#just tell me straight that you don't want to come. that you will not be there. AND AT LEAST send me a text?? a lil hey congratulations!

[reiderwriter]

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read. 

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward. 

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading. 

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it. 

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one. 

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently. 

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you. 

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.” 

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.” 

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!” 

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now. 

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down. 

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced. 

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate. 

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-” 

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?” 

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area. 

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room. 

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza. 

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone. 

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long. 

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that. 

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him. 

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light. 

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night. 

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you. 

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried. 

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep. 

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing. 

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both. 

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily. 

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed. 

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you. 

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid. 

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for. 

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted. 

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life. 

He was screwed. 

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so. 

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination. 

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass. 

Screwed supreme. 

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took. 

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature. 

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you. 

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.” 

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you. 

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd. 

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable. 

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?” 

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye. 

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you. 

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.” 

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time. 

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted. 

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you. 

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else. 

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door. 

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary. 

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today” 

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.” 

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.” 

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him. 

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you. 

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief. 

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release. 

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again. 

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name. 

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over. 

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy. 

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off. 

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you. 

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation. 

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious. 

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing. 

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths. 

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier. 

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more. 

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over. 

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth. 

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in. 

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.” 

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser. 

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe. 

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won. 

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you. 

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time. 

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake. 

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey. 

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down. 

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again. 

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously. 

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now. 

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again. 

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back. 

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock. 

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs. 

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that. 

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss. 

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.” 

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it  eliciting a small whimper of frustration. 

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close. 

“You were avoiding me.” 

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting. 

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.” 

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations. 

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist. 

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

imagine u n emily cooking together on ig live and everyone loves it when ur telling her off, she’s always getting in the way, or just straight up being a menace LMFAOOKO

FAVORITE ANNOYANCE | e.engstler x reader

prompt: emily being really fucking annoying while y'all are trying to cook.

author notes: i need to write for more basketball players so here you go taytay 🩷 enjoy it!

contains: emily engstler x shorter!reader, fluff, emily needs her ass beat, annoying as a love language, bad pizza making describing, inspo from this tiktok

"heyy guys!" you say, setting up your phone against a vase on the kitchen island. emily have just got back from practice and was obviously starving so she begged you to cook. you obliged but only because she has to help you. what a dumb idea that would end up being.

you squint your eyes as you look at the number of people coming into the live. emily comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. she pecks the side of your face before saying, "hi babe. hi chat."

"ew, don't say chat. you sound like some teenage streamer," you make a face of disgust before laughing. emily just shrugs. turning you to face her instead of the phone.

"but baby, that's what you call it," she blinks at you. acting confused until you stand on your tippy toes to peck her lips. emily pecks you back, licking her lips afterwards before looking at your phone screen. you move away from the kitchen island to go to the fridge. your body barely still in frame. emily looks at the comments coming through on the live, chuckling at a few.

"what we about to do? cook-" before emily could finish her sentence fully, you chim in. coming into the frame fully, holding the tomatoes needed to make the pizza sauce. "we are about to cook because emily was starving so bad and was just so hungry. go ahead, tell them what you told me when you came home," your tone sounds annoyed but there is obvious fondness underneath.

"aye, the chat said stop being mean to me," emily crosses her arms across her chest as she looks at you.

"the chat should be on my side."

"thought chat was for teenage streamers?"

"dear god, be quiet before i don't cook and go to bed. you can do this all on your own if you want."

"what? babeee, noo," the american player moves to pull you close by the waist. leaning down to kiss the top of your head; a usual emily apology. obviously you accept it. a bashful smile on your lips as you try to push her away but those muscles of hers aren't just for show, keeping you close easily.

emily sighs before shaking her head, "okay, chat. when i came home i begged my beautiful amazing so spectacular girlfriend to cook for me and cried when she said she didn't feel like it. even though i know how to cook, but it's just better when she does it." the confession makes the live explode with comments. with most making fun of emily (lovingly) and some relating to the feeling of wanting your girlfriend to do things for you.

a playfully smug smile sits on your lips, "there. she admitted it guys, she can't live without me."

"i didn't say all that.."

"i will stab you with this knife i'm about to grab," you gesture to the knife block on the counters behind you two. emily immediately starts talking to the chat, "i told y'all she's always threatening me."

"only when you're bad, babes," you chuckle. getting out of her grasp to grab two knives from the knife block. setting one down in front of emily, slapping her hand when she tries to grab it.

"no touching until i get the cutting boards," you set down your knife. opening the counter to grab two cutting boards (all while emily stands there with her arms crossed). putting them onto the island, one in front of emily and one in front of you. then you grab the tomatoes, setting them near your phone. not too close though so you two can still see the comments coming in.

"now you can touch."

emily and you get into a small routine of cutting the tomatoes. answering questions at the same time with the basketball player answering most of them.

"i don't know who keeps asking what we're cooking, but guys c'mon now.. i said it so many times. we're making pizza," emily sighs. halfway through with her tomato pile, she decides it's the best time to bother you while you're focused on finishing yours.

"babe, chat said why is my hair up even though i'm in my own home. should i tell them how you hate my hair and told me you would cut it off if i bought it anywhere near your kitchen?" she smiles at you like she didn't just say the most out of pocket lie ever. you give her a warning glare, not even answering her before going back to cutting. however, of course emily couldn't be satisfied with that. she needs a reaction so she starts to poke you in the shoulder.

"babe"

you don't answer her.

"babe"

another glare.

"babeeee."

"all i know is that if you keep touching me, i'm going to cut off your hand. now stop being childish and finish chopping those tomatoes before nobody will be eating tonight," you finally answer. slapping her hand away. she doesn't even flinch, just smiling.

"my girlfriend is being mean to me again." she turns her attention to the camera, a great relief to you. obviously the chat comes to her defense again but you tell them off by threatening to end the live all together.

the two of you continue to make the pizza. eventually you get out the small roll of cheese out of the fridge, forcing emily to grate it. while you smash the tomatoes up for the sauce.

emily is still answering more comments and she's having fun with it too:

ilovelesbians178 who do you wish would visit you more?

"hailey. that blonde chick never come over here, but it's okay, i know she's all superstar now."

emilysdutchbraids is your natural hair color actually blonde or what

"uh, i always say my hair is naturally blonde with dark roots but i might be lying.. nobody gotta know."

y/n&emilyop why is your tall strong ass the one grating cheese while y/n's tiny self is smashing the tomatoes?

emily starts laughing so hard that you look over at her. she gives you a look back before shaking her head, "yeah, nah, i don't know why i'm the one grating cheese. this is really not a good fit for me, huh?"

you look at her again, your brows furrowed as you stand there confused.

"ems, what are you talking about?" your arms are crossed across your chest. you come closer to her, looking at your phone to check the live comments. emily tries to turn you away from looking at the screen, laughing, "nothing, baby. people just don't get why your tinsy pinsy self is smashing tomatoes while my giant self is grating cheese."

the playful mocking in her tone makes you gasp. quick to slap her shoulder, she lets out an ow!

"babyyy, i didn't do anything," her tone sounds sad but emily is literally smiling at you and is so close to laughing that you can hear in her voice. "i was just reading the comments," is her excuse.

you slap her shoulder again before moving away from her. "yeah, sure. you're so innocent and totally didn't read it out on purpose. shut up and make the dough since you're so big and strong," you get out the ingredients needed or at least try to as emily follows you around the kitchen like a lost puppy. if you're trying to grab the oil out of the cabinet? she's blocking it. you're trying to get the yeast out? again emily is there blocking it. you try to push her away, hitting her on the shoulder again but she always just laughs.

"i get way worse fouls in games than that little hit, baby," she smirks at you. normally that smirk would be so attractive but you are so blinded by irritation but right now you are this close to kicking emily out of the kitchen.

you decide to go a different route than hitting. going straight for her stomach as you tickle her. emily nearly screams in surprise, almost knocking over a bunch of stuff, you two should have been cleaned, off of the counter as she tries to get away from you.

you stick out your tongue at her once she gets away. coming back over to your phone to check the comments.

"emily acts like a bad ass kid. oh, yeah, we all know that," you say. giggling once emily comes back close to you, her arms crossed across her chest.

"and i don't know why she's next to me right now trying to manipulate me into saying a compliment. you can cross your arms until the day you die, miss pretzel," you sass. laughing once she tries to tickle you but you dodge out of the way.

"babe, it's not fair! you got me!"

"you were in the way!"

"nuh uh."

"nuh huh!"

emily lets out a long sigh, frowning at your phone screen. "my girlfriend literally hates me right now guys," she says.

"do not. now be quiet and help me finish making this pizza. it's getting late." emily listens to you, finally taking the cooking seriously.

it takes way quicker now to finish up making the pizza that emily is acting like she got some sense. finally, emily moves away from the island so that she can slide the pizza in the oven while you talk to the live.

"alright guys, we are about to go lay on the couch and wait for this pizza to cook. emily has drained all of the energy out of me so i'm ending the live here. love you guys! thanks for paying attention to emily's annoying ass and me." emily is able to get in a wave before you cut off the live. shaking your head as you turn to face her. leaning against the kitchen island.

"what is it, baby?" she comes close, grabbing onto your hips.

"you're sleeping on the couch tonight," you say. leaning away once she tries to kiss you. easily getting out of her grasp this time, starting to walk over to the living room. emily still stands in the kitchen with her arms now crossed across her chest.

"and you can stop doing that crossing your arms across your chest shit! it doesn't work, baby," you shout, looking over your shoulder at her.

author notes: this was actually mad fun to write 💪🏽💪🏽 hopefully you liked it because i put some effort into it.

© THINKINGABOUTJAEDYN

[jakesangel]

jealous jake ꣑୧

as a scorpion man, jake would often be jealous to you, his possessiveness showing up when the members look at you a little too much for his liking or at random men on the street. he can act cocky when he can trust the other man, meaning his member but if he doesn't know him, there would be a hint of insecurity in him.

as you guys went shopping, jake will always be following you like the puppy he is, holding the clothes you want to try or just your hand bag. you could send him to change one piece of clothing size, he would automatically agree and go straight to wear he should go without forgetting to kiss your temple. but when he sees you chatting with another man, he would come back fast to you. hi baby, i found your size, he'd say staring at the unknown man in front of you, who is this ? he would then add with faux honesty. and even if you reassure him in telling him you were telling the unknown man that you have a boyfriend but that wouldn't stop his scorpio feelings to come out, so she told you she has a boyfriend and you're still here ? finally showing his true color. as the other man leaves you guys be he would finally look back at you w a pout and whine that's why i can't let you alone a single second out or you're too pretty to stay alone baby, he would say as he hugs you. after that incidence, he wouldn't let you alone for a second nor his small pout would go away : he doesn't know how to ask for reassurance n his body can't help but show it. so if you tell him what he needs to hear, in an other shop, he would abruptly ask you baby, you love me and only me right ? or you'll never leave me, right ?

as you come at the door unnoticed to surprise jake, his member heesung open you the door with a welcoming hug. as you guys start to chat, jakes wouldn't miss to hear your voice, n would come out of his bedroom, your sudden venue making his imaginary tail waving, only seeing you so happily greet his fellow member w a hug. usually he wouldn't mind as he loves you also because you're nice n sweet but as you are currently dressed up specially for him, wearing his fav mini skirt w a more or less revealing top, he can't help but question why would ou let another man touch you that way. he would be even more baffled as he see you interact w him instead of coming straight to him. hi babe, he would say coming close to you, one hand on your waist the other on holding your cheek before finally kissing you deeply wanting to disgust heesung away from the both of you. he would even out the tongue in it, kissing you for minutes if that means he will leave you alone. as the public is finally gone, he wouldn't ask your question wether on why he is suddenly kissing you like this, but would lead you the his room. why were you hugging him ? or what were you doing ? would be asked his jealousy barely hidden. you'd obviously finally get why he is being like this, as it's not the first time jake likes to claim you in front of other people, and if you tease him about it, he'd act obvious jealous ? me ? pfft no, why would i be jealous for. and he would take him few minutes for him to admit, yes i am jealous, so horribly jealous, he would finally admit coming closer to you, you know i cant have all of these people all over you, specially when you look like that baby, he would murmur, his hands coming to your waist strongly pulling you closer to him. and i don't like sharing, he'd add as he would bend down to your height so what if i'm jealous, you're mine, he would barely whisper right in top of your lips before kissing you again.

notes : who else want jake to claim them @___@

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee

[enwifen]

────── 𝓒AMPUS CUTIE ྀི ࣪ ⊹ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

< 심재윤 x fem!reader >

𝜗ϱ ⋅˚. ──── in which everyone on campus wishes they could be you, the “campus cutie” who is also sim jaeyun’s girlfriend. wc. 1.1k

I don't need, I don't need, I don't need 어떤 golden ticket도

All I need, all I need, all I need 내 자신을 믿는 것

Your head absentmindedly bops along to the catchy beat, eyes looking from side to side to try and spot a familiar dark-haired man. You pay no mind to the curious stares and points that come your way, happily in your own bubble.

“Isn’t that L/n Y/n?” One person whispers.

“How is her hair so long and shiny? The heat’s made mine go all frizzy…”

“Is she even real? Her skin’s so clear…”

“You know how she’s a straight A student? rumour has it she’s never failed a single class.”

“I wish I had her closet… or even her style— I wish I was her.”

These were only a few of the comments you had heard whilst walking around campus, having grown tired of standing and waiting around. You had never intended to become any kind of ‘popular girl’ once college had began but, you had to admit that you did enjoy the attention from time to time. The ‘campus cutie’ was a pretty cool title too, never failing to crack a smile any time you heard it.

Nobody’s life was 100% perfect but you liked to think you came pretty close. You had a loving and supportive family, great friends and—

“Baby! Over here!” Jake calls.

A super cute boyfriend.

A wide smile spreads across your features as you run over to him, softly colliding with his chest. His muscular arms come to wrap you in a hug, squeezing comfortingly. “Sorry, did I make you wait long?” Jake asks, tilting his head.

“Not really, I just got bored of standing around.” He coos at affectionately pats your head. Reluctantly you pull away, getting a chance to fully take in the beauty that was Jake Sim.

His outfit was simple today, a white shirt paired with some jorts. The thick frames that sit perched on top of his nose adds a cute, nerdy boy-next-door type vibe and you love it.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n?” He chuckles, watching as you shake your head a little to regain focus. Jake’s hand easily finds yours as you begin the walk back to your shared apartment, ring clad fingers slotting perfectly in between your own. “It’s real hot today, wanna get something to drink?”

“Ooh sure! What drink are we thinking?”

“Hmm… Tapioca?” He grins at your excited gasp. This man knows you too well.

The courtyard was a beautiful sight in summer. Fresh flowers blooming and clear water sprouting from the fountain, it was actually known to be a common spot for couples to hang around.

Jake was a confident guy. You could tell just from how he carried himself and from how he spoke, Jake knew how much of a hotshot he was. Like you, he had straight A’s and was even the leader of your university’s science club. It’s a known fact that girls love hot guys, especially ones who were smart like Jake.

You’re not surprised when you see a certain trio walking your way. They giggle, twirl their hair and bat their eyelashes at your boyfriend. Hoping, praying that they have even a sliver of a chance with him.

The main girl of the ‘Jake fan club’ steps forward. “Jakey~! I saw you in class today, why didn’t you say hi to me?” She pouts, attempting some sort of innocent doe-eyed look that’s supposed to make Jake feel bad, you guess?

“Ah, sorry, I must’ve not seen you.” Jake responds, smiling apologetically. You can tell he doesn’t really care, if this were you talking he’d be spewing apology after apology followed by kiss after kiss.

“Really? But I—”

“Sorry, Seeun, was it? Me and my girl have somewhere to be so if you wouldn’t mind…” Seeun’s eyes briefly flicker to you and give you a once over. Jake gently tugs you away before she can say anything else.

The trio is left standing alone, looking stupid. All eyes are on them apart from the one pair they wanted.

“Trying to talk to Jake like that while he’s with y/n? That’s so…”

“Y/n and Jake go so well together, I can’t imagine anyone better for either of them.”

“Right?! They both look like models, I’m kinda jealous…”

You giggle quietly at the last comment that manages to reach your ears. “Me? A model?” You laugh.

“What’s funny about that? You’re pretty like one and you have great charisma too… maybe you should look into it.” You feel your cheeks warm up at that, a soft chuckle leaving your boyfriend as he teasingly pulls you in to ruffle your hair. (He fixes it afterwards of course, knowing how much effort you put in to style it prettily each morning.)

A contended sigh leaves your lips once you enter the small tapioca store. Not only did it have the best drinks it had the best air conditioning too. The small jellies burst in your mouth causing a sweet peachy flavour to bless your tastebuds.

“Is it good?” You hum happily.

“Wanna try some?” Jake perks up and the imaginary fluffy, golden tails wags excitedly as he nods. You exchange drinks and he has the same, if not more enthusiastic, reaction.

“If you’re all cooled off let’s head out? There’s a nice park nearby.”

“Sure.”

The two of you finish your drinks and dump them in the nearest trash can, finding a cute little bench to sit on. Well- for Jake to sit on while you take his lap, of course. His head rests against your chest, your hand gently playing with his newly cut hair. A comfortable silence settles between you both.

“…I kinda wish I wore a jacket.”

“Hm? Why? It’s hot as hell out here.” You joke. Jake pouts, softly squeezing your bare thigh. “Oh.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, oh.”

“At least it’s not windy?”

You giggle as his head whips up to look at you. “Mean.”

“Sorry, sorry~”

“You know I don’t like other guys being able to see my pretty girl’s thighs…”

“Ooh that rhymed!”

“Y/n.”

You smile, cupping your pouty boyfriend’s cheeks. “There’s no need to be jealous, babe, you know I’m all yours~” he seems to be reassured, absentmindedly rubbing your bare skin as if to warm you up from the nonexistent cold.

“I know but… a little proof would be nice.” You roll your eyes playfully at his cheeky grin, kissing him sweetly on the lips. You can still taste remnants of your peach tapioca when you pull away.

“Was that enough proof for you?”

“Mm… I think I need a little more to build your case.”

[awakenedevildays]

「insecurities」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"goodnight sweetheart" you whisper to your fast asleep daughter as you kiss her cheek, you walk out of the dark room and close the door behind you before walking towards the master bedroom of the hotel suite. While you wait for Art to get out of the bathroom you strip down to put on Art's shirt you sleep with and, as you do, you get lost on your thoughts: Art has been acting so weird lately, he is silent, often spaces out and his eyes always looks at you with insecurity, doubts clearly floating in his mind about something you don't know.

Your thoughts are interrupted from your husband that emerges from the restroom, but he just stands there, eyes locked to the floor and you look at him worried. 

You sit down on the edge of the bed and your hand reaches out to him, "come here baby" you say and Art follows your voice until he is in front of you to his knees. 

His head rests on your lap and you caress his short hair in a loving manner while the other goes to massage his neck to soothe him.

Art's body responds to your touch like a cat to a scratch, he sighs and leans into your touch as his eyes flutter shut, you swear you hear him purr at your caress as he leans in and nuzzles into your stomach, you chuckle softly amused at his antics but don't comment on it, instead you just continue giving him massages while your fingers comb through his short hair, he wraps his arms around your lower back under your shirt.

"What's going on in your head? tell me" you say calmly and Art sigh.

"I really can't hide anything from you, can I?" he smiles sadly and you feel your heart crack when you see his dull eyes closing, Art used to always be such a smiley person so seeing him so down just doesn't feel right, you bring him back to you and take his cheeks in your hands, his back is straight as his face leaves your thighs. 

"you know you can talk to me about anything" you say softly but Art just sighs again, squeezes your hips in his hands and nuzzles in yours like a cat, his eyes still looking down to his hands under your shirt, there are a few moments of silence as you wait for Art to finally talk, your heart beats faster and faster. 

"I want to quit this year, whether I win the Open or not." Art admits, and you can hear your heart missing a beat at his confession. The tension in his shoulders drains away immediately after saying what was making his heart heavy and you sigh out of relief, you thought he was going to say something way worse. Despite the ease you feel after his confession, the news still shocks you and an incredulous "what?" leaves your lips.

He finally looks at you, his eyes begging you for something you're not sure to understand. 

"I said..." Art starts, but the words are lost to a strangled sob "will you still love me if I just... play the Open and retire afterwards? Can you promise me that? Can you please promise me that?"

"art-" 

The man continues, breathless as he forces out another word "please?" his forehead touches your thighs again. His voice is small when he speaks next "...please say you love me," he whispers, and you have to strain to hear him.

You take his face in your hands again "hey there is no need get anxious! of course I'll always love you, you just surprised me... i thought you were happy to play" you say smiling, you don't like this side of him.

Your words seem to have a soothing effect on him, his back slump forwards as he melts into your touch. His face slackens, lips parting as a shaky breath slips from them and doesn't say anything, merely presses his face into your palm and closes his eyes. In this moment, he's entirely yours.

Art closes his eyes as his thumbs trace patterns on your hip, thinking on the perfect way to explain his feelings to you, the words stuck on his throat.

"I'm just tired of it" he lets a humorless chuckle before shaking his head "all the pressure, the stress, the competition... I feel like I've lost the passion I had when I began this sport" Art takes your hand and intertwine your fingers with his "I feel like I'm not doing this for myself anymore, I'm not happy in the court" you hum in understanding.

Your thumbs now caress his temples in a motion you hope soothes him "what's going on in this head of your, mh? I thought you knew that my love for you was unconditional" 

Your hands continue to coax him towards calmness. 

"...I know," He agrees softly. His eyes remain shut as a shaky sigh slips free. "I know, I just... I worry that I'm a bad husband, sometimes... Y'know? I just have this—this thing" Art tries to elaborate, but his breath catches in his throat "that makes me think you'll find someone better," he grits out, and the admission makes him shudder and you smile pitifully at him.

"Art there is no one in this world that could be better of you for me, you are the best husband and the best father I could ask for: you're patient, kind and loving and i feel so lucky to be loved by you!" you briefly kiss his lips before continuing "I want you to be happy with me, with us, i want you to do what you love and if tennis doesn't make you content i'll be the first to support you"

Art seems to take comfort in your words; his mouth tremble when he feels your lips against his, and when your fingers skim across his jawline he almost moans, pressing himself closer to you as if scared you'll move away, he doesn't think he ever craved your affection this much until now.

"I know" he murmurs, lips trailing kisses against your fingertips. "I know all these, I just—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head with a sigh. "Never mind. Forget I asked".

"No, art. I must've done something wrong to make you think that something like this could change my feelings for you, please tell me" 

There's a frustrated huff from Art, though you suspect it's more at himself than anything you've said. 

"Stop." A note of pleading in his voice. "I—" Art tries to protest, but the look on your face clearly communicates that you're not taking no for an answer. For once, he really seems to be at a loss for words. 

"...You didn't do anything," He finally whispers, defeated. "...I really do know that you love me, I'm just... scared, is all". 

"I'm here, in every step of the way I'll be here" your words feel like salvation for Art.

A shaky breath slips past his lips, "thank you" he whispers against the skin of your hand and kisses it.

"just please... do something for me" you ask and Art answers immediately. 

"Anything". 

"Even if it's your last season, do your best. I don't want you to retire with regrets" Art nods against you.

"I will, I promise," He mumbles, muffled against your skin. "I'll do as good as I can, I swear" he lowers his face to kiss your knees and you feel like he has something else to say, though he looks a bit nervous when he begins to talk

"Before the next slam," he starts, and his gaze skitters away from yours. "...can we spend a weekend just the two of us? Only me and you? Without Eloise or distractions, just us... I miss having you all to myself."

"love how that sounds" you bring him up with you and lay him on the bed, despite his somewhat serious mood, Art cannot help the sharp inhale of surprise he gives when you climb on top of him. He looks a bit bewildered for a second, but he quickly gives into the sensation of your weight pinning him down, his hands caress your thighs softly.

"where were you thinking of going?" you ask and Art thinks for some seconds before answering while smiling: it's tender and affectionate and he looks far more at ease than he ever did in the last twenty minutes.

"I dunno," He murmurs, reaching up to put your hair behind your ears to look t you better "maybe a long weekend up at the beach house? It'll be all ours".

His gaze flicks to your lips, clearly he's already entertaining ideas of what the two of you could get up to in complete isolation.

You laugh and kiss him "i like the idea" Art tilts his chin up to let your lips meet his, his bust rest now on his forearms.

"i'm happy you'll be at home more often, Eloise will be ecstatic to have you around" you confess. 

"I'm happy about it too," Art admits. A brief pause, and then there's a very obvious question he's refrained from asking. 

"...Do you think she misses me? I mean - I know she's only three, but..." Another sigh "...sometimes I worry that she doesn't want me around...".

"Don't be ridiculous Art, she loves you! she can't wait to see you when you're not with us, she also asked for something the other day" 

That piques his curiosity; his head draws back to look at you. 

"Really? What did she say? What did she ask for?" Art presses you for details, clearly eager to know what his daughter desires, he's always been a bit of a doting parent.

"she asked for a little sister to play with, said she got bored of playing with me" you laugh, that brings an amused chuckle out of Art.

"A sister, huh? I think a brother might be a bit easier on her, you know," he muses, grinning as he pushes himself to rest against the headboard pulling you with him, your chests pressed together. 

"Do you want to have another kid, then?" He murmurs against your skin. "Have another little one running around the house?".

"more than anything" you caress his abs "but...".

Art's breath hitches in his throat when your hands come to his skin. One of his hands wander down to lift your shirt while the other goes to your ass cheeks. 

"'But' what?" He prompts, words whispered against the skin of your collarbone.

"i want her to have your curly blonde hair" 

Art hums in recognition of your words, his hands sliding further down past your hips to your thighs. 

"My hair, huh? I thought you'd go after a cute brunette or a ginger, maybe," Art murmurs, lips pressing against your jaw now "are blondes really your type?" he teases, a kiss on your chin. 

"Donaldsons are my type" you wink.

Art laughs at the response, burying his face in your chest. He nips gently at the skin he can reach, fingers kneading into the meat of your ass in a firm massage. 

"Guess I fit the criteria, then," he teases, his breath hot against your collarbones as his teeth graze just above your pulse-point, drawing another shuddering whimper from you.

"are you okay with it?... with having another baby i mean" you ask between your moans. 

Art thinks your question over, expression softening as he lifts his head from your chest to look at you. His hands trail up and down your side, drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

"Of course," he whispers, and he sounds so sure of this "having you and Eloise is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I'm more than happy to give her another sibling. I'd give you anything, anything you ever asked for."

Your heart swell in your chest "what did i do to deserve you?".

That makes Art's expression turn sheepish, and he ducks his head to hide his blush against your chest. It's the easiest thing in the world to turn him into a flustered boy, even after all these years, even if now you are both adults. 

"I should be asking you that," he mutters, pressing an absent kiss to your skin "I wouldn't be half of what I am now without you, love". 

"the same goes for me". 

A quiet, fond laugh slips past Art's lips, he lifts his head up to look at you, eyes shining with affection and contentment. 

"I love you," he whispers, like it's a promise. The words sound like they're just for you, not to be shared with anyone else. Art presses another warm kiss over your heart, sighing happily. "I love you so much".

"I love you too..." you smile lovingly "so, when should we start working on making a sister for Eloise?"

Art laughs, leaning to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

"We can start tonight, love," He murmurs, leaning in to claim your lips with another eager kiss "and if we don't succeed tonight, we can try again in the morning". 

"eager aren't you?" you push your hips down onto his, the laugh Art lets out turns a bit breathless, more of a gasp as your centers touch.

"What can I say, I'm feeling a bit... inspired," he whispers, catching his breath as his hand comes up to cup the underside of your thigh, fingers digging into the meat of your leg.

He meets your kisses gladly, sloppily and messily. He's far more interested in pressing further into your body, arching eagerly against you with a low groan. The hand on your thigh slides higher as Art seeks more contact, more skin, more of you, he lifts up your shirt and you raise your arms to take it off, now the only thing that separates your bodies are your panties and his boxers . 

"I love you," his breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and fervent at your ear. His mouth moves to your jawline, lips worshipping every inch of your skin. Art's intent is clear - he wants to make sure you feel so deeply, truly loved, so that you never doubt his affections or dedication to you.

You are going to push his boxers off but a knock on your door makes you and Art freeze. Your heads turns towards the door, his breath quickening in anticipation.

"Eloise?" He calls, his tone unsure. He doesn't seem like he's willing to take his hands off of you, though, as if the thought of moving away from you frightens him.

"mommy? daddy?" you daughter voice comes from the other side of the door. 

At the sound of his daughter's voice, Art's demeanor softens and slumps in relief, his half hard-on immediately softens "fuck-" he whispers and you chuckle "yeah, sweetheart? We're in here, is something wrong?" he passes you you shirt and helps you put it on hastily, you remove yourself from his body and sit on the edge of the bed. 

"come in" you say after fixing your shirt to cover your body, the knob turns and your daughter pokes her head inside, eyes filled with tears as she looks at the both of you, you stand up worried. 

"Mommy," she whispers, sounding a little unsure of herself "daddy" she looks at him. A smile spreads across her features, and she rushes towards you.

"are you okay baby?" you ask and take her in your arms before sitting on the bed next to Art.

Eloise nods and curls her little body against yours, looking up at you with bleary eyes. 

"I think I had a nightmare," she mutters, cuddling closer to you. Her hand reaches out to grab for Art's, and he immediately holds onto that precious little hand to kiss it softly.

"ow baby, i'm so sorry" you kiss her head. 

She leans up and presses a sleepy kiss to your cheek, her thumb coming up to rub at your jaw as if to comfort you and take away any hurt you may have. 

"You didn't give me a nightmare, mommy," she tells you with a tired smile. Art chuckles and gives you the fondest look he can offer - pride at your daughter, and adoration for you.

You laugh "would you like to sleep with us? nightmare's can't come in here". 

Eloise seems to love the idea, and she nods eagerly as she clambers off of your lap to crawl towards Art, he pulls her on him and adjusts himself into a lying position under the covers, Eloise on top of him, he pats the space next to him welcomingly for you to join them. 

You lay against him, your head on his chest near Eloise's and Art feels like he's holding his world in his hands.

He wraps a warm hand around you, pulling you in closer. You can hear the steady beat of his heart as you lean in. 

"good night, i love you" Eloise murmurs and you kiss her forehead.

"We love you too, honey," Art whispers, leaning down to kiss his daughter's head. Your daughter hums happily at the affection, burrowing into Art's chest. His head turns to meet your eyes as you lean up towards him, he kisses you sweetly.

"I guess we'll have to wait for the week end at the beach for *that*" you whisper on his lips.

There's a chuckle that rumbles from Art's chest at your words, and he lets his head drop back onto the pillow "I suppose so, love," he says with a yawn, his other arm wrapping around Eloise's small frame. He pulls the two of you flush against him as he gets settled in. 

"But this is good, too."

"yes it is" you smile and slowly you drift off to sleep in his arms 

Your husband listens to your even breathing for a while, making sure you've fallen asleep and Art smiles fondly at the two of you. He presses a lingering kiss to Eloise's forehead before turning his head to claim your lips with another, brief kiss for one last time. 

Art feels the full gravity of his affection for you and your daughter, contentment washing over him. Soon, he too falls asleep with his family bundled up in his arms under the covers.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Do not copy or repost.

[depresssant]

hades!reader x persephone!geto

also, geto has purple eyes in this bc he originally has purple eyes in the manga.

i love my glorious wife sm 😫

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

you liked to think that you had some semblance of control over some aspects of your life.

you were a goddess⏤ruler of the underworld, at that, but sometimes, frustration crept up into your mind and heart like a constricting snake. it made you want to scream, and tear, and blow everything to bits because this wasn't the life you picked for yourself. what? to be overworked to the bone and taken for granted? shit, you felt like the corporate lawyer for olympus, always cleaning up their messes and doing all the dirty work that they didn't want to do.

so, it was frustrating.

you were tired, and done with everything, and just always angry, but this?

this topped it all.

you didn't even bother to glance at the man standing before you. your hand held your pen so tightly it snapped in half. you wanted to yell. you wanted to scream. you wanted to run away. however, that wasn't you.

tossing the shattered pen pieces to the side and making it vanish into thin air, you gave your husband your signature shit-eating grin and leaned back in your office chair. "so what is this? an audience or a little preview of your next play?"

geto suguru titled his head with an expression on his face that you really couldn't decipher. "i assumed you would be a little more eager to see me after being taken from you. i was gone for six straight months."

the mere sight of him pissed you off.

"what can i say, princess? i'm a busy woman. my entire schedule is packed to the brim for ruling over a bunch of⏤you know, dead people⏤so i'm sorry if i cant drop by to say hi. i don't have time for such silly matters."

"it's strange, really." he took a step forward, and there was some strange tone in his voice. you never were good with emotions. "i was gone for six months. kidnapped. my mother took me back so easily it was almost as if... you orchestrated it all."

"..."

"tell me the truth, [name]. it was you who ordered my kidnapping, right?"

"you're... RIGHT! tada! congratulations!" using your magic, you made little bursts of fire combust into ember-like sparkles that imitated confetti. seriously, it took him that long? all this waiting for him to get the hint was finally kicking in! "i hate it break it to you, but you're not bonnie, and i'm not clyde. honestly, i was waiting for you to get the hint. i mean, come on! a god like you doesn't belong in a place like this. all booring and draaab, am i right?"

geto only gazed at you blankly as you rambled off and paced all about the office. there was a vase full of fresh gardenias right on your desk, but it was strange. you weren't the type of person to have flowers in your office. the strong smell of sweet cologne filled the air, and that jacket draped on your chair wasn't yours. no, geto had gone through your plain closet before, and he had never seen a beige jacket like that. 

"who did you have in here?"

you paused mid-word and chuckled. "you sound a little on edge. a friend of mines came over. why? oh, wait! are you jealous, princess? don't worry⏤"

"no. no, i am not."

huh?

the man walked over to the flower vase and grabbed one of the gardenias, just to crush it with his hand. a tight-lipped smile painted his lips, but his eyes darkened. the temperature seemed to have dropped, and the air just changed.

darkly.

"you can have as many lovers as you want. i'll just kill each and every one of them." his tone was low. threatening. "you can torment me as much as you want, i'll still be here."

"i'm sorry? i'm not following?"

"nanami. that's his name, right?"'

okay. why was he was acting strangely. you expected the kidnapping to piss him off, but it wasn't to this extent. and why was he bringing up your friend? he thought you were having an affair. well, he wasn't wrong.

your grin dropped, and you moved to light a new cigarette.

"you'll kill my lovers?"

"so you are having an affair!"

"what about it?"

geto's eyes narrowed, and he tossed the vase across the room. "we're married!"

"you think i want to be married to you? if i could, i would've divorced you straight to tartarus by now! yes! i orchestrated your kidnapping to make zeus realize i don't give a shit about you! i would give up my immortality before even starting to think of you as my real husband!"

catching the vase, you placed it back on your desk. damn it, you had enough of this. he was wasting all of your free time by throwing this little tantrum! why did he care about your business? this marriage was nothing but a business arrangement from zeus himself! his mother didn't want him married to you as much as you didn't want to be married to him. it was her idea to kidnap him, anyways. all your life, you had no control over the decisions made regarding you, so you didn't want to let geto suguru become another example.

and why was he bothered about all of this?

he hated you.

... right?

you turned back to look at geto with a sigh, but he cut you off the second you opened your mouth to speak.

"do you want to know what future the fates offered me?"

"geto, look⏤"

before you could react, he shoved you down to the floor and caged you in between his hands. there was wild look in his lavender-colored eyes, but you didn't push him away. you couldn't.

"the fates offered me the perfect future... with you!" your husband whispered in your ear. "all i have to do is get rid of anybody that will threaten it."

"suguru, i love you. you know that. please, this is⏤"

the man chuckled and shook his head. his hand moved to caress your cheek and, well, your lower lip. "don't try to sell me your smoke and mirrors. i know you're bound by divine contract."

his voice felt like iron bars caging you on the spot.

"you can't use your powers on me without the intention of good, and you have to stay with me forever. what's with the look on your face? you thought i was just some dumb himbo that was unaware of everything?"

"..."

"but that future the fates showed me? it's perfect. you and i will never be apart. all i have to do is just take care of a few things. starting with that nanami of yours."

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Deuce, Sebek: Like a Flower, Forever Blooming

Why does it look like Deuce is proposing to you with a tray of donut rings— WEH 😭 The birthday boy looks so handsome and gallant!! (Not usually the kind of comment I make for Deuce cksbsksnw) For some reason I tend to really like Deuce’s birthday cards…

His groovy is kinda funny too; Deuce looks like he wants to fight Alice… Interesting, because Ace acts in Alice-like ways, and he and Deuce are constantly bickering www

A Tale as Old as Time.

A girl found herself wandering into an enchanted garden. She was a tiny thing in her blue dress and pinafore, smiling sweetly at the colorful blooms surrounding her. They bore faces, those flowers—eyes, noses, and mouths, their expressions varying from curious to snarky.

The sunshine of the girl’s long locks, a youth sparkling with sensibility. They were a familiar sight.

It’s something straight from a story back home, Deuce thought.

He scrounged around for a smart comment to demonstrate his wit, his maturity. At last, he settled on: "I had no idea there were so many different looking flowers. I can barely name a few kinds.”

A dismissive grunt sounded.

"Hmph! You hail from the Queendom of Roses, don't you? And Heartslabyul is famous for its roses as well. You should be more familiar with the flora!" Sebek scolded him with a frown. "Have you no pride for your country or dormitory?! Truly, your behavior is beyond the pale!"

"I just never really paid much attention to the flowers before... I'm not the kind of guy with a green thumb. The most I do is paint the roses when the dorm leader tells me it's my turn."

"Unbelievable!! You disparage the noble perennials with that flippant attitude of yours!" Sebek shook his head. “Were you to lay your gaze upon Briar Valley in the springtime, you would surely come to appreciate them."

“Pere-what?”

“Perennials!!” Sebek folded his arms. He lifted his chin. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of what they are! You must not be very well-read, human!!”

“O-Of course I know what they are!” Deuce stammered. “Wh-Who hasn’t heard of a para-knee-old before?!”

His fellow first year casted a doubtful look at him.

“… Okay, maybe I don’t,” Deuce admitted. His shoulders deflated along with his defiance.

“Perennials,” Sebek smirked triumphantly, “are flowers that return year after year. Roses are among them, but there are many others that fall into the category.

“When they bloom in the warm season, it is a scene to behold, a feast for the eyes! Then, come fall and winter, they wither and fade… and in spring and summer, they are born again! It is a most glorious, never-ending cycle.”

“Ah, so they live and die, then they’re brought back to life. Over and over… Endlessly?”

The gears in Deuce’s head slowly turned. Their teeth clicked into place, sparking a realization, a light in flickering on in his face.

“Oh?" The smugness in Sebek's voice was front and center. "Have you been swayed already? It certainly didn’t take much to persuade you.”

“I think I get it now, Sebek. Flowers are cool after all!” Deuce slammed a fist into an open palm. “Growing, getting older, dying, and coming back to life again… They’re like phoenixes!”

“In what way are flowers like phoenixes?!” Sebek bellowed, his volume shaking the paintings lined up on the walls. His words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I wanna be like that too!! As tough as a flower that bounces back year after year!” Deuce passionately declared. “If I get knocked down, I’ll just get back up again! There’s gonna be no stopping me!”

He paused. "... Do you think I should add some flaming flower decals onto my Magical Wheel?"

"You've failed to take to heart a single insightful thing I've told you!! I would hardly consider this a revelation!" Sebek groaned, a hand upon his temple.

Typical foolhardy human, he surmised with a scoff. But still, he could sense a fighter when he saw one. The determination in Deceus's eyes was unmistakable. A blue-green as sharp and as clear as a cloudless summer's day, like a sword cleaving the heavens in half.

He had seen it many times over.

It was the look of a warrior.

"Listen here, human! There are a great many number of opponents in this world whose power may rival or even exceed your own. When you should encounter such strong foes… I hope you stand your ground. To betray your own promise would be disgraceful!”

“You saying I’d go back on my word?! No way! I definitely won’t run. That’s a coward’s way out.” Deuce grinned daringly—dangerously. “No matter what comes my way, I’ll own up to it. I’ll take it all on!”

[psychedeliccc]

fruit juice.

I don't care

how complicated this gets,

I still

want you. (part I)

There is something so undeniably tender and symbolically picturesque about the splurging juices of a tender fruit, as it drips down your lips and fingers, almost like sucking the life out of it in the most sadistically satisfactory way possible.

Thats what it felt like when your best friend left your half bitten heart lay on the ground as the juices splurged on the floor , had he just led you on for sadistic pleasure or was there something more... something he couldn't convey?

The curiousity fled through such an extent that you couldn't take it anymore, you lifted from your trance and got up from the bed, you ran to your door and stormed out, albeit it being midnight.you reached his dorm and lifted yout fist hesitantly.

You knocked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Four times.

no response, except you knew he was inside, you could tell by a faint weeping sound the echoed through the thin walls of his dorm.

After a short moment, you could hear a soft sniffle and the weeps distinguished. A few steps marched towards you, you could feel the wooden floor creak and door opened ever so slightly.

"Y/n." Theodore sighs, his eyes we're slightly red with a moist layer on the circumference of his eye, his nose looked reddish pink, he was crying, it was obvious.

"We need to talk." You say, finally.

"Come inside." He opened the door slightly more letting you in, he locked the door immediately and let out a soft sigh, one of his hands reached through his hair, his fingers running through each strand.

"What was that about? That night... " You ask quietly, taking a seat at the corner of his bed, resting at the edge against your palms.

"Y/n there's something I need to tell you. " He bites the inside of his cheek and sighs before sitting besides you, you could feel the bed vibrate slightly as his foot let put soft stomps on the floor, he was anxious, this was important.

"Go along then."

"Merda, this harder than I thought." he cursed under his breath, you wouldn't have heard him if he weren't sitting right beside you, he rested his palm on the back of his neck and finally gazed up at you.

"I like you y/n.more than I'd like to admit." He sighs.

You smile softly feeling a rush of excitement running through your veins.

"I do too. "

"You don't t understand."

"Of course I do-"

"No, no, you don't." He interrupts you and looks down to his hands, fidgeting with his silver rings, toying with them.

"Then explain it to me. " You whisper and lean closer to him, placing your hand on his.

He pushed your hand away and brought his hands closer to your face, hesitating slightly before cupping your face and stroking your cheek with tips of his long fingers. His azure eyes met yours and he leaned slightly closer.

"Would you still feel the same way you do now, if id have done something horrid, something unforgivable?" He whispers.

"What are you suggesting?" You whisper back, looking straight into his eyes.

He sighs softly and pulls his hands away, resting them on his thighs.

" What if what I did was something I didn't chose? What if I had no choice? I was forced?" He look at you, a tinge of vulnerability flowed in the orbs of his watercolor eyes.

"What did you do, Theo?" You whisper worriedly.

"Answer my question. "

"Theod-"

"Please,... Y/n...i need an answer. " He sighs desperately as his face softens.

"I could never stop loving you." you reply quickly and surely.

He chuckles dryly and palms his head.

"I suppose I'll have to tell you then? "

"Tell me what? "

He looks up at you finally, meeting your gaze again and shifts closer to you, he caresses your cheek with one palm and looks directly into your eyes.

"I want to try something." He whispers and leans closer, his face looked soft and calmer than before.

You nod and study his movements, he gets closer and gently places you on his bed, your back resting on the frame of the bed, he then climbs on you and places a gentle kiss on your mouth, still caressing your cheek.

"I love you, I know you feel the same way but we can't do this. " He whispers sadly.

You look at him in slight shock and a tinge of excitement rushed through your veins at his soft gesture.

"Why not? " You simply whisper back and shift more comfortably on the bed frame with him still hovering over you.

He sighs softly before pressing his thumb on your lower lip and caressing it gently.

"I wanna try something... before I tell you." He whispers and pulls back slightly, before leaning in again, starting to kiss the crook of your neck, eliciting a soft suppressed moan from your lips.

He looks up in awe and continues kissing your neck, gently biting at the space where your neck and shoulder connect, he sucks on your skin gently leaving a pinkish red mark.

He pulls away slightly to watch your reaction , only to smile slightly at your flushed state, you bit your bottom lip and tugged on it slightly, gazing down at him with a yearnful expression.

He chuckles softly and leans close to your face, leaving another gentle kiss on your lips and pulling away slowly.

"Do you mind... If I continue? " He whispers against your earlobe.

You nod in response and sigh in gleeful content.

"Words, amo." He whispers, his voice sounded low and raspy, almost a seductive tone to it.

"Yes, please...Theo." you whisper back.

You swear you could see a slight smirk cross his face before he leaned close against your neck, sucking each corner leaving a purple bruise every now and then, he sighed softly against your neck, leaving his hot breath burning a hole against your slender neck.

You closed your eyes and let out a slow soft moan from your lips, your hands reached for his hair as your fingers fiddled through each strand of his luscious brown locks and through his golden highlights.

He groaned softly in response before pulling away from your neck and kissing you again, this time more passionately, he pressed his lips against yours, nibbling on your bottom lip which forced a moan from your lips, he took his opportunity and slipped his tongue without wasting a moment, his tongue explored the inner crooks of your mouth and he groaned against your lips in pleasure. He pulled away with a slight pant following him.

"Dio, hai il sapore di un frutto dolce." He groaned quietly before pressing your lips again, causing you to gasp slightly.

(god, you taste like fresh fruit)

He pulled away once again and started to unbutton your shirt leisurely, looking up at you for any signs of discomfort as he did.

You blinked your eyes open and watched as he unbuttoned the remainder of your shirt, pulling it away and leaving you almost entirely exposed.

"Theodore... "

"Shh, diletto. Let me make you feel good."

He kissed your neck again sloppily, leaving his traces as he reached your collarbone, sucking on it it gently, he pulled once more with a soft groan.

"My god, you're beautiful. "He smiled, not for long.

His face slightly dropped and he pulled away slightly with a sigh.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" You fix your composure and watch him with a concerned expression.

He groans slightly,pulling far back on the bed, he pinches the bridge of bis nose with his fingers, his eyes shut with a squint.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath.

"What did I do? " You reply worriedly and lean towards him.

He quickly looks back at you with a softer gaze.

"No, no you didn't do anything, this is my fault. "

"W-what is? "

"I've been keeping this shut far too long." He sighs and hesitantly tugs slightly at the end of his sleeve before pulling it up entirely.

Your eyes widen at his wrist and and you look up at him in utter shock and disbelief.

"You.... You're.... "

"A deatheater. " He sighs and look at his Mark, caressing the ink with his fingers.

"Why? " You ask quietly, your voice breaking slightly, you clear your throat and repeat the question.

"Why'd you get it? "

"I didn't have a choice."

A short pause follows.

"He...forced me, said he'd kill my friends, my family, or whatever's left of it anyway. " He chuckles dryly and sighs, looking away.

You sit up straight and lean closer, you inch towards him and hol his chin, pulling it to face you.

"Did he hurt you? " You whisper.

Theodore shakes his head and sighs.

"Does anyone else know? "

"Yeah, Malfoy." He sighs.

You pull his wrist towards yourself and stroke the pattern of the ink with your index finger.

"Is it permanent? "

He nods.

You sigh.

"I don't care." you whisper.

"What? " His eyes twitch up in shock to meet yours.

you pull him on the bed and climb on him this time, you pull back strands of his hair and stroke his cheek.

"I don't care if you have the dark mark, I'll never stop loving you. We'll get through this together, yeah? I'll never let anyone hurt you."

He chuckles softly and reaches out his arms, wrapping it around your waist.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm certain." You nod.

"We'll get through this together?" He repeats in a whisper and a slight smile.

"I don't care how complicated things can can get, I'll always love you."

🥐 taglist ; @ahead-fullofdreams @melllinaa @preeyansha @helendeath

thank you for your undivided patience and loyalty to the mini series <3

much love.

[suratan-zir]

Hi. I wanted to ask how you have those among Ukrainians who believe in russian propaganda. I just met one refugee from Kharkov, and he told me that Putin is fighting for the Russian world, and it was the United States that started the war. He reasons that since he speaks Russian, he should support Russia's actions. And this despite the fact that his city was bombed, and he and his family were on the verge of life and death.

Hi. I can't really answer this. I mean, I can try, but I'm not good at answering vague questions. I'm not well-spoken enough.

How come so many USAmericans worship Trump and see him as a savior of the poor when he's the exact opposite? How come far-right parties all across Europe gain more and more popularity, with people believing that fascists in power will resolve all their problems? Hell, we can take it a step further and ask how come people become anti-vaxxers and flat Earth believers? The answer is only one - propaganda. People fall under the harmful influence.

Russian propaganda has been extremely active in the southeast of Ukraine basically since we gained independence. Russia has been spending millions upon millions on brainwashing Ukrainians. The propaganda became more and more aggressive since the Orange Revolution. It was everywhere in the Donbas, you couldn't even wear a piece of orange clothing without risking being beaten up.

I was only a middle-schooler, but I remember it in detail. Propaganda materials such as leaflets were distributed everywhere. I remember one with Viktor Yushchenko (pro-European presidential candidate) against the background of the US flag and Uncle Sam who's saying, "Yushchenko is our pResident." I remember asking my mother what it meant, and she said it means that Yushchenko is a very bad person. This stuff was wild. And it only got wilder.

Russian propaganda claims over the years varied from the statement that "Donbas feeds the entire Ukraine" to "pro-European politicians and the US will make concentration camps in the Donbas for the Russian-speakers and will populate the territory with people from the West instead." I don't know how, but people believed in this purely artificial conflict. Not only were there never any persecutions against the Russian-speakers, but you would actually feel more comfortable speaking Russian in Ukraine. In most regions, the Ukrainian language was considered a "redneck" language and would get you nowhere. Of course, the Ukrainian government is also to blame for letting Russia control the narrative. But for most of these independent years, Ukraine was basically externally managed by Russia. During Yanukovych's presidency, we were like Belarus is now - a false "president" taking instructions straight from the Kremlin. So the brainwashing was getting worse and worse.

I told this story several times, and I'll tell it again. Before the "referendum" in Donetsk, most people laughed at the idea of the "republic." It was supported by some local lunatics, but mostly the whole thing was done by russian mercenaries and russian military. During this time, my aunt told me that those who support this are crazy and they're calling war into our homes. She was a reasonable person. She had a job, a nice apartment of her own, a happy family, and a bright future ahead. In 2015 they fled from Donetsk to russia, along with my grandmother. Why to russia? Propaganda. Then they got russian citizenship and used it to vote for putin. I asked how they could vote for him after what he did to them, after they lost it all. "We're thankful he gave us a home, gave us citizenship," was the answer. At first, he took everything from you, ruined your life, then let you restore a tiny bit of it - and you're grateful. I don't know how this works. It's not like they were welcomed in russia, they faced a lot of prejudice and oppression for being from Donetsk. To the point that my cousin was bullied at school for being from the Donbas, not only by kids but by teachers, despite being an excellent student and graduating with honors. Russians are outraged that their state "rescues" and "helps" those Donbas khokhols instead of helping "true" russians.

In the second month of the full-scale invasion, my grandmother proposed that I move to them, to the moscow region of russia. "This is the country that is trying to kill us all, how can you ask me to move there?" "What difference does it make which country to live in? It's safe here." So along with pro-putin brainrot comes also apoliticalness, passivity.

I'm rambling at this point. I don't want to go on about this forever, like I know I can. Let's leave it at this.

[gnrswife]

izzy stradlin xfem!reader

words:688

warnings:..step-siblings , smut?

"Lock the door behind you." izzys voice said quietly as you patted into the bedroom.You wondered why your step-brother wanted the door locked to watch a movie, but didn't say anything as he always told you he knew best. you happily climbed into the bed where he was waiting. "What movie are we watching izzy?" You asked cutely, voice soft as you snuggled next to him. Your heavy tits pressed against his bicep as you looked up at him with curious eyes.The ache ran straight to his cock as he glanced down at you.You were the fucking prettiest thing with your long eyelashes, full lips and gorgeous little body. He absolutely had to have you and he knew you would do anything to make him happy. "Whatever you want sweetness." He told you.

Your eyes widened at this as izzy hardly ever let you pick. You eagerly grabbed the remote and began shuffling through one streaming app to another, not realizing your step-brother was getting a little impatient. The way you were wiggling around as you babbled on about how you couldn't decide was making izzys cock swell. Your tits bouncing with each little movement you made, nearly spilling out of the tiny silk tank top you wore.

Grabbing your hips, he sat you down in his lap to be still, not caring about the kitten like whine that left your mouth. "Sit still and pick the fucking movie. Yeah?" He said roughly.You nodded with a bratty frown, as you finally picked back to the future You snuggled your back further into izzys chest, your ass resting snugly between his spread legs. He reached over to turn the lamp off, making the room dark except from the girly movie playing. Your eyes engrossed into the shit that he could care less about, as he leaned back against the pillows.Half way through the movie, you didn't even realize the large tip of your step-brother's cock was poking at your entrance. You had been so focused on the screen that izzys hands pulling your shorts aside hasn't even crossed your mind."izzy what are you-.." Your voice turning into a whimper as he pushed his cock into your warm cunt. "Hush and watch your movie. You are gonna help me. Okay? You love helping your big bro don't you?" He whispered in your ear.

He was right. You did love helping him. So you sat there and took it like a good step-sister. You tried your best to turn your attention back to the movie, all while your princess parts felt so full. izzy had you right where he wanted. Tight little cunt fluttering around his fat length as he held you still, warming his cock in the process. He couldn't help but let out a small groan as he had never felt anything so incredible. "izzy-why do you feel so weird?" Your voice shaky as you unknowingly soaked his cock."Shhh- sweetness. You just sit on my cock like a good girl." The older boy told you, hands coming down to hold your waist firmly. He was embarrassed to say how close he was to bursting inside of you, your pussy squeezing his dick in vice grip. Little moans and whimpers left between your lips as the weird sensation just kept getting more intense. You knew somewhere in your mind that this was wrong but your stepbrother knew best didn't he? You were helping him after all.

"Shit.. sweet girl keep squeezing me like that." izzy grunted, each time your cunt clenched around him when he would move even slightly. The pride he was losing at the edge of already cumming inside of you, made him want squeeze your throat in frustration. How dare his step-sister have such an incredible pussy that made him want bust his load?

He couldn't hold back anymore, his hand instinctively coming to your throat to grab. You squeaked out his name, your smaller hand coming to rest on his as the warmth of something gooey shot up inside you.

"Such a good little slut." izzy barely whispered. "I mean helper. Such a good little helper."

an: lookk im finally posting and tell me why i thought i posted this yesterday but i accidentally saved it in drafts 😭

[spidybaby]

Dull shine part 2 pleeeeease 😫❤️ ur srsly talented!!!

Dull Shine | Part Two

Summary: An advice and looking into the mirror makes Kylian understand why you left.

Warnings: cursing, depression topic, money issues.

A/N: It's meeee hiiii, I'm the problem it's ME. Sorry about taking so much time, I was solving some personal things, and now I'm freeeee 😫✨️ love you all so much ❤️

Also, heads-up, this is short because I think it's all it needs, not a full part two, more like a compliment that seals the deal 😀❤️

Part one

One day left.

That's what Kylian told himself when he woke up.

One day left for you to come back.

He can't deny that he wasn't the most excited person in the room the next day at practice. Everybody noticed, it was like everybody knew what happened that night.

But not at Luis Enrique's home. At his own, when he told you to move on from the problem he created.

When he ignored you, back turned to you. When you needed him the most. Every time he thinks about it, his heart sinks. It's a weight he's not able to lift.

His mother was the first to notice your absence. He walked into his home with something for you and you weren't there.

The first excuse. "She's working late."

Then it was Ethan. He called you to go to the movies and have a fun night. Wanting to see you after being busy with the team.

The second excuse. "She's sick, have a cold."

They both believed his words. Thinking you were being taken care of by him. But when the excuses kept coming. It wasn't normal anymore.

"Just be honest, we are your family." Fayza says. Sitting next to him. "Tell us what happened."

He sighs, ready to finally disclose his feelings. "She left a week and a half ago." He confess. Hands covering his face. "We had a fight, I said some things just days before, and she wasn't at the right mental place to deal with everything."

They didn't understood. How?

"What do you mean she left?" Ethan asks, standing up from his seat. "She left just like that? You let her leave just like that?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Kylian fights back. "She had her things packed, her ticket purchased and I thought that was the best thing. Don't you think this hurts me?"

"I can't believe you, Kylian. You lie to us, instead of admit that you fucked up. You lie straight to our faces."

"I was hurt, Y/n left, I was scared of facing that."

Fayza is silent, processing the information while her sons yell at each other.

"Enough, Ethan, sit down." She orders. "Kylian, you two broke up?"

He shakes his head no. "She just needed time. We were just not working together in understanding each others probl-"

"More like you weren't." Ethan interrupts. "Because all I hear is me, me, me. But you don't really think that same thinking got you where you are?"

He didn't fight back.

He knows his little brother is right.

"When will she be back?" His mother asks, worried expression.

"In a few days."

And those few days turned into just a few hours.

To be honest with himself, he was stressed. You were going to be back in Paris, but we're you going to be back with him?

Will the break become a breakup?

He was overthinking. That was not good.

Hakimi felt bad. He knew you better. When he heard what Kylian told him about you leaving, about Pamela belittling you, he checked his cameras.

The good thing about having money is that you can afford a very good quality security system. He heard how Pamela attacked you first. You then answered back, but you weren't going to let yourself get insulted.

He apologized to you over text. Asking you to forgive him and tell you how much guilt he feels about this whole situation.

When you read the texts, you felt weird. It wasn't his fault, or even Pamela's.

Everything was a mix of frustration, sadness and low self-respect you had for yourself.

You defend yourself from Pamela, but who was going to defend you from yourself?

You were the one belittling yourself.

Were you enough? You are.

But were you feeling enough? No.

Were you happy with Kylian?

And that question burned your mind for days.

You loved Kylian, he was your rock and you were his rock. You passed some critical times, but nothing like this.

Because he was there for you when you needed him the most, he was there when you lost someone, he was there when you felt homesick, he was there at you happiest.

But you didn't allow him to he at your lowest.

You notice how he was going out more, but he always asked you to come with him. Begged you to leave the house and accompany him.

You notice how he never heard you talk. But you barely even made conversation. You let him speak. When it was your turn, you only said, "I had a good day."

He had to fulfill the quietness with words.

Your mother asked you to think about therapy. Maybe there was something you needed that she or anyone couldn't understand. Something only you could.

And you did. You went to therapy while you were there. Every two days.

It was just the beginning, but it helped you understand that you had more than just a relationship problem. In fact, the relationship problem came from this.

Being blue is normal. We all feel like that.

But when you don't treat it, it can be rough. And you were doing that now, understanding that you needed help. Help that a trip home won't give you. Help that a fight with your friends new girlfriend won't give you.

But help that your lover can give you. He can be the hand to hold during this.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I know now what I need to do." You say, hugging your friend.

You felt nervous about coming back.

Would he be okay with that?

Did he realize he didn't need you anymore?

If only you knew how anxious he is at Paris. Watching the time every five minutes to see if your arrival time is coming closer.

He prepared your favorite meal. Got your favorite dessert, your favorite drink and even prepare everything for a bubble bath.

He needed you to know how much he appreciates you, how important you are for him.

You were nervous too, your leg bouncing and bitting your nails. You brought him a gift from your home. Something he asked you a long time ago, and you never got due to not being able to travel back home.

You asked for an Uber. Not wanting his chauffeur to pick you or him to get out in the coldness of Paris.

The whole drive was painful. You were overthinking.

Both of you were.

"Would she be back to stay?"

"Is this going to end?"

"What if he doesn't want me back?"

"What if this is the end?"

"Madame, we are here." The Uber called your attention once your things were next to you on the street.

"Merci beaucoup." You say, paying him and telling him that you will take it from here.

You open the gate with your control. The sound of it interrupting the calm of the evening.

When he heard the sound, his heart stopped for a second. He was about to throw up from nerves.

The giggle of the keys makes him stop, he feels like throwing up. He took a sip of water before looking at himself on his phone camera, checking if he looked presentable.

The smell of food hits you as soon as you walk inside. Leaving your suitcase by the stairs and slowly walking inside trying to find him.

His back welcomes you, he's focused on his phone to notice you walking into the kitchen. The table was ready, your favorite food ready to be served.

"Kyks?"

He turns quickly, smiling at you with soft eyes. He walks with open arms to you. You lock your arms behind his back, feeling his kisses on your face.

"Mon amour." He kiss your forehead. "How was your flight? Did you even sleep? Are you hungry? I made your favorite meal and I was waiting f-"

You interrupted him by kissing his lips, and all the worries from both of you are out the door. You know he's not mad, and he knows you still love him.

"It was good. Thank you for updating my seat." You answer his questions. "I did sleep, almost all the flight, and I'm very hungry. Thank you for cooking. I can't wait to try it."

He kiss you on the lips, smiling into the kiss. His safe space is back with him. There is nothing better right now.

He pulls you to the chairs, serving you the food and drink. You can tell he was happy. He looked fresh.

You eat in silence. The peace of it is different than before. There was no more weird silence that a video or keyboard sound filled.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He nods, waiting for the right time to talk about all the things that need to be talked about. He lays his head on your shoulder. Kissing your neck.

You feel the same. You want to jump and talk about everything to end the topic and move on. But that was not the way.

However, procrastinating the conversation wasn't the way either. "Let's talk. The faster, the better." You smile.

"Impatient much?" He jokes. Standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "Let's go to the living room?"

You nod, standing up and grabbing his hand, directing him to the big fluffy couch you both love.

"I want to start." He says as soon as his body falls into the cushion.

"Okay, lovie." You smile.

He thinks for a second, how can he ask what he needs to ask? He knows that no matter what, it will hit.

"Why weren't you honest about you having money issues?"

Your expression didn't change. You knew he knew. Celine asked you to pick your check a few days after you asked her you were taking a few days off to rest your mind.

You asked Kylian to pick it up, and Celine gave him a piece of her mind. She felt bad about doing it and called you a few hours later.

She told him that he was an asshole if he couldn't even tell that you were having issues not only with your peace of mind but with how much you worked and felt bad about never been able to match the lifestyle he was.

"I don't have money issues, Ky." You say, low but enough for him to hear. "What I had was the concept that I needed to have a certain amount of money to be enough for you. Leading to me working extra and feeling less than everybody who was around and could give themselves the benefit of spending what I earned in a nightclub."

He nods, understanding. "You know that I'm not like that, right?"

"I do. You always supported me in any way you could. And I'm grateful for you. I just felt so out of place." You sigh. "And every girl who got close to your friends always asked me about your ex, how she was this way and this way. I felt like competing."

He can feel his heart sinks. He never wanted you to compare yourself to the girls he dated. There was a reason why he was done with those relationships.

"You are so smart." He says, hand caressing your cheek. "You have no idea how much I ever wanted to end with someone like you. Not only beautiful but a very strong woman who doesn't need other peoples opinions and who can shine on her own."

You can feel your eyes watering. You never thought that his words were something you needed, but you did.

"My ex-girlfriends are just that. Exes. You are my present and my future." He kiss your cheek. "And I want you to know that no amount of money or any girl who I ever got anything with is going to take the place you have in my heart. You are the one."

Your lips found his, you can't think of any future plans or anything that didn't include him. You know he was your one, and knowing you are his one is heartwarming.

"I'm sorry, I know I was acting like a bitch. I think I felt way too comfortable, and I was so wrong for not noticing that you weren't you. I promise I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Thank you for that." You smile. "I'm sorry too, I was overwhelmed with all the thoughts in my mind. I think I let the worst of it hit me and never paint mind to it."

"It's okay." He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it. "You have me, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

The warmth in your heart is hard to describe. You are sure he will be with you no matter what. The same way you were for him when he needed you.

You hug him, falling into his embrace. His hands caressing your body while he left sweet words in your ear.

"We are going to be okay because we have each other." He kiss your lips and your head. "Tu m’as et je t’ai. Je t’aime, tu es mon monde." He humms.

[wonnieluvr]

forever with you

pairing -> grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

summary -> you break off your current relationship for grayson hawthorne, a past love. logically, you know you shouldn't but the heart wants what it wants.

warnings -> none :)

a/n -> some fluff for my love finally !! pt 3 of photographs of you and thinking of you

seeing grayson again had not been in your plans. at all. you didn't know how you were supposed to explain any of what had happened to your family or to your date. your boyfriend. it wasn't an engagement you had really wanted, just something that would put you a step further ahead in life and he was nice, he treated you well.

but he wasn't grayson. he wasn't your grayson.

that shouldn't have mattered, you mother reminded you harshly the minute word of your meeting reached your family. as you had returned to the gala your mother immediately cut in, having heard grayson's name, warning you not to make any rash decisions.

was it really a rash decision if you had been waiting years for a moment like this?

your date had quickly noticed the change in demeanour. he was swift to pull you away.

as you danced in a room full of people, it should have been him on your mind. he, who was touching you, holding you gently and dancing with you carefully. but it wasn't. no matter how hard you tried it wouldn't ever be.

"you love him" the words had startled you, but they weren't untrue. your boyfriend offered you a small smile, bittersweet and so understanding. you hated it. hated the way you had never fallen for one another. maybe then you would have had no trouble. it might have been simple. you had shared stories of those you had truly loved, first loves gone wrong. you had bonded over that. the hurt.

and here you were now, selfishly considering your second chance while he was stuck without one. "darling, you love him. you can't do anything about that" he dipped you softly, eyes saying everything as you stared at each other. "it's okay"

your eyes begun to water for the second time that night. "i can't do that to you" your voice was full of pain and sadness as you stood straight again. "i don't know if i can do this"

"stop it" he chided softly, brushing your hair back into place as you both paused in your dance. "you would tell me to take my chance if she came back to me. so, i'm doing the same for you. you deserve to be happy. it's okay"

your shoulders dropped slightly, pained and fighting your raging emotions. "but i-"

"sh, go to him" he held your cheeks in his hands for a moment, gently caressing your face, admiring your beauty. "but if he breaks your heart again, i don't care who he is i will kick his ass"

you laughed softly, humourless. you couldn't help the way your heart filled with such great sadness for the boy you had come to spend so much time with. but your grayson was waiting, the same way you had been these past years. you had a chance and you'd be damned if you didn't take it.

you had cursed the hawthorne boy for years. you had harboured hate for the whole family after what they had said to you. you loved gray, yes but it wasn't going to heal those wounds over night. breaking off your relationship for him was something your parents advised against, very strongly when you had told them what you were doing. your mother had tried to dissuade you, remind you off their cruel words, the way they had treated you.

"i can't just give up. i have to try, i love him" you had pleaded. they had shaken their heads but they understood what this meant to you. they had hated seeing their little girl so hurt but they couldn't deny the happiness that had come before that. the way life shone in you when you had been with grayson was something they had never seen since.

it was worth the chance if you believed it was.

you met with grayson a week later. both of you were nervous, unsure of what to say to one another. you had barely ever seen this side of gray, the one who worried and fretted, the one who cared so openly.

while he had shared smiles and murmured words of love to you he had never really showed you himself. he had never been brave enough to truly let you in. and now he was.

he stood before you now, normally steady hands holding out flowers to you with a slight tremor to them. he had shown up at your door, sudden but expected, with the hopes of rekindling your relationship.

"gray" you breathed out, eyes widening when you opened your door to his figure. he wore a suit, as usual, but no matter how many times you saw him, he never failed to make your heart flutter. "hi"

you offered him a small smile, neither of you knowing how to proceed.

he stared at you for a moment longer before he blinked slowly, coming back to reality.

"hello, these are for you" he spoke softly, he had never used the hawthorne tone with you. even if he did, you would never have needed him to. he only needed to ask and you would have done anything he wanted.

"thank you, they're beautiful" you ignored the heat in your cheeks as you took the bouquet from him, fingers brushing his. you disappeared inside for a moment, putting them away in a vase and grabbing your bag before returning to the door.

"shall we?" you asked, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

if he noticed your nervousness he didn't mention it, merely holding an arm out to you, leading you to the car. he was tense, you noted. he knew it would take more than flowers to win you over again. and he was desperate to win you over.

"where are we going?" you asked, once you were both seated in the car, buckling your seatbelt up before properly turning to him. he was already looking at you, gaze soft.

"where would you like to go?"

with anyone else you would have frowned. you would have taken that as a cop out, a hint that he didn't know you and that he hadn't put the proper effort in to make the date special.

but this was grayson. grayson who bled power and control. he had a plan for everything and he had always had backups. he was giving that control to you.

you smiled softly, a memory coming to mind immediately as you glanced out the window to take in the weather.

a storm was coming despite the heat.

"what about the beach?"

the scene between you two was exactly like that of when you had visited last. it was the same beach you remembered, practically empty as a summer storm threatened the peace. the wind whistled in the quiet, as you walked side by side.

neither of you spoke for moment before you found yourselves in a familiar alcove. you smiled at the memory, warmth filling you despite the cold sea breeze.

"do you remember?" you turned to the tall boy beside you. he, once again, already had his eyes on you, watching you walk. you could practically see the two of you in his eyes, the same colour of the sea as you had unknowingly posed for his camera back then.

"how could i forget?" he whispered quietly, his hand reaching out for your face, pausing before he could actually touch you.

you didn't speak, breath catching in your throat as you stared into his eyes. you felt like you were back there again. back when everything had been fine, when there was nothing holding you back.

"i'm sorry" his expression twisted, lips forming a frown as he glanced away. his hand dropped away from you. he didn't deserve to hold you, to love you. "i hurt you and i-"

"stop" you shook your head, taking his hand in yours, gently squeezing it. the sensation was as familiar as it was foreign. "you are not your family, gray. i'm here for you not them. yes, you hurt me when you didn't say anything but i know how much pressure you're under"

"that's not an excuse-" he begun again, hand clinging to yours.

"i'm not saying it is" you grinned a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood. "you have a lot of making up to do"

he just blinked at you, mind running rampant with ways he could possibly do that. your grin only widened as you spoke your next words.

"you can start with giving me a kiss" you reached your free hand up to tap your lips, puckering them playfully and awaiting his move.

he didn't stay frozen for much longer, how could he ever refuse you? he let his own smile grow as he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

he pulled back first, but he couldn't move far, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck, holding him close. his hands automatically moved to your waist.

"i have a few more requests to make before i can forgive you" you announced into the centimetres between you. "but i think i need a few more kisses first"

he released a small laugh, eyes shining as he watched your lips move. "is that so?" he hummed, dipping down again to press his mouth to yours. he paused before he could, murmuring lowly. "and how long do i have to complete these requests, darling?"

"forever, gray"

-

the hawthorne empire's heir, grayson hawthorne, is rumoured to be dating. find out more here.

"well, shit"

[skywqlkergf]

dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader

⠀　　⠀　　⠀　　the party

⠀　　⠀　　　series masterlist

one week since you pulled sam into the bathroom to yell at him, one week since you fed the principal his life, one week since you were grounded. you felt so numb to the entire situation, and maybe that's because you haven't seen sam since then.

your life felt so quiet, without sam, and the chaos that follows him around. you missed it, you think, or maybe just the way you felt when he was around. you shake your head of these thoughts. there were far more interesting things than your screwed-up situationship with a certain troublemaker.

it didn't make things any easier that you were getting the silent treatment from your parents. they refused to even be in the house with you, working double the amount of hours they usually did. you didn't know whether to be thankful or heartbroken.

there was a party tonight. you didn't know who was throwing it, and you didn't really care. what you did know, is all of your friends would be there, and there would be alcohol. and as all people do at some point, you were going to drown your sorrows in alcohol.

you looked over your outfit in the mirror once more, resituating your hair and skirt, and smiled at the sight before you. the girl in the mirror looked hot and excited for tonight, not like someone who's been crying for a week straight.

yeah, maybe, you were a bit mean to sam. you cringe at the thought of his face, big blue eyes staring at you, hurt, and begging for comfort. how were you supposed to do that when he runs away at every chance?

shaking your head once more, you climbed from your bedroom window, the way that sam taught you to. you could hear the television in the living room, the only sign that there were other people in the house. thank god, your car is pretty quiet when you start it.

it doesn't take but fifteen minutes to get to the party. you straighten your makeup in the rearview mirror and force yourself out of the car. you contemplated just going home, but sitting there alone and sulking isn't going to get you anywhere.

you walk up the steps of the home, you can feel the vibrations from the music through your shoes. you almost wanted to laugh, everything was going completley as normal.

as soon as you walked through the door, two of the girls on your squad come up to you. not the friends from yesterday. maia and valerie are immediately pulling you in for tight hugs, and pulling you towards the drink table.

they squeeze you in between them, “is it true? are you dating sam monroe?” maia pipes up, grabbing a cup and making a vodka mix for you.

“and if so, can you get me some weed?" this time it's valerie, and she winks at you, a sign that they will have your back even after everything falls down. you can't help but smile sweetly at them. you were so worried about people's reactions, you didn't think you'd have anyone to talk to. these girls, your girls, have nothing but smiles and compassion for you.

maia puts the solo cup in your hand, it's a little over halfway full. you down the entire thing in one chug. if you were going to be talking about sam, you needed it.

“we’re not on talking terms right now, if I'm being completely honest.” maia put her hand on your shoulder, “do we need to fuck him up?” valerie smiled wide at this, “i'll throw a baton at his head!”

you can't help the laugh that tears its way through your chest, this is definitely what you needed.

“no, no, there's no need for all that.” you waved a dismissive hand, sighing nuetrally a bit as you did. you turn around and make another drink, this one is for sipping. you can feel the giggles hit you quickly, that first drink a bit heavier than you anticipated.

“oh, don't tell me you love him.” valerie's arms across her chest, one eyebrow quirked up. you gave an awkward smile, not really wanted to say anything at all.

you'd been here for about an hour, when you step outside. pulling out the joint you had from your bra, it was the last one sam had rolled for you. you frowned deeply at it, the alcohol in your veins now wearing off.

you put the paper between your lips and lit it. the first hit feeling like you could breathe. something about smoking, that just always takes the edge off even before the actual high hits you.

“can i hit that?” sam’s voice came from beside you, as he sits down on porch steps next to you. your eyes flash towards him, he looks more like him again. the bruises are fading and he doesn't look like he's been crying.

“oh, sure. you did roll it," you chuckle a bit nervously, as you hand it to him. you wished everything would just be fine, you hated this whole thing. not sam though, never him. you didn't even think you were capable of it at this point.

he takes the joint and hits it once, twice, and hands it back to you. the silence is somewhere between tense and comfortable.

“did you make a decision?" you ask wearily. your eyes fall over his figure, while he looks up at the night sky. the stars are out and easy to see.

there's a beat of silence before he responds, “yeah, i did.” you can't help but look around in confusion for a moment, having a flare for dramatics. you take three hits off of the doobie, before handing to sam.

“well? you gonna tell me, sam, i thought we agreed to no more gam-” your sentence is cut off by his lips on yours. the oh so familiar feeling, you fall into it. sam smushes the forgotten joint into the porch.

your hands fly to his neck, allowing yourself to lose control for a moment. he pulls you unbelievably closer and you whine into the kiss. you push him from you, “wait, wait," you hurry out. he immediately stops, retracting his limbs from yours. the lack of his body warmth,the cold night air nips at your skin.

“are you sure? i need you to be really, really sure.” you felt like you were being torn apart, hope jumping in your chest, while fear made sweat crawl down your back.

“cheer, i'm the surest I've ever been about anything. i want, no that's not strong enough. i need you in my life.” his eyebrows scrunched together as he speaks. he's choosing his words carefully as he goes, it causes skepticism to become a fire under your skin.

“well, you've said kind words before and then, and then.” you really didn't want to say it again, didn't even really want to think about the whole situation. you just wanted sam.

“what can i do to prove it to you?” sam's mind was racing, regret and guilt eating at him, while his eyes searched your face for something. something to tell him it'll all be okay.

“i, I don't know. I don't want to hide, I don't want to hide from my parents. not at school. I don't know what you want me to say, i just want this to work. i want it to work so bad, but, sam, I'm scared.” tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, you were being vulnerable.

vulnerability, a sign of weakness, your father always called it. you completely understood the meaning in this moment.

“hey, hey, no tears, okay?” sam's voice is low and comforting, a soft tone only reserved for you. he wipes your tears away as they fall, holding your face in his hands.

“i am so sorry, baby, I'm sorry you got hurt in all of this. but i will do whatever you ask to make it right. let me make it right. I'll walk in there, right now in front of everyone we know and tell them all if that helps. don't wanna lose you again, can't make that mistake again.” his voice is breaking as he talks, holding back tears, his forehead against yours.

you can't help the laugh that escapes you at his rambling, “you don't need to do all of that, but will you come home with me? I don't want to be alone, when i can be with you.”

[vilevenom]

This fic started out as a little 3K word ficlet, inspired by the smarmy little Hickory in a suit, drawn by the amazing @em-doods. It then turned into this 15K+ beast when we starting chatting about his other outfits.

Hope ya'll enjoy ❤️

Hold Me Tight, or Don't

Fandom: Dreamworks Trolls

Pairings: Gen, Hickory/John Dory

Summary:  Since leaving the troll tree, there was only one troll that John Dory kept unintentionally running into. Unfortunately, they weren't always exactly pleased to see each other.

Excerpt:

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

Link to fic on AO3

John hadn't really known where he was going when he'd wound up stumbling upon a grand building situated at the edge of the funk troll territories. He'd just been exploring idly, hoping he was heading in the right direction to get to where he'd been told the country trolls lived, so finding such an especially tall and extravagant building in what was basically the middle of nowhere had been startling, but intriguing. It rose up towards the sky, higher than any troll made structure he'd seen before, and its glass and metal walls glistened brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The huge neon sign declaring "Jazzy's" was also something John hadn't seen before, so much like a moth to a flame, he wandered towards the building curiously.

"Woah there," an older, rather gruff looking country troll grunted at John Dory as he approached the front doors of the building, holding a hand out to stop him before he could go inside. He halted in his tracks, slightly on edge as the larger troll looked him up and down. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's yer name an' tribe?"

"Uh…it's John Dory. And I don't know what you mean by 'tribe'?" John offered, absently fixing how his goggles sat on his head as the other troll frown at him. He'd been to some of the other kingdoms. Was that what this troll was talking about?

"Y'know, yer tribe. Your genre? We don't take kindly to certain kinds of trolls 'round here," the troll practically snarled at John, rising up from his seat, as John took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey now, Axel," a well dressed purple troll came waltzing out the double doors of the building, a lazy grin on her face. She was wearing a loose, flowing red robe that practically hung off her frame, and wild blue hair seemingly floated around her face. "You tryin' to scare away fresh meat?"

"Meat?" John echoed quietly under his breath, suddenly very much wishing he hadn't even tried to approach this place.

"He won't tell me his tribe," the troll named Axel growled, still glaring down at John, only to deflate as this new troll placed her hand on his arm.

"You know that anyone who wasn't actually wanted around here would come up with a better lie than 'I don't know what you're talking about'," the blue haired troll said with a laugh, before turning a sharp eye towards John, who bristled slightly at the attention. "Besides…I'd say it's pretty obvious he's some kind of pop troll. Look at him, Axel. He's harmless." She chuckled and floated over to John, who swallowed thickly and suddenly wanted to be very far away from this place, but couldn't get his feet to move. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"John Dory," John found himself answering before a thought could pass through his brain.

"What a peculiar name," she hummed, a placid little smile on her face. "My name's Jazzy, like it says on the building," she said, gesturing vaguely at the sign shining down on them, while stepping next to John and wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "And this is my casino. Have you got anything worth trading? Coins, you know?"

John frowned, but nodded a little, reaching into his hair to pull out a handful of assorted coins from the various areas he'd passed through on his travels so far. "Sorry, but…what's a casino?" John had a feeling he'd asked the wrong question when Jazzy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, well now!" she cooed, tugging John in close to her shoulder and pulling him along with her into the building, "Don't I have a treat for you!"

Jazzy steered him through the casino, and John quickly realized his earlier feelings of trepidation were probably well founded. He spotted some rock trolls who looked like they were about to rough up a couple of country trolls over a card game, a handful of trolls who just looked like they were on their last legs, and others who waltzed around in the most glamorous outfits John had ever seen. The whole place just had a general uneasy energy that John was not pleased to be in the middle of. Jazzy assured him that he was perfectly safe when she noticed that he was looking a bit on edge, though he had a feeling that she was lying through her teeth as she took the coins from his hand, spoke quietly to a troll behind a barred off counter, and handed him back some colorful plastic chips.

"Now…You know how to play cards, don't you?" Jazzy asked, steering John in yet another direction.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," John said with a small nod, grunting as he was pushed into a seat at a table with several other trolls already sat around it.

"Perfect! This is Lonesome Hold 'em. Real easy to learn. You get two cards that my dealer here will toss you," Jazzy gestured at a young looking techno troll sat at the top of the table, with a rather nasty looking rock troll stood just behind them, "Don't let anybody see them, alright? Then the dealer will flip over five cards, one at a time. You need to make a good poker hand out of those cards. Best hand wins. You've played poker before, haven't you?"

John nodded quickly, as he was garnering glares from the other trolls sitting around the table. He'd never been so happy about his grandmother having an addiction to five card Rummy as he was right now.

"Excellent! Now, you boys have fun!" Jazzy cheered, waving at the table before whisking off to somewhere else in the casino.

"Minimum bet is a tenner," the dealer said, nodding towards John, "The blue chip. You need to put one in to play."

"Oh! Right," John quickly tossed one of his chips into the pile on the table, offering a nervous smile to those around him, only to have glares returned to him.

The first few hands went rather abysmally, with John quickly losing a good handful of his chips as he figured out how the betting system worked, along with the tells of the other players. But, once he'd worked out the reactions for good and bad hands for each of the trolls sat around him, and what hands he should bet high on, he found himself starting to win. He could really see why his grandma had loved gambling so much; it was a thrill when you were winning.

Unfortunately, that did mean that the other trolls at the table were getting tired of losing. Some got up and were replaced by other trolls who wanted to test their luck against John. They would win one or two hands, until John figured out how they played, and he'd start winning again.

Luck truly seemed to be on his side, and he was beginning to think that perhaps this casino place wasn't so bad, right up until he showed up. A rather sleek looking green troll, with a smarmy little grin on his face, slicked back orange hair, and a sharp suit. He sat down across from John Dory at the table with a friendly little nod, though John immediately got a sense that this troll was not one to be trifled with. It was relatively obvious from the way he held himself that this was not his first time at the table, and John had a funny feeling that this troll thought he'd be an easy mark.

They played a few hands, with John losing the first couple as he got a feel for how this new troll played, until he began to win again. But then something seemed to shift, and the trolls playing style changed. Which was strange, since most trolls had a set way they played and superstitions they followed, and those were not something most gamblers would alter on a whim. It was something his grandmother had taught him when he was young, telling him that being able to pick up on tells and playing styles wasn't just good for cards, but something that would come in handy throughout his life. He already knew this would be one of those times.

A few more rounds passed, with the rest of the table clearing out except for John and the slick troll who offered a wide grin as John won another hand.

"My, my. Can't say I've ever seen someone pick up a game so quickly before," the slick troll hummed, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.

"My grandma was real into cards," John offered, stacking his winnings up carefully in front of himself.

"Is that so? She must be quite the lady."

"She is."

The slick troll nodded, rocking back in his chair for a moment, before dropping the legs back onto the floor with a loud thud. "The name's Hickory. Figured I should be properly introduced to one of the first players to give me a run for my money."

"John," John stated bluntly, a little more aware of himself this time around, and not quite as willing to give him name freely.

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

John blinked, not having noticed that the hand was even over. He flipped his own cards over. "Two pair."

"Looks like I win," Hickory hummed, scooping up his winnings. "Want to go again?" John scowled but nodded, tossing in his bet.

Hickory won a few more hands that way; riling John up to make him lose focus until the hand was over so he hadn't realized he was betting on garbage cards. But grandma Rosiepuff's voice rang in his head the third time he lost due to his own irritation, telling him to breath deep and calm down. He used to get riled up the same way when she'd beat him at Rummy when he was a little kid. She'd told him that if he didn't calm down, he'd never win, since anger would only ever lead to loss. Wise words that he should have listened to sooner, really. But that wasn't something he could focus on at the moment, with Hickory smirking at him infuriatingly across the table.

After taking a few deep breaths, John began to steadfastly ignore the barbs and jabs Hickory shot his way to try and get a rise out of him, and slowly he began to win again. As his pile of chip began to grow, Hickory's smirk began to fade, slowly being replaced by a scowl.

John lost track of time in the large, windowless room the poker table was in, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before his pile of winnings was quite sizable and Hickory was down to a a small handful of chips. Enough, really, to get him through one or two hands more.

"I'd probably give up now," John said with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from Hickory, "I don't think your luck is going to drastically turn in one hand."

"You'd be surprised," Hickory snapped back, shoving his remaining chips into the pot as the cards were dealt, while John shook his head with a low chuckle.

But surprised John was. Hickory won the next hand. And the next. It didn't seem to matter what cards John was dealt, Hickory always had something better. Until, finally, John was down to his last few chips.

"I'd probably give up now," Hickory mocked, a cruel gin on his face as he flipped a chip between his fingers, "I don't think your luck is going to turn in one hand."

But Hickory made a fatal mistake as he flipped his chip in the air, causing his sleeve to shift just enough for John to spot a card tucked into it.

"You're cheating!" John shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and swiftly rising from his chair, causing it to fall behind him with a clatter.

"I… what?" Hickory choked, dropping the chip he'd been playing with, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I can see the cards up your sleeve!" John snapped, pointing at the offending sleeve, while the rock troll behind the dealer began to shift and move towards Hickory.

"I-what? No, I-" Hickory glanced between John and the rock troll, swallowing thickly as he slowly rose from his seat. He shifted on his feet, shooting John a glare that made the teal troll freeze where he stood. "I'll get you back for this," he growled, before tossing a handful of chips into the air, gaining the attention of several trolls in the vicinity. They began to swarm the table, half blocking the rock troll from getting to Hickory, who began to run from the table. John watched as he dodged other rock trolls scattered around the casino floor, before ultimately booking it out the doors.

John slowly picked his chair up from the floor and sat heavily into it as Jazzy swept over to him and several trolls dispersed the crowd that had gathered to scoop up the fallen chips.

"Thank you for alerting us to that crook, John Dory," Jazzy cooed, reaching across the table to pull what was left of the chips over to John while patting him on the shoulder. "These are all yours, sweetheart."

"Thanks," John muttered, quickly pocketing the chips. "I think I'm done playing, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Jazzy nodded slightly, "Would you like a room? We've got lots upstairs that are open."

"I-No thank you, ma'am," John said, offering her a strained smile as he rose from his seat. "I think this was a bit more excitement than I was really prepared for. I should get going."

Jazzy made a face at him, but ultimately nodded. "All right. You can exchange your chips at the cashier cage," she said, gesturing towards the barred off counter she'd gotten his chips from earlier. "Be mindful of which coins you ask for. Some will cost more chips than others," she added. With that she turned to the trolls that had followed her to the table, leaving John to his own devices. Quickly he scurried to the cashier cage, exchanging his chips for country troll coins, since that was where he'd been planning on going before he'd found this place, and headed out the doors.

He didn't mange to get too far from the lavish building, before he found himself being tackled face first into the ground and sat on by none other than Hickory, though he looked distinctly more disheveled than he had inside the casino.

"Not very wise to be heading out all on your own after pissing someone off during poker," Hickory hissed, digging his knee into John's back, making the teal troll wheeze.

"M-maybe you shouldn't've cheated then," John gasped out, wriggling beneath Hickory to try and get his arms free.

"Maybe you should've minded your own damn business," Hickory growled, grabbing at John's wrists to pin them against his back, wrenching his shoulders in the process and making John yowl in pain. "I've been working that place for months, and then you come along," Hickory grunted, his weight shifting against John's back as the teal troll kicked his legs up to try and dislodge his attacker, "and ruin everything."

"Again," John wheezed, Hickory's weight shifting just enough that he could roll onto his side, dislodging the grifter entirely from his back, "Maybe you shouldn't have cheated!" He quickly scrambled to his feet, heaving for air as he rolled his now sore shoulders. "It's not my fault you decided to do something stupid and got too cocky while doing it."

Hickory didn't even respond to John Dory this time, simply letting out an enraged bellow as he ran at the teal troll. He tried to tackle John again, but this time he was ready, quickly side stepping the grifter while swinging his arm down into his back, causing Hickory to stumble and fall with a shout as his momentum worked against him.

"Look, I don't want to fight you," John said quickly as Hickory pushed himself up, turning to John with a scowl.

"No. You don't," Hickory snarled, raking his hair out of his face and shifting as though he was going to run at John again, only to freeze at the sound of his name being shouted from off in the distance. He groaned, then spat at the ground near John's feet, making the teal troll recoil slightly. "You're lucky," Hickory snapped, straightening up and fixing his rumpled jacket. He then turned on his heel and dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a rather bewildered John Dory behind.

Time passed, and soon John had mostly forgotten about the odd troll who'd tried to beat him up outside the casino. However, he most certainly avoided the area where he'd come across the opulent building in the first place. Although he'd found Lonesome Hold 'em somewhat fun, he didn't particularly fancy getting caught up in whatever was going on inside that building. He had enough worries in regards to keeping himself alive in the wilderness, he didn't need to unnecessarily add to them by getting into trouble with the trolls he'd seen hanging out in there.

After a couple of years of roaming around and through the country and funk kingdoms, he found himself coming across the rock troll territories. When he had first started exploring the different areas the various genres called home, he hadn't wanted to try traversing through the volcano ridden territories of the rock trolls, especially not after hearing the stories that the other nations would mutter about the rambunctious and rowdy kingdom. But, now that he was a bit older, and had his sweet Rhonda at his side (who was nearly as tall as he was already, so he was fairly certain most other trolls would leave him alone if she was with him), he felt more at ease about crossing into and exploring the rough terrain.

Happily, John was quick to note that what the other trolls had said about the rock trolls seemed to be untrue. As he reached what he'd been told was Volcano Rock City, the main settlement of the territory, he was approached by a grinning red troll, who thrust a piece of paper into his hands, declaring an invite to a party.

"Hey, man! Wicked critter. You should, like, totally come to this party that's gonna be a total rager later," they said with a laugh, before trundling off to hand his flyers out to other trolls nearby. John watched them walk away with a confused little smile, before looking over the paper he'd been handed.

"Huh," John offered the flyer to Rhonda, who sniffed at it and churred, earning a chuckle from John. "What do you think, girl? Wanna go check out a rock troll party? It might be fun." Rhonda simply growled in an excited manner, her back end wiggling as John scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, okay. It couldn't hurt to check it out."

John would later come to regret saying that.

He arrived to the party as it seemed to be getting into full swing, with music blaring from huge speakers next to a stage where a band was playing, and trolls milled about in nearly every available inch of space. Some were dancing near the stage, while others were trying to talk over the music, while still others gorged themselves on the swathes of snack foods that seemed to be floating around the party in random bags and bowls. It wasn't quite like the parties he'd attended when he was younger, but it was similar enough that he felt right at home. Rhonda, on the other hand, seemed to become somewhat skittish and agitated at all of the loud noise. John cooed at her to try and calm her down, but when that didn't work, he left her near the outer edges of the party, where there were fewer trolls, and the music was a little quieter. He promised he'd be back for her in a couple of hours, tops, before heading back into the crowd.

Admittedly, John's first taste of the rock genre was going pretty smoothly, in his opinion. One troll commented on his goggles, noting that they'd be cooler with spikes, while another told him that his fur lined jacket was 'sick', but it would look better in black. And the music, oh, the music. It was so different from anything else John had heard before, but something about it really struck a chord with him. He found himself head banging along with a group near the stage, and a rather gnarly looking blue troll showed him how to throw up 'devil horns' and 'rock out' appropriately. It was absolutely fantastic.

That was until a green troll with wildly curly orange and black hair appeared in front of him.

"John Dory," the troll shouted over the music with a rather unwelcoming grin.

"Uh, do I know you?" John asked, frowning slightly as he backed away from the troll as he stepped further into John's space.

"You sure do, fish boy," the troll snapped back, grabbing the front of John's jacket and yanking him close. John's eyes widened as he realized exactly who he was currently faced with.

"Hickory?!"

"Got it in one."

John made to pull away from Hickory, but the grifter's grip on his jacket was unyielding.

"I think it's about time I paid you back for the trouble you made for me, back at Jazzy's," Hickory said, grin widening at John's obvious struggle to get away from him.

"What are you even doing here?!" John asked, grabbing at Hickory's hand to try and pry his fingers from his jacket.

"None of your business," Hickory hissed, before turning his head and bellowing out, "MOSH PIT!"

John gasped as a rush of trolls started to crowd in and around where he and Hickory stood, jostling them roughly. John could feel Hickory's fingers loosening in his jacket, but the grifter's gaze snapped back to him quickly as he began to slip away.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away so easy this time," Hickory snapped, using the commotion and rowdiness of the crowd around them as an excuse to toss John to the ground. He shouted loudly, grinning as the trolls around them echoed the noise, before he pounced on John as he tried to scramble away.

They tussled through the crowd, Hickory obviously enjoying himself as he continuously shoved John into trolls who took no mind of him as they elbowed him, kicked him, and generally battered him ruthlessly as they moshed to the music blasting from the stage. Finally, John managed to stumble his way out of the crowd and fell to his knees, very much worse for wear, and fairly confident he had bruises littering about 90% of his body. Hickory, meanwhile, strode out of the crowd with nary a scratch, obviously quite used to the nature of mosh pits, and knew how to get out of them relatively unscathed.

"It's someone's first day in the scene, isn't it?" Hickory mocked as John staggered to his feet, clutching at his rather sore ribs.

"It was going fine until you showed up," John growled back, glaring at the grifter, who simply laughed at him. He bristled as Hickory approached him casually, an easy swagger to the way he was walking telling John that this troll didn't have a doubt in the world that he could and would get away with whatever he wanted here.

"Go home, pop troll," Hickory seethed at John, before reeling his arm back and punching the teal troll squarely in the face.

John stumbled back, spots already forming in his vision as he raised his hand to the now throbbing bridge of his nose, while Hickory smirked cruelly at him. The last thing he registered was the sound of Rhonda 's bellow over the din of the party, and Hickory quickly disappearing into the surrounding crowd, before his world went dark.

When John awoke, Rhonda was hovering over him, a worried little coo leaving her as he blinked up at the late evening sky. Slowly, he sat up to find that she had dragged him from Volcano Rock City into what looked like a forest. There were no other trolls around, though in the distance he could see the massive volcano that stood in the center of the city they'd left behind. He sighed and gave Rhonda a grateful little pat as she nuzzled up against his side, while gingerly touching his very tender nose.

"Maybe we keep avoiding rock trolls, huh?" he asked Rhonda, who churred unhappily next to him. "Yeah. I think it's probably best if we don't go back there."

And avoid it he did. John spent the next couple of years exploring the Neverglade trail, rather than continue through the troll kingdoms. Although exploring other genres was fun, a break from other trolls was more than necessary, he figured. Especially after his last run in with Hickory, which had really soured his urge to meet new people. That wasn't to say he didn't run into other trolls and sentient creatures while out on the trails, of course. He met many interesting characters over the years who had plenty of stories to share with him. Which did eventually lead to him learning about the various and notorious bounty hunters that roamed around; one of whom was described quite similarly to Hickory. A rather nasty sounding yodeling troll, who was one half of a pair of brothers with quite the reputation. Hickory was apparently known for his disguises and charming trickery, gaining the trust of his targets and drawing them away to somewhere secluded, where his older brother would inevitably ensnare them in a trap.

According to the hiker who had casually mentioned all of this to John, the brothers had a staggering track record with very few, if any, misses on their hit list. Which just made John somewhat confused as to why Hickory had let him go not once, but twice. Though, he supposed, that might have something to do with the fact that their encounters had little to nothing to do with Hickory's 'work', and capturing John wouldn't exactly be profitable to the bounty hunters. He decided to simply be thankful that he was unlikely to see Hickory again, and moved on with his life.

Eventually, John did find himself back in the kingdoms, with Rhonda now just big enough for him to ride inside, so long distance travel was much easier. He figured the coast would be the best place to check out, since he'd heard techno trolls lived just offshore and were pretty chill, and Rhonda loved a good beach. What he wasn't expecting to find was a community of trolls, who claimed themselves to simply be 'surfer trolls', living near the seaside. Their music was an odd sort of mixture of pop and rock, but it was catchy and fun, and John couldn't help but find himself humming along to the melodies.

They were friendly, too, inviting John to join in their dances and offering to teach him how to surf. He happily agreed to the surfing lessons, pleased when Rhonda jumped into the water after him to swim alongside their surfboards, much to the delight of the other trolls in the water. Anytime John began to wobble on his board, Rhonda would surface just below him, throwing him off and into the water, earning laughs from everyone around. John was fairly certain she thought she was helping, so he couldn't exactly get mad at her for accidentally sabotaging his lessons.

After roughly the tenth time Rhonda dumped him into the drink, John decided it was probably best if he leave surfing to the surf trolls and just enjoy the beach. So, he dragged his soggy self out of the water and propped his borrowed board up in the sand, as the other trolls had shown him to do, and turned to watch Rhonda continue to frolic in the waves. As he turned, however, he spotted a relatively familiar looking green and orange troll that immediately had his hackles rising up. Although he looked slightly different, with dreadlocked curls and baggy beach clothes, he just knew the troll he was looking at was Hickory. After all, hadn't that hiker told him that Hickory disguised himself frequently? It would explain why each time John had run into him, he'd looked different. The bounty hunter was casually chatting with a couple of other trolls just down the beach from where he'd gotten out of the water, and John had no doubt that Hickory was here for a bounty on one of the surfer trolls.

He decided that, for now, it would probably be best if he stayed back and just watch the bounty hunter. He was relatively certain that Hickory knew he was here, since Rhonda was sort of hard to miss. However, he did wonder if Hickory even remembered her, since he was also rather certain that the bounty hunter would've approached him by now if he had any sort of inkling that John was nearby. After all, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

So, he sat and watched, noticing how Hickory kept gravitating to one rather pretty pastel green troll in particular. She had wavy pink hair with flowers nestled throughout, and appeared to have a rather easy going attitude, along with an absolutely phenomenal singing voice. John wondered, briefly, if perhaps Hickory was simply pursuing her in some sort of romantic sense. However, that idea was quickly squashed when he happened to spot a smaller green and orange troll half hidden in the beach scrub not too far off from where Hickory and the girl were. Likely the infamous older brother, Dickory, he'd heard about. That had to mean they were there for a bounty, and based on Hickory practically sticking like glue to the girl, it was most likely her.

A slow smirk crept across John's face as he watched Hickory and the girl chat, an idea forming in his mind. Another miss on the yodelers otherwise near spotless track record would certainly put John Dory in an even better mood than he already was.

John drew himself up from his seat on the beach, whistling for Rhonda, who bound out of the water with an excited trill, drenching the trolls around her on the beach as she shook herself off. He grinned as her antics drew the attention of everyone on the beach, including Hickory and the mystery girl he was following. A satisfied little chuckle escaped John as he spotted the way Hickory's expression soured upon spotting him. He eagerly waved at the bounty hunter, which only served to confuse Hickory, as he frowned and tilted his head, watching with dawning horror on his face as John practically skipped across the beach, Rhonda hot on his heels, towards the two trolls he'd been keeping an eye on.

"Hey!" John chirped, slapping his hand down on Hickory's shoulder and giving it a not so gentle squeeze as he reached the two, "It's been a while, man! How've you been?"

"John Dory," Hickory feigned cheer through gritted teeth, adjusting the yellow sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, "It's goin' swell, bro. Been real chill. What's brought you out to the beach?"

"Oh, you know," John let Hickory go, waving his hand through the air, while Rhonda flopped down into the sand behind him, "Just adventuring. Been out on the Neverglade trail. Heard some really interesting stories while I was out there." He glanced over to the pastel troll who was observing the two with open curiosity on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," John said with a light laugh, "How rude of me. I'm John Dory. You are?" He offered the pastel troll his hand, earning a soft giggle from the girl.

"Aquata," the troll hummed, taking John's hand and shaking it gently, "It's, like, totally righteous to meet you. It's wild to meet someone who knew Reef from before he came to the beach. How long have you two, like, known each other?"

John shot Hickory an amused look, earning a sharp glare from the bounty hunter from behind Aquata's shoulder. "Oh, I've known 'Reef' here for a few years. Met him pretty shortly after I started adventuring. He's always been a real character." Aquata simply laughed at John's anecdote, while Hickory fumed just outside her line of sight. It was incredibly entertaining to John, to watch the way Hickory's face contorted at John's antics.

"That's so rad! Reef is always so quiet about his past," Aquata sighed, turning a lazy smile on the bounty hunter, who quickly plastered a calm little grin on his own face.

"It's 'cause none of it matters, man," Hickory hummed, stepping up next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "The past is, like, unchangeable. Why bother dwelling on it?"

"Deep," John commented, barely able to keep a laugh from escaping him at the way Hickory's expression twitched, like he wanted to scowl at John but knew he couldn't. "But, y'know, the past sort of defines who we are, so it's kind of important."

"Wow! That's so true," Aquata said, patting at Hickory's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, why don't I go get us some drinks? And you two can, like, catch up for a minute?" She twirled easily away from Hickory's hold with a breathy laugh. "I'll be back in a sec!"

The two watched her sashay away, before Hickory turned a sharp glare on John Dory. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," John hissed back, hackles up. "I can only assume you're here to kidnap that poor girl."

Hickory scrunched up his nose, placing his hands on his hips. "Kidnap is a pretty strong word, fish boy."

"It's accurate though, isn't it? That's what you do. Kidnap trolls and deliver them to whoever pays you the most coin. I heard all about you and your brother," he nodded towards the tall grass along the far side of the beach where he knew Dickory was hiding, "while I was out on the Neverglade trail. You two have quite the reputation."

Hickory snarled quietly under his breath, before sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "All right, fish boy," Hickory grunted, "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave this beach and that poor girl alone. I doubt she's done anything especially nefarious that would justify you and your brother dragging her away from her home."

"I can't do that," Hickory groaned, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at his eyes, "My brother would not like that."

John arched an eyebrow, an idea striking him as he reaching back to gently pat at Rhonda, who lifted her head with a curious trill. "Would your brother prefer it if I let Rhonda eat you, instead?"

Hickory blinked, quickly taking a step back as he eyed the armadillo bus, who stared right back at him. "What?!"

"You heard me. You can either take off, and haul your brother along with you, or I'll let Rhonda swallow you. She's eaten a few bigger critters out on the trail, so I know a troll wouldn't be much of an issue," John said, as Rhonda rose to her feet behind him and shook herself clean of the sand that clung to her carapace. He watched as Hickory eyed the critter, his demeanor quickly becoming more nervous and agitated. Of course John wouldn't really let Rhonda eat Hickory, though he did know she could. He'd just get her to store the bounty hunter in the weird pocket dimension trunk she'd developed over the last few months and drop him off somewhere in the woods. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

"You wouldn't," Hickory said with a shake of his head, swallowing thickly as a slow grin spread across John's face.

"Are you really willing to test those waters?"

Hickory looked between Rhonda and John once more, his gaze fleetingly darting off in the direction his brother was hidden, before finally settling back on John. "Fine. Fine! It's not like this was a big job, anyway. Just some rich arschloch who wanted a private, captive singer. We'll leave."

"Great," John hummed, his grin turning into a genuine smile. Even after Hickory had beaten him up a few years back, he really couldn't say he held a grudge against the other troll. As a matter of fact, he was growing just a little bit fond of the only troll that kept circling back into his life. Messing with him periodically was starting to be a bit like a game he got to play every couple years. "You know, this little game of kitty critter and mouse we've incidentally been playing over the last few years has, weirdly, been kind of fun. I hope you don't mind that I won this round." He offered Hickory his hand, at which the bounty hunter stared in mild confusion. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me you've never shook someone's hand before."

"…Not usually right after they've threatened to have their pet eat me," Hickory scoffed, though he did tentatively take John's hand.

"First time for everything, I suppose," John laughed.

"I guess that's true," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, gaze focused on their hands until he pulled his away. "You are a much more surprising, and dare I say tenacious troll than I gave you credit for, John Dory."

John's grin brightened considerably, another joyful little laugh escaping him. "Thanks! I'll take that as a compliment."

Hickory simply snorted quietly at that, a slight smile on his own face as John chuckled.

"Looks like you two had an excellent catch up," Aquata said merrily as she came trotting up to them with three cups in hand. She then offered Hickory and John each a cup of what looked to be fruit punch.

"It was pretty good, I think," John offered, shooting Hickory a cheeky wink, to which the bounty hunter simply rolled his eyes.

"Like, yeah, man. Wicked good," Hickory added, easily slipping into his laid back surfer persona. "But, like, totally bummer news. Johnny here reminded me of some family business I, like, totally forgot about. I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry, Aquata."

"Oh," the pastel troll seemed to deflate a little, though an understanding smile settled on her lips. "That's a drag, but I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side," Hickory offered, handing his cup to John so he could tug Aquata into a quick hug. He then gave John a short nod, before turning and walking off into the beach grass where Dickory was hiding.

"So lame," Aquata sighed, rolling her cup back and forth between her hands, "He was gonna, like, take me on a trip to see Vibe City."

"I'm sure he's just as sad as you are that he can't take you there anymore," John consoled the pastel troll with an understanding frown, though inwardly he was quite pleased to have completely thwarted the yodelers mission. As well as, perhaps, come to some sort of understanding with Hickory. Or, at the very least, gotten more on his good side. Somewhat.

John hung around the little beach community for a good few months, both because he quite enjoyed the energy of the trolls that made their home there, but also to ensure that Hickory and Dickory were not planning on suddenly reappearing. Once he was well and truly certainly that Aquata was in no danger of being spirited away, John decided it was time to move on. He debated on visiting Volcano Rock City again, but ultimately decided he had his fill of socializing for a while, and headed back to the Neverglades to explore the trails once again.

Another year or two on the trails passed him by, with John eventually coming to realize that he'd been gone from the troll tree for roughly ten years. Far longer than he'd ever planned on, but time he felt was well spent, learning about the world at large and also about himself. Working out and past all of the issues that he'd let get so intricately wrapped around him that he'd lost sight of who he really was. He hoped that the time that had passed was long enough that his brothers would perhaps even forgive his past actions, and be at least somewhat happy to see him again.

And so, John Dory gathered as many supplies as he could fit into Rhonda, before taking off towards Bergen Town. He had hoped, over the years, that he'd hear news from one of the kingdoms he visited that the pop trolls had relocated somewhere outside the tree. That they'd somehow managed to escaped their prison. Unfortunately, no one had apparently seen any signs of other pop trolls until John Dory had come waltzing through. It didn't exactly fill him with joy to go back to his child hood home, knowing that his family had gone through so many Trollstices without him, all while he'd been galivanting around the world. But his grandma had always made sure they had the best possible hiding spot. Especially after what had happened to their parents.

He was sure they were fine.

Or, at least, that had been what he'd thought, right up until he scaled the wall of Bergen Town and spotted the decaying remains of the troll tree. His heart plummeted.

"No…"

Rhonda made concerned little churring sounds from where John left her near the base of the wall as the teal troll fell to his knees, but he quickly turned to shush her and tell her he'd be back as soon as he could.

Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he made his way through the town, making sure to stick to roof tops and shadows to keep any wayward Bergens from spotting him. Soon enough, he landed on the shriveled grass that surrounded the tree, dread and guilt rapidly filling his chest as he took in the carnage around the base of it. There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be seen, with pods laying shattered on the ground, scattered pieces strewn everywhere, alongside long rotted wooden carvings of what John assumed were supposed to be trolls. He hurried to scale the tree and ran to his grandmother's pod, hoping for some sort of sign or indication that his remaining family had somehow gotten out of this damnable place.

John was at least somewhat relieved to find his grandmother's pod still hanging securely amongst the branches, though the front door was limply hanging open, brokering no illusion that anyone was still living there. Gingerly, John crept towards the pod, not even conscience of the fact that he was holding his breath as he crossed the threshold.

The pod was a mess. Whatever had shaken the other pods from the tree had caused the cozy looking furniture to fall over, while any picture frames that had previously been hung on the walls lay scattered across the floor, the protective glass shattered into sharp shards. The thick layer of dust settled over every surface brought to sharp focus that whatever had happened to the tree had happened a long time ago, which only served to make the guilt in John's chest grow until he felt like he just might throw up. He should have been there to protect his little brothers. To make sure that whatever had befallen the tree didn't claim his family among the casualties.

Slowly, John picked his way through the pod, making his way to the bedroom he'd once shared with Spruce. Upon entering the room, he found it barely changed since the night he'd left. The beds were neatly made, as their grandmother always insisted, their posters were, surprisingly, still tacked up to the walls with little pins, and although any possessions that had once been on shelves and the dressers were scattered across the floor, John couldn't help but feel like he'd just stepped back in time. Seeing nothing of note that could tell him what had happened, he then moved on to the slightly larger bedroom that his three youngest brothers had shared.

What he found shocked him slightly. Where he'd been expecting a bunk bed and crib, he found a single toddler bed, and instead of two small desks crammed into opposite corners, he just found one, pushed up against the wall. He frowned as he approached the desk, finding childish little drawings that, frankly, didn't look like anything any of his brothers would've drawn. At least, not while he'd been around. The drawings were rough, like the artist had been pushing down on the crayons too hard. Simple little words like 'RUN', 'HIDE', and 'NO' were featured rather frequently throughout the drawings, while little figures that John assumed were trolls were being scooped into the mouths of what appeared to be Bergens. The drawings were dark, and frankly more than a little graphic and disturbing, as some of the crudely drawn trolls were being crushed between the teeth of the Bergens.

John felt tears welling in his eyes as he flipped through the plethora of drawings, a broken little sob escaping him as he came to a drawing at the very bottom of the stack, obviously from before all of the other scribbles, with a happy little blue signature that read 'Branch' across the bottom corner. Only two trolls were depicted in the drawing, labeled as 'Grandma' and 'Me'. The way Branch had drawn himself lead John to believe the sketch was from well after the band had broken up. There were no other drawings on the table, nor any scattered across the floor that depicted any of his brothers. It made John's heart twist in his chest. What had happened to his baby brother? And where were his other brothers when it had happened?

It was as John turned to leave the bedroom and explore the rest of the pod for clues that his heart stopped in his chest and all of the air left his lungs. There, carved into the wall and door of the bed room were the words 'THEY ARE GOING TO EAT US'.

It felt like the world was tipping as John fell to his knees in front of the display of complete and utter paranoia and despair that stood boldly in front of him. It was most likely that Branch had been the one to take a knife to the wall, since the lack of any other beds in the room and the drawings indicated he was the only one to dwell inside. But what had happened to their Grandmother? There was no way she would have let Branch near the knives, let alone take one to the wall and door. And if any of his other brothers had been around, surely they would have stopped him.

John's head spun, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the bedroom, gagging as his body was wracked with shivers and tears fell down his cheeks in a torrent. His family - they had to be dead. It made so much sense, now, why not a soul in any of the kingdoms he'd travelled through had seen hide nor hair of another pop troll, besides him.

He didn't know how long he drifted around the pod in a daze after that, collecting up everything that wasn't broken or moldy into as many bags as he could feasibly carry. He then stumbled out of the pod, considerably less careful than he had been on his way up. But that didn't really appear to matter, as most of the Bergens roaming around the streets didn't seem to be looking for trolls. John vaguely thought that perhaps it had been so long since the troll tree had died that they didn't think there were any trolls left to even bother looking for.

Somehow, John made it back to Rhonda without being spotted, although he could barely recall the trip through Bergen town. She cooed at him worriedly, and he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to give her a pat and tell her to head back towards the Neverglades, before he climbed inside. Once inside, he reverently set the bags of memories he'd collected down, crawled into his bed, and buried himself under a blanket. The near constant flow of tears had finally stopped, though where sadness and despair had only just had a chokehold on him, empty numbness had begun to take over. He felt like someone had pried open his chest and scooped out his heart, leaving him bereft.

After a time, though he truthfully wasn't sure how much, John could feel Rhonda come to a stop. Slowly, he dragged himself from the huddle of blankets he'd been bundled under and stumbled to the door, dehydration and lack of food making his head swim slightly. He'd definitely been cooped up in Rhonda longer than he'd intended. Which meant that the poor girl had been going for far longer than John Dory had ever driven her before. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for his negligent behavior, and tumbled out the door, forgetting just how high it really was. John fell face first into the dirt, earning a churr of despair from Rhonda as she turned to watch her caretaker push himself up onto his knees. She turned to nuzzle at him, which John quickly returned, raising his arms to give her his best approximation of a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," John murmured, the emptiness he'd been wallowing in slowly ebbing away to allow sadness to creep back in as he felt tears well in his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't hole myself up like that again, okay? You deserve so many treats for being such a trooper." He hiccupped, a sob following shortly after. "I gotta make sure to take care of you. You're all I have left."

And take care of her, he did. She was a little worse for wear after having run what John would later figure out was nearly three days straight without stopping. He cleaned her up and made sure she had as many snacks and treats as she could eat, and let her rest where she'd stopped in the middle of the Neverglades for a week straight. Once he felt that Rhonda was well rewarded for dealing with his breakdown, he steered her to the nearest town and filled as many cupboards as he could with fermented juices, nectars, and barley. Anything and everything that he could get his hands on that would allow him to temporarily forget about his family and the state of the tree, when he wasn't taking care of Rhonda. Because as much as he wanted to drown himself in alcohol to forget what he'd seen, she needed him to take care of her, and he vowed not to fail another soul that relied on him.

Months passed before Johns supplies began to run low enough that he needed to venture back into a town to stock back up. Still feeling less than social, he decided to stick to the outskirts of most settlements, and avoided the larger cities all together. Rhonda seemed to love meeting new trolls who gushed over her, though, so John would stop in the little towns for a few days at a time so she could get her fill of social interaction. Meanwhile, John would fill his cupboards with whatever alcohol the town had to offer, and drink himself stupid, before the two would spend the next couple of weeks roaming the country side again.

It was during one of these spans between towns that John and Rhonda came across a little band of nomadic folk trolls, near the border of the desert where the country trolls lived and the forest that separated the rock kingdom from the others. The group was rag tag at best, their patchwork tents endearing in the way they were cobbled together in a multitude of materials and colors, while nearly every troll looked like they had rolled around in a meadow, with twigs and flowers sticking out of their hair that John could see even from a distance. Rhonda seemed especially interested in them, so John brought her to a stop near their encampment, and decided it was about time that he try to fill his social interaction quota once again. He was doing his best to get back into the swing of talking with other trolls again, but so far it hadn't exactly gone well.

"Hey there," he called to the camp, waving his arm above his head while trying his best to feign a smile.

Truly, the very last thing he'd been expecting was for a troll near the center of the camp to perk up at the sound of his voice and call back a confused, "John Dory?"

"Uh," John said rather eloquently, suddenly wishing he'd showered at some point in the last few days. He probably looked a mess and smelled just as unpleasant. The troll in question strode across the camp, John's eyes slowly widening as he took in the scruffy orange hair and beard of the familiar green troll he couldn't seem to stop running into. He didn't want to call the bounty hunters name, unsure as to what he'd even be doing with such a group. Surely a folk troll wouldn't fetch him much coin?

"What in the world are you doing here?" Hickory asked as he finally made it to John, a small frown on his face.

"Exploring," John offered bluntly with a small shrug, "What about you?"

"Trying to get away from my brother," Hickory replied with a shrug of his own, "You reek."

"Haven't showered in a few days," John sniffed, tugging absently at the bottom of his jacket. "What're you going by?"

Hickory scrunched his nose up and tilted his head, reminding John of a confused cuddle pup. "My name?"

"Yeah, but," John leaned in to Hickory's space, the bounty hunter gagging quietly at his smell as he did, "Can I call you Hickory? Or are you going by 'Reef' again?"

Hickory blinked, then snorted a quiet laugh, nodding his head slightly. "Oh, yeah, right. You can call me Silas. But, how about you go and take a shower, and then I'll introduce you to some of the group? You smell like you slept in a pile of garbage."

"Yeah, alright," John said, turning on his heel to head back into Rhonda. He did not miss the mildly concerned look Hickory shot him at his short, somewhat stilted answer. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care that much. Although he'd grown to think fondly of the bounty hunter over the years, they didn't really know each other. His apparent concern was appreciated, but John didn't really feel like he'd earned it.

John showered quickly, then took a moment as he dripped dry inside Rhonda to clean up a little. When Hickory had said he smelled like he slept in garbage, he hadn't really been that far off. Piles of food and drink containers had stacked up over time, and several dishes had been languishing in the sink, growing mold. John filled the sink with soapy water to let the dishes soak, and tossed all of the trash into a couple of bags to take out the next time he went through a town. Finally, he opened all of Rhonda's windows to let her air out, since her cabin was starting to smell a bit musty. It was while propping open her front window that he overheard who he assumed was Hickory talking to his baby girl.

"You're a good girl, aren't you? Does John Dory take good care of you? You certainly look nice and healthy. Would you eat me? No, you wouldn't. Noooo. You're too sweet for that."

John snorted into his hand at the babying voice the other troll was using on Rhonda, though it was obviously winning her over as she churred happily and audibly licked someone.

"Ah! Ew…Uh, thank you. I think," John heard the other troll say, mild disgust dripping from his tone, prompting the teal troll to slip back inside to stifle his laughter and get dressed.

Once he felt he was at least mildly presentable, he hopped back outside, finding Hickory covered head to toe in Rhonda's glittery spit, confirming that it had, indeed, been the bounty hunter talking to her while John was cleaning up.

"Making friends?" John teased, nodding towards the sparkly troll with a crooked little grin.

Hickory snorted, brushing glitter from his shoulder. "Trying to. I think I succeeded? She didn't eat me, at the very least."

"She might be marking you as prey," John offered, though he knew she definitely wasn't. She only licked people he liked.

"Well, isn't that a comforting thought," Hickory laughed, reaching out to wrap an arm around John's shoulders, effectively half covering him in drool as well.

"I thought the point of me going to take a shower was to get clean? Now I'm covered in slobber and glitter," John scoffed, following along with Hickory as the other troll began to steer him towards the camp.

"The shower was more to make you smell better. And you do! So now you have to suffer my glittery fate with me."

"That's fair," John said with a quiet laugh. He blinked at the sound as it left him, fairly certain it was the first time he'd actually, properly laughed since he'd gone back to the tree. He felt a little squeeze in his chest as he glanced at Hickory, who had an easy going little smile on his face as he lead John to a small group of trolls loitering by the camp fire.

John barely paid attention as he was introduced to several of the folk trolls, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. Finally, he was lead to a log set somewhat near the camp fire, just the right distance from everyone else meandering around the camp to be somewhat secluded. A bowl of stew was pushed into his hands as Hickory sat down next to him with a sigh.

"They seem friendly," John commented idly, before taking a sip of his stew and immediately perking up. "Wow! This is delicious."

"Thanks. I made it yesterday, so the flavor's gotten better. Wasn't as good then," Hickory said with an easy smile, "And, yeah. They're real nice. Took me in without asking a single question. I've been traveling with them for a few months now."

"Oh, yeah? And you promise you're not trying to snag one of these poor, unfortunate souls to sell to some high paying douchebag?"

Hickory sighed, swirling his stew idly in his bowl for a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear to you, I'm not. The last year or two of bounty hunting was just…It was getting to be too much. My brother was taking worse and worse jobs for us, and I was getting tired of the constant run around. I also realized one day that I really don't know who I am."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every time you've met me, I've been someone different. In the early days I could at least still go by my own name here and there, but I don't think anyone but Dickory has called me 'Hickory' in years. I don't even know my own likes and dislikes at this point, having to change my personality to fit whatever persona my brothers come up with at the time. I wanted to figure out who I am, without Dickory breathing down my neck, or our job putting pressure on me."

John felt suddenly stricken at Hickory's response, memories of his own little brothers complaining about the parts he'd forced them to play flashing in his mind. The only one who'd never complained was Branch, but he was only a toddler, so that was to be expected. He had always just been happy to be included. Which then brought the realization to the forefront of his mind that Branch would only be fourteen this year. The same age as John had been when they'd started Brozone.

He hadn't even realized Hickory had continued talking until the sound of his voice suddenly stopped.

"…John?"

John startled slightly, his nearly untouched bowl of stew almost falling to the ground as he lifted his head. He blinked, feeling tears he hadn't registered catching on his eye lashes. "Sorry," he breathed, setting his bowl aside quickly and rubbing at his face. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Hickory was looking at him. "I gotta…Sorry, I just remembered something," he floundered, yanking his goggles down over his eyes as he rose from his seat. He then quickly took off towards Rhonda, ignoring her worried trills as he ducked through her door.

Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, he would've noticed Hickory following close behind as he went inside. Instead, he pulled open one of his cupboards, grabbed a stout bottle of the strongest liquor he'd managed to find in the last town they'd passed through, and began to unceremoniously chug it down.

"Woah there!"

The half empty bottle slipped from John's fingers as he jumped at the sound of Hickory's voice, mildly irritated with himself at being so easily startled twice in a row by the same troll in such a short amount of time. He turned to glare at Hickory, forgetting his goggles were obscuring half of his face. "What?!" he snapped, stooping to scoop the bottle off the floor and putting it back to his lips to finish off what was left.

"Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you have to understand that this is concerning behavior," Hickory stated, hesitantly reaching towards John, "You just suddenly ran off and started trying to drink yourself into oblivion. What happened?"

"None of your business," John hissed, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Hickory really didn't deserve his terse behavior, but all he wanted to do right now was forget.

"Hey, now," Hickory stepped forward and placed his hand over the top of the new bottle, frowning lightly at John, "You have every right to tell me to leave, but you've got to know that I'm worried. I've seen trolls do some awful things to themselves over the years, and drinking themselves to death isn't really that uncommon, or fun to watch. Believe it or not, you've been one of the only trolls I've managed to run into more than once over the years that didn't have anything to do with my work, so I've grown kind of partial to the idea of getting to run into you more. C'mon, John Dory. Talk to me."

John sniffed, tugging the bottle away from Hickory's hand to take a swig, though he didn't try to upend the bottle like he had the last one. After a moment he let out a slow breath, shoving his goggles back up into his hair to reveal his watery, red rimmed eyes. "You reminded me of my brother."

"And that made you need to drink an entire bottle of fermented nectar?" Hickory asked, taking a step back from John, now that he was less worried he was going to dump another bottle down his throat.

"Yeah. It did," John sighed, shortly followed by a sardonic little laugh. He gestured for Hickory to follow him over to the couch, flopping himself down onto it as he took another swig of his drink. He watched idly, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, as Hickory gingerly settled himself down on the couch next to him. "My youngest brother would be fourteen now," he stated, as though it wasn't out of left field and a rather confusing thing to mention, given the situation.

"Good for him?" Hickory offered, shooting John a confused look.

John gave another hollow laugh, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "He's dead."

Hickory reeled back in surprise as if he'd been slapped, one hand going to his chest, while the other moved to hover in the air over John's shoulder. "Oh. I'm so sorry," he breathed, obviously not quite sure what to do with himself now.

"Yeah…I finally decided to go back home. It'd been ten years, y'know? I'd been running from my responsibilities for a long time. So I tried to go back, but…no one was there," John paused to swallow down more of his drink, the liquor just starting to make his head go a little bit fuzzy, "Not a single soul was anywhere. The tree I grew up in was rotting from the inside out, and our pod was in shambles. I thought, for just a minute, that maybe my family had escaped, or run away, but then I found-" he choked on tears, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

"It's okay, John Dory," Hickory said softly, letting his hand settle on John's back to rub gentle little circles there, "Let it out."

A moment passed before John managed to suck air back into his lungs, coughing quietly as he struggled to get the next words out. "My youngest brother, he was only four when I left. I found drawings of his on a desk. They were so fucked up," he wheezed, tipping the bottle back into his mouth once again. He hiccupped and shook his head as he continued, "Drawings of trolls getting eaten. And then I found words carved into the wall. There's no way, if anyone was around, they'd let him do that. My baby brother had to have been left all alone, before he probably got eaten, too." Another broken sob ripped itself from his chest as he doubled over his knees, clinging to the bottle in his hands like his life depended on it. He barely even registered Hickory still rubbing at his back and murmuring quiet little reassurances at him. "I should've been there," he finally wailed, sitting up and turning a wild look on Hickory, who sat back in surprise, "If I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Maybe we could've escaped together, and-and…I don't know." He slumped back down, the bottle slipping from his fingers, allowing him to bury his face in his hands.

A few minutes passed, before he finally registered the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Hickory giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster through his stupid scruffy beard, his fingers gently combing along John's scalp before slipping through his hair. John wiped at his face, sitting himself up and somewhat lamenting the loss of Hickory's fingers as the bounty hunter tucked his hands back into his lap.

"Feeling any better now?" Hickory asked quietly, watching as John pulled his goggles off his head and tossed them aside.

"Got a bit of a headache," John admitted, rubbing at his forehead.

"That'll happen when you drink around a bottle and a half of booze, then cry your eyes out, without eating," Hickory said with a sad little laugh, watching John intently.

"Yeah," John sighed, grabbing a random rag from the floor to blow his nose, ignoring the way Hickory scrunched his face up at the action.

"Have you been doing this a lot? Drinking yourself silly when you think about your brother?"

"Brothers," John corrected idly, tossing the rag towards the rough proximity of his garbage can, "I had four younger brothers."

"I'm sorry…but that doesn't answer my question."

John sighed, rubbing at his eyes, noting that his vision swam minutely at the action. Apparently he'd managed to drink a bit more than he'd thought. He grunted quietly, shifting to sit back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "For the last few months, yeah. I ran away from my family when they needed me most, and they all died before I could get the chance to make anything right. You can't blame me for not wanting to think about that. Booze helps."

Hickory shifted on the couch next to him, making a quiet humming sound. "I get wanting to drown your sorrows, I do. I've done it once or twice. But, I can tell you from experience, it'll only make things so much worse in the long run."

"Pretty sure you're younger than me," John muttered idly, tilting his head so he could watch the bounty hunter from the corner of his eye, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you sage advice?"

Hickory chuckled, combing his fingers through his wild, foliage filled locks, a few leaves cascading down to settle on John's couch. "Probably. Got any advice for someone currently running from their family?"

"Try giving them a chance," John sighed, reaching out to take Hickory's hand in his own. "You never know how much time you have left with them."

Hickory watched John with a pitying sort of expression for a moment, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can give my brother another shot."

John simply nodded, a sad smile on his face, before he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut. The two of them sat together on the couch with their hands entwined for quite a while, until someone came knocking on Rhonda's door looking for 'Silas'. Slowly, Hickory extracted his hand from John's and got up from the couch, the teal troll watching through half lidded eyes as he walked towards the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, John Dory," Hickory said as he got to the door, before disappearing through it.

John didn't stay until morning.

Once night fell, and all of the trolls in the camp were asleep, John crept through the tents until he found where Hickory was sleeping. As stealthily as he could, he tucked a small note under the edge of the bounty hunters pillow, simply stating 'Thanks for listening - JD', before sneaking off.

Back at Rhonda, he quietly urged her to move, leading her away from the camp, before climbing aboard and driving her away. As much as he appreciated Hickory offering an understanding ear, he didn't think he could really face him come morning. Or anytime soon, really. These burdens were his to bear, and it really wasn't fair of him to dump them on Hickory, who had his own issues to deal with.

And so, John spent the next several years roaming around anywhere and everywhere that Rhonda could go, trying to get a handle on his sorrow and work on being himself again, while also actively avoiding any green trolls with orange hair that he happened to spot. Something deep in his chest yearned to try and find Hickory again after that fateful evening spent in companionable silence, but he just couldn't bring himself to face the other troll until he could truthfully, and with his whole chest, say that he was doing okay again. And, perhaps then, they could actually start to properly get to know each other.

Everything seemed to finally be working out for John Dory, nearly ten years after discovering the troll tree in shambles. He managed to get himself sober, he was taking care of himself and Rhonda, and he was finally having fun travelling again. At least, he'd thought everything was going well, until one day while driving Rhonda through the funk troll territory and humming along to the radio, he suddenly felt like all of the joy was sucked out of him. He gasped at the jarring sensation and slammed on Rhonda's breaks, watching his hands on the wheel as they turned grey.

"What?" he murmured to himself, his heart jumping into his throat in a panic at the sight of his grey fur. He'd heard stories, when he was a child, about trolls turning grey, but he'd never actually seen it. He'd always chalked it up to being some sort of cautionary tale, especially after he'd fallen so far into the pits of despair all those years ago and had only ever dimmed in color.

He jumped from the drivers seat and hurried to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, finding what looked to be a ghost of himself staring back. He gingerly touched his face, feeling tears starting to well in his eyes, before he heard something on the radio. Someone declaring that the queen of pop had caused all trolls to lose their music. But that couldn't be right. All of the pop trolls were supposed to be dead.

But then something else came on the radio. Something that wasn't quite music, but had a bit of a beat to it. John all but ran to the radio to turn it up, listening as beat boxing, clapping and odd techno sounds soon changed to a single, clear voice singing a slow, but hopeful tune, which was shortly joined by a second. One that was distinctly older, but John could recognize any of his brothers singing voices.

"…Branch?"

John cranked up the radio even further and hopped back into the drivers seat, steering Rhonda towards where the radio station was broadcasting, all previous worries about his grey fur going out the window at the prospect of his baby brother being alive. He barely even registered when his colors came back, too focused on the prospect of seeing any of his family again.

It took longer than John would have liked to get to the rock troll kingdom. The drive typically took a handful of days, but with the right route and treats for Rhonda, he figured they could make it in roughly three. However, on the way, he found a rather startling note taped to his door. The signature said it was from Floyd, but it obviously wasn't, as his hand writing wasn't nearly so fancy. The note changed things, though. It made John realize that he'd wasted so much time wallowing in guilt ridden sorrow, when he could have been out looking for his brothers. And now, with the dire nature of Floyd's note, he'd have to put his plans to find Branch on hold until he figured out if his second youngest brother was truly in danger.

Mount Rageous was not a place John had ever explored before, given how much larger the inhabitants were in comparison to trolls. But he'd gone and found Floyd, trapped just like the note had said.

When breaking the bottle proved to be impossible, and Floyd brought up the perfect family harmony, John was hesitant. Not in saving his brother, of course, but to the idea of presenting the thing that shattered their family apart as the only way to rescue Floyd to their brothers. Not to mention, he still had no idea if Clay and Spruce were even alive, or where they might be if they were. But he agreed, and left Floyd to go and collect his brothers.

Now he really needed to find Branch.

Finding his baby brother had sent John's heart soaring to the moon. Getting him on board to help save Floyd brought him back down to earth. The itching feeling slowly crawling up his spine as they stood amongst a crowd of Bergens made him feel like crawling into a hole. But eventually, and with much cajoling from Poppy, Branch agreed and John steered Rhonda as quickly as he could away from Bergen Town and off in search of his remaining brothers.

Finding and convincing Spruce and Clay to join in their rescue mission had been tedious, but thankfully successful. John had his family back! All of his brothers were alive and well (for the most part). Sure, they'd fought, with John falling back into terrible old habits, almost breaking them apart yet again, but they were alive. Though he'd just about had a heart attack when Floyd nearly died in front of his eyes, even after they managed to pull off the perfect family harmony. But, somehow, they'd brought him back from the brink and John's heart hadn't felt so full in years, even despite the heart breaking news of his grandmothers death.

Eventually, his brothers did have to go back to their own lives. Reluctantly, after spending a few weeks in Pop Village (HOW had he never found it?!) while Floyd recovered from the worst of his injuries, John drove Bruce and Clay back to their respective homes. He then debated on staying out in the wilderness with Rhonda for a bit, before ultimately deciding that the best place he could be was in Pop Village, offering any help and support he could to his two youngest brothers.

Upon returning to Pop Village, he was surprised to find Hickory, of all trolls, chatting up with the Queen of Pop and his youngest brother. After the initial burst of joy he had at seeing the other troll after so long, knowing he could finally tell him how much their last talk had meant to him, he quickly became suspicious. Hickory was decked out in a cowboy hat and jeans. Certainly not what a yodeler would be wearing. The last time John had spotted the bounty hunter through a crowd a few years back, he'd been wearing lederhosen and a stupid little hat that John had immediately hated. It made John worry that Hickory had been dragged back into working with his brother, and that Branch or Poppy could be in danger. He hoped with every fiber of his being that that wasn't the case, but he had to be sure.

"Hickory!" John shouted as he jogged towards the trio. Unlike the last time John had approached the bounty hunter, he had no qualms in calling his name. If he was trying to trick the queen and his brother, he wanted that out in the open immediately. Even if it meant he'd have to save Hickory from the pop trolls, instead of the other way around.

Luckily, though, instead of panic or anger at his name being called, Hickory perked up and grinned widely upon seeing John approach. He lifted a hand in a wave, stepping forward eagerly as John came to a stop in front of them. "John Dory," Hickory said with a laugh, pulling the teal troll into a friendly hug, "If it ain't my fishy friend! It's been a dogs age."

John had to keep himself from melting into the hug, overjoyed that someone would be so happy to see him. The cold shoulders he'd received from his brothers had nearly broken his heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hickory with an awkward laugh as Branch's voice asking, "Fishy friend?" caught his attention.

"Because he's named after a fish," Hickory offered, turning to Branch with a grin. "Call it a bit of a runnin' joke between us."

"I can't believe you know John Dory," Poppy chirped next to him, "What a small world! How did you two meet?"

It was Hickory's turn to look awkward, as John let a wicked grin split his face. "Hickory tried to fleece me at poker."

"Well," Hickory was quick to cut in, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully, "I feel like that's a bit of an oversimplification of what happened."

"Is it, though?" John snorted a laugh, enjoying the way Poppy giggled behind her hand at Hickory's obvious discomfort with how bluntly John described their first meeting. "As I recall, you were pretty confident that you'd be able to beat me. And then when you couldn't, you starting using cards tucked up your sleeve."

Hickory flushed, letting a stilted little cough escape him as he scuffed his heel on the ground. "I was just gettin' the hang of the whole gamblin' thing," he offered in way of explanation, but John wasn't having any of that.

"And the whole swindling thing, too, apparently," John added, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm having a hard time believing that John, of all trolls, beat you at poker," Branch cut in with a snort, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the two.

"Grandma taught me Rummy before you were hatched," John said with a light laugh, reaching over to ruffle Branch's hair, much to the younger trolls chagrin, "I'm great at poker."

John couldn't help but notice the way Hickory was looking between him and Branch, seemingly completely bewildered at their interaction as his little brother shoved him away. John was tempted to let Hickory stew in his curiosity for a while, but was far too elated at being able to share his news with the other to bother trying to be coy. "He's my little brother," John said, realization dawning on Hickory's face, quickly followed by joy.

"That's fantastic!" Hickory crowed, yanking John into another hug, much to Poppy and Branch's blatant confusion, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah," John laughed, squeezing Hickory back happily, before pulling away, "All of my brothers survived! My second youngest brother, Floyd, he's also in town right now. I just got back from taking the other two back home. They're all spread out, but they're alive."

"I, uhm, think it might be best if we let you two catch up for a bit?" Poppy interjected, leaning in towards where John and Hickory where practically huddled together.

"Oh! Excuse my manners, Miss Poppy," Hickory offered, sweeping his hat off his head and looking contrite, "That was mighty rude of me."

"Not at all," Poppy waved her hands in front of herself, smiling brightly, "I'm really happy to see you two reunite! You obviously have some catching up to do, so we'll just meet up with you again later, yeah?"

"That's mighty kind of ya," Hickory said, placing his hat back on his head, "I'll come an' find ya when we're done chattin'. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Poppy hummed, taking Branch's hand and tugging him away, even as he protested against leaving the two behind when he had questions, "Have fun!"

"We will," John called after them, waving until the royal couple were out of sight, before arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Okay, spill. What's the cowboy get up for, and who are you after? I thought you were done with bounty hunting?"

Hickory blinked in mild surprise as John immediately launched into an interrogation, before chuckling quietly. "I am all done with huntin'," he sighed, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and steering him towards the market, "Took a real long time, but I got out. I've got Poppy an' Branch to thank for that. In return, Miss Poppy asked that I visit Pop Village at least once a month to check in, an' make sure everythin' is still hunky dory. Mostly 'cause my brother wasn't too keen on me steppin' away again."

"So…you did find him again? After the folk trolls?" John asked, letting Hickory lead him to a set of table and chairs, outside a little cafe.

"Sure did," Hickory hummed, gesturing for John to wait as he trotted over to the counter and quickly placed an order. When he returned it was with two milkshakes in hand. He then sat across from John and slid one of the glasses across the table to him. "Picked up a real sweet tooth, hangin' out with Miss Poppy," he explained as John arched a perplexed eyebrow at the shake, "But, anyhow…yeah. After you vanished on me- thanks for the note, by the way- I kept to my word, an' went to go find Dickory. Didn't take too long, since apparently he'd been trackin' me. I told 'im I didn't wanna do huntin' no more, but he wasn't havin' any of that. Got real uppity with me, an' we had a pretty big fight. He apologized, but still didn't get out of huntin'. I spent the last nine or ten years bouncin' back an' forth like a yo-yo, tryin' to get out of the business. But then Queen Barb hired us to capture the Queen of Pop, an', well…here we are."

"So," John drew out the 'O' sound, his fingers curled absently around the cool glass of the milkshake, "That doesn't really explain why you're still in disguise."

Hickory let out a guffaw, shaking his head slightly. "Ain't no disguise. I spent a good bit of time with the country trolls, an' I finally figured out who 'Hickory' is. He ain't no bounty huntin' yodeler. He's a pretty laid back country troll, if I do say so myself. Which I do."

John felt a pleased little smile settle on his face as he reached across the table to place his hand over Hickory's. "I'm really happy you got to figure yourself out. And that you get to be yourself. And I'm sorry your brother never let you, before. Speaking as a bad older brother, myself, he never should've done that to you."

"I appreciate that," Hickory hummed, turning his hand over to give John's a gentle squeeze. "Now…tell me, where'd you run off to in the middle of the night, an' what've ya been up to since I last saw ya?"

John laughed heartily, drawing his hand away from Hickory to lean back in his chair. "I didn't really run off to anywhere in particular, honestly. I just didn't want to pile all of my baggage on top of what you were already dealing with. I just wound up back in the Neverglades. I sort of wished I'd stayed, though."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that? Picked up a taste for folk music?"

"No," John snorted, idly stirring his milkshake with his straw, "I should've stayed for you. I was only thinking about myself, but you probably could've used someone who actually knew who you were around, I'm sure. Plus, maybe then I could've helped you get away from bounty hunting sooner. Or, maybe-" John froze as Hickory reached across the table to flick him gently in the nose.

"Hey, now. Ain't no reason to go dwellin' on things we can't change," the ex-bounty hunter said with an easy smile.

John chuckled, tilting his head slightly with a smile of his own. "Yeah, but the past defines who we are. So, it's kind of important," he echoed his past self, causing Hickory to roll his eyes with a snort.

"That may be true, but what's really important are the decisions we make now. That way we can make sure that our future selves don't have no regrets about their past."

"You got so wise in your old age," John teased, propping his chin in his hand as he took a sip of his milkshake.

"You're one to talk, old man," Hickory shot back with a grin.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their milkshakes, before an idea struck John and he reached across the table to flick Hickory in the nose, both for retaliation for earlier, and to catch the country trolls attention.

"May I help you?" Hickory laughed, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah, actually. I was just thinking-"

"Don't hurt yerself."

"Shut up. I was thinking, if you come by Pop Village once a month to visit Poppy, where do you stay?"

Hickory frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Around. Usually someone's willin' to put me up for a night or two."

"Well, why don't you come stay with me?" John asked, drumming his fingers absently across the table. "Rhonda's even bigger than the last time you saw her. It'd be nice to actually get to know each other properly. And, y'know, see one another more frequently than every few years."

A slow smirk curled Hickory's lips as he steepled his hands in front of himself and leaned his chin on his fingers. "Why, John Dory," he hummed, "Are you asking me out on a standin' date?"

"What? No!" John sat back, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste, "I just thought it'd be nice! You can say no, if you think it'd be weird."

Hickory's expression softened as he dropped his hands back down to the table. "Never said I was opposed," he hummed, taking a sip of his milkshake, "I think that's a right fine idea. I usually come mid month, every month. It's when Miss Poppy has the most free time, in between all of the crazy holidays the pop trolls have."

"Great," John said, absently rubbing at one of his blatantly flushed cheeks before chugging down half his milkshake in one go. He let out a little breath as he set the glass down, glancing at Hickory who was simply watching him with a tender little smile. "It…it's a date, then."

For the next six months, Hickory arrived in Pop Village every month, just as he'd said he would, and spent the day with Poppy and Branch, catching up and gossiping about the goings on between Lonesome Flats and the village. He would then meander to where Rhonda parked at night, and spend the evening with John, swapping stories about anything and everything they had done in the years they hadn't seen each other, and generally getting to know one another. Frequently, Hickory would bring little gifts for John; simple little knickknacks or art he found and thought the teal troll would like, while John always made sure the food and snacks he had on hand for Hickory's visits were exclusively things the ex-bounty hunter declared were his favorites, or things he'd casually mentioned that he wanted to try. Both were always pleasantly surprised by the fact that the other had thought of them while they were apart.

And then one night, quite unexpectedly, Hickory slumped into John's lap while they'd been watching a movie, quiet little snores escaping him, and John felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd never expected to develop feelings for the troll that had once punched him so hard that he passed out, but here he was, his face flushed the darkest teal it had ever been as he shakily let his fingers card through curly orange locks. He swallowed thickly, not letting a thought pass through his mind as he quietly whispered, barely audible above the movie, "I think I love you."

When the movie ended, Hickory woke with an undignified snort, earning a quiet laugh from John. "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah," Hickory grunted, sitting up and rubbing at his face, "Had a weird dream, though."

"Oh, yeah? Care to share?"

Hickory stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan, before turning to John with a curious little look. Hesitantly, he reached out and took John's hands in his own, brushing his thumbs gently over them. John simply watched him, slightly perplexed at the fact that Hickory was just staring at their hands, anxiety clearly growing in the ex-bounty hunter as his shoulders slowly started to creep up towards his ears and his expression began to scrunch up.

"Hey," John tried to soothe, tilting his head to try and catch Hickory's eye, "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me. I was just teasing."

"I know," Hickory was quick to reassure, lifting his gaze to meet John's eye, "I'm just pretty sure it wasn't really a dream. But, I can't be sure, an' I don't wanna freak you out."

John blinked, a tiny frown on his face, until it dawned on him what Hickory could be talking about. Slowly, he extracted his hands from Hickory's, ignoring the near inaudible noise of protest that left the ex-bounty hunter as he did it. Gently, and with mild trepidation, he cupped Hickory's face in his hands, doing his best to swallow down his nerves. "You can totally punch me, if this is out of line, okay?" he said, smiling crookedly at the way Hickory shook his head quickly at the offer. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hickory's, taking mild satisfaction at the surprised, but pleased little sound the country troll made.

When John pulled away he licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at Hickory, who looked a little dazed. "Was that…was that okay?" he asked, his thumb absently stroking along Hickory's cheek bone.

"Hooweee," was Hickory's only response for a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused as he lifted his hands to hold John's to his face. "Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah, that was great," he finally said, blinking to focus on John with a dopey little smile on his face. "I think I love you, too, by the way."

[olderthannetfic]

I was watching a video about Dan Bilzerian, the trust fund baby who ended up wasting the millions of dollars his IRS-escaping daddy left him with, and a part of what brought him to ruin were the outrageous stories he'd tell about his past (he'd say that he had joined the marines, broke both his legs, and then they made him run two miles on them anyways; he made all his money through poker; etc), because people realized they were just too outlandish to be true and started to do detective work to find out the actual truth.

And isn't this what causes all people who fake their backgrounds to be caught, even in fandom? They come up with these stories of abuse that rival both Greek and Shakespearean tragedies put together, and of course people get curious and nosy when they notice that these people, who keep alleging they spend their entire lives suffering, do nothing but blog their days away and harass others under the guise of "I am X and Y and Z, and I think you should go kill yourself for this fic you wrote and if the people who are reading this don't agree with me, then they should know they're white supremacists and when the revolution comes I'll hang them myself in front of their families."

I started this ask by writing a write-up of Tumblr's most infamous fakers (the TOG one, HIVLiving, Discorseprincesa, etc), but then it quickly became paragraphs and paragraphs of words that barely made any sense put one next to the other, and all their stories sound exactly the same.

They are of mixed nationalities, never white, never straight, never Christian, raised in extreme poverty in very poor countries (except for the second fake character of HIVLiving, who was supposedly raised in the US before being trafficked in India), supposedly working minimum-wage jobs because they're minorities and that's what minorities do, even in the countries in which they're not minorities, but always with plenty of time to "educate others" about their identities, except when someone who clearly knows more than them steps into the scene and challenges them, which causes them to bring out the good ol' "Women/LGBT people/POC aren't here to educate you, stop feeling entitled to my time, you misogynist/homophobic/racist piece of shit!"

I don't know, guys, but if you want to fake your identities, maybe, just maybe, you should come up with stories that are a bit more bulletproof and a bit less outlandish (and definitely with more documentation behind them, because going through the write-ups of how these people got caught, it's always something stupid that caused the true investigative work to begin, such as them naming the wrong fruit or asking for donations through the wrong app.)

--