell mate said after they left. 

Bill kept the guards off them with plenty of machine gun fire, but he had little regard for who he was shooting at, guard or prisoner. He even narrowly missed Gideon on a few occasions.

“Oooh, I hope Killbone’s foot will be ok.” The boy hissed sympathetically as he saw one of his inmate friends go down.

“NAH, HE’S CRIPPLED FOR LIFE!”

They finally made it to the van, and Gideon climbed into the passenger-side door. Bill followed after him.

“A-aren’t you gonna drive?” The boy asked.

“TCH, FUNNY! I JUST RAMMED THIS THING THROUGH THREE WALLS OF CONCRETE; YOU THINK THE MEASLY COMBUSTION ENGINE STILL WORKS?” He flicked a lighter on and dropped it down between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. Gideon could smell the gasoline. This thing was going to blow any second. He scampered over the benches and out the back door. Bill followed casually behind him.

“Then how are we supposed to get away!?” Gideon demanded as he sprinted to put distance between himself and the burning van.

“RELAX, SHORT-STACK, I’VE GOT A SECOND GET-AWAY CAR RIGHT HERE!” Bill pointed out a small black Audi parked behind a tall tree.

“Then why did you set the van on fire?” Gideon asked in confusion.

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT’D BE FUN.” Bill grinned as the van blew up behind them. Gideon screamed and ducked to avoid fiery flying debris. “AND I WAS RIGHT!”

Gideon got into Bill’s car. There was no child’s car seat. “You better drive careful.” He warned the demon.

“AHAHAHAHA, OH GIDEON, YOU’RE ALWAYS A RIOT!” Bill struggled to shift the car into drive, and Gideon had just enough time to realize with horror that the demon didn’t really know how to operate a human vehicle before it sped off through the trees.

[sibillascribbles08]

Dareth and ten year old Toby

Dareth yawned, begging his coffee to kick in as he took another long sip. He went to bed at a decent hour, only to be awoken by the kid sneaking into his room. Of course he bolted as soon as he was spotted, hiding back in his own room that he’d occupied for almost a month now.

A month. They picked that kid up in the garage almost a month ago and he still wouldn’t come out. Dareth wasn’t sure what to do with him anymore. He wouldn’t throw him out, of course not, but maybe it was time to find another place to put him.

One more sip of coffee. He didn’t normally drink it black but he tricked himself into believing it would work better that way. Dareth set the mug down and sighed.

The kid stood next to his chair.

Dareth jerked, almost flinging coffee across the room.

At least that woke him up.

“Wh--kid?” Dareth looked at him. “What are you doing down here?”

The kid stared at him, glaring, always glaring. If Dareth wasn’t aware he could pick the kid up with one hand he might find it intimidating.

“You’re talking.” The kid said.

“Uh...”

“You never talked before. Why now?” He pointed.

Dareth studied his hands while he could. His fingernails weren’t long but they were ragged, likely being chewed on, but there was still some dirt underneath. He could see a film of dust and old sweat on his skin as well, not even speaking about his hair. Probably only shiny from natural oils.

But getting him to come out of his room had taken a month how long would it take to get him to take a bath?

The kid puffed out his cheeks. “Answer me!”

Dareth sighed, his exhaustion coming back. “Me and Ronin trade the ability to speak sometimes.”

“Huh?” The kid lowered his hand and stepped back, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Now that, is a personal question.” Dareth pointed back before drinking more coffee. “And since you aren’t inclined to tell me anything about yourself, I think I’ll do the same.”

The pouting face returned, hands clenched at his sides. Dareth just decided to pretend he wasn’t paying attention.

“What is that?”

He glanced over this time to see the kid pointing at his mug.

“Coffee.” Dareth said.

“Co-ffee.” The kid repeated the word slowly, moving his mouth with each syllable like he’d never heard it before. “What’s coffee.”

“Drink that helps me wake up.”

“Um... can I see it?”

Dareth blinked at him a few times before he held the mug out. The kid flinched at first, stepping away, but then crept forward and leaned over the cup. His nostrils moved before his nose scrunched up.

“Ew.” He covered his face and stepped back. “Smells bad.”

“You learn to love it.” Dareth finished it off. “You hungry kid? Want breakfast?”

Dareth stood. The kid scurried away, ducking behind a chair. Dareth just watched him, waiting, until he finally crept back out.

“You want some eggs? Bacon?”

“Ba-con... eggs... what are those?”

Dareth’s heart stuttered. “Huh? You don’t know?”

The kid shook his head. “What are those things you always put outside my room?”

“A... a sandwich?”

He nodded. “I want one of those.”

Dareth tried not to let his panic show. Kid didn’t even know what a sandwich was? What eggs were? “Well, hang on. Sandwiches aren’t always breakfast food. I just took those because I figured it’d be easiest to eat.” And less clean up later, but he didn’t say that. “Why not try something new?”

Pouty face. “But sandwiches are my favorite.”

“Kid, you don’t even know what eggs are. How do you know those won’t be your favorite.”

It seemed to present quite the dilemma. The kid almost seemed distressed, eyes darting around.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal.” Dareth put his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. “I’ll make some breakfast and if you don’t like any of it I’ll make a sandwich instead.”

“Um... okay.”

With that out of the way, Dareth headed into the kitchen. He opened the main fridge, snatching up half a dozen eggs, a package of ground sausage and a package of bacon. Simple, not too crazy. He almost worried he’d blow the kid’s mind if he tried to make pancakes or waffles.

He set the food aside as he turned on the griddle. They had a smaller home kitchen upstairs, but Dareth just kept using the one down here. Between him, Ronin, Harumi, the kid, and sometimes a whole grizzly bear, it was worth it just to cook in bulk.

The kid came into the kitchen, glancing around. Dareth let him wander but kept half an eye to make sure he didn’t pick up something dangerous.

“What... what are those for?” The kid sounded terrified as he pointed to the large sinks in the back. Three in a row all with faucets and a hanging spray hose.

“Washing dishes.” Dareth grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs.

That got the child’s attention. That startled look over came his face and he shuffled closer to watch. “What is that?”

“These,” Dareth cracked another, “are the eggs. The shell isn’t edible so you break them open to get the good stuff.” When he emptied them all he let the kid look into the bowl.

Another look of disgust. “Looks gross.”

“Eh, there’s not really a way to make eggs look not gross.” Dareth grabbed a whisk and started to beat them. Scrambled eggs always were the best way to introduce someone to them, in his experience. At least Harumi and Ronin weren’t too picky about how they were cooked.

He tossed in some pepper and salt, though not a lot in case the kid wound up not liking it. After tossing some butter on the griddle and letting it melt down, he poured the egg mixture on top.

They hissed when they met the hot metal. The kid jumped, but didn’t run.

Dareth flashed a smile at him. He grabbed two short hand spatulas off the wall and began to push the eggs around on the griddle. Sometimes he’d cut through them, other times he’d flip them entirely.

When the eggs were cooked he scooped them up and set them aside on a plate. Next came the bacon and sausage. He laid out the strips on the back of the griddle before dumping the whole container of sausage. Once again he used the spatulas to separate it and shape them into smaller patties.

While it was cooking he flipped the spatula in his hand and winked at the kid. For a second he swore he saw a smile.

Pyrite chose then to come inside. The smell of cooking meat must have inticed him to wake up. The kid looked at the bear wide eyed, curious, but not at all frightened.

“Morning buddy. You mind if the kid pets you?” Dareth gestured. “Looks like he wants to.”

“That’s fine.” Pyrite yawned, showing his teeth. “Just not the snout.”

“He says you can give him a pat, kid.” Dareth nodded. “Just not on the nose.”

“You can talk to him?” The kid gasped. He slowly approached the bear, hand out. His small hand practically vanished in Pyrite’s dense fur.

“Sure can. I can talk to the rats too. They talk about you sometimes.”

“What? No fair.” His voice turned into a mumble. “I wanna talk to them.”

Dareth laughed and flipped the bacon. “Hang out long enough maybe I’ll give you some pointers.

The kid sat on the floor with Pyrite while Dareth finished cooking. The bear gave him a few sniffs, making some humming noises that Dareth wasn’t fond of. It usually meant he found something unusual, but no point in asking about it right now.

“Alright.” Dareth made up two plates before piling some extras in a bowl for Pyrite. “Lets head back to the table, huh?”

He let them leave first--because stepping over Pyrite was more trouble than it was worth--and set the plates on the table before putting the bowl on the floor.

“Uh, what do you want to drink, kid? Milk? Juice?”

Once again, the kid stared at him, apparently not knowing what those words mean either.

“Okay I’ll try this. Out of all the liquids in cups I gave you beforehand, what was your favorite.”

“Um... actually that was um... the brown one. It was warm.”

Hot chocolate huh? With cinnamon? That was also Ronin’s favorite.

Curious.

“That was hot chocolate, but that’s also not really a good thing for breakfast. What about the white one?”

“Yeah, that one was good.”

Dareth got the kid a glass of milk and himself some more coffee before sitting down. He intentionally picked the farthest seat, making sure the kid felt as comfortable as possible.

The kid didn’t look entirely comfortable though. Instead he stared at the fork in his hand, obviously trying to figure it out.

“You uh... never seen a fork either?” Dareth asked.

The kid shook his head.

“Uuuh okay.” Dareth leaned over to one of the other tables, where he kept the rolled up silverware, and pulled out a spoon. “How about this one?”

The kid nodded.

“Okay, well this is a spoon. It’s a lot like a fork. Forks are just built to be able to stab food as well as scoop it up.” He decided to demonstrate, cutting off a bit of sausage and poking it. “Like this.”

The kid’s eyes seemed to flash with determination. He gripped the fork in his hand like he was ready for a fight. He stabbed it onto the plate--a bit too hard judging from the screech from the ceramic--but managed to get some eggs on the end of it. He made a face at it, obviously put off by the way it looked, but put it in his mouth anyway.

His face light up. He stared at the plate like he’d just struck gold. Suddenly he was shoveling the eggs into his mouth way faster than he should be. Dareth barely had the chance to speak before the sausage and bacon vanished along with it.

“Good.” The kid picked up the plate and licked off any stray bits of egg. “That’s so good!” He smacked the plate down, a huge grin on his face.

Something gripped Dareth’s heart and squeezed as he stared at that open smile, the crooked baby teeth with one of the front ones missing.

“Hah.” He tried to smile back, ignoring the lump in his throat. “First time I’ve seen you smile.”

Sadly, that made it vanish. The kid stared back at him, bewildered. He picked up the plate again and stared at it, as if looking at a reflection. “Oh.”

“Sorry, don’t worry about it.” Dareth forced a laugh. “Hey, if you want seconds I’ll gladly give you more, kid. If Ronin snoozes he loses.” He went to finally start eating his own breakfast.

“Toby.”

He almost dropped the fork. “Huh?”

“Toby, my name is Toby.” The kid stared at the table, hands now in his lap. Were his cheeks turning red?

Dareth smiled, that same tight sensation returning to his chest. “Nice to meet you Toby, I’m Dareth.”

“I know.” Toby tried to make himself even smaller. “I hear you and Ronin talking, sometimes.”

“Well...” Dareth finally took a bite. “I’m sure you have your reasons for being scared, Toby. But I promise none of us are going to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“Mmm...I know.” Toby moved on his seat, probably rubbing his hands together under the table. “I just figure you’ll... kick me out eventually.”

“Well, we aren’t the most qualified people to take in homeless kids.” He forced another laugh before clearing his throat. “But we won’t kick you out either, promise.”

“Mmm...” Toby didn’t look convinced.

“Nevermind it right now. You want seconds? Or maybe something else? What about some fruit?”

Toby squinted at him. “What’s a ‘fruit’?”

Dareth sighed. Oh boy.

[notkageyamasprincess]

grocery shopping | miya atsumu x reader

request: Grocery shopping with Atsumu. You tell him to pick up some stuffs from the dairy counter(like cheese, milk, etc) but when you see him walking towards you, all he is holding is Family pack Ice creams in different flavours.💕😂 "But they were looking at me like 'pick us up', and so I did🥺", he explains. @nkogneatho

notes: hi dear, sorry this took so long, i was going to write headcannons or a drabble at most and then all sorts of funny ideas started popping up in my head. i included your req ofc but it’s not the main focus if that’s okay.

characters: pro vb player!miya atsumu x f!reader

genre/warnings: mostly crack tbh, fluff, very chaotic, y/n thinks she’s getting kidnapped and freaks, they take a ride on a grocery cart, y/n accidentally finds out her boss is a sugar mommy?,tsumu is a sweet boyfie

words: 1.5k

summary: you take atsumu with you on a shopping trip. chaos ensues.

It probably would have been a smarter choice to pick a day when the supermarket was less busy, but the fridge was almost empty and in dire need of replenishing. Today marks Day 3 of you and Atsumu’s new diet, one that he needs since he’s starting an intense conditioning regimen. You decided to participate as well in order to support him, and to get into the habit of eating healthier yourself.

You leave Atsumu’s side to take a basket, but he beats you to it, wheeling out a shopping cart instead. You tilt your head in puzzlement. “Atsumu, we’re not going to buy that much food, we’ll never finish it all.” He takes your wrist in one hand and starts steering the cart with the other. “You’ll see”

You stop at the fresh produce section, tossing an assortment of fruit and veggies in your trolley as Atsumu perks up beside you, getting an idea. “____, let’s get steak today so I can cook for you.” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical of his abilities. And for good reason. “‘Tsumu, you tried to make me breakfast two weeks ago and I don’t think those eggs were even edible.” He puts a hand on his hip and fakes a pout. “Babe, have some faith in me. ‘Samu might be the chef of the family, but trust me on this, I promise I’m not going to poison you.” Despite still being slightly suspicious, you decide not to question him.

You grab a few salad kits for good measure then pull out your phone to tick off your grocery list. “Bread, check, energy bars, check, produce, check, salad mix, check…okay, I think all that’s left is meat and dairy, let’s go get your steak.” You glance up when he didn’t answer. “‘Tsumu?” Your boyfriend has disappeared and so has the grocery cart.

You look for him in the meat aisle. Nothing. You look in the next aisle. Nothing. You’re about to send him a text when you suddenly feel a pair of hands seize you by waist, taking you away from the secure ground beneath your feet. Your life flashes before your eyes. Headlines of “Missing person, last seen at XX Mart” fills your mind. No way is this happening right now. I am NOT getting abducted in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded grocery store! I have to get help; I can’t go down without a fight.

You yelp while struggling in the hold of your attacker, furiously kicking at empty space. You see an old woman a little farther down the aisle. There’s hope. “Help! Somebod- ” you shriek in panic before a hand comes up to muffle your words. “____! Chill out, it’s me!” You still at the sound of your boyfriend. Too late. The elderly woman approaches you, swinging her cane and nearly whacks Atsumu in the shoulder. “Ma’am, ma’am! This is a misunderstanding, I’m her boyfriend,” he explains, fending her off. She slowly withdraws her cane and stares at you. “Is that true?” You meet her eyes, then mumble an affirmation, ducking your head shamefully. “Young women nowadays… back in my youth, I never would have dared to cause such a scene,” she tsks, glaring at you disapprovingly before she walks away. Oops.

Atsumu sets you down, eyeing you with furrowed brows. “____. Bro, what the fuck?” You can only smile sheepishly. “Sorry that I freaked out on you. I thought I was about to fall victim to human trafficking. But you know how scared I get when my mom sends me articles about girls getting kidnapped,” you point out, attempting to defend yourself. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you before, nothing will happen when you’re with me. Did you forget who you were? You’re ____, Miya Atsumu’s girl, and no one gets to mess with you.”

You instantly soften at his words but puff your cheeks out afterwards. “Hmph, well something could have happened just now, and it’d be all your fault for leaving me,” you accuse, pretending to sulk. He gestures at the security cameras. “There are cameras everywhere, not to mention this whole place is crawling with people. Besides, even if something were to happen, I would come for you. No one can touch Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend and get away with it.” He taps the handle of the cart. “Anyways, get in. This is why I insisted on taking this thing.”

“ You’re not serious. We’re too old for this, we can’t be doing things like riding shopping carts,” you reasoned. He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit, me and ‘Samu used to do this a lot and still do sometimes. And don’t lie to me, I know you want to, so get in before people come into aisle.” You bite your lip. He was right, so you don’t protest when he picks you up again and places you inside with your legs over the front. “Hold on tight.”

He puts one foot on the metal bar and pushes off the ground with the other, then hops on, propelling you forward, riding off the momentum. You clutch at the sides of the cart, feeling the air whip at your face, wind running through your hair. The two of you laugh in glee like children.

All was well until a woman’s back comes into view. Your eyes widen. “Baby, stop, we’re going to hit her!” He curses and immediately steps down, reducing the speed until the wheels squeak to a stop, just in time. You turn towards him to scold him. “I knew this was a bad idea; that was so dangerous! We could have hit this lady or even gotten hurt ourselves trying to avoid her!”

“Very fortunate that you didn’t, Miss ____,” says a voice. A very familiar voice. You twist your body back around, looking directly into the stern eyes of your manager. You take a moment, becoming conscious of your current state: hair disheveled, clothes in disarray, legs dangling over the edge of a shopping cart to top it all off. Is there a worse way to encounter your boss outside of work? You hastily straighten up. Well, straighten up the best you could in the situation. You smile nervously. “Ms. Wright! Wow, hi! What a coincidence seeing you here!” You notice a young man standing beside her. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a son. He’s really handsome, you must be proud,” you added. She purses her lips, clearly displeased. “Actually, Miss ____, he’s not my son, he’s my boyfriend. We have a busy agenda today. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Your face turns white as you process what just happened. The atmosphere is silent. Atsumu starts to push the cart, waiting until you make it to another aisle before bursting into laughter. “Miya! That was so not funny. I can’t believe that happened. First, she sees me in this state. Then, I mistake her boyfriend for her son? I even called him handsome! Oh my god, it’s really over for me.”

“Calm down, she said to see you at work, it’s fine. Plus, it’s not your fault you didn’t know she was a cougar. That sugar baby must be living the lif- ” You gasp and reach up to cover his mouth before he says anything else. “Shush, Atsumu! What if she’s still around? Yeah, I’m definitely going to see her on Monday…so she can fire me!” you groan. “Just get me out of this stupid cart so we can finish buying what we need, I just want to go home so I can curl up and scream into the blankets.” He smirks. “Oh, you want to scream in bed? No problem, leave that to me.” You slap his arm, and he feigns hurt.

While at the cash register, you realize that you forgot a few items. “Shit, ‘Tsumu, I forgot the butter and yoghurt. Can you quickly go grab those?” He nods. “Wait here, I’ll be fast.” A couple minutes pass and you grow worried, watching the employee scan the last of your groceries.

You finally see your boyfriend return with his arms full. Except, what he’s carrying are massive pints of ice cream. You cross your arms. “Atsumu. What did I just say? This doesn’t look like butter and yoghurt.”

He peers at you with puppy eyes. “Babe, you can’t blame me. They were calling out to me and begging to be picked up! Besides, I got both your favourite flavour and mine. We need this for movie night.”

“What about the diet?”

“It’s not a big deal. Also, you seem like you need this after what happened. And I feel like I might have been responsible for some of it. Just a bit.”

You sigh and pay for the ice cream. He’s got a point. Guess you’ll have to make another trip to the store tomorrow.

a/n: actually this is the first time i’m writing a crack fic, but i have crack hcs in my wips if anyone is curious! i’m not even sure if this is funny or nah lmaoo please let me know