#lavender jewels

[art-of-reinav]

Royal Crystal Insect Set ✨ This beautiful and magical set can be bought separately in my kofi shop!

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Commission me!

[transparent-hopes]

[tolerateit]

some fabulous options up on my etsy page for you to check out! hoping to get some more orders, we got charged twice for our credit card bill and bailey will need to see the vet if he doesn't get well very soon. we got groceries but things are so tight right now and we're barely hanging in there. anything is appreciated, especially reblogs! thank you so much!

P.pal - jenniferlmoore94

v*nmo - jennifer-moore-636

[roseandsalt]

kinda shocking that as far as i know in the wealth of korean skaters doing yuna kim programs we've never gotten a scheherazade tribute like it's one of her best free programs

[foragedmoonlight]

Black Opal Studs

[flickynightdarkness]

Disney villain OCs;

Jewel, Saber, Reap, Eden and Lavender

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley / female reader Secret baby trope / 18+ Inspo musing

It’s your eyes.

He notices them first.

They glance over from across the room, incredibly brief. You touch on everyone seated along the worn wood, cataloguing, categorizing, before turning your attention back to your friend, who seems to be in the middle of a story.

Like Johnny is.

“LT, ye even listenin’ to me?” Simon nods, but he’s still watching you. Tracing your spine, staring at the exposed skin on your neck. He imagines you smell like lavender, or citrus. Something spritely and soft. He conjures up the image of his thumb pressing into your bottom lip, and he wonders how plush it is.

You look like a perfect little treat.

And he’s in need of one.

“She’s bonnie.” Johnny sips his beer, eyebrow raised. “Like what ye see?” He shrugs. He hasn’t taken a woman to bed in years. It always ends up feeling wrong somehow, stale. Unease twists in his gut when clothes start to come off, anxiety trembles in the swell of his blood, and his scars begin to feel fresh. Torn open.

Sex makes him feel torn apart. Ripped to shreds.

But he’s not opposed to having another go at it. Not if you're the one taking his cock like a good girl.

There's something about you. You’re bright, like a little jewel, sparkling in the sun. A piece of something precious. Too golden to be tarnished, too sunny to be sullied by darkness.

He nearly swallows his tongue when you appear at the end of the bar, opposite of Johnny. You’re waiting to order another beer, he assumes, but you look over at him for too long, a second or two, and it tells him all he needs to know.

It’s in your eyes.

“Hi.” Your lips curve upwards at each side, a secretive smile, imparted only on him. His heart flutters like a school boy, young and naive all over again. His skin is hot, prickled under his clothes, hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

Fuck, you're so pretty. You're perfect.

He's staring at your lips, memorizing the pert Cupid's bow, the soft color that shines when your tongue darts out to lick them.

Johnny clears his throat. Simon's brain catches up to his body. "Hey-"

An oversized brute jostles you, his shoulder nearly pushing you into Johnny. You blink, doe eyed, and then step back from the bar, allowing him to take up the space where you just occupied.

Simon grits his teeth, vision tunneling red.

Kitten doesn't have any claws.

That's okay, he thinks. You wouldn't need them, if you had him.

He wonders if violence scares you. If he beats this ogre to a bloody pulp, would you run from him? He takes in the confused crinkle in your brow, wide, shy eyes, and decides on a different tactic.

"C'mere love." He husks, extending his hand, pushing Johnny's stool over with the heel of his foot, carving out a space for you to sidle in between them.

You press against his thigh as you take your spot, leaning forward to talk to the bartender, and when you look over your shoulder at him, small smile tugging at your lips, he presses his palm to the small of your back.

"And... two shots of whiskey, please."

You're... everything.

Naked, laid out on your bed with your legs spread, eyes still wide and sweet, and he can barely get his mouth to work as he looks at you.

"Simon," you whimper in the dark, hands reaching, searching, and he kisses each finger like they're a decadent treat, one he'll never have enough of, "please."

Moonlight illuminates your face, shines across the curves of your body, and he has to blink multiple times to steady himself, to keep himself grounded.

Your fingers don't feel like razors. Your mouth isn't torture. Every soft word you give him is like a balm. You're everything.

And he's going to show you, he's going to make sure you know- you're everything.

He's going to fuck you face to face.

But first, he needs-

Your hand wraps around his wrist. "I'm on the pill." you whisper, desperate. "I want to feel you... I'm clean, if you-" The trust you're implying is a foreign concept, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries. You're going to let him fuck you raw? You're going to let him feel the clutch of your pussy, without any protection?

You're out of your mind.

But so is he.

"I haven't been with anyone in years." His accent is a rasp, heavy with desire. "And 've got a clean bill of heath."

It's a mutual agreement. And it doesn't take any convincing.

"You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy raw, sweet girl? Is that it?" His mouth covers yours, and then trails down to your neck, nips across the tops of your breasts. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yeah," his fingers slide through your folds, teasing from top to bottom, swirling around your clit, "fuck, yeah, I want-"

"I've got a lot of cum for you, honey. You sure you can take it?" You clench around the finger he's slipped inside, and moan.

"Oh my god," Your spine arches, and he holds your hips, aligning himself before pushing into your body, melding the two of together almost perfectly.

Almost, because you're so bloody tight, it's like you're strangling him. He's not going to last.

"Relax," He murmurs, kissing your jaw, rubbing a slow circle around your clit. "There you go, that's my girl." It slips out, but you don't seem to care. Neither does he. Tonight, you're his. You and your body and your heart and your soul, belong to him. He'll mark you like you’re his. A fantasy, a wish, a far cry from reality.

In another life, maybe he'd have you forever. For real.

But in this life, he'll take what he can get, and you let him. You let him take and take and take all night long, on your back, face bared to him like he's the brightest star and not the darkness haunting dreams. You kiss him like it's real, and when he comes inside you once, and then twice, you let him stay there, locked tight, staring down into your eyes. He rubs your cheek with his thumb, and you smile. He presses his forehead against yours, and your cup the back of his head, gingerly kissing him, carefully, like you know. Like you can see him.

You say his name. You moan it. You scream it. It's never sounded so good, and he wonders if this is what it's like- to have and to hold.

In the morning, before the sun rises, he stands at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. He wishes you'd wake, wants you to open your eyes and ask him to stay, hopes you'll roll over and realize he's not there and call his name-

It's all a fantasy. Something that could never be more than what it was in that moment, in the moonlight, a secret held between two strangers, the first breath in the dawn.

He brushes his lips across your forehead one last time, and then disappears down the hall.

Out the door.

Out of your life.

[twistedlovelines]

who in the twst cast lets you put a ribbon on it. (Pomefiore, Ignihyde)

NSFW, MDNI, gn! reader <3

(Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw) (Octavinelle, Scarabia)(Diasomnia, Rollo, Crewel)

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

He’s not opposed to it; he’s heard about fabrics being used to restrain your partner during intimacy. That being said, he wants to procure the highest quality fabrics, and will spend hours sifting through different options to find one that suits him best. And don’t tell him you want to tie a simple ribbon around him either unless you’re creating an intricate design with it- No, he’ll find one that’s decorated and accented perfectly, whether it be with lace, precious metals, or even jewels. 

He’ll enjoy it if the ribbon is wrapped around him multiple times to stimulate multiple areas at once, and will particularly like it if you have him all tied up while you’re fucking him from behind, pushing his cock against the fabric with every movement <3 Just don’t expect him to not return the favor <3

Rook Hunt

Ooh! He’s delighted at this new addition to the bedroom, and will immediately bombard you with questions. How thick of a ribbon do you want? Is there a certain fabric you’ve had an eye on? Do you want it to have any sort of metal fastenings or charms on it? He’ll even suggest different types of bows you can tie around him if you’re unsure or wanting to experiment <3

He finds all of the sensations rather interesting, but is averse to ribbons made of polyester. He enjoys whenever you take the time to lavish his body in attention, and tying his cock with a bow is so special to him…You want to doll him up and reassert his role as yours? Take all the time you need; he’ll take whatever you will give <3

Epel Felmier

…lol you will have to wrestle him and win to get him to do it. He thinks decorating his dick of all things is ridiculous and unnecessary, but. A bet’s a bet. Feels deeply horny about it but incredibly emasculated so he will protest but if you suggest throwing away the ribbon he grumbles about how you’re just wastin’ fabric for no good reason. 

Prefers ribbons made of rougher textures (denim, burlap, etc) because they offer a heightened sense of friction compared to other fabrics. However, as much as he’ll never admit it, a lavender silk ribbon does look nice on him….

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Making him your catgirl was not on his bingo card for your kinks yet here we are . Blushes profusely and sets the room aglow with a pleasant shade of pink after you suggest the idea, and vehemently refuses. Yet after knowing him for a while, you could tell this was more of a show of bravado rather than actual refusal. When you bring the ribbon up to him, he can’t quite bring himself to refuse. 

He usually runs warm, so the silk ribbons offer a nicer sensation compared to the ones made of velvet. He’s too embarrassed to ask again but…if you receive a package of silk ribbons with varying designs (and perhaps technological features), they’re from him <3

a/n: will be doing diasomia and a few of the staff to finish off this series, but lmk if you want me to elaborate <33

[art-of-reinav]

Royal Crystal Insect Set - Discount!

I'm cutting the price down on these 3 items! 💜 September is almost over and this has to be one of the roughest months I've experienced. I've made way too little and I couldn't cover both bills and food. It's one or the other sadly. To buy them, here are the links! Key Spellbook Earrings

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[just-some-user-hunny]

Bastard readers dynamic in the family...

(Implied yandere targarians, heavily implied fem!reader)

With Daemon, it's full of one-sided hostility and fire. Ever since he took you from your little home, with your little bed of warm scrapped fur and the comforting presence of your mother, he's been the monster. The monster that snatched you away. His abduction seemed very... Him, to begin with. Spontaneous, mad, rebellious. But something in him drove him to take you. His blood, his dragonfire. Aegon may allow his little silver haired bastards to roam and survive on scraps, but Daemon is too proud of his blood to do so. You are his. His daughter. Your rebellion and fight against him does deal him pain, but it also drives him further. You may deny it as much as you like, but you are his little mirror. His reflection of spitting fire and anger. From a teary eyed toddler stomping their foot, to a mirthful teenager with poison in their eyes- it matters to him. His little dragon.

And since dragons share their emotions with their riders, these controlling and obsessive feelings do not limit to only Daemon. Ceraxes is an extension of your father, another pair of eyes and a tongue of fire that always hovers and opresses you. As a little child, Daemon often took you to ride dragon back upon the blood wyrm- a form of bonding as he liked to put it. Ceraxes would chirp and fixate on you, his mirthful grin wide like a shark as he stares at you. He purrs and growls in your presence, seeing you as a precious extension of his rider. His little human. He's very protective of you, but also very controlling. You step a foot out of line and he's hovering over you like a frightening serpent. There's no fire in his throat, but his frightening teeth glint in warning.

Rhaenyra adores you. You'll be the daughter she never had, and although at first she was furious to see her husband return with a screaming kicking bastard child in his arms, it didn't take her long to fall in love with you.

Although she adores her sweet boys, a small discreet part of her yearned for a precious little daughter of her own. A little girl to dress and adore and spoil, to give her everything. Rhaenary is a warm and loving person towards you, often placating your little sobs and warbled pouts with taking you in her arms and hushing you with soft loving words. Everything is alright, you're ok. If she's not soothing you with motherly words, then she's showering you in gifts of dragon glass figures and dresses. She herself adores her jewels and gowns, so she sees it only fitting that you too get the same luxurious treatment.

Syrax is doting and sweet to you, just like her rider. You're the only other person besides Rhaenary who may touch her. The golden dragon would preen and coo at you whenever you are within her line of sight, bowing her head low for affection. She purrs and coos, huffing hot dragon breath into your face to make you smile- even just a little. She allows you to touch the rough scales on her face, her own smile almost matching the warmth of your stepmother.

Dragon Rides with rhaenary are always more tolerable- the days are always warm and tame, blue skies and her wings riding upon blossoming clouds of gold and lavender. Rhaenary holds you close to her, a buckled harness added to her saddle especially for you.

Viserys is old and soft, and although his presence has always remained as the silvery old willowed man who sits upon the frightening throne made of jagged blades and glinting metal, he has always been passive with you. As your uncle, and the king, hes always handled you with a soft yet dismissive hand. He may not always acknowledge you that often, but when he does, it's always pleasant and filled with ramblings of creative art mediums and whatnot. If you were to ever show interest in his built figures and constructions, he'd be delighted. He may be your first influence into creative outlets- either it be through painting,embroidery, calligraphy, or to his hopes, figure making. Despite your bastard heritage, he's rather accepting of you. His brother is wild and untamed, always off doing something peculiar and explosive- you are the least destructive thing he's created by far. You are also a source of joy for his daughter, Rhaenary, so he cannot be too harsh upon you living in DragonStone.

Balarion is long gone, his monstrously large skull glinting in golden candlelight within the cold stone walls. But viserys often ponder over your fascination with the war dragons remains, and you may get an earful of old stories that sang their songs long ago. Aegon the conqueror... The black dread with midnight flame... Bringing kingdoms to their knees or reduced to piles of ash. Your heritage is a painful one, dear, but it is powerful. You have the blood of Aegon the conqueror in your veins. You have the blood of the dragon. Be proud of it, for you have no choice.

Jacaerys and Lucerys, despite being shocked and confused by your arrival- like any wide eyed little children, grew to love you. They watched with their dark eyes as Prince Daemon returned with a shrieking and sobbing little girl, clutching the skirts of their mother and whispering little words or confusion and curiosity. Who's that? Where's her mummy?

Even when they are made aware of your bastard heritage, they still love you. Jace will often murmur words of encouragement to you when he sees you look upset or down about something, and Luce will happily take you by the hand and lead you off to read and teach you high valarian. You're off-putting at first, still upset with your new living situation. Because they're not your brother's, you don't know them! Your brothers are back at your house, probably still wailing for your return. As a child you were probably filled with stubbornness, often attempting to stray from their sights, hoping to sever any form of connection before it can begin- both from rebellion, but also from fear of betraying your own little siblings. But these boys are stubborn too, and want to do things with you like any brother would. They want you to read to them. To watch them train, to practice languages and swordsmanship, to watch them ride their dragons and impress you with dragonfire and daring swoops. To them, you're their sister. Just please- give them a chance?

I'll probably get more Cannibal stuff out, but I thought the dynamic of bastard reader within the family would be interesting. I don't often see people expanding on the relationships one would have with their forced families dragons either, considering the dragons are very emotionally connected with their riders, I thought it'd be interesting to expand on this idea!

Also I may do more with team green, but I'm still figuring out what kind of relationships the reader would have with them. I'm definitely making bastard reader close friends with Helaena, she's honestly the chillest person in that whole family 😅

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy. 

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it. 

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you? 

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss. 

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken. 

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer. 

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens. 

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am. 

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times. 

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.  

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said. 

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers. 

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love. 

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on. 

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later. 

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything. 

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps. 

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt. 

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him. 

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

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[madschiavelique]

If your request is still open and if you're comfortable with it can I ask for Halsin, Gale, Astarion, Gortash and Raphael on thier wedding night with thier fem S/O?

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : halsin, gale, astarion, gortash, raphael

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : mostly fluff, implied nsfw but nothing explicit, no use of y/n, fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1,2k (235~ for each characters)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : love i'm so sorry this took so long but school is eating me tf out (and not in the way i'd rather it to be done)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ halsin :

Your wedding takes place in the Grove, decorations adorning the pillars and the fountain. The fireflies waltzed gently through the air, the weather was mild, Spring had arrived and the trees were in bloom. Of course the wedding would take place during the season of love.

Halsin wears a set of traditional Druid robes, his hair loose and braided with rosemary and lavender, his brown locks seeming to be the real earth that grows them.

His bare feet dig their heels into the fresh earth as his eyes landed on you.

Your hair was loose and held in beautiful waves with little flowers set into it. You were wearing a traditional druidic dress, the shades matching Halsin's outfit perfectly.

Silvanus had more than blessed him; he felt touched by his personal grace to have you as his eternal partner.

After exchanging your vows, you were drowned in a shower of petals from various flowers, all smiling as you kissed.

Everyone was dancing and an all-you-can-eat buffet was on display. Your chairs were the ground, the rocks and the steps leading up to the grove from the fountain.

When you and Halsin escaped the festivities, you found no bridal bed of feathers and straws, but headed for the forest.

In a clearing sheltered from view, a witch's circle covered in moss and flowers awaited you.

Man or Bear, this night was set to be unforgettable for you both.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ gale :

Gale had embellished an entire room, the powers of the Weave bringing an atmosphere and aesthetic beyond imagination.

Wisteria rained down from the endless ceiling, particles of violet, blue and golden light twirled in the air, bringing smiles to every body they touched.

Gale wore superb violet robes, had on his most beautiful earrings, his beard coated with sweet, spicy-scented oils.

The guests didn't need to be many, but all Gale's acquaintances and yours were there, and that was enough for you.

When you arrived, your dress was light, silk and crystal organza mingling like flower petals to trail your steps.

Your vows were exchanged, and with a smile he kissed you to the cheers of all around.

The surrounding area was transformed into a glade, the stars shining like diamonds on a blanket of blue velvet. Fairies flitted here and there, and you and Gale were lying on a set of soft rugs, chatting about everything and nothing over bunches of grapes and other fruit.

The atmosphere was a perfect reminder of your first night, in the forest, the milky way crossing the night like a multicoloured ribbon. Just the two of you.

Just the two of you? You turned your eyes, and the guests were gone, and the surroundings had changed again. A little teleportation, and you'd found yourselves in a bed, smiling and warm-skinned.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ astarion :

If there was one point of honour Astarion was counting on, it was that your wedding took place before sunset and continued through the night until he took you to bed at sunrise.

Everything was surrounded by jewels, gold and silver at the request of Astarion, who hoped that this extravagant organisation would make the sun shine all around him and the guests.

Cazador manor had abandoned its coldness to welcome the warmth of the many guests, wine in their bellies, and laughter exploding in every corridor.

Astarion was elegantly dressed, having personally chosen the fabrics for his black, white and red attire.

The crowd fell silent as you descended the steps leading to the main hall, your dress and veil a gradation of white to red to black. If Astarion still had a heartbeat, he was sure it would have stopped in its tracks.

Your vows were exchanged as the sun crossed the horizon, and the party resumed in earnest.

The whole night was spent waltzing around, laughing as Astarion told you jokes about every guest present, and downing flutes of champagne bubbling with excitement.

When dawn came, he didn't waste a single second taking you in his arms, carrying you like a princess to the door of your quarters.

Your heart beat in unison as the sun peeked through your curtains and flooded Astarion's face in a warm caress between your thighs.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ gortash :

the event was inevitably gigantic. The whole town was to cease its day's activities, abandon its work and come to the castle to celebrate.

All the best pastry chefs and cooks had been requisitioned by his orders to offer as much variety as possible in the dishes. The event was so grand that it made you wonder whether Gortash would not take the opportunity to make this a public holiday, a day of celebration for all in honour of your union.

Of course, Gortash had paid who knows how many gold coins for the best stylists he could find to make his outfit and yours.

He smiled courteously at the guests in the throne room, always mindful of the need to forge links and do business.

But these thoughts soon faded from his mind as you entered the room, dressed all in white, the very incarnation of purity and perfection before his eyes.

Your vows were exchanged, and a thunderous applause filled the room as the bells rang outside. You both left the château, the crowd throwing rice and petals into the air as you entered your carriage.

He would have loved to let the whole castle know that night that you were his wife, but he had built a house away from everyone where you could properly consummate your love.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ raphael :

The House of Hope has never been so full of demons and guests of honour. I mean hell, the entirety of the Nines have been invited in here. You even wondered how the marble hadn't crumbled since then just by the sheer number of people here. But by some trick that has escaped you, just for this occasion, everything has been enlarged.

Raphael's wings have been covered in jewels, fine golden chains set with precious stones running around the edges of his wings, bracelets gleaming on the horns of his skull as he adorned the most elegant robes the underworld had to offer.

All the decadence of the underworld ceased for just a few moments as you descended the stairs to the main hall, Raphael's dark eyes covering your entire body.

You were wearing his colours in one of the most sumptuous outfits he had ever seen, and for this he had put all the best stylists on the case.

It was without doubt the most expensive wedding in centuries, and Raphael would probably have been furious if it hadn't been.

The vows were exchanged, and it took every ounce of the demon's strength not to rip off every bit of fabric separating your skin from his hands.

Fortunately for him, he didn't have to respect any marriage rules, certainly not in the underworld or in his own home.

It didn't take him long to kiss the back of your neck and for you to disappear in a dark cloud to the roars of joy from the guests.

halsin, gale, astarion, gortash, raphael

[total-dxmure]

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there.

warnings: eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan.

The knock on the door is to the tune “Head Over Heels”- or at least you think it is. Ellie doesn’t have enough time to fully get through the chorus before you’re yanking it open, cheeks flushed all pretty and eyes wide. They glitter in the dim sunlight like jewels, staring up at her like she was the one that hung the moon. Ellie’s got that same dumb look on her face; mossy eyes wrinkled at the corners from the force of her smile. You would never know that she’s been up since seven o’clock in the morning, cramming for an exam that she had aced. She’d talked to Joel for the fifteen minutes that it took to get to your house, bragging on and on about how much easier it had been than she’d initially thought that it would be.

He let her brag. Of course he did. She wasn’t quite as talkative as she had been when she was a teenager, but she was still famous for her little tangents. Joel was good at listening, and Ellie? Well, she was a professional yapper. It was a match made in heaven.

Ellie smells like lavender, musk and patchouli incense. The scent of it clings to her hair and clothes. She’d mentioned a couple of times that she was a daily smoker, but she made sure to go out of her way to never smell when she was over at your place. The thought of your daughter cuddling to her when she smelled. . . funky made her cringe.

There’s a moment of appreciative silence as she stands on your front porch. The two of you just stare at each other, breathing the scent of each other in. The novelty still isn’t lost as far as your courting goes either. You can’t imagine the nervous butterflies ever going away. They’ve made a cage out of your ribs, fluttering away madly in your chest.

“Hey,” She breathes through her smile, her eyes dancing over your features. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

You look absolutely exhausted. Gorgeous, but exhausted nonetheless. Ellie has noticed that you do a very good job at putting others' needs before your own. You’d been at work for two whole hours before Ellie had even woken up this morning, and now you felt like you were on autopilot. You’d walked to your mom’s to pick Marley up, gotten her bathed and dressed in little play overalls and now the two of you were spending some quality time together. You could barely keep your eyes open, and yet you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get your screaming toddler to sleep for at least another three hours.

“Marles and I are making homemade play-doh right now,” You opened the door wider, tempting her into the house with a sweet smile. Who was Ellie to deny you of all people? “She’s been excited ever since I told her that you were coming over.”

Marley had taken to Ellie like a bee to honey.

The college student hadn’t had too many opportunities to be around children- especially ones as young as Marley was. She was unfamiliar with the tiny sticky hands, drooly mouths and unpredictable attitudes. Still, she was a natural. Marley gravitated towards her. Ellie was sure that the constant presents and sweet treats buttered her up, but she would be selling herself short if she claimed that those were the only reason that your daughter loved her so much.

Your three year old babbled from the kitchen, excitedly trying to piece together a sentence. Ellie closed the door behind herself, only to sweep you up into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was muffled by the fabric of her soft cotton button up as you nuzzled your face into her neck. Closer, closer, closer. If she could absorb you into her body she would. It was hard to describe the level of admiration she felt for you. It was too early to classify it as “love”, but she supposed she did love you and Marley. Being in your house, as small as it was, felt right to her.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, arms fastened tight around her waist.

She barely had enough time to brush a gentle peck to your lips before Marley was bounding around the corner, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floors. You’d recently learned that wearing socks wasn’t a good idea. Your poor little girl had slipped and fallen far too many times for your liking.

Marley had become more comfortable in her body, which meant she was now running, jumping and climbing. Just a year ago you had been relieved that she could walk by herself without you holding her hand, and now keeping her off of your furniture was an impossible task. Nothing had prepared you for the constant changes that came with motherhood. You blinked and suddenly she was sassy and genuinely funny. She complimented you when you were wearing something unusually flashy and wanted you to put blush on her while you were getting the both of you ready so that she could “look like mommy”.

You never expected anyone outside of your family and close friends to appreciate your daughter in the same way that you did.

But then there was Ellie.

Self indulgent. Waking up this happy felt sinful.

Your fingers gently glide over her gentle planes and curves, making a map in your mind of every inch of her. Each freckles a continent, each line a river.

You didn’t want to wake Ellie, too frightened that you might break whatever magic spell was currently suspended in the air between the two of you. This moment between you felt too good to be true, and that scarred little voice inside of you that you loathed so much was begging you to enjoy this while it lasted.

You were always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Happiness was fleeting. You felt like you didn’t deserve whatever was going on between the two of you. Your entire identity for the last three years has been summed up in a singular label: “ a mother”. You were a sexless, wantless, selfless creature meant only to teach and please. How dare you need a night off. How dare you choose yourself over an abusive relationship. How dare you need, want, desire, change.

But this? This was nice.

No, it was better than nice. Great? No. . . It was perfect. She was perfect. And that terrified you. Ellie scared the absolute shit out of you, and yet you couldn’t take a step back. It was like you were falling head first for a very, very long time. The ground is nowhere in sight.

You were free falling and you had no clue where you would end up when all was said and done. It felt selfish to put so much effort and care into so many new things at once. Especially since those new things could shatter your heart into a million pieces at any second. You knew that Ellie didn’t owe you anything. She was nice enough to give you a chance despite all of your faults. Your baggage had become too heavy for you to hold at times, so how could you ever expect someone else to help pick up the slack?

You weren’t even sure what the two of you were doing together. The two of you hadn’t put a label on your relationship, but she’d brought you flowers yesterday when she popped by for a movie night. She’d even gotten a small bouquet for Marley, who was far too small to appreciate them for longer than five minutes.

Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d slipped Marley’s shoes on for her before you’d all left the house last night to pick up dinner. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d spent the night with you last night in your bed. Ellie wasn’t your girlfriend, but she’d held you all throughout the night.

She didn’t even try to get handsy at all last night, probably having seen the exhaustion written all over your face. She kissed you because she wanted to show you affection. She held you because she wanted to be close.

What you didn’t know was that Ellie felt the same way that you did. She was lost as to when to ask the dreaded “what are we?” question. The thought of pushing you away or losing you was agonizing, so instead she had deluded herself into thinking that she didn’t have to define things. It was clear that she liked you, right?

She’d never felt this way about anybody before. This wasn’t like any other crushes she’d had in the past. She felt fresh and new. Ellie even felt like she looked a bit different when she looked in a mirror. There was a glow to her; a sense of happiness that wasn’t just rare for her but something that she had once deemed an impossibility. She felt changed for the better.

It was easy to love Marley. It had happened naturally- like breathing. You don’t have to remember how to breathe. . . it just happens. With you it was different. Obsessive, maddening, all inhabiting affection. You’d wrapped your dainty hands around her heart tight, tight, tight. Every skip and butterfly is a gentle reminder that this was something. The both of you are something, and that is enough.

She smiles before she even has her eyes open. She can feel your fingers on her bare arms, and for a second she ponders whether or not she’s in heaven. . . or perhaps still dreaming. Waking up in your bed, the scent of your shampoo on all of the pillows and your soft hands on her- she could die right there, your room, her tomb. The headboard, her headstone.

“Are you real?” She whispers, her voice hoarse and still thick with sleep. She’s looking at you with those great, big green eyes. Your eyes are glued to the small collection of freckles just above her top lip, but you hear her.

“M’ real.” You mumble out a confirmation, propping your head up on your hand so that you can lean over her. You know your hair is a mess. . . but she’s studying your face with a silent sort of appreciation that has your throat feeling thick with emotion.

She’s soft. Ellie’s soft and wants to take care of you. She showers you and your daughter with affection without ever having to be asked to. Why? Because she wants to do it. You find it hard to believe that anyone would want to go out of their way like this. Especially for someone like you. You were a young mother who hadn’t gone to college. You lived in a tiny house, operated paycheck to paycheck, and had a few stretch marks on your tummy. You weren’t perfect. Not like Ellie deserved.

So why was she looking at you like that?

Oh god, how she stared at you. Her eyes were velvet soft as her eyes flickered over your face, taking in every feature. She’d never woken up next to you before. Your bedhead and glassy eyes had her heart blooming with warmth. The ceiling fan had a few strands of your hair falling into your eyes. She took the opportunity to tuck them behind your ear, feeling the softness of your skin. She committed that to memory too.

“I really like this.” Ellie finally admits, bottom jaw quivering a bit. She fiddles with her fingers under your comforter, a nervous habit.

“What?” You ask her incredulously. If Ellie’s eyes weren’t open she’d still know you were smiling. She could hear it in the way you spoke, and it had her seeing stars. And Ellie really, really loved stars. “Looking at my bedhead? You better not take any pictures.” You were already smoothing your hair down with your hands, brushing through a few tangles.

She caught your arms, shaking her head the best she could with it still resting on your pillows. “Waking up next to you. Being here with you two- this is really nice.” It was more than nice, but she didn’t want to scare you away by coming on too strongly.

You opened your mouth, getting ready to agree with her, but the familiar sound of tiny feet had you sitting up fully so that you could turn and face the doorway. You shot Ellie an apologetic smile, but she merely shook her head, sitting up as well with a small smile. She didn’t seem burdened by the existence of your daughter, which was something you weren’t used to.

Marley’s hair was an absolute disaster, per usual. It looked like she’d been caught headfirst in a tornado,wispy hairs bobbing as she shuffled closer to the bed in her footie pajamas. She had insisted on wearing them last night despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly cold enough for them. Her cheeks were pink and it was obvious that she had sweat in her sleep last night. You felt a tinge of guilt for letting her get her way, praying that Ellie didn’t think you were a bad mother for giving in so easily to her sweet demands. Sometimes it was impossible to say no to her.

She stood at the side of the bed for a few seconds, eyes still half lidded and dazed with sleep. For a second she just stared at you and Ellie, as if trying to connect the dots that someone else was in your house. It was incredibly unusual to have guests over at the house. . . well, that was before Ellie. Marley climbed up onto the bed, pushing away your eager hands when you tried to reach out for her.

Your little girl was headed straight for Ellie. You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning a look of jealousy when Marley wrapped her tiny arms around the other woman’s neck. Ellie’s eyes widened as she held the small girl to her chest, cheeks growing warm when she realized just how much your daughter liked her. She wanted to blame the constant presents and sweet treats, but that wasn’t the case. Marley loved Ellie because she was patient with her. She took the time to sit down with her, ask her questions- hell, Ellie even played with her, which your own mother often wasn’t in the mood to do.

“I can’t believe you, Marles.” You gasped out, nose wrinkling in faux dismay. You rubbed her arm up and down, trying to gently get her attention. Marley looked up at you through her long lashes, plopping her head down on Ellie’s shoulder in a very dramatic, very Marley fashion.

“She chose me fair and square.” Ellie boasted, using her hand to try and smooth down her crazy bedhead.

You took a mental picture, eyes pinching at the corners with the force of your smile. Marley had curled herself up into a ball and didn’t seem prepared to budge any time soon. Ellie didn’t even attempt to hand her off to you. Instead the woman stood up with a small groan, her black sweatpants hanging low on her waist. You tried not to stare at the exposed flesh of her stomach as her tank top rode up but failed miserably. The brunette turned her head to face you, having felt the heat of your gaze, and the both of you exchanged a knowing smile.

“She has her legs pulled up to her chest,” Ellie said with a chuckle, her arms secured tightly around your child. “You’re like a little potato.” She pressed a quick kiss to Marley’s hair when the tiny girl started giggling at the comparison.

“M’ not!” Marley squealed, sticky hands tanging into Ellie’s cropped hair. You watched as she gave her hair a tug, your stomach tensing in panic.

You started to stand up, ready to scold your daughter for her rough treatment, but Ellie was already walking down the hall. You sat in disbelief for a second, questioning whether or not you should go in and check on the two of them. You so rarely had time to yourself like this. It felt wrong to take advantage of this opportunity, but you had a feeling that Ellie had done this on purpose.

Was she trying to drop hints that you looked bad? You were absolutely exhausted last night, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was a mess and your clothes in disarray. You anxiously raked through your hair, kicking the tangled sheets off of your legs so that you could run to the nearest mirror.

“Are pancakes for breakfast alright?” Ellie had ducked her head back into the bedroom, a beaming Marley still propped up on her hip. You jumped at the sudden voice, glaring in her direction as she chuckled at your expense.

You weren’t used to being so hard on yourself as far as your appearance goes. Impressing people, these days, was the last thing on your mind. Ellie felt the same way though. She’d be a liar if she said that she hadn’t checked herself out in the mirror you had in the living room, anxious that she looked like hammered dog shit after drooling all over your pillow.

The weight of your head on her chest had her sleeping like a damn baby last night. Marley had acted as a wonderful distraction from her own embarrassment, especially when she realized the back of her hair was practically sticking straight up.

What you didn’t know was that she’d never spent the night with a girl. Not romantically, at least. The both of you were in the exact same anxious boat, and while Ellie knew that she was your first, you had no inkling that you were a lot of her firsts as well.

“Pancakes?” You parroted back to her, wetting your dry lips.

You began tallying up totals in your head, trying to figure out whether or not you had the cash to grab breakfast. You would like to treat Ellie and Marley. . . but after paying the water and the power bill two days ago, you barely had enough to put gas in your car. You felt your cheeks heating up as you tried to come up with a nice way to say “I don’t have the money for pancakes” without sounding like a shitty adult and an even shittier mother.

Ellie could see the way you were over thinking things, her eyes nervously flickering to your closet. You only had a few articles of clothing for yourself, and yet she’d never seen Marley wear the same outfit twice. She’d seen you with your calculator at the grocery store, nervously staring at a total. She knew that you weren’t financially secure- you were a young single mother. The brunette smiled at you, shoving her hands in her pockets as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I make really good pancakes, and it looks like you have everything I need. Marley would be an amazing help too. She’d make my job a lot easier.” She rocked back on the heels of her gray socks, biting the inside of her cheek as she looked at you.

You looked nervous, tired, and adorable as hell. Your band t-shirt was rumpled with sleep and you were standing in tiny white socks, all self conscious and overly critical. She wanted to kiss you… but she hadn’t brushed her teeth.

“Let me go ahead and take her to the bathroom first,” You ran through your daily checklist in your mind, though not forgetting to flash her a thankful smile that nearly had the girl’s legs buckling. “Oh! Uh. . . I have an extra toothbrush. You can have it. Do you want to use the restroom first? It’ll give me some time to get her outfit together for the day.”

Ellie wanted to be selfless and tell you that she didn’t want to go first, but her breath was probably stale and the last thing she wanted was for you to be grossed out by her. She couldn’t fuck this up. She refused to.

You found Marley in her bedroom, having already strewn toys around the room. You let out a small huff of breath, realizing that today was probably going to be a rough one. Each day was different with your little girl. One day she was a perfect angel, only doing what she was told. Other days. . . well, rambunctious didn’t fully encompass her level of energy. Today was going to be one of those days.

“Alrighty, Marles! Let’s pick out a pretty outfit, alright?” You started to walk to her closet, but froze as she began shaking her head. “You don’t want to put on a dress? Or what about some overalls so you can play better?”

“No!” She screamed, running to the other side of her room so that she could grab a few more stuffed animals off of her bed. She tossed those on the ground too, even going as far as to plop down on the floor.

You had hoped that Ellie wouldn’t see this. At least. . . not so soon into the relationship. If she couldn’t accept Marley on bad days like this then you knew she wasn’t the right person for you, but still- you had hoped to slowly introduce this lifestyle to her. Not flat out throw her to the metaphorical wolves. Or. . . to Marley. You felt your bottom lip quiver, but you caught it between your teeth, giving it a few nervous chews before you sat down next to her.

“Do you want to stay in your pajamas?” Your tone was nothing but loving and patient. You were used to this, but Ellie wasn’t. You could only pray that she could accept you. All of you.

“Yes! Please, mommy.” She was getting better at articulating her thoughts and feelings. You found it impossible to deny her when she spoke to you like this. Especially when she asked politely.

So you found herself nodding, flashing her a megawatt smile that she happily returned. You could make a special day out of this. Pancakes and pajamas? It sounded heavenly.

“You’re so polite, baby girl! Alright, we’ll stay in our pajamas today. How about that? And Ellie said that you’re going to help her make breakfast. Are you going to be a big help?”

“Yeah.” She replied, already focused on the baby doll in front of her.

Her hands were still stained a little pink from making the play-doh last night. Once she remembers that she has that to play with too, you can only imagine the mess she’ll make on your dining room table.

You’re beautiful and patient. Ellie watches the two of you interact from the hallway, her breath all minty and her smile all wide. She thinks that she can live like this forever.

And she prays that she gets to.

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[hero-the-meep]

Colour theory. The 60th Specials have this gorgeous colour palette of reds and blues and greens throughout. But what do they all mean?

Donna spends much of the specials drenched in red – her fiery copper hair, her pink and red jumper, the warmth of her house as the Doctor looks in from the cold, blue night, of the vortex, and of flames.

In many scenes, she's in fact the only source of warmth in frame.

The Doctor's palette is, of course, blue, and he starts his journey very blue prior to stripping off his long, solid overcoat to reveal brown and blue tartan (a mixture of both the Doctor's he's been) and white (a carte blanche that can throw to any colour).

Red and blue, the Doctor and Donna. These are our two primary colours for the Doctor and Donna as individuals. But it doesn't stop there.

Donna often throws red to the Doctor.

Or they share a frame of equal parts red and blue.

But more often than not, the Doctor casts Donna a sickly blue green – not in the moments of peril Donna chooses, like her choice to remember the mind of a Time Lord to save her daughter, but the moments of peril that truly make Donna afraid.

Staring out into the black nothingness of space without stars at the edge of the universe, so far from her family. Being confronted with herself. Half-remembering the Doctor with her daughter in danger, because of her (perceived) failure.

At her most afraid, like when the Doctor is genuinely angry at her, encroaching in her space, she wraps her body in her dark green jacket, a futile attempt to self-soothe. On an RGB colour wheel, green is our third primary colour.

Whereas the Doctor, at his lowest points, is drenched blue.

But where do they end up?

In glorious lavender purple and natural green with flickers of red and brown and yellow and blue.

Purple is a secondary colour, an additive of red and blue. Purple complements green. Green and red add to yellow; add a bit more red than green and you get brown. Yellow complements blue. Red and blue and green are triadic colours – high contrast, bold and vibrant, spaced evenly on the wheel.

Because their ark is not just for Donna to take on part of the Doctor, but for the Doctor to take on part of Donna as well. They are the Doctor and Donna, human and Time Lord, man and woman, travelling and at home – all these things and both and more, binary not-binary, a circle, complete.

Compare and contrast to season three and four.

Donna's colours are deep, jewel-toned reds and purples and blues, analogous colours. She's a bright, discordant blot in a sterile office. She's resplendently human in Pompeii. But by the end, she's adopted a long, brown coat, with just a hint of purple peaking out from a singlet top under all those layers. During Turn Left, never meeting the Doctor slowly sucks her colour to grey almost (but not) completely.

And when the Doctor takes her memories he returns her sans-jacket. Deep jewelled purple again.

The Doctor splits into a Doctor brown and a Doctor blue. One home, with a family. One travelling, alone. A bittersweet – not a happy – ending.

Now is their happy ending.

[jarofstyles]

Stay Right Here - Just a Touch

It’s been ages since we updated this one I’m so sorry! But I had a part already on Patreon I don’t think I put up here and since I’ve been dealing with something I figured I’d hand it over along with the one shot hopefully in a few hours lol.

Here is the Masterlist for a refresh!

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Warnings- a/o/b dynamics, alpha Harry, royalty etc

——

Harry had taken that permission and ran with it.

Y/N had been slowly adjusting to calling him Harry in the safety of his chambers, and Harry had taken to clasping their hands together in the privacy of the rides to and from events. Y/N had nearly choked the first time, but she had warmed up to it nicely now.

“Harry..” she warned as they pulled from the curb, keeping her hand hidden in her skirts. “You must wait until we are properly on the road. If people see-“

“I know, I know. You worry too much, darling.” He grabbed her cool, smaller hand, greedy for the touches as they got into the busier part. “I like the color today.” His eyes examined the mint green varnish on her nails. She had told him that the maids do them sometimes after hours in the courtyards, sharing bottles since it was easier that way. He had liked the lavender last week, but the mint green was winning his favor.

“Thank you.” She smiled lightly, looking at their joined hands. It was odd to see. His decked in jewels and scars and hers lithe and small compared to his own. The compliments the prince so freely gave tended catch her off guard a lot of the time. Never had a man been so open and blunt with her about the things he liked. To be fair, she didn’t have a lot of male friends or… whatever this sort of relationship was with the man… but he was by far the most open with her that she had ever experienced.

“It’s only the truth.” His hand brought hers up to his lips to kiss the back of her knuckles, smirking to himself at the tiny shiver she gave him. Y/N had a hard shell to crack, she was terrified in some ways about people seeing their affections and her getting into trouble, but he had helped ease her nerves the more he did it. The privacy was something he cherished, looking forward to retiring to his chambers at night because it meant Y/N would sit with him as they discussed or read books. He hated when he got tired quickly and she would leave once he was settled in bed, wishing he could convince her to crawl under the warm blankets with him and curl into his side as he always wanted. He had many dreams for their connection and, admittedly, never imagined it would be this hard. He usually had people falling at his feet, flaunting their necks and propositioning him to fall into bed. Y/N was the exact opposite. Surprisingly, it was one of the things he liked the most about her.

It wasn’t easy to gain her trust, but it would make the reward so much sweeter. Just like how his heart beat hard in his chest each time she would squeeze their hands together, or he felt her shiver when he brushed his thumb over the back of her own.

Baby steps.

Their connection was undeniable, even for her. She shivered and blushed and found herself gravitating closer towards him every single day, something that baffled her. Her body had a mind of its own, leaning into his touches and having a very hard time letting go when he initiated the touching. Like right now. He had just spent time shopping and Y/N had stayed dutifully by his side, quiet but alert. Taking in their surroundings and making sure she wasn’t too close to his side despite the lack of perception the Prince had for personal space when it came to her. It was up to her to keep it in line.

He had only talked to her, asking her opinion on jewels and colors and fabrics, ignoring a lot of the people there meant to be the experts. She gave her honest one now, knowing now that Harry would much rather get the truth from her than a lie. A sickly green had been something she had vetoed along with a tacky embossed goose pattern that she didn’t think suited him- a rarity considering Prince Harry was the type to make quite literally anything work in his favor. His beauty was something even Y/N found to be intimidating.

“Thank you for coming with me today.” His voice snapped her out of her trance, eyes lifting from their joined hands back up to his eyes. Harry preferred eye contact with her when they were alone. “Shopping can be rather boring when people are just telling you to get everything, that everything looks good just because you’re royalty, you have the money, all of that. A truthful person is hard to come by.”

Even with all the money in the world, the most valuable thing to have is an honest person. Y/N had been nothing but truthful to him and he valued her opinion more than most already. The sweet little thing had her way under his skin without even trying. He’d been going slow and learning with her, doing his best to not spook her. He could scent her arousal at times though he pretended he didn’t. She was someone he wanted to keep around. As much as he wanted to be inside of her, he wanted her to have a clear head and no regrets when he did it.

“Of course.” She replied quietly, squeezing his hand back. “I don’t think it serves a purpose for me to lie. You won’t punish me for inserting my opinion so I don’t mind giving it.” Other staff had been in the past, but Harry didn’t seem like the other royals. That’s not to say she disliked or even resented the king and queen- they didn’t know her. They knew her mother and had been generous enough to keep her healthcare open while she wasn’t working, even if it didn’t cover everything it needed. But the prince? He was kind to her. Caring. On a personal level, he felt connected to her.

“Never. I told you, I chose you to keep around. I’d like for us to be close. No use in trying that if you aren’t comfortable telling me a fabric color is atrocious.” He joked, a tingle lighting up his chest when he saw her lips curl into a small smile.

“It was quite bad, wasn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head at the image of the color back in her head. “Don’t know who could pull off that sort of color. You have the ability to make anything look lovely but… even you, I don’t think couldn’t make it happen.”

The compliments from Y/N weren’t very plentiful and he understood why. She still had a bit of a mental blockage with boundaries that didn’t exist, but Harry didn’t mind. This compliment from her had him worked up, ego stroked and chest puffed. She thought he could make anything look lovely?

“Truly?” He asked. “You think I make things look lovely?” The preening was visible, making Y/N wonder why she hadn’t complimented him much before. The actual happiness on his face was like watching sunbeams melt snow. Of course he got thousands of compliments during his week, but none of them seemed to make his heart sing as much as hers did. Maybe it was the genuine nature, how she almost looked like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud- or maybe it was just her. The rarity of it all.

“Of course.” She replied, cheeks burning. It shouldn’t feel so humiliating to tell the truth, but his gaze was always going to slightly intimidate her. “You’re incredibly handsome. I’m sure you know this, Harry.”

Hearing her say his name and another compliment made him feel like he could burst. “I’m told all the time, sure. But you’re saying it because you mean it and think it. Not just because you think it's the proper thing to do or because you want something.” He replied. “It’s… nice to hear you think highly of me, is all. Sometimes I think all I do is annoy you.”

Y/N realized now that perhaps she had been a bit unknowingly cruel. She hadn’t meant to make him think she didn’t think highly of him at all, surely never meaning to make him think he was annoying. She was blown away by how beautiful he was at times, but it never felt appropriate to share that. He intimidated her even still. Coming to get to know him a bit, it was obvious he really wanted to be her friend, though, and she was curious why with all of the reassurance he had given her why she hadn’t been able to act more accordingly.

“I apologize. Of course I think highly of you. I’m still getting used to the idea of us being friends and more than just your servant but… I never think it appropriate to share those thoughts.” She swallowed nervously, meeting his eyes again. “You are incredibly handsome and kind. You’ve never once annoyed me or made me upset. I like your singing voice when you think I can’t hear, and I like that you treat me as an equal. I apologize again, for making you even think I don’t think the absolute highest of you.”

While she’s had her nerves about breaching those boundaries, it wasn’t ever truly about him as an individual. It had to do with the establishment and the things that could happen if she was caught treating him as an equal. He could do whatever he wanted, but Y/N was supposed to follow a group of strict guidelines. Things Harry said were thrown away but she hadn’t trusted him enough until now. She hasn’t been given a reason to think after all these weeks.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew Harry was attracted to her.

Why?

That remained to be a mystery as he had been given the entire kingdom and surrounding to choose from, but chose to spend his time with her. There was no time to even sneak out to see other omegas because there were no more hours in the day. It would take her a bit more time to allow that sort of thing to even be broached, though. This pace was good.

[gatabella]

Marlene Dietrich by Edward Steichen, US Vogue, May 1935

Marlene Dietrich, the incomparable, wears Travis Banton dresses - one of lavender chiffon with a ruff of violets and above-the-elbow gloves of lavender lace, one of black tulle in billowing flounces. Her jewels are from Trabert and Hoeffer.