#my bone jewelry too maybe?

[lordofthemushrooms]

Hozier tomorrow Hozier tomorrow Hozier tomorrow ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Slow Kissing.

What would slow kissing be like with Terry?

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Smut. Short.

The bed dipped as you climbed into bed next to TJ, trembling in anticipation and gliding into his embrace. You’d missed him, and you were grateful to have him home and safe. Terry held you until your shivering stopped. His large hands slide up and down your spine, pressing you close and feeling your warmth. It was silent within the room, the faint, yellow hue of the lamp light painting your skin. Terry leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your lips. You kissed him back, pulling away every so slightly to stare into his hypnotic eyes.

His gaze would drop to your lips then back to your eyes. You would do the same to his lips, the growing desire between the both of you reaching a fever pitch. Suddenly, you wrap your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his, kissing him hard and passionately. Terry can feel the softness of your breasts press into his solid chest as his arms hold you tighter. You suck on his lower lip, drawing it into your mouth. Terry did the same to your upper lip. Ever so slightly. You drag your teeth across the flesh of his lip as you release it.

This went on for a few moments. The fevered kissing, soft breaths, and tight grasps. His lips trailed a path to kiss your cheeks, your nose, and your forehead. Terry shifted your position so that you would be lying below him. His lips moved lower to pepper kisses on your neck up and down—kissing and licking, dragging his teeth across your skin. It tickled in the best way. Your arms pull him closer. Terry can feel one of your hands at the back of his neck, holding him, guiding him. Or maybe following where he led. Now, his kisses are on your shoulders moving back and forth.

You’re still wearing your gold necklace with his name on it that he gifted you and he pulled the jewelry into his mouth, staring into your eyes unblinking. He can feel you gyrating beneath him. His lips teased your neck, across your collar bone, to the other shoulder, and repeat. It was torture. From left to right he kissed across your beautiful brown-skinned body, working his way down ever so slowly. He placed loving kisses above your breasts from left to right. Soon, he’s kissing across the fullness of your left breast, pausing to suckle on the hard nipple through your slip gown, then the cleft between your breasts, up the right breast, pausing to suckle on the nipple and running his skillful tongue around the sensitive areola.

Terry kissed across your body beneath your breasts, your body trembling in response. His hands ran up and down your sides, kneading the flesh with his strong hands and fingers. He kissed lower, and lower still. Terry slowly lifted your slip dress, exposing your stomach. You’re wearing a black, lace thong. His lips feathered across your midriff, pausing at your belly button to circle it with his tongue, before licking inside it. You laugh and tell him to stop.

“Do you want me to stop kissing you?” He asked plaintively.

“No,” you say softly, “I’m just ticklish there.”

“Okay,” Terry spoke with a muffled voice because his lips were pressed against your skin greedily, “I plan to worship every part of you with my lips. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl…like I know you can…do you understand?”

You giggle, “Yes, Sir,” You agreed, although he was killing you with his soft lips and ticklish nibbles. It caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. You felt a throbbing sensation in your clit. Your nipples are painfully–hard buds that need to be sucked.

Terry finished kissing across your midriff to your hip, kissing all along the curve. The anticipation was too much to bear, your eyes watching and waiting for him to press those wonderful lips on your pussy. He kissed from hip to hip, lower and lower, above your pussy. His tongue swiped between your lower lips to tease, and then he reached back and took your calf in his hand, prying open your legs and climbing between them.

You whimpered, “mmmph, TJ, please.”

He let out a dark chuckle, “On my terms, baby…”

Terry kissed down your thigh, to your knee, down your calf, to your ankle. It was agonizing. He kissed the inside of your foot to the big toe. You writhe a little at the ticklishness of it, but he goes slow, sucking on the digit, licking it, and dragging his teeth across it. That had you moaning. He continued to the next toe and the next, kissing, licking and dragging his teeth across each in turn. He kissed the sole of your foot, then the top. Terry worked his way to your ankle, then back up your calf to your knee, then up the smooth skin of your thigh. He kissed across your pubic hair to your other thigh. He paused above your pussy and inhaled deeply, and he could smell how excited you are. Terry exhaled onto your pussy, his breath hot, then he blew onto your wet pussy, his breath cool through pursed lips. You shivered beneath him and your back arched from the bed.

His teasing is not quite done.

Terry could feel you parting your legs ever so slowly, drawing them apart like butterfly wings. He kissed lightly across the soft hairs of your labia to the inside of your other thigh.

“Terry,” you held frustration in your voice, “Stop playing…I need you…”

He ignored your words. You groan. This was unbearable. The uncomfortable heat of your skin too much.

Terry kissed down one of your thighs to the knee, down the calf to the ankle, kissing licking and dragging his teeth across your skin. From the ankle up the calf to the knee, and back up your inner thigh. Your pussy is so wet, it’s trailing down to your ass. Terry kissed across your pussy lips again, pausing to give the cleft a few brief licks before licking and kissing his way to the inside of your other thigh, down to the knee, down the calf, licking and kissing and nibbling the skin all the way to your ankle.

Again

And again

And AGAIN.

“Terry…Terry…Terry…”

He trailed his lips up to your neck. He silenced you with a tongue kiss. You could taste the salty, sweetness of your pussy on his plump lips. Your thighs spread open more and your hands pressed against his sturdy chest, attempting to push him down the length of your body and forcing him to eat your pussy. Terry lightly chuckled against your lips.

“What did daddy say? I thought you loved long kissing session, baby?”

“I do. But I’m not strong enough to continue, I need you to make me cum with your mouth,” You declare against his lips.

Terry lost himself in your tasty mouth with a warm tongue and gripped your jaw. Your eyes roll shut as his pink tongue rubbed yours up and down. He flicked tongues with you, his eyes low and sultry. It was slow and steady. Smacking sounds sent shivers across your body. The tickle of Terry’s mustache caused you to smirk.

Terry groaned against your lips, “uhhhn, mmmm, huuuuhhhh…”

Terry lifted to his hands above you while you sat up slightly. Both of your heads swiveled back and forth. His honeyed skin and muscles above you created the perfect visual. You couldn’t control your hands smoothing up and down his body and around to his back.

“This is gonna be a long night, isn’t it?” You whisper

“Hm,” Terry smirked, “You know the answer to that already, ma…”

The realization of his words caused your breath to hitch against the smug curve of his lips. Terry leisurely slicked his tongue against your lips. He gave you quick pecks to your jaw before bringing his lips to yours again.

“I need you ready for me. I plan to go rounds…”

He sucked your trembling lip into his mouth.

“Sh–shhh…it’s okay, baby…”

Terry swiftly changed your position to straddle him. You brace yourself on his naked shoulders while he tasted your neck, definitely leaving passion marks behind. You close your eyes and savor the sensation. His hands are gliding up and down your sides. Your hips start to gyrate and Terry begins flexing his hips upward to meet your movements. Dry humping and kissing. Terry was wearing athletic shorts, quad muscles flexing. You place a hand over his throat while sucking on his tongue. Terry’s hands rub yours booty up and down, his long fingers gripping and squeezing.

Was it possible to get intoxicated from kissing? You felt woozy in the head. He had this aura about him that made you feel…elated. Terry felt the same. You were his medicine. Every kiss was a dose to him. He’d missed you. But right now, kissing you and getting lost in your soft embrace, the taste of you, and the sounds of pleasure you make, was exactly what he needed. Terry wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You withdrew your lips, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. You had to catch your breath, Terry reached up to smooth his hand over the nape of your head and stroke there, ever so gently. The feel of your coils between his fingers soothed him because of how soft to the touch it is.

Both of your eyes locked before your lips were connecting again.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [29] - Enticing

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: It’s important to have a plan in mind before certain meetings.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Fine, maybe Bucky did have a point.

You were two seconds away from jumping his bones and to annoy you even more, he was so busy with work that you could barely see him.

But thankfully, you had a solution for that.

“Take these home please,” you told your driver as you stepped out of the car, motioning at the multiple bags of lingerie sets on the backseat. “Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said and you closed the door, then made your way to the building. You took the elevator, then approached Bucky’s office and smiled at his assistant.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “With his father.”

You raised your brows, then heaved a sigh and knocked on the door before opening it. George looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and a smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there, am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, come in!” Bucky said as he walked to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. George smiled at you and stood up as well as you approached him.

“Hi honey.”

“George,” you greeted him back and let him kiss your cheek, then sat down next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking we could have lunch?” you asked and he made a face.

“I gotta meet Nat in half an hour sweetheart. Sorry.”

“About the raid issue?”

George raised his brows, looking between you as if he was surprised that you knew about it, but neither you nor Bucky commented on it.

“Well she also lost half a million,” Bucky said. “Needless to say, she’s furious.”

“Everyone is,” George said. “That cousin of yours is an idiot, Y/N. I mean there’s a difference between being new and being an amateur.”

“Stark called for an emergency meeting,” Bucky said with a smirk. “So did Clint, and I’m guessing so will Nat.”

You tried to keep your expression serene and heaved a sigh. “They will eat him alive.”

“Business talk can wait,” George told you. “How is your day going sweetheart?”

Not retorting to the condescending tone he thought he could hide was rather challenging, but you managed to control yourself. There was a time for everything, and you had to make sure not to look not as interested in just how Ian had screwed up, at least in front of George. You exchanged glances with Bucky who rolled his eyes, then turned to George.

“It’s going good,” you said. “I had coffee with Becca, then went shopping.”

“Oh what did you buy?”

All the lingerie sets you bought flashed in your mind and you bit back a smile as you stole a look at Bucky, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Jewelry,” you said, holding up your wrist to show your bracelet. “And yours, George?”

“Enjoying the retirement,” he said. “Something your father can’t do anytime soon, as it seems.”

You scoffed a small laugh. “He likes the job too much.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered and you shot a look at Bucky who smirked.

“Yeah well, bad choice in heirs.”

“Has he talked to you?” George asked and you pulled your brows together, feigning confusion.

“About?”

“About what he’s going to do now that Ian screwed up in front of people that badly?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about the job,” you said. “But I’d say he made his choice. Now he just needs to train Ian.”

“That training was supposed to have started decades ago.”

You hummed. “And yet here we are.”

“If I remember right, your prenup said your second child would have claim on the territory, no?” George asked with a laugh. “Maybe you two should hurry up, Arthur does desperately need an heir it seems.”

The joke made your jaw clench. Of course he didn’t even consider you just like your father didn’t, but he was more than ready to accept your hypothetical child as the heir.

Anyone but you, apparently.

“Father…” Bucky muttered and George held up his hands.

“Just saying.”

“And that’s my cue,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and George chuckled.

“Y/N, I was joking.”

“Oh I know, I just think it’s a good idea to see if my dad is alright now that you mentioned him,” you said, shooting him a fake smile before walking to Bucky to peck him on the cheek. “See you at home?”

“Absolutely,” he said and you walked out of the office, anger still poisoning your system.

                                       *

Your father’s assistant told you that he was home today, so you went straight there without dropping by the company. As usual, the foyer and the rest of the house were full of your father’s or Ian’s bodyguards and his assistant was by the study door. You waved at her but before you could approach her, you heard your aunt’s voice echoing in the foyer.

“Y/N, hello!”

You tried not to grimace, then turned to smile at her.

“Auntie.”

She came closer to kiss your cheek. “Arthur is taking a call, let’s catch up in the meantime.”

“I’m actually in a hurry, I just wanted to check whether he’s alright—”

“He is,” your aunt assured you as she gently steered you to the living room. “Albeit a bit tense but you know, it happens.”

“Does it though?” you muttered as you sat down on the couch. She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Ian’s tiny little mistake?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I have heard about the million dollar mistake though.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is under tremendous amount of pressure,” she told you solemnly. “Running around everywhere.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Is that right?”

“And I told your father the same thing, I think he’s being too harsh with him lately.”

“Well, a lot of bosses want his head on a spike,” you pointed out. “I’d say he is being quite nice to him, actually.”

Your aunt shot you a glare but you only smiled, making her heave a sigh and clasp her hands in her lap.

“Arthur says people are pushing for a sit down,” she said. “And that Ian must be there for some reason. I don’t know why he insists on it—”

“Because if he didn’t attend it’d make him look even worse,” you said. “No one would take him seriously after that.”

“He’s not the boss!”

“He’s the heir,” you forced yourself to say. “Bosses can take heirs with them to the meetings. Father has a point, he can’t coddle him especially in a situation like this.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m sure Bucky has made them too.”

“He hasn’t,” you said, aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He was raised for this shit, so he actually pays attention. Unlike Ian.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Well you must talk to him,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“To Bucky? Why?”

“Ian needs someone in that room that will have his back.”

You tried to stop the laughter threatening to spill from your lips.

“And you think Bucky will do it?”

“He will if you ask him to.”

“Why on earth would I ask him to?” you asked with a scoff and she threw her hands up.

“Because we’re family!” she said. “Ian would do the same for you.”

“Ian would throw me to the wolves if the roles were reversed,” you pointed out with a chuckle. “You know it as well as I do. They’d eat me alive during that meeting and he wouldn’t lift a finger, he’d encourage it.”

“You’re being very unfair to him, Y/N.”

“Maybe you just forgot what your son’s personality is like because you barely spend any time with him,” you said calmly and she narrowed her eyes.

“Careful.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue and held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Bucky wouldn’t help Ian even if I asked him to,” you said. “He doesn’t take him seriously.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m gonna go on a limb and assume it’s because Ian makes mistakes that cost my father and the other bosses millions of dollars.”

“What’s a couple of millions in this business?” she asked with a small laugh. “Nothing.”

You heaved a sigh. “It gives a message, auntie.”

She crossed her legs, sticking her nose in the air.

“Either way, talk to Bucky,” she said. “Everyone says he listens to what you say, so it might be a good idea to put in some good word for Ian before that meeting.”

You arched a brow, but before you could comment on it, your father’s assistant entered the room.

“Y/N, he says he can see you now.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and got up from the couch. “Auntie. Always a pleasure.”

She just shot you a smile and you shook your head slightly, then followed your father’s assistant to his study.

                                           *

When you got back home, Bucky still wasn’t back so you had enough time to put your plan into action. The set you had chosen for tonight was black; the lacy corset matching the garter belts holding your stockings. You were just done with fixing your hair when you heard Bucky opening the front door, so you threw yourself on the bed and grabbed the book on your nightstand to open it.

“Charm?”

“Upstairs!” you called out, turning on your stomach and swinging your legs back and forth lazily, trying to bite back your smirk as Bucky walked into the room, reading something on his phone.

“I have so much to tell you about the meeting today,” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen and went to place his gun on the small coffee table and you hummed.

“What?”

“Nat is furious, and she and Clint actually—” he stopped talking as soon as he raised his eyes from the phone and you looked over your shoulder to see him frozen in his spot.

“She and Clint?” you asked him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and he blinked a couple of times in complete silence, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck—am I dreaming?”

“Why would you be dreaming?” you asked and rolled over to lean back on your palms, crossing your legs. “We should talk by the way.”

“Oh we’re not talking,” he said, pulling you by the ankle to the edge of the bed and you let out a squeal that turned into a giggle before you pushed at him and got up from the bed. He let out a groan.

“Charm…”

“What?”

“Is this a new way for you to torture me?”

“No, I just think we should talk.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the conversation because I don’t have any blood in my brain right now, it’s all rushing south.”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned on your hip. “Can you focus?”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“You’re in a corset and garter belts and you want me to focus?” he asked, taking a step towards you but you took a step back, smirking.

“Calm down.”

“Come here.”

“No because we need to talk first.”

“If this is about who breaks first,” he said. “I broke first, you won, now come here.”

“I’m glad you agree but that’s not it,” you said. “About the sit down, is there a date yet?”

“A lot of people would start with dirty talk—”

“Business talk is my dirty talk,” you stated. “So?”

“Next week,” he said, pulling at one of the ribbons on the corset and you swatted his hand away.

“Ian is going to be there so—”

“Take it off.”

“Good lingerie is wasted on men I swear to God…” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip. “So if Ian is there, I need to be there.”

“Done.”

“The only way—” you batted his hand away again. “The only way for me to be there is if others believe I’m your heir in case of an emergency, because—”

“Done.”

You let out a laugh. “That easily?”

“Sweetheart you could ask me for all my possessions including the company right now and the answer would still be yes,” he said, making you let out a laugh as he wrapped his vibrainum arm around you and easily lifted you up. He carried you to the bed to drop you there and got rid of his shirt, letting you see his muscular before he got on top of you, his lips finding yours. Your eyes fluttered close and a happy sigh left your lips when he pulled back to look down at you.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You could feel the fire warming your cheeks and a giggle escaped from you before you pushed at him slightly so that you could straddle him. He quickly pulled at the ribbons holding the corset together and you tilted your head.

“So I win?” you asked again and he nodded, grinning.

“You win babe.”

You smirked, then let him pull the corset off of you to throw it somewhere in the room and leaned down to kiss him again.

Chapter 30

[allfearstofallto]

What would Yuri (your yandere bulter OC) do if his lady had an arranged marriege and was meeting the person she was arranged to marry with?

(Y'all make me so happy I could die!! I've been unironically imagining this scenerio for months!!!)

Yandere! Male OC x Reader

“You're much too young to be wed,” Yuri whined softly as his cold finger tips helped you latch the clip of your necklace. A beautiful, pink gem nestled in the center of the neckware drew attention to your bare collar bone, the radiant skin of your chest, and the lovely smile you had just above it. Yet another piece of jewelry your mother had sent you from her travels, she had such a taste for things you liked, despite hardly being around.

You merely scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes in the tandum. While he tied your hair up, you dusted yourself with perfumed powder, staring at yourself the entire time, “You must be insane, Yuri. I'm actually past the average marrying age.”

That much was true. Girls of your status typically married much much younger, usually right after coming of age. Even you yourself received many letters begging for a chance to meet after your debutante, which Yuri would swiftly burn in your fire place when you expressed your distate. You had things holding you back. You longed for schooling, travel, and a the freedom of being young and not tied down. Both your father and Yuri took this news excitedly and never pushed for you to get wed. They both even excitedly told you that you'd never have to leave the manor and if you so pleased, you'd be pampered for the rest of your life.

It sounded nice in theory, living off of your fathers wealth and being a bachelorette until the day you died, but many women at your tea parties were talking about their prospects, fiances, and even their husbands, and suddenly you felt as if you could no longer relate anymore. And the even more harsh realization hit you, that you were lonely. You'd sit quietly at the table, sipping your tea nervously and realizing that maybe it was time for you to begin viewing romance in a different light, not as a hindrance chaining you down, but a new beginning in life.

Your father was expectedly saddened by your announcement and Yuri…well, Yuri’s expression was hard to read. He stood silently for a bit, his lips formed in a tight line, eyebrows starting to furrow a bit behind his thick, round glasses. It was a face you'd never seen him make before, him typically preferring laid back or soft expression.

“You can't actually be serious, my lady,” Yuri forced himself to not sound more hurt than he actually was, but if you listened closely, you could hear his voice tremble, “You always said you'd stay in the manor forever.”

You glanced at yourself once over again in your full body mirror, feeling shy and almost slightly over dressed in the gown you chose. It was such a strange feeling, the way your heart was thumping in your chest, and you couldn't tell if it was excitement or nerves. You could see Yuri behind you in your reflection, a frown still formed on his lips.

“I said that when I was eight! You can't trust the words of a child,”

Yuri sighed again, pushing his snow, white hair out of his face in a sign of stress. A stress reflex that you seldom saw him do. Yuri was a man that was so calm and composed, yet today he was showing so much anxiety. And for what, you'd didn't know.

“Then what of me? This man you're meeting, he's the Duke two cities over. I am here to serve you, my lady, won't I go with you?”

“I'd hate to uproot your life, Yuri,” you began with a sad tone. You couldn't fathom the idea that he could look any sadder, yet as you spoke, his face fell even farther, “B-but mother will be home shortly! She sent a letter saying that it will only be a few more weeks, you could still stay in the manor and tend to her instead.”

Your suggestion is met with a shallow, solemn shake of his head, “You are my life, my lady. I wish to serve no one else.”

[denwritesandcries]

One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.”

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

[porkcutletbowl44]

Simon x Goth!Reader minishot🖤

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Warnings!: taxidermy mention, fluff 🕷️

Fem pronouns!

(I'm sorry if y'all hate this but this idea lives rent free in my brain! it's literally so cute and sweet)

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

"Aye, my sis wants ta go to a rave... I ain't gonnae let mah sis go alone, so let's tag along!" Soap had told him, what Simon didn't know was how crowded it was. How loud everything was, the flashing lights, the music and how...different it was.

It was nothing like the places he was used to go. In the rave, people were jumping around, dancing carelessly to the rhythm of the song, shouting in excitement. It was so loud that he almost couldn't even think straight.

It was chaotic in a way he wasn't used to it, he wasn't even sure why Soap dragged him in this place. Why he would even agree to join Soap on this ridiculous adventure? Soap was very capable of watching over just one of his sisters.

He hated every single thing of it; it was overwhelming him. He never fit in any kind of gathering but this one was on a whole new level.

All those people in this place were acting careless and free, they acted like there wasn't a care in the world. He watched them from the corner of his eye, these people were so different than regular people on the street, in a pub, or even in a store. He even began wondering whether he was just getting too old for these kinds of things, not understanding this style and "lingo."

The music's beat was thumping through the stadium speakers, it vibrated across his body and practically raddled his jaw to his skull. It was almost impossible to ignore the sound, the way it made him pulse to the rhythm of the bass. The lights were flashing, sending all sorts of colors across his vision.

He could feel himself starting to feel warm, and he clenched his fists, trying to ignore the way his mind was wandering to ditch his teammate. He felt a slight irritation that Soap had forced him to be here, as if to prove to himself that he wasn't as 'boring' as he claimed to be.

But this was too much for his introverted and solitary self.

He shifted his gaze to look away from the crowd, and his eyes fell on you. Just to the far right, you stood calmly on the side lines nodding away with the music without a care in the world, in your own little bubble of content happiness.

He stared at you, and his eyebrows slightly twitched.

He couldn't get himself to look away from you, you looked so different yet the same to all those people around, so peaceful and calm, like an oasis of calm within the sea of frenzy. Even with your makeup of black and white, you looked so beautiful, something he has never seen before.

He felt his heart race, but he couldn't tell why. Maybe because you were alone? no, no...you weren't acting suspicious, why was he so nervous?

He comes over warily, unsure what to even say. You were dressed like everyone else too, the clothes, the makeup of white and black, bats and spider webs adoring your style. With each step, he felt his heart accelerate. Why? He didn't know. As he got closer, he observed how different you were from anyone he's ever seen.

He observed the way your eyes were outlined by black eye liner, the way your clothes wrapped your body, the way the silver jewelry shined against your neck and wrists.

He found it all attractive and fascinating for some reason.

He took a deep breath, clenching his fist as he approached. The thought of striking up even a casual conversation made him uncomfortable. But you were so captivating; something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame. He took a moment to study your style, the bats and spider webs, a crazy yet tame hairdo, your layered clothes of black and grey accentuating the aesthetic. Not to mention, it was hard to miss the little bones on your belt around your waist.

He swallowed the tension in his throat before he finally spoke, his voice a whisper over the music.

"Quiet corner you picked for yourself."

You looked over with a kind smile, your movements ceasing with your attention.

"It's less crowded, can see the stage better too." You pointed, but he could give a fuck less than to look over at the stage when you were standing right in front of him.

Your smile was enough to disarm him, and he found his tense shoulders relaxing. He nodded in acknowledgment of your words, the bright lights flashing over your persons in a strobing flash to the beat.

"Aye, less crowded," He murmured, trying to make small talk, but it felt unnatural to him.

"You come here often?"

You giggled with a hand over your lips, nodding. He thinks you might be blushing under the makeup.

"Every weekend! How about you?" You asked kindly, completely ignoring how Simon could literally be a fucking serial killer, completely shoving aside the fact this man was a man crossed over with a damn Ox and could literally tear a person limb from limb.

He found himself enjoying the sound of your laughter, the way you smiled in that infectious way, how you easily spoke to him as if he was another person you come across every day.

He tried his best not to sound as stiff as he normally did, but it was proving harder than he thought.

"Me?" He raised an eyebrow. "First time." He admitted, his voice a few notches above what it usually was. Maybe he shouldn't try and scare you, so far you've been polite.

"Really?" You exclaimed in surprise, eyeing him in curiosity. "I never would of guessed! I was just about to say how sick your mask is!" You kindly shouted over the music.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the compliment, his cheeks staring to simmer with low heat under his balaclava. He wasn't used to receiving compliments, much less on his choice of attire.

"Thanks," he replied, trying to sound casual, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit pleased.

"Most people just find it weird," he mumbled, running a hand over the mask, and secretly he was relieved that you seemed to like it.

"'Weird'? You're at a goth rave! Everyone is weird!" You brushed off so obviously, giving him a funny look. Not the bad kind, like he should know better, but like you were reassuring him.

He looked over the sea of peculiar faces around, all the odd individuals who seemed to revel in the strangeness of the moment.

"Guess you're right about that," he said, turning his attention back to you. "In that case, I guess I just blend right in."

"You do! Fit right in, no one would guess it's your first!" You agreed in a sweet voice.

He felt a warmth in his chest. It was strange to have someone, especially a literal stranger, make him feel so comfortable in a place that he was out of his element. And you were being so sweet, so genuine, not at all intimidated by his large and intimidating figure. You rambled about how they play good goth music here, asking if he's ever listened to any goth music or if maybe he could potentially find a band he'd like. He happily listened, not knowing what the fuck a "baby bat" was or what dance moves were what when you pointed to people in the crowd.

It was... nice, in a way he could hardly describe.

He smiled again, a small but genuine one this time.

"Thanks," he replied. He paused for a moment, then added, "I guess I owe Soap one."

He then realized that you had no idea who Soap was, also the strange look you give him, and nodding away to be polite. You don't even push it either.

"Soap's my friend," he explained, feeling embarrassed and awkward. "He's the one who dragged me here, against my will." His cheeks were positively blazing under his mask, thinking about how he was being such a git.

"Cool nickname!" You remarked casually, entertaining his conversation and lack of communication skills.

"Yeah, I guess it is," He agreed, thinking back on how strange Soap's callsign must sound to someone who had no context.

"It's actually a call sign," he added, trying to fill in the blanks for you. "We're both—" he broke off then, realizing he was about to reveal more than he should, to some random woman in a rave.

"Sorry, what was that?" You politely asked, leaning forward with a welcoming smile. The music was loud, the sound waves crashing against Simon's chest with every rhythm.

He paused, feeling a wave of hesitance at the question. He had let his guard down, and now he was almost about to give away sensitive information to a total stranger. But, maybe he didn't have to make is sensitive information, it's not like you were a spy or a terrorist. You were just a regular civilian, enjoying the weekend.

But he saw your smile, and he could sense the genuine curiosity in your voice, and he found himself unable to stop.

"We're both in the military," he finally admitted, keeping his voice low. "Special Forces, actually."

"No shit? That's awesome! Thanks for your service!"

Your enthusiasm and gratitude caught him off guard, and he found himself awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't used to being thanked for what he did, and it made him feel a little more embarrassed.

"Cheers," he replied, feeling strangely bashful. "It's just a job, innit? Nothing special."

"Military is scary stuff, no? Takes guts." You giggled.

He chuckled at your assessment, feeling a little bit flattered.

"Aye, it's not for the faint-hearted," he conceded. "But it's nothing I can't handle." He flexed his biceps as he crosses his arm, as if to emphasize his own strength and toughness. Maybe he could impress you, make you swoon, and probably land a number or something.

You're so different, kind and carefree, so...unjudging.

"You must work hard!" You remarked.

"Every day, we train hard," he said, thinking back on all the endless drills, the early rising, and the exhausting exercises they went through, his second life in the gym.

He eyed you, taking in the way you seemed so unbothered by his intimidating figure.

"How about you? What do you do?" he asked, hoping to turn the conversation towards you.

He couldn't help it. You were so easy to talk to, so friendly, he just wanted to keep talking.

You sighed slightly, taking on a nonchalant stature and keeping your enthusiasm.

"I work in a oddity shop. Bones, wet specimens, framed insects and stuff."

He cocked his head to the side. Simon certainly wasn't expecting that, but it was fitting.

"An oddity shop?" He repeated, a mixture of amusement and curiosity in his tone. "Quite the choice of career. Unusual, innit?"

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of peculiar things you must deal with daily, and how comfortable you must be with the idea of death.

"It's peaceful, handling things that are forever at rest." You held up a charm around your neck, a small little bottle with something inside—

"This is my wolf spider specimen!"

He leaned closer to get a better look, now intrigued by the object around your neck. It...was a literal spider. Encased in some kind of resin or fluid.

"A spider," he noted, studying the small bottle carefully. "Looks...different, I reckon."

He couldn't help but think that the choice of a spider was a bit strange, but hey, who was he to judge? Everyone had their own quirks.

"And a scorpion," you'd show off your bracelet, a thick charm encasing a scorpion in its forever prison.

"A scorpion, eh?" he commented, half impressed and half creeped out. "Quite a few dead animals you got hangin' 'round you. Got any more?"

"Nope, but back at the shop we got this big ass jar holding a Fruit Bat." You emphasized with your hands, showing the size and shape with enthusiasm.

"A fruit bat, eh?" he repeated, trying to picture a jar holding such an animal, trying to imagine it with the demonstrated size you gave. "And big, too, by the looks of it."

He paused, then added, "Don't suppose you keep anything that's livin', do you?"

"I have a cat!" You mentioned kindly, "He's very much alive too;" you pulled out your little skull wallet, showing a picture of your black cat in one of the sleeves.

He hadn't expected to find something as adorable as a little black cat on your person, but then again, you seemed like a walking contradiction. Sweet, kind, and death-obsessed.

"Cute," he said, his voice suddenly softer as he studied the photo. "Looks like a little bundle of chaos incarnate."

He couldn't help but smile slightly when you showed him the picture of your cat. The contrast between the skull wallet and the cute cat photo was both amusing and endearing.

"What's its name, then?"

"Bones," you replied fondly.

He paused, imagining a cute cat named 'Bones'.

"Bones? Like the dead ones you keep in jars and stuff?" He teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems a bit on the nose, eh?"

"It's cute!" You arguably protested.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, enjoying your playful banter.

"Alright, alright," he caved in, grinning beneath his mask. "It's cute, then. A cute cat with a weird owner who likes weird things."

Maybe it was fitting too, cats did bring dead things to their owners. Maybe your cat had brought a bunch of dead little animals for you to stuff in a jar, or keep the bones for work and that's how the little guy got his name.

"And yet you're still here talking to the weird owner." You teased.

He chuckled, feeling more and more relaxed by the second with your personality. He wasn't used to people being so unafraid of his intimidating presence.

"You got me there," he conceded, "Suppose I must be a little weird myself, then, to be standing here with a bird who keeps dead things as jewelry."

He found himself captivated by how carefree and unapologetic you were about your unique interests. It was refreshing and slightly mesmerizing to see someone so content in their own skin. You were so unabashedly yourself, completely unbothered by what others thought. It was a stark contrast to his own reserved and secretive demeanor, where he was always conscious of how he was perceived.

He found himself wanting to ask you more, more about you, more about your life. He wanted to understand how you could be so unapologetically yourself.

But he held back, afraid to delve too deeply.

You eyes widened, pointing at the sleeve of war-ridden tattoos on his skin.

"Nice tattoos! Skulls and shit? Yeah, you totally fit in!"

He looked slightly alarmed for a split second, before he relaxed and took your compliment.

"Yeah, skulls and stuff," he confirmed, trying to sound casual. "Got em' during my service in the military."

He glanced down at his sleeve, the intricate ink designs sprawling over his skin. It was a stark reminder of his past, one that he was reminded of every time he looked at them.

"Thanks," he replied, his voice a little rough. "I've got a few, I suppose."

He raised an eyebrow at your next comment, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Do I fit in, then? I thought I was sticking out like a sore thumb 'ere."

You laughed again, shooting your hand out and giving your name—kindly, gentle and welcoming.

He blinked at the suddenness of your gesture, and for a moment he hesitated. Sharing names felt oddly personal, like an unwarranted intimacy.

But your welcoming gesture and the way you introduced yourself so easily won him over. He reached out and took your hand, his own large and calloused hand enveloping yours completely.

The contrast between your small, soft hand and his rough, large one was jarring.

But there was something about you, something that made him feel at ease.

"Ghost," he responded.

You smirked slightly, nodding.

"Military stuff?" You asked.

"Military stuff," he confirmed, a smirk playing on his lips beneath the mask.

He appreciated your lack of probing, your willingness to let the conversation take a natural route. It was refreshing, to talk without feeling questioned or judged. He found himself feeling relaxed in your company, his usual guard lowering a bit.

"So, you like dark stuff, I wager?" he asked, gesturing to your oddity shop job and the accessories you wore.

"Seems like you also have a knack for it too," you pointed out, gesturing to your face to mirror his, the skull mask, tattoos, black war paint.

He chuckled, admiring your witty remark. You were observant; he had to give you that.

"Guess I do," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Never thought about it like that before."

He ran a hand over his mask, feeling the ridges and bumps of the skull figure.

"I don't do it for fun, though. It's... practical."

"Why not make it fun?" You shrugged.

He paused for a moment, considering your casual response. Make it fun? He hadn't thought about it like that before.

"I suppose you could," he agreed, a note of curiosity in his voice. "But in my line of work, it's not always the best idea to draw attention."

He leaned forward slightly, a smirk on his lips. He feels comfortable now, gaining his confidence back.

"Besides, I don't think my superiors would appreciate it if I turned up to a mission in a skeleton onesie."

You giggled, shaking your head at the obscene thought. You fished out a card from your wallet, giving it to him.

"Come by the oddity shop. We have lots of accessories, maybe you can switch out the mask for another, we have tons of stuff."

He took the card from you, feeling an odd sense of warmth as your fingers brushed against his. He looked down at the card, reading the shop's name and address. He couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue at your offer.

"Maybe I will," he replied with a sly innuendo, "Seems like you've got quite the variety. I'm not sure if I'd fit in with your other customers, though."

"Don't worry, I've had worse come through. The goth community embraces all weirdness and odd people." You smiled at him.

He chuckled at your casual reassurance. It was true, he figured; a shop like yours probably did attract a fair share of 'odd' characters. He found himself admiring your ability to make him feel at ease, despite the obvious oddities of your persona. You were unapologetic in your interests and unapologetic in how you dealt with others as well.

He tucked the card into a pocket, feeling a sense of curiosity he hadn't experienced in a long while. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Here, in this weird and wonderful crowd, he felt like he could just... exist.

No stares, no whispers, no judgment—just acceptance of the strange and unusual. It was a strange, liberating feeling, to fit in somewhere he never expected. He allowed himself to relax a bit, his usual stiff stance softening slightly as he observed the quirky people around him.

He watched as a group of people with wildly colored hair and mismatched clothes gathered around and dance together, smooth, slow, yet wild movements. A girl with a buzzcut sporting a leather jacket and an array of piercings was talking amongst other people, holding up skull-themed earrings from her earlobe and giggling to herself.

A group of teenagers, all clad in black, were huddled together, trading bracelets and showing dance moves. This gothic music festival, with its dark and strange aura, was more welcoming than he expected...maybe he didn't dislike it so much after all. Here, amidst the sea of darkly dressed individuals, he felt a sense of acceptance he rarely experienced elsewhere.

He had thought he would stand out, a stark and stoic figure in the crowd, but the truth was quite different. Here, his oddities were just another part of the aesthetic, another shade amidst the shadows. Who would have thought he'd find such a sense of belonging in a sea of black clothes and alternative styles?

The atmosphere was different here, more inclusive and accepting. He wasn't singled out as an oddity; for once, he was just another face in the crowd. He decided to embrace the experience, allowing himself to enjoy the music and the company around him.

"You mentioned accessories," he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You've got something that could outdo my mask, then?"

[hunnylagoon]

The Killing Moon

PT2 The Colour Wars

Ellie Williams x Reader

It’s the perfect night for mystery and horror. The night itself is filled with monsters.

Premise: Summer camp feels a little different. Could it be newfound feelings for your friend or creatures beyond the imagination stalking you? Either way, it’s time to win the Colour Wars.

Warnings: Raunchy humour / mentions of cryptids / creepy?

PART ONE: Camp Spirit

Hope everything is alright with you because I'm so stressed that I may be spiralling into insanity at any moment. I understand that I'm an adult now but I too need someone to scream my frustration to until my lungs burn and I'm light-headed. "Hey, I'm having like super bad cramps and my flow is super heavy so I can't play this game."

I look at the girl in front of me, she's around fourteen if I had to guess and has two blonde French braids. We were in the middle of the first game of colour wars -the treasure hunt- and this girl was sporting a blue shirt, I didn't know her face nor was she on my team and I hadn't even noticed that she had been tagging along with my group for ten minutes. "Who are you?"

"Laila."

"Why are you here?" I ask but Laila only answers me with a shrug and a sneer "Never mind, I'm not your counsellor and I don't care, go to the nurses."

"Can I go to the nurses too?" Olive peeps up behind me "I think I have a scrape on my knee.":

"Don't we all?" I look back at her "We gotta win this game, we're so close," We were, mostly because every time the blue team gathered treasure I would send out feral kids to ambush them and bring it back to me "We're gonna have all the treasure we can carry." The objective was simple; The directors hid treasure (Cheap jewelry, hats, clothes from the old theatre program, etc.) across campgrounds and we had to source it out, whichever team came back to the sports field with more treasure won.

"We've been out here for hours," Morgan groaned, you'd think that these girls had been sent to war with the way they complained.

"It's only been forty-six minutes."

Olive took a seat on a rock, Leah doing the same, it didn't take long for each girl to have firmly planted themselves on the ground and refuse to get up. Valentina grabbed a stick and began to scratch drawings into the muddy ground.

"C'mon guys, there's like fifteen minutes left, and I know for a fact that there is still treasure to be found." I know how ridiculous I must've looked at that moment, I had been wearing a purple 'royal cape' that was pilling onto my T-shirt and a cheap dollar store crown that kept slipping off my head.

"I'm so bored," Chloe drew out.

"Because you're being boring!" I exasperate. Never had I ever had a cabin that was so apathetic and unenthusiastic, they were a stark contrast to last year when everyone had sunshine running through their veins and mud smeared across their faces; those pitch black summer nights live in my bones.

"This isn't fun, can we play something else?" 

"No," I take a deep breath out, composing myself "You are at summer camp to be outdoors, you're developing important social, cognitive and emotional skills."

I'm met with blank stares from each and every girl sitting below me "I don't know what that means," Leslie said.

"It means we're going through puberty," Kim tells her.

"No," My eyes go wide "No, it means that you're figuring out who you are."

"Am I gonna get my period soon?" Valentina drops the stick from her tiny hands. 

"Maybe- I don't know," I thew my hands out. 

"What's a period?"

"It's where you bleed until you don't have any blood left and then you die," Kim says this so matter-of-factly like she has a degree in healthcare and has been teaching the health unit in PE for a decade.

"WHAT?" Chloe jumps up from her spot on the ground, looking around to see if she's already bleeding out.

"We're gonna die and you didn't tell us?" Leslie looks even more terrified than she did on the night of the camp legend.

Every girl was beginning to panic, fear was clear across their small faces. It's moments like these where I wish I was alone, maybe solo camping or back in my bedroom from high school, somewhere where only the moon knows how I rot and the sun knows how I yearn.

"Guys, calm down, a period isn't a bad thing and it won't hurt you," This was my attempt to soothe the ten-year-old girls who were contemplating how they would spend their last days on earth. The plastic crown slips off my head and I reach down to grab it and readjust it.

"Then why is it called a period if it doesn't end your life?" Kim asks, crossing her arms.

"I don't know but it doesn't end your life-

"Can we just go back to the soccer field until this game is over?" Tamar chimes in, looking like she rather be staring at cardboard boxes. 

"Fine!" I finally gave in, gathering all of the treasure that once sat at my feet into my arms. The amount of treasure was almost overflowing, I had stolen a bunch from some kids in Dean's cabin who were too scared to argue with me. 

"Am I going to die?" Leslie scurries up beside me and I look down at her, behind the thick lenses of her classes, she is holding back tears.

"Not for a very long time," I can hardly bend my neck to look at her with the amount of shit I'm hauling, the girls being little to no help with this. The girls trail behind me and I have to turn my entire body to look at them "If anyone runs off this time, I'm feeding them to the snatchers."

Suddenly they want to listen. The woods aren't scary in the day, just at night when they begin to whisper. As of now, I know the quickest way to every part of camp despite the identical trees so thick that you can hardly see the sky when you're beneath them. 

Leslie holds onto the bottom of my red Colour Wars T-shirt since my hands are full, Valentina holds onto Leslie's hand and all of a sudden I've become a mother hen with little chicks following me around. 

"If magic isn't real then why were people so scared of witches," Valentina asks me while she kicks a rock across matted fallen leaves and dirt. 

"Maybe magic is real," I say "To burn a witch is to admit magic exists."

"How do I become a witch?" Chloe appears out of what seems to be thin air on my other side, I can't see her since my pile of goodies is up to my chin and I'm afraid that if I move all of it will come tumbling down.

"Practice magic," That was my guess, I didn't know squat about witchcraft.

"How do I do that?"

"A real witch will figure it out herself," I say. When you've worked with kids for five years, you get to a certain point where you run out of creative answers. During my first year working here, I was sixteen and a CIT, terribly afraid to mess up because I hadn't lived yet. With each passing year that I've come back, I get more and more comfortable, returning to familiar faces and the smell of petrichor.

Chloe nods excessively like I've just said something extremely profound, I can see the gears turning in her head like she's already thinking of spells to cast. 

It takes a little less than five minutes until we're out of the woods, we emerge by the crafts cabin, the soccer field is in clear sight. The soccer field is built over a little mound, slightly elevated from the ground and on top I can see two piles of knick knacks and a pretty big sum of campers and counsellors alike waiting on the top. 

From the looks of it Tommy and Joel have already begun to count their respective teams mound of treasure, Tommy being on the amazing red team and Joel representing the awful/disgusting/foul/boring/untalented blue team. That might've been a stretch but there were no friends in the Colour Wars.

In what seems to be the blink of an eye a hoard of kids runs past me and my girls, nearly knocking me off my feet. I didn't even process that some boys with too much energy had stolen plyed my well earned (stolen) treasure from my arms leaving me with nothing but my cape and crown until Liza, a girl from the Grizzly cabin snatched the cape right off my back and none other than Ellie herself grabbing the crown off my head.

They were booking it to the soccer field "Go get our shit back!" I yelled ushering my girls to go after the kids who were at least three years older than them. Only two of them actually listened; despite how hard they were trying, Leslie and Chloe's stumpy legs couldn't take them very far, leaving me to be the only one in pursuit.

I summoned back all of my memory from playing rugby in highschool and jumped on Ellie's back, I didn't take her down but she stumbled. I was so desperate to not turn up empty handed. By the time I made contact with her, she had already thrown the crown ahead for Liza to catch. They ran up the soccer field, dumping the double stolen treasure into their hula hoop. Even visually they were in the lead now, thanks to my expert piracy skills and theirs too, I guess.

"I hate you," I slid off Ellie's back, my sneakers hitting the dusty ground. "My girls earned that fair and square."

She looks me up and down, bathing in my anger like some kind of prize "I know you stole it."

"How?"

"Because I know you."

"Oh yeah?" I cross my arms, taking a step closer to my friend "Do you know how I'm gonna kick your ass later?"

She grins "I look forward to it." Ellie leaves me with this while she walks up to the soccer field to revel with her team in their newfound victory.

"What does 'kick your ass' mean?" Olive padded up behind me along with the rest of the girls, except for Leslie who was bent over, one hand on her knee to support her while she clung to her inhaler for dear life. "Are you gonna beat Ellie up?"

"I think she means 'kiss her ass'." Kim said, turning her head to look at Olive "Like they're gonna have sex later."

"What's sex?" Chloe furrowed her eyebrows.

"Kim you need to stop talking," I tell them, hands on my hips, nothing but frustration etched into the forefront of my brain. I glance back at Ellie as Maria rings the bell to signal that the game was over. Softly, with hands gentle as rain, I will wrap my hands around her neck and strangle her.

"Listen up!" I announced to the eight girls in my cabin. To absolutely no surprise, blue won the treasure hunt, now we were setting up for a water balloon fight in the allotted section of woods that Joel taped off in bright pink flagging tape. "I physically and mentally cannot handle another loss, I will be very disappointed in each and every one of you if we don't win-

"That's not true," Daniel cuts me off "The point of today is to have fun, winning doesn't matter, just do your best." The both of us are standing tall on a rock while the campers sit around and stare up at the two of us like we had been mighty gods preparing to throw wine and bread at their little feet.

I eye Daniel from the side and look back to everyone "None of your hard work is going to matter unless you win so do you want to be a whiney loser like Daniel or be cool like me and win the colour wars?"

Everyone fell quiet for a moment as if a curse of silence fell upon us until Kim not-so-sublty yelled "Daniel's a pussy!" I was beyond the point where I cared about the girls cussing, the only thing on my mind was showing my very dear friend, Ellie how awful her team is and rub my win in her beautiful face.

"That's what I like to hear!" I smile "Now let's go win this!"

My girls erupt in cheers and Daniel almost shamefully steps off the rock. I had finally made a breakthrough with my cabin after slightly snapping at them after Maria announced that the red team lost. Maybe the treasure hunt wasn't my thing, but water balloon wars? I had won that every single year, even when I was still a camper. 

The objective was easy, be the last team with players, once you get hit you're out. Friendly fire is strictly against the rules as well as headshots, they had to be hit in the torso, once you get wet, you're out and have to leave the allotted zone to watch. 

We played in a patch of forest that was less dense than the rest, making it easier to run around. 

"Three!" Maria shouted, "Two!" She's standing in the middle of the zone, so everyone can hear her though no one can see her since the two teams are on opposite ends to make it fair. "One!" She blows her whistle and kids are already dunking their hands into buckets of icy-cold water balloons and setting off to the enemy end.

The CITs were responsible for keeping a consistent flow of water balloons and buckets spread evenly in the zone, I remember when I was a CIT and had to miss out on capture the flag to pick up every bit of balloon that at splattered across the ground. 

I had a balloon in each hand, making my way around the perimeter discreetly. I lock eyes with a younger boy in a blue shirt, he immediately turns to run, not fast enough though "Come back here ankle biter!" I yell, decking a water balloon at him, it hits him right in his back.

There was a boy in Sawyers's cabin, one of the wild ones with animal teeth that ran off of energy drinks and the huff of Sharpies. He tried to throw a balloon at me but it missed me by a landslide, his second attempt wasn't much better.

I however nailed him in the chest "You're out buddy!" I smiled, and he met this by giving me the middle finger. "Whatever carrot top, tell Sawyer I send word!"

I was way too good at this game. Every year I thought I could take on the other team single-handedly and every year I'm proven right when I'm the last one standing. After a prompt reminder from Joel that this was supposed to be fun for the campers and I was treating it like World War Three, I had to cool down a little bit.

We played this game straight after lunch so everyone was either hopped up with energy or sluggish from eating too much, alternatively, there was Ashlynn. She was wandering around, a black bleach-stained hoodie thrown over the top of the shirt for whatever team she was on.

Ashlynn had a can of Diet Coke in hand, where did she get it? I'm not too sure, my guess is that she stashed them under her bunk. "Hey," She sits on a log beneath the tree I was hiding behind. "You're way better at this than you should be, you know you're playing against children, right?"

"I didn't come here to fuck around," There weren't a whole lot of people left in the game, I just took out Abby and the only counsellor left on the blue team was Ellie, maybe Ashlynn but she didn't pose a threat in any way shape or form. 

"Do you have any nic on you?" She looked up at me, taking a sip from her diet coke, her shaggy bleached hair was one more dye away from being fried.

"No?" I furrow my eyebrows "I don't usually bring nicotine to a summer camp full of children."

Ashlynn almost looks like she's hungover but then again she usually seems that way "I brought a couple joints and I'm like ninety percent sure two got stolen."

My eyes widen "You brought joints? Ash, you're getting fired if Maria finds out."

She shrugs "I don't mind, I either smoke weed here or I smoke weed in my backyard." 

"Okay but if it actually got stolen then it's probably some little shit that has it, they're gonna say that you gave it to them and that's a whole case."

"It's legalized though."

"Yeah, not for children." I was taken away from the game until I saw the smallest bit of a blue shirt beneath Ashlynn's sweater, I didn't hesitate to drop a balloon on her. She doesn't seem to mind and from this reaction, I'm beginning to think she's the one who smoked those missing joints. 

I come out from behind the tree empty-handed and plant a kiss on her forehead as an apology for getting soaking wet "Love you, Ash, hope you find your weed." I tell her before jogging off. Ashlynn doesn't get up to join everyone else outside of the boundary, she just stays on the log and drinks her diet coke.

Dina is still in the game on my team as well as a few campers, I hear her voice yelling at children somewhere off in the distance. Sadly, the girls in my cabin were picked off almost immediately, I swear I will avenge their little souls.

"You're soaking Conner, get out of here," Dina scolded a kid on the blue team "You gotta play by the rules, so beat it shrimp."

"Nuh-uh," He said. Lord knows I hated this kid, last summer when I went to the bathroom during dinner Conner stole my food and denied it even though he was the only one in the mess hall with two plates, he then kicked me in the shins and waddled away.

"You gotta go, baby hippo," I tell him, his round cheeks are bright red from running and he's short-breathed. He shakes his head and with a final stern look from both Dina and I, he leaves. "Nice, who's left?"

"One camper on our team and just Ellie over there," She tells me "Like best case scenario, just go over there and seduce Ellie."

I raise an eyebrow "Nah, I'm winning with brute strength and incredible strategy."

"I'm guessing that going for the little kids first is your definition of incredible strategy?"

"Yup," I say, walking to a bucket to grab another balloon "Get ready, this could go south."

"God forbid we tragically lose our lives in a water balloon war," Sarcasm drips from her tone even though she grabs another balloon.

"I know, that would be awful," I say with full seriousness.

Dina is struck with a water balloon out of nowhere "Shit," She mutters, looking at her now dripping shirt. I don't think I've ever reacted so quickly to anything in my life, I throw a balloon at Ellie and it barely hits her, but it still does.

"Look, you're wet," I smile, brighter than I had this whole summer "You're wet, you lost!" I'm almost jumping around, I'm so unreasonably happy at such a stupid thing. "I won!" I yell trying to capture the attention of the CITs so my win could go on record. 

"Fuck yeah!" Dina gives me a high five then looks at Ellie "You lost!"

"You lost," I say in a sing-song voice "Red team wins," I grab Dina's hand and raise to the sky like she's just won a wrestling match "We win, you're all wet!"

"You're wet too, D," Ellie says.

"Yeah, but you lost!" Dina wraps me in a hug around my torso, pinning my arms down and shaking me back and forth.

"Ew, get off," I can't help myself from laughing "But seriously I won, put that on record."

"Wow they have their worst player guarding the flag," I say, we were nearing dinner now and everyone was getting tired out, not me though, I had a war to win. Capture the Flag was the last game and that game is my shit, I know I said that about every other game but I really mean it this time. 

"I always forget that you're way too into this," Ellie says, she's unmoving in front of the blue team flag, pole stuck into the ground. 

"Ellie, you need to let me win," I say "Or I will do unspeakable things to you."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" She teases.

"Whichever you want," I almost surprised myself by saying this but it just slipped from my mouth like wax off the wings of Icarus. Behind me, I feel a harsh slap on my back and swiftly turn around to see a pudgy kid with a huge smile on his face. 

"You have to go to jail," Conner says and if he wasn't a child who stood at 4'3 I probably would've hit him.

"Yeah, I know, Conner," I glance at Ellie who is biting back a laugh and gives an obnoxious little wave as Conner drags me by the hand towards the jail. He waddles along, clinging to two of my fingers, his hands are greasy and slippery, whatever reason, I'm not sure I want to know.

He takes me to a rope circle laid out on the ground, there's already a handful of people on my team in it. Conner drops me off there, sticking his tongue out before scurrying away as fast as he could (Which wasn't very fast). There's one blue team guard, I recognized him from Jesse's cabin. 

I'm far too bitter for someone playing a harmless camp game, I hold a grudge easier than I hold someone's hand. "Why are you here?" A boy from Miles cabin asks.

"Because I got tagged, Emmet," I say, agitated. "Why are you here? Because you can't outrun an eight-year-old?"

His smile drops "Yeah," He looks down at his shoes, kicking some dirt. 

"How are we supposed to get out and win this?" Another boy asks.

"Jesus," I mutter "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen and you've never played Capture the Flag?"

He nods his head "I mostly play COD and Fortnite."

"Oh my god," I run my hands down my face, fighting the urge to gag "Someone from our team who isn't tagged has to tag us, they can only tag one person at a time and we get a free walk back to our side if we're tagged, to win the game you need to capture the other teams flag- you know what, I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory."

"So who's going to tag us?"

"Probably no one because a kid with Fortnite skills isn't really worth saving" I answer and he falls quiet. Harsh? yes. Necessary? No, but I was annoyed.

"Hey, Crawford," A voice says, she's standing a few yards back with one of her friends giggling.

"Oh, hey," The guy guarding us, coughs, deepening his voice "What's up."

"I can't believe you're actually playing this game," The girl sniggers.

"Nah, I'm just waiting for Lucas," He lies.

"Find him later, come hang out," She smiles at him.

Crawford looks from us to her, and with little to no hesitation, he goes with the girls. Once I see their figures retreat beyond the trees, I look around to see if there are any more people on the blue team around before stepping out of the rope circle.

"I thought you said we had to get tagged by someone else before we could leave," The boy says, looking around nervously as if he was buying pot in an alley.

"Are you a narc?" I ask.

"No?"

"Then we're good to go," I say, ushering my team out of the circle. The sun has just begun to set, casting an orange hue over everything and making it look like it had been touched by Midas. While the rest of my team runs back to our side where they are safe from being tagged, I have something else on my mind, Ellie Williams. 

I began to retrace my steps back to where Ellie waited with the flag and where I'm sure a bunch of overeager kids were patrolling to protect the priceless flag from the claws of the evil red team.  Ellie was never into these games until I was, the second I had the urge to win something, she was compelled to beat me.

Someone hadn't been looking where they were sprinting when they crashed into me at full speed, they would've knocked me down if they weren't the same height as an Oompa Loompa. She let out an 'Oof' while she fell to the ground "Chloe?"

"Hi," She looks up at me, and quickly the posse rolls around. All of the girls in my cabin, even Tamar and Morgan were actively participating.

Leslie ran up to me and hugged me around my legs "Hi, girls," I said with furrowed eyebrows. The past two weeks I had struggled to even get them to collectively go to breakfast without putting up a fight because they didn't want to. "How's the game going?"

"We know where the flag is!" Valentina peeps up, she has mud smeared under her eyes like war paint. 

"Yeah, but Ellie's there and I'm scared of her," Leah mentions.

"Well, we're all together now so we can strategize," A smile cracks onto my face.

"We should put a scorpion in her hair," Kim has a wild grin on her tanned face, her honey-blonde hair is tangled into a rat nest, with a couple of leaves in there.

"No, good idea though, we'll save that one for later," I point at Kim "I was thinking that I could distract Ellie while half of you keep the other guards away and the other half grabs the flag and makes a break for it."

Kim nods enthusiastically, Tamar doesn't seem thrilled by the idea but she doesn't object to it so I take her silence as a win. This is the exact moment I put on my invisible captain hat, giving each of my girls a specific role with the promise I would sneak them candy on Saturday if they pulled this off. 

With each passing minute, the sky got darker and darker, I wanted to finish this game until Joel and Tommy made the counsellors walk around with headlamps on to keep an eye on everyone. "Hi, El."

"What do you want?" She's been standing in the same spot for a little over an hour, her vexation was shining through in her tone. 

"To be done with this game," I say, prepping myself for the little heist "This is really dragging on and- I saw Crawford run off with some girls from your cabin."

"Who the hell is Crawford?" She furrows her eyebrows.

"One of Jesse's boys, I know it's an unfortunate name."

"Who did he leave with?"

"Uh," I rack my brain for their names "Cindy and the rude one."

She nods, immediately knowing who I was talking about from my vague description "So, when are you gonna run past me and steal the flag?"

"What?" I acted like her question was incredulous "Why would you think that's what I'm trying to do?" I'm so bad at acting, I'm behaving like one of those wasted middle-aged men who get pulled over on the freeway and pretend that they're stone-cold sober by making a bunch of hand gestures while they talk.

"You're awful at acting," She says, crossing her arms, I watch the veins tense in her forearm below her tattoo sleeve.

"Fuck," I muttered "Fine, I give up," I plop myself on the ground, my spine against the trunk of a tree, I look up at Ellie "Okay, I'm officially over these games."

She raises an eyebrow and I can tell that she doesn't believe me. "First of all, you're sitting in mud. Second of all, eleven years of bloodshed and you're giving up out of nowhere?"

"It's not out of nowhere, I'm just getting older," I say the second half a little quieter "I'm in college I need to stop acting immature."

We both fall silent, she doesn't know what to say to this. Ellie usually wasn't the best at comforting me in whichever situation, I remember back when I was fourteen and a wreck because my first dog died and all she could do was give me a hug and ask if I wanted water. 

"You’re not immature," Ellie says, unsure of what to do.

"Alrighty," I press my lips together in a thin line, equally diffident. "I'm just bored of this, it's gotten kind of repetitive."

"Then what do you wanna do?" She asks, in this light she's dimly illuminated by the setting sun. She looks like a sculpture carved from honey.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll do whatever you want," I smile.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Is it working?"

"Not entirely," She says, behind her, there's a snap and just before she turns around I call her attention back to me. I saw Valentina, Chloe, and Olive emerging from behind trees, just seconds away from victory.

"Okay," I chuckle "Help me up?"

Ellie regards me for a second before taking my hand stretched wide. The second her hand clasps in mine I pull her down with all of my might and believe me when I say this is no easy feat, Ellie was sturdy. Luckily I caught her off guard and managed to pin her beneath me, I straddle over her torso, gesturing for the girls to run.

"Go!" I whisper-shout so others on the blue team can't hear me. Ellie grabs me by the waist and uses momentum to flip me over, now I'm the one with my back in the mud and she sits overtop of me. 

She had been so close that our lips brushed, and I had felt my heart stop, I almost didn't want to move just to see what would happen next but in utter panic, I reached next to me, a handful of mud and smeared it down Ellie's face. "You're so gross," She squeezes her eyes shut, leans back and begins to scoop mud off her face, I use this as my opportunity to wriggle out from beneath her.

It takes me a minute to get off my knees and onto my feet, by this point, almost the entirety of my legs are covered in mud, leaves, sticks, and probably bugs. I try to take off but my sneakers betray me and I fall face-first into the mud.

Of course, Ellie sees this and she's laughing so hard she needs to support herself, one forearm against a tree while her other is clutching her stomach. I scoop up more mud, almost squirming in distaste from the sensation of it caked beneath my nails but I still throw it at Ellie with perfect accuracy. 

She tenses up when I do this. Once again I struggle to my feet but this time I am victorious, I stay frozen in place for a moment to be sure I won't face plant again. When I'm sure that I won't fall, I bend down to throw another mud pie at Ellie for good measure than I'm off to see if my girls completed the mission.

When I finally got back to my side I saw my team already celebrating "Woohoo!" I yell and the crowd immediately falls quiet, regarding my current state. I probably look like a creature who's just crawled out of a stagnant swamp. 

"Why does she look like that?" Ashlynn whispers to Bowie who doesn't respond and from his red eyes alone, I know the reason why.

"C'mon girls," I smile "Bring it in!" I open my arms for my cabin to come in for a hug but they just back away from me with wrinkled noses. 

Tommy looks at me "Why are you dirty?" I knew he was getting sassy when he propped his hands on his hips "What happened in the ten-minute gap since I last saw you that has made you so filthy?" It wasn't malice in his voice but genuine curiosity, Tommy was a fun-loving guy for the most part.

I shrugged "I wouldn't know, mate, you tell me." His eyebrows furrowed as his confusion delved even deeper. He looked into my soul from across the clearing. Eventually, Ellie makes her way to join me, she's a little better off than I am though she's still grimy.

"Oh, great, you too," Tommy says, gesturing to his niece. 

Joel lets out a deep sigh "You two better shower before dinner."

I let the hot water run over my body, dripping down and consuming me whole. Ellie and I are the only ones in the showers, we're separated by nothing more than a divider though the steam is so heavy I wouldn't have been able to see her regardless. 

Since we were sent to grab a change of clothes and clean off Ellie had been almost silent, she wasn't even teasing me back or making a punchline when I had thrown out an obvious setup. 

After thoroughly washing the grime off of my body I turned the shower off, walking over the laminated bench where Ellie and I had out put our clothing only to find them missing. For a minute I thought I was crazy and had misplaced them but after awkwardly pattering around the shower house, I realised they were gone.

"Hey, Ellie," I say on the other side of her shower stall "Someone stole our clothes."

"You're hilarious," She deadpanned, not an ounce of amusement in her tone.

"Yeah, I know but I'm not joking."

I hear the water turn off in her stall, she pokes her head out and looks at the bench "Where did you put them?"

"I didn't put them anywhere," I say, in an attempt to sound convincing. "Someone took our shit," All that was left behind we're Ellie's Converse, knocked onto the ground and my carabiner with keys, a flashlight, and my shark keychain. 

"Fuck," Ellie mutters and looks around for a moment before her eyes land on me and she quickly averts her gaze, "Can you turn around?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"I hate you."

"I hate you too." I tell her though I do turn around "What's the plan here?"

"I'm looking."

"I already did, dumbass."

"Thoroughly." She adds.

I stare at empty shower stalls and white tile walls while Ellie checks every single spot that I already have. I can hear only her and the plop of dribbles of water splattering against the cold ground. The steam is still heavy and easy on my sharp lungs.

"I can't find them," Ellie says at last. "But I did find some clothes that look like they could've belonged to Adam Sandler.”

"Yeah, no shit," I turn around and see her standing there completely nude, she moves quickly out of my eye line and into a stall "You've changed in front of me a million times, what's different now?" I say, nonchalantly, walking past her.

"Maybe I don't want you to see me buck naked."

"I think I just heard something," I stop in my tracks.

 "not really the time-

"Why do you always think I'm fucking with you?" I ask, furrowed eyebrows.

"Because-

"Shh," I hush her trying to listen for the sound. I walked toward the entrance of the shower house there was a large wall in front of the door so no one could open the door to peek in, they had to go around the wall and properly enter, the same way most locker rooms were set up. I'm about ten yards away from the entrance when I see a figure poke their head out, just a quarter of its face, I can see their amber eye. They spot me in almost a split second and jet out in a blur, I hear the door open and crashing shut, their feet scrambling away. Just like that, I felt my blood run cold. 

"Fuck!" I yell, scuttling back towards the stalls "Ellie, there's fucking someone in here!" My heart is beating faster than I think it ever has before and I almost feel sick with the thought that someone was in here the entire time Ellie and I had been vulnerable and unaware. 

"What?" She steps out of the stall and looks around before she sees me. I'm on the floor, my knees to my chest and eyes wide. "You saw someone?"

"Yes!" I say throwing a hand out to gesture to the divider "They were hiding behind there and fucking watching us!"

"Shit," She says, walking towards the wall and looking behind it, she freezes too. Ellie turns towards me and the doubt on her face is gone "We need to find some clothes and get out of here."

"What?" I say "Did you see something?"

Ellie begins to open every single locker, tossing articles of clothing that people left behind on the ground. She wasn't exaggerating earlier when she said she found clothes that could've belonged to Adam Sandler. No wonder they were left behind.

"What was it?" I press again.

"Just some mud tracks, they were probably ours," She dismisses. "Now get dressed."

This doesn't ease me in the slightest, I'm so on edge that I haven't made a joke about Ellie and I casually being naked in front of each other. How ridiculous the pair of us looked didn't aid me in calming down; Ellie was wearing a black T-shirt about three sizes too large that read 'Ask me about my IBS' with a caricature of a man-eating cheese beneath it, this was paired with blue basketball shorts that had two white stripes running down the side. "How's your IBS?" I tease.

"It's a constant battle." At least she had her shoes, I had to wear flip-flops that hardly fit, so small I almost thought they belonged to a Barbie. While Ellie was moderately comfortable, I was not, I had to wear skinny jeans that were crudely cut into Bermuda shorts, matched with none other than an American flag tank top, how patriotic. 

"I'm almost thinking it would be better to go out in nothing," I say, looking at myself in the mirror. I glance over at Ellie, I know she's trying to play it off but I can tell she's shaken.  "You look so stupid."

"Damn," She says "I was just trying to show my support for those with IBS," Ellie jokes, trying to ease the tension.

The both of us are procrastinating on leaving the perceived safety of the shower house. I feel dread emanating from the woods, we will no longer be surrounded by four walls and engulfed by bright light. As we walk towards the entrance I reach for Ellie's hand, intertwining our fingers. "So we're going straight to the mess hall?"

"Yup," She says, giving my hand a little squeeze, it's her way of saying 'I got you'. I wonder if she can sense the panic pulsing through me or distress pumping in my veins. At the door I saw the tracks Ellie was staring at, they hadn't been ours. We walked in with muddy sneakers, these were barefoot prints, and whoever they belonged to had walked in many circles. I'm sick to my stomach once again, fighting the natural urge to vomit until I cry and my parents come to comfort me.

I click my flashlight on, but nothing lays ahead but forest and a beaten path. We stepped out into the darkness, it wasn't a far walk to the mess hall where everyone was gathered but that didn't stop my heart from racing like a rabbit moments away from getting snagged by a terrifying beast. 

My heartbeat slowed the further we walked, so far we hadn't been kidnapped by a pervert. I take a deep breath, trying to push overtly dark thoughts to the back of my mind, next to me Ellie is calm as a marble statue bathed beneath moonlight.

Each breeze makes me shudder despite the humid weather. Suddenly, regarding my current situation, the summer camp doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like those abandoned houses up the road that my parents had carefully trained me to stay away from. The rustle of leaves is reminiscent of the laugh that belonged to creepy men who used to watch children at the park who didn't belong to them. 

I'm no longer met with the fresh scent of pine but something ancient, something rotted like it's been sitting in the back of the fridge for a decade. It reeks of shit to the point where I'm gagging on nothing like little hands of wind pushing on the back of my throat. 

My hand grows sweaty clasped to Ellie's though she shows no indication of being bothered by this. I hear a rustle somewhere around, whether it's in the trees or the bushes I'm unsure, instinctivly, I freeze. I look around, the gleam from my flashlight gliding across the flora, searching for something that likely isn't there.

"It's okay," Ellie says, her voice tender as a lullaby  "We're fine," She pulls gently on my hand to keep us going but I'm stuck in place. My flashlight is frozen on the body of a rabbit, Its white fur soaked through with red. I break my hand free from Ellie's grip and clasp it over my dry lips to choke down a cry. The entire skin of the rabbit's torso had been torn off on one side from the spine to the stomach, you could see its brown organs, the still beating heart, and everything that made it function was pooling out of it. If it hadn't been for its little head, beady eyes full of fear and perked-up ears, I wouldn't have known it was a rabbit at all. Whatever mauled it did a messy job that it hadn't quite finished like a dull axe to the back of the head. 

Behind the trees, I hear slurping, something wet and hungry. It wretches on what I assume to either be its newest feast or its saliva. It devours every last breath it has, the breathing is shallow and gruff like it's eating so fast it's choking on its meal, though it takes the time to slurp and swallow the remnants of whatever it's chowing down on. I see a pair of golden eyes glint behind a shrub in the cast of my light.

I reach for Ellie's hand again and run like I've never run before. She quickly takes the lead, so fast that she's nearly dragging me along. We don't speak but we understand each other clearly, we need to move. 

Trailing us, I hear heavy steps beating against the dirt pathway. I don't even need to look back to know that it's following u, its heavy, wet breathing is clue enough. I'm starting to feel a burning in my lungs, saliva builds in my mouth and I spit it down onto the pathway, heaving with every quick-paced step.

One of my too-tight pink flip-flops catches a rock stuck in the path and sends me tumbling to the ground. For just a moment I see a pitch-black figure wearing tattered clothing with amber eyes that glow light street lamps gaining on us; I could've sworn it had human hands and feet but I wasn't in my right mind, it's still enough to send adrenaline coursing through my veins. Without even stopping, Ellie pulls me back up and I kick off my other sandal, running barefoot on the trail.

My feet hammer against the dirt, rocks, and pebbles. I can feel the souls of my feet getting sliced and torn though I don't slow down, the sight of the mess hall in the distance makes me run even faster. 

"Hey!" Ellie yells, trying to capture the attention of someone in the mess hall. Her grip on my hand doesn't loosen, in fact, it gets tighter as she pulls me along. I don't know if whatever was chasing us is still there but I'm too mortified to check. 

I wave with my hand clutching my carabiner but it does nothing to garner any kind of attention within the mess hall. Our feet moving faster than we could form thoughts we ran towards the entrance. 

Ellie pulls the door wide open and pushes me in before slamming the door shut behind us. The very second my heaving body hits the floor, everyone's attention falls on us.

"Woah," Miles regards us with confusion before it morphs into a smile on his face "Did you guys just have sex?" He takes a bite of his sandwich, he looks like he got into Ashlynn's stash.

"Why do you look like Adam Sandler and Hilary Duff?" Dina furrowed her eyebrows next to Jesse, he looked like he was trying to work together some type of conclusion for why we were breathing so deeply and why my feet were bleeding. 

I look at Ellie and she meets my gaze, she no longer looks calm. There's a sense of dread written clearly across her features, that thing didn't seem animal, it didn't seem human either and I wasn't sure which was worse, the echo or the answer.  

A/N: Not much to say today but thanks for reading! Love you all.

TAGLIST: @wherearthepilots-blog @diddiqueen my tags are being so weird I’m so sorry if you weren’t tagged

[elissanatok]

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 3

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angsty , shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

the air in the dining hall had been suffocating you. you could see the smug look in the eyes of your oldest uncle. he used to look at you differently and you had questioned before if it were his feelings for you that changed, or he himself. and if Aegon changed that much, did the others do too? 

you had been late, much to your mothers dismay. your uncle Daemon had not expected anything else. he always knew the days when it was time for a nightmare. maybe that was because he cared so much, or maybe because he liked to know all of the people surrounding him. you had forgotten your jewelry too, making your neck and shoulders bare. your deep red dress contrasted with the one of heleana who was sitting next to your brother. 

you deeply regretted arriving late - because at the end of the table, to your left, sat the one eyed prince. his gaze burned holes into your skull and except from the smile you send him when you arrived you did not dare to look in his direction again, too afraid he would look at you the same way he did when you arrived. 

you had hoped things would be different and he still held the same love for you he had when you were children. but this was different. 

having you avoid his gaze angered him even more than the pig placed in front of him. he could not care for that damn pig because he already felt disgusted of himself. he thought your feelings for him could not change, you could not change, but there you were avoiding his gaze like never before. Now that you were of age, you would probably want a good looking man, a kind one too. hearing his mother ask about the lord in the north made him choke on his wine, and made you finally look at him. 

your lavender eyes looked at him with concern, the line between your eyebrows deepening. “Are you alright prince aemond?”, you asked quiet and kindly. he nodded, humming as an answer, which definitely did not satisfy you. you wanted to hear his voice. he realized when you looked down at your lap, biting your lip embarrassed and playing with your fingers. but still, he did not know what to say.

His mother eyed him and the pig warily. She truly did not wish for something bad to occur, but she could literally feel the anger radiating of her youngest son. She tried changing the topic “But he has not made a proposal yet? Has he?”, but failed miserably.

Aemond felt lucerys smirk before he saw it. Not only could he now laugh at his dumb pig but at the obvious distress he felt over the possible marriage of his princess.

You shook your head no while chewing your dinner slowly. You did not wish to move to the north, to leave your family behind and be lady of house Winterfell. You just wanted to stay here. With him.

And after Heleana made her toast about marriage life and “he mostly ignores you”, it sounded like a death trap to her.

Aemonds abrupt standing up and hitting the table made you flinch. You could see it in his eyes. He truly did change and when he openend his mouth to make his horrible speech, you could feel it in every bone.

Although he did not take your name in his mouth, you could clearly hear the insult he threw at your siblings and you.

While everybody stood up, Aegon pushing lucerys head on the table and Aemond throwing Jace to the ground, you looked down at your lap. Tears that dropped down your cheeks pathetically were wiped away by your sleeves. This was not what you hoped for when they told you of your return but it was exactly what you feared.

Daemon saw it first, calling out your name to check on you and pulling the attention of the rest of your family towards you. You shook your head at him, while you tried to come up with anything helpful to say but found nothing that would make this situation better - so you left.

You did not see Aemonds smug smile fall because you did not turn around to look at him again.

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @leahjean @bellaisasleep @tempt-ress @let-love-bleeds-red @millies0bsimp @alysmondstuff @chimmysoftpaws @justsumtuffstuff @havlindzk @partypoison-00-blog @zillahvathek @oureternalbond @aemondssiut @minttea07 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @pastelorangeskies @bellstwd @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @trikigirl271 @florxdexcerezo @eddiesbitch83 @maviee @melllinaa @zgzgzh @shiny-trashs-blog @bcon24 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @deliazeedork @ilovemydinoboi

I’m not continuing the tag list Sorry guys :(

[icyblogs]

anyone still thinking about fallout? haha anyways here’s more ghoul!ghost (-‘:

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Ghost x Vaulter!Fem!Reader i’d imagine this takes some time after the events of this. but can be read by itself. (: WC: 2.6K Warnings: dark fic, noncon, mdni. Note: thinking about how ghouls canonly are sterile. this is a known fact, only slightly broken by the miracle that is Saint Monica from Fallout 3- which to this day i’m still not sure if it was some sort of gospel or not as it was from Father Clifford, but regardless. 

“Well um, well, our community is always looking for new members, we’d be happy to have you!” Brown eyes drift down at your familiar form, tilting his head as he watches your mannerisms as you flit around nervously, too polite to outwardly refuse him. His joints ache as they pop absentmindedly by his side, fingers twitching to dig into the soft flesh of your waist- to claw into your skin, aching to reinstate his claim. “And, there’s a lot of homes being built still as you can see but uh-, but I have a guest room here if you’d like to stay here. Our overseer says there might be a storm coming tonight!”  

“Is tha’ right, honey?” Simon croons- voice reverberating in the quiet evening, gloved hand coming up to rest on the top of the doorsill. He leans forwards, soaking in the way you slink backwards into the house, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his broad body. 

He was truly a bad man, made worse by this wasteland, you should be running for the hills- not offering him a place in your home. Like letting a wolf into a chicken coop; an insatiable beast that once it had the taste of you, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left. To tear you apart- aching to see if you tasted like how he remembered; saccharine ichor, sweet candy floss- it was enough to make his teeth grit, molars grinding together. 

His eyes drift down to your left hand, noticing the blatant lack of jewelry, jaw clicking in place. No ring, no memory- it was.. not what he had anticipated when he first approached you later that evening after the communal dinner. Maybe it was blissful thinking that when you’d notice him, your eyes would light up- and you’d run at him- into his awaiting embrace, where you belonged. With your husband.  

But, the wasteland had never been kind to him, so why would it continue to be now?

It was mocking in a way, dangling something in front of him, like a piece of meat to a starved, old, dog- one that salivated at the mere thought of it. Of you.

It really was obsolete, how could the world think of keeping the two of you apart? You didn’t belong here with this.. community. With these people. Don’t worry, he’d show you the right way of the world. No need to stay with these vaulters, filling your head about how the world now supposedly worked- this place would probably be blown up in a year or so by some fanatics- why bother staying here?

But if you insisted on playing house here just for a little while, he’d be happy to oblige for a day. Maybe two if he was feeling generous Then you’ll come back home with him in the little slice of territory he’s carved out (blood feeding the plants, bone-marrow for the fertilizer, built on a burial ground of his own creation) to spend the rest of your time together, alone. The way it should’ve been. Maybe chained to the bed so he’d know where you’d be at all the time, so you wouldn’t get lost again. 

All safe and sound.

See, Simon never believed in luck nor fate until he met you all those years ago. And it’s pretty damn hard to deny that it exists when you’re standing in front of him more than two centuries later, and he may as well consider himself the luckiest man alive. 

“I, Simon Riley take you to be my wife.” 

He finds solace with you- even if you don’t remember who he was. Even if you fight against him as he makes himself at home, all but slamming the door behind himself; mud-trodden boots tracking along the wood, smearing dirt and crimson. You don’t have your ring anymore, but that’s okay- he’ll give you a new one so you know who you belong to. Rings of teeth (chipped, missing) along the column of your throat, scarring until there’s no concept of a misunderstanding left. 

“To have and to hold from this day forwards.”

It wasn’t your fault that you’d forgotten who you were- wasn’t your fault that you didn’t immediately go searching for him when you had woken up, but it was alright. He’d teach you. Break you apart and take the pieces, building you right back up to how he remembered you. 

Eventually to a point where he didn’t have to tie your arms behind your back with a belt or stuff a rag in your mouth to muffle your cries for help. As much as he loved seeing you bound- as much as he loved hearing your noises— it would be a shame to pick through any more corpses for the bullet going through the skull of anyone trying to interrupt the reunion. 

“For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer.”

He thinks he’s in heaven, sitting between your spread legs- a bruising grip on your thigh, the other on your stomach, keeping you firmly situated on the bed. Trying his best to ignore the garbled whimper when he pulls down his bandana, watching as your eyes fill with more tears at his face, or lack thereof. Truly earning his nickname, a grim reaper looming over your bound body, licking his chapped lips as he stares unblinkingly down at you. You looked scared but.. it’s okay. Your husband‘s here now, no need to worry.

He leans down to rest against your knee, scarred cheek against soft skin, giving a chaste kiss. He goes up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the skin up to the gusset of your underwear, trying to recall how you smelt- and he groans, providing an open mouthed kiss to the fabric. Breath warm, reverent as he peers up at you, soaking in how your cheeks looked warm, the moonlight from the outside casting an ethereal glow. 

“Poor girl been all neglected, hasn’t she?” He grumbles- giving the fabric another chaste kiss as he peels it off your skin and watches as you writhe beneath him, like a mouse caught by a viper, struggling so much that it only causes his hold on you that much tighter. Fingertips absentmindedly petting against your stomach, making their way up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples to stiff peaks. He was languid with it, like he had all the time in the world. Now, he supposed he did. Slowly, softly- treating you as if you were glass. As if one wrong move would cause you to disappear. Tongue laying flat as he makes out with your pussy, relishing it the way it gushes for him- or how your hips buck when he sucks on your clit just right. 

Simon worked you like he was orchestrating a band- each string plucked to perfection, remembering exactly what you liked like you were the back of his hand- knowing what made you tick. What made you unravel. His free hand slips between your legs, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head when one of his fingers starts to coax you open. It wouldn’t be the most terrible way to go out, if it was from you. 

Taking his sweet time working you to the edge and then over promptly, eyes rolling back as he laps at your cunt as if your juices was nectar- pure ambrosia. Liquid gold- you really did taste just as sweet as he remembered. He holds you firmly down as he continues to work your high into overstimulation, it was messy- worshiping- tongue, mouth, teeth- and he brings you crashing over the edge for a second time before finally pulling back, watching as you tremble beneath him, eyes a little bit glassy. Brain practically melting out of your ears, unable to really focus- tears slipping down your cheeks, breathing in deeply through your nose as you try and regain some sense of coherence. 

He’s never thought you looked more beautiful.

“In sickness and in health.”

It was easy to forget what home was like. Years of corrosion- sinking into grooves of his brain, plaguing his thoughts. Paranoia, questioning— so many voices that it was hard to think. Yet as he looks down at your already tuckered out form, he only smiles- feeling at peace. No voices whispering in his ear- no phantom pains, he felt relaxed, for the first time in a long while. Home was where you were, whether you knew it or not. 

Breathing staggered, he kneads at the meat of your thigh soothingly as he works to fish out his cock with one hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as he lines himself up, smearing arousal over your puffy clit. He rests one hand on your knee, notching the head at your entrance- watching you closely as you give a little shake of your head. 

“‘ou can take it for me, can’t you love?” He encourages, starting to make his way home. The first inch takes his breath away momentarily, and he moves your knees so they are up against your chest. Watching you flit around and flounder- eyes wide as you gasp for breath behind the rag. Drool falling from the corner of your lips, toes curling at the sheer stretch. 

“Tha’s it. Biggg stretch.” He continues to push in until he bottoms out. Thighs pressing to the back of yours, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt tightening around him like a goddamn vice- “Feels like a fuckin’ dream, love. She remembers me huh? Even if you don’t- fuck-“ 

His hand finds your cheek, throat tightening as he sees your panicked expression, the furrowed eyebrows, staring back at him behind a wall of tears. It was enough to make him almost pull out to comfort you. Almost- you’d understand why he was doing this someday, even thank him for it. “It’s okay, deep breaths, yeah? You can do it.” He coaxes instead, pupils blown out as he looks down at where the two of you were connected, giving an experimental thrust, nearly coming at the pretty muffled moan that makes its way out of your throat. It’s been way too long.

“Feels good?” You shake your head, and his eyes crinkle as a smile graces his scarred lips, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. Going slow at first but he starts to get lost in the feeling of his cock drags in and out of your gummy walls— and he starts to go rougher, ignoring your little whimpers and whines. How your feet try and kick free out of the mating press, and he all but snarls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping- almost as a warning as he continues to fuck you into oblivion. 

“To love and to cherish.”

He used to imagine a family with you back then before the bombs dropped. Take a vacation, build a nursery together- paint the walls. Bring a little piece of the both of you into the world. You always did reassure him that his past didn’t define him, that he would be a good father. That he was enough.

Living this long.. had its downside. He knew that. It was an ouroboros, a constant loop, a mindfuck. It’s been hell on Earth. He’s accepted that, a phantom- a ghost living in this wasteland, thriving on those who were more surviving rather than the living. But he never really considered nor cared about a specific aspect of it. Sterile, never able to reproduce. 

Simon had once wondered if one day you’d sit outside with him, dinner on the stove, watching as he built a cradle. He could’ve just imagined the baby bump and his eyebrows furrow, picking up his pace as beads of sweat drip down his brow.

It was wishful thinking. But that’s all it was- wishful.

Maybe in another life— but damn did it sound appealing now. 

He continues to rut into you, nodding his head as if you were in on the conversation he was having with himself. He could just imagine your stomach all round he starts to pant, dark eyes peering down at you. “Yeah you’d been such a good mama, huh? You’d give me a whole litter of them, wouldn’t you?” His hips stutter, squeezing his eyes closed as he hears your garbled sobbing. Trying to get air through the rag, nostrils flaring for breath. His lips drag up your jaw, gently kissing your eyelids as you keep them squeezed shut, muffled whimpers behind the cloth. “I love you so much. Missed ’ou baby.”

His pace stutters once- twice more and he lets out a guttural groan, releasing up against the base of your cervix. He glances down again, staring unabashedly at the milky fluid coating the base of his cock and his head goes a bit fuzzy at the sight. 

The sound of thunder booms outside, rattling the window as the moment comes to an end. Pulling out, he hums as he shrugs off his jacket, ignoring your small sounds of protests as he lays down on the bed next to you.

He easily maneuvers you, his chest facing yours as he starts to slot himself back between your legs. “Settle, jus’ relax love.” He spreads the combined come around before pushing it back inside, keeping you nice and plugged up. “I’m going to remove the rag, you’re not going to scream are you?” 

You look at the stranger- the man? Monster- it was hard to tell but you shake your head regardless, trying to appease him. “Course you won’t. Because you’re my good girl- and you wouldn’t lie to me.” Bringing the fabric out of your mouth causes a whine, jaw tingling and aching as you lick your lips, trying to regain some sort of hydration. 

“Pl- Please I don’t understand I- why are you doing this— please sir-“

“Simon. Don’ want you calling me anything else.” He interrupts your panicked rambling, frowning as he leans down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle— longing. Even if your eyes were wide and terrified, shaking like a leaf, flinching as you look back at his mangled face. “Now sleep. Don’t want any more talking out of you tonight okay?”

When you don’t respond he nudges your chin up, his brow-bone raising expectantly. “We have a long day tomorrow, don’ want you to be tired, okay?” You catch your lip between your teeth, hiccuping and confused. Eventually nodding, letting out a little squeak when he squeezes your waist, fingers brushing over the leather of the belt. “I know it hurts love, I know- ‘ll let you out of these in the morning alright, just don’t want you to gettin’ into any trouble.” Another smile, and he leans down kissing away the tears falling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For the first time in years, he feels genuinely content, one leg over yours as he throws an arm around your shoulders, chin notching in on the top of your head. He doesn’t sleep that night, listening to your breathing as you finally fall asleep after a bit of struggling, fingertips absentmindedly trailing up and down your spine. He hears the steady pulse of your heart- sees the rise and fall of your chest, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing your temple. 

You were here. Doesn’t matter how, but you were here. Your current state was a problem- sure- but you had all the time in the world to get reacquainted again, and you’d learn to be happy again. To love him again. 

“Until death does us part.” 

“For this is my solemn vow.”

[caapsiizzereads]

I got your heart skippin' when I'm gone

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: language, author’s first attempt at writing🥴

A/n: yes, the title is, indeed, a Taylor reference.

A glass of champagne in your hand, you are standing in the company of Frank, your boss, and a few other of your colleagues, chatting about how good of a job they did at setting up today’s event. A bunch of compliments are also directed at you and Frank for all of the work you’ve done leading up to this. You know you’re great at your job, but moments like this really make you feel fucking good about yourself. At 26, you can proudly say that you are the Assistant Creative Director for one of the biggest jewelry brands in England. And today your company is celebrating the launch of their latest collection that you’ve been working really hard on. The past couple of months have been terribly busy, Frank and you practically living at work and surviving purely on caffeine. But now it’s finally over, and you can just relax, look pretty (“absolutely stunning,” actually, to quote Frank), and sip champagne, while people are singing you well-deserved praises.

The company’s event team really knew what they were doing too. Natalie, your friend from PR, had been very pumped for the night, rambling about all the famous people coming. You briefly went through the guest list, of course, but, honestly, you were more excited about the open bar. But if one of those guests just so happened to be lovely enough, you wouldn't mind indulging in some of that either.

An hour into the party, you were done with all the formalities, and you could switch from your neat glass of champagne to a drink more worthy of a Saturday night. You’re standing by the bar, looking at your phone, when you hear a question, seemingly directed at you.

“Can I get you a drink?” Looking at you, there’s a guy, around your age, dyed blonde hair, pretty face, really nice bone structure. His face looks familiar, but you just can’t remember why.

You give him an amused smile, “You know that they are free, right?”

“And how am I supposed to be chivalrous in these conditions?” he says theatrically.

“If buying a girl a drink is your definition of chivalrous, maybe you shouldn’t even try,” you say, your voice full of sarcasm, but still a smile on your face.

He chuckles lightly and smiles at you, “I’m Jamie.” Really pretty smile too.

“Y/n,” as a force of habit you offer him your hand to shake. The gesture seems to surprise him a little bit, but he goes with it anyway, shaking your hand lightly.

The two of you settle next to each other by the bar with an easygoing chatter. You’ve been talking for about 10 minutes, when Jamie says that he’s a football player, and it finally clicks for you.

“Oh my God.” You tilt your head down and cover your eyes with your hand in embarrassment. “You’re Jamie Tartt. You were in our campaign a few months ago. Fuck, I’m so sorry. My memory, like, resets once the campaign is done and it’s not my problem anymore.”

Jamie smiles almost shyly at your realization. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m sure you go through a lot of those, can’t remember everyone.” He definitely remembered you, though. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. And a part of him is even kinda relieved that you didn’t because–

“On second thought, I do remember you. You were, like, 40 fucking minutes late.” Yeah, that. You didn’t speak to him directly that day, but the look on your face was the most passive-aggressive thing he’d ever seen. Honestly, could give Roy a run for his money. Except that your version also looked kinda hot. But he still would rather not be at the receiving end of that glare ever again.

“I’m sorry! I underestimated the traffic,” he says awkwardly. And to think that this has been going well…

You take a sip of your drink, giving him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not getting invited again, am I?”

“Well, you are on my naughty list, but I wouldn't write you off that fast. You attract a nice audience of sports fans and sportsmen fans.” Jamie can swear you have just checked him out. “And you have a nice neck, you know, makes the necklaces look good. But that’s just my professional opinion.”

You said it in the most nonchalant way, but you might have just become the first person to make Jamie Tartt flustered. He decides to push his luck some more.

“And your personal opinion?”

“That you were 40 fucking minutes late,” you deadpan.

No luck, then.

“So,” Jamie perks up again at your attempt to keep the conversation going, “did you have a match earlier today? Or is it tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it was today.”

“How was it?”

A smug smile appears on his face, “We won, 3-1.”

“Well,” you raise your glass, “cheers to that.”

Jamie clinks his glass to yours, “Cheers.” You both take a sip of your drinks.

“So you’re not into football then?” Jamie asks, once you put down your glasses.

“Nope,” with a dramatic ‘p’. “Don’t take it personally. I’m not really into any sports,” you say blithely.

The conversation keeps flowing easily between you two. 30 minutes later, you are pretty sure that you are taking this man home with you tonight. Jamie seems genuine, in a cute kind of way, (mostly unintentionally) funny, attractive, obviously, and there’s something about him that you just know that he would be such a good time. 40 minutes later, you even consider letting him stay for breakfast. 45 minutes later, however, you start feeling a slight headache, but fuck if you will let it ruin your night, so you decide to just ignore it and hope it will take a hint and go away.

No such luck. The universe must truly hate you, because about an hour and a half into your conversation with Jamie you feel like someone is kicking your skull from the inside. You’ve tried to ignore it to the best of your ability, but this party suddenly isn’t any fun anymore. Fuck. Your. Life. You are aware that Jamie is saying something, his voice being a steady background noise, but you don’t have a clue what he just said because all you can focus on is a throbbing pain in your head. That’s when you know that you should just give up and go home.

Jamie notices your attention slipping away and your smile faltering as he speaks. Then you look away for a moment before looking back at him with a smile, saying that it was nice talking to him and wishing him a good night. You get up from your seat and start walking away before he can even process what has just happened.

You’re putting on your coat when you see Jamie quickly walking up to you with a concerned expression on his face. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

You don’t let him finish, “No, no, no! You’re good.” Jamie keeps looking at you with an obvious question on his face. “It’s just–,” you gesture at your head with a circling motion, “my head is fucking killing me. So I'm gonna go home, take some Ibuprofen and pray it goes away.”

Jamie’s face changes from concern to understanding. You think that this is it, so you turn to leave, but then he speaks up again. “I can give you a ride?” It was more of a question than a statement.

“No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll just get an uber.”

“It really is no problem. Come on,” he’s looking at you expectantly.

You think on it for a moment and give him an evaluating look. “I’m not inviting you in.”

“Oh. No! I didn’t mean it like that! I was really just–”

“Relax. I was just making sure you don’t have any false hopes.”

“Nope, no false hopes here.”

“Good,” you nod at him.

You walk to his car and Jamie opens the door for you. He sees you smiling at him approvingly.

“What?”

“See, now you’re being chivalrous,” you say playfully before getting in the car. Jamie closes the door after you and gives himself a moment to blush in privacy. After starting the car, he turns the volume on the radio all the way down and opens a window a little bit for you. You lean back in your seat and give him a small smile, “Thanks.”

Your talk on the way home consists mostly of you giving Jamie the directions and his attempts on small talk.

“Do you get them a lot?”

“No, not really. Only when it’s the least convenient apparently.”

“Maybe it’s because you–“

“If you’re about to say that it’s because I don't drink enough water, I'm jumping out of this car at full speed.”

Jamie’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “Actually, I was going to say…” he pauses again.

You raise your eyebrows at him, prompting him to go on.

“I was going to say… that it’s probably because of your hard work schedule, yeah. You know, having to deal with people being 40 minutes late and everything.” He throws a glance at you, checking if he’s managed to save the situation.

That makes you chuckle, despite the pain it causes. “You know what, I think you might be right.”

Soon, you’re parked by your building. “Thanks for the ride. It was really nice to meet you,” you say, before opening the car’s door.

“Yeah, you too,” he smiles at you.

Jamie spends another minute parked by your building. It’s only after you disappear from his view that he realizes that he hasn’t even gotten your number. He sighs and bumps his head against the steering wheel.

Meanwhile, you’re just glad to finally get your hands on some painkillers and flop on the couch, waiting for your head to stop throbbing. But an hour later, when you feel like a person again, your mind goes back to Jamie. You really liked him, huh. Hypothetically, you can look up the paperwork for the campaign he did, and his contact information should be there. Realistically, you should probably just let it go.

On Monday everything goes back to normal. After the workload that you had to deal with before the launch, the lack of a hundred points on your to-do list and constant burning deadlines almost feels like a vacation. And judging by the laid-back atmosphere at the office, you’re not the only one who feels this way.

You go out for lunch with Natalie, and after she’s done catching you up on all the fresh gossip, she can’t help but ask about your chat with Jamie Tartt. You tell her that’s exactly what it was, just a chat at the party.

She looks at you like she knows something you don’t. “That’s interesting. Because Keeley Jones, you know, from KBPR, called me earlier today to ask for your number.”

You give her a look that says “is this supposed to mean anything to me?”

Natalie dramatically rolls her eyes like it couldn’t be more obvious, “KBPR represents Jamie Tartt!”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Excuse me, have you seen yourself in that dress? I totally would ask for your number too.”

You smirk at her, “You have my number.”

“And now so does Keeley Jones. All I’m saying is, if you’re not interested, let him down easily. ‘Cause I'm totally planning on using him for more campaigns. Have you seen those hands?! They were meant to put rings on them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you–”

You start cackling before she can even finish.

It’s just after 6pm and you’re getting in your car when your phone rings, you don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi! It’s Keeley Jones, from KBPR. Natalie gave me your number.”

“Right, she mentioned. How can I help you?”

“It’s more of a social call, actually. Jamie asked me to ask for your number. You know, Jamie Tartt, the footballer? He said you met at the brand party the other night.”

You smile to yourself, “Yeah, no, I remember him.”

“I was just gonna check if it’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks for asking me first, though.”

“Of course!”

Keeley then congratulates you on your launch, and you tell her that she should totally come to the next one.

Not even an hour later, another call, another unknown number.

“Yes?”

“Hi. It’s Jamie. Tartt. We met–”

“I know. Did you ask Keeley to ask Natalie for my number?” you ask teasingly.

“Maybe…? The alternative was to wait for you outside your building, but that would be creepy.”

“Yeah, better not do that.“

“Right. Uh, how’s your head?”

You chuckle at the question, “It’s fine.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Mhm,” an amused smile is growing on your face.

“So… I was gonna ask, do you want to, I mean, if you’re not busy, maybe we could go out for dinner?” You can easily tell that he’s nervous, it’s quite cute actually.

“Alright,” the easiest yes you have ever said.

“Yeah?” Jamie wants to smack himself in the face for how hopeful that came out.

You chuckle again, “Yeah.”

“Cool. Uh, are you free tomorrow?”

“I can do tomorrow.”

“Fucking mint. I will pick you up? At seven?” You can hear the excitmenet in his voice.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he grins.

“See you tomorrow then,” and if you’re smiling then there’s no witnesses and no one will prove anything.

“Yeah, see you,” and if he’s grinning like an idiot then it’s no one’s business.

“Oh, and Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be fucking late.”

[meadowtwins]

Tips for broke witches with a budget of 10$/€:

As someone who started with their craft when they were younger, living in a poor household with little to not money for me available, I know how how it is with a budget so low, that being a "true witch" seems impossible.

Well, I just need to remind you all that for practicing witchcraft, you do NOT NEED everything expensive. In fact you only need so little. Sure, the whole witch aesthetic with all the decorations, the cauldrons etc. looks lovely and most of us would really like to achieve that level of perfectionism, but Witchcraft is much more than that. It is a predominately Pagan practice. Nature is one of the biggest, if not the biggest aspect in it. Sometimes you just aren't really knowledgeable about all the options you're available to.

Tip 1: Nature walks:

As mentioned above, Nature is a big aspect. Almost every ingredient and spell componement is seen outside. Take a walk, go into the woods, get off path, you'll find herbs, fruits, flowers, all kinds of decorations. You can find sticks, bind them in any shape and hang them onto your wall. You can cut off (with Natures permission!) Ivy wreaths and hang them up. Pinecones, pineneedles, treebarks, hazelnuts, feathers, wheats all kinds of grass, everything is out there! Take a look on the ground and maybe you'd be lucky to find a few gemstones (yes, they're just out there!) or if animal bones are something for you even that!

Tip 2: Grimoire/Book of Shadows:

Your witchy journal does NOT have to be that expensive leather bound, old journal that the old antique shop sells for 60 dollars because it has a "magical aura". Yes, how can someone pass on that aesthetic, but your book isn't magick by itself. YOU first put the energy into it and make it something magical to you. Without your journaling and time you've spent, it is JUST a book! Therefore a simple notebook that costs like 1.50 max works completely fine! Mine is a notebook if found in my drawer that has a rainbow reflecting surface, trust me, the aesthetic is the thing you should be least concerned about.

Tip 3: Divination Board:

Self-made is always the cheapest option! Again, like your Grimoire, the board isn't the one with with the magical attributes. It's all you! My first divination board was made out of cardboard paper. You have all the options open, it can just be paper or you could even print one out. The material does not devalue the magical properties.

Tip 4: Pendulum:

A pendulum itself is cheaper than you think, look in the right places and you'll see. But if that is too much you can always make one yourself. You have to keep in mind that the item doesn't come with the magic! You're the one making if something magical. Find a pretty stone on the ground (with luck a gemstone!), tie it to a string and wear it as necklace. There you have it!

Tip 5: Cauldron:

A fire bowl, a normal bowl, a plastic bowl etc.! You can use anything. It depends however on what you do with it. Make sure not to use fire irresponsibly if you plan on burning something in it. Keep a window open and don't burn something in a not substitutional material. There's a reason a fire bowl is differencated from a normal bowl.

Tip 6: Gold, Bronze, Silver etc.

This goes for jewelry, tableware, bowls etc. For example in spells/rituals or offerings to a deity. A plate to put your offerings on or to set the spell on. Look into your cupboards! A glass bowl is a popular one to use since it's neutral in it's symbolic and easy to clean. If you'd prefer something golden or any other other material, ask a grandparent or maybe even parent. They usually have some sort of old tableware that is golden or bronze or anything else. If asked (and you're a closet witch!) tell them it's for decoration or putting a candle on it. The same goes for jewerly. Grandparents (or aunts!) usually have old necklaces and earrings they don't need anymore. Or even brooches with imagery you can connect to a deity maybe.

Tip 7: Tarot Cards:

It depends if you believe in the rule that says you cannot buy yourself a tarot deck. I do! Therefore what I did, was make my own one. It took lots of days but in the end I had a full deck! It's lots of work so if you don't want all that from the start, make yourself only the major arcana. Again it can be made out of cardboard, paper etc. The material really doesn't matter. If you're not familiar with the rule, it says your first tarot deck has to be gifted to you, found, or made by yourself. Infact in my case, all three happened to me!

In conclusion, Nature has ALL kinds of componements. You can find so many things all around you if you just look close enough!

But don't forget, cleansing is important! If you take items off the ground out and about, cleanse them off any negative energy before putting them into your household. If anything you need to know I haven't mentioned, just ask.

Happy witching!

[bee-ina-boat]

heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

[d0llcuries]

HELLOOO!!!!💓 could you do roxto x navi!reader maybe something going around the clan involving roxto and kirk since yk people on tiktok claims he has feelings for her so rumors going around that people have seen the two flirting and obviously that upsets reader so she takes a step back from the two of them and even goes as far as to take back all the jewelry she’s made roxto ( I love my underrated roxto king )🩵🩵🩵

JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS GIRL

pairing(s): roxto x fem!na'vi! reader

summary: you never thought roxto to be an ignorant person. and he isn't! maybe just a little oblivious..

author's note: this week was not it istg!! too many things are happening sll at once and i just lost my motivation in the middle lf writing this (i really hope you can't tell). this anon was sooo creative and unless there was another character named kirk i wasn't aware of i probably messed up the plot.. 🧍 anywaysss ending super rushed because HEADACHE.

you’ve always been the girl made of too much light. there’s a warmth about you, fiery and stubborn. all dark curls and bearing grins. you are sharp like the edge of the sea rocks, but warm, bright, like the first light that filters through the waves at dawn. the sun clings to your skin, kissed deep by the sea, gleaming in the dips of your collarbones, the arch of your shoulders.

nothing about you is quiet—your presence is a flare. you move through the village like you belong to it, like the ocean itself curls at your feet, eager to keep up. everyone knows you, yn! they call, always a voice trailing after, always someone drawn to the light you carry.

you do not love quietly, either, you never have. you pour yourself into everything, your love spilling over, careless, until it floods the spaces around you. you can’t stand the idea of holding back, of loving anyone halfway. so you give, and give, until the lines blur, until the difference between your heart and your hands no longer exists. there’s no steady middle, no balance, just the push and pull of everything or nothing at all.

it shows in the way your hands move—always creating, always giving. you weave your feelings into the world around you, shells and beads tangled in thin cords, bracelets wrapped tight around wrists like you’re holding on to the people you care for. it’s how you’ve always shown love, letting your hands speak when your heart feels too full for words. you work with the kind of care that can only come from someone who feels too much, someone who pours themselves into every task, every knot, every woven strand, as if by creating, you are giving a part of yourself to the world.

ao’nung teases you for it, says you’d gift a stranger your last shell if they looked at you the right way. but he doesn’t understand. he’s always been loud, brash, speaking only to fill the space around him. tsireya, though—she understands. she’s like the tide, steady and constant, anchoring you when your love feels too big. her kindness seems to shine brighter when she’s by your side.

you’ve always felt sure around them, always steady, like you belong. like the ocean itself, you’ve never had to question where you fit into their lives, never wondered if your place was secure. roxto, especially.

for roxto, you make more jewellery than anyone else. ao’nung complains about it sometimes, calling roxto your favorite, but you’ve never corrected him. maybe because it feels true in a way you can’t explain, not even to yourself.

you felt intertwined with him, sewn together, like you were carved from the same bone, shaped by the same hands. you are the same—same thoughts, same instincts. people spend their lives searching for that kind of connection, but you never had to. the only thing keeping you apart is the stretch of time between you, the space of a single sunset.

but what good is that depth if it is just friendship? if it has always been just enough, just close enough, just warm enough, but never more? you wonder, sometimes, if you’ve been fooling yourself all along. settling for scraps of something you never dared to reach for, afraid that grasping it might break the delicate balance between you. so, you stay on your side of the line, trying to find contentment in his friendship only. pretending you do not care about the moments when his gaze lingers on someone else—on her.

the sullys arrived during the crescendo of your denial, with their strange ways and different words, and everything felt just a little bit off. you welcomed them like you do everyone, with wide-open arms ready to share whatever you could with these strangers who carried the sea in their own way, even if it wasn’t your sea. kiri, especially. you liked her right away. she didn’t need to be loud to make her presence known; there was a stillness about her, like deep water, and it drew you in. you didn’t see at first the way roxto’s eyes lingered on her a little longer than usual, the way their conversations seemed to grow more frequent, more intimate. you didn’t mind that roxto spent more time with her and less with you. not at first. you admired her, if anything.

it’s only later, when you’re sitting by the shore, eclipse encasing the shore that the words find you. you’re working, always happy to help, fingers weaving together a net under the guidance of an elder, the conversation around you drifting. you don’t catch the beginning of it, just the soft murmurs that slide into the space between your thoughts. then, you heard just a whisper, tossed carelessly into the air.

“roxto and the sully girl, they have been spending a lot of time together, have they not?”

you freeze, your hands stilling against the rough weave of the net. there’s a beat, a moment where the world seems to narrow down to that one sentence.

“they would make a sweet pair! he is always with her.”

the words are sharp, cutting through the soft lull of the evening, pulling something inside you loose. it was meant to be nothing. just a stray thought, a harmless observation. but the words stuck, winding themselves around your chest, squeezing tight. you tell yourself it’s just idle talk, something for the elders to pass the time in their slow lives with, nothing more. you’ve heard gossip before. you’ve never cared. but this time, the words settle into your skin like saltwater in a cut, stinging in a way that makes you wince. roxto and kiri? it couldn’t be true. he would’ve told you. right? he tells you everything—what he ate, how he caught more fish than ao’nung, how his aim is sharper. why does he talk about ao’nung so much?

he's been your friend since you could swim, since the days when your only concerns were how many shells you could collect before the tide took them back. if there was something between him and kiri, you’d know. you would know.

it was ridiculous, she told herself. roxto was allowed to have other friends. he was allowed to spend time with kiri, to teach her the ways of the sea and laugh with her about things yn did not understand. but still, the ache remained, sharp and relentless, until it became something she could not ignore. she did not know how to explain it to herself, this strange ache in her heart, this tightening in her chest whenever she caught them together. it was ridiculous, she told herself. roxto was allowed to have other friends. he was allowed to spend time with kiri, to teach her the ways of the sea and laugh with her about things yn did not understand. but the feeling remained, sharp and relentless, until it became something she could not ignore.

she tried to distance herself, pulling back ever so slightly, hoping that if she gave them space, the feelings would go away. you start skipping out on lessons, declining evening swims, making excuses when the others invite you to visit the spirit tree. they notice, of course. tsireya asks if you are alright, but she’s used to you being like this sometimes, your emotions spilling over and pulling you under. even kiri watches you now, quiet, curious, like she can sense the shift but isn’t sure why it’s there. but the more she withdrew, the worse it became, her jealousy simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. it was an ugly feeling, one she was not used to.

it’s evening when you see them again, standing together, his head tilted toward her as they speak. your necklace, your work, hangs loosely around his neck. it’s the same necklace you made with your own hands, the shells still gleaming from the water you strung them from, a piece of yourself hanging against his skin. but now, as you watch them from a distance, that warmth you once felt curdles into something ugly, something jealous.

you wonder—no, you know he’d rather wear something of hers. something kiri made with her hands, something that spoke of their growing closeness for all to see. the thought gnaws at you, claws its way inside and twists, filling you with a venom you’ve never known. it sits bitter on your tongue, burning where you used to taste only sweetness. it’s foreign to you, this anger, this rage creeping through your veins. not usual, not like you at all, but it’s there now, coiling tighter with every glance he throws her way, every small smile you catch between them.

you should have let it go, laughed it off the way you used to with roxto, but you cannot. your heart’s too bruised, too tender, and it’s easier to fake acceptance than admit the pain sinking its claws into you. jealousy is an ugly thing. it tastes bitter, and it’s unfamiliar to you—this anger bubbling under your skin, sharp and venomous. and it’s aimed at him. the one person you thought you could never feel this way toward. but it is there, burning hot, and you hate it. you hate that he has made you feel this way, and worse you hate that he does not even know. so you decide to protect yourself. you let the anger harden into something cold, something you can work with.

so you decide, as you watch them together under the setting sun, that if you cannot have him, then maybe it is better to take back what you can. to preserve what little pride you have left. fine, you think. if he wants to drift away, then let him. you will take back what is yours before it is too late. you will pretend to support it, whatever is going on between him and kiri, and maybe in that faking, you can make him feel some of the hurt he has made you carry.

you go to him that night, basket in hand, your steps light but your heart heavy. you hadn’t seen roxto in days, avoiding the places you knew he’d be, keeping yourself scarce under various excuses, anything to keep your distance. but now, standing at his door, the weight of what you are about to do sits uncomfortably on your chest.

he greets you with a joyful smile, as if nothing has changed, as if your absence meant nothing. he doesn’t notice the tension in your jaw or the way your fingers curl too tightly around the basket’s handle. he is still your roxto. “yn, hello! where have you been loca?” he asks, joy in his voice, oblivious. “why are you avoiding me?”

his questions hang in the air between you, but you can’t meet his eyes. you don’t answer his question directly—don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you have been avoiding him, that you feel like vomiting everytime you see him with kiri.

you force a smile, and he knows it is insincere. “i have been busy,” you say, the words clipped, and even though you know it will hurt him.

“i need the jewelry back,” you say quietly, not looking up at him. “since you are spending so much time with kiri, you will need the space for when she makes you something.”

the joy slips from his face, replaced by confusion. “what? why would you want them back, you gifted them to me!”

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to keep the mask of indifference on. “you would not want to wear something another woman made when kiri starts making things for you,” you say, your voice hollow. you look up briefly, catching the hurt in his eyes, the way he flinches at your words. but you can’t stop now. it’s too late.

roxto’s brow furrows as he watches you, the lightness draining from his face. “what are you talking about?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice low but tinged with confusion. “why would i need space for—what do you mean, kiri making something for me?”

you feel your heart race, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “you know exactly what i mean, roxto,” you snap, louder than you intend. the words come sharp, cutting through the quiet of the evening. his family shifts where they sit, their gaze now fully on him, and you see the tension ripple through his shoulders. “just… give me back my things.”

he blinks, taken aback. “what—no, i don’t know what you mean.” his voice is still soft, trying to find his way through the sudden shift in your tone. “why are you saying this? why are you acting like this? we’ve been friends—”

“just give it back, roxto!” you cannot stand to hear him finish that sentence, because you know it will make you falter.

his eyes widen in surprise at your shout, the sudden impatience in your voice. he glances back at his family, noticing how they watch the two of you, then back to you, something like desperation creeping into his expression. “okay, okay,” he says quickly, lifting his hands in surrender, trying to calm the situation. “i will get the jewellery.”

there’s a pause, a long, painful silence, before roxto turns away, walking slowly back into the marui to wherever he kept your jewellery.

his family is there, watching, their eyes flicking between the two of you, confusion etched into their faces. it’s strange—strange to see him return something so personal, so full of meaning. but they don’t say anything, don’t ask the questions you can feel building in the air. they just watch in silence as roxto packs away the last of your gifts, his shoulders slumped, his usual brightness dimmed.

when he hands the basket back to you, his voice is quiet, a shadow of what it was before. “have a goodnight, yn”

oh, why’d he have to say it like that? like it mattered. like it still meant something. you nod then leave without a word, feet moving quicker than they need to, the weight of the basket tugging at your arm. the air feels tight, pressing in on you as you walk, the night too quiet. each step echoes louder than the last until you're back home in the warmth of your own family's home.

lying there, eyes wide open in the dark, you replay the moment over and over, the ache growing sharper. did you make the right choice? were you too hasty? you twist the thought around in your head, but each time it feels messier. whatever. this is for his own good, you tell yourself, staring up at the ceiling. he’ll be happier with kiri. she is quieter than you are, more graceful, and a million times more mature. he needs someone more grounded to compliment him. and that someone isn't you. you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the thought away, but it lingers, bitter and heavy in the back of your mind.

roxto stood there, watching her disappear into the night, his heart tight in his chest. she’d been different for weeks now. distant, closed off like she was somewhere else even when she stood beside him. no one had said anything, not tsireya, not ao’nung, and he didn’t know if he should ask. he’d meant to, really. but between the sullys arriving, lessons, and,, well, kiri he hadn’t found the time. now, after tonight, he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to talk to him anymore.

he let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. roxto wasn’t one for confrontations, and he wasn’t exactly bold with his feelings either. but this? this felt different. it gnawed at him, made him restless. what did i do?

he couldn’t just leave it unattended like this. and so, he did what he always did when he couldn’t figure things out. he went to ao’nung. of all people.

the two boys lounged on a jagged rock jutting from the water, too far out from the village for it to be considered safe. both had crossbows in hand, halfheartedly waiting for fish to skim the surface. ao’nung stretched lazily, eyes half-closed against the midday sun, but roxto sat with his back hunched, fingers tracing the string of his bow, the words heavy in his mouth.

“ao’nung,” he started, hesitant, “have you noticed anything… strange about yn lately?”

ao’nung cracked open one eye, his tail flicking in mild irritation. “you just noticed?”

“she is mad at me,” his voice was small, like he was afraid to say it aloud.

ao’nung snorted, setting his crossbow down and leaning back against the rock. “no kidding. everyone can see that.”

roxto winced, looking down at the water, watching the ripples as he kicked his feet. “but why? i do not understand. i did not do anything.”

ao’nung snorted, rolling his eyes. “that is because you do not know anything about women. you are hopeless.”

“you are not helping,” roxto muttered, shoulders slumping. he felt ridiculous. maybe he was. his words stung, but there was a truth in them roxto couldn’t ignore.

ao’nung gave him a long look, then sighed, shaking his head. “think about it. when did she start acting weird?”

roxto thought back, his mind drifting over the weeks that had passed, trying to pin down the shift. “i do not know… maybe after the sullys arrived? around then, i guess.”

ao’nung smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “exactly.”

roxto frowned. “what do they have to do with this?”

“you are joking, right? you spend all your time with them. specifically, with kiri—ANOTHER woman.” ao’nung raised an eyebrow, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and you did not think yn might have a problem with that?”

roxto blinked. “should she? no! i mean, we’re all friends. why would she care?”

ao’nung slapped the back of his head. “because, idiot, she likes you.”

roxto froze, the words sinking in slow, like they didn’t make sense. “what? no, she… she doesn’t.” but even as he said it, something inside him twisted. something clicked.

ao’nung rolled his eyes. “yes, she does. trust me, i know.”

roxto was quiet for a moment, frowning as he stared down at the water. it didn’t add up, but… maybe it did? no, no, that cannot be it.

ao’nung continued, “because you have been parading around with kiri, you made everyone in the entire clan—including yn believe that you are into her.” he shook his head, annoyed. “seriously, you need to start paying attention.”

roxto’s mind spun, trying to piece it all together. “but i did not… i did not mean to—”

“yeah, well, intentions do not matter when you are that clueless.” ao’nung leaned back again. “you better figure it out soon, or you will lose her. and trust me, if you screw this up, she is not coming back.”

roxto’s stomach twisted. he hadn’t meant for that to happen. he never even considered… “so what do i do exactly?”

ao’nung shot him a look that said he was lucky to have even asked. “talk to her, obviously. tell her she is an idiot for thinking she is replaceable. and maybe stop talking about kiri every other sentence while you are at it.”

roxto winced. was he doing that?

he sat there, staring out at the endless stretch of water, the crossbow limp in his hands. he hadn’t seen it at all, not even a flicker of what you might have been feeling. but now, thinking back, it all clicked into place with a painful kind of clarity. he never thought about you being upset, jealous, even. did you really think he would replace you? he couldn’t imagine life without you in it, without your infectious enthusiasm and that grin you'd always flash him when you thought he was being silly.

roxto prided himself on being observant, on noticing the little things. maybe somewhere along the way, he'd gotten too busy. too caught up in lessons and in the newness of the sullys and the trouble they brought, to notice the subtle shift in your relationship. it hurt, knowing he’d missed something so important.

he thinks of the way you used to laugh—how easy it used to be. now, everything feels like glass, sharp and fragile, and he doesn’t know when it started to crack. but it has, and it’s his fault for not noticing sooner. for letting you drift while he stood still. his fingers run over the string of his crossbow, feeling the tension there, the quiet hum it makes, and he realizes—he misses you. more than he can explain. more than he should, maybe. and it hits him like a wave breaking at his feet. you’re not just his friend, are you?

roxto had never really thought about it before, but you had always been the center of things, the pull that kept him steady. now, without you, it was like the air had thinned—he couldn’t catch his breath. he’d always seen you like sunlight, slipping through cracks, too bright to look at directly. and now that you weren't there, the spaces she used to fill felt raw, sharp around the edges, like the world itself had dulled. how had he not noticed that before? he was in love with you.

all he could think about throughout the rest of the day were the memories he kept tucked away, the ones he wrapped in quiet, secret ribbons just for him. he remembered the way his pulse would pick up when you'd tuck your hair over your shoulder, how he'd straighten his back, try to sound more confident, whenever she turned his way. like that night by the reef just him and you, long after the others had gone back. the moon caught in your eyes, and he thought this is what people sing about. he told himself it was nothing—just his nerves—but it stuck to him.

maybe he'd been in love with you since before he even knew what love was, and now it was too late to pretend he was not.

he has to fix this. no more waiting, no more wondering. he’ll find you, talk to you. say all the things he should’ve said weeks ago.

you’re stuck on babysitting duty, watching your little brother chase after the colorful fish darting through the shallows while the sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant strokes of orange and pink. it’s not what you’d planned for your day, but instead, you’re knee-deep in the sand, half-heartedly shooing away a group of noisy kids who think your brother is the perfect playmate, while all you can think about is how much you’d rather be anywhere else.

then, just as you’re considering dragging your brother home, you spot roxto in the distance, silhouetted against the light. he’s been looking for you and you dreaded being found. rush of heat floods your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and envy, and without thinking, you duck behind the nearest rock formation, heart racing. you can’t let him see you like this, can’t let him witness the way your heart sinks at the sight of him with her. so you crouch low, desperate for the ground to swallow you up as you watch them through the slivers of light, feeling both drawn to him and repelled by the creeping jealousy that gnaws at your insides.

roxto finds you quicker than you’d hoped, right when you thought you’d found the perfect hiding spot. you’re crouched beneath the jagged rock formation, pressed against the cool stone. his wide eyes mirror your own nervous energy, though he doesn’t fully understand why you’re hiding. you’ve barely explained it to yourself. you swallow the lump in your throat and murmur to him, “just tell him i qm not here, okay? do not look at me, just say it.” he nods, earnest and serious as if this is part of some grand game, his little shoulders squared like he’s on a mission.

the shadow that falls over the rocks sends a shiver through you. there’s roxto, standing just a few feet away, his familiar silhouette against the last stretch of evening light. your brother scrambles to his feet, hands on his hips like he’s proud to be delivering this very important message. “she told me to tell you she ks not here,” he says, all too pleased with himself.

there’s a long silence. long enough that you think roxto might actually leave, might actually accept your weak excuse and let you sit in the safety of your little cave, but then you hear him sigh. the kind of exhale that says really?

“you know i can see you, right?”

your stomach twists, and you stay still, hoping the ground might just swallow you whole. he steps closer, ducking his head slightly as if to peer under the rock, and when you glance up, his eyes are already on you, soft and confused.

“come on, yn. talk to me.”

you don’t move, your arms still wrapped tight around your knees. he always finds you. you should have known better. “i do not have anything to say to you.”

he crouches beside you, and the look on his face is enough to make you want to scream. he looks worried, gentle, like he has no idea why this is happening. and maybe he doesn’t. of course, he doesn’t.

“you have been avoiding me,” he says, voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “ao'nung says you are jealous of kiri.”

you press your forehead against your knees, trying to swallow the frustration that’s rising up your throat. how could he not see it? it’s all been so obvious. the way he looks at her, the way he gravitates toward her during lessons, the way you’ve started to feel like an afterthought. but instead of answering, instead of explaining yourself like you should, you lash out, words coming before you can stop them.

“why should i be jealous of the forest girl?” the moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. they hang in the air between you, sharp and bitter, and when you finally lift your head, roxto’s face has fallen, eyes wide in shock.

“yn,” he breathes, like you’ve slapped him. like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

“i did not mean that,” you mutter, ashamed, the guilt settling in your chest like a rock. you’ve never spoken to him like that before. never said anything so cruel. it isn’t like you, but jealousy has made you into something you don’t recognize. something venomous, something ugly.

roxto stares at you, still crouched beside the rock, and the hurt in his eyes makes your chest ache even more. “you know i do not care about her like that,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “kiri is just… she is just a friend.”

a friend. just a friend. but it doesn’t feel like that, not when you see how easily they get along, how effortlessly they share smiles and looks you can’t decode. and yet, as he sits beside you now, earnest and so full of concern, you start to feel ridiculous for doubting him. he’s always been yours—yours in that way friendships are built, brick by brick, over years of laughter and trust. but now, you can’t shake the feeling that something is slipping away, something you hadn’t even realized you were holding so tightly until you started to lose it.

“it does not feel that way,” you admit quietly, your voice cracking in the way it does when you’re on the edge of tears. you’re tired of holding it all in, tired of pretending like you’re fine. “it feels like… everything is different now.”

he doesn’t answer right away, and you can tell he’s trying to make sense of what you’ve said, trying to understand without fully grasping the depth of your pain. his gaze softens, but he looks unsure, fumbling for the right words. “nothing has changed,” he says eventually, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than you.

but it has changed. it’s there, in the way his focus has shifted, the way he talks about kiri—about her quick mind, her sharp instincts, the way she fits in so easily with everyone. and you hate that it makes you feel so small, so unwanted. and what if he does care about her? what if you’re just another friend to him, no different from anyone else?

before he can say more, you hear your parents calling from the shore, their voices carrying over the water, and your brother perks up, already darting toward the sound. “yn!” they call again, louder this time, and you know you don’t have much time left.

you stand abruptly, brushing off the sand and dirt from your legs, and roxto rises with you, watching you with those eyes, that familiar warmth. “i am sorry,” you blurt out, almost tripping over the words. “i will talk to you tomorrow, i promise.”

and then, without thinking, you step toward him, wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him into a tight embrace. he stiffens for a second, surprised, but then his arms come up to hold you, a hesitant warmth that you know all too well. you press your face into his chest for a moment, breathing him in, the familiar scent of saltwater and earth grounding you.

when you pull away, his expression is a mixture of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place. “goodbye,” you whisper, offering a small, tired smile.

and with that, you turn and walk toward the shore, your feet sinking into the cool sand, heart heavy with the weight of what you didn’t say. every step feels harder than the last, like you’re leaving something important behind, but you don’t look back.

hope u guys have a good night/day!!

[bruciemilf]

I saw a post where its mentioned social media style that Thomas' jaw was shattered by Joe Chill's gun (the bastard directly threatened Bruce???) and, in the Clark mediumship post that his ghost had the skin of his jawline ripped off.

It also mentioned that Martha bit off his fingers, and that someone's teeth were missing and I was just wondering - was Martha the one missing teeth (from biting through bone), or was Joe Chill the one missing teeth (considering she had flesh and blood under her nails, and even after getting shot I have this larger-than-life image of her continuing to beat the shit out of the man)?

In a world where Thomas and Martha are ghosts, do they appear as they looked when they died? How do you perceive them specifically?

And, I think you mentioned once that her brother took her body from Gotham? So...in a ghost AU, how would...that work out?

Also, how likely is it that Martha choked someone through weaponizing jewelry? You never see it coming, and the murder weapon both comes and goes by way of the killer wearing it both in and out of the door.

She's a badass bitch, I don't know. There's something interesting about her weaponizing something that isn't meant to seem dangerous - considering women are often likened to jewelry, pretty and priceless and objects to be looked at....

(Those pearls Chill tried to steal were not just meant to look pretty).

Very excited to talk about this.

Martha’s teeth break when he bites off Joe’s fingers, yeah! What I noticed is that Waynes aren’t granted pretty deaths; When they die, they let the world know. It’s not a graceful, or silky, or easy to chew.

As for Jacob taking her body, — in my AU, it’s the raw culmination of a breakdown that’s been waiting to happen, and can’t anymore. He didn’t do it as a statement, or pettiness, or bitterness.

It’s hatred. Maybe for Gotham, or Thomas, or both.

But it’s also affection, to me. It’s ruinous and devastating, and there’s no word for it but love.

When he tells Bruce about it, when the boy crawls bare foot through Russian snow for Jacob to train him, and he asks why, the answer is very simple.

“I loved my sister. You’ll do this for someone too, one day.”

It’s a threat and promise in one.

Hate is love in putrefaction , Jacob thinks, and Bruce has been dead a long time.

Above all else, Bruce is saddened he can’t deny it.

[horrificshit]

Limits.

Dom!Lou miller x Sub!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, dumbification, strap on?, daddy kink, age gap

A/N: I decided to write this in a first person point-of-view. Why? Don’t ask me.

Words: 1.8k

Ding!

The sound of my phone going off. Curiosity peaks, I pick up my phone, revealing who messaged me:

Incoming message from Lou💕:

Lou💕: “Hey baby, I’m out doing some errands, can you be dressed by the time I’m home?”

Oh? Why does she want me dressed? Maybe we’re going somewhere fancy? Surely not.. Surprisingly, going to places which require dressing up for are a rare occurrence.

I shoot a text back, giving a response to Lou’s message.

You: “Okay! Should I dress fancy?”

Lou💕: “Yes, you’ll see why once I’m home 😉”

I get up from my once cave-like spot in the king size bed, giving up the warmth of the bedsheets. The room is quite cold due to the crispness of the winter weather in late January.

Speed walking to the closet, I sift through a number of dresses; all of different colors, lengths, patterns, and materials.

a long sleeve dress was obviously the ethical choice given the weather, but a short, skintight dress seemed more ethical in my opinion. Who cares about being cold when id feel like the sexiest girl in the room?

My eyes land on a white satin dress. I don’t think I’ve ever worn this one. Where did I get it again? Maybe from high school prom.

Bleh. Prom. I always hated prom. And evidently, I only went that one time. Brian Richards, the boy I went with, he ended up being a huge duche.

Whatever.

I slip on the dress, and— oh my god. I could literally fuck myself. The dress, it hugs all my curves in all the right places. My collar bones stick out and I find that extremely sexy, and hopefully Lou will think the same.

Shoes.

Grab a pair of white heels. Not to tall, not too short.

My jewelry is dainty. a gold necklace with a small heart. So small in-fact, you can hardly see it. Large gold pearl earrings accompany the necklace.

I trot over to my vanity, gathering a few products: primer, concealer, blush, highlighter, mascara, and lipgloss. Simple, yet bold.

My hair lies in a simple half-up-half-down with, of course, a white bow in the back.

And, just as I get finished, I hear that familiar ding of my phone, notifying me that Lou must be here for me. I check my phone, and to my expectation, I see an incoming message from the older woman.

Incoming message from Lou💕:

Lou💕: “I’m here. Take your time, the reservation isn’t until 6:30.”

Smiling, I put my phone down and take a look in the mirror. Hopefully she likes it as much as I do.

I grab my small brown purse and take yet another look in the mirror, giving one last check before going out the door to greet my girlfriend.

Overall outfit:

I walk toward Lou’s sports car, the cold nipping me in the butt. Literally and figuratively. I sort of regret wearing a sleeveless dress, but whatever, I look amazing.

Lou unlocks the car door, and I enter the vehicle. She looks like she’d seen a ghost from how she was looking at me. Did I look that good?

Her eyes rake up my entire body, stopping at my lips. I smile, flattered and proud of myself that I indeed, do look that good.

“Where are we going?” I inquire, still having not been told why I had to get all dolled up. “Somewhere fancy.” Chuckles Lou, already having naughty thoughts.

She takes the initiative to reach her hand over and grasp onto my thigh. I squeak, not being prepared for her to touch me, but relax a few seconds later.

Some time goes by and I decide to take in what Lou herself is wearing:

She wears a black turtleneck top, a black leather jacket atop. Black skinny jeans, the type that hug her curves, or in reality, her ass, in the most perfect way.

In correlation with the rest of her outfit, she wears black heeled boots. And of course, in typical Lou fashion, her plethora of necklaces lay on top of her chest.

The car stops, and the older woman squeezes my thigh, silently letting me know she’s going to let go, and that we’ve arrived at the final destination.

“We’re here,” Lou says with a smirk. I look up and see a restaurant with a name I cannot even pronounce. At least without stuttering that is. The restaurant looked exclusive; like we weren’t allowed in. But, according to my girlfriend, we are.

We both get out of the car, and I immediately am reminded of how cold it is outside. Lou takes notice of my shivering, and ushers me inside of the restaurant.

The girl in the front greets Lou and I. “Hello, welcome to Novitá, do you have a reservation?”

Lou grabs her phone, pulling up a digital receipt. I didn’t even know that was a thing, but the world changes everyday, I suppose.

“Here,” Lou shows the girl the receipt, looking back at me with a smile.

“If it doesn’t work, my reservation should be under the name Lou Miller.”

She types in her name and smiles back, grabbing two menus. “This way,” we’re leaded to our table, which Lou previously reserved days before.

We both order our drinks, champagne for myself, whilst Lou opts for an ‘old fashioned’, or in other words, whiskey, sugar, and water.

She obviously has a stronger tolerance to alcohol than I do, because I could never handle the extreme burn of whiskey going down my throat. Other things maybe, but definitely not that.

The drinks arrive, and the girl from before, who, upon reading her name tag, appears to be Arabella.

She takes our orders, and apologizes for any delays, the restaurant appears to be quite busy. I look around and take note of the ‘noble looking’ people surrounding the table we’re sat at. We don’t look nearly as rich as them.

“Y/N? What do you want to order?” I’m snapped out of my trance by Lou and brought back into reality. I look at her, and back down at the menu that rests in my hands. ‘Gnocchi di Patate’. That sounds delicious. But wait, $34.99?? How is she getting all of this money?

I open my mouth after some time and tell the waitress what I want. She writes it down, and tells us it may be a while, and to enjoy our drinks.

“So,” Lou starts. She rubs her foot up my leg, making me squirm slightly at the feeling. “I thought you deserved a treat for being such a good girl.”

I look into her eyes. Completely blown out. I can’t help but the small smirk on my face, knowing all to well how this will end: with me bent over,screaming her name, her hand muffling the noise.

“Are you not gonna say anything? Daddy paid a lot of money for this, I think I deserve to at least hear your voice.” I look down, not being able to carry out the eye contact. She continues to rub my leg underneath the table. Good thing there’s a satin mat, covering the whole length of the table, down to the floor.

“I-“ words weren’t an option at this point. My mind is far too small at the moment to even comprehend anything else but the husky voice of the older woman across from me.

“What? Cats got your tongue?,” She starts, staring at me like she’s the predator and I’m her delicious little prey.

“,or are you just too dumb to use your words?” Continues Lou, sending me into a serene headspace. My mind is completely blank, besides the vision of the woman across from me.

TIME SKIP

We finish up with our food, no words being exchanged between Lou and I. Just her speaking to me. Telling me that she thinks I’m beautiful, though some ways more appropriate than others.

The check arrives and she pulls out her platinum card, swiping it. I can’t help but feel bad that she spent that much on me, between the cost of my drink, and the food.

“You ready?” She inquired.

“Mhm.”

I appear to be shy, but in reality, I’m extremely horny. She’s been teasing me all night, and I just know that there’s more in store. If not at home, she’s likely to get impatient and do her business in the car.

Buckling into the car seat, she revs up the engine. I look up at her, smiling innocently with my signature doe eyes. Unlike my own, her eyes are completely blown out. She’s more that ready to pounce when given the chance. Pounce being her having her way with me; not that I’d have a problem with that.

Lou’s hand once again finds its spot on my thigh, where it remains for the duration of the car ride, occasionally feeling a squeeze every now and then.

“I really don’t like how quiet you’re being,” Lou confronts, the once silent car ride no longer.

“What’s wrong?”

Silence.

I just can’t get any words out. Even if I were to try, the only thing that’ll come out is a string of whimpers and sounds. Words just aren’t an option at this moment.

Then, the whirring of the car’s engine stops, Her key taken out of the fob. Lou turns to me, hands still on my body.

“Baby. Did I do something? Daddy would feel terrible if she hurt her baby.” Her hands wander up my legs, stopping at the end of my dress.

Soft hands caress my calf, smiling as she knows what she’s doing.

“Lou.. not in the car…” I say in an extremely small voice, the headspace Lou has created for me completely taking over my mind.

“Fine,” she opens the car door, walking to my side, opening the door for me. “Inside. I want you on the bed, stripped.” The older woman said in her husky voice.

Once we made it up to her apartment, she unlocked the door, and I made a b-line to the bedroom.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I slip off my dress and take off my shoes, revealing a matching white lingerie set:

Climbing on top of Lou’s bed, I wait patiently for her return.

“I guess you are a good girl then,” Lou says, the door slowly creeping open. “, and I see you’re wearing my present.”

Lou bought me this set a while back to celebrate her and Debbie’s successful heist. I’ve never been a huge fan of her job, but she enjoys it, so I can’t see a problem with that.

Slow steps, excruciatingly slow, inch their way toward me. “Nothing to say, huh?” Now crawling on top of me, I can’t help but let out a small whine.

Lou chuckles at my pathetic sound, enjoying the power she has against me and my body.

“You know,” The older woman starts, huskily. “I wish I could get you to tell me what’s up.”I want to speak; say something, anything, but I know the only thing that would come out is my silent pleas, and a string of cries.

She scoffs at my silence. My eyes are burning from the tears that threaten to fall, my mind and body so sexually frustrated. “I suppose we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”