#and the siding is an eyesore up close

[cultivating-wildflowers]

this month is really making me feel like a homeowner in the most mundanely stressful ways

I have to replace my toilet because it's falling apart, but it's so old that we have to find one that will fit, and then we have to adjust the connections (thankfully my dad knows how to do this)

my parents are getting a new washing machine so I will be inheriting theirs (this is how I got my stove)

the friends selling my parents their washing machine are also getting rid of their dryer, so I get a lightly-used dryer for cheap (the sensor on mine died so I can only use the time setting)

my mother is once again critiquing my house's siding (it's wood. and we painted it in the middle of a cold snap in March four years ago before I even bought the house so the inspector would quit pitching a fit)

she also has big plans for re-configuring my driveway

and she wants to know when the township will finally fill the hole in the off-street parking area (it now has its own biome)

my dad may be swapping my lawnmower with his so I can quit getting mildly zapped every time I turn mine off via pulling the spark plug (I mowed on Sunday. it ran out of gas with three passes left. my lawn looks so stupid but we're under a flood watch and I will not be mowing until...later)

thankfully the water heater, furnace, windows, and roof are all quite new and/or in working condition!

[ba9go]

bakugou katsuki finds you annoying (he can’t stop thinking about you) pt. 1

sort-of enemies to lovers with bakugou katsuki <3

read part 2 💥 part 3 (nsfw)

from the very moment you walked into the 1-a classroom, you set off a ticking time bomb in bakugou katsuki. he hated your guts.

it was early in the morning, with about 20 minutes till class started. bakugou was seated in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, when all of a sudden he hears this agitating, grating voice.

his eyes snapped open and flicked to the source of the sudden noise.

you.

you stood in the doorway, bowing and apologising refusely to fucking icyhot for running into him. bakugou took one look at your stature next to todoroki’s and huffed. ‘idiot walks into a wall and apologises. what a dimwit.’

bakugou watches as todoroki awkwardly but earnestly bows back at you with a murmured apology of his own. you pause mid-bow to shake your head, “no, no, no, this was entirely my fault!” and bakugou thinks he can feel his temple twitch when you start laughing. “god, i’m sorry, we just look so stupid right now!”

‘damn right you do, fucking morons.’ bakugou tears his gaze away from your bright smiling face and spams the volume-up button on his phone until ears (jirou) can actually overhear travis scott from his earphones and flinches beside him.

bakugou closes his eyes and sighs through his nostrils. it’s way too fucking early for this.

later that day, aizawa-sensei announces that you’d be joining class 1-a as u.a.’s newest transfer student, and invites you to introduce yourself in front of the class.

you stood beside aizawa and introduce yourself with yet another beaming smile. your bright eyes roam around the classroom from face to face as you address your new classmates, until they land on bakugou, who narrows his eyes and glares at you.

bakugou feels a strange sense of satisfaction, watching you stutter mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re such an idiot, but then your eyes quickly dart away to look elsewhere and bakugou is somehow even more pissed off by you.

so he grinds his teeth and tears his gaze away from you once more to look out the window.

the rest of the week goes smoothly for you as you quickly befriended the class. with the exception of one, everyone seemed friendly and warm and genuinely interested to get to know more about you and your quirk. likewise, you were just as curious and enthusiastic about getting to know your classmates. with the exception of one.

you ignored bakugou like the plague — just as he’d wanted, bakugou thinks. you’re an eyesore, the way you’re all smiley and giggly, all of the damn time. bakugou hates it, hates the look in your eyes, like you’re so damn happy and you’re somehow just always having the time of your damn life.

‘just another fucking weakling who won’t last.’

it doesn’t take bakugou a long time to realise that his judgement of you was entirely off. you were in fact, not a weakling. you were strong, and you proved it every single time, putting your all in every training and going above and beyond with your hand stretched out to anyone who needed it, all the while with that damn smile on your face.

one training, bakugou busted one of his gauntlets. he had expected it, had already sensed that something was off when he was gearing up before training. he cursed under his breath and went to remove it, when you suddenly spawned by his side and scared the living shit out of him.

not that he’d ever admit it, but hearing your voice was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“hey, um, do you need help with that?” you asked, and bakugou freezed as you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. “your gear, i mean.”

“hah?” bakugou flares up instinctively. it’s his default response to being approached, after all. “the fuck do you know about fixing jackshit?”

“oh, um, i tinker with a bunch of random stuff sometimes, so i figured maybe i could—”

“like hell i’m gonna let some idiot like you tinker with my shit,” bakugou sneers at you, and you flinch but you don’t take a step back. “find somethin’ else ta do if yer bored, sunshine.”

“sunshine— what—” you genuinely look a little concerned and even a little offended as you guffaw over bakugou’s words. “my quirk has nothing to do with sunshine!”

“hah?! ya think i’m stupid or some shit?! ‘course i know that it’s got shit to do with the sun, moron!”

“then why in the world would you call me that?!”

“i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want, shitface!”

then, class prez tenya iida dashes to break up the “fight”. “YOU TWO!!! BAKUGOU ESPECIALLY, CEASE YOUR SQUABBLING THIS INSTANT!!! SUCH PROFANITY IS NOT BECOMING OF A FUTURE—”

later that evening, you find yourself seated on the couch watching alien: covenant in the common room with kirishima, kaminara, sero and mina. however, you’re not paying much attention to whatever that egomaniac david’s doing in the movie, you’re still dwelling on how horribly your first proper interaction with bakugou had gone.

“y/n, darling, would you please tell us what’s wrong? this is, like, the tenth time you’ve sighed, and i know david is not that hot,” mina nudges your arm with an elbow. kaminari squawks in defiance, crying out that “if david’s not hot, i’m toast!” and kirishima reassuring him that he’ll be just fine, because “david’s just not manly, man!”.

“yeah, it’s not david,” you sighed yet again, and mina facepalms so hard you wince. “sorry, it’s just, i’m still a little peeved by what happened during training today.”

“bakugou, huh?” kirishima shoots you a wry smile, nodding sympathetically. “don’t mind it too much, bakugou’s just always like that!”

“i know, i know, but why the fuck did he call me sunshine?” you groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving your face into it.

“holy shit, okay, guys, this must be really bad,” kaminari shoots up from his horrendous slouched position and grabs sero’s shoulders to shake him like it’s the end of the world. “y/n just swore, and bakugou is acting up! i mean, that doesn’t sound like bakugou at all!”

“okay, firstly, kaminari, i hate to break it to you, bud, but i swear. like, a lot,” you dropped the pillow in your lap. “secondly, what do you mean bakugou’s acting up? doesn’t he call everyone names all the time?”

“yeah, insultingly,” jirou walks by the common room and chimes in. she points at the earphone jacks dangling from her ears. “i’m “ears.””

“i’m pinky,” mina hums in agreement.

“soy-sauce face,” sero deadpans.

“dunceface!” kaminari high-fives sero.

“and bakugou calls me shitty hair,” kirishima completes with a sigh. “what did he call you again?”

“moron, sunshine, and shitface, i think?” an awkward silence falls over the room, and you frown. “what? what does that mean? does he, like, really hate the sun or something?”

“…not that i know of? but it sounds like, uh,” kirishima scratches his head and gives you another one of those wry smiles. “sounds like you don’t completely piss bakugou off.”

extras:

yes that was an abby miller reference

yes i have walked into a wall yes i apologised

i REALLY wanna watch alien romulus in cinemas soon PLS NO SPOILERS

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss

[lalunanymph]

TOAST TO CLICHES IN A DARK PAST

not even another man's ring on your finger can stop sylus from taking what's rightfully his

warnings: fem!reader, ex-boyfriend sylus, toxic!sylus, mean!sylus, reader is engaged 🤭, cheating, oral s/ex, unprotected s/ex, collars, possessiveness, blank and ageless blogs dni

dawn says: i wrote this with one hand can you tell.... ALSO surprise at the end wbjwhjdkf ;)

“Hey, it’s me.” You can almost picture the scowl on his perfect features. “Let me in.” If patience was a virtue, waiting for another moment must be his vice.

Another sharp rap on the door shatters your peaceful evening. 

“Y/N, I’m here for my things. Open the door.” 

You decide it’s either now or never to get this over with him. 

Standing from the couch, you muster the scariest scowl you can plaster on and answer the door. “I heard you for the first time.” 

Right at your threshold, a 6 feet 2 menace stands clad in his sweatpants and compression black shirt, biker jacket hanging from his tall frame, those vermillion eyes raking up and down your figure, suddenly making you feel too self-conscious. 

You’re in a pair of gray shorts and a tank top, nothing too fancy or scandalous, yet there’s a pressing heat behind his gaze which makes your skin flush like you’re presenting yourself before him in a risque piece of lingerie.

Your mouth curls around his name like it's a cud you can’t wait to spit out. “Sylus.”

He tips his head forward. “Y/N.”

The both of you don’t say a word, and you feel much too exposed. Anyone could pass by and see you speaking to him. The ring on your finger is heavy, and you subconsciously hide it behind your back, not wanting him to see it and comment.

“Nice rock.” Too late. Your scowl deepens and you huff a sigh. 

“You said you forgot your insurance file? That’s not like you.” The sneer that carves your face is nothing in comparison to his smirk.

“I’m here for it and nothing else,” he clarifies, sweeping his gaze over you as he sweeps past you. “Don’t you hope for anything else.”

“Wh—hey,” you trail after him, spluttering indignantly. It’s just like your ex-boyfriend to walk in and claim the space as his own; large build and larger than life personality swallowing all the air in your lungs and in this room. 

He plants his hands on his hips, surveying the newly decorated living room with cool distaste. “Looks like your plan to scrub me clean from your life worked, sweetie,” the nickname drips from his lips with condescension. “It’s so… clinical.”

He’s mocking you. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your hands clench to fists by your side.

“We love the combination of gray and white,” you say past gritted teeth. “The red-black abomination you had going on was an absolute eyesore.”

“Oh,” he flickers his gaze back to you, completely disinterested. “I see. I guess you didn’t just get engaged to some random schmuck to get back at me.”

The ring around your finger is heavy enough, tempting you to smash it through his mouth. You scoff. 

“You’ve never changed, Sylus. Always mean—always a loser.”

With a single word, you find yourself pushed against the wall, your ex towering over you. The smell of his rich leather and spiced cologne swims in your head, driving you dizzy. Heat engulfs you as his arms come up on either side of your head.

“You know how this works, sweetie,” his smooth, rich tone bathes you in that blessed timber, making a shiver crawl up your spine. “We fight, we break up. You text me, I come over and—”

He’s much too close. Too overwhelming. 

Sylus waits for you to finish his sentence.

“Come on now, kitten,” he purrs. “What is it we do whenever you come crawling back to me?” 

You refuse to answer him, despite the ache spreading right at your core. You huff and turn your face to the side, finding refuge from those searing darkened eyes.

“You can’t do this to me anymore, Sylus. I feel nothing for you.”

“Nothing, huh?” If there’s one thing your ex loves more than this toxic rollercoaster you want no part of anymore, it’s the challenge of getting you back on it. 

“I’m engaged,” you emphasize, a sinking realization of this mistake washing over you. You should’ve never allowed him to come back. 

“This flimsy thing?” He plucks your left hand from your side, a sneer curling on his mouth. “Two weeks. You thought you could replace me in just two weeks?”

“We were friends—”

“He can’t treat you like me.” With the bold declaration, Sylus grows more audacious. He bends his head forward, eyes close and chest rising—inhaling your sugary vanilla body wash straight from your neck. “Can’t put you in your place like I do, sweetie.”

Your eyes involuntarily flutter shut and Sylus takes this chance to pounce on your jugular. “Where’s my insurance file, sweetie? Do you know?”

Vaguely, you recall seeing it in your bedroom. “It’s in ou—my room.”

Sylus doesn’t comment on the slip up, corners of his lips twitching. “Well? What’re you waiting for? Go get it for me, sweetie.”

Your nostrils flare, anger coursing through you. Does this guy think you’re his maid or something? 

“Go get it yourself.”

With Sylus, everything is a game. A struggle for power. He snorts and turns his gaze to the expensive Rolex on his wrist. “When does he get off?” Your ex’s sneer deepens. 

Knowing who he’s talking about, you match his energy with an eye roll. “In a few hours—”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” 

Throughout this little bantering session, Sylus never once lost his cool; calm and teasing like the asshole he usually is. This time a flash of anger sears through his tone and you falter, the repressed heat inside you lifting its head to scent the sticky sweet danger clinging in the air.

Warning, the nerves in your body scream. Stay alert.

You shut the voice down, crossing your arms. “Or, what?” You try to mimic him with one brow raised. “What’re you going to do to me?” 

Sylus doesn’t immediately react. That’s why he’s a risk to deal with—one wrong move and you could go falling back into the wolf’s den. He bides his time, staring at the silver rings adorning his slender fingers, knuckles split and bruised from his love of violence in the ring.

“The sooner you get the file for me, the faster I will get out of your life,” he smoothly interjects. “Unless… you want me?” 

He stands up lightning fast, cornering you again with his staggering presence, making you take one step back. 

You touch your throat on instinct, and Sylus chuckles.

“What? Cat got your tongue, kitten?” The use of your favorite nickname sends a wave of heat rising inside of you, the flush warm and demanding on your cheeks. Sylus doesn’t reach out to touch you, but he doesn’t need to if he wants to turn you on. 

One look. A careless brush against the back of your thigh and you’re aching all over.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” A drop of sympathy colors the waters of his deception, and your shoulders loose their stiff edges, walls coming down a fraction. “No one can do those things to you… make you feel like that…”

He’s speaking in riddles and it’s successfully scrambling your mind.

“Sylus—”

“Turn around.” 

You inadvertently raise the stakes by shaking your head.

“What did you do, kitten?” His voice is smooth, but underneath, there’s a zing of livid distaste. Sylus never likes it when you defy him.

His jaw clenches, but he’s focused on the long game. Sylus hums. “Come on. We shouldn’t waste anymore time. Take me to your bedroom.”

The shivers wrack you tenfold and it’s borderline criminal to bring your ex back into the room where you laid with and fucked your fiance. Electricity crackles in the empty spaces, and you try your best to ignore the current sparking on your tongue. 

“Check under the bed,” Sylus suggests, doing nothing but stand by the wall, arms folded. Expecting you to pull the most weight.

You pause, sending him a look of indignation. “Why’re you ordering me around? You do it.”

Instead of adopting a look of contrition or remembering his manners like any normal person would, your psychopath of an ex shakes his head. He starts to shrug off his jacket; enjoys how wide your eyes become when he removes his shirt and tosses it to the ground.

“Sy—” you hiss, but he interrupts you with a raised brow. 

You turn mute, bunching your fingers together in front of you, a curious part of you wondering what he’ll do next—the depths of depravity he will drag you back into. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” He steps closer and closer, pushing you to the edge of the bed where you have nowhere to escape.

“I know you, sweetie. I can sense when you’re excited. I own you. You want this—you want me.” You drop your gaze, suddenly afraid of him looking into your eyes. Sylus tastes of your impending surrender right on the tip of his tongue. Call him a genius or a madman, but nobody can call him ignorant to his girl’s needs.

“I can give you what you want. What you’re craving for.” It’s too much—his presence, his voice, this smoldering heat. You feel like you’re going to combust. 

Without thinking straight, you press your hands flat on his pecs, trying to push him away, but all it does is make him grab your wrists, locking you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, velvety smooth with his threats. Your white-haired devil of an ex smirks at your wide eyes, and chuckles. 

“Come on, sweetie,” he leans in closer, gathers both your hands in one of his own and tilts your head up to face him. “Look at me—look at me. Come on. Give me a kiss.”

He coaxes you with a gentle nudge, but it’s enough to send a battering ram through your defenses. The tension—so thick that you can cut it with a knife—comes to a jolting deadend and you have no choice but to give in. 

You fold, parting your lips and Sylus goes in straight for the kill.

Hot kisses devour your soft moans, sending shudders all over your skin as goosebumps erupt everywhere; Sylus kisses you with bruising accuracy, hell bent on getting his revenge. 

No one dares to leave him unless he declares it, and you’ve committed the biggest sin out there by throwing away his love. 

He pries your lips apart, plundering his tongue to tap and caress the roof of your mouth, running the tip over your teeth and twining messily with your own tongue; reducing you to sporadic moans and twitches. Encased in his arms, you feel small and helpless, a prey who has fallen right into her beloved predator’s jaws.

“Come here, sweetie.” Sylus plops himself on the edge of the bed, and brings you right onto his lap. You’re woozy and lightheaded when he starts to paw at your shorts, dragging it down—exposing the sweet white cotton hiding his favorite pussy.

Sylus tugs your panties down unceremoniously, and you barely have time to steel yourself when he murmurs, “How dare you say no to me?” 

A heavy hand lands right on your right cheek, jolting you forward. Your cry is part ecstasy, part pain.

It rebounds around the room, echoing your betrayal when he sends another hard spank on your left cheek, following it up with the right one; white heat engulfs you all over and your ass is on fire. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “See, sweetie? You’re wet. You’re leaking alllll over my thigh.” He drags the words and your humiliation out, plunging two thick fingers and dragging them through your folds. Sylus dangles his drenched fingers right in front of you and chuckles.

Something hard pokes your lower belly when he shifts you into a seating position, tilting your face up. The look of hunger he wears unhinges the last of your restraints and this time, you’re the one who tugs him by his hair, smashing your mouth hungrily to his.

The wet smacks and muffled groans of lips on lips. Moans. Bodies on fire. You’re rubbing yourself all over him.

Get on your knees, he orders feverishly, grabbing your hair and pushing you down in between his legs. Suck my cock. Go on, kitten. Suck my cock and make me feel good—you know you want to.

You obey him—of course you do. 

You can never forget the taste of him when he hits your tongue, like musk and man, saturating flavor making your eyes roll back in your head. The dopamine kicks in and Sylus swears he sees little pink hearts right in your eyes when you take him down your entire throat. 

Who is more insane—the psycho, or the one who dares to love him? 

You’ve always been a little loose in the head, but this definitely takes the cake. 

How you’re willing to risk everything—your stable life, your safe home, your fiance’s love—all for a man who plays with you like you’re his favorite toy. 

For a man who will never tell you he loves you or wants to marry you. 

Like he’s reading your thoughts, Sylus gives a strained chuckle. 

“Stop thinking about him. Just focus on me.” 

His abs undulate under your palms, and he eyes the twinkling ring on your finger with distaste. 

One way or another, he’s going to get you to remove it for him someday. 

Until then, he knows the perfect counterpart to that asshole's claim on you.

“Stop.” He pulls you from his throbbing cock, a smidge of pride staining his ego when he sees your swollen lips and the ravenous look in your eye. “Go and get your collar, sweetie.” 

It’s a risk to bring up the one item you didn’t toss into his box of belongings. But, his gamble comes back as a win when your eyes sharpen with want.

“Yeah,” he feeds off your reactions, an incubus desperate for your light. “Yeah, you still have it, don’t you, kitten?” 

The answer is painfully obvious on your face. 

“Why don’t you go and grab it?”

You move with uncertainty, but this time, Sylus allows it. He lets you feel through your emotions, knows the erotic pulse of submission must be tearing you into shreds—warring with your desire to stay faithful to some poor cuck. 

Sylus knows all this because he knows you; knows what you love, what you hate. How you taste at different times of the day. Your favorite flowers, fast food order, your preferred poison on the weekend. The cadences of your breath when you fall asleep in his arms. What your shampoo smells like when it lingers on his sheets.

He is, after all, the best owner you could ask for.

And you’re still obviously, undoubtedly, and painfully in love with him.

Your throat bobs with a hard swallow, but you don’t defy him. He swats your ass with a cheeky spank when you stand and shuffle out of the room.

“Atta girl,” he praises once you come back with your collar in hand. It’s a little dusty, but the leather is still supple. 

Sylus runs his fingers over it, flickering his gaze to you. 

You’re kneeling right between his thighs, head bent, hair gathered in one hand to expose the back of your neck. Waiting for him to reclaim you. 

Sylus doesn’t take such submission lightly.

This collar—proof of his quiet yet powerful devotion and fondness for you—is more of a commitment than that stupid band around your finger could ever be.

It’s his promise to always look out for you. Care for you. Protect you.

Love you.

Though the words don’t dislodge from the grasps of his ego, Sylus has and always will love you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, dragging one finger down the nape of your neck. Your shudder makes an unwilling smile curve on his lips, and he snaps the leather collar around your throat, giving it a few good tugs to see how tight it is.

You turn and stretch towards him, planting a soft kiss on his lips as gratitude—a muscle reflex for the many times he’s collared you. 

Sylus deepens the kiss, running his hands through your hair and grabbing a fistful of it, directing you back towards his throbbing, leaky cock.

You lick at a clear bead of precum slipping down, flatten your tongue to run it over your favorite prominent vein. Sylus leans back against his forearms, watching his ex-lover pleasure him on another man’s bed. 

The band around his self-control is slipping, and he can’t hold back a low, drawn out groan when you suckle on the flushed, mushroom tip.

“That’s it,” he grunts, low and commanding. Such a pretty girl you are—make me feel good, kitten. You’re doing so, so well. 

His voice is an aphrodisiac in itself, making you flush hotly. Your core throbs with neglect as you pay full attention to sucking him off, putting his pleasure above yours.

Sylus isn’t stingy with his praises or affections: caressing your hair, patting your cheek, fingering your collar when you get more worked up over sucking him off.

You’re so messy it hurts. 

Drool dripping from the corners of your swollen lips. Precum smeared all over your cheeks. Eyes low and lustful—his personal wet dream came to life.

You’re halfway bobbing your head up and down his slick shaft when he stops you, gestures for you to come back up for air.

In a swift movement, he has you under him, legs tightly wound around his narrow waist; forearms roped with muscles on either side of your head. 

His red eyes bore into yours, watching your reactions with heated attention.

Your gasp as he rips your tank top off, kissing and suckling your plush tits and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until you feel positively ripe for the picking. 

He’s tempted to leave a mark on your neck, but you know him well enough too, and shake your head with a cute little teary, “N-no. Don’t.”

Sylus will let it slide—just this once. 

The warm expanse of your bare skin opens under his palms like the bright evening sky outside. 

He savors your hitched gasp that melts into a sultry groan once he stretches you out with his girthy tip. Another inch, another cry. 

Sylus falls right into your seduction and embrace, bottoming right to the hilt; his hips clip with yours, lips mere inches from your parted ones.

He devours you with hot, open mouth kisses. From your pouty lower lip to your curved cupid’s bow, he traces your mouth to memory with his own. You taste like home, he wants to tell you, but doesn’t. He’s never had a home to compare you to. 

Sylus the orphan. The vagabond. The corrupt. 

Molded deep in your body, he supposes this is the closest to a home he has.

Your fingers twine with his above your head, another hand tangled right in his frosty white hair. 

Languid rolls of his hips. Your own try to keep up—meeting him in the middle.

Say you’re mine, he growls. Say it, kitten. Say it and I’ll make you feel so good.

“Yours,” you hiccup, unable to peel your eyes off of him. 

I’m yours, Sylus. 

His thrusts send shocks of pleasure through your body, hitting the sensitive spots inside of you and making you flinch like he’s touching an open wound.

Over and over again. His mouth grazes yours. You don’t hesitate to swallow his kisses. 

You’re clinging to me like a vine, kitten. He nuzzles your hair, your neck. Smearing his lips all over your face.

His collar jingles around your neck, muffled metallic clicks mingling with the sloppy sounds of two bodies meeting again like the sea to the shore.

Your body runs hot, flushing and going taut under his own sturdy one. 

Unfurling like a flower, your release is about to wash over you like a crashing wave. He talks you through it, going yes baby come for me come for your owner I love you I owe you you’re mine forever come back to me I can make you so happy, sweetie.

You’re shuddering like someone’s run a voltage through you, holding onto him as tears gather in the corner of your eyes.

No, stop this—you can still stop this! Your mind screams but your body doesn’t listen.

Heat sparks at your fingertips, your world going hot white. 

His name tumbles from your lips, your body cramping and pulsing out his claim over you in shaking tremors; knowing exactly who it belongs to.

Fragments of your mind fall around this soft bed, and he gathers you into the tight seam of his embrace. His warmth comes next, filling you up, the walls shaking in your periphery. 

That’s it, kitten. He’s quivering, too, you notice, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. You belong to me.

He switches to his back, and you’re sprawled across his chest, breathing heavily. 

Sylus holds you like this for a long time until your rapid heartbeat steadies to the rhythm of his breath. He says nothing and you wonder what plagues his mind.

Though quiet and pondering, his fingers run up and down the curve of your spine, drawing random patterns.

The quiet and calm this lull brings could make you drift off, if it wasn’t for the fact that your fiance would be back anytime soon.

As if he reads your mind, Sylus helps you unsnap your collar, pushing the leather circlet into your hands. He doesn’t meet your gaze while he cleans you up, dressing you again to decency. 

His silence follows from the bedroom to the front door before he exhales a laugh, breaking the melancholic spell of this mistake.

“I forgot to take my file.”

It’s a thinly veiled excuse; another loophole presenting itself as a casual observation.

Those red eyes are soft when you meet them, and if you look closely, you might see them wavering slightly with hope. 

You curl your hand over the door handle, wondering if he can tell just how badly you’re trying not to tremble when you say:

“Come back tomorrow for it.”

Sylus’ broad shoulders relax and his smile is brittle with hope.

He doesn’t kiss you ‘goodbye’ though you can tell he’s thinking about it when he flickers those vermillion orbs to your mouth.

When he leaves—bike roaring down the driveway and out of your life again—you lean against the closed door, bucking into the sadness building inside of you like an explosion waiting to happen. 

Tears chase down your face, the ring on your left hand burning against your skin as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your wails.

You don’t know what strength possesses you but you stumble to the couch, curling yourself on the plush cushions as you try to erase how sweet his lips tasted on yours. 

Your collar was quickly chucked under the bed, though you can feel its siren call demanding for more.

Demanding for him.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying, coming back to your senses once you hear the door swinging open. 

The familiar footsteps which once gave you pure joy fills you with dread when he walks into the foyer, removing his coat and scarf to hang it up. His movements are methodical—clinical, as Sylus once said. 

That name sparks a wave of pain through your soul. You can't think of him—not right now.

You blink the tears away though it’s for naught when they wouldn’t stop welling in your puffy eyes.

Your fiance sighs deeply and you’re reminded of how stressed he’s been lately; saving lives and working late night shifts. 

He hums under his breath as he rounds the corner, taken aback by your intense stare. 

He breaks out into a smile which falls when he sees the watery look in your eyes; your runny nose and swollen lips.

“Darling?” Those emerald eyes waver when he notices your trembling lower lip. “Did something happen—?”

His name burns through your lips like it’s a forbidden curse because how dare you evoke him when you were just chanting some other man’s name a few hours ago?

“Zayne… I have to tell you something…”

— please don't ask for part 2 there won't be one lol reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <333

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate, take elements of my story and claim it for your own across other sites.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza’s 2nd Birthday: “The Cursed Moon Within His Merciless Arms” Chapter 1

MDNI. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

In these crazy days, it’s impossible to remember everything that occurs.

A week ago, a month ago, a year ago….I don’t think there are many who remember exactly what they were doing.

….But, everyone should be able to remember a piece of something that stood out to them.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so its’ brilliant face gradually changes.

If I could choose which part of each day I’d want to illuminate and etch it into my mind…..I’d illuminate it’s happiness.

That feeling becomes even stronger on the birthday of someone precious to me.

Kate: Mngh….

When I woke up in bed that morning, I saw Jude sleeping next to me, and I couldn’t help but melt.

I’d heard that he’d be busy at Raven company last night, and might be unable to come home….

I’m so happy he came back during the night and slept next to me.

(Today’s Jude’s birthday)

(I wanted to say “Happy Birthday” before anyone else, so I’m glad you came back.)

Jude: …..

Jude breathed peacefully in his sleep and showed no signs of waking.

(….He seems exhausted, I’ll let him sleep a bit longer.)

Careful not to make any noise, I started to sneak out of bed.

Despite that, Jude pulled me back from my waist and locked me in arms.

Kate: Jude….?

Jude: Cold.

Even with that limited explanation, it’s clear that he’s holding me back….

Kate: Do you want me to keep you warm?

Kate: Or maybe it’s just an excuse to cling to me?

I was so happy that Jude wanted me that I ended up teasing him without meaning to.

Kate: ….Oof!

Immediately, his arms squeezed me so tightly that my joints creaked, and I let out a groan.

身体が軋み “Shintai ga kishimi” = body creaks, changed to joints creaked

Jude: Must be half asleep for sayin’ such thin’s aintcha?

Kate: Ugh, that hurts…..! I just woke up, so please overlook my groggy comment….!

When I slapped Jude’s constricting arms as a sign of surrender, they finally loosened.

Jude: Woke up early this mornin’ hearin’ yer stupid comment.

Kate: …..It’s invigorating to wake up to the sound of your beloved’s voice. Good morning.

Kate: Oh, and Happy Birthday!

Jude: ….Yeah, thanks.

Jude replied disinterestedly as he sat up.

Kate: By the way, are you free today?

Even though I told him ahead of time that I wanted to spend his birthday together,

Jude has to pencil things into his schedule, so I asked him again.

Jude: Gotta business meetin.’ But….another employee can handle it.

Jude: I can take off work ‘n spend time with ya.

Jude: On the other hand -

Jude grabbed chin and pierced me with his provocative amethyst eyes.

Jude: — Can ya satisfy me ‘nough for the whole day, princess?

Kate: ….That’s what I plan to do!

After a light breakfast at a restaurant, we headed into town.

On his first birthday since becoming Jude’s girlfriend, my heart brimmed with excitement and my steps felt light.

However, the happy feeling was brief…..

Tanned Man: Where’d he go?! Jude Jazza!

Neurotic Looking Man: We have him cornered, he shouldn’t have gone far. You lot hurry up and find him!

Neurotic Looking Man: Don’t think you’ll get away…..I’ll kill you!

Although it was his precious birthday, we were hiding in the shadows of an alley.

Kate: ….Jude, who are they?

Jude: Buncha marine insurance guys runnin’ a shady business.

Jude: Even if an accident occurs, they’re known for not payin’ out, claimin’ it ain’t covered.

Jude: It was interferin’ with business ‘n an eyesore, so last month I dug up information ‘n sank ‘em.

Kate: And so that’s why they’ve got it out for you….

Kate: ….We could more or less escape. That house over there belongs to an older woman I was close to as postwoman.

I pointed to a house with a red roof on the other side of the wall.

Kate: I think if I ask, we can enter the back door and exit the front door onto the main street without be detected.

Jude: Then enterin’ the main road, we can blend into the crowd ‘n make a getaway.

Jude: ….What? Seems like ya wanna say somethin’ else.

(Naturally, Jude knows what I’m thinking.)

Kate: Even if we do get away, your enemies will likely target you again Jude….

Kate: The other option is to meet them head on.

I pulled up my skirt that I bought to wear specifically for Jude’s birthday.

A small gun was strapped to my thigh in it’s holster.

Kate: Don’t you think they should be held responsible for ruining your birthday?

Jude: Ha…such a dangerous woman.

Kate: The person I fell in love with is dangerous.

At my retort, Jude’s lips curled with amusement.

Jude: ….Oh yeah. Well then, whatcha gonna show me?

[Story Master List] [Chapter 2] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely

[shy-writer-999]

Pretty Scars

Summary: Reader is tipsy at a bar with Zoro and compliments his scar. He’s caught off guard and can’t help himself. G/N language. SFW oneshot. 1.9k words. CW: Kissing and alcohol consumption. will edit more later~~

Zoro always said he thought his scars are ugly—he’s not beating himself up necessarily, just stating (what he thought was) a fact. He thought that they were objectively ugly, especially the one over his eye. It was ropey, relatively colorless, but if you looked at it in a certain light it was little purple, and light gray.

When Zoro has said his scars are ugly, no one bats an eye or really cares. They know Zoro isn’t fishing for compliments, and he rarely comments on his own appearance unless Sanji baits him into it. “Mosshead, you’re looking extra fucked today.” Zoro would wave a hand and roll his eyes. “Can it, you shit cook. I look better than you on your best day.”

When Zoro remarked that his eye scar is ugly and you’re around to hear it for the first time, you were at a noisy bar. It was busy and loud; people were packed in like sardines. It smelled like cigarettes, liquor, and sweat. The rest of the crew was off doing God knows what. You and Zoro were standing side by side at the bar, having a drink. The crowd pushed you closer together, almost uncomfortably close.

Some random old man staggered over to Zoro in the middle of your conversation and tugged on his arm. You could see Zoro reaching for one of his swords, hand poised in case he needed it, always wary. The guy started rambling and slurring his words, obviously hammered, spouting something nonsensical along the lines of “hey, man, those scars are gnarly! When I was a young boy, I got a scar from a fish latching onto my—” Zoro raised an eyebrow and told him to fuck off. When the old geezer stumbled away, Zoro turned to you and rolled his eye.

“Gnarly, my ass. The one over my eye is just plain ugly. Maybe I should get an eyepatch so idiots like that will start leaving me alone.” His sardonic tone was so typical for him.

Your head snapped to him, eyes flashing. “What did you just say?”

“I said my eye scar is ugly. It’s an eyesore, get it?” He was drunk, making a joke.

However, your tone was serious and earnest. “Zoro, no it isn’t.”

“Please, don’t flatter me.” He rolled his eye again and took another swig.

“I’m being serious, Zoro. It’s not ugly. Don’t say that about yourself!” Zoro paused, perturbed by your sincerity. Were you trying to compliment him?

He shrugged and looked away. “Okay, if you say so.”

You studied him for a moment. “I think your eye scar is pretty.” Had he heard you right? The bar was loud, after all. There was no way you said the word ‘pretty.’

“What?” Zoro raised his voice above the noise, leaning closer to you.  

“I said it’s pretty,” you responded, practically shouting into his ear. The bar was getting rowdier, people were singing, and you could hear shouting in the background, probably a bar fight.

“Oh.” He had heard you right. His heart skipped a beat and something inside of him twisted a bit. He’d never been called pretty a day in his life. “Are you fucking with me?” He laughed, pretending like you calling his scar ‘pretty’ didn’t just stir something inside of his core. Part of him thought that was a ridiculous joke, and the other part of him wondered whether or not you were telling the truth. Did you actually think his scar was pretty?

“Really, Zoro, it’s pretty. I think it’s special.” Your eyes met his with a smile. Something about those sweet words coming out of your mouth made him dumbfounded. Blush started to creep up his neck and flush his cheeks.

“Oh. Thanks, I guess. Never heard that one before.” Zoro was sarcastic and feigned a laugh, pretending to be unbothered. He looked away and took another swig, trying to cover up how weird that just made him feel. He wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or your proximity, but he had the overwhelming urge to pull you into a kiss.

Zoro had been pining after you for months at this point, but he was in denial. He just so happened to savor any time around you, he always found a way to sit close to you at dinner or find the spot next to you at the bar. But you were his crewmate, Sanji obviously had the hots for you, and you smiled like that at everyone. He wouldn’t let himself dream of it.

He rationalized it—you were a friend, you were pretty, you were in close proximity to him, and all of these things combined together made him feel like he had a crush, but he didn’t really have one. You were just a pretty friend who was close to him all the time and who he liked arduously more and more each day. No biggie. No cause for alarm. Everything was normal and fine.

“No one’s ever said that to you before?” You asked. You were always forthcoming with your affection for him, you smiled at him more than anybody else and treasured any time you spent with him. But the past few months made you resigned—you knew you never had a chance. You could physically feel that you weren’t on Zoro’s radar. He just wasn’t interested in you, and that was okay. It’s something that you had come to accept. And accepting that fact made you all the more forthcoming. You didn’t have anything to worry about, because you were friends and friends only. His behavior towards you for months was evidence of that. You had lost track of how many times you tried to flirt with him, how many times you had let your skin contact linger, how many times you felt lovesick, and how many times you had cried over the fact that your feelings were obviously not reciprocated.

So, you weren’t afraid to be blunt with him. He wouldn’t care.

“I can’t believe that no one has ever said that to you!” You shouted, and someone mistakenly pushed an elbow into your back, moving you closer to Zoro. You were practically chest to chest. “You’re gorgeous, Zoro. That’s crazy talk.” Your eyes locked, and you were the closest you had ever been to him.

His heart stopped again. He couldn’t take it. You were so close, he could see each eyelash, each fleck of color in your irises, the gentle lines of your cupid’s bow, your lips curling into a smile. You smelled great, to top it off.

You were too kind to him. Too sweet. He blushed crimson and chuckled again, brushing off your compliment. “Thanks. That’s sweet.” You smiled at him and his heart twisted again. You were so close to him. Fuck. He couldn’t tell if you were flirting with him or not. Might as well repay the favor.

“You know, I could say the same about you.” He replied, smirking, drunk and unaware of the effect of his words on you. “You’re gorgeous. But you already know that, the shit cook drools over you 24/7.”

Before you had a chance to process what he said, someone pushed into Zoro’s back, practically slamming him into you. He grabbed your waist to steady you and saved you both from toppling over.

It was like one of those moments in a movie or fairytale—prince charming gazes into his love interest's eyes and they kiss. Except the kiss didn’t happen, and you stared into Zoro’s eyes for a good five seconds, his face centimeters away from yours.

He looked at you, his gaze darted to your lips for a second, and then returned back to your eyes. You both held your breath for a moment before Zoro rapidly straightened you both upright and let go of your waist. There’s no denying that was a romantic moment. You both felt it, regardless of your reservations about the nature of your relationship with each other.

Zoro broke the awkward silence, “Damn, this place is a wreck right now. Let’s get out of here.”

You shouldered and shoved your way through the raucous crowd and finally made it out the door. It was cool and dark out, a nice night, one of those cooler ones towards the end of the summer, ones that everyone looks forward to.

There were a few benches in front of the bar, some people mingling, people smoking cigarettes and talking. You and Zoro sat down on one of the benches, almost out of breath. A beat passed.

“So, where were we?” Zoro’s tone was puzzled, over-exaggerated. The liquid courage was doing its job splendidly. He was tickled with the night so far—you had complimented him and he got to ‘save’ you from falling. “Ohhh, yeah. I said you’re gorgeous.”

Zoro looked at you. Now he was being purposefully blunt. He couldn't hold it back anymore. You were so close to him. He was enamored with you. He was brazen, at a point where he didn’t care how the night went. He just wanted you to know that he thought you were gorgeous. And he was drunk.

You laughed. “Zoro, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? And who’s to say I’m not?”

Your heart did a flip and your mouth went dry. “Well… I guess I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

This was the first time you ever felt like Zoro was returning the flirt. Usually, you just flirted with him blindly, candidly, to no avail. But something about tonight was different—when you gave Zoro that compliment on his scar it made him realize that you paid attention to him. Not just attention to him like a crewmate but real attention, you had been sincere. Something was there, some spark that he couldn’t quite place.

“Is that so?” He asked. “I guess I gotta to be bolder next time.”

“Next time you flirt with me?” Your cheeks flushed and you were hyperaware of his presence. Your knees were touching.

Zoro leaned in. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the rosy tint of his cheeks. He was so, so handsome. Your heartbeat was through the roof. Things escalated fast, and he leaned in farther.

Your lips met and the kiss felt electric, on fire, other-worldly. His hand reached up to tangle in your hair. His lips and tongue tasted sweet, slightly alcoholic, warm, and needy. You were blushing so hard you felt like you would pass out.

“Fuck, your lips are soft.” He pulled away from you and held your face close to his. “We should do this more often.”

--

thanks for reading, i hope u liked it ( ´ ω ` ) masterlist here

[dearly-somber]

I Like Me Better | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, mutual pining, f2l, fluff, domestic fluff, eventual romance, eventual smut

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1066

-> warnings. None!!

-> a/n. This. This is so… 💔 I love them 💔

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. March 22nd, 2023 @ 22:15

-> fin. Sat., Jul. 6th, 2024 @ 02:05

-> edited. Wed., Jul. 10th, 2024 @ 21:34

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

You tap the end of your pen against your lips, brows furrowed and lips pursed as you contemplate what to write.

Her eyes spring to life in light of her realization that, actually, she loves him.

She loves him.

Okay.

Now what?

You sigh loudly, dropping the pen to hide your face in your hands and stare at the sentence like it’ll magically unstuck your brain.

Just as you’re about to restart for what feels like the hundredth time, a loud thud draws your attention away from your eyesore of a story to your front door.

Another thud, this time accompanied by an all too familiar drunken groan.

You loudly squeak off your island-chair, leaving your notebook open for later as you speed-walk to your front door with a growing frown. Surely not…

You open the door and can’t help the way your mouth parts in surprise: Jungkook is leaning his forehead against the doorframe, his hair disheveled and eyes closed as his body sways gently from side to side.

“Jungkook,” you say, looking him up and down with a clear look of disapproval (even though he doesn’t actually look that sloshed). “How much have you had to drink?”

Jungkook pries his eyes open and blinks a couple times as a drowsy smile forms on his lips, his eyes turning up at the corners the wider his smile gets. “Bunnyyy~”

“Wait, JungkaCK—!”

You stumble back with a little oof as Jungkook trips over the threshold and into your arms, his hands on your hips to hold himself up and his face hidden in the crook of your neck. He hums appreciatively, your skin tingling at the sensation as he holds you tighter and buries his nose deeper into your neck, a low whine rumbling in his throat.

“Kook-ah,” you reprimand softly, petting his hair while you soothingly pat the small of his back with your free hand.

He whines again like he knows you have questions and is saying not right now, please.

You sigh against his shoulder with a tiny, disapproving shake of your head, giving in without really thinking about it. You pat his back and whisper assurances when he gets loud after you pull away to close the door, gently shushing him when he starts drunkenly complaining that you’re “pushing him away” and “hurting his feelings.”

Getting him to your bedroom is a mission in and of itself.

“Why~” he keeps loudly whining, keeping his feet steadfastly planted right where they are instead of just following you like the lost puppy he normally is.

“Jungkook, please,” you fake-cry, pulling on his arm like a toddler trying to drag her unwilling mother into a toy store. “I’m trying to help you,” you plead.

“Yeah, ‘n then you’re gonna leave,” he complains childishly, his words slurring together as those big brown eyes of his sparkle because of the shitty fluorescent lamp hanging off the ceiling.

“Leave where?” you laugh. “I live here.”

“You have work,” he mumbles, finally taking a step toward you, but only to possessively slide his hands around your waist so he can pull you closer.

“Why?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and subconsciously leaning your head back so Jungkook can slot his face into your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. “You want me to get a bad grade?”

There’s a long pause before he pouts an answer against your neck. “No…”

“There we go,” you mutter, sliding your hands around the back of Jungkook’s neck to gently scratch the exposed skin, chuckling when he shivers appreciatively against you. “I tell you what—“

You pull away from him to hold his face, swiping your thumbs over his cheekbones and smiling dumbly when his eyes flutter shut. “How about I stay with you until you fall asleep, hm? That sound good, Wolfie?”

Jungkook audibly hums into your palm, finally letting you guide him to your room and only kind of complaining when you get him comfortable under the covers.

You sit on the edge of the bed and smile softly when he grabs your hand and holds it on top of his chest, his eyes fluttering closed right as his breathing evens out.

You have no idea why Jungkook was drinking, or how he ended up at your apartment instead of the pack house, but you find your stomach-resident butterflies fluttering about anyway. He got drunk and his first thought was to come to you?

Just thinking about it makes your heart race!

You slip your hand out from under his as smoothly as you can, grabbing your phone from off the bedside table. You shake your head with a fond smile at the string of drunken messages Jungkook sent you before getting here, swiping past them to your shared group chat with Jungkook and the rest of the pack.

JK’s with me !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

He’s drunk and a little clingy, but he’s safe~ (─‿─)

You smile at the string of heart messages that follow, setting your phone back down and turning to look at Jungkook.

He’s laying with his head turned away from you, one hand still on his chest and the other spread out beside him. His lips are very slightly parted and his hair’s a little ruffled from when he was getting comfy earlier, his perfectly long lashes brushing over his cheeks as he breathes in softly though his mouth.

You smile, your heart growing ten times fonder at the soft little snores leaving his lips every time his chest rises and falls, so peaceful and soft that your heart melts into a puddle of Y/N-shaped goo.

It’s in this moment you come to the realization you’re in love with your best friend.

You’re in love with Jeon Jungkook.

“Huh.”

You watch his face twitch in his sleep and think, how didn’t I realize sooner?

You ache to join him and explore these newly realized feelings of yours via some not-so-platonic-anymore cuddling, but it’s late—and you have a very important assignment waiting for you to in the kitchen—so you settle for something you hope will calm the unbearable warmth in your belly.

You lean down to place a soft kiss on Jungkook’s head, taking a moment to smell his hair (coconut) and appreciate your closeness before forcing yourself to step away.

When you sit back down to finish writing, the words flow like water.

<- prev | next ->

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (4) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions and allusions of trafficking and sexualization of reader/finnick by capitol, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions of past break up, allusions to death/violence, playful banter, no use of y/n, UNEDITED, me trying to write peeta, trauma, allusions to mental illness, survivors guilt

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The couch in all its neon greeness had been the same over the last 6 years. With the same garishly neon blue pillows in obnoxious shapes and as you stared at it it brought back when you and Conway had anxiously sat on it. When you began nervously sucking up to him, playing his sensitive side.

“I'm worried about you." Finnick popped a grape into his mouth as he sat on one of the velvety seats at the table. Honesty was his new approach, to tell you exactly what he was thinking especially if it was about you to force you to do the same. You were only a couple hours into the morning and this was evident.

“Why, Finnick?" You sighed, not in annoyance, well maybe a little bit in annoyance, but mostly the sigh had been one of love.

“I know we've both been back before, but not as tributes. You're going to start thinking about your games again as we go through the same steps. I'm worried you won't stay grounded."

“Yeah, well, I have you and as long as I can be in your arms I'll be okay."

He nodded observing you carefully, to make sure you weren't repressing anything deep within you, but he seemed satisfied for now. “It's not just you, I'm sure we're all going to be thinking a lot about the first time we were in this position." Finnick shrugged, grabbing another handful of grapes.

“Are you gonna be able to stay grounded?" You asked, putting down the knife you were using to butter your toast.

"I've managed this long.” He smirked, leaning forward, "Plus I've got you, angel.” 

You rolled your eyes,"You're so cheesy.”

"What? So it's cheesy when I do it, but not when you do it?”

"Exactly.” You laughed. "Second day of married life and you're already catching on!”

"I'm a fast learner.” He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

The door opened and in came your escort. “Good morning, you two! Glad to see you've broken no more glasses, Finnick." She tutted, her dress was an eyesore to look at. You loved color, but her clashing bright ones made your head hurt.

“Nope, I've remembered my manners, Koalema.” 

"Well that's good! Oh look, we're so close to arrival.” She kept babbling about something probably nonsensical. Koalema, why had you never been able to recall that name? You felt bad for not remembering, but it was so hard when she was flurry of chaos and overstimulation. 

Finnick stood up and held his hand out for you, “Well here we go, angel. Be ready to put on that beloved smile and have those tears ready to spill. They love that about you." You took his hand and pulled yourself out of your seat.

“You don't need any instruction from me, always the charmer."

“Yeah, well I've had longer." The two of you prepared to greet the vultures waiting to eat up upon arrival. Standing in front of the window, hands tightly clasped together ready to gracefully swoop up your audience in their desired fantasy for the final time. 

To smile at the people who had taken everything from you and completely controlled every aspect in your life. How people saw you, your relationship with Finnick, your relationship with yourself and your body, anything that you could think of they had somehow pulled strings in it. All of your life was under their thumb and you realized the lengths you would go to stop that, what would life be like when all you had left was memories that never needed to be reopened?

              𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It was beautiful. There was more food than you'd ever be able to eat and not a single scent of the salty seafood you were used to. Bright colors etched into your brain and everything was so modern, so clean. You had no idea what you'd expected, but it blew you away.

“This is where you two will be staying on our way to the Capitol! Isn't it beautiful? No expense has been spared, District 4 has a pretty good reputation of course and we'd like to keep that! So be in awe, but not so much that you forget about that." The garish woman said so cheerfully you were convinced you misheard her.

“No we wouldn't want that." Conway muttered and the woman gave him a sharp smile.

“Make yourselves at home, I do believe the two of you are very lucky and get the one, the only Finnick Odair as one of your mentors this year. Let me check on that and possibly, Odine." Her heels clicked out the room which inexplicably opened just as she stood in front of it.

Home. You'd never see home again, never swim in the comfort of its waters, see your family, lay in the warm sand. Yes, you would if you could win this, but you couldn't. And Finnick, how were you supposed to think about strategy when he would be right there?

“Are you okay?" A soft hand landed on your shoulder and Conway's deep, brown eyes spoke as much comfort as they could for you. Of course you weren't okay, how could you be? But saying that wouldn't endear him into you, so you melted into his touch.

You shook your head, closing your eyes, and sniffling. “What about you? How was your family?" 

“Well at least I'm here with you and they'll be okay, at least they have each other too." Yes, at least you had someone you knew, yet also didn't that make it more difficult? He didn't ask about your family though, maybe if you kept a tally you'd feel less guilty by the end.

“Yeah, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have someone I trusted. I'm just so scared, Conway.” With that you'd erupted into tears and he pulled his arms around you. They weren't stiff, but weren't comforting, not that you really needed his comfort.

“It's okay, we've got each other."

You already hated yourself.

With that the automatic door slid open, but you didn't tear yourself away. You knew who it would be, but he wouldn't believe you if you jumped from him. So you slowly moved your hands to wipe your face and made your voice shake as you let out your sweetest, “Thank you."

He nodded eagerly, he didn't say of course but you could see it in his eyes. A warm, but brisk voice interrupted the moment. “Glad you've already decided to ally with each other, makes it much more difficult when the tributes won't talk to one another." Finnick’s honeycomb sweet voice finally drew your eyes to his.

“Yes, it's an easier angle to work with." A tall woman beside him agreed, you recognized her from the screens, Ondine Afron, she sounded more tired then you'd remembered.

“We’ll be your mentors, teaching you with our experience the best ways to survive, how to get sponsors, and whatever else could help." Finnick grabbed a sugar cube from the bowl by the teapot, examining it before tossing it into his mouth.

Yes and him being a mentor could throw a wrench in your plans. Conway had heard every bit of the emotional rollercoaster that had been Finnick Odair, how could you convince him you loved him instead when the man of all your affections was right there.

“Nice to meet you both." Conway said curtly, he let himself glare slightly at the other man. Usually you'd scold him for this, you weren't the type to want tension, but you needed him to trust you. So you leaned into his side, looking up at him as innocently as you could. Willingly him with every molecule to believe you and for Finnick to leave you alone enough to make your performance more outstanding.

Later that night when you'd wandered the train's halls in a nightgown with a softness like you'd never experienced before, you'd passed by Finnick who had nothing but praise for the plan we could tell you were hatching. Of course he could tell, he knew every morsel of your being. 

“You're so smart, angel, the way you came up with that in a matter of seconds. Being good on your feet like that could save you in the arena." He'd whispered, softly above the mechanical noises your brain had hyper fixated on since your arrival. 

“Don't call me that." You muttered.

He sighed, looking down, “I'm sorry. I'm just-"

“Yeah, I know."

“You know I'd do anything to keep you safe, even if I haven't always been able to tell you what and now I've failed, but here you are, I mean the way you manipulated your eyes like that was brilliant. The audience is going to be under your finger just keep doing what you're doing." Suddenly his hands were around yours, a movement so familiar it made you shudder.

“Finnick, please don't." You tugged your hands, half-heartedly, not really letting them escape his loose grip.

“I'm sorry, I know you don't understand why I hurt you, but it'll all make sense once you win this thing."

“Yeah, sure." You rolled your eyes, this was a tiring waltz between the two of you. Him claiming it was to protect you while you couldn't know from what, even now when you were on the brink of inevitable death.

“I promise." He stilled all his shifting and movements, sea green eyes boring so deeply into the depths of your heart there was no choice but to trust him. You couldn't help yourself and leaned in, delicately letting your lips graze his cheek.

“I have to go find his room. You know, do what I can." There was slight laughter behind your tone and Finnick nodded, softly smiling.

"My smart girl.” He muttered, glowing in the lamp light. I miss you, your brain screamed as you gazed at him, suddenly the tears you were trying to force up to sell your act were easier to conjure up. So you left him in the dim lights of the train car to convince Conway of how badly you needed his comfort now that you were away from home.

               𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Secret wedding is all anyone can talk about." Your designer, Cambrie, sounded like bright citrus, drinking orange juice for breakfast. “Especially those seaweed rings, so bolstering for my ideas to run their course!" She smiled, clearly full of anticipation for her idea to be revealed to you.

Truthfully you couldn't care less about it, you wanted to be back at Finnick's side. As the years passed being alone with people from the Capitol no matter who they were or what they intended nauseated you. “Oh come on, Cambrie, I'm going to die of anticipation!" You proclaimed with as much drama as you could, pouting.

"Oh you're adorable.” She clapped like you were some sort of performing dog and pinched your cheeks, actually pinched your cheeks. The infantilization made you want to retreat but that would never be an option. “Reignbaugh was going to go with a fishing net to look for Finnick to pay homage to the District of course, and similarly with you I was thinking to draw it together, but the seaweed combined to call back to the rings. Everyone will eat it up, and oh I have a lovely pearl headdress you are going to be stunning!” 

You gushed to her, but internally felt your stomach turn. This really meant she was going to try and show as much as you off as she could. Of course this turned out to be true. The outfit could have been beautiful if in reality it wasn't so dehumanizing. The seaweed running through the fishing net dress that adorned you barely covered your nipples and much of your body was clearly visible to those who stood close enough.

"And of course for the Capitol Princess.” Cambrie announced, placing her elegantly made crown, you had to admit it was beautiful. The way each pearl shined between the seaweed. Although you did think the seaweed usage was over the top, the choice of it for the rings hadn't really been significant, it was just there in a place you both loved. It was marketable though. Her and your other stylists had also gone to great effort to make your eyes look as watery as possible, even adding pearly effects to make it look like you were crying them. It was too all too much, but you oohh’d and awed which they adored you even more for. 

“Don't you look handsome." You remarked all too sarcastically as you approached Finnick and his bare chest. 

“Oh just smile and wave, angel, they're savoring the last time they'll see either of us like this.” It was lighthearted and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, but it did comfort you. Eventually your body would simply be yours again." There she is.” He whispered, your eyes followed him to her, Katniss Everdeen.

“Well you better go make your introduction then."

“Well ladies first." He gestured, expectantly.

“No, I don't think my first introduction should be like this." You pointed up and down the outfit. "You go, it'll seem perfectly on brand for you.”

Finnick nodded, you could tell he had more he wanted to say, to lecture on but there wasn't much time. You looked around the room, toying with the fishnet nervously before you heard someone call your name and looked in the direction.

"Didn't expect you to be the type with nerves.” A voice quickly caught your attention. Peeta Mellark.

"Only at the worst times.” You grimaced, shaking your head. 

Peeta smiled, "Well I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who gets them.” 

"Oh far from it, I bet you 75% of the people in here are trying not to throw up right now.” 

“Which one's are fine then?" He stood by you observing the occupants.

“While obviously it's neither of us, I'm thinking District 11 too many years in for either of them to be worrying."

“1 & 2?"

“Bingo!" You announced, tilting your head.

“Surprised you didn't say Katniss." He remarked.

"Surprised you didn't say Finnick.” You countered.

"The thrills of pretending to not be shaking.” He shook his head with a smirk.

"Masters of that game. In fact she looks like she might just kill him now.” You tried not to laugh at how Katniss looked at Finnick who you knew was trying desperately to work his charms.

"Well, I'd best go save him then.”

"Oh, yes it would only be mildly entertaining.”

"It was nice meeting you, considering the circumstances.” Peeta exuded kindness in a way you could only aspire too, it genuinely hurt your soul.

“Yes, a mind numbing extravaganza thrown here would have been much more enjoyable, as horrendous as that is to say." 

"I only ever attended one and just from that, I ever so gravely attest to that. I better go break the two up before she attacks.”

"Oh please do, can't have him squabbling already.” Peeta smiled and soon enough Finnick was stalking back your way.

"She'll come around.” He assured before you could even open your mouth as the two of you stepped into the carriage.

"I'm sure she will. Peeta and I could feel the tension from a room away.”

"Everybody likes me.”

"I'm sure talking like that is exactly why she doesn't.” You nudged him playfully.

"Oh shut up.” He rolled his eyes.

"That's no way to talk to your wife, Mr. Odair.” 

“I apologize, Mrs. Odair." He pulled you in for a kiss just as the carriage came into the bright sunlight, the screaming proved its effectiveness to you. It was sure to leave an impact on them when they looked back on the tribute parade. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all again for your continued reading and support, especially since I feel like this is so slow paced but there's so much I want to get in there. if you enjoyed feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated, as always my inbox is wide open for any thoughts y'all have! so excited for getting into the training parts and some rebellion planning in the next part. love y'all so much, thank you again 💕💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Paring: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

1.03

Hearing a soft knock on your door, you sit up slightly dazed. It takes you a minute to focus on the handmaid now standing at the foot of your bed. Her gaze was firmly locked on the direwolf snarling at her. You stroked behind Storm's ears, calming him. Many at court criticized and judged you for allowing your daughter and her wolf to sleep in your chambers, but you ignored their comments and allowed it. Since the handmaid in front of you served the high towers, you presumed she would have been aware of this.

“Is something wrong?”

“Forgive me for waking you, princess, but Ser Gwayne has asked for you to join him in his chambers immediately.”

Her words left a sour taste in your mouth. After consummating the marriage, the maesters had worked out the days you were most fertile, and those were the only nights deemed necessary for you to perform your duty. In the three moons you’d been married, Ser Gwayne had never been cruel towards you; he just wasn’t interested in speaking with you unless necessary.

“What knight is stationed outside my quarters?”

“Ser Thomson.”

“I haven’t heard of a knight with his name before.”

“I believe he only joined the king's guard yesterday, princess.”

Quietly, you get out of bed and consider your different options. Meera was in a deep sleep and would be unaware of your absence. You could refuse to go, but would it be worth giving Alicent and Otto more ammunition to tarnish your name with? The hour was late, and you will most likely be gone until the sunrise. You had only just excused your sworn shield for the night, but you didn’t like the idea of leaving your daughter in your chambers with a knight you did not know guarding her.

“Thank you. Ser Thomas can retire for the night, and Ser Criston can resume.”

She clears her throat. “And Ser Gwayne?”

“My husband can wait. I won’t be leaving until my sworn shield is here.”

She nods and goes to pass the message of the changing of the knights on. Walking to the opposite side of your room, you slide the nightdress off and replace it with a simple red-fitted dress. It might have been nighttime, but you wouldn’t be caught wondering why the castle was half-dressed. Once you finish changing, rebrand your hair.

Little time passed before the knights changed over. When you open the door to leave, you’re surprised to see how panicked Ser Criston is. He starts checking you over for any injuries. “Princess, has something happened?”

You step out of the room and close the door behind you. “No, nothing. Forgive me for asking you to come at this hour. I’ve been asked to join my husband, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving Meera.“

“You don’t need to explain,” he says softly. “The handmaid who came to my door didn’t explain why you called for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

The knight straightens his posture and says, “I’m sworn to protect the king and his family, which includes his granddaughter.”

“Thank you. Nobody aside from yourself, Raya, or my sister is to enter my apartment.”

—

A strange feeling lurks within the castle halls, causing you to feel on edge. Edric had taken you to the crypts of Winterfell many times, and never once did you feel afraid, but the Red Keep at night felt more haunted than the ghosts of the north ever did.

The hall your husband's bedchamber was in was absent of any knights, which confused you. Aside from being married to a princess, he was the queen's brother and son at the hands of the king.

You knock twice, but when you don’t get an answer, you push the doors open and enter. A large sigil of House Hightower hangs on the stone wall; it truly was an eyesore. You’d make sure any future children you have bedchambers have the same amount of Targaryen symbols.

Hearing a clattering noise, you spin fast. “Ser Gwayne?”

You abruptly come to a halt when you turn the corner, your gaze reaching his bed. Your husband wasn’t alone in his bed; a long-haired brunette woman had her leg hooked around his. She was laughing as Gwayne fondled her breasts. A naked redhead was bending over and picking up a knocked-over jug of wine.

“Gwayne,” your voice was too soft for him to hear. “Gwayne!”

He lurches upright in the bed; the look on his face would have been amusing in any other circumstance. Your husband was staring at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“What are you doing here?”

The two women quickly start to redress, judging from their clothes, or lack thereof, if you assumed they worked in a brothel. They run by you with their heads lowered, but before they reach the doorway, you snap, “Do not return to the red keep, ever.”

Gwayne stares at you, speechless. A valyrian steel sword would have sliced just as deep as the humiliation you’ve just suffered. Swallowing back any emotion aside from rage, you shake your head and turn to leave.

“Wait!”

“I’ll deal with you in the morning, husband.”

—

Anger bore through Ser Criston as he marched towards the High Tower's quarters. No doubt he would get an earful from Harrold Westerling, lord commander of the king's guard, for disobeying a direct order from the king's family to retire until tomorrow, but seeing how upset the princess he was sworn to protect was, he couldn’t simply leave things be.

Criston was confused when the princess returned and quickly dismissed him. Her eyes were full of tears, but she insisted everything was fine, so he did as he was asked.

There was always a warm bowl of oatmeal or stew available to members of the king's guard, day or night, in the armory. The sky was still dark outside, and there were only a few of her off-duty guards eating before retiring for the night. While deciding on which meal would keep him feeling full for longer, Criston overheard two handmaidens who were clearing dirty dishes, disguising the king’s second-eldest daughter, and how humiliated she must be by her husband inviting two whores to join them in the bed chambers. Criston knew something had happened to upset the princess, and the guilt for not pressing her for further information left him feeling guilty.

The princess was still grieving her late husband and life in the north. He wouldn’t allow a spoiled child like the son of Otto Hightower to add to her upset.

Gwayne answers the door and allows the knight to enter, but before he can ask why the other man was there, the wind is knocked out of him when Criston slams him into the wall.

“Wh-what did my wife tell you?”

“The princess told me nothing, but I’ve heard the gossip that is spreading fast.” Criston keeps Gwayne pinned by wrapping a hand around his neck. “I wonder what the king will do when he hears how you brought disgrace to his daughter.”

“I didn’t know she was coming.”

Criston loosens his grip slightly. His grip wasn’t tight enough to leave any bruises, but tight enough for Gwayne to squirm. “A handmaid woke up the princess and passed on the message for her to join you. I spoke with the girl myself.”

Gwayne frowns. “I did no such thing. I would much rather have enjoyed the company I was in in that bed with the princess.”

Reaching for the leather strap around his waist, Criston pulls a small dagger out and places it underneath Gwayne’s chin. “To insult the honor of a princess is an act of treason,” he warns. “You may live in brothels if you wish, but the next time you humiliate the princess by bringing whores into the keep, it will be the last thing that you do.”

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ KARMA ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you and ellie have been separated for a while. and by a while, you mean enough to allow yourself to move on, but there's one single issue. all of her flings look just like you, and you'd be a fool not to notice.

warnings: 18+. mentions of marijuana, marijuana use, reader gets called a name or two, a bit of angst, some drama, not proof-read

a/n: a repost yet again! ;))

Your left hand shook, fingers gripping the red plastic taking refuge within your clammy palm — slowly raising its contents to the white rim. Adrenaline coursed through your body as if your veins were injected with sugar water — eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. 

Staring so intently had never been something you did unashamedly, opting to linger in the background, heart heavy and lip quivering under the extensive pressure of your internal insecurities. 

And this had your jaw clenching. The ridges of the bottom and top row of your teeth grind against each other with such force, that the muscles around your mouth grow sore. A certain ache had you raising your unused hand to rub your index and middle finger against the right side, soothing the developing pinch. 

Swallowing the thick pool of saliva that had formed in the center of your mouth, your lips parted to let a small, dry scoff escape. Muffled by the music pounding through the floor, reverberating from the tips of your toes up to your skull, your disapproving hum went unheard as you tore your eyes away from the dreadful sight. 

It shouldn’t bother you. But after a  whole fucking year, watching her arms circle around someone else’s waist, still set your heart a flame in the worst way possible, charring you from the inside out. 

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing right?” 

Cocking your head to the side, you could feel your neck crack slightly as you parted your lips to speak, loosening your tight grip on the poor solo cup squished between your fingers.

“I’d be blind not to. She looks just fucking like me.”

 Ignoring the slight shakiness that had riddled your body in an unexpected wave of what you had come to recognize as bitterness, you guided the rim of the cup to your parted lips, taking a large gulp of the alcohol, drawing in a tiny breath to help ease the sting. 

“The nerve…” 

You ran your tongue across your lips, staring at your companion for the night right in the eyes as your lips curled upward into an unamused smile. 

“She’s not my problem anymore so it shouldn’t matter.” You mumbled in your cup, knowing she couldn’t hear a word you said due to all the muffled noise practically shoving its way into her ear canals.

You were thankful for the darkness the living room provided, aside from the cheap-looking disco lamp hooked on the ceiling in the middle of the room, the different array of colors slowly becoming an eyesore as the night carried on and you grew miserable.

Clearing your throat, you leaned over, nearly bumping your shoulder with hers. “Did Donovan tell her to come?”

That sly bastard loved to fuck people over. You had grown to let it past your thick skull and alter your mind, seeing him for who he was. He was no longer a close friend — as he had encouraged some fucking outrageous actions from someone you thought you knew better than yourself. Donovan Proctor had dug a hole precisely six feet deep and six feet wide, and you were sure he made it just for you. 

He was an annoying little fly buzzing around your ears, taunting you with the unfortunate circumstance of having to witness your ex-girlfriend swallow someone else’s face. And by the end of the night, you’d hunt the fucker down and choke him out with your bare hands. 

The sudden knot in your stomach wasn’t from watching a stream of saliva glisten between their parted lips, nor the way her thin, rough fingers gripped the other girl's clothed hips, squeezing like she had done with you whenever things would grow hot and heavy; that wasn’t it by any means. 

It was from the unease of having to stare at someone who shared similar aspects with you — physically. Truthfully, it was odd. This whole situation was fucking odd. 

You weren’t friends with Donovan, you weren’t much of a drinker, and you barely fucking left the suffocating comfort of your house, so the question that was begging to be answered was… why?

Why out of all the nights that you had slowly spent rebuilding the courage to face the outside world again — as dramatic as it sounded —  had she decided to grace you with her presence?

Lifting the corner of her plump lip in a snarl, Mina, the one who had dragged you out of your bed earlier in the night, shifted to the side. “I wouldn’t put it past him. As occupied as that man-child is with making his money, he lives for this kinda shit.”

She hummed, “It’s his party, I'm sure he’ll hear it through the grapevine wherever he might be. Then again, she is one of his closest friends so I wouldn’t assume he has it out for you tonight just yet.” 

Craning her neck, tendrils of hair ghosted past your shoulder, tickling the skin there as she scoffed dryly, unzipping her purse. The leather strap shifted on her shoulder as she unzipped it, not once looking down as she trained her eyes to blur the people zooming past her vision. 

“I’m pretty sure she just looked at you.”

Rolling your eyes as far into the back of your skull as they could go, you heaved out a sigh, dramatically puffing out your cheeks, and squeezing your lids shut. “I need a fucking blunt.”

At the feeling of your warm hand entwined with another, you opened your eyes, barely able to process the fact that your feet had started guiding you toward the front door, wide open and awaiting your exit. 

As Mina giggled almost manically ahead of you, the scent of weed wafted up your nose from the open pocket of her beat-up purse. The smile that appeared on your face was one of joy as you followed, suddenly eager at the chance to relax the thoughts devouring your brain.

“I rolled before we came here. I had a feeling we needed one handy. Don’t mean to brag but I was right.” She shouted through the music, whipping her neck to look at you before looking forward again. 

Once your foot hit the first step and the gust of wind that you so desperately needed hit your heated face, you felt as if your lungs were no longer being crushed by the tightness of the secluded house. 

You were surrounded by the woodlands. Light from the moon shone down, casting shadows on the leaf-covered ground, illuminating the different shades of green and browns mixed throughout a small pile that you could tell had been raked earlier in the day before everyone’s arrival. The crisp night air weaving its way through the thin fabric of your clothing raised the hairs on your arms, creating goosebumps you tried to smooth down with a hand as the flick of a lighter reached your ears through the songs of crickets. 

“I can tell you’re trying to contain your murderous rage,” Mina spoke, closing her glossed lips around the tobacco leaf. 

You watched with interest as the end of the blunt developed an orange hue as she inhaled, smoke swirling. Raising an eyebrow at her observation, you bent down, sitting on the last concrete step of the staircase, shoving your hands between your thighs.

Frowning slightly, you shook your head from side to side gently. “Mhm, if you can figure out who it’s directed to I'll give you brownie points.”

She touched her chin, blunt between her fingers as she pretended to think for a minute. “Okay, I have three options.”

You clapped your hands together loudly, the sound echoing, fading with another whoosh of wind. “I’m all ears.”

Extending her hand, she wiggled the blunt in your direction, silently telling you to take it from her which you did without hesitation, taking a long drag before blowing out, coughing in the process. The hit was harsh, the back of your throat taking most of the damage as you tried not to heave up a lung, already growing lightheaded at the lack of oxygen. 

She stood in front of you, hand on her hip. “It's either your ex-girlfriend sucking face with her new one, which is my second option, and our dear old Donovan who we both know is out to get you for whatever reason .” 

Crossing your arms in an ‘X’ formation, you blew a raspberry before hitting the blunt for a second time before handing it off.

“On the right path but one of your answers is wrong. The girlfriend didn’t do anything. The other two, however…”

As Mina went to speak, she removed her eyes from you at the sound of the front door opening, revealing the man of the hour in all his cocky glory as he dragged his feet down to where the both of you were situated. 

His knee dug into your spine uncomfortably as he placed himself on the step above you, the scent of his musky cologne consuming your senses. It was so strong, you could practically taste it on the tip of your tongue. 

“What are we gossiping about out here.” He teased, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a taunting manner. 

He didn’t have to look at your face to know he was clawing his way under your skin — no. The rigidness of your spine told him all he needed to know and you could feel the enjoyment radiating off of him, looming over you as if were a storm cloud.

Gritting your teeth, you watched from the corner of your eye as he plucked the blunt from Mina’s hand, flicking the ash on a leaf that was in the odd shape of a boot, you thought. “We’re talking about you and how you like to ruin my life.” Turning your body to face him, a condescending smile painted your lips, teeth and all as you narrowed your eyes. 

He shrugged, feigning innocence as he took his bottom lip between his teeth, concealing the smug grin that threatened to make itself known. You never had the urge to smack someone as badly as you did at that moment.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Cut the shit, you invited her here after I specifically asked you not to. And I was being nice about it too.” 

Donovan shook his head. “Since when was cunt a nice word?”

“Since you started wearing my patience thin. That was the nicest you were gonna get, so you should be grateful.” 

“I’m always looking forward to your spicy attitude, little b.” 

Furrowing your brows, the skin between them creased as your eyes ran across his dimly lit face, the muffled sound of music and shouting keeping you grounded as you stared straight at him, face as hard as stone, fingernails digging into your palms as you balled them into tight fists.

‘Little B.’

It had been a nickname he had created for you after your unfortunate break-up with his good friend. 

Little Bitch. That’s exactly what you were to him. 

“Fuck you.” You spat. 

The longer he sat there, with that stupid smug look on his face, the harder it was to restrain yourself from punching him square in the jaw.”

“Donovan,” Mina began, sensing the thick tension that had formed between the both of you, the silence uncomfortable as she leaned forward cautiously.

“What Mina?” He asked, tongue darting from behind his chapped lips to lick at the dry skin there. Averting his gaze from your burning irises to stare at her, he chuckled. “She knows I’m just fucking around with her.” 

Outstretching his hand, he blew smoke directly in your face, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, chest heaving up and down quickly. 

The anger within you had reached its peak. One more sly comment and you’d deck him in the face, no hesitation. Snatching it from him, your hand shook, fingers growing numb once again as you bit the skin of your bottom lip, taking a long inhale before you exhaled, concentrating on which direction the wind decided to take it. 

“Just leave me alone, Ellie.”

Simultaneously, the three of you whipped your heads toward the door, watching as your ex-girlfriend, Ellie emerged from the doorway, hands tucked into the deep pockets of her jeans, clomping down the stairs with such speed that she was past you before you could blink. 

“C’mon,” She pleaded, grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving any further. Well aware of the audience she had a couple of feet away, she opened her mouth to speak only to find herself blubbering like a fish out of water. “What did Barry even say to you?”

From your position, you could see your doppelganger roll her eyes, arms crossed over her massive chest as she snatched her arm back from Ellie’s tight grip. 

“He said a lot of things.” 

Scoffing, Ellie shook her head in confusion, removing one of her hands from its position to pinch the bridge of her nose in mind frustration. “About what?”

The girl looked around, scanning her surroundings before her eyes landed on you, malice pooling deep within her eyes as she laughed without emotion. “About her.” 

Pointing a finger in your direction, she narrowed her eyes into slits, as if you were the cause of all her problems. 

Well, unbeknownst to you, you secretly were. Not just because Barry had told her all about your intense relationship with her current girlfriend, but because it was blatantly obvious that said girlfriend wasn’t over you whatsoever. 

She wasn’t stupid. Her appearance is what lured Ellie to her in the first place, and you were the one to blame. In every single one of Ellie’s relationships, she’s managed to find women who shared more than one similarity with you physically and flaunt them off on social media. 

In truth, you hadn’t been keeping up with her as much as she had done with you, too focused on your life issues and your close-to-impossible healing process to give a fuck about how many women she had gotten intimate with. Now, as you sat there on the steps, blunt in hand, eyes as wide as saucers, another rush of adrenaline coursing through you, it was as if the rose-colored glasses had been magically lifted from in front of your eyes. 

Ellie Williams had looked for you in every girl she found, and yet, none of them were you. That was the unfortunate conclusion you had come to realize as the five of you uncomfortably looked at one another.

You were caught in the crossfire. Fuck. Why’d she always manage to fuck shit up for you?

Aiming your eyes toward the ground, your ears picked up the sound of crunching gravel as Ellie spun on her heels, rapidly blinking in surprise, chest suddenly tightening as her eyes landed upon your hunched figure, tugging on a shoelace to occupy yourself from the tense silence. 

Her girlfriend looked at her with such disgust that if looks could kill, you were sure Ellie would be more than six feet under at this point. She raised a finger, poking the left side of her chest, momentarily knocking her off balance, lips raised in a snarl as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

And with that, she turned, stomping away from the auburn-haired girl, lips pursed thinly as she fished her keys from her purse. 

Sighing to yourself, you took another drag, lifting your head, eyes boring into the back of the poor girl who hated your guts, the thin material of her black low-cut shirt wrinkling as she wiped her palms on her sides, drying her hands from what you assumed was her tears as you frowned to yourself.

Darting your eyes toward your ex, you could feel the organ in your chest begin to beat rapidly. Banging so loudly against your chest that you were positive the force was strong enough to crack a rib or two as you extended a shaky hand, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Do you want a hit?” 

“Go to hell.” 

With your jaw slack, you watched as she retreated up the steps, aggressively yanking open the door to disappear back inside, the array of colors from the disco light reflecting off of the porch pillars that held the small rain roof. 

The expression that morphed the muscles of your face was one of anger as you spun around on the step to face her, trying your hardest not to focus on the awkwardness oozing off Donovan and Mina who had just been watching the situation play out in real-time, both speechless for once in their lives as you yelled at her back. 

“No cause what the fuck was that?” You asked, genuinely confused. 

Cocking your neck in Mina’s direction, you passed her the burning tobacco leaf, guiding yourself up the steps and through the crowd of sweaty bodies and the lingering stench of BO that threatened to burn your nose hairs as you searched for her. 

“Ellie!” 

Quickening her pace, she let the darkness of a narrow hallway consume her, swallowing her figure as she made her way past the three doors on either side of her, bee-lining it straight to the bathroom.

You were growing increasingly frustrated at this game of cat and mouse that had developed in the five minutes that the two of you had been around each other.

 Why you were chasing after her? 

You had no clue, but you did have a ton of fucking questions that were itching to be answered and as she turned the metal knob of the door, you swore to yourself that you’d seek them all out tonight, in the privacy of Donovan’s shabby, yet surprisingly clean bathroom. Away from curious eyes. 

Sliding yourself in the crack of the door right before she closed it, you rubbed your eyes at the change in lighting, pressure building up behind your sockets from the harsh fluorescence. 

“What’s wrong with you?!”

At her words, you turned on your toes, mere inches away from her face as she twisted the lock behind her, green eyes twinging with dislike: and for some reason that broke your heart in two. 

You could never dislike her. Even if she hurt you the way she did.

Why couldn’t you be mad at her? That was something you had asked yourself more than a handful of times as the months went on and she occupied herself with other women. 

It wasn’t fucking fair. 

Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling the scent of her sweet cologne, suddenly feeling small under her burning gaze. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Do you seriously think people haven’t fucking showed me who you’ve been snuggling up to after we broke up? It’s fucking weird.”

The lines on her face slowly faded away as she wrung her hands together, leaning her head against the cool wood of the door, the small scrunchie holding the hair that she lazily put up pinching the skin of her head as she closed her eyes. 

It was quiet aside from the muffled chatter outside and the air vent above, collecting dust every second the two of you stood there in silence.

Raising a brow, you rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically as she peeked at you through narrow slits. From your position, clothed calves touching the edge of the cool bathtub, it still looked like her eyes were screwed shut. 

She was staring at you — wracking her brain for a sentence to say that wouldn’t seem so passive-aggressive as if she didn’t just tell you to go to hell nearly two minutes ago. 

The bright yellowed hue of the bathroom light illuminated your stoney face, casting a glow so angry that her eyes had started to water. 

“So you’re just gonna stay silent? Ellie, they always look just fucking like me.” You seethed, tapping the point of your shoe against the tile floor. 

At that, she opened her eyes, shaking her head from side to side. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“I want you to explain what the fuck is going on?”

“There’s nothing to explain, just let it go. Go back to the party.”

“No. You’re not shutting me out this time. It’s not a coincidence that every single girl you’ve decided to bury your fucking fingers into sorta looks like me.” 

“Why’d you have to say it like that?”

You scoffed at her lame attempt to play dumb. “‘Cause that’s exactly what it is and it’s embarrassing for you.”

“This isn’t something I wanna talk about right now.” 

Her response was curt, void of all emotion. 

“Well, too bad. I'm not letting you leave until we figure this shit out. We’re adults Ellie. Talk to me like one.”

Running her tongue across the top row of her teeth, the freckled girl sucked in a deep breath, crossing her left over her right, pressing her back flat against the wooden door. “That’s real funny coming from you.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She sighed, arms flexing as she scratched the nape of her neck — a nervous habit. “You ask Donovan to tell me not to show up, and now you want me to act like an adult?” 

“I wonder why I said that?” You pressed, trying to justify your cowardice actions.

Ellie, as smart as she was, had come to realize long ago that she was in no position to say the things she was spewing in your direction, but she just couldn’t help herself. In her eyes, treating you like shit on the bottom of her shoe was the only way to go about things, even if she wanted nothing more than to have you touch her again. 

Reaching out a hand, you grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look you in the eye as the heat of your open mouth fanned her face, causing her to wet the skin of her lips. 

You weren’t exactly sure if the sudden confidence that took over was from the heat of the moment or the current high you were experiencing but you didn’t care. You did not give a single fuck that you were as close as you were to her, feeling the heat of her skin against yours as her facade cracked with every passing second.

“Please.”

The change of emotion gave you whiplash. You were used to her being straightforward with you, words never faltering no matter how hurtful they might’ve been. That was something you loved about her — you still do. She always kept you on her toes, and now you were flat-footed.

“I can’t do this with you.” You whispered.

Her small sigh echoed in your ears as you rubbed your thumb against her jaw, feeling her left hand circle around your wrist, gently removing it from her face, fingers ghosting over the palm of your hand before she entwined her fingers with yours.

It hurt all the more, knowing that this was finally it. She’d finally find the courage to leave you there, despite the unknown force pulling her body in your direction, rattling her to the very core. 

You were still in love with her. She was still in love with you.

Simple.

Ellie Williams wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but one thing that she would bet her whole life on was that you were her karma. 

And God, did it bite her in the ass.

[yonphilia]

‧₊˚☆⋆｡𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓. — 𝑮𝑶𝑱𝑶 𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼 •˚₊‧⋆.

synopsis : you have an assignment due tomorrow, but gojo being the annoying man he is has finished all your paint, it's too late to go out and buy new paint, but gojo has an idea on how you can make your own paint. ˚₊‧⋆.

warnings : 17+ interact at your own risk!! make out session, pussy eating, cunninglingus, chocking, slight breeding, dom gojo, prominant bulge, squirting, porn with plot!?! smut!!

word count : 2.9k ˚₊‧⋆.

notes : f! reader, reader and Gojo are both art students, modern art student au! not proofread! ˚₊‧⋆.

Gojo peeks his head through the door of your shared art studio, his outfit is covered in paint, hair messy and ruffled and even a few drops of baby blue staining his snowy hair, making him quite the eyesore.

"Ah, you're in here?'' He says with a wide grin not really caring about the mess he had made in the studio earlier. The walls were splashed with paint, paint on the floor, a few canvases on the ground and empty paint tubes scattered everywhere.

You snap your head back to him, your hands on your hips as you glare daggers. ''What?'' You mutter looking around at the mess. ''Satoru why can't you ever clean up after yourself? I have an assignemtnt due tomorrow and you finished half the paint!''

A little pout forms on his pink lips, his arms crossed as he leans against the door frame. ''C'mon don't be like that! I was jus' havin' some fun! And plusss we're artists! we're supposed to be messy!'' He replies, trying to hide the sneaky grin forming on his face, he absoulutely loved getting on your nerves.

Rolling your eyes, you ignore his words and kick a few empty tubs of paint to the side, picking up your easle stand and quickly setting everything up with your canvas.

He comes closer to you from behind, placing his hands on your shoulders, peaking at the empty canvas across from you, then down at your face.

"What are you working on?" He asked, sounding quite curious. A small blush appears on his cheeks as he talks, maybe it's from the realisation that he has probably finished half the paint you will need, or maybe it's from how close up he was to you looking at your pouty and pent up expression.

In his eyes you were the artwork.

''That's none of your business.'' You reply shrugging his hands off your shoulders as you open a paint tube, squeezing the left over of the red paint on the tray.

"Ah, that's a shame. I was eager to know'' He takes his hands off your shoulders, and then sits down on the floor, crossing his legs, keeping his calm expression and looking up at you as you get ready to paint.

You look at him with the same 'here we go again' expression you always give him when he decides to make himself cozy around you anytime you were about to do anything that isn’t giving him attention. Although, he never spoke and simply watched you paint (most of the time), the way he is more focused then you can sometimes.. be quite uneasy. Especially with his cerulean eyes.

Throughout the process of making your painting, you lean over to the side table to get some white paint, but to your surprise, you find the first tube empty, and when you look at every other tube of white paint on the table…empty.

Gojo notices you stop painting and how your gaze was fixed on the several empty paint bottles and tubes.

"Oh, was that your's?" He asks, turning his head to you, the same mischievous smile from before creeping up on his lips. He seems proud of himself for finishing all that paint, and he can't hide that fact.

"I finished all that." He says, with a confident smile on his face, running his hand through his hair and getting up from the floor, as if he accomplished something other then making you mad.

''Of course you did!'' You scoff stannding up from your seat to look at the clock to check if there was still time to go out and get paint, but when you see the time reading 10:36pm, you know the shop will close by the time you get there.

You purse your lips out of frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. ''Satoru get out of my sight, I don't even want to look at you.'' You snarl closing you eyes and turning away from him.

Whereas, Gojo didn't even seem upset or put off by your reaction, instead he found this amusing, and as always, he’ll make the situation worse.

''You're quite the sassy woman eh?'' He says chuckling to himself and approaching you, holding your shoulders to turn you around to face and him and then your wrists to remove your hand from your face.

''Satoru— unless you want me to rip your head off and make white paint out of your hair. Leave.''

He doesn't say anything, instead wiggles his brows at your remark, his hands still holding onto your wrists.

''Satoru—''

''I have an idea.'' He says slowly lacing his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing the sides of your hands.

''What..?'' You arch a brow wanting to hear another one of his 'ideas’.

“Do you want to….ya know…” his lips curve into a cheeky smile as he looks down at you. “Make our own white paint..?” He tilts his head, expecting you to say no, maybe even smack him at this stupid idea, that's if you understand what he's saying.

Your eyes go wide at his question, your brain jumping to all the solutions he could come up with, praying the one you're thinking isn't the one he's thinking of.

But of course, this is Gojo we’re talking about here.

“What- what do you mean…? What exactly are you implying Satoru..?”

Gojo grins, as if he was expecting that reaction. He leans in closer to you, close enough until his warm lips were brushing against your ear, his tone goes into some sort of a quiet whisper,

“You know what I'm implying…” You could almost feel him smirking against your ear. “You know what we would have to do to get that white paint, love”

Your breath hitches as you realise how close you two were, how his strong rich cologne filled up your nose, hitting straight to your core instead of your head, almost making your knees go weak.

“What do you say sweet thing?” He mumbles against your neck, nuzzling his face into it before leaving butterfly pecks everywhere, his arms caging you against him as they wrap around your waist, making sure your body was pressed against his so you don’t run away.

Your brain is screaming at you to say no, to get your assignemt finished, to push him away and ignore him and tell him to go out and buy new paint for you, but that's not what the lady in between your legs wants.

“Just say the word…please” He sounds as if he's almost begging you, as if he wants this more then you.

And, you do, you nod and part your lips to speak, but the nod was all he needed, and before you could even say anything, his lips were crumbling against yours, hands grabbing the back of your head and nape to press your lips against his, trying to mold them into eachother. Tongue lolling out and sliding into your mouth and swirling with your own. He's too lost in the soft and smooth sensation of your lips to even notice that you've already wrapped your arms around his neck.

He holds you tightly against him as he tries to kiss you deeper then he already was, his tongue gliding against your lips before he nips at your bottom one. and pulls away with a string of saliva attached to both your lips, his face flushed and chest heaving slightly, his messy bangs falling infront of his lust filled eyes.

You stare right back at his face, your own lips puffy and swollen from the kiss, your arms still around his neck as your hands play with the hair around his nape.

He leans in starts to kiss your neck slowly, starting on your jaw and working his way down to your collarbone. His tongue licks and sucks at your skin, sure to leave marks, his kisses are wet and sloppy having you feel butterflies in your chest and stomach.

He moves his hand up your body, grabbing your clothed chest, you can feel his warm, soft fingers through your clothing, and he seems reluctant to let go of you just yet.

Pulling away from you neck, he looks up at you almost in a daze, his lips swollen and pouty, the colour on his cheeks darkening. ''Wanna carry on in the bedroom..?''

Here you were, sprawled out so perfectly on Gojo's bed, clothes long gone and scattered somewhere on the ground, your back arching slightly as the cool air hit your nipples. Gojo trails soft kisses down your body, kissing each and every single detail and curve you had until his cool breath was fanning against your exposed core. His teeth nip at the inner flesh of your thighs having your body jerk slightly way from him, but he was quick to hold onto your thighs and pull you back down.

''Let's get you to paint my face hm?'' He says as a smirk tugs at his lips, looking up at you through his white lashes and lust blowen pupils, he had barely even done anything yet and you were already so desperate, bucking your hips up for any sort of attention to your dripping core, your hands going down to press against his shoulders, trying to get him to move already.

But Gojo was a tease, he leaves kitten licks up and down your folds, stopping his tongue right where you throbbing clit was, begging to be sucked on.

''Satoru- please ohhh-''

Before you could even finish your sentence, Gojo was already devouvering you, consuming all your words as his tongue licks and laps at your slit over and over again, feeling and tasting your sweet arousal causing him to sigh contentedly. He was eating you out as if he was a starved man who hadn't had water to drink for days. And the sweet and unholy moans you let out already had him rock hard.

''You're already a whining mess huh?'' He mumbled against your core, sending vibrations straight through you. He was right. You already were a whining mess, your hands tugging at his hair trying to push him deeper into your cunt, his nose nudging against your clit which had you let out the most lewd sounds he has always dreamed of hearing.

''Soooo good!''' you squirm out, feeling your knees go weak from how good he was eating you out. Your head was pressed back into his fluffy pillows, his scent filling up your head making you even more aroused. You part your lips to say something, but only moans and whines of his names slur out of your mouth.

You buck your hips into his drooling mouth making sure he doesn't stop, he groans from how sweet you tasted on his tongue, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass hovering below him.

''I'm close- I'm so soo close Satoru!'' You feel a warm sensation bubble up in your lower abdomen as he thrusts his tongue into your soaking cunt having you mewl out in pleasure, your back arching and eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs start to tremble and jitter.

''T-Toruuu Sa-toruuu!'' You scream out his name in a high-pitched whine feeling the sensation intensify. Your hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you, body shaking and jerking, your legs instantly squeezing shut and your thighs nearly suffocationg him as he does not stop sliding his tongue in and out of you.

''T-Too much S'toruu'' you pant trying to regain your breath and shove him away.

Gojo grunts in satisfaction as he licks your sweet cunt clean, tasting every piece of you, feeling your arousal on his tongue making his dick ache as he humps thecovers underneath him.

''Shit...'' You breath out as you look down at him, and to your surprise, he was already looking back at you, his eyes half lidded, cheeks and chin covered in your sticky mess, lips red and puffy as a grin spread onto them.

He licks his lips as he sits up, hand going down to palm his already pre-cum covered dick, never breaking eye contact with you. ''Mhm...think we'll need more paint then that..'' He says flashing you a cheeky grin along with a wink.

You feel your cheeks heat up and look away from him, your hands going up to cover you face in embarrassment.

''Uh uh!'' He says quickly holding your wrists and removing them from your face, pinning them above your head instead. ''Gotta see that pretty face while I fuck you dumb, mhm?''

You whine and part your lips to say something, but the air is knocked out of your lungs once you feel his leaky tip slowly start to slide inside your tight cunt. He groans as his other hand grabs onto your waist to steady himself from collapsing ontop of you from how good you squeezed him. A sharp gasp leaving his mouth feeling your warmth.

''So big!'' You cry you as tears swell up in your eyes, he wasn't even fully in yet and was already stretching your walls out, the perfect veins on his dick grinding against your walls and your sweet spot.

''Fuck- squeezin' me s'good babyyy think I might just cum undone like this.'' With a moan, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, feeling how deep he was and his tip grazing the spot you couldn't even reach.

Slowly, he starts to thrust into you, his dick stretching you out so good it had you seeing stars and already a babbling mess.

''Toru- so deepppp'' You squirm out as he picks up his pace, his hips starting to hammer into yours as your slick paints his pelvis. You wrists twist and turn in his hold signalling him to let go so you can hold onto something as he fucks your brains out.

Gojo releases his grip on your wrists and places both hands around your waist, strocking your walls with his dick as he presses his hips against yours trying to reach deeper then he already was. The most sloppy and repulsive noises ever heard were all that could be heard by your lower bodies colliding and slamming together.

''Tummy-'' You babble out as your nails dig into his biceps. ''C-Can feel you in my tummyyy''

He looks down at your fucked out expression, your eyes nearly crossing, tongue lolling out as drool dribbles down from your chin. Gojo groans and leans in pressing his lips to yours, you could taste your previous arousal on his tongue and lips. He kisses you messily while hammering into you at the same time, his teeth clashing against yours, spit oozing out from both the corners of your mouths.

His hand goes to wrap around your neck, squeezing it making you clamp down on him while the other goes down to rest on your lower abdomen, applying pressure with his palm until he felt himself.

You pull away from his lips at the new feeling, eyes going wide and nails dragging against his back, your chest arching and pressing flushed against his, instantly feeling light headed as you let out a loud moan.

''C'mon pretty girl, give it to me, I know- fuck- I know you're close mhm...'' He whispers into your ear, urging you to come undone all over his dick. ''You feel that?'' He takes your hand dragging it down and pressing it to where his bulge was prominent in your belly. ''You feel how deep I am huhhh..?''

You could barely form any words, your tits bouncing as he slams into you repeatedly, his hand never leaving your throat, cutting off your air supply which only added to the pleasure for you, your drool smearing down to his hand as he fucked you dumbfounded.

Gojo could feel his own arousal build up, his thrusts starting to become sloppy as he shoves himself into you at an ungodly pace. His mouth agape as he mumbles all sorts of praises to you, telling you how good you squeeze him, how good you're taking him in. He lowers his hand that was around your neck and rubs his thumb in deep circles over your senstive clit to help you reach your orgasm, the hand that was pressing on your lower abdomen remained there.

And it's not long after you're reaching your earth shattering orgasm, your legs shaking violently as you scream out Gojo's name, squirting all over his dick and pelvis, your toes curling and head burying back into the pillows until your vision went all white, your ears ringing and needy sobs escaping your mouth as your arms wrap around his neck holding him close to you.

Gojo is quick to reach his own after seeing the state you're in, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts a few times into you before burying his face in your tits, nipping at your skin as he realeases inside you, painting your walls white until both your juices leak out of your cunt.

He pants as he sits up, slowly pulling out of you, his eyes never leaving your cunt that oozed out with cum, he lets out a shaky breath slapping his tip against your folds before smearing his cum along your thighs.

''You think we got enough paint heh..?''

© yonphilia 2023

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 5

Read previous chapter here

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for the chapter- SMUT! 18+, pinv, unprotected sex, female genitals, fem reader, bruises, size kink (if you squint), 18+ themes and lanaguage, nakedness.

Entering your chambers for the night you let your handmaidens undress you and get you into night wear before you send them away for the night. You sit on the bed brushing your hair out as a book is propped up open to the pages you've been reading. 

The serenity of the reading is broken with the door opening and Sandor walks in having been cleaned off and changed armor sets for the rest of the day. Shocked at first why he’d be in here but then remembering it is supposed to be your shared chambers. 

You watch as Sandor places down his sword and walks to the large chair by the fireplace. He drags the chair a far distance from the fire but still enough to barely feel its warmth. You've arrived at your room late. You now wonder what time it is now you had time to undress, bathe and read for around an hour. You close your book and get up. As you see him, he sits in the chair. 

“I thought I told the servants not to place this fucking chair here!” He bellows angrily at the events of the day. 

“Sandor.” You speak. 

“And I thought I told you NOT TO CALL ME THAT!” He yells slumping down into the chair. You walk over to him. 

“Take off your armor or I can call in the servants to come help you” you say. 

“I don't want servants here.” He grumbles. 

“May I help you?” You ask boldly he gives you a glare before his gaze softens once his eyes focus on your features, soft and comforting. 

He reluctantly nods as you move closer to him. You step into the space between his legs and reach to the side of him the smell of the lavender and pine scented bath you took earlier fills his noise with the comforting smell of you. 

“I want to apologize to you…I didn’t mean it…what I said. I don’t hate you. You’re actually very hard to hate.” You say Your fingers fiddle with the clasps getting them undone taking off the chest pieces and untying the rest picking it up off him and setting it to the side of the chair. 

He doesn't answer your comment As you stand back up to remove the chain metal he wears underneath, you stop for a second as his hands place themselves on your waist feeling up and down the sides of your body. His large hands basically engulf you as he pulls you closer to him. 

“I-i need to get this off you.” You say. He doesn't answer, mesmerized by the way you fit in his hands. 

“Sandor?” You ask him. He looks up at you briefly before pulling his hands away for you to remove the last garment, setting it down along with the other armor. He sits left in the white cotton tunic and black slacks. His hands return to their original position against you firmly placed in this chosen spot. 

You take the opportunity to place your hands against his cheeks, your thumb brushing against his cheek, the texture of his scar under your fingertips, the scruff of his stubble against your palm. He flinches at first but lets you feel the left side of his face. 

He frowns as he looks up at you seemingly confused by something about you. 

“What is it? What's wro-“ he stands suddenly but doesn't let you go. He pulls you into him and smashes his lips against yours in a deep kiss. You let out a small noise as he grips your skin and the fabric of your night dress, the thin fabric allowing him to barely feel your skin. 

He pulls back from you feeling your hands move down to his rest on his chest. Looking down at you, your height difference becomes apparent. You’ve stood on your toes and strained your neck to kiss him. his eyes wander your expression he's about to pull back from you when you grip his shirt. 

“Dont.” You speak. 

“Don't leave. Not tonight. Please.” You continue waiting for his reaction. He leans back into you carefully. But you eventually become annoyed and pull him to you kissing him. He easily rips the fabric of your gown off you letting it fall to the ground before picking you up and walking you to the bed, lips still attached.

His hand travels down your side, hiking up your leg by the thigh. He pulls away from the kiss when you pull his shirt off his large toned chest and arms perfect under your touch. You’d never truly realized it before, how handsome Sandor was, how careful.  All the fearful things the women of the court were saying about sex had disappeared as his hands roamed your body and lips kissed your most tender parts. Your hands wandered his strong back and arms. 

Your breast disappears in his grasp as he squeezes it lightly. His kisses moving down your jaw line to your neck. Surly making marks. His hand moves down your front his fingers finding your cunt. Swiping over the fold spreads you to perfectly find your clit making you gasp out a noise you've never made before as you grip onto sador. He continues swirling your fingers around your clit.

“S-sandor.” you call out his name as pleasure surges through your body in waves. His finger passes through your folds as he inserts a digit into you. Thick and rough the perfect texture to bring a moan from your lips. 

“So beautiful sandoe speaks quietly as he watches his finger disappear into your pussy. Your soft wet walls are perfectly lubricating to move another finger into you. The stretch is slightly uncomfortable but it's soon replaced with the pleasure you felt from before. Hooking his fingers upwards pressing them against the spongy spot in you your back arches as a stronger wave of pleasure fills you. 

His gestures against your clit and movement in your pussy cause you to cum, your nails digging into his back clutching onto him which he allows. Your whimpers muffled in the crook of his neck as you shut your eyes, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. 

“It's alright little fox..” he says before pulling his hand away for your parts. You pant as he removes your arms from his body. You feel him pull away from you. You open your eyes to see why immediately feeling self conscious about your fully nude state despite him removing the rest of his garments. Your breath hitches to a halt when your eyes come to contact with the rest of his body. 

You sit up to your knees scooting closer to him standing on your knees at the edge of the bed. Your hands touch his chest feeling the scars that littler his body. He takes your wrist in his hand when you reach for a specific scar. Your eyes look up to his face, his expression back to his usual stern one. 

“I-i'm sorry i-” 

“Dont.” he says before leaning you back down. His hands moving under your knees pulling your thighs up spreading your legs. You turn your head away when he takes his place between you. 

“Look at me.” he says you take a breath and turn to look at him. 

“Are you scared?” he says. 

“Yes…of many things.” you say 

“Are you scared of me?” he asks 

“No…it's not you, I'm scared of sandor. Im scared of the pain.” you say. He leans down to releasing your legs but the sheer size of his body is enough to keep them apart. 

“I won't hurt you little fox.” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek. 

“I want you…sandor..please.” you whine out he grunts your words have gone straight to hardened cock. He looks down your body moving himself to line up with your entrance pushing in. having got  a glimpse at his extremities he is large no doubt what the other women have said. Perhaps he will split you into one. 

“Ngh.” you grip his bicep as the once pleasure you felt form him filling you with his fingers is long forgotten with the pressure from his connecting with you. He continues pushing into you although it's painful you do hope that it won't always be this way. The first man to be in your bed, taking your maidenhead, Sandor “the hound” Clegane.

your nails claw at his shoulders as he thrusts down into you filling you, seating his cock in your cunt balls deep. 

“Ah!” you let out a yelp of tears slipping from your eyes. Trying your hardest not to let out another cry but one slips out regardless. 

“Dont cry.” you hear him as he kisses your face in attempts to distract you from the discomfort between your legs as he moves softly thrusting his hips back and forth against you. He grunts at the feeling of you around him. The three women who he’s ever bedded with never felt the way you do right now, perhaps it was because they weren't virgins, perhaps because they were experienced in letting men do what they want to them. 

The softness of your skin and the tightness of your cunt threaten to make him cum before he's done with you. He looks down upon your face softening as you've adjusted to him and the pleasure his fingers brought you now prominent in your body. 

you whined at the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls as they molded around him. 

His arms propping him up as your small body rests under him gripping onto him like a koala as he thrust into you. Moan and grunts filling the room. The lewd sound of skin against skin and wet noises from where you connect. Your juices mixed with the small amount of blood gain from breaking your hymen. 

“F-fuck y/n.'' Sandor grunts as he pulls your thigh up to him sitting on the bone of his hip. He doesn't struggle to hold himself up with only one arm which you find arousing and impressive. 

Your moans and his name filling your mouth continues to drive straight to his aching cock as he shifts in position gripping your hips as he sits back your ass off the bed your arms have fell to the side as he continues to fuck you loosing himself in you not realsing how rough hes being. You moan become yelps of pleasure as his left hand stays grasping your hip in place and his right gripping your bouncing breast. His large thumb palming at your budded nipple. 

“S-sandor A-ah ah.” You moan out as he leans into you again, someone thrusting deeper and harder into you surly hitting the entrance of your womb. You've never thought the act of sex could be so pleasurable but that of course comes with the correct partner. The way your bodies fit with each other could never have been foreseen. Your pussy being filled by his dick. 

“Fuck.” he grunts out as he grips the head board of bed pulling your leg over his shoulder the new position stretching you out as you clench around him that same wave over pleasure from his finger rushing through you as you experience your second orgasam. 

His grip on your thigh tightens as his cock throbs in you.with a few more rough thrusts he cums filling you. The sensation of him throbbing against you makes your eyes roll back and shut as you claw at his back. Surely making him. Slowing down you pull him into you sharing a kiss. 

Your hands resting upon his cheeks keeping him in place of you. Pulling away only for a quick breath does he look down at your body muttering another curse word. You kiss his face. He places another kiss on your lips reluctantly pulling away from you his forehead resting on your a pained expression on his face as if it could be one of regret.

—----

Morning wakes you were woken by your ladies in waiting. Drawing a bath, cleaning the room and opening the curtains. You looked to your side to also see yourself alone.

Recalling the after event, Sandor stayed with you until you can remember sleeping. You reasted your head on his chest as you both lay under the sheets of clothing and garments scattered across the chamber. You could hear his heart beat slow, heavy and calm. You wondered if would race the whole day and then he came to you for relaxation. His large hands ran up and down your body as your leg was draped over his waist. His fingers caress your bruising skin where he held onto you.

 You sit up in bed, holding the covers close to your body, feeling every part of you to be deliciously sore, never having a feeling is way. You see one of the women picking up the chair to move it back by the fireplace. 

“No Dont. Dont move it back please.” you say she places it back in the spot. You look around the room not seeing any of sandors armor he shed. You reached out for your robe as a maiden ran to your side to help you put it over your naked body. 

A gasp leaves her mouth as she looks at you prompting the other ladies to turn your way. 

“What? What is it?” you ask looking back at the messy bed before looking back at her. 

“Y-your body my lady.” she says you frown looking over to the full length mirror by the dresser as you pull off the robe letting it drop to the floor you see your body bruised everywhere.

“Did lord clegane do this?” another asks. 

You ignore her ask and look at the love bites that mark up your neck and breasts, a bruise along your ribs where the hound held you as well as a large handprint-like mark on your thigh. The marks on your wrist and arms. A smile forms across your face as the memories flood into your mind. 

The door of your room suddenly opens and closes as sandor walks in stopping in his tracks he sees you standing in front of the mirror the marks scattering your body. You turn to look at him, your smile fading when you see his rough expression as he looks around the room at your hand maids. 

When you fell asleep he stayed awake just watching your then way you even slept beautifully however once he saw the day begin to brighten at dawn he got up and dressed leaving to go to do his duty as a kings guard but he was fully intending on coming back to see you wake. And he would have if your maidens hadn't come in earlier than usual. 

“Sandor-” you speak but he turns and walks out with a snarl. 

“S-sandor!” you call as you put your robe back on running after him your bare feet hitting the cold stone of the castle flooring. You open the doors running after him, his long strides already taking him halfway down the hall. 

“Sandor!” you call out reaching him grabbing his hand he huffs and turns to you.

“Good Morning.” you say with a smile. He doesn't answer, just looks down at you. His other hand rested on the handle of his sword. Your smile fades as you 're not happy about something. 

“What's wrong?” you ask. He looks behind you seeing your handmaid's watching you. 

“They are watching to see if i'll hurt you again.” he says deeply before looking back at you. 

“Again?” you ask his eyes to drop down to the rest of you. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him you are far from hurt, but he pulls his hand away from you pulling off his cape and drapes it around you as your robe is slightly see through. 

He nods to you before walking away. 

“My lady the maester is here for you.” your maid says to you. You turn around seeing the grand maester standing with the rest of the girls having been called when they were frightened by your bruises. Angrily you march back to the door of your room. 

“I'M FINE, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!” You shout before opening the doors to your room closing and locking the latch.

—---

Closed off in your room the rest of the day worries your hand maidens. You lay on the bed covers pulled over yourself. The knock on your door doesn't prompt you to move until you hear the voice behind it. 

“y/n it's me.” Sansa speaks. You look over twords the door. 

“Will you let me in? I haven't seen you all day, are you alright?” she asks. You move the covers off you and get out of bed and walk to the door reaching up to the latch. 

“Please.” she says. You sigh and unlatch the door opening it. You move to the side as you let her walk in. She wears a light pink dress with stones beaded into it. Closing the door behind her as she steps in. 

“Why have you not been out?” she asked. 

“I'm tired, Sansa. I'm tired of the new staff and the changes since I married Sandor last night. I mean...w-we..” you trail off walking back to your bed sitting on it pulling a pillow to your lap. 

“You what?” she asks. 

“You know..he came in angry and i offered him solace.” you say 

“You consummated?!” she exclaims sitting in front of you. 

You nod. 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he force you!” she says take your hands in hers. 

“I'm fine and no! Not far from it. If anything I asked him. He was gentle, very gentle, and called me beautiful. We spent the rest of the night in each other's arms but when I woke this morning he was gone and my handmaidens had awoken me and commented on what he’d left behind. He came back to the room not long after and he got upset and stormed back off again.” you answer.

“What did he leave behind?” she asks, shaking her head in confusion. You take a breath about to explain but rather you show her. You move the sleeve of your robe exposing your shoulders and neck showing her the marks he left as well as the one on your wrist. 

“There's more on my thighs and torso.” you say wish a bashful smile. 

“y/n..!? How can you say he was gentle when this is the outcome? You are bruised from head to toe, littered in love bites.” she says 

“No no that's what i- ugh. He didn't hurt me, that's what they don't understand. Sandor did not hurt me. I don't feel the marks. I do believe I left him with more than a few marks myself.” you say biting your bottom lip looking down at your hands in your lap. 

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

“He had gotten up to cover us and I had scratched his back up..quite heavily.” you say. Sansa snorts a laugh leading you into a laugh as well.

“Did you tell him that you're not hurt?” she asked. 

“I tried but like I said he stormed off. I've been avoiding my maids all day.” you say

“Get dressed, I'll help you. You can come with me to oversee the annual kingdom festival.” she says 

“I don't really want t-”

“Jeoffry will be there.” you say you give her a disgusted look. 

“Now i really don't want to join y-” 

“If Joffrey is there, Sandor will be there.” she says give you a look. You roll your eyes and nod. 

“Fine..” you say. she smiles and hops off the bed as you do going to your dresser to pick out a dress for you.

Chapter 6 here

[meeinthesea]

FRAGMENTED HARMONY — sunday

outline— sunday has always hated you. your existence was an eyesore for him — a constant reminder of everything that he believed was different —wrong. yet he can't shake you from his mind. it was only a matter of fact before you would hit the same fate as the charmony dove that once landed in his garden ages ago. so he does what he has to.

contains— yandere (?) sunday x reader, kinda ooc sunday, childhood friends, sunday is going through a lot, somewhat follows canon. heavy themes, mentions of blood and death.

wc— 2.1k

a/n— this prompt was suggested by my friend, and i had so much fun jotting down ideas for this! i hope y'all like it too, as much as i loved writing it. banner made by me, yay! i like this so so much he's so divine, oof..... so pretty. i'd worship him if i could.

it's been hours since sunday came back from the confession booth. usually, this part of his day is nothing of importance to him, the sinful confessions mixing and twisting in his mind before disappearing altogether.

this is normal to him. so he doesn't know why he feels so much on edge.

why does that particular question stick with him?

“how do i cherish what i love without losing myself?”

maybe it was because he was too stunned to say anything that the person on the other side of the booth had to be escorted back without any answer. but how could he give guidance on something he didn't have the answer to?

he blinks rapidly as the familiar walls of his room become clearer. he walks to the mirror and stands idly. naked without a layer to hide anything. his amber eyes trace each and every feature reflected on the polished surface.

sunday shakes his head, arms clenching on the sides of the frame. he won't allow himself to stray any further from the destiny — his truth. not when he is this close to achieving the paradise he's always dreamed of.

he is still here. all in one piece.

it's still him, right?

he hasn't lost himself, right?

the longer he stares into the mirror, the faster his mind spirals as it makes way for something he has never anticipated. the image transforms into something — someone that makes his heart clench.

you stand there, eyes twinkling with mirth, arms crossed behind your back as you whisper what he thinks is his name. so softly that he barely hears it.

but it vanishes all too soon.

the happy image is replaced by something so grotesque that he feels bile climbing up his throat. all he can see is pure — bright red as blood trickles down the sides of the mirror, and your once unscathed body now lies in a pile of your own blood. your eyes are pale, devoid of anything as they stare back at him. lifeless — soulless.

and then his eyes snap open.

the haunting imagery from before is gone.

all that remains is his sweaty, heaving body and bloodshot eyes staring back at him.

he staggers towards the window, a much-needed break for his palpitating heart. his weary eyes take in the tranquil scenery of the sleeping city.

maybe he's already lost himself.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

the next time sunday sees you waltzing towards him, he feels the familiar annoyance bubbling up in his chest. you look so free, happily chirping as you come closer to him, the ever carefree air drifts from you.

“what is it now?” he huffs and closes his arms around his chest. turning away from you.

“aww c'mon i haven't even said anything,” you twirl around him, your hair hitting his eyes before you come face to face with him, “how have you been?”

for a moment, all he does is stare at your blissful expression, and for a moment, he feels himself slipping back into the past — something warm and airy, bright spots dancing in his mind. it's vague, the lines are incomplete, and it is impossible to interpret anything.

something that he abandoned a long time ago.

“fine…” he grunts a reply and pays no attention to how unusually warm his cheeks are beginning to feel.

“just fine?” he hears you hum and brush past him — the brief contact has his mind reeling for a split-second — to analyze the soda bottles stacked on a glass rack, “and here i thought you would be excited about the charmony festival.”

“i do not have time for your musings,” he declares, and prepares to leave.

he hears you yelling at him but continues walking before a hand grips onto his gloved one, and he is pulled towards you. back to you.

“would you come with me to watch robin practice?”

every cell in his brain is screaming at him to decline your offer. he has no time for whatever shenanigans you were inviting him in.

though, how can he?

not when your eyes look so sincere, when your hand feels so light against him. a sweet taste pools in his mouth, and he has no choice but to sigh as he watches you jump up and down, laughing in delight.

he joins in with small chuckles, hidden behind his palm.

in his eyes, you were the very embodiment of the harmony that even the xipe falls short in front of you.

and that's why your ultimate fate lies in his hands.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

red. red. red.

it's all he sees as he staggers through the hallway. it's eerily silent in the dewlight pavilion, save for his heavy pants.

the meeting from before replays like a broken record in his mind.

robin.

robin is all sunday can think of.

no matter the number of investigations he has going on, he just can't get to the truth of it. how can she just vanish into thin air?

he remembers visiting the reverie hotel. comatose is how she was. he feels himself gag, as the picture of her pale body floating in the dream pool appears once again.

a spiritual death.

that's what sunday has concluded.

there's no traces left of her soul in the dreamscape.

it was as if she just vanished from the face of penacony, leaving behind a hollow shell of a body.

how could he ever let that happen to her?

it's a mess. the hallways, the statues, everything seem to blend in with one another, the faintest of red bleeding in through the corners. however, uplifting the bright colours may be, they do nothing to soothe the banging ache in his chest.

she's gone. robin's gone.

and soon you will be too.

sunday falls to the ground, rough carpet grazing against his skin. he holds his face in his hands.

he feels the need to shout, scream, anything, yet no sound comes out of him.

what was he supposed to do now?

through the mirage of madness, a solace whispers to him. the bells ring of his arrival. a striking white dove fly in front of him. silk brushes against his face as sunday looks towards the sound.

with each pounding of his heart, purple seeps into its white feathers. it was his master.

“my child,” the crow advances towards him, and sunday can make out the tremor behind gopher's voice, “the time has come.”

its presence is a warning about what is coming, a reminder that he’s running out of time.

he clenches his hands, lips trembling. he has no choice but to nod his head.

the crow is gone. robin is gone.

the sweet dream is falling apart. right before his very eyes.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

sunday dashes through the halls of the dewlight pavilion. the bright lights overhead are like thousands of needles piercing through his already pounding head. the shadows seem to chase him with every step he took.

“where is—” he coughs a little, all shaken up.

his head hits the front desk, wood splintering with the force. the organized items fall due to shock, cluttering around his feet.

“sire,” one of the assistants rushes towards him, “are you okay?” he holds onto him, pulling him towards a chair.

the receptionist looks at him confused, “who is where, sir?”

he takes a few heavy breaths before muttering your name. the assistant immediately focuses on the device and, without any questions, tells him your location.

everyone in the vicinity stares at his departing figure, curious as to what has caused such a sudden change on the oak's family head.

the trip to the winery is a short one. sunday is pleased to find the most of it empty at this time, since it will be easier for him.

the sweet and tangy smell lingers in the air, almost palatable. several clusters of gold dances around him as he makes his way deeper into the winery.

he follows the stony path and immediately spots your silhouette sitting on one of the silver railings. you look awfully calm, despite your best friend being missing and possibly considered dead.

he knows you've already sensed him as you jump a little but continue to look at the purple tinted sky.

“it was you, wasn't it?” sunday starts, but he doesn't know what else he can say to intimidate you.

“wha—” your voice is timid as you jump from the railing and stand directly in front of him, “where is this coming from?” you cross your arms around you, sinking into your coat.

“how much longer are you willing to go?” his own comes out rather sternly than he wanted, but he’s not complaining when he sees a sudden shift in your demeanour.

“what are you talking about?” you are trembling now, eyes getting all watery.

“enough!” you gulp, and he sees your hands shaking uncontrollably.

“sunday what are you—”

before you can say anything, sunday puts up his hand, and his eyes narrow down onto your face.

you feel yourself frozen in place — time as if someone has put a spell on you, thrones encasing you, trapping you forever.

slowly and surely, you feel the presence of what you assume is the harmony or rather the order — the absolute. it's all rainbows and the flashing lights in the beginning.

but the vivid imagery loses all colour. lines, and shapes form in your vision, a distinct eye stares back at you, “i had no choice. you left me with no choice.”

even before you can open your mouth, a ringing noise pierces your ear, and you black out, losing awareness of everyone and everything.

your body falls to the ground with a loud thump. unmovable — unresponsive. just like the world. there's nothing around the two of you. the fireflies have departed, and the pleasant aroma has become astringent.

and with that he’s breached the harmony.

he couldn’t bear killing you? how can he?

this was the only choice.

sunday kneels beside you and takes your limp body in his hold. “i did this for us.”

through the harmony, he will obtain the order.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

what follows after is a blur to sunday.

but he’s certain of one thing, and that the dream will soon take shape into reality.

sunday has no problem accessing your hotel room. all he needed was to flash a charming smile at the receptionist. the request doesn't take long, and soon, he is thanking the person with a key card dangling in his hand.

your door is locked, just like he expected. but it's not a concern to him. he presses the key card against the sensor, and immediately, the door beeps on cue. as soon as he slides in, he's greeted with your comatose body floating in the dream pool.

he locks the door behind him and takes out a pocket knife, striding towards the pool.

“you don’t need to be afraid,”

he cradles your face in his hand and traces the blade against your jaw, “i'll make this quick, okay, darling?”

the blade presses into your cheeks, drawing a blob of blood. pure red catches his eyes. it's familiar. he observes how the drop trails down your face and catches it, wet tongue sweeping over your skin.

“you are weak, always have been.”

sunday can't contain himself as the metallic and pungent taste coats his tongue.

“but you shall be free now.”

one slice is all he needs.

blood starts sputtering from your chest, turning the once clear teal water into a mess of red and brown. he jumps out of the pool, leaving your body to collapse once again. he wipes the blade with his handkerchief while watching your form disappear under the bloody water.

through harmony, order is obtained.

sunday nonchalantly walks out of your room and trudges down the staircase, back to the receptionist. he calmly reports your death, or rather your murder.

no one suspects a thing.

no one has the right to do so anyway.

no one looks for you.

no one questions for you.

you had no family — anyone besides the two siblings.

and in sunday's favour, the news of your death is quickly buried as a chess piece of the “death” game that has caused chaos upon penacony.

but you don’t have to worry.

“relax it’s me,” you can hear his voice — a familiar softness, just like how it was in days gone by — but he’s nowhere to be seen.

someone caresses your cheek, and you open your eyes, but it's all black.

where are you?

“i am right here, my love.” you feel a soft kiss against your mouth.

it feels so good. this feeling, everything is at present. there is no past, no future.

no hatred, no regret.

only love exists. compassion flows in every nook and canny.

the gentle waves lull you towards him.

he's all you can feel, hear.

“you are safe here,” his breath is faint, a soft murmur, “rest now.”

[macabrecabra]

Did art fight and saw so many pokemon OCs...and realized for how much I LOVE pokemon, never had any of my own really...so I made some. Then I wrote a story. Then I built a whole worldsetting.

So enjoy the "End of the Line" pokemon setting that is now born... starting with my favorite trio of ghost pokemon! The Silph bros are known more publicly in connection to the powerful Silph Corporation, but also operate a powerful black market mafia under the table.

More under the tab if you are interested in my character ramblings!

GEN SILPH (Gengar) He is all about image. In the public eye, he is a well liked, always smiling, corporate prodigy and the face of Silph Co. Well respected and always known for handling PR and all the social trappings of an elite status well. Behind closed doors though, he is also running an extensive mafia operation with his fingers on the pulse of Saffron-Lavender City. He may seem nice and upbeat, but when he is ticked, he can show a very cold, very calculative, and very sadistic side as he is not above getting his hands dirty if people are messing up on the perfect persona he controls. Not a pokemon to cross as he will smile and shake your hand while having a gun behind his back. There are very few whom he trusts, as he is known to let his paranoia sometimes get the best of him when it feels like the control he's carefully built into an empire seems threatened even a little bit. Every move is calculated. Every chaos a delicate pull of the strings. Just remember to always trust in Silph Co for your every need!

Design Note: All the Silph bros wear suits because they are classy, but each has a design. For Gen, I was all corporate. Sleek cut, formfitting, Dark colors, and of course, classy tie. The kind of guy without a hair out of place. Also glasses felt fitting for someone that probably has to squint at computers...also makes him look more smart. GHAST SILPH (Ghastly)

The youngest brother of the Silph brothers, Ghast is a bit goofy and doesn't really tend to take things too seriously, but also never one to disappoint his older brothers whom he adores. He really wants to live up to expectations and has since stepped up to being the main leader of the mafia, second only to Gen, but really he just does what Gen says and doesn't ask questions. He really just wants to make his brothers proud, and feels the pressure to live up to Hauts' legacy.

Ghast can come off as dismissive towards others at times, but it comes from his desire to appear just as strong as his brothers when it comes to the dealings of the world. They are super besties with their personal gang of "bad brats" as he calls them, sometimes to the point of trying to step in and keep them out of trouble.

Should be note that Ghast is transgender. What their deadname is, no one knows. They don't much care for being misgendered as there has, and always has been, three Silph brothers, and don't you forget it!

Design Note: I felt that Ghast was the flashy type with bright eyesore suits and sort of a lounge lizard, impractical sort of suit, hence no pockets to be found. The single button suit felt more like going to a party than corporate, which fit Ghast more in my head. Also had to give Ghast unruly hair to mimic the gas around Ghastly.... Ghast's wears a hat to try and control it.

HAUTS SILPH (Haunter) (Alsos one of the main characters of the story!)

There was no doubt that Hauts was how made the Nightshade Mafia a force to be reckoned with. He was smart like his older brother, but also wasn't afraid to be reckless and unrelenting when it came to his goals. He was the muscle that could get any job done, one way or another. Known as a wildcard, laid-back, unpredictable, yet suave, Hauts was a criminal prince and was an important part of keeping the Nightshade Mafia running well....most of the time. His recklessness and disregard for Gen's orders often put him at odds with his brothers.

Hauts felt it more a difference of opinion, but nothing too crazy as at the end of the day, he cared very deeply about his brothers and everything he did would never put everything in danger. Gen didn't see it that way and shot his brother with intent to murder and remove something that was starting to make him paranoid about his control of things.

By all accounts, Hauts should be dead, face blasted open and body dumped in the woods, but he was found by a local pikachu from a nearby village and managed to find his health again. He's hung up his old life though, not interested in revenge, not interested in going back into that world. His guns are hung up to live a peaceful life as a bartender in Veridian Village, at least, until life comes knocking and he might have to pick up his old life again... Design notes: He is very much looking to copy the style of a 1920's ganster, hence the older style to his suit and wears an open jacket to match his more laid-back attitude. Also was one to always make sure you knew he was armed when in company. His hat was fun as it is clear it is blown off and there history and sentiment to it. He's had that torn up hat a long time and is intent on keeping it that way.

[ghysry]

A backstory for brisket Five? Say less!

Tags: Diego and Five bond:(, semi-happy ending, brisket Five, he's retired, not an x reader, if you guys want me to make one just ring the bell!, He's so silly!, now let's traumatize him, shows how brisket Five got his name

Characters: Five | the brisket boy (TUA show), Diego Hargreeves, slight mention of Luther Hargreeves and Sloane Hargreeves, Waiter Five cameo at the end

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

"You used to be one of the rotten ones."

Five wouldn't say he had any artistic ability, in hindsight his calculations all over every space of his childhood bedroom might look like modern art to the gullible eye but it's more of an eyesore when you actually understand the things written down, some even have corrections all over them, which at one point stops looking good and starts looking like someone barfed numbers on top of numbers. He learned mathematics in the years he spent walking the empty wasteland of an apocalypse at the ripe age of thirteen to fifty-something, reading books over and over again that survived in the apocalypse was his only source of enjoyment, if not enjoyment, then to pass the time.

No one knows one of those books he picked up was a cook book, a mini-series of them, he vaguely remembers having six out of the eight that you could get in a standard book set of these page torn burnt at the side step-by-step instruction nightmares. But he kept them. There were no stoves anywhere - and if there were, there would be no gas to turn the thing on; besides, he didn't exactly have the materials to cook food anyway, so it was useless to carry those six books around so much, embarrassing, even. Yet it was still in his cart, all forty years he spent heaving it and dragging the wooden mess behind him, those books never left his sight, and he never let them get damaged.

"Step one, throw a pot on the stove and set the fire to medium heat, slice the meat and add it into the water, then--" Five mumbled with his eyes closed, his hand fumbling with a fork, before his ears picked up footsteps right outside of his hotel bedroom. "Five?" Diego knocked on his already open door, letting himself into the older-but-younger brother's room. "You hear the thing with Sloane and Luther? They're getting married," Diego announced, eyeing his sibling for a second, trying to gauge his opinion. If Diego wasn't Five's second favorite sibling he would have sent him out of his room in less than a second, but he is. "I know. Space boy marries space girl before the world ends, kisses and hugs, do I have to be there?" Five grumbles, standing up from the edge of his bed and making his way to Diego, too lazy to use his powers.

"Yes, you have to be there. You're Luther's sibling too you know?" Diego, who's been trying to work on his parental instincts, can't help but see Five as a kid who just can't be understood by certain people, and with this knowledge in his mind, he also can't help but wrap an arm around Five's shoulder and give off a smile. "I'll be there too."

Well, this certainly wasn't what Five thought would happen a few hours before his brother's wedding. He was baking..a cake, a wedding cake, with Diego, his other brother. Five eyed Diego from his peripheral vision, watching him mix the cake batter incorrectly. "Give it here," he sneers, blinking next to Diego and grabbing the mixer, doing it the right way and watching his brother stare at him in what he thought was either awe, annoyance, disgust, or all three. "What?" Five stepped aside, cracking an egg into the batter and then mixing again. "Nothing, I just didn't think of you as the type of guy that cooks."

...

"I don't." Five stares down at his hand holding the mixer, blinking at the weird thought that maybe he could be the type of guy who cooks. After all this, when the world eventually ends and he finds himself up in his version of heaven (which he would prefer if his siblings were nearby, but he'd never tell them that), he'd open a restaurant and cook all the stuff he wishes he could've when he was stuck in the apocalypse. Or, maybe, he just dies - either way now that he was doing it, it felt pretty good, thinking about how people would eat his cooking. "Diego, help me with this."

--There it is, that dreaded moment. After Luther's wedding, after they found the other side of the hotel, after they reset the universe, after everyone else left. The sinking feeling that his siblings would never get to taste his cooking again, dare he ever try to cook after that shit show, it felt worse than standing here alone, by himself, in a park on the bench hoping nobody walks by him and asks if he knows where his parents are. Truthfully, he doesn't even know what happened to his parents, neither Reginald or his biological mother.

[SOMEWHERE IN THE GODDAMN PRESENT]

He gave up on cooking, he realized it sooner or later. After opening a restaurant that was - by the way - extremely successful, he found himself trying to contact his siblings in his free time, once or twice a week, calling them then hanging up a few minutes later to make it seem like he never missed them, and the reason he was calling was only to check up on whether or not they're starting another apocalypse or something. Klaus and Diego got more calls than he'd like to admit, Diego had a family, Klaus was finally off drugs because he lost his powers, and Allison was taking care of him while Klaus was taking care of Claire; who Allison finally got back in this timeline. But that wasn't when he gave up on cooking, it was when he realized this timeline was still doomed to fail either way.

He remembered it as clearly as he remembers that stupid commission handbook, the subway, the diary, the amount of times he felt his chest tightening at the mere mention of another apocalypse, even worse, at the mention of his siblings dying, or his siblings having to die for the sake of the world. That wasn't what he wanted, it was far from what he thought the ending would look like. Maybe, for once, he could accept that he was gullible for thinking he'd ever have a happy ending, especially one that had his siblings in it. If not for his siblings abandoning him, it was him abandoning his siblings. Again.

One more thing he would never tell anyone is that he still blames himself for ending up so far into the future. At first, when he ended up in the apocalypse and couldn't teleport back in time, he thought it was his fault. Seeing his siblings bodies laying there dead and hearts investing, he thought when he jumped too far into the future, he lost all the time he could have spent with them before the apocalypse happened. It's why he wanted to stop it so badly in the first place, to be able to spend more time with his family, the only family he had. Now, he was stuck in a stupid subway with his head in his hands, shivering in one of the empty seats, using his shirt to cover him up as much as possible from the harsh temperature of the subway. Ten years. Ten years on the subway, ten years travelling different timelines, surviving, leaving, wishing for a better adventure. It was just like the apocalypse honestly, if it happened in a train that smelled weirdly like a mixed cleaning agent and a car freshener.

It was on one of those off days when he found the abandoned restaurant, well, it was abandoned when he first saw it, but it felt like the universe was actively laughing in his face when the subway chose to bring him here, though it was the only place he could stay and feel even a little bit closer to home. He stepped inside the dusty establishment, coughing as he did so, the lights were on and flickering, but he was only here to try and loot the place for food. He walked around the place, old shoes sounding against the tiled floor, senses heightened and a butter knife he found clutched tightly in his right hand.

When he opened the kitchen door, he almost lunged in surprise, well, that is if he could lunge at all, or if he could feel surprised at all. It was..another version of him, cooking a meal of some sort, like something you'd find in a shitty three star fast food restaurant, and the grease was just everywhere on that thing. "Do you mind?" The other Five cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow, staring at the Five who was holding a butter knife in his hand.

"You hungry? I could cook you something too." Waiter Five smiled, well, it wasn't really a smile, more like a small smirk pointed towards the other Five who was just standing there like a bear poked. "I'll make my own food," Five answered, clearing his throat, but his hand never let go of the butter knife at his disposal.

"Got any brisket?"

[certainduckanchor]

PITIFUL part 2

pairings : gojo x reader

genre : angst

I hope this answer your questions. I'm not really sure about this one. But let me know your thoughts :)

P.S.: the students that time are only Maki, Toge, Panda, and Yuta they were first years when THAT happened.

Please don't get confused. Some are flashbacks.

Since that day, that night. Gojo Satoru cannot sleep anymore, everytime he close his eyes all he can see is your face smiling at him. He has nightmares - nightmare's about that day, how you ask for his forgiveness, how you thank him and how you genuinely smiled at him. Sometimes he sees you in your house, it's like he was hallucinating.

And that was already a year ago. One year has passed since you were gone and many things has change. His students who was once like him, now Gojo Satoru's is just an eyesore to everyone. They just can't forget what their sensei did to you.

He regrets for what he did. For hating you, for treating you shit like some garbage in his life. Even if he begged and ask for forgiveness, you're not coming back. He's too late, the damage has already been done. What if he followed you that day, after you say sorry to him? What if he listens to you? If he notice that signs, maybe you're still here. maybe.. but even after so many what ifs in his mind, he cannot go back in time.

He can still vividly remember that day, he was peacefully sleeping together with the woman he brought in your shared apartment. Someone called him that makes him wake up and it was Shoko who was crying and sobbing? There are some other noise in the background too, crying.

" Y-you need to come." that was she said and the line ended. He was confuse, but he immediately went to Jujutsu High. When he arrived there, the only thing he can heard is their voices echoed through the hallway of Jujutsu High sobbing, and his students crying infront your door? What happened?

He looked around Principal Yaga is comforting Shoko at the corner who was crying. Meimei is silently sitting at their side.

" Gojo, yn is gone. " it was Principal Yaga, his voice is full of sadness. Gojo Satoru was too stunned to speak. Gone? but he just sees you a while ago, you just talked to him, you just smiled at him.

He was shaking as he walks slowly towards your room. He felt something cold in his feet. Never in his entire life that he'll feel nervous and scared.

When Gojo entered your room, you were peacefully sleeping and lifeless, your body was full of wounds, scars and bruise. He felt something throbbing in his heart. He felt sicked. This is something he didn't expect. You were with him earlier talking to him but why? Why did you do it? Why are you lying in this bed, lifeless?

He stared at your face, something hit him. Memories flows in his mind, how you made his foods, how you greet him, how you prepared things for him even he didn't want it, you were that sweet, kind, and timid person he ever met. Something he hates about you ever since but now you're here lying in this bed, cold and lifeless.

During those months you were married, he never heard you complain. Even if he kept asking you why you live with him, you still put that sweet smile on your face whenever you answered him. You're that type of person who smiled at everything. But behind that smile, there was something going on with you.

Gojo was supposed to feel happy cause the person who ruined his life is finally gone. He wants to jump in happiness but he can't. He simply can't. Something is killing him inside. Is it his conscience?

He holds your hand, he was trembling, it was cold, he can't feel your warmth. Your body was full of wounds, is this the reason why you always wear sweaters? Did someone hurt you? he wanted to you ask you that. If only he knew, if only.

Gojo touched his face, huh? am i crying? but why? He didn't even noticed he cried until some of his tears dropped in his hands. This is the second time he cried, first was Geto and now, you.

He teleported back to his apartment, he can't explain his feelings. Something is killing him inside. That's right, his conscience is slowly killing him. Making him realized how awful he was as a person and as a husband. It was his fault. His fault. His fault.

He look at your bedroom. He saw your figure at the door smiling genuinely at him. You were there a while ago, you were there standing, you were there apologizing to him, putting that sweet smile on your face.

" yn...." he whispered and suddenly you disappeared. This is the first time he spoke your name. Ah, that's right. Gojo Satoru never called your real name because he used to call you names. Suddenly he felt sicked and disgusted of himself, remembering what he called you almost everyday. So now, he was hallucinating.

" I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he mantra. Now his conscience is killing him. This is all his fault. He didn't know, he didn't know. He was ignorant. He was selfish. He was a jerk.

That night, Gojo Satoru cried until nothing left and he is no longer the man he was.

--

" Gojo-san. yn comes from a very abusive family. She was abuse at the very young age. I found out that it was her family's plan all this time. She was abused every last friday of the month. Her parents set you up, to get your money. To become famous." it was Ijichi, holding bunch of papers looking so tired getting information. The sudden death of yn made him sad. And just today, he found out that you were married to Gojo Satoru.

Ijichi wants to asked Gojo Satoru why he kept you. Why he didn't tell anyone that he was married? but something is stopping him.

Gojo Satoru will make sure that your parents will suffer. Those people who abuse you will pay for their life.

It's been a week, Gojo Satoru didn't even attend your funeral. He felt ashamed for what he did to you. He can't forgive himself and even the people around him who already know his secret hates him. His students, Shoko, Principal Yaga, Meimei and even in the Kyoto knows what he did to his wife. He deserved all the blame. Karma.

Gojo, take a deep breath as he listens to Ijichi. Why he didn't know that not until today? It is because he refuse to know you, your name, your family background, he didn't even care to know you before. All he think that time was only himself. He was a self-obsessed jerk. But now, after hearing all of this. He realized that no matter how much he do it will not changed the fact that he's a monster. It was him who ruined your life, it was him who hurt you.

" Ijichi, do you think yn will ever forgive me? The day we got married, is the day I treat her like a trash. I'm a monster, it was all my fault. I'm just like those higher-ups. " Gojo started, his voice was full of regrets. He was no different from them.

Ijichi who was in the corner didn't say anything. Even if he wanted to blamed him, it's not his position to say something right.

" The only stupid and pathetic person here, was me and yet I blamed it to my wife. I blamed her for everything because I was so full of myself." Gojo laughed dryly. He sounds pathetic.

" Gojo-san......." Ijichi whispered. This is his first time hearing Gojo Satoru speak like that. He used to heard him everytime brags himself, but now the strongest sorcerer sounds like a mere animal.

Ijichi walks towards him handling him a letter.

" Ieri-san told me to give you this letter. She said this was from yn-san."

Shoko was still angry to Gojo that's why she let Ijichi to give the letter and Gojo understand that. After all, it was his fault.

After that talk, Gojo Satoru teleport himself away from Jujutsu High. He wants to see you, he wants to visit you. He wanted to talk to you so bad. He regrets for taking advantage of your kindness.

He found himself infront of your grave.

" Gojo Yn "

He was shaking and helpless, Yn were you alone?

" I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry I didn't attend your last day. I-i was ashamed of myself. I feel disgusted." Gojo Satoru started. His voice was trembling.

" I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for everything. I regret what I did. "

He opened the letter in his hand trembling.

Dearest Satoru,

By the time you read this, I'm already gone. I just wanted to say that sorry for ruining your life. I know you were forced to something you didn't like which is why I'm sorry for everything. I may not be the best wife you had but believe me, I was happy everytime I cooked meals for you eventhough I know you never eat it, atleast i have some purpose in life. I never resent nor hate you. Thank you for that small time, you were almost my savior but sadly it didn't turn out to be happy. But it's okay, don't be sad. I don't blame you for anything. What happened to me will never be your fault. Take care always Satoru, my strongest sorcerer.

with love,

-yn

The strongest sorcerer cried infront of your tomb, letting the paper gets wet from his hand.

How could you thank him? How could you say that you were happy? How could you not hate him? Despite what he did to you, you still smiled. He deserves all the blamed, he deserves to be hated. But why? Why are you like this? You must resent him. Cursed him to death. But why?!

But no matter what he do nor he cried, no one will answer him. It's already too late to regret.

--

" Gojo sensei.. Gojo sensei!" Gojo Satoru wakes up from sleeping. He's dreaming of you again. He didn't even notice that he fall asleep. He wipe the tears at the corner of his eyes. Luckily Yuji didn't notice.

" ah yuji-kun.." Gojo smiled softly.

" we've been looking for you but here you're sleeping?!"

" Gojo sensei Ijichi is looking for us! Come on!" it was Nobara this time.

That's right, the trio has mission in Sendai today and Gojo was supposed to be there.

" hai hai..." Gojo grinned. Following them.

Until this day, Gojo Satoru still can't forgive himself. He looks at the sky, thinking about you all the time. Are you happy up there?

End.

No proofreading.

@justhereforonething26

@kawaiivillainess98

@aish777

[nothanksjohnny]

Seekers

Seekers are complex in their ways of existing. From how they define status between themselves beyond the standards of a theocratic monarchy or a more elective government. As the rest of cybertron had slowly shifted to unilaterally follow. No, they had a more refined way of presenting themselves. Not just limited to a blood given right but as a single being.

To a Seeker flying is every piece of them. Every wire and bolt was molded to aid in their obligation of living. Sleek forms that cut though weather and atmosphere alike. Silent in their hunt until they allow you to hear the hiss and rumble of their engines. Due to this it is no question that these features are used in everyday social mobility. One string of how to grasp their differentiated social ladder is to begin with their wings.

This is often a social cue used for more refined and noble status as well for more daily interaction with fellow airborne cybertronians. physique is another step for a seeker to pridefully present themselves allowing further chances to make oneself a eyesore. Another side connection to this is a polished and clean frame. While cleanliness is the basic standard for any species, seekers tend to use this as a social connection of sorts. This can allow someone to know how close they are to said winged mech or femme. Many will have to work up to the trust of a seeker giving full access to their back and wings. Believed to be close is hypersensitivity as a human's fingertips. Although further knowledge or suspicion has brought the hypothesis that it can further drift to more sensitive and personal areas. Crevices where the forearm begins to flow into the servo. Creating a wrist of joins and cogs as well as wires. As well as the metallic joints one's digit bends. A more stiff mimic to an organic flow of motion.

Gently clawing out stuck debris between shoulders and perhaps even freshening paint or polish can help strength or create a more solid bond. This is often found to be done between trines as well. Often subtly shown between the elite trine in more calmer moments While aiding a fellow cybertronian isn't that odd to see nor is it strange to witness a grounder and seeker clean each other. It does differentiate on how the cleaning is done between grounders,seekers,ect.

This is due to differences in sensor placement. Seekers,coneheads and fliers require more sensors in their back and heels of their peds due to wings and thrusters. They also seem to take a more smooth transition to blindness and become easier to bear. This is because they take better advantage of additional sensors. Aiding in being able to mimic sight allowing clear awareness of surroundings. Due to these sensor placements a fellow seeker or winged mech/femme would more than likely be sought out over a grounder. Although this may differentiate if said grounder is the seeker in questions Conjunxs. Wing sensors tend to become hypersensitive and sore. Like straining a muscle or the deep ache after working out to compare. Knots can form and cause great discomfort in not only daily activity but if left untreated can cause faulty flying

This can lead to crashes or just wires becoming too strained. Creating unbearable pain can hinder a seeker to the ground or their berth. Oftentimes this is caused by being without a trine,death of a train or a now broken bond. Leaving a seeker without aid. To aid in this pain frequent preening is necessary. While a fellow flier or seeker does more precise petting of the wings a trusted grounder could offer assistance if allowed to. Starting in the outer middle of the wing is a preferred way to ease into aches. Soft long oval shaped pets following the wings shape can offer a soothing beginning. Slowing edging more into the middle of the wing can begin further going into the aches and possible knots. Its best to move up to the tip of the wing before you attempt to go towards the base of the wing.

This may be considered personal and may be reserved for trine. Patience and kindness as well as understanding is greatly appreciated for seekers who find themselves only allowing preening to happen between trinemates or at least more harder and precise ones. This is simply the beginning of trying to understand our angels or herpes of cybertron. Gliding elegantly through the sky as their claws glimmer in the ever lighted city of Vos. Seekers are complex. Beautify complex.