#bless bell honestly

[dcviated]

welcome to home depot can he get you anything

(credit to the admin of my rf rp group after I made a shitpost image)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

coming back from hiatus would be a damn lot easier if people reblogged my fics and added a little comment or tag instead of spam liking 92 of them and disappearing again, just saying 🤪

[merchantarthurn]

ive just finished the first book and i'll never be sane again, i fear. go read tiger tiger right now you will not regret it

ive known remy, ludovica and jamis for five seconds and i fear i love them all and im insane

[mooncleaver]

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk@starfleetteddybear

[adobe-outdesign]

There was a period in Neopets wherein all the faeries were designed to wear bell bottoms for some reason and honestly I kind of feel like getting rid of them was a downgrade

enough dresses, have a faerie show up ready to bless your Neopet and then head out to the disco afterward

[vonlycaonwife]

Could I request Wise, Nicole, and Lycaon with a world-famous chef reader who loves spoiling them with home-cooked meals?

I honestly was tempted to call a relative to ask about their experience in the industry, but then I realized I would actually have to talk with them (ew, socializing). So I just mainly based this off of what I remember what they’re like whenever they visit. Enjoy!

Warnings: none

Highkey he feels so blessed to have you. Whenever you visited you always immediately went shopping with Belle for any ingredients the two were missing for whatever meal you had planned.

Though that’s not to say you cook for them all the time, but it's almost become your routine with them.

He absolutely loves everything you make, especially whatever is your specialty. He normally doesn’t eat a lot, but when you cook he’s getting a second plate.

If you make desserts as well, he’s always volunteering to help. Actually he helps when you cook as well, which is mainly just cleaning the kitchen (heard some chefs forget to do that because they’re used to the assistant chefs or cleaners doing that, relative was the same way).

Usually there’s leftovers stuffed in the fridge for them to eat while you’re away. Wise ends up having to fight Belle over them, most of the time losing since the bangboos snitch on him hiding them behind other food.

Another who feels blessed. She’s absolutely using this to her advantage, not to say she’s only using you for your cooking! But…whenever the funds are low you can expect a call from her.

She does try to help pay for it when going shopping with you! Believe me! But you usually would insist, since you just want to feed your girlfriend. The best payment you can ask her is affection and help with the meal preparations.

You mostly end up making enough food to feed the rest of the hares for at least a week, just so they can save up enough for the rest of the month. But everyone loves your food so it’s fulfilling for you to see them enjoy it.

Though you can clearly see Nicole trying to sneak some extra for herself.

Hey! She helped cook! She should be allowed to have a bigger portion, she is your lover!

See here’s where we get some problems. And by problems I mean you both “fighting” over who is cooking for the night. Since you both would want to be the sole person making the meal to give the other a break. You both end up having to compromise by cooking together most of the time.

You both work together like a well oiled machine, honestly it almost feels like you’re still working at the restaurant you work for! Which isn’t a bad thing at all, since that means your meals always end up perfect every time.

Though there are occasions where you both end up too tired to cook and just order takeout, it’s still one of the best meals you have since you’re in each other’s company.

Highkey I can see a small little game being made where you both try to complete your jobs quickly just to show up home before the other in order to make a meal first. 

It’s just really sweet how the two of you just want to treat the other all the time with food.

[fandomnerd9602]

Our First Thanksgiving

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Gif belongs to @abimess

You couldn’t believe it. Halloween was a blast for you and your doe hybrid mate Wanda Maximoff. You and her had enter the ‘seasons of firsts’ as you would call it.

Thanksgiving was just on the horizon. Another first holiday for your doe and you. Honestly you loved having these firsts with her. It was like new experiences to share together, to feel the joy and elation that it allows was incomparable.

Your doe had traded her jean shorts for a comfy pair of PJ pants that she wore around the house. Her little deer tail popped out the back of the pants, in truth, it gave you another reason to stare at her perfect form.

One night, about two weeks before Thanksgiving, your mate in question came running into the living room and jumped onto the couch and into your lap.

“So what are we gonna do?” She asked, her doe tail wiggling with anticipation.

“About?” You asked her right back.

“Thanksgiving!” She exclaimed. “My family never celebrated it, you know being from Sokovia and all”

“Well it’s a feast,” you replied, “a time where we gather together and share what we’ve been thankful for over the year”

“She nuzzles you, her antlers fitting just over your head, “I think you know what I’m thankful for, my buck”

You kiss her nose in response. “I promise I’m gonna make this Thanksgiving a memorable one for you, my doe”

She giggles, “I know you will”

You had no idea where to even begin. Your mind races with ideas both good and bad as you walk down the hallways of the sanctuary.

“Hey boss,” Natasha said with a smirk, “need fuel? Your brain looks like it’s running on fumes”

Natasha, your ever loyal wolf hybrid pal guides you into the break room and pours you some coffee.

“So what’s on your mind?” She asks as she gives you coffee.

“Thanksgiving. I wanna make it special for Wanda.” You explain.

“My advice…make a few vegan dishes. She’s probably not gonna want direct turkey.” Natasha explains. “But prepare a small one for me, hey I’m a carnivore after all”

“Just inviting yourself huh?” You ask with a chuckle and a smirk.

“Am I not invited?” Natasha offers a mocking offense. “I’m your buddy, your pal!”

“Of course you’re invited Nat,” you smile at her, “you’re like my sister. Closest thing I had to a family for a long time, Yelena too”

Natasha smiles, her wolf tail wagging a little. “Make some turkey tofu for the future wife, some cranberry sauce, stuffing and a green bean casserole, you’ll be good”

“Future wife?” You look at her a little confused.

“Hey just calls it as I see it. I hear wedding bells for you and your doe in your future” Natasha laughs.

You couldn’t help but blush. You heard those same wedding bells too.

Thanksgiving had arrived. You worked on both the turkey tofu for Wanda and the regular turkey for your wolf hybrid pals. Natasha borough the green bean casserole. Yelena brought the cranberry sauce, joking that she got into several scuffles for it.

Tony handled thanksgiving dinner for the sanctuary. Doctor Strange led the festivities in your place.

You, Wanda, Natasha, and Yelena held a small intimate dinner at your apartment. You had a nice fireplace loop playing on your tv. Wanda and Yelena found themselves watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while you and Natasha worked the kitchen. Eventually, everyone took their place at your small dining table.

Wanda sat next to you, holding your hand under the table. The dinner was nice and simple, conversations faded into something jovial. The wolves couldn’t help but embarrass you by telling Wanda all about your life before her.

Wanda couldn’t help but feel blessed. She had a small family there with her. She had two wolf sisters and the love of her life.

Little did she realize how quickly that little thanksgiving dinner set up would grow over time. Eventually Natasha had to bring a bigger fold out table.

Your first thanksgiving as a couple was also your first one as a family. And as far as Wanda could see, it was just perfect.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @aloneodi @olsenmyolsen @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @moonlit-imagines

[milktei]

Love at First Rental

Wise x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, meet-cute

Warnings: None

a/n: hello! it’s been a while. recently i’ve been playing a ton of zzz (interknot level 43 already o-o) and it’s such a silly game and i love wise <3.

also recently i’ve been coming to terms with the fact that it’s okay if my fics are shorter than i’m used to so hopefully my i can post more things in the near future

“I don’t understand girls, let alone virtual ones.” Something wise told his sister half jokingly when they were first introduced to their new assistant Fairy. He was just so busy with proxy duties, running Random Play, and making sure that Belle didn’t run into trouble that he never really put much thought into meeting new people and going on dates.

Unfortunately for him, there was currently a really pretty girl in the store and he suddenly wished that the opposite was true.

He hopes he didn’t seem too creepy from where he stood behind the counter watching as you perused the collection of the store. 18 was in the staff room with Belle for some maintenance after it started counting change wrong, so Wise opted to just take over the store for the short amount of time it would take.

It was both a blessing and a curse that you just so happened to walk into the store at that moment.

From what he could tell you hadn’t been to the store before, you definitely weren’t a regular and it didn’t seem like you had any specific film to pick out in mind.

‘Just let me know if you need any help’ he wanted to say, but his mouth stayed shut. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, his mouth was dry, what if his voice cracked?

He forced his eyes away from you to look at other customers, the luckyboo to his left, the window outside. Anything but you, staring was rude after all.

“Excuse me.” Wise gripped the edge of the counter tightly, the voice was unfamiliar but deep down he knew. Such a nice voice couldn’t belong to anyone else that was in the store. He swallowed, turning his head to look at you.

You make eye contact and it takes everything in him to not let his legs give out.

He smiles, hoping it didn’t look too awkward, “How can i help you?” He asks calmly *calmly*.

You smile, and Wise nearly melts. Was it normal for a stranger to have such a big effect on him?

“I’m gonna be honest I’m a bit overwhelmed with the selection you have here,” you say sheepishly, “I was wondering if you had any recommendations?”

His hands start sweating as he mentally starts going through the store’s catalog, “Of course, you have any genres in mind?” he mentally pats himself on the back for not stuttering.

You take a moment to think, “Honestly I’m just looking for a film that’s calm, something I can watch to wind down. So anything like that? Even a good documentary would work.”

Wise nearly shouts in victory. A documentary? Perfect, absolutely perfect. “Well actually I enjoy watching documentaries, depending on what interests you I would recommend…”

Wise spends the better part of ten minutes making recommendations, and why he enjoys specific films. To his surprise you’re listening to every word and nodding along, even asking questions as he talks.

Eventually, you settle on a film to rent and Wise is pulling up the stores system to start the transaction.

“Can i have your number?” he says suddenly as you pull out your card to pay.

You look at him stunned, “Pardon me?”

Wise’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, “F-for our system!” he coughs, “Just to keep track of what you’ll be renting, a-and if you like you can sign up for a membership too.”

You blink, “Um, actually yeah I’d love to sign up.”

His gaze snaps to meet yours, usually it took a bit more convincing from customers. “That’s great!” he manages to say, was it getting warm in the store? “I’d just need you name and your number then.”

The rest of the transaction relatively goes smoothly. With him now knowing your name and having your number—for the membership of course—along with you promising to swing by the store again and talk about more movies with him.

The door to the shop finally swings shut behind you, and Wise drops his head, leaning on the counter with an embarrassed sigh.

It’s then that he hears a snicker to his right and he looks up. His sister stands there with a fixed and waving 18, and an amused smirk on her face.

“…How much did you-“

“Oh just the last bit,”

Wise groans and drops his head again.

[toournextadventure]

our little secret ii

Summary: You're never one to turn down a weekend with Lorraine. But everyone seems to think it's the perfect time to remind you of the reality of the situation. At least the rodeo clowns get paid for what they do; you seem to do the job for free. At least you get to have some fun with Lorraine before resuming your Good Girl act.

Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: 18+ smut, swearing, religious trauma, religious homophobia, blasphemy Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (Masterlist)

"Mornin', darlin'."

You kept your eyes trained on Beau in the corral when you felt Huck's arm brush against your own before he slung it over your shoulder. Instinct had you leaning into him. He smelled like fresh sawdust and hay. Smelled like comfort.

"Mornin'," you replied softly.

"Where's your better half?" He asked. That did have you tilting your head to look up into his sparkling eyes and kind smile.

"Which one?" You asked. "RJ's?" You turned to look back at the corral. "Or ours?"

"That idjit ain't nobody's better half." You felt his body shake with a laughter that you couldn't quite hear.

"Ain't that God's honest truth," you said when his fella, bless his heart, tried to wave to the both of you and was toppled over by a stray calf. 

"I meant Lorraine," Huck said once you both made sure Beau was on his feet and safe again. "She at another shoot?"

"Yeah," you sighed. Lorraine's smile flashed in your mind's eye. "Guess they're gettin' good at it cause they're gone all the time now."

"Ain't that a good thing though?" He asked. The bell rang, making you jump. You hated when they tested the damn bell. "Means they're doin' somethin' right."

"Guess so," you mumbled to yourself.

You did hope they were doing something right. Lorraine mentioned that she genuinely loved making the films; not always being in them, but the behind-the-scenes, technical side of it. Her face always lit up when she talked about it and you would never wish for her to fail even if it meant RJ had to succeed with her.

But you missed her. You missed having more than two or three days together at a time before she had to leave again. It wasn’t her fault, and you wanted her to have the successful film career she wanted, and you honestly trusted Jackson more than you trusted RJ. None of it really meant much when you couldn’t even talk to her though.

Another calf ran in front of you, beating out the wrangler once again and pulling you back to the present. Seemed they would be the winners over the weekend if they kept it up. It always made for a less than exciting rodeo if the calves kept winning. What fun was there in no one even qualifying? It wasn't like there was any real compet-

"-What the hell is he doin'?" You asked, pointing to where Beau was donning a very specific vest.

"Better not be what I think it is," Huck mumbled before putting his fingers to his lips and whistling.

Beau turned instantly, eyes landing on the both of you for only a moment before he started jogging over. His boots left the smallest cloud of dust behind him until he hopped onto the fence you were both leaning against. He instinctively went to kiss Huck before remembering where he was, redirecting the kiss to your cheek.

"What on God's green earth do you think you're doin' with that on?" You asked as you pulled him by the top of his vest.

“One of the bullfighters got hurt,” he said. “I offered to help since we don’t compete this weekend.”

“Like hell you did,” you said. Just the mere thought of him being in that corral with the bulls had your pulse racing in your ears.

“It’s one weekend, darlin’,” he said with that stupid smile that always got him into trouble. “It’ll be fun-”

“-Beauregard Callaway, you march back over there right this instant and tell them no.”

“You just got full-named,” Huck said quietly enough for only the three of you to hear.

“I can’t just quit-”

“-Huck,” you scolded, turning to look at him next. “Tell him,” you gestured your head to Beau and raised your brows, “before I full-name you next.”

Huck looked between you and Beau as if he was caught between two lions. Which he was, but he better be more afraid of you. Beau was his lover, sure, but you were the scary one. Out of your whole friend group when you were all little, you were the one capable of instilling the fear of god into anyone.

Now was no exception.

“I’d tell ‘em no, baby,” he said to Beau with a shrug.

“That the best you can do?” You scolded again.

“Darlin’, you know he don’t listen to me-”

“-That’s enough, the both of you,” Beau interrupted. “I done said yes already and it’s only one weekend.” He looked you each in the eye before he smiled. “Ain’t never been hurt before.”

“And you ain’t gonna get hurt, right Beauregard?” You asked with a raised brow.

“If the crick don’t rise,” he said with a wink at Huck before hopping off the fence and starting his walk back to the gate.

“You get hurt and I’ll kill you myself!” You shouted after him. He didn’t look back, but flipped his hand up in a half-hearted wave of acknowledgment. Huck laughed beside you and you turned to glare at him next. “You too, Hucksley.”

“Well shit, darlin’, no need to drag me into it,” he grumbled as his smile fell. “I ain’t even the one in trouble.”

“Not yet,” you said quietly before looking back out at the corral once again.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they let Beau go for the rest of the evening, convinced he was good enough for the actual rodeo over the weekend. You made sure to slap him upside the head when he came back around just as an added threat. If he got hurt, you would make it a dozen times worse without hesitation.

“We headin’ to your daddy’s again?” Huck asked when he started the truck up.

“Think so,” you said as you leaned forward between the two front seats. “Momma was s’posed to make supper.” You took note of their linked hands near the center console and smiled to yourself.

Would you ever be able to hold Lorraine’s hand out in the open like that? To just drive around, laughing and singing to the radio without a care in the world? It was finally the ‘80s, surely that had to count for something. Not that the year had anything to do with the many other reasons you weren’t with her.

You’re going to hell, your mind reminded you. It’s a sin. Right. There was a much bigger reason. It continued to eat you from the inside out, picking you apart like a kid feeding bread to the ducks at the pond. Or, what was that old story you heard back in school… Prometheus, that Greek god. The one who had his liver pecked out day after day.

Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it felt.

“Seems your favourite family came over too,” Beau said when he parked the car in front of your house beside the Days’ van. Well, RJ’s van.

“Fantastic,” you mumbled and rolled your eyes.

You didn’t wait for them as you stormed out, slamming the door so hard it shook the truck. No waiting as you stomped up the porch steps, standing outside with your hand on the door handle and taking the moment to just breathe. Daddy couldn’t see you losing it, because what could you possibly say to explain it?

Hey daddy, sorry I’m upset, I’m just tired of seeing the girl I love be with a man that can help her achieve her dreams. Yeah, because that would go over so well.

The moment your breathing had evened out enough to be considered normal, you entered the house to hear excessive talking and laughter. Typical for your household, and it actually brought a smile to your lips. You could hear your parents, and the Days, and the dogs were yappin’ and it was a wonderful atmosphere.

But when you stepped through the kitchen doorway and saw Lorraine sitting on RJ's lap, that sinking feeling settled in your stomach again. He's her boyfriend, you tried to reason, Huck has to watch Beau do the same thing. But that didn't ease the ache from every breath.

"Evenin', y'all," Huck said when he and Beau creeped up behind you. He patted your shoulder lightly before squeezing by you to make his rounds.

"How was setup?" Your daddy asked when Beau shook his hand.

"Smooth as ever," Beau answered with a grin that made your daddy smile.

It made you sick.

"Momma, can I help?" You asked as you walked over to where she was cooking. You didn't want to listen to everyone's conversations.

It was impossible to stop yourself from cocking your head to listen whenever Lorraine spoke. You wished she would speak louder; she was always far too quiet even when she was the most comfortable. A soft voice for a soft girl, your momma had said one day before Lorraine went off to college.

She still tried to hide her face, but not quite so much in your house. Maybe it was the atmosphere everyone created, or just the fact everyone knew it to be a “house of God himself,” thanks to your daddy. You didn’t know, all you knew was you preferred to be in either yours or her house; at least she let you see all of her that way.

Jimmy, Liz, and Roy came in from the back door while you were helping your momma set the food on the table. Jimmy and Liz were all over each other, which was no surprise, and he got a nice smack to the head with momma’s dish towel. Roy on the other hand looked utterly exhausted. Something which was also no surprise.

When your momma announced dinner was ready, everyone took their seats at the large table in the dining room. Huck and Beau sat together, of course, and so did all the other couples. Leaving you to sit with Roy, who gave you a small, reserved smile with a far away look in his eyes.

“Hey, bubba,” you said quietly while everyone else was still talking far too loud.

“Alright y’all,” your daddy said in his booming preacher’s voice, “join hands so we can pray.”

You all did exactly that. Beau gently grasped your left hand while Roy held your right in a vice grip. As your daddy prayed, you could feel the little bones in your hand shift when Roy gripped you tighter, and you knew it would be bruised tomorrow morning. But it seemed to help even his breathing, so you kept your mouth shut until daddy was done.

“Amen,” your daddy said, and everyone mumbled their own amens to follow suit.

Everyone started serving themselves, conversations flowing steadily and easily over the sound of utensils against plates. The dogs were smart, they stayed under the table in between yours and Roy’s legs. They knew you two were most likely to feed them, and what do you know, you always did. You tried to be sneaky about it, hushing them up when they smacked too loud.

Roy didn’t care, he just shamelessly gave them whatever he didn’t want.

“How’s the film business goin’, RJ?” Your daddy asked. You nearly choked on your food at the question.

“Good,” RJ answered with a slow nod as he finished chewing. “I’m hopin’ to have another one finished in a few weeks.”

“Am I ever gonna get to see one of them films?” Your daddy asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said quickly. Far too quickly. Everyone turned to look at you with a mix of emotions. “It just- it ain’t your style,” you tried to explain; a bead of sweat dripped down the back of your neck. “Not a Western, you know?”

“Hmm,” your daddy hummed. “You’re right then, I’ll pass.”

Everyone in the younger group sighed in relief, more than happy that your daddy had agreed with you. Conversation flowed again, going from the rodeo to Lorraine’s college to Jimmy’s seminary. Never to you or Roy, who everyone had determined over the last few weeks was going to stay put. You were no longer going to seminary because someone had to lead the church, and Roy was staying because he had lost his mind.

A typical situation.

“All I know is y’all better be careful out there,” your daddy said. He always seemed to be the voice that brought you out of your own thoughts. It probably meant something deeper that you didn’t want to think too hard about. “The world is turnin’ into a dangerous place.”

“It’s always been dangerous, Pap,” Jimmy chuckled. “We just got more TV and radio to tell us about it.”

“I’m serious, Jim,” your daddy said. “I don’t want none of y’all to get mixed up with those crowds out there.”

“And what crowds would that be, daddy?” You asked. All of you had half-hidden smiles because he usually had something ridiculous to say that you would all agree to and then laugh about later.

“Those damn homosexuals, for one,” he said with a grimace. Everyone around the table froze.

Your eyes stayed glued to the fork you had just stabbed into a potato. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt everyone staring, looking around at each other in uncomfortable silence. With your pulse rushing in your ears and your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, you swore everyone else could hear it too.

“Gonna be infectin’ us with their disease if we don’t watch out,” he continued as if he didn’t care how everyone had stopped moving. “Y’all better stay away.”

“They’re just people, Pap,” Jimmy said in a small voice. A blackness started to encroach on your vision.

“Dangerous, Godless people,” your daddy said. “Which is why y’all have to stick together.”

“They’re still kids Robert-”

“-Stay right by God,” he interrupted your momma. "All of y'all are in good, Godly relationships,” you could feel him looking at you but you still couldn’t look up. It felt like the room was closing in on you. "Stay that way."

“We’ll be careful,” RJ said, his voice putting a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow.

“Keep him around, Lorraine,” your daddy said. “He’ll take care of you-”

-you slammed your hands on the table and stood up. The ringing in your ears was drowning everything out and that blackness was covering more and more ground. You could feel each individual grain of the wooden table underneath your fingertips.

He’ll take care of you.

“I ain’t feelin’ too good,” you said around the invisible ball of cotton in your mouth. “May I be excused?”

“Sure, honey-”

-you didn’t wait for your momma to finish talking before you left the kitchen through the back door, your feet taking you straight to the barn. He’ll take care of you. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to say that in front of you? Wasn’t it enough that you had to break bread with RJ without getting it thrown in your face?

He'll take care of you.

You bit back the scream threatening to claw up your throat until you tasted blood. It filled your mouth until you swore you would choke on it. Part of you hoped you would; give you an excuse to end the mental anguish that constantly flooded your thoughts.

He’ll take care of you.

Like hell he would. Like hell. He couldn’t even take care of himself, how could anyone even possibly think he could take care of Lorraine? All he was was a wannabe filmmaker that wouldn’t even dare show y’all his films. So how on god’s green earth would he take care of Lorraine? Your Lorraine?

The dull thud of your boots on the dirt transitioned to the whispered slap of concrete when you walked through the barn doors and everything stopped. Stepping into the barn was like stepping into another world; all the noise and troubles from the outside ceased to exist, even if just for a few moments. 

It was replaced by the smell of gravel, dirt, and oil. Occasionally sawdust depending on the time of year. The separation was in the temperature drop, thanks to the partial concrete floor and huge space. There was something hypnotising about the sound of the metal walls creaking in the wind outside, yet everything was painfully still inside.

Something brushed up against your jean-clad leg and you nearly jumped from the intrusion to your thoughts. But then you took notice of the black and white tail curling around your calf and your heart rate started to lower again.

“Hey, Miss Kitty,” you mumbled as you bent down and held your hand out to the grumpy old barn cat. “You get locked in?”

She didn’t even dignify your question with a meow before walking off, her tail slinking away from your leg slowly until she was heading out the barn door. Not even a glance back to say goodbye. The complete nerve of that cat.

“I hope you done get ‘et by a coyote,” you called after her as she continued to sashay away. “Then we can finally quit pickin’ up strays.”

“Be nice to her,” Lorraine said softly, though the barn amplified it. “After all, we picked you up.”

“No, you picked RJ up,” you shot back while you straightened back up. “He just proves my point.”

“It isn’t his fault,” she said just as softly as she stepped closer to you. You took a single step back.

“No it ain’t,” you said. Stay right by God. “Clearly it’s God's.”

“Don’t go down that rabbit hole,” Lorraine warned, stepping forward again and placing a hand on your cheek before you could run away.

Her hand was soft, far too soft to be touching you. Why would she be so gentle with you when you were nothing but hidden anger and blasphemous words? And yet you wouldn’t push her away to spare her from your own sins. You wanted to pull her closer, feel her skin under your touch, have her name fall from your lips like a prayer.

“Please stay,” you whispered when you finally dared to meet her eyes.

The short nails on her fingers scratched lightly against your cheek. It was a little too light, hypnotising in the wrong way. There was nothing grounding about it, you felt like you were in a daze. You needed something more, something to drag you back down to earth where you belonged.

“Please,” you whispered again in a broken voice.

“I can’t,” Lorraine whispered back before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Everyone is waiting.”

And that right there? That killed you.

—---

At the rate you were going, you might as well start getting paid to be the rodeo clown.

You didn’t know which one of those pea-pickin bastards had done the deed, but someone had invited Lorraine and RJ to the rodeo for the weekend. Part of you highly suspected your mother, but the bashful look on Huck’s face almost made you think it was him. Regardless of who it was, you hadn’t been prepared to deal with the both of them over the weekend.

Was getting rejected in your own barn not punishment enough? Now you had to get publicly humiliated too? Not that anyone knew of your little secret, but it still rubbed salt in the wound. At least you could be down near the corral while RJ and Lorraine were in the stands behind the safety railing. Kept them far enough away from you to relax.

And maybe gave you the perfect position to look at Lorraine, but that was just an added bonus to the situation. It was no less than you deserved for having to put up with all of them for the weekend. You could be forgiven for wanting something pretty to look at while you were having your heart ripped out.

“He looks mighty handsome today, don’t he?” Huck asked, his eyes glued to where Beau was standing around with some of the other volunteers.

“No he don’t,” you said without even looking. “Looks like he needs his ass whooped.”

“You ain’t even lookin’,” he huffed.

You turned your head to finally look where Beau was standing and, you hated to admit, he did look mighty handsome in his new jeans and shirt.

“I looked,” you said, doing your best not to smile. “Still needs his ass whooped.”

"You're so grumpy,” Huck grumbled. You turned your head back to where Lorraine was sitting and felt an icy grip enclose around your heart. "You need to get laid."

“Ain’t that the truth,” you whispered.

The rodeo continued on.

You could tell Huck was getting anxious when the team roping started. Unlike Beau, he actually used the sport in the real world on his neighbour’s ranch. A skill that Beau considered recreational, yet to Huck it was necessary. It made for a fun dynamic, you wouldn’t deny it, especially when they got into arguments about the rules and regulations. Always did make for an exciting night.

But now you could tell he just missed it. He was never one to enjoy sitting on the sidelines, even when it wasn’t his own sport. It was sweet, truly it was, but if he didn’t quit bouncing his leg on the railing and forcing you to suffer with him, you were going to throw him to the bulls. And not the sexy ones.

“I’m beggin’ you to stay still,” you groaned. You reached your hand out and pressed down on his shoulder to ground him into the dirt. “You’re worse than Jim on Christmas.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Huck said even as you could practically feel his body vibrating from the effort to stay still. “But you are awful pretty when you beg.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” you said as you did your best not to laugh at the ridiculous smile on his face.

"You askin' Lorraine to the hoedown tonight?" Huck asked once the roping was done. Now that you both had a bit of time to look away, it was the perfect time to keep talking.

"Course not," you said with a scrunch of your nose. "She's with RJ."

"Not tonight," he said with a shake of his head and a sniffle; it must have been from the dust. "He's leavin' now."

You turned when Huck gestured his head and saw he was right; RJ was in the process of packing his stuff up. He never had been one for rodeo life. Hell, he didn't even enjoy the events to begin with. All he ever wanted was to try and make a good film out of it and that just wasn't easy enough for him. It'd be a shame if someone finally told him you had to know the sport to film it well.

A damn shame, that was for sure.

"Hurry up before she leaves too," Huck said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You opened your mouth to argue, but he pushed you forward off the railing. The dirt flew into a small cloud around your boots when you landed, and you sent him a quick glare before jogging over to where Lorraine and RJ were standing up. She seemed much more eager to stay, but you knew she wouldn't if she felt she was alone. That damn shotgun had done a number to her, physically and mentally.

"Leavin' already?" You asked as you quickly hopped up on the railing to be face-to-face with the lovely couple.

"Tryin' to," RJ said with a polite smile that said mind your business. "But we'll be back tomorrow."

"There's a hoedown tonight," you said before he could drag Lorraine away. "Me and the boys were wantin' Lorraine to join us." She turned to look at you with the slightest sparkle in her eye. "Like old times."

"Alright," RJ said without hesitation. It was evident he just wanted to get out of the stadium. Rodeos really weren't his cup of tea. "Need a ride home?"

"She can stay with me," you said before Lorraine could even open her mouth. "Also like old times."

Even though you weren't looking at her, you could feel Lorraine's eyes boring holes into the side of your head. She wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what you were doing. "Old times" just meant Huck and Beau ran off while you and Lorraine had your own fun. But there was the catch; only y'all knew what "old times" meant. Everyone else just thought you were acting like kids all over again.

Oh how sweet.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Raine," RJ said, leaning over to give her one more kiss. You quickly wiped the instinctive snarl off your face when he pulled away. "Y'all have fun."

"We will," you and Lorraine said at the same time.

You both watched and waited until he was out of sight before you pulled her over the railing. She yelped out in surprise before her feet hit the dirt and you could take her hand, leading her to where Huck was still waiting. He gave her his best smile and pulled her into a hug when you both got close enough.

"So we've successfully kidnapped you for the night?" Huck asked.

"Seems so," Lorraine said with a raised brow. "Would've been nice to have a warnin’ first."

"Keep your watchdog away for more than two seconds and I'll warn you next time," you said.

"He's not a watchdog," Lorraine said as you both climbed up on the railing, her in between you and Huck.

"Oh, my apologies," you said softly, "I meant your parasite."

"Oh hush up,” she mumbled as she slapped both you and Huck, who weren’t even trying to stifle your laughter. “You need to be nicer to him.”

“Actually, the Lord told me personally that I can be mean,” you said after you managed to calm your laughter down. “I ain’t one to disobey the Big Man.”

“You are a blasphemer that’s goin’ to hell,” Lorraine retorted. But the smile on her face was enough to show her intentions.

“You two are disgustin’,” Huck grumbled; he also had a smile. “Just go make out in a stall already and spare me the tension.”

“Oh hush up,” you and Lorraine said in unison.

“As if you and Beau aren’t makin’ kissy faces at each other all the time,” Lorraine continued.

“You have no idea,” you said, loving the light in her eyes when she looked at you. “You should see ‘em when we go out to eat, you’d think I was nothin’ more than last week’s sermon.”

“Laugh it up,” Huck said with a nod as he looked out at the corral. You hadn’t paid attention to the event and noticed it was finally coming to an end. About time, you thought with a smile. “Once you two get some alone time then we’ll talk.”

“We can handle ourselves much better than you two,” you said quickly, the timer going off immediately after and making you jump. Lorraine’s hand on your arm helped you settle rather quickly.

Huck opened his mouth to say something else but was soon distracted by something in the corral. You and Lorraine shared a smile when you noticed Beau was on his way over. Tease as much as you did, they were rather adorable. It was a genuine love and admiration, one that you didn’t even see in your own parents, one that you wished you could have a little more easily.

“Hey, Rainey,” Beau said as he jumped onto the fence and planted a sloppy kiss on Lorraine’s cheek. “Nice to see you unshackled for once.”

“Is this all y’all ever talk about?” Lorraine asked.

All three of you looked at each other before giving a few nods. “Yeah.”

“I changed my mind,” she said with a nod to herself, “you’re all goin’ to hell.”

“You love us,” Beau said with a grin and another kiss to her forehead. She tried to push him away halfheartedly before leaning into his touch. “What were y’all talkin’ about before I came over?”

“These fine ladies think they can keep their hands to themselves better than we can,” Huck said with a raised brow.

“That so?” Beau asked.

“God’s truth,” you said with as much attitude as you could muster. Around you, the rodeo fell into controlled chaos as everyone started setting up for tomorrow’s events.

“Then how about we have ourselves a little wager,” Beau said as he locked eyes with you.

“Lay it on me, stud,” you shot back.

“If you beautiful ladies give in first, you,” he pointed at you, “have to go watch Lorraine film her next film.”

“Wait, hang on-”

“-and if you lose?” Lorraine asked, interrupting you quickly. The competitiveness was building behind her eyes, you could see it.

“We’ll go with Lorraine,” Beau said, “and we’ll even film a scene.”

“Hold up, baby-”

“-you’re on,” Lorraine interrupted Huck. She reached her hand out to shake Beau’s. “Y’all are gonna look so pretty on camera.”

“I don’t like this game anymore,” you said, looking at each of them hoping to see mercy in someone’s eyes.

“Me either,” Huck whispered.

You both looked at each other and sighed softly. What had the two of you done to fall for such competitive people? And how come Lorraine was the only one in this situation who had nothing to lose? You were starting to get the sneaking suspicion that they all just wanted to watch you squirm.

It was going to be a very long night.

—---

“Hey Huck?” You said when you brought the next round of beers over to the small table the four of you had commandeered. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love,” you said with a sigh as you both looked out at the dancefloor where Lorraine and Beau were two-stepping like it was their last night on earth.

“You and me both,” he said with his own dreamy sigh.

The music from the local band was loud, almost painfully so, but you didn’t entirely care. Not when you were warm from the alcohol and laughter echoing through the barn. RJ had once called the run-down bar a death trap, and you couldn’t disagree with him. The wooden roof and walls had holes that no one cared to fix up and dust constantly fell from the rafters. But it was home to most of you, a place where everyone could get away and have some fun on a Saturday night.

Hell, it was where you had first kissed Lorraine. Your eyes trailed up to look at the dilapidated loft. If you focused, you could see the exact spot where Lorraine had made the move, pushing you against the termite-eaten wall and kissed you as if she wouldn’t get another chance. Lucky for you both, you got plenty more chances.

Laughter from a very specific person brought you out of your memories, and you looked back at the dancefloor to see Beau twirling Lorraine around. Her face was lit up with a big, toothy, open mouthed smile that you couldn’t recall seeing since the accident. For once, she looked like she didn’t care when she twirled and exposed her scars. Like she was just that normal, carefree girl you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“I think I wanna marry him,” Huck said softly.

“You and me both,” you repeated what he said earlier as you decided to chug the rest of your beer.

Don’t let anyone hear, your inner voice reminded you. Lest you get lynched. Right. Right, that was entirely a possibility. You looked around quickly, fully aware that no one would have heard Huck but still feeling that paranoia wash over you. Suddenly the beer and the atmosphere didn’t feel so homey.

“You look like someone spit in your cup,” Beau said, the sudden sound of his voice making you jump. “You alright?”

“Peachy,” you said with a smile, quickly finding Lorraine finding her seat beside you. “Just thinkin’, is all.”

“‘Bout what?” Lorraine asked as she grabbed the beer that was probably starting to turn warm. The snarl of her lips after that first sip confirmed it.

“How you better finish that beer whether it’s warm or not,” you said with a raised brow. “Paid good money for it.”

“You mean you didn’t flash a little smile and get ‘em for free?” Beau asked as he too took a sip of his now warm beer. He at least managed to play it off a little better than Lorraine.

“Most certainly not,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve gotta preach to most of these people in the mornin’, can’t have ‘em givin’ me free beer.”

“Wow,” Lorraine said with a quiet exhale as she leaned forward on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “Your life must be so tough.”

“It is,” you played along. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“That in the Bible?” Huck asked.

“Not quite,” you said. “You’d know that if you went to church like you were s’posed to.”

“I fear I’d catch fire the second I stepped foot in that chapel,” he said with a laugh.

You’ll all catch fire.

Right.

You all continued talking, no longer interested in dancing as the music continued to drown out your conversations. Lorraine managed to scoot her stool a bit closer until her thigh was pressed against yours, and you very nearly rested your hand on her inner thigh. A cleared throat and a look from Huck was all it took to remind you of where you were, and you quickly placed your hand back in your own lap.

By the time you all started to get tired, most of the people had already gone home. The band was packing up and the makeshift bartender was officially out of alcohol. No doubt everyone would be ready to resume the hoedown tomorrow night after the rodeo finals, but for the night, everyone was done. The four of you followed suit, sending your goodnights to the few remaining stragglers as you all piled into Huck’s truck.

“Which home?” He asked; the most sober of you all, bless his little heart.

“We could all go back to mine,” you said as you leaned forward between the two front seats. “We’ve got the two lofts in the barn.”

“That work with y’all?” Huck asked, looking at Beau and Lorraine. They both nodded their agreement. “Then buckle up.”

You sat back in your seat and immediately felt Lorraine lay her head on your shoulder. If the amount of drinks she had gone through were any indication, she was properly buzzed. The warmth of her hand resting on your thigh, scratching lightly, was another perfect indication.

“Hands to yourself,” Beau said as you met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’d hate for you to lose the bet.”

“You still goin’ on about that?” Huck asked.

“You said we couldn’t fuck,” Lorraine said with a sleepy voice, “not that we couldn’t touch.”

“Language,” you scolded her lightly. She didn’t even seem fazed in the slightest.

“I’m watchin’ you,” Beau said even as he closed his eyes. “Bunch ‘a cheaters.”

“Did I tell you how unfair this bet is?” You asked before lifting your hand to scratch at Lorraine’s scalp. She practically purred under your touch.

“It’s plenty fair,” Beau said without looking back.

“All three of y’all can get indecent whenever you want,” you said, “I can’t.”

“We can fix that,” Lorraine mumbled.

“Hush and go to sleep,” you whispered before pressing a quick kiss to her head and sitting back up. “It ain’t fair.”

“She’s got a point, baby,” Huck said with a small shake of his head. “We got her at a disadvantage.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you let your girl agree to the bet,” Beau said anyway. “You can always admit defeat.”

“Go to hell, Beauregard,” you mumbled, to which both men up front laughed like hyenas.

Lorraine was thoroughly asleep by the time you all pulled up to the barn. Thankfully it was far enough away from the house that your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up. The only potential issue would be if Roy was sleeping in the barn, but he had started hiding away in the shed a few hundred yards away, so you weren’t too worried. If anything, you would just let the boys sleep in the barn while you took Lorraine inside to your room.

“Come on, baby,” you whispered into Lorraine’s ear accompanied by a slight shake of her shoulders.

She grumbled once, not even saying any words, but slowly sat up. Her eyes were barely open and her hair was mused just enough to make her look like a little kid again. It reminded you of all your sleepovers, all those nights before you had realised your feelings for her. The good ole days.

You helped ease her out of the back of the truck. Without any hesitation, you turned slightly and squatted down until she wrapped her arms around your neck and you stood back up. Even though she was nearly asleep again, you couldn’t help but think of how light she was on your back. Sometimes you forgot just how small she was, how fragile she could be.

“You two on the right?” Huck asked as he guided his own partner around; it seemed Beau had drunk a bit too much too.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “y’all’s stuff should still be up on the left.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Y’all get some sleep.”

“Night Huck,” you said with a smile before making the way up to the loft that you had claimed as yours as soon as it had been built.

It was a nice little spot, you wouldn’t try to hide it. There weren’t any real walls, but you had hung some curtains around the perimeter to create a sense of privacy. Tucked into the far corner was a single bed, something more reminisce of an army cot than anything else, with only an excess of blankets and a pillow on top. A few records scattered around, an old record player, and your grandpappy’s old guitar were the only remaining decorations.

You were gentle when you placed Lorraine on the cot, being careful as she slid off and laid on her side. She looked peaceful, with her hair no longer hiding her face. When would she believe you when you told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world? Would she ever believe you? If not then you needed to make sure RJ told her, because she deserved to feel loved again.

“Come here,” Lorraine said in a sleepy voice, pulling you out of your own head. Her arms were lifted as she made grabby hands at you, and how could you possibly say no to that?

With practiced ease, you toed your boots off and left them at the foot of the bed before climbing in. You were still in jeans and your button up but that was alright. There was no way you were going to be able to get Lorraine into pyjamas, so you would sleep in your clothes as well in solidarity.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly, immediately pulling you close until she could press her lips to your neck.

“I missed you too,” you said as you tilted your head back to give her a little more access.

“A lot,” she continued. With a bit of shuffling she finally settled again, and you felt the warmth of her hand sliding under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“Raine, baby,” you said when her hand continued to move up to play with the strap of your bra, “I ain’t losin’ this bet.”

“Sure you are,” she said.

“I don’t care what you film,” you started even as she pushed you onto your back and rolled on top of you, “but I’m not too keen on watchin’.”

“How will they know?” Her lips started trailing up your neck, leaving an inferno behind with each kiss. “They won’t be comin’ with us.”

“Raine.”

But you couldn’t really argue when her hand finally slipped under your bra, just the mere feel of her skin on your breast enough to have you exhaling harshly. Paired with the warmth of her lips on your jaw? Clearly it had been far too long because you were almost ready to come undone right then and there.

“Lose the bet,” she whispered into your ear. You let out a shaky exhale when her thumb brushed lightly against your nipple. “For me?”

Well now, how could you say no to that? Without any ounce of care, you grabbed Lorraine’s face and pulled her to your lips. She tasted of cheap beer and tequila and you didn’t care. Her lips were soft and you could feel her breath tickling your face and you just wanted more of her.

In the privacy of the loft you had no shame in the both of you stripping. She was still buzzed and was fumbling around like a horny teenager, but you supposed you were too in the excitement. You weren’t even helping each other, you were too eager to rid yourselves of the confines of clothing. At one point Lorraine nearly fell off the bed in an attempt to get her pants off, and you both had to sit and recover from the laughter you couldn’t be bothered to contain.

She was still giggling by the time she crawled back on top of you, her skin blazing hot against your own. God, you couldn’t remember the last time you had not only had the time, but the privacy to see all of her again. She sat straddling you and even though you hadn’t done anything yet, you could feel her arousal coating your stomach.

Her hands fell right below your breasts, grabbing you by the ribs to steady herself. It was clear that she was still intoxicated enough to be a little clumsy, but very much sober enough to know what she was doing. Although you certainly weren’t going to take the initiative, more than happy to let her take the lead with whatever she was comfortable with.

You rested your hands on her hips and looked at her while her eyes were closed. The summer had done her skin well, leaving her a good deal darker than she had been only a few months ago. Even the scars across her neck and face were a bit darker, not quite so startling in contrast to the rest of her. Even her freckles had become more apparent, and you wished you had a night to just count each and every one of them.

“You’re starin’,” Lorraine said above you, her eyes finally open as she looked down at you. “Why?”

“I just think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whispered.

Even in the dark you could see the slight flush on her cheeks. She let her head fall until her hair covered her face. You sat up quickly, keeping your hands on her hips so she wouldn’t fall. Her legs wrapped around your waist as you let her readjust and you could feel her breath on your face once again.

“If you really thought that,” she started as she let her hands trail up the sides of your breasts and over your chest until they rested on either side of your neck, “then you would lose this bet for me.”

“You just wanna watch me squirm,” you said. She leaned closer until her chest was pressed lightly against yours.

“Yes I do,” she mumbled against your lips before kissing you once again.

Her grip on your neck tightened as she tried to pull you closer. You gasped when she nipped your bottom lip, sighing quickly after when you felt her tongue sooth it immediately after. God, what she could do to you with only the simplest of touches. The slightest scratch of her nails on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

You gave up on letting her take control the moment you felt her attempt to grind on you. There hadn’t been near enough teasing, but you could already feel how wet she was without even touching her. Not that you were complaining of course, you wanted nothing more than to show her how much you had missed her, how beautiful you really thought she was.

One of your thumbs rubbed circles on her hip while the other hand ran across her stomach and stopped on her pubic bone. She tried to grind again, whining into your mouth when she was met with nothing but air. Your thumb rubbing across her skin, almost touching her clit but not quite.

“Baby,” she whined.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered against her lips. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded quickly, her hips moving just enough to catch your attention.

“I’ll stop if you’re too loud,” you continued even as you let your thumb fall a little lower. “Understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

That time when she moved her hips she was met with your thumb, and her breathy little moan sounded beautiful as her head fell to your shoulder. Oh she was so sensitive, and you hadn’t even properly touched her yet. Blame it on the alcohol, or RJ’s lack of ability, or both, but you wouldn’t complain. A needy Lorraine was a fun Lorraine.

“Touch me already,” Lorraine whined.

“So impatient,” you said as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to that space right below her ear. The one that always had her squirming whether it was intentional or not.

“You can love me later,” she continued. “Just fuck me.”

“That what you really want?” You asked, but she was already nodding her head against your shoulder before you finished the question. “Whatever you want, princess.”

Lorraine was so wet you didn’t even have to worry as you slid two fingers into her effortlessly. She bit your shoulder to keep herself quiet like the good girl she was. It took everything in you not to moan at how tight she was around you. No matter how many times you had her, it always caught you off guard in the best of ways.

“I ain’t losin’ for nothin’, sweetheart,” you said into Lorraine’s ear. “I wanna watch you make it up to me.”

“You’re an asshole,” she mumbled, yet it didn’t stop her from riding your fingers nice and slow. “That’s it, baby.”

She growled in frustration before sitting up again, placing her hands on your shoulders to use as leverage. You let her work herself up, refusing to move even a muscle to help her. If you were going to lose the bet, you were going to milk everything you could out of her as payback.

The rise and fall of her chest as she crawled to the edge was hypnotising. You knew she couldn’t get there quickly, let alone on her own, but you wanted to enjoy the view. The way she fucked herself on your fingers and let her mouth fall open when she angled her hips just right.

But when Lorraine’s head fell forward to rest against yours, you took mercy. Even at the extremely awkward angle that would leave your wrist sore in the morning, you thrust your fingers up to meet her, smiling to yourself at the guttural moan that left her mouth. Your free hand left her hip and moved around so you could rub her clit, her noises rising in pitch at the added sensation.

“Baby,” she exhaled. It almost sounded whiney, which meant she was close. She was oh so close.

“Let go, Rainey,” you said.

Even with her face so close to yours, you could still see the look on her face when she came. The silent scream, the way her eyes squeezed shut. It was a beautiful look that you didn’t think you would ever get tired of. Her nails dug into your shoulders and you could feel the intoxicating sting as they broke skin; you would need to be careful with your shirts for the next few days.

Her hips continued to stutter against your hands, erratic movements that you would have teased her for if you hadn’t been so entranced by her very being. You waited until her hips stilled before removing your fingers, making sure to be slow and gentle so as not to startle her. But then you pulled her closer again, feeling her arms wrap around your neck as you held her in your lap.

“There’s my good girl,” you whispered into her ear before kissing her temple. “You did so good.”

“I-”

-You both stopped talking quickly when you heard something. Something that sounded disgustingly familiar. Lorraine sat up in your lap and cocked her head to the side, listening intently. Maybe you had imagined it, surely it hadn’t been real. Right? There was no way.

Then you heard it again.

“Oh my god,” Lorraine groaned; you saw her smile before her head hit your shoulder again.

“Should I say something?” You asked. She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted yet again.

“Don’t embarrass me,” she said.

“Never,” you whispered and kissed her head before shifting around. You placed your hands over both of her ears. “The Lord’s watchin’ y’all!”

“Fuck off, hypocrit,” Huck called back. His voice echoed off the walls of the barn. “Y’all ain’t so quiet either.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you.” Lorraine’s body shook above you with silent laughter. “I’m tryin’ to sleep like the Godly woman I am.”

“Shut the hell up,” Beau finally cut in, “you’re killin’ the mood.”

“Good night, heathens!” You called back. “Don’t wake the Devil.”

You and Lorraine both stifled your laughter as you laid back down in the cot. It was difficult to keep yourselves quiet. She shushed you and listened, but neither one of you could hear anything else.

“Either they’re more quiet, or you ruined their night,” Lorraine whispered.

“Hope I ruined it,” you grumbled. “If I have to lose, so do they.”

“And you call me competitive,” she said in her sleepy voice.

“You are,” you said with another kiss to her head. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“You just love me.” Her voice got softer with each word.

“Yeah I do,” you said just as softly.

She didn’t say another word, falling asleep quickly thanks to the alcohol and orgasm. Her arm stayed draped around your bare waist as you held her closer, feeling her skin sticking to yours with the mix of sweat. Your father’s voice condemned you in your head, doing its best to ruin the feeling of peace and security you felt with Lorraine in your arms.

But in that moment, you simply closed your eyes and held her tighter. You were going to enjoy every moment with her until the day you died. Heaven could keep its angels; you would keep yours.

[armandisdaddy]

Jorrāeliarza Mēre (Dear One) Part 1.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon Fem Reader

Content: 18 PLUS 🔞, Incest, Age-Gap, Sibling Rivalry,Angst.

Word Count: 2,080

Summary: House Velaryon has come to King’s Landing to celebrate the betrothal of Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are the youngest sister of Laenor and Laena. Your sister, now being of age to be married, has set her sights on your cousin the Rogue Prince, himself Prince Daemon. You could care less about being married off just yet, but Daemon has other plans for you.

Authors’s Notes: There will be translations in High Valyrian and it just might suck (their English translation will be in italics next to them.)I’m doing a lot of research to make it as authentic as possible, so bare with me and feedback is always welcome. Thank you and I hope you ENJOY!

Your family's boat has just docked at King’s Landing, the bells of the city bells tolling to greet you, foreshadowing the celebration to come. You and your family have finally arrived at the Red Keep. Being announced to the king and all other patrons, your entourage enters gracefully dressed in gold with your heads held high.

Not too soon after you all have taken your places at the table, the Rogue Prince struts in behind you even after being exiled by the King, but as the Kingdom knows, Daemon listens to no one, not even his own brother. Your sister Laena notices him and somewhat swoons while a servant made a seat for him next to the King’s Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong. “Is he not handsome?” You, on the other hand, were not so easily impressed by his arrogance, but he did have a pretty face.

  “If that is what piques your interest, dear sister, who am I to deny you of it?” Little did you know he spotted you from the moment he walked past and hasn’t taken an eye off you since. King Viserys stood at his feet to welcome his guests and speak before the festivities commenced. “Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight, is only its beginning. We honor the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon. Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and...”

The King being quickly interrupted by Alicent’s rather late entrance wearing the House of Hightower’s colors for all to see. Her lack of respect for the king did not go unnoticed by him or the entire court, but appearances needed to be kept. Taking her seat beside her husband, she turned to Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you.” Viserys could sense the chill behind her words and only sighed to turn back to his subjects to finish his speech. After the applause, Laenor and Rhaenyra took to the floor to begin with the first dance of the night. Your family knew of your brother’s true preference, though your father would rather deny it. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked, and it saddened you a bit.

You think to yourself, "If being forced to marry someone other than for love is the only way. Then to hell with it." You were the youngest daughter after all, it honestly didn’t matter what you wanted anyway. Once the dance of the dragons was over, everyone else joined them on the dance floor. Daemon had decided to take his niece from her betrothed for a dance. Your sister watched closely and after a while she sprung to her feet and took your hand, practically dragging you along. “Gods, Laena! Are you trying to pull my arm out of the socket!?”

She laughed, “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t want to miss this dance with him.” Being within a few feet from him he noticed you, first noting the annoyance on your face, but his attention had swiftly turned to your sister who eagerly waited for him to notice her.“Hello, my Prince.”, She beamed the brightest smile he could and while she was beautiful, he couldn’t help but want to center his gaze upon you. “Hello, Laena..Y/N. How you both have grown to be such beautiful young ladies.”

His voice quite captivating. You took this time to find a glass of wine to hold onto while your sister was occupied with trying to court him. You slipped away into the crowd hoping no one noticed your absence, but he did. After his dance with your sister, he went looking for you and that wasn’t too hard of a task. You were tucked away into a corner sipping a goblet of wine smiling at your brother and sister dancing together until you noticed someone standing over you.

 “Lilagon lēda nyke gevie.” “Dance with me, beautiful.”  Holding a hand out to you and you hesitantly took hold of it as he led you to the dance floor. You both bowed slightly, and he made the first move, coming around you slowly, his eyes burning into you. You were nervous. No boy nor man has ever looked at you in such a way, but you refused to let him see you in such a state.

 “Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao qȳbranna.” “It is good to see you, cousin.” You tried to seem uninterested, but his gaze made you feel dizzy while his hands met your waist. He smiled, seeing the red rush to your cheeks.  He leaned into whisper in your ear. “It is good to see you too, Jorrāeliarza mēre.” “Dear one.”

What was he doing? He hadn’t really seen much of you since you were but a babe. There is no way he could be interested in you. You were seven and ten and your sister was practically throwing herself at him. She looked confused and a bit flustered at the sudden attention she was receiving.

 “I have a question, little cousin. Have you had any suitors offer to wed you yet?” She was stumped for a response. The honest answer? No, not at all. She wasn’t the type for arranged marriages and every chance she had she’d sabotage the match.

 “No, my Prince, but my sister has. In fact, I think she’s rather interested in you, unlike myself.” She gave a smug smile which caused him to chuckle before leaning into whisper in her ear again. “Well, from the blush on your face, ñuha byka rūklon, you seem very interested but maybe my knowledge of body language has become a bit blurred.” “My little flower.”

 Laena had been watching you two and a hint of jealousy washed over her. He hadn’t been that open with her the entire dance and she was more than open about her obvious interest in him. Meanwhile, you were practically running from him as he inhaled your scent. You smelled of honey and you were so intoxicating to him.

 Such a gesture made her cheeks warm and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever so slightly. “Excuse me, cousin. I need to get some fresh air.” Bowing quickly, she practically sprinted away, finding herself out in the courtyard where the Godswood stood.

 Your heart was beating out of your chest when the sound of approaching footsteps approached you and the voice of your unhappy sister filled the silence. “Since when did you start having feelings for, Daemon dear sister?” Confusion furrowed on her brows. “Laena…You couldn’t possibly think I have any kind of feelings for him. Sister, I would never betray you like that.”

Of course, that was what she was telling her sister and even herself, but the way his hand held onto the curves of her hips, the intensity in his eyes started a fire within her that she hadn’t yet realized. Laena fiddled with her fingers feeling her insecurities may have gotten the best of her. She saw the way he looked at you and jumped to conclusions of your true intentions with him.

You held a hand out for her to grasp so that you two might sit under the Godswood tree and talk about anything other than The Rogue Prince. And of course, your sister did the opposite of that, so you just sat there leaning against the bark of the tree listening. Letting your mind wander you closed your eyes. You could hear his voice echoing about your mind.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon mēre.” “My dear one.” Feeling someone nudge you, your eyes open quickly to see Laena staring at you. “What were you dreaming about, little sister?” Gaining your composure, you managed to get your sister to go back inside while you continue hiding. Once she was out of sight, Daemon appeared from the shadows. “Skoro syt gaomagon ao ruaragon hen nyke byka rūklon?” “Why do you hide from me, little flower?”  

You moved away from where you were seated with your hands behind you back to go back inside. “Oh..Prince Daemon. My sister was just going inside to look for you. Would you like for me to go get her for you?” A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “If I knew any better Y/N I’d think you’re trying to avoid me. Are you?” He grabbed your arm pulling you into the shadows of a dark hallway pressing your back against the cool wall.

“Cousin..this looks rather inappropriate and my sister wouldn’t appreciate us in such a compromising position.” He laughed softly burying his face into your neck to inhale your scent again. “I rather like this position, Y/N. And please call me Daemon. You and your sister act as if I already belong to her. I haven’t asked for her hand yet and I can see she’s very interested in me, but unfortunately for her my eyes haver wandered elsewhere.”

“Please Daemon, someone will see us.” You struggled to get from between the wall and him, it only made him press his chest against yours harder. “Dōna mēre, I know you want me..but I’ll let you go..for now.” “Sweet one.” He pulled away from you slowly, your breathing was erratic. Why was he doing this? Surely his advances would cause a divide in her own home. Why couldn’t he just be happy with Laena? She would be an amazing wife to him.

You waited in the hall for a moment more before going into your chambers for the night to sleep off whatever had happened tonight. Maybe your sister could catch his attention while you were gone. You closed your eyes seeing him the moment they shut. He took over your every thought even finding his way into your dreams. The feel of his calloused hand caressing your skin, him leaving heated kisses against your skin it felt all too real. You toss and turn, waking up in a cold sweat. This was to be a long night and an even longer week.

The morning light shined through your windows waking you before you handmaidens came inside to do so. You and your family were to have breakfast with the King this morning. After a short bath your maids helped you find something to wear. You decided to wear a seafoam-colored dress with white flowers embroidered along the bodice of the dress. The corset pushed your chest up causing the area to be rather accentuated.

Your platinum hair flowed over your shoulders and down your back while two braids were tied in the back. Taking one more look in the mirror you left your chambers only to be greeted by the man you were trying to avoid. “Sȳz ñāqes, dōna riña. Geron lēda nyke?” “Good morning, sweet girl. Walk with me?” Extending his arm to you, you reluctantly wrapped her arms in his. “Did you sleep well? You look exhausted. But, still so beautiful.” You yawned and quickly covered your mouth. “Forgive me, my Prince…Nightmares...” He smiled, “It’s quite alright, dōna riña. So, what if you ended up being betrothed to someone? How would you feel? “

You were in silence thinking of how to respond. “Well, it seems like I wouldn’t have a choice so I’d do what is asked of me, but I don’t think I would be too happy about it. But, if he’s a good husband then maybe I could be happy.” He listened so intently and reveled in the fact that you were so close to him. His eyes still so intense while he watched the way your lips fell when you spoke. How he wished to feel the soft flesh against his own. He slowed the walk trying to ready you for the surprise that awaited you at breakfast.

Finally, the both of you made it to the hall. All of your family was seated along with King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and Princess Rhaenyra. “Ahh brother I see you’ve found your bride to-be. Come sit I want to make a toast for another wonderful union that further binds our houses together.” You froze in your tracks your eyes searching the room to find your sister sulking in her seat burning a hole into your head. You were in shock and couldn’t believe no one informed you of this until today. “So, when the fuck were you going to tell me about this, Cousin? And you father, mother?” You storm off with your betrothed following behind you seething at your behavior.

To Be Continued….

[obsessivelysweet]

Our Lovely Scorched Sun

Part 1

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

Hello! Long time no see lol. I have just been busy with work and life, honestly, but I got some inspo and motivation, so here I am with this post. I wanted to do a different take on the SAGAU, but instead of normal creator, what if we had a presence of an Eldritch horror? Just being near us hurts them or touching our skin burns them, ya know? Like that kind of route. Reader is FemReader! Also, this is gonna be multiple parts! Also, sorry for any errors! I tried my best, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Blood, gore, self h4rm, mental breakdowns, angst.

Story under the cut!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You were their god, their salvation during dark times, their reason for living. When you finally descended into Teyvat, you were stunning, breathtaking even. A white flowly dress hugged your form as Teyvat softened your fall with flowers beneath you.

Your (h/c) falling around you like soft leaves, outlining your face. You were sleeping peacefully.

It was so serene.

You were beautiful even as they watched you softly fall.

Your followers were kneeling before you when you awoke from your slumber. Everything was hazy as your eyelashes fluttered open, the sun blazing onto your face, the gentle breeze softly pecking your cheek, and the soft whispers of people felt so surreal yet warm.

You looked around to see the characters you loved so dearly look at you with admiration, waiting for you to speak. It was truly a blessing to witness their creator finally here, with them, about to be worshiped by them.

However, this serene scene soon turned into cries of pain. Everything happened so fast. One moment, the characters you loved reaching to help you up, and the next moment, they recoil back screaming in agony as their skin blisters from something boiling hot.

It wasn't just their skin, either. It was their eyes as they looked upon you. It felt like they were staring into the sun, like daggers stabbing their eyes countless of time. Eyes tearing up from the intense pain, bloodshot even.

However, amongst the chaos, your followers still tried to comfort you as you began to panic as the scene got worse. They just wanted to help and make sure you were safe. However, even those followers got burned. Without thinking you got up and ran away, scared from what was happening, you didn't know if it was you causeing it or something else, but your mind said to run. Your followers screamed your name to come back, and even as they were screaming cries of pain, they still wanted their creator with them.

Months passed, and everyone learned how to live with their creator. You in the lavish palace they made for you, adorned with the most finest furnishings, colors, and flowers. You don't see any of the characters or be close to them at all. You have to stay in the palace, almost like a bird in a cage, alone. The only company you have is the sky and the breeze of the winds outside from your windows.

You gotten used to the quiet halls and the echoing audeince chamber. This was the only way for everyone to be safe.

You kept saying to yourself, "No more pain or screams from anyone."

When its time to eat, get new supplies, or get letters they wrote, a trusted follower will come inside your abode. The follower will put everything where its meant to be, while you are on the other side far from them, so your presnce doesnt effect them. This took a while to figure out, but if you're a good distance from them, they're safe.

Once you hear a bell ring, that's your cue that you can go back. This is how yall coexist, their creator safe and sound, and your followers are safe and sound. However, no one was truly happy in this situation. You were lonely, touch starved for human interaction, while your follwoers wanted to be closer to you, help you, be by your side..to fully worship you. It was years when you finally snapped, sick of being truly alone, you wanted to end it all. You were tired of just existing.

God, you were tired.

You started thrashing around your room, throwing plants, pillows, perfums, candles, anything really you can get your hands on. Suddenly, you hear a crash, and like a sign, you look towards the noise only to find your vanity mirror. It was broken, some pieces fell onto the marble floor, while the rest stayed in the mirror. Walking towards it, you saw your reflection, your e/c orbs looking back at you. The night gown you were wearing was a mess, hair in disarray, puffy eyes shown hours of crying. This is you, as pretty as you were, you were disgusted at yourself. And it didn't help that this reflection of you was broken. Jagged pieces showed yourself as broken. Which is how you felt truly at this moment. You were exhausted, angry, and humiliated at the face, looking back at you.

This body of yours was like posion to others, turning and twisting their faces into agnoy. That's when something inside of you erupted, sending your hands to your face. Tearing at your skin, you didn't feel any pain, too high on the aderaline to notice. Your nails dig deeper into your flesh, wishing this body, this flesh of yours didn't exist. Your once clean, beautiful nails were now coated in golden blood.

This was your fault.

If only you didn't have this body, you would be normal, be able to be with everyone. After what seemed like forever, the pain finally hit you, your raw flesh burned, golden hot liquid staining your gown, pooling at the ground. You gotten so deep that you saw bits of bone. You screamed in agony, trying not to touch your face, grabbing onto anything to squeeze your hands onto, to lessen the pain. While in this panic state, you saw your reflection one more time. This time, though, it was grotesque and feral. You looked non-human, almost like some kind of monster. Even though you saw the raw flesh, the bone, the veins, your mind told you this was your true form. The beauty you had earlier was an illusion, which made you sob from the realization. Soon, everything was turning hazy as your body began to shut down. It was all too much for you. With a loud thud, your body fell onto the same marble floor that was covered with your golden blood.

You awoke to the birds chirping outside, the soft morning light hitting your face to wake you. You slowly opened your eyes to see the marbled floor and the dry blood before you. In the same spot when you first fell, slowly getting up, you looked around to see the mess you made. Instinctively grabbing at your hair as pain surges from your head, the fall being to blame, you slowly pulled away to look around. You were still a bit hazy from sleep, so it was somewhat hard to focus on what's in front of you.

You were about to rub your eyes to wake up some more. However, you tensed up when you remembered about last night. Unfortunately, you realized too late, fearing for the buring sensation to come back, you closed your eyes to brace for the pain.

However, to your surprise, you didn't feel any burning or raw flesh in that matter either. Just your normal skin, like if none of what happened last night even transpired. It took you a second to snap out of your shock state to look at yourself in the mirror. Like a moth to a flame, you cling to the mirror, scanning your features from the jagged pieces.

You couldn't believe it.

There was no blood, no bone, no raw flesh being exposed.

It was fine.

You were fine.

You looked beautiful.

The only notion that something happened last night was the blood, the mess of the room, and the scars on your face. Like a reminder that you are stuck as you are, in this body, with this face, and with this flesh. Forever to be alone living like this.

Forever.

[neverchecking]

NSFW Alphabet- Wild Edition

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At the start, he's...not the best. But-BUT, hear me out, he learns. He's such a good learner and he's quick at learning things too. You could mention something offhandedly during... fucking lunch or something and he's remembering it for the next time you have sex. So while it takes time, he does eventually become a king at aftercare. Massaging muscles, lotion-ing bodies, helping Reader to the bathroom, etc...

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His partner? Everything. All of it. Anything Reader is willing to bless him with he's all over. But if he had to chose? Their tummy honestly. It's a sign of their health to him. If it has a little chub? His favorite. It means he's doing his job and their eating well. Their remaining safe and healthy and happy. And he loves just holding it and anchoring his hands there.

On him? ...His hands. I know I said this with Twilight (Lmao I wrote Twilight's before Wilds), but Wild likes his hands too. They're talented. They have to be. With his knife skills, and his rock climbing and whatever else, he has strong fingers. And he knows how to use them. If it makes his partner happy, he's happy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Oh, he loves painting his partner's chest and stomach in his cum. Watching the ropes paint their skin a pretty white while bliss makes their gaze loopy and blank drives him absolutely nuts, probably making him hard all over again as he's pouncing once more to do it all over again.

He'll never say no to giving you his own personal pie though. I'm so sorry for that I hate myself lmao /s

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would love if you pegged him while he was wearing the Vai outfit. Lay him down and take it slow? Lace kisses up and down his scarred body? Take your sweet time with him and ensure his own pleasure no matter what while taking him apart? All of it. He wants all of it. He wants to feel you, hold you, let you take charge so he can let his guard down for once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Nope. Clueless. If he had sex before dying, he forgot. He considered himself a virgin when you two met and says he lost it to you when asked. Maybe he had sex before he died, but fuck if he knows. He only knows you.

And he loves learning with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is a toughie because he is so erratic as a character. Somedays he probably loves you ass down face up, others he just needs missionary. Depends on his mood and how the day is going/went.

But his ultimate favorite is probably the pretzel dip. Having you on your side with one of his legs hooked over your bottom leg is perfect in every way. He gets that intimacy that comes with eye contact, and he gets all the benefits of doggy style. It has that special place in his heart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely lets out a few jokes and quips. It relaxes him, it relaxes his partner. He sees it as a win-win. He loves making things as effortless as possible for both parties, and if that does it, so be it. Plus he loves his lover's laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oddly enough, yeah, I think he's pretty well groomed. It's a bush, but it's a controlled bush, yk? No. it's cleaned and groomed and trimmed. probably a little lighter than his normal hair color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be super romantic! Flowers, candles, soft words of praise. He can do the whole package. But he can also do everything else. He's a wild card, heh, in the sense that he can be whatever you need from him.

He does love those intimate nights of reestablishing your love for one another. Sure, you can have the bells and whistles that come with kinks and toys and whatever else, but those nights where its just you and him and the love between you two manifesting itself into this act are always going to be some of his favorites.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He used to do it every once in a while. Not often, but when the nights got a little too lonely he would take the twenty minutes to rub one out. It de-stressed him and got his muscles relaxed enough for him to take a breather for an hour. After meeting you? It's so incredibly rare. He loves just having you there because not only does the release relax him, but so does your presence alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely likes cuffing his lover's hands together with metal bracelets and using magnesis to hold them up. Or using just a bit of Cryonis to cultivate small ice cubes that leave shiny tails along your body. Or maybe he's uses stasis to freeze you place while he does whatever he wants with you? Hard to choose really.

For sure has a exhibitionist kink though. He loves the thrill of almost getting caught. Makes him feel alive.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he can get his hands on you. If it has reasonable privacy and you guys have twenty minutes, he's taking you then and there. His favorite place is probably his own home. Or in an alley in Gerudo? Maybe behind a rock formation in Eldin? Perhaps a cabin up in Hebra?

Maybe he can't pick a favorite afterall~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He's kind of like Twilight in the sense of everything, but when there's something that gets the adrenaline pumping, he's especially ripping, ready to go. Especially if it's right after a near death experience. Those have him spitting out an excuse before pulling you out of ear shot and pinning you to the nearest tree while his body still thrums with the rush left over.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that comes even remotely close to non-consensual play. Like consensual non-consent? He fucking hates it. He hates the idea that he could ever be capable of hurting you in such a way. It eats at him and he fucking refuses to do anything that bares any resemblance to that. He needs clear, verbal consent to any and everything.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Also a giver! He loves hooking your legs over his shoulders as you lean against a tree, fingers threading in his hair. Or slipping between you and the counter you lean onto for support pulling your hips in time with his tongue. Or simply letting you use his mouth as your own personal toy <3

When it comes to receiving, he is the biggest whiner. He doesn't have the patience for teasing, so he's constantly bucking his hips, and he doesn't keep quiet doing so either. He's begging and pleading for more, all while whimpering out your name. If he gets especially desperate, he may forgo your pace and fuck your mouth instead.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Can do both. He likes the soft and sensual side, being reminded that he's worth something, but he also likes just ruining you and having you beneath him. Putting him in charge and trusting he knows how to deal with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. All the time. He's a busy man with a lot on his plate and if he can destress and restart with just a twenty minute break? He's doing it. Any chance he gets he's taking it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So down for any risks. He loves the idea of it all. Sucking his dick in an inn bathroom while a group of men walk past? He's biting his lips at the thought of them walking in to see you on your knees. He's going down on you behind some pasture while people bargain for horse equipment? Nearly cumming in his pants at the though. Anything his partner is up to, he's ready to follow.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

So many rounds. You cannot stop him by trying to exhaust him. It doesn't work like that. His lover either taps out or their going until the sun is shining down on them, lettings its rays cascade over their worn and tired bodies.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does. He's into all sorts of things and is always open to try something new. I don't know what the kink scene is like in Hryule, but Wild probably comes up with new things all on his own ;) Pretty silken ropes, or plugs made from shined and polished metal, maybe even a bar meant to keep his beloveds ankles spread just for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing. Winding up his partner tighter and tighter, waiting for them to snap, and watching with glee as their own frustrations build up. He's letting his touches linger and his words dip into a husky whisper against their ears, only to walk away right after, whistling a hearty tune.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He makes the prettiest noises. Loud and pretty and even when he tries to muffle them, he just can't. It's like it goes against his very soul to hide how good you make him feel from the world.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, so I know some people tag him a brat/ power bottom, and you're right, but I also like the idea of him just being this no nonsense dom. He's had a taste of being in total control of himself, and what he does, and loves it. From the bits he remembers, pre-Calamity, he wasn't happy. Not with his every move monitored and carefully dictated. So when his partner not only gives him control over himself, but also them?

He's drooling at the thought of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not overly girthy, pretty average in fact, but the length. 6.5 inches with a few veins running up the sides. The head is a darker red than the rest of his skin and he's surprisingly circumcised. (His dad was in the military as well, so it's probably a result of his dad following those strict guidelines.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. He's under a lot of stress okay? He needs something to let it out on. Plus, that alone with his energy reservoirs leads to him needing something pretty near constantly. He's normally able to push it back, but if you offered him whenever the urge hit you, he'd be up for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not for a while. Even after something like sex drains his energy, Wild has the innate need to ensure that his sweetheart is okay. He's watching them for a while, just making sure their chest is rising and falling the way it's supposed to. When fatigue does eventually tug at his bones, he's burrowing into their side and letting them hold him as he drifts to sleep, content their okay for the night.

[ravers8fantasy]

🎶Disco kid headcanon's!!🪩

Honestly, one of the realest ones in all the circuits I fear...

ALSO HE IS 20 AND 6'3??? I thought he was 19...

Okay so turns out bro is 20 so I think he joined when he was 18 or 19

Sings proper flipping loudly in the shower, its a good thing he's good at singing

Will listen to anything, he is more of a melody person than a lyrics person

Has a drawer full of listening devices, he has like 5 pairs of headphones and so many speakers

Had a swag era in highschool (is still kinda in his swag era but remix)

Sometimes shows up to W.B.V.A meetings in full on 70s attire for fun. Im talking silk shirt and high waisted l bell bottoms

Usually catches everyone off guard as well since they are used to seeing him in more modern outfits (im basing these hcs around 2009 and perchance 2010s idk they change on my mood)

Can handle spicy food pretty well.... Even though he ate a singular taki one time and perished

I saw in his contender mode intro cutscene that his licence plate is custom made (its DISCO-1) which made me think he decorates his car

Like he has a pair of fuzzy dice hanging off the mirror in the front, has like stickers on the dashboard and has like custom made seats-

Also theres this nice looking house in the background with this music note gate, either he is rich or his parents are rich

Or is that normal for people in America to have a house like that, I live in an old af house in Scotland so I defo wouldnt know💀

His favourite color is blue, or pink, or mabye yellow and orange but then again he is a sucker for kitsch patterns-

He loves colour. Ik his ass would HATE to see maximalist antique homes turned into an all white sleek mininalist abyss

Is a beast at roller skating, has a pair of blue and yellow ones with little stars all over.

Hates roller blading tho he says 3 he cant dance properly in them which makes him sad

His hair is originally brown, saw someone at a party with buzzed bleached hair and thought it was so cool he decided to get the same thing

Does calisthenics, has been asked a bunch of questions by other boxers asking him how tf he does it

HATES furbies, had one when he was younger and he put it in a draw in his bedroom after it didnt shut up.

He woke up in the middle of the night to a voice asking to be fed and started crying, turns out it was the flippin furby inside the draw

Has the most perfect comedic timing ever, there is never a dull moment when your with Disco kid

Suprsingly doesnt mind horror films, his fave genre list would probably go 1.horror/thriller 2.Action 3.drama/romance

He was a tumbler in his high school's cheer team and did ballroom for a bit, has a bunch of trophies from cheer and competitive ballroom dancing

Loves going down to a deli and getting a sandwich, usually gets a new filling combination everytime he goes

Has the most amazing wardrobe out of all the boxers, I like to think he is like the 'lewis hamilton' of the W.B.V.A (in terms of style not boxing bless also YALL LEWIS HAMILTONS FASHION SENSE IS SO😼😼😼)

The type of guy who never shuts up when watching a film, he literally ends up narrating the whole thing

Literally never stops moving, if he is standing on the spot he will be tapping his foot or move his head to whatever beat is playing in his head

Also like as no beef or issues with any of the other boxers, some of them (Aran... Wait and perchance idk Soda and stuff yknow) might insult him and would just dance and say "ok! Thats your opinion, Not mine though I think im fabulous anyway"

Chat im giggling at this gif anyway if you see any mistakes in grammer please embarass me and call me out and I will correct it with the utmost haste😼

OK HOPE YALL ENJOYED GOODNIGHT (or good morning or uh good day or evening depending on where u are)

[abrokenherocomplex]

in the dark

“You know? Hostage or not, sometimes it’s just nice to be held.”

The villain nearly jumped six feet in the air. They’d just flicked on the old light in the lair basement, not expecting to come face-to-face with their old nemesis. At least not on a Monday morning. Clearly their villainous co-conspirators had other plans and now deemed Monday mornings were for hostage-taking.

“Jesus Christ,” the villain swore, nearly dropping the boxes they’d been carrying.

“Nope, just me.”

The villain resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

Their golden little hero was indeed tied to a chair in the now-dimly lit basement. A gag lay discarded on the floor where the hero had evidently spit it out. The villain raked their gaze over the hero, taking in the scene. It really wasn’t fair how the hero still looked so golden after a, well, kidnapping. A bruise bloomed on their jaw and their eyes were a little too bright, as they usually were when faced with an obstacle. Or a fight.

“See something you like?” the hero drawled.

The villain rolled their eyes this time, setting down the boxes. “I came down for cleaning supplies. The lab’s a mess.”

“Hmm… I'd help but I haven’t had a chance to look around.”  

The villain snorted.

The hero continued, prattling off while the villain gathered up Windex and Clorox. “I asked your coworkers for a tour of the rest of the building. Particularly those shiny labs you lot are always monologuing about.”

“Ah, and what did they say to that?”

“I think I was actually getting through to them this time! That is, until they sedated me.”

The villain shook their head in mock sympathy. “Tough crowd around here.”

“Evidently.” The hero leaned back in their restraints. “It wore off quickly though. Do you have the time, by any chance?”

The villain frowned. “What are you doing here, exactly?”

“…you took me as a hostage.”

The villain regretted asking the question as soon as the hero’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the realization that the villain was in the dark about this specific operation.

“You weren’t behind this, were you?” The hero asked. Though, it was less of a question and more of an easy deduction. Amateur on the part of the villain, to let that slip. They now fought the urge bury their head in their hands.

“I wasn’t behind this,” the villain confirmed.  

The hero smiled gleefully. “I knew you had a soft spot for me-”

“That has nothing to do with-” the villain took a centering breath. “I wasn’t behind this, believe it or not.”

“I should have known. I mean, other than you screaming like a little girl, they didn’t even use the right dosage to keep me out. It’s honestly a blessing you came along when you did. At least you know how to properly drug me.”

The villain stilled, narrowed their eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“The whole night, probably.” The hero caught themselves. “Not that it was a problem or anything-” They added quickly.

“You were here? In the dark?”

Anyone who knew the hero knew their… phobia for lack of a better term. Back at university, before the villain and the hero were ‘the villain’ and ‘the hero,’ the villain had deemed it nyctophobia. The Greek word for night, and well, phobia. Fear of the dark. They’d had to keep a night light on in their university dorm. The villain had teased them mercilessly for it, until they’d finally found out why.

“I was fine, really.” The hero assured them. “I can handle it.”

“Uh huh.”

What the villain had been taking for pure cockiness – joy derived from prattling off aimlessly in the direction of the villain – was actually... relief.

The hero cleared their throat, evidently wanting to move on as quickly as possible. “Do you happen to know why I’m here? Obviously, you didn’t know I was here, but now that you’ve found me. Are there any… plans? Or anything? Anything ring a bell?”

“I fear I’m in the dark as much as you.” As soon as the words left the villain’s mouth, the door to the basement slammed shut with a bang that caused the villain to jump another six feet into the air.

Then, the lights flickered. And went out.

“Shit.”

[a-menagerie]

If requests are open and your comfortable with this ask, could you give your headcanons on how Fearne, Dorian, Ashton, Molly, Beau and Fjord would kiss reader please? Thanks 💖

ehehehehe

Fearne

Fearne, first of all, has no qualms about PDA or anything like that, so she’s very likely to just swoop you into a hug and kiss whenever she gets the urge

I also think she’s the type to lift you off your feet and press a million kisses to your face (you can protest all you like, she wants to sweep you off your feet)

Her favorite way to kiss you: scooping you up in her arms and then depositing you on a nearby surface, one hand cradling the back of your head while her other hand stays on your hip

Dorian

A romantic and a little shy, he almost Always asks for permission to kiss you

He does however easily kiss your hand throughout the day, whether that be a light brush of his lips across your knuckles or a kiss to the center of your palm, all while maintaining eye contact

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’re cuddling in bed and he can lean in and just enjoy some soft slow kisses, all while his arms are around you

Ashton

I’m not saying they’re shy but I think when it comes to you, who he has real full feelings for, that makes them a bit more nervous

I think Ashton would most often give you a kiss on the temple or cheek, especially around the others, and reserve actual smooching for a more private occasion

But! I think if the Bells Hells tease him about being shy or anything, he’d grab you, yanking you too him via an arm around your neck and kissing you in front of everyone (he’s flipping them off behind your head)

Their favorite way to kiss you: Ashton likes to pin you between him and anything (a wall, the couch, the bed) and just take his time kissing you, like dammit he’s gonna enjoy this as long as he wants! He likes resting a hand on your neck so he can feel your pulse with his fingers

Molly

Molly is all about enjoying what he has in life and the best thing he has is you, how is he supposed to keep his hands or his lips to himself?

Molly is the most likely to just stop and kiss you during the day, no matter what you’re doing, camp chores, shopping, fighting. If Molly gets the whim to kiss you, he will

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve been teasing and taunting each other and he finally caves, using his tail to catch one of your wrists, one hand catching your other hand and his other hand holding your chin, so he can kiss you

Beau

Beau honestly lets a lot be determined by her partner. If you’re cool with a lot of PDA, you can expect smooches a Lot through the day. If not? Shell reserve that kind of affection for more solitary moments

If she gets excited about something though, she won’t really be able to hold back. Finishing a tough fight or putting together an answer to whatever mystery she’s trying to solve, she’ll run up to you with a wide grin, grab your face in her hands, and kiss the fuck out of you

Her favorite way to kiss you: she loves coming home from work and greeting you with a big smooch, throwing her stuff to the floor in order to wrap her arms around you

Fjord

Gods bless this man, who tries so hard to be suave and collected but blushes hard anytime there’s a ~moment~ between you too

He can generally hold himself together if he’s just kissing the back of your hand but anymore than that and he’s obviously a little flustered

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve said or done something to fluster him and he’s trying to sputter out a response and you lean in and give him a quick kiss - but he grabs you by the front of your shirt and pulls you back to him