#crystal dark boots

[gaiamossiah]

Wondering how Lenalee's fairing after she and Marie let Kanda follow Johnny to help Allen... it's been a while since we saw best girl o just had to draw her

i wish i can do more D.Gray-man fan art aaaaaa

[grim-vs-lizard]

Hey guys!! We are FINALLY back with a new bracket, this time pitting our biggest interests against each other... introducing

💥THE BRAINROT BRACKET!💥

This first round will have 13 polls with some of our all-time favorite pieces of media, the first 5 being shared interests, the rest being individual (Grim on the left, Lizard on the right)

There was some confusion with our last bracket so we wanted to clarify that the only criteria for these polls is to vote for which one you like over the other!! We'll have silly titles just because we like coming up with any kind of connection between unrelated things, it's what we do

SO, all that being said, we're looking forward to getting this bracket started!! Expect to see the polls tonight (7/1)!! Links to all of the polls will be in the reblog of this post :)

[femmefatalevibe]

More Pinterest Moodboards Available!

Some Fall '23 trend inspiration: Power Dressing, Leather, Tweed, Wearable Glam Aesthetic, etc. Hope you love xx

[ben-the-hyena]

It's funny how SkekSo is feared and respected but how so many secretly hope he'll be kicked out or croak already to take his place

I do NOT like Matthew Erman's OOC take on SkekSa having her want to be Emperor and act like SkekSil but at least like that I had a fitting number. And yes I know SkekTek doesn't want to be Emperor but that one scene + SkekSo apparently canonically bullying precisely because he fears his intelligence and fears he could overthrow him if he wanted so he lowers his self esteem = another fitting name to use

YouTube version

[aria0fgold]

i dont know why im adding shading to this drawing but i am and now i aint going back

[hellishjoel]

wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

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summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will. 

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes. 

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow.  It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods. 

Life guided him up here and he never turned back. 

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt. 

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys. 

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction. 

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction. 

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight. 

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence. 

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job. 

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go. 

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps. 

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?” 

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps. 

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in. 

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly. 

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you. 

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo. 

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes. 

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew. 

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together. 

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still. 

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.” 

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here. 

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up. 

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side. 

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.” 

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut. 

He settles on the truth. 

“We are sleepin’ together.” 

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.” 

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley. 

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him. 

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams. 

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors. 

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning. 

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.  

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body. 

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions. 

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine. 

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed. 

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles. 

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles. 

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely. 

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind. 

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses. 

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor. 

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours. 

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed. 

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix. 

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own. 

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center. 

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now. 

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl. 

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders. 

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him. 

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach. 

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you. 

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels. 

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge. 

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him. 

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit. 

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room. 

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock. 

 “Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on. 

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one. 

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more. 

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish. 

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight. 

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on. 

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute. 

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. 

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump. 

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout. 

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest. 

“G’night, pain in my ass.” 

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[reyenii]

since edwin is very closed off, except for when he’s with his best friend, charles, costume designer kelli dunsmore reflected his buttoned-up mentality through his bespoke suit, complete with bowtie and collar. edwin’s outfit, along with charles’ period garb, were designed to help them stand out more in modern day port townsend. “i knew edwin would, because no one dresses like that now,” says dunsmore.

dunsmore wanted everything about charles to feel “a little bit cool and underground,” from his union jack and the who bull’s-eye patches to his checkerboard pins. his little cross earring and chain on the outside of his shirt are also meant to be homages to the ’80s.

in the show, crystal’s hero color is purple, which you’ll notice in her velvet coat and long silk letterman jacket, which dunsmore thought of as a psychic cloak with hand-embroidered patches, including the wilting rose of england.

her brown trench coat represents an explosion of everything going on in her mind. dunsmore decided the scribbled words and drawings are a result of crystal writing all over it to express her inner turmoil. there are even lyrics on there from the song she’s listening to on the tube when she meets the dead boys.

david’s connection with crystal seeps into her wardrobe, too. since david wears a flower shirt, dunsmore’s team hand-painted flowers onto crystal’s black boots. and niko is wearing a dark sweater with flowers on it when we first meet her, as an homage to crystal. the costume department also drew the same rune pattern the dead boys use to exorcise david in episode 1 onto crystal’s trench coat and on the tab of her wool bomber jacket. “so she’s always got some sort of protection,” says dunmore.

every color niko wears is inspired by what’s happening in that episode, from the green post-sprite exodus to blue when she’s feeling sad. niko only wears a white look, with nods to her japanese heritage, in the finale as a reset. the charms on her obi belt represent the colors she’s worn all season.

night nurse is someone who’s in control all the time and likes things to be in their proper place. dunsmore looked to vivienne westwood for inspiration, since everything in night nurse’s world is a bit exaggerated. (by the way, niko’s orange monochromatic look is a nod to her scenes with night nurse and night nurse’s red hair.)

since david is a demon, he finds a london boy that looks cool enough for crystal to find attractive. that meant dunsmore dressing him in a shearling jacket you’d find in “all the guy ritchie movies,” black pants and creeper shoes. the costumer’s mood board for “david the d” featured radiohead and amy winehouse and her husband blake, who often wore hats similar to the one you see david wearing in the show.

pay close attention to monty’s leather jacket and you just might spot an inlaid crow feather or two.

it’s not only esther who wears clothes with a gilt, old-gold color — cat king and night nurse also do as a nod to their villainy. (esther and cat king also have similar fur coats.) amidst her beauty, dunsmore wanted esther to be a little rough around the edges. she wears a cuff around her hand that’s adorned with a snake and a ring with teeth all around it to represent the teeth she’s collecting from all the little girls. her eye necklace is meant to be her witch pendant.

mischievous as ever, cat king has (cat) eyes everywhere and is aware of edwin’s affection for charles. so he wears charles’ socks the first time he meets edwin.

[shotmrmiller]

simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

--

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Under Your Cold Fingertips

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: bodyguard x protégée, fluff and smut, forbidden romance content: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving), p in v, pulling out

"I must rest here a moment, mistress."

The hollow sound of his voice under the helmet is very quiet. He's been walking next to your horse for a while, limping, but insisting he is fine. The snow gathered on his armor and his gray horns were decorated with little crystals.

"Of course!" You hastily unmount, sensing he is unwell.

His armor loudly clanks as he almost falls on the steps beneath the abandoned gate. You hear him breathe heavily and hot. As you look back the way you came, you see droplets of blood branding his every footstep.

"You are badly hurt!" you shout. "You fool, why didn't you tell me?"

He remains silent, his hot breath creating a fog around his head. Maybe you're imagining, but he looks like he's... shaking? Gods...

"Quickly, let's undress you," you order him and kneel in front of him.

"M-mistress..." his metal gauntlets clink as he jerks his arms upwards in shock. "What are you doing? You'll get dirty."

"Shut up," you retort. "I can wash my clothes and shoes. But I can't revive my most loyal bodyguard, can I?"

He doesn't say anything and let's you untie his boots. Meanwhile, he carefully releases buckles below his chin. He removes his helmet slowly but the metal still scrapes against his horns. He is a bit pale and has dark rings surround his eyes. If his sclera wasn't black, you're sure you would see how very bloodshot they are.

You suck air between your teeth. "Your bandages are soaked!" Trying not to harm him further, you carefully start unwrapping the bloodied material.

"Mistress, please! This is highly inappropriate."

You just shoot him a furious glance to shut him up. You barely know anything about wounds or treating them, but the gash is long and bleeding heavily. "This looks bad...", you utter.

"It's fine, I heal fast—" Without waiting him to finish, you quickly get all the necessary things and with his help clean his wound. He hisses as the disinfectant slides down his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper while dabbing around his wound. "You don't deserve this."

A large calloused palm covers your fingers. He is surprisingly gentle. He... never touched you like this before. "Mistress, your hands are cold." Wrapped by his clawed fingers, he brings your hands closer to his mouth and blows onto them. Warm air as white as fog twirls around your heads.

"I—" You wanted to say something, something funny or friendly probably, maybe even witty, but your mind went blank. Or rather, every sensible thought got pushed back by that one idea.

You push yourself between his legs and kiss him. Too shocked to react, he keeps his mouth open like a fish until he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. "What are you doing? You can't... We..." He trails off looking at your lips. "We can't..."

"You're bleeding for me and I can't even kiss you?", you ask in an almost growling tone.

Still slightly shocked, he opens his mouth to speak, reconsiders and kisses you instead, tightly embracing you against his chest. And his hard and cold armor but you don't care. All you want are his warm lips and his tongue to shove itself down your throat. But not only that...

You slide down between his legs again, happy that doesn't have heavy plates on his lower body (even though that proved a wrong choice this morning). You quickly loosen his pants and push your hand inside. "This is wrong," he mutters over and over but does nothing to stop you taking his heavy and strange cock into your hands. You always wondered how it looks like. And tastes like.

You take it into your mouth, followed by his low and breathy fuck, and you hum around it as you use your tongue to explore every part of it. Listening to your guardian's moans makes you wet and your cunt clenches around nothing every time he jerks his hips up and thrusts into your mouth. You lick his phallus all over, sucking his tip and tracing his veins until he grabs your wrists and pulls you on him.

You stand above him, many layers of your dress stopping you to make the next step. You lift your skirts and chemise around your waist. "Forgive me," he says before he rips your undergarments and reaches your pussy. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your folds, his nose digging into your bush and soft tissue. He is growling like a hungry animal, devouring your nectar and you tremble above him, panting and gasping as his tongue finds all your secrets.

He pulls you down, onto his lap and you drop all your skirts onto you two. They hide everything that happens between you two and keep you warm at the same time.

There is a strange expression on his face. "Mistress..."

You kiss him before he says something stupid, and guide his cock inside you. Slight pang of pain causes you discomfort, but you can't help but roll your hips looking for pleasure. His arms are under your chemise and his claws dig into your hips. You moan into each others mouths, your breaths and bodies pushing the cold away. You ride his cock and with his help you feel the pulses of your peak building up.

"I'm close", you sob into his neck and he grabs your ass so that he could lift you and fuck you from below. You breath hitches from the force of his dick digging into your cunt and you quickly come undone. He kisses you, savoring your delight, and slides into your pussy slowly but deliberately, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. He then pulls you onto his chest and positions himself so that he can push his whole cock into you easily. In and out, in and out, faster and faster.

Some outsider wouldn't see a thing happening hidden under those long and dirty skirts. But you could feel the tension of his muscles and his cock swelling inside you. He suddenly pulls out by lifting you like a child's toy and, with a long groan, he cums all over your thighs.

"I wish I saw your cock twitching and spilling," you say while you lay against his breastplate.

Still breathless, he chuckles, but also groans in discomfort. You finally remember. "Your leg!" You jump off his lap and see his leg bleeding again. "You fool! Why did you put me on your lap."

Completely ignoring your scolding, he pulls you down again and you sit like before, your naked cunt against his groin. "Because I don't care about that pain. I dreamed about this for a long time."

"You dreamed about fucking me outside in the cold?", you jab.

He chuckles. "Not exactly in the cold." He kisses your neck and jaw. "But outside, and inside, and in your bed, and in my bed, and against a wall, and on the table, and on the floor, and against a tree..."

As he names all the places he imagined, your pussy throbs against his muscles. "All that sounds lovely. But let's get your leg fixed first before you bleed to death."

He places his forehead against yours. "At least I would bleed for the most amazing woman in the world."

You hit him in the chest, blush overtaking your cheeks. "Shut up, you... fool."

[realprissygirl]

The 2010s Black Barbie Look

a deep dive on one of my fav sub styles ever. this aesthetic takes from the 2010s baddie, swag movement, and a lingering hyperfemininity from the 2000s that soon was obliterated by most brands a few years later. i’ve always been into this look as i was the intended audience. a teenage black girl in high school when this look took off.

the vibe ❤︎︎

“everyone was a barb. victoria’s secret was the go to place to shop on fridays after school. you were the cool girl if you had more than four beauty rush glosses. the scent of love spell filled your bedroom.”

biggest influencers

aaliyah jay

ella bandz

asian doll

cuban doll

nicki minaj

blac chyna

india love

kash doll

molly brazy

dream doll

shannade and shannon clermont

rico nasty

pattyeffinmayo

bali baby

color palette ❤︎︎

+ neon yellow/green, pinky purple

pink of course! very girly and femme. but a much wider range of shades vs today. there was a huge boom in neons too. (this tracks back to the return of the 80s/90s fashion elements) (i remember having this lime green PINK quarter zip that i loved so so much). also gray was a super popular accent color for fashion and interior. zebra print decor was a staple (seen in aaliyahjay’s and ellabandz’ bedrooms) because vs pink was so big, the white on hot pink polka dot pattern was seen everywhere from clothing to needing to girls decorating their rooms with VS PINK bags.

the staples ❤︎︎

fashion

aurora borealis swarovski crystal details

PINK

crop tops

fuzzy tops

heather gray

neon leopard print

white on pink polka dots

sequins

bamboo earrings

pink mcm bags

MICHAEL KORS EVERYTHING

ugg and bearpaw fur boots

juicy couture backpacks

pink timberland boots

beauty

mac cosmetics

anastasia beverly hills eyeshadow

eye glitter

cut creases

glued on rhinestones

colourpop ultra matte lippies

pale pink lippies

anastasia beverly hills dip brow

glitter gloss

mega volume bundles

too faced chocolate bar eyeshadow palette collection

deep side part sew ins

artist couture loose highlight

blinding highlighter

gigantic messy buns

sleek ponytails with swoop details

nyx soft matte lip cream

victoria’s secret beauty rush lip gloss

blonde blow outs

“coffin” nails

pink nails

blonde hair and dark roots

tartelette palette

poppin hoez lip gloss

essentials

hello kitty accessories like phone cases

3d phone cases

phone cases with sassy phrases

luxe addiction cases

fur keychains

pink beats

kendra’s boutique hair barb tools

iphone glitter skins

rose gold iphone

perfume bottle phone cases

fragrance

nicki minaj fragrances

victoria’s secret pink mists

paris hilton fragrances

ariana grande fragrances

versace bright crystal

core elements ❤︎︎

2010s black baddie aesthetic but hyper pink and girly, like the 24 year old baddie’s teenage sister

the omg girlz

harajuku barbie culture

bad girls club

the rise of the rapper gf archetype

nicki minaj’s transition from harajuku barbie to onika

the influx of “doll” female rappers

stripper influencers

[sonjalikestodraw]

Lovers, come get your groom!

Smitten is here to look dashing ✨ and sweep you off of your feet — and he's already dressed up!

Design notes:

Based on a peacock; symbol of love, vanity and cosmic majesty.

As a part of Slayer's psyche, represents Passion + Uncritical Infatuation

Inspiration: a swashbuckling adventurer (boots, trousers and duelist cape) and a prince (flowing poet's shirt, lavish decorations to match the Princess).

Every design element directs your eye to his chest/heart. ("I wouldn't mess with him. He has very strong feelings.")

The duelist cape is not only fancy and theatrical to fit his personality, but also wide open (vulnerable) and asymmetrical (skewed priorities).

Is part of "the knights" (him, Hero and Skeptic) but wears no protective gear whatsoever. Smitten is confident that he won't get hurt unless he thinks he deserves it.

The frills on the shirt matches Damsel's frilly dress.

Big love = big man = big arms for carrying his beloved to safety!

Heart-shaped hair buns for a relaxed, soft look. He's all friendly curves.

Peacock antennae = hair pins, with more hearts like visual noises. Surely, she can hear his spirit!

Peacock face markings = fluffy, shapely beard for a virile, masculine energy (and for the record, I ADORE butch Smitten headcanons)

Default/Damsel look is gold + crystal. Here, the cape decoration is directly modeled after Base Princess' crown, while the gold comes from the single color mentioned from Damsel's basement. He's a simple rescuer, a golden trophy. His boots are brown for the classic swashbuckler boot (+ matches Hero's brown feathers).

Burned Grey look is black (both a groom about to be wed and a widower) with the cape tattered (love lost/tarnished). The white pearls on the brooch are the same kind as Grey's crown.

Thorn look is dark red with black boots, a somber and bloody color scheme for our history with the Witch and Thorn's mood. And yet a passionate, romantic red. Wears a single poppy, picked from Thorn's cabin... it's as if he's dressed for a date, with a flower in his lapel.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Darkness loomed over Penacony as you ran barefoot across the dimly lit streets, the drunk passerbys oblivious to your rushed footsteps and heaving chest.

It has been six months since you felt the cool fresh air on your own. Six long, hellish months of bizarre captivity that made your head spin. Boothill was the personification of a locked and loaded gun, constantly on the chase for his next IPC lackey to shoot, or if he was in the mood he would hop on a totally different planet which no one knew about, which naturally only made him want to go even more.

The pain of trying to keep up with him was horrid. Rancid even. Scrapes and bruises, hell, even broken bones became a mild concern once you started to see the plethora of wanted posters which had your face plastered over them.

Solid bounty to boot.

Whenever you would bring up these concerns, Boothill would let out the most hearty laugh, his head thrown back so hard that his hat would come off. He would then proceed to smack you across your back, proudly saying that it was his own personal little way of claiming you.

No person with any common sense would dare come for you.

He would just shoot them dead on the spot.

"That's not a threat pumkin'!" he would say as he casually drank his drink, the alcohol swishing and swaying in the pristine crystal glass. He drank it all in one swoop before setting it back down on the counter, his gaze laser focused on you.

"It's a promise."

From the corner of your eye, you could see the way his hand was resting on the holster of his gun and came to the wise realization that you believed him.

Through trial and error, you have come to terms with the fact that Boothill will keep his promises, particularly if they were related to you.

Running away from him in the overcrowded bar was... was most definitely not the brightest idea but it had worked. It was indeed still working, even with your aching feet and burning lungs. Your entire body begged you to just stop and take a breath, but that option was impossible, because you knew all too well what was in store for you.

As if on cue, you heard him before you saw him.

Endless echoes of shouts, yelps and strings of curses followed you as you continued to flee from him. Boothill pushed, shoved and kicked absolutely every single person onto the ground if they dared to stand in his way, not giving a flying fuck - oh how satisfying it was to curse in front of him since you knew that he could not - any of them were hurt.

"Come back!" he yelled, his voice heavy and hoarse.

You did not turn around, such a luxury was not possible. Against your body's wishes, you ran.

He pursued.

A chorus of shots rang in the air, all of which were too close for comfort. None of the bullets were meant for you as the Galaxy Ranger was being pursued by the Bloodhound family, each one barking orders and insults at each other as they did everything they could to keep your so called lover in check.

As if Xipe themself had acknowledged your efforts, you spotted a tiny alleyway which was perfect to hide in. Boothill had lost his momentum due to his own pursuers, giving you precious seconds to decide on your next course of action.

And with the way you could feel your feet physically give into the pressure, you made your way into the pitch dark alleyway, carefully tip toeing around any possible source of sound. With a sigh you sat behind a large dumpster, the ultimate coverage in this time of need.

A faint glimmer of hope formed in your heart. It was hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you were free from his grasp. You'd much rather take in the stench of trash than his robotic arms, the memory alone making you shiver.

Behind the safety of your dumpster, the streets sounded like a mini warzone.

How typical of him. Being subtle was never his style.

Everything he did, Boothill did to be the biggest menace and pest known to society. He would tell you stories of his escapades as his eyes trailed over your whole body like a starving wolf, his sharp pearly white teeth almost looking like knives in your eyes.

Oh how he loved to sink his teeth into your neck. The noises you let out only seemed to spur him, giving him more motivation to mar your skin. Even now the traces were there, nasty and crude. Tracing a few fingers around your throat, you felt the raging pulse point becoming heavier and heavier, as if it was getting ready to pop and burst right in this dingy alley.

If it were not for the sounds of gunfire, you would have believed that your own heart was going to betray you. There was no way that no one was hearing this, the sheer intensity so strong and dizzying. Hot white pain seeped into your lungs and quickly made its way into your veins, chaining you onto the ground.

That's easy prey, you suddenly heard his voice in your head.

The second they're too scared to move, well I'll be fudged, that's when you shoot pumpkin'.

And you had quietly agreed with him on that summer eve. You could still recall how he hid you both beneath some bushes as he went to scavenge some food for you, showing you some tips and tricks along the way. You could recall the way the thorny bushes had wounded you, pricking the soft flesh of your arms, fresh droplets of blood coating the mostly dry ground.

It hasn't rained in ages on that planet, if you recall correctly.

Rain. What you would give for the fresh scent of the rain. The harsh droplets would mask the yelling, the roaring thunder could perhaps comfort you in some odd way.

And just like that, you wish had come true.

A single piece of evening dew feel on your cheek, the liquid oddly warmer than it ought to be.

You could not be bothered to care.

Closing your eyes, you decided to bask in the first moments of glorious freedom you had managed to steal for yourself.

Boothill had taught you well, ironically enough.

There would be no more yelling, no more loud gun fights, no more long distance traveling. No more needy Galaxy Ranger who wanted you to pay constant attention to him 24/7. You already knew where you wanted to settle somewhere, a quiet and quaint place, a place oozing with peace and serenity.

Much like this dumpster, but a lot more pleasing to the senses.

The streets were quiet and the only sound that could be heard was the music in the distance, a sound so hauntingly pleasant that it made you feel -

Quiet.

Why had it gone quiet?

Like a phantom he emerged from the shadows, his all too familiar silhouette taking over the entire alleyway. His footsteps were slow, methodic. Well calculated.

And like a true phantom, he never left you alone.

His presence was dark and imposing, testing out the waters to see whether or not you were going to come out on your own or if he had to get his hands dirty.

However, he did not give you the luxury of thinking.

"Found ya." he said through gritted teeth, his red eyes gleaming like stars in the night.

Stars you would have a hard time looking the same ever again.

[taylorswiftstyle]

The Eras Tour | Midnights section | Version 5

Zuhair Murad custom

As I’ve noted throughout the tour, one should expect the unexpected when it comes to new costumes. As in, they can happen at any time in any city at any time. Even as we’re approaching the end of the European leg and creeping closer and closer to the bittersweet moment when this tour takes its final bow. 

The moment I saw this bodysuit I just knew it had to be a custom ZM piece. Not just because they’ve been responsible for 3 of the past designs for this costuming portion of the show but because that embellishment work is so distinctively Zuhair Murad. That intricate corsetry work and fringe? It’s so signature to them. The design itself took the atelier "over 120 hours to create", according to Vogue, and features "180 stars [and] 10,500 crystal beads."

Of the five bodysuits we’ve seen I think this one might just be a new favourite. The designer, Zuhair Murad, told Vogue the same thing. "I think this new iteration is our best yet, with symbolism that blends Taylor's inspiration and my love for romanticism perfectly. I've always designed strong silhouettes, and I think that naturally translates well to the stage." The additions of embellishments via the stars and moons feel very appropriate to the era, don’t they? That crescent moon in particular reminds me of her Clio Peppiatt dress she wore on her birthday last year. Murad said that the "vision" for the stars and moons was, unsurprisingly, all Taylor. Though a small part of me also reads the stars across the bust as a little star spangled Americana which feels a little funny given it got its debut in London. #iykyk 

It also got me thinking that one of my favourite parts of the Lover set is how her boots (often strassed in ombre crystals) are also swapped out to coordinate with the bodysuit she’s wearing. With this particular bodysuit, I couldn’t help but imagine what a lighter silver or navy pair would look like for this set. For the Midnights section, Taylor consistently wears a dark pair of ‘Gael’ boots by Christian Louboutin.

Photos by TAS24 via Getty Images

[moonchild9350]

I'll See You in Your Dreams

Summary: You unknowingly summon an incubus after signing your name in an ancient book. Your dreams will never be the same.

Pairing: Incubus Jeongin x fab reader

Genre: Angst, Smut-18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: nightmares, sleep paralysis, coercion, mention of souls, pussy job, multiple cum shots, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, squirting, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, mention of blood, mention of death

Notes: This one was took a lot of research as I stuck to the true lore of an incubus with some creative liberties of course. I hope you like this next installment!

If you enjoyed please consider a like, comment, and reblog as it keeps me motivated ♡

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024).

“I wake up with dreams falling from my eyes, and the night sky lingering in my heart, and when the sun forgets to come back for me, I make a home in the dark.” -Sabina Laura

It was a cloudy afternoon, the time of year when the sun hid, the warm rays gone swapped for darkness, the chill in the air enough to make you shiver, pull your sweater closer to your body and do a double take to look in the shadows for things that shouldn’t be.

You and your friend Aerith, decided to take a walk through town, holding cups of coffee from the local cafe in your hands to keep warm. You chattered about this and that, excited for the upcoming season, where your darkest dreams and desires can manifest.

The town was quiet, as most shops were closed, everyone gone home for the day. There was an eerie feel to the town, as darkness slowly closed in and mist began to fall from the sky. You walked and walked and as you got closer to the center of town, Aerith stopped, turning to eye the storefront of a shop.

It was abandoned, dust collecting on the windows, wooden boards plastered across the door to bar anyone from trespassing. The place was once a shop of oddities, selling anything from crystals, to candles, to books on witchcraft. The owners long gone, the shop not doing as well as they wanted in this sleepy town. You missed them being open, as you loved to browse through the shop, your fingers lightly brushing against the wares as you took in the different items.

“Look, there’s a piece of wood missing,” Aerith said, pointing to a gap in the boarded up door. “Let’s go in, see if anything was left behind.”

You considered your friend’s words, wanting to take a peek inside yourself. You’d love to get your hands on some of the items. No one was going to come back and get them.

“Sure, let’s go,” you said, nodding your head as you helped Aerith with the other boards so you could get in.

It didn’t take long, the wood old and on the verge of crumbling at the slightest touch. Dusting your hands off, you both stepped over the threshold into the darkness beyond. The air swirled with dust, the particles dancing around as you made your way further into the shop.

The air was thick and stale, the sound of footsteps of animals who have made their home in the abandoned building could be heard. You looked around, noticing how the displays were tipped over, items lying haphazardly on the counters.

You both looked around, going your separate ways, the only sound heard being your footsteps as your boots touched the rotting floor. You didn’t see anything that caught your eye, insignificant items being the only thing left behind. That is, until you came to the back corner of the shop.

You saw a square item that looked like a book sitting among the dusty shelves. You picked up the book and blew the dust off, so you could read the inscription. You searched, flipping the book over, but found no title. The book was beautiful, or at least it must have been during its prime.

There was an intricate design on the cover, the swirls kissing the edge of the book, giving way to little creatures in each corner. It seemed interesting, so you brought the book to where Aerith was so you could look at it together.

“Check this out,” you said, setting the book down in front of both of you.

“What is it?” Aerith asked, eyeing the book.

“No clue,” you said, “but let’s find out.”

You carefully opened the book to a random page, inscriptions and pictures littering the yellowing paper. You slowly flipped through the pages, reading what seemed to be latin. You stopped at a particular page, the designs catching your eye as well as a picture of a creature with wings.

“What does it say?” Aerith questioned, as she peered at the page, trying to read the words.

“Hmmmm.” You were trying to think back to your latin class that you took long ago, the words a jumbled mess in your brain. However, you were able to successfully translate the passage, a smile on your face in triumph.

It says,

Write your name on the line To enter into your wildest dreams Everything you’ve ever wanted As everything is as it seems

You paused after you finished reading the inscription, curiosity getting the best of you at the meaning of the words.

“So you only write your name on the line and then whatever you dream of should happen?” Aerith asked incredulously.

“Seems like it,” you replied.

“You should write your name down,” Aerith excitedly said. “Let’s see what happens.”

You considered her request. Should you write your name down? Nothing is going to happen anyway, as your dreams actually occurring seems too good to be true.

Thinking ‘fuck it,’ you searched for a pen in your bag. After finding one, you scribbled your name down, the sound of the pen scratching the page echoing throughout the empty shop. Once you were done, you stowed away your pen.

“There, we’ll see if anything happens.”

Aerith nodded her head, a smile on her face at the possibilities.

“Let’s go, it’s getting dark,” you said, noticing the shop was darker, the moonlight filtering in through the door, casting the only light in the shop.

You both made your way out, deciding to head back home, happy at the little adventure you had for the day. You parted ways at your street, saying goodbye, and promises of meeting up again tomorrow lingering in the air.

You walked up the steps to your home, stepping into the warm corridor, your cat Artemis, coming to greet you with a soft meow. You bent down to pet the cat behind the ears before kicking off your shoes and setting your keys down.

Locking your door, you then made your way upstairs to shower, before a cozy night in with your snacks and a good movie. Artemis came to cuddle with you, curling up and falling asleep next to you, his soft purrs warming your heart. It wasn’t long before you felt your eyes get heavy, the exhaustion from the day taking over.

Closing your eyes, you slipped into a deep sleep, letting your dreams take over your mind.

— —

You felt something heavy like an elephant sitting on your chest. The feeling was uncomfortable, causing you to gasp for air. Your eyes snapped open, as you tried to take a deep breath, just to find a creature perched on top of you.

You felt terror deep down as you stared at the thing, your eyes widening as you took in his form. He was well built, with chiseled abs, and a skinny frame. His eyes were as black as obsidian, the whites of his eyes nonexistent. You tried to look away as he stared down at you, not saying a word.

You made to move, but found you couldn’t as you were paralyzed on your back, helplessly staring at the being. He smirked at you, the edge of his lip curling up, revealing sharp teeth underneath.

“Shhh,” the creature said, placing his finger on your lips.

At his touch, you instantly felt warmth throughout your body, a tingling sensation building in your core. You didn’t know why, you couldn’t understand, but you knew you wanted this creature, thing, or whatever it was.

As he trailed his fingers down your face, your neck, your covered breasts, you felt the intensity of your arousal increase, the feeling of the weight on your chest getting worse as your body tried to accommodate the pleasure that you were feeling.

You watched as the man unzipped his pants, pulling out his leaking, hard cock, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Your eye’s widened, or you thought they did, at the sight of it. You felt drool slowly trickle from the side of your mouth as you eyed his cock, angry and red and a perfect length.

He lifted your sleep shirt up, ripped your panties off, and began dragging his cock through your sopping folds, gathering your slick. You could hear your wetness as he repeated the motion again and again, the tip nudging your clit with each stroke.

The pleasure was blinding, the pressure building up within you, nice a warm with in your belly. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak, all you could do was feel as the man fucked your folds. You watched as his eyes dilated even further, as he reached to drag his finger down your lip, pushing the digit inside, and pushing down on your tongue, causing you to let out a noise.

Jeongin couldn’t believe his luck, that such a pretty creature was beneath him, your puffy folds swallowing his cock with each thrust. He watched your face as you attempted to move, not being able to do so since you were paralyzed, allowing him to use your sweet body as he pleased.

He slowly gained more energy, feeling slightly revived after siphoning off your soul, bit by bit. That was the key, to not drain you completely, no, he wanted you to be his new toy. He’s to visit day after day, your soul revitalizing him back to full strength.

Jeongin dragged his eyes down from your face to your sweet pussy. You were dripping, your wetness coating his cock, your folds, your thighs. He watched as his engorged tip kissed your pretty clit again and again, imagining the sweet sounds you’d make if you could.

The thought alone sent shivers down his spine, his orgasm approaching fast. He thrusted his hips faster, the sound of your wet pussy echoing throughout the quiet room, helping glide his cock along.

With another thrust, he came, his cum coating your pelvis, the white liquid catching the hairs adorning your nether region, glistening in the moonlight that shown through your windows.

He watched you closely, focusing on your face as he attempted to read your mind. You were in a state of both agony and ecstasy, the feeling of your orgasm within too overwhelming, but unable to move or say anything.

Jeongin smiled, satiated and full. Sweet girls like you had the best souls, the power spreading throughout him, allowing him to return to his full capacity. He would be back, to visit you in your dreams, to taste your sweet soul once more.

He transformed into his natural form, his tail expanding, his wings sprouting from his back, black as the night. He took flight, gazing at your face once more before taking off, a flash at the speed of light, leaving through your open window.

You laid there on your bed, your senses slowly coming back to you. You felt exhausted, not sure why, your memory of what just occurred gone. You began to flex your arms, your legs, the electrifying, tingling feeling spreading throughout as blood returned to them.

You turned on your side, trying to fall back asleep after what you assumed was a nightmare. It didn’t take long for you to succumb to a dreamless sleep, your body exhausted unbeknownst to you because a part of your soul being gone.

The next morning you awoke to your alarm, the shrill sound piercing the room at an ungodly hour. You reached over to turn off the nuisance, as you felt a yawn coming on.

You felt tired, as if you didn’t even sleep last night. Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling, wishing you could sleep for another hour or two, or the whole day. Blinking a few times, you decided to get up, as unfortunately you had work today.

You made your way through your daily routine, which normally you could finish in no time at all. However, today you felt sluggish, as if you didn’t have the energy you normally had.

You also felt off, a constant tingle in your lower belly, causing arousal to drop from your core into your panties. You didn’t understand as you were just doing regular activities like brushing your hair, eating breakfast.

Before leaving, you had to change your panties as they were soaked. Finally you were ready, even though you felt exhausted and the tingle was ever present.

Your day went by, filled with people bothering you, asking you about this and that. You were ready to go home, as you felt like you were dragging more than usual during your shift. You tried not to look at the clock, keeping yourself occupied with little tasks you’ve been putting off.

Finally the time came, your boss letting you go home. You grabbed your bag and left before she could find another task for you to do. As you walked home, your phone rang, the tune loud in the otherwise quiet crowd. You accepted the call after seeing it was Aerith.

‘Hey! Wanna watch movies and pig out on snacks tonight?’

Normally you’d be ecstatic to have movie night with your best friend, but you wanted to nap, hoping that you’d feel better afterwards.

‘I’m gonna have to pass. I exhausted and I’m gonna nap.’

‘Really? Ok, we’ll have movie night another night then.’

‘Yes please. Maybe this weekend?’

‘You got it babe.’

You hung up and unlocked your door, as you had arrived at your apartment while you were on the phone. Throwing your bag down, you made your way to the couch, collapsing onto the pillows. You closed your eyes, falling asleep instantly.

You felt something crushing you. The feeling felt familiar, as you had a dream similar the other night, your subconscious reminding you of the experience. Your eyes snapped open, as you tried to grasp for breath, but found you were not able to. You blinked once, twice, to see a man hovering above you.

He seemed familiar, from his black eyes, to his beautiful body that was on display. He smiled at you before touching your thighs, his fingers brushing your skin, watching as it pebbled, the hairs raising one by one. The tingling sensation that you have felt all day intensified, almost becoming unbearable.

You tried to move, wanting to wrap your arms around the man, hold him close, as he did what he wanted with your sweet body. However, all you could was stare at him, hoping that he would give you what you wanted.

Jeongin came back to you. He craved you, just as much as you were most likely craving him. Your soul was so pure, filling him with untainted energy. He hooked his fingers within your waistband, his nails scratching your skin, drawing blood. He didn’t take his eyes from yours as he dragged your leggings down your thighs, your legs, until your lower half was freed.

He parted your legs, pushing them up, giving him a view of your sweet pussy. Your slick was present, gushing out of your hole, coating your thighs and folds. Licking his lips, he lowered his head, needing to taste you.

You couldn’t see him anymore, as the man ducked down, bringing his face towards your pussy. You could feel your arousal dripping like a faucet, increased ten fold at the touch of the man. You wanted to scream, whine out as you felt his fingers part your folds, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit.

You felt dizzy, the heavy feeling in your chest intensifying to the point of suffocation. The man didn’t slow down, but instead sped up, sucking your pudgy clit between his lips, his tongue darting out against it every now and then.

He licked up your arousal, reveling in the taste of you, somewhere between sweet and tangy. With each lick, suck, nip, he siphoned off more of your soul, his energy increasing.

You could feel tears build up in your eyes, the droplets slowly falling from the corners of your eyes as you felt the tingling become overwhelming, the need to cum imminent. If you could move you would be writhing under the man’s hold, wrapping your legs around his head, holding him close to smother him within your thighs.

The man continued to eat you out, his tongue fucking your little hole, licking up every drop of your arousal, the sounds of his groans filling the room. You were close, the electrifying feeling spreading through your legs, your belly, before it snapped, the pleasure so overwhelming, your body trembled within the man’s hold.

Jeongin slurped up your slick as you squirted into his mouth, making sure not to waste one drop. He was well fed, his energy ten fold, his body savoring your soul but also your sweet cum. He licked his lips, gathering your slick that was present there.

Grinning, he pulled out his erect cock. He stroked the hard appendage, once, twice, three times before cumming, the sticky substance coating your belly, your pussy, painting the canvas of your skin.

Jeongin fixed his clothes before sprouting his wings, disappearing before you could fully wake up.

You watched as the man vanished, before you lot out a loud gasp, your body waking up from the nightmare. You weren’t sure what happened, not being able to once more remember your nightmare.

You felt gross, sweat coating your skin. You decided to take a shower, hoping to get rid of the feeling. Getting up, you noticed you still felt exhausted, more so than before you took your nap. You could barely stand, your legs weak, your eyes barely able to stay open.

You made it to the shower nonetheless, using the aid of walls and counters to hold you up. You were able to shower, the warm water feeling like heaven on your sticky skin. You let out a shaky breath, noticing that the tingling ache was still there, but worse.

You felt turned on, craving for someone to touch you, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you. With what little energy you had left, you brought your fingers to your pussy, the digits brushing through your folds to relieve the pressure, your orgasm causing you to shake and moan out, louder than you ever have before.

Despite this, the ache was still there, waiting to be tamed. You didn’t know what was going on, your brain muddled, your body weak.

As the days went on, you did not improve.

You were plagued with nightmares night after night, waking up in a sweat, paralyzed in fear. You still couldn’t remember what occurred during these moments, your mind empty when you wake up from them.

The ache between your legs became insatiable, nothing being able to relieve you. You called out of work each day, claiming you were sick and couldn’t get out of bed, which was not a complete lie. You ignored Aerith’s calls, her voicemails and texts showing more worry as the days went on.

Friday finally came around after a miserable week. The wind was howling, the branches of the trees outside your window tap, tap, tapping on the glass. You could hear the rain, the sound typically soothing causing you to be more on edge. You flinched as the thunder rang out, causing the frame of the house to shake.

You were lying in bed, curled up under your blankets, your breath shaky. You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to eat, not having the energy to get out of bed to do so. You probably smelt sour, not able to make it to the bathroom to take a shower. You had made a makeshift bathroom while you still had to energy to do so.

Your eyes were open, the orbs staring at the window, watching the lightening flash through your curtains. You took breath after breath, as your lungs tried to fill with air. You gripped your blankets, your fingers curling around the soft material, bringing you some comfort in your ailment.

You didn’t move when you heard Aerith enter your apartment, making her presence known by shouting your name. Your eyes traveled to her as she stood in front of you, shock plastered on her face.

“What the hell happened to you?” She exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth.

She has never seen you look so bad. Your eyes sunken in, dark rims surrounding the sockets. You looked ashen and pale, as you took a rattlely breath.

“Aerith…” You whispered, not able to project your voice.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and some food in you, ok? We can talk afterwards.”

You shook your head in agreement, or you thought you did, the action barely noticeable. You watched as your friend moved around your room, tidying up. You could hear the bath running, the scent of your favorite bubble bath filling the room, a welcomed scent to the stale air that you have been inhaling for days.

Aerith took care of you, carefully scrubbing you clean, helping you change into clean clothes. She changed your sheets, putting fresh ones on, while putting the old ones to wash. She helped you back into bed, fluffing the pillows behind you, promising to go make you a warm meal, one that was sure to help you feel better.

You smiled in thanks, hoping the action met your eyes. You were thankful for your friend, as she came to your aid. You sat in bed, bundled under fresh blankets, listening to Aerith bustle around the kitchen, the scent of something tasty drifting through your apartment.

You felt better, clean, more level headed, ready to fill your stomach with food. You still had the ache down below, the feeling never having fully gone away. You tried to ignore it and focus on Aerith, who came into your room with a tray filled with soup.

Setting it down in front of you, you noticed she had made chicken soup, the perfect meal to help you feel better. She watched as you slowly spooned the food into your mouth, bite after bite. You felt warm, the cold feeling slowly dissipating as you filled your belly.

You licked your lips after taking the last bite, setting the spoon down. Despite this, you noticed you still felt exhausted. Aerith took the tray away and then sat down next to you.

“What’s wrong y/n?” She asked, concern in her eyes.

“I’m not sure,” you said, “I started to feel bad beginning last week. Over the last few days I’ve had no energy.”

You paused for a moment, taking a break as speaking even took your breath away.

“I’m just so exhausted Aerith. And I’ve had this ache, it won’t go away.”

You did not mention the nightmares, thinking they were unrelated.

Aerith regarded you for a moment, listening to your words. This seemed more than just an illness, but she wasn’t sure what else it could have been.

You both forgot about your little outing, breaking into the abandoned shop, discovering the book in which you wrote your name. But that did not cross your minds.

“Well rest up ok?” Aerith said, tucking the blankets around you. “I’ll check back in tomorrow.”

You nodded, thanking your friend for her help. You watched as she left your room, listening to the door click signaling her exit. You settled into bed once more, comfortable in the clean linen. You felt your eyes droop, eventually closing once more.

You slept a dreamless sleep, until you felt the heaviness again, signaling you were having a nightmare. Your eyes snapped open, the man above you. You took a breath and noticed you could actually do so, which was different than your other nightmares. You could also move, as you wiggled your toes, your fingers, the digits actually moving at your command.

“Y/n, my darling,” the man’s voice rang out, deep and commanding but yet alluring and sweet like nectar.

“Who are you?” You asked, finally able to ask the question that’s been on your mind for weeks.

“Jeongin, my darling. Now lay back and let me care for your sweet body.”

You relaxed at his touch, the sinews of your muscles releasing one by one allowing you to lay calmly. You eagerly awaited as he rid you of your clothes, your body giving off a glow in the dark room.

You mewled as his fingers brushed over your nipples, down your body until he reached your thighs, continuing until the pad of his thumb placed pressure against your aching clit. You watched as he removed his clothes, in awe of his toned body, his nipples peaked, his chilled abs, his cock that sat against his abdomen, erect and leaking.

Jeongin grasped his cock and brushed it through your folds, coating it in your slick. You awaited with bated breath as he pushed the tip in, your tight walls opening up for his cock. You let out a low moan as he pushed it further, inch by inch within your walls until he reached the hilt.

You were on cloud nine, the ache finally abating as your needs were being taken care of, your walls being split open by his cock. You felt pleasure like you’ve never felt before, as he thrusted into you at a steady pace. Jeongin adjusted his stance, the change allowing the tip to kiss your cervix, causing you to clench around his length.

You reached out, bringing Jeongin close to you, willing him to go deeper within you, your pussy clenching again and again. You were close, this man bringing you closer to your orgasm, your bodies becoming one, as he took you to paradise. With a cry, you came, your arousal leaking out of your pussy, coating Jeongin’s pelvis.

He grinned at your release, knowing that the end was near. He’s glad you were his next victim, the best one yet. He could feel the end of your soul, as what was left was feather thin. He continued to pound into you, groaning as your walls sucked him in, as you creamed around him in your release.

He watched as the light dimmed in your eyes, the orbs becoming more vacant as time went on. You were still breathing, but barely, your chest slowly rising and falling. It was time, to perform the final act, Jeongin feeling his release rear to a head.

With a loud groan he came, coating your walls for the first and last time, the little bit of your soul left drained. He grinned, his fingers brushing your cheek, feeling the chill on your skin. You breathed and then stuttered, your heart beating erratically.

Yes, you were sweet, his most prized victim. He is glad you walked into that shop that one day, found the book and signed away your fate. Jeongin believes your end should be swift, as simple as falling asleep. Yes, he could grant you even that.

Leaning down, he hovered over you, listening to your breaths, as you clung onto life. He pressed his lips onto yours, sealing your fate with a kiss. He felt your body still, your eyes vacant. Your breaths faint, the air barely gracing his face.

He leaned back, admiring his work, memorizing your face, your body one last time before flying away, snuffing out any light that was left in the room.

As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling, your body frozen unable to move. You could barely fill your lungs with air, your heart barely beating. The air became cold around you, like someone left a window open, the cold air chilling your skin.

You rejoiced as the ache was gone, sweet relief after so many days in agony. As a matter of fact, you felt no pain, you felt nothing at all. After a while of gazing at the ceiling, a bright light filled the room, the light warm as if it was the sun itself warming the room. You felt nothing, your body felt light, like it was floating, your mind blank.

As you laid in your bed, you felt at peace, a peace you’ve never felt before, as if everything will be ok. And as you took another shaky breath, your lungs barely expanding, you knew that yes, everything will finally be as it should.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[frudoo]

Slasher 141 again, how would they meet their wife? Victim turned pet? Or did she meet them 'normally', or heat me out! An online forum about killers, turned meeting to 'discuss favorites', turned demonstration? Of course, either way, she's theirs now.

I enjoy this au very much sorry 😅

A trivia date night with Johnny turns into something more ;)

Warnings: Dark stuff, obviously (murder, cold cases, etc). Food + alcohol consumption. Fem!Reader.

Sudsnblood: Here. WBU?

     You: I see a mohawk, that you?

     Sudsnblood: Aye.

     Excitedly, you smooth out your dress and make your way over to the man in the corner who’s giving you a little wave. Is it stupid, agreeing to meet with an odd stranger you’ve been bonding with on the internet over fictional killers and real, gruesome murders? Absolutely. Do you care? Absolutely not. After all, he is local, and the pub is having a trivia night with a category both of you are experts in: cold cases. Not to mention how much more handsome he is in person.

     “Hey,” you grin, reaching over the table to place your hand in his and shake it politely.

     Johnny returns your greeting with a charming smile and a confirmation of your name. He only lets go once you’ve nodded, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. 

     “Ah havenae ordered anythin’ yet,” he informs you, pushing a menu your way. “Figured ah’ll get wha’ ye do.” 

     “Mm, got a copycat on my hands, huh?” You tease, catching his eye contact momentarily before moving your gaze back to the list of appetizers. 

     “Ah’m no’ a copycat, ah assure ye,” he grabs the top of your menu and pushes it down to the table so you’ll look at him again. 

     His expression is so serious, leaving no room for confusion or doubt in your mind. You raise an eyebrow and nod slowly. 

     “Got it. What do you think about potato skins for an app?” 

     Trivia takes about two hours, and of course, the two of you won against six other tables who did not have quite the extensive knowledge you and Johnny share. You’re two beers deep and he’s got one more on you, tipsy and flirty.

     “Ah’m gonna call one o’me partners tae come get us,” Johnny explains, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you outside the front of the building to wait with him.

     You nod and he pulls a cigarette out of the carton in his pocket, lighting it up and handing it to you. You take a drag while he talks on the phone—to a Simon, you observe—exhaling slowly and watching as the smoke crystallizes in the cold winter air. He’s only on the phone for a few moments before he’s asking for his cig back, blowing the smoke away from you.

     “D’ye trust me?” He asks after a while of silence.

     You nod once again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Johnny drops the butt of the cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with the toe of his boot, leaning in until the warmth of his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up all over your body, and you shiver, grabbing a hold of his firm biceps through his leather jacket.

     “Wha’ if ah told ye ah’m one o’the killers they were askin ‘bout?” He murmurs into your ear.

     You pull back with an amused grin, expecting him to have a matching expression, laugh and tell you he’s joking. But when you meet his eyes, he’s deadly serious. There’s no hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, just a deadpan gaze that scans along your face, watching for a reaction. Your smile drops and you swallow hard, your breathing rapidly speeding up.

     “I’d say that I believe you, and it doesn’t change my feelings towards you.”

     “Ye’re gonna get along jus’ fine,” Johnny finally smiles, wide enough for an average person to feel a sense of unease, but to you, it just adds to his charm. 

     By the time Simon arrives, Johnny’s got you pinned against the wall with his hands full of your soft tits and his tongue down your throat. Simon chuckles and honks the horn of his truck to alert you both of his presence, giving you a nod of acknowledgement as Johnny hustles you into the backseat with him. 

     “She know?”

     “Aye, she does.”

     Simon nods, adjusting the rear-view mirror so that he can see the two of you better.

     “Good.”

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🔮A True Love Of Mine 🔮

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

tags: SFW, storms, fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, fear of thunder, love confessions, revelations, sleepy cuddles, lilia cuddles, palm reading

wc: ~ 4.1 k

summary: On your way home from town, you get caught in the rain and find shelter at Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings. That night, you learn things about yourself you never would've imagined.

*************************************

The storm hit earlier than expected. You'd gone into town to stock up on ultrasonic cleaning solution and clock oil for your father as you did every other week—the walk wasn't too long and the scenery pretty—only today, the world was ending.

Or so it felt as you pushed forth through the wind lashing in your face and waded through the water that went up to your ankles and had soaked through into your lace-up boots. The raindrops pierced your face like needles, and your coat hung like seaweed from your shoulders, long and heavy, and had ceased to provide any kind of warmth. You made it down the road, cautious of the trees for they might fall, and reached a row of shops.

A nail salon, a shop with pool supplies, and between them, Madame Calderu's Psychic Readings. Since the nail salon was closed and the other shop didn't make the friendliest of impressions, you decided to try and find shelter with the psychic.

Water dripped from the ends of your hair, your nose, and your chin, and you felt like a wet dog. You just hoped you didn't smell like one, too. You approached the glass door, dusty as were the large shop windows, and pushed it open.

A bell chimed above your head, and thick oven warmth embraced you. It was a relief to your shaking, chilled form, and for a moment, you didn't take in anything else but this.

When you opened your eyes again, an array of plants greeted you, which you assumed the owner must've brought in when the storm had reared its ugly face. The interior was colourful, filled to the brim with crystals and knickknacks, with grand drapes on every window, one of which had been decorated with shards of painted glass hung up on a thread. It was so unlike your father's workshop with its dark, antique furniture, the grandfather clocks, the worn carpet—despite your best efforts to bring life into it with some fairy lights and lace tablecloth. This looked homey and inviting.

...unlike the owner, who stepped through the beaded curtain that separated the shop from her private quarters, you assumed, looking nothing short of intimidating.

And there you were, dripping on her Persian rug.

"Um... M-madame C-c-calderu?" you stuttered with chattering teeth.

You expected to get yelled at by the older lady, but the moment she realised you were soaked to the bone, she slipped off her knitted cardigan and rushed to you, muttering, "Oh, honey, oh honey."

She laid it around your shoulders and rubbed your upper arms with her warm, wrinkled hands. "You're drenched, dear." She studied your face with knitted eyebrows. "And your lips are blue, Divine Mother..."

One of her grey curls that framed her face bounced whenever she moved her head. She must be in her seventies, but was still exceptionally beautiful.

"May I—wait out the—s-storm here?" you asked, on the verge of tears from how frozen you were. The tip of your nose, your fingers, your toes—they all ached as if they were about to fall off.

"What a silly question!" She ushered you to sit in a floral-patterned armchair surrounded by countless candles. "I'll get you some dry clothes, girl."

And off she went, through the beaded curtain again, and you sat trying not to freeze to death. The storm raged outside, sent everything that wasn't fixed flying across the road, and bent the trees to breaking. It was early in the evening, but the dense clouds had darkened the sky as if it were almost night.

You set your shopping bag on the ground and rubbed your palms over your thighs to warm them up. Madame Calderu returned a moment later with a folded stack of clothes and towels and set them down on the side table, handing you a towel first and taking one herself.

"Dry up as best as you can and then slip into these. They're from when I was younger," she chuckled, "so might fit you somewhat."

"Thank you so much," you said, and she gave you a warm smile that made your heart squeeze.

It was nothing compared to the leap it made when she began to dry your hair for you while you dragged the towel across your arms and chest. She wrapped the ends of your long, dirty blonde waves up and wrung them out. With her own unruly curls, she must know how to care for hair properly. Her fingers moved to your scalp and massaged it with the towel, and you almost moaned at the feeling.

"Better now, darling?" She stepped back in front of you, and you missed her touch already, but nodded.

"Much."

"Then get changed while I make tea." She took the wet towels with her and turned over her shoulder to say, "Come to the back when you're done."

-> continue