#we fixed the cord and hung it up again

[rosecoloreddesire]

Not A Lie ~ Elvis Presley

Summary: You could never imagine THE Elvis Presley to show up in your little diner. How can you tell your parents that…he’s your fiancé??

Note: IM BACK! I’m going to be graduating in February so I’m hoping I can get some writing out! I’m so sorry if this is a bad come back? I haven’t proofread yet! But I think it’s good 💙 missed you all so much!

Warnings: FLUFF!

“Y/N, you gotta stop lyin’! You know how much your daddy loves Elvis!” You huff out as you chase your mom around the kitchen island.

“Mama! Just listen to me! I’m being honest! I am enga-“ she put a finger to your lips as you both hear the front door unlock, opening to your daddy whistling a soft tune of Blue Suede Shoes.

“Not a word in front of him, got it?” You sigh loudly not wanting her to put you down.

“But mama! He’s comin’ ton-“ she cuts you off with an ice cold glare. You finally let it go, walking past your father to your room.

“God damn it all! Why won’t anyone ever listen to me?” The small phone in your room begins to ring, picking it up you sit on your bed. A certain southern drawl cheers you up.

“Hey there, lil’ lady. How’s my girl doin’? I’ll be there soon I promise. My parents are wantin’ us to get together and do some photos here at Graceland for the family album.” He chuckles while you heard his grandma in the back.

“Hi grandma! Um, pictures? Like engagement pictures?” You nervously hum, twirling the phone cord around your finger.

“Well, I did get you that pretty rock on your finger. And I think that means your stuck with lil’ old me, baby.” Your cheeks flush as he lowly whispers.

“I’ll see you soon. Lest your flirtin’ make my face flush!” His giggles are cut off as you hang up. Your face aglow. Your phone rings once again.

“Elvis Presley- if you don’t stop-“

“Elvis Presley?! I knew it!” Your best friend Amelia was on the other line….her screams of joy influence you to push the phone as far away from you as possible. You wince as she continues.

“Amelia Jones! You needa keep it down! What’ll you do if your mama says she won’t be gettin’ you into my mama’s salon this Thursday!” The other line dies down.

“You know your mamas the only one you can actually do my hair and make it look good!” You chuckle as she tries to explain herself.

“Yes! That’s why when I tell you the boy I’ve been datin’ all year and last year is Mr. Elvis Presley.” You state confidently as she squees softly.

“That’s why you wasn’t impressed when we saw him for the first time! You were kissin’ him!!!” Her giggles and squeals made you roll your eyes. Amelia was always into the whole romance and love at first sight tropes in the movies.

“Y/N! Get down here! Your mother and I need to have a talk with you!” You grumble and hope your mom hadn’t told your father about the whole engagement.

“Gotta go, Ames! Bye!” You hung up, smooth your skirt and make your way down the stairs.

“You know the policy we have on lyin’, young lady.” Your daddy was sitting on the couch with your mother.

“Daddy, I ain’t lyin’ to you! I really am-“ your mothers laugh breaks you off again.

“We are supposed to believe that Elvis Presley is coming tonight to meet us after askin for your hand?” She fans herself. Your mom usually was so supportive but you do have to hand it to her. This was kinda crazy.

“I ain’t! He’s really sweet! His mama and daddy are arranging a photo shoot for us to be in the Presley family album! I’m gonna be a Presley, daddy!”

“I wanna believe you but how did you even meet?”

—

“And will that be all for you today?” The man in front of you was clearly flirting as you wrote off his receipt.

“Uh actually this is gonna sound weird but are you an angel?” You rolled your eyes, waving your hand.

“Hm, I’ve actually never heard of that one but I am very aware thank you. Bye!” You spun around on your heel and grabbed a new pad and paper. You fixed your hair in the reflection of napkin holder.

“You handled that well, Darlin’.” You jump a little. The voice was low and oddly familiar. You turned with a flush to your cheeks.

“ yeah well creeps like that don’t like the word no so-“ you paused as you finally saw the person speaking to you.

“It’s a shame cause he ain’t wrong. But he forgot to say you look like a goddess.”

“You’re-“ you stuttered holding your hand to your chest.

“Your future boyfriend I hope.” You must have looked like a tomato with how warm your cheeks were getting.

“Uh- are you serious? Is this a prank?.”

“Here’s my number. Use it wisely.” And with a wink he was gone as fast as he came.

——

“I’m supposed to believe he came to our family restaurant when your mama and I were gone?” You nod desperately. You take your mothers hand and show her your ring.

“Oh my god, Y/N. That’s a real ring! How did you-“ your doorbell is going off before you can explain.

“Do you want to get that, daddy?” You ask softly, praying to whatever god that Elvis was standing at the door. He huffs as he sits up, making his way to the door.

“Afternoon- OH MY GOD. You-“ Your father brings your fiancé into a bear hug. Your father squeezes the poor boy as you giggle. Your skin flushing at the display.

“It’s really Elvis! What in the hell?” Your mom grasps your hands tightly as the boy walks into the house, more like pulled. You giggle as he finally sees you, a bit frazzled. He detaches himself from your father as he makes his way to you. His lips soft against your cheek as your body warms.

“Uh, mom, dad, this is my fiancé.” You spout awkwardly as Elvis slips his arm around you. Your father gleams with excitement.

“I understand why you didn’t ask for my blessin’, son! You can marry my daughter!” You’ve never seen your father so ecstatic in your life. Except the one time he won a ticket to see Elvis. Or the one time he heard Heart Break Hotel on the radio in his car. Huh….you are sensing a running theme…

“I really do love your daughter. It’s jus’ been rough tryin’ to get a time together to meet y’all.” He smiles boyishly at your parents. Your mom still reeling in the fact that you were telling the truth.

“D-did ya enjoy our family diner?” Your mom stutters out. You stifle laugh placing your hand over your mouth. You look at Elvis awaiting his answer.

“Of course, ma’am! Great atmosphere, great food, and even greater waitresses.” He bumps you with his shoulder as you blush.

“Well, don’t be a stranger, Mister Presley! Come on, we were just gettin’ ready for our meal!” Your father pushes Elvis to a chair at the table. You shakily sit next to him as your nerves still haven’t fully settled.

“Why our daughter?” Your breath hitches as your mom starts to plate the food.

“Lord, where do I start? She looks as if she walked right out of a Hollywood movie. An absolute starlet.” Your skin flushes as his hand drifts to your thigh.

“I wish! We met up with some of his Hollywood buddies and they were super sweet! They think Elvis has a real shot of hittin’ it big!” You smile as he laughs. His gaze focuses on you the whole time. How could he have found the most amazing thing to have come out of him having to hide from fans in a local diner? His eyes never leave your lips as you continue to sing his praises.

“I really think it’s a great idea to see you two married! Can you believe it, honey? We’d be related to the Presley’s!” Your dad claps as he excitedly dug into his food. Your mother still seems a little hesitant.

“What’s gonna stop you from chasin’ other girls around town? My daughter hasn’t even dated before you!” Your eyes widen as you take a bite of your dinner. You hadn’t really had that conversation with Elvis yet…

“I’m your first boyfriend?” You wince at his surprised tone. You turned to face him.

“Uh, yeah. I, uh, never really thought about the whole dating thing. Until you kissed me at that charity concert…I-“ his lips are soft against your cheek. Your hand shaking in his hand.

“You don’t need to explain nothin’, darlin’. Thank you so much for the lovely dinner but I best be goin’ soon I only had a it of time to spare.” He began to get up as your father rose from his seat.

“How about you go with him, sweetheart? Your mom and I are gonna have a talk about all this.” You nod, hugging him quickly. You all but ran up the stairs to get away from the tension.

“How cute. Pink really fits you.” Elvis smirks as his fingers traced your bed sheets. You scoff as you pack a small bag.

“I haven’t gotten to change my sheets since I was like 10, E. Give me a break. Do you really want to do this?” Elvis’ hand caresses your face, pushing a few stray hairs out of your face.

“I want you. Every day. Afternoon. And night. You are all I think about.” His voice just a bit above a whisper. Your eyes were heavy as you stare at his lips.

“Can I be yours forever?” His lips were soft as he pulls you close. The kiss was delicate but passionate as he grips your hair slightly.

“If you’ll let me.”

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis movie #rosecoloreddesire #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #50s elvis #elvis x you #elvis 2022 #elvis fluff #fluff

[r0semaryt3a]

A wip of sorts of a ChellDos fic I’m working on: Tears and Turmoil

Note: it’s mainly a rewrite with minor changes (and mainly from the of GLaDOS) up till the betrayal when it changes so don’t expect much rn

‘He withdrew, murmuring “to hell with you.” And added, brightly, “but then you’re there, aren’t you?”’ - I have no mouth and I must scream, Harlan Ellison - 1967

-

People.

Worthless things really.

Or, well. Not entirely worthless. GLaDOS found humans to be quite entertaining, quite -sometimes- endearing. Thousands of people had fallen from the tests: some refused testing; sat rotting in their relaxation vault, some couldn’t quite make the first hurdle and some found a fiery grave.

Not her though. No, she just had to be different. Special. So special in fact, that she tore GLaDOS to pieces - and in her cruelty: tossed thousands upon thousands worth of Aperture technology into a fire. A fire.

Hmm, maybe Chell wasn’t special. Maybe she was just stupid.

It didn’t really matter now, GLaDOS was dead…kind of dead? Forced to relive her death, over and over and over and over again. Left to ponder. For a while

The years that flew by were a blur, maybe 50 maybe 5000. All that mattered was they had passed. For the first time since that wretch ‘broke her heart’, GLaDOS could acknowledge that time had passed. That was just the start, soon light flooded into her lens; the world became clear, trees and bushes had claimed the remains of her chamber, oils had mixed with water accumulating in murky puddles all around. The world was clear.“Wait, wait! Uh I can fix this! Just have to…hack the system, hang on. A-A-A-A-A-A. Oh, no uh, A-A-A-A-A-B. Nope! Hang on.” That voice, a part of her recognised it. The shrill (hardly) masculine wails. Oh, no matter, it was probably another loose personality sphere.

System reboot completed.

In a flurry of wires and scraps, her chassis began to drag upwards; her body feeling light. She could move. GLaDOS was back.

If she’d been programmed to - joy would have flooded her system…oh wait. No it wouldn’t. There would be no joy in seeing: her.

“Oh, it’s you” it had been a long while since she’d heard her own voice. It felt strange.Her intuition had been correct; a series of erratic swears left a tiny, spherical robot. He seemed surprised. Not at her awakening, but GLaDOS and Chell’s relationship.

Speaking of the mute lunatic. There she stood, in all her pathetic…ness. Oh, that was bad. hopefully her belittlement features would boot back up soon.

“It’s been a long time.” A part of her wondered how the woman was still alive, how after everything that had happened they both made it out in (figuratively) one piece.

But, the words were beyond her. And, frankly. GLaDOS didn’t care.

All that mattered was Chell was here; she was back in service. Meaning: testing could continue. Forever. Or as long as that crudely jumpsuited woman still stood.

“We both said a lot of things that you’re going to regret. But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster.” As power flooded through her circuits, GLaDOS pulled a loose, clawed cord from her wreckage and dragged Chell, and her friend, upwards. Crushing the metal ball with ease and tossing it to the side before flinging Chell towards the (now destroyed) incinerator door.

"I will say, though, that since you went to all the trouble of waking me up, you must really, really love to test.” Somewhere in her tangle of metal, a part of GLaDOS lit up at seeing her greatest nuisance hung by a thread.

“I love it too. There’s just one thing we need to take care of first.”

Down the hatch.

The AI.chamber fell silent upon Chell’s descent.

What a lovely 15.2 seconds that silence was.

But, as all things Chell was involved in, it was fleeting; soon an unceremonious thud echoed up the incinerator.

“Be careful not to trip over any parts of me that didn’t get completely burned when you threw them down here, after you murdered me.”

The woman frantically flipped around, trying to find the origin of her tormentor’s voice. “Thanks for that by the way.” Turning her attention away from GLaDOS and onto the situation at hand, Chell began maneuvering across metal beams fallen over the incineration pit. Careful not to fall in herself. Heat pricked her skin with every step. She continued. Eventually, making it across; hoisting herself up a few ledges.

She’d almost forgotten what the halls of Aperture looked like. Not that this was a good example to jog her memory, in the facility’s now dilapidated state.

Push panels lay wedged amongst rubble on the floor, Chell attempted to shimmy past them…To no avail.

As if on cue, GLaDOS spoke, “Let me get that for you.” And, the metal slabs began to bend and snap upwards, back into place.

#chelldos #chell portal #glados #glados portal #portal #portal 2 #fanfic #chell x glados #portal 2 fanfiction #writing #rewrite #portal fanfiction #current wip #work in progress

[jelloduckie]

I aggressively read and looked over The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde just so I could draw them so hello!!! Here's my take + notes Jekyll ~

Here's all my notes from the book (thank you Mr. Utterson): - a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty - something of a stylish cast - every mark of capacity and kindness - large handsome face His hands brought to you by the man himself: - professional in shape and size - large, firm, white and comely Misc notes: - elderly and discontented doctor - imperfect and divided countenance And that's all we got... we have Hyde's differences that kind of display what he at least isn't. But anyways my dears! With this info I decided his clothes would be well fitted and move with him. Dignified air to him with a soft smile. He's larger in size but fit/tall, lovely big hands too :3c I took the liberty to make his eyes green since the potion he took to turn back into Jekyll was a "watery green." I also thought a dimple would suit him (completely indulgent). He is aged but I assume not many wrinkles, kind of baby faced for his age, whitening hair and wrinkles by the eyes will do (I don't want him to look young). I actually couldn't help myself but have a similar hairstyle to Fredric March (no description of hair in book). Brownish hair since it seems popular with his character but a lighter shade from the "younger" Hyde. Speaking of! Hyde ~

I actually drew him before Jekyll. He is quite easier to envision with so much description in the book. I perceive I'll draw him more accurately to my notes the more I draw the fellows (I couldn't bear to fix this already good sketch).

Physical appearance: - smaller, slighter, younger - lost in stature / shrunken limbs - pale and dwarfish - evil written broadly and plainly on the face - livelier image, more express and single - imprint of deformity and decay - deformity without any nameable malformation - displeasing smile - ugly idol His clothes: - rich and sober fabric - enormysly too large for him in every measurement - trousers hanging off his legs, rolled up to keep them from the ground - waist of the coat below his haunches - collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders - clothes hung formlessly - very plainly dressed His hands: - lean, corded, knuckly - of a dusky pallor - thickly shaded with a swart growth of hair - corded and hairy (again, seems like a hyde trademark) Misc notes: - husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice - comparative youth, the light step - murderous mixture of timidity and boldness - troglodytic

So, Mr. Hyde is definitely not deformed physically, it's more of a personality deformation that people can just "sense." His smile is striking, so the best way to portray his evil would be with how his face contorts when making expressions. His timidness is important, he'd most likely be hunched over, reclusive yet have an air of boldness, which is equally as important. His hair unkempt and wild in comparison to Jekyll for his "livelier" image and darker in color for a youngness. I didn't portray his clothes correctly in my sketch but it's alike. To add a pinch of difference in character I made his pant stripes green, to contrast Jekyll's red. To hammer this in I made Hyde's eyes red instead of green to tie them together completely. His boots have a red shine, Jekyll's would have a green if I had drawn them. Why red? "The mixture, which at first of a reddish hue-", "compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green." To me this clearly demonstrates the change from Hyde to Jekyll (which the potion was for).

I was originally going to draw them side by side for a better comparison, but Hyde is supposed to be considerably short while still being very thin (not lanky). I also would say his boots would be too big for Hyde (which I didn't draw here).

Thank you for reading my observations *bows gayly*

#my artwork #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #a insane amount of words #dr jekyll and mr hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #my take on it

[theshippirate22]

All Too Well (Steddie Version)

part 1!

or read it on ao3!

It wasn’t right to say one of them had kicked the other out. 

That wasn’t what happened. It wasn’t that simple. That would be like saying it was just one person’s fault. Like saying it was only one thing that caused it. 

It wasn’t. There was so much more to it than that.

Cold air hit Steve as he fell through the Gate. The hot anxiety deep in his stomach instantly relieved itself as he hit the mattress. Home. 

His arms felt limp and elastic as the weight he’d been struggling to carry fell weightless next to him.

“Steve!” Robin cried, pushing his hair from his face and grabbing his arms. 

He swatted her off weakly, gasping out in a broken, hoarse voice that barely sounded like his own, “Call an ambulance. Not for me… for… for him…”

“We did! We did.” Nancy murmured, watching his body shake and shiver as he came down from his adrenaline high. “Don’t try to talk. Just sleep, we’ll take care of everything.”

“Tell… tell Henderson…” He mumbled. “I got him… he’s gonna be okay…”

“I will, I will…” She crooned. “Don’t talk…”

Steve fell back exhaustedly. 

Eddie laid limp on the mattress next to him, pale and hardly breathing. Steve reached for him again, running his fingertips softly over his bloody, torn cheek before collapsing into unconsciousness. 

It happened so long ago. Back when they were kids. Back when things were so, so different.

“Hey, uh, I thought you’d want this back.” Steve held out the vest, rough in his hands from the blood stains. “I didn’t wash it. I didn’t know if it needed to be dry cleaned or something, but I can pay for whatever-“

Eddie threw his head back laughing, plucking it from his hands. “Dry cleaned? Jesus Christ, Harrington! It’s just a little blood, nothing a little Tide can’t fix. Throw it in there praying and it’ll be good as new.”

Robin called for Eddie from the kitchen, and he set the vest on the back of the couch as he answered her, limping slightly from the tight bandages against his ribs and the aching torn skin. Perhaps the pain was what made him forget it. Steve wasn’t sure how he’d left it there at her house when it was so precious to him. 

“Hey, uh,” Steve twirled the phone cord around his finger the next morning. “You left your battle vest at Robin’s.”

“I know.”

“I can bring it to you this aftern- what?”

Eddie chuckled. “I left it on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “No, actually. I, uh, I want you to have it. Looks better on you anyways, and Lord knows your wardrobe is all but lacking.” He paused. “If you want it, obviously.”

“Really? I mean, yeah, it’s pretty... rock?”

“Metal.” He corrected patiently, chuckling softly to himself. “It’s good luck, you know? It’ll keep you safe from all the creeps around here. Served me well for like three years.”

“I think you need more protection from creeps than I do.”

“But I got you to protect me, don’t I, Stevie?”

He grinned softly. “Yeah... yeah, you do...”

“Keep the vest. I’ll see you later.”

Steve hung the phone up and stood there for longer than necessary, mindlessly running his fingers over the worn, jagged denim of the jacket. The Dio logo stitched carefully into the back and the Iron Maiden patch pressed loosely to the front pocket. 

Eventually, he pulled himself from his trance, tucking the vest safely in the bottom drawer of his dresser so no one would find it. 

It was precious.

Steve stared at the ceiling in the dark. His stomach ached again; it did constantly these days. His body knew something was wrong, even if he pretended not to notice. 

“We’re lost.” Steve finally dared to say aloud, glancing out the window at the unfamiliar red and orange trees, changing with the season.

Eddie huffed indignantly. “We are not. I know exactly where we are.”

“Where are we, Eddie? Where?” He laughed.

“Uh, somewhere upstate.” Eddie shrugged it off. “Trust me, Stevie. I got it covered.” He reached for the radio, turning it up a little to dull out any of Steve’s protests. “Trust me.”

“I do! I’m just...”

Eddie’s hand landed on his leg, the other still on the wheel. “Hush! I like this song.”

Steve bit his lip to hide a smile. He was so charming, so overwhelming. So much energy and excitement and danger, looking spiky and scary to cover such a sweet disposition.

Eddie rubbed his thumb lightly over the seam of Steve’s jeans, dipping to the inside of his thigh, still singing along to the radio.

Steve propped his head in his hand to cover the grin he couldn’t fight. Eddie would just laugh at him if he saw it, if he knew just how thrilled Steve was. Steve would just have to sit there, hiding his mouth and watching Eddie sing with fond, wide-eyed glances when he was sure he wouldn’t be caught.

What had Robin said? It was like pieces falling into place, the way they’d come together.

@maya-custodios-dionach and @long-live-taylorswift

*if you wanna be added to the tag list message me! the whole thing is written and i’ll add a chapter every day*

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #all too well taylor's version #all too well (10 minute version) #steddie fic #steddie angst #steddie au #steddie fanfic #steddie fluff #angst with a happy ending

[caranox]

This Dark Embrace: A Cruel Fate Story

Devyn Kinsley is a witch—a male witch—with little power in his matriarchal coven. In one of the last neutral-territory cities, filled with creatures that can offer him more, he's managed to keep his head down in favor of living right by his family. The problem is that ever-present pressure to marry a girl from his coven to ensure he doesn't fall prey to the temptation of binding himself to something far more vicious.

So when Devyn has a chance encounter with a mysterious, heroic stranger called Lonán, who Devyn assumes is a wizard, he falls head-over-heels, thinking that he's found a way out of a loveless marriage. But Lonán may not be exactly who he seems...

Interested in the first chapter of this (achillean) m/m urban romantasy? Read below! You can find the rest on my Patreon (chapters 1-3 free; chapter 4 onward available for supporters)!

01 — Devyn

“Once again, selling crystals and talismans in the break room during operating hours is against company policy,” the supervisor rattled off from the notes on his phone, taking the time to push up his glasses before continuing. “Push your side hustles when you clock out.”

Devyn Kinsley shifted and rubbed his arms as some of the other couriers nudged each other with snide remarks about getting caught. The supervisor continued to scroll through his phone with a sigh and rattled off a few other instructions about changing routes and delivery updates, but Devyn couldn’t help but bounce on the balls of his feet. That overwhelming urge to move nipped at his heels.

“You good, Dev?” the guy next to him whispered. A brown, muscular bicep elbowed him before he felt those deep, coffee-colored irises fix on him. Conall.

“Y-yeah. Sorry.” His shoes stuck to the vinyl tiles again.

Conall shook his head. “No wonder you get so many deliveries done whenever you clock in. I don’t know where the hell you get all that energy. Does being cooped up as a boy witch do that to you?”

Devyn stiffened. His question was laced more with curiosity than he expected. Devyn’s own dark eyes slid over to the druidic emblem hung around a cord on the guy’s neck.

“I’m… not sure. Maybe,” Devyn admitted, squeezing his arms a little tighter. “I’d just rather be out working than sitting around the house all day. Don’t really want to be a burden.”

The guy snorted. “Never really understood why covens treat men like criminals. They act like banishing them to a house will keep them out of trouble somehow.”

Devyn’s chin dipped down into his sweatshirt collar, hating how his ears heated. Goddess, why was he feeling so guilty now? Sure, he’d felt a little uneasy when he’d first taken this job a few months ago, but his moms hadn’t really dissuaded him from doing it. Granted, they hadn’t been completely thrilled with the idea either, especially once they heard the courier service he’d be working for delivered to anyone and not just magically-inclined humans.

He glanced around at the other people in the breakroom: a small army of druids holding cups of stale coffee or water bottles, rolling their eyes as their boss droned on about new company policies. And then there was Devyn­—a single witch in their midst. A black sheep trying to fit in, even though they could all see right through him with his lack of tattoos of Celtic knots or flowering trees, his unpierced ears and nose, his bulkier sweatshirts and jackets instead of form-fitting leather.

Devyn’s eyes wandered over the others in the room until the supervisor cleared his throat and boomed out a druidic word he always did at the end of his meetings. “All right. You’re all dismissed. Remember to file the proper paperwork for any damages or returns. We can’t afford to get lax on that again.”

Some of the couriers half-shoved each other into the walls as they filed into the corridor, cackling about something to do with selling incense from their locker last week, but Devyn could only think of wanting to grab his delivery bag and hurry out into the street. He wove between a few of them to the shelf with ‘KINSLEY, DEVYN’ stickered above it.

“Dev—”

Devyn spun around to Conall again as he hoisted up his own bag.

“You’ve been kind of quiet recently. You sure you’re okay?”

He started to nod before blurting out, “Yeah. I’m good. Really.”

Conall’s frown persisted as they started outside together, stepping into the side street behind the building with dumpsters and bicycles crammed up against the brick walls. Silence pooled between them as they dragged themselves to the main road, the sound of cars momentarily interrupted by obnoxious laughter spilling out the exit behind them as the rest funneled out to start their routes.

Conall his throat. “Um, so… I was thinking…”

Devyn hummed for him to continue as he plotted the addresses on his list for his map.

“You want to get a drink tonight?”

He inwardly cringed at the thought of being surrounded by numerous coworkers, along with trying to talk his moms into letting him stay out a little later instead of running home to help with dinner. “I… don’t know. I’m not exactly fond of dealing with a bunch of drunk druids,” he said with a laugh, hoping to soften the blow.

Conall his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and blew out a nervous chuckle as he reached for the back of his neck. “I was actually thinking it’d just be the two of us.”

Oh. Devyn’s heart lept into his throat. “I- I can’t,” he choked out. “N-not that you’re not—I mean—” He flinched as Conall’s brows knit together, and Devyn tried to stammer out a reason that didn’t make him sound like a total dick. After all, this guy was pretty. And nice. And okay, maybe he wasn’t quite Devyn’s type, but it’s not like he’d really had the chance to meet many other guys outside of his coven with the routine of going to school or work and then straight home. “I’m pretty sure my moms would kill me if they heard I was seeing a druid.”

“Well, um—Have you considered converting?”

Devyn clutched his phone a little tighter, blurring the screen around his fingers with the sweat on his hands. “I know that coven life may seem really weird to you, but I” —he shook his head— “I can’t abandon my family. I’m also not trying to discount how kind you’ve been to me by showing me around and hanging out with me, but I’m kind of just coming to terms that I’m probably better off not seeing anyone since my only options are other girl witches and a bunch of wizards.”

“You act like someone’s not going to come along and try to sweep you away,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Dev, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“My family isn’t super high-ranking in the coven, which means I don’t have much power in my blood. I’m sort of worthless,” Devyn mumbled. “That’s why I took this job—”

He grabbed Devyn’s shoulder right before they hit the corner, the stoplights changing before one of them would be given the signal to escape this horrible conversation. “You’re not worthless,” Conall whispered, his eyes filled with remorse. “The fact that your coven has even pushed that idea onto you is just… wrong.”

A chirp of the crosswalk and Devyn shrugged his hand away. “Rules are rules. It’s what I have to sacrifice to stay with my family. I don’t like it either, but I don’t want to lose what I have.” He hesitated, wishing he could find something better to say—something to remove that weight settling in his gut now. “I’m sorry.”

Devyn stepped away and turned to jog across the street, feeling Conall’s eyes on him until he turned another corner. His pace slowed in the sea of people and creatures wearing the faces of things that appeared human. Everyone and everything around him put on a façade to ward off the things they feared or to undermine the fears of others. Learning to keep his head down and ignore them all turned out to be a better tactic than trying to puzzle each one of them out. The less he tried to decipher a stranger, the easier he slept.

He only wished he could undo his own soul-searching to lift that burden of being the perfect son his moms dreamed of, but he couldn’t imagine his heart ever belonging to a woman.

***

The sun beat down on the buildings around him by the time Devyn pushed into the pub with a box in hand. Dozens of eyes from darkened booths and tables tucked into corners flicked up to take him in before returning to their meals or laptops. He swallowed at the lingering glow of some of them, a tell-tale sign that the things lurking in here wanted others to know of their inhumanity.

He shuffled up to the counter, willing his arms not to shake as he nodded toward the bartender. “I have a package for a” —he tilted the label up as his mind blanked on the name printed there, despite reading it about ten times on the way in— “Heber Marina to sign for.”

The bartender jabbed his thumb toward a door. “I’ll go get him. Give me five.”

His shoes peeled off the tiles with every step on his way to the back of the pub, the sticky squelching making Devyn absently drum his fingers on the package while he waited. Devyn’s pulse picked up when a man a few seats down the bar slid him a look—something he felt more than saw out of the corner of his vision, especially since it was starting to tunnel in on the mirror along the back wall of bottles.

The sharp clack of heels on wood flooring approaching him sent every muscle taught like a bowstring. “Well, well,” came a husky purr.

He jerked in a half-turn, just in time to catch the woman’s hand cresting the bar top. Deep, glimmering plum nail polish on what he hoped were press-ons looked like shards torn from the sky. Devyn’s eyes followed the black, lacy blouse to the woman’s face, and his stomach twisted when he saw the gold irises peering back at him, cut through with a thin, elongated pupil—like a cat’s.

His back dug into the corner of the bar as a wicked smile spread across her face. “I never expected to find a witch here, of all places,” she mused, reaching for tousled waves of his hair.

That need to slap her away or recoil was instantly overridden by a freeze. His entire body locked up, head spinning as air cut off from his lungs, unable to breathe like his brain had malfunctioned, and decided if he became a statue that she’d leave him alone. Devyn clenched his teeth as her nails tingled against his scalp, and she suddenly seized his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes again.

“Adorable and well-behaved…” A dark chuckle slipped past her glossy lips, and his heart plummeted at the glimpse of fangs. “How would you like to follow me home, little witch?”

The end of his promised five minutes couldn’t come fast enough. He tried to shake his head and winced as her grip tightened, threatening to crush bone. No one else in this establishment spared them another look. Not a single witch or druid in sight slid out of their seat to come to his aid.

Devyn squirmed, finally grabbing the woman’s wrist to try to pry her off of him until she took another step forward. Her body pressed against his, pinning him between the bolted-down stools.

“I think you should reconsider your actions,” she said in a low growl. “I’d hate to have to break you before—”

The man a little further down the bar slid off his stool, and her head snapped up, eyes narrowing on him as he reached for something Devyn couldn’t see.

“Leave the witch alone,” he said smoothly.

She bared her teeth with a guttural hiss that made Devyn’s hair stand on end. He tried to move his head to take in his hopeful savior, but her grip tightened on his jaw like a vice.

“Why don’t you fuck off, pretty boy?”

The man took another step, finally bleeding into Devyn’s vision. At least the demonic woman pinning him against the bar was right about something: he was pretty—beautiful, really. Steely eyes, near-black hair brushed into place, pinstriped suit, monogrammed tie clip with ‘L. R.’, and a cane at his side, a hand choking it right under the handle. He couldn’t be older than thirty, and with the way his thumb pressed up on the silver-dipped grip of the cane, Devyn quickly understood he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

“I don’t think you want to deal with Mr. Marina’s wrath because you decided to ruin his deliveries by snatching a courier and destroying his relationship with that agency. So, I’ll give you one more chance to let the witch go before I cause enough of a racket that he hurries to see what the fuss is about.”

She bared her teeth, fangs, and all before the pressure released from Devyn’s jaw. The woman stalked off, pushing through the front door with a jingle of a bell as he gasped out a shaky breath.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Devyn nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Y-yeah. Thanks. Didn’t mean to cause any problems.”

The man—wizard—pulled away and leaned his cane back up against one of the barstools. “I wouldn’t consider that to be your fault,” he said with a frown. “You were just doing your job.”

“But I didn’t exactly try to fight back either,” Devyn mumbled, feeling heat flood his cheeks with embarrassment. Another wizard he’d humiliated himself in front of, and an attractive one at that too. Great.

“Well,” the wizard said, glancing around the pub, like he was making sure everyone had gone back to their own business again, “if you feel like you owe me, I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

Devyn’s head whipped around so fast, the room almost tilted. He half-stumbled toward the wizard, righting himself as he grabbed onto the bar for support.

The guy rocked back slightly, biting his lip like Devyn might say no. Devyn, who’d only dreamed of a handsome wizard prying him away from the fate of being paired off with some random, woman witch within his coven he’d undoubtedly feel nothing for. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton as he stammered out a “Y-yeah. O-of course.”

The wizard broke into a grin and offered him his hand. “I’m Lonán Reverie.”

“Devyn,” he blurted, thrusting out his own hand into Lonán’s while sparks prickled along his skin. “Devyn Kinsley.”

---

Read Chapter 2 • Support Me on Patreon

#this dark embrace #web serial #mm romance #achillean romance #mm fantasy #urban fantasy #queer fantasy #patreon #support indie authors #indie books #original fiction #this dark embrace serial

[solvskrift]

is there room for one more son | kid!dean & bobby pre-series

whumptober prompt no. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” | overcrowded ER also on ao3!

“We really shouldn’t be here.”

Next to him, Bobby sighed, his knee jiggling up and down. “Christ, Dean. I told you, we’re not goin’ home, now shut it.”

“But Sammy – ”

“Sam’s fine, Caleb won’t let anything happen to him.”

That was true.

Dean still didn’t like it.

A nurse sped by, rushing to help an elderly woman who was coughing up a lung in the corner. Her lips were blue, eyes wide with alarm, and Dean looked away quickly. He glanced down at his own thigh instead and readjusted his achy fingers to apply more pressure. A few drops of blood squeezed out onto the floor. Dean winced; he supposed there must be blood all over the place here every day, but he still felt bad about the mess. He poked half-heartedly at it with the toe of his boot, trying to smear it into something less noticeable.

Dean looked up at Bobby out of the corner of his eye. He’d probably just tell Dean to shut up again, but Dad was really, really gonna be pissed.

“Dad says we’re not supposed to go to the hospital for gunshot wounds,” he mutters so only Bobby can hear. “They ask too many questions.”

Bobby fixed his eyes on him, jaw tightening, and Dean shrank back. “Yeah, well, your dad says a lot of things,” he said shortly.

Dean relaxed a little, Bobby’s anger clearly heading off in another direction.

Bobby must have noticed, because he sighed again - less forcefully this time - and took off his hat to scratch his head. “That’s too deep for me to stitch up, kid, not without infection likely to happen.” He replaced his cap and dropped his eyes to Dean’s leg. “I hope you know how lucky you got. He could’a hit an artery…”

“He didn’t,” Dean frowned, defensive. “It wasn’t his fault. I was just trying to show him – ”

“You shouldn’t have been trying to show him anything,” Bobby insisted. “He’s too young to handle a gun, and so’re you.”

“No, I’m not,” said Dean, sitting up taller.

“You are,” Bobby glared down at him sternly. “Your daddy just don’t wanna hear that.”

Dean glared back, feeling mutinous. “I just want Sam to be safe. He needs to be able to protect himself, in case…just in case.”

Something Dean couldn’t name crossed Bobby’s expression. His lips thinned, but his eyes looked almost sad when he said, “Well, when you two are with me, I’ll be doing the protectin’ - for the both of you. Hear me?”

Dean blinked. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, eyes falling back to the bloody gauze.

It took another hour, but eventually a nurse ushered Dean behind a curtain onto a tiny bed and stuck about ten shots into his leg.

A doctor came in as Dean’s jeans were being cut up and, just as he had predicted, eyed them all with a distinctly disapproving expression and asked, “How did this happen?”

Bobby patted Dean’s shoulder and followed the doctor beyond the thin curtain to explain with what was probably (definitely) a lie, and Dean immediately felt the urge to call him back.

He bit down on it and clenched his fists at his sides, staring up at the faded ceiling tiles without a word.

----

They ended up insisting on Dean staying put for a few hours so they could make sure he didn’t have any reactions to the cocktail of medications they pumped into him.

Despite Bobby’s urging to just relax and worry about himself for once, Dean begged him to let him use the phone to check in on Sammy until he caved. It wasn’t until he heard Sam’s little voice on the other end, content and sleepy, that all the adrenaline finally drained out of Dean’s system and he realized how tired he was himself.

He handed the corded phone back to Bobby after Sam hung up and rolled over under the blanket they’d given him, his head sinking heavily into the pillows.

“Go to sleep, boy,” he heard Bobby say from far away. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Dean yawned, and let the heaviness carry him off to the feeling of fingers combing gently through his hair.

#whumptober2023 #no.8 #lyric #overcrowded er #spn #dean winchester #fic #gunshot wounds #implied child neglect #found family #solv fic #sometimes this is still a supernatural blog

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Store

"You've got to stop overusing that phrase."

"What do you mean?"

"Liminal space. It's just a hardware store. Just like any other shop. People come here every day, and for some of them it's actually their job. I don't know what you find weird about it."

"You'll see." Dee knew her baseline was probably way off, given the proportion of her time she spent shut away in her room, away from the real world, but something about this place had creeped her out.

The warehouse was colossal, but so much of it seemed to be made up of empty space. Dim lighting flickered overhead, which made no sense, because this was the place you came to get that sort of thing fixed: the failing glow of old bulbs illuminated new ones, still in their packaging, just out of reach.

The store's name - HomeWorld - hung in titanic letters which seemed to shimmer with the light, as if not quite sure what shape they should be. Dee had only come here for an extension cord, but she'd quickly found herself lost within the aisles that seemed to be less grid than labyrinth, filled with wooden dowels and compression olives and other things she'd never heard of, let alone knew the purpose for.

Dee would have been the first to admin that she wasn't the most practical person on the planet, with most of her skillset focused on building things online. To her, hardware meant her monitor, mouse and keyboard, not everything else in her parent's house around them - but that was seemingly what HomeWorld sold. Everything under the sun, and probably spare bulbs for that as well.

But even from that starting point, something was definitely off. An aisle marked Doors featured what you might expect, a long line of them like something out of Monsters Inc, except that all the ones she looked at had been fitted with heavy metal looks - bolted from this side. The Paints included colours that she'd never seen before: not just hues like Orchard Blossom and Copper Blush, but a whole spectrum beyond the one she'd always known, primary colours that had no names, shades she had no reference for.

The Timber aisle was filled with species she didn't recognise, labelled with names like 'Bloodoak' and 'Weirwood', and some of the wooden beams still wore their greenery. If they hadn't been cut into uniform planks, Dee would have sworn they were still growing. The Mirrors for sale had been arranged to face each other, reflecting the store endlessly in every direction, as if this aircraft hanger of a store needed extending any more.

"You've got to admit it's weirdly empty," she said to her friend. "It looks like we're the only customers in here, in the middle of the day. We haven't even bumped into any staff."

"So the shop is unsuccessful," he shrugged. "That explains why I've never heard of it before. I swear I've walked past here and never noticed it until today."

"Hang on, where did we come in?"

"Uh..." That one gave him more trouble. "Didn't we start off with the doors?"

"The door aisle is right in the middle of the store," Dee said, peering down the central corridor. "How did we start there?"

They made their way back, wondering if the entrance was somehow tucked away at the end of the aisle, but it was hard to see that far without walking down it. Like the Timber aisle, which had seemed to grow wilder as it got further away, more like a forest, or an unexpected passage into Narnia, the Doors seemed to grow more daunting as they went on, and come with larger, more heavy-duty locks.

At least there was finally somebody there. A member of staff, who might be able to point them on their way. She was a young woman, wearing a garish polo shirt - although again, Dee couldn't put a word to the colour - with HomeWorld printed on the back, and she was fitting a lock to one of the doors. She straightened up as they approached, and looked them up and down with what seemed to be a professional eye.

"Ah, there you are," she said, before they could ask her where exactly it was that there was. Now that she was standing, the door that she'd been working on looked familiar: it was glass, and behind it Dee could still see the reflections of faded shapes, familiar colours like red and blue, looking for all the world like passing cars. This was it, wasn't it? The door that they'd come in through? "Oh yes, your world will do nicely. A fine addition to our store."

#writing #short story #original writing #creative writing #sci fi

[pbandjesse]

I'm back in my hammock. I love my hammock. I miss being next to my James but I am happy right now. For the most part today was really nice. It was a good day.

I slept alright. I remember falling asleep and it was a solid night's rest. I woke up before my alarm. And would get out of bed a few minutes early. James came and made the bed while I got dressed. I really liked my outfit today. I felt pretty. I felt good.

James would walk out with me. And I decided to stop for breakfast even though I really didn't want to eat. I knew I needed too. I decided to get orange juice instead of soda but that was like $3 for some reason. And while it was fine oj, I don't think I'll do that again.

I had a nice drive to camp. I found a new band, called Hot Mulligan, and I've been enjoying them a lot. They have like the perfect 2006 emo sound. It's great. Very nostalgic.

I was a little frustrated when I got to camp. My outlets got overused last night when they tried to play a movie. But they didn't actually fix them. Which is whatever, I was able to fix them. But my issue really was that they unplugged my cord that goes to my fridge!! Rude. Thankfully it was fine but it makes me annoyed when people unplug things and don't put them back.

I went to the office to voice my displeasure. Elizabeth agreed it was very rude and she apologized on behalf of whoever did that. And I decided I would take a walk to calm down.

I went and ate berries. I love wine berries. They are my favorite berry. I enjoyed my walk. And I went to pet Quakers the duck and the goats. Who yelled at me when I walked away. But I was happy to pet them for a while.

I went back to the art building and laid in my outside hammock until Tati got there. I would finish my book today and got started on the new one. Which made me really happy. I had more time to read today and that felt good.

Tati was very helpful today, and she made some fun art with found objects. I have to hold myself back when I was to be weird about supplies. Because she's not wasting things, she's using them and that is fine but I am just feeling possessive for no reason so I am trying to let it go. I'm glad she's making art. That is what I shall focus on even if my brain is like. Fear!! Loss!! Control!! Its unnecessary, everything is fine.

And she was a big help. I was able to just focus on what was happening in the building and did my machine sewing and things were very good. Even if both my morning groups were 15 minutes late, everyone finished their little bad and it made me very happy.

I had my breakfast sandwich for lunch and hung in my hammock. Eventually Trista came to use a hammock. And Ty would join us too. We all chatted for a while. And eventually, sadly, it was time for our groups.

I would have a kid doing tipi wakan today and I felt bad I didn't have as much stuff for him to help with. But the things he helped with were excellent. He did sorting and folding fabric and just those little things that I haven't been doing but needed to be done. And when we had day camp groups he was a big help with the finishing work and putting on buttons and it was nice to have the help. So it wasn't all on Tati.

I would read during my break. And I felt excited to do the metal casting with the boys. I am for sure going to need more metal if I'm gonna do this another week. I am going to go and try to have a conversation about that tomorrow with the office. But once the boys got started they did so good. Like it was so fun. No everyone's worked exactly right, but we are getting the hang of it. Coined shapes work best, and we were able to make some fun little pieces. I love when the boys make things for their girlfriends. It's so cute. But it was just a lot of fun. And everyone did a good job.

After the last day camp group I had my tipi wakan kid work on a shield painting while I went and read my book for a half hour. And then we would finish the day with the horse girls.

I taught a few of them how to widdle and use a knife. So I was able to sign off on their knife skills portion of their tipi wakan paper. And all the girls did really good. Celia would come and join us and we shared photos of the mushroom I found this morning. When I found it it was so round but when she came by later it was all tall and flat!! So strange!

Dinner was pretty good. I was so happy we had vegetable spring rolls and I could have them!! Me and Ty would help with hand out seconds. I had two scoopers for rice and was having fun handing it out.

We got cookies for dessert. I wanted an ice cream but it's fine. I got my cookie and came up here to lay in the dark because my head hurt.

And my eyes still hurts. But it's fine. Ty came up and we talked for a long time and he filled me in on gossip and things going on around camp that I didn't know. He's a sweet boy and I don't like that there has been stuff that's bothered him. He's going to make a proposal to the office about expanding the bird enclosure so that Rocky, the turkey, can be with the other birds. I hope they go for it.

Now I am laying in my hammock. And I am very much ready to sleep. Ty just came by to get his apples he forgot on my table. But now is time for sleep.

I hope tomorrow is good. Maybe I'll get to swim before it starts storming again. It's supposed to start tomorrow night and basically storm all Friday. We'll see what happens. I just hope it's fun.

Sleep well everyone. I hope you are taking care of yourself!!

[punkrocknerd404]

Little fic in between

This is a small fic I wrote for English class a while back. A nice Apollo/Dionysus band au (that made my teacher question Dio's gender :))

Hope you like it! :)

Beauty is pain

“Alright, bitches! Ready to rock?” Dionysus called out as he walked onto the stage.

“We were ready fifteen minutes ago,” Ares said, adjusting his guitar strap. “But someone had to adjust the amount of glitter on his face.”

“Perfection takes time,” Dionysus said as he grabbed his microphone standard. “Do you think I wake up looking like this?”

Ares sighed and turned his focus back to his guitar.

“Let’s get started,” Artemis said. “Before we don’t have time to practice at all.”

They grabbed their stuff and started playing.

~~~

Dionysus went in for the bow with his microphone, but he got tangled in the cord. He lost his balance and fell face forward off the stage. With a small scream, he landed on his face. The music stopped and the others ran to the edge of the stage.

“Dio, are you okay?” Ares asked.

Dionysus looked up at his friends. His nose was as crooked as it could possibly be and blood was gushing down his face.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” he hissed.

He got up and ran to the dressing room. Ares and Artemis looked at each other.

“Just let him be for a second,” Artemis said and she walked off the stage. 

~~~

Dionysus looked in the mirror again, trying to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t his face. As he started to lose his mind, he called his boyfriend.

“Hey, darling,” Apollo’s calm voice sounded through the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“I am doomed!” Dionysus said hysterically.

“What happened?” Apollo asked, getting worried.

“Nobody’s going to want to look at me again!” Dionysus sobbed.

“Baby, you’re not making any sense,” Apollo said. “I’m coming over there right now.”

“No!” Dionysus cried. “You can’t look at me when I look like this! You don’t want to be with someone who looks like this.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Apollo said and he hung up. Dionysus buried his face in his hands.

~~~

Apollo walked into the dressing room. Dionysus looked up and then immediately covered his face.

“Hey, darling,” Apollo said and he sat down across from Dionysus.

Dionysus let out a soft cry. “What are you doing here?” he asked, still covering his face.

“I came to check on you,” Apollo said. “You didn’t really make that much sense over the phone.”

“My face is ruined,” Dionysus sobbed. “Nobody is going to want to look at me again. Not even you.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Apollo said.

He slowly removed Dionysus’ hands from his face. Dionysus immediately turned his face away from Apollo. Apollo softly cupped Dionysus’ cheek.

“Look at me, baby,” Apollo said.

Dionysus turned his face to Apollo, tears streaming down his face. Dionysus desperately tried to avoid Apollo’s gaze.

“I look like a monster,” Dionysus mumbled.

Apollo sighed and softly stroked Dionysus’ cheek.

“No, you don’t look like a monster,” Apollo said.

Dionysus pouted. “You only say that to make me feel better.”

“If it really bothers you, I could try to fix it,” Apollo offered.

Dionysus nodded. “But don’t make it worse,” he said. “I still need to perform tonight.”

“Okay,” Apollo said. “You might want to hold on to something.”

Dionysus gripped the chair tightly.

“I’ll count to three,” Apollo said and he gently put Dionysus’ nose between his thumb and index finger. “One, two-”

With a loud crack Dionysus’ nose snapped back in his usual position.

“Ow!” Dionysus screamed.

“So,” Apollo said, way too casual. “Looks as new.”

“I hate you!” Dionysus whined.

More blood streamed down his face. Apollo gently pressed a wet cloth against Dionysus’ nose.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Apollo said. “But there is a reason why they say: Beauty is pain.”

Dionysus leaned against Apollo’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Dionysus softly whispered. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” Apollo said and he wrapped his arms around Dionysus. “You’ve told me that all the other times I fixed you up after you did something stupid.”

“This wasn’t my fault,” Dionysus said into Apollo’s shoulder. “I got tangled in the cord of my microphone and lost my balance. And the floor isn’t really that soft and gentle.”

Apollo softly smiled. “My clumsy little baby,” he mumbled while he softly rubbed up and down Dionysus’ back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Dionysus whispered back. “More than anything.”

“Even more than glitter?” Apollo asked with a grin on his face.

“Maybe by a little bit,” Dionysus said and he looked at Apollo. “But it’s tight.”

Apollo chuckled and pulled Dionysus in for a sweet and loving kiss.     

#Dionysus is a drama queen #like: small incovenience = end of the world #Apollo is used to it #apollo x dionysus #dionysus #apollo #greek gods #modern greek gods

[bens-gallery]

The Little Things

preface: This is an original short horror story. I first wrote and published on Reddit, so if you somehow happen to recognize it, that's why - I promise it's not plagiarized lol. I have since rewritten various bits and pieces of it, and am working on a longer-form version that I may post in parts in the future. Let me know what you think!

⚠️ TW - violence, paranoia

No one really noticed when they started showing up. That’s the trick, after all. They pretend to be some other creature, it just has to be right about the same size.

As far as I can tell, it started with animals.

My Uncle Zeke woke up one morning to find two dead sheep in his backyard with some strange scratches. When he went to check on the others, he didn’t see any missing. After another recount, he figured he still had the same 14 sheep as always.

“Those sheep must've escaped from some other farm,” he told me. “Probably wandered over here after tangling with a car.” But I could tell there something else going on.

It wasn’t too soon after when they started taking after humans.

I first saw one myself at the market. A woman came by my stall to buy some apples, but something about her was just slightly off. Maybe it was in the way she walked, or the way she spoke, but it wasn’t quite right.

“I’d like to buy a bushel of those Granny Smiths,” she said, smiling.

Maybe the smile?

“My Ma always said they were just perfect for making sauce.”

The smile.

I stared her hard in the eyes. It only took a few seconds before she realized I had her, and she dropped the smile and took off from the stall.

I knew it.

But now they knew I knew.

I started seeing them everywhere. In the aisles of the grocery, filling up at the gas station, laughing with each other in the park. They were getting smart, too. One got itself all dressed up and knocked on my door, pretending to be a salesman. Fooled me. I even let it into my house. Luckily, I picked up on the giveaways before it was too late.

Little inflections.

A stutter.

The smile.

I offered it a glass of water, and came back with my pistol. I aimed for the gut, but I was too shaky and hit it in the leg. It grabbed my gun by the barrel as I fired again, and I shot the thing through the hand as it knocked my gun to the ground. It kicked me to the ground, lunged for the phone on the wall, and had almost dialed for backup before I got it unplugged. I kicked the thing's wounded leg, dropping it to the ground, and wrapped the cord around its neck. I had to stand on its back to keep it from kicking too much as I tightened the cord. When it finally stopped squirming, I got off it, picked up my gun, and shot it one last time to be sure.

I took the body out back and strung it up on the clothesline so any others who peeked over the fence would see their comrade and get the message. “Piss off.”

But that only provoked them.

It’s been about a week since I hung the “scarecrow.” I’ve turned away everyone who’s come to the door. Had a few of the things come by pretending to be friends and relatives.

“Jim, would you just let me in? Nobody’s so much as seen your face in a week.”

“We’re worried about you, Jim. You’re not answering your calls or anything.”

“Figured I’d stop by in case you wanted to talk or anything. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“You've gotta let me in, Jim. Mom’s getting real worried about you, and - what’s that in the backyard? Jim?”

They’ve even got Sheriff Adams now. “Jim, you’ve got sixty seconds to get out of there before we start coming in.” I’ll be ready with my pistol.

But I’ll be damned if they haven’t gotten smart.

They fixed their giveaway.

They aren’t smiling anymore.

#horror #short story #short horror story #paranoia #writing #creative writing #original story #original content #psychological thriller

[taexual]

STRAY KIDS / christmas holidays

warning: bullet-points because i kept messing up the blurbs. lower-case intended.

requested by anonymous.

↣ chan

you’d made plans to watch christmas films and drink as much hot chocolate as you could without exploding

unfortunately, your night started with chan disastrously messing up the drinks – to the point where it wasn’t fair to even call them hot chocolate

“if you ask me, that tasted more like hot sh—”

“hey!” he cut you off, indignant. “it wasn’t supposed to taste like this, the package said—”

 “never listen to the package,” you said with a profound look in your eye and a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “listen to your heart.”

chan watched you for a minute with a perfect poker face, and then gave in, switching up the duties with you

he went to get the film started while you took care of the drinks

he didn’t know why he was surprised when he opened up your laptop and realised that you’d only bookmarked the harry potter films

“we watched that on halloween and you fell asleep on me before harry even reached the giant chess board in the first film,” he complained

you scoffed, reassuring him that this won’t happen again and it was ridiculous to even assume that it would

and then, of course, about forty minutes into the film, you were already snoozing on his shoulder, your hot chocolate not even halfway finished

chan knew this would happen, but he postponed his gloating until christmas was over

because when you woke up at the end of the fourth film, he was the one who was asleep

you woke him up when you lifted your head and pulled away from him

and you looked so happy to catch him sleeping, assuming that he hadn’t seen you fall asleep first

he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he only fell asleep because it was so warm & peaceful in the room when you were sleeping next to him

↣ lee know

you were both already exhausted just from adjusting the branches of the artificial tree after you got it out of the box

and this exhaustion was what you used as an excuse why you broke two ornaments each, within five minutes of starting to decorate the tree

“i’ll get the vacuum,” he sighed when he dropped the second bauble

you needed a moment to recover – this ornament was your favorite one, may it rest in peace – so you just stood there until he returned

“i’m sorry,” he said when he saw your face, “i promise i’ll get you a similar one, okay? now take a step back so you don’t hurt yourself on the broken glass.“

another minute of silence for the Gone But Never Forgotten bauble later, the two of you went back to work

minho was passing you the ornaments from the box – he was afraid to drop another one of your favorites – and you hung them on the tree, taking an occasional step back to assess your work

“i’ll get the lights,” he offered while you contemplated a spot for one last bauble, even though the tree was already full of them

when he brought out the garland of LEDs, it took you both approximately twenty seconds to get entangled in it

“go around the tree,” you told him, unable to pull the lights in any direction. when he started to move, you shrieked, “no, counter-clockwise! or you’ll just take the whole thing off!”

his head was already spinning but he moved a different way and, finally, you’d managed to fix the problem and evenly distribute the lights all over the tree

“let’s turn this on, then,” you spoke, more excited now that the job was finished

and then, when you turned around after plugging it in, you ended up tripping over the cord

the tree wobbled at first – minho jumped to catch it, just in case – but then it seemed to steady itself on its own

he exhaled in relief and pulled away, “that could have been a disaster.”

he was walking backwards as he spoke, wanting to take a look the lit-up tree from afar, and he stepped on the cord, pulling it out of the socket and, once again, sending the tree swaying

this time, you weren’t so lucky, as you both watched in horror the way the tree came tumbling down in slow-motion

you both yelped in unison when you heard the cracks of the ornaments against the floor

you were praying as you lifted the tree up and, god bless, only one of the baubles had broken – the rest of them were protected by the thick branches that you’ve worked so hard to adjust

unfortunately, the entire decoration process seemed to be in vain because the tree looked like it’d been run over by a broken lawnmower

“this has been a mess,” you said with a shake of your head, once you two finished fixing some of the damage to your decorations. “the tree is a trainwreck.”

“yeah, but it’s our trainwreck,” minho said with a laugh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “and this isn’t so bad, is it? knowing our luck tonight, i’m just glad we didn’t cut the electricity off for the whole building.”

↣ changbin

it was the dumbest thing – he’d seen an artificial mistletoe in the store while looking for christmas lights, and bought it as a joke

only, instead of showing it to you like a normal person would, he hung it up on the threshold of the front door of your shared apartment

when you got home that night, he opened the door for you and just stood there with a stupid grin on his face

“what’s wrong? why are you not letting me in—?”

he just lifted his head and nodded at the ceiling

so you followed his gaze and raised your eyebrows in surprise to see the mistletoe hanging there. that definitely explained the look on his face

torn between how cute he looked and how cliché this was, you shook your head with a small smile and leaned over the threshold to kiss him

content now, changbin allowed you to finally come inside and – when you weren’t looking – he took the mistletoe off

and thus, began his biggest masterplan

he would hang the mistletoe at the most random of spots all over your apartment – a new place each time

and then he’d just stand there, smirking at you from across the room and not saying anything, until you were forced to approach him to ask what was wrong

you figured it out by the time it was christmas

so when you saw him randomly standing in the middle of your bathroom on christmas morning, just watching you through the open door

you already knew what he was waiting for

and yet you still went to him and kissed him anyway

really, he didn’t even need to use the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you

but he found it to be so much more fun this way

↣ hyunjin

you’d never done this before and hyunjin was absolutely delighted to be the first person who got to take you ice-skating

that was before he realised how utterly hopeless you were on ice as you refused to let go of his arm the entire time

“do you know how many bruises i obtain throughout winter?” you asked as hyunjin glided gently across the ice, pulling you with him. “it’s a terrible time for me, and here you’ve brought me on ice. you want me to die, don’t you?”

he kept laughing the entire time, growing used to the death grip you had on him as he guided you across the ice rink

“i want to show you that winter doesn’t have to be so dreadful,” he said, gracefully spinning around and nearly making you scream in horror as you were forced to spin along with him

“winter may not be,” you said, managing to skate closer to him and wrap your arms around his midriff instead, “but this is.”

he laughed, but nodded his head at your feet instead, “look you’re already skating just fine!”

you looked down, too, but you weren’t as optimistic – you were really just moving your feet the same way he was, but you still refused to let go of him

you were convinced you’d fall the second he pulled away, but hyunjin wasn’t even thinking of letting go of you

sure, he’d brought you here with the intention of teaching you how to skate

but now that you were holding onto him with your whole body, he realised he liked this much better

↣ han

he was the one who started it by throwing the first snowball at you when you were coming home from dinner

(although, in his defense, he’d meant it as a joke; and the snowball was more like a snow-pile than a ball, since the snow wasn’t very sticky)

and now it had been a good forty-five minutes, and the two of you were still outside, this close to building your own individual forts as you battled for survival in the snow

jisung had good aim, you had to give him that, but you were a better runner

until you slipped and fell, landing in a snow bank that was deeper than you’d expected, so your body was submerged nearly entirely in snow by the time jisung reached you

“oh my god, are you okay?!” he was yelling from across the field as he ran towards you

when he reached you, you were already expecting him, and threw a flurry of snow at him

taking a surprised step backwards, jisung closed his eyes – giving you just enough time to stand up and leave

except, the snow bank was too deep and you couldn’t stand up straight away, tripping and sitting back down in the snow

jisung was still recovering from the wetness on his face, but he saw you struggle to get up, and couldn’t help laughing

“did you think you’d have enough time to escape?” he asked and, before you could even begin to think of a response, he—very literally—pounced

you were both wrestling in the snow, your clothes drenched, your cheeks red and eyes glossy from the cold, and yet the only sound outside was your laughter

you got home that night freezing and shivering, but you were still smiling at each other, despite how much your teeth were clattering

“hot tea?” he suggested

you nodded, “you make it, since you lost.”

pursing his lips, jisung extended a threatening finger and promised, “only because you don’t play fair. but i’ll get you back tomorrow.”

↣ felix

you’d never tried to build a gingerbread house before and there were several reasons for it

1) you wanted to make it from scratch, and it was just so much work; and 2) gingerbread tasted too good on its own to be built into something, let alone decorated

but then one night, when you and felix were mindlessly scrolling through your phones, you came across a how-to video and mumbled how you’d tried and failed to build a gingerbread house, and the video was not accurate at all

well! in that case!

felix set his mind on filming your own tutorial video – even if this one would only be for you to watch and laugh at

and he did not care that it was currently 10pm and most grocery stores were closing

you managed to purchase all the necessary ingredients after two restless hours of shopping at every store in the vicinity

felix vlogged the entire thing, never once shutting up about the importance of getting m&m’s for decoration

but the cooking & building process actually went by smoothly – granted, you did print out a template of the shapes (even though felix insisted you could ‘wing’ the whole thing, whatever he meant by that)

it took you two days to finally finish the house because you had to chill the dough and prepare the icing beforehand, and you two ate all the decorations while you waited

but once you finished—

“honestly, it’s not as bad as i expected,” you commented, using your phone to film the wobbly and a little droopy little hut you’d built. “we used way too much icing—”

“that’s the snow! it’s the most important part!” felix insisted, just like he had while he was actually putting the house together. now you could barely see the actual gingerbread, it was nearly all white

“i kind of feel sad about eating it, though,” you said and felix handed you a leftover jelly piece – you’ve used the rest as christmas lights on the roof of your house

“good thing we bought enough supplies to build a whole village,” he said, meaning it as a joke, but only for the first ten seconds. because then, his eyes widened and he looked at you expectantly.

“felix, no. we’re not building a whole village of gingerbread houses.”

“but wouldn’t that be the coolest thing ever?! please—”

↣ seungmin

you’ve both watched too many cookie decorating videos so, really, it was only natural that you would consider yourselves professionals when it came to this

unfortunately, disaster ensued even before you got to the decorating

“huh,” your boyfriend said, hands on his hips as he watched the monstrosities you two had made on the baking pan

“i told you!” you insisted. the cookies had expanded and stretched to create weird, monster-like figures. “i told you we couldn’t just use aluminum foil to make the shapes!”

alright, to be fair, you probably could use aluminum foil cookie cutters if you knew how

but despite being self-proclaimed Phenomenal Cookie Decorators, you weren’t so good at the actual baking of the cookies

but nothing was completely ruined yet, because you two were professionals

granted, you’ve never actually decorated one cookie in your whole lives before

but how hard could it be, right?

as it turns out, seungmin was a natural: he’d managed to turn a particularly amusing blob of a cookie into an angel (with a halo and everything!)

but you needed a bit of help – which seungmin was actually more than happy to provide, trying (not very hard) not to turn his nose up once it was clear how talented he was at this

“okay, you hold the piping bag like this,” he spoke, putting his hands around yours so he could move your fingers in the correct position around the bag. “this way, you have better control of the flow. don’t squeeze too hard.”

he was the one doing most of the job, really, as you drew a christmas tree on another ruined cookie with his hands guiding yours

when you announced excitedly, “i did it! wow! this actually looks really good, doesn’t it?!”

seungmin nodded with a big grin, giving you the full credit for the cookie. “yeah, yours might actually be better than mine.”

of course, then you were left to decorate the next cookie by yourself because seungmin was looking for the sprinkles that got lost in one of your many shopping bags

and you weren’t quite as good on your own – you were actually terrible; somehow the weird cookie shape looked even weirder with icing on it – but seungmin took one look at it and declared, “oh, a candy cane – i didn’t even think of drawing that!”

really, it wasn’t supposed to be a candy cane, but you had to improvise as you kept messing up more and more

regardless, the cookies tasted amazing and that was really what mattered

that’s what seungmin said and, when you got past feeling upset because, obviously, he’d only said that to make you feel better, you realized that, yeah. they did taste good

and you were the one who made the dough, so, maybe, you two didn’t have to both be perfect at decorating. you worked better as a team

↣ i.n

it started when one of you – it was hard to say which one – began to hum the song that played on your youtube playlist, while you cleaned the apartment, preparing to decorate it for christmas

you’d added every christmas song you knew to the playlist, but neither of you knew a lot of words

and yet, about three songs later, that didn’t matter anymore

every time you passed each other as you vacuumed the floors and jeongin wiped the dust, you’d yell whatever lyrics you thought were correct at each other

(if someone listened, it would have seemed as though you were both singing different songs, none of which came even close to the song that was actually playing)

before long, the dust wipes and the vacuum cleaner were long forgotten, as the two of you spun around your apartment, performing a very heart-wrenching duet of “last christmas” even despite only knowing every third word of the verses

it was hard to say which one of you performed for a living because you both were so into the song, you didn’t even care that your attempt to waltz around the room was more like an attempt to see how many times you could kick each other before one of you fell down

neither of you knew the steps, but that’s why this was so much fun

in the end, you both ended up on the floor, laughing, but still keeping up with the beat of “santa claus is coming to town”

“you know what i’m thinking?” jeonging said. “we should go caroling.”

you were laughing even harder – and even more so when he insisted, “i’m serious!” – and then slapped him on the shoulder, begging him to stop because you were dying

when jeongin got up to show you that this was a genuinely good idea – and “silent night” started to play as if on cue – you were still laughing and insisted he sang, while you danced back-up for him

he was back on the floor before the second verse, his laughter so powerful, he wasn’t even making any noise any more, and he felt as though his stomach was going to rip apart if you kept it up

“alright. we’re not going caroling,” he said then, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “we’re taking you to dance class”

very proud of your dancing skills – they made him laugh, which was what mattered the most here – you declared, “i don’t know what you mean, i don’t need to take dancing classes.”

“you don’t,” he agreed, “you’ll be teaching them.”

mlist | inbox

#stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids au #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #skz au

[oh-for-fic-sake]

They Hung Up

Masterlist

Summary: August can always fix your problems, especially when someone is ripping off his princess.

Warnings: fluff, ddlg, daddy kink

A/n: inspired by my chat with ebay this morning. Apparantly ebay will charge buyers import and customs VAT on items that aren't even being imported into the country... or going through customs. And they don't charge this at checkout they only charge it when they take the actually money. When i told the lady thats stealing your taking more then the agreed amount from my bank she hung up on me telling me to 'speak to the tax office'

Taglist: in reblogs.

"No but you cant charge import tax on something that isn't being imported.... No they cant that's illegal look I just want my money beck for the tax-what do you mean no?!... Hello? Hello?" You could have cried you were so angry and upset. You closed locked your phone screen and sniffed shaking your head in frustration.

"Princess what's wrong?" You snapped your head to your daddy, august was scowling. You could see the aggravated look as he took in your tears. Your daddy never liked you wasting them on other people. Your sweet pure tears were only meant to be shed for him! Every droplet was his to pull from you, be it tears of rapturous pleasure or shed from being spanked for being naughty.

"August? I? they hung up on me!" You hissed quickly running over to him tucking yourself into his thick frame pressing your head into his chest trying to soak in the smell of his aftershave. The spicy scent was heady and a little overbearing, you could tell why. Under the spice was the metallic twang of blood and deep sooty smell of fired bullets. You both loved and hated it, as safe as it made you feel remembering just who and what he was if frightened you, one day he could be hurt.

"Who? Sweetpea?" He purred softly needing to calm you down before he could make heads roll. His arms encircled you squeezing you tightly and he rested his chin on your head the  began swaying with you slowly.

"The support desk! They charged import tax! And nothing was imported! Daddy I was careful and-and I checked and double checked there was no warning not on check out or nothin' then they took another ten dollars on top and now my bank is angry and charging me for going over!" You said quickly panicked that he would be mad at you for spending too much again.

"Okay pumpkin slow down... Tell daddy what's going on slowly... Don't miss anything out okay angel" he said pulling you back a little to let you catch your breath. But you quivered and opened your mouth wiping at your eyes before trying to argue.

"Yeah but!?"

"Shh shh no buts take a deep breath... Now out, good girl now start from the beginning" he coaxed slowly cooing at you as you took a few breaths and calmed, settling down n his arms feeling safe and secure, even if you were still angry.

"I got that lamp with the shelves... It was fifty four dollars and ninety nine cents" you started explaining from the beginning and waited for August to nod.

"Yes I know, I remember you showing me to see if it would fit in the corner" he spoke remembering the little pull cord box lamp and three shelves, you wanted it for the internet router and house phone to sit on so you had more room for snacks on the side table.

"Well I got it and paid but then when paypal billed me they charged sixty four dollars and ninety-nine cents... I messaged them and they said it was import tax!" You cried out getting yourself all angry again, cheeks puffing out sweetly as you huffed and growled even throwing you hands up in frustration. August made to speak but you continued your tale of the mean support desk and their money thieving ways.

"I looked it up and cos its coming for inside the state I don't have to pay! So I called and they said I had to because the shop was registered outside of the USA! But its wrong! They're wrong and when I asked for my money she hung up on me! She said I have to talk to the tax office people!" August frowned that wasn't right and he knew it. It was clear you were being taken for a fool. These bastards were at it all over the place he'd seen some of it on the news, instead of tax evasion as we know it there was a new crime. Stealing tax from buyers and classing it as profit. Because its tax most people don't question it.

"And then my bank sent me this! Saying I was over my limit and in the minus! So now they are taking twenty dollars when my next allowance goes in!"  You cried quickly pulling up an email on your phone from your bank showing a notice of charges you now had on your account.

"Its not fair I didn't do nothing wrong daddy but now I'm loosing the tax and twenty dollars of my allowance!" You yelled and began sniffling again your lip wobbling. His heart melted as he watched you try so hard not to break down and cry again. You were being his big brave girl.

"Okay pumpkin i will sort this out give me the phone" he said plucking the phone from you then turned around heading to his office.

"But you cant! Its a withheld number-" you said sniffling following him one hand fisting the back of his jacket as he strode through the pent house to the secure room.

"Oh come on sweetheart don't tell me I'm going too soft and you've forgotten just who your daddy is~" he cooed opening the door and ushering you to the small teepee in the corner that had a large iPad and a few fuzzy scatter cushions .

"Go sit and watch YouTube or something okay? Let daddy fix this mess" he said pulling your headphones from the drawer and handed them to you ushering you to the small cozy spot he had made you.

You watched as he plugged your phone into his computer and made a few quick clicks before picking up his own phone and dialled a number with a smug look the  clicked his fingers at you pointing to the headphones wanting you to pop them on and stop worrying. You pouted but slipped on the large pink headset  and pretended to loom at your screen and select a video in reality you were listening to your daddy.

"Yes you wouldn't recognize it. How? Well this is a government number, you just told a young lady to inform us about taxes?" You flicked your eyes up at him grinning hearing the professional growl to his voice the 'daddy means business' tone that made you quiver with want and fear. It never meant good things, most of the time he used this tone when you were a bad girl. You only hoped the mean woman on the phone felt bad now too.

"Why yes, yes she did a miss y/n yes that's her. I would like for you to put me through to head office" you bit your lip hearing him begin his assault. No one not even the lady on the phone and her jargon would out smart your daddy!

"Pardon me I'm sorry I'm Mr Walker...I work for the tax office in her state and have decided to open an investigation about tax fraud over the issue, we have had many complaints... oh yes she informed us of everything, she was distressed over the tax miscalculation? Which has caused her to go over drawn on her account and incurred charges" he spoke firmly and turned looking to you as you giggled watching him in his huge leather spiny chair. You gasped when he frowned and pointed a finger to your iPad clearly telling you to stop being nosey and watch your videos.

"Yes I am aware of that but the shop is registered overseas, it doesn't export from overseas... so there is no international import tax due." He continued spinning around in the chair making a few notes on the large paper pad in front of him.

"Yes that's why I'm calling I've been on your website and your policies are in fact breaking the law and infringing on the rights of consumers. Do you understand? What you have done is illegal and fraudulent and I can see it isn't the first time so I would like to speak to your head of office now- thank you" you quickly looked down as August spun once more and grunted at you pointing to the door with a scowl catching you eavesdropping again.

"Poppet either watch your videos or go and have some lunch" he said covering the mouthpiece on the phone making you pout and flick your legs at him and cross your arms stubbornly. You wanted to watch!

"Decide or I will decide for you" he said raising his brows at you but you just huffed pleading with your eyes at him to let you stay and listen.

"Right lunch it is come on up! Off you pop go make a sandwich and have some juice" he said holding out his hand for the headphones.

"But I want to see you tell them off daddy!" You huffed non to impressed at being set out of the room so quickly.

"No, now do as I've asked daddy will be out in a few minuets this wont take long" you held his gaze for a few moments before you lost your nerve then stood with a pout handing him your headphones and left the room closing the door when you were told to.

It was twenty minuets alter August came put of the office and padded to the kitchen seeing you at the breakfast bar swinging on a chair whislt munching a chocolate spread sandwich a few candy wrappers on the side and packets of chips and un touched apple. He sighed giving you the stink eye but didn't say anything. You found a loop hole he said lunch and sandwich... he hadn't specified what type of lunch and sandwich.

"All sorted poppet! Your being refunded and getting compensation which will be debited into your account in forty eight hours" he said rounding the breakfast bar snatching the apple opening the cutlery drawer fishing out a knife.

"That's quick daddy... I thought they can only do it in five days?" You asked watching as he sliced the apples and began cutting the core out for you.

"Oh princess its amazing what people can do when they think the big bad tax man is on to them~" he chuckled at your face as he placed the apple on your plate. You didn't want to eat it but you would . Quickly. Because if you left it too long itd go brown and you would whine about it, get a warning and end up having to eat it anyway.

"Will you get in trouble? you pretended to be the tax man daddy" You said cautiously lifting a small apple wedge to your mouth and nibbled it.

"Me? Of course not daddy has many different identities love, and I can use them when I want love... besides we just uncovered a company that not only evades tax but it stealing it!" He grinned. If there was one thing he liked it was justice. Everyone should pay their dues. Especially someone who rigs a system to benefit themselves.

"And.. My bank charges?" You asked still unsure if he will be mad a you for over spending...Again

"All gone, daddy will cover them princess; now just how much chocolate spread is in that sandwich?" He said leaning over your plate trying to pry apart the two slices of bread.

"Err a little" you shrugged still eating your apple whist trying to smoosh your sandwich and hide the super thick chocolatey layer.

"Mm hmm there's more chocolate then bread poppet~" he hummed unimpressed but let it slide, again you'd found your loophole, the last thing he'd do is punish you for being a smart ass. It could save your life one day.

"Sorry daddy" you said whilst pulling the plates closer to yourself protectively worried he would steal our chocolate.

"Oh don't be poppet once its gone its gone its you that will miss it not me" he chuckled and spun around crossing the kitchen to make his own lunch. You grinned happily, what had been a bad day was getting better and better! You were getting your money back, compensation,  your daddy was paying your and charges and you got to keep your chocolate spread! What more could you ask for? Well there was one more thing you could ask for.

"Daddy can I have a puppy?"

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x y/n #august walker x little reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fic

[dmwrites]

Beef was fixing some vents in his spaceship when Zedaph called.

“Hey Zed, what’s up?” As he spoke, Beef remembered that the last time they had spoken was in the chamber, where Zed had confessed his love for him. Which had been like three weeks ago. “I wasn’t ghosting you, I just forgot to charge my phone!” Beef said in a panic.

“What?”

“What?”

“Anyways.” Zed said. “Listen, Beef, I was reviewing the footage from the chamber, you know, the one where you all tested me?”

“I remember.” Beef filled up a gas can, wondering where this was going. It could be anything with Zed, apparently.

“Yeah… where did your skin… thing go?”

“Oh yeah, that weird rash!” Beef laughed. “Man, I don’t know! It was like acne or something, it just faded after a while. Completely gone now, except for a bit on my chest.”

Zed hummed, and then Beef could hear him writing furiously. “That’s the most interesting thing I’ve heard all day. Beef, my boy, would you like to come to my lab so we can do some experimenting?”

“I suppose I can come over.” Beef said, trying to twirl the phone cord with his finger but realizing there was no cord.

“Awesome! See you soon Beefy!” Zed hung up.

Beef swept up some leaves to take outside. How the hell leaves got in a spaceship he’d never know.

Zed was pacing back and forth when Beef arrived.

“Beef! Beef! Oh you’re here! I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks! Like what on earth happened? Why are you a normal guy now? What caused the rash in the first place?” Zed was waving his hands all about.

“Zed I got you a flower!” Beef presented him with a oxide daisy.

“Oh thank you I’m starving.” Zed said, eating it. “Come with me, Beefy boy. I want to see something.”

They made their way not to The Chamber like Beef thought, but just to a simple workbench. There was a microscope and some glass slides.

“Can I take a skin sample?” Zed snapped some tweezers at Beef. “I have some hypothesis’s, even wrote them down, so you know it’s real science. About you.”

“Go for it.” Beef said. “What kind of hypothesis are we talking here?”

Zed nabbed a bit of dark blueish grey skin from Beef’s chest and put it on the slides. “A very silly one.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Zed put his eye to the telescope and gasped dramatically.

“What? What is it?” Beef asked.

“I forgot to take the lens cap off.” Zed said. “Okay, let’s try this again. Hmmm…” He was quiet for a minute, adjusting the slide under the microscope. “Hey Beef?” He finally asked.

“Yes?”

“Why did you build a spaceship?”

“I-” Beef was actually at a loss for words. Because, the truth is, he didn’t know. The plans, the blueprints, even the doors had all just kind of… come to him, in weirdly accurate detail. And then the rash had started, now that he thought about it.

“Beef I think you somehow became infected with alien substance and it took over your brain.” Zed turned off the microscope light. “That skin sample? It’s alive. All weird and squiggly and very alien-like. And I am a scientist, so you can trust me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense Zed. How could i be an alien? Im Beef! Just a normal human guy! You’ve know me for years!” Beef shook his head.

Zed picked up and clipboard and held his pen aloft, a curious look in his eyes. “Hey Beef?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’s the moon big?”

Instantly, Beef’s body froze and his eyes rolled back into his head. “That is classified information, Human.” Beef’s mouth was moving, but it wasn’t his voice. There was a loud crunching noise, and the roof of Zed’s lap was ripped away. In its place was a spaceship. Beef’s spaceship. Beef, or the alien that was inhabiting Beef’s body, was taken up in a beam of light, and with a boom as loud as a thunderclap, it was all gone. Spaceship, Beef, even the roof.

“Oh my gosh golly gee!” Zed whispered. “So much science just happened!”

He began to take notes as fast as he could, because, after all, it’s not science unless it’s written down.

#Feb 17 2022 #fic #hermitcraft #s8 #zedaphplays #vintagebeef #technically not hermitshipping but like #long post

[missfangirll]

If im not too late, I'd request anything for Beiyuan/Wu Xi. There are so few works out there for them :c

So, I wanted to write some XiYuan fluff and somehow ended up writing Dad!Beiyuan bonding with Chengling, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband and a sort-of-fix-it for WoH episode 36?? 😅

The plot follows the show, after episode 36, but their shared past in the novel (Qi Ye) did happen, if that makes sense? 😅 Sorry for the confusion.. The title is a Chinese poem called 蝶恋花 by Liu Yong.

Anyway, here's some XiYuan fluff/dad!Beiyuan/WoH fix-it? 😂😂

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Fandom: Qi Ye, Word of Honor Rating: General Relationship: Wu Xi/Jing Beiyuan, Jing Beiyuan & Zhang Chengling Tags: Fluff, Bonding, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband, Fix-it of sorts Words: 2565 Summary: In an inn, Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, together with Zhang Chengling, await the return of Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing, who have run off to die on a mountain. Beiyuan has to care for Zishu's disciple, while being distracted by his husband.

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Butterflies in Love with Flowers

Jing Beiyuan has plenty of practice waiting.

He has waited for sixty years at the Three-Life Stone, has waited for Helian Yi for six lifetimes. Has waited in the Imperial City for his schemes and machinations to bear fruit, has waited for Wu Xi. He has plenty of practice.

Which doesn’t mean, however, that he is a patient man.

Jing Beiyuan paces the inn room he shares with his husband, deliberately walking closely past Wu Xi who is sitting cross-legged at the low table reading, looking entirely unperturbed. Much to Jing Beiyuan’s dismay, that is to say, so he brushes Wu Xi’s back with the seam of his sleeve every time he walks by.

Wu Xi doesn’t react for a while, but after the sixth turn, without saying a word, he casually grabs Jing Beiyuan’s sleeve and, turning slightly, pulls him down in his lap, effectively trapping him there with both arms tightly around him.

Jing Beiyuan is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot, and he would never let an opportunity pass to cuddle his husband. With a deep sigh, he settles into the other’s embrace, leaning his head on Wu Xi’s broad chest.

“I am worried,” he admits eventually.

Stroking his hair soothingly, Wu Xi just hums in quiet understanding.

"I'm worried about the two idiots on the mountain," he adds, as if that wasn't obvious, and Wu Xi, as expected, doesn't reply. Jing Beiyuan continues, unbothered by his husband's lack of reaction. "I keep telling the little idiot," here he pauses to marvel at the fact that he distinguishes his companions merely by the grade of their idiocy, then sighs inwardly, "that his shifu and shishu are fine, that he should focus on his training in order to have something to show his shifu upon his return, but sometimes I…." He trails off, snuggling closer into the other's neck.

Zhang Chengling isn't coping well with the fact that both his mentors left with the intention to die on that mountain, albeit with different purposes in mind, and Jing Beiyuan has had to forcefully stop him from climbing that mountain himself, twice by now. For now he seems to have begrudgingly accepted his fate, although Jing Beiyuan can see his outbursts of anger for the fear they are.

He inhales deeply, willing his thoughts to calm down. All they have to do now is wait, wait for Zishu and his little maniac to return safely, and return they will, he has no doubts about it. He can’t, for Chengling’s sake.

A knock on the door interrupts the silent moment and with a groan, Jing Beiyuan clambers out of his husband’s lap to open the door, while said husband reaches for his abandoned book. The elderly innkeeper in front of him doesn’t spare a glance at Jing Beiyuan’s slightly ruffled hair, fiddling with the cap in his hands. At the other’s raised eyebrow, he bows so deep his forehead seems to touch his knees, and Jing Beiyuan has to bite back a grin.

“Yes?”, he asks magnanimously. The man shifts uncomfortably. “Your highness,” he begins, but Jing Beiyuan interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder. “I am certainly not worthy of such a noble title, my good man, just call me Lord Seventh, and speak freely. What bothers you?”

The other man bows again, not as low as before, but it still looks uncomfortable. “Your lordship,” he begins, and Jing Beiyuan sighs, hearing a slight huff of laughter from behind. Wu Xi knows of his resentment against his past life and the decorum it entailed. “Your lordship,” the man repeats, sounding increasingly desperate. “Your, umm.. The young master… He… The courtyard…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Jing Beiyuan has a vague idea of what he is trying to say, so he just nods and breezes past the innkeeper, who hastily shuts the door and scrambles to follow him.

From the inn’s inner courtyard he can already hear a dull thudding noise that grows louder as he approaches. In the yard, next to a small wooden shack, he finds the source of the noise: Zhang Chengling, gracelessly hitting the timber wall with a training sword, his face and back sweaty, his hair in disarray, his mouth a thin line. Jing Beiyuan nods to the innkeeper, who retreats to another building, then slowly approaches the boy, keeping his distance from the sword. Leaning on the wooden wall, he stays silent, observing Zishu’s disciple. The boy has grown a finger’s breadth over the last weeks, his body starting to stretch, his face about to lose the softness of childhood. He has seen a lot these past months, Jing Beiyuan muses, and feels infinite fondness for the little idiot.

Zhang Chengling has seen him, of course, but doesn’t make any move to stop his grim assault on the shack, so Jing Beiyuan says after a while, “You might want to use a real sword when you intend to put a hole in that thing.” His teasing doesn’t gain a reaction, however, the boy still hacking away at the wood. “Chengling,” he says after a while, softly, gently, “they will return.”

“I know,” comes the strained reply, but the beating doesn’t stop. The hits seem to grow less forceful, though, and Jing Beiyuan inches closer. “If Tian Chuang had succeeded,” he adds quietly, “we would know.” He looks directly at Chengling who stubbornly avoids his gaze, but his movements slow further, until he swings the sword like a flag bearer his banner in a parade. Jing Beiyuan carefully closes the distance, intercepting the last swing with his hand, gripping the wooden sword. He notices its shaking, and it’s only a heartbeat before Chengling collapses into his arms, letting go of the sword and wrapping both arms around him in a desperate embrace. Jing Beiyuan lowers the sword, then enfolds the boy in his arms, a hand on the back of his head, and lets him sob quietly into his shoulder.

“I miss them,” the boy snuffles into his robes, his face hidden. “Sometimes I dream about them, dead and cold, buried under all that snow and I…” He hiccups, then starts sobbing again. Jing Beiyuan breathes slowly. A few days after Zishu, and then the Ghost Valley Master, ascended the mountain, there had been news of an immense avalanche that had buried a large group of people, presumably the joined forces of the Window of Heaven and the Scorpion King. But nothing had reached them since, and all of them had grown restless, even Wu Xi, even though he would never admit to it.

A hand on the boy’s back, Jing Beiyuan rubs soothing circles. “Come with me,” he says at last, “Let’s go inside and have some tea, hm?” A nod, then Chengling takes a step back, sheepishly rubbing his red eyes. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, but Jing Beiyuan just huffs. “Never be sorry for how you feel,” he admonishes gently, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, subtly scooping the wooden sword up with the other hand. “Let’s have some tea and sweets, what do you say?” Chengling sniffs again, then says with the hint of a smile, “Didn’t the Great Shaman explicitly forbid us to eat sweets before dinner?” Jing Beiyuan makes a carefree gesture, then, lowering his voice, adds in a conspiratorial tone, “We have to hide it, then,” which finally makes Chengling laugh. A lighter air around them, they stroll back to the room. (Wu Xi gives them a stern look as Jing Beiyuan retrieves a bag of sweets from his sleeve, but says nothing when they share some over tea, which Jing Beiyuan secretly finds endlessly endearing.)

⚘⚘

The next morning finds Jing Beiyuan on a bench in that same courtyard, at the other side this time, half hidden under a canopy hung with ivy. In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by the rising sun, Wu Xi is practicing his martial arts.

Jing Beiyuan admires everything about his little venom. His honesty, his loyalty, his unrestrained emotions, but watching the other train always leaves him breathless and with a dry mouth. Wu Xi, in his usual black robes, is a sight to behold: Even under layers of cloth his broad shoulders are visible, his long black braids with the silver hairpiece, the moon mirrored in a clear lake at night. Wu Xi in his robes is a force to be reckoned with. Wu Xi without his robes, in just some black pants, is… Well. Enticing enough to make Jing Beiyuan leave the bed before sunrise and watch him train, even after being together for years and having seen his husband naked plenty of times. Still, watching him move through the forms is different. His skin glistens with sweat, making the light catch on his collarbones, his abs. His movements show a raw power, a graceful intensity that always reminds Jing Beiyuan of a large tiger. He moves silently, with deadly precision, as if he wanted to sneak up on a hidden assassin. He doesn’t use a weapon, but Jing Beiyuan knows how strong he is, how fast, and is pretty sure that a sword would only slow him down.

Distractedly petting the sable that is curled contentedly in his lap, Jing Beiyuan marvels at his husband, until Wu Xi ends his performance with a graceful vault, landing on his hands and feet like a large cat. His hair, tied back only with a simple black leather cord, falls over his face with the movement, his eyes like glimmering coals behind the black curtain. It reminds Jing Beiyuan of their early days, of the time Wu Xi wore a veil, and he himself a mask of another kind. Trying to hide the slight shiver, he smiles at his sweaty husband who now approaches him. Before he can say anything, Wu Xi steps between his knees, carefully scooping up the sable, then reaching down to cup the nape of Jing Beiyuan’s neck. With a hint of restrained power, he pulls him up and into a searing kiss. Smiling against his lips, Wu Xi whispers, “Room,” and Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled.

It’s still early enough in the morning that they don’t have to be overly cautious, so when they shed their respective robes - and pets, Wu Xi’s tiny green snake gets set in its cage, while the sable leaps nimbly away from the commotion - Jing Beiyuan can’t suppress a giggle at his husband’s eagerness.

“What brought this on?”, he asks, a little breathless, as the other’s teeth close over his pulse point. Wu Xi stills for a heartbeat, then bites down harder, licking over the spot, which elicits a shiver.

“You,” is the answer, and Jing Beiyuan pulls away a fraction to look at his husband with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary,” he smirks, “whereas you were--”

“You watched,” Wu Xi breathes into his neck, leaning back in. With another giggle, Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled to the bed.

Later, when they lay under scrunched up covers, sated and sweaty and content, Jing Beiyuan nuzzles into Wu Xi’s chest, inhaling his sharp scent.

“Would you do that,” he asks eventually, his voice quiet. “Sacrifice your life, I mean. For me.”

“Yes,” is all Wu Xi answers, firm and without hesitation. “I would. I will. Everything.” His arms tighten around Jing Beiyuan. After a long silence, the latter says softly, “But what if I didn’t want that?” He turns slightly to look up. “What if I didn’t want a life that’s bought with yours?”

Wu Xi doesn’t meet his gaze as he replies, “I still would. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you, Beiyuan. I’m a coward, but I couldn’t. I thought I’d lost you once, and I..” His voice breaks, and Jing Beiyuan reaches up to cup his face. “You’re not. I would like to say that I would react differently, but…” He shrugs with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t. If I could save your life by giving up mine, I would. I would, and then wait for you again at the Three-Life Stone, until you came to meet me. And maybe this time, you would be the one with white hair.” Snuggling closer, he trails a finger over the other’s chest, then places his hand on his sternum, feeling the unrestrained energy underneath. Wu Xi turns his head, then cups Jing Beiyuan’s cheek, meeting him in a slow, languid kiss.

“I love you,” he breathes against the other’s lips, “I have loved you for all your lifetimes and I will continue to love you in all that follow. Where you go, I’m going, Beiyuan.”

⚘⚘

It takes almost another month until Zishu and his little-, no, his giant idiot return. On a sunny afternoon, as if they had just been out for a stroll, they saunter casually into the inn’s dining room, and Jing Beiyuan almost drops his teacup, staring in disbelief. Before he can say anything, Zishu grins - he grins! - at him and plops down into the bench opposite him, Wen Kexing at his side. Jing Beiyuan notices in utter shock that the latter’s hair has gone completely white.

“Wha--,” he starts, but now the waiter has spotted them, hurrying over. Giving their, admittedly quite ragged, appearance a cautious once-over, he clears his throat, but Jing Beiyuan hurries to assuage him. “Whatever these gentlemen desire to eat,” he declares, probably with more grandeur than necessary, “they will receive.” The waiter hurries to nod his head like a turtle, but Zishu just shakes his head. “Just cold water,” he says, much to Jing Beiyuan’s and the waiter’s astonishment, but the latter immediately scrambles off to bring them their order.

Jing Beiyuan looks scrutinizingly at both of them, then says slowly, “Welcome back.” Zishu nods solemnly, taking Wen Kexing’s hand under the table. “Sorry it took so long,” he says quietly. Jing Beiyuan snorts. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” he gestures into the general direction of the inner courtyard, “but to your silly little disciple.” Zishu at least has the decency to flinch, looking uncomfortable. But it is Wen Kexing who speaks first. “How is he?”, he asks, and Jing Beiyuan notices the cautious fondness in his voice. Shrugging, he admits, “There are good days and bad.” After a pause, he adds, more quietly, “And good nights and bad.” Zishu nods, as if in agreement, and Jing Beiyuan’s curiosity wins over. “What happened?”, he asks animatedly, gesturing to the state of their robes, then Wen Kexing’s hair. “You were gone almost two months, and--”

Zishu interrupts him, sounding incredulous. “Two months?” He casts an uncertain glance at his companion who looks equally stunned. “Oh.” Inhaling slowly, he adds, “Well, I’d prefer to tell the story only once, so where is that useless disciple of mine?” Grinning, Jing Beiyuan gestures again to the inner courtyard. “Training.” Zishu gives him a skeptical look, then gets to his feet. Ignoring the waiter who just arrived with their order, he heads for the inner courtyard. Jing Beiyuan tilts his head a fraction, looking at Wen Kexing, both smiling slightly. Then, from outside, “SHIFU!”, and a dull thud, followed by another muffled “Shishu!”.

Smiling into his teacup, Jing Beiyuan closes his eyes. Some stories seem to have a happy ending after all.

#qi ye #lord seventh #七爷 #wu xi #jing beiyuan #xiyuan #otp: soulmates are stupid i love you on purpose #word of honor #a tale of the wanderers #faraway wanderers #wen kexing #zhou zishu #wenzhou #my writing #fanfic #fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So i just worked my ass off and retail is always crummy this time of year so I’m gonna escape with some sweet Arvin Russell writing. 

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The spring air was warm as the breeze swept over the low fence and fluttered the tails of shirts hung across the line. You grabbed two pegs and a swathe of damp fabric and stretched it over the cord, pinning it in place before moving along. Your old machine had taken much of the day to wrangle and had even received a kick. It was decades old, an heirloom inherited with the old country house and much more clunky than the modern machines. Not many in the county had anything more than the old wringing machines.

Roy would be home soon. Your husband hated to hear about how the wringer jammed so easily and the fear that your fingers might again be bruised by the mechanism. Even so, you were certain it wouldn't last for much longer. It's rattles foretold its imminent fate. You'd be back to a bucket and board soon enough.

As you hung the last piece, Roy's oil stained overalls, you heard the putter of the truck. You picked up the woven basket and headed for the gate along the front of the house. You waved as he pulled up, tires loudly mulching the dirt, and you stopped short as he came to a jagged halt. He wasn't alone and you were stillwearing your grimy and wet apron.

Roy pushed his door open so roughly it creaked. He stepped out and gave an exaggerated stretch as he glanced across the roof of the truck and slammed the door.

"Don't forget your bag, boy," he growled at the other man as he felt around the chest pocket of his overall for his smokes. "Looks like you're too late for laundry day."

"Roy?" You unclasped the gate and opened it as Roy stomped across the gravel and lit up a smoke, "How was your day?" 

You peeked over at the other man who climbed out of the truck. He wore similar overall, though they were unbuttoned over a greasy white shirt, and he was shorter and thinner than your husband. He reached back into the truck and grabbed a long military style duffel before he swung the door shut. 

Your husband grumbled and blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"We have a guest?" You asked as you stayed by the gate.

"Arvin Russell," Roy flicked the ash away, "You remember I was talkin' 'bout renting out the attic."

"Um, yes," you blinked as the other man, Arvin, neared meekly. Roy had mentioned the idea once when he noticed the way his truck had started rumbling.  "It'll need a good dusting."

"So you better get on that." Roy coughed. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf," you answered and turned back to smile at the other man as he bowed his head and passed through the gate.

"Hello, missus," he said kindly, "Nice to meet ya. I work with your husband, says you're a fine cook."

"The one thing she can do," Roy muttered as he ambled up the steps of the porch and dropped onto the bench sat by the window. "You go grab us some bottles."

You closed the gate behind Arvin but he waited for you to precede him before going any further. He was surprisingly polite for any man who worked at the shop. 

"Yes, Roy," you hid your disappointment. Those nights when Roy started drinking before dinner rarely ended well.

"Can I just have some water?" Arvin asked as he followed you onto the porch, "Please. I didn't get to my lunch today so I'm not really feeling like drinking."

"Of course," you said, "If you're hungry, I got a box of crackers and some cheese I can bring out."

"Thank you but I'd hate to spoil dinner." Arvin sat on the end of the bench and kept his bag between his feet as Roy threw away his cigarette. "Thank you both for having me."

You nodded and quickly skirted inside. You were a bit confounded by Roy's sudden burst of generosity. He rarely did anything for anyone else. To think he'd offer a room to a coworker was unlike him.

You went to the old fridge, marked with dings and dents, and wiggled the handle until it opened. You remember the day you Pa had broken the handle, he'd always promised to fix it but had only managed to make it worse. You missed him. It was easy to miss him in this old place. His wedding present to you and Roy. It was too tragic he hadn't lived long enough to see you enjoy it.

You grabbed a brown bottle then filled a tall glass from the tap. You went back to the door and opened it with your elbow. You handed Roy his beer as Arvin stood to accept his glass of water.

"Thank you," he chimed but your husband only popped the cap of his beer with his teeth and glared out at the yard.

"Well dinner is in the oven still. I'll just be finishing that before I get started in the attic." You told Roy but he only shrugged and gulped down the beer. "Let me know if you boys need anything." 

"Peace and quiet," Roy snarled. "S'all I need right now."

Arvin gave a sympathetic look and traced his thumb along the side of the glass. You hid your discomfort and retreated inside. That was just Roy. He was always in a mood after work. An hour or two and he would mellow out. The beer would surely help.

🚬

When you finished supper, you called the men in to eat. Roy started his second beer as Arvin remained quiet and awkward at the table. You didn’t say much as you pondered the work still left to be done. You had to tidy the attic before the night ended and collect the laundry from the line. You would also have to clear the table and clean up the mess of your cooking.

You stood before the men finished. You scraped your untouched scraps into the dish of leftovers and placed the glass lid on it. You scoured the loaf pan as you listened to the clink of cutlery on plates and set the pots on the drying rack. You returned to the men to gather their empty dishes and Arvin thank you as Roy belched and stood with a satisfied but gruff rumble.

Arvin watched you as you tried to ignore the pity in his face. You knew your husband wasn’t the most loving or vocal, but he was yours and he worked hard. You turned away and went back to the kitchen. You finished washing the last of the glassware and dried it before stacking it in the cupboards.

As you passed through the dining room, Arvin was gone and you could hear the buzz of the radio from the front room. Roy always liked to listen to the game after he ate. Sometimes you sat with him and crocheted or read but not often.

You tiptoed upstairs and found the footstool hidden in the bottom of the linen closet. You climbed onto the step and reached up to unhook the cord of the attic door. It dangled down and you pulled it carefully as you backed off the stool and kicked it away. The steps unfolded and you barely stepped out of the way of their descent as the heavy wood thumped against the carpet.

It had been a while since you ventured up to the third floor. There was only dust and forgotten memories up there. You slowly made your way up and sneezed as you reached the top. A wall of boxes blocked the window along the front of the house and shrouded furniture sat beneath grimy sheets.

You started with the boxes. You took one and peeked under the flaps. Some old oil lamps hoarded by your father from his own parents. You awkwardly made your way back down to the second floor and placed the box at the bottom. When you had them all down, you’d take them into your father’s old room to store. Perhaps you should sort through them at last and get rid of the unneeded artifacts.

You were six boxes deep when you were startled by a shadow in the open hatch. You exclaimed and nearly dropped your armful as Arvin poked his head through and peered over at you.

“Arvin,” you gasped. “My apologies, this place is a mess.”

“Not so bad,” he climbed up and stood, “You need some help?”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage--”

“You’re right. It’s a mess,” he insisted, “A lot for just one person.”

You stared at him and gave a small smile. He was funny. He neared you and reached out for the box in your arms.

“How about this, I’ll stay on the ladder and you bring the boxes to me and I’ll take ‘em down.” He took the box gently from you, “It’ll be much quicker.”

You looked into his soft brown eyes and let him. He backed away and cautiously made his way down the ladder. You turned and grabbed another box and he reappeared through the hatch. You handed him the box of figurines and he retreated once more. You carried on and soon, the boxes were stacked high on the lower floor.

“Alright,” Arvin climbed up and dusted off his hands, “Already lookin’ better.”

He neared the old sofa against the wall and pulled off the sheet. He coughed as the dust was kicked up and it soon turned into a chuck as he waved away the cloud.

“We can keep this here,” he draped the sheet over his arm and pulled the next from the tall lamp with the glass shade, “Move this into the corner,” he continued on and peeked under a sheet before unveiling the tall shelf, “If you don’t mind, of course?”

“Not at all. We should’ve sold all this years ago.” You teetered on your heels anxiously. Every piece reminded you of your father. “There’s a cot folded up over there,” you pointed behind a hidden end table, “But that wouldn’t be much better than the floor.”

“It’ll do,” he assured you and turned to sit on the sofa. He bounced as he hugged the sheets. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Well, there’s a bed down in my pa’s room. We could try to bring it up tomorrow. If you don’t mind offerin’ a little more help.” You wrung your hands. You were never very good with strangers and Roy’s friends often weren’t much nicer than him. You were tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think I could do that,” he stood and wiggled his nose as a sneeze threatened. “You got a broom? Maybe a duster?”

“You’ve done enough, I can finish it--”

“Ma’am, I’m a guest in your home. I might be paying for the room but it doesn’t make you my maid,” he intoned, “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since before my momma died.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” you uttered. “I--”

“Now, don’t be sorry,” he cooed, “Nothing to be sorry for. I assume you lost your daddy if his bed is free.” 

You nodded dumbly and blinked.

“Well, at least let me take these,” you reached for the sheets and he hesitated before he let you take them. You struggled to keep them balled up and hugged them against your hip as you turned back to the hatch. “I’ll bring you the broom.”

“Thank you,” he said behind you and you looked back at him as you took your first step down the ladder, “You let me know when you bring that washin’ in and I’ll help you fold.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to. Makes me feel a little better about stealin’ your attic,” he assured you.

You looked down and slowly descended. As your feet met the carpet, you sighed and looked around at the boxes. You couldn’t remember a time Roy had ever offered to help with anything. If it wasn’t to do with his truck, he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

🚬

You were completely drained by the time you retired to your bedroom. You were still on edge, your exhaustion laced with anxiety as you unbuttoned your blouse. You sat on the side of the bed as you slowly undressed. It was still absurd to you that another person, barely more than a stranger, was living in your home. In your father’s house.

It changed your whole routine. You couldn’t help but go over it in your mind. That meant three plates, not two, for every meal, that meant the laundry basket would fill up quicker, than meant the shoes tracks in the front entrance would need to be mopped up more often. That mean you had to act like your marriage was truly happy.

You pulled on your night gown, the short sleeves tickled your upper arms as you dropped your clothes in the wicker basket on your chest of drawers. A framed photo of your parents’ wedding day sat beside it and on the shelf beside the door, was your own wedding portrait.

Three years wasn’t so long but it felt an eternity. You couldn’t quite recall when Roy had changed. When the beer had started to taint his kisses and his words. When all pretense fell away and only the man remained. The brutish country boy with the churlish demeanour.

Maybe the first day of your marriage. Maybe. You were so nervous on your wedding night that it angered him. You’d mend your dress one day, hopefully when you had a daughter of your own so you had something to promise her. 

Or maybe a week after the wedding, when you broke the vase gifted to you upon your nuptials and it shattered across the floor. Roy’s booming voice and his boulder-like fists.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, a month in when the world went black with his hand on your throat and you awoke alone on the kitchen floor.

Maybe a year when your finger was dislocated by a slammed door. Maybe the next year when you couldn’t sit for the pain in your hips. Maybe the one after when he’d grown impatient for a child only to find your sheets soaked in blood. 

Maybe it had always been there, from the first date, but you’d simply refused to accept it. Not you. Not Roy. You loved him and he loved you, didn’t he?

The door slammed and shook you from your sombre recollections. You looked up as Roy stumbled in. He snickered darkly as your eyes met his and his legs wobbled beneath him drunkenly.

You slid off the bed and turned to plant your elbows on the mattress. A prayer before bed, as your grandmother had taught you. Another sarcastic chuckle aimed in your direction as Roy’s stained white tee missed the basket.

“On your knees for me already,” he sat beside your elbow as he unbuckled his belt.

You couldn’t focus on your inner recitation. You could smell the alcohol on him, the stench of oil and his sweat. You clutched your hands together and cleared your throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked calmly.

He frowned and stood to shove his pants past his knees. He kicked the jeans away and fell heavily back to the bed.

“Call you?” He sneered.

“To let me know about our guest?” You wondered innocently. “I could’ve readied for him better.”

“Workin’,” he growled. “I don’t got time to be callin’ you with my head under an engine. Fuckin’ Christ.”

“There isn’t a bed in the attic.” You said.

“So. Arv’s small enough. I’ve seen him sleep on a stool.” Roy spat. 

You hid your chagrin behind your hands as you pressed them to your lips.

“Why’d you bring him?”

Roy’s nostrils flared and a fist formed atop his hairy thigh. “I gotta explain to you?” He snapped. “He paid me outright and he been sleepin’ at the motel since he started.”

“Mr. Dace has a room--”

“Mr. Dace lives twice as far as we do. I did the kid a favour. He saved my ass his first day.” Roy stomped his foot. “Woulda burned down the whole garage if he hadn’t caught that leak.”

“Kid? He that young?”

“Couple years younger than you, I s’pose, maybe less,” Roy rubbed his cheeks and shook his head, “What’s it matter to you?”

“Curious,” you said quietly and closed your eyes as you rested your chin on your knuckles.

Roy was quiet. He let out a long, thick breath and the bed jolted beneath your arms.

“You finished bleeding?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’m praying, Roy,” you insisted.

“How long’s it take you? I’m sure God’s heard it all before.”

“Don’t talk like that, R--”

You squeaked as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arms away. He rose and lifted you with him. Always a strong man, he moved you like a puppet to his will. He took your other wrist and pulled you against him.

“You know, I don’t even care if you’re bleeding.” He turned you and shoved you onto the bed. You cried out as you bounced so hard you bit your tongue.

“Roy, please, I’m tired,” you stared up at him fearfully as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You could taste blood.

“You’re my wife. You do your duty.” He pushed his underwear down as his cock twitched. “You got energy to wash all them clothes, you can lay on your back for your husband.”

“Roy--”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “We got company. I don’t need ya keepin’ him up with your whining.”

You closed your eyes as he fell onto you. He crushed you beneath him as he tugged your skirt up harshly. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and you braced yourself for his painful intrusion. Even so long into the marriage, you had never grown used to his touch.

He retracted his hand and began to touch himself. He stroked his cock as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. Come on.” He moved his hand quicker and rubbed his soft tip against your folds. “Open up.” 

He forced his dick against your entrance and tried to push inside. He was still half-flaccid and struggled to get further than an inch. You balled your hands and sank your head into the mattress as he thrust. He fell out of you, softer than before.

You opened your eyes sat up on his knees and looked down at his limp dick. He gritted his teeth as you watched him.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he punched your stomach as hard as he could and you wheezed as you folded in on yourself. “Can’t even keep me hard.”

“Roy--” You hissed. “I’m s--”

“One more word and you’ll be real sorry.” He pushed himself from between your legs, making certain to pinch you as he did.

He stood and turned. You barely moved out of the way before he sprawled over his side of the mattress. You held your stomach, a painful pressure lodge there, and rolled to the edge of the bed. You reached over and pulled the chain on the lamp. 

As you laid back, Roy caught the back of your neck and kept you in a painful limbo.

“On the floor,” he jarred your neck as he tried to throw you off the bed. “Like the dog you are.”

You slid off the side and landed sharply on your knees. You stifled a shameful sob and lowered yourself down onto your side. You bent your knees and cushioned your head on one arm. You stared into the void beneath the bed as the frame groaned beneath Roy’s heavy body.

“Goddamn bitch,” he uttered groggily. “Fuckin’--”

His words turned to snores as he finally drowned in his bellyful of beer. You listened to his jagged, drunken breaths as you shivered on the cold wood. You closed your eyes and recalled the first night you’d slept on the floor. You’d been in much poorer shape and it had been the dead of winter.

At least, you didn’t have to sleep next to him.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #the devil all the time #of something beautiful but annihilating