#did you know that? did you? or do you black out at the idea of a trans woman being anything but strictly pure and nonsexual

[sunnami]

the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

i. 

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.) 

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them. 

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted. 

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks. 

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays. 

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you. 

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.” 

He thought so, too. 

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.” 

You had not replied. 

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you. 

(But you had done so first.) 

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you. 

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.) 

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love. 

ii. 

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.) 

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive. 

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it. 

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”) 

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb? 

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you. 

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”) 

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded. 

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed. 

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you. 

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

 (But not to love.) 

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe. 

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.) 

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you. 

James did not love you. 

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you? 

Not. Love. 

iii. 

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No. 

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that. 

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain. 

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones. 

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.” 

One question lingered in your eyes: Why? 

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.” 

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone. 

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms. 

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return. 

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you. 

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile. 

It was the least he could do. 

For failing to protect you. 

But that was not love. 

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv. 

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered. 

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before. 

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better. 

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .” 

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you. 

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”) 

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight. 

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily. 

And that was that. 

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side. 

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much. 

“Is that. . .?” you croaked. 

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—” 

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever. 

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.” 

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence. 

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

v. 

YOU did not love them, either. 

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know. 

Because you did not love them. 

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love. 

Surely not. 

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend. 

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny. 

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel? 

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows. 

Was love that unkind? That merciless? 

Then, you did not want to love at all. 

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish. 

You were no different. 

You wanted. 

Oh, how you yearned. 

“I LOVE YOU.” 

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts. 

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?” 

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” 

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.” 

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.” 

–

“I love you.” 

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him. 

And you had loved him fiercely for that. 

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.” 

-

“I love you.” 

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice. 

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch. 

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.” 

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” 

–

“I love you.” 

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.” 

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.” 

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.” 

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.” 

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread. 

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.” 

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.” 

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them. 

And they loved you. 

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

[ellecdc]

may i pretty please request more potter!reader x barty 🤲 whatever you feel like darling, though if you need ideas i think i’d be hilarious if james insists on joining reader to the slytherin common room bc he “doesn’t trust” barty and then him just being extremely uncomfortable while the slytherin skittles are their usual chaotic selves

ooooh Barty & our potter!reader. thanks for your request! <3

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who should date a nice Slytherin like Evan [644 words]

CW: summoning demons as a pass time, Slytherin skittle nonsense, James is way in over his head

“He did what!?” James beseeched as he and Regulus sat down in the Slytherin common room across from you. 

Regulus smirked as he shot you a knowing look. “He released a malevolent poltergeist that was restricted to the haunted hall of the dungeons into Central Hall. Dumbledore and Filch are currently trying to negotiate with it in hopes to get it to return to its designated section of the castle.” 

“A poltergeist worse than Peeves!?” James asked, causing Regulus to cock his head at him.

“You consider Peeves malevolent?”

James blinked at his boyfriend. “Well…I wouldn’t exactly consider him …volent…” 

“Salazar.” Regulus muttered under his breath as he pulled out a book. “Yes, Jamie, worse than Peeves.”

“Bug!” James exclaimed, turning his comically wide eyes (only magnified by the thickness of his glasses) towards your casually curled up form.

“Yeah?” You asked nonplussed as you turned a page in this week's Witch Weekly. 

“What on earth did Junior do!?” 

You looked up at your brother with a look mixed with concern and confusion. “Erm…well, as Regulus just said, he released a-”

“I heard what Regulus said!” James barked as Barty and Evan entered the room; Evan moving to sit politely in a wingback chair whilst Barty languidly rolled over the back of the sofa you were sitting on and laid his body atop yours, which you readily accepted by lifting your arms with your magazine over his head so he could rest his head against your chest. 

“Oh, are we talking about Donny?” Barty asked casually, though he kept his face shoved in the junction of your neck. 

“‘Donny’?” Regulus snickered as James looked at him in horror.

“You named a poltergeist Donny?!” 

“I didn’t name the poltergeist Donny, Potter.” Barty sneered. “It’s a nickname; it’s short for Abaddon.” 

James let out a desperate, disbelieving sound as he turned his attention to you. “Bug, listen; out of all the Slytherin’s, really? Junior? Don’t get me wrong, I get the appeal, really, I do; but why couldn’t you have picked a nice Slytherin, like Evan?”

His question was answered with a snort from his own boyfriend. “Well which is it, James? Do you want her to date a nice Slytherin, or do you want her to date Evan?” 

“Careful what you wish for, there, Potter.” Evan jeered from his seat. 

“You’ve not got a leg to stand on here, Jamie.” You replied simply. “Not only are you and your lot responsible for the sodding squid in the Black Lake, but your own boyfriend is the one who summoned Donny to begin with.” 

“You what!?” 

“Yeah!” Barty chimed in. “I only released him from the dungeons, Regulus is the one who invited him here to begin with!” 

“Why would you do such a thing!?”

Regulus simply shrugged his shoulders. “Evan bet me ten galleons I couldn’t do it.”

“And why would you do that!?” James directed to Evan who also shrugged his shoulders.

“I was bored.” 

“Merlin’s tits.” James whispered in horror as he stared at the floor unseeingly. “They’re sodding mad…”

“Ha ha.” Barty taunted. “You’re in love with the criminally insane.” 

You simply snorted and offered Barty a chaste peck on the lips before he once again rested his cheek on your chest. “Surprised it took you this long to notice, James.” 

“They’ve not exactly been subtle.” Evan added. 

“What are you saying, Evan?” Barty tried to bark, though the way his face was basically shoved into the fabric of your jumper seriously diminished any severity he tried to imbue. “Subtle is my middle name.” 

“That’d make your initials B.S.” Evan continued, causing Regulus to snicker.

Barty hummed in thought. “No, nevermind. I prefer B.J, thanks.”

“Don’t we all.” Regulus added salaciously, and you nearly choked at the abashed look that took over your brother’s face.

“Welcome to the snake pit, Jamie.”

[plussizeficchick]

Artist Boyfriend | Jungkook x Chubby!Reader

Summary; “He’s not my real boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend.” (Loosely based on the movie “Dinner in America”, and this edit.)

Warnings: Street Artist!Jungkook, public sex, P in V, panty sniffing, breeding kink, mildly jealous Jungkook, somewhat bad boy!jk? (He runs from the law). Not proofread

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear someone practically fall into your flower shop. You lean your head over the oak counter, looking to see who it was. 

He had dark hair, the curls slick with sweat making them more pronounced. He was breathing heavily, and you’d be lying if you said his labored breaths weren’t causing a heat to build in your lower stomach. 

Get it together (Y/N)!

“Hey, you need some help?” Jungkook’s head jolts in the direction of your voice. You hold up your hands in mock surrender, showing that you mean no harm. 

This was bad. Really bad. Pretty soon the cops would be rounding the corner looking for “him” but there was nowhere for him to hide besides the flower shop that he accidentally stumbled into. “Uh, I-” He was at a loss for words as his eyes ran over your plump figure. 

You were fucking beautiful.

You wore an off the shoulder sundress that hugged your stomach and tits quite nicely, if he says so himself. Your thick thighs were on display, making his mouth water slightly at the thought of possibly feeling those wrapped around his head. 

“Mister?” You furrow your brows, what’s up with this guy? “Hide me.” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “Huh?!” He quickly shushes you, his warm eyes softening, almost pleading with you. “Please, hide me. I’ll explain after.” You don’t know what compels you, but you end up agreeing, hiding him behind your counter, just in time for the cops to rear their heads. 

“‘Scuse us ma’am, have you seen a young man running in this direction? Black ski mask, dark clothes, the like.” You do your best to be convincing, “Yeah! Saw him run down that way, though it looked like he hopped on a bus.” You shrug. The police turn their heads just in time to see a bus leaving the stop. One tosses his hat to the ground, visibly upset, “Damn it! We had that little shit! We were so close!” You’re a bit startled at the display, eyes shifting to the fugitive that you’ve essentially housed. “Calm down, Takahashi. We’ll get him next time. Thank you for your help, miss.” You bid them farewell, and when you’re sure that they won’t be returning, you lock your door, turning over the Out For Lunch sign.

“Explain.” You say, arms folded over your chest. You may not have meant to, but the action causes your breast to accentuate, the fat practically spilling over the top. Oh to feel the sweet softness, to feel them squeezed in the palm of his hands. To fuck his dick in the middle of the soft mounds of flesh. “Hello!” You wave your hand in front of his face. Maybe this was a bad idea? “What? Oh right- sorry. Well you see I did some graffiti and let’s just say, they didn’t take too kindly to me “defacing public property” or whatever.” He brushes off, hands resting in his black jean pocket.

He was attractive, in a sort of endearingly punk sort of way. He was dressed in majority black, with pops of color from the various wristbands that he had on each wrist. Said wristbands drew attention to his hands, the few veins that ran along them and his surprisingly long fingers. What you wouldn’t give to feel them inside you. Curling up and finding that delicious spot inside you. “Hey, miss?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, was this what he was like? It was quite… amusing.

You snap out of your reverie, an adorable pout making its way to your lips, “Don’t call me “miss”, makes me feel old.” You mutter, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to kiss your puckered lips. “Well, sorryyy,” he drags out the word as he looks down to read your nametag, “(Y/N), anyway, apparently my art is “illegal” so I kind of had to cut loose.” He clicks his tongue to emphasize his point. You size him up, “What type of graffiti?” You ask. He balks at you, it’s rare for him to find a girl interested in that kind of thing. “Huh?” “I’m pretty familiar with the scene around here, so what kind of work do you do? Tag? Blockbuster?” You prompt, and Jungkook feels himself falling for you already. 

“I- Freestyle. I freestyle, really.” He says, fumbling over his words. You run your eyes over his figure before you settle on his eyes. Cute. “You’ll have to show me your work sometime.” You tease, moving to tend to your flowers. Jungkook follows close behind, your scent of warm vanilla and lilies drawing him in. “Maybe.” He flirts back. “Say, how do you know so much about this kind of stuff anyway?” He asks, eyeing a bouquet of white roses that’d look very nice in your possession. You jolt your head to look at him, an incredulous look on your face, “What? I don’t look like I know that kind of thing?” You sass. Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, “W-what? No! No, that’s not w-” He’s cut off by the sound of your melodic laugh, “I’m just kidding, chill out.” You say, pulling a small chuckle from him. “Ha-ha very funny.” He deadpans. You smile brightly up at him, your chubby cheeks lifting at the action. “To answer your question, Mister fugitive-” “You know if you want my name, you can just ask.” He winks. “Anyway, I’ve been in the street art scene for a while. I’m not really good at doing it, but I do have my favorite artists.” You shrug. 

Jungkook’s intrigued, eager to hear more. “Really?” Who’s your favorite?” He asks, and you’d be lying if his excitement wasn’t infectious. You giggle at his eagerness, “Well, there’s not much known about him and no one has seen him yet. According to a lot of people, he never signs his work.” “And I take it that you don’t agree.” He says. You shake your head, “There’s this group that thinks his signature is in his work and I agree. The most common letters seen in his work is JK. With the type of art he does, there’s no way that you don’t want your signature on something like that. But I also understand him not wanting to take away from the art. So why not try to find a way to sign it, while also making it part of the art?” You say, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. Jungkook feels himself nodding before he realizes, “That actually makes a lot of sense. I’ll have to see this guy’s work. I mean, if I’m going to be the top artist in your life.” He smirks. You feel your cheeks heat up, a smile unconsciously making its way to your face. “And what makes you think you’ll be my favorite?” You say, tapping a finger against your chin. Jungkook plucks one of the many white roses he was eyeing, extending it towards you. “I know so.”

— —

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to come by your flower shop regularly, always sure to buy and leave a flower with you each time he came. And it took even less time for you to start dating, the tension between the both of you too palpable to ignore.

It was an accident really. You had decided that you wanted to show your closest friend one of the most recent works of your favorite graffiti artist, practically dragging him to the mural. “Hurry uppp, slowpoke. I wanna show you my boyfriend’s work.” You suddenly feel Jungkook come to an abrupt halt. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He says, an adorable pout making its way to his plump, pink lips. 

So cute you just want to kiss it off.

“Not my real boyfriend, silly.” You giggle at the confused, almost puppy dog look he gives you. “He’s not my actual boyfriend, he’s my artist boyfriend. I wouldn’t actually date him.” You scoff playfully, turning around to guide him into the direction you were going.

When you both finally reach your favorite artist’s work and after a while of admiring it, you notice Jungkook shifting uncomfortably next to you. “Are you okay? We don’t have to stay.” You reassure him. You barely have time to register him grabbing your hand and practically dragging you away from the other street artists.

He pulls you into an alley, far from prying ears and eyes and before you get the chance to ask him what happened, he presses his lips firmly against yours. “I’m JK.” He says when he finally pulls away from you. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, all types of questions on your tongue. “I had to come with you to make sure that it was me that you were talking about and now that I know I can’t keep that part of myself away from you. Especially since I’m your “artist boyfriend”.” He says, nervously gnawing on his lip ring.

How? When did he find the time? Could he kiss you like that again?

You hadn't even realized you asked the last question aloud until you hear the slight chuckle that you’ve come to fall in love with. “Sure, but are you gonna keep my secret for me?” He asks, that sinister smirk making its way to his lips. 

Before you know it you're nodding your head, eager to feel his soft lips against yours as he runs his hands along your soft body. Fuck he never gets tired of feeling you against him. The sharp contrast of hard to soft, the way you practically melt into him.

It’s just too fucking delectable to pass up.

The tension between you both builds, the kiss gradually heating up and becoming more intense as the seconds pass. You wrap your arms around his neck just as he lifts up one of your legs to wrap around him. You both groan at the glorious friction, his clothed cock grinding against your puffy pussy making slick pool in your already sticky panties. “Please,” You mewl against his lips, the chill of his lip ring feeling tantalizing against your lips. “Please what, pretty? You gotta tell me what you want.” He breathes against your lips, the smell of his mint gum and cologne pulling you in. You whine, threats of a tantrum rearing it’s head. “Kookie, please don’t tease.” Jungkook chuckles, before slightly pulling away from you.

You reach out for him, chubby arms holding onto him for dear life, “Kook, please. Fuck me. Touch me. I need something.” You groan against him as you practically dry hump him. Jungkook decides to take pity on you and all but rips the flimsy thong you’re wearing off of you. You barely had time to register before he was shoving the piece of cloth against his nose, your scent washing over his senses. 

He quickly pockets the piece of fabric. You’re on borrowed time, it’s only a matter of time before another couple comes along for their own salacious activities and as adventurous as Jungkook is, you’re his to look at. 

He just manages to tug down his zipper and pull his semi hard cock out, before he uses your slick to coat his cock, running his dick along your wet cunt. “Fuck me, Jungkook. Fill me up. Wanna be full.” You moan into his ear. The sound of your breathy voice in his ear does something to Jungkook and without warning, he slams himself inside you to the hilt. You groan at the intrusion, never truly having got used to his size as yet. “Fuck! Yes, baby. That’s it. Give me that pussy.” Jungkook groans into your neck. He’s sucking hickies and leaving small, wet kisses along your throat and the exposed skin on your chest. You moan at the feeling, reaching up to bring his lips to yours. 

He reaches one hand up to palm at one of your tits, squeezing and molding the flesh to fit his large hand. You whimper when you feel him squeeze your nipple under your dress, causing your pussy to squeeze around him involuntarily. You both moan into each other's mouths, your pussy clenching and unclenching around the thickness of his cock each time he punches the soft, gummy spot inside you. “Cum for me.” He grunts, cock throbbing as it aches to empty itself in your womb. “Soak my fucking dick, baby. Get me nice and wet, pretty. Cause I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff you to the fucking brim.” You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy squelching as you milk his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Cum in me. Fill me up, baby. Wanna be so full it leaks out.” You moan into his mouth, eyes locked together. It doesn’t take long, a few more thrusts and he’s spilling into you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside your stomach.

You both take a few seconds for your highs to come down and before long, you start to giggle. “Were you jealous, Kookie?” Jungkook pulls away slightly to pout at you, lips all pretty and kiss-swollen.

“Was not.”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @cherries-c0la @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @c0pkiller

[mrsshabana]

𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Being too afraid to spend another night alone, you decide to invite your best friend, Mitsuri, over for a sleepover. But you'll soon realize that was a mistake. Have you already forgotten how much your ghost loves to humiliate you? ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words.

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter one ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

The ghost stopped showing himself after that night. You could feel his presence but he never actually appeared like he had that first time.

But even though he wouldn't show himself, that didn't stop him from treating you like a toy. Knocking things over, shutting off the electricity, and even touching you while you slept. It was all a game to him.

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified. Fed up of countless sleepless nights you decided to invite your best friend over for a sleepover, Mitsuri. In hopes that some company would make you feel more at ease. Or at least she would acknowledge your home was haunted so you'd feel less crazy.

But you should have known this would be a bad idea. You seem to have forgotten that the ghost gets a kick out of embarrassing you in front of other people.

Things are calm for now, though you still can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. Despite that, you still try to have a fun night with your friend.

The two of you sit on the couch in your pajamas, eating pizza, and watching a horror movie. The ring to be specific, as it's one of Mitsuri's favorites.

Then the iconic scene comes where the girl crawls through the tv, except something looks off. It looks so much more real than you remember.

The ghost crawls through your television, crawling onto the ground like some demented monster only to look into your eyes, striking fear into you.

You can't help but scream as your body jolts from the jumpscare.

"Y/N, haha!" Mitsuri laughs, "I thought you've seen this movie before! It's not that scary!"

What she doesn't know is that a ghost really did jump out of your tv! And he's rolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

"You should have seen your face!" He laughs hysterically.

You're about to say something to him before you remember Mitsuri has no idea he's there at all, so instead you're stuck trying to play it cool and ignore him like last time. "Oh haha sorry, that part gets me every time."

Mitsuri chuckles but returns her attention back to the movie, oblivious to the fact that there's an unwanted visitor in the room.

"C'mon you gotta admit that was pretty good," he smirks as he walks over to you, "I used to love this movie..." he trails off as he briefly thinks about his life when he was alive but he quickly shrugs it off, not wanting to think about it.

You want to talk to him, ask him questions, cuss him out, anything really. But you can't when Mitsuri is right there. It pisses you off that he decided to show himself now of all times and refused to do it when you were alone. But unbeknownst to you, he's doing it for a reason. Not only does he like toying with you but he also doesn't want you asking him questions about his past.

All you can do is look at him with a mixture of anger and confusion.

"What?" he quirks his brow, "Oh right, I guess I never really introduced myself." He plops beside you on the couch, "Name's Gyutaro."

You want to ask for a last name but knowing how much he hated you asking questions about his family, you know he'd probably refuse.

At least now you can get a proper look at him. He's tall and very thin with the palest skin you've ever seen. His long black hair seems weightless as it floats around his face. But what catches your eye is the black spots on his face. You don't know what they are but they look like birthmarks. The other thing you notice is the blood splatted on his t-shirt.

At first, you're confused but then you think about the fact that if he's a ghost, surely he must have died somehow. It makes you sad as you think about all that blood being a result of him dying in some violent way. He may be annoying but no one deserves that.

"Your friend is pretty cute," he interrupts your thoughts, "But not as cute as you... y'know I can't stop thinking about the other night. I could tell you liked it." He leans closer to your face, trying to get a reaction out of you.

"I think you owe me back. It's only fair," he says as he pulls down his pants, exposing his erection.

Your eyes widen at the sight. Maybe you should have expected this knowing how immature and horny he is, but you can't help but be shocked.

He leans back onto the sofa, getting comfortable as he languidly starts stroking himself.

You look over at Mitsuri, then to Gyutaro again. Your face heats up, completely embarrassed about the situation you're in. You know your friend can't see him but that doesn't make it any better! She's sitting on your right while this annoying ghost is jerking off on your left.

"Just touch it, I promise it doesn't bite," he moves his hips closer - gently tapping your arm with his member, "C'mon, pleaaase!" He whines like an entitled child.

You just cross your arms and refuse to give him any attention, hoping that he'll get bored and stop.

Even though he's annoying, you can't help but find something about him charming. Maybe it's the fact that he's not how you imagined ghosts to be. Or maybe it's that playful attitude he seems to have.

And honestly, you can't deny that he's attractive. Having a ghost haunting your new home isn't ideal, but at least he's sexy and seems to have taken a liking to you. He acts like a needy puppy, desperate for your attention.

Probably because he's been trapped here for so long, all alone.

But even so, how would it look if you started touching him? If Mitsuri glanced over she'd see you jerking off the air! How embarrassing that would be! So even if you're willing to play along, you can't do it now. And Gyutaro knows that, it's just all a part of the fun.

"Fine, be that way," he pouts as he tilts his head back and focuses on pleasuring himself.

You peek over to see him picking up the pace. Slowly bucking his hips as his eyes squeeze shut and the tip of his cock glistens with precum. Soft moans escape his lips as he gets closer and closer.

Shifting uncomfortably, you rub your thighs together - feeling your panties begin to moisten. Hopefully, he doesn't notice because you know it'll only make his cocky attitude worse.

"Fuck," he groans, "I'm so lucky a hottie like you moved in, Y/N. You have no idea."

"You're annoying, but at least you're somewhat of a friendly ghost," you think to yourself, wishing you could openly respond to him.

"Ah," he moans softly, leaning closer to you. You feel his body tense up and his hand stroke faster.

It's not long before he's spilling all over the place, shooting his load without any care for where it lands. It splatters on the couch, your arm, and on your lap - splattering all over the plate of pizza you had sitting there. You feel stupid for not moving it sooner, but you honestly didn't expect a ghost to be able to ejaculate like that.

What makes it even more disturbing is how cold and slimy it is.

He doesn't even bother to clean anything up, he just sits there panting with a sick grin on his face. "Heh, you look good like that."

Before you can grab a napkin to wipe it off, Mitsuri speaks up, "Are you going to eat your pizza, Y/N? You said you were starving but you haven't even taken a bite yet!"

"Haha! Yeah Y/N, you gonna eat it or not? I don't see nothing wrong with it," Gyutaro taunts.

Your face goes red, she must not be able to see the ghostly semen all over your pizza. "I-I um..." you choke, not wanting to do this.

"Oh come on, don't be a wuss!" Gyutaro teases.

"Mine tasted great! But if you don't want it I'll have it," Mitsuri says, reaching over and grabbing your plate.

"No! I'll eat it!" You snatch the plate, not wanting your friend to eat the tainted food.

You look at Gyutaro, narrowing your eyes to show your displeasure for what you're about to do.

Hesitantly opening your mouth, you take a bite of the pizza. You shudder as you feel the cold slimey substance hit your tongue and slide down your throat. The texture is disgusting but at least it doesn't really taste like anything.

Gyutaro begins to giggle, watching in amusement as you force his cum down your throat.

"That's it," he snickers, "Eat up like a good girl! I think I'll stay here and watch you eat every last bite!"

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Hey so I realized that I’ve been kinda been neglecting my 🪷Queen Danny AU🪷

!!!Some things you want to know about this AU!!!

Originally this au came from my Aphrodite Danny au which now that I’m thinking about it I’ve been neglecting too so be on the look out for that, anyway it was from god games { pls go look it up it is so good } and Danny as Hera and than Danny as Queen you can guess the rest but I still kept the main idea of it

Danny is the queen of the ghost zone because he win in a fight against Pariah Dark

Danny gets heavily injured because of GIW or his parents and goes through the portal destroying it in the process and ends up getting nursed back to health by Pariah Dark and in the process gaining a Father-Son relationship with him (NO ROMANCE FOR THEM IF I SEE ANYTHING ABOUT THEM BEING IN LOVE YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

But as Pariah Dark has millennia worth of paper work to do from his time in the nap box so he has to leave Danny for a bit to do that so he leaves Danny with two hand maids that are absolute sweethearts to Danny ( only to Danny even Pariah Dark is not safe from their wrath )

Let’s call the girls Umi and Yume. Umi has short black hair that is pin straight that goes to her shoulders and teal eyes and a beauty mark under her right eye with that she also has a “deathly” pale complexion { you see what I did there } she’s wearing a black kimono with a Blue belt (!!Fun Fact!! The belt of a kimono is the fabric that goes around the midsection of the wearer!) Yume has long black hair that goes to her hips and has very pale green eyes and a beauty mark under her left eye much like her sister she also has a deathly pale complexion with that she’s also wearing a black kimono but instead of a blue belt it is purple

They died because they got sick with a deadly disease the reason they have such a pale complexion, and like I said before they absolutely adore Danny ( he acts like their mother did so they connected to him FAST ) and also like I said before they barely put up with anyone else

Anyway they like to dress Danny up in kimonos and other clothes of that origin and Danny lets them because they have fun and doesn’t want to ruin that for the girls ( at this point the girls and ghost with a fashion obsession are in constant cahoots with what to make next ) and while all this is happening the JL mess up or while one member and gets held hostage and will not be let go and the have to get help from the ghost zone so a group goes to ask for help from them and Pariah Dark says that if they want their help they have to convince the Ancients + the Queen to help them

And that’s about it sorry I’ve been radio silence for the past couple days I’ve been busy with things I’ll try to get stuff out but can’t really make any promises right now. Anyway byeee

[https-milo]

2 ☾ Baking / Satoru Gojo !!

DAY TWO OF FLUFFTOBER!

Summary

- unsurprisingly, he cannot bake... buttt the first years are counting on some desserts!

flufftober masterlist!

The night before Halloween, your boyfriend appeared in your doorway. Your decorations were hung and you were bursting at the seams of excitement for the following day.

"Satoru? It's the middle of the night!" You scolded as you let the white-haired man in. He bore his usual lazy grin and black blindfold. Despite it being almost midnight, he was still in his teacher's uniform.

"Wellllll.... I need your help!" Satoru replied as he swung an arm around your shoulder and brought you to your kitchen.

"Huh? With what? Did you lose your comb again?" You asked in confusion. He didn't reply and instead pulled out his phone, showing you a picture of terribly burnt cookies. At first, you couldn't even tell what they were. It just looked like black ash on a baking tray. "What am I looking at?"

Satoru laughed and pocketed his phone, "Well! I told the first years I'd make them Halloween treats for tomorrow, you know for some enthusiasm. Well, actually, originally it was just going to be for Megumi, but then Yuji heard so Nobara heard too... But anyway! I tried baking cookies and well... that was the result."

You blinked at him, "So you want my help with something you promised?" Satoru nodded. You sighed, "Fine. You're lucky I love you." You placed a chaste kiss on his lips before scurrying around your kitchen to get the stuff you'd need.

"I am pretty lucky about that!" Satoru replied with an obnoxious grin. He sat on the counter like a princess and kicked his feet while you got the ingredients to make sugar cookies and royal icing.

You rolled your eyes as you needed the cookie dough. "You're so lucky you're beautiful." You sighed. Satoru stuck his tongue out at you and snapped a picture of you baking. You knew, within a matter of seconds, it'd be posted to his story with some corny caption. Once the cookies were in the oven, you stood between Satoru's legs and pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you, even when you make me bake cookies for you in the middle of the night."

Satoru's smile widened and he embraced you tightly. "How could you not love me?" You lightly hit his arm in a scolding manner and rolled your eyes. "Kidding, I love you too!"

Finally, the cookies were done and cooled. The royal icing was made and ready to be piped. "Ok, I have some cute designs I found on Pinterest..." You turned your phone to Satoru, who now stood beside you with casual clothes and a pink princess apron on ("I don't want to ruin my outfit! [The outfit was old sweatpants and an old graphic shirt]).

"Those are all so complicated," Satoru complained with a groan.

"And your cursed technique isn't?" You pinched his cheek softly, "How about you do the big main colors and I'll do the details."

Satoru beamed and grabbed a cookie, "Great idea, babe!" He messily started layering the icing before smoothing it out with a knife. You took his cookies and added the details. Soon enough, you had mummies, zombies, and pumpkins tucked neatly in a container, ready to head to the school in the morning.

"Thanks a bunch," Satoru said with a kiss to your cheek. "Wanna go to the school with me tomorrow?"

You shrugged, "Sure. It'd be nice to catch up with Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi." You yawned. "Let's head to bed, yeah?" Satoru nodded and the two of you walked to your room.

"You made these?" Megumi asked Satoru with distaste in his voice as he peered into the container with the cookies. "What'd you do to them?"

"Whattttt!? I'm offended!" Satoru dramatically said, he huffed and stuck out his chest.

"I made them," You swiftly cut in and grabbed the container from Satoru.

Yuji's eyes sparkled and he greedily grabbed one of each cookie type. Nobara smiled and grabbed a mummy, and Megumi nodded while grabbing a zombie. "Thank you, Y/N!" The three chorused. You could barely hear Megumi, but you knew he said it.

"Yeah, thank you, Y/N," Satoru said. He brought you in for a kiss with his hand reaching for the cookies. You scowled and kept the cookies away from him, pushing away from his embrace.

"Nuh-uh, you had 7 on the way here."

"But Y/nnnnn..."

"No, Satoru."

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

FLUFFTOBER TAG LIST!

@drxgonspine

[nthspecialll]

Red Dead History: My problems with it

Red Dead History is a book that does a great job at casting light over the history and background to the scenes, places and troubles we meet in Red Dead Redemption 2. Talking about both the things done well and the things done not so well, what is true to the time and place and what is not.

It is clear that the author knows alot about history and studied it, however there are times where I find it clear he spent more time focused on the real history rather than the in game and thus forgetting facts and drawing wrong conclusions.

When talking about the real life criminals that Dutch and Arthur are based on (Butch Cassidy, Sundance Kid and their gang The Wild Bunch) this very lovely and wrong sentence comes up: "Like Dutch and company, the Wild Bunch undertook robberies primarily for personal gain, not as a moral crusade against capitalism. Butch and Harry, like the van der Linde crew, certianly had a disdain for the corporate titans of their day, but it was desire for their wealth far more than social justice that motivated their heists." (The Wild Bunch, page 86) I do not think the author understood Dutch Van Der Linde very well, I don't think he understood the gang very well.

Dutch is a man based on princips, who can be found on any time of the day reading a philosopher who challenges capitalism and questions what man has become. "Men are fixated on greed, on desire, and on the acquisition not of experiences or pleasures but the ability to acquire." This is Dutch's hero, and he has several interactions with different characters like Mary-Beth, Molly, John, Abigail, Lenny and Arthur reading up quotes and discussing them, praising Miller to the heavens!

If that is not enough, lets look at the very first bank robbery that they commited, they did not keep the money, they gave it to the poor! And they still have their morals, like not robbing the poor, only the rich. We also have the fact that Javier joined the gang because of these morals, because he agreed with them.

While in the end, yes it might have been more for themselves, to get them to Tahiti because they got too big a price on their head, the majority of their time has not been.

Another example, just a bit further down the page that is wrong: "Another parallel to Arthur and Dutch, Butch Cassidy had a pronounced distaste for the racist ideologies so dominant around the turn of the century." While I can agree with him on Arthur, I can't agree with him on Dutch, Dutch is fairly racist, slowing his speech with people of other origins, calling Bronte a slur and "Here we are in this strange land of Papists and rapists." Papists meaning catholics, and the fact that a lot of minorities were hated on due to being catholics. (Read more detailed here)

Now this sentence is followed by: "One Black gambling companion of the gang noted that if anyone treated him unfairly, Butch would "get after them" with furious vengeance." Now that is not at all like Arthur or Dutch who are both in on the "stand up for youself" idea which is why they condone Micah because they expect Javier, Lenny and Charles to stand up for themselves. They ain't going to do anything. Also when they return with Sadie and Micah complains about having to sleep around people of color, Butch would have acted, Dutch and Arthut did not.

Several many pages later while talking about blood feuds we have this line "Like the mysteriously stolen gold from Red Dead Redemption 2" (The Blood Feud, 235) where I would like to point out that it is neither mysterious nor stolen(at least not by who you think). While it is not told in the story, we as players have the ability to learn about what happened to the gold.

On an island not far outside Saint Denis, hidden under a tree in a chest we can find a letter. This letter comes from Lucille Braithewaite and was written in 1803 to a Douglas Gray, whoms story was esencially that of Penelope and Beau, except Lucille was exiled by her family and took her family money, hiding it for Douglas to find and give to an organisation that would abolish slavery.

While it is not common knowledge about the letter, the other two things are, and if you are writing and publishing a book I would expect you to know your things.

A minor problem I have with his writing is that he puts the player experience into unenssesary boxes. For example he talks about the KKK and how Arthur encountered them: "One evening soon after their arrival, Arthur is riding on the outskirts of the dusty plantation town of Rhodes when he notices a constelllation of bright lights in the nearby woods." (The white-hooded menace, 115) He continues to talk about how Arthur curiously dismounts and sees who it is and that the player then has the choice to kill the KKK or watch them die.

While I do understand setting a scene, I think it is such an unessesary thing to add with the timing and place and what Arthur does when reacting to them. Rdr2 is known for being so unique and it feels so wrong to remove that, also because this encounter can happen at any time pretty much anywhere. I have never met them in Rhodes but I have met them in Big Valley twice, one time in chap 6 and one time with John.

Similarly he talks about the racist guy in Saint Denis and how it leads to the "inevitable conclusion of violence, with Arthur beating ot shooting the pamphleteer" (The Paradox of race, 96) as if it isn't completely possible to just walk away. And it isn't like the author never talks about the many choices the player can make, for example he talks about how Rockstar was under critisism because some boys had a kick out of tying up and killing women NPCs in different ways.

Red dead is such a wide experience and I don't understand why he is trying to narrow it down and tie it up into a box when he could have gotten his point across without needing to.

Last point I want to talk about is his idea for red dead three, that being Arthur Morgan in 1871 (Epilogue, 242), where I feel that it is more because he liked the time period more than anything. Arthur would be eight at this point and living with his dad (the one pic we have of him is taken in 1874). From what the author presents of the time period it does sound interesting with a lot of possibilites but I do not think it should be with Arthur if so, maybe with Black Belle or someone.

While I do really like all the history facts that the author brings, I am surprised at his lack of understanding for the gang considering his 3 playthroughs and 300 hours in game.

I have also heard rumors of historical inacuracies, and I am trying to dig deeper into that to see if there is something, but if anyone uses his work for something I would fact check him just to be safe.

[henneseyhoe]

Guess Who

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER: Watermelon Lollipop (friends to lovers), S’mores (virginity), Chocolate Kisses (secret admirer), Vanilla Muffin (soft sex), Coffee(smut), Tea (fluff)

SUMMARY: no, lol

💌-mind you, this was supposed to be a headcanon, not a whole one shot and yall can probably tell, but i don’t listen, not even to myself lmfao. hope you enjoy, anon 💋

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

When you and Lewis met, you both were nothing but children. You were younger, but it didn’t matter, both of you were impressionable, soaking up everything you saw. Lewis saw most of the world for what it truly was, you on the other hand, not so much.

You were sheltered by your parents for most of your years, nothing to be shamed about, but you just didn’t know as much as Lewis or any of your other peers when it came to certain things. You felt inexperienced with most things actually.

Because you two were best friends, you followed him nearly everywhere, clinging onto him like your own human safety blanket. Also because being by yourself made you nervous, but that was neither here nor there to you!

There was rarely a time you two were apart! That was up until your own work ramped up and you were forced to separate away from him, keeping busy in Monaco meanwhile he traveled for his work.

Not long after you were forced to separate, you began getting flowers and even poems delivered directly to your office, sometimes waiting there for you when you first clocked in. And not just any poems, sweet ones. Flirty, witty and charming ones. It left you puzzled. Who could be crushing on you? No one in the office, hopefully.

You voiced to your friends about your confusion, each and every one of them either swooning at the idea of a secret admirer falling for you and pulling you out of the shell you called being a grown woman with other things to do than mingle all the time or shrugging with the same confusion as you.

You then asked around your job like an idiot as if any of these grumpy men in their mid forties would give you a real hint, still you felt it was worth a try.

You got turned down three times by people who insisted it wasn’t them and they didn’t know and that left you with nothing to work with! Not even the girl who delivered the notes gave you a hint. yes, even after you bribed her, or attempted, I should say. You found yourself at a dead end again.

It wasn’t until you got yet another note that you had an inkling. One little detail made your thoughts clear from your mind, a bit embarrassment lingering, but mostly still clear. The note contained a secret not even your main circle knew, something you only told two people about in life, two people who you thought were your best friends.

“Did he write this? yes or no!?” You pried, holding Lewis down on the floor of your apartment while shoving the piece of drawn on paper in his face, attempting to get the man to crack. You were the least intimidating person he has ever went up against, so he kept that same goofy smile spread across his face as if he did know something.

“I keep telling you, I don’t know!”

“Then who?! I’ve never told anyone else but you and him! So either you’re lying or one of you snitched and told someone else!”

Lewis sighs and flips you off of him almost too easily, your back coming in contact with the hard floor as your hand still held up the evidence. You made a mental note to hit the weights a little more in the gym.

He pins your arms by your head and huffs, squeezing at your wrists to get you to stop moving, which you protested against by kicking your feet.

“Stop hitting me. If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me” He expresses, an unreadable look on his face now instead of the smile that antagonized you earlier with information hidden behind it you desperately wanted to know. Your brows just furrowed, you already didn’t believe or trust a word he was saying.

“As if it’s so shocking. I know it’s him!”

Lewis rolls his eyes at your stupid assumption and laughs, letting you go with a warning look. “If you think me and him are on the same level of literacy then I need to step my pen up. Cause those poems were some of my best work”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights once comprehending what he said.

The bomb he dropped on you in that moment lingered in your head for days, nights even. You refused to dwell on it for long and buried your head in work and books to keep busy, but that damn note found its way into your thoughts at every second. Though Lewis knew casually writing in the fact that you were a virgin in his most recent love letter may have been weird and wasn’t the best idea, he also knew it was the only way he knew you’d knock your options down to only two possibilities.

You could barely fathom the fact that he liked you in that way. He knew everything about you, you’d think that would have scared him away by now, but apparently not. He was still consistent with his letters and roses, even apologizing if he made you uncomfortable or ruined the friendship.

You weren’t uncomfortable, you were shocked. Truth be told, you had always had some kind of a crush on him, feelings and emotions you’d starve until seeing him again and having the privilege of being close, passing it off as your same ole’ clinginess. It was obviously not just that to everyone else.

Lewis knew very well about the attraction, his had always been there, he just thought you rather not speak on it. He then grew tired of that.

With that being said, you were reluctant to follow up with him. He talked a good game, but you feared ruining something that had been amazing for years, which he reassured you if nothing worked, then it’d be no hard feelings. Eventually, you decided to throw caution to the wind.

Giving Lewis a chance may have been the best thing you had done this summer. He took you seriously even with lack of experience in certain areas, he took you into consideration with everything under the sun and made sure to go at your pace..With a few nudges here and there, of course. You’d get nowhere if he counted on you 100%.

As the relationship grew, there was an obvious connection missing. It was the elephant in the room when you two were alone and close together. You weren’t a square, damn sure wasn’t incompetent either. You just…had never had sex before.

It was never a need to lose your virginity, you truly didn’t care, or at least that’s what you told yourself on many occasions and days of ovulation.

You two had the conversation about sex multiple times and agreed it’d just happen naturally.. even though he wanted it badly and you found yourself daydreaming and thinking about it more often than you’d ever like to admit to anyone, even yourself.

It was almost unbearable not doing anything. Even though you had never went to second base, your body made it known it had needs. Your skin heated anytime his touches lingered anywhere on you. It started to become painfully obvious too.

When the moment you both had been thinking about for long enough manifested itself in the middle of the night in your bedroom, you felt your heart was gonna jump out of your chest the entire time. The soft caresses of your skin accompanied by sweet kisses along your collar bone left your head spinning and your tummy fluttering with butterflies that seemed to never subside.

Your face was hot and your mind was racing, he didn’t give you time to be insecure about anything.

You watched him go down on you, his wet tongue teasingly gliding between your lips, the tip of it landing on your clit as he completed one lick. You shuttered. Long before you had convinced yourself that masturbation felt the same as someone down there, but you lied to yourself, unaware until now.

The thought of someone pleasuring you, getting off to you getting off was so erotic, so nasty, but damn did it help to get you close. Soft moans flooded his ears in reaction to every flick of his tongue and it had him throbbing in his briefs, a wet spot from his precum darkening the fabric against his tip as he ground himself against your bed while he licked away at your sensitive pearl.

You avoided pulling on his freshly done braids, curtesy of you, and instead went for your fitted sheets.

He began sucking on your clit while two finger circled around your soaked entrance, you pulling at your sheets again so hard that one end popped off of the mattresses corner.

Neither of you gave it attention, too busy to care.

He encouraged you to tell him when it felt good, when you needed more or less, and you gladly followed instructions.

“Just like that”

You mumble out, toes curling. He was doing irreparable damage. You didn’t think you could go back to just self pleasure after this.

Flattening his tongue, he allowed you to buck your hips up into his face to ride his tongue at your own pace while simultaneously slipping two of his fingers inside of you, massaging your walls until they gripped to the point it where it was hard to complete a full thrust. From then, he just made a ‘come hither’ motion, pressing up against your gspot with skill as you moaned out a name you didn’t think you’d ever be moaning, his.

He covered your entire body with his when he entered you. It felt like he held your hands the entire time too, pinning them to the mattress as his hips collided with yours in a rhythm he made up on the spot just for you, customized with what he knew made you tick. The strokes were slow, but long, and deep enough to where it felt like he reached the end of your pussy, pushing the boundaries of the ‘wall’ any time he’d bottom out into you. You felt so full of him, so warm. You felt like melting into the bed just then.

“Look at me, baby”

You hear from above you, your eyes fluttering back open to look up into the honey colored pools he called eyes. You began getting flustered, but it was all too late for shyness. He had already unlocked something no one else had the pleasure of even getting close to. He loved the thought of it.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I could stay like this all night” He confessed, a breathy moan exiting his mouth after. The sound of his voice sent shivers up your spine and tingling to your clit. Your back arched off of the bed, your chest smashing against his as your legs closed in around his hips to somehow pull him deeper, needing him closer than he already was.

He could feel the constant pull of your walls, the muscles spasming and tightening around his shaft as his pelvis nudged your clit, the sensation being deliciously different from your fingers.

Soon enough he was quickening his thrusts just a little, one hand letting go of yours to cradle your face instead, now forcing you to look at nothing but him. You whined.

“Lew-“ Breathless and dazed, you could feel a tug in the pit of your stomach and somehow he could feel it too. He could feel how close you were, you didn’t have to speak. Both of your moans intertwined with each other and you could swear your neighbors hated you now just from the way your bed began knocking against your wall.

By now, he could barely pull out with his hips stuttering, but all you needed was the grinding, you could easily cum off of just that.

“I can feel it-“ You gasped as your eyes rolled back. You only had a small idea of what it really was, a sample from your own late night sessions, but this one felt completely different. Something that had you feeling a different warmth all over, your vision blurring in and out before everything around you except for Lewis became nonexistent. It was just you and him. Him and you.

His arms wrapped around your body to hold you as you came down for your high and he peaked at his, drenching the inside of the condom he put on beforehand. Thankfully, because you feared the mysterious “it” feeling would create a little person that looked like the both of you.

Panting and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, he refused to let you go again.

You two stayed there the rest of the night, bodies pressed together with you tracing his tattoos and him caressing up your sides, thanking you for giving him the chance.

✮✮✮✮

💌- the way i’m sooo sleepy and sooo shocked i got this out in one day? look at me go, oh em geeee!

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

part three

pairing: (future) james potter x black sister!reader, regulus black x sister!reader

genre: angst with like maybe a little fluff?

el's thoughts: this is part three! hope yall enjoy! part four is in the works, i promise!!

main masterlist | regulus masterlist | james masterlist

“We should run away.” Y/N didn’t skip a beat, catching him off guard. 

“What?”

Y/N reached over him causing him to groan when her elbow dug into his stomach. 

“We should run away. It worked for Sirius, why wouldn’t it work for us?”

“It worked for Sirius because we were still here. We are still here. Plus, where would we run to that mother and father wouldn’t find us?”

She paused for a moment, thinking through just how wise it would be to voice her thoughts. “I have a small idea… But I’m not sure you’ll approve. I’m not even sure I approve.”

Regulus eyed her skeptically, “Y/N?”

“The Potters.”

The older twin stared at her for a long moment before laughing quietly. “You’re joking.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up and she tried to speak through his chuckles. “No, I’m not. Why would you think that? I’m being very serious right now-”

“I thought you just said that we should run away to the Potter’s manor. Where Sirius is. Where James is.”

Y/N sighed and buried her face in the pillow clutched to her chest. “I know what I said… And if you-” She cut herself off, moved the pillow, and looked up at her brother. “I can’t do this anymore, Reggie. It’s killing me. I just can’t. I want to get out of here and if running away isn’t the best way to do that then I’m open to ideas. But Reg… I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Regulus’ heart broke at the sight of her watery eyes looking up at him. He knew she needed out and he had tried thinking of ways to get her out but none seemed to make sense. Nothing would have ended up well for anyone. 

“Okay.”

Y/N eyed him, “Okay…what?”

“We’ll leave, we’ll run away. This weekend, Mother and Father have a large gathering at Cissa’s. We can leave then.”

~

“I thought we were smarter than this.” 

“Shut up,” Regulus grunted. He lugged two large trunks behind him and followed the path up to the Potter’s front door.

Y/N rolled her eyes and heaved as she dropped the luggage she was carrying. “Why would you make me pack up my wand when we could’ve used it to carry the bags? That was an idiot’s move, Reg.”

She quickly unzipped the side pocket of her bag and pulled out her wand, levitating all their luggage to the doorstep. 

Regulus gave her a sharp side-eye before he led the way up to the door. “Don’t say anything till we’re inside. They could be hostile, and in their strange minds, they’d be in the right. I’ll handle it.”

Y/N nodded silently and then looked up at her brother. “Do you think they’ll turn us away?”

Regulus’ facial expression softened at the quiet tone of her voice. “I hope not. They’re supposed to be morally right and all that Gryffindor shite.”

She chuckled at his words and watched as he knocked on the door. 

“I’ll get it, Mum!” Sirius’ voice sounded from deeper inside the house. Mum. He’d referred to Mrs.Potter, James’ mother as his own. He had never called their mother ‘mum’. 

The twins shared a look of surprise before turning back to the door when they heard the lock turn and creak open.

Sirius stood in bone-chilling shock. “What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice was no louder than a murmur as he looked over his shoulder before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. 

The older twin took a step back causing Y/N to stumble back a step as well. “We thought a sleepover would be fun.” Regulus deadpaned. “What do you think?” 

“She didn’t kick you out, did she? No way. Your mother wouldn’t’ve done that.” 

“No our mother didn’t kick us out, but in case you didn’t realize… We needed out as well, so we found our own way. We’re here to ask if we could stay for only a little while till we can find a place for ourself.”

“No-”

“Last I heard, this was the Potter’s manor, not yours. So if you’ll please go get the head of the house, that would be wonderful.”

Sirius tore his gaze away from Regulus and looked at Y/N over his shoulder. She was looking anywhere but at him, as she fiddled with her ring-clad fingers and rocked on the balls of her feet. She was ready for rejection, that much the eldest Black could tell. His heart ached for his little siblings and in that moment he realized how cold he had been to them. And how little of it all they actually deserved. He gave them a curt nod and let them into the house to wait in the foyer while he went to find Fleamont and Euphemia. 

Both twins looked around the house’s main entrance in complete awe. It was so welcoming and felt so warm, like a big hug. Not that either of them had much experience with those. 

James Potter came hurdling down the large staircase. “I heard the door! Is Moony here yet?” He froze mid-stride, almost falling off the last step. “Oh.”

“Potter,” Regulus nodded in a polite greeting, though he noticed the bespectacled boy’s gaze didn’t leave his sister’s frame. 

Y/N smiled somewhat timidly. “James.”

“How- What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to speak with your parents actually.” Regulus’ was cut off from any further explanation as Mr. and Mrs. Potter came walking up to the Black twins. 

“Regulus, Y/N! It’s so wonderful to finally be able to meet you both properly!” Euphemia greeted them with the kindest and brightest smile. It was slightly overwhelming to the pair as they tried to smile back out of respect.

Fleamont looked over the siblings and sighed inwardly at the sight of their trunks and luggage. Pity swelled up in his heart over the thought of how the Black children were raised. “Why don’t we talk in my home office? If you prefer a little more privacy, that is.”

“Yes, that would be perfect,” Regulus said professionally as he guided Y/N to walk in front of him to follow the Potters. 

Y/N could hear the harsh whispers being shared between James and her eldest brother but paid them no mind as she was led to Mr. Potter’s home office. She tried to tame her look of surprise at the cozy office space designated for the senior Potter. It startled her how different her father’s office was in comparison.

“Please, sit. Would you like anything to drink? We have water and tea or even juice or lemonade.” Mrs. Potter’s hospitality bombarded the twins as they shook their heads in polite decline. 

“Okay, then let’s get to what you’re here for.”

Regulus sat up straighter from his position on the soft sofa. “We deeply apologize for the inconvenience this may be to your family. We understand that what we are here to ask for is a lot, seeing as you have already taken in our brother-”

“But I really couldn’t think of anywhere else to go that might be remotely safe. I’m so sorry, Mr. Potter. Truly.” Y/N interrupted her brother before lowering her head slightly with her hands clasped together in her lap.

“We’re here to ask for a place to stay. Not for long though, we promise. Just till we can get on our feet and find a place of our own. We don’t have access to any of our funds or bank accounts till we turn eighteen, so until then, we’ll have to find jobs to make our money. I don’t expect it to take too long to make enough to afford a small flat for the two of us. And once we’re a bit better off then I’ll make sure to pay you back for any expense we cause you. Anything at all-”

“And while we’re here, we’re prepared to help in any way you see fit, Mrs. Potter. I understand that running a household isn’t easy yet alone with four children. I can help with the cooking or cleaning, though I don’t know much of either of them… But if you can show me just once- I’m a really fast learner! I promise I’ll help with anything.”

The couple shared a look before Mrs. Potter smiled warmly. “Of course, you both can stay here. And there is no rush from us for you to find a place of your own.”

Regulus and Y/N shared a confounded and confused glance. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You’re welcome here anytime or as long as you need. I remember very well how Orion and Walburga were back in our school years. I can’t assume they grew warm hearts overnight.” Regulus looked away from the older man at his words. “And please, there isn’t a need to worry about paying us back for anything,” said Mr. Potter.

Tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes but she kept her composure. “Thank you. Thank you so much! I promise we won’t be a burden or in the way of anything.”

“Oh, my dear, you won’t be a burden at all. I’ll show you to some spare rooms.” Mrs. Potter stood up from her seat next to her husband and placed a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, guiding her out of the office looking back for Regulus to follow.

James and Sirius scrambled away from the office door as it swung open, quickly diverting their eyes.

Euphemia snapped her fingers and the trunks in the forere lifted off the floor and went up the stairs to what Y/N assumed their new rooms. The youngest Black looked to the two Gryffindor boys and smiled meekly. The events of the day finally caught up to her and caused her chest to feel heavy. She reached back for Regulus’ hand and continued to follow Mrs. Potter up the staircase.

~

Regulus sat on the large bed that occupied most of the space in Y/N’s new room as she laid back with her hair sprawled out on top of the pillows. No words were exchanged, the twins just sat in silence, needing to process the events of today. Three knocks on the door broke them out of their trance.

“Hello, sweetheart. It’s only Euphemia, can I come in?”

Y/N sat up and pulled her top down from where it rose just above her hip bones before she called out, “Yes, of course!”

The door was pushed open slowly and Euphemia poked her head in with a warm smile. “Oh, Regulus, I was going to go to your room after. I just came to let you know that dinner is ready. I would completely understand if you would prefer to eat up here for tonight. If that is so, I can prepare two plates and bring them up?”

The pair sitting on the bed shared a look and nodded back to Mrs. Potter. “Yes, please. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I’ll be back with your plates.” She closed the door behind her and left the siblings to themselves.

After a beat of silence, Y/N spoke up. “We actually did it.”

Regulus nodded soundlessly. 

“We ran away and to the Potters of all places.”

“To Sirius.”

Y/N sighed, “To Sirius.”

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. i'm sleeping with a ghoul (Ghost!Lucifer x MC)

A/N: Hello!! This is a few days late, but I said I wanted to do Obey Me month and I'm sticking to it, damn it! So I offer you my very first story for it, as well as the first thing I've published for the om fandom that isn't Barbatos. This was actually really fun to write and I wanna thank @the-ancient-fae for giving me the prompt of 'ghost' to help me figure something out!! That simple prompt has created a whole basket of ideas in my head, so thank you, Roxy 💜 But anyways, enjoy reading!!

Pairing(s): Lucifer x MC

Prompt: Day 1 - Lucifer from @obeymetournaments's list of prompts for this month!!

Summary: The tale of someone who encountered a... different kind of ghost.

Tag(s): 18+, themes of stalking, Spectrophilia/Phasmophilia, dubious consent, non-explicit, mentions of sexual content, first person pov

Word Count: 922

Song Inspiration: Sex With A Ghost By Teddy Hyde

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

~*~

Anyone who’s ever lived in a haunted house before will be familiar with the usual signs. Creaking floors, footsteps down the hallway, doors opening and closing on their own, whispers in other rooms. I, myself, am familiar with all of those, but those aren’t the things I’m experiencing in my current home. I hear less whispers and more longing sighs. I see shadows creeping around the corner. Sometimes the flap of wings. The click of formal shoes. I’ve recently started finding feathers in random places throughout the house. Long, black feathers. Bigger than any bird in my neighborhood.

I can feel whenever I’m being watched. The time I seem to be watched most is when I’m sleeping. Or at least laying in my bed at night. I can even see the outline of a figure if I look into the darkness for long enough and I swear the figure has horns and wings. Do you think it sees me, too?

~*~

The ghost. It’s a man. I know what he looks like now. He’s gotten bolder, closer. Or maybe I’ve just started paying more attention?

The places I find feathers have gotten more consistent. More specific. They’re only in parts of the houses I often frequent, like the kitchen and my own bedroom. And just the other day… I was in the bathroom, had just finished a shower. It was such a cliche. I wiped off the mirror and immediately I saw him, behind me. But unlike the movies, he didn’t flicker away as soon as I saw him. Instead, he stayed. He met my eyes. It was like he wanted me to see him. And so, I did. Soft, black, feathery hair with just the tiniest piece of his bangs turned gray. Deep, mysterious red and black eyes. Four black-feathered wings that are a glorious sight to behold, almost how one would imagine angel wings. But then my eyes catch on the large, black horns curving upwards from the top of his head. That’s when I’m reminded that he is certainly no angel.

Even so, he took my breath away. And he knew it. A look of pride upon his face before I blink and he’s finally gone. It took me a moment to recover after that. But it was not because I was terrified. Nor was I upset that he was intruding upon my home. All I felt in that moment was an intense curiosity, along with excitement at the thought of finding out more.

~*~

I’m starting to think something’s wrong with me. I can’t truly be thinking like this about a ghost, can I? But I can’t help it. He’s doing it on purpose. Seducing me. There’s no other way to describe it. I see him all the time now. He’s stopped trying to hide from me. He watches me openly now, during all hours of the day. I’ve started speaking to him. He’s there to listen, so I might as well, right? And sometimes he’ll answer. With gestures or the softest of whispers. But what’s more important is what happens at night.

Once I’ve shut off all the lights and settled beneath my blankets, that’s when I’ll feel it. Fingers brushing over my skin. Sometimes gloved, sometimes bare. First, it was just soft affection. Holding my cheek or tracing my hand. Then, he’d trace down my neck and over my calves. And now, he’s trailing down my chest and up my thighs with touches that can no longer be considered simple affection. No, these touches are filled with intent. And I know something’s fucked in my head because in response, I’ve started wearing less and less clothes to bed. He’s taking it as an invitation to continue and we both know that’s exactly what it is. Even before it’s bedtime, I’m already anticipating the feel of his fingers and the pleasure his touch brings.

I think he’s waiting to take a step further because he enjoys seeing me touch myself. He gets this smirk on his face as his low chuckle fills my ear and it only adds to my overloaded senses, driving me over the edge. Sometimes during the day, I’m unable to help myself when I think too much about it. When that happens, I always make sure to be loud enough so that he’ll know exactly what I’m doing.

Even now, questioning my own mind, I can’t find a single ounce of hesitation towards any of it.

~*~

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. That is my lover’s name. He finally told me when he gave himself to me completely. I got to see him in all his glory, laid bare and without any clothing in the way. Just as he saw me the same way. And not only did he touch me without holding back, but I got to touch him as well. We were finally joined as one and that’s when I knew for certain - this is love. It must be. There’s no other emotion I could use to describe how I feel for him. And I know he loves me, too. He told me so. Told me that even when he was alive he never loved another the way he loves me.

We’ll be together forever, him and I. He’s in my bed every night and right beside me throughout the day. He takes me whenever he feels like it and I would never dream of rejecting him. All of me belongs to him now, mind, body, and soul, and I don’t want it any other way.

~*~

A/N: Please, let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜

[ardenzia777]

give us the bible art oooooo

I've drawn these that i can show atm. the last 2 aren't done ngl but that's ok, they're still at least presentable Explanation of each piece below owo

first one was an idea of like a really peaceful Jesus holding a lamb and just a heavenly setting around, very old school, very renaissance, but wanted to be unique and make his halo a white hole that cascaded out stained glass light. Pearls to represent purity and Sapphire in his crown to signify the sapphire throne

second one was a sketch i put some more detail on, i just wanted it to show the somberness of a well aware sacrifice. unironically wanted it to feel demure. feel both dark and light. the dampness in the air before and after the rain. wanted to add black stars as well to show a hidden/veiled divinity. King of kings but is veiled in mortal flesh, appearing more grounded in our world than he really is. also was making connotations with wine and his blood as well.

third one i wanted to really pull inspo from Elden ring and take its symbolism into different context but the same context, which was inspired by how Elden ring does the same thing with Christianity. The symbolism of Marika crucified was for sure meant to be a reference to Christ, so i wanted to depict him crucified but with Marika's rune. Both crucified by their authority, and technically both done for the sake of saving the world. difference is one did it willingly to save those unaware of their burden, the other went unwillingly, likely kicking and glaring. I wanted to switch the crown of thorns for a crown of shattered runes. both still make you bleed, but i loved how runes represent power and strength, and how that could tie in to the symbolism of the crown of thorns, still being a crown. a sign of power. added some other crucifixes of the Elden ring style to represent the many others who have died before, though his is above them all, for he was the greatest sacrifice. Lastly wanted the view to shift from a broken battleground of the world, covered in the shattered runes of so many hurt people's suffering, to the boundless skies of the awaiting paradise. symbolism of Jesus sitting on his cross in anguish, but keeping his eyes on the future he was doing this all for. Bonus: made his cloth covering also swirl like Marika's, but for the effect of giving him a halo. This piece still isn't done, i'm excited to work more on it later.

PS: i know he was impaled through his wrists, i'm considering changing it to be more proper, but i also liked the hands look, but idk, we'll see Anywho ahhh, hope you like em owo

[maevebabyy]

PUSH ‘N PULL

lara raj x fem reader

req! - “fluff and suggestive flirting and things like that(if your comfy with it obvi) , dream academy! contestant reader and dream academy contestant Lara”

a/n - i hope i did u justice 🩰 anon, I LOVE THE FIC IDEA BTW

wc - 1.4k

you groaned out loud as you fell face first into the inviting couch of the dream academy’s shared household. the day had finally caught up to you after a long day of dance practice and rehearsals, the training schedule you had been following for a few months now had not gotten any easier.

you sighed contentedly as you feel yourself sink in the comfiness of the couch, melting in it.

“becoming one with the couch, y/n?” sophia giggles lightly.

sophia, your first and closest friend here, rolled you onto your back so that you were now looking up at her.

“gimme 5 minutes” you murmur out, closing your eyes once more as you feel your muscles relax after a long day.

“no, not 5 minutes. now, y/n.” sophia nagged at you, like a mother would. “apparently someone new is coming in tomorrow, and you have to clean your side of the room.”

you furrow your brows, someone new?

“what do you mean someone new?” you sit up slowly, finally opening your eyes. “didn’t they send naisha home recently?”

sophia shrugs, moving off the couch. “i don’t know either, y/n, but you need to clean your side of the room because i wanna leave a good impression.”

before sophia can leave to go join the other girls for dinner in the kitchen you quickly ask her a question. “wait, soph! do we have any info on her at least?”

sophia grins as she answers, “her name’s lara, and she’s your age”

-

meeting lara for the first time was definitely an experience.

you hadn’t been able to see her until it was almost the end of the day, whereas everybody had already met her earlier during their rehearsals/practice times. that’s why you almost dropped the iced matcha latte you had gotten from starbucks as you walked into your shared bedroom with sophia when you noticed your roommate and a stranger in your unkempt space.

this stranger was pretty– stunning even. she had long flowing black hair that framed her face effortlessly, complementing her symmetrical features. her eyes were dangerously captivating, making your heart skip a beat when you made eye contact. she had various types of gold jewellery on her, but it was her bindi and nose piercing that stood out to you the most. she oozed confidence, which was definitely intimidating, but you found yourself strangely allured to it.

striking, you thought.

“this is y/n!, she joined us a couple months ago, but she’s super talented! i’d say she’s our most well rounded contestant.” sophia grins brightly at the new girl.

your roommate shoots you a look, snapping you out of your thoughts as you introduce yourself. “uh, sorry, i’m y/n. i’m guessing you’re lara?” your gaze lingering on her just a moment longer than necessary

lara turned to you with a smile that made your heart flutter. god, you had just met this girl and you already found yourself feeling the butterflies in your stomach. “yeah, that’s me. nice to finally meet you, y/n!. i really like your room too, do you play?” she asks, pointing towards your guitar.

you smile awkwardly at lara, realising you really should’ve cleaned your room. “ah, yeah, sorry for the mess by the way.”

sophia clicks her tongue in response, giving you an ‘i-told-you-so’ look’, which you could only chuckle at.

“nah, it’s fine” lara’s smile was warm and genuine, and you felt your cheeks heat up as she extended her hand for a shake. “i’ve heard a lot about you from sophia.”

“only good things, i hope?” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. as she laughed lightly, the sound wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

“definitely good things! she says you’re quite the dancer,” lara said.

“just trying to keep up with everyone,” you shrugged, smiling softly at the compliment though. “what about you?”

“i like to sing a little.” a smirk tugs on the corner of her lips. 

-

a little was an understatement as you and the other contestants sat on the side of the dance studio and listened to lara sing. how does someone even sing so effortlessly like that? 

you find yourself speechless as lara grins brightly as she finishes singing, heading off into the direction of daniela, megan, and emily.

“holy shit, sophia” you looked at your best friend, who swatted your shoulder.

“language!” she laughs.

“sorry!” you chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief, “but it’s true, she wasn’t playing around.

you watch as lara chatted animatedly to the three girls, her smile lighting up the entire dance studio in your eyes. a wave of admiration washing over you, and the same damn butterflies you felt from yesterday. unknowingly, a soft grin appears on your face.

sophia follows your gaze, eventually landing on the indian girl as well. “no way-” the filipina covering her laugh with a hand over her mouth.

you turn to your roommate in confusion, “huh?”

“you’re like, the gayest girl i know” sophia continued laughing. 

you roll your eyes at the girl beside you “it’s not like that–”

“yet!’

sophia quickly runs away from you and towards marquise, who was talking to manon, to defend herself from you.

-

the days turned into 2 weeks, and the initial excitement of meeting lara settled into a comfortable rhythm. you found yourself stealing glances at her during practices, each stolen look igniting that same flutter in your stomach. you’d caught her eye more than once, each time exchanging shy smiles that lingered just a bit too long.

lara had a way of weaving herself into your day, whether it was sharing a laugh over a missed step or playfully challenging you to keep up during practice. it was light and easy, but underneath it all, there was an undeniable tension—a connection that felt electric and yet so fragile.

one evening, you found yourself playing your electric guitar, the other girls leaving the house to go eat out. the house had settled into a comfortable silence, one that came rarely considering you lived in a house with about 10+ other girls. you picked at the fretboard absentmindedly, letting the distorted and amplified sound ring around the room. the soft vibrations of the noise echoed against the walls, blending with the fading light of the sunset outside.

just as you started to get lost in your music, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. looking up, you were pleasantly surprised to see lara leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“is this a private concert just for me?” she teases, looking the same way she does, never failing to make your heart beat faster.

“i thought you went out with the rest of them?” you chuckle, stopping your playing.

she giggles back, sitting on your bed beside you. “i did, got tired though so i went home earlier.”

a silence falls between you two as you take in the close proximity between you two. she smells good, you note. like coconuts and sandalwood.

you clear your throat, trying to focus on the moment at hand rather than the way your heart is racing. “uh, so, did you wanna try to play something…?”

lara shakes her head no, giggling lightly, “no, i just wanted to listen to you play. you’re really good y’know?”

lara wasn’t lying, you were good at the guitar. you had been playing on and off since you were 7 years old. 

your cheeks flush at the girl’s compliment, “thanks, i’m just messing around though.”

“messing around or not, you still sound good y/n” her eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. “you must be really good with your fingers.”

her last sentence catches you completely off guard, a rush of heat flooding your face. “I, uh, yeah– i guess i am?”

lara leans in a little closer, a teasing smile on her lips– enjoying your reaction. “i’d love to see how good you really are, maybe you could teach me sometime?”

you don’t know when you two had gotten so close in terms of proximity, feeling her breathing on you. “s-sure?” 

lara giggles before pulling away, “i’m holding you to that, y/n.” she gets up from your bed as she stretches her arms above her head, the movement highlighting her graceful form. “but, for now, i’ll leave you alone, i’m still feeling a little tired.” 

you watch her as she moves, the way her hair cascades down her back and the playful glint in her eyes that makes your heart race again, eventually she leaves your room, closing the door gently.

what just happened?

a/n - i should continue this me thinks 🤔🤔

[nightxcreature]

Hurt so good.

Summary: After the reader makes a comment about missing Dean’s leather jacket and the old days, he takes matters into his own hands and takes her on the hunt of her life.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark romance, hunting, p n v, all the things.

This is not the way I thought this fic would go, but here we are.

My first entry for #Jackelsversebingo2024! 🥳 This one is based on the prompt ‘Camping’ and I have no idea how I came up with this based on that. It’s smutty, it’s a little dark, and it’s got a brief appearance of early season’s leather jacket. 🤗 I loved writing this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it! I guess this could also be classified as Kinktober, but I’m not involved in one of those. 🤣

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Fluorescent lights flicker above my head as I rifle through the dryer, separating my clothes from Deans and folding as I go. He’s never separated clothes, not that he didn’t know how, he just didn’t care to; so it was always up to me or Sam to go through them and make sure nothing was ruined. I slide my arm back in and grimace as I feel the rough leather of one of his new jackets. Slowly pulling it out I can already tell that it’s about two sizes too small at this point; I toss it, along with the rest of the clothes, into the basket and grab a few extra hangers before heading up to our room to finish putting everything away.

“Dean!” I call as I ascend the stairs to the library, “I’ve got some bad news.”

I hear him rattling around in the kitchen, ‘Small Town’ by John Mellencamp softly playing through the little speaker above the door, “Bad news?” He roughly replies, “What do you mean?”

His head peeks around the door of the fridge as I set down the basket and wrinkle my nose, holding up his jacket, “You put this in the dryer.”

He runs a hand across his face and sighs, “Shit.”

“To be honest though,” I start, a slight smile playing at the corners of my lips, “This one isn’t nearly as nice as the one you had when we first met. That one was always my favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins as he shuts the fridge door, “The brown one? That was my dad’s, I don’t even remember the last time I wore that.”

“The day Sammy came back from hell and we met your grandpa.” I blurt out, eyes widening and a blush creeping up my neck as his eyes snap to mine.

“Excuse me?” He gasps, a chuckle escaping him, “Did you just recount, in detail, the last time you saw me wear that jacket?” He takes a few steps toward me and I back slowly out the door. His normal baritone drops what feels like an octave as he whispers, “Did that jacket do something for ya, Darlin’?”

“I-I just-I liked it, and sometimes I miss the days when-when it was just you, me, and Sammy on the road, ya know?” I stutter out and snatch the basket of clothes out of the floor, “It’s-it’s not like I think about the jacket…or-or you in the jacket…”

He shakes his head, rubbing his face again and grins, “Sure, Sweetheart. I miss those days sometimes, too.”

“I’m gonna, uh, finish this.” I nod toward the basket and book it down the hallway, leaving Dean to his thoughts and me to hide in my embarrassment.

A few days later, I’m laid up on the bed with a new book, relaxing during an unusually slow day at the bunker when my phone lights up with Deans name.

‘Meet me in the garage, pack a bag. Got a case.’

‘Didn’t think we had any leads at the moment?’ I send back and grab my duffle from under the bed, stuffing it full with extra clothes and supplies. I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab my phone as another message comes through.

‘Not Chuck related.’

Weird, but not unusual. We could use a run of the mill hunt after everything Chuck’s been throwing at us lately. I shove my phone into my pocket and follow the rumble of the Impala into the garage.

“What did you two get tired of—.” I’m stopped dead in my tracks as Dean turns to face me from the drivers side of the Impala, leather jacket and black tee layered on his torso, Metallica’s greatest hits blasting through the speakers, and the box of his cassettes and 8-tracks sitting beside him. His face is clean shaven and his hair spiked up a little on his head, the only difference is the little aging in his face. If I didn’t know any better I would assume we had spun back in time to 2005.

“Dad’s on a hunt, and I need help looking for a Wendigo,” He nods at the seat next to him and I slowly set my duffle down in the floorboard, “You coming or not?”

Nodding, I sit down beside him and shut the door, trying to stay in character, “Couldn’t get Sammy to help out on this one?”

He snorts and shakes his head, “You know he’s too busy getting a fancy education so he can get me out of trouble.”

I laugh and nod again, “He’s got a lot of learning to do then.” pointing toward his jacket I smile and break for a moment, “Where did you find that?”

“Find what?” He asks, wrapping an arm around the seat and backing out of the bunker, “My jacket? I’ve had this thing for years, Sweetheart, I’d never lose it.” He winks and peels off into the afternoon.

A slight chuckle leaves me and I look out the window, “Where are we headed? Did you bring the map?”

He swaps the tape out, setting the box in the floor before pulling me closer as the intro to ‘Whole lotta Love’ fills the cabin, “Don’t need a map, I know exactly where we’re going. You just sit back and relax.” He places his right arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, the smell of the leather overwhelming my senses, “You gonna sleep? It might be while. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to rest up before we get there.”

I nod and doze off for a while not even feeling the car roll to a stop several hours later. Sunlight warms my cheeks and I stretch, opening my eyes I burst into laughter at the scene in front of me.

“Did you recreate the Wendigo hunt we went on back when we were looking for your dad?!” I exclaim, hopping out of Baby and staring at the tents set up around me, “You’ve really outdone yourself, Dean Winchester.”

He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and sweetly smiles, “I was thinking about it after you mentioned liking the jacket so much and I’ve been missing the ‘monster of the week’ hunts. I thought it’d be fun to pretend for a little while.”

I return his smile and nod toward the bag beside the tent in the back, “Are we really hunting a Wendigo or do you have something more fun than a flamethrower packed in that bag?”

“Is there anything more fun than a flamethrower?” He questions with a shit-eating grin, “I have a lot of things planned for this weekend…and hunting a Wendigo is not one of them.” He stalks toward me slowly and reaches a hand into his jacket, pulling a rope and a black bandana out of the pocket, “But I do plan on hunting you.”

My jaw slightly drops and I take a step backwards, “This is not where I thought this was going.”

He sends me another sweet smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I do keep track of the books you read…and this does seem like a theme they follow. If it’s not the kind of hunt you had in mind though, I’m sure I can find something else.”

He shrugs coyly and begins to turn away before I jump and grab his arm, “No!” I can see the smile on his face as he turns back to face me, “I-I mean, no. This is fine. This is…great, actually. I am more than willing to do...this.” My feet shuffle beneath me and I can feel the anticipation in the air as he stares at my face, checking for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He says as he shrugs off the jacket, his black tee stretching deliciously across his chest as he reaches up to tie the bandana around his face, “Run.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I freeze, “Now? The suns still out, that’s too easy…”

“Run.” He says again, picking up a knife I didn’t even know was sitting on the small cooler beside us.

“Dean, this feels like something we should do at….”

“Run!” He yells, stepping quickly toward me and I take off into the trees.

In my race to hide I realize that I have nothing but my cellphone with me, no food or water, and nothing to signal to Dean that I need help if I end up in a complicated situation. As if this isn’t a complicated situation already. The first place my mind goes to hide is higher ground, but Dean knows my mind just as well as I do, so I scan for somewhere lower and spot a small hole in a tree trunk just big enough for me to fit through. Sliding in, I shimmy my way up and into the trunk, listening intently for any sound that Dean was close by.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket and as I dig it out I try not to laugh as I notice Dean must’ve taken my phone while I slept because his contact photo has been changed to Ghostface.

I quickly swipe right and put the phone to my ear, “Oh, please don’t kill me Mister Ghostface. I want to be in the sequel.”

A dark chuckle comes from the other end of the line and I hear him suck in a breath, “Tell me where you are and I won’t have to.”

“No way.” I breathe out, “You’ve gotta catch me.”

The snap of a twig comes from outside of the tree and I feel my heart plummet, “I don’t think you picked a very good spot.” He whispers, knocking softly on the tree trunk, “Do you?”

A hand suddenly slides through the opening of the trunk and wraps around my ankle, pulling hard enough to make me lose my balance landing me on my ass, “Got’cha.”

I pull on my foot and panic sets in as I realize he isn’t letting up. His other hand wraps around my other leg and one hard pull has me out in the open air.

Dean wags a finger at me, his green eyes sparkling, “I know you can hide better than that. I taught you better.”

My brows furrow and I set my jaw, “Speaking of which, how hard are we playing?”

He raises a brow and I see the bandana twitch as he smirks, “No holds barred, Darlin’. Do what you need to get away, it’ll make it more fun when I catch you….again.”

“Good.” I raise a leg and stomp on the hand still holding my ankle in place. He yanks his arm back, cursing, and I scramble away back in the direction of camp, “Catch me if ya can!”

I find another tree with branches low enough that I can swing onto and pull myself up high enough that I can see below me and for a few feet surrounding the tree. My phone rings again and I put it to my ear, hearing Dean’s gruff voice before I can answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He spits out, “Are you hiding better this time?”

“You didn’t say I had to play nice.” I whisper, “I think I’m hiding quite well, thank you.”

I sit on the branch with my back toward the trunk of the tree, keeping my knees to my chest in case they dangle and he sees me, “Are you coming to get me?”

“Maybe I already found you.” He whispers back, “Maybe I’m looking at you right now.”

“What are you gonna do when you catch me?”

“When?” He replies, and I can hear the smirk on his face, “Giving up so easily?”

“No, just curious.”

“You’ll find out soon.” The line suddenly goes dead, and I quiet my breathing, as if he could hear it from the ground. The birds and the sound of the creek below are the only noise surrounding me and I chance leaning over to see if he’s anywhere close by, slamming myself back quickly when I see his bandana clad face in the tree next to me. After a moment I realize he must’ve missed me and I chance leaning around again, when a hand wraps around my throat from behind.

“How do we keep meeting like this?” He grunts cockily into my ear, “It’s like you want to be caught.”

My heart is in my throat as he pulls me to him, “I’m going to help you down,” He whispers, one hand on my throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of my jaw, the other hand on my ass, “Are you going to run?”

I shake my head dumbly and blink, “No.”

“Are you going to hit me?”

Another shake of my head, and he slowly helps me to the forest floor, “Now what am I gonna do with you?” He wraps a hand in my hair and pulls me to my feet, “You did try your best, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh.” I nod, frantically looking for someway to get out of his hold this time as he drops his hand to my jaw again.

Leaning down and he pulls my face up to his, “Your best just wasn’t good enough, was it?”

I smile sweetly and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer and then abruptly shoving him away. Losing his balance, he curses again as I take off running. He scrambles to his feet and lunges to tackle me to the floor, we roll for a few feet before I pin his arms above his head, my knee on his chest.

“Who’s catching whom?” I smirk as I stare down at him, “This isn’t going the way you thought, is it?”

The bandana moves again, the hint of a smile in his eyes, “Sweetheart, this is exactly what I had planned.” His knee finds its way underneath mine and we’re suddenly rolling once more, him pinning me and straddling my hips, “Now, are you going to stay still?”

I nod, my heart in my throat once more, as his hands make their way slowly down my body to the hem of my shirt.

••••••••••••••smut below the cut•••••••••••••••

He lifts the fabric above my head, throwing it to the side, and pulls the rope from his belt loop, wrapping it loosely around my wrists, “Tighter.” I whisper, watching his eyebrows raise before he pulls the knot tight against my skin.

His hands slide down my torso and he slowly slides my jeans down my legs, “Should’ve had you run around like this instead.” He whispers, biting his lip, “Would’ve caught you the first time.”

I blush and bite my own lip, as he rakes his eyes over my body, “Jesus, you’re so beautiful.”

He grips my jaw tightly, dropping the bandana to his neck and pulls me into a searing kiss, his tongue dancing over mine. I strain against the ropes on my wrists, lifting my arms to place my hands in his hair, “No.” he gruffly says before pinning my arms down again, “Don’t touch me.”

I groan, but his lips are on mine again before I can complain and any arguments fly out the door as he lays his body across mine and pushes his hips into me.

“Dean.” I moan, raising my hips to meet his, “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, and I can feel the smirk on his lips as he runs them down my throat, “What do you need, Baby?”

My legs wrap around his waist and pull him roughly into me again, and he grunts as I sink my teeth into his throat, “Please, Dean.”

He moans again and slides a hand down my waist, “I love it when you beg.” He sinks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs before unhooking my bra and helping me stand.

“Now you.” I bat my lashes and he flashes a smile my way before reaching behind me.

“Got something else for ya, first.” He pulls a duffle bag over and takes the old brown jacket out, laying it out on the forest floor, “Lay down. Put your head on it, not above it.”

I do as he instructs as he takes his own clothes off and finds his way in between my thighs again, and slowly runs his hand over himself. I blush as he stares at me again, one hand around himself, the other around my throat as he brings me up to him in another kiss.

“I love you.” He whispers against my lips and pushes me down onto the leather again, before reaching below and feeling the wetness building between my legs, “All that because I chased you through the woods like a maniac?”

“All that because I know you’d never really hurt me.” I reply with a moan as he sinks a single finger into me.

“Oh, I’m gonna hurt you, Baby.” He grins as he adds another finger and runs his other hand across my breast, tugging and pinching at my nipples, “Hurt you so good.”

He slides his fingers out of me and shoved them between my lips with a groan before grabbing the rope above me and flipping me to my stomach. Lifting my hips, he lines up with my entrance and slams his hips into mine, pulling moan after moan from my lips as he rocks into me.

“Good girl,” He groans out, “Yell as loud as you want, no one’s coming to help you.”

His hand wraps around my throat and pull me flush against his chest as his other hand slides across my stomach to rub circles on my clit, “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Uh huh. Yeah.” I whisper, breathily, “Gonna cum for you.”

“Then do it.” He grunts out as he runs faster, “Wanna feel you squeeze the life outta my cock. Wanna cum with you.”

The mix of his words and the sensations overwhelming my body send me directly over the edge, my eyes roll back and I go limp in his arms, feeling his hips stutter to a stop shortly after. He pulls himself out of me and spins me slowly to face him as he cradled my face, placing a sweet kiss to my lips.

“That was awesome.” He breathes out with a grin, “We should do that once a month.”

I laugh as he places the jacket around my naked shoulders and pulls his pants up around his waist, “Yeah, next time you can keep the jacket on.”

He winks and pulls me toward our camp, “We’ll see. You wanna rest, eat a s’more, and then maybe I’ll let you chase me through the dark.”

“Didn’t you tell a cop one time that you don’t get trapped in the woods with people, people get trapped in the woods with you?”

“I’d make an exception for you.” He says with a grin, tugging me close to him and kissing my temple, “I love you, Pretty Girl.”

I smile against him, “I love you, too.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I was not sure how to end this so I hope that’s satisfying enough. My first time writing smut e v e r. I enjoyed this one, I hope you did, too! 🫶🏼

Tag list: @lmhf1

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 3.

Set up for failure - Fingerprints - Wrongfully Arrested - "I warned you"

Whumper drug Whumpee through the halls to the interrogation room by a chain clipped to their identification collar.

"Stop fighting me", Whumper yelled in frustration, "I warned you already."

"Sorry... can't breath", Whumpee winced as they tried to catch up to Whumper's long strides.

Whumpee finally fell to the ground.

"Please sir, I ca-can't keep up with you", Whumpee gasped for air, "have mercy, I don't know what I did to make you mad, but please, have mercy."

"Get up", Whumper commanded, "it's what you didn't do."

Whumpee quickly stood, "sir, what didn't I do?", Whumpee almost pleaded, "wait, please."

"Shut up. You are not to say another word until we are in the interrogation room", Whumper yelled.

"Interrogation?", Whumpee gulped, "please no, anything but interrogation."

Whumper backhanded Whumpee, "what did I just say?"

Whumpee shook in fear as they followed Whumper into one of the rooms for interrogation.

"Sit over their and don't move", Whumper pointed.

Whumpee quickly obeyed. They watched Whumper leave. Chills ran down their spine as the door was locked.

"What.... what didn't I do?", they whispered, "I was", they thought, "I was obedient, my manners, everything", Whumpee looked around the room, "I-I don't want to be interrogated."

Interrogation meant Whumper was going to torture them until they confessed to what they had done to deserve this. Then they would receive their punishment for their crime.

The worst part was the wait.

Whumper would leave them in this room for hours as the torture was planned out. The anticipation was enough to drive someone mad.

Whumpee hugged their knees to their chest, "what did I do?"

"Sir, may I have a word", one of Whumper's guards interrupted.

Whumper sighed, "I guess."

Whumper glared at the bloody, beaten Whumpee as they walked past to speak to the guard.

"This will give you time to really think about what you did", Whumper spat, "I'll expect an answer when I return."

Whumpee kept their eyes to the ground. Their body shook as it tried to hold itself up.

'I don't know if I can keep up much longer', Whumpee thought to themself, "I don't know what I.... did."

Whumpee almost blacked out from the pain.

Whumper stepped outside with the guard.

"I'm busy, can't you tell. This better be important", Whumper frowned.

"Sir, you grabbed the wrong prisoner", the guard said apologetically, "we had Whumpee out in the hall to stretch their legs. A reward for good behavior. You grabbed them instead of grabbing Prisoner D from solitary confinement."

"You are just now figuring this out. I've been going for almost two hours on them", Whumper screamed, "no wonder they have no idea what I'm talking about."

Whumper frowned, "get me the correct prisoner, and tell Medic what happened. They're going to need medical attention after this."

"Yes sir I apologize", the guard quickly ran to follow the orders.

Whumper groaned as they opened the door to the interrogation room.

Whumpee looked up weakly.

"Please, I can't take anymore. Please tell me what I did so I can learn. Please have mercy on me, I can't...", Whumpee felt their body slump into the restraints. They cried out at this added pressure to their sore muscles.

Whumper quickly lifted them up and undid the restraints.

They cradled Whumpee in their arms and lowered themself to the floor.

"Whumpee, there has been a big mistake made, and I am so sorry it was not found out until just now. You were grabbed by mistake, someone else was supposed to be here, not you", Whumper gently stroked Whumpee's head.

Whumpee shook in fear but had no strength left to try to fight out of Whumper's hands.

"I'm going.... going to pass o-", Whumpee's body went limp.

Whumper sighed as they got up to carry Whumpee to the medical wing.

Whumpee weakly squinted at the soft light that was suddenly turned on.

"Hmmmp, what's happening?", Whumpee whispered.

"Oh good, we were beginning to wonder if you'd wake up", someone said in a happy voice, "Whumper did quite a number on you."

Whumpee weakly looked around, "where am I?"

"You are in Whumper's living quarters", someone now stood by where Whumpee lay, "after you left Medic, Whumper wanted to make sure you were in good hands still, so he brought you up here. He asked me to take care of you. Would you like some water, you've been unconscious for a few days."

Whumpee nodded weakly, "how long... have I been unconscious."

"A few days", she repeated and helped Whumpee sit up.

Whumpee gasped in pain until the person had pillows propping them up just right."

"My name is MarMar", the person smiled as she helped Whumpee drink from a cup, "I can imagine your hungry as well. Whumper said anything you want, you get. He feels awful for what happened."

Whumpee looked down, "I am a little hungry, but I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother at all, I'll be back with some food", MarMar set the cup down and left the room.

Whumpee weakly reached for the cup. A pain went through their arm, causing the cup to slip from their fingers just as the door opened.

Whumper stepped in and eyed the small bit of water now on the floor.

Whumpee panicked, "no no no, please sir forgive me", they started to climb out of the bed to clean it. "I'm so sorry."

"No please don't get out of bed, it's okay", Whumper stepped closer to them, "just some water, no big deal."

Whumpee couldn't hide how visibly shaken they were to be in Whumper's presence.

"MarMar said you just woke up, I just came in to check on you", Whumper sat down beside the bed, "are you feeling okay?"

"It-it hurts sir, everything hurts", Whumpee whispered, "but I'll be okay."

"I feel terrible that this happened to you, I honestly didn't even know who you were. You never seem to cause any issues. Your name has never come across my desk. The person who I was supposed to take to interrogation is a new face here, so it was a bit of a mixup and lack of communication. Though that is not a good excuse at all for what happened", Whumper watched Whumpee's breathing hitch, "I would like to make it up to you, I'm not sure how yet."

Whumpee listened, "please, you don't have to worry about it", Whumpee winced as more pain went through their arm, "it was an honest mistake."

Whumper watched Whumpee rub their arm.

"I think it's only fair. I ended up looking for your file after this incident. You haven't had to receive any correctional beatings or anything. We couldn't even find your record though. I have no idea what you are in for", Whumper sighed, "they think it was destroyed accidentally. We are looking into it."

"Prisoner of war", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper's heart skipped, "I-I'm not supposed to have any POWS in my prison... they were all released, and records des...troyed."

"Yes sir, I was overlooked", Whumpee winced.

"Why didn't you say anything?", Whumper stood, "everyone from your group was freed a while ago."

"I was going to, then I heard my country was destroyed... I didn't know what to do.... where to go", Whumpee looked down, "my family died with my country. What would you have done?"

Whumper frowned, "I need to think about what to do with you. You can't remain a prisoner", Whumper frowned, "that's not fair to you, but I don't think they are doing the processing anymore to help you settle into this country."

Whumpee frowned, "I'm sorry... I'm afraid I've caused more trouble then what I'm worth."

"It's not your fault that you were overlooked. I just wish you had said something a little sooner. I can't just throw you in the street either", Whumper thought out loud, "you won't be able to fend for yourself, and you're not technically a legal citizen. "

"I'm sorry", Whumpee tried to hide a tear.

"No need to cry", Whumper reached for a napkin, "I'll figure it out. MarMar should be coming back with a meal for you shortly."

Just then MarMar brought in the food tray.

"I'll be back to check on you", Whumper started to leave.

"I'm sorry sir", Whumpee watched them.

"It's okay, just get some rest. You are very injured", Whumper made a slight grin, "I'm sorry about that."

MarMar entered Whumper's office.

"What do you want Mar?", Whumper didn't bother looking up.

"Whumpee told me what happened. Why don't you let them live up here in your quarters. You have plenty of rooms. I could use some help cleaning it even", Mar stood in front of the desk, "you did that for me."

"You were a different case. You did something wrong, and you were brought here. They didn't realize you were female or didn't care at least, and I run a male prison. They refused to come and get you. That's why you serve your imprisonment up here", Whumper sat back in his chair, "Whumpee was supposed to be free a year or so ago. They didn't do anything wrong. They just happened to be on the enemy side during the war. Government allowed those prisoners freedom with assistance because their country was destroyed. Just as I feared, that program is no longer available."

"If I may be so bold... that was the first mistake your prison has made in Whumpee's case. Now look at them", MarMar prodded, "you left them unconscious for several days after that. You owe them something. They aren't supposed to be here, but neither was I, and you figured that out."

"You know I'm not above putting you in solitary for being outspoken", Whumper grumbled.

"Who would keep you company then?", MarMar grinned.

"I'll buy a puppy", Whumper replied with a grin.

MarMar talked with Whumpee for a while before Whumper came in.

"Excuse me, I have a few things to take care of before bed", MarMar got up.

"Whumpee I think I figured out what to do with you", Whumper sat down, "Mar gave me the idea... how would you feel about living here in my living quarters. You wouldn't have to do service work like Mar does, but you could help out if you like. I can't leave you as a prisoner, and I can't let you leave. Both would be illegal."

Whumpee looked at Whumper in shock.

"I know you said your family was probably no longer around. We could work at getting you legally in this country and if you wanted to leave after that, you can. I need to make up for what I did to you and also that my prison overlooked you."

"I'd be bothering you though, and MarMar", Whumpee looked at their arm and rubbed it.

"What is going on with your arm?", Whumper watched them rub it, "thats the second time you've rubbed it in my presence."

"I keep having sharp pains go through it", Whumpee whispered.

"I'll let the doctor know, they'll check on you in the morning. If it gets really bad during the night let someone know", Whumper stood up, "the Medic is gone for tonight, but I can pull a few strings if you need to be seen. Think about my offer."

Whumpee nodded.

The next morning Whumpee woke up when they heard a door slam.

Mar came into the room with a grin.

"Is Whumper angry?", Whumpee made a concerned look, "that door being slammed startled me."

"It was Whumper, he slams it as he goes into the prison. He says it spooks the guards", MarMar giggled.

"Oh, I see", Whumpee nodded.

"I'm working on your breakfast right now", MarMar knelt by the bed, "did you think about Whumper's offer?"

"A little, I feel like I'll be in the way up here, but I don't think I have other options", Whumpee watched MarMar for a bit.

"You won't be in the way", MarMar comforted, "it's really nice up here. Oh, the medic will be up to check on you after breakfast. I hope your arm is okay."

Whumper came in and sat next to Whumpee.

They eyed Whumpee's arm, which was lifted in a sling and wrapped in a cast.

Whumpee looked at it then at Whumper.

"I broke it", Whumpee whispered.

"No I broke it", Whumper sighed, "I am so sorry."

"It's okay", Whumpee smiled weakly.

Whumper leaned back in the seat, "no it really isn't. I don't normally go that far with anyone, I have no idea why I got so mad. It keeps rolling over in my head, and I can't even explain why I did this. I don't even know how to make it up to you. Everything was messed up for you."

"Just unlucky, I've always been unlucky", Whumpee tried to laugh, but winced when a sharp pain went through their abdomen, "oww."

Whumper watched them, "I am so sorry Whumpee, uhm, have you thought about my invitation to stay here. We can set up a better bedroom for you. You can heal, and we can work on getting you to be recognized as a citizen. Plus work on some other things that you may need."

"Yes, I thought about it. MarMar also helped me. If you are okay with it, and I promise not to be a bother. I can stay with you", Whumpee looked for any movements in Whumper that showed they were dissatisfied with that answer.

"That's great", Whumper only smiled, "I was a little nervous about your choice. I promise everything will be alright. We'll get you to feeling better."

"Th-thankyou", Whumpee looked at them flabbergasted at how Whumper's personality was completely different from the other day.

"You're welcome, alright, MarMar and I will get your bedroom ready. You'll be so comfortable", Whumper hurried to get up and to the door.

"Mar you owe me $5, they said yes", Whumper yelled as they left the room.

"Dang", MarMar called back with sarcasm in their voice, "wait I helped talk them into it."

Whumpee listened to the two of them go back and forth.

"What just happened, and who is that?", Whumpee questioned in a whisper.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown

[evilminji]

God you know what would be FUNNY af? More "I already YOLO'd, fuckers. I see no God here but me an my new buddy The Force" SI-OC?

There's... there is the Fuckin FORCE NEXUS. Just? RIGHT THERE? Reality HAS to get unimaginably FUCKY and melty at the seams, around it? Horrific for people would HAVENT been through the Souls Car Wash as it were... but, like?

Eh. Tingly.

Feels a bit like being dead. She can taste the abstract concept of philosophical debate and the first strands of dawn. Air smells a bit purple. This is fiiiine. She and the Force are HANGING! You LITERALLY could not be closer to it outside of shrugging off your meat suit!

Aaaaay, BESTIE! She brought better meditation cushions and a swiffer. It is DUSTY down here! So~ how things? Any dead people wanna chat? Wanna watch a sunrise on a planet that stopped existing eons ago, literal galaxies away? Oh hey! Thanks for the space rock. It blurbles ominously.

Just? Yes. TECHNICALLY. "All things are possible in the Force".

But just because a NUCLEAR REACTION IS POSSIBLE? Doesn't mean it's a great idea to SIT NEXT TO IT. Child! P-Please! Back away from the thing we LITERALLY BUILT A TEMPLE TO CONTAIN.

ALL absolutes are harmful.

Yes. Even "good", even "helpful", even the "light". They as JEDI know this. Unlike SITH, they? Are not so foolish as to believe ANYONE can channel or harness a NEXUS. Absolute GOOD will kill you just as surely as Absolute evil. Do not loose yourself. And for the love of all that's precious?

Don't! Poke! Force! Anomalies!!!

Again... meh. What's the worst that'll happen? She DIES? Is LOST? Oh noooo. Not RETURNING to the Force! AGAIN! Peacefully avoiding the horrors to come! That would be AWFUL! *continues to gossip with the nexus*

Of course, this? This is fucking horrifying.

That is a youngling! Next to the ACTIVE FORCE NUKE.

Dear FUCK every moment the child sits there? It could be SCRAMBLING HER DNA for FUNSIES! But it ALSO feels like hundreds of jet engines in their head! T-they can't?! Get close enough? To grab her? Hold ON small breakable child! Help is COMING!

SOME ONE GET THE COUNCIL. NOW.

No we DO NOT care what they were doing! Baby! IN DANGER! This is clearly a priority! (And I mean? Shit... you right. They'll be there in 5)

Force maybe be "clouded"? But a cloud, dense enough? Is just a body of water suspended. And the NEXUS? Is like SWIMMING. A flood. The Force COULD NOT be clearer there. It's deafening, consuming, one might even say... less then subtle.

Yoda probably does the OPPOSITE of something helpful and just... plops on down next to her. Accepts the offered snack she holds out. Asks casually why she down here. Just two bros, a Grandmaster and Crecheling, two completely equal Jedi in the eyes of the Force, sitting watching the Pretty Colors at the edge of a reverse Black Hole.

Master Yoda, NO!

What? Did they expect him to use force? By the ear, drag this youngling, perhaps? Hmmm? How would that fix anything. The child would simply return. Stopping her ONCE will not address your concerns. There must be a dialog. You must be heard. Your fears laid to rest. The youngling must UNDERSTAND. Teachable moment!

The various knights, masters, CRECHE MASTERS and Council members? Do? NOT AGREE. Ha ha. Oh Force. Baby in a radioactive, currently inactive, meat grinder! Heart palpitations! Can't EVEN RELEASE THEIR FEAR INTO THE FORCE! Because it'll JUST SPIT RIGHT BACK INTO THEIR FACE.

.....OC would like these people to stop crashing her hangout. But is refusing to STOP her hang out, now, mostly out of spite. Well... that, AND? It's actually pretty great that most of the Order? Is getting LITERALLY FORCE BASTED CLEAN?

Like getting your soul pressure washed.

BEGONE Darksider gunk!

Does it leave you feeling a lil woozy and hyper-aware? Overly sensitive? Headache-y like a motherfucker? Yeah. But that's the crude matter, my gender non specific dudes. The Nexus has always been more of a "oh shit! We're losing um! CLEAR!" Sort of measure, then a "you should take this rigorous round of medicine and then meditate" Sort of measure.

Not that it's WISE. It's just as likely to eat folks. Just... straight skip the suffering their redemption arch might cause others and? Yoink! Straight back to the Force with you. After all? Other people are not here for YOUR life lessons. Their pain is not a gift to YOU. A debt YOU are owed.

Speaking of? Someone should check on Skywalker. He's looking a little shaken back there. (The Void was BRIGHT and it looked BACK. He is... NOT OKAY) (but also? Feels cleaner? Lighter? He thinks he just met his Dad. Spoke to his Mom.)

Obviously? Hella grounded. UNBELIEVABLY grounded. The entire temple is down and out with the worse case of Force Strain anyone can REMEMBER. The senate will have to send someone else.

......what do you MEAN you have "no one else"? They distinctly remember there being other offices. They are a religious organization. Not nearly as large as they once were. You are THE GOVERMENT. When a planet, in need, requests assistance? Why are you handing it to an EXTERNAL RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATION?

Yes, OF COURSE we want to help! But unfortunately we literally CAN NOT right now! There was an INCIDENT! Are you telling us that this whole system was one cold away from COLLAPSE?! (Local eavesdropping reporters go :3c owo? Whats this? Paycheck~☆???)

And, yes. Yes it WAS. Centuries of Sith meddling and common greed. Cut the funds to line my pockets! The Jedi will handle it. They Jedi ALWAYS handle it. If they can't, we'll just blame them. They show up first. Sometimes are the only ones to show up. Are a face for people to latch on too. Someone recognizable to get angry at, in our hurt.

But.... suddenly? Not there! And they're telling us? The NEXT step? In their Very Worried For Us, Full Of Genuine Sympathy And Concern Way? Is the Goverment. Specific offices. Makes sense. They even try to help, while looking like death warmed over. No, no! We get you can't come. Go rest! People need you!

No, they keep insisting. I can HELP! Please let me help! You're suffering. This isn't RIGHT. You don't deserve this! Are you safe? Is your family okay? I can talk to some people I know... maybe?

Then you turn around? And get automated rejection after rejection from the GOVERMENT YOU SERVE. Pay your taxes too. Bleed for. As your people are DYING. Afraid. Begging for help, that? APPARENTLY the senate is too busy throwing GALAS to send!

The Jedi is actually crying on the other line. Arguing with a healer off screen that they don't faint THAT much! They can take a pilot droid! Your people NEED HELP! Please! They have to do SOMETHING! They can't just SIT THERE! Please don't make them sit there!

The healer is telling them if they don't bring their heart rate down, they may pass out again. Breathe. Give them the comm.

You watch the Jedi literally fight to keep it. Lose, too dizzy to win.

The healer looks sympathetic but resolute. Your people's doctors are much the same. Your SISTER-IN-LAW much the same. You ask that he not be allowed to contact you until he is well. You are not incompetent, after all. Your people will survive.

The Force is with you... but the Senate is not.

This? You will REMEMBER.

Discontent grows. But NOT, as Palpatine was trying to cultivate it, towards the Jedi. They? Are in crisis. Still holding strong, yes, but clearly DEALING with something. Some... weird... mystic cult illness. It's literally BAD enough that "Force Sensitive" (you know, the kinda creepy weirdos?) cultures and peoples are offering to send various doctor equivalents!

And the Jedi! The JEDI!!!? Infamously "oh, it's only a gushing flesh wound, I'm fiiiine!" Weirdo Space Monks? Yeah, they're saying YES. Please DO, actually. Admitting to NEEDING HELP.

...........guys?

A-Are the Jedi DYING? D:>

Suddenly everyone's remembering all those times? Jedi helped THEIR planet. Possibly DIED for them. Statistically? Over the centuries? There is not a SINGLE ONE of them that hasn't needed help at LEAST once. Gotten SOME Jedi's help. Maybe it was centuries back. Maybe decades. Possibly last year. But? The Holonet is FOREVER.

Videos still exsist. Voices long dead. Wry jokes and hoisting younglings up on their shoulders. Attentively listening to elders as they talk about their youth. Protection and respect. A face not so different from their own. Laughter and light, preserved forever.

The Jedi are in family holos.

Here, with grandma. See? He saved her from slavers! And there. Sitting with the family after The Great Collapse. Over here, rocking great-uncle Nox as a baby! On and on. Flooding the net. Private collections no one thought were relevant until now. It's not like anyone ASKED. It was JUST a FAMILY story.

Those little acts of kindness. Those humanizing bits of light. Jedi, throughout our history. Everywhere. Absolutely everwhere... until they weren't.

Until... slowly... they started to fade.

People, making timeliness, making collections? Notice. Huh. Look at that decline. Is that just them? Are they seeing things? Guys! Tell me what you see....

All while OC? Is sitting by the Nexus. Breathing in some NICE tea steam, in her comfy lil meditation nook, smacking the FUCK out of Palpatine's grasping lil claws as it reaches for the Nexus. BEGONE you malicious THOT! This is a benevolent thot only space! That's why Master's Vox and Kenobi can stay. (Ha!/CHILD!?!)

OC works as a legit filter.

The Nexus? Spews, by its nature, the Force in CONCENTRATED amounts, out into the universe. Like a high pressure water spout. Feeding into a lake. There are drains. People use it, move it, muddy the waters. But the NEXUS? Is where the unfiltered stuff comes back through, after it's been recycled.

Part of the endless loop. There are, of course, many Nexus. The Universe is large. One Nexus alone would never be able to cover it all. But Coruscant? The surrounding area? That's THIS Nexus. And Palpatine wants it BAD.

Because EVERYONE is part of the Force. Sensitive or not. ALL LIVING THINGS have midi-chlorians. They're just generally drawn to sentience. Are the universe in symbiosis with itself. Being near a Nexus tend to make them vibrate. Start to multiple. Not great for the body they're IN. Fascinating though.

......wait, where was she.... >.> oh! Right!

Whole ecumenopolis? Already has a LOT of suffering. Lot of stagnant pools of Darksider rot. The senate isn't helping. But? The Nexus IS helping. By blasting clean, fresh, hope and NEW! Through the heart of it all. Anyone who wanders close enough to the Temple? Gets cleaned off.

Feels hope. Sees a brighter future worth fighting for. Gets that much needed nudge from the Force, towards a better path.

Obviously, Palpatine hates that. Wants to flip it. To bad decisions and hopelessness. Bow your head and know your place. Well? FUCK 'IM. She's the guard of the Nexus. SHE'S sitting right in from of it! He may have fucked up rituals? But SHE can literally reach her arm out, INTO IT, and drag the darkness free.

Talk to Master's through time. The Force directly. Be a concept and a bird, right angles and starlight, here and then and The Force.

What are YOU, Sheev Palpatine? But a miserably hateful little creature.

A vile, angry little man.

The Jedi? Have probably already adjusted by now. Master Fae, Master Antilles, Youngling OC. Yeah... it be like that sometimes. You get Weird Jedi every so often. Just look at Yoda and Yaddle. The various wandering Jedi. That one guy they're preeeeeety sure? Might just be? Meditating out in a swamp somewhere? He might be dead. No one's sure. Still a jedi, though!

Look, you get like... 99 put of 100 vaguely normal Jedi to one Weird one, and 1 REALLY weird one out every... no one can actually agree? Inconclusive. Have a fruit bun. Nod and smile. The Force works in mysterious ways....

And SPEAKING of "we are a wrecking ball in a rice paper world" Master Fae/Antilles duo? Very sensitive to the Force. Go where it sends them. Did.... NOT expect to get a holocall? By means of FORCE NEXUS?? From an ACTUAL YOUNGLING?

.....ngl. this one's new.

Kamino it is.

(OC wants to make Palpatine CRY. Fight me, you FUCK, says the actual child. No one knows why this Jedi child hates the Naboolian senator specifically, but it... is REALLY effecting his Affable Grandfatherly Vibes.)

(Fucking GOOD.)

[system-to-the-madness]

Two Strays - Nakahara Chūya x Reader

Pairing: Nakahara Chūya x fem!Reader Genre: meet-cute Word Count: 942 Warnings: none Summary: Chūya makes an unexpected encounter over some poster Prompts:  lost pet meet-cute A/N: I’m not saying I’m participating in Inktober or Flufftober or whatever else. But I’m trying to get back into a writing routine, so I thought this would be a good start. No promises on how many days I’ll actually write.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his black dress pants, Chūya strode down the streets of Yokohama. The air was still warm even though it was already October, but the dark clouds overhead weighted down on his mood. He should be in his office, he thought, doing paperwork, but his head seemed to be filled with the same kind of dark and heavy clouds as those that hung over the city.

His eyes, absentmindedly wandering over the shopping windows, stopped at a poster. It wasn’t the first one he saw like this today, but he had not paid it closer attention yet. Anyone who saw him walk past these printed out posters, no bigger than the size of a normal notebook would have assumed he just didn’t care, but the truth was that Chūya ’s heart hurt at what he knew the poster would contain.

From a single look at it, it was obvious, that someone had put them up, looking for their lost pet, the picture of an animal he didn’t want to take a closer look at gave it away.

Chūya sighed and quickly turned away. Sure, he was a mafia executive, and barely human at that, but he still could understand the pain of someone who had lost their pet that was like a member of their family. Stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the depressing atmosphere of the day, he kept moving, and promptly bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the young woman quickly apologized, seeming to shrink under Chūya ’s glare. “Uhm, you haven’t seen my dog by any chance?”

And before Chūya had had the chance to avert his eyes, she had lifted a poster between them, the same kind of poster he had so desperately been avoiding looking at.

It showed a colour picture of a small dog underneath big fat letters that read ‘LOST’. Under the picture, there was a short description of the dog, name, colour, age, and so on, as well as contact information.

“He ran away from the dog walker last night, in Yamashita Park,” you continued explaining, and Chūya quickly averted his eyes from your pained, yet hopeful ones, opting to study the poster instead.

Yamashita Park, hm? That wasn’t too far from where they were at now. And there were a lot of restaurants around, so it wasn’t the strangest idea to come looking for your dog here.

“Haven’t seen it,” Chūya mumbled out, trying to move past you. He knew it was rather rude, but he had the distinct feeling he would get roped into something he had no interest in getting roped into if he continued this conversation.

His attempt to escape the conversation got foiled by you though, as you stepped into his way.

“Please,” you begged him, drawing his eyes to your face again. “His name is Kotaro, he’s five years old, I got him from a shelter, he’s lived on the street for the first four years of his life. He’s been through enough bad things in his life.”

“So have I,” Chūya growled, but his mood seemed to have no impact on your determination to get him to listen.

“Then you know how bad it is, don’t you? He’s just an animal, he doesn’t understand why humans are cruel to him. Please, if you see him…”

You grabbed one of the posters you had been holding and offered it to Chūya.

“Why should I,” he mumbled, both annoyed and impressed by your persistence. It wasn’t every day that someone had the courage to get in his way so shamelessly. But then again you had no idea who he was, how dangerous he was. And your dedication to your pet made his resistance falter. He did want to help, but how could he?

“Because you’re a decent guy,” you offered, “and because you know how hard life is when you don’t know where you belong.”

Chūya stared at you. The confidence with which you had said the last sentence had thrown him off more than he liked, this much he had to admit. There was a shimmer in your eyes that made an impression on him, and he had a feeling he would regret it, if he wouldn’t at least pretend to show some sort of interest in your search.

He sighed. “I really don’t have the time-”

“Just take the flyer,” you demanded, shoving the sheet of paper against his chest. “And call me if you see him.”

And with that you turned away, already calling out to the next pedestrian, some American looking tourists. The poster you had shoved against his chest begun sailing to the ground, and Chūya was barely quick enough to pull one of his hands out of his pockets to catch it. Your dog did look like he had been through some stuff, but also as if he had found a home with you. The random thought, whether you had enough space for another stray appeared in Chūya’s head, and he quickly shook it, trying to get rid of the idea.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his phone and dialled the number of one of his subordinates. “I want everyone to look for a lost dog, about knee hight, black, called Kotaro.”

And when five hours later said dog was curled up in an armchair in Chūya’s office, and you invited Chūya out for dinner over the phone, as a thank you, he wondered whether maybe, if he played his cards right, it would only be the first of many dinners he could spend with you.