#i like the lil colored one in the corner..............do i keep em

[rogdona]

[mirkwoodmunson]

meltdown

eddie munson x gn!y/n

2k words

sometimes the bullying is too much. sometimes eddie needs you to step in.

contains: aaaangst but then a lil fluff at the end ig so it’s ok, jason carver, hurt!eddie, pre-s4 tw: cursing, physical/verbal bullying, violence, meltdown a/n: companion piece to bad day. eddie's turn to have a rough time! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“Piss off and juggle some balls,” Eddie snarls out, before abruptly getting slammed back into the side of his van, one of Jason’s basketball goons grabbing him by the vest, fists twisted into the denim and digging into his shoulders as he’s held against the vehicle.

He lets out a wheeze and then growls, attempts lashing out like a cornered animal but it only makes the jock pull him forward to slam him back again — harder — eliciting another gasp from Eddie as the wind is knocked from him a second time.

“You really shouldn’t litter, y’know,” the goon drawls smugly, as Jason Carver himself collects from the ground the pages of campaign material Eddie had dropped after being shoved into this altercation without warning. Material he’d been working on for the past three months.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide and panicked as Jason shuffles through them, the jock’s eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled, face twisted into a sneer to say ‘what the fuck am I looking at, weirdo??’

Eddie’s stomach drops, movement ceasing as he watches carefully.

“H-hey c’mon man, c’mon just drop ‘em, alright? Carver!”

The blond boy snorts, meeting Eddie’s pleading gaze with a careless one of his own.

“Sure, freak. Sure I’ll drop ‘em,” he coos.

Jason smiles, flat and ice-cold, and tears a neat rip right down the middle of the pages, Eddie immediately crying out angrily and squirming, distraught shouts only growing louder with every slow rriiiiippp Jason draws out for his own amusement.

He does eventually drop the pages — the small little squares he’d made out of them — lets them out of his hands slowly to flutter away in the breeze.

It’s gut-wrenching, the way Jason just grins in delight as Eddie furiously tries to break free, tries to thrust himself after Jason, tries to defend himself — but all his efforts earn him is a swift punch to the gut from the goon holding him.

Eddie doubles over with a huff and blinks rapidly as his vision explodes with color, lungs sputtering and stinging as he tries to chase a deep breath of air that they can’t hold with their ache, arms wrapped around his middle as he starts to sink to the ground.

He can hear nimble, quick-paced footsteps, someone running towards the trio, but in his position he doesn’t see you come up right behind Jason with your arms thrown back, hears you but doesn’t see as you cry out in a blind rage and swing your book bag with full might into the side of Jason Carver’s head.

He misses getting to see Jason practically soar to the ground, but he does see him flounder on the pavement, eyes wide in his startled panic, holding his head and trying to place his attacker.

You keep screaming, wildly swinging your heavy bag, taking a defensive stance in front of Eddie who’s still holding his abdomen, curled into himself and coughing.

“FUCK OFF YOU ROTTING PIECES OF DOG-SHIT!! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!! GET — AWAY!! I’LL FUCKING SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, JASON CARVER; SO FAR YOUR OWN MOTHER IS GONNA TASTE THE SOLE!!”

You get a few more good whacks in, making Jason and his goon stumble as the latter helps the former to his feet, trying to keep him steady as they gather themselves and attempt a hasty retreat.

“FUCKING FREAKS!” The goon throws over his shoulder before they both break into a run, Jason stumbling a bit and struggling with his footing.

As soon as they’re focused on high-tailing it out of there you drop your bag and sink to your knees in front of Eddie’s huddled figure, the boy still pulling in deep breaths that squeal with a wheeze in between his coughs.

“Eds?? Eddie baby, lookit me, look here,” you cup his cheeks and gently lift his head, pushing curls away from his face to give him room to breathe and checking for any other injuries; your stomach drops when he slowly looks up with your encouragement, his bottom lip quivering as he tries to keep the tears restrained but a few of them have already fallen down his rosy cheeks. He looks up, but avoids your intense, concerned gaze.

“Oh, Eddie… sweetie, come on, you gotta get up; I got you, c’mon…” you sigh gently and pull one of his arms around your shoulders, carefully lifting him with you. He leans into you and lets out a soft whine, his other arm tightly wrapped against his middle, letting you maneuver him.

“Keep doing those deep breaths, babe, you got it… it’s alright you got it… c’mon, m'gonna take you home, okay? It’s alright…”

Your voice keeps him docile, keeps him calm, keeps him focused and breathing and moving. He wants to hide, wants to be in the quiet dark, wants to crawl away with you so he lets you guide him to the passenger side of his van and into the seat. As soon as you close his door he leans his arms up on the dash and buries his head in them, shoulders heaving.

Your heart sinks to your feet and you breathe out slowly.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that piece of shit…” You spit under your breath, glancing back at the school. You take a few minutes to gather whatever scraps of Eddie's campaign you can find -- whatever hasn't already blown away -- tucking them into your bookbag as you scoop it up along with the rest of Eddie's things. You walk around to the driver's side of the van, hopping up into the seat.

Eddie tries to calm down when he hears you come in, looks away and lifts his shirt to swipe over his face, a quick successions of sniffles. You can see him tremble, errant hairs shivering, the way his hands moved almost frantically, body rigid and vibrating with adrenaline.

You set your bag in the back and then just sit silent for a bit. Letting Eddie have his time to quietly vent the steam while he tries to hide it from you — huddled away and trying to collect himself before you press for info or speak up again.

When he’s down to just heavy breaths, you reach over and slowly stroke his arm, testing the waters. They’re lukewarm and still, and Eddie just sits and lets you comfort him.

“Are you okay, Eds?" 'Silly question,' you think, 'of course he's not okay.'

"Do- …d’you wanna, talk about it?”

Eddie does a big shrug and huffs, looking into his lap while fiddling with his rings absently. He sniffles, swipes a sleeve against his nose, shaking his head a little.

“What’s there to talk about.” His voice is raspy and soft, stating it plainly; he still wheezes softly. You wince and withdraw your hand.

“Same shit as always. Bunch’a fuckin' little shits ganging up on someone bigger to feel tough.”

The quiet settles over you again.

And then you jump in your seat, when Eddie begins punching the dash in front of him, practically screaming,

“SAME FUCKING SHIT!! IT’S THE SAME — FUCKING — SHIT!! EVERY — FUCKING — DAY — OF MY LIIIFE!!”

He’s punching with each word, choking on a sob with every pained breath, and then he’s just shouting at the end, fists digging into his thighs as he strains with the force of his bellowing, face red and wet.

You just freeze and go quiet, eyes glued down onto your hands in your lap, flinching with the punches and closing your eyes when he yells.

He breaks off with a sob and rakes fingers into his tangled hair — you hear strands snap — tugging against the roots as he cries deep from his aching belly, rasping with each breath.

“It doesn’t stop!! It doesn’t stop it doesn’t stop it doesn’t—“

He stomps his foot, pulling his hair — he was so strained just sitting in place, groaning and crying and shifting irritably like he needed to do something, needed to move. Something angry and red and sad and tired was trying to break free, pushing at his seams, and it frustrated him that all he could do was just cry. He felt itchy and tight in his skin.

It wasn’t often, but you had seen him like this a few times before. When it got too be too much for him to hide with a grin and lame joke, too much to tuck away into the attic of his mind.

It was the ones that smiled the easiest, it seemed, that had the most they wanted to hide.

Grin and bear it.

It broke your heart every time. How could it not?

Eddie was such a strong person, his will unmatched and pride hung high — not proud, per se, but very aware of how bright he shone, and more than happy to shed that light. Happy to stand strong and be that person everyone saw him as — that you saw him as — untouchable, unwavering, mighty.

Eddie the Brave.

It broke your heart to see that light flicker and go out, even if only momentarily. Broke your heart to see Eddie — who was always the one to comfort and protect you — need comfort and protection himself.

But every light needs tending to stay lit. The flames may go out but they can be fanned into a roar once more.

Eddie would always help you pick up your pieces, you would always be there to help him pick up his.

He sits rigid in his seat with his palms cupped over his face, muffling the cries and sniffles, hiding the tears that fell freely — hid them till they were trickling down his wrists and dripping from his chin.

“Eddie…sweetheart…” Just the warmth, tenderness, of your voice makes his shoulders slump, quivering with the force of the next few sobs as his muscles struggle to keep taught.

“Baby c’mere,” you soothe, reaching to him and carefully sliding a hand around his wrist. You pull it away, and he lets you guide him towards you slowly. You lift his hand and bring it up and around your shoulder, and Eddie leans in with it and puts his other arm around you as well, now crying freely against your shoulder as he sinks into your awaiting arms and lets the meltdown run its course as you comfort him.

"I'm sick of it, y/n! I'm-I'm fuckin' sick of it!"

You tuck your face into brown curls, let your eyes slide closed as you murmur calming shushes, hand smoothing slow, deep circles into his back, gently grazing with your fingertips; other hand clutching tight to the scruff of his shirt, holding Eddie to you dearly.

"I know. I know, Eds..."

It's all you can say. Nothing would really make it any better right now, he just needed to let it out, just needed a moment to be comforted and told 'yes. you're right, Eddie. It does fucking suck. But you'll be okay.'

After a while he's more responsive -- quieted down -- rubbing your back as well and self-soothingly brushing his cheek against the shoulder of your soft, warm shirt, just under your collarbone. Listening to your heartbeat, letting that ground him.

You press nuzzled kisses into his hair, against his forehead and temple and the bridge of his nose, which makes him smile and crinkle it sweetly.

He leans up slowly in his seat while you keep a hand pressed to his back, watching him orient himself and rub his eyes, trying to physically wipe away the thoughts swarming over the incident. He smooths his palms into his thighs, over and over, a slow and soothing gesture. Breathes deep and exhales, still wheezing a little, still aching, but now mostly just tired.

"...can you, stay over tonight?" Eddie croaks just above a whisper, finally meeting your eye.

You smile and nod, holding up the hand you'd had on his back.

He smiles too, soft and weary, fishes the keys out of his pocket and drops them into your palm.

Your gaze shifts to the little keychain attached to them, a clear plastic heart that holds a tiny cutout picture of the two of you from a photo booth, giggly and excited after seeing The Return of the Living Dead.

“I can help you fix the campaign! You’ve been working so hard on it.”

You start up the van, Eddie squeezes your thigh -- a silent 'thank you,' and you head off towards Forest Hills.

[ozarkthedog]

summary: dieter insists you try some of his stash.

kinktober i: drug use

warnings: 18+ only. mdni. morally gray!dieter bravo x fem assistant!reader. slight dubcon. drug use (coke). coercion. fingering. oral sex (fem receiving). cumming untouched. no beta.

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i've had this thot since i saw the movie. sry not sry. “disaster racoon” via @ghotifishreads 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“C’mere, pretty girl, want you to try something.” Dieter beckons from a dimly lit corner of his suite. 

The hotel door makes a deafening thud as it shuts. The supple carpet feels divine on your bare feet but the dark gold color palette of the room along with the heady smell unsettles you.

He sinks into the lush couch with a sigh draped in a brown fur coat. He looks rough around the edges. Long days on set with nothing to do in between takes have taken a toll on him. 

He leans over a glass coffee table that’s littered with sordid paraphernalia and snatches a small, black vile. In his haste, he knocks over a bottle filled with tiny pills sending them rolling in different directions. 

“Shit-” He scrambles to catch them as they roll off the table and onto the rug below. He waves his hand dismissively at the floor and sends you a quirky smile. “We’ll find ‘em when we need ‘em.” 

You politely smile before shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You were unsure why the Oscar winner had invited you up to his room. You’d chatted with him a few times since the movie began production but not to the point where you thought you should be alone with him.

Constantly shifting your eyes from the illusive man to the carpet and back again. He hums a tune you’ve never heard as he taps out the contents of the black vile. The melody sticks like molasses in your brain.

Dieter taps a little mound of white onto one of the various script edits before flicking his eyes up to you. He ponders for a moment, his eyes blinking slowly behind his dark brown shades before he snaps back to reality.

He points to the small pile of powder with a grin, “Have you ever tried this?”

“What is it?” You eye him  suspiciously.

He slowly licks his lips as they pull into a sly grin, “Cocaine.” 

“Uh, no. I don’t do drugs.” You answer, hugging your arms around yourself.

He tuts and cocks his head. “That’s a shame. They’re really fun.”      

Wariness slinks up your spine as he bends his head to the script and snorts loudly, sucking up some of the power in one inhale before collapsing back onto the couch. A deep, satisfied groan rumbles from his bare chest as his fur coat splays open and exposes his almost naked body aside from his gray boxers.

You gather up the nerve to speak after a few uncomfortable, silent minutes. “Did you call me up here for a reason, Mr. Bravo?”

“Wanted someone to keep me company.” He drawls, rubbing a hand through his auburn curls. “That’s not so bad is it?” He flashes his teeth in a silly grin before sitting up suspiciously fast.

“C'mere. Try it.” He offers, pointing to the script. “Got all night to let loose.”

“I don’t think so.” You softly reply. You curse yourself for not sounding stronger.

“Come on. One lil’ sniff.” 

“Dieter, please.” You bite your tongue in frustration. 

But he was right. You did need to let loose. The director told you to take some time for yourself when they weren’t filming. But doing drugs with Dieter Bravo of all people? You didn’t see that as a part of your self care routine.

Still. The itch to unwind and have fun called to you. 

You sigh through your nose and give one last vain attempt. “I don’t feel comfortable inhaling your script coke.” You say dismissively, waving a careless hand at the table.

“There is another way…” He trails off with a smirk, like a cat that got the cream. His eyes slink down your body and narrow in on your hands that are folded perfectly in your lap. 

“Lie back and spread your legs.” Dieter says with a tilt of his head as he shuffles from his seat and kneels on the ground next to you. 

Your mind short circuits. “Excuse me?” You gasp, incredulously. 

He quirks a brow. “You didn’t want to snort it, so your bloodstream is the next best option.”

Another gasp tears from your throat. “You mean?”

“That’s right.” He raises his hand, wiggling 2 thick fingers in front of your face. “I’ll push a tiny bit of the coke into your pussy.” He says, nonchalantly before continuing. “Takes a bit longer but you should start feeling really good in about half an hour.”

Nervous laughter bubbles up your throat. Not only were you considering doing drugs with Dieter, now the award winning actor was going to finger you too.

“Come on. It’s just a little bit of coke.” He emphasizes with a pinch of his fingers. “You need a break. I can see it on that pretty face of yours. You’re begging to break free.”

Great. This disaster racoon of a man could read you like a book. This is just what you needed.

You grit your teeth but succumb to the pressure of the handsome man. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just do this.”

Dieter snickers and claps his hands together. “Thatta girl!”

You sink into the oversized chair with your heart in your throat and pray you survive the night.

The older man tenderly slides his hands up your bare legs, drawing patterns where your skirt meets your thighs before pushing the thin material up exposing your panties.

You lock eyes with him as his fingers dance over the soft cotton. Dragging out the inevitable, and driving you crazy, he finally slides your panties down and pockets the fabric without you noticing.

Dieter takes a long beat to stare at your exposed core. He makes no attempt at hiding his gaze before sending you a wink. “This’ll be fun.”

You swallow down the anxious lump in your throat and try to relax into the plush cushion.

Dieter gently drags his fingers up the naked seam of you before teasing one finger between your folds. Duel moans fill the room as he swiftly adds a second heavy finger into your channel, opening you up for him. 

He thrusts lazily into your core, getting his fingers nice and wet with your shiny slick. Your eyes open when your core suddenly feels empty and watch him roll those two same sticky fingers in a small pile of coke.

“Ready?” He asks as he turns back to his place between your legs.

Your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips before sending him a nod.

“I’ve got you.” He reassures with a fond tone.

He parts your folds with his other hand and slowly presses his drug coated fingers into your warmth. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out and his knuckles are seated against the rump of your ass.

Dieter hisses when you involuntarily clench. “Shit–”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.” You mumble, trying to stay as still as possible despite having an A-List Actor literally pump drugs into you.

“Don’t be.” He purrs and starts thrusting his fingers in and out ever so slowly. 

Your breath hitches as he slides his fingers along your velvet channel. The pressure tugs deep in your belly and you can���t help but mewl under his touch.

“Is this part of it?” You squeak as he slots the pad of his thumb over your clit and swirls tight circles over the tiny button.

“The quicker you relax the better you’ll feel.” He insists as he watches his fingers disappear between your dripping folds.

You notice behind his shades that his pupils are blown wide and he looks just as wrecked as you. Dieter groans when your hips rise and chase his touch, greedy for more.

“Feelin’ good, pretty girl?”  

The older man grazes a spot that sucks the air from your lungs. You writhe on the chair and wrap your legs around his broad shoulders before you realize what you’re doing.

Your blood boils and turns to raspberry jam as the drug begins to take effect. Every nerve in your body shimmers and you feel like you can run a marathon and fly at the same time. 

Your shirt feels tight and restrictive. The room feels 10x hotter than it did when you first arrived. In a rush, you yank your blouse off your body and sink back into the chair with only your bra remaining as the air cools your sweltering flesh.

“Fuck, Dieter.” You rasp as the pleasure mounts. 

“That’s it. Let the drug work its magic.” He breaks free from your legs, sliding his fingers out from your warmth. You whine from the loss and he playfully tsks at you. 

“Hold still, pretty girl. Don’t wanna make a mess.” He smothers your exposed core with a heavy palm coated in white. “Perfect, puffy pussy. All ripe and juicy.” He groans before slotting his searing mouth over your core.

You moan wantonly as he eats you alive. He’s like a man untamed as he licks from your wet puckered hole to your throbbing clit. His tongue finds every white morsel and swallows it down along with your slick. He teases your opening with his tongue before pushing into your heat and groaning into your folds. 

Your fingers dig into his messy curls as you ride out your pleasure on his 

face. His mustache tickles your tiny nub eliciting silken bliss to race up your spine.

“Come in my mouth, pretty girl. Wanna feel you fall apart.” He says, tearing himself away from your drenched core for a moment before diving back in like a man who's gone without water for days. 

At his words your brain shuts down. The surge of adrenaline mixed with lust fogs your senses and you drown in mind numbing pleasure.

You come with a ragged wail, humping Dieter’s face like it was your last act in this world. A deep, ravenous growl rumbles in his chest and his fingers dig into your thighs as his body shakes between your legs. He greedily swallows down the heady mix of your slick and the drug, lapping up every drop he can.

“Dieter, that was-” You search for the right words but they elude you. Your nerves feel like they're being pumped full of sunlight and it distracts you. All you can do is sigh and catch your breath.

Your eyes whip open when you hear the man curse. “What is it?” Everything alright?”

The lower half of his face is shiny with hints of white nestled in the corners of his mouth. “Came in my goddamn boxers.” He grumbles.  

You can’t help but laugh as he drags you off the chair and into his lap. He wraps his fur coat around your naked frame and nuzzles your head into his chest. 

“See? Drugs aren’t so bad.” Dieter quips.

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[kitashousewife]

decking the halls

an: time to write to my husband, the loving kita shinsuke!! this is a lil bit based off of my own experiences anyway enjoy! this is for my winter event!

pairings: timeskip!kita x fem!reader

warnings: HUSBAND KITA, christmas mentions, food/eating mentions, TONS of pet names, v fluffy, suggestive ending

-

kita is one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. he puts absolutely everything he can into anything he is doing; working on the farm, helping a friend, even helping out with chores around the house.

that's why christmas this year is going to be exceptional.

when summer was making it's final goodbyes, kita had the realization that this year would be the first christmas the two of you would be celebrating as a married couple. ever since that day, he has been researching like crazy. articles about the pros and cons of a real tree, DIY garlands, what type of ornaments are best, and even polls on colored tree lights versus solid white. he can't help it. he wants everything to be perfect.

now, with the christmas season right around the rather blistery corner, his studying is finally about to pay off.

or, so he hopes.

"shin, what's all this?" you giggle as he leads you to the space in front of your fireplace, warm hands shielding your eyes from whatever is in store for you. sitting you down on to the rug slowly, he plops down next to you with a wide smile.

"keep 'em closed! just a second," he grunts as he plugs a string of lights into the outlet. he sits next to you in a hurry, before grabbing your hand.

"now! what do ya think angel?"

when your eyes open, you are met with the most perfect christmas tree you've ever seen, already wrapped with the warmest glow of hundreds of tiny lights.

"wow," you gasp. as you turn to him, you can't help the smile that pulls at your lips when you take in your husband, nearly rocking back and forth with excitement.

"what do ya think?" he almost shouts. "i'm sorry i didn't include ya in the search, but i wanted it to be a surprise," he nods towards the tree. "i stopped by a small farm on my way home from town, and they had the best trees! i read online about it," he grins proudly.

you look around in awe. "i can't believe it, shin! it's gorgeous. when did you have time to set this all up?"

his cheeks turn red, glowing a little under the christmas tree lights.

"well, before ya went to the store i added a few extra things to yer list," he scratches the back of his head. you gasp and smack his arm playfully.

"shin! how dare you," you joke. "i didn't even think twice!"

he laughs, pulling you into his chest and placing a warm kiss to your cheek.

"well, ya wanna get started? i've been waitin' for ya all evenin'!" he stands up, pulling you with him.

"sure! do we have ornaments?"

kita blinks. once, twice, three times.

"u-uh," he starts. he feels his heart race a little. how could i forget?

"darling, i'm so sorry. i was so excited 'bout the tree, and everything else i-"

"it's okay!" you grab his face in your hands, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs. "i have some of my own in storage, and we can just get more another time!"

"storage," he repeats, looking at you with furrowed brows. after a second, his eyes light up once more. "just a second!"

after he runs out of the room, you head to the closet where the two of you keep most of your storage. pulling out the bin labeled seasonal decor, you carry it to the living room and place it in front of the tree. you pull out some garland, a couple knick-knacks, and a small box with a few childhood ornaments.

"okay, i figured it out," kita comes through the kitchen and over to your spot on the floor. "granny has a bunch at her house, said i used to put 'em on her tree when i was small," he breathes, glancing at the bin in front of you. "wait, where'd ya get those?"

"these are some of my own from when i was a kid. the other things are just small decorations i've picked up over the years," you look around at the few things on the rug in front of the fire. "it's not a lot, but it will do for now, i think." you smile up at him.

kita smiles, and his heart swells twice the size. the sight of you, glowing from the light of the fire and the twinkling lights around you making you look celestial.

"i think so too, sweetheart," his eyes flick to the clock on the wall, then back to you. "if ya don't mind, granny said we could use the ornaments. something about a 'late wedding gift'," that makes you snort. between the furniture, many meals, sweaters, and other random odds and ends, granny has given a few "late" gifts.

kita walks towards the door, grabbing his coat and keys. "i'll be right back, my pretty wife. then we can get the party started!" he blows you a kiss before heading out the door. when you hear his old truck start, you get to work.

flipping through recipe books, which also happen to be from granny, you decide on a gingerbread recipe that you can make before kita gets home. knowing his granny, he will be gone for a bit. and, your prediction is correct. just as you're placing the cookies on a cooling rack, the door swings open.

"honey, i'm home!" your sweet husband sing songs from the front door. he's completely hidden by the stack of boxes he's carrying in his arms. you rush over to help, but he places everything down before you get the chance.

he lets out a sigh and turns to you with a smirk.

"this box has the ornaments," he starts, pointing his finger at a large plastic bin. "this one has a few other things, i'm not sure what they are but she insisted we have 'em," he continues. the last box sits on the ground by itself, wrapped up with a large bow.

"a present?" you ask, and kita laughs.

"oh that," he laughs again. "granny said that's for us to open when we're all done."

"then let's get started!"

the two of you are all smiles as you grab different ornaments and hang them on the tree. you have to stop kita a few times when he tries to place a rather large ornament near the top, but he can't help it. he's too distracted.

this is everything he's ever wanted. decorating for christmas in front of the fire with the love of his life. watching you coo over each ornament that granny has gifted. spinning you around while you laugh, feeling as if you two are the only ones in the world.

after a while, everything is picture-perfect. the tree is fully decorated, with ornaments glistening and sparkling in the light. the tree is a perfect mix of the two of you, ornaments filled with history from both of you mix together to combine something extremely unique.

above the fireplace is a simple garland, and on top of the mantel are a couple photos from your wedding, mixed with a few knick-knacks. the couch is now adorned with a christmas quilt that granny has gifted the two of you, and the table is decorated with a beautiful table runner. granny's old advent calendar is placed on a shelf, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights.

your home looks magical. everything is so cozy, so perfect. the light is so warm and inviting, and the smell of gingerbread floating in from the kitchen makes it even more wonderful.

"i think we could be professionals, what do ya think baby?"

kita grabs a cookie off of the rack, leaning over the island as you pour tea for the two of you.

"not with your tree decorating skills. everyone knows that heavy ornaments go on the bottom!" you tease with a smirk.

he shakes his head. "maybe i like it like that!"

you laugh as the two of you walk back towards the living room, setting down your cups of tea on the coffee table. kita sits next to you, snuggling you close before draping the quilt over the two of you.

"i love ya so much, pretty girl. thanks for doin' this with me," he smiles before placing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

"thank you, shin. this was so much fun," you say with a yawn, nuzzling into kita even more. he hums, looking around.

"it does look amazing. now we just need a wreath for the door, and for it to snow,"

you hum back, closing your eyes and relaxing a little into his warmth. kita shuffles next to you, before placing something in your lap.

"did'ya forget? granny got us a little somethin', remember? go ahead, open it!"

you can't hide the smile on your face as you pull off the bow and slowly unwrap the present. you open the box to reveal a note that sits atop two pieces of fabric. you hold the note in your hand and read it out loud.

"it's a note from granny," you start, scanning over the note. "she says, 'i made these for you two last week. i figured it would tie everything together. i love you both so much, merry early christmas!'" kita smiles big, eyes crinkled and full of love.

"so, what did we get?"

you pull out two red stockings. one is embroidered with your initial, and the other has a big 's' on the front. at the bottom of the box are two nails.

"oh my god, shin! they're so perfect," you whisper, running your finger along the stitches. "will you-"

before you can finish, kita comes to your side with a hammer. he takes the nails, putting one at each end of the mantel, and you hang each of your stockings in their respective spots.

"now, we're complete. those do look very nice," kita nods with his hands on his hips. "we need to have granny over to see 'em!"

you hum, and kita wraps his arms around you from behind. "yes we do. i'm sure she would love to see everything all decorated."

kita nods and gives you a kiss on your head. he follows with one on your ear, one below your ear, and one where your neck and shoulder meet. you sigh, feeling him smiling into your skin.

"what are you thinking about?"

"there's so much room in between our stockings," he mumbles, and you furrow your brows.

"yeah?"

he nods again. "that just means more room for our kiddo's stockings someday,"

your heart skips a beat at that, fluttering at the thought of kita walking around the tree with a baby in his arms.

"that's a sweet thought," you sigh, leaning back into your husband. he smirks and pulls you closer.

"how 'bout we get started on closin' the gap?"

you gasp. "shin!"

he doesn't respond, only throwing you over his shoulder and towards your shared bedroom.

[never-a-stranger]

Inspired by one of kaspuur, frostlowe, alienorganzz, kitty_dorodoro 's drawings of Max & @em-doods 's coloring style

Drew Max in outfits he wears for his side jobs whenever there isn't a case from the commissioner for awhile

There's a story that you can now read below related to Sam finding out Max's secret with a lil bit of angst and a sweet ending~

Credits to my friend @peachypeach666 for helping me write the story!

CW // SUGGESTIVE OUTFITS AND POSES BELOW

In the story, they have a big fight and after that, Sam gets in a really bad slump. (Slump- sit, lean, or fall heavily and limply, especially with a bent back)

There's stubble on his face and his tie is loose, he's walking around town on how he messed things up with max and gets really low on his luck.

He wasn't passionate about his work anymore 'caus all he can think about is Max so he swallows his pride and goes to the best strip bar in town.

He's always seen it but never dared to go in there but right now he just wants to take his mind off of it.

He gets in there feeling out of his element, he thinks to himself "What am I even doing here?", as he looks over all the crowd and the half-naked employees.

He gave his coat over his shoulder and his hand in his pocket as he walks towards the bar, he gets a drink and downs it.

He didn't want to get back to his habit of drinking alcohol but he didn't care at the moment, he downed it with the taste of regret and despair then he hears the overhead speaker calls out "Lagonymph", the crowd cheers for the show.

Sam turns around to see what the commotion was and sees that someone's coming out on stage, Sam's ears perk up in surprise to see the familiar white lagomorph's face.

Max walks down the stage and does the usual routine dance that he does every other night, he takes off a piece of clothing while he slowly walks towards the front of the stage.

Sam gets up from his seat and moves towards the front of the cheering crowd, he looks at Max's seductive show as Sam finally makes it to the tables and the people gathering in chairs in front of the stage.

Sam was shocked that he has never seen this side of Max.

He felt confused, he felt like he was violating something, he felt happy to see his face again and he felt a lot of things but he just sat down and stared in awe.

Max would have dollars thrown at him as people whistled and stood up to throw the money on stage but they would all sit back down as they know what would happen next but Sam didn't know what would happen next.

As part of Max's signature performance, he would pick a person from the front row and give them their own personal show.

Max looked at the crowd and scanned the front row for a perfect candidate but instead locked eyes with a wide-eyed Sam that hasn't looked away from Max since he saw him.

Max's heart dropped as he stared at Sam.

He had a million questions, why was he here? How did he find him? It's been so hard to try and forget the work partner and best friend he shared so many good times with and now he had come to see him.

Fine, if he wanted a show then he'll give him one, Max was all for petty revenge as he kept his professionalism.

He swayed his hips as the spotlight followed him, Sam on the other hand had no idea why Max was approaching him and sat stiffly on the chair while gripping the armrests.

Sam began to wonder what the hell Max was thinking by dragging him into his show, Max gave him a smirk as he sat on Sam's lap.

Max was furious that after all that Sam has said to him, he would follow Max to where he works and scout him out.

That was a new low even for his ex-boyfriend.

Max continued to dance, making sure to put more effort to make Sam regret following him and invading his personal life.

Sam gripped the chair tighter as he almost jumped out of his seat, he had been drinking all night and tried to get his thoughts together.

He whispered "What the hell are you doing Max?!", he said in more of a statement than a question.

"Don't try pinning this on me, partner, you're the one scooping me out and finding me to work.", spitting venom at Sam (Spitting Venom- to be extremely angry) using all his anger to fuel himself by finishing the dance.

Retro's Note: Sam is hiding the fact that he likes the dance while still arguing with Max

The crowd cheers around them and it snaps Sam out of his thoughts with Max.

Sam is hurt, angry, and drunk, Max wraps his arms around Sam's neck to pull him in closer.

He tries to calm himself down and tries to ignore the fact that Max is on his lap right now.

He takes a deep breath and looks at a very smug-looking Max "I didn't follow you, knucklehead.", Sam stopped at that, not wanting to tell Max the real reason why he was there.

Max snorted and got up from Sam's lap to finish his dance, swaying his hips and finishing it with a split as he walks back on stage.

Sam was left confused and walked out of the club, he grabbed his motorcycle and waited for Max to get off of his shift.

He had so many thoughts swirling through his head but guilt ate at him and figured now would be the best time to talk to him.

He had wanted to ask one of the employees when Max's shift ended but for obvious safety reasons, he knew that wasn't gonna cut it, and instead he saved his luck bad waited out front.

He looked at the mirror of his motorcycle and saw how disheveled he looked.

He hadn't thought about shaving and didn't have the strength to put effort into looking his best, he knew he had to make things right, if not, it would probably kill him.

Max was distracted all night and even messed up a couple of times, he was in the back room with the other people that weren't on shift counting their money.

Max chatted them up and waved goodbye to his coworkers for their amazing performance. He stepped out of the back entrance confused and thinking about the night with Sam.

What was he supposed to think after his best friend and work partner comes to see him at his secret side job, he shakes his head as he makes his way home.

A roaring of a motorcycle pulls up beside him and Max turns around already knowing what to expect.

Sam steps out seeming soberer and put together than he did when he was inside.

Sam reacted with cheap beer and spilled vodka, Max wasn't surprised that Sam picked up his old habits.

"Max," Sam called out, Max didn't even want him to give him the time of day, Sam runs up to catch up with him.

Max keeps his head held high.

He didn't want to hear Sam's petty attempts to win him back, Max had more self-respect than to let someone back in his life hurt him.

With everyone who has ever known Max, has always betrayed and/or left him, he wasn't gonna be a fool to let another person do that to him again.

"Max would you just look at me." Sam realized the desperation in his voice at the thought of his friend that has always had a snarky comment to make is now not even looking at him.

"I'm not stupid Sam," Max said while turning the corner.

Unfortunate for him, Sam is larger than him and could easily keep up with Max's long strides.

"I just want to talk to you." Sam said, it seemed to have pushed something within Max 'cause he stopped and turned towards Sam, "You don't get to decide who talks, I decide who talks and if you want to keep this conversation going then I suggest you make it quick!"

It seemed weird having Sam's partner so serious like this, it must have hurt Max a lot when Sam had said those things to him. "I'm sorry, I just want us to talk."

Max sighs and knows it would hurt him as much as it hurts Sam but Max was far from showing it.

Max can smell the alcohol, he can see how miserable Sam looks and it's weird, Sam has always put so much care into how he presents himself.

"How about we stop home and talk then.", Max said while crossing his arms.

They went back to the motorcycle that was still near Max's workplace and headed home.

Afterward, they're at Sam's home.

Inside, Sam tells Max how he just found a random strip bar club which Max works at as coincidence by accident, Max realizes that he assumed the worst of why Sam is in there then felt embarrassed and guilty of how he treated Sam during his performance but Sam reassures him and understands Max's perspective on it

Sam then admits that he liked Max's dance, and supports whatever Max does in his side job.

Max appreciates his best friend supporting him even after what he did to Sam then feels a lot better now that he and his partner in crime finally made up.

THE END~

Thank you so much for reading! And if you want to make fanart, make sure to add #never a stranger sm , and mention this account or my main account @retrocandyfloss 💕

[pangtasias-atelier]

The Summoner’s New Drug

This was originally conceived as a joke between me and tumbyrumblings except I kinda wrote a lot and kept going lol. Though I feel like I wrote a whole lotta nothing despite this being 4k words abjsbjbbs 

Please know that any inaccuracies is cause I meant it that way lmao. Story involves the obvious three characters at ridiculously large sizes

"They're brownies," Corrin softly chimes in from his seat in the corner, his downcast eyes focusing on his warm chamomile tea instead.

"And what exactly is so special about these…" Grima trails off with a grimace. A plate of freshly baked brownies held in Kiran's hands, Grima eyes them warily as if concocted to destroy him.

"We have nothing like that in Phoenicis," Tibarn stands behind Kiran. He inquisitively glances down at the baked goods. A quick sniff relays enough information on his lack of knowledge on the dessert. "Chocolate huh. Those Begnion pigs loved that stuff,"

"Unsurprisingly, Corrin's the only one to really know about this kind of stuff," Kiran gives a small sigh before going on to inform them. "They're brownies. A nice little gooey, fudgy, chocolaty sweet. And they're special because I baked them myself! Doubly so since they're pot brownies,"

Upon the sudden adjective, Grima and Tibarn both turn towards Corrin. "I've never heard of that word before," He curves his tail closer to himself, not exactly appreciating the attention.

"They've got weed in them," Kiran clarifies. With a lack of a reaction, he divulges further. "You smoke it to feel good but you can also use it in food?" All three of them simply stare at him with morbid curiosity, none of them understanding the summoner. He lets out an exaggerated sigh before placing down the tray of goods. Grabbing a notebook he roughly sketches out the plant.

"Ah, you mean bud," Tibarn is the first one to respond. "I didn't think you'd know of such a thing. I used to enjoy it from time to time with Ulki and Janaff growing up,”

"That's the devil's grass," Corrin adds, now eyeing the brownies warily.

Kiran holds back a small snicker. "Oh come now; this is nothing so morbid like that. It's perfectly harmless and it makes you feel pretty nice,"

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Familiar with it, only in a different form, Tibarn shrugs his shoulders without a care. Grabbing one of the brownies, he merely takes a simple sniff before heartily chomping into the delicacy. “Mmm, you’ve outdone yourself,” Tibarn takes another quick two bites to finish it, a content thumbs up thrown Kiran’s way. “Heh, don’t mind if I take another one, right?” His eyelids drooping, Tibarn doesn’t wait for a response; instead he grabs two at once, one in each hand. He lets out a small, breathy chuckle. He stares at his hands while he continues to munch, as if each digit contained limitless knowledge possessed by Ashunera.

"Who cares about a weed concoction? It is yet another pointless distraction meant to please you pathetic worms," Grima skulks about as ever. Unwilling to partake in merriment enjoyed by others, he keeps his arms crossed.

“I guess you’re right,” Kiran sighs. He turns his back towards Grima. “Alfonse did like these, so I should save some for him if you won’t eat any,” As he goes to walk towards the plate, Kiran already has a grin forming on his face while he waits for his plan to work.

“That pathetic princeling has no need or right of anything that is yours,” And work it does as Grima barrels past Kiran in a frantic rush to reach the brownies. Only wishing to deny someone else enjoyment, Grima angrily takes a bite of the brownie. Chocolate smears his lips. “Much less anything that is mine,,, ooh,” The sweet brownie dances on his tongue. A faint blush forming on his face, Grima’s shoulders lose their tension as they slack. “Perhaps I was mistaken. This weed thing is good,” Grima licks the chocolate smeared all over his teeth, desperate to not let a single gram go. “What was I even complaining about?” Grima’s eyes turn a bit red, the effect seemingly instantaneous.

“I think I’ll pass,” Corrin remains in his secure little corner; he continuously passes concerned glances at Tibarn and Grima.

“Oh come on. It’s not even bad for you,” Having already gotten two out of three, Kiran becomes pushy, pushing the drug onto Kiran. “They’ve only got a small amount” Standing over Corrin’s seated form, he towers over the petite dragon.

“I’m…” As Corrin mulls over on what to do, a voice suddenly pops into his head. ‘You know, my wife Nancy has a saying. Tell ‘em Nancy!’ Corrin’s mind is perfectly silent for a fraction of a second as it waits for another voice to join in. ‘Just say no!’ Corrin stares at the brownie in Kiran’s hand, his willpower marginally renewed from the voices of ghosts not from his world.

Seeing Corrin push back, Kiran pipes up more. “Everyone else is doing it. Just be cool about it,” Holding the brownie right in front of Corrin’s face, Kiran keeps a neutral expression. “Just try it,”

“Fine,” He brushes a bit of his hair to the side as he responds. Corrin trepidatiously accepts the brownie from Kiran, as if it were going to explode in his hand. His stomach churns and toils. He takes a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. Lifting the confection to his mouth, he takes a lil nibble of it. He nods his head in agreement, his body gently swaying to the side in clear enjoyment of it. “This is actually good,” He still takes small nibbles of it but each consecutive bite is always a bit larger than the last. A puff of air comes out his nose in a definite sign of contentment. By the time he finishes his first brownie, he grabs another one to peck at. He makes himself comfortable as he lies down on the couch. He stares at the plain empty ceiling. His mind relaxing, a myriad of shapes and colors that he never knew existed bounce around on the ceiling.

“You guys hungry?” Asking as innocuous as he can be, Kiran already knows the answer to his own question. “You boys wait right here, I’ll be right back with some snacks,” A chorus of hmms sound out as he saunters out the room. Kiran grabs the already prepared cart of food placed right beside the door. Waiting a few minutes, afraid to perhaps come off as too prepared and give something away, he comes right back inside after his self imposed time is up. “I figured you might be a bit peckish, so I got some snacks for you all,” Grima TIbarn and Corrin alike are all too faded to give much of a response besides another round of humms. Kiran doles out snacks to them, the three hungry men snacking away.

His plan on introducing the drug working exactly as planned, Kiran goes onto phase two. Not planning to crack down on them with unjust and pointless laws meant to harm minorities and benefit those in power, the second part of his plan is fundamentally the exact same as the first part; introduce more and more of the drug and let things take their natural course. As natural as the course can be with him being in charge of it all now.

All three perfectly chill and calm ever since having their first taste of weed in Askr, as befitting the effects of marijuana, they all feel another much more important side effect. Well, important to Kiran. The munchies. Addicted to it, all of them are constantly doped up on dope. They simply laze about throughout the entirety of their day, their days now filled with weed and food. Completely lacking awareness from being high all the time, they easily allow it. The pot brownie the gateway drug into other variants, Kiran introduces them to gummies, weed beverages, before even having most of their food contain it once their bodies build up enough of a resistance to it. Marijuana ice cream, weed milk, weed infused lobster, weed mac n cheese, weed gravy, anything and everything, upon hearing it contains weed, Grima Tibarn and Corrin clammer to try it. The more weed in their system, the fiercer the growing pit in their stomach demands food, the munchies taking a tighter grip on their bodies.

Their trim bodies gain an inkling of a pot belly, a trim sliver of pudge forming on the lowest part of their abdomen. That promptly thickens with a bit more time, said sliver of pudge blossoming into a full fledged gut, their arms gaining a bit of circumference all around as do their legs, their appendages getting a bit closer and compressed to their chunky middle. Over time, their usual outfits grow snug in places never before; shirts tighten around their swelling middles, pants constrict their jiggly thighs, and sleeves compress their flabby arms. Too faded to care, their addled brained minds preferring to fixate on satiating their cravings, they simply adorn their tight clothes even as those seem more akin to rags as their burgeoning bodies outgrow them near completely. They lack a single concern in the world with Kiran providing them all the weed and food they could want. Lazing and grazing about their only objective each day, all three’s activity spike down to near nonexistence. The only activity they get is shifting around a few times a day and the semi occasional walk to another location to space out and enjoy their environment, like the castle’s gardens or the lake. But even that minimal effort of movement begins to die down over time, their widening waistlines proving too taxing to bother themselves.

Moving past fat to obesity, Tibarn’s upper figure is the most prominent part of himself. A veritable gut rolls down his tree trunk thighs. The lowest roll of flab nearly reaches all the way down to his swollen calves. Each ponderous step Tibarn takes, the few that he has to, causes the great flabby beast to sway to and fro before undulating from the deep, heavy breaths he takes afterwards from the exertion. His defined pecs look like they never existed on his figure, two pendulous sagging breasts plunging to the side of his mountain of a gut. His arms are wider than the average heroe’s thighs, the doughy sagging arms constantly at an angle from the upper rolls of his torso. His once angular face lacks any sort of severity to it, Tibarn’s now cherubic face taken up by his puffed out cheeks and multiple squished together necks. His ass respectable in its own rights, the shapeless mounds for an ass sag down.

“About..” TIbarn takes a moment to catch his breath, his cheeks puffing out. “time,” Seated on a couch, Tibarn’s immensity takes up the entirety of it, his girthy love handles oozing out onto the armrests. Not a single space left on the seating, his gut rolls off of it and his thighs. The couch sags at the center from his crushing weight.

“Can’t keep you waiting for too long, big guy,” Kiran places a hand on Tibarn’s sprawling gut before rubbing slow circles on it, the immensity of his flab caving in from the slight pressure. “Brought you your favorites,” Handing him a tray consisting of meat, meat, and some more meat, Kiran places it on the titanic shelf of his chest. Kiran also hands him weed gushers. He pats Tibarn’s gut, the mass of fat wobbling in return. Tibarn promptly digs in as soon as his overly laden arms reach the plate of food.

Heading towards Corrin, the once constantly worried dragon is much more relaxed and chilled out. Used to some manners, he continues to sit at the now comparatively tiny table in the room. His body filled out everywhere, his plush rotund body bulges out with fat all over. One chair can no longer withstand his crushing weight, so now he sits on an entire three, the sides of his ass spilling off the sides of them. The inner rivets of his thighs curve inward from the fat piled onto them only for his great gut to smother the entirety of them under its weight. His flab digs into the table, his plush fat seeping above and below it despite it not being as massive as Tibarn’s. His breasts somehow retain a sense of form to them, his juicy, plump chest resting atop his gut.

“How’re you doing?” Kiran comes up from behind, placing a gentle hand on Kiran’s should as he walks around his obese form. “Hungry or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Corrin lets out a small sigh, his fat face giving a contented smile. His nose perks as the wafts of what Kiran is carrying reaches his nostrils. More weed arriving, Corrin’s gut involuntarily grumbles, a deep cavernous rumble shaking his entire body. “Actually,” Corrin pauses, embarrassed to admit his needs.

“I got you covered,” Kiran ruffles the top of Corrin’s hair. He places a plate atop his buxom chest. A spread of food, all of them contain fair amounts of weed. Knowing Corrin will wait a few seconds before stuffing himself, Corrin goes to check on Grima.

The fat fell dragon sitting on a mattress, the cushion offers no real purpose besides customary, Grima’s massive ass oozing off the edges of it. His titanic door crushing thighs remain plastered onto the mattress. The wide, gargantuan appendages spread over the entirety of the mattress. His gut nowhere near as exaggeratedly big as his lower half, the doughy mass of fat rests comfortably atop his thighs. His generous chest lurches forward down onto his heaping stomach, his line of neck rolls and chins resting above said chest. His fat addled arms are at a constant angle from the jutting fat from both his torso and his arms. “And why am,” Grima lets out a groan to catch his breath. “I last?”

Kiran wasting no time waiting, he steps to the side of Grima with a plate ready as well. “Cause I knew you could hold on a bit longer for me. And besides, I'm here right now aren't I?” Kiran places a plate full of nothing but sweets. Each confection is chock full of cannabutter, exactly to Grima’s liking.

Stepping back, he takes an appreciative look of all three’s bloated bodies. Not quite yet immobile, their bodies holding out a bit longer than expected, Kiran’s brain whits as he imagines their obese figures even bigger, said image only a matter of time.

The time coming very quickly, it doesn’t take much longer for the three of them to find themselves unable to get up. Unconcerned from before when moving was already taxing, they display the exact same lack of concern on the same day they can’t get up. And still, they continue to eat and grow. What is once the beginning somewhat resemblant of a body immobility eventually turns into shapeless immobile blobs. Clothes go completely forgone, the amount of fabric needed to cover a single mountain of a gut astronomical. Furniture gets swallowed under their lard, mattresses and couches alike unable to withstand and withhold copious amounts of flab. Space diminishes. With not one. not two, but three pathetically food addicted and weed addicted men, their ever flowing flab presses up against not only itself but against each other with only so much space in the room to go around. So much fat swaddling their entire forms, legs and arms become useless, the appendages becoming buried in a sea of flab. All too eager to keep on eating, the bulging walls are of absolutely no concern when their fat builds and pushes against all four corners of the room. Flab busting down a wall and seeping out in desperation of more room only earns a sigh of relief from them with more breathing room. The ever increasing rolls making up a chin eventually seem to meld together. A tire of fat forms around their fat faces. A handful of heaping rolls lining their stomach become two handfuls into even more, more and more fat piling on top of their corpulent frames. Where once a room was sufficient to house all three immobile piles of lard, soon it becomes a room plus a hallway. Then it turns into multiple rooms before half an entire wing is necessary. Eventually, they take up the entirety of said wing only to require even more space with their ever constantly fattening forms. Soon, the entirety of Askr castle becomes uninhabitable with the looming threat of the three blobs burying the castle under a cascading blanket of lard.

Askr castle now entirely devoid of any sign of people besides three blobs, the only sound one can hear is the churning of overtaxed machines as they perform their best to keep feeding their users. One machine per person is no longer sufficient, each of them requiring two to sate their black hole of a stomach. In what is presumably the throne room, a location Kiran can only guess from how big his heroes’ have gotten, what with any and all furniture destroyed and smothered by their fat, Grima’s big bloated body greedily guzzles away at his liquid food. His hands and legs are equally smothered under titanic fat rolls. His pale blubbery legs have absolutely no definition or shape to them, the oozing oceanic thighs splaying out on both sides around him. A sea of rolls making them up, each thigh alone rivals the size of an average room. So much fat stacked on top of fat, they even give Grima some height to his billowing, massively wide frame. Not that it means much when he’s over six times as wide as he is tall. His ass melding into his thighs, there is no distinction on where exactly they separate from his thighs. The back wall of the throne room bulges outward from the substantial weight pressing onto it. The side wall is already destroyed from his thighs. His stomach able to house, well a house, the big lake of fat comfortably slots itself in between and atop his thighs. His breasts divot down to the sides of his gut, each of them alone larger than an actual person. Tibarn visible in Kiran’s peripheral vision, at least one of the three immobile blobs visible even when far away from the castle, it takes Kiran a whole 50 meters to walk from the center of Grima’s body to Tibarn’s center.. Tibarn the unfortunate one to be stuck in the middle of the three, he took the role with gusto. Unwilling to let himself be outdone, his body gushes outward onto Grima’s and Corrin’s. So immensely fat, three tubes are stuck inside his mouth at all times, his fat cheeks cascading down onto his shoulders. A multitude of chins stacked on top of each other, the rings of fat sag all the way down to where his plunging chest is. Each breast so massively bloated with fat, his great big tits reach far down his stomach. A great feat considering Tibarn’s stomach alone could fill up a library twice over. So many rolls riddling his stomach, they all blend and mix in with his overtaxed thighs and ass, Tibarn’s body hard to tell where each part ends and another starts. His thighs mostly smothered by his absolutely mountainous stomach the appendage somehow manage to look comparatively small despite their overwhelmingly large size. Kiran walks another 55 meters to reach Corrin’s gut. Corrin the runt of the three, his body still puts a pack of elephants to shame. His body once holding out on keeping a semblance of a figure, now he is nothing but a bunch of fat laden rolls of a blob. His arms completely useless, the two rotund cylindrical columns of fat splay out to the sides of his engorged body. His back fat and neck rolls encroach his face, a bit of his hair obstructed by the growing mass of fat. On the right, most of his body takes up the entirety of a single wing where they first got addicted to weed. So massively big that he alone takes it up, Corrin’s gut and thighs are equally impressive. Able to cover far more than a dozen mattresses, his tonnage goes where it pleases, overtaking the few furniture not crushed under one of the three’s weight.

Returning from his own world, Kiran sighs with pleasure. Buying out an entire store, he holds a mere fraction of his pull. “I brought some more weed for you all,” He speaks into a small mic, the three unable to hear him from the gushing sounds of their guzzling without a speaker placed by their sinking faces of fat. The mere mention of the drug gets all of them going, the poor machines whirring even harder as they greedily suck on their slop of feeding tubes. “This is the life,” Kiran smiles to himself with a few stretches to prepare himself for the taxing climb of three mountains of fat.

Later in the day

“Kiran, don’t tell me you gave them even more of this weed thing to them?” Pacing back and forth in his new room in some other smaller, remote castle, Alfonse exasperatedly sighs as he slumps back in his chair.

“I went to check on them. See how bad the weed has been affecting them. Which is why people shouldn’t be taking drugs,”

Alfonse’s eyes shoot wide open from Kiran’s lecturing tone. “Y-you gave it to them! And you keep giving it to them! There is absolutely no lesson to be had here. No moral. No aesop. Nothing. Besides!” Alfonse points an accusatory finger at Kiran, staring up at them even as Alfonse goes to stand up. “There is no way such a drug normally exists. You had to have enchanted it,”

“And what about it?” Kiran noncommittal shrugs. He goes to sit in his chair, far too pleased with himself even as Alfonse berates him.

“Th-then!” Alfonse momentarily stops. His brain wracks itself as it tries to figure out what to say now, not expecting Kiran to purposefully admit being at fault. “Then stop acting like you’re innocent! You gave some to Kaden and Keaton and now this castle is soon to be overtaken by two blobs! They fill up the entire west wing now. Kaden’s chest is so huge that they could crush a wagon! And Keaton’s stomach could crush three of them! And if you’re admitting to being at fault then you need to fix this right this instant!” His entire chest heaves as he finishes his impassioned beratement. He finds himself standing right in front of the seated Kiran who only has a far too amused grin on his face.

“You’re wrong about that,”

“Huh? About what?” Alfonse’s eyes keep steady as they glare at the summoner.

“It’s not going to be two blobs,” Kiran stands up. He stares down at Alfonse, right in front of him. His steely eyes grin down at the confused prince, Alfonse’s body suddenly yelling at him to run only for his feet to remain plastered to the ground. Kiran whips Alfonse around, pressing him against himself. Producing a brownie out of nowhere he tauntingly holds it in front of Alfonse. “It’s going to be three,” He whispers in Alfonse’s ear. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side of his head as his arms and legs thrash about. His struggling slowly dies down the instant the brownie reaches the inside of his mouth, Kiran holding his hand against Alfonse’s lips. Feeling Alfonse’s body begin to slack, Kiran slowly lets him go.

“Ugh I…” With lidded eyes, Alfonse looks at his hands. “I feel so chill,” A little burst of giggling ensues as he drapes himself onto the couch. His flat stomach lets out a small little grumble. “I feel kind of hungry,” Grumbling to himself, he gently holds his stomach in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Here, I have some snacks for you,” An angelic smile now adorning his face, Kiran caresses Alfonse’s hair as he hands him some snacks. “I’ll go get you some more just in case too,” Walking off, Kiran goes to bring him the entirety of the kitchen’s stock.

Alfonse succumbing to the same fate as the others, Kiran has him working overtime in order to catch up. Stuffed to the brim with food all hours of the day, that is nothing compared to the copious amounts of weed he feeds him every half hour. So aggravatingly hungry, it takes only a few weeks for Alfonse to find himself immobilised by his crushing weight. Unaware of ever being angry from the use of weed, he can barely find himself begging for more of it before Kiran supplies it to him alongside another feast or two or three. His fat body is as plain as his once thin body; fat simply cakes itself onto it all over. No exact body part is a standout from the rest even as his body fills the entirety of his room only to take up a whole wing by itself, a sea of fat spreading all around with only Kiran able to tell that the body belongs to Askr’s prince. Making sure to give him a rough time, it all works out for Kiran as Alfonse soon grows to be fatter than Kaden and Keaton combined, the poor kitsune and wolfskin each taking up only a quarter of the smaller castle compared to Alfonse’s three fourths.

Kiran rests on top of Alfonse’s numerous chins, the cascading folds sufficiently enough for him to comfortably rest. He sighs contentedly as the whirs of three feeding machines fill his ears, Alfonse requiring two now. “Pretty soon you’ll need even more, fat ass,” Chuckling to himself Kiran grins from ear to ear. A good portion of Alfonse’s fat taking up his vision, Kaden’s and Keaton’s crushing weight take up another significant portion, the two of them needing one feeding machine. But it’s the sight in the far background that brings him the most joy. Off in the distance, the distinct sight of three blobs looms over the landscape. Askr castle entirely now no more, the great structure would be unable to contain a single one of them, much less three. A mountain itself an apt comparison to each of their bloated figures, Kiran simply grins himself as he thinks about his visit to them tomorrow, a great climb comparable to Mount Everest only done thrice in one day awaiting him. Though he considers it more than worth it, wondering just how big they can further grow, all of them happy to do so.

[livexdolan]

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza​ @vintagedolan​​ @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan​ @dicedols @plantbasedgray

[azusaluvclub]

Hi Jay!! I really loved how meticulous you were about the last one, including the messiest parts of their room was a personal touch I didn’t know I needed ♥️ I was hoping you could also do Wolf Keum’s room as well? 😩😩😩 he’s not my favorite or anything but 👉👈 I mean yes he is 👁👄👁

a/n ; hi !! im so glad to hear that u liked it !!! funnily enough , i almost left out that part , cause i thought itd be too weird / too much to include , lol- glad to know that it wasnt :,)

anyways , here u go !! took some brain power to settle on smth , so apologies for the wait ;; but i hope u enjoy !

eunjang + stephen ver.

—

wolf keum / keum seongje

⋆ kinda small, but he has a window w a great view and one of those lil juliet balconies (just a railing, not the ones u can actually stand on lol-) ~ doesnt actually care about the view, but opens up his window often so he can smoke over the railing and not stink up the room :,)

⋆ overall plain, semi-monochromatic color scheme- dark woods, shades of grays and whites, w other colors accented here and there ! i imagine he gets cold at night quite easily, so he has a thick ass comforter (smth gray and checkered that hes had for a few years) on the bed that he curls up under :,)

⋆ another who i imagine isnt in his own room often ? between school, the union, and beating up ppl as a hobby, he doesnt really spend a lot of time at home ;; his room isnt messy tho, but rather .. bare ?? at least on the surface- not a lot of furniture (except for the necessities) or decor, so not much about the room rlly screams him when u first walk in ?

⋆ what solidifies it as his room tho is whatever clutter is lying around- crushed up alcohol cans and bandaids in the wastebin and his trademark red blazer peeking out over the laundry basket- other than that, theres no obvious personal touches ;; no pictures on the walls, decorations placed around, and nothing sentimental on display

⋆ this is not to say he doesnt own anything of sentimental value — although i dont think hes super sentimental to begin with ;; but what he does have — family photos + childhood keepsakes — are stored away in the closet or under the bed for safekeeping- :)

⋆ keeps a mini first aid kit in his room ? got fed up having to rummage thru the bathroom cabinets for medical supplies after a fight (especially while sore and tired and generally not-in-the-mood), so he decided to invest in one- nothing fancy, probably smth he got at a convenience store on a whim, but he stocks it up every now and then when hes running low on bandaids and antiseptics

⋆ neatest area: his desk ! not bc he actively tries to keep it clean, he just doesnt use it too often ? its a small one and aside from a lil red lamp in the corner, practically bare ? you might find his textbooks on it, a pencil or eraser that got left out, or other misc shit that he set down and didnt put away, but nothing that gets put on there actually stays there v long- so yeah, by default, its p tidy :,)

⋆ messiest area: u know how most people have a junk drawer somewhere in their house ? yeah hes got a whole bunch of 'em- has a mini drawer chest beside his bed and, aside from the top drawer — which is home to previously mentioned first aid kit, an extra pack of smokes, a lighter, and his glasses case —, theyre all overflowing with misc shit- papers, wrappers + empty cigarette packs, broken chargers + earbuds, unused school supplies, pocket change ;; you name it, its probably somewhere in there- basically a void where everything he doesnt know what to do with / couldnt be bothered to put in the bin goes :// will he ever clean it out ? sources say probably not ! :,)

[specialagentsergio]

last christmas

summary: You and Emily have been in a long-distance relationship since she moved to London. She can’t wait to see you for the holidays–that is, until you say, “we need to talk.”

pairing: emily prentiss x f!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: lil bit of angst but with a happy ending, reader celebrates Christmas (no denomination or religion mentioned or implied) 

a/n: sorry this took a bit longer than i was hoping for (monday and tuesday were a bit rough for me mental health-wise) but it’s ready now! i hope you enjoy it.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Emily had forgotten how miserable flying commercial could be. But she couldn’t really justify using one of Interpol’s private jets for a personal trip, so here she was, frantically gathering her belongings off of the belt as she tries not to hold up the line behind her at the security checkpoint.

She shakes her head in disbelief as she sits at a bench and pulls her boots back on. To think that you’ve been doing this every other month and haven’t complained once! And it’s not a short flight, either—it takes eight hours to fly from D.C. to London. Yet every time you’ve made the trip, you’ve only expressed excitement over seeing her.

She’s excited, too, of course, but she’s also nervous. Right before you’d gotten off the phone with her last night, you’d said, “I really can’t wait to see you, Em. We need to talk, in person.”

We need to talk.

In Emily’s experience, that sentence has never led to something good. She’s been trying to talk herself down ever since. Surely you wouldn’t invite her out to spend the holidays with you just to break up with her. But then again, maybe you feel that you have to do it that way, that doing it over a video call was too impersonal. She really isn’t sure what to think.

If she’s honest, she’s actually surprised you’re still together at all. Not that she doesn’t love you—she absolutely does, and you’ve said it many times in return. She had just expected you to break it off when she made the decision to move to London.

You didn’t know all the details about what happened with Doyle; you’d met after her return. But you knew enough, knew that she had had to fake her own death and hide out overseas, disconnected and away from everyone she knew and loved. And you had watched as being back in D.C. became a struggle for her. When she told you about the job offer, you had encouraged her to take it.

“I’m sorry,” Emily had sighed, pressing her forehead to yours. “I didn’t want us to end.”

“Who says we have to?” you’d asked. “I’m prepared and willing to do long-distance if you are.”

And that had been that. You had talked or video chatted at least five nights a week, and even had a standing virtual dinner date for Fridays. Her job made it difficult to travel for personal reasons, so you had flown to her (although she had insisted on paying for the ticket and always made sure you were in business class).

Long-distance wasn’t easy—she much preferred to have you in her arms. But, you’d made it work, and successfully if did she said so herself. She loved you just as much as the day she got on the plane to London, if not more.

And you loved her back... right?

If you’d asked her two days ago, she would have been confident in that. Now? Not so much.

Emily picks at her nails for almost the entire time she’s waiting at the airport terminal to board her flight. We need to talk, you’d said.

I don’t want to lose you, her heart whispers back.

---

It’s Rossi’s Christmas Eve party. Emily watches you from across the room as you chat with Morgan and Reid. You look absolutely gorgeous in a red dress, white tights on underneath to keep your legs warm in the chilly weather.

You haven’t been acting any differently than normal. You had greeted her at the airport last night with such a big hug and kiss that it drew a few “aww”’s from passersby. Every time you catch her looking at you, you smile brightly back. You’d cuddled up to her in your usual position when you went to sleep last night.

If Emily were a bit braver, she might bring up your previous conversation and ask what you wanted to talk about. But she can’t bring herself to do it. If you are planning to end things, she wants to soak in as much of you as possible before it.

JJ comes up to her side, touching her arm lightly to draw her attention away from you. “Okay, Emily,” she says. ‘What’s going on?”

It’s Christmas Eve and she doesn’t want to spoil the mood, so she says, “It’s nothing.”

“You keep picking at your nails,” JJ points out gently. “It’s something.”

Emily makes a noise of annoyance. “You know, I think I preferred it when you weren’t a profiler.”

JJ chuckles. “Oh, I’ve heard that before.” She nudges Emily with her elbow. “Come on, tell me what’s up. I want to help.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “It’s (Y/N). She hasn’t been acting any differently, but a few days ago, on the phone... Jayje, she said we need to talk.”

“Ah.” JJ tilts her head to the side. “Well, that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

“When has it not been, in your experience?”

“I said that to Will during our case in Miami, back before Henry.”

Emily frowns. “You also broke up with him.”

“For like, one day,” JJ protests. “And now look at us.” She holds up her left hand, showing off her wedding ring.

“Yeah, it worked out for you,” Emily admits. “That doesn’t mean it will for me.”

“Well, I think—”

“Mommy!” Henry comes running up and tugs on JJ’s hand. “Can we go home and get ready for Santa now?”

JJ checks the time. “Ooh, you’re right. It is time for us to go. Go find Daddy. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay! Bye, auntie Emily!” Henry waves and Emily waves back.

“Bye, Henry.”

He scurries off, but JJ doesn’t follow immediately; instead, she looks back to Emily. “For what it’s worth, I think everything’s going to be fine,” she says.

To Emily’s surprise, the sentiment makes her feel a bit better. “Thanks.”

After saying goodbye to JJ, she looks back to where she last saw you. You aren’t there anymore but she barely has time to wonder where you’ve gone off to before you appear at her side. You take her wrist in your hand and tug on it gently. “Come with me.”

You guide her through a few rooms and into a secluded hallway. You’re hiding something in your left hand, keeping it out of her view. When you stop, you turn towards her and a shy smile spreads across your face.

“What... what have you got there, honey?” Emily asks.

You sway from one foot to the other. “Oh, nothing much.” Then you raise your hand above her head and she looks up to see—

“Mistletoe,” she says, surprise coloring her tone.

“Mm-hmm. And you know what that means.”

She does know, but she can’t resist this opportunity to tease you. “Actually, I’m not familiar with it. Could you explain it to me?”

You drop your hand and roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me, Emily.”

She feigns a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, if you insist.”

Emily takes your face in her hands and pulls you into a kiss. She tries to communicate all her feelings through it—her adoration, her happiness, her appreciation. Most of all, she pours all of her love into it.

You’re a little dazed when she pulls away; the mistletoe has slipped from your fingers onto the floor. “Oh, wow, Em,” you whisper.

“I don’t want this to be our last Christmas together,” she says, then winces a bit. “God, that was cheesy. But it’s true.”

“I don’t want it to be, either,” you reply. “Where is this coming from?”

Emily blinks. “Wha—you said that we needed to talk on the phone the other day!”

You giggle. “I didn’t mean it in bad way, dummy.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t mean it in a bad way! What else was I supposed to think?” The words just tumble out of her mouth. “You’re not seriously telling me I’ve been worried for days for no reas—”

“Shh,” you interrupt, placing your finger on her lips. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But what I want to talk about is a good thing.” You pause. “At least, I hope so.”

“Okay, apology accepted,” she sighs. “What’s this good thing you want to discuss?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that yet,” you say, the corners of your mouth pulling up in a smile. “It’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Emily grumbles.

“It is not!” you protest. “I just don’t want to spoil one of your presents.”

She purses her lips. “You’re really pushing it tonight.”

“It’s only one night, Em. It’ll make sense tomorrow.” You tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “Now, do you think we’ve been here long enough for it to be socially acceptable for us to leave?”

“I think so. JJ has already left so we wouldn’t be the first.”

“Perfect.”

---

Emily wakes up to your hair tickling her face and your lips on her neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you whisper when she stirs.

Emily feels around a bit until her hand finds the back of your neck and she can pull you down for a proper kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she murmurs. She tries to tug you back down next to her, but you resist.

“Come on, let’s go open presents,” you say, tugging her in return.

She groans. “Can’t we stay in bed just a little longer? It’s so warm.”

“Don’t you want to know what your surprise is?” you remind her.

Emily tallies the pros and cons of leaving the bed in her mind, eventually settling on doing what you want. “Alright, alright.”

You grin and clap your hands together. “Yay!” Before she knows it, you’re already up and at the bedroom door.

“You go ahead; I’ll catch up,” Emily says with a yawn. She takes her time stretching, shaking off the sleepiness. She’d love to sleep in later but you’re so excited that she can’t find it in herself to say no. And of course she’s curious about your surprise.

When she wanders out to the living room, you’re waiting with a coffee mug that you press into her hands when she sits next to you. Emily takes a few sips—you’ve made it just the way she likes it. “Okay,” she says when she feels more awake. “Surprise me.”

You laugh, then go over to the tree. You retrieve an envelope from within the branches, which you then hand to her, looking nervous, but also excited. Her first thought is that it’s a gift card, but why would you be so excited about that? It would hardly be the first one you’ve given her.

The envelope itself is nothing special. It’s a pretty dark green, and you’ve written her name in your best handwriting on it in silver ink. Emily places her mug on the coffee table and slides her finger under the gold sticker keeping it sealed shut. Inside are some sheets of printer paper folded carefully. She straightens them out and it takes her a minute the recognize what’s on the first page.

It’s a plane ticket for January 1st, from D.C. to London. Emily furrows her brow. “I don’t get it,” she says. “I already have my return flight booked.”

“Look closer,” you prompt. You tap your finger on one of the lines of text and her eyes follow.

“That’s your name,” she realizes. “This ticket... it’s for you.”

“I found a job in London,” you start to explain. “A really great job. I’ve been looking for a few months, and last week I was offered the position. I had to ask Penelope for help to get a ticket on the same flight as yours on such short notice, and I think she may have exploited a few legal loopholes to do so, but we got it.”

Emily can’t focus on the papers in front of her. The text has turned blurry and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s because she’s tearing up. “I... you’re moving to London?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” you confirm softly. “I love you, Emily, and I don’t want to keep seeing you through a screen. I want to be able to touch you and kiss you. I want to be able to go see you at the end of a long day. I don’t have a place to live yet, though,” you add. “I figured I could just stay with you for a bit until I find one? As long as that’s okay.”

Emily clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, voice thick. “You’re not staying with me for a bit. You’re staying with me for good.”

She surges forward, pressing your back into the couch’s arm, kissing you passionately, tears still slipping down her face. It’s almost unbelievable to her, how much you love her. “I love you, too,” she says when you have to separate for air.

You catch the tears on her cheeks with your thumbs. “What was that you were saying last night about me being cruel?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that back,” she says. “Man, how are any of my presents for you supposed to match this?”

You laugh. “Well, you just immediately asked me to move in with you upon receiving this present. I think we’re even.”

Emily pulls you in close, wrapping her arms around you in an embrace. “Not to be extremely cheesy twice within twenty-four hours, but this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

You settle your head on her shoulder. “Me, too.”

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

tell me what you thought here!

[sansmania]

its o VER WHY WAS THIS SO LONG? 

part 1 | part 2 | art that goes with the fic

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN Reader

Descrip: take it im drifting out to sea because HES GONNA BE A COWBOY thE END

Willie had taken his time to take in the damage done to the beloved boots, tutting and frowning at the holes and shredded leather.

"Oh yeah, I can fix 'em for ya, but it'll take a few days, Mr. Boss. That lil' dog did a number to these." Boss exhaled through his nasal bone with a silent nod. It seems 'Toby' had also managed to dislodge some of the pins that held the heels in, which would mean the boots needed to be completely stripped and rebuilt from the sole up.

"That is fine, I suppose. They mean a great deal to me, so take the time you need to get them back to perfect condition." He seemed a bit emotional about leaving the boots behind, and you gently assured the skeleton that they were in skilled hands. Leaving his contact information, the two of you turned to leave. 

Until a bony hand grabbed your neckline again.

"You said this store specializes in leather and boots, correct?"

"Yes?" You held the word out longer than necessary, red pinpricks looking down at you, then to the fluorescent shoes between you.

"I would like to peruse them, then. It would not hurt for me to have a few more sets, anyway. And I am beyond done with these sneakers. I feel like one of those fictional circus clowns."

You bit your tongue at his presumption, knowing Boss wouldn't listen to a word you had to say on the subject, and accepted your fate in the tobacco and wood lacker scented hell.

After a bit of searching, pausing only to laugh at some of the ridiculous 'southern fact' signs they had decorating a shelf, the pair of you found the boot section of the large store.

"Human, I highly doubt if Texas were real, that it would home ninety percent of the planet's spider population." You couldn't help the snort that came out at Boss' comment as he walked over to the wall of shoes.

His eyelights were transfixed on the detailed stiches in some of the leather boots. His phalanges traced over a pair that had some gaudy gems placed into them- a pair that had studs- red stained leather- black snake skin. He was strangely silent as he looked over each set with wonder.

You didn't think any of them were Boss' style, to be honest. They were about classic as classic cowboy boots get- you could have sworn you even spotted a pair made of alligator skin.

"These." He finally spoke, pulling down one of the only sets that seemed to be ankle high. They were a deep maroon, black stitching along the sides and folds, and a very obvious steel toe embedded inside. There were a few gold embellishments and you felt they were gaudy as all hell.

But, that expression of wonder in Boss' eyes made him look like a child on gyftmas morning.

It was cute.

He was cute.

"I mean, sure, if you're into red, black and gold-" The skeleton flicked his eyes towards you, making your mouth snap shut. He took a seat on a nearby bench, listlessly kicking off the offending accessories to try the new boots on.

Boss became silent once again, taking in the shine of leather as he tilted his feet and legs to get a good look at them.

"There is a mirror over there." You mention, pointing a few feet away, and he stood up to admire the shape of the shoes. And while he did so, you also found yourself admiring him.

Boss was very tall- even without the help of his stiletto heels- and his broad shoulders squared in perfect posture made almost anything he wore look breathtaking. His choice of attire today fit snuggly against his ribcage, tapering down his spine- making Boss look, pun intended, skeleton thin. Tight, but soft, leather pants hugged his narrow hips and bony legs, perfectly shaping his body.

"Hmm. A bit lower than what I am used to, but they are quite fetching on me. What do you think, human?"

He caught you staring, once again, in the mirror- just as your eyes had been slowly trailing down his legs, brain becoming grey mush. You curse quietly, turning your head away with a mutter of agreement.

"Sadly, they do not match the rest of my attire. I should see if they have apparel here to compliment my figure and accessories." He made an amused sound when you cocked your head at the suggestion, cheeks burning with new fervor.

Oh. He knew exactly what he was doing now. Boss wouldn't even play with the idea if any of his family was around, but since it was just the two of you, he was going to continue his sadistic game.

When you had first met Boss, you would have sworn he didn't have a playful bone in his body- the serious tone and way he carried himself made it seem he was all work and no play. But, as you got to know him, his true colors seemed to blossom forth. Yes, he hated puns, that didn't mean he had no sense of humor. His humor was dry and a little cynical- and you had nearly soiled yourself in laughter when he cracked his first joke around you.

He also found Blue and Nox's rivalry amusing, egging them on at times just to get under their skin.

And when then two of you were alone, he was much more relaxed, allowing more of his jovial side to come out. Sometimes it was a welcome blessing and sometimes it was not.

As it was at your expense today, it was one of those times that his sense of humor didn't delight.

"Uh, s-sure. Why not? Let's find you a nice pair of chaps-" Boss' amused smile caught you off guard as he held a hand up to stop you from moving. You had hoped he would allow you to help, maybe in a way save yourself from this horrible fate.

"No, I believe I can handle dressing myself just fine. Though, I will listen to your opinion after I have chosen an outfit." The smirk didn't go away as you made a noise of disdain. The skeleton sauntered off on his own, leaving you to scream internally at being caught red handed and was going to make you suffer for it.

When he turned a corner, you were on your feet- tossing the old converse in your inventory- and did your best to sneak around the store behind the him. Occasionally, Boss would turn his head out of suspicion, causing you to duck behind a shelf, while he thumbed through the racks of clothes.

He was enjoying teasing you like this, smirk still apparent on his face. You were by no means subtle, so Boss knew you were tailing him around, and that only added to his amusement.

You peeked over a row of jackets that were fastened with tassels while Boss sifted through some button up shirts. His foot tapped along to the music with perfect rhythm, though, you were more shocked when his low voice was barely audible.

He was quietly singing along to the tune.

Boss Gothic Serif.

Was singing country.

And he knew you were watching and listening.

The next time he glanced over his shoulder, Boss caught your reddened face as a devious smile curled on his skull. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Human, I have picked out a suitable ensemble. Feel free to wait there for me to change." You didn't hide this time when he spoke up, accepting defeat, stepping out to follow the monster towards the changing rooms.

You knew from the first day of meeting these skeletons that they would be the death of you. You just didn't expect it to be in a dime store cowboy shop in the city.

Flopping down on another bench, you waited for death to finish his wardrobe swap and drag you to the dark depths- knowing now that he was going to be dressed like a cowboy with Shania Twain playing gently to send you off.

The shuffle of cloth behind the barn themed doors caught your attention, the soft click of bones on wood as a lock was lifted and the doors swung open.

Words choked in your mouth as it hung ajar, Boss stepping out of the small room with the most smug look on his face you had ever seen him muster.

His head was tilted down ever so slightly, burning red eyes shaded by the black hat atop his skull. Your eyes dragged down to the crisp maroon and black button up, gold skull bola tie strung in the collar and rested on his nearly bare breastbone.

The shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his battle scarred hands and arms, and the tail tucked neatly into a pair of tight black dyed jeans; adorned and held up by a red leather belt that had a large gold skull buckle to keep it all together. The jeans hugged the skeleton's frame all the way down to the coordinated boots.

Boss leaned against the doorframe, taking in your reaction with sadistic glee; How you couldn't form a single word in appreciation to his wardrobe selection. How your face was red enough to put his shirt to shame. How your eyes lingered over the single undone button at his clavicle.

How your reaction made his soul thrum with pride.

"Comments?" He finally spoke, beyond amused at the way you startled to his rough voice- dropping it an octave or two, successfully getting further reactions out of you. Finally, you managed to swallow the hard, dry lump that formed in your throat, tearing your gaze away to look back to Boss' expecting eyes.

You coughed and looked away

"Yee. Haw?" Was all you could manage as he stepped forward, boots loudly clacking against the hardwood floor. The terrifying skeleton you called a friend, and obviously waxed red towards, stopped mere feet before you, dragging your attention back to him.

"Is that all you have to say? I would appreciate some feedback, maybe I should make another selection if this doesn't suit me-"

"No, don't!" You found your voice as Boss turned heel to find something else to fluster you with. He quirked a brow ridge at your outburst, returning to his previous position, arms crossed as he awaited to hear your real feelings. 

"You. You look good, Boss." You did your best to hold your voice steady as his gaze made you shrink into the bench, like you were going to become a permanent fixture in the store.

"Just ‘good’?" Oh, he was going to make you suffer. Breathing hard through your nose, you looked back up at him. Boss already knew how you felt, so this was just torture to feed his ego.

And you may as well feed it.

"Fine." There was a pause as you found the words. “You look amazing. Handsome. Stunning.” You could feel your face and neck darkening with each admission- at this point, had you even been referring to just how he looked now? He seemed to preen at each compliment, all too pleased to drink in your words of praise.

"Then I do believe I will purchase these items. They may be in start contrast to the rest of my wardrobe, but some variety in life never hurts."

It was interesting to watch Boss fannagle with the cashier about buying all the clothes items while he was still in them- but he managed to do it, and in style, if you were honest.

With his boots squared away, clothes tucked into his inventory, and you at his side, Boss literally strutted out of the store- leading you both back to his car.

"Human, you make it so easy to fluster you, you do realize that." Boss' smile from before had not left his features, even as you pulled into the culdesac in which you lived.

"Yeah, I'm aware, Boss." You heaved a final embarrassed sigh as the car came to a stop at your curb. Gathering your belongings, and what little bit of pride you had left, the car door swung open and you turned back to him. "Tease the human that has feelings for you. Ha, ha."

"But, uh." You pause, leaning on the door to look Boss in the eyes.

"Have fun getting into your room before Red or Stretch see you, Cowboy."

[strabbyshortcake]

champy’s charhouse

Gramble and Boots meet for the first time.

tw for mild violence.

Champy’s Charhouse sat smack dab in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, along a lone strip of highway that ran east to west through vast cornfields and strips of forest and swampland. True to its name, the steak was always overdone, but the potato skins were to die for.

Gramble usually went with one or more of his housemates, but Wambus was tired, Triffany was busy with grading papers, Yosie had a cage match tonight and Bronica had plans with her girlfriend already. That was alright, though. Gramble could have a good time on his own.

He borrows Triffany’s car, pulling up in the dusty parking lot as the sun’s about to set. The parking lot is already full of various mud-splattered beaters and pickups, many of which he recognizes. Funny that he could think of himself as a local now and feel a hit of pride about it. The bright orange neon sign buzzes above his head as he walks in, heading right for the bar to find a seat with a good view of the stage. True to form the place smells like burnt meat, but even as a vegetarian, it’s a comforting smell, mixed in with sweaty fur and soil and beer.

Triffany had gotten him into one of her favorite rock bands, the Velvet Knives, so he’d borrowed one of her old band tees to wear for the sets some of the local bands were playing tonight. He settles in, orders his potato skins and a coke, and watches as the first band gets their equipment set up. Once the music starts, everybody seems to be having a great time, clapping or singing along. That is, until the front row starts getting restless.

“This sucks!” calls a bright orange grumpus from the bar several seats down. His buddies laugh, a few of them hurling their own insults to the irritation of the other patrons. Several of them wear jackets with the letters of a nearby college fraternity on them. Rowdy college kids were nothing out of the ordinary though. Gramble was sure they’d be kicked out if they kept on heckling.

The band, in good humor, plays on, finishing their song before the singer decides to address them. “Sounds like we got a couple ornery hogs in the audience,” she says, grinning, showing her fangs. “Well, ain’t nobody keepin’ you here. If you go on squealin’, someone’s liable to shut you up.”

One of the frat kids hurls a bottle. It smashes against the back wall of the stage.

“Hey, now!” the band’s drummer calls, ducking. “C’mon, there’s no need for that!”

The grumpus next to Gramble, who seemed to be a part of that group, grabs his own bottle and starts to move his arm back. Gramble grabs him by the wrist, using his other hand to yank the bottle out of the other grump’s paw. “Cut it out!” he tells them, baring his own teeth. Out the corner of his eye he can see the two coolers the bar employed moving toward the bar. They’re both big, but so are the frat kids…

The guy he’d grabbed snarls, ripping his arm out of Gramble’s hold. He’s got golden fur, and two sets of slightly-crooked fangs. “You want me to throw you instead, pipsqueak?”

“You wanna lose a hand?” Gramble snaps in return. “Quit actin’ like you were raised by raccoons, you goddamn fool!”

He hears glass shatter as one of the other frat kids jumps off their stool, swinging a paw at the cooler who’d reached him. The rest of them seem to take this as a sign to do the same, converging on the coolers with teeth and claws bared. However, Gramble doesn’t see what happens next as the grumpus next to him grabs him under the arms and slams him onto the bar. Gramble yelps, coughing as the wind is knocked out of him.

“You hicks take everything too personal, you know that?” The frat kid growls, looming over Gramble. “Ain’t even worth it to bite you. I’d probably get some kinda disease.”

Gramble kicks him in the chest. He grunts and staggers a little, enough to give Gramble a second to sit up, only for the frat kid to come back and punch him directly in the nose. Gramble sees stars, reeling and nearly tumbling off the bar, digging his claws into the marked wood of the counter to keep himself from falling. Blood dribbles from his nose and lip, bitter and metallic. Hopefully the jerk had cut his knuckles on one of Gramble’s teeth.

Still dizzy from the punch, he feels strong hands seize him by the shoulders and twists around, blindly snapping his jaws shut over frat kid’s arm. The frat kid curses, grabbing Gramble by the neck with his free hand. He digs his claws into the thick ruff surrounding it, either to try and yank Gramble’s jaws off or strangle him. Gramble had let his fur grow long and shaggy around his neck and shoulders and it thankfully keeps those claws from getting in too deep.

“Asshole! You’re gonna wreck my jacket!” he hears the frat kid cry as they struggle together. Maybe, Gramble thinks, he should have thought of that before starting a bar fight. In the darkness of the roadhouse he can see the other kids still embroiled in a brawl with the coolers and several of the other patrons, though it’s impossible to tell who’s on what side by now. Nothing he can see but a lot of flying fur and flashing fangs under the neon lights. He shoves the frat kid’s arm away from his neck, wincing as those claws tear some of his fur out.

A building roar from outside catches the attention of some of the patrons, who extract themselves from the brawl and look towards the door. It’s the guttural growl of a motorcycle, a huge one from the sound, drawing closer until it stops in the parking lot and sputters out. Most of the patrons scurry back to their tables, leaving the frat kids standing by the bar, puzzled and disheveled. The guy holding onto Gramble lets him go so he slides off the bar and falls onto the floor with a thud, knocking one of the stools over.

“What?” he hears one of them grunt.

The doors swing open as another grumpus enters, ducking slightly just to get through the doorway. Even from the other side of the room, Gramble can see she towers head and shoulders above most of the other patrons and is broader by at least half, and these were not small grumpuses. Each thump of her dinner-plate-sized paws on the floor makes the cutlery laid out on the tables jingle musically as she approaches. Her fur is the color of pine needles. The bar lights glint ruby in her eyes.

She frowns down at the frat kids, at their neon orange leader. “Is there a problem, here?” Her voice is a deep, husky growl, the sort you could feel in your ribs. In the bar lights Gramble can see the glimmer of a badge pinned to her leather jacket.

“No problem,” the leader holds his hands up defensively, a cowed smile on his face. She doesn’t even have to bare her own teeth. Her sheer bulk is enough. “We were just havin’ a good time.”

“I know your kind. You’re too stupid to have a good time.” She lashes out, grabbing a fistful of his scruff and dragging him towards the door like a kitten. He briefly tries to struggle before giving up, letting her hurl him out of the roadhouse like a sack of stale hamburger buns. As she turns back to the rest of the group, they sheepishly file out, the one Gramble had bitten clutching his bleeding arm.

“Thank you so much for comin’ by, officer Timberheart,” Gramble hears the bar’s owner (not Champy himself, but his son, Shester) say as he emerges from the office he’d been hiding in. Timberheart, huh, Gramble thinks to himself. So that was her name. It sounds so sturdy. A perfect fit for her.

“Aw, it’s no problem,” Ms. Timberheart tells him. “I was already in the neighborhood.”

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

“Maybe next time, but thanks.”

With the commotion now died down, the conversation of the other guests begins to filter back in as everyone takes their seats again, resuming whatever they’d been doing before the fight had started. Gramble starts to pick himself up but stumbles, grabbing for one of the barstools. Maybe he’d been hit harder than he thought…

The noise gets Timberheart’s attention. She turns towards him, picking up the downed stool as she crouches. Even now she towers at least a good two feet over him when he’s standing. He blinks up at her concerned expression. She’s got a very soft face, now that he can see it clearly. Her eyes are big and gentle, her features framed by her thick, fluffy coat. Her nose is even shaped like a heart.

“You alright there?” She asks him. “Looks like they roughed you up good.”

“Ah…” Gramble’s not sure if he’s still reeling from the punch, but his stomach for sure feels knotted up, and he hadn’t even been hit there. “…y-yeah, I’m alright. I tried to stop one of ‘em from throwin’ stuff at the band. He didn’t appreciate it...”

“Good of you to try.” She grabs a handful of napkins from the counter, handing them to him. “Here, get yourself cleaned up. I swear, these out-of-towners think they can just swagger in here like they own the place, cause a ruckus and then leave when things start to get a lil’ too spicy.”

Gramble presses the napkins to his bleeding nose, noting with a twinge of disappointment that she’s got a gold wedding band around one of her fingers. Ah, well. Nothing stopping him from getting to know her. “I dunno how some folks can act like that… Like they were raised by wild animals.”

“That’s a little unkind to wild animals, don’t you think?” She chuckles. “What’s your name? Haven’t seen you around, I don’t think.”

“Oh, it’s… I’m Gramble.” Sniffling, Gramble smiles, hoping there’s no blood still on his teeth. “I guess I’m kinda new in town. Been livin’ here for about a year, now.”

“Gramble? You’re a friend of Wambus and Triff’s, ain’tcha? They said they were entertainin’ some sorta house guest when I saw ‘em a while back. Anyway.” She offers him a massive paw, one he could easily fit both his own in with room to spare. “Name’s Beautricia, but everyone just calls me Boots.”

Gramble accepts the paw, giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Boots! I hope I’ll see you around?”

“Oh, you will.” She smiles, showing just a hint of her fangs. “Take care now, Gramble. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

[skullrock]

the tree - Steve x Reader

12 days of Christmas fics, day 9 - the tree

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve decorates the tree with his kids for their fifth Christmas. (early 90s au)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: it gets like a lil suggestive towards the end but, as they say, only if u squint

a/n: hi this is like... a major comfort fic for me!! when I was growing up I used to decorate the tree w my mom, dad, and brother, and learned a lot about my mom and dad through the ornaments they collected over the course of their relationship. decorating the tree was my favorite day of the year, and though we don’t do it anymore, I can at least live vicariously thru writing <3 hope u enjoy!

“You started without me?”

You whirl around to face Steve, who’s shrugging his snowy jacket off at the front door. Your kids, Lily and Audrey, jump off the floor and fly towards him. “Dad!”

“It’s me,” he smiles, bending down to hug them both. “I thought I told you guys to wait til I got home?”

“We couldn’t wait, daddy,” Audrey pouts. “You took too long!”

“I was gone for five hours!” he laughs. “Can’t believe mom let you.”

“They were very persuasive,” you beam.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking back at the girls. They were his pride and joy, his everything. His face always lit up when he walked through the door, or when he went to their preschool plays. He loved them more than anything in the world. You couldn’t get over his adoration for them - and their adoration for him.

“It sounds like maybe… maybe… it’s time for….” Steve grabs Lily and starts tickling her, giggling when she starts giggling.

“Dad, stop!” Lily shrieks, trying to twist away from him.

Audrey goes behind him and wraps her arms around his neck, jumping onto his back. “Daddy, don’t!”

“Oh, you want some, too?” he beams, reaching for Audrey, pulling her down and tickling her, too.

“Mommy, help!”

“Okay, tickle monster,” you say, walking over towards them. “Leave ‘em alone, it was my idea, anyw-“

“You!” Steve shouts, letting go of Audrey and grabbing you. “My own wife!”

“Steve -“ you laugh, and then shriek when he starts tickling you, too. “St- Steve! Stop!”

“Tickle monster stops for no one,” he says, but lets you go, both of you panting and giggling. You step forward to hug him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Missed you,” you say quietly.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here now.”

Lily tugs on Steve’s jeans. “Daddy, tree!”

“Okay,” he says, pulling away from you. “Show me what you’ve done already.”

Lily and Audrey take him to the tree set up in the corner of your living room. It only had a few bulbs on it, but Steve always loved decorating the tree. He liked the nostalgia, and he especially liked all of the sentimental ornaments you’d both collected over the years. Every year for the past five years, he told Audrey and Lily the story for almost every ornament, and let them put it on the tree, sometimes lifting them up to get towards the top. It’d quickly become one of your favorite traditions, too.

“Here, look!” Audrey says, pointing at a snowman shaped ornament and tugging on Steve’s hand. “This one is me!”

It was a picture of Audrey when she was a newborn, her hair as thick as Steve’s. Steve looks at it, and even though he’d been the one who told her who it was, he still furrows his brows. “That’s not you.”

“Yeah huh!”

“Can’t be,” he says, trying not to smile. “You’re right here.”

“No, dad, it’s a picture!”

“That’s a baby,” Steve says, smile breaking through. “You’re not a baby now, are you?”

“No!” she shouts. “I’m five!”

“That’s right!” Steve laughs. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. That’s you.”

“Me!” Lily yells, pointing at her own picture. She was born on the same day and took after you, her eyes the same color as yours. They both took after their dad in terms of loudness.

Steve gasps. “Look at that! You’ve grown up so much!”

“Let’s add some more,” you say, sitting down on the floor, the rest of them following. Audrey climbs into Steve’s lap and Lily presses herself as close as possible so she can listen to him tell stories.

You pull out one that says Christmas, 1988. It was in the shape of a candy cane with a mouse propping it up. “This was our first Christmas together.”

“My mom bought us that,” Steve says, taking it from you. “So tacky.”

“What’s tacky?” Lily asks.

“It’s like when mom wore that neon green dress to prom.”

“Oh, shut up, Steve -“

“Here, go ahead and hang it Lil.” He passes it off to her and grabs another one. This one is a small wooden nutcracker. “This is from your house, right?”

“Yep. I think my first grade teacher gave me that.”

“Boring,” Steve says, handing it to Audrey. “Hide it somewhere.”

“You’re so mean!”

“Am not,” he says, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Just gotta keep the crowd entertained.”

You roll your eyes but smile. You grab another ornament - a snowman with a tiny picture frame. It had a picture of you and Steve in it from your second Christmas - Steve wore an extremely ugly sweater. “That’s tacky.”

“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly, taking it in his hands. “Girls, what do you think?”

“It’s my best picture of you and mom,” Audrey says, turning around in Steve’s lap to kiss his cheek. “Pretty.”

“Pretty,” Lily repeats. “Were you guys in lub?”

“In love? Yeah,” Steve smiles. “Or, I was, at least.”

“Oh, I was, too,” you assure him quickly. “I’d never been so in love. I still am.”

Steve smiles over at you while your daughters shout an awwwww!

“Was daddy, like, your prince?” Lily says, pushing herself harder into Steve to be closer.

“More like my knight in shining armor,” you say. They didn’t know about the Upside Down - and they hopefully never would - but Steve really was more like a knight than anything. And a prince. He’d saved your life in more ways than one. “Or, well, in a Members Only jacket.”

“I loved that jacket.”

“I did, too.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, leaning towards you again.

“Focus, daddy!” Audrey shouts, pulling his chin back towards the tree. Steve laughs and keeps going, grabbing ornaments and explaining their origins, then letting the girls put them on the tree. You leave after a while to make them hot chocolate, and the girls run into the kitchen, hugging your legs.

“Thank you mommy!” they say in unison.

“For what, babies?” you ask, grabbing their mugs.

“Hot choccy,” Audrey says, and you laugh - Steve says it that way and they’d both attached to it.

“We lub you,” Lily says, planting a kiss on your thigh.

Steve walks in, smiling. “I lub you, too,” he joins in, coming to lean on the counter next to you. You give their mugs and they leave, heading upstairs.

“Where’re they going?” you ask, handing Steve his mug.

“I told them they should go watch the Muppets,” he smirks, bumping his hips into yours. “Which means we are alone.”

“Interesting,” you smile. “That Members Only jacket comment must’ve really gotten to you, huh?”

“And the tree,” he says. “And you. And our pictures. I love you so much.”

You smile smugly. “The tree got you excited?”

“No,” he laughs, sitting his mug down so he could hug you. “I just love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, pulling him in close. “Maybe we should watch Muppets.”

“We can,” he says, “but only if you sit by me.”

“Can do,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, even if you called my prom dress tacky.”

“And I love you, even if you lost my Members Only jacket when we moved.”

“That was not my fault and you know it!”

“Definitely was,” Steve says, nodding, a piece of hair falling over his forehead. “It’s okay. I still love you.”

You kiss him. “Love you too, Steve.”

===

steve tags: @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @sassisaluxury @ willowrose99 @harringtown @write-from-the-heart @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @kurtsbuckethat @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @astil-be @troop-scoop @ilovebucketbarnes @mybestfriendthedingus @unknownherelm @metuel18 @magnitude101999 @lukeskisses @bethhxrmon @stevenismyboy @flyingrichardgrayson @scoopsahoy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops @prettysbliss @patientplum @theworriedman @quentin-smith @nelson-and-murdock​ @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​

[thelordstears]

I wrote some more, because I, am an addict

“ In this world I've met some sorrowed souls, one of 'em stands in my mind like a candle, flickerin' lights of his mercy dyin' in my heart, and as he stares me down with madness filled eyes and a heart sick 'a trouble and decay, will he gun an old friend down all for vengeance on the man who broke all 'a us? “ - Quint Sanfield

“ I'm just an outcast lookin' for his heart, and as I travel this strange and mysterious land, I must wonder if my heart lays underneath foreign soils, cause as I dig my hands inta the soil of my hurt, I don't find anything but trouble and the decaying corpse of me. “ - Quint Sanfield

“ I'll keep on keepin' on like a sorrowed ghost train, findin' passengers along the railroad of my heart, and, maybe findin' a couple more people like me. People who understand the depths of secrets and trouble, perhaps I can be a lil less transparent with people who understand me, with people who also know what death tastes like on their heart." - Quint Sanfield

"If God loves all, does he look at the sinner who bleeds the river red with a gentle and forgiving smile? I can't help but wonder if he looks at me with something sorrowful swimming in his ethereal eyes, because as I tremble under a cruel man's trigger, I stain the river of my heart with unholy colors and sinful strokes of a brush.” - Jonah Worthshein

“ I met a man with death and cruelty lurking like ticking time bombs in his heart, and as he struck me down with his cane of trouble and told me to weep the mercy from my eyes, I succumbed. “ - Jonah Worthshein

“ There's pain beating inside my heart, and I know there always will be, because my hero, he's gone, and somedays I don't know how to go on without him. He was my brother, and as he became nothing but a missing poster in my mind, I wondered what I would do with his tattered cape. Somedays I hold it close to my chest and weep into it, for it holds questions I'll never find the answers too. But whenever that pain comes crashing down on me, my daughter picks me right up and tells me that I'm her hero, and I always will be. “ - Faymeline Borealis

“ My friend, I am insanity in an unwell mind, bursting with colors that shouldn't exist.” - Burns Mataugh

“ We are pioneers of madness following our Queen through the echoes of the night, for she saved us from the slow and insidious killer that is sanity. She stands tall and lean like a madness filled revolver, and as she kills peace, you must know its grave has been long overdue. “ - Burns Mataugh

“ The tranquility of succumbing to your beastly nature is like no other feeling I have ever felt, and as I stand here like an ill begotten question, sipping on a stream of crimson stained melodies and secrets, I know I would never yearn to be the sheep again. “ - Burns Mataugh

“ I once asked the world who it wanted me to be, and as I sat at the stream, madness seeping through my veins, I saw the reflection of God in the lake, and to me, he looked like a lonesome beast of sorrow." - Burns Mataugh

“ I'm just a washed up and broken dream wondering why all his childhood wonder turned into nightmares, stars imploding in his mind, cause damn, it's just a galaxy colored the shade of the nebula. “ - Brooke Bermgeir

“ They're always like, oh, you gotta be a boy, you gotta be a girl, but fuck that, I wanna be myself. “ - Skyler Syndicate

“ My families memory is like a cigarette against my lip, because all it does nowadays is kill me slowly with things I'll never have again. “ - Connie Averfollow

“ My mind is a panic room, the walls are etched in names I never wanna forget and faces I'll always miss, and as I cower in the corner my darkest fears come for me with eyes I used to see everyday, her eyes haunt me, her smiles have become a graveyard in my haunted little heart. And as I sink into my blankets and smoke another cigarette I pray that life will give me my lover's fate as my head hits the pillow." - Connie Averfollow

“ I don't know how humanity managed to become an enemy to itself, but damn, ain't it a shame we're losing the fucking war?" - Larry Devendra

“ People are always tellin' me I'm digging my own damn grave, but don't they realize it ain't my name etched on the stone?” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ It's kill or be killed these days, and regretfully I still breathe. “ - Rolft Van Gaver

“ I just wanna live despite the death in me." - Rolft Van Gaver

“ I, am where dreams go to die my friend.” - Moores Thomas

“ I'm a sinful bastard with a heart rotted bared on his extravagant sleeve, do you think a heart could possibly survive madness? It rotted, withered and decayed as I sputtered up blinding red lights and salvation.” - Moores Thomas

“ You'll live, but you won't survive. “ - Moores Thomas

“ Sometimes, we just gotta raise our fists instead of our white flag.” - Hunter Shallows

“ There's a garden 'a decay in my mind, two roses standin' tall, but all the others 'ave become black petaled ghosts, but I visit that garden if only ta see my roses still painted red. “ - Saria Romiro

“ We've both seen Hell in the eyes of people who were supposed to love us, but we found Heaven in each other's love. “ - Riell Romiro

“ I try my best, to stand tall, but somedays I'm struck down by the sorrow I feel and I can hardly reach the other side of paradise. Because in truth, my son's ghost still haunts me. He's in the corners of my memory, asking me why I didn't find him, and I give a regretful smile and say I tried my best. “ - Riell Romiro

“ I have met darkness in the eyes of a banshee, standing tall over me like a shadow that shrieks into my broken mind that I won't make it out of this darkness alive. But I take a fragile step forward and fix my little bowtie, knowing that the cruelty I've met is not me, but rather what I have seen. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ These secrets in me hide deep within my cracked ribcage, nesting, waiting to blossom like a rose grenade, the shrapnel of lies and shadow splitting my heart in two. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ My hands are stained in mystery, and as my mind brews up questions like it were some witches cauldron full of answers, I get to wondering how many of the people I searched for are still out there. “ - Harlem Peixoto

“ At some point, life presents you with a fork in the road, and which path you take determines who you'll be, one path leads to who you're supposed to be, kind, gentle, whole in some beautiful way, but the other path gives you things, but it also corrupts your heart and turns you into a wicked beast with cruelty living deep inside his troubled heart. Be careful when hate and cruelty whispers in your ear that you do not become these things. “ - Solomon Bones

“ My brother has always had my back, man. He's been there for me, he's kind of, my hero, ya know? He doesn't wear a cape fluttering in the breeze and he doesn't have laser eyes, he has burdens, he has scars, but most importantly, he has a kind heart. And that's what makes a hero in this broken world. “ - Solmon Bones

“ They've both seen the Hell of war, it drips down the notches 'a their spines and whispers lies inta their hearts, cause mate, war never leaves the innocent soul be. It's a beast draped in crimson, fur drippin' with innocence and forgotten men lyin' in freshly dug graves. When it smiles, ya see it's rifle fangs and bullet tongue, and as it charges, it leaves all soldier's ghosts 'a who they were. “ - Fallows Diamond

“ Mate, I've seen death in the shadows 'a graves that neva' shoulda been, I seen cruelty lyin' in the eye of a man with venom drippin' from the corner 'a his eyes. 'E was a slitherin' serpent in the garden 'a my mercy, firin' bullets inta me peace and askin' it ta bleed for all he'd done. And so, with regret, I say there ain't no peace in me heart. “ - Fallows Diamond

“ She stands in my mind like a howling regret, scratching at the confines of my skull to escape my memory, because she was my fuckin' hero, man. “ - Tristy Alden

“ I can still remember Sasha's gentle eyes, her heart worn on a cotton sleeved sweater, her heart beat was a melody I could listen too forever. I know sometimes I made it a struggle to love me, but no matter what, she was always.. there for me, and sometimes I wonder if I fucked it up. I hope she knows that I love her, even if we've been separated because of life's trickery and deceit. “ - Debrah Sabbatino

“ If you look at the pages of a history book you'll find me, stained in the bloodied ink, etched into the stones of war and cruelty. “ - Veltrexen

“ I have watched the kind fall through the scorching skies as people clapped and cheered for the death of the good hearted rabbits. And as I pull a top hat from the back room, I look for rabbits inside but I'm always pulling my sins from a hat and wondering if the innocence has left me behind in the dust of my cruelty. “ - Ellsworth Davis

“ I was just a girl looking for trouble in the ashen cigarette and love with a boy who wouldn't remember my name next Summer. “ - Carrie Hackenwood

“ I am not crazy, I would not quite put it that way. I am mad, I am twisted, I am broken, some extant form of Wyatt Demouchett. From the corners of my cracked ribcage, a beast started to roam, and ever so slowly he tore pieces from my heart to eat from, for a starving heart will always find itself in the maw of the ribcage.” - Wyatt Demouchett

“ My mind is a prison of thoughts and memories, and as I try and rip myself away from the confines of my skull I realize I can never rip this mind from me, for if I were to do such a thing, I would die in an empty prison cell. “ - Wyatt Demouchett

“ I am scalded flesh upon the battlefield, rusted bones in the grave of a boy I no longer am. “ - Wyatt Demouchett

“ If ya look deep inside my eyes you'll find little reflection 'a who I ain't creepin' about, little sorrows in the corners of my pupils, sitting there like dogs starvin' on a chain. “ - Sandro Colorfeid

“ Ya know, people are always saying I'm a hero, I saved so many god damn lives, but the way I see it, there's too many I didn't save to be considered any sort of hero. I sit here in the silence of my mind, sparking up cigarettes and memories, wondering how many bastards and cheats went right under my damn sniffer. Maybe a hundred, maybe only two, but even two bad men out in the wild can make a difference, huh? “ - Sandro Colorfeid

“ I'm starving bones looking for a grave that ain't never been dug wondering if this lonesome ghost is all I can ever be. “ - Sandro Colorfeid

"Humanity lost its fight against evil the day they gave it a name. “ - Zalrifear Dellrick

“ I am no longer tethered to humanity.” - Zalrifear Dellrick

“ I'm a crimson fucking bullet soaring towards all who wronged me and all who didn't, I'm insanity flying on wings of wax and loss. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ The sane man just don't survive the insane one's wrath.” - Harvin Scoviney

“ I'm living like a landmine, whosoever steps on me is gonna feel that shrapnel dig into their fragile skin, and trust me, the sight won't be so pretty. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ I'm a ticking time bomb and you best hope you ain't near me when I burst, cuz when I do, it's gonna be an explosion of broken bones and bloodied faces strewn about the concrete of my fucking rage. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ Ya can yell for the boy I was, but he's buried in a pinewood box and brother, he's just charred bones in a casket. “ - Harvin Scoviney

“ Don't say I don' got what it takes to make it in this life without knowin' my damn past. “ - Carolann Tresparo

“ I'm old, I've seen just 'bout every sorrow there is ta see in this broken man's land, and as I spark up another old cigarette, smokin' away my lifespan with sparks in my dusty ribcage I getsa wonderin' when this ol' man will finally find himself a bit of peace. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ Ya know how it is, ya break a couple times, ya fall from yourself and wonder who the hell ya's sposed ta be, but eventually ya find the peace ya seek. But I'm different. I'm just a gambling man with his wicked little heart worn on a broken sleeve, wondering if these casino chips and blinding lights is all he could ever be. In truth, I don't know me, just who I used ta be. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ Don't pray for me, I don' missed out on every opportunity ta confess, I'm just sittin' on this old bench with a cigarette on my lip, smoke driftin' around me as I ponder on where I'll go when I die. “ - Rayburn Manski

“ I'm a ghost of who God wanted me to be.” - Hayton Mathers

“ Do you ever feel like, maybe you're a promise that's been broken by the Gods? They vowed to love you, vowed to be by your side, but life washed on by and scattered your pieces into the sand, so much so that they could no longer find who you were supposed to be? “ - Else Serafin

"Peace doesn't die, man, it just hides from the chaos sometimes. We just gotta wait for it to feel comfortable in the open, because honestly, chaos leaves a whisper in the wind, some sort of after noise of what happened to you.” - Aaron Crinklewick

“ That man stands lean like a vulture, and instead of the flapping of wings he's got the whinnying of a decaying and black horse, rusted hatchet strapped to his dusty black coat like an omen of what he'll do. “ - Allison Diamond

“ I met a man in the streetlights, he stood tall and lean like a flickering omen of death, and as he offered me his hand, to walk away with me to a place where all the freaks and wolves can be themselves, I put on a smile and found myself a family in the lights of the damning circus. I have since died. But I like the way this grave feels. “ - Zayleen Bevessa

“ He is a silent wolf, jaws gnashing at those who think they can escape the destiny of a circus soul. Together, we are the wolves of tomorrow, gnashing our jaws at the innocent with smiles of crimson and doll like features of cruelty. “ - Zayleen Bevessa

"Beauty knew my name, once. But since then it has withered. “ - Nishi Masago

“ I am a butterfly and a wasp wrapped into one vessel of anger and love that can bleed and fight, so when all my enemies come towards me with grins of sin and blades of death, I shall let my blade fall to my side and do the work for me. “ - Nishi Masago

“ I sit here like a forgotten candle 'a wax, my flame long since passed wonderin' why I didn't find myself in the essence 'a heroism. “ - Danya Cruz

“ In truth, I'm just a kid, my body grew up, but my heart is still just as young as it was thirty years ago. “ - Sametha Springton

“ I don't wanna never ending life, because in truth, I don't think I'd like what humanity would do with eternity.” - Sametha Springton

“ I've seen pain in snapshot crime scene photos and blood spilt on the streets I'd hear about in the news and weep over, but as Charlotte smiles and tells me the past is the past, I know I've got a wonderful future with her. “ - Oscar Forbes

“ I'm just a bullet casing washed to shore, waiting for somebody to pick me up and awe at the used up violence they've found nestled inside the cracks of a rock.” - Asher Broquel

“ I once swore an oath, that I'd protect the people. And I did, but did I ever think about protecting myself? Or was I so wrapped up in the thought that everyone else was a person but me, that I let myself bleed into someone that isn't really me? “ - Asher Broquel

“ Humanity is always growing and changing as flowers do each season, sometimes we're daffodils swaying in the wind, other days we're wilted roses with nothing but thorns, and somedays we're just a regretful weed, shivering in the cracks of the concrete. But all it took to make a flower beautiful was some water and light, and so as the sun rises and it begins to rain, can't you see we're meant to grow during this storm? We're not decaying, we're just growing from out this storm's soil." - Audrey Killva

“ Ya know, I met death in the eyes of a man with cruelty lurking in his veins, ribcage beating empty, his chest an empty night sky of the void. And as he told me I'd never be the same once I met him, he sure was right, huh? Cause as my son was ripped from this world, I knew a scar would be left on my heart like a threadwork patch of memories and sorrows I'd always know. “ - Barry Bosnia

“ She's a beacon of hope in a world so dark, and as her light shimmers like a star in the sky, I know there's a chance humanity will win its war against the dark. “ - Thituna

“ My heart is a lonely little ghost town, filled with cobwebs and dust, old decaying drawings of people I knew hung up on the hallways walls. And as I trace my fingers over the threadwork scar of memories in my mind, I come to realize I'm just another scar in my own heart. “ - Scarlet Westfield

“ I am a cold water sin, dripping from the corners of your eyes and bleeding from the edges of your spine. “ - Devella Minstreiva

“ I, am a woman of the night, dancing so elegantly in the cruel light of the pale moon, sinning as Devil's do. The scared little girl I was is begging me to stop, begging me to turn back, but with a smile stained red, I keep forward on this path of broken bones that are never my own. “ - Devella Minstreiva

“ I've got blood on my hands from men who'd be better off breathing, but sometimes, you have to justify the sin to survive.. because when you step foot on a battlefield, you aren't really yourself. You're this distorted version of who you are, baring a rifle as if it would bring you glory, I was still Adam Eavington when I was at war, but I wasn't me. “ - Adam Eavington

“ I know it feels like this darkness is all we can be, but don't you understand, shadows are deceiving? They follow us and mimic our every action, but those doppelgangers aren't us, they're a twisted vessel of what we never were. Because in truth, we'll never truly achieve the title of darkness, for that implies we're able to be without light, but with the sun shining on us, and the moon washing us in its pale yellow glow, we've found our lighthouse. “ - Adam Eavintgon

“ This is a war, and I'm the only enemy.” - Adanya Oni

“ Eternity is such a damning and distraught curse, and as I seek to find me, I find mirrors standing in front of me, regret flickering in their eyes, and I realize the only person who could ever be there for me, is me. I trace my fingers over the glass of my own cheeks, running a gentle finger over my own glass lip, asking myself why the only connection I have is with the woman in the mirror. Heavy is the burden of being myself. “ - Albersteen

“ I have grown so tired of me.” - Albersteen

“ I've seen a helluva lot in dis world, I seen angels fallin' bloodied from da sky and cruelty smilin' in the eyes 'a death, but I ain't da things I've been through, eh? I'm Abraham feckin' Carlson, and there's sumfin' beautiful about dat. “ - Abraham Carlson

“ I've been through quite a bit, but despite all this, I live and breathe like I was supposed to do, sadly, some people don't get this opportunity, some people are ripped into this world only to be killed the day they were born because of people who don't know how to love. So to all the broken, I'll be a lighthouse at sea, and though those waves crash down so violently and it feels like you've got a ship but no steering wheel, know that I'll lead you home with a light that never flickers. “ - Sandra Dickens

“ I'm Lorelei Metals, not my scars.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I know that this world feels like a big ol' cage, trapping us in the echoes of our mortality, but the key is acceptance that your memory will live on forever in the hearts of those you've loved. “ - Lorelei Metals

“ There's a devil and an angel within us all, and it's up to us to decide which one wins the battle waged inside our crooked lil hearts." - River Metals

“In my eldritch stride I steal all things holy.” - Algonul

“ I am all the shadows accumulated into all seven deadly sins, wiping star light from my lip as I take a taste of all that is holy and let it rattle in my throat. “ - Algonul

“ I am nothing more then a vessel in which darkness lives.” - Algonul

“ I'm a cruel man, and as you look for any sort of mercy in my eyes, you'll find it staring down the barrel of my fucking revolver. “ - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ I'm a sinner with his heart bared on his sleeve, look at all those scars, all those bullet holes, they're proof I've survived, and if I've lived through all these old assassination scars and treason laced holes, do you really think I can't survive you? “ - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ I'm screaming into a void of my broken sorrows, wondering why this abyss stares at me with unblinking eyes.” - Annalise Valley

“ When she holds me close to her chest I feel like I can finally be me, as she tucks strands of my hair behind my ear I know I'm gonna be okay, and as she kisses me soft with gentle lips, I know love is a magical thing, healing scars that hands can't touch. In her heart I found a beautiful song, and as I listened to its rhythm and leaned in close, she took my heart in her rough yet gentle hands and told me she'd heal all the broken parts inside. I don't know how I can possibly thank her, but as she tells me she loves me, I know that safe can't even begin to describe how I feel when I lay my head in her lap. “ - Amila Hemizvowe

“ I'm a girl of revolution and smoke, standing sturdy and tall amidst the war I've waged against the weakness that used to make me, but nowadays as I pull back the hammer of this revolver I don't flinch. Because killing has become second nature, and so as I stare down he who made me, I'll let him drop with my human nature." - Kaytlie Dextor

“ My heart is built of buried bones and dying secrets, and as all this violence seethes like rage in me, I know I'm just not the girl I used to be. “ - Kaytlie Dextor

“ In this world, there's cruel men who need to be put down like the dogs they are, and so with my jacket of hidden knives, dare you call me Karma? “ - Cosmina Winchester

“ I put up emotional walls in my mind to keep people out of my heart, because in all honesty there's a certain sense of freedom, in being able to control the way your heart beats. “ - Cosmina Winchester

“ I'm falling from grace on wings of fragile bone sanity, always asking if who I am is good, but I shudder with horror as I see the words flash like crimson on a screen in my mind, "Outlook not so good." I met a devil in the confines of an orphanage I should've been safe at, but he sipped on his delusions so much so that he'd become them, and as his shifty eyes glanced towards me, his boney fingers wrapping around my collar, dragging me to a room of darkness, I knew my life was over before it ever began. “ - Olive Junkshire

“ That man called him a Devil, but I always believed he was a fallen angel, clutching at the clouds with human fingers trying to find anything to stop him from falling regretful through the atmosphere of his sorrow. “ - Olive Junkshire

“ Maybe there aren't any heroes, maybe there aren't any villains, just people who took different god damn paths. “ - Ashelice Curt

“ I'm not a saint, but maybe I'm halfway there." - Ashelice Curt

“ Monsters are always human, they always have the kindest smiles, but they wear grins with bullet fangs, silver revolver glistening like death in the smile of a rich beast. “ - Ballen Morfellos

“ He wears my pain like a jacket, his sins hiding just underneath his sleeve, darkness nestled inside the fabric of my hurt, but I'll wear his pain like a fucking bullet grin. And as he stares down the barrel of my revolver, will he plead guilty and ask for mercy, or will he stand like a statue and greet his death with insanity bleeding from his forehead? “ - Bellerose Kivinstein

“ I was human, once. It was beautiful, the way the flowers recoiled and withered as I stepped into the garden, how the trees howled in pain as I scratched human claws against their bark. I am not life, my friend, but the opposite of it. “ - Bezeltorren

“ Truth is we're all a mosaic 'a all the people we've met and all the things we been, so as this light shines through me I know I'll always be somethin' beautiful, won' I? “ - Rosaline North

“ Some men like ta call 'emselves coyotes howlin' in the dark, and once I met a man in the forests who called himself just another animal, biting and barking at anythin' that gave him a reason. But ya know what? If he's jus' another animal, then I'll be jus' another got damn hunter. “ - Rosaline North

“ I've been goin' knuckle ta knuckle with evil men ever since I stared me rage ridden father in the eye, and so as I stumbled through life in a haze, wonderin' when I'd find myself in the eye of some bloody peace, Hymond caught me in 'is arms and danced with me in a storm 'a peace and love ever aching. That man is brave as all hell, and with his heart scarred and fragile in me hand, I kiss his wounds and stitch the scars in 'is mind together so we can always dance so beautifully.” - Cleopatra Peterson

“ I'd never met a soul so brave and beautiful until my eyes met her steely gaze. “ - Samantha Robertson

“ The world ain't wicked, but people sure as shit can be." - Samantha Robertson

“ I'm not the best man in the world, I've killed, I've cheated at cards and gotten people hurt, but at least I'm halfway fucking decent. For Naomi holds my fragile and scarred heart with a smile that saves the goodness inside of me. When she holds my hand, and tells me with my scarred and rough hands she trusts me completely, I know that I'll be okay despite the murder and rage that nestles in between the cracks of my ribcage. She is my peace, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her in my heart. So with my sin etched bones I pray that God is forgiving to he who has a kind, yet murder scarred heart. “ - Perov Teras

“ With a heart so stained, and a mind so scarred, I walk this path knowing it is Hell I deserve, but alas, Naomi says God forgives he who fights for the side of the right, and so I pray to every God listening to this poor broken soul that for once in my God forsaken life, I do not stray left of this path I tread on tattered tap dancing shoes." - Perov Teras

“ I am a fragile beast, please, spare me of the point end of your blade, I was never savage, only weak and frail, hiding in a corner of my mind so dark it'd turn any star into a shadow. “ - Beverly Himisear

“ I can look deep into the eyes of who I am and find someone I'm not swimming in my dark pupils, and as I recoil and wither in the sight of who I've become, I must ask why fate vowed against the troubled girl. “ - Beverly Himisear

“ I suppose this is all I can ever be, and so with sorrow lurking in my chest, sitting there fragile and gentle like a forgotten toy in a chest of more loved dolls, I rust away into something forgotten by time and me. “ - Beverly Himsear

“ As my brothers went disappearing in the night, I didn't know if I'd ever be okay again, cuz in truth, they were my heroes, and without them I felt so lost. But as Rebelle takes me by the hand and tells me we'll make it through all the treachery, I know I'll be okay. With them I feel so safe, and as they squish my widdle cheeks and calls me their cute little gremlin, I know that I couldn't possibly be more in love then I am. “ - Marine Scoviney

“ Its been such a better place since they came along, and as they kiss me gently under the light of the sun, I feel my heart burst with colors that only exist in the mind and soul. “ - Marine Scoviney

“ Oh I was just another starving question, but my answer was always dark and twisted, a decaying little rose in the dying cracks of emptiness and pain. So as I stalk these fields, cigar on my lip bursting sparks and chaos from my lip, dare you trifle with a dead man walkin'? “ - Borat Coolraymo

“ My friend, a skinny and starving boy is easy prey for a lion, and so I had ta become somethin' other then the rabbit, standing daintily in the field of wolves who intimidated the lion. So, I grew into my red fur, ripping into my skin, becomin' something less then human as I arose from my coffin a beast of a different kind. I ain't just some skinny and starvin' boy of Africa no more brother, I'm a red lion of the O'Connel outlaws, and as I grin, blood on my teeth, you best know it ain't mercy I'm firing from my revolver. “ - Borat Coolraymo

“ I wasn't born for peace, but maybe I can fight for it. I can feel the colors bleeding from my soul like paint dripping down a canvas, and as I rock myself back and forth, asking myself why this world didn't protect me, I come to realize that the world never made anyone safe. Because the world is dangerous, and I learned that too young. “ - Bowie Hunton-Blather

“ I feel as if, as I roll in these sheets I'm sleepin' in a strangers bed, wonderin' where who I am went, but as these blankets wrap 'round my throat like a noose, I know this, is who I am, and from now on out, always will be. As the darkness encroaches upon my vision, and I fall inta the dark, I know that no matter what I do, I will not escape being this beast called Shawn Moot. So with tragedy in my veins, regretfully I continue ta be me. “ - Shawn Moot

“ I can hardly travel these lands of trouble without finding the edge of a blade, running my fingers over the metal as to bleed this man I'm not from my finger tips. But I'm skin, I'm bone, I'm thoughts and withering roses, but the one thing I'm not, and never fucking will be, is Shawn Moot, and that, is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all." - Shawn Moot

“ I was just a wild gal, dancing at clubs and bars, wondering where my life went, but perhaps that too, was life. Living wild and free, trying to find someone to make my colors burst like fireworks booming in the night sky. I met him in a bowling alley, striking down pins with his buddies, and as I caught his eye, I wondered if perhaps that was life I was staring at. Sure, we had our troubles, we had our hardships, we had breaks, and we had fights. But in the end, I don't think I'd want anyone's heart but Rolando's in my gentle hands. “ - Bridget Shontell

“ My life has been troubled, I've met a man who barked at car lights and shadows, looking for any reason to bite, but I've also met peace in the eyes of a goofy and highly stupid guy who makes me laugh uncontrollably. “ - Bridget Shontell

“ Once upon a time I told myself I'd never dance again, but as she beckons me to the spotlight and tells me this dance would be her pleasure, I follow her, swaying gently back and forth into the light with a pained smile creeping up the corners of my lip. “ - Alexandria Hartman

“ As she dances fingers against my scars and tells me she loves me, I know that somewhere in this heart is a flame, sparking for a revolution against the darkness in me. But alas, I have always been a moth drawn to her own fucking flame, sparking up cigarettes in hope to find the light that draws me ever nearer to my demise on a golden sunrise. “ - Alexandria Hartman

“ I've been faced with trouble all my life, smoking cigars wonderin' if these sparks would be enough ta keep me warm, but they never was brother, they never was. “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ A good friend of mine once said that we're all just tryin' to be somebody, and maybe the fact that we're striving for that, means we've already grasped it. But I've always been a ghost, a grave etched with no name, and so am I really someone, or have I always been a lonely no one, sitting on the edge of a cigar, rising from it like the smoke of a dying man's breath? “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ Perhaps as life looks at me with sorrowed eyes, she mourns for the man who never lived, but if she could dance her fingers against my cold cheek, would she find Spring and Summer blossoming in my broken smile? Or would she find Winter and decaying bones ripping through my chest? Maybe she wouldn't find a man, but rather a ghost pretending ta be one. “ - Wesley Kamstool

“ Perhaps this grave of war and old gunshots is all I can really ever be. “ - Bri Calzato

“ All these scars have killed me ever so gently, and as I'm laid in the soil next to the worms and moles, I must wonder if this is what it means, to be alive. But this is no life I've lived, it's been death, disguised as the greater good. “ - Bri Calzato

“ I yearn for the gentle touch of someone who'll love me, battle scars and all, for maybe love would heal the wounds sitting idle on my breath, but these scars are roots dug deep into my heart, wrapping around my ribcage until I can hardly breathe without pieces of dirt and pain ripping themselves from out my throat. “ - Bri Calzato

“ I honestly fear I am nothing but a bullet cased grave, etched with a name that is not quite my own, and as I trace my fingers over the words and numbers that tell me when and how I died, I get this haunting feeling that I've never really lived. As if I am a ghost, haunting her own lonely little grave where all the flowers and roses came to wither and fade like me." - Bri Calzato

“ I'm caught in this war I wage in my mind, traveling this labyrinth of scars that sit in the hallway of my brain like sorrowed questions never to be answered by this heartbeat, and as I wade gently in these waters, they start flowing red with blood that has not ever been my own. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ With our blades we charge, but alas, as we swing them our hearts become blackened ash of a dying willow tree, and we have always been standing underneath the shade. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ My heart is such a long maze, and as I traverse through its shadows I wonder whom would so care to travel alongside me, for this dark place is a part of me, and to love me means you too, must be dark. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ I have come to the horrifying conclusion that we simply aren't human, anymore. We're little more than beasts, ripping at the seers threadwork fabric set before us, we follow blindly into destiny with hearts of steel and gnashing teeth, and gently, ever so gently the seers cut us from thread and watch us fall down ever so down into a hole of our own inhumanity. Perhaps this is their way of punishing us. For we poisoned the garden with our wicked hearts, asking why all the roses turned black, and why the daffodils withered and died. “ - Brooke Woodward

“ Ya know, as those two people fell in spurts of red and my misery, I knew I wasn't ever gonna be the same, so at the cost of another boy's peace, I protected my own. But I guess murder never gave peace to anyone, huh? It hides in the cracks of your heart, and as it sits there like a forgotten secret, you know it'll always be the blood ya bleed. “ - Bruce Willingfell

“ My sons tell me they love me, they say I'm their hero, Ragnar says as I accepted him as the king he is instead 'a the princess the world tried ta make him, he knew I would always be a hero ta me. And Jaspel would always smile, and say I'm a good father. But they don't know the murder in my heart, the secret bloodstains in my ribcage. “ - Bruce Willingfell

"The world never betrayed me brother, but you did." - Ralph Artvaina

"Once upon a time I wished upon shooting stars, asking for the mercy of my decaying, bruised and ugly heart. But alas, I found wishes never come true, and so here I sit, heartless." - Hartman Brokedallo

"You know, I've had too many mother's ta count, too many black toothed bloodied knuckled father's ta speak each individual name of the fists that broke me down ta tears and bone. I ain't never had family, every brother I ever had pushed me down flights 'a stairs and called me an outcast of his family. Every sister stabbed me in the fuckin' back, but when I get ta lookin' ta people who ain't known me for all that long, and I see some sense of, redemption swimmin' in the river of their pupils, I get ta wonderin' if family is found in ghosts and people mercy failed." - Ralph Artvaina

"I stared her eye ta eye, and I can't say I found a human swimmin' in them blackened, decaying pupils." - Ralph Artvaina

"I think I died the day I stared mercy dead in the eye and said, "This just ain't no truthful sort of matter." - Ralph Artvaina

"Justice isn't something we can change the definition of. If you twist the words and tangle the truths, you can't call it justice, all you can really do is call it what it is. A stone cold lie based in cruelty, and an agenda." - Hartvorth Devilsky

"Circumstance pushes people a helluva lot more than trust." - Darmina Lightsworth

"It is only in death I feel the presence of life." - Vokens Samtino

"If life is not an adventure, I'd much rather do something other than live." - Lewis Kifle

"Every once and awhile, God must let Lucifer roam earth as a reminder that not all in this world is beautiful." - Royal Hondros

"The heart that loves, perhaps, is the one that breaks." - Lukell Calderi

"I have found that she is not a garden, as those wither. She is not the sun, for it sinks, nor is she the moon, nor the stars, for her beauty and grace is unfaltering, and as I see her warrior's smile, I know that perhaps to be alone with her in this maze of my heart is not such a damning fate." - Brooke Woodward

"In that old revolver of secrets and the sins of a ghost, I met the darkness in me and walked willingly into the decay of my own broken heart." - Callina Troubrewskey

"He's a stain on my heart I don' wanna see go." - Dori Thievesmire

"To become something a little less than yourself is the loneliest achievement of all. And as I sit here, in a corner of my heart, I come to realize how lonely I really am." - Harpwrit Thievesmire

"If my heart was a chord, a melody of seven strings, I don't think anyone would care to listen." - Alckoline Thievesmire

"I looked at the world through a dead man's point of view, and came to realize death is not so peaceful after all. To sit lonely in your casket with the worms and bastards would be such a sorrowful sort of damnation." - Elfine Thievesmire

"Inside of me something real started to grow like a cancer, blossoming from my chest." - Myka Thievesmire

"I'd never claimed to meet death until I looked into the eyes of a Devil, who with a crooked and wicked grin tore his children, along with all whom knew them kicking and screaming from a garden of Eden." - Devanhue Connor

"Screw that destiny shit, take hold of your reigns, kid, don't lose control like I did. Cuz the only fate I can imagine that's worse than being me, is becoming me." - Denzel Thievesmire

"I'm one strike away from death, kid. Don't go damnin' yourself ta this fate of dead end home runs and hollow bones." - Denzel Thievesmire

"I can sense the death of identity in your smile, Rupen. Dare you place it in the tips of my fingers, only to watch it flitter away like cinders from my cigarette?" - Rucarlo Devinski

"Evil where's the face of the every day man." - Clarice Sanchez

"Aching and gentle I lost my heart. It was a cruel melancholy tune, drifting through the skies like a soft cinder, and as I reached for it with greedy paws, it slipped like water between my fingers." - Maxadellas Zonestrame

"It is not so easy, finding who you are in hiding echoes." - Camilla Davidson

"If you are loving, my father, give me all I had back and beg for forgiveness from the man peace never seemed to know. But I suppose you can not give me graves without grief." - Alastair Sambridge

"Here I sit, like sacrilege on my tongue." - Alastair Sambridge

"A grave is creeping up the corners of your sorrowed eyes." - Royal Hondros

"It is always Winter, in my ribcage." - Benjamin Samahil

"If she were to dig her fingers into the essence of my heart, I fear all she'd find is a dark shadow of who I am. And as tar and crimson spills between the fingers of the pure, does the kind become cruel? Does the loved become the hated?" - Benjamin Samahill

"I died long before I met you, you simply shoveled dirt in an already decaying casket." - Benjamin Samahill

"I met a man in the dying lights of my faith, and with an almost, life saving smile he changed the bulbs." - Rhys Breeze

"I am an extant form of man, no more am I Benjamin Samahill, just the vessel in which he once lived." - Benjamin Samahill

"I lay my hand on a Bible and it withers like the mercy in my heart." - Antonio Sharp

"Some people will take their bows and their arrows and catch fire to the flint headstones of death sitting idle on the wood of their instrument of murder. Some people will always crave chaos, but a true warrior craves peace, above all else." - Enzvilina Harbrita

"That woman dances with a ghost and expects to find something living beating inside her heart." - Hoshino Akinori

"Pieces 'a his reflection become marred with mine." - Sandro Colorfeid

"Is it really madness if it brings you peace?" - Moores Thomas

"My brother once said he was a rabid Stoneshire dog, and it's with fear dripping down the notches of my spine I say, I'm a blood hungry Stoneshire wolf." - Mackton Stoneshire

"Every man who's lain dead at my feet haunts me, but, with a badge on my chest and a heart that rarely feels, I pull another trigger and call it justice." - Vayton Camilo

"In a kill or be killed world, I must regretfully call myself more then a grave." - Vayton Camilo

"My brother looks at me with human eyes, but it's hate tangled in his love for his own life that makes him something less then the man I knew." - Marvin Grudges

"You ever look at yourself through the lens of someone you know and realize, you ain't never been the good guy?" - Marvin Grudges

"In the gunfire smoke of another day, I traverse through the heart of war, wondering if it beats inside my ribcage." - Ulysses Tenbarge

"It's not life that kills people, it's not cruelty or the sea. Trust in strangers and people with kind smiles has killed more men then I've ever watched go down in sprays of red mortality." - Narthal Vormalew

"I met cruelty in the eyes of a widow, heart bared black on her empty sleeve." - Dante Dunbar

"I don't understand the fundamental roots of evil, all that I know is, I'm swingin' from 'em." - Dante Dunbar

"They stood still at his grave, like vultures, who knew their job was done." - Sarvel Humington

“ You want protection, right? You wanna make a name for yourself in the notches of history? Then come with me, cause this town is full of crooks and broke back cheats, we're all reapers here, so let me give ya your damn scythe." - Sarvel Humington

"Tell me somethin' kid, if a man can look death eye ta eye every day of his God forsaken life, what do you think he'll do when faced with life?" - Sarvel Humington

"I was like a wet cat, scratchin' and tearin' at anything that got damn near two inches 'a me. And god damn brother, something about that chaos just killed me." - Sarvel Humington

"I would watch for monsters under your bed, child. You have no idea what hides in the wake of nightmares and dreams." - Mizella Shrew

“ You can't jump into the casket of secrets and expect it not to close." - Moores Thomas

“ Sometimes there's a little monster prowling in the depths of our mind, he stamps his little feet, always wearing a cute little frown, but don't let that grumpiness inside of him get to your heart, because that's when it gets real difficult to exorcise this nasty little monster who holds you down. “ - Krystie Shontell

“ am caught in a bad dream, except every time I close my eyes, I escape it. If only for a mere night, I escape my mind. I've never been able to dream, really. My mind doesn't conjure images for me to see, well, in a sense it does, just not in the sense that I dream. I can picture a meadow of grass, I can picture the nights of terror, I can picture the darkness inside of my mind, but I don't particularly dream. I hit the pillow and wake up. And on the rare occasion that I do dream, it is my mother I see in the dark. “ - Zachariah Rinderez

“ I am a king without his crown, wondering why his kingdom ever followed him into battle. “ - Bardzimi Collingwood

“ They call this strange land, New York city, they say it's filled to the brim with corruption, evil spilling from the side of the glass. “ - Russel Cormelius

“ You can deny the innate desire within to hunt down those who kicked you down, but is it really worth it, to let your enemies escape and watch as they continue their ways? As they say, be merciful to the cruel and you're cruel to the merciful. “ - Pascal Von Reddix

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Among These Pages

Summary: After a painful breakup, you move to a new town and you’re instantly attracted to a small bookshop near your new residence. The new owner has definitely caught your eye.

Warnings: Smut and mild cursing

A/N: So this idea originated from a Discord chat (again) in an Arthur specific server. Needless to say this one was fun to write.

The hot sun beat down amongst the worn cement and faded asphalt of this little town you now called home. Bright and sunny, though a little bit too hot for your taste. You quickened your pace to seek the shade of a tree, careful to keep out of the paths of others.

Having slight relief from the blistering sun, you squinted around for another view of your surroundings. A small, quaint village bustling with its inhabitants. The streets were lined with independent shops, restaurants and cafes. The buildings and walkways were splashed with brightly colored plants and paint, immediately setting a cheerful vibe in the atmosphere.

After spending the first day moving in and unpacking, you decided to take a break and explore your new residence. You’ve only really experienced it through your car windows, and stopped in one of the cafes once or twice. However, you now wanted the full experience. Though with how sweltering it was, you were probably better off driving.

You fanned yourself for a moment and cast your attention down the length of the block. More food, smoothies, coffee, ice cream, except you weren’t all that hungry at the moment.

However, another sign caught your eye. Though too far to see, your curiosity spiked and you walked forward. As you drew in closer shapes began to appear, along with letters. Morgan Books, painted in gold lettering in a distinctly Western styled font. Underneath was a stack of books with one opened on top. A bookshop. Being from where you were, you were used to the large corporate bookstores. You hadn’t come across an independently owned one in years.

Checking this place out was a perfect excuse to get out of the sun for a bit. You increased your pace until you were standing at the store front. The building like the others surrounding had a somewhat rustic appearance, part of the charm that attracted you to living here. The windows were dusty and the inside was fairly dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of shelves. You approached the entrance and pulled open the door, ringing a bell overhead. You stepped across the threshold to be greeted by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

You sighed in relief and looked around. The shop itself was fairly small, or at least appeared that way as it was full of multiple bookcases, all of which were stacked floor to ceiling with books. The floorboards creaked elsewhere, and you turned to see someone appear from around one of the shelves.

A man, tall and broad-framed. He offered a quick smile. “Hey there, welcome!”

“Hello.” You greeted him politely.

He stepped closer, allowing a better view of his face. You couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked. “Need help findin’ anything?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, just exploring, really. I saw this place and I wondered what sort of treasures lurked within.” You lightly joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll find plenty here. Got new n’ used, so feel free to look ‘round.”

You nodded in response, and turned your attention toward the endless amount of books. You scanned the shelves, following along with the signs marked on top of which cases held which topics. You found that he had a little bit of everything; from encyclopedias to New Age books, to computer guides (from the early 2000’s) to conspiracy theories. You had to giggle to yourself upon reading some of the synopses for a collection of the more esoteric pieces.

Time soon became lost to you with more exploration. All the while the man who greeted you earlier moved through the shop occasionally. After a while it felt like you’d been here for ages. When you checked your phone, you’d realized nearly a half hour passed since first walking into this place. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t anticipated spending that much time here.

As you were putting your phone away and moved toward the front of the shop, the man sat at his register and caught your attention.

“So, find any treasures?” he casually asked.

You paused to turn to him. “Guess I did, you have a…uh, an interesting collection.” You responded, tilting your head back toward some of the shelves.

He nodded in agreement, offering you a half-smile. “You’d be surprised what people come in askin’ for, or what people come in to sell.”

“Well if I needed a how-to book on Windows 2000, I’ll know where to stop by.” You said with a giggle.

He shook his head and smiled even more. “See? Those books have been on them shelves for years. Ain’t sure why I still keep ‘em ‘round.”

“Antiquity value perhaps?” you joked.

He gave a small, hearty laugh. “’Spose so. Guess I should get rid of ‘em, they belong in a museum at this point.”

His laughter made you smile. “Anyway, I should be heading back home and unpack some more…”

His expression changed to curiosity. “You jus’ move here?” when you nodded, he asked, “Where from?”

“Couple hours north,” you answered. “Needed a change of scenery, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “You’ll be glad ya moved here. This lil’ town has its charms, folks here are nice too.”

“I’m glad, believe me,” you sighed. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad to have found this bookstore too, it adds to the charm.”

He grinned at you. A cute, slightly lopsided grin that somehow made your heart flutter. “Glad you think so.”

---

The next two days was spent unpacking the rest of your house, keeping yourself focused on it to have everything organized before the first day of your new job. It was Sunday, and by noon you’d finally unwrapped the last of your décor and placed it accordingly in your living room. You smiled to yourself as your eyes panned across the room, proud of how much you’d accomplished in just three days. Sure, you didn’t have too many possessions, yet it was a relief to tackle the largest of chores.

Though you hadn’t expected to finish this soon. With only half the day gone, you wondered what else to do. You supposed you could explore more, and that little shop on the corner popped up in your mind, along with the image of the handsome owner…

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by again.

After a quick lunch break and heading outside, it was only fifteen minutes of walking before you reached your destination. It wasn’t as hot out today which you were thankful for. You strode up to the door and pulled it open, the bell once again alerting your incoming presence.

As soon as you stepped in, your eyes darted to the shopkeeper who sat behind the register. He peered up at your entrance.

“Hey, welcome back!” he greeted with enthusiasm.

You blinked in surprise. “You remember me?”

“’Course, when ya live in a small town, you tend to remember faces,” He explained. “Y’back to find more treasures?”

You smiled. “In a way, I finished unpacking earlier than expected so I thought I’d come back into town for a bit.”

“So you’re all settled in then?” he asked.

“For the most part. I start my new job tomorrow, so I’d figure I use my free time productively by…looking for more old computer manuals.”

He chuckled at that. “Now that ya mentioned it, I think I better do some inventory o’ the place. Might as well get rid of the useless stuff,” He spoke while standing up. “I won’t get in your way.”

You nodded, sidestepping as he rounded from around the counter to move past you. As he passed by, a short whiff of his cologne wafted through your nostrils. He smelled good, and you briefly turned your head to take a look as he walked away. He was certainly broad, almost too broad to fit in this little shop. Yet he moved between the bookcases with ease.

He turned a corner, obscuring himself from your vision. You turned your attention back to the books, looking for the topics that would particularly spark your interest.

It’d fallen quiet, aside from the creak of floorboards and sliding of books across wood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pass back and forth with a few in his hands, carrying them towards the back. You’d sneak another glance or two without him looking, appreciating his physique.

After a little while, you found yourself poring over a book on the religion of Wicca. It was something that piqued your interest in your earlier life, though never had a chance to really learn about it. You’d only just began to skim through it, although the content was interesting enough that you started to read.

A loud crash emanated elsewhere in the shop, causing you to jump in surprise. The shopkeeper hissed out a curse, prompting you to peer around in search of the source.

“You okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh of annoyance. “Jus’ one o’ these shelves fell apart.”

You listened to the sounds of him attempting to clean up the mess, and followed it through the narrow aisles until you found him. He was bent over, attempting to collect the disheveled books spilled at his feet.

“Here, let me help.” You said, automatically starting forward.

“No, you don’t have to –” he began, glancing up at you.

“There’s a lot here.” You stated, gathering a few into your arms.

He didn’t argue further, and together the two of you managed to collect them all. He nodded in thanks and headed toward the back once again, with you on his heels. He led you to an open door to reveal a small back room. From over his shoulder you spotted a chair and desk, and a pile of books placed haphazardly on top of it. He placed his armful on an empty space and gestured for you to do the same. Once you emptied your arms and exited the back room, you turned to him.

“Thank you.”

You nodded to him. “You’re welcome…” you glanced around the shop again, and an idea struck your mind. “Need any more help?”

“Nah, jus’ ‘bout halfway done I think.” He answered, placing his hands on his hips.

“I could help with that though,” you pointed out, though surprised at yourself for even offering. “Kinda curious what else you got that’s ancient and obsolete.”

“Oh there’s plenty…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck while he peered around as a thoughtful look painted his face. “Tell ya what, if ya find anything interestin’ that need to be off the shelves, I’ll let ya keep it for free.”

Bewilderment crossed your mind. “Wouldn’t you be losing money then?”

“A couple of ‘em won’t hurt business,” he said. “Better n’ throwin’ ‘em out or puttin’ em in storage, ya know?”

You didn’t want to decline his offer since he had a good point, yet you still felt bad regardless. “Alright, fair enough.”

And so you set to help him. All the while you two held a casual conversation. You learned his name was Arthur, and that he owned this place for a few years. Other than running this store he lived on a small ranch on the edge of town. You shared a little bit about yourself, including your career and a couple of shared interests you had with him.

Surprisingly enough, you’d pulled out many more old texts than you anticipated. Some were so worn and dog-eared that there was no resale value, and Arthur told you to just throw them away. Throwing away books? You instead convinced him to give them away, and he found an empty box and labeled it “Free Books”. You skimmed through them briefly to see if they caught your eye, yet none did and they ended up in the box.

After a little over an hour passed before the both of you picked the place clean. You dusted your hands off after placing the last few in the box. Arthur picked it up and carried it outside, placing it on the sidewalk. We walked back in and said, “Hope that gives ‘em some good use.”

“Hey, people will take anything free,” you pointed out. “Maybe even pull in more revenue for you.”

“Well here’s hopin’,” he sighed, briefly glancing toward the floor before meeting your gaze with a small smile. “Thanks for the help again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome Arthur, I actually had fun helping you.” You answered with a grin.

He chuckled softly. “Fun, eh?”

You nodded. “Sure, you’re a nice guy and fun to talk to.” You answered.

You weren’t sure, but his face reddened a touch as he ducked his head. He laughed again, shy and…cute. “Thank you, though I ain’t that much of an interestin’ person.”

“Nah, I beg to differ,” you argued lightly. “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back. I like it here, and if you’d need any more help…”

“You’ve been more than helpful Y/N,” he answered, waving his hand as if trying to flit away your words. He then paused, realization crossing his face. “Actually…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” you pressed.

“Well,” he released a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, business ain’t as good as I’d hoped. I’ve been tryin’ to think of new advertisin’ strategies, pull in more customers. Problem is I ain’t too good at it.”

“So…you’re asking me to help you advertise? Or create one for you?” you questioned.

“I know it ain’t fair to ask,” Arthur answered quickly, his face shadowed with a look of guilt. “We hardly know each other and you jus’ moved here –”

“I’ll do it.” You softly interrupted.

He blinked, staring at you in surprise. “Whuh?”

“I said I’ll do it,” you repeated, smiling at him. “Luckily for you, I took a few advertising arts classes in college.”

The surprise remained on his face. “Uh –” he huffed, and cleared his throat. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’ –”

“I’m not, Arthur,” you assured him. “You were gonna ask for a reason right? I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t used my art skills in years. Might as well put them to use again.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You affirmed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll give me something fun to do after work.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He finally nodded and spoke, “Alright, as long as I ain’t troublin’ you with it.”

“No trouble at all,” you replied with another smile. “I’ll come up with something good, I promise.”

His smile matched yours. “Then I look forward to it.”

---

The next few weeks kept you busy. After settling in at your new job and coming home to sit at your computer to design flyers didn’t leave you much time for other activities. Still you stopped by the bookshop to plan with Arthur and discuss strategies, or suggested many ideas that he seemed to like. You laid out a few thumbnails of different designs for him to pick and choose, narrowing it down to two that he really liked.

You stopped by every day to update the progress, even when you didn’t have to. Admittedly you were enjoying his company, and you had a feeling he liked yours as well. After moving to a town where you knew no one and were far from your family and old friends, you were just fine with considering Arthur as one. As time passed on he’d become friendlier and more open to you, offering you a drink or snack even when you’d come by for a few minutes.

Sometimes you’d stay longer just as an excuse to be close to someone other than your new coworkers, and to admire how nice he looked. He always dressed in either button-up shirts or a nice T-shirt and Wrangler jeans like a cowboy, the fabric accentuating his broad frame in all the right ways. His sandy hair was trimmed neatly, and he kept his face somewhat clean shaven, although something about having stubble lined across his sharp jaw set a spark within you.

A relationship was the furthest thing on your list at the moment, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire how attractive he was.

Soon after you produced a finished product, and quite proud of the result after not having designed anything since your college days. It was a weekend which meant you were free, and upon printing out a nice colored version, you headed to the bookshop almost instantly.

Arthur loved it, as you had hoped. He paid for multiple copies to be printed and distributed around the town, and you spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles and handing them out in some of the shops. You thankfully had gotten a positive response from most of those you’ve spoken with, which gave you hope. You wondered how Arthur was doing on his end.

After a few hours you’d met back up at the shop, tired and arms empty, but Arthur looked as pleased as you did. You settled down in the back room while he handed you a water bottle from his mini fridge. You took it gratefully and gulped a swig, sighing in relief.

“I think we did good.” you said as he settled across from you.

He nodded in response, followed by taking a drink from his own bottle. “I think so too, lotsa people seem interested.”

“I would figure more people would come in here often.” You said thoughtfully.

“You’d think, but this place is more of a tourist trap than anything,” Arthur responded. “Can’t complain, but I understand. Ya get used to one place, it gets borin’ after a while.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the beginning of a new era for this place.” You enthusiastically gestured to the surroundings with a flourish.

Arthur smiled at you, chuckling as he took another drink of water. He didn’t speak, however your eyes met his. You’d never noticed before how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were. From a distance they appeared blue, yet you could detect hints of bright green surrounding his pupils. You wanted to view them even closer. Somehow you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

The entrance bell however sounded, pulling your attention and his toward the front of the store. The telltale signs of potential customers. Arthur glanced out in surprise, and immediately stood up to greet the newcomers. You stayed in the back room while he dealt with the customers, listening to their voices with a smile on your face. Who would have thought it would work that quickly?

You left shortly after, catching Arthur’s eye briefly as you walked by him helping out a young couple that wandered in. A gaze that lingered a second longer than you intended, however you felt it was best to leave him to deal with his shop at the moment.

—-

Two weeks passed and you hadn’t stopped by Arthur’s shop, mainly because each time you passed by, the building seemed to be teeming with customers. You felt more than happy, and proud of yourself that you helped a business owner earn more revenue after a dull streak.

You did find yourself missing his company. Each day he hung in your mind like a cloud. You certainly liked him enough to call him a friend, yet those gorgeous eyes of his would meet you in your dreams.

That following Saturday evening, you received a text from him.

Hey, would you mind stopping by?

He was vague yet direct. Perhaps he was going to ask you another favor? Either way you were excited to see him again, and to inquire how everything was going. You headed over just minutes after responding to his text, hoping your eagerness didn’t overflow into your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the closed sign hanging in the window, which explained the lack of people this time. It was just past 7 pm, and you walked up the door and knocked. Movement shadowed behind the glass and Arthur’s silhouette appeared just a moment later, meeting your gaze between the glass and smiling wide. He opened the door.

“Hey there, come on in.” He stepped back and gestured.

You walked in and turned to face him. “So, I’ve noticed business has gotten better recently.”

“All thanks to you,” he responded, the grin on his face only growing wider. He then lifted his hand to reveal he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “I wanna thank ya.”

You blinked at the alcohol, surprised by this but you didn’t have any objections. You smiled and nodded in approval. “You don’t have to thank me Arthur, but I’m not about to turn down a good drink.”

He chuckled heartily. “Sure I do, the booze is jus’ a bonus. C’mon.” He waved toward the back room and strode for it, and you were right behind him. Once he stepped inside he grabbed a couple of plastic cups, and filled the both of them with a few cubes of ice. He then poured in the whiskey before topping them off with some soda. He handed a cup to you, and then held up his own.

“To you, for your design and advertisin’ skills.” He said, although rather awkwardly. You figured he wasn’t good at that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind. Bringing your cup to tap against his, you smiled again and took the first sip simultaneously with him. The sweet soda tinged with the smokey bitterness of the alcohol was a pleasant mixture against your tastebuds.

It was quiet for a moment, and Arthur took another sip before drawing in a deep breath. He focused on you. “Drink’s good?” He asked.

You nodded, taking another sip of your own. “Very. Haven’t had a chance to have a good drink since I moved here. Had to resort to a few gas station beers.”

He snorted softly, a small smile of amusement appearing on his face. “Gotta introduce you to the good bar in town sometime.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? There’s a bar here?”

“‘Course, every small town has a bar,” he pointed out. “It ain’t on any of these main roads though, it’s closer to the outskirts. I imagine ya probably didn’t explore that much.”

“Can’t say I have,” you said thoughtfully. “But I’ll take up the offer of you showing me.”

“Jus’ name a time, ya won’t be disappointed.” He confidently replied.

You finished your first drink after a little while and Arthur poured you a second to which you were not opposed to. The effects were taking hold of you before you knew it. Your lips were looser with each sip you took, and you found Arthur was the same way. The two of you spoke about random topics, anything ranging between favorite colors to what you cooked yesterday. Things that were otherwise too boring to discuss, yet somehow with Arthur they seemed more interesting.

A little while later, the conversation became deeper. Arthur spoke some about his earlier life and what kind of environment he was raised in, and how his teenage years were spent bitterly. You shared the reason why you moved: you were previously living with your significant other, only to find your shared bed occupied by two bodies when you arrived home early one day when you weren’t feeling well. The reveal absolutely crushed you, which led into an emotional spiral and you looking for a new place to live the next day.

It’d been a little over a month since then. Your mind was still heavy on the breakup until you stopped by here the first time. Arthur and his charming little shop seemed to absorb any lingering sadness you had. Seemed like both yesterday and ages ago.

Regardless of the story, the pair of you were chortling in good spirits. You ranted about all the negatives about your old partner, releasing the leftover bitterness you’ve suppressed and turned it into humor. It only heightened your mood more, and with each drink it only increased.

After a few more minutes it quieted down again, though the smiles remained on your faces. You since became immune to the sting of whiskey, immensely enjoying the flavors and the inebriation that accompanied it.

Arthur reached over and poured himself another helping. His sigh caught your attention. He stared down into his cup, fixated with a thoughtful expression.

“I gotta say, I’m glad you wandered in here that day.” He murmured, peering at you with a sidelong look.

“Yeah?” you chirped.

He nodded slowly, taking a swig of his drink before focusing onto you with a serious gaze. “I’ll be honest, I was thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ up.”

You were taken aback by this statement. “Why?”

“You saw for yourself. Hardly any business. Shelves lined with books decades old,” he snorted without humor. “Truth is openin’ this place ain’t even my idea.”

“Then whose was it?” you pressed tilting your head in curiosity.

“My fiancée’s,” he smiled bitterly, gently swirling his drink. “Eh, ex-fiancée. Had the grand idea to run a business together. Picked out this place herself. N’ like a fool I fell for it.”

Ex-fiancée. Your heart raced upon learning this new information, and you wondered what happened between them. Would it be too prying to ask? “So…what changed?”

Arthur shrugged. “She found someone else more interestin’. Said we had too many differences in our lives to really enjoy each other…” he trailed off to take another sip, his eyes shifting to gaze in the distance.

Your heart broke for him. Rather than wallowing in those feelings, you instead asked another question. “But why hold on to this place if it was her idea?”

His gaze pulled back to you. “Guess for a while I was hangin’ on to the dream that she’d come back n’ pick up where we left off. Obviously that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?”

You frowned at this. Hell, you understood that pipe dream all too well. There was a brief time where you wished your ex would come after you like in the movies in some dramatic fashion, pouring out apologies and begging you to come back. Wishful thinking.

You noted his hand was resting against the table. In a quick movement you reached over and placed your hand comfortingly on his forearm, and offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not stupid at all. You loved her and you held on to the one thing that you knew she loved too.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to your hand. “For too long,” he sighed. “After a while I knew there was no chance. Still I continued, kept this place open for my own sake. Came here every mornin’ with a rock in my stomach, least until recently.” He explained, his voice softening towards the end. He peered over to you again.

Your heart raced once again. The way he was looking at you… it was obvious as to why he mentioned that last bit. Hell, you knew for a while. He wasn’t subtle about trying to steal glances your way these past few weeks. As attractive as he was, you were denying yourself of your own feelings out of protection. It felt too soon after your last relationship, although it seemed Arthur had been single for a while. You were afraid you’d change your mind. “And why is that?” you asked, wanting to play dumb to hide your initial hesitation.

His arm moved – at first you thought he was pulling away, until his hand met yours. Palm to palm, skin rough but warm. His fingers entwined with yours and you automatically did the same. “I think you know,” he murmured.

His thumb smoothed against the back of your hand. Your eyes bore into his. Such a gorgeous light blue, glistening in the lamplight of this tiny room. Despite the table in between the two of you, it was hardly an obstacle to view him in better focus. Upon closer inspection, you could detect pools of green surrounding his pupils, reminding you of tropical beaches.

His lips were parted, wafting his gentle breath against your face. Scented with alcohol and the sweetness of soda, he seemed to be growing closer.

You closed the space immediately, the booze flowing in your system offering a boost of confidence. His mouth was surprisingly soft against yours, and within seconds he returned the favor. Your free hands joined, mirroring their counterparts with ease. He pulled you closer with no effort.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly to stare at you with a soft expression. He released your hand to cup your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch with a smile.

“You don’t have to hold on to those thoughts anymore.” you sighed to him.

His smile mirrored yours. “Neither do you.”

---

It was nothing but pure bliss following that night. You’d fallen into a routine to spend some time with him every day, even when you had work. Arthur was such a sweet lover and was not hesitant to hold you whenever he had a chance. His arm around your waist, or pulling you into his lap. You helped around the bookshop more, even when he told you that you didn’t have to. Yet you insisted, and redecorated some of it to give a new energy while keeping its rustic look. It certainly attracted even more customers.

He took you to the bar as promised, and it quickly became a regular spot for casual dates. It was just as charming as he explained, accompanied with lovely patrons and entertainment. You were soon completely comfortable with this small town, completely integrated into its community thanks to Arthur. People often recognized your face from the bookshop, and the praise following was something he was elated to hear about.

A couple of months have passed, and you swore Arthur’s smile grew bigger each and every day. He looked forward to running the business again, and left those bitter thoughts of his ex behind with the help of you.

One particularly slow weekend day, you were spending time in the shop as usual. It was late afternoon and the last customer left an hour ago, thus creating a quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Closing time would be in less than an hour, and you just assumed no one else would be wandering in.

While Arthur manned the register, albeit with boredom, you began to observe some of the newer inventory. The shelves were thankfully lined with more recent texts to fill in the gaps of what you’d sorted through previously. Once again you found yourself coming across the book of Wicca again, the same one you were skimming through just months earlier. You were surprised no one purchased it with the heavy amount of traffic that passed through.

The book served as a better distraction than you realized. You pored over it, so focused on the information that you didn’t notice the presence that loomed over you until gentle hands found your waist.

“You can keep that if ya want.”

You blinked in surprise, turning your head to look at him. “No, I’d feel weird about it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s still your store, I just can’t take it.” You pointed out.

He shook his head and quietly laughed. “Ah, it’s alright sweetheart. I know you were interested in that. ‘Sides, it’s been sittin’ here for months, n’ I can always order more if people want ‘em. Pretty sure it’s here for ya.”

“I still feel like I should pay…or something.” You murmured, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Now I don’t wanna hear none o’ that,” Arthur lightly chided you, despite wrapping his arms around your waist. “I never did properly thank you for all the help you���ve given me.”

You turned around in his grip, giving him a playful smirk. “As if all this affection wasn’t repayment enough?”

“’Course not,” he snickered, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Think I got quite a while ‘fore I’m even,” he reached over and plucked the book from its spot, and pressed it into your hand. “Until then, take this.”

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the spine, and you sighed again. He was adamant about you keeping this book, and there was no use arguing with him. No point in denying a free gift anyway. “Alright, I’ll keep it.”

He smiled in response. “Don’t ever think y’gotta pay for somethin’ in here. If ya like it, then help yourself.”

“You tell that to all the girls?” you asked.

“Only to the ones I like.” He replied with a wink.

You giggled, stepping back to lightly slap his chest with the book. “Alright you, I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, drawing you back in for a hug and another kiss. “See ya tomorrow, darlin’.”

Breaking from the embrace, you headed toward the exit. Somehow you hadn’t noticed how much darker it got outside until you saw the iron-gray storm clouds through the door. You opened it just as a loud thunder clap rumbled through the air, vibrating the floor beneath you. A split second later, rain began to fall.

Well shoot, you walked here today.

Arthur’s low hum sounded behind you. He stepped up beside you to observe the weather. “Guess you ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Guess not.” You agreed. You weren’t opposed to staying longer, however you were hungry and some leftover pizza at home was calling your name. Hopefully this storm would be quick.

Arthur seemed to have read your mind. “Got some snacks in the back, c’mon.” He said, reaching your free hand and leading you through to the back room.

The two of you settled at the table with a shared small helping of cut fruit. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to curb your appetite for the time being. It was quiet aside from the raging storm, which settled to an even calmer atmosphere. You popped a grape into your mouth, peering over at Arthur as he munched on an apple slice.

His eyes met yours. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?” he asked jokingly.

You snickered, scooting closer. “Yeah, a whole lot of handsome.”

He snorted and shook his head with a dejected smile. You learned early on that his self-esteem was low, even though he hid it fairly well. Any comments toward his physical appearance was usually deflected.

“It’s true, you know.” You insisted. “You ever see how some girls stare at you when they’re here?”

“Nah, only ever got eyes for you, darlin’.” He answered.

“It’s pretty obvious,” you continued. “They’re not so subtle with their googly eyes, even when they try to be.”

Arthur laughed again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Guess I’m blind to it.”

“You must be, if you can’t tell how sexy you are…” you stood up briefly to slide into his lap. Your hands cradled his face. “Probably the most attractive man in this town.”

His cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink, ducking his head slightly to avert your gaze. “You’re jus’ bein’ sweet.”

“I’m being truthful,” You corrected, slipping your hand beneath his chin to tilt his face back up. Once he was looking at you again, your hands moved to his shoulders, down his arms and to finally take his hands. “I could stare at you all day, you know.”

He chuckled in response, entwining his fingers with yours. “I could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Ah, but this is about you…” you spoke softly, pulling his hands up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “From your gorgeous eyes to your sexy jawline to your absolutely stunning body. And the way you dress? It’s like you do it on purpose just to make me feel all hot and bothered.”

“I don –”

You gently shushed him by planting your lips on his. Tasting faintly of fruit, your tongue swiped out to steal the flavor from his lips. You pulled back to see the flustered expression on his face, his mouth betraying a slight smile tugging at the corners.

He released your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer on his lap. “Guess I can’t complain if you like it all.” He murmured.

“And then some.” You added, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He drew you in for a second kiss, softer and sweeter than the previous. He held you close to him, his body warm and solid against you. Seconds ticked by as it gradually grew deeper and more fervent. His tongue slowly invaded your mouth which you happily accepted. His large hands smoothed up and down your back, both soothing and igniting your body. A soft moan slipped from your mouth, unintentional yet you didn’t regret it.

This caught his attention. He paused and parted the kiss, confusion plain in his expression. His eyes however betrayed his thoughts, aquatic pools shining brightly in the lamplight. He wanted more and was held back by his hesitation. It seems like you would have to take the lead.

You offered a soft nod to him, a silent acquisition of permission for his unmentioned desire. Removing your hands from around his neck, you reached down and peeled your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Arthur’s eyes widened, staring without shame at your chest, only reflecting the hunger in its prominence. He moved then to attach his mouth to the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lovingly. Your head tilted to allow him more access, quietly encouraging him to explore more of your body.

He did just that. His calloused palms roamed the expanse of your back. His fingers trailed with feather-light precision up your spine. You shuddered in his grip, arching your back and pressing against him even more. He rumbled softly in appreciation while his other hand found the zipper of your jeans. You anticipated feeling him venture further, only for him to grip your ass. He stood up, catching you off-guard and you expelled a yelp. His journey with you was short as he brought you back down, resting your back on the table before him. You locked eyes with him as he smiled down at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. He dragged his fingers down your midline to the hem of your pants, gripping them to tug them straight off.

You were now down to your underclothing while he was still fully dressed. He was certainly moving fast. “You’re gorgeous too…” he muttered, his gaze scanning you up and down with great interest. He rested his hands on your hips, standing in between your legs. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, moving his lips in a steady line following his trail from earlier. Looping his fingers through your underwear, he pulled them down just as his face reached just below your navel.

He tossed your panties with your other discarded clothing. As exposed as you were, you didn’t feel embarrassed. Your yearning for him was driving you wild. He kissed your mound before taking his spot in the center, and a split second later the wet presence of his tongue appeared along your slit, searching for his target until he honed in on it.

Good lord, who knew he was so good at oral?

You covered your mouth while he worked his magic against you, moaning quite loudly through your fingers. He held your trembling legs tightly against his shoulders, occasionally peering up at you for validation. Your other hand carded through his soft hair, allowing your touch to encourage him further.

He toyed with your entrance, exploring your inner walls. It wasn’t long until he hit that spot, a toe-curling and edge-gripping sensation that had you squealing his name. You were thankful this place was empty for once. He rubbed your inner thigh, offering his own encouragement. Your climax was arriving almost too quickly for you to comprehend. “A-Arthur,” you gasped. “God –“

You could barely utter another word as your pleasure washed over you like a powerful tidal wave, snapping your legs tightly to him while he lapped at you, drawing it out until you were writhing and whimpering from overstimulation. He broke free from your grasp with ease, standing back up to stare down at you.

As your breath evened out, you sat up slowly. “Where did that come from?” you asked.

He chuckled, offering you that crooked smile you loved so much. “I do have some tricks up m’ sleeves.”

You giggled with him, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He leaned into your embrace, joining his lips to yours for a short kiss. You brought yourself to your feet and pressed closer to him, highly aware of what rested against your thigh. Sliding your arms off, you knelt down. “I got tricks of my own too.”

Before he could speak, you palmed him through his jeans. He took a deep breath, easing out a quiet moan to you. You nimbly unzipped his confinements, reaching in to fish out his already hardened manhood. He was larger than you anticipated, but not enough to intimidate you. You wrapped your hand around, finding him thick in circumference. To describe him as well-endowed would only serve him some justice. Your fingers couldn’t touch.

You peered up at him. He was staring at you with curiosity, the rosy tint in his cheeks only increasing. There was still a hesitant energy to him, enough to not push you further.. You offered him a slow rub, memorizing every inch in your hand from root to tip. He released a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

A soft smile crossed your lips, and you brought yourself forward to kiss his hot skin. You parted your lips to slowly engulf him, keeping your eyes locked to his. Your tongue slid languidly along his silky flesh, drawing along the thick vein that lay on the underside. Soon you had a set rhythm, bobbing your head in an undulating movement. He moaned deeply, breaking his gaze to tilt his head back. His fingers tangled within your hair, a gentle hold that prompted you to take more of him.

The sounds he made were glorious. Guttural groaning with your name, pet names, wrapped with his pleasure. His palm pressed against the back of your head. As gentle as he was, you sensed an urgency behind it. And so you dove further, swallowing him whole with some effort.

“Oh –” he huffed, his hips shuddering with a small buck. “Shit, darlin’. S-sorry.”

You uttered a soft hum and rubbed his thigh soothingly in response. Pulling your mouth back, you deep throated him again. He swore out loud a second time and gripped a nearby chair. You repeated a third time, raising your hand to fondle his balls through his jeans. His breathing became erratic the longer you pleased him, taking him whole with long swallows and a wiggle of your tongue. He gripped your hair hard, though he broke any direct contact with your head, too lost in his ecstasy to aid your movement.

Though hardly any time passed when he spoke your name. “Sweetheart, ain’t g-gonna last.” He gasped out.

You stopped immediately, pulling your mouth off him with a pop of your lips on the tip, swiping off a small pearl of precum that formed. You sat back quietly on your knees as his breathing regulated, and he was able to straighten up and focus on you again. “God damn, your mouth…ain’t no other like it.” He sighed.

You smiled smugly and stood up, closing the space between you with a swagger. Your arms slung around his neck again while you gave him a sultry look. “Didn’t want to be done yet.”

Arthur caught on immediately, pulling you in closer with an iron grip. He ground against you, his rough jeans on your soft skin felt wonderful. His erection rested between your thighs, just inches of where you wanted it to be. “Didn’t think so.” He growled, setting a shudder through you.

With one swoop he propped you back onto the table. His lips hungrily latched to yours while his hands explored every inch of your bare body. His fingers found your center with easy, relaxed strokes. Your moans silenced in his open mouth. You could only hold on while he pleasured you with his hands, though your patience for all of him was wearing thin. His shirt balled up in your hands, fingernails digging deep into the fabric and against his skin.

You pulled back to gasp out. “Arthur, please!” you panted. “I need to feel you.”

He paused his ministrations, bringing his gaze to you. A sweet smile touched his lips and he moved to grip your hips, shuffling slightly to align himself to you. His hips rocked forward, allowing himself to poke between your folds. He invaded you slowly, inch by inch and spreading your inner walls. You hid a wince, underestimating his thickness. He watched your face intently as if to note any discomfort. Soon he was completely joined with you.

He caressed your cheek, asking a silent question of your comfort. You nodded to him and kissed his palm, then trapped his thumb between your lips to suckle on it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the faint surprise on his face, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

His hand left your face to take place once again on your hip. He brought himself back and forward in one smooth motion. The discomfort dissolved almost instantly as your body accepted him, soon replaced with waves of pleasure. You moaned loudly, gratefully, hanging on him while he rocked you to the very core.

He murmured a breathless swear, gripping you tightly while he continuously thrust into you. You were enveloped by your own ecstasy, whispering his name into the air. Lost in your pleasure, you almost didn’t feel him lift you from the table. He held you without effort, driving himself even deeper. His grunts and groans vibrated deep in his belly, vibrating against you.

“Sweetheart, ya feel so nice.” He crooned.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. You could only muster up a long moan the more he fucked you, the further he reached and the harder he rocked. He paused briefly to move from the little room out into the main area. You felt him press you against a bookshelf. The books housed in it shuddered and some fell.

“A-Arthur?” you panted in question.

“Scientology books, no one reads ‘em anyway.” He quickly answered.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, a hearty giggle that switched to a squeal once he pounded into you again. The bookcase creaked behind you, tapping against the wall. The small aware part of your brain wanted to be careful, that is until Arthur shifted to snake his hand between you, his fingers once again toying with your clit.

You stifled another squeal, keeping yourself from becoming any louder than you already were in case any passerby somehow heard you, despite the storm still raging outside. Arthur seemed to have other plans, ramming himself so hard that you could only shout his name. His mouth latched to your neck again, not hesitant to mark and abuse your flesh. He growled with a nearly animalistic tone, echoing deeply throughout the shop.

Your second was on a quick ascent, peaking and surging through your center and radiating through your muscles. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him. He grunted, unleashing a shuddering breath.

“Jesus, gonna finish soon.” He huffed to you, and caught your lips for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He held you again with both hands. His pace hastened and his hips became erratic, unshamefully moaning against your tongue.

Every one of your senses was overwhelmed in the most wonderful ways. Your taste and smell were overwhelmed with his essence, your nerves tingling as you came down from your high. Nails dug into his flesh, spurring him to finish even sooner.

The clear ringing of a bell pierced your otherwise distracted attention. The bell indicating the store’s door opening, followed by faint footsteps. It brought you back to reality quickly. Ripping your mouth from his, you tried to gasp out his name, only to have him nearly slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, nearly there sweetheart. Jus’ be quiet.” He grunted quietly.

Part of you was nervous about the idea of being caught by someone, yet another side seemed to enjoy the thrill. You barely managed a nod while he somehow quietly fucked you, keeping you pressed against the bookshelf and undulating rolling his hips. You locked eyes with him, hyperaware of the creak of the floorboards that sounded as if they were growing closer. Your heart raced despite the endless amount of pleasure racking through your body.

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t finish in time, until he pulled out of you and stifled a low groan. Hot trails of his spend painted your bare stomach. His entire body shuddered and he eased your legs to the floor, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before ushering you to the back room.

Your legs felt like jello, but you managed to scurry back into the room, ducking from view of the shop while Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and hastily adjusted his appearance before disappearing from your line of sight. You heard him greet the newcomers, his voice cheerful and not a hint of what just happened a moment before.

You swiftly and silently closed the door, cleaned yourself up, and redressed. A few quiet minutes passed by before Arthur opened the door back up. He smiled at you and let out a sigh of relief. “They didn’t catch us,” he announced.

“I thought it was closing time,” you said.

“Close, had ten til,” he rolled his eyes. “Usually how it goes…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course…” You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite the fatigue that took hold of your body, you felt energized from the whole ordeal. “You sent them on their way?”

Arthur took a hold of your waist, pulling you flush against his torso. “Once they found what they were lookin’ for, though they did hear us a lil’…I had to tell ‘em I was rearrangin’ some o’ the shelves.”

You snickered. “Gotta say, it was a little bit of a thrill feeling like we were gonna get caught. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around or something.”

Arthur snorted and grinned at you with a sly smirk. “Yeah?”

“Sure, but let’s wait until after closing time. Don’t wanna scare off the customers.” you amended.

He nodded, his face twitching thoughtfully. “Next time, I think my house is more suitable,” he laughed. “More comfortable than a bookcase.”

“Oh I’d hope,” you replied, arching your back and feigning a look of pain. “Pretty sure that threw out my back.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though quickly realized you were joking and shook his head. That same adorable crooked smile returned to his face. “How ‘bout I massage ya to make it up?”

“How about we do that at my house?” you proposed with a cheeky wink.

[sliggoons]

Omg hi 🥺💗 your writing is so heartwarming and I hope you know that. I’m so soft for guzma now that I read your last few fics, could I request a fic for taking Guzma to one of those Butterfly World/Butterfly Garden type of places? Thank you 💕💕

This might actually be the cutest idea I’ve ever heard, I hope I did it justice :’)

Butterfly Garden, Guzma x Reader

    Guzma was running late, as always. ‘Hurry’ was not a word your boyfriend knew. He said he’d meet you outside of Po Town at 1:00, but five minutes had ticked by and he was nowhere to be found. You expected this, of course, and had half the mind to show up late as well, thinking you wouldn’t have to wait around. But you always made an effort to show up on time, hoping that one day, Guzma would do the same.

    “Awh, hey babe, what’s up?” Guzma greeted you at 1:09, casually strolling out of the Po Town gates. He slung an arm lazily around your waist, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

    “You’re late,” you commented, a smirk on your face.

    “It takes a lot of time to look this good,” your boyfriend replied. And he was right, he did look good. He had cleaned up, shaving away a few days worth of stubble, made an attempt to comb through his hair, and Guzma even switched up his outfit. He traded his signature white tank and jacket for a simple black t-shirt, it was tight enough to show off his broad shoulders and strong arms. Although he kept his beat up white sneakers on, his baggy sweatpants had been forgotten in favor of plain black joggers, the kind that clung to his legs a bit better, making him look even taller than usual. You were flattered that Guzma had put in more effort than usual for your date, given, it was pretty rare that the two of you rarely actually made it out for a proper date. This was all Guzma’s idea too, and you were overjoyed by the level of care you had seen from Guzma recently. 

    “Although, I don’t know if I look quite as good as you,” Guzma winked. “You ready?”

You nodded, taking Guzma’s hand as he slid it from your waist to hold yours. 

    A few days ago, Guzma had called you, ecstatic. He was yelling about some place he had discovered that he was dying to take you to. Once he had calmed down, you found out it was a small, local butterfly garden somewhere along Route 17 before you reached Ula’Ula Meadow. 

    “Are you sure this is the right path?” You asked, eyeing the narrow dirt path leading into the thick woods. 

“Yes, doll, you just gotta trust me.” Guzma drawled, tugging on your hand. You obliged, following him down the tiny path, barely enough room for the two of you to walk side by side. He settled for wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. 

    After a minute or so of walking down this path, it suddenly opened up into a cozy clearing. There was a small shed type building, and from behind it you could see a huge building towering above it. The building seemed fragile, you wondered how it was still standing so close to the stormy coast of Ula’Ula. It was beautiful, something you thought you’d see in a magazine. Built of glass and thin metal bars to frame the panes, you could only imagine what it would look like on a rare sunny day, sparkling and shining. But still the glass walls and geometrical domed top was still beautiful under the grey sky.

    “You like it?” Guzma asked you as the two of you walked towards the door to the smaller building. 

    “It’s beautiful, Guz! How’d you ever find this place?”

    “It was in some old little brochure I saw in the corner store down the street from Po Town. I stopped by here yesterday to make sure they’d be open. The old geezer who runs this place is a real nice guy,” Guzma opened the door for you, allowing you to walk into the cozy room. It was a bit dusty, the wood plank flooring creaked under your steps, and rather minimalist, but the elderly man standing behind the reception counter had a kind smile.

    “Ah, Guzma! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” He greeted, his voice was low and wise, and he hobbled as he came around to shake Guzma’s hand.

    “I told you, I’m never on time,” your boyfriend laughed. Him and this man talked and smiled like they were old friends.

    “This must be Y/N? Guzma would not stop talking about yesterday,” the older man winked at you as he shook your hand as well, before introducing himself as Arthur. 

    You noticed the light blush on Guzma’s cheeks as he denied Arthur’s claims. The two of you stood to chat with him for a few minutes, learning that many years ago, Arthur built the garden for his wife, who’s two favorite things were flowers and butterflies. After her passing, Arthur opened up the place to visitors, hoping that people would continue to fill the conservatory with love and joy.

    “I won’t keep you two any longer, go on now, have fun!” Arthur opened a door for you which led into a small transitioning room. Guzma thanked him as he shut the door, leaving you in the small hall. A few odd shaped mirrors were hung up around the walls. 

    “Its for when you come out, sometimes the lil guys like to hang on to your clothes, and you gotta make sure you don’t take em with you” Guzma explained, opening the glass door into the conservatory. “After you,” he waved, giving you a cheesy grin.

    The inside of the conservatory wasn’t huge, but every inch was put to use. In the middle of the circular room was a fountain, water bubbling and mixing in with the sound of the gentle rain that had started up, plinking against the glass ceiling. There were beds of flowers against the outer walls, every color you could imagine, and they smelled wonderful. The whole room was warm despite the cool rain falling and the floral scent drifted around dreamily. 

    Your attention was caught by Guzma’s laugh, followed by his cheerful voice. “Y/N, Y/N, look at this!” You turned to face him, seeing a small black butterfly perched delicately on his curved pointer finger. It fluttered gently, and you could see the vibrant teal band running down its wings. You noticed all the other butterflies then, flying around, resting on the ivy growing up the walls, and drinking nectar from the flowers. 

    “I think it's a blue banded swallowtail? Hmm, I could be wrong though,” Guzma mused, holding the bug close to his eyes and intently staring at it, a slight smile resting on his lips. He actually giggled as it took off to lilt around the room, flying up to swirl around the top of the dome.

    “That one’s got to be a Mourning Cloak! I didn’t think he’d have one here, they’re my favorite!” Guzma pointed to a beautiful butterfly. It’s deep red wings were edged with a buttery yellow and dotted with sky blue spots. Who knew your boyfriend was such a butterfly expert?

    You and Guzma spent the next few hours loitering around, lounging in the two iron garden chairs, just talking and enjoying the company of the fluttering insects. The butterflies seemed to be drawn to your boyfriend. At one point he had two on his arms, one on his hand, and two fluttering around in his hair. You’d never forget that sight, Guzma overwhelmed with butterflies, laughing, and the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. 

    Needless to say, the butterfly conservatory was filled with love, and would be for many more days to come, thanks to you and Guzma. 

[kkmm32]

So I made a Frenrey Fic-

I haven’t had two characters to ship together in forever and haven’t written since school ended so wHY not get some practice with both of em? At once??  Now don’t worry, it’s fluff (lord knows theres too many NSFW HLVRAI fics out there already...) and it’s probably like- mediocre but thats ok!!  So anyway, without further ado I bring you “Northern Lights” Enjoy!

It was late out when Gordon found himself staring up at the ceiling yet again.  How many times had he done this?  Three?  Five? Twenty?  it's not like he had bothered to count.  He had found himself startled awake by all too real nightmares countless of times, staring up at the ceiling or the sky, wherever they had decided to sleep.  It's true he had faced aliens, the military, death, to put it simply, right in the face hundreds of times while on their journey and at this point his nightmares should be just like any other day... or well any other day past the incident.  But unfortunately the human mind couldn't adapt to such things easily and thus his trauma forced him to relive the scariest moments of his life over and over, whether he liked it or not.  It's not like he hadn't tried to go back to sleep before, even if his dreams had caused him to wake in a cold sweat more times than he cared to mention.  But every time he tried he found himself too...awake, for a lack of a better term.  His mind had already been tossed into fight or flight mode and it would take a while for it to return back.  He had no choice but to wait it out every night.  Most times he would just lie there, motionless, staring up until he felt his eyes begin to droop, but he found himself too bored this time.  He had the need to move, do something.  The memory of his nightmare flashed in his mind and he'd rather distract himself from it than let it fester.

He hoisted himself into a sitting position, groaning as he felt his sore muscles tense.  The days of fighting and running around had left quite the toll on him and he could no doubt feel it.  He looked around groggily.  They were still in the rocket launch room, the "Science Team," as Coomer had called them, was sleeping peacefully, although they looked like they were in the most uncomfortable poses.  He chuckled slightly at the sight, though quickly regretted that as he felt his chest ache.  He let out a sigh and glanced over at the windows.  He couldn't make out much, as the moon and the stars were the only light illuminating the outside.  He did, however, notice the outline of a figure.  He almost jumped out of his skin when it moved to look at him.  He was taken quite aback at first when he saw who it was.

"Wuh...Benrey?  Is that you?" he asked hesitantly.

"In the flesh." Benrey replied in his unmistakable stoic voice.

"But...how?" Gordon started, puzzled.

"How what bro?  You gotta finish your sentences, Feetman."  Gordon huffed slightly at the jab.

"I mean- how are you here?  Didn't you get, y'know, incinerated by the rocket?"

"I jus' respawned bro.  Like a..uhhh...video game character or whatever.  Like Steve minecraft."

"Right, right, you can't die..."  He let out a long sigh and stared past Benrey, out at the sky, or at least what he could see of it.  "What are you doing up this late anyway?  Shouldn't you be sleeping?"  Benrey glanced at him, almost a glint of… confusion In his eyes.  He quickly shook his head though and went back to staring into nothing.

"Gotta keep watch brooo, can't let any of those military dudes get y- get us."

"I guess that makes sense..."  There was silence as Gordon struggled to come up with something to talk about.  He wasn't particularly a bad conversationalist, per se, but when it came to Benrey you never know what could send him into a flurry of nonsense.  It was like traversing a minefield, one wrong word and he'd become incomprehensible...well, more than he already was.  His stream of thought was cut short, however, by a high pitch sound that made his nose scrunch.  He turned back to Benrey, who was surrounded by colorful orbs of light that started at pleasant orange and dipped into a light blue.  They glowed faintly around him, lighting him up in an almost majestic way.  But as quickly as they had appeared they faded.  Gordon sat there for a moment before shaking his head slightly.  "Orange to blue?  What does that mean?"  Benrey looked at Gordon for a moment, almost contemplating, before stating-

"Orange to blue means a song for youu"

"So you're just...singing?"

"Yeah bro.  What, you got a problem with my singing or something?  Lil Feetman can't stand my tunes?"  Gordon growled at the comment.

"No I juST-"  Before he got any further with his sentence he took a deep breath and sighed, which prompted Benrey with a slightly puzzled look.  He glanced away as he stated "It just surprised me is all, usually they have meanings or something, or they like- have some purpose.  I didn't expect them to be for entertainment.. and your singing is pretty nice actually.."  Gordon was almost baffled at his own words.  It was unlike him to compliment Benrey, especially after he had just insulted him.  And, when he glanced back up at Benrey, it appeared he was caught off guard as well.  He let out a high pitched pink and quickly turned away.  "Pink?  What does pink mean?

"Itmeansyou- you stink!" Benrey quickly retorted, still turned away.  Gordon let out a huff of annoyance.  Just when he thought he was getting on some kind of good terms with Benrey.  He shuffled to his feet, giving a glance a Benrey.  He had turned back to look at Gordon but unfortunately his face wasn't lit, and Gordon couldn't tell if he was smugly smirking or not.  He turned away and made for the door that led outside, he figured it'd be best to get some fresh air.

He made it over to a comfortable looking ledge, or at least as comfortable looking as a ledge can get, and sat down, gazing out into the sky.  Gordon hadn't really gotten the chance to look at the night the past few days, what with being stuck in the stuffy halls of Black Mesa and all, so it was nice to finally relax and gaze out at the stars.  Of course, it wasn't long before Benrey was making his way over to antagonize him some more.  He plopped himself down beside Gordon, a rather blank expression on his face as he stared at him.

"What, have you come to insult me some more or something?"

"Naw bro just gazin' " he replied nonchalantly, though Gordon could swear he saw the slightest flicker of hesitance in his eyes.  He sighed and stared back out at the stars with Benrey.

It was sorta nice to just sit in silence and let his mind wander, even if Benrey was right there beside him.  As he let his thoughts drift he slowly came back to the sweet voice.  It was quite the marvel honestly, and he wondered why he hadn't questioned it before.  Benrey wasn't human, that was obvious, but how exactly did he get the sweet voice?  Was he born with it?  Was it something he learned?  Was the sweet voice even learnable?  He knew Tommy could read it but he wasn't sure he himself could use the sweet voice.  Actually, how could Tommy even read the sweet voice?  Who taught him how to?  Benrey?  Why would Benrey teach him how to read sweet voice?  Now that he thought about it Benrey never really explained the sweet voice at all.  Gordon knew it had properties, that was for sure considering it magically calmed his nerves countless of times before, but outside of that it was more or less a mystery.  Benrey seemed to be the only bearer of it though and nobody had ever really asked to know more about it...maybe all he had to do was ask and Benrey would tell him?

"Hey Benrey?"

"Wuh?"

"How exactly does the Black Mesa Sweet Voice...work?  Like- how do you read it?  What do the different colors mean?"  Benrey seemed to freeze for a moment before tipping his head to side with a smile, glancing away.

"That's classified info ffffeetman."

"What do you mean it's classified?  Are you going by Dr. Coomer's logic because I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply in our situation anymore-"

"Sorry bro, can't break the Black Mesa roolzzz."

"Why would Black Mesa issue a rule for the entire facility that only applies to ONE person?"  Benrey simply shrugged, which only further enraged Gordon.  He was about to speak again when Benrey promptly covered his mouth with his hand and stared Gordon down.

"Look bbbro I can't tell you, it's as simple as that, ok?  Just chill..." He removed his hand from Gordon's mouth and stared back up at the sky calmly, his stern look gone.  Gordon gave a grumpy huff and turned away, staring towards the ground.  Benrey glanced over at him, and looked towards the ground himself.  There was a moment of silence before it was Benrey who was the one to break it this time.  "You said you couldn't like....'sleep' or whatever right?"  Benrey asked, catching Gordon off guard.

"Yeah..?  And?"

"Just like- wait with your eyes closed for like.....uhhh.......5 seconds broo you'll see."  Gordon turned slightly to glance at Benrey from the corner of his eye, curious.

"Why do I have to close my eyes?  What are you gonna do?"

"It's- It- It'll be like....a big surprise yooo.  Epic surprise, super poggers.  You wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise now would you?  Be a lil- lil party pooper- lil bitch baby man and ruin the surprise?"  Gordon gave a long sigh and, though he hated following Benrey's orders, covered his eyes.  There were a few moments of silence before Gordon could hear the distinct sound of the Sweet Voice.  It lasted for quite some time and Gordon had to use a good portion of his self-restraint to peak through his hands at what in the world Benrey was doing.  Why would he have him cover his eyes if it's just the sweet voice?

"Ok broo you can like- open you socket stuffers now"  Gordon cringed at that usage of words but removed his hands from his eyes regardless.  He was...stunned.. baffled.. amazed.. it was a range of emotions to say the least.  Benrey had somehow managed to spread a wide variety of pinks, oranges, and blues all across the sky above them like little fireflies.  They showered the area in a faint glow that looked..incredible and Gordon couldn't help but stare in awe.

"Benrey... you... how.. why'd you.."  Benrey settled down beside Gordon as he spoke.

"You said you couldn't sleep bro, doesn't uhh... pretty stuff help people sleep?"

"I mean I guess I just... I never expected you to.."  Gordon's words drifted away as he stared.

"What d'ya think tho?  Pretty poggers right?"  Gordon paused before turning to face Benrey as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Benrey it's... it's beautiful."  Benrey paused for a moment, almost as if he was processing what had been said before turning away, covering his mouth to keep any sweet voice from escaping.

"Well- psh- yeah duh.  I mean it's- ahaha- it's like...supposed to be bro.  Be pretty pointless if it wasn't, right?"  Gordon let out a hearty laugh at Benrey's response.

"Yeah, I guess so."  They stared up at the now colorful sky for a long while before Gordon spoke again.  "Hey Benrey could you..."  he paused hesitantly.  "Could you sing for me?"

"...Huh?"  Gordon quickly tried to make the situation less awkward by elaborating.

"Could you- could you sing for me?  To like- help me sleep?  Music usually helps people sleep and the Sweet Voice is pretty calming and I was just thinking-" before he could finish his sentence Benrey abruptly cut him off.

"Sure bro"  He began to sing out blue's and oranges once more and Gordon found that, while looking at the colorful orbs in the sky, though there weren't much left, and listening to Benrey's voice, he felt very peaceful for once.  It had been days since he had felt even a smidgen of peace and somehow, sitting here with Benrey, it was stronger than ever.  As he felt himself relax, leaning onto Benrey, his eyes began to droop and soon he was plunged back into the dream world.