#stored procedure naming

[thedbahub]

The Nuances of Naming: T-SQL Practices for User Procedures

In the realm of SQL Server, the naming conventions we choose for our stored procedures can have more impact than one might initially believe. A commonly discussed topic amongst developers is the use of the prefix sp_ for user-defined procedures. While it may seem like a minor detail, adhering to best practices in this area is crucial for both performance and maintainability. Understanding the…

[konjiang]

Cumplane AU: SQH being married to SY by accident. No transmigration.

After the end of PIDW, SY decided to track down Airplane through very very definitely very LEGAL ways.

He yelled at him when he trapped sqh in a grocery store where sqh just wanted to buy more noodles. Then, SY offered him a place to live and paid him to fix and rewrite PIDW.

After SY's parents nagged him about getting married and finding a partner. sy find himself thinking that he should just marry SQH for the tax benefits and also to stop his parents from nagging. He didn't have anyone else to marry, so why not. One day SY complained about the inaccurate marriage procedures in PIDW and dragged sqh to the courthouse for a 'fake marriage'.

SQH didn't find out until SY's sister asked how it was like to be married to her hermit of a brother.

"Married??? What are you talking about?" SY's sister quickly sends sqh the very real marriage certificate and license with his name on it.

"WTF, haha, no way. It was fake. He only took me there to improve the wedding scenes in my story. Ahaha... fuck."

[elleaitch22]

Love on Fire

Chapter 6: Small Bump

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANON!!!! I’m so sorry I hurt so many of you last night. It gets worse today. I cried four times writing this chapter. This is the storm before the rainbow, so stick it out with our girls! I hope that even in the grief, you love this! xx Elle

Warnings: Pregnancy loss, grief, medical trauma, medical procedure, dissociation, depression

Word Count: 4.1k words

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Paige didn’t know what to do.

She was filming a TikTok with Cam and Rickea when a message from Azzi came through.

“She’s in your phone as ‘Princess?’ Oh, you are horrendously down bad.” Rickea teased.

She ignored the woman with a small smile, picked up her phone, and swiped down to see the message.

Princess 💗👸🏽👩🏽‍🍳: I’m bleeding. A lot

The smile fell from her face instantly.

She didn’t say anything, just ran to find a supervisor. Stewie. DT. Somebody.

She physically ran into the tall, pale brunette.

“Woah, Bueckers. Where’s the fire?” She joked.

Paige couldn’t say anything. She looked at the words again.

I’m bleeding. A lot

“I think Azzi’s having a miscarriage,” She whispered, not even able to believe it herself.

Stewie nudged her towards the front. “Take as much time as you need. Keep me posted.”

The blonde nodded and raced to her car, not answering any of the calls of her name as she blew by everyone.

She replied to Azzi and threw her car in gear.

Fuck.

Not Peanut.

Azzi had been so close to that twelve-week mark.

The point when the risk for miscarriage practically disappeared.

Three days ago, they were laughing about how big Peanut’s head was.

And now?

“Hey, Siri. Call Olivia Nelson-Ododa.”

Her friend picked up on the third ring. “Everything good, Paige?”

“No,” She started. Her eyes blurred with tears and her throat tightened. “Azzi’s having a miscarriage.”

A low gasp sounded over the phone, “I’m so sorry, Paige. Do you want to bring her in? I can be at the hospital in 30.”

“I – ”  Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do, Liv. Tell me what to do.” Tears falling.

“Well, first, you have to stop crying. Her body is flooding her system with hormones, and someone needs to have some control.” She started.

Paige nodded, even though the doctor couldn’t see her. She roughly wiped the tears off her face and cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“Have her take a shower. Nothing crazy or too long. She may not know it now, but she’ll appreciate being clean. And make sure she has something really comfortable to wear. Nothing that has sentimentality though, you don’t want her tying this moment to a comfort item.” Liv continued.

She needed to go to the store then. She would get different soap, shampoo, and conditioner so none of her favorites would be tainted by the loss of Peanut. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Then you’re going to bring her to the hospital. I’ll be there, and I’ll do the rest. You just have to be there with her. Be there for her. That’s all you can do.” Olivia finished. “I’m so, so sorry, Paige.”

“Yeah, me too.” She whispered. “Thanks, Liv. I’ll see you in an hour.”

She disconnected the call the same time she pulled into parking spot. She rushed into the store. She chose a mango scented body wash, jasmine scented shampoo and conditioner, and a soft, red sweatsuit.

She was back in her car within five minutes.

Azzi still hadn’t called, and Paige didn’t know if she should have been worried.

When she got to the house, she didn’t call out. She didn’t make any real noise.

Azzi was sitting on the toilet, shorts around her ankles.

“Azzi?” Paige called, moving towards her quietly.

Azzi heard her name like it was underwater. She couldn’t move her legs. Couldn’t lift her arms. She wasn’t cold, but she shivered anyway.

She didn’t answer or even look like she’d heard Paige.

Paige squatted in front of her. Those perfect brown eyes, usually so expressive, were vacant. She cupped her cheek gently, and her eyes came back to life.

“Hi, Az.”

She blinked at Paige, returning her eyes to the wall behind her best friend.

Paige thought. She needed to do what Liv had told her. She reached over and turned the shower on. Hot. Like Azzi had always liked.

She grabbed the bag from the store and set the body wash in the shower. She tossed the clothes on the shower before remembering. She grabbed a pair of Azzi’s underwear and an overnight pad.

When she went back into the bathroom, she spoke again. “We’re going to take a shower, then we’re gonna go to the hospital, okay?”

Azzi still didn’t reply, but she didn’t fight when Paige pulled her clothes off or when she led them into the shower.

The lively brunette was practically catatonic, and that terrified Paige.

Water slid over Azzi’s skin, but she felt… nothing. Like her body was a story someone else had written and left behind. She didn’t know where she’d gone. Her hands worked, her legs moved, but her mind… it had folded up and left the room. It was easier not to be there. She wanted to ask Paige to lie to her. To say it was all a mistake. But she was afraid she’d believe it.

Paige washed, dried, and dressed her quickly and with no fuss before starting their journey to the hospital.

Olivia was waiting for them, just like she’d promised. The wheelchair she’d brought out didn’t even bother the normally independent Azzi.

After Paige gently placed her on the seat, she moved to push it when there was a grip on her wrist.

Azzi still wasn’t looking at her, but she was holding on, refusing to let go. Paige adjusted the hold, flipping her hand to lace their fingers together.

They are taken to an exam room; one stocked with an ultrasound machine.

“Azzi,” Liv called softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I have to do an ultrasound, so we can all know what’s going on. Can you get on the table?”

She didn’t say anything, just squeezed Paige’s hand tightly.

“Can I put you on the table, Az?” Paige questioned.

At the next squeeze, softer this time, Paige lifted her from the wheelchair and deposited her on the table. She pulled the chair up to the side. Paige held her hand again, free one coming up the brush through her hair gently.

“I’m right here Azzi. I’m always here with you. You’re not alone, I promise. I won’t ever leave you alone.” She muttered the words on repeat until Liv interjected.

“Azzi? There’s no heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”

No one said anything.

Azzi knew already.

Paige knew.

But the confirmation.

Peanut was gone.

Azzi turned to Paige, eyes shining, chin quivering.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Paige brought her forehead to Azzi’s.

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Azzi hadn’t cried. At all. At the first gush of blood, she’d gone completely silent.

Until now. Until Paige touched her forehead to Azzi’s and wrapped around her like she could shield her from this.

A sob bubbled up, and Azzi couldn’t keep it in. She tried to breathe. Deep inhales to calm herself down, but she couldn’t. Just these big, heavy, heart wrenching sobs poured from her lips. Her hand cradled her stomach. Clenched the skin that would stretch with the fullness of a baby.

Azzi had always been a quiet crier. She always thought those loud crying on tv was fake. But now, now she knew how real those sobs were.

She could hear Liv asking her a question, she just couldn’t bring herself to answer.

She just kept her head where it was. With Paige.

Paige would handle it all. She would handle it all and help Azzi put the pieces of her heart back together.

And she did. Azzi could hear her asking Liv the questions.

“When did the heartbeat stop?” Paige asked.

“Most likely the day after her last appointment a couple of days ago.”

She had just missed it. Maybe if it happened while she was at the doctor, they could’ve done something. Azzi thought to herself.

“Was there anything that could have been done?” Paige paused. “I don’t want her to blame herself.”

“No. Most miscarriages before 13 weeks don’t have a specific cause. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this.”

“I don’t want her to have to do this alone at home. Is there anything you can do?”

“We’re squeezing her in as an emergency tonight,” Liv said quietly. “The OR’s already been cleared.”

Yes. That’s what Azzi wanted. She just wanted it all to be over.

“I don’t want her to be alone, Liv.”

“I’m sorry Paige. It’s a sterile field. I can let you be there until she’s put under, then I’ll take you to her right after.”

“What if she wants to try again?”

“Remember what I told you?” Liv asked. “If there’s a miscarriage, wait a month or two and switch to IVF.

“My last question is what should we expect after we get back home.”

“Well, in two weeks she needs to be back for her follow up. She should get her cycle five or six times. Then four to six weeks later, she’ll be able to try IVF if she wants.”

Paige pulled away from Azzi a bit.

“Azzi, do you want to do it tonight or tomorrow?” She asked quietly.

The woman just nodded, head hidden in Paige’s neck. “Just want it to be over.” She said between sobs.

“Okay,” Paige nodded, pulling her closer. “Okay, we’ll do it tonight. And then we can go home.”

Liv moved towards the door quietly, “I already had a room set up for her, so she can be a little more comfortable while she’s waiting to be taken back.”

Paige sighed, “Thank you, Liv. Seriously.” She coaxed Azzi’s face out of her neck, heart breaking a bit at the grief written all over her face. “We’re going to get you to a room, okay, Az?”

The brunette nodded, eyes puffy and a little distant.

Olivia got them to a room. “I’ll be around to check in with you guys. The procedure is scheduled for 10 tonight.”

Paige moved around where Azzi laying on the bed until a hand shot out.

“What’s up, Azzi?” Blue eyes were wide with sadness and anxiety.

She tugged the blonde down to the hospital bed. Paige smiled sadly before stretching out and pulling the younger woman closer.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Azzi. I promise.”

Azzi just hummed absently.

“Do you want me to call anyone?” Paige hesitated. “I can call your mom and dad?” The head on her chest shook. “What about Katie and my dad?” A nod. A tiny nod, but a nod nonetheless.

Support Staff (Unpaid)

Paige 💜: at the hospital. azzi had a miscarriage

She exhaled roughly. Typing that made it a little more real, and it hurt a lot more than it should have.

It wasn’t common for Azzi to be feeling something that Paige couldn’t pull her out of, but this? Paige had no idea how to help her.

Her phone lit up with messages.

Katie 🌻🥧: I’m on the way.

Pops 🛠️🏡: We’ll be in the waiting room. Will wait until she wants to see us.

Katie 🌻🥧: Do you guys need anything?

Paige 💜: nah. she can’t eat or anything. they're gonna do a procedure

Katie 🌻🥧: Ok. Let me know if anything changes.

Paige locked her phone, wanting to launch it to the wall.

It wasn’t fair. Azzi didn’t deserve this. Peanut didn’t deserve this. She just pulled Azzi closer, hugged her tighter.

Three days ago, they were excited. Azzi’s smile was so bright as she talked about Peanut. She walked around the house, content to tell the baby everything she was doing.

It seemed like everything was going to be perfect.

And then the world came crashing down.

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A few hours later, not much had changed.

She still hadn’t spoken to anyone else, only Paige. Even when Katie came in earlier, Azzi had looked at her with broken eyes and cried. Katie held Azzi’s hand with a firm grip.

“This doesn’t have to be the end, Azzi. You are strong and resilient.” Katie said.

She and Bob left after sitting with them for an hour, promising they’d come back tonight when Azzi was having the procedure.

 Katie 🌻🥧: We’ll talk when we come back.

Katie 🌻🥧: You’re being so strong for her. I’m proud of you Paige.

The blonde just liked both messages, dropping her phone to the bed when a nurse came in.

“Hello, Ms. Fudd.” She began gently. “I’m sorry for your loss. I just came by to ask a few questions before your D&C.”

Paige didn’t understand how the woman could ask the questions so calmly, like their entire world wasn’t falling to pieces. She wasn’t being cold or unkind; she was warm, but she moved through everything like this happened every day.

“Have you been under general anesthesia before?” She questioned.

When Azzi buried her face deeper in Paige’s chest, she answered for her. “Yes. She has. We know the drill, how she reacts, and what to expect when she’s coming out of it.”

The nurse nodded, gratefully. “Does she have any allergies?” Paige shook her head.  “Okay, thank you. I’m sorry to ask this last question, but you have the option to have tests run on the fetus if you would like to know what caused the loss.”

Azzi whimpered quietly and Paige’s head shot up. “What?” Her voice cracked.

The nurse rushed to explain herself. “Sometimes it helps the mother. Helps her know, get confirmation, that it wasn’t her fault.”

Paige thought. She knew Azzi would blame herself for this, but maybe it could help if there was some reason about why this happened to Peanut. She cleared her throat, “Yes. We would appreciate that. Thank you.”

She nodded, her smile small, but warm. She set a gown, a pair of socks, and a hair net in a stack on the counter. “Please help her change into this. They will be coming to get her in the next thirty minutes.”

After the nurse left, they rested on the bed, not moving. When Paige scooted bad a little, Azzi’s grip on her hoodie tightened.

“I don’t want to do this.” She mumbled. “If I put the gown on, it’s all gonna be real.”

Paige’s breath hitched, “Oh, Azzi.” She whispered, running her hand over her hair.

“I know what’s happening, but I want it to be a dream. I want to go to sleep and wake up and try again.” Azzi rambled.

Tears were falling again, but slower this time, like she was resigning herself to reality.

“I just wanted to have a baby. I don’t understand.” Her voice cracked at the end.

Paige couldn’t say anything. She had no words of encouragement. She was afraid that anything she said would either minimize the loss or brush over the fact that Peanut ever existed.

So, she just inhaled deeply and spoke from the heart. “I know, Azzi. And I’m so sorry. You and Peanut didn’t deserve this. I know it may not feel like it, but you’re already a mommy, Az. I know you won’t get to hold your baby, but you loved Peanut for their entire life. I wish I could take this pain from you. I’m so so sorry. But I promise you. You will have another baby. You will hold your baby one day. In your arms. Against your chest. I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen..”

This time, Azzi let her pull away. “You won’t leave?” She whispered quietly.

“Never going anywhere, Az.”

Paige pulled off her slides and socks. She tugged the soft hospital socks over Azzi’s feet with care, smoothing the heel until it fit just right. She didn’t say anything — just stayed kneeling in front of her, forehead to shin, wishing she could carry Azzi’s grief for her.

The sweatpants went next; she covered her best friend so she wouldn’t feel exposed. She unzipped the sweatshirt before pulling the gown around her body, tying the ties quickly. She gathered the soft, dark coils and pulled them into a ponytail. The blue hair cap looked silly on the woman, but Paige knew she’d never seen anyone as beautiful as Azzi.

Liv came with a few other people, and they began to wheel Azzi to the operating room. Azzi didn’t let go of Paige’s hand once.

They moved Azzi onto the operating table. She winced as they inserted a needle into her arm. They pushed a medication in, and Azzi felt herself getting drowsy.

Her big brown eyes stayed on Paige. “You won’t leave?” She asked again.

“I’m not going anywhere. When you wake up, I’ll be right here. I promise.”

And she really did stay. She stayed until the mask covered Azzi’s nose and mouth. She stayed next to the love of her life until someone escorted her out.

As she padded to the waiting room, Paige prayed.

She prayed that the operation would go perfectly.

She prayed that Peanut was having fun up there.

She prayed that Azzi would be able to get pregnant again.

She prayed that Azzi would have a healthy, full-term pregnancy.

She prayed that Azzi would have a healthy, happy baby.

She prayed that Azzi could still have a good birthday.

She prayed that Azzi would let her help her.

She prayed that Azzi would be okay, that she would be happy.

“Paige,” She stopped praying and looked to her left.

“Katie,” She said, her voice wavering.

Paige had gone the entire day without letting herself break down the way she needed to. She needed to be strong for Azzi; one of them needed to be in control.

Her dad and step mom pulled her into a tight hug, letting her cry into their small huddle.

“Do you want me to get you anything, kiddo? Water? Dinner?” Bob asked.

Paige shook her head. “If I eat anything, I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s okay, sweet girl. We’re just here.” Katie said, softly.

“She was going to tell you guys this weekend. Got a onesie that said Mimi and Papa. She was so excited.” She let out a small laugh. “We called the baby Peanut.” She paused. “I didn’t know something so tiny, so knew could make me feel like this.”

Katie smiled gently, “There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s love, Paige. You love Azzi, and you love Peanut.”

“It’s almost her birthday.” Paige whispered. “There’s only eight days until her birthday.”

It was quiet before her dad spoke, “You don’t think she’s going to be in the mood to celebrate.” It wasn’t even a question.

“I want to do something meaningful for her.” Paige spoke, pacing across the tile.

“Okay, we can think of some things. I’ll send you any ideas I think of.” Bob said.

“Maybe we can make peanut butter cookies? Since you all called the baby Peanut, maybe that will make her feel a little closer, a little more whole.” Katie wondered aloud.

The blonde nodded; that idea may have worked. She needed to pick Azzi’s brain first. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin her birthday with something sad.

Katie sat down, pulling out her crochet hooks and yarn.

Paige smiled, “I thought you only did that when you were mad at Dad.” She plopped down next to the woman.

“Anger or anxiety. That’s when I crochet.” Her smile fell, “I don’t know how to help you girls.”

Paige sighed, leaning back and stretching her legs out. “Azzi’s still not talking. She may have said fifty works since it started.”

Bob cupped her shoulder, grounding her.

“She was just gone, Dad.” She looked up at him, eyes glossy. “When Liv said it, she just…the lights were on, but nobody was home.”

“I think she was just in shock, sweetheart. Her brain was protecting her, but she’ll come back. Just give it some time.” He said, gently.

Paige was quiet for a while. “I still don’t know what to do. How to help her.”

“You just keep showing up. She’s gonna need you after this. Probably for a while. You’re going to be tired but just keep being there for you. She’ll come back to you.” Katie said, rubbing her back.

Paige pulled out her phone, googling things to buy a mom who just had a miscarriage. She cringed at most of the suggestions. They were corny, inauthentic, and nothing that Azzi would appreciate or like.

“Paige,” A familiar voice called.

She was in front of Liv in a heartbeat. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, it went well. She’s in recovery now.” Liv said, gesturing down the hallway.

Paige turned back to her parents.

“We’re gonna head out. Let us know if you need anything.” Bob said, giving Paige a tight hug.

“Bring her home, P.” Katie wrapped her arms around the tall blonde. “I love you both.”

Paige smiled, “Love you too, Katie.” She turned back to Liv. “Can I go see her?” She questioned.

“Follow me.”

Paige and Liv walked side by side in silence. “So, what now?” She murmured.

“She’ll be bleeding for the next week. It shouldn’t be anything too heavy. Same thing with cramps. If either of those are intense, bring her back in. She may want to see a counselor or therapist.”

She couldn’t bring herself to save any of this information on her phone. The note with all the rules, dates, and information about Peanut was still pinned to the top, and Paige couldn’t see that right now.

“I want her to come to my practice, or the hospital if she wants, in two weeks for a follow up. Need to make sure no tissues were retained or anything. She should have her first period in about a month. It’ll be heavier and more painful than normal, but that’s good. It’s the body’s final cleansing before she’d be cleared to try again.” Liv turned to look at Paige. “I know that was a lot of information, but you have my number is you have any questions.”

They stopped outside of Room 251. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The lights were dim – the window shade was almost pulled down completely. There was a constant beeping, showing Azzi’s calm heart rate. She was pale beneath the blanket, blue surgical cap still on her curls.

Paige pulled the chair to the edge of the bead and gently held onto one hand. Her head rested on the edge of the mattress, just watching the beautiful girl.

She knew the moment Azzi was back. Her eyelids fluttered a bit before her eyes opened.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Paige whispered.

A frown tugged at Azzi’s lips. “You stayed?” Paige nodded, bringing her free hand to cup her cheek. “Did it work? Is it over?” She whimpered.

“It’s done,” Paige squeezed her hand tightly. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

The women were quiet before another question. “Do you think Peanut knows I love them?” Azzi’s voice wobbled.

Paige answered without hesitation, “Of course. You gave everything you could to Peanut.”

“I miss my baby,” Her voice was soft and broken. “I feel empty.”

“I know, love. I miss Peanut too.” She brushed a kiss on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Azzi didn’t say anything for a while. “I know you are going to tell me that I’m wrong, but I feel like it’s my fault. Like maybe I could’ve done something different.” Her eyes were misty with tears.

“They are going to run some tests, see what happened. But they said it wasn’t your fault. And I know that won’t help until you have the results, but I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” Her voice was soft, but firm.

Azzi just tightened her grip on the pale hand. “I just don’t know what to do now.”

Paige paused, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “Well, for now, you’re going to rest. You’re going to let me handle everything because your body needs you to rest, Azzi. And if you want – maybe if you want, we can try again later.”

When Azzi didn’t reply, Paige didn’t know if she said the wrong thing.

“You don’t have to talk. You can just rest. Sleep. I’m gonna be right here. You don’t need to be brave anymore. It’s just me and you.” Paige rambled quietly.

What would have been annoying to some people was comforting and soothing to Azzi.

“Will you get in with me?” She asked drowsily.

Paige gave her a soft smile, the one that was just for Azzi. “Of course, princess.”

Azzi doesn’t move over. Refuses to create space. She wanted the no space between her and the love of her life.

As they cuddled closely, Paige relaxed. They may not have been okay in this moment, but they would be.

[sluttywonu]

trigger𖤐

pairing: nana tour!dino x f!reader

theme: smut mdni!!

synopsis: running into you while shopping (literally) was one of the best things to happen to dino so far this trip.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: below the cut

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- a/n: so sorry for the delay, my son had a procedure (he’s ok!!) and it was a bit hard getting anything done this past week </3

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warnings: pwp, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do!!), oral(m rec), slight hair pulling, slight scratching, multiple positions, hickeys & love bites, lmk if i forgot anything????

i saw this tweet and giggled

while some weren’t loving this trip, dino was loving it. this was everything he wanted, even if he did have to work.

he had the best time playing stupid games with pd and his hyungs, going to the wine festival and seeing all these sites in a city he’s never been before.

he was lucky today— he didn’t need to film content until later this evening so he, joshua and scoups (yes he’s here!) went out to explore and do their own thing for a while, beginning with breakfast.

the entire time, joshua’s on his phone texting… someone but dino and scoups are calling the shots, finding a few stores to shop and then ending on lunch out in the town.

while shopping, dino is busy browsing a few racks, not really finding anything he loves. he’s more-so just window shopping at this point— just trying to avoid being stuck in the airbnb.

scoups called his name, making him abruptly turn around only to bump into you.

you stumbled a bit, apologizing right away while trying to pick up your fallen bag. dino reaches down to grab it, handing it to you with a smile. “i’m sorry, are you okay?” he asked, finally getting a good look at your face.

wow, you were beautiful.

“yeah, i’m okay. thank you!”

he reached to rub the back of his neck, “yeah, not a problem..”

your eyes took him in, smiling softly. he was cute, had a great smile, cute blonde hair, kind eyes.

you two stood there checking one another out for a moment, your smiling creeping up more.

“din— oh.” a smirk grew on scoups face, a blush on dino’s. “hi. i’m seungcheol.” “y/n. nice to meet you.” even scoups was captivated by your smile.

he looked at dino who was silently telling him to fuck off but what kind of hyung would he be if he did that?

“hope i’m not interrupting here.” he said as he still held his smirk.

“no, not at all. just talking to your friend here.”

your tone was already so bubbly and flirty.

“well, i’ll leave you two at it then. dino— we’re headed to lunch soon.”

when scoups walked away, you went back to eyeing up dino.

“dino. cute name.”

“it’s a nickname. real name is chan.”

“i like dino~” you mused back.

he smirked at your playful banter. “say, wanna join us for lunch? if you’re not doing anything.”

you bit your lip and nodded, “i just need to pay for these and i’ll meet you outside?” he smiled back and nodded, turning on the balls of his feet to meet shua and scoups.

outside, scoups was filling joshua in on what dino was doing, both men smiling like fools. they just love their little brother. “did you get her number? if you don’t, i will.” scoups cockily said, earning him a laugh from joshua. “even better. i invited her to lunch.” scoups looked impressed. not that he didn’t think dino had game, just the sheer thought of dino being so forward with you.

you came out to meet them, introducing yourself to joshua briefly and then start walking to find a spot for lunch.

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lunch was great. the four of you talked but you were still more interested in dino. scoups and joshua are great but they’re not who you’re feeling.

“lunch was delicious! thank you for paying.” dino smiled, “don’t mention it. hey, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“nothing,” you replied, seeing dino’s eyes light up a bit. “you?”

“same. would you want to keep hanging out?” you bit your lip and nodded, “want to come with me to one more store?”

“yeah! that sounds fun!”

you guys said goodbye to scoups and joshua and left. on the walk, dino grabbed your hand and held your bags from the previous store, really

making you feel something with how kind he was.

you just met the guy and he’s already such a gentleman towards you. love.

even after shopping, you didn’t want to end your hangout with dino. leaving the shop, he grabbed your hand again and smiled down at you. you were quick to initiate, getting on your toes to give him a small kiss.

“would you wanna come back to my hotel with me? whatcha a movie?”

a smile crept on his face, nodding quickly. “yeah, i’ll hangout for a bit.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the air was cold inside your hotel room. that’s how you ended up snuggling with dino while a movie played, you couldn’t help it. it was very platonic, truly.

well. at first.

your back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close while he stared off at the movie. unintentionally, his hand crept up your stomach, beginning to dance his fingertips over your exposed skin as your shirt bunched up. the teasing manner caused goosebumps to trail your skin and desire to pool between your legs.

he was smirking feeling you squirm in his hold, your body pressing more into his as his hands grew higher.

once they reached your chest, he cupped your breasts in both of his hands while he pressed a simple kiss to your temple. “this okay, baby?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, “y-yeah..”

his fingers traced over the top of the cups, pulling them down to started tweaking your nipples between his fingers. you let out a small gasp, melting into him while his name left your lips.

he kissed the side of your head again, teasing “so sensitive, huh?”

each pinch of his fingers made your mind spin while pressing your thighs together desperately.

“d-dino.. want you.”

your tone sounded so desperate, feeling like just putty in his hands while inflating his ego.

“gonna make you feel so good, y/n.” he mused with another flick of his fingers, your back arching off his chest.

next thing you know, you’re moved to be sitting on his lap, your ass right against his hard length. his lips attacking yours, you pushed yourself down into him, smiling against his lips at the little groan he made. his hands found the dips in your waist, feeling like his hands were meant to sit there. his fingertips squeezed your skin as if you were going to disappear any moment.

you rested your hands on his shoulders then slid them to be around his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

feeling you tug against his hair, he let out another groan and started to kiss down your jaw to your neck, breathing heavier into your skin, “love having your hands on me.” he then groaned.

he nipped and kissed your hot skin until he found your sweet spot, the spot that made you feel like you were melting. a small whimper left you, making you push down into his lap once more.

“fuck, you cant keep doing that, baby. big tease.”

you absolutely were a tease.

“i told you i wanted you.” you flirted back, letting out a blissful sigh at him biting a mark into your skin. “fine. then why don’t you get me ready, baby?”

you for sure weren’t going to complain. quickly, you got off his lap and made yourself comfortable between his legs, looking at how his cock was strained behind the athletic shorts he was wearing. you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, reaching for the waistband to tug them down which, he quickly obliged. his length was impressive, making your eyes widen and mouth practically drool.

his dominate hand found your hair, caressing your head gently while he held his length up to your lips. you took the base in your hand, offering him a few pumps while licking a a bold stripe up his shaft. he groaned, eyes rolling back in his head briefly to finally get some relief he’s been needing.

you took his tip in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and looking up at him briefly. his eyes grew darker seeing yours, grabbing a bit tighter hold in your hair as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“shit, you look so pretty.”

he pushed the hair out of your face and let you work, taking him deeper in your mouth so he was threatening to hit your throat. you were stroking off what didn’t fit in your mouth. dino’s big, beautiful thighs were tensing off and on, showing he was close to finishing.

not wanting to finish yet, he gently tugged your hair and pulled you off of him then helped you back onto his lap for a rough kiss. you two made out, getting lost in one another briefly until he grabbed your hips and flipped you two over so you were on your back. he pulled away from your lips and smirked down at you while his hand ran up your leg and to your center. you gasped, pressing your chest up into his when he found your needy clit through your thin shorts.

luckily the teasing didn’t last too long and he tugged your shorts and underwear down in one go, leaving your bottom fully exposed for him. his fingers dipped into your slit, really showing just how turned on you are. he bit his lip and leaned down to kiss you again while his finger tips rubbed tight circles into your sensitive bud.

“d-dino.. need you. now..” you breathed out against his lips.

“fuck, you kill me, baby…” he growled and quickly positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick then deep into you, both of you letting out a moan.

dino leaned down and caged you under his frame, settling his hips to allow you to get used to the stretch.

once you felt comfortable, dino started thrusting into you, still slow at first, just enjoying the way you hugged his length. wrapping your arms around his neck, you lightly scratch his shoulders, fueling him to move faster, hitting your sweet spot right away.

sweet moans we’re falling off your tongue over and over, saying his name like a prayer as he fucked into you steadily.

you were a desperate mess, moaning and groaning while your hands held onto dino for dear life. you went front his shoulders to his hair to wrapping your arms around his neck just to keep him close and he fucking loved it. the more you grabbed onto him, the more he wanted to just give it to you— let you take it.

to stifle his moans, he was kissing and biting on your neck, aiming to leave dark marks in his wake. your skin throbbed hot while your pussy clenched around him, feeling closer and closer to your orgasm.

“dino.. s-so close!” you cried.

“cum, y/n. show me how good you feel.”

you came hard against him, loudly moaning through your high as dino slowed his hips down to let you ride it out peacefully.

after, he move you two into a new position— you on your hands and knees.

the second you’re bent over for him, his hands are squeezing and rubbing against your plump ass while lining himself up to thrust back into you.

his hands found your waist again, holding you close while he picked up the speed he left off on. your fists grabbed the bed sheets tight, your knuckles turning white from how hard they were grabbing. your brain was foggy, just pure bliss taking over you.

“i’m close, baby. where do you want it?”

“i-in me, please!!”

he bit his lip and gave you a few hard thrusts before he came deep inside of you, digging his blunt nails into your hips while he came down.

he grinned when he pulled out of you and saw your juices mixed with his making a mess down your thighs.

this is the best vacation he’s ever had.

dino quickly grabbed a rag to clean you up and helped you get dressed then himself before you two resumed cuddling atop the mattress.

“you think i can see you again before i leave?”

he smiled, “i think seungcheol will be pissed if i don’t.”

[kitkat13001]

☆⋆｡𖦹° 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝙻 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

>> l lawliet x reader

i feel like he’d thrive with a pet. he’s never had any exposure to animals so it’s definitely a new experience for him. i think the unpredictability of a cat would suit him. its irregular behavior keeps him on his toes, given his tendency to analyze patterns. he’d be very affectionate with a cuddly cat 

i think he would also like the loyalty of a dog. he needs stability in his life 🫶 and a cute little puppy that’ll grow w him is just perfect for him. plus, im sure it’d force him to exercise a little more (couldn’t hurt him tbh) w all the running after it he’d be doing

he watches true crime for background noise—if he actually sits down to watch it, he’ll figure it out in the first five minutes (if he didn’t already know the case outcome himself). he needs to multitask in order to genuinely enjoy it, so he usually puts it on while he cooks or cleans so he’s not dedicating his full focus to it and proceed to act like a mom watching a telenovela 

*gasp* “they found the body in the lake!”

“hmm…that was anticlimactic.”

“‘breaking news’? i had already figured that out three episodes ago.”

“oh, i worked this case!”

his cooking is shit at the beginning. you have to be patient with him. he goes in thinking bc he’s so smart it’ll come out good no matter what. (this is the case with a lot of activities he’s now discovering due to the new lifestyle). he is wrong. 

HOWEVER…he does improve with time. he’ll follow a recipe to perfection and study it until he gets it right. the only downside is his food tends to be on the more plain/bland side, so if you like strong flavors i’d keep seasonings handy. he grew up in england, what do you expect? he does excel at making sweets and baked goods though, those tend to come out more flavorful.

for all his previously normal ‘secrecy’ he’s actually a chronic oversharer. because you’re bonded for life now, he feels the need to tell you everything, all of the time. his brain runs a mile a minute and he voices pretty much every thought he has. 

“does the fan seem louder to you?”

”no, ryuzaki. go to bed.”

“but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, so we can sleep in. there’s no need to go to bed right this instant.”

“…”

“that won’t be the case next week, though, we’ve got that birthday dinner to attend.”

“…”

“dinner sounds nice enough, but i loathe the thought of shopping for a present. maybe—“

“ryuzaki. go. to. sleep.”

“hmph.”

similarly, he has a tendency to notice your patterns (he calls it a “detective’s habit”). he’s freakishly accurate with it too. sometimes it’s useful, like when he stops at the store to pick up your favorite snacks and hygiene products when he knows your time of the month is approaching. however, sometimes it’s…just weird

“darling, do you need to use the restroom?”

“um…no?”

“really? interesting. your diet hasn’t changed the last couple days, and you usually use the restroom at approximately this time for about 10 to 12 minutes every day.”

“…what the fuck?”

even though you’ve both changed your names in order to secure your identities and safety, he still calls you by your real name when it’s just the two of you. in public he prefers to call you pet names instead of your newfound aliases

he has no issues switching back n forth and he’d never slip up for fear of exposing you both, but he just tries to avoid calling you by your cover name. he feels a little guilty because if he was a ‘normal person’ you wouldn’t have had to undergo all these procedures just to be with him. he’s used to using different names for himself, but it makes him a little sour that you now have to do that too :(

speaking of sour, he’s a veeeryy jealous man. he’s not obnoxious or even outright about it, but he doesn’t like when other people get too close to you (physically and emotionally). part of it is him being paranoid that they “know something” about you, but part of it is just bc he’s just a clingy lil guy 🥺 and he just wants to be your only special guy

he’s like a territorial cat

he gets nightmares about the kira case and all of his other past cases. he doesn’t make a scene when he wakes up from them, but if you notice he’s awake don’t ask him about them. it’s unlikely he’ll answer you, and he’ll feel bad thinking he woke you up. just pretend to still be asleep and subtly cuddle closer

it coaxes him right back to sleep knowing you’re safe and sound beside him. if you’re brave you can ask in the morning, but it’s likely he’ll have forgotten the dream by then

pleeeeassee take up yoga with him. since he doesn’t need to be crouched in his heightened-deductive-skill position 24/7 anymore, it’s a worthwhile investment to fix his posture and his numerous back problems. he might enjoy the calmness and flexibility yoga provides

he might be open to the idea of children. according to canon, he only interacted with the wammy kids once very briefly, but i like to think he was fairly involved with the orphanages considering they were raising his successor. it only makes sense they’d need to get to know him at least a little—and it would explain why near’s mannerisms are so similar to his. 

i think contrary to popular opinion he would be good with kids—in his own special way. he’s not exceptionally cuddly, but he won’t reject affection either. and his intuition and reflexes are so keen that it’s not like the kid would ever be in danger. 

he’s such a homebody. i mean, we already knew that—but him being able to go out in public now has not changed his desire to want to be alone (w/ you)

he has mixed feelings about crowded places. on the one hand, the anonymity of it is kind of nice and it sets his mind at ease that no one will be able to recognize you two in such a swarm. but on the other, someone is touching him and all the noise n stuff sorta overstimulates his nervous system

the next best alternative? take him to places that are still public and out-and-about but a little more secluded. a corner booth in the back of a little restaurant, a sprawling botanical garden, an independent cafe that’s not overcrowded, etc 

HE CANT DRIVE LMAOOO. a helicopter is one thing but cars??? on the road??? with other cars?????!!! he cannot. he’s a MENACE. hopefully you can drive, but if not then it comes to public transportation 🤷‍♀️ 

[immortalmrwavell]

Getting The Job

(Original story posted November 7th 2021. Original story title “Better Life, Cop Life”) This story has been mildly Updated!

Recently Eric’s life had been going down the drain. First he split up with his boyfriend Jake after discovering he was cheating. Then he lost his job due to staff cuts. And to top it off he then lost his old apartment since it was all in Jake’s name. Now his ex was living in their old place with the guy he cheated with while Eric was struggling to find a new job while living in the cheapest apartment he could find. As he applied for shitty job after job he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve all this? Was it all some kind of cruel universal joke?

As he was job hunting, one of the positions that popped up was a job at a small clothing shop called “Threads for Life”. The description of the job itself was extremely vague but he assumed it would just be retail. Working a till and serving customers etc. So he applied.

Surprisingly they were the first to get back to him about his application and in such a short time frame as well. They emailed asking for him to come in for an interview. Of course Eric accepted. Why wouldn’t he? The only weird thing was how close this shop seemed to be. It was just down the road from his old apartment and still rather close to his current one but he could swear he’d never seen or heard of the shop before. He just chalked it up to him being unobservant and forgetful.

On the day of the interview Eric found the shop just where it was said to be. Even after seeing it though, nothing clicked. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t here before. He shook the odd feeling off however as he stepped up to the front door perfectly on time and looking his best.

Upon entering he was greeted by a middle aged man who introduced himself as the owner of the establishment, Tony. The two exchange greetings before Tony ushered Eric to follow him. Eric expected to be taken immediately to an office but instead Tony simply walked through the many isles of clothing with him while chatting casually about the shop and its history.

Before Eric had assumed this to be a simple clothes shop. One that sold shirts, pants and all the rest like most other shops. And it did. But something Eric was quick to notice was how most of the clothes seemed to be matched together in outfits. Rather than being separated into different sections, almost all the clothes in the shop had already been prematched. There were plenty of casual combos like t-shirts and jeans or shorts and tank tops however as they moved from aisle to aisle there were a very noticeable amount of clothes that seemed more like costumes.

Some were more understandable like suits. But a lot of the others?… Eric took note of medical scrubs, fireman uniforms, motorcycle gear, handyman clothes, police uniforms, cowboy costumes, construction clothes and so much more. Eric also couldn’t help noting that none of the clothes seemed to be marketed towards women. He supposed the shop specialised in men’s attire specifically. Still he couldn’t help but find the layout of the store to be… strange.

“Soooo… Eric was it? Before I can give you a job. I want to ask you a couple questions.” The owner said as he sat down on a cushioned stool near the back of the shop, prompting Eric to do the same.

Eric of course agreed to this as questions were standard procedure for almost any interview so he was ready for it..

“Okay first question then. Growing up, did you ever have any dreams of who you’d eventually become? What job you’d want to strive for? What kind of man you’d want to become?” Tony asked.

It was a strange question for sure but Eric still pondered it for a moment before answering. “Well I don’t think I was ever dead set on anything but I remember wanting to be something along the lines of a fireman… or a police officer maybe?”

Tony nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. “Okay then second question. Are you content with the current direction your life has taken or would you still like to fulfill that childhood dream if you could?”

Eric chuckled at the bizarre question. “Well… my life hasn’t exactly been going in a good direction recently. If I could change some things I would. But if you’re asking me whether I’d wanna become a cop then… I just don’t think I have what it takes.” He gestured down at his body. “I’m thin and lanky. Don’t really go to the gym that much and I’m not all that good with confrontation. To be honest I just don’t think I have the right mindset to be a cop you know?” Eric huffed before looking back up at the owner. “And no offense but what does that have to do with me working here?”

Tony didn’t answer at first. He just smiled before standing back up again. The owners eyes glanced around the store, mainly at all the costumes and then turned back to Eric.

“Alright. I think I can give you a job.”

Eric was surprised when he heard that. All he’d done was answer two silly questions. He tried to query as to how those questions even mattered but Tony simply asked Eric to follow him. Confused as ever, Eric did just that.

The pair made their way back down the isles of outfits. They passed by the suits, doctors scrubs and all the other costumes yet again. Only the weird thing was now that Eric was getting a closer look at them, he started to notice how real the costumes looked. They weren’t just silly fake costumes you’d wear to a party. They were the real deal! Actually looking as though they belonged to real firemen and real doctors. Even the tradie outfits looked dirty as if they’d been used for actual tradie work.

Tony stopped in front of the police uniforms. Eric was quick to notice just how real those looked as well. Not just uniform but genuine looking police badges as well. Not to mention the radio, utility belt and even a body cam that all looked completely real. As if they’d been taken directly from actual cops and put on display.

“Pick one.” Was all Tony said.

“What? Seriously?” Eric was baffled. This had to be some kind of joke right?

“Oh come on. Humour me a little. Pick one out.” Tony urged, patting Eric on the back. “Though if I were you I’d certainly pick that one.” The shop owner pointed out a specific uniform amongst the selection. Eric didn’t really see why it’d matter which one he chose as they mostly looked the same anyway.

Eric sighed. “Fine, I’ll pick that one then. Now what? Want me to go try it on.” He joked only to be met by an affirming nod from Tony.

“Changing rooms are just over there.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at the man but decided what the hell. He took the uniform off the rack along with the equipment. Tony then picked up the large black boots and placed them on top of the uniform in Eric’s hands. Eric shook his head as he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms.

He shut the blue curtain behind as he stepped into one of the stalls. It was a fair bit bigger than he’d expected it to be. Eric sat the uniform down on the bench before striping himself down to his boxer briefs. After setting his own clothes to one side, he began to get dressed in the police uniform.

First thing he did was pull on the pants which he found to be rather baggy. He sat down to prevent them from falling as he grabbed the shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up. He made sure to tuck it into his pants before grabbing the utility belt and strapping firmly around his waist. He still couldn’t believe it had a real taser attached to it and everything. Lastly Eric slid his feet into the heavy black boots which were clearly a couple sizes too large.

With that Eric stood up to take a look in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was far too big and baggy on him. He looked like he was playing dress up more than anything. He slid his hands into his pockets as looked at himself a little more, amused by the uniform. Though as his hands dug around in the pockets, he realised something was in one of them. It was small and metallic. Eric pulled it out to reveal a name tag with “J. Desmond” engraved on it. Jokingly Eric decided to pin it to his shirt for a laugh.

Eric shook his head again at how silly this all was. Why had Tony made him put this one anyway? With a shrug he was just about to start taking the uniform off, not wanting to look stupid when he stepped out of the changing room. But before he could even start unbuttoning the shirt, he began to feel…weird. Like a warm wave of pure pleasure began flowing over him. A wave so incredible that he almost didn’t notice his body starting to change.

His upper body was first to see a transformation. His back widening significantly as his flat chest began to bubble and swell into two thick hefty pecs. Pecs that grew larger until they started to strain his shirt slightly. The same shirt that’d been hanging loosely off his frame moments ago now starting to fill out at an alarming rate. Especially as his shoulders bulged to the size of cannon balls while his traps grew to match. His waist grew larger but tighter at the same time as fat melted away in place of pure raw muscle. Showing itself even more so in the form of abs. They weren’t chiseled washboard abs, they were thicker and softer than that but still impressive all the same.

But his arms. They were what really caught Eric’s attention. Partly thanks to the cop shirt he was wearing being a short sleeve which gave him a full view of their transformation. He got to watch as veins pulsed across his skinny twig-like arms as though they were being pumped full of unseen energy. And then with pain or warning they started to swell. His previously non existent biceps began hulking into reality as the muscle beneath his skin inflated. It should’ve been impossible. Seemingly gaining mass from nothing. But his eyes witnessed it all. His forearms expanded rapidly while his hands cracked and thickened. His biceps continued to balloon with power and size until they stretched his sleeves. Only then did they finally stop. His veins subsided as his arms reached their new colossal size.

His upper body might’ve been massive now but his lower body was getting ready to catch up. Eric’s waist and hips had already widened enough for the waist of the cop pants to fit securely. Now it was his legs turn to catch up.

In seconds they put on an unbelievable amount of sheer muscle mass. It was as though someone had plugged an air pump into his legs and started filling them up. But it wasn’t air. It was pure real muscle. Eric couldn’t help but groan a little as his pants began to feel tighter. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle for support as his thighs and calves continued to bloat thicker and more powerful by the second. The once baggy cop pants now fit him like a glove. But it wasn’t just his legs. His backside started to swell as well. His once average butt growing into a juicy muscular bubble ass that strained against the back of his pants perfectly. Not to mention his feet cracking and lengthening similar to hands. Growing multiple sizes until they fit perfectly inside the black cop boots he had on.

When the next change kicked in, Eric’s eyes widened as one of his hands instinctively flew towards his crotch. Grabbing his bulge tightly as even that began to swell and grow. His eyes began to roll back as his cock snaked down one his legs, growing girthier in the process. Meanwhile his balls followed suit as they bloated into fat heavy nuts full to the brim with cum.

His body was complete but his head still had to change. A stinging sensation came over his face as it started to morph. The shape of his head and all of his features altering dramatically until he was unrecognisable from the man he once was. His new look being much sharper and masculine in a way that would’ve screamed high school jock had he been a little younger. All the while the light stubble he’d always carried grew into more of a short well kept beard while the messy mid length hair he adorned shortened into faded crew cut.

“Fuuuuuck…” Eric groaned as the transformation subsided at last. There was a clear difference in his voice. It must’ve been altered with the rest of his body. He found himself looking back into the mirror with amazement. No longer was he that scrawny pale figure of a man he’d seen reflected all his life. Now he was… buff. Really buff! And hot as fuck!. It was unreal. The uniform that was more or less falling off him moments ago now clung to him as though he were made for it. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up and down his torso, feeling a set of strong abs hiding under his shirt before drifting back up to squeeze his power new pecs through the fabric. He never thought he’d actually have fucking pecs but here he was now! Groping and kneading them.

In all the excitement his cock began to firm up. Eric could feel the blood rushing to his crotch as his growing erection created a clear outline in his pants. He smirked as he brought both hands down towards his crotch. Gently he rubbed his hands across the length of his dick through his pants.

Eric looked back into the mirror before bringing both arms up into flex. His already hard cock twitched at the sight of his biceps bulging, threatening to rip his sleeves in the process. The strength he felt flowing through his arms… No, his whole body was intoxicating! With his left hand Eric proceeded to grasp and squeeze his right bicep. It seemed impossible, like he was living in a lucid dream!

Just then Eric thought of something he’d always wished he could do. He’d never been buff enough to do it before. But now? He lowered his arms to his sides, stood up straight before flexing his chest. His pecs bounced. Eric’s eyes widened in amazement at the sight of his new muscle tits jumping underneath the shirt. He bounced them a few more times before cupping them again with a sense of pure wonder flowing through him. “These feel fucking amazing…”

Once he’d finished admiring his pecs, Eric remembered something else that’d grown. He turned his back to the mirror and looked behind. His cock twitched extra hard this time as he caught sight of his muscular new cop butt straining against his uniform pants. He couldn’t help himself. Before long his greedy hands were reaching back and grasping at his thick bubbly ass. “Oooohh fuuck.” He growled, feeling just how hefty they were. “My ass is fucking huge!…” Eric murmured aloud, lost in the pleasure. So lost in fact that he didn’t even notice Tony peering through the curtains. Watching with a horny gaze as Eric squeezed and groped his fat new ass. Even watching as Eric went as far as to place his hands just under his ass cheeks and start jiggling them, dumbly laughing as he did.

Eric felt his cock pulsing and bucking uncontrollably as he played with his cop butt. So much so that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Soon enough he spun back around to face the mirror again before unzipping his pants. Tony continued to creep in on the show while Eric shoved a hand into his underwear, struggling to free his erection. With a little effort however Eric was able to let out a satisfied sigh as his girthy python sprung free. The thing must’ve been around 9 inches long and insanely thick. It was every man’s dream cock.

A slapping noise could be heard from the changing rooms as Eric began smacking his cock against his hand while he admired it. Every smack sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. He had to stroke it. He was just able to wrap his hand around its full girth before he started to pump. It had to have been at least three times more sensitive than his old cock as Eric couldn’t stop cursing while he pumped it.

He began to jerk faster as he looked over his new body in the mirror again. His handsome bearded face and buff body. How thick his legs were. How buff his arms had become. How massive his chest had grown. Just looking at it all reflected back at him allowed him to jerk off furiously. He then looked down at his cock. He loved seeing it. Soooo thick and excited as some precum started to drip from the tip. With how sensitive it was and intensely he was pumping it, Eric could tell he was gonna to blow any moment.

He turned to his left, getting a perfect side view of his body. He couldn’t help but fixate on how much his ass stood out. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching his free hand back towards it again. Before long he was groping his ass and jerking his cock all at the same time. The new cop was having the time of his goddamn life!

“Fuuuuuuuccck!” That was enough to send him over the edge. Tony, who was still watching, saw Eric's ass clench and his cock erupt with an enormous load. One so big that it shit cum all over the benches adjacent to the new cop as well as his old and now ill fitting clothes. His cock continued to buck and twitch for a good few moments afterwards. Shooting a few more times as it covered the floor in front of him with cum.

“See. I knew you’d like that one.” Tony finally made himself known as he pulled back the curtain.

Eric whipped around, still panting a little. “Fuck I… my deepest apologies sir… I couldn’t stop myself.” He tried to reason.

“No need to apologise Officer.” Tony smirked as he glanced down at Eric’ softening cock, still dripping cum. “Most find it hard to contain themselves after what you just went through. So no need to worry. I’ll even get it cleaned up for ya.” The store manager smiled innocently.

“Officer?…” Eric repeated what the other man had said to him as though it weren’t the truth. It sounded weird and off putting to hear someone call him that. So why did it sound so right at the same time?

“Well you are a Cop now. Officer James Desmond to be precise, so you better get used to hearing it.” Tony nodded towards the name tag that was pinned to Eric’s shirt.

Hearing that name triggered something inside Eric. Memories of being Cop flooded his mind along with a bunch of other unfamiliar memories. He still remembered who he used to be but now he had a whole new life filling his head that made his old one feel like a fleeting dream. A new life as Officer James Desmond.

“Thank you sir. You have no idea how grateful I am for all this…” James stated, his new manners kicking in right away. Immediately after he tucked his fat new cock back into his pants before pulling up the zip. “But I’ve got to be back at the station in half an hour.”

“No worries Officer! I completely understand. You head off and I’ll be sure to get all your ball batter cleaned. Might take me a while though.” Tony joked, earning a chuckle from James.

“Heh sorry sir. Got myself a pair of bull balls down here.” James gave his crotch a quick squeeze. “Well I’m off. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask for me down at the staton.” He said, passing by Tony as he exited the changing cubicle.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” Tony replied, giving James’ ass a smack as he passed. He continued to watch James’ ass shake as he sauntered away up until the sexy new cop reached the front door.

James hopped into his car, not even noticing it’d been morphed into a cop car, before starting up the engine. As he drove towards the station he couldn’t help but daydream about plunging his cock into some other hot cop’s ass or having another cop fuck his new bubble butt. Surely some of his buddies down at the station would be down for some fun. According to his memories he seemed to recall catching his own partner checking out his ass a couple times…

Back at the shop. “Another life bettered and another hot stud on the streets. A pretty good day I’d say” Tony sighed to himself with a smile before turning back towards the changing room. Looking over at the huge mess of Cop nut he now had to clean. “Well… best get to work.”

[serpentface]

A non-exhaustive selection of flowers of value or interest in Wardi culture

(not to scale)

Tantlami - a small bluish or purple flower in the aster family. The origin of its name is uncertain.

It blossoms in early to mid spring, being among the first blooms of the season. The flowers and leaves are edible (though rather flavorless and bitter respectively), with the former often being used as a garnish for food or wine. The flowers are appreciated for their blue hue, associated with wealth and royalty. Its flowers can yield a bluish-gray dye.

In fairly recent history, has been saddled with unfortunate baggage in being used as joke innuendo for the anus, largely in mockery of the figuratively and literally flowery tendencies of love poetry (the idea being 'some of these poets would compare an asshole to a goddamn flower'). The word has not been Fully absorbed into scatological humor, though it is now more common for people to refer to it as 'a yachouy tantlami' (the tantlami flower), and being a child named Tantlami is a more difficult experience than it used to be.

Janaët - a native flowering tobacco. Its name almost certainly stems from or is related to a color word for 'white' (jana).

It contains nicotine, though at substantially lower concentrations than tobacco cultivars first brought from Bur (which do not grow as well here and are very valuable trade goods). It is one of two native plants with notable stimulant effects, either cured with the milder-tasting broülje to chew or smoked on its own. It has significance in herbal medicine, with its effects of energizing the body and mind being attributed in part to regulating proper blood flow and strengthening the heart. It is smoked as a supplement to many medicinal procedures, and its juice and fresh leaves are thought to assist in cleaning wounds and healing snakebites. It is also used recreationally, chewed by laborers and travelers to keep energized and smoked for a calming effect.

The flowers are given some degree of phallic associations due to the shape of their projecting unfurled petals, which in turn grants them association with protection and good fortune. Imagery and actual garlands of the flowers are considered to be lucky. The janaët is a standard well-wishing offering for weddings, expressing hope for vitality and protection within the union.

Camnina etsisima - This flower's name just means 'bleeding bush', owing to the color and the way the petals are initially green and appear to slowly 'soak' red. They are also sometimes likened to the appearance of fire, with its second most common name being a similar 'burning bush'. The plant comes into full bloom during the mid to late spring and is regarded for the beauty of its vibrant red color and sweet scent.

Camnina etsitsima is well adapted to dry conditions and most populous in the semi-arid parts of the region. Its leaves are thick and store significant quantities of water, though are toxic to consume by humans and can be fatal in very large doses. Small amounts are used as an emetic and laxative. It is also a known herbal abortifacient, though is one of the less favored methods due to its side effects, causing severe stomach pain (in addition to the aforementioned) in large enough doses to be viable. Its flowers can yield a red-brown dye.

Camiche - flowers of the camiche tree. Its name is very ancient and of completely uncertain origin.

The flowers have a strong sweet smell and mildly sweet taste. They are used in teas and wine mixes (or to make wine in some cases) and can be eaten raw or cooked. Almost the entire rest of the tree is edible as well- young leaves and shoots can be eaten raw, mature leaves are boiled, dried, and powdered to supplement other foods, the seedpods can be eaten raw young and can be powdered into flour old, and the seeds are edible in all phases and can be pressed for oil. The bark is edible but rather bitter and unpleasant and considered a desperate famine food, but is used in herbalism to ease stomach pain and bring down fevers. The tree itself is among the more abundant sources of wood available, poor for woodworking but valuable as fuel, and the majority of camiche trees you'll find near human settlements show evidence of coppicing or pollarding. It is also highly resistant to drought conditions (though is Not resistant to rarer flood years, and suffers in particularly harsh winters), and can be a fairly reliable source of food in famines.

This tree has monumental historical significance to the diet, and its presence is often indicative of longstanding human settlement and passage (especially given its seeds were also an early form of currency among a wide range of peoples south of the Viper). Both ancient and modern land travel routes by nomads can be identified in part by the concentration of camiche along the way. An unusual density of camiche in the far northwestern Highlands (contemporary White Hills People land) marks the location where the last of the ancient cairn-builder proto-Wardi people died out almost two millennia ago, with many of the trees still growing on their mound graves.

In Wardi culture, the trees are regarded as sacred and notably beautiful as well as useful, and are heavily cultivated in urban settings (also at least in part because their flowers help mask the smells of these urban settings). The camiche is sometimes given the 'gaibenyo haidem' ('great/peerless provider') epithet otherwise mostly used for cattle, God, and/or land to denote something's intrinsic ability to sustain a majority of basic human needs. Like the slaughter of a sacred animal, cutting down a camiche tree is regulated by (though not Prohibited by) taboo and requires additional ceremony and for part of the yield to be given back in sacrifice. Coppicing/pollarding or mass-harvesting of living flowers or leaves requires an offering of sprinkled milk, or your own blood if you're low on milk.

Nyari - nyari is just the word for lotuses. There are two species of lotus naturalized here, but this orange-yellow one is native across lands east of the Mouth seaway and was first given this name.

The native nyari is fairly hardy and its root system can survive periods of drought (though not completely dry conditions), emerging seemingly out of nowhere from near-dry mud when the water returns. In any environmental condition, their blooming signals seasonal return to a time of plenty. Lotuses are potent symbols of creation, rebirth, seasonal abundance, and fertility. They also have associations with cleanliness and purity, as they are perceived as only growing in clean water and are intentionally cultivated in manmade water sources. They are important items as offerings and are garlands for brides, kings, and animal sacrifices. Lotuses are also standard gifts for the well-wishing of a marriage, expressing hope for abundance in the couple's life and the birth of healthy children. Symbols of lotuses are extremely common in decoration, and fabric faux lotuses are frequent features of men's hair ornaments. In most variants of the creation story, God and the first people emerged from the primordial sea either like, from, or as lotus flowers, with the first man Hounyari's name effectively being 'first of the lotuses'.

Their primary value is ornamental and spiritual, though their roots and rhizomes are also edible when cooked thoroughly. Their primary use in herbalism is to assist in female fertility, and their roots are an ingredient for the partly medicinal anaebi soup used to encourage and maintain the health of pregnancies.

Suömitsima - a type of poppy with red-orange or orange petals. Its name is straightfowardly a contraction of 'blood poppy'. In some traditions, the first suömitsima bloomed where the blood of Erub's sons and grandsons spilled in their grisly murders after Imperial Burri conquest. It also appears in a very old animal folktale shared in South Wardi and Cholemdinae oral history where a clan of hyenas and a clan of aurochs fight viciously over a drying spring, with the poppies blooming from the blood of the dead when both parties finally agree to truce in times of scarcity.

It is among the earliest and most prolific springtime blooms and beloved for it, being a mainstay for garlands made for spring ceremonial occasions (or for fun). The likening to blood is also an association with vitality, livelihood, and renewal, and imagery of the flower is highly favorable for decoration and jewelry. Its seeds are used in herbalism as a sedative and painkiller, though their concentration of morphine is fairly low.

Ibriya - this is a type of cat's ear flower. Its name has no obvious origin, though was likely derived either a solar term or the word 'hairy' (rijade) due to the texture of its leaves. It adapts well to a variety of environments and can be seen in bloom well into late summer, when most other flowers have long gone to seed. It has an epithet as the 'beloved of the sun' and is a common figure in romantic poetry as a symbol of long-lasting love.

The entire plant is edible and its roasted roots are appreciated for teas, though its leaves are generally considered famine/peasant food. A yellow dye can be derived from its flowers. In herbalism, its roots are used for digestive issues and are thought to improve the health of the liver.

Cabouri - This is a species of wild rose, and the only one native south of the Viper seaway. The name cabouri is of uncertain etymology but Might relate to the word for 'testicle' (awourim), possibly referring to the swollen rosehips. It fares well in a variety of habitats and is Relatively drought tolerant, though it is less common in semi-arid conditions in which it requires a permanent nearby water source to survive.

Its petals, roots, and leaves can be used for tea, its hips are very nutritious and eaten raw, in teas, or in preserves. Rosewater is a favored beverage, either for drinking on its own, mixing with wine, or to flavor deserts. Perfumes derived from roses are very popular and tend to be considered a more masculine scent, often added to oils used for the beard and hair. Its thorns are sometimes used for bloodletting. In herbalism, its hips tend to be used as a cure-all, especially for inflammation and colds. A mixture of fermented honey and crushed rose hips consumed in wine or tea is taken for illnesses affecting the lungs and throat.

Roses tend to be associated with masculine beauty and and vitality, with the sharp thorns and lovely flowers being compared to favorable qualities of handsomeness and strength. It's also a very common motif in Wardi folktales and poetry for secret lovers to hide themselves from their parents/spouses/etc within rosebushes (often injuring themselves in the process, or leaving torn shreds of clothing behind as evidence), as a symbol for foolhardy love/lust or just as a comedic setpiece. This actually derives from an old Burri myth about the conception of a minor god of flowers and crossroads, whose deity mother and human father had an adulterous tryst hidden in a rose bush and stained the white flowers red with their blood.

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> if i walked at my own pace

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1.8k tw: anxiety, mentions of bullying, panic attacks, sleeping pills italics are interviews cut between scenes + english a/n: we're finally starting to dive into cyana's backstory + the mystery of what happened in LA! if any of the above trigger warnings trigger you - scroll away, stay safe, and come back for the next one 💓

Cyana never really understood how some of the members could stand to watch their own fancams. Sure, she understood that it was a vital part of analyzing their performance, but every time she tried searching up her own fancams, she was greeted with a wave of self-embarrassment and cringe. 

“It won’t be like that forever,” Vernon tried comforting her, pausing his own fancam on his phone to look up at her. “You’ll end up getting used to watching yourself on camera.” 

Cyana shuddered. “I can’t imagine I’d ever get used to that.” Reaching over, she pressed play on his phone. “Other people’s fancams, however, that I like to watch.”

Vernon laughed, his ears turning pink as he adjusted his phone, letting Cyana watch over his shoulder. 

“Woww,” She marveled at the end, quietly applauding the performance. “So cool.”

Vernon smiled, swiping out of the video. “Not bad, huh.”

“Psh.” She smacked his shoulder lightly. “Not bad my ass. Give yourself some more credit, Hansol.” 

His lips quivered into a small smile, amused by how Cyana seamlessly switched to calling him by his Korean name when speaking English. Ironic, but for some reason it fit. 

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” 

Vernon opened the door to the record store, motioning Cyana to head in first. He had promised the girl he’d accompany her to get a couple records, knowing how much she had been looking forward to browsing the New York streets. He was just as excited, shopping for anything music related was probably the only shopping he found himself enjoying. 

“The National.” Cyana said, already flipping through the boxes of records. “The 1975, The Cure, really anything I can get my hands on.” She pulled one out, gasping as she presented it to Vernon. “No way! Look at this.” 

Taking the record from her hands, he turned it over to read out the artist. “The Beatles?” He looked at her, a little confused. “I didn’t think you’d be a big Beatles fan.”

Cyana looked a little offended at his words. “I am. Huge fan. I’m getting that one.” 

Vernon held the record out of her reach, tucking it underneath his arm as he moved to another aisle. “I’ll get it for you, don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

Vernon hummed, sifting through the boxes, looking for his own purchase. 

“Wow. Look at you,” Cyana tucked into his side, a hand around his lower arm as she browsed the options with him. “So dependable.” 

“How are you feeling?” The doctor prodded at Vernon’s neck and throat. “Any soreness?”

He shook his head, thankful that he wasn’t feeling at all ill, unlike the others. “I’m doing fine, doc.”

He watched as the doctor moved on to Woozi, repeating the same procedure with him and asking the same questions. Pulling out his phone, Vernon scrolled in a daze, allowing his mind to shut off for a little bit before their concert. He liked letting his mind blank out for a moment, like it was rebooting all his thoughts, worries and signals. 

It was Cyana’s quiet voice that pulled him out, most likely because the girl was speaking English.

“Do you think I can get some meds for sleeping?” 

Vernon looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Cyana interact with the doctor, who was packing up his kit, ready to go. 

“Have you been having trouble sleeping?” The doctor asked her, pausing to give her a proper lookover. 

“A bit.” Cyana mumbled, glancing around, as if to check that no one was listening. Her eyes drifted over Vernon before returning to the floor next to her feet. “Or just in case.” 

Nodding, the doctor pulled out a bottle, shaking it slightly before handing it to her. “Most people in your line of work ask for the same thing, so I always keep it on hand. Take two before bed, three, if it’s not enough. But no more, alright?” 

Vernon watched Cyana slip the pill bottle into her hoodie pocket, thanking the doctor before retreating back into her chair. He frowned before shrugging, returning back to his phone and putting his brain back on airplane mode. It was whatever, right? 

“I could remember our LA show extremely clearly because I remember how Cyana’s face looked minutes before it.” Vernon told the camera, moistening his lips before continuing. “She looked like going on stage would destroy her completely.” 

Even under the dim lights beneath the stage, Vernon could tell there was something different about the way Cyana looked as they waited for the platform to rise with them on top of it. Usually she’d be smiling his way with a bright, dazzling grin, all pumped up for their performance and buzzing with energy. Now however, as Vernon stared at her, she seemed distant - almost muted - as if something had drained all the color from her cheeks. 

He reached over and gently shook her shoulder. “You good?” He mouthed, searching her eyes for an answer.

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and mouthed back an okay, before turning away and readjusting her mic.

He didn’t believe her one bit.

“I mean,” He tried explaining himself to the camera. “I could relate to her, I guess. I keep things to myself a lot too. If I'm struggling, I won’t hide it, but it’s not like I’ll talk about it either.” He let out a small sigh. “I guess that’s why I didn’t say anything for a long time. I thought maybe silence was just normal for her like it was for me.”

Looking back now, on that concert day in LA, Vernon could remember seeing her hunched over, backstage, after a particularly intense run of Getting Closer. He remembered chalking up her sweat and body chills to mere overexhaustion, simply handing her a bottle of water before going back up for his turn with the Hiphop Unit. 

He also remembered hearing her quiet sobs and harsh breaths from across the room, as they all waited for the Performance Unit to finish with their set. Cyana was mostly covered by a worrying Joshua, fussing over her and whispering something Vernon was too far away to hear. 

He remembered how worried everybody was that day. How DK and Hoshi were unnaturally quiet on the way back to the hotel, their eyes sending fleeting glances over to Cyana, unsure what they could do to help. How Jeonghan and Joshua could only sit and hold her hand, Joshua’s eyes sending signals to Jeonghan that Vernon couldn’t understand. But most of all, he remembered how Dino came to sleep in his room that night, tears tracking down his face as he sobbed over Cyana asking to room alone. The boy couldn’t understand why she had kicked him out - and why they were all useless to stop it. 

“I was already worried about Coups hyung.” Vernon recalled. “We look out of sync when we’re missing someone, and I didn’t want Cyana to need to leave as well.” 

Vernon had no idea what was going on, as he tried meeting Joshua’s eyes to ask him what the hell was up with their youngest member. The older boy infuriatingly refused to meet his eyes, only leaving Cyana’s room to grab food or water for the girl. 

“Just wait.” He told Vernon when Vernon finally got a hold of him, just about to leave the washroom after brushing his teeth. “She’ll explain when she feels better.”

“Why can’t you just tell us now, though?” Vernon asked. “Everyone is going insane. Both DK and Dino went to bed crying last night and Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy waiting outside her door. Seungkwan even told me Wonwoo’s affected, something about how his face is stuck permanently in a worried expression. I’m going insane too, hyung.” He admitted the last part rather timidly.

Joshua looked torn. “I can’t.” He finally said after a painful pause. Moving behind Vernon, Joshua left, leaving him standing in front of the bathroom, looking incredibly stupid and pathetic. 

“I just wanted answers.” Vernon mumbled, not looking at the interviewer or the camera as he spoke. “And it felt like no one really had them. All of us had recounted that day, trying to piece together what could have affected Cyana so terribly - but none of us could think of anything at all.”

Cyana made sure to walk right next to Woozi as they exited the venue in between the barricades holding their fans back. It was rather strategic of her, she knew. Walking next to Woozi would ensure a constant presence - he wasn’t one to run up to the barricades and interact with fans, wasn’t one to draw attention to himself and therefore those around him. Cyana chose to be next to him for send-off for one reason: to not be seen. 

She couldn’t justify the fear to herself - let alone other people - so she kept the fear she knew was irrational and childish hidden. How was she to explain she was afraid of the crowd? Of their beloved fans?

Oh hey, Joshua. Yeah, I can’t do today’s concert because I’m afraid I’ll go up onstage and someone from the crowd will jump me. Or shoot me. Or throw a knife at me. Or throw acid up onstage. Or- anyways, yeah. So I can’t perform today. I feel like I might pass out onstage. Why? Oh- I kinda have people who want to kill me in LA. Yeah- from highschool. Bullies. I know, a long time ago. So it’s irrational. Right? And it’s not like they said they’d kill me. So it should be fine, right?

A swirl of thoughts wrapped around her as she continued to walk, putting one foot in front of the other, trying to block out the loud cheers and screams from the crowd. She had gone through the concert. Now all she needed to do was walk through the sea of fans, enter the company car and go home. 

You have to at least wait till you’re back in the hotel room before you break down. She chided herself. You must.

A scream, not much louder than the rest of the fans, caught her ear. She whipped her head around at the sound of her voice - yelled out through a sea of fans. She knew that voice. Her blood grew cold as her ears rang - muffling the world around her - and Cyana felt as if she was sixteen once again.

Her eyes drifted from face to face in the direction of the scream until it landed on a girl in the front row, holding a bright pink banner with Vernon’s name on it. 

“Cyana!” The girl yelled out again, her eyes twinkling in a way that made Cyana’s skin feel ice cold. 

And she watched, horrified, as the familiar girl mouthed an all too familiar five words at her. I’m going to get you. 

[a-killer-obsession]

G, P, U 12 or 14+15 or all three?👀👀

Two Silly Boys

Prompt: Degradation/Sex Pollen/Unbearable

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, begging, oral (receiving), ass eating (receiving), petplay dog/master, double penetration (anal + vaginal), anal fingering, outdoor sex, semi-public sex

WC: 2.8k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Going out to sea to explore the world was something you'd dreamed of doing since you were a child, so when captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law, offered you a place on his crew as their resident botanist you happily accepted. Much like you, Law was a healer, but while he practised modern medicine, you used more traditional methods. It was one of the reasons he was so keen on having you join, he'd come to learn the hard way several times in his journey that modern medicines and remedies weren't always available, and while he knew a little about the botany in North Blue and how to use it to heal, the flora of the Grandline was a whole different ordeal. He wanted to learn from you, as well as teach his crew how to stay safe when there were so many unfamiliar and dangerous plants in the New World. Born and raised on the Grandline, New World flora was your specialty, and you were happy to share your knowledge. In truth, it was nice to have someone who cared enough to listen.

Being botanist to the Heart Pirates did have its downsides though, namely two of them: Shachi and Penguin. You couldn't possibly fathom how no matter how many times you scolded them, they always ended up in the infirmary after touching or eating a plant that they shouldn't have. It drove you insane, you swore next time they needed a healing tincture that you'd just let them suffer. The two of them never learned, and somehow it always fell to you to fix their mistakes, because they didn't want the captain to literally rearrange their limbs for being such idiots.

A new uninhabited island loomed on the horizon, docking procedures already underway, and you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, having no doubt you'd be seeing them in the infirmary later. You gave the crew the usual talk; don't touch or eat anything without checking with you first, don't pick anything, don't stomp on mushrooms even if they look cool and squishable. You hoped the trouble makers were listening but you knew they weren't. Once docked, you spent the afternoon with the crew, exploring the island and collecting herbs and flowers that you knew had medical uses and gathering them carefully in a basket. You were especially delicate with a flower you recognised as having use for treating libido and erectile issues, you had no use for it but you thought Law might be interested in its properties for the way it increased blood flow, so you carefully picked several and placed them in an airtight jar.

You returned to the ship to store and organise your forage, setting some aside for drying and making notes and sketches in your journal about the variety of flora on the island. Forage sorted and put away, you left the ship again for a more causal, exploratory wander. The others had declared after a thorough search that there was no danger on this island, there were barely any large animals at all which meant the only predators were too small to truly endanger a human. Confident you were safe on your own, you wandered into the forest. You weren't worried about getting lost, you had an exceptional sense of direction and worst case the island was only about a three hour walk wide, you would appear on a beach eventually if you walked in a straight line, and from there you could just circle it to the ship.

An hour into your leisurely walk and the sound of moaning caught your attention. At first you thought you'd accidently stumbled on a few crewmates taking advantage of the dense forest, and turned to leave and give them privacy, till the moans mixed with pained curses and desperate cries. They sounded like they were injured so you hurried towards the sound, already pulling off your backpack to grab your emergency supplies. You skidded to a stop when the crewmates came into view though. The troublemakers, who else. What shocked you however was their current predicament. Naked as the day they were born, covered in a sheen of sweat, dicks in each other's hands, desperately pulling at each other. You weren't sure you'd even seen them without their signature hats before, Shachi's orange-brown hair falling over his face in sweat slickened strands, Penguin's short black hair dusted with dirt like he'd at some point been laying down.

“Yes, yes, yes, noooooooo,” Penguin cried out, so close to an edge but unable to topple over it. He shoved Shachi hard, instigating a round of aggressive fighting, uncaring of their nudity as they fought in the dirt. “You're not doing it right!”

“Neither are you!!” Shachi yelled back, kneeing him in the gut, “how hard could it possibly be to make another dude cum!”

“Ask your fucking self, useless prick!” Penguin decked him with a solid punch right to the jaw and Shachi quickly returned it with his own, the two best friends shocking you with the force they laid into each other and spat insults, covered in bruises, their erect cocks bouncing with every movement.

“CUT IT OUT! BOTH OF YOU!” you snapped at them, emerging from the treeline and grabbing them both by an ear, pulling them away from each other as they winced at your hard hold. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

You could barely understand a word they were saying as they both yelled over each other, not even bothering to cover themselves. You caught something about hiking, something about a dare maybe? And ah… a flower. Of fucking course.

“Stop, stop,” you sighed, releasing them to run hands down your tired face, “did you two idiots touch a flower? Yellow? Pink tips? Six pedals?”

“We uh..” Penguin started.

“...we ate it,” Shachi finished. You let out a pained groan, throwing your head back. God, these fucking two, you wanted to scream.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TWO IDIOTS NOT TO TOUCH THINGS?!” you shouted, the two of them now cowering at your feet. You couldn't help but notice the way the subtly touched your legs, it was the effects of the flower no doubt. “Why the fuck did you eat it?”

“It smelt nice!” Shachi wined, “and it tasted sweet so Penguin ate one too”

“But then we… got… hard,” Penguin sighed.

“How long have you dumbasses been out here jerking each other off?” You sighed.

“... three hours,” Shachi whined, practically nuzzling against your leg. You couldn't help the electricity it sent to your core, you'd never seen just how muscular the two of them were under the boilersuits, not to mention their sizable cocks. Nothing quite like two muscled men on their knees to get a girl going.

“What do we doooooo [y/n]?” Penguin cried, nestling against your other leg, the two of them each claiming a leg and running their hands up them as they knelt in front of you.

“The flower you two idiots ate is a powerful aphrodisiac,” you explained, allowing them some small relief by scratching their scalps, making them let out little whines. God, they were like animals in heat. “The flower relies on the wildlife around it to eat the flowers so their nose spreads pollen from one plant to the next. It encourages the production of said wildlife by setting them into a breeding frenzy. More animals means more opportunity to spread pollen. You two knuckleheads are no smarter than a wild boar, its working exactly as intended”

“So what do we do?” Shachi whined, “we… we tried doing it ourselves, we tried helping each other, but we can't… we can't finish”

“That's because the flower wants you to breed,” you sighed, “for a mammal with a phallus, you need to finish inside another. If you were females, you'd need someone to finish inside you. Men have died from this you know? You'll keep going till you either do what the flower wants, or until you drop dead”

“So we just… have to fuck?” Penguin asked coyly.

“Yup, good luck fellas,” you shook them off your legs and turned to leave, “don't forget to warm each other up first!”

“Wait… no!” Shachi looked at Penguin and almost cried, “we're not into men! I'm not doing that!”

“Speak for yourself…” Penguin muttered.

“Shut up Peng!” Shachi shouted, shoving him and setting off another fist fight, “you're not fucking my ass! Or my mouth for that matter!”

You made an annoyed groan as you pulled them off each other again, the two of them quickly reclaiming your legs, more aggressive with their touches now, hands travelling past the hem of your skirt.

“Let us fuck you! Please!” Penguin begged.

“We'll make you feel so good, I promise!” Shachi added. You rolled your eyes at them but couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your legs as the two men begged for you and ran hands up your thighs. It was a tempting predicament. You weren't sure anyone had ever helped two pollen victims before either, it could be interesting research to observe how they interacted with each other. Would they work together? Would they fight for dominance? It was a fascinating proposition.

“Fine,” you relented, parting your legs slightly, “but you two pathetic boys better make me cum till I see stars or I'm telling the captain”

They didn't even bother to give you a verbal reply before they were all over you, running their tongues up your legs and tugging at your clothes. Shachi stood and pulled off your shirt as Penguin unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the ground. They were like rabid dogs as they saw your underwear, and they made quick work of it, Shachi removing your bra, sucking on your breasts and groping them roughly as he stood beside you, while Penguin tugged down your panties and pulled you to rest your core on his face. You had to rely on Shachi to keep you upright as Penguin pulled your leg over his shoulder, and you cried out as he immediately drove his tongue between your folds, lapping at you like a parched dog, messily licking up any slick he could find and bullying his tongue inside you to find more.

“Fuck, Peng,” you moaned, hips rolling as you rode his tongue, “just like that, fuck. Who knew such a dumb, useless dog would have some use? Good dog, lap me up good,” Penguin moaned into you at your words, doubling his efforts, and you swore you heard him bark against your pussy.

“Am I a good dog too?” Shachi whined, letting your breast go with a pop to look at you with needy eyes.

“I don't see you eating your food like a good boy,” you huffed, “get on your knees and I'll see if you're worth my time”

Shachi dropped to his knees behind you, making a definite bark before pulling your cheeks apart and running his tongue against your asshole. If he had a tail, you had no doubt it’d be waggling. You shivered at the wet muscles lapping at you, feeling the way the two men's tongues occasionally met between your legs as they ate you out from both sides, Shachi's tongue bullying its way inside your tight hole. You reached one hand back to hold his head for support, a hand buried in each man's hair as they made growls and sloppy sounds against you, their cocks twitching untouched as they serviced you.

“Good dogs,” you purred, “fuck, gonna cum right on your faces, hnng~”

Penguin made a excited sounding yelp as you gushed on his face, and you cried out as Shachi took the opportunity to slip a finger in your ass, spitting on it and adding a second, your whole body tingling as he finger fucked you through your already intense orgasm. The two of them didn’t let up, Shachi’s tongue running over your ass and thighs before adding a third finger, stretching you open so you could take him.

“Good dogs,” you panted, barely able to keep yourself upright with the way your legs were quickly turning to jelly, “the two of you have worked hard, now show me how feral you are and come fuck me”

They moved faster than you could comprehend, working in tandem to get you in position so they could both fuck you. You expected them to lay you down, but instead Shachi lifted you so Penguin could slide inside your pussy, making you gasp at how fast he went to the hilt, before Penguin grabbed you himself and you wrapped your limbs around him. Shachi held your hips steady as he lined himself up with your ass, then he spat on his cock pumped it a few times to spread it. You held your breath, wincing a little from the stretch as he slid inside you slowly. They both held you still for a moment to adjust, the three of you panting heavily, both boys working hard to hold back and not just immediately slam into you. You gave them a small nod to let them know you were ready, mentally bracing yourself for what you knew would be a rough fuck given the effects of the flower. Shachi held your hips bruisingly tight, Penguin supporting your thighs, and the two of them began working in sync to lift and drop you, using you like a toy to get themselves off as they made deep thrusts in time. Between the strength of the two of them you were practically weightless, thrown around like a ragdoll as they grunted like rabid animals and fucked you mercilessly hard. Every hard thrust knocked the wind out of you till all you could do was whine as they used your body, quickly bringing you to orgasm again. Liquid dripped down their thighs from your release, wetting the dirt below you, the sound of them fucking your holes making sloppy sounds that echoed in the trees mingled with your collective moans.

“So good, good dogs,” you moaned, your tits squeezed against Penguin’s hard pecs, sweat making the three of you sticky as it collected between your bodies, your back pressed against Shachi’s front.

“Cum for us again, please,” Penguin whined.

“Need it. Need to feel you cum again,” Shachi added, his teeth grazing your shoulder.Penguin leaned back a little so he could rub your clit hard with his thumb, and you felt yourself spiralling.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cried, “cumming”

The two of them made deep groans that vibrated through you as they felt you squeeze around them, unable to let out your own moan from how hard you were cumming, the air entirely knocked out of you. All you could do was shake and see white dots in your vision as the two of them unloaded inside you, finally finding relief from the flower as they gave it what it wanted. The amount of cum they put in you was immense, another side effect of the flower, your two holes immediately dripping with white as they pulled out and held you steady while you found your footing and you practically collapsed against Penguin’s chest. Shachi grabbed the tank top he usually wore under his boiler suit and shook the dirt off, then he used it to do what he could to clean the impressive amount of collective fluids from you, your legs shaking and threatening to give out as he dragged it carefully through your oversensitive core. Penguin continued to wordlessly keep you upright while Shachi dressed himself, then they switched. Once the two of them were dressed they helped you, laying soft kisses and gentle, thankful caresses over your body as they pulled your clothes back on, before Shachi lifted you into a bridal hold.

“So what did we learn?” you yawned as they started to carry you back to the ship.

“Eat strange flowers,” Shachi gave you a shit eating grin. You smacked him hard on the chest and he pouted.

“I’m telling Law,” you threatened.

“Please don’t!” Penguin begged, “I promise not to dare Shachi to eat weird plants, and I pinky promise to not eat any myself!”

“Shachi?” you raised a brow. He rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold on you, making you squeak as you were jostled.

“Fineeeee,” he groaned, “I promise not to eat any more random flowers, even if they get me laid”

“I could have just let you die you know,” you huffed.

“I won’t do it again!” Shachi yelped as you pulled hard on his ear.

“Good dog,” you smiled.

“Woof!” they both replied.

[tateypots]

Coraline

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Protective Frankie Morales x wife!reader

A/N: This is my entry for @itwasntimethatdidit40 Italian Music Challenge. I was given the song Coraline by Måneskin, I'll add the translated lyrics and a link to the song at the bottom. Its a great song.

I really loved this challenge so thank you to V for for organising but I'm not going to lie, this was hard to write. I'm usually soft and fluffy or filthy and depraved (and sometimes both) so this is my first real foray into anything angsty.

There are some very heavy themes in this so please heed the warnings before you continue and please forgive me for the timing. I know it's been a hard week and the last thing anyone needs is more sadness but I promise there is a happy ending. And I already promised @baronessvonglitter a lovely, happy, fluffy fic to follow by way of an apology!

Story is written as a reader insert but in my head her name is Coraline. Moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is not described.

Warnings: pregnancy, miscarriage, mentions of medical procedures following miscarriage (nothing in detail), violence, injury, child abuse, grief, ptsd, implied smut but it's very brief, Frankie being the best.

Word count: 4.1K

14 weeks. That’s how far along you were. Had been. Fuck!

The beeps and whirrs of the heartrate monitor strapped to you were the only noise. Your tears silently dripping down your battered and swollen face, your body aching and broken. And empty. Your perfect little bean taken from you. Scraped from your body as though it was nothing, inconsequential.

You’d barely had time to process the words, “I’m so sorry Mrs Morales, there’s no heartbeat,” before they were wheeling you to surgery. And you had to do it all alone, your husband locked away in a cell at the local police station. Not that you blamed Frankie at all. If you had been able, you would have beaten the shit out of your father too. If your leg and ribs weren’t broken, if your shoulder hadn’t been recently dislocated. If you didn’t have this awful aching sadness gnawing away at you like a black hole devouring any hint of light from your life.

Your father was lucky that someone was there to pull Frankie off him. If only there had been someone to pull your father off you. If they’d poked their heads out of their apartments when he started yelling at you in the hallway about how you were an ungrateful little bitch for running off and marrying a man he didn’t approve of. For getting knocked up like a stupid slut. If only they had intervened then instead of waiting until you were lying battered and bleeding at the bottom of a flight of stairs just in time for Frankie returning from the grocery store. Yes he was lucky indeed. Lucky that he was currently inhabiting a cell next to Frankie instead of the casket your husband had intended to put him in.

When you’d awoken from your anaesthesia the nurse had told you that someone had informed Frankie of what had happened and the guilt nearly ripped you in two. The thought of him finding out in a cold, unforgiving cell, all alone. How his grief would be battling with his guilt that he wasn’t there for you just as yours was now, mirror images reflecting and magnifying the horror of the day. You wished he was here. You needed his deep, baritone voice to wrap you in its soothing embrace as he told you you’d be ok, that you’d get through it together.

A gentle tap on the door to your room pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Pope, Will and Benny gathered at the door. You see their masks slip on, just a second too late as they enter the room, training kicking in, stay calm, don’t give anything away. You know just from that how bad you must look. You’ve never seen them turn those masks on for you and it almost breaks you, the sob that claws it’s way out of your chest is violent and raw. It rips at your throat as it escapes, intent on causing as much damage to your broken body as it does to the ears of all who hear it.

They rush for you, desperate to console you. Pope reaches you first. He wraps you in his arms, gently so as not to hurt you further. You vaguely wonder why he bothers. You feel nothing but the aching pit of blackness within you that seems to grow and consume every other thought and feeling.

“It’s ok honey, let it out, we got you,” he whispers to you, holding you closer. Will is at your other side now, holding your hand, Benny beside Pope takes your other one. You feel their tears spilling onto your skin, masks dropped. They never really stood a chance against the raw, unfettered pain in the room. You surrender to your grief. You sink into Pope’s embrace and squeeze the hands that hold yours, so grateful to no longer be alone.

You think back to all the times you’d had to swallow and hide your sadness growing up, careful not to trigger your father or overburden your mother. How Frankie had to coax that side out of you, had to teach you that it was ok to be sad and vulnerable with him. That it was safe. That he was safe. That they were safe. You’d gone from having no one to having a whole family, bound not by blood but by love. And you’d never been more thankful for them.

You don’t know how long you stay like that but eventually your tears run dry. You pull out of Pope’s embrace to lean back on your pillows.

“How did you know?” you ask.

“Frankie called,” Pope tells you as Will passes him a bottle of water, “he didn’t want you to be alone.”

Of course Frankie would use his one phone call to make sure you’re ok rather than calling a lawyer. That stupid, big hearted lug. Not that there was much a lawyer would be able to do you knew. There had been plenty of witnesses. But still, your heart swells and it’s enough to momentarily break through the numbness, your love for Frankie pulling you back from the abyss.

“Here honey, drink some of this, you must be dehydrated,” Pope instructs as he brings the bottle of water to your lips. He’s put a straw in it to help you, so you don’t have to navigate the hard bottle against your swollen lips.

“I called my friend, she’s a lawyer, she’s gona head to the station and see what can be done,” Will tells you. You know it won’t be much. That bail will be expensive, more than you can afford, and a criminal record will put his military career at risk. The guilt rears its ugly head again, threatening to drown you with its voracity. Frankie is going to lose everything he’s worked so hard for on top of the already agonising loss of your baby and it’s all your fault. If only he’d fallen in love with someone else. Someone better, someone without so much baggage and a violent father.

“Thanks Will, but there’s only one way out of this that doesn’t end with him losing his job.”

They all stop and look at you. “I need to speak to my mom.”

“Honey are you sure that’s a good idea?” Pope asks you. He’s worried, you can see. He knows Frankie won’t like it.

“I’m sure Pope. Right now all I need is Frankie and she is how I get him. I don’t care about anything else, I just need him,” you tell him, once more breaking down in tears.

“Ok, ok honey, I’ll get her for you. It’s ok,” he soothes you, “you remember her phone number?”

You give him a shaky nod and dictate your parent’s phone number and address. He gives you a kiss on the crown of your head and disappears out the door.

He returns a little later with your mom. He walks behind her, shepherding her into the room like he expects her to turn tail and run. You wouldn’t be surprised if she tried, so used to existing in the safety of your fathers shadow, spewing her hatred from behind the safety of his imposing body. But now there’s no one here to hide behind. Here the tables are turned in your favour for once.

“You want us to stay with you?” Will asks, not taking his eyes off her, all 3 of them eyeballing her like she’s a piece of trash.

“No it’s ok. Just. Don’t go far?” you ask, looking at them each in turn for reassurance.

“We’ll be right outside honey,” Pope promises, “you holler if you need anything and we’ll be in in a heartbeat.”

They file out, glaring at your mother the entire time. They don’t close the door, not taking any chances of you being hurt further tonight.

She turns back to you. You don’t say anything for a minute. Give her a chance to truly see you and absorb all the visible damage to your body.

“How are you?” she eventually asks and you huff a laugh.

“Don’t pretend you care about me now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re my daughter of course I care.”

“Oh yeah, that why you stood by my whole life watching as he beat me? That why you used to tell me I deserved it?”

“You were an unruly child,” she spits at you, getting agitated now, “you needed to be disciplined, your father was just trying to get you to behave.”

“Discipline, right. Like the time he hit me so hard he knocked 3 of my teeth out because I didn’t come over the first time he called?”

She rolls her eyes at you, “they were baby teeth, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I was 7 years old and he was a full grown adult!”

“You disrespected him in front of our friends.”

You want to scream at her. You want to climb out of your bed and beat her bloody, reciting every injury inflicted against every perceived failing, the rage momentarily filling the void within you. You desperately cling to it, feed off it, praying it gives you the energy to see you through this.  

“Your father and I did the best we could, there’s no manual that comes with being a parent.”

“Well I won’t be finding that out anytime soon, seeing as your husband murdered your grandchild tonight!” you bellow back at her. It hits her like a punch. Not the fact that you’ve lost your baby. The wrath behind your words. You’ve never raised your voice to her, never displayed your emotions so shamelessly in front of her.

You see Pope in the doorway and you shake your head. He steps away again but you know he is stood right outside, waiting for your instruction. It bolsters you. She will hear what you have to say, no matter how little she likes it.

“You were terrible parents. And even now that I’m an adult you can’t let me be happy. Why are you so determined to ruin my life?”

“Ruin your life? We were trying to save you from that degenerate you married. He put your father in the hospital you know, he had to have stitches.”

“Boo, fucking, hoo,” you tell her, sweeping your arm across your body, not an inch of which is not marked in some way by that assault of your father. She flinches. You know it’s at the curse coming out of your mouth rather than the repulsion of seeing what her husband did to you.

“I’m sure your father never meant for you to fall down those stairs, he was just trying to get you to see sense. Yes, that’s it. Your father is an upstanding member of the community, I’m sure the police will see that this was an accident. What that Morales man did to him was deliberate. He’s violent, I could always sense it in him. He will go to jail where he belongs and you will come home. One day you will be thankful for what your father did for you tonight.”

You laugh. Actually laugh at her, pain shoots through your ribs but you embrace it. You’re not surprised that she’s still defending that man. You are a little surprised by how delusional she is.

“What’s so funny?”

The last few chuckles trickle out of you before you sigh and tell her. “there are cameras.”

“What?”

“There are cameras in the hallway,” you see her sag as the realisation hits her. “The police will already have seen them. They’ll know what he did wasn’t an accident. If my husband deserves jail for violence, then so does yours.”

“No, no. That’s not right. Your father doesn’t belong in jail.”

“Yes he does.”

She starts rambling and pacing, “no, no, no, not right, not right.”

“Everyone is going to know. Imagine what the neighbours will say. Especially when it comes time for the trial and I have to get on the stand and recount all the abuse I lived though in that house. My medical records will back it up. Everyone is going to know exactly what kind of people you are.”

“Stop it!” she screams at you.

“There is another way,” you offer. She looks at you with hope in her eyes. “You drop the charges against Frankie and I will drop the charges against your husband.” You refuse to acknowledge him as your father any more. You’re done with them both.

She glares at you for a moment. But you have her backed into a corner and you both know it.

“Fine,” she finally relents.

“Good. One of the boys will take you to the station to get everything settled. And then that’s it. We’re done. I don’t ever want to see either of you again.”

She opens her mouth to protest but you cut her off. “I mean it. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to, and I'll make sure all your friends know about it.”

She nods, clearly seething that after all this, they’re still losing the control over you they were so desperate to keep.

Before she can say anything else the boys are filing back into the room. Pope motions for her to leave with a sweep of his arm, “after you.” She marches out of the room without so much as glancing at you. Pope turns back and winks at you, “did so good honey, I’ll be back with Frankie as soon as I can,” and follows her out.

As soon as they’re out of earshot you collapse in on yourself, descending once more into tears as Will holds you this time. The rage is gone, used up and burnt out and all that is left in the ashes is grief and pain.

At some point one of the nurses comes in and gives you more pain relief and the exhaustion finally takes over as you fall into a restless sleep.

///

It’s the beeping and whirring that you register first as you start to come back round. And then it hits you all over again, a tidal wave of despair that threatens to wash you away. But there’s a heavy pressure on your hand keeping you tethered. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze down. Frankie is sleeping, sat in a chair pulled close to your bedside, his head resting on one of his arms on the bed, his other hand gripping yours tightly. Not enough to hurt. Just firm, reassuring.

You heave a sigh of relief that he’s here. His mere presence, even unconscious as he is, is enough to settle you. Your heart swells again, that feeling pushing at the edges of your sorrow. You don’t want to wake him. You’ve put him through hell tonight the least you can do is let him sleep. But you know that the position he’s in is not good for his neck and he’ll be sore in the morning if he stays as he is.

You take a moment to really look at him. You see the evidence of the night on him. His eyes and face are puffy from the tears he’s shed and there are bruises forming in the few places your dad managed to get a retaliatory hit in. You hate seeing him like this. You’re so ashamed that you’ve put him through this. Part of you wonders if he’ll still want you once it’s all calmed down. When he realises his life would have been easier had he picked someone else. You force that feeling down. You know Frankie wouldn’t do that to you. That voice in your head is the latent remnants of your parents teachings that love had to be earned and you always fell wide of the mark, never quite good enough. Frankie had always given his love and affection freely. He’d never treated you like they had, and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

Before you can decide whether you should wake him up, a nurse comes in to check your vitals.

“Is there anything you need?” she asks in a whisper once she’s done.

“Just some water please,” you ask.

“M’I got it,” Frankie mumbles beside you, pushing up off the bed and reaching over to your nightstand to grab a bottle of water and a straw as the nurse retreats once more.

You whimper when he lets go of your hand to get the lid off the bottle.

“I know baby, I know, just be a second,” he placates you, but instead of waiting for his hand to take yours again you reach it up to cup his face as he holds the bottle steady for you to drink from. He turns his head to kiss your palm and you stoke his cheek with your thumb.

He looks at you while you sip your water, eyes roving over your face before finding yours once more. The tears start to drip from his eyes and you break once more, like a piece of pottery, smashed and patched back together, over and over again, getting more fragile with each attempt at repair.

 “I’m so, so sorry Frankie, please forgive me!” you sob, clinging to him as though he may disappear at any moment. He’s your life raft in the storm, you know that if you let go you’ll be dragged to the depths, never to be recovered.

“No, no, no baby, what are you talking about, there’s nothing to forgive,” he tells you, pulling you close and kissing your head. “It’s me who should be apologising. I should have done a better job at protecting you from him. And you shouldn’t have had to go through this alone. I hate myself for that. Please say you forgive me, please!”

You shake your head at his words and pull away enough that you can see his face. You gently cup it with both your hands and make him look at you. He wears his grief all over his face, his emotions out in the open for all to see. You love him for that. For not making you feel like you need to swallow it, for standing with you and validating your heartache.

“There’s nothing to forgive for you either. There was no way you could have known this would happen. The only one to blame is him and I’m glad he got a taste of his own medicine tonight.” You lean in and give him a gentle kiss before wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in his neck.  

“I love you so much Frankie.”

“I love you too.”

You stay like that for a while. Wrapped in each other’s arms and each other’s sadness, weeping on to each other’s shoulders until he feels you start to shift to find relief from your aching body. He lies you back onto your pillows and sits back in his chair. He holds your hand in one of his and brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His other big hand comes to rest gently just below your belly, the place that had until just a few hours ago housed your greatest joy.

The pain feels sharper with him here, more acute. The overall aching brought into focus of a singular agony now that the other distractions of the night had resolved themselves. Your baby is gone. The last time you were in this hospital was only 2 weeks ago, getting your scan. You had left excited and hopeful with a blurry picture of your perfect little miracle. That’s the only picture you would ever get. But you feel stronger with him here too. Better able to carry the burden with him to help you share the load. You feel less despondent, you feel safe. He’s brought with him the memory of light. A flicker, a momentary spark. You feel hopeful that although you are suspended in darkness now, it might not last forever. You will find your way together.

///

“You’re staring Morales,” you playfully scold your husband as he stands leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

“Can’t help it, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that every time,” you laugh.

He walks over and cups your face in his big hand, titling your face so he can press his lips against yours, “and I mean it, every time,” he tells you as he kisses you once more and then crouches down  to press another kiss against your daughters forehead as she huffs and coos round the teat of her bottle.

He looks up at you again, drinking in your smile. He’s catalogued every one since that night. He hadn’t realised how much he loved your smile until it had disappeared. For months after that night the pair of you soldiered on, one foot in front of the other, just trying to make it through each day. Through breakdowns and nightmares and therapy sessions. Battling through the pain and the financial fallout of your hefty medical bills.

And then one day in the fall you’d been out for a little walk when a gust of wind had blown his cap clean off his head. He’d dropped your hand to chase after it only for it to blow in the opposite direction whenever he got close. When he’d turned back after a kindly stranger had taken pity on him and rescued his hat from the ground as it blew past him, there was a little smile on your face, like you had very recently just stopped laughing. And it made his heart sing. He’d rushed back to you, taken your face in both his hands (one of which was still keeping tight hold of his cap) and kissed you deep and sweet.

That smile had saved him. Nourished him and gave him the strength to go on. They came infrequently to start with, the slow return of joy and light to your lives. But any time he saw you smile he took note of what had caused it. It wasn’t always the same thing. Something that made you smile one day wouldn’t draw the same reaction the next. Over time he realised the thing that made you smile the most was him. And if that didn’t just make him drown with pride. When he said something goofy, when he sang to you, when he brought you flowers from the gas station, or picked you up a certain candy bar, just because he knew you loved them, when he told you that he loved you. He cherished every single one. He was quite content to spend the rest of his life making you smile.

And when after almost 6 years, after many conversations and baring of doubts and fears you smiled at him and told him you wanted to try for another baby, his heart was fit to burst. That was his favourite smile of all the ones you’d gifted him.

There’d been a lot of smiling over the next few months. A lot of you moaning his name too. He liked that almost as much as the smiles.

But the pregnancy had been hard. You had both been prepared for it to be. But on the more difficult days he would hold you while you wept or when you woke from nightmares, or when you just couldn’t face the day. He would squeeze you tight, tell you how well you were doing, that he would always be there for you. He’d talk directly to your belly, telling your baby how lucky they were to have a momma as strong and beautiful and kind as you. Most days he could coax at least a small smile from you. And on the days he couldn’t, he’d think back to all the ones he’d filed away in his head and remind himself that the darkness doesn’t last forever.

And then she was here. A perfect kicking, screaming bundle who brought chaos in her wake and he knew the second she was placed in his arms that he’d fight tigers with his bare hands to keep you both safe. It made him hate your father even more for what he’d done. He could never imagine hurting his baby girl the way that man hurt you. He’d kill anyone who tried. He wanted to kill him even more than he had that night. For everything he’d done to you. For everything he’d stolen from you both.

But here you are now, the three of you together. Thriving. In spite of all that man had done.  In spite of all the horrors you’d survived to get here. He’ll make sure you never have to again. And your smile is all the reward he’ll ever need.

///

Translated Lyrics:

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Coraline beautiful as the sun

Warrior with a zealous heart

Hair like red roses

Those precious copper wires, love, bring them to me

If you hear bells singing

You'll see Coraline crying

Who takes the pain of others

And then carries it inside her

Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

But she knows the truth

It's not for everyone to go on

With a heart that's split in two halves

It's cold already

She's a child but she feels like a weight

And sooner or later it will break

And people will say, ah, "It's worth nothing"

She can't even get out of a miserable door

But one day, one time, she will succeed

And I told Coraline that she can grow

Take her things and then leave

But she feels a monster that keeps her in a cage, that

That covers her road with mines

And I told Coraline that she can grow

Take her things and then leave

But Coraline doesn't want to eat, no

Yes, Coraline would like to disappear

And Coraline cries

Coraline is anxious

Coraline wants the sea but she's afraid of the water

And maybe the sea is inside her

And every word is an axe

A cut on the back

Like a raft that sails in a river in flood

And maybe the river is inside her, of her

I'll be the fire and the cold

Shelter in the winter

I'll be what you breathe

I'll understand what's inside you

And I'll be the water to drink

The meaning of good

I'll also be a soldier

Or the light in the evening

And in return I ask for nothing

Just a smile

Every little tear of yours is an ocean on my face

And in return I ask for nothing nothing

Just a little time

I'll be a banner, a shield

Or your silver sword and

And Coraline cries

Coraline is anxious

Coraline wants the sea but she's afraid of the water

And maybe the sea is inside her

And every word is an axe

A cut on her back

Like a raft sailing in a river in flood

And maybe the river is inside her, inside her

And tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Tell me your truths, Coraline, Coraline

Coraline, beautiful as the sun

She lost the fruit of her womb

She hasn't known love

But a father who is nothing like a father

They told her there's a castle in the city

With walls so powerful

That if you go and live inside

Nothing can hit you anymore

Nothing can hit you anymore

///

Tagging some people who showed interest in the WIP and who might be interested, but absolutely no pressure to read, let me know if you want to be removed.

@baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @lamartell @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @thedilfdiaries @evolnoomym

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 13: more than memory | barista!kim seungmin x psych major!reader

author's note: i just needed to create another fic within my procedural memory universe (and be a psychology nerd). also i finally started a taglist !! please send me an ask if you'd like to be added xx

The windowpane you sat by was frosted and cold, but the cafe was warm, especially the particularly cosy corner you’d always sneak yourself into. It was right by the heater, a soft blue coloured sofa with a low mahogany table in front of you. The cafe walls were dark green, and the space was dimly lit, inviting and familiar. For the past few months, you’d brought in a book to read, and would lounge on the sofa as if it was your own apartment, sporadically receiving honey chai in miniature teapots and oat matcha lattes from your sweet boyfriend, Seungmin. Other days, you’d sit yourself at a table near the barista counter, and he would test out new coffee blends and teas, giving you little samples and asking for your advice.

However, today was not a day for reading or tea-tasting. Your university had started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow you had been lucky enough to receive an assignment due by the end of the week. Which, you’d just realised upon waking up, was tonight. 

Throwing on a navy cable knit sweater and knotting a pale pink scarf around your neck, you’d sprinted, or rather stumbled, out of your apartment in your uggs after Seungmin, who was heading out to open up the cafe.

“It’s 7:30,” Seungmin had said to you, quickly reaching forward to catch your laptop before it slipped out of your grasp as you locked the door.

“I know. I have to get an essay done by tonight, so I’m heading into the office with you,” you replied, tucking your hair behind your ears and taking a quick breath to regain your composure.

Seungmin smiled. “And by office, you mean the blue sofa in my cafe?”

“You know I do, baby.”

The two of you walked along the route he always took to the cafe, fingers entwined. As per usual, Seungmin paused to pet every dog you met along the way, asking for names, ages, breed types and temperaments as he scratched ear after furry ear. As per usual, you would take a moment to glance into the little vintage store adjacent to the cafe, seeing if there was anything new in the window. 

As Seungmin began setting up the coffee machine for the day, you set up chairs, wiped tables and turned on lights. Felix, Seungmin’s best friend, stopped by to drop off the day’s delivery of pastries and cakes, and you helped him set them up in the little glass cabinet on the benchtop. Once everything was done, you and Seungmin took turns taking bites of an almond croissant, and you left him to serve his first customer with a kiss on the lips and a mug of hot chocolate.

With a stretch of your wrists and a deep breath, you put on your glasses and sat yourself down, periodically taking sips from your hot chocolate as you formulated research, cited sources and structured paragraphs. At ten-forty-five, he made you an iced latte with the vanilla flavoured oat milk he kept specifically for you, leaning down to meet your eyes and giving you a smile. At half past twelve, Seungmin brought you a sandwich from the deli next door and a chamomile tea, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and rubbing your shoulders. At quarter past two, he swapped your plate and empty cup for a strawberry matcha latte, and you wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his chest for a moment as you took a breather. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, yeah?” he said, more like a statement than a question.

“I promise,” you replied, kissing him lightly on the lips before resuming your work.

At three, when he shut off the coffee machine, he heard you sigh in relief and close your laptop, and turned around to see you stretch your shoulders and slide down the sofa. He approached you slowly, then threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face in your shoulder as you giggled.

“You big baby,” you chuckled, running a hand through his hair and sitting up, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“Since when is it illegal for a guy to be proud of his girlfriend for smashing out an essay in a day?” he huffed, but leaned in closer. “What was it about?”

“A comparative analysis of two contemporary studies on the psychological process of memory,” you replied. “A lot of work, but it was really interesting. The whole concept is so fascinating.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” The same way you loved watching Seungmin make coffee, the love in his eyes and the subtle confidence in his work, he loved to listen to you talk about your study; there was something captivating about you in your element, so passionate about what you were learning and writing about. 

“Basically, the whole point I covered was implicit memory. The kind of stuff that we don’t consciously retrieve, it just comes back involuntarily. Like muscle memory and emotions. It’s so cool, and it’s so interesting when I can see it in real life. Like how now, you don’t even have to do the measurements properly when you make me a strawberry matcha, because it’s just natural. And like how I still get butterflies when I come here, because it’s where we first met. It’s honestly so beautiful.”

You loved the explanation behind normal human nature; learning why and how we did things, what made us who we are. How this complex little process occurring deep within your brains made up your love for each other.

“That really is.”

“Yeah. I really hope my amygdala keeps encoding the feelings I have when I’m around you,” you smiled up at him.

“I sure as fuck hope my basal ganglia doesn’t let me down someday and I forget how to make your strawberry matchas. I don’t think you’d forgive me.”

“It’s okay, because if my neocortex somehow loses the information, I won’t remember it even happened,” you giggled. “And how did you know that?”

“I know you. You think I don’t read your notes and your essays? It’s so interesting, especially seeing it all from your eyes and reading all of your raw thoughts.” he replied casually, although his cheeks tinged pink. “I hope that’s not like, an invasion of your privacy. But whenever I see your notebooks out with all your little diagrams and comments, I just want to see what’s going on in your head. And know what you’re talking about half the time.”

You squealed and stood up, shifting yourself onto his lap and pressing your forehead to his. “Kim Seungmin, you are the love of my life.”

“Even when your hippocampus starts to deteriorate with age and you forget our old memories together?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Even when,” you confirmed. “Although I hope it never does.”

“Me neither.”

You brought your lips to his.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght - send an ask to be added :)

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

Deep Breaths Now

fandom: Detroit: Become Human

pairing: paramedic!Connor & reader

summary: Connor is called to the scene of a mass shooting. The police officers say all of the injured have already been taken care of, but Connor wants to check for himself. It's a good thing he does.

tags/warnings: mentions of gun violence/shooting, graphic depictions of injury and medical procedures, angst, hurt/comfort

word count: 2743

a/n: starts platonic, ending has hints of a future romantic relationship. gender neutral reader, no use of y/n. I am not a medical professional, although I did my research and tried to be as accurate as possible.

Connor and his partner, a human named Riley, roll up to the mall with sirens blaring. Other teams have already arrived and likely left with the most injured. Police mill about the scene, interviewing the people who made it out unharmed. Connor hops out of the passenger seat, eyes quickly scanning the area. They’re late arrivals; Connor’s station is generally out of range for this part of Detroit. But with a mass casualty event, other units are often called in to assist.

He gathers a small medical bag with basic supplies before meeting Riley near a police officer. The officer nods to Connor and gives them a quick brief. “We’ve already neutralized the perp. Just doing final checks of the mall and surrounding area to ensure we’ve taken care of all the casualties. If you guys want to head inside to assist, be my guest, but things seem to be wrapping up around here.”

Connor looks to Riley, who shrugs. “Might as well check it out.”

Connor nods affirmatively, already heading for the doors of the mall. The shooting had taken place in the food court, so this area is relatively clean. There’s a few personal belongings scattered about, the things people had dropped in the mad dash to escape. Connor’s LED cycles yellow as he processes the data. They continue through the foyer, finally coming to the food court.

Riley mutters a curse under his breath.

It’s a grisly scene. Blood, blue and red alike, is splattered and puddled on the floor. Just based off the patterns, Connor can identify various levels of injury. A shock of emotion passes through him – still a surprise so soon after deviancy. He’s far too new to such feelings to identify what it is, but it feels weighty and dark. Despite the irrationality of it, each step Connor takes feels slower, heavier. He moves carefully to avoid getting anything on his shoes – blood or discarded mall food – keeping his eyes and ears peeled. More officers wander around this area, setting down evidence tags, collecting shell casings and blood samples.

He and Riley reach the end of the food court. Riley stops walking immediately, calling out to Connor. “It’s unlikely that anyone would’ve tried to escape this way.”

Connor looks back at his partner, a neutral look on his face. “Statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”

Riley only rolls his eyes and makes a dramatic gesture with his arm. “Lead the way, then.”

The android allows a small smile to turn his lips. They head out of the food court and into the main area of the mall. It’s a sort of diamond shape with hallways branching off from the apex points. Various stores line the walls. Connor pauses in his tracks, scanning the area for any indication of life.

Riley walks up beside him. “Connor, I don’t think-”

Connor holds a hand out and interrupts him. “Quiet, please.”

There. A knocking sort of noise. It’s uneven and faint, so faint that Riley hadn’t heard at first. But Connor had. He sets off in the direction of the sound, unconsciously clutching his medical bag tighter. Any traces of uncertainty have been wiped off Riley’s face as he follows.

They round a corner into a nearby store. Connor sees you first and immediately rushes to you. You’re lying on your side, blood oozing steadily from a wound on the right side of your chest. Your breaths are shallow and weak. In your hand is a metal water bottle, which you’d been using to hit the ground in a desperate attempt to be located.

When Connor kneels down beside you, the bottle falls from your hand and a smile lifts your blood-stained lips. You think you might almost pass out from the relief of being found. Riley is quick to take up the spot behind you. Together, the two work in sync to roll you onto your back, with Riley holding your neck and head steady.

You let out a gasping cry as Connor applies firm, steady pressure to the wound in your chest. Your hands scrabble weakly at his as you try to pry him off of you. The pain was intense before, but this is agony.

Connor pays no mind, continuing to hold the pressure. Blood pools around his hands, spilling between his fingers. He speaks in a determined voice to Riley as his LED cycles to red. “GSW to the right chest, no exit wound. Estimated blood loss of 1.74 liters with ongoing hemorrhage. Possible hemothorax. GCS 10, heart rate 127, respiratory rate 32.”

Riley rips open the medical bag and starts pulling out supplies. “Let’s pack that wound and confirm hemothorax.” He passes a big wad of gauze to Connor, who begins to press it into the still-bleeding wound.

You continue trying to get Connor off of you, but your hands are so slick with blood that they just slide right off his synthetic skin. Your back arches as you attempt to get away from the crushing pain in your chest. Connor’s eyes finally meet yours although his hands don’t move. “Please, stop moving. We’re trying to help. I know it hurts, but you have to be still.”

It takes a moment for the command to work its way through the haze of pain. Eventually, you settle, breaths short and gasping. Your gaze finds Connor’s and you try to plead with him with your eyes. You’re far too winded to speak and your mouth tastes like copper.

The android’s gaze softens, his LED spinning rapidly as he looks at you. “We’re going to take care of you. My name is Connor; this is Riley. Just stay still for me, can you do that?”

You nod slowly, mesmerized by the flashing of his LED and the gentleness of his tone.

Connor allows himself to give you a small smile before shifting his focus back to your wound. “Good. You’re doing well.” The determination returns to his face and he speaks to Riley now. “Wound is packed. Bleeding is slowing.”

Riley nods and begins to cut away your shirt. You have no time (or even the mind space) to be embarrassed about being exposed in front of two strangers. “Lungs?”

Connor moves his hand to tap two fingers against your chest. He moves them to various spots, listening carefully to the sounds. “Percussion indicates hemothorax in the right pleural space. We should put in a chest tube.”

Riley’s already holding out more supplies to Connor. He takes them with a grace you envy, a smoothness to his movements that you’ve never experienced. Your eyes, although half-lidded with pain and weariness, remain focused on him. Riley carefully steps around you so that he’s on the same side as Connor. He grabs your arm and begins to raise it, getting you into the correct position for the procedure. You let out a cry and Riley looks down at you apologetically. “I’m sorry it hurts. This is going to help you breathe. Connor’s gonna help you out, okay?”

His voice is not nearly as soothing as Connor’s, but you still nod. You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, tasting blood with the anxious movement.

There’s a cool sensation on the right side of your chest as Connor sterilizes the area. “Lidocaine going in,” he murmurs, his voice low as he concentrates. There’s a small prick, although it’s nothing compared to the still-immense pain in your chest. It crosses your mind that you’re absolutely terrified of needles. Still, you don’t react. Apparently, a near-death experience is enough to put such phobias into perspective.

Connor speaks directly to you now. It takes a moment for your eyes to focus on him, and he only continues when they do. “You shouldn’t feel any pain, but you might feel some pressure when I insert the tube. Please, try to stay still.”

His commanding tone shouldn’t be so comforting and yet it somehow is. Perhaps it’s because you feel so out of control; it’s nice to hand the reins over to someone else. Before you can nod or indicate your understanding, the feeling he mentioned arrives – and it’s about a hundred times worse than you expected. It feels like someone is trying to rip into your chest with a dull garden spade. Fortunately, it doesn’t last; only moments later you feel an immediate release in your chest. It starts a coughing fit, one that has your body nearly spasming. Riley’s hands land firmly on your shoulders, trying to keep you from moving much.

Connor’s voice again, soothing: “That’s it. Deep breaths now.” He’s still working on your chest, eyes focused on the tube that has just been thrust so precisely into your side. You feel the soft sensation of gauze padding the area.

It takes another moment for you to catch your breath, but it immediately helps clear your head. Although still wheezy, you can fully inhale for the first time in what feels like hours. The rush of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy, and your eyes begin to flutter. Connor’s concerned eyes hover in your line of sight, his LED cycling between yellow and red. His lips move, but there’s a ringing in your ears and you can’t make out the words.

…

You wake slowly (when did you fall asleep?), ears still ringing. The sound clears, becoming the distinct beep beep of a heart rate monitor. You let out a groan as you feel dull pain in your chest, an odd feeling of heaviness on one side. Your eyes flutter open and you're met by an unfamiliar smiling face – a nurse.

“Why hello there!” She’s far too chipper for you, her voice high-pitched and piercing. “How are we feeling?”

You groan again, shifting in the uncomfortable hospital bed – yes, that’s where you are, the hospital. “Hurts like hell.”

The nurse tuts sympathetically and adjusts a nearby machine. “Well, that’s to be expected. But you’re recovering well.”

The memories come back slowly, first the failed shopping trip (perhaps failed is an understatement), the screaming of the crowds, your attempts to escape only to be pushed further into the mall. Then – Connor. The android paramedic and his partner who had found you. “Connor,” you murmur, eyes glassy.

The nurse hums, looking up from a tablet at you. “What was that, hun?”

You startle. You’d honestly forgotten she was here – your memory has never been that bad. You blame it on the blood loss. “Oh, just, um. The paramedic, Connor. The one who saved me. I…”

She furrows her brows, thinking. You’ve never seen a lightbulb moment in real life until now. “Right! Yes, Connor. Such a sweet boy. You’re very lucky to have had him there.”

You sink into the bed, realizing he’s not here. Of course he’s not; why would he be? He has other people to save. Still, you can’t get his eyes, his voice, out of your head. He had been so calm, so in control. “I was just hoping I might have been able to thank him.”

Another sympathetic smile is all you get before the nurse leaves you alone.

…

You’re discharged a day later, sans chest tube and with only a small scar to show for the whole ordeal. The wonders of modern medicine. Immediately, your goal becomes to find Connor. You head home, scouring the internet for clues of which station he might work at, team photos, any piece of evidence that will allow you to contact him and express your gratitude.

Unfortunately, you have a life and a job, and finding Connor takes a backseat. It’s only a few weeks later, when an ambulance passes you on the street, that you remember. You return to the search with a renewed vigor, and are finally rewarded. There’s an indie newspaper for your county that posts every journalist’s photos in the archives, even the ones that aren’t included in articles. One of them had covered the mass shooting, and you spend hours looking through the various snapshots, trying to spot Connor’s familiar face.

And then you see him. It’s grainy and out of focus, a picture of Connor and Riley loading a stretcher into an ambulance. You realize with a jolt that you’re probably the one on the stretcher. But that’s a concern for another day. This is the future, and the future means free photo enhancement technology for all. It’s only a matter of moments before you have the station and number of Connor’s rig.

A short internet search later and you have the station’s phone number.

It takes far too long to build up the courage to dial. Doubts creep in – what if he doesn’t even remember you? Is it weird to call the paramedic that saved your life? Is it even weirder to spend weeks searching for him? Who knows. All you know is that you wouldn’t be here without Connor. That’s the thought that finally spurs your fingers to punch in the numbers.

Each ring reminds you of the last time you saw Connor’s face – the determination, courage, perhaps even worry, that you witnessed. Your hands grip the phone tightly as you sit gingerly on the edge of your couch.

“Detroit Fire Station 7.” The clear voice on the other end is not the one you were hoping to hear, but it’s a start.

You clear your throat. “Hi, um.” You introduce yourself by name before realizing that you’d never actually had the chance to tell Connor what it was. “I’m looking for a paramedic, Connor?”

There’s a small rustling noise on the other end of the line before the voice returns. “He’s just returned from a call; would you like me to put him on?”

You hesitate, suddenly unsure. Those doubts rise back up in you, but you shove them down. “If he’s available, yes please.”

The line goes silent and you wait anxiously, chewing on your bottom lip. It seems as though hours pass, the other end deadly quiet. You even pull your phone away from your ear to make sure you hadn’t accidentally hung up.

“Hello, this is Connor. With whom am I speaking?”

Your heart stutters at the sound of his voice. It’s exactly as you remembered, although slightly changed by the phone. It takes you a moment to find your words. “Hi, Connor, I… I wanted to thank you. You saved me a few weeks ago after the shooting at the mall.”

The line is quiet for a moment. You fear your thoughts coming to life, that he’s forgotten you or thinks you’re odd. Then, his voice again. “You’re welcome. Although I was only doing my job.”

You shake your head and immediately protest. “No, you kept me calm. You made me feel… safe. Cared for. In such a scary moment.”

Connor’s next words are somehow softer. “I’m glad I could assist. May I ask your name?” You give it and he continues. “I assume you’ve recovered well?”

You smile to yourself. “Yes, no complications. Just a scar.”

“That’s good to hear.”

There’s an awkward silence. You didn’t really prepare for anything past this point. You suddenly blurt out your next sentence, surprising even yourself. “Would you like to get lunch? My treat. I feel like I owe you or something.” You realize halfway through that he’s an android and doesn’t eat, but the words are already out there.

“As an android, I have no need to eat, but I would enjoy… catching up.” The phrase sounds odd and clunky coming from him. Like when you hear a catchphrase on TV and start incorporating it into your vernacular. It’s endearing.

Your smile has grown to an embarrassing grin and you’re just glad he can’t see it. “Great. Good. Um, when’s good for you?”

You make plans to go to a nearby park the following day to “catch up” as he says. You almost regret to hang up, but you hear sirens in the background and realize he must have a call. “You go,” you say, after solidifying the not-lunch plans. “And… thank you. Again. Um… stay safe.”

Connor’s answer comes in that curt, determined voice you know well by now. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

And with a click, he’s gone. But you’re still smiling. Because perhaps your injury-occupied brain hadn’t processed it in the moment, but fully lucid, uninjured you can recognize that Connor is cute. And you just made plans to hang out. Mission accomplished.

[saturneras]

Private Eyes VII

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Even though you haven't been speaking to Daniel since his friend Mark was being an asshole at the dance the other night, he has tried to get on your good side again by inviting you on a routine visit to check something for a case he has been working on. Finally wanting to see some police action, you obviously agree to tag long. Who cares that the chief has strictly told you not to do that? He is never going to know, is he?

Note: Happy belated Father's Day. Warnings: Gun violence, some blood and death - but just for the drama, nothing too graphic.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Tag List: @kellyxo1 @alitaar @suzysface

The station flies out of your field of vision as Daniel accelerates the car. You're seated behind a rookie called Sam that is just freshly out of the academy. Having been cooped up inside all day, you're happy to finally get some fresh air and see some actual police work. The sun is just gathering its last afternoon strength, hitting the windshield of the car.

"You excited to finally get out in the field?" Daniel asks, catching your glance in his rearview mirror.

You nod. "Sure am."

He grins and takes a right. "It's a routine check up. So nothing too crazy."

"What's the procedure when we get there?" Sam asks, all eager.

"We'll park a little out of range, so he's not spooked by a police car in front of his house and then we'll just go up to the front door and knock."

"Just knock? No back up or securing the premises?" Sam asks, his eyebrows now drawn.

"The plate we ran hopefully belongs to a guy that did some minor credit card fraud, nothing violent and no prior convictions or arrests. So he's probably just going to be a bit antsy when we get there."

Sam nods and glances out of his passenger window. Your phone buzzes with another text from Lucy. It's the fourth one today.

Lucy: Come on!

Lucy: Who would I even tell? The cattle?

Lucy: Tell me, tell me, tell me.

Lucy: If you won't, I'm just going to ask Joel next time I see him.

You sigh and type a quick response. At work now. Talk to you later. Since the dance, Lucy has been desperately trying to get you to tell her what in god's name had gotten into Joel that night. And why he almost got into a fight because of it. Just like Casey, who sided with Joel in the matter on how he handled the situation, Lucy has asked you to explain. But unlike Casey, who just nodded and said that he would definitely set Mark straight next time he saw him, when you said that Joel probably just wanted to protect the station's honour, Lucy did not buy that shit. But what are you possibly going to say? It's not as if you yourself knew why he flipped out like that. Obviously, he's got a control issue, but why does he have to show it in front of every fucking person you went to Highschool with?

"Almost there," Daniel says from the front and takes another turn, before pulling the car into a small parking lot in front of a strip mall with a deserted liquor store and a bagel shop that's closed.

You get out of the car and take a look around. It's a street with a couple of small run down houses to the side and nothing but fields encapsulating the strip mall.

"It's the third house on the left there around the corner. Should be a brown one with a porch," Daniel says and starts walking in the direction of the street corner.

Sam and you both follow, staying a little behind. Once you've reached the other side of the street, you all come to a halt. Daniel runs a hand over his head and sighs.

"Alright," he starts, "Sam and I are going to go up to the front door. You," he says pointing at you. "You'll stay safely on the sidewalk, ok?"

You nod. "Will do."

Daniel grins, cockily. "Well, that was easy. Let's g-

You hear the car before you can see it. The sound of the roaring engine fills the air and in a matter of two seconds, a truck almost drifts around the corner you all just came from. You don't even have to blink twice before noticing its distinct colour before it comes to a screeching halt right across the street from you three. In one swift motion, the chief opens the door, gets out and slams it shut so forcefully, the truck wobbles from the impact.

Sam whispers a quiet and stretched out fuck as he spots Joel stalking across the street without even checking for incoming vehicles.

You can hear Daniel gulp as he turns to face the chief, quickly setting his face back into a calm and collected exterior.

"Hey, Chief, what-

Joel doesn't even look at Daniel as he closes the distance between you in two last aggressive steps.

"Get in the truck, right now!" He shouts.

Daniel raises his hands in protest. "Hey now, she's with me today."

"She sure as hell is not, Riley!" Joel snaps, still glaring at you. "Get in, now."

While Sam has moved a couple steps away to a safer distance, Daniel steps up next to Joel.

You shake your head. "Daniel said I could tag along. It's just a routine check up."

"I didn't authorise that so no," Joel says, moving in on you. "And it's not routine. It's a confrontation with somebody suspected of fraud, who could potentially resist and be armed."

Daniel scoffs. "He faked a bunch of credit cards and used them to buy stuff online. He didn't build an organised crime lab."

"I ain't gonna ask you again," Joel says, his gaze still holding yours. His voice is nothing more than a growl at this point.

You move out of his way and position yourself between Daniel and Sam. Joel's eyebrows draw into a frown.

"I don't need your authorisation for a routine drive," Daniel says.

Joel's head slowly turns to Daniel. "You need it to take her with you."

Daniel shakes his head. "Actually, I don't. I asked the Sheriff and he said it would be fine."

"You asked your Daddy?" Joel raises his eyebrows. "Wow, Riley. That's peak leadership behaviour right there."

"She deserves to see some practice, Chief," Daniel counters.

Joel shakes his head in one swift motion. "I don't care what your Daddy says, Riley. She's not staying."

"Since I have higher jurisdictional authorisation, you don't get to decide that. We've got work to do," Daniel says.

"Let's go," Daniel says to you. "That's an order."

Joel's head snaps to him. "The only person she's taking orders from is me, Riley!"

"Fine," Daniel says and without further discussion turns around to start walking toward the street corner, making a turn.

Sam and you are quick to catch up and while he quickly follows Daniel around the corner, you are close behind him. You're about to turn, when Joel grabs your arm and pulls you back into him from behind, keeping you behind the hedge on the corner. Your back hits his chest and he holds your arm tightly pressed against your stomach. The impact is more uncomfortable than usual. His hand is warm and rough against your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

"Take one more step and by God I will loose my shit," he says. His lips barely, but noticeably touching your ear.

"I think it's too late for that, Miller," you snap. "Let me go!"

You try to wriggle out of his embrace, but can't gather any leverage.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He says.

"Trying to get you off of me!"

Joel tightens his grip and you squeal a little. "I am talking about your little road trip with these idiots here."

"I told you, Daniel asked me and said it was cool for me to come," you explain, using your other hand to try to push his away.

"Why do you keep listening to Riley and not me?" Joel says.

"You think everything I do is an act in defiance against you," you hiss. "This has nothing to do with you, Miller."

"Maybe it has if I'm the only one you're not listening to."

"Maybe you just give stupid orders."

Joel pulls on your hand and turns you around to face him, pushing you into the hedge. Tiny sharp branches pressing into your back.

"I told you to not to go out into the field for safety reasons," Joel says.

"And I did it anyway and now we're here," you say. "You gonna threaten to throw me over your shoulder again?"

His eyebrows lift and you can hear his breath hitch for a split second, before he lets go of you, taking a step back.

"Don't," he says, his eyes being warning enough.

"I will, if you stop showing up and acting like I'm some helpless girl in need of a guardian," you say and he scoffs.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe," Joel says.

"And have you satisfied that kink now or do you need another moment?"

Joel's jaw tenses. You can tell he's trying to hold back whatever you're provoking in him, as he clenches his fists next to his hips, knuckles turning white.

"For once, I just need you to do as I say," Joel says huskily, grabbing the car keys from his pocket to hand them to you. "Now be a good girl and get in the truck for me."

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. "If you want me to call you Daddy, you just have to ask nicely, Mr. Miller."

Joel's gaze turns dark without another second to spare, as he lowers his head like a predator ready to pounce.

"Don't make me take you up on that offer, Darlin'," Joel murmurs, still holding out the key.

"Relax, I won't," you say and without another word make a run for the corner. Once you've almost reached the brown house, you slow down and take a look over your shoulder, to find Joel coming after you in quick determined steps.

Daniel and Sam are still standing in front of the house, looking at you now.

"All good, let's go," you say, before Joel can reach you and Daniel nods, moving toward the front door.

"Don't knock on that door, Riley!" Joel says, coming up behind you.

Daniel presses the doorbell, with Sam in position right behind him. Nothing happens for a solid 20 seconds and then Daniel knocks on the door.

"Police, open up!" He calls.

You take a step into the front yard, through the garden gate. Immediately Joel's hand is on your arm, pulling you behind him.

"Stay behind," he says. "You're not wearing a vest-

You see the shot or rather its impact, before you hear the loud noise. The window next to the door shatters and before you can realise what is happening, you hear two other shots. Daniel and Sam throw themselves on the ground as Joel's deafening shout resounds next to your ear, followed by a piercing ringing.

"Down!"

In the blink of an eye your feet are lifted up from the path and a second later you find yourself face down on the ground in front of the porch, pressed down by a heavy weight. Joel.

Your face is buried in the grass and you can't move any part of your body, as Joel has covered every inch of it with his. His arms are wrapped around you, his hands on your head.

"Stay down!" He orders in a voice you haven't heard before. It's so void of any of his usual demeanour that it's scary. Another round of shots hit the ground and the fence, as you hear Daniel shouting something from afar. You flinch from the sound. Joel lifts himself off of you slightly, to give you room to turn your head toward his face.

"Are you hurt?" He shouts, his eyes trying to scan your body for injuries without removing his cover, his hands moving to pat your sides. "Did you get shot? Are you okay?"

You try to say something, but the words are not making it out of your mouth. It's like you're paralysed, your brain short circuiting. Your eyes scan the space around you.

"Eyes on me, Baby," he says, "Are you okay?"

You manage to shake your head. Another shot, someone screams.

"Get under the porch," he says coldly and when he sees the panic in your eyes he eases his tone. "You're okay. They're not gonna hit you. Listen to me. I got you, Baby. They won't hit you, okay?"

You glance into his eyes and their stare softens slightly.

"You just get under the porch, when I say so, yeah?"

You nod.

"And you don't come out before I get you, we clear? You come out for no one else, okay?"

You nod again.

"Alright. On my signal."

Joel slides his body off of yours and motions for you to crawl under the porch. When he mumbles 'now' into your ear, you gather all your courage and quickly make your way over, pushing your body under the floor boards. Out of your hiding spot, you see Joel moving to a crouch, drawing the gun that's strapped to his hip and calling for Daniel, who responds something you can't understand. He makes his way toward the entrance and in a split second he raises his gun and fires off three shots. You hear something heavy drop the moment Joel staggers back from an impact on his chest.

"Clear," he shouts and you hear Daniel from the back of the house finally repeat the word.

Joel looks down his body, clutching his chest and swears. That's when you see the hole in his shirt, right below his heart.

"Joel!" You scream and he catches your glance, his expression somehow surprised right before he slowly sinks down on his knees.

Without hesitation, you pull yourself out from under the porch and try to get up, but your knees are buckling, so you can only stagger slowly toward him.

He now has turned to sit on the grass, breathing heavily.

"Did you get shot?" You shout, as you finally reach him. You lower yourself to your knees in front of him and grab his arm. "Are you okay? Fuck, Joel!"

He lifts his head and glares at you. "I told you to stay under the fucking porch until I came to get you!"

You frown. "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

The shirt is ripped on the side of his shoulder and there is blood trickling down his arm. You reach for the hand holding his chest, but he scoots back a little.

"And you still came out before," he says, every word a strangled breath.

"Christ, who gives a fuck?"

"I. Give. A. Fuck," Joel accentuates.

"What are you gonna do now, huh? Spank me?"

"Maybe I should, if it gets you to listen."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Mr. Miller," you say, finally moving his hand to the side to reveal the gaping hole in his chest. Or rather his shirt. Because the only thing that you can see is a dark blue bulletproof vest with a single bullet stuck inside. He was wearing a vest. Thank the lord.

"Jesus," you say, sitting back on your feet, flinching as a sharp pain shoots through your right leg. You must have twisted it or something, when Joel practically jumped on you. "I thought you got shot."

"I did," Joel says.

"Where the fuck is this blood coming from?"

Joel turns slightly to his right. "Think they got me on my shoulder."

"We need to call an ambulance right now," you say, reaching for your phone.

He shakes his head. "Sam has already called it in."

"Can you get up?" You ask.

Joel doesn't reply, but just slowly leans to his side, lifting himself off the ground to his feet. You rise to meet him.

"Fucking hell," he hisses.

You see Daniel coming out of the house and Sam appearing from the backyard, both not meeting your gaze.

"The EMT will be here in five," Daniel says, sitting down on the porch steps. That's when you catch the sight of the two bodies laying on the ground behind him. You inhale sharply, making Joel turn around to follow your gaze. "Oh god."

"Don't turn around", he says, grabbing your hip to pull you to his chest. He winces slightly, but engulfs you into a tight hug, pushing your head to the side, facing him. "Keep your eyes on me."

Joel starts moving you out of the front yard onto the street. He makes you take the short walk down the street around the corner, you were just standing behind a couple of minutes ago.

Joel motions for you both to walk over to his truck. When you stand before it, he lets go and you turn to fully face him. He's standing there, one hand holding his shoulder, the other arm hanging limp next to his body. A breeze lifts up the strands of curly hair that have fallen into his forehead. The evening sun laying her last rays on his face. He makes a move to stand up straighter, but winces and keeps his upper body slightly bend.

"Did you shoot these two guys?" You ask him and he sighs.

"Yes," he says, holding your glance.

"Are they dead?"

"Yes," he says, a deep frown settling on his face.

You can't even help it and honestly you're a little confused why it took you such a long time, but all of a sudden you realise what just happened and a single tear starts building up to slide down your cheek, followed by many more. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you start crying, your body shaking from the aftershock of adrenalin now pumping through your veins.

Joel's hand moves around you and pulls the back of your head towards his chest again. "It's okay," he whispers.

He lowers his chin on your head, letting his hand slide down your back in soothing strokes. "It's okay," he repeats as your sobs get heavier.

"You're okay. I got you, Babygirl. I got you," he whispers into your hair. Joel tightens his arm around you and settles his hand on the back of your neck. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him in tighter, careful not to touch his bleeding arm.

"I'm so sorry," you manage to get out between sobs.

You feel him lift his head up from yours, looking down on you.

"What for?" He says.

You raise your head from his chest. "For all this."

"Oh Honey," he says, "this wasn't your fault. You're not the one in charge here."

"But I went along?"

"Sure you did," he says, his thumb slowly tracing the side of your neck. "But you weren't the one whose call was to decide whether this was a routine check up, were you?"

You shake your head slightly. "Daniel said the guy wouldn't be violent. Why did they have guns?"

"This is Texas, Baby," Joel says and lifts his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek. "Everyone owns a gun here."

The sound of the ambulance resounds in the distance and moments later two EMT trucks pull up to the scene. One drives by and the other comes to a halt right next to the two of you. A man and a woman, jump out and grab a huge red backpack from the car. The woman starts running around the car in the direction of the house and the man makes his way to you.

"Chief!" He shouts and drops the backpack a couple feet away from you. Joel turns around to face him.

"I'm fine," Joel says.

You suddenly realise that you are still completely engulfed in his arms, bodies flush against each other. You make a motion to move back a little, but Joel's arm presses to your back, keeping you even tighter against him.

"Respectfully, sir, you're bleeding," the paramedic replies, craning his neck to look around Joel. "What about her?"

"Also fine."

"Yeah, she looks totally fine from here, Chief," he says and takes a step toward you.

"I will remind you that I still have bullets left, Tyler," Joel declares in a cold tone, "you come near her and I might put them to good use."

Tyler raises his hands. "I'm just checking if she needs any medical attention, sir."

"I already did," Joel says, "And she sure as hell does not need someone strange man near her right now. So back the fuck up, kid."

"It's protocol, Chief," he insists.

Joel groans. "Do I look like I give a shit about your paperwork right now?"

"No, sir."

"Then go and help Tanya out with the other guys."

"You should go to the hospital, Chief," Tyler says, "you're not safe to drive with that wound on your arm."

"Yeah, yeah," Joel says, "I'll go later."

"Can she take you?" Tyler says, looking at you. "Can you take him to the hospital, ma'am? Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes," you say.

"Okay, if he stops being 'fine', you take him to the E.R. immediately, okay?"

"I will," you say.

"Call an ambulance, if he shows any signs of fever or symptoms related to an infection."

You nod and Tyler shakes his head. "You're getting on my last nerve, Chief."

"Always a pleasure, Tyler," Joel says and the paramedic grabs his backpack, hops back into his truck and drives off.

You both stand in silence for another moment.

"Are you okay?" Joel says softly.

You nod your head. "Yeah, I'm okay, thanks. Should I take you home?"

Joel sighs. "I think that would be good, yes."

He hands you the keys to his truck and you both get into the car. Once you sit down, you see the cut on your upper thigh. Your pants are ripped open slightly. You must have gotten it when pushed down. You don't say anything to alert Joel, who is already leaning his head against the window, eyes closed. Already having memorised the way, half an hour later you pull into his driveway, killing the engine and stepping out of the car.

The sun has already sunk behind the horizon and the sky has turned into lovely shades of violet and blue. You unlock the front door and make space for Joel to step inside. He walks past you into the kitchen and you follow.

It's still dark in the house, so you carefully make your way around the island, but overlook the last barstool on the corner and walk right into it, injured leg first.

"Fuck," you swear and hold onto your thigh.

The light turns on and Joel's head immediately snaps back to yours.

"What happened?"

You just groan and wave it off. "All good."

"What the fuck is that on your leg?" Joel says, angrily and moves over to you. "You said you weren't hurt!"

"It's nothing, it's just a cut. I think I might have slid over a rock or branch or something."

Joel sighs heavily and immediately walks into the bathroom. You can hear cabinets being opened and things falling on the floor. He comes out again with two boxes looking like first aid kits.

"What do you think you're doing?" You say and follow him into the living room.

Joel puts the boxes down on the coffee table. "Cleaning and dressing."

You shake your head. "No, it's just a little scratch."

"Ain't look like that to me, Darlin'," he says and motions to the couch. "Sit down."

A wave of fatigue hits you and you're too tired to resist, so you take a seat in the middle of the sofa. Joel pushes the coffee table to the side and gets on his knees in front of you. He leans over to turn on the lamp on the side, illuminating just the couch and you, sat there. You can now see and feel that the cut must be longer than the actual rip in your pants.

"Shouldn't you be the one sitting here? Since you actually got shot?"

Joel shakes his head. "It's not that bad."

"Fine," you say, "you do me and I'll do you after."

Joel's eyes snap up to yours and you can tell from the way he's looking at you, kneeling, that he's exactly thinking what you're thinking.

"With the cleaning and dressing and such, of course," you explain.

"Of course," Joel agrees and opens the first aid kit, taking out some disinfectant and bandages. He suddenly stops and looks down at your thigh, clearing his throat.

"I-," he starts, visibly getting uncomfortable. "I need to open it up more to see the whole cut."

"Oh, sure, okay," you breathe.

Joel nods and gets the scissors from the kit. He starts cutting your pants open slowly, careful not to let the cold metal graze your skin. First he cuts toward your knee and once he's reached the end of the cut, he starts on the other side. This time he goes even slower, every snap of the scissors echoing in the otherwise dead silent room. Joel's eyes are locked onto his hands. Once he's reached the upper end of the cut, he halts for a second and then continues to cut open your pants until he has reached the point where your legs meet your hips.

"I think that's it," you say.

Joel releases a pressed breath. "Yeah."

He places the scissors back into the box and opens up the hole in your jeans or what's left of them to reveal your bare thigh. You inhale sharply and Joel's eyebrows draw together quickly as he sees the goosebumps appear on your thigh.

His hands quickly reach for the disinfectant and puts some on a wound dressing. "This might hurt a bit."

Once he dabs it on your cut, a sharp sting runs through your leg. You flinch and grab Joel's arm.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Sorry," Joel says and continues to clean the cut, once you've removed your hand.

In a couple of moments he has put dressing on your leg and wrapped it carefully with some bandage. His fingers slowly and steadily moving across your skin.

"All done," he says and gets up from the floor. You follow him and motion to the sofa.

"Your turn," you say.

He shakes his head. "I got it."

"Let me help you, Miller."

"I can do it!" He snaps and you keep pointing at the couch.

"I didn't say you couldn't," you reply soothingly, "just let me help you out okay?"

Joel groans and sits down on the sofa, leaning back into the couch, sighing heavily. Your eyes follow his movement, scanning him there seated in front of you.

"I need you to take off your shirt," you say and Joel runs a hand over his face.

"I really can do it myself, it just grazed me."

"Take it off, Miller," you instruct and he sighs, starting to unbutton his shirt. He moves back from the back of the couch to shrug off the shirt and winces when he has to move his hurt shoulder. Once it's off, he rips open the velcro on the bulletproof vest and also pulls it off. Now he is just sitting there in a dark blue t-shirt. Before you can tell him to, he grabs the hem of the shirt and with his good hand, he pulls it over his head, groaning. Joel throws the shirt on the ground and breathes heavily.

"Happy now?" He says, mockingly.

You nod.

He closes his eyes and leans back, giving you a full view of his bare torso. It's slightly glistening from the sweat that must have gathered under the layers and you can't help but swallow some saliva that has suddenly pooled in your mouth.

You grab the disinfectant, the dressing and lower one knee on to the couch next to him.

"I can't reach your shoulder, if you're leaning back," you say and Joel opens his eyes.

"Oh, sorry," he says and moves his torso forward.

You start applying the disinfectant and Joel doesn't even flinch, but keeps moving his body further away from you.

"You done soon?" He asks.

"Not if you keep moving away from me. I can't reach the back of your shoulder like this."

Joel sighs and rolls his eyes.

"And it's hard kneeling on my leg," you say.

Joel frowns. "Just sit down."

"I can't fully see it in the lighting with you leaning back if I sit down next to you."

"Just sit down," Joel says huskily and grabs the back of your bent leg, pulling you onto his lap and moving his body forward, his naked chest almost touching yours. You freeze.

"Better?" He says and you don't reply, just continue to dap the patch on the wound and then start putting on a bandage.

You've obviously been close to him before. But this feels different. More intimate somehow. The feel of his hips below yours is not something you wanted to know like that. You knew exactly how hard it would be to forget it. Almost impossible.

You keep shifting your set to adjust the bandage, when Joel releases a pressed breath.

"Please say you're done," he says, "and stop moving around so much."

"You were the one who pulled me on your lap, remember?"

"A decision I'm starting to regret," he says.

"Sorry if it's too heavy I-

"Are you done?" Joel interrupts.

You nod. "Yes."

Joel sighs and pushes himself forward, wrapping one arm around your back and in one swift motion rises to a stand, with your legs wrapped around him.

"You think again before finishing that sentence, Darlin'."

He releases you and puts you down on the ground, your body sliding slowly down his'.

Joel's eyes trail down your face to your chest and back up.

"Thank you," he says and steps back to sit down on the couch again.

He runs a hand over his eyes and exhales.

"You good?" You ask.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just thinking 'bout all the paper work I have to deal with now. The Sheriff and the fucking mayor are going to have a field day with this."

"I truly am sorry about that," you say.

"It wasn't your fault," he says.

You shake your head. "No, not that. I'm sorry for not listening to what you said. I should have asked you first."

Joel's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

You roll your eyes. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Too late for that now, Darlin'," he says and tries to moves his hurt shoulder, but clenches his jaw and closing his eyes in pain.

"Maybe you should try to relax a little."

"Not my style, Sweetheart."

"You just got shot, Joel," you say, sternly.

He opens his eyes and glances up toward you, an almost unnoticeable lift of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" You ask.

"And here I thought I would have to get into another life threatening situation to hear you say my name again."

You take a step toward him and slightly tap your foot against his boot. "I told you, if you want me to do something, you just have to ask nicely."

Joels eyes drag themselves over your body, his hips shifting on the couch. The silence is deafening as he just sits there, looking at you standing before him. You don't know what's going to happen. You just know that you desperately want it to.

"I should take you home," Joel mumbles, but doesn't make a move.

You nod. "You probably should, yeah."

"Do you wanna go home?" He asks, his eyes fixated on your lips.

You shake your head. "Not really, no."

Joel groans softly. "What do you want then?"

"I want you to relax," you say.

"It's not that easy, Darlin'."

"Then let me help you out with that," you say, moving in between his knees.

Joel's lips part slightly. "Come on now, Baby," he whispers. "You know I can't let you do that."

"Why?" You say and slowly get on your your knees once again. Joel shakes his head, pushing his hips back into the couch.

"I need you to get up, Darlin'," he drawls.

"Why?" You repeat.

"You know your brother is going to kill me first and then you if I do."

"Since when are you such a good boy, huh?"

"Since he talked to me after the dance," Joel says, eyes now fully focused on your body, as if waiting for an attack.

"And what did he say?"

"He asked if I had done something he would make me regret."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth."

"And that is?"

"That I had not," he says.

You put your elbows on his knees, interlacing your fingers and resting your chin on them. Gazing up at Joel, he frowns.

"What?"

"I'm waiting," you say.

"For what?"

"For the 'yet'," you say.

Joel huffs out a breath, the specks in his eyes flickering in the light of the lamp. He runs his hand through his hair one more time, pulling back his dark curls. His bare chest moving with every strained breath.

"Maybe we should talk first," Joel says. "About what happened at the dance hall."

"Really?"

"Really."

"It's not that complicated. You tried to play the hero, I got annoyed with you for handling my business for me and then I said some words that I didn't really mean. I'm sorry 'bout that. Good?"

Joel grins. "So you don't think I'm just waiting for my turn, huh?"

"Why don't we find out?"

"Can't touch you, Darlin'," he states matter of factly.

"You just did a couple of seconds ago," you correct him.

Joel lowers his head slightly. "Not like that."

You lift your head from your hands and let your hand fall onto his thigh. You can feel the muscle twitch almost immediately as you move your hand higher.

"What if I do?" You say.

"Sounds exactly like the kinda thing you shouldn't be doing now, does it?" Joel says, grabbing your hand. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"I'm trying to help you loosen up a little, Mr. Miller," you reply.

Joel chuckles. "Whatever you think you're doing, it ain't loosening up anything."

You move up your other hand, but Joel's glare makes you stop.

"I need you to stop that," he says calmly.

"Just tell me if you don't want to," you say, leaning back a little. "I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, Darlin'," he drawls and you narrow your eyes.

"Said I can't," Joel sighs, "not that I don't want to."

Your tongue traces over your lower lip and Joel‘s eyes glaze over.

"Good," you whisper.

"Good," Joel agrees, his hooded eyes still watching you, but less alert now, more relaxed. You let your eyes wander over his upper body, taking in the sight of his broad chest, rising and falling before you.

"You don't have to touch me," you say, moving your hand from his thigh to the top button of your shirt. "But you can watch, right?"

[kind-of-a-writer]

The Refill

Gator Tillman x fem!reader Gator thinks you owe him. You can’t seem to disagree. part two of The Usual

contains: mean gator, harassment, name-calling, public/car sex, blowjob, creampie

Gator Tillman wasn’t really one for sentiment. You knew you couldn’t thank him for getting your job at the bar back with a little gift or a sweet ‘thank you’ like most people. That wasn’t how he operated.

It had been weeks, surely it meant Gator had forgotten about the little favor he had done for you, courtesy of his stupid cop friend getting you fired in the first place. 

You were at the shitty gas station near your apartment, walking out of the convenience store with a bag of candy and a cheap bottle of wine to get you through the night. It had been another tiring shift at the bar, lousy tips tucked in your pocket and hands full, when you saw him leaning against your car, hitting his vape like usual. 

How Gator knew it was your car, you weren’t sure. 

The gas station was empty this time of night, save for you, your car, and Gator, with his cruiser parked to the side. 

Slowly, you approached, with half a mind to just walk back into the store and wait until he left. But you knew hiding from him was just going to delay the inevitable. 

The cloud of smoke left his mouth as he glanced up at you, with heavy lids, rough lips curled up into a smirk. He pocketed his stupid vape and tilted his head.

“Evening, ma’am,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to search your vehicle, just procedure, y’know how it is. Been getting reports about you.”

“What?” you asked, flabbergasted.

He glanced back at you finally, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, they’ve been saying a certain slut’s been real lonely the past few weeks-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you replied, an irritated expression on your face. He let out a low laugh, like he was genuinely amused by your annoyance.

“What, too embarrassed to admit how you were a little slut for me?”

“Keep your voice down,” you said through gritted teeth, glancing around, in case there was anyone around. 

You didn’t want to think about that night; despite how it replayed in your head constantly, when you’d see him with his cop buddies at the bar, not sparing you a second glance. Like fucking you meant nothing to him, which it probably didn’t. Or when the nights were hot and you were alone in your room, heat pooling between your thighs at the memory of his cock filling you up, taking what he wanted from you. 

“Don’t act like a prude,” he grinned smugly, as if he could read your mind. “You sure seemed to like it, being fucked in the bathroom.” 

Mouth agape, you couldn’t say anything in your defense because it was, albeit humiliating, also the truth. 

Swiftly, he grabbed the bottle of wine from your hands, studying the label with raised eyebrows. “Cheapskate, huh? This shit’s like sewer water, darlin’. Surely you can find it in your budget to get drunk off of somethin’ a little higher quality?”

He was being weirdly calm tonight, or even nice. Or, the closest to nice Gator would ever get. You blinked up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral. The last thing you wanted was for him to know he was getting to you again.

“I’m good,” you said firmly. His brown eyes bored into yours as he let you grab the bottle back from his grasp. The heavy weight of his gaze made you look down. “Are you done?” 

“Dunno,” he replied. “I believe someone did you a little favor a couple weeks back, remind me what that was again?”

“...yeah, thanks,” you managed to say finally, glancing to the side. 

He took a step forward. The sound of his boots against the cold pavement and the whiff of his cologne, mixed with the fruity vape lingering on his body, was enough to make your head spin. But you stood tall, keeping your eyes locked with his. You tried to ignore how good he looked, his black t-shirt clinging to his body, his cargo pants snug. 

“What’s that?” Gator asked, leaning closer, his lips twitching with amusement. “Didn’t quite hear you.” 

You let out a little huff, finally looking up at him again. “Thank you,” you repeated a little louder, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

He smirked again. “Mhm, don’t you think I deserve somethin’ more than a little ‘thank you’? After all, I got you that job back. Probably would be homeless if it weren’t for little ol’ me, huh? Practically saved you from the streets.” 

You blinked up at him again, raising an eyebrow. “Why did you?”

He seemed slightly taken aback, a confused expression flashing across his face. “What?”

“Get me my job back,” you clarified. “Why’d you do it? If I mean nothin’, if I’m such a lousy waitress.”

His lips twitched and he grunted, glancing away, almost like he was flustered. “That fucker Nick had no business messin’ with you like that. If I wanted you fired, I’d have done it months ago.” 

Your lips curled into a sarcastic smile, regaining some of your confidence at his shallow words. “Aw, how sweet. D’you think that makes you any less of a cunt? You’re just as much of a dick.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Easy, darlin’. I can make a simple call, make him fire you again-”

“No,” you said quickly, hating how desperate you sounded.

“Oh, no?” Gator crooned, a devilish smirk on his face. “Convince me you deserve to keep your job. You owe me, after all. Consider this an evaluation.” 

“Here? No way.” You sputtered, giving him an incredulous look as you glanced around again. “Are you fuckin’ insane?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, raising his eyebrows. “No?” he clicked his tongue. “Alright, it’s your call.”

You paused, not wanting to give him more of an edge, but it was impossible. You knew it was useless, he had you at his mercy. The thought of his cock filling filling you up made your clit throb, an ache that never seemed to leave anytime he was around.

“Fine,” you murmured finally, cheeks flushing. “I- I guess I do owe you.”

“Attagirl. C’mon, you know what I want.”

Gator’s threaded his fingers through your hair, pushing you down. You sank down, knees digging harshly into the cold, dirt ground, the dampness seeping through your thin tights. You set the cheap wine and bag of candy on the ground beside his feet.

You tilted your head up as his fingers combed through your hair, almost gentle. Then he tugged harshly, drawing out a soft yelp from your mouth. 

“You look good on your knees,” he said lowly, palming himself through his bulging trousers as you swallowed thickly, watching him. His eyelids were heavy as your eyes met, looking up at him beneath your lashes. “You gonna just stare, or what?”

Swiftly, you clumsily unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down, along with his boxers. He hissed softly as his cock sprung out, slapping against your cheek. You tilted your head back, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, twitching in anticipation, pretty and pink. Getting a good look at it only made you want him more. 

Gator exhaled sharply when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock, leaking and hard, pumping him a few times.

“Pretty,” you murmured without thinking, earning a little smile from him. You stuck your tongue out, eyelids heavy as you licked along the length of his aching cock, causing your stomach to flutter. Finally, you parted your lips, taking it in your mouth. His girth strained against your lips as you moved your head forward. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Gator tilted his head back against the car with a soft thump. You moaned around him as he pushed his hips forward slightly, easing more of his length inside. “What a cockslut, mhm?”

His breath was ragged, gripping the back of your head so tight like he was scared you’ll pull away as he blinked down at you. You moved your head forward, parting your lips forward to invite more of him in. Your clit throbbed as his tip hit the back of your throat. Your knees scraped against the ground as you shifted slightly. 

Gator’s hips thrusted forward without warning, making your eyes water as fucked into your mouth, guiding you along the curve of his cock. “Whore,” he said with a lazy smile, voice rough and thick with need. “You take it so well, almost as good as your pussy.” 

You bobbed your head forward. The moan that Gator let out made your stomach flutter, your pussy starting to throb almost painfully. He shifted his leg slightly, knocking the forgotten bottle of wine beside his leg to the ground. You couldn’t care less right now. 

He tugged at your hair, pulling your mouth from his cock forcefully. “C’mon, get in the car.”

You blinked up at him through your lashes, lips swollen and chin slick with saliva as he helped you up, knees stinging as he hastily opened the car door, pushing you into the backseat. 

You made a noise as he ripped your tights, pushing them off. He climbed in after you in the cramped space, your palms pressed against the soft seats, forehead pressed against the window as he pushed your skirt up.

Gator hummed, his hand into the flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading. “What a sight,” he murmured as he slapped your ass, relishing as he watched the skin jiggle. “Take these pretty panties off.” 

With shaky hands, you obliged, fingers digging into the waistband of your pink cotton panties. You slid them down your legs, knees shifting slightly as you tried to push them off, struggling a little with the tiny space in the car. 

“Jesus, can’t do anythin’ by yourself?” Gator scoffed, lifting your knee one at a time, tugging them down forcefully. “Just a dumb little whore once you’re all worked up, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “You talk way too fuckin’ much.”

His fingers patted against your slick pussy, the lewd, wet sound filling the car. “I think you like it,” he smirked. “Look at how she’s achin’ for me. Your pussy might be the only good thing about you.”

You let out a soft huff, hating how his words made your clit throb. “Fuck you, Gator.”

Gator let out a low laugh, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Aw.” In one swift movement, he flipped you so you were on your back, his knees on either side of you. “Pretending like you don’t want me again?”

You moaned, head bumping against the door as the fat tip of his cock ran up and down your folds. He pushed the tip in just a little, only to pull back out. The whine that left your mouth was desperate, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You lifted your hips, but he held you down.

“What?” you murmured, annoyed.

“Say please,” said Gator, his thumb swirling your clit. 

You laughed breathlessly. “You can’t be serious.”

He pushed his cock in a little more, making you moan. He pulled back out, rubbing the length across your slick. “Drop the bitch act, admit you want this.”

You groaned, your shirt riding up as your back arched. Cheeks burning with humiliation and panting, you blinked up at him, the weight of his gaze heavy on you. “Please,” you said finally. “Please, just put it in.”

“There it is,” he said, his voice low and almost gentle. “You want it bad, huh? Been thinkin’ about this?”

Gator shoved his cock inside, the sensation making your body tingle, your lungs exhaling sharply at the feeling. He let out a groan as his tip pressed against your spongy walls, the feeling of him stretching you almost too much to bear. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, suddenly leaning down panting against your neck, fingers digging into your side. He groaned lowly as your cunt clenched around him. “Yeah, fuck, that’s good.”

You whimpered, eyelids heavy as your hand found his shoulder as he started moving, thrusting deep and fast. He lifted up again, his eyes fixated on how his cock disappeared deep inside your cunt, lips parted with fascination.

“Fuck, see that?” Gator groaned. “See how well you take it, darlin’?”

“Shut up,” you whined, head tilting back as he shifted slightly, slamming against a spot that made you moan loudly. “Oh, God.”

He grinned wickedly then, eyes meeting yours as you bucked your hips up against him to meet his thrusts. 

You couldn’t speak, walls clenching around his cock, stomach swirling, pleasuring building up. Your lips were parted, whimpering desperately already. This was different than last time, and you couldn’t tell if you liked it or not, the way he was looking at into your eyes as he fucked into you. His gaze was intense and raw, like you were the only thing in the world.

“Gator, fuck,” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulder as he filled you deep, thighs already trembling, your cunt soaked and aching. You were starting to lose yourself, unable to take it. “Please, please-” 

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Little whore? Just a slut for it,” he said roughly, hair falling into his eyes as he picked up the pace, the car starting to squeak with every forceful thrust. 

You pawed at his shirt helplessly as the pleasure built up, eyes fluttering shut. “Close,” you panted, which only seemed to spur him on, clearly eager to get you there. 

Your orgasm came down hard and fast, your fingers gripping at his shirt tightly as you whimpered. Your walls were clenching around him so tight he let out whine in response, breath catching in his throat. You’d have laughed if your mind wasn’t foggy with pleasure, if he wasn’t gripping your sides like he needed you.

Gator leaned down again, biting at your shoulder, moaning as his cum spurted against your walls, his thrusts relentless until he was practically leaking out of you. 

Silence filled the car, save for both of your breathless pants, his face still pressed into your neck. 

You almost wanted to run your fingers through his hair, but he was already pulling out, tucking himself back into his boxers. He tugged his trousers back on, leaning back up, avoiding your gaze. 

Then, he picked up your discarded panties from the floor of the car, quiet as he helped you put them back on. Gator pushed your skirt back down as you sat up slowly, his hand gripping your bare thigh. 

You were confused, you half-expected him to leave like he did last time. 

“Good,” he said lowly, eyes meeting yours in the dark. “I guess I’ll let you keep the job.”

You scoffed slightly. “How nice of you.”

“I don’t do nice,” he replied. “You earned it.” 

Gator parted his lips then, almost like he wanted to say something else. But he simply pushed the car door open and got out without another word. 

You sat there, in the backseat, sighing as you heard the sound of his car starting up and leaving the gas station. Which was somehow worse than him leaving you bare in the bathroom.

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

Informal

Hello Gigglers!

This is going to be last fic in a long time, like a parting gift!

I am about to start a whole new semester of tertiary education that I am super looking forward to - but that also means I won't have time anymore to write tickle fics. Thank you for all of the support Iv'e received on all of my recent Squid Game content and I will keep reading and interacting with all of your stuff. All of your fics bring me so much joy!!! (:

Anyways, as requested, this is another Frontman and Salesman fic. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The Salesman has been a close friend of In-Ho for years. So why is the Frontman asking him for a pat down as an extra security check?

(This idea came from @lord-of-hyperfix )

Warnings: Mentions of death, pinning, this is a TICKLE FIC

The Salesman scoffed - he loved his formalities. The fact that something as brutal as the Squid Games, where desperate people had to fight to the death, even had procedural formalities was so amusing to him. I mean, if your going to be in charge of dirty criminal activity, you may as well do it politely and follow due process.

"Name?", the gaurd with the triangle mask asked him.

He smirked, lifting his briefcase, "Classified, although my code of entry is G-O-N-G-Y-O-O".

The guard checked the code on his computer, "Welcome".

The Salesman stepped forward. He had a meeting planned with the Frontman - nothing scary, just a general check in on how the recruitment process was going. Although, to the Salesman, he wasn't known as the Front Man but rather as In-Ho. They'd been working together for such a long time, and each of them was thrilled that they had found a fellow man as sadistic and sarcastically heartless as they were. Thus the status of their relationship transformed from employer and employee into two friends - they never agreed on that explicitly, but it was an unspoken fact.

The Salesman knocked on the door of In-Ho's office. In a few seconds, the man opened the door. His dark and brooding expression was immediately replaced with a sly smile at the sight of the Salesman, which the latter delightedly returned.

"You got a new suit", In-Ho remarked, still standing in the doorway.

The Salesman nodded, "One of those broke bastards attacked me and ruined by old one".

The Frotman glanced down, "This one has more pockets I see".

The Salesman nodded, before stepping forward.

"Hey", In-Ho said, blocking him, "How do I know that you aren't storing weapons in those pockets?"

It took a while for the Salesman to process the question. When he did, his expression dropped.

"Why would I have weapons on me, In-Ho".

"You refer to me as the Frontman", In-Ho responded.

The Salesman's heart sunk a little bit. Okay, maybe a lot. He was completely oblivious to to his employer's mischievous tone. Noticing the Salesman's lack of awareness, the Frontman had to try really hard to suppress a grin.

"Er, Okay", the Salesman responded, trying with every ounce of his being to sound unphased and professional. The Salesman's desperate attempts highly amused In-Ho, making this exercise all the more fun.

"Great", he said with a formally polite smile, "Now could you please turn around so that I can give you a pat down".

The Salesman's cheeks went red with somber resignation, and he faced away from his boss as requested.

In-Ho couldn't help but chuckle now, "You forgot to lift your arms up".

The Salesman gulped, embarrassed that he had forgotten such a key part of protocol. He certainly didn't love formalities in this insance.

A million questions were running through his head - why was In-Ho doing this? Why had In-Ho changed his mind about their relationship? Were they even really friends in the first place, or had that all been wishful thinking on his part? I mean, being the character he was, it was pretty hard to find any friends, and if the Frontman were his buddy than he would have been his only one.....

The man's thoughts were interrupted by a rather stiff poke in his side, making him squeal and slap his arms down. Since when were pat-downs this rough?

"Excuse me?", he snapped at the Frontman. There was silence for a few seconds, before the Salesman remembered his current situation. Not only had he just lost his shit during a regular pat down, he had taken it out on the man who was simply performing his duty. He was humiliated at how unprofessional he had been.

Meanwhile, In-Ho scoffed, which the Salesman couldn't see as he had as back to him.

The Salesman coughed - "Sincerest apologies boss".

In-Ho put on his best stern tone, "Just make sure that it doesn't happen again".

The Salesman gulped. He lifted his arms, bracing himself. If the pat-down was going to be a bit rougher than usual, surely he could handle it.

As soon as he felt those hands return to his sides, he whimpered, and quickly bit his lip to prevent any further sound from coming out. The Frontman was firmly pressing up and down his sides, his fingers digging in slightly, causing shivers to run up his spine. This feeling was so alien to him, he couldn't quite place it. All he knew was that it was uncomfortable.

The Frontman than moved those wicked hands to his legs, and the Salesman felt his whole body jolt forward with a chuckle when his knee was squeezed. That was when it hit him. Shit, I'm still ticklish aren't I?

The Frontman smirked, "What was that?"

"Nothing", the Salesman responded, keeping his cool, "You probably just came into contact with one of my injuries by accident". Nice save, I'm thinking on my toes.

The Frontman, knowing this was bullshit, nevertheless decided to have fun with his employee for a little longer, "Okay, I apologize. It's almost done".

The Frontman than started patting his arms - first his shoulders, than under them, and than-

The Salesman felt a finger poke at his armpit, and squealed once again, jumping away from the touch.

In-Ho chortled, "What was that? Another injury?" Now his teasing tone was obvious.

All of a sudden, the Salesman realized what was going on. At first he was relieved - he did have a friend after all. But than he was overcome with borderline fury.

"Fuck you", he muttered menacingly, turning around, "That was not funny".

The Frontman laughed out loud, smacking the other's shoulder, "Aww, too bad, well I'm hoping that this will get a laugh out of you at least-"

Before the Salesman could process his words, In-Ho had grabbed his shirt collar, pinned him against his office door and immediately started digging into his sides.

The Salesman convulsed with a snort, before doubling over with loud, free laughter.

It was funny, his laughter was so innocent and adorable - it definitely didn't match his conniving and psychotic personality.

"Hehehehe, *snort*, fhuhuck ohohoff!"

The laughter was both high pitched and loud, an incredibly endearing combination - endearing for his attacker at least.

"Aww, is my recruiter a little sensitive on his sides?"

With that remark, the Frontman switched spots, pinching at his belly, "Is this any better?"

The Salesman screamed, thrusting his tummy forward in a futile attempt at resistance. The Frontman just chuckled evilly and pushed his stomach against the wall with the elbow of one arm, using the hand of the other arm to scribble and poke all around the Salesman's navel. The thin suit he wore provided minimal protection.

"Plehehease! I cahahan't!", the Salesman cried, his knees buckling beneath him, the Frontman having to hold him up to prevent him from collapsing.

"Hold on, this doesn't make any sense", In-Ho remarked in a matter-of-fact tone, delighting in how poking a particular spot just above his victim's navel made said victim squeak, "How could the man that I hired to recruit people for my deadly games have such a silly little weakness?"

The Salesman's face went pale - as it did when he was embarrassed. His version of blushing was all the blood rushing from his face, not to it. Another one of those quirks that made him all the more menacing - although it certainly wasn't the slightest bit menacing in this circumstnace.

That was when the Frontman had a wicked idea, (if he wasn't being an absolute asshole already). He lifted the Salesman into the air with his instructible muscles, and slowly laid him down on the ground.

It all happened too fast for the Salesman to think, but than the Frontman sat on his legs, straddling him, and giving him an evil smirk that said I'm about to tickle the shit out of you.

"Wh-what the fuck is your problem", the Salesman spat out, trying to repress the anticipatory giggles rising in his chest.

As previously mentioned, the Frontman was the Salesman's only friend. In fact, he was the only friend he'd had in his entire life. He'd never really developed the ability to empathize with anyone else. And because of that, he had never been tickled by anyone his age before. He had only ever been tickled by his parents, when he was a little kid, but that wasn't the same as being playfully attacked by someone your own age, as knowing that a person who had no instinctual reason to care for you actually sought out your joyous giggles...

The Frontman couldn't help but melt, just a little bit.

"Oh come on", he said in mock offence, "I'm just having a little fun. Iv'e actually been planning this moment for a while now..."

"Wh-what?"

"Oh, you heard me. Remember when you called me a few weeks ago on my birthday, and than you just informed me that you'd spotted 456 on your morning walk".

Oh yeah, the Salesman remembered that. He was trying to mess with In-Ho by making him think he'd forgotten his birthday. He did wish him happy birthday at the end of the call though. Still, he'd managed to pluck up the courage to take his desire for cruelty out on his boss, convinced that they were now close enough for it to be playful. It was playful.

The Frontman continued - "Well, you had a laugh at my expense. So than I thought, how can I get you back for this?". The Frontman tapped his chin, as if reliving the moment. "And than I remembered what I used to do to my little brother when he was making mischief, and was wondering if it would also work on you-"

The Frontman than tweaked the Salesman's sides, making him jolt with a giggle.

The Frontman beamed, "And I'm so glad it did".

For a moment the two just looked at each other.

And than that moment carried on for a few more moments.

So...when was he getting tickled?

"You know", the Salesman said, breaking the silence, "I thought that merely hearing 456's player number would be enough of a birthday gift, considering of how obsessed with him you are-"

Silence.

Than, scoffing, the Frontman raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? So your trying to provoke me into tickling you again, huh?"

The Salesman sputtered, "I-"

"Well, it worked".

And the room was once again filled with bubbly - informal - laughter.

Ahhhh I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this out! I am already drowning in work ):

I really hope you enjoyed it!!

Your appreciation of my work means the world to me and I legitimately think you are all so awesome!!

[marlynnofmany]

Cave Space

The mechanic’s shop was the loudest and dirtiest place I’d seen on this space station so far, and somehow that was comforting. All the ritzy retail stores and elaborate restaurants tried to look as fancy as possible, even the cheap ones. But this place felt honest and straightforward. It had bare concrete floors and the kind of shelf displays that didn’t bother with signs to actually explain what you were looking at. A real mechanic would know.

I had no idea, but I was just here to help haul things. Blip and Blop might have been a better choice if the things in question proved to be heavy, but they were off wrangling jumbo tubs of food and medical supplies with Eggskin, and anyways we had the big hoversled this time. It would probably be fine.

Mimi was talking fast with an employee about manifolds and vents and lots of other words, waving a couple green tentacles while he stood on the rest. The employee was the biggest Heatseeker I could remember seeing, which was still only mid-rib-height on me. He reminded me of the short gym guys from back home, able to build muscle in every direction but up.

A box thumped onto a counter near me. “You here to help lift and pull?”

I found an older human woman grinning at me, wearing a tank top covered in grease and long white hair held back in a ponytail. Also the kind of arm muscle that said she yanked engines out of spaceships for fun.

“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “Gotta make sure nothing falls off the sled.”

She waved a hand. “Ah, we’ll strap it down for you. There’s enough ramps around here to cause problems if we don’t.”

“I bet,” I said, thinking back to the last time I’d chased something important down a hill. “Don’t want to risk any explosions or chemical spills.”

“Or slamming a gear shaft into the side of a building,” she agreed. “There was a bit of a mess the last time someone was sure they didn’t need their stuff tied down.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it’s standard procedure now,” she said, opening the box to pull out multiple smaller boxes, all labeled with arcane terminology and numbers. They rattled as she stocked them on the shelf under the counter. “If they’d asked me, it would have been standard from the start, but what do I know? I’ve only been doing this kind of work for decades, on more planets than I care to count.”

“Sounds exciting,” I said as she finished stocking. “I haven’t been out here all that long by comparison, but there’s always something new to see.” A glance around the shop took in rows of alien technology, a Heatseeker with scales painted silver, and one of those centipede-like people whose species name I didn’t remember. I was pretty sure they were looking at a jetpack display.

“Oh sure, plenty of weirdos out here,” the woman said easily, ripping tape off the box and flattening it. “Though it’s easy to tip over from marveling at the wonders to feeling the kind of intense homesickness that you get when you’re light years away from home.”

“I suppose so.” I’d been pretty lucky on that front, since my alien coworkers were friendly sorts who made me feel welcome. But there were times when the sheer amount of empty space between me and Earth was a little too much to think about.

“You’ve got to find ways to remind yourself of where you come from, and take pride in it,” the older woman said with a pointed finger, like a grandparent giving career advice. “Recreate bits of home while you’re far from it.”

I thought back to the potted plants and sun lamp in my quarters, kept high enough that the cat couldn’t chew on them. “I like to think I do that,” I said. “Do you have a preferred method? Classic Earth songs, googly eyes stuck in funny places?”

She barked a laugh. “Ha! Nothing I’d admit to. But I’ll show you my current favorite touchstone to humanity.” She dug in a pocket.

I stepped closer, curious, as she pulled out something palm-sized. She rested her elbows on the counter and held it up, framed by splayed fingers with appropriate drama.

It was a rock, smooth and shiny like it had been polished by a river and then by a thick layer of varnish, and it was covered in minuscule handprints. All in earthtones, like a cave painting reduced to pocket size: some in silhouettes like tiny hands had pressed mud or ash against the cave wall, and others shadowed by color like the prehistoric artist had chewed charcoal and spat it carefully around their fingers.

(I’d done that in school one day, with one of the cool teachers, who taught us the basics of humanity’s oldest style of airbrushing. It was incredibly messy and trickier than I’d expected. It gave me renewed respect for the artists from eons ago whose artwork had survived into modern times.)

And this was that same thing, made small enough to carry around the galaxy, a tiny reminder of home. “That’s fantastic,” I breathed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked, rubbing at the shine. “I got it from a traveling artist awhile back. If I was in a different line of work, I’d sell clothes with this pattern on them. It’s the kind of thing that makes other Earthlings smile.” She stood up and put it back in her pocket with a wink. “Not like googly eyes, but still good.”

“Yes, still good!” I agreed, smiling. I would have liked to talk more about it, maybe find out where that traveling artist had gone, but Mimi was wrapping up his conversation. A door opened to admit a trio of Heatseekers carrying a huge cylinder that was probably destined for somewhere in the guts of our ship.

“I’ll get the tie-down straps,” said the woman, rummaging under a different section of counter.

“Thanks,” I said, though I don’t think she heard me. The air was full of talk and the sound of clawed feet on concrete. I hurried to take up a position by the controls of the hoversled, making sure it stayed locked in place.

The team worked quickly, and in no time they had it strapped down well enough that it wouldn’t budge even if the gravity cut out completely. (Which had better not happen; I’d had more than enough of that kind of nonsense at the last station.)

Mimi processed the payment, tapping a screen with one tentacle tip and thanking the employees for having this whatsit in stock. I got the impression that it wasn’t the one he’d actually come to get, but it was better in some way or other.

“Thanks again!” I said as we tugged the sled toward the door. I waved at the other human and she waved back, two hands signaling kinship briefly across the room. Then she took her flattened box into the back and I stepped out into the artificial sunlight, looking for signs leading back to the spaceport.

The gravity behaved, and the ramps were no trouble. Blip and Blop were there to help unload the thing. I asked Mimi if he wanted three people to maneuver it into wherever it went, or if I should go put the hoversled away.

He was busy climbing inside of the cylinder with a flashlight, for whatever reason. “Nah, not enough space for everybody,” his gravelly voice echoed. “Let me just — really? Another one?” A faint squeak sounded like he was rubbing a tentacle against the side.

“What is it?” I asked, bending to look inside. Blip and Blop crowded behind me, a jumble of curious muscles and silks.

Mimi grumbled, “This is the third engine part that I’ve gotten with these annoying marks. All from different sources, too. If I ever find out which finger-having species is doing it, we are going to have words.”

Deep inside the cylinder, in a spot that likely would never have been seen by anyone but an agile mechanic, was a patch of handprints. Mimi had already smeared the ones made in grease, but the others looked like they might have been paint. All in earthtones. A cave painting in the depths of a spaceship.

Blip and Blop chorused, “Not it.”

I bit my lip to hide a smile. “It’s a mystery.”

~~~

Inspired by this excellent artwork by @letmeinimafairy! It deserved at least one story, if not several.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).