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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

Text

NEVER LOSE ME ♡

♪ flo milli — never lose me ♪

TELL ME YOU DONT NEVER WANNA LOSE ME!

pairing: rafe cameron + bunny!reader જ⁀➴₊⊹ ♡

synopsis: being in a relationship with rafe, things are always easy on you and your bunny brain. until they’re not.

cw: butt stuff, violence, blood, alcohol mentions, reader is kind of a bimbo, kind of dumbification? mean!rafe, canon spoilers, shoupe, criminal activity, manipulation/threats, slut shaming, mentions of drugs. the ‘dad’ nickname and daddy kink ♡

Your vanity table was your place of peace.

Pink powder puffs and abused beauty blenders. Shimmery MAC gloss. That one blush pallette with the rabbit engraving that was too pretty to use. When you were sat at that table, everything was okay. You were in girl world, with glitter particles floating like fairies in the air around you and that one lipstick swatch on the back of your hand. It was easy to lose time, there were just so many important decisions to make. What lipliner with what gloss? Are you doing glitter in your inner corners today or not? Probably yes, there was never a wrong time for glitter. However it was only the country club you were visiting, and you were meant to be there twenty-five minutes ago. Being a girl is hard.

The country club was where you and Rafe had locked eyes for the first time. You remember it so clearly, not so much like a fairytale but more so like a sexy 2000s movie where the hot people end up together. You were new to the neighbourhood, a pretty young thing wandering into the Kook club with nothing but a shoulder bag and a skirt that clung to your ass cheeks.

Rafe did a double take when he first saw you, the sort they do in cartoons. You were the first girl he’d seen that dressed skimpy and yet still looked expensive, all dressed in virginal white with endless amounts of skin on display. He’d licked his lips, squinting across the golf course as he aimlessly swung his club in circles, tuning out of whatever-the-fuck it was Topper was complaining about this week. At first, for a few seconds anyway — he didn’t know if he wanted you or hated you for walking in here looking like that, knowing you’d be the talk of the town and the visage behind every guy at the country clubs wet dreams. You’d looked back at him and nervously bit at your manicured finger nail, offering a demure smile. There was something unsure and innocent about you, which confirmed how he felt — if his dick jumping in his pants wasn’t enough. He had to have you.

He vowed to get to know you, force his way into your life — and that’s exactly what he did. He would have felt like a creep, eyeing you from across the bar and asking everyone he could what they knew about the new girl — if you didn’t make it so apparent you were doing the same. You made friends quickly with that bubbly, ditsy, happy-go-lucky attitude of yours— and were soon to sit at the tables outside overlooking the golf course in clusters, whispering through cupped palms and giggles when Rafe and his crew would pass by. He’d act all nonchalant at first, but as he chews at his gum obnoxiously, he couldn’t stop the smirk from curling his lips up. Even his friends would shove at his shoulders excitably. This shit is so high school, he’d think. It was time to make a move.

And so he did — he made sure everyone saw too. Pulling up in his truck out the front of the club, graciously turning down the Future song booming from the speakers to wind his window down and lean out of it with that million-dollar Cameron-man smile. “You leavin’ here by yourself? Look, let me drive you, ‘kay? Been meaning to talk to you anyway, beautiful.”

He’d made sure everyone saw you climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Rafe and the new girl. If Rafe had swooped on her, she was pretty much off the market. Word spread fast, and you were his before he’d even asked you to be. Things took off fast, and with Rafes status came your own. You were untouchable, unpunishable, Kildares sweetheart. A mystery to some. Where did she come from? Is it true X tried to take a shot at her? Everyone knows she’s Rafe Cameron’s girl.

The rest is history — dates, excessive spoiling, meeting The famous Ward Cameron, Rafe breaking that virgin cunt in the same night. Things moved at the perfect pace and you couldn’t be happier. Rafe just made life so easy for you, to the point where around him — you were completely on auto pilot, letting your boyfriend do all the thinking. You figured that’s where you earned your nickname and likeness. A bunny, he’d always compare you to.

Whilst you had this Marylin Monroe sort of allure about you that never failed to draw him in, you were wide eyed and innocent like a bunny rabbit. That, and the way you bounced on his cock, and lest he forget the way your nose twitches when you’re upset. Those were recognised as bunny-like tendencies, so for Rafe — the designer shoe just seemed to fit. You sigh, reminiscing on when Rafe had pushed that bunny tail plug into your ass for the first time as you walk through the gates to the County club. Clearly, you were in a mood today.

“People are lookin’ at me.” You giggle with your cheek to his chest once you find him, careful not to smear your blush on the delicate fabric of his polo once more.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos they can practically see your tail stickin’ out the bottom of your skirt. Pull that shit down, would you?” He complains, but does it for you all the same— ringed hands sliding round down your ass to yank the material down enough for him to be satisfied. You let him, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hands on you— knowing the material was only due to slide right back up as soon as you take a few steps.

The sun burns bright that day, and as Topper approaches the two of you on the grassy hill of the golf course— he holds his golfing glove above his eyes as a makeshift protection from the sun. He wears that expression that’s 90% teeth, smiling as he slides over. “And will I be seeing this lovely lady at the party down at Crystals tonight?”

“A party?” Your back straightens in excitement, neck craning to look up at your boyfriend, who’s jaw tightened at his friend.

“I’m there on business, remember Top?” He blinks a couple of times like he was trying to send a message telepathically, and Toppers face falls a little. Your boyfriend looks to your hopeful expression, sighing a little exasperatedly. “Gonna be there for like an hour. Max. Just pushin’ product, baby. Shits boring.” He waves you off and your brows furrow, following him when he peels away to line up his ball.

“But I like parties! What product Rafey?” You mewl, laying a gentle hand on his playing arm, making him briefly stuff his tongue between his lips to concentrate extra hard. He looks around for listeners before turning his attention back to you.

“Got some yayo on me. ‘Kay? Gonna make us a shit tonne of money.”

You furrow your brows. You couldn’t remember which drug ‘yayo’ was, and you wasn’t even aware of the fact he was selling again. He said he was stopping all that, but as he constantly drilled into your head — you supposed Rafe knew best. It wasn’t your business, and wasn’t anything you had to worry about. Truthfully, you cared more about putting together an outfit to wear to the mentioned party in question.

“Can I still come? I wanna come.” You bounce on your glittery sandals with a ditsy smile, the action making your tits jostle in your little top. Perhaps that was what convinced him, the boy squinting thoughtfully out across the golf course.

“Aaah…” He stresses quietly, lifting his arm to scratch the clammy skin of his forehead beneath his floppy bangs.

“Please dad, won’t get in the way.” You pout, standing on your tiptoes pleadingly. Topper coughs awkwardly at the nickname, still standing near by, rifling through his clubs. Rafe licks his lips before rolling his eyes.

“Alright, okay. But no gettin’ involved, a’ight? Got a little chatty with my customers last time. No more of that, got it?” He warns, throwing you a look over his shoulder as he begins to stance up, gesturing for you to move back so he wouldn’t hit you with his club.

Truthfully, Rafe didn’t like bringing you to parties. As much as he loved parading you around, he knew what he was like — and seeing tens of guys ogling what rightfully belonged to him got tiring. Especially when you were so oblivious, bouncing around pool parties with your tits nearly escaping your bikini, or dancing with your friends to the point of your skirt flipping up — giving everyone a show. He knows you didn’t mean it, you were ditsy as it was so with alcohol added you were a complete loose cannon. However, with each sip he’d take— his rage would only grow, always having to deal with your pouting when he’d make the two of you leave early so he didn’t pummel someone’s face in.

Plus, he was trying to mature now. Step into his father’s shoes. He didn’t even like partying at all the way he used to— it was strictly business now. An in and out job. Was harder to do that with you there.

You always forgot how well loved Rafe Cameron was until he brings you along to a function. His hand staying glued to the small of your back as he walks you through, heads turning — his name being called from all angles like he’s a celebrity. It made you snuggle up harder to his side, which he was alright with — he had no problem being extra touchy with you tonight whilst you wore that baby pink IAMGIA Demie set like you were doing it a favour. It shows more skin than Rafe was okay with people that weren’t him seeing, but he’d be with you all night, so he assumed it would be fine.

You fiddle nervously with the diamanté Hello Kitty sat on your chest when your boyfriend started to pull out the small bags with white powder inside. You didn’t quite understand the whole drug thing, but you knew for a fact you wasn’t the biggest fan of the way people acted when they were on it. They were loud, too grabby, scary. You push your cheek against Rafes side as people swarm him, asking for his supply. He’s cool and calm as ever, smirking in that way that made you want him all to himself.

“No hogging my shit this time a’ight? You get what you pay for.” He drawls playfully to the crowd, his hand thoughtlessly sliding to your waist to drag you gently out the way of the group that was forming near him. He turns his body a little, leaning down to your ear. “Wouldn’t mind grabbing me a beer would you baby? Got big boy business to attend to.”

You swan off to complete this task in a bit of a haze, you always got sort of dazed when you were with Rafe— mostly because being with him meant you got to switch your brain off and have him do all the thinking for you. It was a blessing and a curse, because now it’s been an hour and you forgot all about getting Rafe his drink, having found some friends to take some shots with instead.

You’re warm, stumbling giddily away from where everyone else is dancing as you approach the drinks table, pondering another. As you feel a presence appear up by your side, you tug your top up thoughtlessly, humming as you rub your glossy lips together. The strangers eyes fall to your little get-up, lip clamped beneath his top set of straight white teeth like a predator.

“I really love that little outfit. Looks great on you.” He calls out, with a friendly voice matching a friendly smile. It captures your attention and you whip your head to him, earrings jangling from the movement. You take the chance to look down at your ensemble before raising your glassy gaze up to him, ends of your lashes kissing your eyebrows.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” You grin, wiping your clammy hands on the ruffle of your skirt. It was a compliment, sure — but in the back of your mind you surveyed the situation and he truly seemed like he liked the outfit, and didn’t seem creepy at all. He’s polite, keeps his gaze respectful (until you turn away, and he can catch a glimpse at your cleavage.) and friendly. You exchange names, before he ensues with the conversation.

“So where’s your friends? Left you all by yourself?” He reaches forward, pulling a piece of rogue fluff from your hair, chuckling adoringly at your carelessness as he tosses it aside. You spin around to where they previously were, met with no familiar faces and an empty space. You frown, glossy bottom lip sticking out when you turn back to him. Of course, it’s adorable.

Too adorable, thinks your boyfriend who watches you from across the room. He’s tightly clutching his own beer, stood chatting with his friends as he observes the situation — losing interest in the surrounding conversation all together. It had been an hour since he’d last seen you, and now here you were — parallel to him with some guy in your ear, making you laugh, fluttering those eyelashes like you always did. He ticks his jaw, tongue in his cheek as he stares you down. Waiting for you to come running over all guilty, ready to fawn over him.

The guy is suggesting your friends disappeared upstairs, perhaps a bathroom, a bedroom — anywhere he can get you alone to eventually work you out of your panties. You’re totally oblivious to it, shaking your head — having a reason against each of his suggestions. It’s frustrating, the way you won’t take the hint— but also the whole ‘bimbo’ thing was kind of doing it for him, unable to work out if you were a total slut or a total virgin, those doe eyes and innocent aura contrasting too heavily on the way your tits practically spill out of your top for either to give him a clear conclusion.

Rafe is mildly irritated, watching the way you bounce with each move you make— one wrong pose from your ass cheeks spilling from the bottom of your skirt. He keeps a watchful eye, until finally — your dopey expression meets his and your face lights up, traipsing over. Much to the Cameron’s surprise— you audaciously loop your arm around the guys bicep, dragging him with you.

“Rafey! Hi! Sorry about your drink, I forgot all about it.” You blink up at him, happy as a clam as you free your arms to affectionately stroke at his chest. He nods, lips parted as his eyes flicker over to the guy at your side— who’s face is slowly dropping in realisation.

“Yeah.” He responds, and doesn’t get to say much else because you’re dropping this sucker in it.

“This is my new friend! He’s helping me find my girls ‘cos I lost them.” You pout, and Rafe’s lip curls up into a smirk— gaze now completely fixated on the stranger.

“Friends huh? You uh, you makin’ friends with my girl, man?” He smiles, but it’s malicious— taking a step forward causing you to move aside. Your brows furrow, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, especially when Rafes two Kook attack dogs, Topper and Kelce tune into the conversation, which attracted even more eyes.

“I didn’t know, dude.” The boy seems to have lost all his confidence from before, shrinking several sizes as your tall boyfriend closes in on him.

“Ah, he didn’t know.” Rafe shrugs theatrically before turning to his friends— smarmy smiles on both of their faces at the interaction. “Guys he didn’t know.”

“Come on, man.” The stranger seems uncomfortable with the amount of attention the scene is already creating, more and more heads turning by the moment. You fiddle with your necklace again, twirling the thin chain around a manicured finger as you watch— unsure just what was happening. Your boyfriend claps a seemingly friendly hand onto the man’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

“Nah, man— tell me. You usually walk around at parties… alone… making friends with drunk chicks? That’s uh, yeah that’s a little weird man.” Rafe laughs, so naturally everyone laughs. It’s clear your boyfriend is set on humiliating this guy for talking to you, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your girl walk around dressed like a hooker if you don’t want guys—” The boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a moments notice — Rafe has swung his fist back and pummelled it into his face, hard. A crowd forms, and you nearly get shoved out the way by the sudden rush of jeering, drunk party goers. You gasp, watching the way Rafe straddles his squirming body, a meek attempt at fighting back.

“What was that? You wanna say that shit again, huh? Huh?” Rafe continues to beat on the guy who insult you, teeth grit, jaw tense. The victim attempts to push Rafe off, but Rafe pins him again — bigger and stronger by a mile. This only seems to anger him more, and you watch as Rafe wraps two hands around the guys neck, holding down until his face turned pink.

That’s when you notice that Topper and Kelce aren’t smiling anymore, instead pushing through the crowd suddenly to grab a hold of their friend, yanking him off the man on the ground. Rafe only shrugs them off once before letting them drag him away.

“Yeah? Yeah? Maybe you’ll think next time you try ‘n make some fuckin’ friends, bitch.” He spits as his farewell, before shaking free of his friends and grabbing a hold of your upper arm, all but hauling you out of that party at a speed and strength to where you were certain your feet were barely touching the ground.

The drive home is silent, and only then you start to realise that you might be in trouble too. You didn’t like when Rafe got like this, mad and scary. His temper was no surprise to you, he was always storming around with a sour look on his face, or slamming doors after the daily argument he’d hash out with Ward. All of these examples seemed like mild irritation in comparison to the rage you saw him succumb to only moments prior. He had this look in his eye when his hands were around that man’s neck, his pupil overtaking his iris. It was like he really didn’t mind hurting this guy real bad, and you wondered what would have happened if no one stopped him. Usually, for the most part he kept his anger relatively far from you. Now, with just the two of you alone— you were facing it head on.

The car is even more silent once he puts it in park on the Tannyhill drive. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles split and bloody still from his attack, and you notice a speck of blood that didn’t belong to him on Rafes cheek, making you pout— fighting the urge to reach out and brush it away. Instead you stare, waiting for him to speak.

“You know, you — you really gotta be more careful with who you make friends with, baby. Look at this shit I… I had to beat his ass because of you bein’ too friendly. Me. I had to handle shit.” He bites, and you sink back into the seat, ashamed and upset. Perhaps he was right, maybe you did need to keep your wits about you more.

“Oh…” Is all you manage, sad and whiny like a kicked puppy. He licks his lips, shaking his head and finally turning his body to face you.

“What did I say about making friends with guys? Huh? Tell me what I said.” He tilts his head, blinking at you with wide impatient eyes as he waits for an answer. You suck in a shaky breath, wracking your brain for the last time you’d had this conversation.

“Um… I don’t—” You swallow thickly but it’s cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. As if he’d hit some kind of panic button, two fat tears roll down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“What did I say?” He raises his voice and you let out a sad sob, sniffling as you try to compose yourself— speaking as clearly as you can.

“You— you said— any guy that approaches me doesn’t wanna be friends. He just…” You sniffle.

“He just what? Go on, finish that shit.”

“He just wants to fuck me.” You cry and he nods, letting go of your face to push his floppy, slightly sweaty bangs away from his face, puffing out a breath through his mouth.

“Get your ass inside.” He mutters, and you’re quick to do so, hopping up out your seat and to the front door, fumbling for your obnoxious keychains in your shoulder bag.

He follows closely once you’re by the door, oddly gentle hands on your waist from behind that guide you all the way to the stair case, giving your ass a pat as he sends you off to his room. You’re standing pathetically when he enters a moment or so after you.

You clasp your hands at your front, the picture of innocence. You weren’t crying anymore, but still looking devastated by Rafes unfortunate mood. He approaches you, looming over you with an unreadable expression and you yearned to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin through his shirt, or to kiss his naturally flushed lips— but you wanted to be a good girl for him. Make things right.

“Y’know the polite thing to do is apologise, sweetheart.” He drawls and you nod vigorously, words taking a moment to find you.

“M’sorry daddy! Really didn’t mean—”

“Actions…” He cuts you off, eyes fluttering. He places two hands on your bare shoulders. “Speak louder than words. Understand?”

“Huh?” You pout, and he presses on your shoulders just a little.

“You know what to do. On your knees.” One hand leaves you, beginning to work at his belt making you have a Pavlovian-like reaction, mouth filling with drool. You realise you’re just staring and he blinks at you. “What are you waiting for, huh? Now, please.”

You quietly drop, shuffling to get as comfortable as possible and begin eagerly fumbling to help with his belt, blinking up at him with wet doe eyes. You were surprised to see that your boyfriend was already hard — not just a halfie as things begin, fully hard. Maybe something to do with the adrenaline, maybe he thought you were sexy when you cried— who knew.

His pants drop to his ankles and he widens his stance a little, licking over his sore lips and softly grasping the back of your head, easing you closer to press kisses to his covered cock. Your need to please got the better of you and you impatiently tugged off his boxers too, starting to leave a trail of glossy pink kiss prints all over him as you let out your own moan of relief.

You were thrilled he was letting you do this. You didn’t like arguing, never able to think of the right words and always crying too much just like a baby. You couldn’t stay cross with Rafe, you simply loved him too much — so you were happy to skip all the hard parts and head straight to the end, where you got to make it all better and earn his forgiveness. Rafe was always happy after you gave him head, especially when you worked super hard, giving him plenty of attention where he needs it. You couldn’t wait to watch him relax.

It wasn’t long before you had the tip of his cock bruising your throat, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth when you gag around him, trying your very best to get him to cum. It seemed he was close, letting out quiet groans and even stroking your cheeks with his thumbs soothingly which was your favourite thing he did. Your nose twitches, sore and watery as you pull back once more — gazing up at him with gloopy eyelashes and flooded eyes, all sweetly, searching for his approval. He gives you a lazy smile and it’s enough to encourage you to head back down to take him as deep as he’ll go.

You clutch his balls and massage as you deep throat him once more, and this time — the burning of your mascara infiltrating your eyes gets too much to handle and you close them, squeezing them tight as you pull back ever so slightly to work your tongue over his shaft. You’re met with a light slap on the jaw, causing your eyes to spring open— staring up all wide like you’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar instead of wrapping round his ballsack.

“Open your eyes, yeah— fuckin’ look at me. Good girl.” He grits his teeth, and you know he must be close. You keep sucking until he’s milked dry, Rafes pretty bunny and her favourite carrot — swallowing every drop he had to offer.

All is forgiven, and the incident is forgotten about within a few weeks. It was a hectic time, Rafe barely having the time to bring up something that seemed so menial whilst dealing with the death of his father and the feud between his sister and the ‘pogues’ he always seemed to complain about. Rafe seemed to believe there was something gold that he was owed, a cross or something like that. You wasn’t sure. You’d only picked up enough information through overhearing phone calls to his old dealer Barry, in which he’d promptly close the door to obstruct your thoughtless eavesdropping when he’d realise you might be listening.

He seemed to have moved on very quickly from his father’s demise. Oddly enough, his grieving period only seemed to last a few days. You didnt press him on it, it didn’t feel right to do so. You’d learnt from some reality TV show about rich housewives that sometimes when someone loses a person close to them, they don’t even act that sad at all because they don’t want to deal with the big feelings. You wondered if that’s how Rafe was feeling. However, you couldn’t help but also wonder if your boyfriend was in a way relieved to finally be the man of the house. Maybe that’s why he’d started wearing some of Ward’s clothes, demanding you call him ‘dad’ more often.

♪ ‘WHEN I SUCK IT I LOOK IN YOUR EYES

YOU BETTER FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!’ ♪

You hum along happily the song you’d grown so fond of playing from the AUX of Rafes truck. Saturday, your favourite day of the week. Your boyfriend had been doing a lot of stuff, lately. Going to a lot of places without you. There was something secretive about the way he’d disappear into his father’s office with Barry, ‘handling business’ for hours and hours on end. Again, it became clear that all of this kerfuffle was clearly about the mysterious gold you’d hear about. Honestly, you didn’t care to ask questions. The only gold you cared about was the glitzy gold chain delicately wrapped around your ankle, a sparkling ‘RC’ pendant dangling off it, Rafes initials. You stretch your leg out in the car, admiring the way it hangs off your smooth limb.

He could spend all week handling business and getting shit done, but Saturdays? They were your days. Days and nights spent out together, always winding up back at your place where he’d stay round. You always had a free house at the weekends, so what better way to spend it than wailing into a pillow with your boyfriend balls deep inside of you?

The journey is cut short when Rafe slowly pulls up outside your house, putting it in park and yet making no move to even remove his seatbelt. You look out the window at the familiar setting before whipping round to look at him in confusion, batting your fluffy eyelashes.

“I’m… afraid you’re gonna be on your own tonight, bun.” He scratches his cheek, a guilty habit you were usually too flustered to pick up on.

“Huh?” You mewl, brows furrowing, body sinking down into the seat in refusal. “But… it’s Saturday. Did you forget, silly?” You pout, your words doing nothing to convince either of you that he had simply forgotten.

“I’ve got business to handle tonight. Really important stuff that you cannot get involved in. Okay? Need you to be at home, and stay out of it alright?” He’s serious, wide eyed and speaking slowly to ensure not a drop of information slips away from you as you blink at him all lost and sweet. He didn’t like disappointing you, and sure — he would rather spend his evening with his dick nestled in your wet warmth, but this was something that had to be done— whatever it was.

“But Rafe—” You go to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm hand on your jaw stopping your speech all together.

“Alright?” He searches your eyes for confirmation. The way he grabbed you reminded you of the time he was mad at you, and if he was really going to leave you lonely tonight — you figured it was best you leave things on a positive note and behave yourself. You blink sulkily at him and nod.

“Yes, dad.” You sigh out your nose and his expression softens, nodding in approval with a small smile.

“Thats my good girl.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull you in, delivering a sloppy kiss to your lips and even rewarding you with the wet warm muscle of his tongue rolling over yours a few times for good measure — yet pulling away before you got too needy, because then he knew you’d never let him leave.

You’ll admit, you started to huff and puff once you’d left his side. It was Saturday, your Saturday — and maybe you were spoiled, but going out for brunch with your boyfriend and then having him drop you home was not nearly enough to satisfy your needs, especially after he’d been gone so frequently lately. You’d gotten yourself into quite a mood, nearly stomping right past the package that had arrived through your door.

You tear it open, alone in your house and for a brief moment your face lights up — the new butt plug Rafe had purchased for you online after you’d begged and begged sat in the cardboard box. Much like your other one, it was a bunnies tail— but instead of pink, the obnoxious puff on the end was fluffy and white, like a real Easter bunny. Your grin melts off your face right back into a sullen pout when you remember that Rafe wasn’t here to help you put it in, or play with it, or tell you how pretty it looks in your ass. You stomp your foot, anklet jangling. This wasn’t fair.

The sun goes down after hours upon hours of boredom, and you try to preoccupy yourself. You redo your hair all pretty, you fix up your makeup, you play dress up in your closet. The new plug is slicked up between your fingers, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you ready yourself. You never had to put your own bunny tail in, Rafe was always around to do it for you — have you sprawled over his lap, his hand pulling your cheeks apart and saying “Good job, stop tensing up would you?” You’re squirmy and whiny all alone, upset and petulant about the fact he wasn’t around. You felt… what was the word again? Neglected.

You press your cheek to your pristine bed covers, arching your ass in the air with an arm snaked uncomfortably round yourself, the difficult angle making it hard to push your tail in. You groan at the stretch from the cool metal, pussy drooling as your eyes flutter closed and you imagine your boyfriend doing it all for you, as intended. When it was snugly pressed inside of you, you giggle hazily — waving it in the mirror to get a good view. Pretty, you can almost hear his voice tell you how pretty that tight ass is, and you yearn to hear it in person.

You decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Rafe needed you, you knew it — perhaps he’d been isolating himself to deal with his big feelings, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You’d come to the decision that you were going to dress up so sweetly for him, march over there and make him feel all better with the warm embrace that was your cunt— or your mouth, or even your hand. Whatever your man needed, you would deliver.

You slide on some white, lacy lingerie. When you’d purchased it, you’d hoped it would remind him of wedding-wear, planting the idea that he should totally marry you, put a big glittery rock on your finger. Something that signified that he never, ever wanted to lose you. It was bunny-like in nature too, a hole slotted in the panties especially to fit the puff of your bunny tail through it— perfectly cohesive with your whole look. You’re quick to drag on more white, taking the form of a tight crop top and a skirt that unsurprisingly barely covered the fold of your ass cheeks where your thighs begin. In no time, you’re tottering down the street in kitten heels, clutching your purse to your side. You’d decided to walk— and by decided, you meant you didn’t have much choice — bound to being Rafe’s pretty passenger princess, full time.

An all white outfit was innocent, virginal, wedding-like. He couldn’t say no to you like this, surely not— you convince yourself as you stride street to street beneath the lights of street lamps. Kildare was safe, you seemed to think so anyway. Rafe disagreed, said there was lots of stuff you didn’t know— but you’d never seen anything too bad with your own two eyes.

Half way into your journey, your quiet muttering to yourself going over what you’d say when you got to Tannyhill was interrupted by your surroundings suddenly being tainted with a flashing blue and red glow. The rumble of a car pulling up beside you alerts your attention and you whip around to look, being met with the concerned gaze of Shoupe in his Sheriff car.

“Hi officer.” You wave politely.

“Can I ask what you’re doin’ wandering the streets at night by yourself? Not safe to be walkin’ about with next to nothing on, young lady.” He appears stern and your brows furrow, wondering if you’re in trouble. You hadn’t been questioned by a police officer before, they had come sniffing around after Wards death, but Rafe was always there to answer all the tricky questions for you. You whimper like a confused puppy.

“I—I missed my boyfriend so I wanted to go n’see him.” You whine, fists balled nervously at your side. It probably didn’t help that you were already riled up, so this was just immediately too much for you.

Shoupe recognised Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend and his eyebrows raise, purely at the fact that whilst he respected the Cameron family — he couldn’t fathom missing a spoilt brat like that.

“You know I got a niece of my own, about your age — I wouldn’t be lettin’ her walk the streets like this alright? Why don’t you give someone a call? Where are your parents?” He shakes his head, and now you’re super fed up.

“I don’t — am I in trouble? I had to walk because I failed my driving test and— and my parents go away on weekends I— I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go to his house! I don’t understand why you’re asking me stuff—” You start to cry, stomping a mini heel on the ground making the officer sigh, closing his eyes for a moment regretting stopping all together.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Don’t get paid enough for this crap.” He mutters to himself before opening his eyes and plastering on a forced smile and leaning his elbow out the open window. “‘Know what? Don’t you worry that head, young lady. Be safe, I’ll let you get on with it.” He waves before pulling out the parking space, leaving you waving him off tearfully— continuing your journey.

You wipe your tears, happy that you’re finally approaching Tannyhill— not long now until you’re back in your boyfriend’s arms. Sure, you were directly disobeying his one rule to stay home and mind your business tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first punishment you’d faced from Rafe — and the thought of having his hands on you in any way was delightful — so you’d be more than happy to pay the price.

Your shoes crunch carefully down the drive, blinking up at the grand historical home before you. You always loved being there. Being at Tannyhill with Rafe made you feel like he was the president and you were his first lady, ruling over Kildare in your very own White House. The fantasy whisks you away for a moment, and it takes you a couple of slow seconds to realise no one has responded to your knock at the front door. You wiggle the handle, and for once — it doesn’t open. You frown. Rafe was home, right?

You hum in confusion, trailing around to each window — looking for any signs of life as you call his name. “Rafey, are you home? It’s me…” You all but whine, growing increasingly more frustrated. Had you really walked all that way in the dark for nothing?

You puff out a dramatic breath, gathering yourself. Take a look around, you command yourself — use your big girl brain for once. Rafes truck was on the drive, and the lights were on in the house — so you figured it was fair to assume he was indeed home. The only thing out of place was the large van parked haphazardly on the drive. It wasn’t unheard of for unknown vehicles to be at Tannyhill. All sorts of people were in and out the gates for transport purposes whenever Ward would find something new and extravagant to auction off— but Ward wasn’t around anymore, and something tickled your curiosity enough to step towards it, questioning what it contained.

The large back doors are left ajar, so nosily you tiptoe over— fingers wrapping around one to pry it open some more, standing on the toes of your kitten heels to look at what would remain inside. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and for a few seconds you’re not met with anything of interest. Boxes, crates— nothing extraordinary. Your eyes drop down to the floor of the van, and you freeze. Surely not.

The body of a man lies dormant in a pool of distinctive crimson. He’s frozen up, like he’s scared or had been turned into a statue. His skin is pale, and his eyes are open— unblinking. You hadn’t seen many bad things in your life, hell— Rafe had even put you on a restriction from horror movies because you just couldn’t handle them — but what you were looking at was unmistakable. You were staring at a dead body.

You draw in a shaky gasp, and a heat wave of panic overcomes your body. It begins in your chest, and spreads through you like a virus — to your stomach, and then your arms and legs all the way to frozen stiff fingers and toes. You jerk back, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumble back a few steps, fresh hot tears brewing in your waterline. “Oh my g—”

Your whimper is cut short, the sound punched right out of you when you back up into something hard and firm. You jump out of your skin, yelping as what you walked into sprouts arms and whips you around at lightening speed to face it. Rafe, your boyfriend holds you infront of him, enraged. For the first time in your life, he terrifies you. “Told you to stay home, kid.” He spits out before spinning you back around and manhandling you into a lift, arms round tightly around you as he lifts you off the ground.

You go to scream, you even go to run— from your own boyfriend, something even a few moments prior you wouldn’t be able to fathom. He only grips you tighter, and this time covers your mewling mouth with a firm hand as he wrestles you inside, dragging you through the house.

As he tugs your flailing, panicking body up the stairs — you catch sight of Rose who lingers on the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.

“Rafe? Rafe what did she see?” She hisses urgently, alarmed by the way her step-son was handling his girlfriend.

“I’m handlin’ it.” He drawls out, seemingly irritated by her presence as he pushes you down the hallway.

“Don’t hurt her, Rafe.” Hurt her?

He all but launches you into the bedroom and you fly away from him, on the verge of hyperventilation. You paw at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sniffle watching his every move. He moves slower now, locking the door which causes your heartrate to spike once more.

“Why the hell are you here?” He blinks at you irritably. “Huh? After I specifically told you to stay home.”

“I missed you.” You cough out a wet sob, trying to gather your thoughts enough to ask the valuable questions. Like, what was going on? Who was the dead body?

“You missed m— so we’re just… disregarding my rules now. The — the shit I tell you to keep you safe? Keep you out of allllll the dirty work I gotta do to keep shit afloat?” He’s mad, squinting and shaking his head.

“Did you kill that man?” You raise your voice ever so slightly, coming right out with it. The forwardness shocks you, but Rafes expression simply flattens, shoulders dropping a little before he sighs, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t.” He makes a point to emphasise the ‘I’, which only reels you off into more confusion. “But… it’s my problem now. A’ight? So — so I gotta step up and handle it alright, look at — hey, look at me baby— okay, I’m a proactive person — I — I was handed a problem, and now I’m fixin’ it. Me. You understand that?” He’s walked right over to you now, and you’ve backed up away until your legs hit his bed causing you to sit down with a bounce. He crouches over you as he rambles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your attention. He has thrown a lot of information your way, and you try to follow along — eyes wide and head shaking slightly in response.

“Rafe— you’re scaring me. That person was dead you — you have to tell the police! I saw Shoupe on the way here, even talked to him — why — why don’t you just call him up n’tell him?” You whimper, breath catching in your throat between every couple of words.

Your boyfriend stands up straight suddenly, blinking like he’d been snapped out of his wide, watery eyed trance.

“You— you saw— what do you mean you saw Shoupe on the way here?” He glares and you shrink, feeling like you’ve done something wrong but not quite knowing what.

“He stopped me on the way here n’I told him I was comin’ to see you.” You pout.

“Oh, that’s…” He begins to pace, before barking out a soft laugh, hand rising to scratch his cheek. “Yeah that’s uh, that’s perfect really.”

You tilt your head, jostling your hoop earrings in the act. “What are you talking about?” You felt nervous for his answer, and unsure as to why that was.

He stops his incessant pacing, turning to you with an amused and yet somewhat deranged grin. “You’re in this now, baby. You n’me.” He gestures to the two of you with a finger as he slowly prowls closer. “So— so Shoupe knows you were on the way here at,” he lifts his arm, checking the watch beneath his Northface fleece. “Around this time frame. Right? So really…” He closes in on you fully once more, bending at the waist to look at you eye to eye. “If… if you turn me in, we’re goin’ down together. How’s that sound, huh— think you could handle jail baby? You think they do mani-pedis in prison?” He jokes, smirk only growing when your eyes widen. He was being cruel.

“Stop! I— I would never tell on you Rafey!” You start to cry again, and he nods slowly in approval, licking his lips. “Don’t wanna get locked up.”

“Yeah, well. All you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut. Think you can do that for me baby? Think you could… keep this little secret just for me?” Even now, he had a way with words. He made you feel special, like teaming up with him was something to be so proud of. There’s a warmth in your chest from the way he speaks to you, but a pit in your stomach at the guilt from feeling this way. You were dizzy with conflict.

“S’just too much, daddy. I dunno, what if I make a mistake? Just so dumb sometimes.” You sniffle, going to cover your face but he bats your delicate hands out the way with his own palms, cupping your cheeks to force your attention on him.

“Hey, hey. Gotta… use that bunny brain sometimes baby. Yeah? Gotta think about what might happen… if anyone finds out.” His voice softens with each word, invading your personal space until his warm breath fanned over your face comfortingly. He had a way of breaking you down to something so regressed and yet primal, pure putty in his criminal hands. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you felt this might be a tactic to get you on his side with all of this, but the words wouldn’t find you. “You’re my good girl, alright? Know you can do it…” His lips softly press to yours, and he starts to kiss you slowly, sensually, like he had all the time in the world.

You get lost in the kiss, it’s only natural — with the way his tongue wrapped itself skilfully around yours. He finds himself sat on the bed beside you, pulling you to perch on his leg as you succumb to the makeout session. He was really good at it, so talented at getting you wet and squirmy with just his mouth on yours. It feels like ten minutes of this have possibly passed by when your brain starts to ring out the alarm bells once more, warning you of your predicament. Your heart starts to pound and you pull back a little, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze into his lustful pair.

“M’scared.” It comes out quiet and he shakes his head, in total refusal of this.

“Shh, shh. How ‘bout you turn that brain off for a while. Yeah? Let me handle it.”

You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as you try to keep the panic at bay in his tight hold. “Can’t.”

“Yeah. You can. Can start by taking all these clothes off.” He drags his hands over your body, messing up the fabric in its wake. “Came over just lookin’ all pretty… would hate to ruin a night like this, right?” He talks slowly like you’re dumb and it only makes you ooze more, finding yourself nodding eagerly, sniffing back the tears and hopping onto your feet to kick off the kitten heels, dropping an inch or so in height.

Rafe tugs your skirt down as you pull your top over your head, and he hums in appreciation at the white lace adorning your body. “Mm, s’fuckin’ sexy.” He whispers, turning you by your hips to do a little spin for him, not able to help himself from giving your ass a sharp little smack and jiggle when he spots the new bunny tail poking through. “This one’s new, huh?” He drawls, giving it a little tug making your knees buckle, turning to clamber back onto his leg.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Wanna keep these on, yeah?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again, handsy as ever as he caresses your soft skin. He’s being nice, for now. It usually started off this way before he’d get too impatient but you knew he was being extra nice for the purpose of persuading you to side with his unforgivable actions. Your criminal boyfriend drags his hand down your stomach, two finger pads rubbing circles over your clit through the lace making you groan out a cracked and desperate sound against him.

“Turn around.” He whispers, aiding you to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. Once in this compromising position, he peels your soaked underwear to the side— sliding his fingers through your messy folds. “God damn, weren’t lyin’ when you said you missed daddy— that right?”

“Just… just missed you so much.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you do find yourself relaxing more and more against his warm body, a clammy hand clutching the zip of his grey fleece, shuddering from his skilful touch.

After stroking your clit, causing you to clench and cream around nothing for a while, desperate moans sure to be heard by Rose if she was worriedly lurking in the hallway, Rafe started to push his thick fingers in, humming and licking his lips hungrily as your greedy hole swallowed him up, the long digits squelching from your copious tsunami of arousal.

“Oh daddy!” Is all you can say as he curls them just right, working you quickly towards your finishing point. As you drop into that Rafe-obsessed headspace, nearly at the crowning of your orgasm— his deep nasally voice rumbles from behind you, attracting your attention. As he speaks, he pulls his fingers back just so only the tips still remained inside you, and kept them there even when you wriggled your hips trying to get them in further.

“So… what are you gonna say if someone asks you where you were tonight? Huh?” His voice carries a threatening tone, which makes you pout at how totally unfair of him it was to work you into brainless mush and then ask you such an important question.

“I— uhm, I don’t—” You whimper as you writhe in his lap. He pulls his fingers out of you completely and in one fluid movement slaps your pussy, causing you to cry out in sensitivity at the harshness on the cunt he had spread open on top of him.

“Where?” He grits his teeth and you pant.

“At home, daddy!”

He seems satisfied, and slowly he sinks his fingers back inside you, causing you to release a relieved whine, liquifying against his body once more. “See? Not as dumb as you look, bunny girl.”

The words cause tingles to run through your very being, and as he continues to finger fuck you— you’re brought very close to the edge, very soon.

“Mmph— dad, g’nna cum!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum just for dad?” He lilts sympathetically in response.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of you — and before you have the chance to complain or even let out a petulant whine, he’s forcing your mouth open and stuffing his soaked fingers inside, all the way down your throat.

You slap at his wrist, gagging wetly as he holds your head against him keeping him still. “Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt? They’ll do a lot worse to you in prison, sweetheart. Can tell you that for free.” He finger fucks your throat for a few quick beats before drawing them out, letting you suck in harsh breaths. He wipes his fingers on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pat. “Haven’t earned the right to cum just yet. You understand right?”

You sniffle, starting to cry again. This whole ordeal was clearly upsetting to you, and Rafe was just treating it like it was one big loyalty test. All you wanted was to be with him, kiss him, touch him — and he was just being so mean.

Your tears do nothing for your case. Suddenly and aggressively, your boyfriend grips the back of your neck and forces you down into the mattress on the bed, your ass lifted obscenely in the air — panties still forced to the side with your tail-stuffed hole and drooling pussy on full display to him. Glitter refracts off your cheek when you turn your head on the bed, trying to get a look at him.

“Would you look at that?” He twiddles with the fluffy tail and you groan, body softening slightly and pussy dribbling. “Doesn’t take much. Does it baby? Yeah. Dressed up all sweet for me, you uh—” He chuckles at the cruel joke before it leaves his mouth. “Wouldnt take you for an accessory to a crime.”

You let out a pitiful sob and his jaw ticks in irritation, leaning right over you, jostling you a little so he could talk right in your ear. “Quit. That guy you saw in the truck was a bad man, alright? Worlds better off without scumbags like him. I don’t… I don’t wanna hear you’re feelin’ all bad about it. I always make the decisions, right? Daddy always knows what to do, right?” He demands aggressively, spanking your ass hard when you don’t respond immediately.

“Yes daddy you— you always know!” You wail, distraught and he nods, lips parted and jaw slightly agape — fighting his belt off his body to yank his pants down just enough to pull his dick out.

As much as you enjoyed showing your tail off to Rafe, wiggling it against his pelvis, tickling his tanned skin with the fluff each time he draws his hips in — you were actually a little disappointed you weren’t getting to be on your back today. You craved the closeness, the kisses, getting to see his pretty cock collect all your glittery slick as he fucks into your glossy hole. Instead, he pushes in from behind and sets a punishing pace, balls slapping against you as he holds you down, forcing your arch into place. With each thrust, comes a quiet grunt of his own exertion — the days frustration being worked out on you.

This lasts for a few minutes, Rafe slightly changing things up like adjusting your position or putting a foot up on the bed to dig you out even deeper. Your cunt was so sloppy it was audible, squelching with each roll of his agile hips. From the way he had previously stolen your much needed orgasm, you could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, fucking desperately back against him as you sobbed.

“Shit, why you fuckin’ crying so much huh? This not enough for you, princess?” He taunts breathlessly, squeezing your hips for an answer.

“Miss you Rafe, want you— want you nice!” You’re shaky, forcing in a painful breath as you cry— mascara making a mess of his sheets but he didn’t care about that right now— too focused on the way your ass jiggled against him with each thrust. As perfect of a view this was, he couldn’t tolerate the tears and flipped you onto your back, forcing your legs up over his shoulders.

As he slots himself back in, he shakes his head— floppy hair sweaty, some of it stuck to his forehead. “There? Happy? Y’gonna stop cryin’ now, hm?” He drawls, speeding up his pace once more, indulging in the way your tits are escaping the lacy cups of your bra. He palms at them greedily, helping free them out the top and he disappears into your neck, groaning as he hits a new spot, your hole sucking him in like it had a mind of its own.

He sucks marks on your neck. Proof you were here, he thinks in the back of his mind. He draws back to admire his work and is met with your tear-stricken, devastated face. All pretty with doe like eyes, gloopy runny mascara framing them, a single mink lash on your cheek. He swipes it away, unable to control the urge to press his body right onto yours and envelop your lips with his own.

He sucks on your tongue, holding you there with a hand gently round your neck as he possesses you entirely. The continuous slapping sound of his cock bruising your insides becomes music to your ears as you float away on a cloud, eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer amount of pleasure you were facing. As he softly holds you by your throat, like a farmer handling its first baby bunny — he feels that remaining amount of tension coursing through you. That last inkling of resistance, even if you didn’t know it was there. He slows his pace, grinding his cock inside you, massaging the tension out.

“Oh, little girl. Poor bunny, huh?” He coo’s, cradling your shaking, clammy body as you whimper, puffy walls spasming around his length. “All caught up in big bad Rafe’s problems, aren’t you. Yeah… well, it’s okay. I got you baby. You’re never gonna lose me, okay? You’re all mine.”

With your bodies connected, you gaze up into his eyes. All his, the words you adored more than anything. Your eyes drift over to his left shoulder where your anklet swings with each jostle of your body. ‘R.C’, the initials catch the light through blurry tearful eyes. All his.

A hand snakes between you, and when he presses down on your clit — your body finally gives in and you squeeze out a gut wrenching moan, legs shaking violently as you grip him, cumming hard and abundantly around his slick cock. He’s talking you through it, rolling his hips determinedly as you cum. You briefly catch his voice groaning out a “Thats my good girl. S’me and you baby. Don’t you forget it. Me n’you.”

You squirt out around him, soaking his abdomen, and whilst you might usually be concerned and embarrassed— you can’t think straight enough to consider that. He doesn’t seem to mind either, fucking into you as he chases his own high, mumbling words you couldn’t hear into your neck or mouthing at the fat of your tits as he’s spurting out his own thick, hot release.

Everything feels dreamlike after that, from the way he pulls out and smothers your hot face in sloppy kisses — to the way he lazily mops you up with a towel. You can’t process the pleasure you endured, and soon you fall asleep right there on Rafe’s bed, hot and feverish.

It must’ve been a good few hours you slept for, because when you wake to the soft warm touch of your boyfriend and his rings gliding up your back— your bleary eyes find the clock at his bedside to read 5:30AM. Rafe is dressed differently to how he was before, a black shirt you recall noticing in your immediate vision. He’s scooping you in his arms, sitting you up as you let out a disorientated whine, having trouble letting your brain catch up.

One hand strokes your cheek, to keep you awake— and the other strokes the fat of your hip, self indulgently. “So turns out, we’re uh— goin’ on a little trip. You like vacations, huh?”

You blink your sticky eyes at him, hand grazing the buttons of his shirt as your voice attempts to croak out a response. “Rafe, what’s —” Your brain starts to catch up, an unfamiliar and harrowing feeling spreading through your stomach— sinister and dooming as you remember the events that occurred before he’d fucked you and gotten you to fall asleep on his bed. Where had he been? So many hours had passed.

He cuts you off with a smile, a relieved smile — like all his problems had vanished, the corpse you’d found having just gotten up and walked away.

“Goin’ on a big boat. How’d you feel about the Bahamas, baby?”

#rafe cameron fic 🎀#bunny!reader

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heywardsdoll · 6 months ago

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you're sitting by a lilly pod, dipping your fin in the cool water, humming as you take little shells out of your hair, they're fluorescent, pretty turquoise, grand pinks and silvers. it's a nice evening, but all of a sudden you notice that theres a boy that's watching you!

he's a bit freaked out, and you can tell by the way he's patting himself down, and then blinking rapidly. he's got pretty dark curls and kind soft eyes. you can feel your heart drum loud enough for blood to rush into your cheeks, why you like how he looks.

the realisation makes you feel terrible. the shells in your hands fall back into the water, tiny bubbles when they disappear into the great blue. it's horrific. you weren't supposed to be seen, but you can't help but stare back at him. a human, you've been told to stay off the edge where humans are—and as usual, being silly, you decided to rest in an area where you knew someone could find you.

(maybe you wanted to be found)

"shit, shit, is this real? am i real?"

you can't help but find irony in that, a small giggle escaping your mouth and you can't help yourself but slowly move closer to take a better look at him. as you move, he looks even more shocked, practically pointing at you.

then he rub his eyes furiously, "goddamn it, pope. the lack of sleep is really getting to me, maybe i accidentally had what jj had—but maybe when i open my eyes," almost as comical as a cartoon character, and almost as darn cute, he peels open one eye, and then groans, "you're still there."

it's entertaining, and you're so close to clapping your hands and asking him to do more tricks. but then you're struck by the awe in his eyes, it's disheartening to disappear on him now. who knows? you could be the reason the boy, pope, goes mad and starts drawing mermaids, swearing that he saw one on a hot june night.

"can you speak?"

you find yourself nodding, holding your necklace tight, as you toy with your hair. "of course i can," you reply softly, your voice is almost sugary sweet, as you move closer to see him properly. he seems to sigh, blinking again before scratching his head.

"i can't believe you're real. i mean i can't wait to tell my friends—"

and there it goes. the one reason you can't speak to humans, and you find yourself putting your hands on his mouth, feeling so much panic your limbs start to shake just a bit, "no! you can't. you can't tell anyone you saw me."

"uh, sure, i mean i might be wrong. maybe you're just a figment of my imagination too."

you roll your eyes, trying to pretend as if you're beyond caring but you can't help but bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, "huh, sure."

then pope snaps back to look at you, "wait can i ask you a few questions like—" and then he turns around, and you can't help but want to mess with him, gently dipping yourself back into the water. he seems like a smart boy, with questions and all that. the first thing your sisters told you humans want to ask you is if they could touch your fin.

you linger close to the surface, peeking to look at him behind the giant rock. he's shaking his head, looking around as if you'll pop back in. finally, pope lets out a sigh angrily muttering to himself.

"goddamn it! i knew i was dreaming."

you grin, before ducking back into the water. maybe you'll come to visit him again some other day.

#this was just cute thoughts hehe #mermaid!reader #pope heyward prompt #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #div cr h aewo #mermaid!reader x pope

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seiya-starsniper · 4 months ago

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Six Degrees of Separation - Ch 6 COMPLETED

(Sandman x Dead Boy Detectives)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace/Charles Rowland (DCU), Johanna Constantine/Jenny Green

Rating: Teen & Up | Chapters 6/6 | Words: 12K

Tags: POV Multiple, Hob Gadling gives live advice to a bunch of teenagers, while helping them solve cases, that's it that's the fic, also he maybe plays matchmaker for his hot mess bestie, fic starts out as crystal/charles and ends with charles/edwin, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Hob Gadling adopts the Dead Boy Detectives

Tumblr Posts: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 below, or at the above link on AO3

A year after Hob’s adopted three teenagers and a full grown adult as his unintentional, supernatural crime-solving family, a small Japanese girl walks into his pub covered in glitter and blood.

And she's with Dream , of all people. Dream, who looks like someone had run him through a blender and spat him out the wrong way. He’s not covered in the same glittering blood as his mysterious companion, but his messy black hair is even more wild and unkempt than normal, and the exhausted look on his face tells Hob he’s just gotten himself out of one hell of a situation and needs to talk about it.

Well, at least the pub was completely empty so that made things easy. Which, now that Hob thinks about it, was probably intentional intervention on Dream’s part.

“Hello old friend,” Hob greets Dream with a wave as they approach the bar, where he’s cleaning and drying off some pint glasses. Hob turns his gaze down towards the girl, who for all intents and purposes appears human, but somehow still looks like someone out of a cartoon with bubblegum pink hair that is definitely not wig, and wide, iridescent blue eyes a shade of blue he’s pretty sure does not exist in normal human eyes. “And you are—?”

“You don’t look like you’re over 600 years old,” the girl says bluntly, shocking Hob enough that he nearly drops the glass he’s holding. “You’re not feeding children to a giant snake to look young too, are you?” she asks him.

“Niko,” Dream growls at the girl and Hob’s brain short-circuits even further as he processes the name. “That is not what I told you.”

Hob gapes for a solid minute looking back and forth between the two of them as Dream and Niko (Niko? Niko?!) start arguing about the semantics of immortality.

“You said he was immortal, so I was expecting a wise old man!” Niko exclaims, gesturing a glittery blood-soaked mitten in Hob’s direction. “Not a guy who looks like a middle school teacher! Esther had to eat kids to look like that!”

“Hob is not eating children,” Dream replies with an exasperated sigh, resting a palm over his head. “For the last time Niko, my sister—”

“Niko? As in Niko Sasaki?” Hob blurts out, interrupting their conversation because otherwise his brain is going to explode. Both Dream and Niko whip their heads at him in surprise.

“Niko Sasaki with the weirdly large manga collection?” Hob continues as his brain recounts every single thing he’s heard about the girl in the past year. “Niko who tried to set Jenny up with a serial killer and it didn’t quite go as planned? Niko with the parasite fairies that lived inside her for months?”

“You know who I am?” Niko gasps. She turns to Dream, who looks just as shocked as she does. “How does he know me?” she demands. “Wait!” she exclaims before Dream can even reply, turning back to face Hob. “Are you psychic too?”

“No, but I know one who will be very happy to see you,” Hob answers, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here I’ve heard so much about—oh shit wait! JENNY! GET OUT HERE!” Hob yells at the top of his lungs, remembering belatedly that there was someone in The New Inn right now that would be thrilled to see Niko.

“ Jenny ?” Niko practically shrieks, and both Hob and Dream wince at the high pitched sound. “Jenny’s in London? Wait, why is Jenny in London?”

“Moved over here with Crystal and the boys,” Hob says. “Oy, Jenny!” he calls out again, and this time, the American comes rushing out of the kitchen, looking extremely annoyed but also alarmed.

“What? What’s happening? Are we under attack aga—” she goes silent when she sees Niko. “Niko?” she whispers.

“Oh my god, Jenny!” Niko cries out, which seems to break Jenny out of her trance. Suddenly, the two girls are rushing towards each other, collapsing into a pile on the floor as they hug and sob.

“Oh my god is that blood and glitter on you?” Jenny says. “What the fuck? Are you alive? Am I dead? Oh God, I’m dead aren’t I? I can see the grim reaper right over there,” she adds, noticing Dream for the first time as she clutches Niko desperately to her.

Niko giggles. “No silly, that’s Dream. He just looks like that,” she says, gesturing to the Endless, and Hob can’t help but laugh at Dream's dour expression. He’d thought Dream was the embodiment of Death once upon a time because of that face too. “He’s the one who helped me get back to Earth!”

“Back to—where the hell have you been, Niko?” Jenny asks incredulously.

“No, not Hell silly, I was in the Dreaming!” Niko answers brightly. “Although Hell did try to take over, which is why it took so long for me to get back.”

“Hell did what now ?” Hob cuts in, suddenly feeling quite faint. He’s quite glad he’s still behind the bar, else he may have also collapsed on the floor himself.

“It is,” Dream says with a deep and weary sigh, “quite the tale. It seems you have your own stories to share as well, my friend.”

“I—yeah I do. I’ll close the bar and call the boys and Crystal,” Hob replies. “Best if we get both stories out in one go, I think.”

“Agreed.”

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

There's a lot of screaming and crying that follows, and Hob is pretty certain he's going to be hard of hearing for the next few days while his eardrums recover. He doesn't mind though. Not when the kids all look so happy.

Niko's soul, it turns out, had been blasted to an entirely different dimension when she’d died, and that had been due to the cocktail of magical essences Niko had been carrying on her person unknowingly at the time. A lucky charm in the shape of a polar bear from someone named Tragic Mick had protected her from the magic that Esther the Witch had used to kill her, but then that magic had collided with the magic of the dandelion sprites. Apparently, when Litty and Kingham left Niko’s body without killing her, they had left some of their essence behind in her body, forging a connection that forced them to go wherever she went. And if all that wasn’t complicated enough, there was also apparently a cursed magic 8-ball! Hob’s really not sure how that played a part in anything, but according to Dream and Niko, the fact that she’d carried it with her at the time was vital to her transformation.

Which is to say, Niko Sasaki was no longer necessarily human. At least, not human by this dimension’s standards. Apparently her hair had once been black, then bleached blonde when the sprites had left her body, and now this newest brush with her own mortality had left her hair bright pink, and her eyes a glowing blue. Apparently it gave her the ability to see in the dark, and also sometimes see the future, amongst other abilities that she and Dream were still discovering.

In short, as she described it, Niko had become “a magical school girl! Without the weird uniform though. But all the cool magic!”

Dream had come across her when she’d attempted to get back to the reality she knew. Her transformation had given her the ability to dimension walk, though she didn’t know that’s what she was doing when she’d been drawn to the gates of the Dreaming. She’d only walked towards something that felt like home to her, and the gates of the Dreaming, also recognizing Niko as one of its original inhabitants, had swung open easily to let her and the sprites inside.

Dream himself had not been so welcoming at first. He’d taken Niko’s accidental wandering as intentional trespassing with an intent to invade. Niko and the sprites had tried to explain themselves, but they didn’t get very far before an actual threat to the Dreaming appeared in the form of Lucifer Morningstar and their generals from Hell. Although they were not obligated to, all three joined the battle against Hell, Niko because she felt it was the right thing to do, while Litty and Kingham claimed Hell was no place for faeries.

In the end, however, the sprites had perished during the battle, giving up their lives and the last of their magic for Niko, which is why she was covered in glittering blood. Apparently, sprite blood doesn’t wash out, but would fade on its own over time. Since Litty and Kingham had died within the boundaries of the Dreaming, Dream had offered them a permanent place in his realm as residents, as gratitude for their sacrifice. They had chosen to become nightmares, which, according to Niko and the others, was entirely appropriate considering their personalities.

Hob’s head is spinning by the time Dream and Niko finish recounting the tale. Edwin and Charles immediately start asking dozens of questions about Niko’s time in another dimension, while Crystal and Jenny bracket the girl on each side, holding her tightly as if she may disappear again if they weren’t around to tether her to this dimension. Johanna shows up at some point to be moral support for her girlfriend too, and further breaks Hob’s brain by confirming she too had been blasted to another dimension due to magic spells gone wrong.

Hob should maybe update his wards to include prevention against interdimensional travel. He’ll figure out the how of that later, though. Right now, tonight was a night for celebrating, school night be damned. It does not escape his notice that he’s the only one of their group that even has to worry about that.

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

Hours later, Hob finds himself alone at the new Inn with Dream, cleaning up dishes and putting away the chairs for the night. The others had offered at first to help clean up, but Hob had insisted they all go home and rest, but Dream had insisted that he would stay behind to help clean up and well, Hob’s never been able to deny Dream anything.

Hob hadn’t missed the pointed looks Crystal and Edwin had given him as she and the others had filed out of the pub, nor the curious look from Jenny, and most certainly not the look of abject horror from Johanna. Charles and Niko had been the worst offenders, both giving him two obnoxious thumbs up on their way out. Hob doesn’t even know Niko, this was just getting embarrassing at this point. Everyone seemed to have some sort of opinion on Hob’s relationship (no, not a situationship) with Dream.

Hob really only cares about one person’s opinion though, and he’s currently staring at Hob as he finishes wiping down the tables, the last activity left before he closes up for the night.

“You did a good thing, reuniting those kids,” Hob says to Dream as he tosses his rag on the counter and turns to face his friend. “I've never seen them so happy.”

Dream hums contemplatively. “I hardly did anything,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It was Niko's determination alone that carried her as far as it did, and her bravery that kept my realm from falling. I simply delivered her back to the Waking World.”

“I’m glad she was here, to have your back,” Hob says. “And I’m glad you brought her here. I know you said earlier you didn’t know the kids were here, but did you really not notice?”

“I did not,” Dream admits. “I have been—preoccupied with many things as of late. I simply brought Niko to where I knew for certain that she would be safe. Cared for.”

“I’m honored,” Hob replies, grinning from ear to ear. “That you’d consider me a good caretaker for her. I would hope you know I’d be happy to care for you too, should you ever need it.”

“I am—aware,” Dream says, his cheeks taking on the slightest hue of pink. Hob briefly wonders if Dream blushes everywhere on his body, or only just on his face. Then he feels his own face heat up as his mind goes off in other directions.

“Would you like to come upstairs?” Hob asks, trying to distract himself from his wandering thoughts, but then he realizes just how suggestive his invitation sounds and blushes even more. “I mean, I uh, if you don’t have anywhere to be I’d uhm—I’d like to keep talking,” he adds quickly, trying and failing to banish thoughts of what they could be doing in Hob’s flat other than talking . Christ, this was his oldest friend, not some girl he was trying to take to bed for the night. Dream doesn’t respond right away to Hob’s question, only tilts his head at him as if assessing something that Hob cannot see.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream finally says, his voice suddenly serious. “You are aware I can see into daydreams as well as sleeping ones?”

Shit.

Well cat’s out of the bag then. Might as well own up to it. Crystal’s never going to let him live this down, Hob knows.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Hob says, before taking a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “I really did want to just talk, I promise. I’m a grown man, Dream I know how to take a rejection. I’m happy for just your company, and friendship.” He means every single word of it too, and if Dream didn’t believe him, he could apparently just read his mind to find out.

“Hmmm,” Dream replies, before he takes one, two, three wide steps into Hob’s personal space. Hob inhales sharply, tasting petrichor and stars and infinity in that single breath.

“I have been made aware recently,” Dream continues after a moment, looking up at Hob from his eyelashes, “that I carry a lot of ‘baggage’, as Niko likes to put it.”

“We all have our burdens,” Hob replies, with a shrug. “I'd help you carry yours, if you'd let me. Or well, if I could.”

“No,” Dream says. “I asked another once, if she would be my queen, and share that burden with me. She told me the burden would be too great for her, or any mortal.”

“Dream,” Hob starts, more ready to make his case. “I could—”

“No,” Dream interrupts, shaking his head, his gaze suddenly faraway as he recalls what Hob assumes to be a painful memory. “She was right. I would not ask you to take such a responsibility. It would fundamentally change you and leave you unable to live your life as you have been accustomed to these past centuries.”

“But?” Hob asks knowing there is a but in Dream’s tone. Dream sighs, before he meets Hob’s eyes again, his gaze clearer and perhaps a bit…hopeful?

“But perhaps…maybe coffee?” Dream asks shyly. Hob laughs.

“Did you learn that from Niko too?” Hob teases him.

“In a way,” Dream answers, cryptic as ever. “If you are willing to be patient with me, Hob, I would gladly cherish you as both a friend and… something more than that,” he adds, and Hob’s heart soars. “There are limitations, however, and I—”

“Dream,” Hob interrupts. “Remember how we started? A hundred years between each meeting? That was enough.” He takes Dream's hand into his and kisses it, then moves his lips across each individual knuckle.

“I don't know how relationships with anthropomorphic personifications are supposed to work, but I know it won't be what I'm used to,” Hob confesses. “And it's okay, Dream. It's enough for me, just to know that you feel something for me too. We can figure the rest out later.”

“You are too free with your affections,” Dream tells him, but there’s no real reproach in his voice.

“Maybe,” Hob replies. “But I have a lot of love to give, what with living forever and all. Let me show you just how much?” he adds, this time unashamedly letting his daydreams unspool from his mind. The innocent and dirty alike. Dream’s eyes widen as he seems to physically taste Hob’s dreams, before his eyes darken and he squeezes Hob’s hand in turn.

“Lead the way then,” Dream says, his lips quirking just the slightest bit into a playful smile. Hob kisses Dream's hand once more and winks, before leading the Endless upstairs to end the night.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #the sandman #dreamling #payneland #painland #seiya writes dreamling #seiya writes dbda #AND WE ARE DONE

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wroteclassicaly · 6 months ago

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A/N: Feeling a little (a lot) soft, have this visual. So here y’all go 💚💛

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, pregnancy, mentions Steve with a breast milk kink, and mild smut.

It’s nearing sundown now, Indiana weather deciding to slack off on humidity for most of the day. You’ve been outside with your family for hours. Chlorine, pb&j for lunch, sun lotion, scattered towels and hats, naps, making bets that one could do a cannon ball better than the other. You’d had your shower first when the evening fell, your oldest helping you bathe your toddler afterwards, Steve having his time to clean up following suit, finishing off the Harrington brood by bathing the twins. Everyone was tired, muscles aching, sleep wearing you all down.

Still, you all loaded into the brand new minivan Steve was excited to buy, parked right next to the BMW in your garage — and ventured to the new diner in town. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, and milkshakes galore. It all ended in time for the kids to catch their nightly cartoons and flood the backyard with various toys. Your firstborn child - recently having turned seven, she wanted to do pedicures tonight, as promised. But what you didn’t expect was for her to ask if she could please paint your toes first.

And here you are, reclining back on an old quilt Steve owned as a teenager, yellow sundress swaying with the evening summer breeze, your left hand resting atop your swollen belly, enjoying each little kick baby Harrington number five gives to your palm, with your daughter focussed intently on painting your toenails a nice cherry red. What you could make out of her over your stomach, she’s got her tongue poked in concentration, just like her dad. Speaking of which, you catch his golden wedding band hitting the light, his bare feet moving through freshly cut grass, and he’s standing at your side, the twins walking beside him, your toddler holding hands in the middle. Three girls and one boy — every single child having Steve’s eye color. Everyone is currently taking bets on what this next baby will be, but Steve doesn’t care either way, neither do you.

He’s wear tight denim Levi’s and a white tank top, his silver chain nestled in his chest hair. He’s got a little bit of a beard growing out, glasses resting on his face, highlighted hair overgrown and curling at the ends. His never fading beauty. Not to mention the life he’s provided you with, the growing family. Protector was in Steve’s blood, so it’s made more and more sense to you as the years went, how much of a hands on dad he is, even with the girls interests.

He never pressured you to have a child, let alone this many. But it’s what you found yourself wanting the first several months into your marriage. You could pursue life goals and have a family if you battled dangerous underworlds. Having careers as a balance, it wasn’t easy. Arguments, tears, fears, only to come out stronger.

The twins - dressed in bibbed overalls, they let your toddler go as she toddles over to Steve and clings to his leg. He scoops her up and takes his place near your ankles, watching your daughter work. Your twin girl (her’s and her brother’s fifth birthday party looming), asks if she can paint too. Not long after, your son also questions. It’s going to be a canvas kinda mess on your feet, and you honestly can’t wait.

“Everybody grab a color. Let’s make mommy feel super special, alright?” Steve’s deep voice sounds, making you smile softly, eyes raising to look at the peach sky, pink streaking across, mixing in with blue hues - sundown.

~*~

You’ve just finished putting the last kid down for bed, most of them already out. By the time you shut the door your oldest is snoring… just like Steve. He surprises you in the hallway outside of your bedroom door, admiring the pictures Jonathan has taken throughout the past seven years; the first one, Steve’s massive hand print on your swollen belly, photo two, Steve’s hand print and a new, tinier little set of fingers, photograph three, Steve’s print and the print of two growing little hands, plus another small hand, and the last/current photo, your tummy is covered in four different sizes of tiny handprints, Steve’s huge print beside. He slides in beside you and wraps his arms around your swollen torso, his chin on your shoulder. You relax into his scent immediately, your hands clasping through his own.

“You ready for bed, honey? We were pretty busy today.”

You’re ready for a lot more than bed. Your evaporating energy being charged into a live wire, open and sparking. You turn in Steve’s arms and reach for his hand, leading him into your double door master, securing it behind you. He’d checked on all the kids, baby monitors up. Now he wants to take care of you, his wife.

The sight of you in your sundress, how it flares out from your being pregnant, to your full breasts sitting inside. Steve’s hand finds its way up your thigh, fabric following, his nose dipping into the crease of your breasts, his mouth sucking at whatever cleavage he can find. It’s always been a secret kink of his, your breast milk. And he’s the best at getting a duct unclogged for you, helping you when you’re too sore. You tilt your head back, letting him work the zipper, dress gliding off your body and pooling at your feet.

One spare hand of his finds your growing stomach, thumb at your navel. You’re practically mush, body heavy, head light. He kisses each swell, nosing up your collar bone until he’s meeting your shoulder, to your neck, and finally, your lips. On the wet break away, he’s speaking lowly, reserved.

“Go get on the bed, honey. Let me clean up your feet a little first. I’m afraid our merry band of artists can’t quite stay in the lines yet.”

“You, or the kids, Steve?”

He briefly pauses on his way to the bathroom, hands on his hips. Some things never change. You roll your eyes and discard your undergarments, climbing into the comfort of the covers. He’s back in seconds with polish remover and a Q tip, but stops short at your naked form, propped and running your fingers over the stretch of skin. He forgets how to breathe, what to say.

Thoughts of worshipping every mark, how you’re changing, the way he could never thank you for being you, for giving this family, and just the sheer thought that he misses your body, what you two have, alone — kids aside, it has him swallowing harshly. You can sense him watching you and you turn to your husband. He clambers into bed, still fully clothed, breathing choppy. You coo him into calming down, and he begins his work on your feet, massaging them once he’s done, shedding his own clothing after washing his hands. You’re waiting for him on your back, upper half propped by pillows.

Steve slowly descends beside you, already half hard, knuckles gently dragging up your arm and over your breasts, before they path down your stomach and ultimately find you between your legs. “All these years and you never stop getting this wet for me, honey.”

You cup him by the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the curls there, his necklace swaying as he uses muscular arms to keep himself from resting his weight on you. You grab it, trying to keep a hold of it as he helps you onto your side. At eight months, this is the most comfortable position for you right now. By the time Steve is sliding into you, you’re both giving into whining sighs, to the point of near tears. You’ve missed him, even if it’s only been a few nights.

You’ve been like this every single pregnancy, that never changing in spite of their differences. Once approved by the doctor, you rarely want to leave his side during these overly intense feelings. Steve rolls with whatever is happening, there when you want him to be, giving you space when you don’t. Nothing is the same, life is always interesting for the Harrington’s.

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 6 months ago

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I feel like the idea of “more practical” outfits is kind of overused in ND’s Spop. I mean, come on.

A GIANT cape with wings? Not practical.

Same goes for Glimmer. A body suit, a vest, and a cape? AND wings? It’s a hat on a hat in a hat.

No wonder her wings were so small. Those things were literally stunted.

Frosta wearing this 24/7? Not practical.

This scene. They BOTH should’ve gotten caught on branches and brambles. They’re both wearing long flowing outfits. Not practical.

Exposed tum? Great for looking good. And for stabbing. Not practical. No one living in deserts irl does this. They wear light and breezy robes for breathability and coverage. Shoutout to BFS for also not dressing appropriately.

Cutting holes in SPACE SUITS for hair and tails? Not practical.

Spinnerella’s… Armor? That hardened pink thing that’s only covering her left side and the swirls probably stabbing into her stomach and thigh? Not practical.

These bracers? Either too flimsy seeing how easily they are bent back, or if they worked properly Adora’s wrists can’t bend all the way. Not practical.

This outfit for a guard? Not practical.

Catra, Scorpia, Entrapta…. Hell, DT has TWO. All the windows windows. All the cutouts. I like them. I wear them. I think they look cool. But in this show? Not practical.

agree with all of this!

like,, i know a lot of people are just gonna say “it's a fantasy show, it doesn't have to be realistic!” and i can understand the idea of wanting your characters to have an aesthetically pleasing design but

1. that can be done while giving the characters a practical and secure armor (for example, general amaya from tdp looking hot as fuck while wearing an almost full set of armor)

2. just change the characters into a proper armor when they're fighting. spop only does this ONCE in the entire show, and that was during the battle of brightmoon. and even then, they fucking erased adora's armor so that catra could scratch and injure her. what was the point of the armor then?

and catra doesn't wear an armor EVER, her outfit looks like it's made out of regular cloth but she somehow almost never gets injured while fighting. even when adora slams her into a boulder, she's completely unharmed except for a few scratches. i get that cartoons can't show blood but you can still see that catra isn't injured and exhausted the way adora is.

the main reason i have a gripe with this is because of all the fans saying that the original she-ra wasn't realistic enough. either leave the OG alone and just accept that not everything is perfect or realistic in fiction, or criticize spop the same way you criticize the original. you can't have double standards here.

#ask #spop critical #spop salt #spop #spop discourse #spop criticism #she ra #anti spop #those space suits piss me off so much btw #do these people not know how space works?#couldn't they just let adora remove her ponytail for a while or stuff catra's stupid tail into her suit??

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bloodreddemons · 4 months ago

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All Hazbin Hotel Fashion Ranked w/Roasting | (imo)

(Pilot to Present)

#20 Valentino | He literally looks like he smells of alcohol, smoke, and piss. How tf has Velvette not fixed him yet?!?! This gawdy wannabe gimp getup is NOT OK... He just strolls around naked under that Santa Claus/Zebra printed Nightmare....🤡 (I like his glasses tho imma rob him)

#19 Adam | Dude be fucking having that moo moo dress ON. I find it hilarious that his army is dripped out more than he is. I mean his final battle moo moo dress was a bit better than the original but he really just walks around like a certain Ice King from one of my fav Cartoon Network shows lmfaooooo. ✝️

#18 Carmilla Carmine | Lackluster. I wasn't really wowed by either two of her looks all that much I guess. There's just absolutely no color I kinda wish they incorporated maybe more purple or something in her. Carmilla also got some BIG ass hands. Idk her design just kinda throws me off. It reminds me of something abstract.

#17 Vox | I really like his coat and just the overall palette of that electric blue situation but his shirt low-key is giving me Freddy Krueger tease lol. As well as Pyrocynical and that dude from the show "Villainous". I hope in Season 2 Vox serves us more looks and variety. He's not bad, he just obviously doesn't compare to others.

#16 Katie Killjoy | She got only like one outfit but man does it EAT. A bit cliche for a reporter but it's just still too cunty to turn down. The pearls, the cut, the makeup, fucking slay I guess. Miss Bryce Tankthrust still serving in hell is a MUST. 📣

#15 Lute | Ngl I was just shocked how pretty Lute was. That fucking face card and you hide it under a MASK?!?! Her eyelashes/eyes and that bob is just chef's *kiss* honestly and I actually really do think the angel uniforms are pretty hot as well. You just can't go wrong with a thigh high BOOT. Girls really get it done. 💯 (Keep the mask OFF!!!)

#14 Mimzy | I hate Mimzy with a passion but I can't deny flapper dresses are beautiful. Mimzy you absolutely devoured and the body is bodying Cheers, you're timeless lol. 🥂

#13 Husk | Please don't hate me guys. I love Husk and all, but ever since Alastor stole his soul he also stole his swag. Man's hasn't worn a fucking shirt since that day lmao. 🤣🤣 Like where DID his suit go??? I would be depressed and wasted too if I was him. I don't hate his design or outfit, I just think it's a bit too simple compared to the other main characters. His personality and Keith David 100% make up for it tho. ♠️

#12 Rosie | Just like Mimzy but like, tripled lmao. Just timeless beauty that never dies. Mary Poppins WHO???? My favorite is honestly probably her hat, that thing is like the crown jewel. Color palette is also kinda satisfying, I stan the pink and mauve. 🌷

#11 Emily | She's like a breath of fresh air from all the red and pink tones. The baby and periwinkle blue is so beautiful and so are her features. Them big ass eyes, the freckles, & whimsical hair. I liked her dress too. Big W's for Em. 💙

#10 Niffty | Cutieeeee. I really like her redesign compared to the old one. 1950's style of fashion is also still very appealing to me as well. The pink dress she was wearing was so fucking adorable I almost had a stroke just to see it in person. She's also weirdly gorgeous covered in angel blood. 💄

#9 Charlie Morningstar | Ngl...a lil disappointed in our girl. As the main character....to have so many just similar looking outfits with not much variety is kinda the most unsatisfying thing ever. It often feels like her fanart and photos that we rarely ever see contain better outfits than the ones that repeatedly appear in the show. However there's nothing really wrong with her final design I just sometimes really miss the old one from the pilot. I think her rounder features and the lighter pink suited her better. Final battle outfit was her best look so far tho in my opinion. 💋

#8 Sir Pentious | Sir Pentious style sorta never changed, he's still rocking that snake do-rag and that suit top that's striped just like everybody else's. 😮‍💨 I really wish they would've made Pentious' suit a floral pattern. I know stripes might have been popular in the 1800s but floral was very popular too and it'd be something different that'd still completely match his Era. I love his steam punk style and his other creative looks but his HEAVEN outfit was just the best. Saint Pentious > Sinner Pentious!! 🤍

#7 Velvette | Thank LUCI they changed and upgraded this girl bro. She was lowkey a hot fucking mess in my opinion before. Man did she come out SWINGING. Not just with looks but also personality I was floored. She's literally the Queen of hairdos and assembling, not many people can pull off that many patterns. Unique and trendy with the energy to back it up. Velvette you'll always be famous!! ❤

#6 Lucifer Morningstar | 6.6.6!!! Very few outfits but I never seen a moment where this man did not serve!! He's always got that fire ass coat on and he gives you the hatsssss. They're stylish while also telling you exactly who he is. It's like regal as fuck while also kinda simple. You don't have to think too much while ogling to just know that he's a dapper ass cHaD. ❤️‍🔥🍎

#5 Cherri Bomb | Loved all of Cherri's outfits. She fucking devoured and blown away over half the competition. She is Kesha vibes. Mama is Avril Lavigne vibesss. She just gives it to you with her punk rock, y2k, fashion. (I know she's supposed to 80s Era but still lol..) Always loved her base look but the final battle outfit and the one from the addict music video were amazing. 🍒

#4 Vaggie | Vaggie the fucking queen you areeee. Talk about versatility. She can really pull off a lot. I noticed that she experiments with her hair a lot like Velvette and I LOVE THAT. The fucking bob?!? High ponytail?!?! Great bangs and great length?!?! Vaggie teach me your wayssss. I always liked her bow and a lot of her outfits. Most of them are sexy without trying too hard. I don't think I can even pick a favorite but I'd probably go with final battle outfit and also her angel gown because that is just too cute lol. 💅🏼

#3 Alastor | As soon as Alastor popped up on scene he was fucking slaying. Literally definition of "pink is cute but red is sexy". He got those sharp ass acrylics ON and his coat is fabulousy spooky lmfao. He also went from being bed bug red to....even more red and sharper (because that was some how possible) lol. Red and black is always an amazing combo and his deer-like appearance is kinda appealing even tho it's a demon lol. I'd venture to even say he's probably one of the most fashionable Overlord's. He's just eye catching and has that AURA. Maybe it's because he's an ancient relic with very peculiar cLaSs but it's really working for him. Keep going you psycho I will see you in hell lmao. (Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka called 🍓💀)

#2 Angel Dust | FUCKING KING SHIT. He just serves every time without fail. He has a whole wardrobe and they all fucking bang. The clothes are sexy, the makeup is sexy, the AURA is sexy. AND IT SHOULDN'T BE TRIFLED WITH!!! It's really sad because he spends so much time to "get pretty" for pieces of shit, but it doesn't take away Angel's talent to pull off so many gorgeous and hot things. Angel will always be a standout icon and I bet Heaven will look SO good on him. 💗

#1 Lilith (Probably lol) | We barely seen her, but I just KNOW she'd devour. Point. Blank. Period. lmfao. 👑♀️

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azuramarigold · 1 month ago

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Sneak peak on a new JJK work!

It's a No Curse AU setting - Reader x JJK men pairing (Nanami, Gojo, Sukuna, possibly more)

You're a typical office worker that one day gets fired at your job, but your friend, Yuji Itadori, who works at the coffee shop that you discovered a year ago on your way to work, suggests that you apply to his uncle's company.

Let's see how this rolls?

"Underground Dealings"

- coming soon to tumblr and AO3!

Also, this is the first time I'm writing a Reader x *insert hot fictional man here* type of thing... so... yeah.

Characters: officeworker!reader x CEO!Sukuna, officeworker!reader x businessassociate!Gojo, officeworker!reader x salaryman!Nanami; other pairings to be added

Other characters: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Naoya Zen'in, Maki Zen'in, Mai Zen'in, Uraume; other characters to be added.

Genre: modern au, eventual smut, 18+, angst, violence, gore

WARNINGS: smut, blood, violence, gore, using weapons, death, drug use, smoking, alcohol use, cussing.

A/N: Enjoy the prologue, which is the sneak peak of this series!

Prologue

There were plenty of coffee shops in the city, but they were always so crowded and busy that you felt like you were always being watched or rushed.

That was the problem with fast-paced society, there were no more connections. Everything had to be there now and quick or it wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter where you went, it just felt like that everywhere.

It was a blessing that you found this hole in the wall café. It was on your way to work, a decent space, reasonable prices, and the people at the counter always smiled and greeted you as though you had known each other for years. The other patrons were friendly as well, giving small pleasantries and smiles while waiting for their baked goods and lattes.

You had befriended the employees quickly, them just graduating high school and saving money to go to college. While you were in your mid-twenties, it was still easy to get along with them and you enjoyed visiting them every day as you became a regular within the year.

An eager pink-haired boy was behind the counter, a large smile on his face with honey-colored eyes. He wore the uniform for the shop, a navy-blue polo with golden buttons with a red apron with the logo of the shop, a cartoon tiger with coffee beans around it, plastered across the chest, and he wore a navy-blue visor with his pink hair spiked through. His nametag indicated that his name was “Yuji I.”.

“Hello, Miss Y/N!” Yuji greeted you like he did every morning with a wave. He then simply put a large drink on the counter in the shop’s signature red cup, decorated with black markings, steam coming from the vent on the lid. Along with the coffee he put a wrapped apple strudel next to it. “Your usual!” he then beamed happily.

You sigh with relief, excited to see your dark nectar of the gods being presented to you. “Thank you so much, Yuji! You’re a life saver!” you cry out overdramatically. “I’ll definitely need this for my meeting today…!”

Yuji gave a wink. “Well, good thing I put an extra shot of espresso in it – on the house of course!” he smirked.

“You’re too sweet, don’t let your manager here you say that…” you sigh worriedly.

Yuji rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “What’s he gonna do? Fire me?” he scoffed. “Besides, it’s just me and Megumi in the shop right now, and the ‘manager’ doesn’t stroll in until about after lunch anyways.”

A spikey, raven-haired boy then came through an archway that led to the kitchen in the back, him with a light grimace, his blue eyes narrow, as he was concentrating on balancing baked goods that were towering on silver tray. Like Yuji, he was wearing the uniform, but instead of a red apron, he wore a light blue one. His nametag read “Megumi F.”.

“Can you not be so loud and actually help?” Megumi grumbled to Yuji. His voice was deeper than Yuji’s naturally boyish sounding one. Megumi glanced over at you and nodded in his head in acknowledgement. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Morning, Megs, are you okay?” you asked.

“Just preparing is all,” the young man replied. “If someone would help, we could get things done faster.” He then glared at Yuji.

“Hey! It’s not my fault Nobara is late for her shift… AGAIN!” Yuji shouted in defense. “I would be back there helping, and she would be at the counter!”

“Whatever…” Megumi only sighed as he set the tray on the counter. He then took a piece of wax paper and picked up a dog shaped sugar cookie, decorated with white royal icing, and handed it to you. “Here, freshly made.”

“Oh, thanks!” you graciously took the cookie. “Aw, did you decorate it too look like Shiro?”

Megumi’s face instantly flushed. “Uh, no…” he stammered. “I mean, why would I use black icing for Kuro? That would stain everyone’s teeth…”

Yuji poked his friend’s burning face. “So, you admit it? You decorated the cookie to look like Shiro…?” he teased.

“I’m going to punch you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”

THWACK!

“OWIE! THAT REALLY HURT, MEGUMI!” Yuji shouted, his hands to his head cradling a bump.

“Next time I’ll punch you in the face,” Megumi promised with a deep frown.

The alarm on your phone went off, signaling that to inform you that your meeting started in less than twenty minutes.

“Oh, shit!” you cursed under your breath. “I gotta get going! The meeting is gonna start soon…!” You then took your wallet out and slapped money on the counter, always leaving extra for a tip even though the boys insist it was not necessary. “See you guys later!”

“See ya, Y/N!” Yuji shouted after you as you darted out the door.

“Talk to you later,” Megumi said, giving a subtle wave.

Luckily for you, your office job was a few blocks from the coffee shop. It was a small up and coming branch office that dealt with some dealings with larger companies around Tokyo and the rest of Japan. You were the assistant to the son of the next CEO, Naoya Zen’in, of the Zen’in Corporation, who oversaw that office to learn the basics of running the company.

Naoya just also happened to be the older cousin of Megumi, who told Naoya flat out, “I rather eat dirt and die than work for you,” and just decided not to have anything to do with the Zen’in family business. It was no skin of the older Zen’in’s nose, there were still plenty in their family that were underneath him so that he could boss around.

You arrived at the office, right on time, the office already bustling with employees rushing around with papers stacked up high in their arms and phones to their ears. With subtle nods and smiles, you made your way to the elevator to make it to the top floor to reach the penthouse office of Naoya.

As the elevator arrived with a charming ding! you swiped your ID card to open the doors to let yourself in. Naoya sat at his large oak desk, the glass window overlooking the small street below as the office wasn’t too high up due to being one of the Zen’in’s smaller business operations. However, the room was still sleek in design, matte blacks and shining chrome decorated the walls along with collector katanas from travels mounted.

Your heels clacked against the gray flooring, Naoya’s ears practically perk up like a dog’s as he spun in his chair to face you. He was grinning ear to ear, his smile almost giving you shivers up your spine.

“Ah, Y/N, welcome, welcome!” Naoya greeted with a subtle clap of his hands. “Let’s get our meeting started, shall we?” He noted the cups of coffee in your hands and the baked goods. “Eh, nothing for me? You know what I like…”

“I’m no longer an intern,” you reply coolly, settling yourself in the plush black chair in front of his desk. “You can ask one of them to get you your coffee.”

Naoya gave a loud, overdramatic sigh. “See, and this is why we’re having this meeting!” he complained, leaning back in his chair.

You raised a brow. “I’m… what? I beg your pardon?” You were genuinely confused. You were under the impression the meeting was to go over details with an upcoming deal with an up-and-coming conglomerate.

Naoya clicked his tongue. “Y/N, Y/N… I’m sorry, but, I’m gonna have to let you go,” he smirked.

Your heart fell to the floor. “W-What…!?” you shouted, immediately standing up from your chair. The chair screeched behind you so loudly, you thought everyone downstairs heard it. “Mr. Zen’in… I don’t understand… I do everything perfectly…!”

“You do the work fine, I’ll admit that,” Naoya admitted begrudgingly. “You just won’t do the ‘extras’ I want…” He then gave a pout.

You gritted your teeth. “Are… you really being that petty!?” you demanded. “You’re firing me because I won’t throw myself at you like the other women here!? Because that one gala you took me to, I refuse to fuck you!? That’s illegal…! I can sue for wrongful termination…!”

Naoya waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, sweetheart, like you can try that with the money my family has,” he almost yawned. “Look, I’ll let you keep your job if you suck me off right-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence as you threw your now barely warm coffee in his face. Naoya sputtered and jumped from his seat, wiping at his face in complete surprise.

“Oh, you fucking bitch!” he shouted. “If you weren’t fired before, you’re really fired now!”

“At least now it makes it worth it, you asshole!” you shouted at him. You then took your badge and threw it on his desk, your office laptop was haphazardly on his desk as well. “You can piss off, Zen’in, no wonder why a lot of your family thinks you’re a prick!”

Without another word, you turned your heel and made your way to the elevator. Pressing the button, keeping a straight face as the doors shut, still seeing droplets of coffee falling from the ends of Naoya’s stupid dyed blonde hair.

As the elevator descended, tears came. They were hot as they fell, your face flush with a combination of rage and embarrassment. You were made a fool, and now that prick was most likely going to make sure that you couldn’t get a job in any corporation ever again.

Once you made it to the bottom floor, you went to your desk and grab the few things you had there. A few coworkers (now ex-coworkers) looked at you in confusion as you grabbed your favorite coffee mug, a picture of you and your mother, and the pack of colored pens you got to take notes. You walked out of the office without saying a word to anyone, and no one spoke a word to you either.

The first place that came to mind was the coffee shop, so you returned there. The shop door dinged as you stepped in, a girl with dyed ginger hair perking up from behind the counter clearly trying to hide her phone. The girl recognized you and smiled, pulling out her phone again.

“Hey, Y/N,” the girl greeted, her brown/orange eyes glittering mischievously. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Like the boys she wore the same navy-blue polo, her apron was a lovely pale yellow with pink roses hand stitched into it, and she wore a nametag that read “Nobara K.”.

Heavy footsteps ran from the back, Yuji’s pink hair popping in through the archway that led to the kitchen. “Y/N?!” he gasped in surprise. “What are you doing back!?”

Megumi’s spiked hair popped up from behind. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work…?” he repeated Nobara’s questioned.

“… I got fired…” you then cried.

Yuji’s eyes widened while Nobara’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious!?” they shouted in unison.

Megumi only glanced away, his arms crossed. “I should’ve seen that coming… my cousin is an ass…” he muttered.

“I threw my coffee in his face too…” you then groaned miserably as you found a table and slumped into the chair. “So, I bet he’s gonna blacklist me so I can’t work in any other corporate office…”

Nobara had already prepared you a cookies-and-cream cupcake, the design a cute white rabbit (courtesy of Megumi) in the frosting while saying she was going to make you a fresh cup of coffee. Megumi glanced over to Yuji who was looking through his phone.

“Well… I know a place you can apply…” Yuji suggested, but it sounded like he really didn’t want to. “You know the ‘manager’ I always bitch about…?”

You gave Yuji a sad smile. “Yuji, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to work here…”

“No, not here,” Yuji assured. “The ‘manager’ is actually the owner… and my… uncle.” He sounded like he wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“Huh…?” You dumbly said.

“My uncle… owns dozens of small businesses and restaurants…” Yuji then admitted sheepishly. “Ever heard of… Ryōmen Enterprises…?”

You nodded eagerly. “Y-Yeah… that’s the company that Naoya was trying to get in with…” you replied.

Yuji smiled and he rubbed his head. “Yeah… Sukuna Ryōmen… is my uncle…” he revealed. “He actually bought this small coffee shop just so we could work here in the summer and whenever we could once college classes start up.”

Megumi gave a nod. “Why do you think the logo is a tiger? It’s for Itadori, Yuji’s last name,” he then added.

You blinked. You had no idea that it was the connection.

“You think… your uncle will give me a job…?” you asked, your voice small.

Yuji nodded. “My uncle is kind of a dick sometimes, but he can be nice when he wants to be…” he told you. He then handed you Sukuna’s business card. “That goes directly to his secretary that number, Uraume. Tell them that Yuji, his awesome, most favorite nephew, is vouching for you!”

“You idiot, you’re his only nephew!” Nobara barked at him in irritation as she handed you your new coffee.

Yuji smiled widely. “One and done for my parents!” he said proudly, his hands on his hips. Both his friends just gave him a “why do you do this?” look.

You looked at the business card gingerly, the card solid black with the lettering in a blood red. The letters were smooth under your fingers, and you could tell there was something underneath that was telling you that maybe you shouldn’t get involved.

But shit… you really need a job now…

“Thanks, Yuji,” you told him with a smile.

You continued to chat for a few minutes before solemnly leaving, the business card burning a hole in your pocket. It took roughly an hour to get back to your apartment as it was outside the business district of Tokyo, and by the time you got there it was already dusk. Normally you return home much later in the day when it was nighttime, so it was almost pleasant to return when there was still some sort of light.

As soon as you unlocked your door and entered, you walked to the couch and threw your stuff to the side and flung yourself facedown onto one of the decorative pillows. A muffled scream ripped through your throat, all the anger and frustration forcibly coming out at once. You sat up and took a deep breath, happy to have gotten that out of your system.

Once again, the business card was burning in your pocket. Nervously, with fingers trembling, you took it out and let your eyes hover over the number.

“Here goes nothing…” you grumbled as you took your phone out. You dialed the number, hoping because of the time of day you can just leave a voicemail.

The phone picked up on the second ring.

“Sukuna Ryōmen’s office,” the voice that answered was a low, gravelly voice. Deep and powerful. Even through the phone that voice vibrated deep into your bones.

“Oh, hi, um… my name is Y/N L/N,” you greeted nervously. “My friend Yuji Itadori gave me this business card to leave a message for Uraume to arrange possibly a job interview with Mr. Ryōmen?”

The voice on the other line was silent for a moment. “You’re friends with that brat…?” the voice grumbled, sounding quite annoyed.

Odd to refer to your boss’s nephew like that…

“Um, yes, I am,” you firmly stated.

“Let me write your name down really quick…” There was the sound of a pen scratching. “And your number, sweetheart?”

Oh… okay…?

You gave them your number.

“Alright, give ya call tomorrow around noon, if you’re worth something, a face-to-face interview will be the same day.”

Click.

There was only a dial tone. You looked at the phone, which now said “Call Ended: 00:03:41” to indicate the phone call took less than four minutes to complete.

“Well… can’t be worse than Naoya…”

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs

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that-weird-skeleton-bastard · 9 months ago

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Undertale fankids :3

Colonna:

Eldest papyton kid.

Inherited Papyrus's energy and friendliness, and Mettaton's sass.

Loves to sing (it's also his way of stimming)

Besties with Achilles.

Enjoys being the center of attention, but also has mild social anxiety.

Fav colour is pink, fav food is waffles, fav animals are bunnies and foxes.

Despite being sometimes annoyed by them, is very protective of his little siblings.

Broadway:

Third born papyton kid (his twin sister, Harlow, was born about half an hour earlier)

Trans boy 🏳️‍⚧️.

Plays the keytar.

Very shy and reserved, lets Harlow and Colonna do the talking.

Fav colour is yellow, fav food is chicken nuggets, fav animal is cats.

Cannot defend himself for the life of him.

Both him and Harlow has shit vision (visors are prescription)

Has heterochromia, left eye is yellow and the right one is red.

Harlow:

Second born papyton kid (like mentionned above, was born first)

Professional annoying little sister, loves to tease Colonna, but still cares a lot about him and the rest of her siblings.

plays drums.

Avid Maretu and Kikuo fan (doesn't know what the lyrics mean-)

much more extraverted than Broadway.

Fav colour is red, fav food is chicken nuggets, fav animal is foxes.

She has pretty weak, uncontrolled bone magic, so she just whacks people with her drumsticks.

has heterochromia, left eye is red and the right one is yellow.

Garamond:

Fourth born papyton kid, was born a bit early.

very feisty, picks fights with bullies at school.

has a strong sense of justice, and won't let bad people go unpunished, even if he more often than not just takes the blows instead.

Really enjoys spending time with uncle Sans.

Undyne teaches him self defense.

Wants to learn how to play bass.

Fav colour is black, fav food is homemade hamburgers, fav animal is deers.

Not easily scared, reckless, and often bites more than he can chew.

Lindas:

Youngest papyton kid.

Single celled organism (JUST LOOK AT HER-)

Her ghost sheet kept falling off because of how short it is, so Mettaton wrapped a ribbon around her neck to keep it in place.

Very happy baby, giggles a lot.

fav colour is currently unknown, as well as her favourite food, as for her fav animal... she really likes her unicorn stuffie, so unicorn I guess?

Courier:

Sansby kid (debating wether i should give them a little sibling or not-)

Selective mute.

Introvert, but really enjoys their cousins's company.

Was born prematurely, still has a weakened immune system to this day.

Loves tea, wants to open a tea shop someday.

Kind and softspoken like Grillby, a lot smarter then they let on like Sans.

Fav colour is navy blue, fav food is macarons, fav animal is dragons

Their flames only burn when they want to.

Achilles:

Alphyne kid.

Plus-sized, and will punch you if you make fun of his weight.

Quick to make friends, but Colonna is his number one bestie. (may or may not also have a slight crush on him- *COUGH* *COUGH*)

Very hot-headed like Undyne.

inherited both Undyne's sensitivity to heat and Alphys's cold blood, so maintaining his body heat is a bit trickier than normal.

his weapon of choice is electric spears he can summon at will.

an absolute nerd who love to infodump about cartoons and anime.

Fav colour is orange and red, fav food is tacos, fav animal is sharks.

#papyton #papyton fanchild #papyton fankid #sansby #sansby fanchild #sansby fankid #alphyne #alphyne fanchild #alphyne fankid #undertale #undertale fanart #undertale fankid #Papyrus and Mettaton... love eachother very much lol

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justsomeclintasha · 1 year ago

Text

Clint doesn’t remember what made his father angry that night. It could have been anything or nothing at all.

He’s learned how to take a punch by now, but this time it’s worse as he’s grabbed by the throat and pummeled against the wall. Finally it stops, and his head is swimming as he’s thrown out the door into the pouring rain. He knows without trying that it’s locked.

Crawling through the mud, he makes his way to the dog house. He doesn’t know why it’s here. They never had a dog. Never will. Never could.

The world is spinning and muffled as he curls his body inside. The floorboards are rotted. He can’t tell if it’s water or blood running down the side of his face. Thunder rumbles outside, but he no longer hears it.

XXXXX

Barney tells him to shut up when the cops knock on the door. He stuffs his Captain America comic book under the cushion and peeks out through the curtains.

His brother clenches his jaw as they speak to him. He shakes his head and walks back inside.

“Pack a bag,” he tells him, and disappears into his room. Confused, Clint looks towards the officers. They explain to him that his parents are dead- drunk and wrapped around a tree. He’s relieved about his father, sad about his mother, and before he can figure it out, Barney is back and pulling him away.

“Pack,” he tells him again, shoving a gym bag in his arms. Clint doesn’t know what to take, so he finds a few outfits and his trading cards. He doesn’t know if they’ll come back and he doesn’t ask.

Riding in the police car would be better under different circumstances. The office they let them sleep in is hot and smells like cologne. A fan hums softly in the corner.

“I miss mom,” Clint says quietly. Barney huffs and rolls over to face the back of the couch.

“Don’t be a baby.”

XXXXX

Having a permanent place to stay is strange. He thought he might like it, but the bed is too soft and the room is too quiet. He slips out from under the covers and pads over to the window.

Rain trickles slowly down the glass. He presses him palm against it and sighs. A slight headache pulses at his temples. He should take his aids out and give his ears a break, but he can’t relax yet. Can’t let his guard down.

The man who brought him in, Coulson, seemed genuine, and he prides himself on his ability to read people. But what if. What if…

He turns away, slumping down on the couch with his head in his hands. It’s been three days of not sleeping and it’s starting to wear him down. He could read a book or watch some tv.

Flicking through the channels, he stops at a cartoon. A dog wearing a police hat is interrogating a fluffy white cat on the screen. He shrugs and pulls a blanket over his lap.

XXXXX

The Widow is a master of changing her disguise. He almost didn’t recognize her when she walked into the hospital, blonde and wearing a bright pink rain coat. But now, the jacket is gone and the red hair is back.

He furrows his brow as she reaches into her pocket. He watches her take a deep breath, then click something small in her hand.

Immediately, an explosion rocks the air and he ducks on instinct. It’s a block away. The hospital. The kids. It’s on fire and it’s burning and what the hell-

His eyes snap back to the alleyway. She touches her ear and says something into her comm. Rage pulses through him, and he brings up his sniper rifle before he’s even thinking.

And then he stops.

Because she throws the comm into the storm drain and falls to her knees in a puddle, arms wrapped around herself in a hug as she sobs.

And shit, he thinks, lowering the gun with a sigh.

There’s something in there worth saving.

XXXXX

He’s driving too fast and he knows it.

Rain beats heavy on his windshield, wipers going as quickly as they can and still unable to keep up. She’s probably going to yell at him when he gets there for his carelessness.

He parks outside the front of her apartment. Usually they stay at the tower, but tonight she’s here. The flower basket on her front porch swings wildly in the wind. An effort to pull his hood up is useless. He’s already drenched.

The door is unlocked and she’s curled up on the couch, watching him with wary eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re soaked.”

“You sounded like you were freaking out on the phone.”

“Do you want a towel?”

“Tasha.” Her nickname, the one no one else can call her. He kneels down in front of her on the floor. “Tell me what’s going on,” he prods gently. After a moment, she reaches into her sweatshirt and pulls out a little plastic stick with two blue lines.

He looks at her in shock, and for the first time in a long time he can tell she’s scared.

“Nat you’re..?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

She presses her hands to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, and he pulls her into his arms, both of them wet and crying, until finally he draws back to look at her.

“It’s good yeah?”

“It’s amazing,” she confirms, and that starts another whole round of crying. “You’re still soaked,” she blurts out, pushing him back. He laughs, wiping his eyes.

“So are you.”

“I love the rain,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back.

“Me, too.”

#clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha fanfic #clint barton

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hallowgracie · 2 months ago

Text

Origin of "Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl"

Author's Note: The Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl started as a short story opening assignment in my creative writing classes. Like the other creative writing projects that grew beyond their original parameters, the novella in the works is almost completely different from this original concept.

Still, I think it's been fun to share them, and these do establish some of the themes and ideas I intend to explore in the actual novella, and are ultimately the core of the project. I hope you enjoy this insight into the origins of one of my wips.

...

No one ever tells you what happens next, when you defeat the Big Evil. Everyone has opinions up to that point, and no problems telling you what they think you should be doing. But once the deed is done, the sword plunged through the heart and the world free of some meglomaniac in a cape? That’s when the quiet comes in.

It first came with her last breath, when she went still under the holy blade. My ears rang, and I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. It came with the end of spells ricocheting off of the lair’s walls, the breaking of glass and the crackling of fire. Even the screams in the city stopped, with the final wave of my wand.

Even he was quiet, I realized as I’d turned my back to what I’d done, to the broken skyscraper window over the city I’d saved. My knight in shining armor, my one true companion in this, the one who always had some terrible joke or witty passive-aggressive comment to keep us from really thinking about what we were doing—he was silent.

He just stood there like that, looking at me.

I looked down at myself—the mythic incarnation of evil or whatever didn’t leave any blood stains on my gloves or glittery magical girl gown. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, the illusion of it being there all the same.

I should have said something then. Some cheesy line, like we were in a kids’ cartoon or a Disney movie or my favorite manga.

“It’s done, it’s over. We did it, my love—let’s go home.”

But I was never the smooth-talker, the speech-giver. Unfortunately, he was. And even he was at a loss for words.

Well, I’d never been the protagonist-y type, and I wasn’t going to start then.

So I just kicked the ground and said, “I guess that’s it, then.”

Before he could say anything, I waved my wand. In a shower of pink petals and a tween girl’s idea of the best perfume, I was back in my own apartment.

And the quiet washed over me again, leaving me with only my own thoughts and that steady, faithful heartbeat.

The morning after I’d completed the mission I’d sacrificed my teen and tween years for, I decided to get a scrapbooking kit.

...

The decision was made at 4 AM, when I’d finally had enough. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and this couldn’t happen again. So I did the only thing I could—I got up and started my morning routine to bide my time until the craft store two stops from the apartment opened for the day.

I started with brewing a pot of extra-strong coffee. I made sure there was enough for my roommate—it would only be a few hours before Gwen would be up for her 8 AM class. Then it was time to hit the shower. I winced as I felt the hot water hit the parts of my body stained black and blue, hissing when it rushed over the cuts. I’d never gotten entirely used to it, after so many mornings of the same. I dabbled concealer over my under eye-bags and scar with all the artistry that eight years of practice provided.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Gwen was waiting for me.

“What are you doing up so early?” She demanded, a mug of pitch-black coffee in her hand.

“I’m taking the T down to the craft store.” I shrugged. “It opens at like, six, right?”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. “You’ve finally lost it. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that ever since I moved in.”

“Yeah, because you talk to yourself in squeaky voices, it’s demented,” she shot back.

I winced. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“Obviously.” She sipped her coffee. “How do you do that, by the way? That voice is super grating.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. I’d long thought that Dwija’s voice was annoying. Or at least, ever since I passed puberty.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “It’s a talent, I guess.”

“It’s something,” Gwen muttered. “Well, wait for me, then.”

“Huh?” I adjusted a barrette in my hair, as it had been slowly sliding out over the course of our brief conversation.

“Well, I’m not letting you go out like this alone,” she huffed. “After all, what if you snap and lose it on the T?”

It was my turn for raised eyebrows. “Talking to myself in silly voices and morning crafting impulses does not a serial killer make.”

“Whatever, just stay there until I’m at least decent enough for the T.” Gwen waved her miraculously already-empty coffee cup at me.

“Okay.” I’d long learned not to fight my roommate on certain things.

It somehow surprised me to see the sun still rose when we left the underground station. First, because I didn’t realize it was already doing it this early again. But also because it felt too normal, after all that had happened the night before.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, that the world would go on turning like nothing ever happened. As far as anyone was concerned, nothing ever happened when it came to the magical girl. Lumina was a curiosity, a source of excitement, a local celebrity who rode on parade floats during St. Patrick’s Day. But everyone was careful to treat her as never truly real. That way, the threats she faced weren’t either.

Because that would mean opening your mind up to a host of phenomena beyond heaven or earth, or whatever it was that Hamlet said to Horatio.

Which leads me back to scrapbooking.

“I still don’t understand.” Gwen tilted her head as she followed me down the scrapbooking aisle. “What made you decide at four in the morning that you wanted to take up scrapbooking, of all things?”

I shrugged and filled my basket with scrapbook papers, stickers, and textured ribbons. “I just felt like doing something new.”

“But you’re always so busy!” She followed me to the end-cap, where discounted scrapbooks lay in a hastily-thrown together heap. “You never had time for anything but studying!”

I just scooped up a book and headed toward the cash register. “I’ve got some free time now. Might as well keep my mind occupied.”

It was better than facing the silence.

Yet it was in silence that the cashier scanned the items. It wasn’t until we were walking out of the craft shop that Gwen spoke again.

“You’re going out with me on Friday night.” There was no room for argument.

I still was going to try, until I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. Not the iPhone in my right pocket.

“Go on ahead, I have to take this.”

She gave me a funny look, but continued down underground, apparently satisfied that I was only partially out of my mind. I waited until she was gone. Then I removed from my left pocket the pink shell of a cellphone from a prior era.

It was a rounded device with bright buttons and glitter inlaid in the surface, the smaller screen like an obsidian mirror. It made chiming, musical noises that brought on a sense of nostalgia and alienness at the same time. I knew it wasn’t really a cellphone, but rather the gadget of the realm parallel our own, the main tool of Lumina.

Iridescent runes appeared across the black mirror screen.

My stomach sank. I knew the name, even if I’d never come to understand their language.

Altalune.

I knew what he wanted. A part of me wanted to reach out, to hear his voice again, because I wanted it too. But that would be a moment of weakness. One that I couldn’t afford, and I was now realizing I never would. I slipped it back in my pocket.

Sorry.

...

The possibilities of the evening stretched endlessly before me. I was twelve years old, the last time I had freedom like this. No responsibilities, no immediate homework, no need to remove the cellphone from my left pocket and transform into the champion of the Lost Realm, the imitation of a warrior princess of long ago.

Instead of high heels and a fluffy dress, it was booty shorts and flip-flops for me. My scrapbook lay open on the desktop, all my newfound supplies scattered around so I could see them. The sky was the limit, and my blood hummed at the idea of creating something.

It would be an awesome scrapbook, a work of art as an autobiography.

Now all I had to do was make it.

Well, to start it off, I’d need to ask Mom for the hospital photos and a picture of the old little house where the first formative years of my childhood were spent. Then there would be elementary school pictures from Field Day and pool parties and the Natural Science Museum field trips.

But what about after that?

There were less photographs of me at my parents’ house around middle school. Beyond a few sleepovers and vacations and every year’s school picture, there was little to have documented. I didn’t have time for clubs, or birthday parties. My friendships never lasted long, always cut off in fear of them discovering my secrets, getting too close.

It was around high school when only the yearbook photos were left, when I pushed my parents away too.

There were plenty of pictures of Lumina over the years.

But this wasn’t about her. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be. But she had taken over my life, I was realizing as I stared down the blank pages. She’d come into my life and stolen several years, and for what?

To avenge a kingdom I never knew? For the defeat of a primeval evil that still wouldn’t stop simple human greed and malice?

How much of my life have I wasted?

Before I could have my mental breakdown in peace, a light pierced the warm darkness of my room, scattering sparks of glitter all over the paper. As the light faded, the shape of a rounded cat-like creature floated over my desk.

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Dwija?”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” I couldn’t help but wince as her high-pitched, tinny voice. “Dwija just wants to make sure you’re alright!”

I sighed. Getting mad at the little cat fey from the Lost Realm was like getting mad at a child. For all that she might be the reason I was in this mess, and how she’d conveniently left out a lot of things over the years, she was extremely sensitive. And she meant well. That still counted for something, even after all this time.

“I’m as okay as I can be.” I pulled out the cellphone. “Are you back here looking for this?”

Dwija blinked at me, her eyes as big and shiny as a new Beanie Baby’s. “Dwija meant what Dwija said all those years ago. You used to be Princess Lumina, back in the Lost Realm. It belongs to you, even after the mission is done.”

“Fine.” I tossed it onto my desk—I didn’t care if it broke now.

Dwija winced, even though it was fine. That thing had survived falling to the street at a height that would kill a person and then getting run over by a bus. A little tossing and throwing wasn’t going to be what did it in.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. “Sorry. But really, what was your first clue?”

Dwija tilted her head. “Dwija didn’t mean to make you angry. Dwija thought you would be really happy now! Delmore is defeated and the evil from the Lost Realm has been destroyed, meaning she has no hold over this world anymore.”

“The Lost Realm is still destroyed,” I reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you told me. And it’s not like I can remember being Princess Lumina anyway. So who cares?”

“But Delmore was affecting your realm, forcing men to do bad things!” Dwija’s voice inched up an octave. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that she was going to destroy this realm too?”

My stomach squirmed. “I guess I do. You didn’t tell me it would only end with me killing her, though.”

“Dwija doesn’t think of it as killing a person,” Dwija said. “Delmore wasn’t really a person, she was the incarnation of all the evil in peoples’s hearts in the Lost Realm. She was never really alive and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“That’s the thing.” I was surprised at how soft and hoarse my own voice was. “She was still a person, on some level. And I wanted to stop her—but I never wanted to kill her. I never would have agreed to it, if that was the end.”

“Then Dwija is glad that Dwija never explained it.” Dwija’s tail flicked. It started to swish, casting magenta glitter all over my desk. “You had to do it to save this world and many others. Dwija is sorry that no one from the Old World will be able to remember it. But you can still have lots of fun and adventures now!”

She shifted position midair and took on a less chiding tone. “Besides, Dwija would have thought that you would be looking forward to seeing Altalune now.”

#the liberation of an ex magical girl #writeblr #my writing #deconstruction fantasy #magical girls #magical girl stories #short stories #short story #wip concept

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