#please don't assume he's going to like you or your muse at ALL. he's going to be FRIENDLY. because hes a GOOD BUSINESSMAN.

[bcneheaded]

I was just thinking and... Artemis is not kind. yes, for all his friendliness, and all the fancy and amicable language and behaviors he displays outwardly to just about everyone who enters his shop... he's not genuinely nice. Artemis is a demon. in any verse of his, he used to be something akin to a spirit/god of LOVE, but was twisted into Wrath, or Hatred - which is the opposite. After leaving the pits of hell, having his little demonic tantrum and breakdown and finally growing weary and finding some semblance of clarity, he's grown out of what he was once again, and became something new. He's still wrathful, hateful, angry, and morose, but now he's so much more without even realizing. He's evolved and will continue to do so over time even if he stagnates for decades, centuries even. The friendships and relationships with other muses that he develops will influence his personality and the way he views things in time, as we've seen it happen already countless times ofc! And for those who did earn his respect and care, he does truly care for them and would gladly go out of his way for them (to what degree depends entirely on the level of closeness). But again.... Artemis is not kind, by nature and he hasn't been for a very, very long time. He was genuinely just plain and simple EVIL He was a villain - a monster, unrecognizable to how he acts now- doing horrible, unspeakable deeds for the pleasure of it. It's how he got the bones he wears in and on his body. So while he might be polite, charming even, and friendly - if he does not know you... he doesn't care about you nor what happens to you. If say for example, he sees you wandering that ruined cityside he lives in - rampant with entities that prey on the Living - and he saves you from being taken by evil spirits or demons? Chances are good that he did it for himself, or to be spiteful - to deny the other entities their prize (you / your soul). If he doesn't know you, the likelihood that he'll go out of his way for you is very low. But if there's something in it for him, some kind of reason as to why it might be worth his time and energy to actually step in... he might! But like all demons, it's good to be wary and to assume he doesn't care about you or your well-being, at least at first!! Artemis is not nice, but that doesn't mean he's malicious or cruel (anymore. not intentionally - he's quite literally under the mindset that he's just 'too old and tired for that nonsense'.) Artemis is manipulative, charming, cunning - he's everything you expect from a demon (though without a host, so he's certainly not attractive in any semblance of a conventional manner lmao - but he dresses well! and I think it's also telling just how-- *gestures at all that* --that he actually is, considering he's NOT attractive... but still puts people at ease, mostly, and can charm them to hell and back if he wanted to. He uses that not to manipulate people per say ?? like, he does not have an evil agenda by any means. He's just existing at this point, distanced from the gods and devils and just living his... life(?) if you can call it that. He's TRYING to do better. But he's still just... a demonic entity. A greater demon, for sure, if he had to be equated to some kind of level or whatever, but a demon nonetheless. But even for demons, there can be growth! and he is growing, very very slowly.

[roosterforme]

This blurb is based on an anonymous request for a birthday treat for @phoenix-rising-starbird-one Happy birthday, Vonny!

Designated Driver (Bob Floyd x Reader)

contains fluff, mentions of drinking, and Bob shooting his shot

The best thing about the Hard Deck was that Bob could walk there from his place. It gave him a few minutes to himself on the way there and on the way home to clear his head. He loved his friends, he really did, but they could be a handful when they had too much to drink. They liked to get a little rowdy, while he rarely drank alcohol at all. At least they never assumed he would drive them home, and they usually just called for an Uber instead while he walked back along the peaceful streets alone.

But the Hard Deck was closed for an extended refurbishment, and everyone insisted on trying a new bar on the other side of Coronado on Friday night. Bob knew what that meant. One look at his new SUV with the extra row of seats, and they would all be bugging him to drive them home. In fact, it started while he was still at work on Friday afternoon.

"Hey, Baby on Board," Jake called when Bob tried to sneak out of the locker room unnoticed. "You mind giving me a ride to and from the bar tonight?"

"Oh!" Javy chimed in. "Me too."

"I'm like two streets away from Javy," Bradley interjected. "Mind getting me on the way?"

Bob sighed but ultimately shook his head. "No, I don't mind. I'll pick you all up."

Three hours later, he was pulling away from the curb in front of Mickey's apartment with all of his friends in tow. Nat was in the front seat navigating for him while Reuben selected which song he wanted for the ten minute drive, and Bob was already looking forward to dropping them all back off and going home later.

The bar left a lot to be desired, especially compared to the Hard Deck, and he immediately felt out of place. He was about to go sit outside when Nat rubbed his arm and said, "Why don't you go grab that empty bar stool? Next to the cute girl?"

He turned to look where his friend was pointing, and a second later, his mouth was hanging open. "She's beautiful," he whispered, and soon his friend was guiding him in your direction where you were perched on a bar stool, reading a book.

"She looks exactly like your type," Nat mused. "She's drinking a bottle of Coke and reading a novel at a bar."

Bob was busy taking in every inch of your pretty face, and the closer he got, the faster his heart pounded. Without another word, Nat shoved him so he bumped into the empty stool next to yours, and you looked up in surprise.

"Sorry," he muttered as his friend vanished. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He was sure his face was bright red, flushed with embarrassment as you saved your spot with your bookmark and smiled at him. "It's okay."

Bob cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I sit here?"

Your smile grew as you shook your head. "Not at all. Maybe if my friends see me talking to you, they'll get off my back about being antisocial. It's not my fault I prefer books over playing darts."

As he slid into the seat next to yours, he said, "Books are way better than darts. I read that one last month."

"Really?" you asked with excitement as he pointed to the spine. "I love this author."

"Me too," he replied, still in awe over you. Then he decided he really had nothing to lose. "If I would have known the most beautiful woman at the bar was bringing a book with her tonight, I'd have brought one, too."

You made a cute little noise ducked your head away from him, and he hoped he hadn't embarrassed you too much. A few seconds later, you looked up at him with a grin and said, "Well, since you didn't, maybe we can just talk instead?"

"I would love that," Bob promised. "Will you let me buy you another drink?"

"Okay, but just a Coke. I'm the designated driver tonight, and I'm not much of a drinker anyway."

Bob laughed as he waved down the bartender and said, "Two Cokes for the designated drivers, please."

"You, too?" you asked him, your smile bright again.

When he nodded in response, he held out his right hand. "I'm Bob, by the way."

Your fingers glided along his, and you told him your name as you shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Bob. I must admit, the last thing I anticipated was meeting a man with good taste in books tonight."

He laughed softly as the bartender dropped off two cold bottles of Coke. "I would have never guessed that the coolest woman here would let me buy her a drink."

You looked very pleased with yourself, and a beat later, you held your hand out again. "Why don't you just go ahead and give me your phone so I can save my number for you?" Bob scrambled to pull it out of his pocket as you added, "Maybe next time we can ditch our friends and the bar and talk about books somewhere quieter?"

"Absolutely," he said with a smile as you saved the number he already couldn't wait to text later.

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

Happy birthday, Vonny! I hope you enjoyed the actual story of how my parents met lol

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

...................................................

Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her. 

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all." 

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this. 

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library. 

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly. 

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind. 

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again. 

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common. 

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder. 

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor." 

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone. 

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls. 

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise. 

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm. 

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said. 

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence. 

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her. 

But it quickly shifted. 

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry. 

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable. 

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked. 

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more. 

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades. 

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason. 

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck. 

She froze in place for a moment. 

This man would die at Cregan's hand. 

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway. 

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him. 

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left. 

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots. 

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift. 

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy. 

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck. 

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze. 

She could feel his smile against her neck. 

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment. 

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband. 

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up. 

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her. 

And the sound of the door opening. 

Her eyes shot open. 

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit. 

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed. 

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned. 

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out. 

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question. 

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

...................................................................

A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters

[inkbybambi]

Breathe You In

summary: dbf!john price shotguns his cigar with you words: 5.2k rating: e warnings: smoking (cigarette/cigar), age gap, shotgunning, pet names and praises (darling, good girl, pretty girl), handjob, blowjob/deepthroating, cunnilingus, fingering, price is a consent king, panty stealing. please let me know if i missed something! notes: oh my god, this is pure filth. as always, minors dni as this work and my blog are 18+. dbf!trope makes my brain go fuzzy. enjoy!

He finds you in the bathroom, blowing smoke out the open window, half-empty pack of cigarettes by your side on the counter you're perched on, lighter tucked inside.

You're frazzled as he opens the door — as is he, assuming no one would be in the bathroom.

It's a habit you picked up from too many nights out with friends. You don't like how it tastes, but it's comforting and familiar and so you seek it out when overwhelmed or nervous.

And you are.

Captain John Price, your dad's best friend since before you were born.

He came over unexpectedly — or, unexpectedly to you, your father seems to have been anticipating him.

He's dressed down in civilian clothes — you've mournfully never been able to see him when he's in his gear — but he looks like a god damn Greek god. He's so fucking attractive, you're convinced it's ruining your life.

Boys have asked you out, here and there. But none of them have that beautiful mustache or eyes that crinkle in the corner when they smile or the ability to look fucking delicious puffing on a cigar.

You want to devour him.

You need to.

"Sorry, love," and you have to suppress the shiver that crawls down your spine at the pet name. "Didn't realize anyone was in here."

He lingers in the doorway, before stepping in and closing the door behind him, going to wash his hands.

"I could've had my panties down," you say back.

Jesus fucking Christ, what's wrong with you?

He seems to be biting back a smile, turning off the water and drying his hands. His eyes catch yours, glittering in the light, darker than before.

"Wouldn't that have been a sight," he muses, pulling a cigar from his coat.

You swallow and shift as you feel arousal leak out, panties growing wetter by the second. You bring the cigarette back to your lips with a shaky hand, barely inhaling before you're coughing out the smoke, tears pricking your eyes at the sting.

He tilts his head as he regards you. You're beginning to feel like prey.

"May I?" he asks, nodding his head towards where the lighter is tucked into the pack, as he slips the tip of the fat cigar between his lips and fuck, you want to see his mouth against your pussy, licking into you and smearing your cum all over his stupid, attractive mustache and —

"S-sure," you squeak, fumbling for the lighter and holding it out to him.

He looks downright predatory as he steps into your space, slotting himself between your slightly parted legs, forcing them open so he stands between them easier.

He's so fucking close.

"Go on, then," he says, a bit muffled, rolling the cigar with his teeth to settle it in the middle of his mouth, dark eyes never leaving yours.

You put the mostly-smoked cigarette between your teeth and use both hands to flick the lighter.

It takes an embarrassing amount of times before you get a steady flame going. A large hand wraps around your wrist as he holds the lighter steady, bringing the tip of the cigar down to light it.

You watch, enchanted, the tip glowing red. He leans back, one of his hands falling to settle on your knee as he uses the other to hold the cigar, taking it out to blow the smoke to the side.

"It's a nasty habit," he says, cigar back in his mouth as he pulls the dying cigarette from your mouth, the butt tinged with your lipstick.

"You're one to talk," you say, slowly and carefully bringing your fingers up to slip through his belt loops, pulling him that much closer.

He moves willingly.

"You ever smoke a cigar?" his voice is deeper, rougher.

You look to him, doe-eyed and glassy, voice soft.

"No, never."

He makes a noise of thought low in his throat and it goes straight to your cunt. If he presses just a bit closer, your hips would be flush together.

His hand — warm and comforting — slides up the base of your throat to hold your jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge.

"Open up, darling," he murmurs. Your mind goes blank, white noise in your ears and static in your head. You immediately open your mouth, and he makes another noise in his throat. It sounds like approval.

"Good girl," he says — purrs — and you know he feels the way you swallow at the pet name, the praise. He crowds in that much closer and you feel the outline of his cock, half-hard, in his pants. You inhale through your nose, fingers tightening in his belt loop.

He inhales the cigar deeply, the tip burning a bright red, orange, yellow, and he pulls away and keeps his mouth sealed. He holds the cigar to the side, as not to burn you with any falling embers, moving to slant his lips over yours. He blows the smoke into your mouth, tongue pressing against yours for only a moment before he's pulling away, closing your mouth.

He nods towards the window after he deems that you've held it for long enough, and you blow out a small trickle of smoke. Heat licks at the base of your spine.

"How's it taste?"

Fuck if you know, too busy remembering the feel of his lips against yours, the way you felt his cock harden as he licked into your mouth. But the taste lingering on your tongue is heady — earthy and spicy and like something you abso-fucking-lutely should not be doing.

"I don't know," you whisper, other hand going to his waist to cling to him, legs tightening around his hips. "Better," you add on, eyes dark and needy as you press into him.

He feels the heat of your cunt through your panties, the way you're sopping into the cotton. You're wearing a dress, one that shows off the tantalizing line of your collarbones, the dip of your sternum to your breasts, a slit in the side that shows a flash of your thigh when you walk.

He wants to fucking destroy you. Sink his teeth into every available inch of your soft, sweet flesh. He wants to make the mark so deep that it bruises for days, possibly scars. He wants to know what your skin tastes like, especially between your thighs. Wants to hear the way you cry and whine and beg for him, and he would give in so easily.

A man of his caliber, steadfast in the chaos of war and operations, thinking on his feet and willing to do whatever it takes to come out on top — he's brought to his knees at the prospect of having you, pressing you into his bed every morning and leaving you pliant and satisfied. The pleasure lingering just long enough to tide you over throughout the day until he gets home and gets to fuck you again, bury himself in your wet heat and watch as his cum spills from your puffy pussy, all slick from his mouth and spend.

He hums in this throat, bringing the cigar back to his lips to do it again. You straighten up that much more, eager as your eyes flit to his mouth, mouth already open in anticipation. He'd laugh at your eagerness if he wasn't so hard.

He moves his hand to wrap around your throat, watching as your eyes darken from the pressure. His mouth is on yours once more. You paw and grip at his shirt, as he moves to cradle the nape of your neck. He tilts your head to the side to seal your mouths together.

All pretense is dropped.

The cigar falls forgotten into the basin of the sink, a growl in John's throat as his free hand goes to your waist, fingers pressing in enough to bruise. He licks deeper into your mouth, your brain going fuzzy from the slick heat of his tongue dragging against yours.

He bites and nips at your lips, soothing it over with his tongue, and you dare to do it back, eyes fluttering open as you capture his bottom lip with your teeth, biting ever-so-slightly.

His eyes are nearly black.

Trailing his mouth down the curve of your jaw, he situates you enough to pull your dress up to bunch around your hips. A pathetic whine leaves your throat as he pushes you away enough to pull the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts to his eager mouth.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he pants against your collar, your head tipping back to give him better access.

You reach for his belt, cock pressing hard against his zipper. An animalistic sound reverberates through him as the clink of his belt echoes through the bathroom, the only other sound buried among sharp, short breaths and groans.

"Darling — " he starts, moving as if to draw your hands away. A noise of protest stops his movement, as he pulls back to look at you, trying to clear his mind enough to talk.

"You don't have to," he says, voice wrecked but so, so soft.

Your fingers continue their path, belt unbuckled, deft movements opening the button and carefully pulling the zipper down over the prominent bulge.

"But i want to," you whisper back. You'd give him anything he wanted, if he asked.

He takes a good, long moment to study you, palms surprisingly soft as they cup your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. The sincerity shines through so clearly in your eyes, bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as your fingers dance around the waistband of his boxers.

You'll stop if he wants you to. You’ve never been with someone who’s cared so much about your comfort, but his eyes  are warm and a smile pulls at his lips, and your heart thumps a little harder between your ribs.

You lean up enough to drag your mouth over his jaw, kissing the tip of his chin, his beard tickling your lips. "Please?"

He swallows hard, exhales through his nose before his fingers thread through your hair and pulls you in for a heated kiss, more teeth and tongue than before.

"Go on, darling," he mumbles against your cheek, and he feels the smile that stretches on your lips as you push his boxers down enough to free his cock. You look down with rapt attention as your fingers curl over his length, thick enough that you can't touch the tips of your fingers together. He's hot in your palm, and he's so fucking big. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you.

"Yeah?" he asks against your jaw, seeing your hand around him. His tip leaks pre-cum, and you drag your hand up to draw your thumb over the slit, watching as it spreads.

"Yeah," you reply, dazed, unable to stop touching him.

He grips your hand to pull you off, chuckling at the pathetic noise you whine out, his name dripping in a tone that makes him ache. He doesn't say anything, and you lock eyes as he laves his tongue in a stripe over your palm, damp as he brings it back to wrap around him.

You pump your hand, adjusting your grip a few times until his breath hitches, burrowing into your neck and grazing his teeth along the column of your throat. You tilt your head to press your lips to the side of his head, gripping him more firmly and starting a rhythm of steady strokes.

"'ve thought about this," he confesses, gripping the counter beneath you. He's trying not to fuck up into your hand.

"Did you get off to it?" you're breathy and dizzy, torn between focusing on how his dick feels in your hand — something you've been wanting for a while now — and the way his mustache and lips feel against your skin. It's awkward, and your rhythm falters here and there, but he isn't complaining.

"Absolutely, I did," he answers, and it thrills you. Pre-cum steadily drips from his slit and gets mixed in with your strokes. It's obscene, the sounds his cock makes as you get him off. He's breathing and groaning right against your ear. You think you could cum from the noises alone.

"Christ," he grits out, teeth more insistent on your jaw. "Doing so well for me, pretty girl. Feels so fucking good."

The praise warms you, making you eager to please, eager to be good.

He drags his mouth from your jaw down to your throat, nipping and licking over the skin until he groans, and you feel his dick pulsing in your palm. He grips your wrist for you to stop. You do, but you tighten your hold on him as well, not willing to let go just yet.

"'m gonna cum, darling, fuck," he growls into your shoulder, trying to gain his composure. It's been so long since anyone touched him, and he's almost desensitized to the way he fucks his own fist. The fact that it's you with your hand wrapped around him, possessive and needy? He's surprised he's lasted this long.

"Mouth?" you ask quietly and he has to blink to clear his vision, pulling back enough to see your eyes, nose brushing yours.

"Hm?"

"Can you cum in my mouth?" you offer again, and he damn near spurts all over you at the suggestion. "Easier to clean up," you rationalize. 

You're not wrong, but god damn.

Price takes in a steadying breath, then pulls back to look at you, face cupped in his hands. Your eyes sparkle, lip caught between your teeth and you blink up at him with glassy, wide eyes. He pulls you in close to kiss you, far softer than anything before. He takes his time licking into your mouth, savoring how you taste — the remnants of the cigar is faint, but it’s there. It isn’t frantic or urgent, and it makes your heart ache. Your free hand rests on the side of his face as you kiss back, trying to convey something you don't quite wish to name.

He drags his lips from yours, smearing them across your cheek and down your jaw, to the sensitive skin behind your ear. He bites gently at the lobe, voice rough and accent thick.

"Right. on your knees, then."

He steps away just enough for you to slip from the counter to the floor, eyes dark as he watches each moment pass, not wanting to miss a single thing.

As you settle on your knees, he tucks a few errant strands of your hair behind your ear, ensuring nothing obscures his view of you. He cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you brace your hands on his thighs, blinking your hazy eyes as you try to focus on his face instead of the way his cock hangs so close from where you pulled him from his boxers. You draw his thumb into your mouth with your tongue, and he presses down, a firm pressure. Your lips close around the digit, gaze never wavering as your tongue swirls around it gently before sucking, his breath catching.

"C'mon darling," he says softly, drawing his thumb from your mouth and spreading the spit clinging to it across your lips. "Don't make me wait too long."

You grip the base of his dick with one hand, taking a moment to lick around the head, gathering the pre-cum that drools from the tip. You dip your head down to lick a broad stripe from the base to the tip, drawing him into your mouth.

He groans low in his chest, one hand bracing on the counter while the other threads back through your hair, gripping on the side of a little too painful, but it feels so fucking good as you open your jaw further to accommodate his size, feeling each inch push into your mouth and to the back of your throat.

"Mind your teeth, love," he notes, voice raspy and hoarse. You take a chance, grazing your teeth lightly on the sides of his cock, and his fingers tighten further.

"Careful," he admonishes, the heat in his eyes licking down your spine. "Be a good girl for me, yeah?"

Fuck, you'll do anything he asks if he continues to call you that.

You pull off his length to lap at the head with small kitten licks, keeping your eyes on him, making sure he's watching when you take him back into the wet heat of your mouth, fingers digging into his thigh more firmly for balance.

You take him as far down your throat as you can manage before you choke, using your hand to pump what doesn't fit in your mouth. You move your mouth up and down his cock, working in time with your hand, each glide coating him in your spit, making it easier to take him.

He can't take his eyes away, pleasure numbing his system, entranced as he sees how good you take him, so eager to please. Your mouth feels divine, the tip nudging the back of your throat, feeling the way you swallow around him.

"That's my girl," he praises as you take more and more of him each time, until you're able to remove your hand entirely and press your nose to the thatch of curls at his base.

"Jesus Christ, look at you, so fuckin' beautiful," he grits out as your throat pulses around him. You choke and sputter, pulling off him entirely, breathing heavily. Your mouth is a mess, spit dripping down your chin, his cock soaking with it.

"Don't hurt yourself," he breathes out, carding his fingers through your hair affectionately.

"I want you to..." but you're too embarrassed to say, never having been in this position before. Never wanting to do it before.

Price is patient, waiting for you to continue.

"Want me to what, pretty girl?" he rumbles when you need more prompting. "Don't be shy," he adds, content with cupping your face and taking in how you fit so nicely in the palm of his hand.

You shift uncomfortably, before your eyes linger on his cock, dripping with your spit and the last remnants of your lipstick. You feel empty without him in your mouth.

"Fuck my throat," you voice, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

He looks proud — why had you been so shy in the first place? — thumb brushing over your cheek. He seems to be debating for a moment, before he squats down to your level, grip firm on your jaw as he draws you in for a filthy kiss before he's standing back up, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

"You tap my thigh twice if you need me to stop, yeah?" he asks, and the authority in his voice makes heat pool thick in your belly, aching to be filled. You nod, tongue sticking out to taste him.

Before you're able to get your mouth back on him, however, he pulls you away. You whine low in your throat in protest, but his hold is firm.

"Tell me."

"If I need to you to stop," you begin, leisurely stroking his cock — needing to always be touching him — "Then I tap your thigh twice. sir," you add on as an afterthought but he snaps, pushing the head of his dick back in the welcoming heat of your mouth.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin me, I swear," he growls, keeping a firm grip on your hair and waiting for you to drop your jaw, driving into your mouth when you do, slipping deeper with each thrust.

You grasp his thighs, never breaking eye contact. Your eyes water the deeper he gets, but you'd rather cry your mascara off before tapping out.

His thrusts are rhythmic, measured — the sound of him fucking into your mouth bordering on pornographic. He pushes you down further, until you're choking, gagging, tears and saliva spilling down to your chin. Your nails dig in hard, but you don't tap out.

"Oh, fuck," comes his choked-off moan, hips snapping harder, rougher. Pre-cum coats your tongue with each thrust, until he's burying himself fully down your throat, your nose pressed against the base of his cock.

It's wet and messy and you gurgle and cough around him, but you love it. His resolve is cracking.

"I can cum in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah?" he checks one last time, shuddering as you only moan in agreement.

He pulls back until the head is resting on your tongue. You open your mouth so he can watch as he jerks the rest of his length quickly, a few more times before he spills against your tongue. Thick streams of his spend coat your tongue. He thrusts weakly as he cums, riding out his orgasm, a frisson of pleasure sparking through him.

He pants as he withdraws his softened cock.

"Show me," he commands, and you obediently open your mouth enough to show him the cum gathered on your tongue, preening at the noise of approval that rumbles deep in his chest.

"Swallow."

You close your mouth to obey, licking the edges of your lips for good measure, before opening your mouth again so he sees.

"Good girl," he rumbles out, swiping your bottom lip before tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans. "C'mere," he says, reaching for you to pull you up, crowding you against the counter.

You wince as your legs protest, aching with how long you were on your knees, but then you're being sat back on the counter, pulled into Price's warmth as he kisses you again. You grip weakly at his shirt, letting in him relish the taste of himself clinging to your tongue, cradling the back of your neck.

"Such a good girl," he says, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your dress to hook into your panties, dragging them down your legs and over your ankles, stashing them in his pocket.

You'd flush if you weren't so embarrassingly turned on, wondering and wanting to know what he plans on doing with them.

He pushes your dress up over your hips, spreading your legs to expose your glistening, sticky folds — desperate — and drops to his knees.

"Look at you," he says, breath fanning on your thighs, teeth nipping lightly at the skin there. You whimper, one hand on the edge of the counter to keep you steady, the other moving to grab onto his hair, silky and gorgeous and feels so good between your fingers like every other part of him —

You try to focus on him, fucked-out before he's touched you, raising your hips to entice him closer, needing his mouth and tongue. He presses his lips to up closer, stifling a laugh, and you'd make some bratty remark if you weren't so worked up.

He looks at you as he laves his tongue over your slit, drawing up between your folds before circling your clit. Your nails scratch at his scalp, head falling back as your mouth opens in a silent moan, panting out breaths.

John's warm hands grip at your thighs, keeping you still, licking leisurely between your folds and clit, a pleased hum low in his throat that you feel, sparks spreading through your veins.

"J-John," you whine out — soft, so you can't be heard — and his eyes snap to you, focused and determined. "Please," you add, trying to draw him closer with the hand tangled in his hair, feeling like you're going to fall to pieces.

He presses a kiss to your hip, before he buries his mouth in your folds, and you keen. His grip on you tightens, his nails digging in hard enough to leave indents. You can't roll your hips like you want — need — entirely at his mercy as he licks through your folds, occasionally swirling around your clit, sucking on it lightly.

It feels so fucking good, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood to stop yourself from crying and moaning out. You settle for shuddering breaths, blearily blinking down at him, moving your hand to the nape of his neck, keeping him close, delirious with pleasure, never wanting it to end.

His tongue pushes into you and your grip on the counter falters, slipping and falling back, head knocking against the mirror. You whimper for an entirely different reason, pain blossoming where your head hit, and you're almost brought to tears when John pulls his mouth away, standing up and gathering you in his arms.

His lips are shiny with your slick, arousal coating his mustache, eyes blown black. He cradles the back of your head so gently, careful with his touch as he straightens you, tilting your head back to look you over.

You've never been one to pout but you are now, bottom lip out as you grip at his shirt. Your palms are sweaty, but his shirt isn't slick like the counter. You feel like you could cry if he doesn't get back on his knees, finish what he started.

"Y'okay?" he murmurs gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, down your temple, to your cheek, nosing your face to align with his, taking advantage of you pouting by nipping at your bottom lip before easing you into a gentle kiss.

You nod in reply, his free hand skimming up the length of your thigh, the fragments of arousal still swirling through your body.

"Want you to fuck me," comes your shy request. You've no idea why you're shy — his dick was in your mouth minutes ago and he was eating you out like he'd be happy to die between your legs — and yet.

He presents you with his middle and ring finger, pressing them against the seam of your lips.

"Suck."

You're hesitant, if only for a moment, but it's enough of a moment for John.

"Be a good girl, now," in that fucking throaty drawl, and you're helpless, opening your mouth to let him do as he pleases with you. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as his fingers drag over your tongue, pushing to the back of your throat.

Wrapping one hand around his wrist, you watch him through glassy doe-eyes, swirling your tongue around his thick digits as best you can, swallowing and drawing his fingers deeper.

"There we are, sweetheart," he praises, and he feels your unsteady breath. "Not so hard, hm?"

You want to bite him, whine and whimper and cry until he fucks you with his tongue or even the fingers shoved down your throat or his cock that's sitting half-hard back in his jeans.

But you don't, because you're a good girl.

Strings of spit connect his fingers to your lips as he withdraws them, and he marvels at his drenched fingers. He drops his hand between your legs, circling your clit, causing you to grip at his arm.

"When I fuck you — and I will fuck you — " he starts, voice wrecked and low and addicting, "it's going to be in my bed so I can hear all those pretty sounds you make and fuck you until you're ruined."

H captures your mouth in a filthy kiss as he pushes his fingers in your cunt, buried to the knuckle. You cry into his mouth, his tongue licking against yours, swallowing the sound. His fingers are so thick, stretching you better than any toy you have hidden away in your bedside drawer.

He lets go of your head to lean down onto the counter, crowding into your space further, anchoring him. You pull away from his mouth to wrap your arms tight around his back, fingers gripping at his shirt, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He drags his fingers in and out, making you feel every inch.

Your teeth make home in his shoulder, finding it damn near impossible to stop the noises rising in your throat, little whines and moans, feeling like fire is curling in your belly, sparking hotter and hotter with each thrust.

He hooks his fingers up, easily finding the squishy part inside your cunt that makes you see stars.

"Oh, you like that," he says. Not a question, because you can hear the smug fucking smirk pulling at his lips.

He thrusts his fingers hard, alternating between hitting that spot and pistoning his fingers, dangling you over the edge of an orgasm. You'll never be able to use your own hand again — now that you've had your blood ripped open and devastating pleasure injected into you.

"Such a pretty fucking cunt," he growls against your temple, moving his thumb to press against your clit. "So wet for me, so needy." He switches to hit that spot inside you with each thrust of his fingers, thumb circling around your clit.

"Fuck, John," you pant against his neck, thighs trembling as he draws you closer to your orgasm.

You can't say much more than that, dragging your teeth along the exposed line of his neck, mewling as you damn near drown in the pleasure.

"Want you to soak my fingers, baby, show me how much you need it."

It doesn't take more than a few more thrusts with his fingers deep inside before you're clawing at him, pressing your face to his chest. You try so hard to bite back your moans, but white-hot pleasure shoots through your entire body, vision going black and starry as you gush around his fingers, cumming harder than you ever have by yourself.

The pleasure comes down to simmer, grip loosening, coming back to your senses. He slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt, your arousal dripping down to his wrist, under the band of his watch.

You watch as he licks the evidence of your orgasm off the back of his hand and between his fingers, before drawing them into his mouth to suck them clean. His eyes never leave yours.

He drags them out as slowly as he dragged them from your cunt, savoring every drop he could get.

You grab for the front of his shirt, boneless and sated, and he comes willingly as you bring him in for a kiss, happily tasting yourself on his tongue. He takes the time to kiss you, softer and softer until you inhale a breath and let it out, body no longer strung tight.

With a kiss to your cheek, he leaves you sitting on the counter as he rifles through the drawers and cabinets until he finds a washcloth, dampening it under the faucet.

Carefully — and so, so gently — he cleans up the sticky mess between your thighs, almost reverent in his touch. He moves to clean his mouth next. He pulls you from the counter after, helping you steady yourself and dress you to look presentable, but keeps your panties tucked in his back pocket.

"You okay?" he checks and you think you're in love with him.

"Perfect," you reply, throat a bit scratchy, nuzzling under the curve of his jaw.

Opening the door, he guides you out first, palm warm on your lower back. He moves to go back out to your parents, while you're determined to crash into a post-orgasm nap.

He pushes your hair back behind your ear, leaning down low enough to murmur, ensuring no one else but you can hear him.

"One of these days, I want to know what my cum tastes like dripping out of your cunt."

He leaves you like that, his signature smirk painted on his lips, turning and walking down the hallway, while you stare at his broad form retreating, wondering how soon you can get him back between your legs.

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Lucifer Morningstar Relationship Headcanons!

A/N: I haven't written for Lucifer before, but this man has my heart and soul so I am going to start! Also, feel free to DM or chat! I love talking and meeting new people, and I need more people to simp with over Lucifer.

Warnings: Minors do not interact, these headcanons include both SFW and NSFW

✶ Lucifer is deeply sentimental, never one to shy away from his feelings. When he is in love, it is all consuming and a driving force for him. He would do anything for those he loves.

✶ He is a gentle lover, a tender lover; a foil to Adam, if you will. When he is in love, he takes it slow, gently drowning you in his affections.

✶ A gift giver? Absolutely! Whether it be handcrafted pieces of art that he made himself or buying you stuff that reminded him of you, he revels in the idea of lavishing you with gifts.

✶ If we are to assume that you are with him after Lilith, expect some slow burn. Not only does Lucifer have to live with the consequences of his decision to bestow free will upon humanity, but the woman he (presumably) loved left him. The guilt he fee is massive, so please just be patient with him. Let him open up to you. Don't make him feel like a burden.

✶ Once he does start to fall in love with you, the first thing he will do is take off his wedding ring. He is a little hesitant, but the way you make him feel...it's refreshing and invigorating.

✶ After years of being too afraid to dream, you rekindled his passion. How could he not fall in love with that?

✶ He loves kissing you - forehead kisses, hand kisses, cheek kisses - he will kiss you until his lips turn violet and melt off.

✶ Although he doesn't acknowledge it often, he has a tendency to be a bit possessive. Not that he is controlling, but more so that he wants to show you off. He wants everyone in hell to know that he pulled the most beautiful and kind person to ever grace the universe.

✶ Some days when he has to go to meetings early in the morning (he is the King after all), he will always make sure to wake you up softly so you know when he is leaving...only to kiss you back to sleep.

✶ Going along with his love of craftsmanship, you become his muse. There will be several different versions of you as a duck, an apple, whatever comes to his mind really.

✶ Lucifer as a whole is a bit eccentric and peculiar, but charming nonetheless. There is a reason why he was able to seduce Lilith and Eve.

✶ If you two pursue a relationship further, you must be able to get along with Charlie. Charlie is Lucifer's pride and joy, and if you can't get along...well Lucifer would choose his baby over you.

✶ But that's alright because Charlie is very easy to get along with!

✶ He frequently uses pet names such as sweetie and sweetheart, as well as angel and apple pie.

✶ He always calls you the apple of his eye.

✶ NOW TO GET ON TO THE SPICY STUFF >:)

✶ Take one look at that man and tell me he ISN'T a service top. You can't! It's impossible (/j).

✶ Lucifer is desperate to prove himself, to prove his worth, even if he knows you love him. That's why he loves servicing you; he will spend hours pulling you further and further into pleasure.

✶ We all have seen episode eight, we know that he will spend hours between your thighs until you are an overstimulated mess. He gets off on the idea of you relying on the pleasure he gives you and no one else.

✶ It's a pride thing.

✶ His favorite position to have you in is missionary. He just loves to hold you close as he slowly enters you, being able to see how you writhe and become a moaning mess for him.

✶ He also loves to hold you close from behind and pound you (spoon fucking). That's mostly reserved for morning sex though.

✶ Again, he is a deeply sentimental and loving man so he prefers to make love to you than fuck you. But he definitely could fuck you if he wanted to.

✶ His wings have a tendency to poof out right as he is on the verge of coming. Sometimes he wraps them around you, sheltering you in a heavenly cloud.

✶ He has a daddy kink and a breeding kink. No, I will not take any arguments against this.

✶ He just desperately wants to claim you fully, and what better way to do that if not through breeding your pretty pussy.

✶ But really, this man is desperately in love with you. Please let him love you <3

[fkinavocado]

a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...

Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF) - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad

Part One (word count: 6.2k)

“... Jack? Excuse me, Jack? Is that really you?”

The man reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned around, recognizing the woman but having forgotten her name. “Oh… hi there, uhm…?”

“Emma. It’s Emma. You remember me, right?”

“Yeah, you’re, uhm… you used to work at the hospital…”

Emma approached him, noting he wasn’t keen on breaching the gap himself. Poor fellow, she thought. He looked a mess. She was surprised she’d even recognized him. “Oh, I’m still at the hospital! How are you, Jack? You know, we’re all worried about you. Why didn’t you take us up on our offer, hm? We’d have loved to help you any way we could… It can’t have been easy. Gloria told us she came over once with a home cooked casserole but no one answered the door. She assumed you’d moved. Which is good, we thought. But we couldn’t get a hold of you, you must’ve also changed your number…”

Jack wasn’t really making eye contact. His gaze downcast, a hoodie atop of a beanie on his head and an oversized, worn out puffer jacket that almost swallowed him up. He looked very poorly even hidden behind all that. His facial hair unkempt, as was his hair tucked underneath his beanie, seemingly longer strands of it all messy and straw-like peeking out. His glasses loose at his temples. His face was hollow cheeked and she really feared he wasn’t looking after himself properly at all. But what really stood out to her was the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.

“Yeah… I moved out of there. Too many memories.”

“Those were her favourite… pink roses,” she mused. “You miss her so, don’t you, Jack? You can’t even bear talking to me about her, you poor man, even after all this time… What must you be going through… do you– agh. This is so insensible of me to even ask. Forgive me. But if it’s any consolation, us at the hospital haven’t given up hope. We still think she’s out there, somewhere, our Alice…”

Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. “I should get going…”

“Of course. Do take care of yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to reach out, you know where to find us. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,...” he stammered a bit, not knowing what else to say. He walked for a while in the wrong direction, just in case the nosy woman decided to follow him. 

He hadn’t moved. That would’ve been near impossible, and since he managed to dodge the bullet while the police were sniffing around for the longest time, he figured there wasn’t any reason to do so anymore. But he couldn’t have her know that, which is why he never answered the door to the other woman with the casserole either. 

After making sure she wasn’t following him, he resumed his walk home. He wished he could find some type of work from home. He’d be saving so much time and money on the commute, plus he’d always be there, which was quite imperative, all things considered.

What if there was a power outage? The one time that’d happened, there’d been dire consequences. Consequences he hadn’t had to endure. And he simply couldn’t allow that to happen again.

There were so many things that could go wrong while he wasn’t home.

Plus, if he worked remote he could take on a full shift. As it was, he had to work part-time, which wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet. But the commute and all the prep he had to do were taking up too much time, time he didn’t want to waste here.

Finally arriving home, he made sure to secure the front door- the lock and all 3 of the bolts. 

Checking the computer screen, he only had 40 minutes left. The woman had made him late, what with all the detours he had to make to be sure she wasn’t following him.

Canned tuna it was, then. Again. No time for cooking. Not that he had much in the fridge anyway. 

He always felt antsy between the time he got back home and logging in. He wanted to get everything done and out of the way as soon as possible- cooking, laundry, cleaning (more like tidying up, the apartment was far from clean even by his standards), everything on autopilot, peeking at the computer screen every now and then to make sure he didn’t miss his log-in window.

With 20 minutes to spare, that was his que. 

“Oh!” He rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the flowers, then using the keys that he wore on a chain around his neck for safekeeping, he unbolted yet another set of locks on the bedroom door. 

There she was. 

His heart always swelled in his chest seeing her there, safe and sound. Everyday day, without fail, a sigh of relief escaped his lips once he entered the bedroom. He’d probably never stop worrying while he was away for work.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time…” he hummed the lyrics to a song he used to sing to her often, placing the flowers in a vase by the bed. “Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached to caress her supple cheek. “But I love you the most.”

Jack knew he did. Who else would do all this for her? Nobody! He tended after her, emptied out her waste bags as well as checked the respective connecting catheters were secure in place, cleaned her up, all without so much as wrinkling his nose. He replaced the IV, taking note that there was some bruising on that arm so he made sure to switch, he removed her compressive socks and massaged her limbs thoroughly before putting them back on, even made sure to hydrate her lips though she was getting all her nutrients through her IV, hell- he thought of everything. He did it all for her happily, and would do much more if needed. 

She’d done so much for them, too. 

She still did!

But long gone were the days where he’d see her come home from back to back shifts at the hospital, with barely any time to get some sleep in before she had to head back, all because she had to support the both of them all while paying off her student loans. 

Medschool was so expensive. Had he met her before he’d have talked her out of that career path. He’d have talked her out of any career! No. That was his job. He was the caretaker. He was the breadwinner. It’d been like that since the beginning of time. It was only natural for the man to provide. The fact that she’d had to for all that time had been killing him, every day that he had to sit at home and wait for her to get back from the hospital only to see her defeated, exhausted, drained beyond belief. 

Resident doctors were paid shit but strung out to the max. Especially surgeons. 

Meanwhile, Jack had struggled to find a job for the longest time. Unlike her, he hadn’t gone to college, let alone university. His parents couldn’t afford it at the time and he knew better than to tie himself up in student loans. He’d had odd jobs but nothing really ever stuck. He had no real skills, and every entry job demanded some form of higher education nowadays.

Plus, someone had to do house chores, cook and clean. And they couldn’t afford help. 

It’d been eating him up inside. It was all backwards! 

All up until he’d met someone online and got to talking over a game of World of Warcraft. This guy swore up and down about this dark web programme he’d found, but it was all very hush-hush, and Jack had to put in some serious gameplay time until he managed to extricate the info out of him.

The guy was very paranoid about telling him and even used a code system for what to look up. Jack took the lead and before long, he fell down the rabbit hole of what he now knew to be the Victory Project.

He got so immersed trying to digest all this new info being thrown his way all of a sudden that he nearly got caught listening to one of the podcasts when she’d gotten home from the hospital one day. He’d even forgotten to call the plumber. Boy- had that pissed her off.

She was already on edge all the time. Never had any time for him anyway- but if she got upset over silly little things she shut him out completely. 

He felt emasculated. Rejected. Reduced to a housewife.

Jack smirked to himself, as he tended to her whilst pondering all that. Securing the straps back around her wrists he mused at how things had changed. “I fixed it for us, I told you I would. Now you’re the one who’s waiting for me just as we speak. And I don’t even come home to you in scrubs, do I? No, I come home to you all handsome, suit and tie and ready to get my fill of you. Never too tired for you, am I darling? You’re such a great cook, god knows my mouth waters just thinking of all you’ve slaved over for us to feast on, but all I wanna do is feast on you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”

Jack watched her expressionless eyes for a moment as if waiting for her to answer him back, and promptly remembered to apply her eye drops, noticing they looked extra blood-shot than normal. He then finally got comfy in bed next to her. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He was hard already just in anticipation of the way she’d excitedly open the door for him. The door to their lavish home, and their extravagant life together that he’d earned for the two of them. Him. 

He fixed the device around his own eyes and turned it on, taking her hand in his. 

“Welcome to the Victory Project. There are currently 72 active users.”

Nothing beat this. The pleasant, warm afternoon air sweeping through his perfectly coiffed hair as he rushed to get home to her from the Victory Headquarters. Here, the weather was always perfect… whereas, in the apartment, he had to keep the heating on a lower setting, the bill was ridiculous during the colder months. He always had to wear layers and layers, but not in the bedroom- no, he kept a radiator in there. All for her. He had to switch it off for safety reasons while he was away at work but it wasn’t like she was aware of her surroundings anyway! All the more reasons why he had to find something remote so he could work from home and clear up all these little things that bugged him about the whole arrangement. 

But he didn’t want to think about all that, not while he was here. No, here, those problems didn’t exist. This was his preferred reality, this was what he chose to believe was real. All the rest was just a means to an end.

He could feel all his exhaustment leave his body the closer he got to the house. He seldom wondered why she couldn’t have done the same for him coming back from the hospital. Why she couldn’t just leave all that baggage at the door and be glad to be home, back to him, where he waited for her like a lovesick puppy with separation anxiety.

He knew the answer to that now, of course, and that was all Frank’s merit- the brain behind this whole thing. He’d listened to his podcasts for a long while before he enrolled into the program. There was no way she could ever respect him within their given dynamic at the time. The roles were reversed and she couldn’t allow herself to be a woman to her man.

He’d fixed it, though, and boy, had Frank been right.

Every day, without fail, he knocked on the door coming home from work and there she was- all smiles and carefree and so eager to please him, in any way he saw fit. All because she respected him now. He was the man of the house, he was the breadwinner, he put a roof over her head, he got her all her little heart desired and kept her satisfied and happy. 

Which is why when nobody answered the door he was a bit taken aback.

Using his key that he’d rarely ever had to use himself to unlock the door, he let himself in and carefully inspected the silent house.

He knew, realistically, that there was no way something could’ve gone wrong- there was no crime in Victory. No one had broken into their home. But still, he searched the house tentatively. “Alice?”

Everything was spotless, and most striking of all, he couldn’t smell a trace of the homecooked meal he’d so been looking forward to. That tuna was enough to sustain his physical body, but not his large appetite.

Reaching the bedroom, he furrowed his brows with worry upon finding her… sleeping. Passed out on the bed, clad in her street clothes. She’d seemingly come back home from town exhausted and must’ve stretched her bones a bit by the looks of it. 

He contemplated waking her up. Maybe crawling between her thighs and having her gasp awake at the feel of him lapping languidly at her folds. He loved waking her up like that, and she did too. She loved being loved on, and Jack absolutely loved pleasuring her. She was so much more responsive, so much more sensitive to his touch, he could pleasure her over and over for hours on end. Probably ‘cause of all the practice he was having on a regular basis. And maybe he adjusted some settings regarding his stamina while creating his profile too, but at the end of the day, why not? He did it for her. All of this was for her!

Jack grunted to himself before closing the door to the bedroom so he wouldn’t perturb her sleep, deciding last minute to forgo his initial plans. Funny he’d been reminiscing about how things used to be just in time for this to happen all of a sudden.

It must’ve been a glitch in the system or something. This wasn’t in line with what he’d designed for themselves. Here, they were never tired, ill or imperfect in any way. Jack made a mental note to look into this after he logged out.

In the meanwhile- he’d never tried his hand at cooking here, where presumably he’d be a lot better at it than he was in reality. 

Just like with everything else.

*

Alice blinked her eyes awake. She took in her surroundings and hesitantly stood up on the bed in the dark room, letting her sight adjust. 

How did she get back here? Not here, here. She had an inkling of how she’d managed that- but back to the house, from the Headquarters. She couldn’t remember making the trek back.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

Maybe this was the default setting she woke up to everytime after entering… the simulation. Because, what else was this if not that?!

How long was she out of it? Judging by the darkness surrounding her, a good few hours. Perking her ears up, she could hear music- so Jack was home too.

She cradled her knees to her chest, trying to let it all sink in. She hadn’t had time to properly digest what had happened, in her unconscious state.

Hell, she was surprised she could even remember.

But this explained it… explained all the fuzzy deja vu-like flashbacks she kept having. Explained her brain fog and all the things she just couldn’t follow through in her train of thought. Explained why she sometimes couldn’t account for most of her day until Jack came home from work, almost as if she’d been on auto-pilot. 

Explained all the vivid “dreams”. 

They weren’t fanciful dreams, idealistic wishes of a progressive feminist world for which she’d gotten shock therapy at the Victory’s doctor’s orders.

They were her memories.

Waking up tied down to that bed… her own bed, from another life, had been traumatic, but she clearly was still in shock to be so calm about it. 

She hadn’t been calm initially of course- not when she couldn’t move her arms or blink her eyes shut. 

She’d managed to slip out of the confines, her wrists weak and frail and barely recognizable, yanking her IV out of her vein by accident- she hadn’t even known it was there!, all in an effort to get those things that forced her eyes open off of her face.

She’d been hysteric. Tried to muffle her own screams, because she didn’t know who was around to hear them. Tried to calm herself down, but the more she noticed, the more she hyperventilated. Like the fact that had both urinary and rectal catheters sticking out of her. Then she noticed how emaciated she looked, almost like she couldn’t even recognize her own body. She couldn’t feel her limbs, she felt numb and achy all over, bruises all across her skin from sitting still for so long. Her throat was hoarse, she couldn’t really scream that loud even if she wanted to.

She’d fumbled out of bed and immediately collapsed to the floor. She was too weak to stand, and she prayed she hadn’t broken any bones in her fall. She sat there crying in a fetal position for god knows how long, thinking of all the fractures she’d fixed in the OR, and all her knowledge that had gone to waste. 

All her life that had gone to waste!

This room, this bedroom- her old life came back to her in a flash, flooding all her senses. It felt like everything was finally clicking into place, and despite how miserable and utterly devastated she felt, it was a relief to finally figure it out. 

With the way nobody came rushing into the bedroom, she knew she was alone. Unless Jack was at this computer, headphones on– oh god. She felt her mind split into two trying to reconcile the fact that these two very different men were one and the same!

She was alone strapped to the bed- which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t constrained like she was. He hadn’t been forced into this. Unless they were being kept separate… both victims of this sick mindfuck. 

Because… surely– surely Jack couldn’t be behind this.

… Could he?

Scrambling for the door, determined to get some answers, she reached for the doorknob.

When she couldn’t get it to open, she mustered up all her strength to stand up- but still- it was no use. It was locked. And with the way it felt it looked like the door had been tampered with, bolted shut from the outside, not just locked. 

She was trapped. A prisoner in her own home. She eyed the windows next and even if by some miracle they weren’t bolted shut too- she knew she was too weak to try and use the fire escape. She’d surely succumb to her death trying to evade. She needed a plan- a better plan.

Her brain was scurrying to come up with something-anything, all the while dry heaving at the sight of her waste bags still attached to her by those catheters and the overall stale smell of the room, but she knew that with how dehydrated she was, vomiting would take her out completely at that point. She head to keep it together, had to–

She’d heard what she recognized to be the front door. Her blood froze in her veins. She didn’t know who it was, she had no idea who was behind all this. She had no clue where Jack was, if he even was part of this– her heart told her no, he couldn’t have, but at this point she had no way of knowing what was real or not, let alone what this all meant.

She couldn’t risk being found conscious. She was clearly being kept in a comatose state, treated as one such patient at least, and the fact that she’d woken up from that induced state was definitely not intended to happen.

She remembered what had happened before she woke up like this- she’d reached the infamous, off limits Victory Headquarters. Because a plane had crashed in that direction, and the trolley driver didn’t believe her nor wanted to take her there!

She’d made the trek all the way there… it’d taken her ages, in the scorching sun- and finally, finally, she’d reached the imposing building, in hopes of finding some help or at least some answers at that point!

Next thing she knew, she’d woken up strapped to this bed. Her bed, in her old bedroom, from her old life that had been stolen away from her!

She needed to gather as much information as possible, and the only way she could do that was to get back into that bed and pretend she never came to.

There was no other way.

She hurried as best she could, barely making it back to the bed, made sure she was laid out in the same outstretched position. By some miracle, the catheters were still in place, their respective bags on the floor by the foot of the bed. The hardest part was fixing whatever that contraption was over her face and around her eyes. It dug deep into her flesh and she remembered to wipe any traces of tears from her face when new ones began rolling down her face. She was surprised her body could even produce them with how parched she felt. She then inserted the needle back into her bruised vein– which was sure to get infected at this rate, whoever was doing this to her was amateur at best, or they didn’t much care to keep her alive. She didn’t know which prospect was worse. She slipped her wrists back through the strap loops, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious she’d gotten them a bit loose when she struggled her way out of them. 

And then she’d waited. And waited. And waited. All the while a bright red light scanned her eyeballs systematically, no doubt whatever was used to induce her into that trance or whatever it was that created the optimal parameters for the alternate reality to take place. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t even begin to understand how it worked- all she knew was that it was all too real to be just a dream. No. That was a controlled environment. The world simulation came to her again.

Her whole body froze as she’d heard the lock, then what she counted to be 3 other bolts on the bedroom door. She could only see directly above her, and that barely- but she could hear him when he came in. 

Smell him, even. 

And it wasn’t the smell of expensive cologne she’d grown used to, but a more familiar smell. A smell that felt more real, more ingrained in her subconscious- that of clothes he’d dug out of the laundry hamper to wear a few more times when everything else was too dirty even for his own standards, mixed with canned tuna and the faintest amount of deodorant that did nothing to mask the fact that he’d skipped showering for a day or two.

Her heart sank when she heard him hum to himself the song that had been stuck in her mind for ages- the one she’d been humming herself but couldn’t remember where she knew it from. This is where she knew it from. It’d been their song, in a way, a song he’d made up just for her.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time… Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and tried her best not to flinch when he leaned in to caress her cheek. “But I love you the most.”

She could feel her eyes well up with tears. Tears she couldn’t even blink away. 

He then started tending to her and she mustered up all of her willpower not to lurch at him when he’d gotten her out of her restraints- she knew she was no match for him, not in her weakened state by any means.

He was doing this to her. It was him! All while declaring his love for her. She felt her heart break into a million pieces, all the while forcing herself not to make any movements and break her cover. Not even when he cleaned her with wet wipes up and checked the catheters, emptying the waste bags. God- she wished she was dead. For a while she zoned out completely, much like rape victims. She just let it happen to her, dissociating from her body completely, mentally checking out.

He’d eventually poured what must’ve been eyedrops into her sockets and that brought her back to reality. Whatever reality was anymore…

And then… to her utter shock, she felt him get in bed next to her. The familiar clank of the device she’d placed back onto herself could be heard and she realized he was putting on the same headgear. 

He was… joining her? He was willingly putting himself through this? Sure, he wasn’t forced into it against his will, there was nobody strapping himself to the bed, nobody feeding him through an IV and treating him like a comatose patient.

But he was entering the simulation the same way she was. Through that headgear.

Is this what he did everyday while he was “at work”? Was this the infamously secret Victory Project that she couldn’t even ask him about- exiting that alternate reality and coming back here?

She heard him switch it on and then the whole room went dark before a projector of sorts played a familiar black and white scene on the ceiling, above the bed. She felt him interlace his fingers with hers and she was done for- she couldn’t fight it. Whatever this was, it was working fast, making her slip into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Followed directly after by her waking up in her other bedroom. Unrestrained. Nothing to force her eyes open. Clean. Rejuvenated even.

But scared shitless.

Traumatised.

Heartbroken.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to make sense of it all in the darkness. Thankful to be able to move freely, thankful to feel like her old self, but well aware that it was all an illusion, that her real self was held hostage somewhere god knows where. Helpless, frail and alone.

She felt conflicted. Why was he doing this?! Why had he done this to her? She’d heard him say he loved her most. Heard he’d brought her flowers, even though she couldn’t even see them. Felt him tend to her, he was doing a lousy job at it but was keeping her alive and she could tell he was trying his best, being gentle, careful, thoughtful even when the reality was he didn’t have to. Not when, for all he knew, she was unconscious. 

This was insanity. 

There was no other explanation. No other justification. She understood the nuances- could see why this was- on paper- a better life. But it was fake! And most of all, it wasn’t her choice!

She’d been forced into it, against her will, without her even being aware of it! Her life had been robbed away from her. Her family, her friends, her hard work. The only common denominator… was Jack.

She didn’t know how to go about it, but if there was any chance of her escaping, she had to play dumb and pretend she knew nothing.

She wasn’t sure how she could face him knowing what she did, but she had to. She had to buy time, enough time until she could put her plan into motion. 

She didn’t know if she’d succeed, but she had to try. She had to. She had to escape, claim her life back, good or bad.

She got off the bed, marvelling at how strong and healthy she felt, as opposed to how she’d collapsed on the floor in her real body. That alone emboldened her, she had to go face the music.

And face the music she did. Jack had put a record on, blasting it at high volume with little consideration to her being asleep. No surprises there.

But as she approached the kitchen, she took in the sight of him… cooking. Or, trying to cook. 

Apparently, you couldn’t tweak everything in this alternate reality. Or maybe he didn’t care to fumble with his cooking skills. Because he’d definitely perfected some of his other skills–

“You’re awake!... I didn’t have time to set the table.”

“What’s going on?” She watched him scurry around the kitchen, trying to do a dozen things at once and failing. 

“Well, I’m making you dinner. Now, we were supposed to have five courses. Unfortunately, I think we’re down to about three.” 

She took note of the mess, especially the way something was about to catch on fire on the stove.

“That– don’t look at that. That course is officially off the menu.”

That’s when it clicked in her brain– the fucker had switched up his accent! He had a British accent here! Oh, she could laugh if she didn’t feel like murdering him. She reminded herself it wouldn’t be the real him she’d be murdering, though. No, for all she knew if she harmed him in any way here, she might end up trapped inside this simulation forever if her plan failed. Or until her real body died, with no one to tend for it, even as poorly as he was, in the real world.

She had to thread carefully. “What happened?”

“I got a little aggressive with the seasoning.”

“How long have you been home?”

“Uh, a few hours.” He proceeded to make even more of a mess in his attempt to jump from one dish to the next. “Okaaay. Nope. Don’t look at that. That’s– Okay, so I’m making that roast, you know the one you made for my birthday? Only with a few changes…”

“I was here when you got here?” 

“Yeah. Asleep in the bedroom. Do you put carrots in a roast?”

“How did I get home?” That was a reasonable question. Last thing she knew of this reality was she’d reached the Headquarters. She needed to know if anyone knew about it.

“Trolley, I think.”

“Wait, so he came out and got me?!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jack, I got off the trolley. I saw a plane crash.”

“Alice, I think I would’ve heard if there was a plane crash.”

“No, Jack, I saw it…”

“They tend to be rather loud…”

“... and I started walking–”

“–and hard to miss.”

It was dawning on her that she wasn’t going to milk any info on this out of him. He was going to pretend the plane never crashed, of course, whatever that even meant for this simulation. Or maybe the plane crashing was only visible to her version of this altered reality. She couldn’t know for sure. But he seemed unconcerned otherwise. She didn’t think he knew she’d gone there. She really must’ve re-entered right back into the bedroom, after all, she, along with all the other women, were never meant to go up there, the Headquarters were off-limits.

Meaning that was probably from where the men entered. Since they were the only ones who came and left. The women were probably all bound to their own respective beds back in the real world, they were never meant to leave the simulation. It made sense why she’d found herself back in the house- where she belonged. And it made sense if that was where the man entered and exited since that’s where they all allegedly went everyday for “work”.

Her heart sank at the realization that it was highly probable that all the other women were victims, just like her. Unless everything and everyone else was a simulation around them.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She tried not to flinch when Jack finally noticed she’d zoned out whilst trying to process all of this, and touched her shoulder, taking a better look at her.

“No…I don’t know–I’m not…”

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. That smell of expensive cologne hit her again, overriding the smell of stale clothes and canned tuna from her recent memory. And his embrace felt so familiar, so comforting, that for a moment she allowed herself to pretend like this was the person she knew to love her. The person she couldn’t wait to come back home from work everyday. The person that made her smile and laugh and moan and cry tears of happiness. She knew him well, she loved him with all her heart. And she was reluctant to accept that this man was the same that was keeping her strapped against the bed. Because that was the reality of it. 

But this version of Jack that was holding her felt so real as well…

“I had a really weird dream. A really weird dream…”

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. Was he, sorry? She buried her face deeper into his chest and held her breath, stifling a sob as tears flooded her eyes immediately. She wanted to break down in his arms and ask him why he’d done this. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. Wanted for him to somehow, magically, make it all better.

But she knew there was no way for him to do it. There was nothing he could say or do to justify what he’d done to her, even if his intentions didn’t seem as evil as they truly were to him.

Because she knew Jack. She knew he’d probably convinced himself somehow that this was the only way out of the miserable life they were living- and be it as it were, it was her life! He’d had no right to steal it from her like that. 

“Do you know what weird dreams make me? Hungry.” He fed her a carrot he was holding jokingly then turned her around as she chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing, still taking in the reality of what her life was. Or the alternate reality, more like it.

Jack cupped her face, searching her eyes and declared solemnly, “Alice, I want to be honest with you about something.”

She almost choked on the carrot she was chewing on. Was he–

“I don’t think these mashed potatoes are gonna work.”

She swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth at her naivete. “That’s because you need to boil them first, baby…”

“I knew it… I knew there was a step missing. Such an idiot,” he smiled bashfully.

She laughed at that. A manic laugh, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not at how incompetent he was at such a basic life skill- who the hell tries to mash raw potatoes?!- but at how hopeful she’d been for a moment there, believing he was about to confess everything just like that, out of the blue.

“Let me put a pot on…”

“No, no, no–”

“Come on, let me–”

“Make us some drinks. Relax.” He pulled her out of the kitchen and into the lounge, declaring “I am your chef tonight!”

Lord knew she desperately needed a drink at this point, so she sighed heavily, getting to it, when he stopped her in her tracks, “hey!”

“Hm?”

“You love me?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She replied like she used to, back in the real world. Something she didn’t remember ever doing here, but it just came to her by reflex now that her memory of her past life had come back to her fully. And for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she meant it, still. “The most.”

Jack seemed pleased with her answer, and resumed his ‘cooking’. Alice turned to the whiskey bottle and downed two doubles, one after the other. 

How was she ever going to get free when her stupid heart had meant what she said?

She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled by this false reality any longer. Couldn’t allow to slip into his arms again and pretend he loved her when this was anything but love. 

So she waited. Waited until he fell asleep that night (thankfully all the “cooking” had seemingly tired him out and he didn’t try anything)- praying this meant he was truly asleep.

Got dressed, tiptoed out of the house and geared up for a long journey to the Headquarters. She couldn’t risk taking the car and waking him or the neighbours up, alerting them with this unusual behaviour. There weren't any trolleys late at night by any means- everyone was sound asleep.

Everyone but her.

She was no longer asleep.

A/N: i've been meaning to get to this for the longest while! hopefully it scratches some itches we've been left with. i had fun writing this first part. more to come 👀

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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[russellsppttemplates]

This drawing is for you (Lando Norris)

Matilda already has her love language, handing out her drawings to people

Note: english is not my first language. Look who showed up, hm? Honestly, the last two weeks have been a bit all over the place and I've been meaning to post way more than what I actually have

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Mummy?", you heard your daughter call for you, walking to her playroom since you assumed that's where she was, "yes, baby?", you made your presence known.

"Can we stop by the stationery shop when we go and pick daddy up from work, please? My colouring pencils are getting too small", she showed you a few examples, the colours you recognised from having a big presence in her drawings belonging to pencils that you were barely able to hold in your hands yourself.

"Of course, Tilly", you smiled, "speaking of which, we have to leave soon. Are you almost finished with your drawing?", you wondered, "yes, mummy, I just need to finish colouring in the sun", she mused, grabbing the tiny yellow pencil and carrying on with her work.

When she finished, she set the pencil down, stopping in the bathroom to wash her hands and heading to the door to meet you, "hold your sleeves", you nudged as she held on the hems while you put on her jacket, not wanting her to let the clothes climb up her arms and be uncomfortable.

"Let's go, mummy!", she cheered, walking downs the stairs into the garage so you could get in the car and drive to the factory.

As you were driving, your husband called, "hello, love! We're already in the car on our way to get you, we're going to stop by the shop to buy some colouring pencils for Tilly so we don't have to wait too long for you", you said, turning on the blinker once you faced the junction.

"Hi daddy!", Matilda spoke loudly, hoping her could hear her like she heard him, "How are my favourite girls today? Actually, I was calling because the meeting ended early and I'm ready whenever you want to pick me up", Lando voiced as you saw your daughter smile from her spot in the back of the car, "you can come with us to the shop, then!", she said excitedly.

"That's a great idea, love! Me and Matilda will go and pick you up first, then! We're ten, maybe fifteen minutes out, depends on how traffic is, it looks okay, though", you muttered, finding it easy so far to drive to the factory.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you! I love you, girls! Drive safe!", he said before ending the call, Matilda clapping her hands excitedly at the prospect of seeing her father earlier than expected.

By the time you arrived at the factory, Matilda had listed all of the materials she would like to get so her drawings would be pretty. Parking the car, you got out, putting on your coat as you walked to open Matilda's door, "let's go, Matilda!", you smiled, unbuckling her belt and making sure she was cozy and warm to face the cold end of the day temperatures.

Everyone in the factory knew you and your little one, so they would have at you, knowing they would have a difficult time at getting many words out of your little girl, usually a sweet smile, a wave and a small and quiet "hi" before she held onto your legs and hid her face there.

Lando was laughing loudly, so it was easy to know that as soon as you crossed that corner, you'd find your husband along with one of his mechanics and engineers.

Matilda smiled as she saw her daddy, releasing the grip she had on your hand, but keeping them laced until Lando and her locked eyes, "hello, my loves!", Lando said, crouching down so his daughter could finally unlace her hand from yours and run up to him, hugging him and allowing him to pick her up so she could kiss his cheek, "Hi, daddy", she whispered in his ear.

Even though there were only two other people beside her parents, she was still shy as they greeted her, "Hello!", they said as she waved, smiling before hiding her face on her father's neck.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodbye Y/N, bye-bye Matilda!", they said as they went the opposite direction, you and Lando bidding goodbye whenever you encountered someone until you were in the parking lot, ready to get in the car.

"Do you want to drive?", you asked your husband despite already knowing the answer. He hated not being in control of the situation if he could, so driving his family around was non negotiable most times, only sitting as a passenger when he was very tired.

Buckling Matilda back in her seat and kissing her forehead, you got into the car yourself as your husband drove to the usual shop where you got your daughter's art supplies and your own whenever your work required materials.

"Do you already know what you want to get, babygirl?", Lando asked as the three of you walked inside the shop. It was unusually quiet for this time of the day, and a small part of Matilda was happy because she could go up to the shelves and drawers she already knew had what she needed without having to ask her parents for help in moving along the shop.

After grabbing the supplies she needed, she took them to the young woman at the front so her parents could pay for it, "have a nice day, Matilda! I'm sure your works of art will be beautiful!", she said. You and your family were regular costumers, so they had already grown to know your name and hers, so they had managed to get in the small group of people that were not family and friends and Matilda didn't feel to shy with.

"Bye-bye, have a nice day, too!", she waved sweetly before running up to her daddy, "very good, Matilda, I'm very proud of you for that!", he said, kissing her cheek and walking along with you to the car.

.

The McLaren unit was working on full speed as you arrived, coffees and other drinks being served as guests arrived or workers carried on with their day, you opting to go to the track, along with Matilda, after the initial morning rush so you wouldn't have to deal with too many people at once.

"Do you want to to go to daddy's room or stay here?", you questioned her, "here in the lounge", she replied as you walked to one of the tables near the windows so you could be near the sunlight that had graced the weekend and be a little further away from the buzz.

"Do you want to draw with me, mummy?", she offered once she was comfortably sitting on the chair, taking her pencil case from her backpack along with the blank sheets of paper.

"Sure, love! Let me just text daddy so he knows where we are when he finishes his meeting", you smiled, grabbing your phone to text Lando before setting it down and grabbing the things you needed.

"Are you drawing daddy's car?", Matilda asked sweetly as she took a peek at your work, "I am! Do you think it's pretty?", she nodded, "but not as pretty as yours, I love your butterfly", you complimented.

As she was finishing colouring in the wings, one of the girls from the PR team came to greet you, "Y/N, Matilda! It's been a while since I saw you around!", she cheered, kissing each of your cheeks as you did the same to her before she noticed your daughter looking at her, "hello", she said in her usual quiet tone.

As you spoke with the young woman, your daughter carefully folded the paper and ripped it by the crease she had made so she could separate the small drawing from the rest of the plain paper.

"Alright, girls! I'll see you later!", she said as someone called her name, presumably with a task for her to do.

"You can have this one if you'd like", Matilda spoke, showing her the drawing, "really, babygirl? Thank you so much, I'm so flattered!", she said, accepting it and keeping it safe in her notebook, "I'll keep it here until I can get home and put it in my wall, okay?", she nodded as your little girl blushed at the attention, nodding too.

.

Because the practice session was being used as the scheduled opportunity for the reserve driver to do a few laps on the track, Oscar joined you and Matilda as you looked over the cars on track.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Do you also need to go, Tilly?", you asked your daughter, earning a head shake no, "I'm good, mummy", she said, going back to colouring in.

Excusing yourself after Oscar assured he'd keep her company, Matilda was quick to silently offer her crayons to the Australian man along with her colouring book.

"Where are Lily and Lucas?", she asked for her usual companions for the weekend. They would often be together so you and Lily could catch up while the kids entertained themselves in eachother's company.

"They stayed back home this weekend", Oscar explained, "but they told me they wish they were here. I think they're coming to Silverstone, so we will all be together then", he smiled as she gave him a small smile, too, noddinh in agreement and taking out her new glitter pens.

They start colouring and not saying much, only asking eachother to please hand them a crayon or pen the other couldn't reach or if the drawing looked good. Matilda felt understood by him, so it was no surprise that, besides her family, he was the person she felt the most comfortable with spending time in the paddock.

.

"Where's daddy taking you, little miss?", you asked as you saw Lando change the t-shirt your daughter was wearing. Under her dungarees, she now had an orange McLaren t-shirt, matching her father as he held her on his hip, "we're going to hand in drawings I made, and I didn't want to do it alone, and since you said you were feeling tired, daddy said he would take me", she smiled, kissing your cheek when you got up to kiss your husband's lips and her forehead.

"You sit tight, alright baby?", Lando urged, "me and Tilly want you to be well rested when the time comes to watch the race", he kissed your forehead. You hadn't slept that well the night before, so when Matilda had built her collection of gifts, she didn't want to tire you out more.

Leaving the hospitality, Lando walked with Matilda, asking her where she wanted to go first, "Can we find uncle Seb first? Mummy and I saw him when we arrived, but there were a lot of people near him so we said we'd see him later", she reasoned as Lando quickly searched for the retired German driver, "there he is, love", he pointed, walking in his direction.

Despite her initial confidence, Matilda felt shy as everyone's eyes landed on her and her father, cooing at the sight of them matching and the fact that little Norris had showed up, too.

"Hello, Matilda! How are you?", Sebastian asked, smiling at the duo as she retreated, hiding her face on his neck. Her backpack was open as Lando pulled the art pieces out.

"Didn't you want to give something to Sebastian, gorgeous girl?", Lando encouraged, kissing her cheek sweetly and giving her time.

"The bee one, daddy", Matilda whispered against his neck where she kept hhalf of her face hidden as Lando flickered the drawings, finding the one she meant.

"Is this for me? Thank you, Matilda, this is very nice!", Sebastian said warmly, making he little girl smile at him.

"Who's next?", Lando asked, "Charles, I made a drawing for him with a sea, because he lives in Monaco", she reasoned.

.

"And on the screens now we can see the McLaren garage this afternoon, where Lando Norris has his little one and his wife here this weekend!", Natalie said looking at the screen along with Naomi.

"That's true! Little Matilda has been in the paddock with her parents this whole weekend, and yesterday I had the privilege of seeing the cutest scene! She was hiding behind Lando's legs, but she kept holding some of the drawings until she found the people she wanted to give them to!", Naomi added, "she had one for Sebastian, for Charles, and she also shared some with the McLaren crew, too!

"And when I was interviewing Oscar this morning, Matilda walked closer to us and asked for his help to get the drawing she made of me - I have it right here, let me show you! - and this is the cutest thing ever! I have an orange suit - because of papaya, she said -, and my braids look so good with this glittery accent, see?", she showed Natalie as she nodded, "she's usually a very quiet little one, but she's an artist for sure. She takes after her mummy, so I've heard", she smiled into the camera.

"Yet, this morning, when me and the crew were deciding where to go first, we caught a father-daughter that made our hearts melt, take a look in the screens!", Natalie finished.

"Is it silly, Matilda?", Lando tried, seeing his daughter give him a full belly laugh as he drew a crocodile with rain boots, "crocodiles don't need rain boots, daddy! They can swim and walk all the same!", she giggled, delighting the people who were watching and hearing her laugh. "Well, maybe I should give him some floaties, too! Should I make him pink ones like yours?", he tried, earning another set of giggles out of his little girl.

[roxygen22]

The Beautiful Boy Bus Stop Story was so cute! Would it be too much to ask for a part 2? The interactions between the pair was adorable! Love your stories. :)

Ask and ye shall receive! What do y'all think? Does it need a Part 3?

Bus Stop (Part 2)

Catch up on Part 1 here

Ever the gentleman, Nic held the door to the diner open for you. Once he stepped in after you, he scanned the room.

"Wow, it's like straight from a 50's TV show," he mused. Before you could respond, a voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Hey, [Y/N]! Have a seat, honey, and we'll be right with you," one of the servers called.

"Sooooo, do you come here often?" Nic joked as he followed you to your usual booth and sat across from you, facing away from the kitchen.

You shrugged and put on an innocent face. "Sometimes, I get tired of my own cooking." He didn’t need to know [yet] just how domestically challenged you were.

Cheryl, who often waited on you when you stopped by after work, appeared at the end of the table. "I was wondering if I would see you this week! And I see you brought a friend this time." She grinned and winked at you as she set down the menus in front of each of you. "What can I get you two to drink?"

You blushed at her lack of subtlety, hoping Nic wouldn't be put off. "I'll have a Coke."

"I'll just have some water, please," Nic responded politely.

"One water, one Coke, coming right up. I'll give you some time to look over the menu." As she stepped toward the kitchen, Cheryl turned on her heel and waved to get your attention. She pointed at Nic with one hand and signaled a thumbs up with the other. "Nice!" she mouthed.

You dropped your chin to hide the smile pulling at the corners of your lips. Luckily, Nic didn't seem to notice as he browsed the options. Not needing the menu, you took the chance to study his face up close. The way his dark hair curled into perfectly tousled ringlets. The light dusting of freckles across his cheekbones. The small scar just to the left of his no-

Your investigation was cut short when he set down the menu and looked back at you with those gorgeous eyes framed by lush lashes.

"So, uh, do you work downtown? I assumed since you're already on the southbound route when I get on the bus," he inquired.

You shook yourself from your stupor. "Oh, yes, I do. I'm a paralegal at Warner, Fitzgerald, and Associates. But, I'm studying to be a lawyer, though."

"A lawyer, huh? Impressive. How much lo-"

Before he could continue, Cheryl returned and set the drinks down on the table. "Alright, are we ready to order?" Nic gestured for you to speak first.

"I'll just have my usual," you said, handing the menu that you never opened back to her.

"And you, dear?" Cheryl asked, turning to Nic.

"I'll, uh, have the same." He flashed a smile at you before handing over his menu. "Thank you."

After Cheryl turned away, you leaned forward toward him. "You don't even know what my usual is."

Nic shrugged. "Perhaps not, but everything on the menu looked good."

You giggled and sat back. "Well, prepare to be amazed, then." He smiled that gorgeous smile in return that caused you to glitch again. Was there anything not perfect about this guy?

Realizing you were probably all but drooling at this point, you cleared your throat to break the brief awkward silence and regain your composure. "So what about you?"

"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy. An adorable one.

"Sorry. What do you do for work?" you clarified.

"I'm, uh...I'm a writer."

"You don't seem too sure about that, Nic," you teased, but then quickly froze, realizing that he probably wasn't yet ready for your brand of humor. To your relief, he chuckled and clasped his hands on the table.

"I am putting it out into the universe that I will be an accomplished author one day. But in the meantime, I am working downtown at the news station while I am going back to school."

"Back?" you ask curiously.

"Well, I didn't finish the first time due to some, uh, complications. I had to figure some things out about life first."

You could tell by the way Nic cast his eyes down to the table that there was more to the story than could be unpacked at present. Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on top of his.

"A winding road makes for a much more interesting story than the straight and narrow, Mr. Writer," you replied reassuringly.

Nic glanced up at you and half-smiled before looking down again at your hand. "I suppose you're right." He rotated one palm up to hold yours.

A tiny gasp escaped your lips. ::Is this really happening?:: you thought to yourself. Nic's thumb grazed your knuckles, leaving a trail of fire from his touch. Much to your chagrin, Cheryl cut the moment short by walking up with your plates. Nic cleared his throat and pulled back to make room on the table.

"Here we go," she announced. "Two open-faced cheeseburgers with a fried egg on top and a side of curly fries. Enjoy! I'll check on you again in a bit."

"Wow," Nic exclaimed. "Can't say I've ever had an egg on a burger before."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," you responded before unabashedly taking a huge, ungraceful bite of your own burger, leaving a bit of mustard on the corner of your lip.

"You've, uh, got something right...," he paused to point at his own cheek to demonstrate.

"Oh!" You hurriedly grabbed your napkin to wipe it away, bringing attention to your deep blushing.

Nic laughed. "Hey, it's cool, it's cool! Now, where do I even start with this burger?" He joined the halves and brought it to his mouth, manfully taking a big bite to match yours. He chewed a moment before his face lit up. "Oh man!"

"See?! And you dared doubt me," you teased.

"I vow to never doubt you again." Nic locked eyes with you and blushed with his own admission. He laughed it off, and the two of you continued to chow down, occasionally taking a break to talk about classes, what the other likes to do for fun, and other enjoyable small talk.

Cheryl stopped by to check on you as you both picked at the last of your fries. "Can I get you two anything else? Maybe the usual milkshake?"

"Oh, no, I'm stuffed," you admitted.

"Maybe next time," Nic added as he retrieved his wallet.

::Next time?!:: Your heart raced. Cheryl picked up on it, too, and winked at you again when she returned his card.

Check closed, you and Nic slowly walked out of the diner. "I had fun tonight. Getting asked out on a date was not how I pictured today going, but I'm here for it," he said, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the street toward your place.

"Same. While there was some premeditation on my part," you replied through a laugh, "I didn't dare speculate what would happen after I said hello."

"I'm glad you did. Say hello, I mean."

"Me, too." You slowed to a stop, forcing him to stop and turn back to you. "As much as I don't want this evening to end, this is my street." You jutted your thumb at the street sign at the intersection. "Will I see you on the bus tomorrow?" you asked, hope evident in your tone.

"I have a, uh, standing meeting after class on Wednesdays."

"Oh, right." You visibly deflated. "I forgot today is Tuesday, not Monday. You never get on the bus on my commute home on Wednesdays."

"You notice when I'm not there?" Nic asked in disbelief.

"Always." You smiled as you looked up into his eyes, following his movement as he stepped in closer.

"[Y/N]?" he breathed.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

<><><><><>

Masterlist

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

One (☝️) freebie plz. For whatever verse your heart desires (or a new one if you have an idea)

"You never have cash," Vanessa mused, watching you pay for a couple pairs of new pants and a new dress with now straightened out bills.

"Not usually," You hum, "Logan handed it to me this morning and told me to do something with it- I'm assuming that was his not-so-subtle way of telling me he can hear me struggling with my jeans in the morning."

She snorted, "Not like I want to give him credit, but he probably didn't notice. Or he's too distracted by your boobs. He probably just knows there's stuff you want to buy and haven't yet."

"Probably," you take the bag and your change, "I just don't even know where to start."

"Not telling your mother," she recommended, pulling you towards a stand that sold smoothies. "God I'm thirsty, my treat. Can't let you get scurvy or something."

"As long as it doesn't have bananas in it," you say, crinkling your nose. "Ugh."

"I told Wade NOT to bring the banana bread," she laughed, "I don't think he really believed that you were gonna puke."

"Well- he found out." You lean your head on her shoulder and look at the menu, "The peach one sounds good."

"And hopefully won't make you puke."

"Peaches are fine. As long as they aren't canned."

____________

Logan let himself into your apartment cautiously. Feeling better now that he was clean and in clean clothes. Construction was hot, dirty work, but it paid. And that was important.

There were some new baby things, carefully put away in the corner where you'd been putting them until you could organize it all and he could smell something beef based and savory cooking in your crockpot. But it was quiet.

It made him feel weird as he walked across the floor.

But then he peered over the sofa and smiled a little. You were snuggled into a blanket and asleep. Trigger eyed him warily and Logan pressed a finger to his lips as he walked around the sofa and knelt to kiss the side of your head. "Hey, Princess," he murmured, stroking your arm.

"Hm?"

"Tired today, huh?"

"Wasn't even trying to go to sleep. Just settled down to watch a show," you tell him, yawning. "Was waiting to hear back on some stuff."

He smiled a little and stroked your hair, "Must've needed the sleep, just didn't want to scare you poking around in the kitchen."

"It's beef stew. There's bread in the oven and I made brownies," you hum, stretching.

"No wonder you needed a nap," he chuckled.

"Brownies just sounded good. And it's cold out today. Figured you were tired of Wade's chicken experiments and would probably want something hot."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, feeling himself blush. You thought about him? He didn't think you poisoned it either. "Kid's got a sweet tooth, huh?"

"At least I know they like brownies. And not banana anything."

Logan snorted, "I owe them a pony on their 5th birthday for making you throw up on Wade when he shoved that bread in your face."

"I couldn't even stop it-"

"Better than it comin' out your nose. And I bet he won't just shove shit in your face again."

"There is that." You sit up slowly and rub your eyes, "If you gimme a second I'll make some plates and-"

"Just stay there," Logan said, "I'll get it. Do you want water or-"

"Ice tea, please."

"And a brownie."

"Or like 2. Two is good."

[jellyskink]

The Tooth And The Following Headache. (A cringey crackship)

"Alright Pines, you're good to go now. You remember where the exit is yeah?"

(Geez, the more I see this guy the MORE I find myself needin' to buy another pack of cold ones for the week.)

The day was about as fun as you'd expect it to be with "him" around. I was just about to have a good day too, of course things would go wrong as soon as I was about to relax and finish up work.

Ford Pines had his monthly appointment with me today, an appointment that I was booked with because of Oleander's meddling probably.

"Yes Dr.Ibis, I remember. H-How is everything looking if I may ask?"

(Horrible, if I was presented this during dental school I'd probably have thought it was the BEFORE photo, not AFTER.)

"Eh, I've seen worse. But you're doin' better than last time."

(That was a lie and a truth both in the correct order. Geez what HAS this freak been doing? The first time I saw him I was surprised he hadn't kicked the bucket or passed out at the very least from what problems he was dealing with. It was almost like I was checking off everything in the book on what was wrong with this guy. I mean, damn if I didn't know better I'd assume this guy was eating glass for fun or something.)

"R-really? Oh my Muse will be so pleased! The care you and Dr. Oleander have been providing me has been astronomically wonderful! My muse certainly knows how to find the best people to introduce me to!"

(Ugh, here we go again. "My muse" this, "my muse" that. I wish he'd can it about that damn triangle, the problems that kindergartner art project looking thing have been causing have been one of my biggest headache bringers to date.)

"Yep, he sure does. Now can we get along to the part where we just schedule your next appointment? I'm a very busy man you know, patients to see and all that."

"Of course! I'll need to run it by my Muse before it's finalized, but I can certainly get the word to him!"

"Sure thing bud."

(Thank god, this is going quicker than I thought. I really hate having this guy ruin the mood in my office with his... everything. What did Irene even see in this guy? This wacko clearly didn't have a personality besides being a sad clingy puppy dog whose entire being was dedicated to his "Muse".)

(Irene was pretty secretive about certain things regarding that guy whenever we ended up talking over the phone or the occasional coffee. Which for a normal doctor that'd be expected, patient confidentiality and all that. But Irene crossed that line long ago as soon as she took him on as one of her patients.)

(The guy wasn't extremely interesting to my knowledge outside of his extra fingers. If anything he was boring or weird, sometimes both at the same time. The guy wasn't particularly charming, he did LOOK handsome, and OCCASIONALLY wasn't the worst to be around, but geez I hated everything else about the guy.)

"Ah Dr.Ibis before I forget, I have something for you."

(OH GOD NOT THIS AGAIN.)

Before I even had a chance to react any further, Mr.Triangle lover quickly reached into his bag and pulled out something small with reddish-brown fur and held it out to me.

(What even is that? Is that a hamster? No, it was a vole. He brought me a freaking vole. It wasn't even alive. And he was holding it out to me with that stupid smile of his.)

I don't know what came over me, but the next thing I knew I slapped the dead rodent out of his six fingered hand. As it smacked the ground, I saw my patient flinch and begin to step back from me.

"GET YOUR DAMN ROADKILL AWAY FROM ME!"

"I-I'm sorry for upsetting you Dr.Ibis, I only wanted to-"

"What? I don't want to hear about how your "Muse" gave you dead rats as gifts again! It's disgusting! I can't stand dead animals! I don't want you to act like your dramn crazy mu-"

I wasn't even able to finish the sentence before I felt myself getting pushed against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I winced from the surprise as I began to process what happened.

It was that... that... Six fingered psycho!

(What the hell!? What is he doing??)

I was always kinda worried about this guy being the reason why someone ended up hurt, I never expected him to be the literal reason for it!

"DR. IBIS."

An unexpected tone shift from what I was used to from the guy, his voice was now booming and gruff.

(OKAY I'M REALLLY NOT USED TO HIM BEING SO LOUD OR AGGRESSIVE.)

"PLEASE... WATCH WHAT YOU SAY... ABOUT MY MUSE..." His tone lowered into a raspy hiss as the words fell from his mouth.

I really wanted to respond to him, to fight back, SOMETHING. And yet I found myself frozen with fear.

The next thing I know, I felt a rough, trembling hand tilt my head up. My field of vision focusing on the unhinged man in front of me.

"BAD THINGS... HAPPEN TO THOSE W-WHO UPSET HIM..."

(I-is he? Crying? What the hell?? Why is HE the one that's upset here? He was the one who flipped out on me!)

I didn't have much time to process everything as he moved away from me. I heard a loud crunch from the side of me as he did.

(THE HELL?? Did he break something??)

I glanced to the side of me instinctively, there was a hole in the hall next to me.

(Okkkaaay. Well it definitely wasn't the first time the office drywall got punched or broken. Whether that was ever by me at times was something that was a secret I wasn't going to tell any higher ups anytime soon.)

"Hey... Mr.Pines?"

"..."

The guy slowly walked over to the wall at the opposite side of the room, a blank stare on his face, a crimson fluid leaking from one hand onto the floor as he held it to his side, while his other hand clutched his creepy locket to his heart.

Before I could continue speaking, he began whisper to himself while facing the wall.

"i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry."

His head banging against the wall with eerie tempo as he spoke in a whispered voice, his tone now monotone.

"Mr.Pines??"

(What the hell? I knew this guy was probably insane but this was taking it a whole new level!)

"I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY."

The horrid tempo was now picking up speed.

"STANDFORD STOP IT!"

"..."

(He finally responded?)

The room was eerily silent as I tried to process what had even happened. After what felt like an eternity of sitting in awkward silence, the unhinged man I was watching turned around to face me again.

"U-um Dr.Ibis? Forgive me, I spaced out while we were about to finish our conversation earlier. W-what were we speaking about?"

A pretty nasty bruise was now starting to form on his forehead.

(THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WHAT WERE WE TALKING ABOUT??? WTF WAS THAT???)

I did my best to collect myself. I vaguely some of the info Oleander shared with me about her patient. I think she mentioned how he had certain traumatic triggers or something?? Damnit now I wish I had paid better attention to her phone call that day as she yammered on.

"It... wasn't important. Just...if you're going to leave me dead animals, do ya mind if perhaps you wrap them up before handing me them or something?"

"I-it isn't traditional I suppose, b-but I'll check in with my muse if I could be given grace to do that sort of thing. Forgive me, I don't mean to screw up showing my thanks to you..."

(Geez and now we're back to another episode of watching the saddest man ever. Ick, Oleander I swear you owe me big time for all these bones I'm throwing your patient.)

"Listen I appreciate it, in a way... I just prefer.... live animals? And I don't like rodents very much."

"I-I see... well I can't promise my muse will be happy with any changes, but I'll keep note of that."

"Listen Stan-"

"StanFORD."

"Stanford. Why don't we just pretend today didn't happen? I'm pretty tired today, and it looks like you could use some rest too."

"I... suppose my muse might not mind that. I don't think I can rest, but I know what you mean."

"Thank you Stanford. Now... why don't I drive you over to Oleander's office for a sec? I think she needed to see you for a second."

(Pleasedon'tputupafightohgodIdon'twantyoudyinginmyofficeIdon'twanttodealwiththepaperworkoranyotheraxhahstingproblemsthat'dcomefromthathappening!!)

"I-I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble as long as we don't take TOO long. My muse seems to trust some of her judgement a lot..."

"Yeahh... well I'm just going to close up shop now.

"Of course Dr.Ibis."

(Irene I swear to god you owe me big time on top of a LONG conversation about what's the plan for your patient in the long term. If I'm going to be dragged along with you on your quest to be the queen of bleeding hearts I don't want to end up sinking with you.

Geez I need a drink after this, guess I'll be needing to buy TWO packs of cold ones from the store after this "fun" work day.)

Unfortunately for future me, one of the new "gifts" I'd start to get from Standford FREAKING Pines were eyebats. Live ones. And they were just as annoying as him. Easier to get rid of though...

(AHH I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. I thought I'd gve it a go with writing in a more first person style when it came to a Dr.Ibis focused fic.

Yes I was possessed by a 14 year old girl harnessessing wattpad, ao3, and tiktok as I wrote this, but the idea of these two having a genuine friendship/relationship sounds hilarious to me.

I hope you liked my attempts at channeling Yusuf energy! Unfortunately he does have the tsundere curse a bit because this is a enemies to lovers kind of fic lmaoo. Hopefully the Ford energy wasn't the worst either??

I totally loved your fic other anon fanfic writer! With Jellyskink's permission we should definitely team up and write many cringey and wonderful fanfictions for this au!

Speaking of which, I'm glad once again people liked my silly little Oleander and Calamari fic! The little trickster kitty is now one of my favorite things about the au!

I love that Calamari was in the cat show Ford lost in! I'm guessing she might've won?

Either way, totally looking forward to the rivalry between Ford and Calamari lmaooo!!)

OKAY I LOVE THIS

Ibis is like "why are the hot ones always crazy"

Thank you for writing for my sad dumpling again!!! 💖💖

[pinguwrites]

Drabble: dark!william teases and degrades whore!reader in semi-public

pairing | william killick x reader

Warnings: kind of DUB-CON, william’s lowkey abusive, slapping, fingering, use of whore, public sex, reader used to be a prostitute, use of sir, reader’s implied to be a foreigner

“You know how many men have begged me for a night with you?”

William slammed you against the brick wall, careful that you didn’t injure your head. He slapped you across the face to gain your attention, but it was rough and made you cry out with pain. He grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him.

“They come to me during work, when they know you’re at home,” he started, roughly pulling your skirt up to reveal the panties you had on underneath.

“Please!” you begged, shivering from the cold air. “Not here — someone could see — ”

“ — they start off slow, telling me what a lucky man I am.” William ripped your panties apart, exposing your cunt. With how loud he was being, you were sure someone would come around the corner and see you two. “Then they start complimenting you. How obedient, how pretty, how exotic you are. Like you’re some damn trophy.”

You pathetically squirmed and cried out, “I didn’t know!”

“Surely you must have,” he said, feigning a confused tone, while his fingers spread the wetness to your clit. “With the way they were eye-fucking you. I know you’re not stupid.”

Your lower lip wobbled. “I-I — ”

“ — or maybe you are,” William mused, pressing his thumb against your clit. You jolted in pleasure, filled with embarrassment and shame. “Those men, the one you were flirting with at the party. They joke to me about passing you around. You know why?”

You didn’t say anything, too focused on the way he was rubbing you. With bent knees, you tried to keep yourself upright, but truly, the only thing that was keeping your balance was William’s hold on you.

“They want to fuck you,” William continued. “Some of them don’t even care — they ask me straight out, ‘Your wife was a whore, wasn’t she? Do I have to pay extra now that she’s married?’”

William slapped your clit, making you yelp, before he plunged two fingers inside. “I tell them no. But the way you were acting tonight . . . maybe I should have let them.”

“No!” you whimpered, pressure building up inside. You grasped his uniform, desperately clinging to him as you moaned and writhed.

“No?” William repeated. “Then why’d you let one of them kiss you?”

You hadn't seen it coming, honestly. It took you by surprise, but you were too far into a haze to properly express that.

"I-I didn't know what he was going . . . to . . . ah, don't stop."

William stopped, and pulled his fingers out. You whined and pressed your body up against him. "Please," you mewled, "I was almost there."

"Stop complaining!" he snapped. "Do you know what it's like for me to have to deal with this?"

You finally burst into tears, losing what remaining composure you had. "I'm sorry!"

William's eyes softened. "I know, I know you are. But you have to be punished. Do you understand?"

You nodded your head, sniffling. "Yes, sir."

When you first met William he was so sweet and gentle. You had just finished the night with a rude customer, and was roaming the empty streets in search for another. It was cold and dark, and you were hungry, but you were willing to sacrifice your well-being for more money, in that hope that one day you could have enough to quit this job all-together. When you saw William, you assumed he would be another arse of a soldier, but then he offered to take you in for a warm bath, and from there your romance blossomed.

He didn't care about your status. He wanted to marry you. His love was harsh and passionate and unforgiving, but you could handle it. You could take it, and he knew that. That was why he wanted you. That was why he chose you.

It was only that sometimes he could get a little carried away with his words. But he always meant well, didn't he?

"Turn around, and put your hands against the wall."

Trembling, you did as he asked, sticking your arse out. You closed your eyes, praying that no one would walk by. You could hear the sound of William unbuckling his belt, and you braced for the coming impact.

"I'm doing this because I love you," he reminded, before giving the first, painful blow.

You squealed in pain, knowing that you were going to be here a long while before the lesson was over.

Taglist: @mrkdvidal1989 @slut4thebroken @qqquartz7 @madeinuk @flwrs4aust @httpxgray

[that-one-weird-simp]

CHILD OF THE SORROW DEMON

WARNINGS: Death, blood, abandonment, pregnancy, breeding kink And mention kidnapping! Aizetsu x Female reader! First story on tumblr so please don't judge!

part 1 part 2 part 3

The sorrow clone walked in the house full of dismembered bodies. it was dark inside the building, He walks in along with the Pleasure clone behind him. "Sekido and Urogi must have done a number on this house hold!" Aizetsu said nothing and walked further into the house. "What's up with you? Your quieter the usual ever since our human pet escaped," Karau mused. That was really the reason, You left. without a word, you left him.

He searched all through out Japan to find you. he searched for a year. but gave up assuming you were dead, but his was warm heart broke in 1 thousand pieces when he found out you were actually dead. news got out that a woman was found dead along the river. he was devastated, he wanted to spend eternity with you. but why did you leave him? what happened that made you abandon him?

his head perked up when he heard the cries of an infante. "hm?" leaving Karaku behind to see where the cries were coming from. he followed the sound to a small trapped door, the cries were not as loud as a normal infants, Aizetsu dug his fingers into the sides of the board. his eyes widened and he dropped the board with his face in an awe. the infante looked like him. dark skin, long messy hair. its eyes were a lot like yours, ears elf shaped but no horns.

Aizetsu picked up the crying infant and tried to sooth it. "is this why you left me?" tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to calm the infant. He held the little one close and let it suck his finger. "Its ok little one, your safe now.. daddys got you," the baby calms down and closes its eyes as it rests his head on Aizetsu's chest.

"So... thats what you have been doing with the human? Making that hell spawn? Pathetic" Sekido grumbled behind him. "He's not pathetic..." he held the sleeping baby closer to him and stood up. "We only kidnapped that human girl because she was useful. Not your personal cock sleeve you fool," you were more then that. You were his light at the end of a dark tunnel, his comfort place when his designated emotion gets the better of him.

You made him feel better about himself and made him feel alot more then infinite sorrow. You were precious to him. And this infant, this baby was the only thing he had left of you. And he was not letting this baby go anytine soon. "AIZETSU YOU FOOL GET RID OF IT! ITS NOTHING BUT A DISTRACTION!" He stopped when Aizetsu pointed the tip of his spear at Sekido. For once in his life, he felt rage, he was angry, angry at the fact that someone was willing to hurt his child. He liftes his head up to reveal slit eyes instead on the upper moon 4 kanji.

"This is my child, And I'm not giving it up,"

[urfavstonr1]

Unsweetened Lemonade

Series- Delicious In Dungeon

Pairings- Chilchuck Tims/reader

Word count- 4698

Content Warnings- mentions of trauma

traveling alone was never easy, especially in the island dungeon. when (Y/N) finds herself a new party can she handle resisting inner-party relationships? maybe finally sharing her past will make her strong enough to overcome it, or will it only make it harder?

I have no clue how long this is gonna be yet lmao some things are being left out for a few reasons, mostly cause my memory is shit and I don't feel the need to rewrite scenes already in the anime.

Chapter 1

The dungeons were harsh to say the least, but that didn’t seem to matter to (Y/N). A mage without a party wondering the third floor, how she made it that far only she knew. Maybe it was luck or maybe it was fate, but here she was. Reaching over her shoulder she grabbed a map from her bag, finding where she was and where she needed to go. 

Lifting her head to commotion just ahead of her, was that talking? Slowly approaching what was now a source of light with her hand on the hilt of her dagger, monsters didn’t usually start bonfires, especially not on the third floor. Other adventurers? Most likely, but who knew if they were friendly. The closer she got the louder the voices were, the more clear the conversation got. She knew one of those voices…

“Marcille?” (Y/N) asked, looking through the doorway at the blonde elf. 

The conversation turned silent as all eyes turned to her, making a shiver crawl up her spine.

“(Y/N)?” Marcille slowly stood from her seat on the floor, before running and nearly launching herself at her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug, “(Y/N)! It’s been ages! And you haven’t grown a bit!” Marcille laid her head on top of (Y/N)’s as she held the short mage tightly. 

“Thanks..” (Y/N) tried to laugh off the remark on her height, returning the hug happily, “I didn’t think I’d see you down here.”

“Fate brought us together again!” Marcille loosened her hug and pulled back to look down at (Y/N). “Where’s the rest of your party? Did you make your way down here all by yourself!?” 

“Well I-“ before she could finish, a blond tall-man approached them. 

“Who’s this Marcille?” He asked, looking over the elf’s shoulder down at (Y/N). 

“My name is-“ she was cut off again. 

“This is (Y/N)! She went to school with Falen and me.” Marcille beamed, pulling back to show off her old friend to her party. (Y/N) gave a wave to the tall-man before looking to the rest of the party, a Dwarf and a Half-foot. The dwarf looked happy to see her and the half-foot looked less than pleased. 

“I-It’s nice to meet you all. I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” She gave a friendly smile as Marcille ushered her into the room. 

“You should join us! We were just about to start eating.” Marcille stopped herself, “actually, I don’t think you’d want to eat this..”

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) looked up at her confused before whispering, “is their cooking that bad?” 

“I pride myself in my cooking.” The dwarf remarked. 

“It always tastes good but I don’t think you’d like the ingredients…” Marcille mumbles, trying not to stare directly at the dinner that awaited her. 

“You make it seem like the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “what are you eating monsters or something?” She mused, only to be greeted by silence and a guilty look from Marcille. She let out a laugh, “seriously? I’m sure it tastes great!”

“Not you too..” Marcille whines as (Y/N) walks into their camp. 

“Is it alright if I join you?” (Y/N) smiles warmly at the party.

“Of course! I’m always happy to feed the youth!” The dwarf, she assumed, smiled at her, “I’m Senshi, it’s nice to meet you young lady.”

(Y/N) let out an annoyed laugh but joined the group on the floor, sitting herself next to the half-foot, Senshi handing her a bowl of whole stewed cabbage, “Thank you Senshi. This looks great.”

Marcille sits of the other side of (Y/N) and gives her a smile as she digs into the food gratefully. 

The Tall-man places himself back on the floor, “I’m Laius, and that’s Chilchuck to your left. How long have you been in the dungeon by yourself?” 

(Y/N) thinks to herself for a moment for swallowing her food to answer, “uhm. I think a few weeks? My party wasn’t making enough money so they fucking dipped out on me and I’ve been down here alone since.” She shrugs and takes another bite of her food, thankful for the warm meal after having run out of food 2 days ago. 

Chilchuck still hadn't said a word, just stared at the (H/C) haired mage next to him. Looking at her pointed ears and (E/C) eyes. “You know you’re pretty short for an elf. If Marcille hadn’t said you went to school together I would’ve thought you were still a kid.” He snidely remarks, earning him a glare from (Y/N). 

“That’s big talk coming from a Half-foot, for a second I thought someone brought a child into the dungeon.” (Y/N) returns the attitude before thankfully handing her empty bowl back to Senshi, “it was delicious, thank you again.” She gives him a smile and turns to Marcille, ignoring Chilchuck’s angry mumbling. 

“For your information I’m 29, which might not be old compared to an elf, but maturity wise I’m far older than you.” Chilchuck huffs out, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares smugly at (Y/N). 

An agitated laugh leaves her lips, not even turning to look at Chilchuck or dignify him with a response for that matter. “Chilchuck, I think it would be best if you dropped it..” Marcille tries to cool the air, feeling (Y/N)’s malice emanating from her body.

She takes in a deep breath before blowing it out and smiling at Marcille, “as I was saying, I thought Falin was at your party?” Her question was met with saddened looks throughout the party. 

Marcille lets out a sigh and explains what happened to Falin, their fight with the red dragon, and their mission to save her. 

(Y/N) pulls Marcille into a tight hug, “I know how much she meant to you…” she pulls away, (E/C) eyes staring into green ones, “if you’ll let me, I want to join you on your journey.”

Before Marcille could answer another snide comment came from behind her “yeah, like we have the money to pay you.”

(Y/N) whips around, glaring down at the chestnut haired Half-foot, “this isn’t about money, this is about saving my friend. Not that you would know much about friendship with your attitude.” She nearly growls at him, her (E/C) eyes ablaze with anger and determination.

“Well, if you’re joining us, I think it’s time we all get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” Senshi speaks up, the group nods as Laius digs into his back, pulling out sticks to decide the order of watch.

“Please, let me take first watch, it's the least I could do after you guys fed me.” (Y/N) speaks, holding her hand out to pause him.

“Uhm, sure. Sounds good to me.” Laius returns her smile, holding the sticks to the rest of the part. Marcille taking second, Laius third, then Senshi, and lastly Chilchuck. Not that he’d be sleeping much tonight anyway, he never did. 

Everyone rolled out their beds, settling in for the night. (Y/N) dug through her bag, retrieving a ball of yarn and a crochet hook.

“I didn’t know you knew how to crochet.” Marcille comments, brushing out her hair before laying down to sleep.

“Yeah, it’s a hobby I took up during-” She cut herself off, “I picked it up not too long after school.” She feigns a smile, beginning her work on a new project, “It helps keep me occupied during breaks.” 

Marcille nods before laying down. “Good night (Y/N), wake me up in a few hours, kay?”

“Yep, I will. Goodnight Marcille.” (Y/N) smiles at her school friend as the party slips off to sleep. She quickly got to work on her new project, a dark blue scarf from yarn she had dyed herself on the surface. Little did she know brown eyes were watching her from just beyond the light of the fire. 

Hours had passed when she finished the scarf, sealing her work with a slip stitch to secure it. Setting the scarf back into her back she crawled to the sleeping elf, gently shaking her awake, “Wakey wakey Marcy~” she sang in a hushed tone.

Marcille stirred awake, looking up at (Y/N), “Is it time already?” she yawned, sitting up to stretch.

“I let you sleep long enough to finish a scarf, it's honestly about half way through your shift.” (Y/N) chuckles, sitting back to lean on her hands, “God I could use a drink.” She breathes out a sigh.

As Marcille crawled out of her sleep roll she stretched again, “Hey, I just wanted to apologize for Chilchuck earlier, he’s not exactly friendly towards new people.”

(Y/N) lets out a snort of a laugh, “It’s ok, I think it's a half-foot thing. We know my dad wasn’t the friendliest either.”

Marcille laughs while sitting next to (Y/N), “I remember my first time meeting him, I was so terrified.”

“Aw come on, he was a big softy once you got to know him.” her face turns from a smile to melancholic, “I still miss him everyday.”

“We should go visit him when we Falin, I know she’d want to go too.” Marcille gives (Y/N) an empathetic look, leaning against her for comfort.

“Sounds like a plan.” (Y/N) smiles, laying her head on Marcille’s shoulder as they watch the fire. After a few minutes passed (Y/N) finally pulled herself off the floor to ready herself for bed, kicking off her boots and setting them next to her bag. Pulling her jacket off before finally reaching her pants and stripping those off as well.

“W-what are you doing? Someone could see you!” Marcille whisper yelled at the short mage.

“What? No one else is awake, and you’ve seen me with far less clothes before.” (Y/N) shrugged it off, fully pulling off her pants and letting loose her undershirt. Thankfully it reached her mid thigh and covered everything she deemed private.

Marcille groans and rubs her temples, “You’ve never been the modest type have you?”

“Nope!” (Y/N) laughs as she gets into her bed roll, snuggling into her blanket with a satisfied sigh. “Oh how I’ve missed you~” she mumbles into her blanket. Closing her eyes she prayed for sleep to take her, and hopefully she wouldn’t be plagued with nightmares like usual.

After hours of thankfully dreamless sleep she was woken with a shake, sitting up urgently only to knock foreheads with whoever woke her up. Bracing her head with a pained groan she looks around, no one else was awake. Turning to her attacker she found Chilchuck, knocked back on the floor with his hands on his forehead.

“Shit I am so sorry!” She blurted out quickly before moving to check on him, reaching out a hand only to be swatted away.

“Do you always wake up that violently?” he groans, opening his eyes to glare at her only to be greeted with a concerned (Y/N) and her cleavage in full view. The top buttons of her shirt had come undone in her sleep and left nearly nothing to the imagination. She was on her hands and knees, her face still filled with concern as she looked at the mark she left on his forehead, she probably had her own matching mark. “And for god's sake cover yourself up!” Chilchuck said sternly, looking away from her as his ears and face turned red.

(Y/N) looked down at herself before scrambling to find her pants, “W-why isn’t anyone else up yet?” she pulled her pants on, trying not to look at Chilchuck as she got dressed.

“You were so exposed I wanted to make sure no one else saw..” He mumbled sparing a glance at her only to be faced with her ass as she pulled her pants on fully, only making his blush worse. She must have thrown her blanket off during the night. Ugh. 

“Thanks.” She managed to squeak out, clearing her throat as she turned back to him while buttoning her shirt, “About yesterday-”

“Forget about it.” He waved her off, still not looking at her. Trying to get the images of her out of his head, “You said it yourself, half-foots aren’t too friendly with new people.”

(Y/N) breathes a small laugh, “I didn’t think you were still awake.” he only shrugs in response as he stands.

After waking the party Senshi got to cooking breakfast, after the meal the party picks up and gets going. Finally making it down to the fourth floor. 

“That's a lot of water..” (Y/N) mumbles, looking out across the lake before them. Staring down into the depths of the water brought a shiver up her spine. Whatever conversation was being had was tuned out through her deep thoughts, staring endlessly down into the deep- she jumped as a hand touched her shoulder.

“Are you ok (Y/N)?” Marcille looked down at her concerned, “I was going to cast water walking so we could cross.”

“Y-yeah, just lost in thought.” She smiled up at Marcille who smiled back. Tapping her staff to (Y/N)’s head she was enchanted by the spell, finally pulling her back to reality. “Is that a fucking kelpie?” 

“Language!” Marcille nudges her with her staff, giving her a glare.

“I’m not a child, I can use whatever words I want..” (Y/N) mumbles, walking closer to Senshi and the Kelpie, “I’ve never seen one this up close before.” reaching out a hand to touch it before retracting, “Don’t these kill you if you touch them?” 

Senshi reaches out and pets its snout, “I’ve been bonding with her for a long time, she wouldn’t hurt me.” his words were filled with such confidence and yet (Y/N) still felt a ball in the pit of her stomach watching him touch it.

“You don't plan to ride that thing do you? Please tell me you’re joking.” (Y/N) shudders at the thought, staring skeptically at the kelpie.

“I really don’t think that's a good idea.” Laius speaks up, “They are known for luring their prey into a false sense of security.”

Senshi, ignoring their comments, climbed upon the Kelpie anyway, beginning to ride it across the water before plummeting into the depths below. 

“Shit! SENSHI!” (Y/N) began to run after the diving kelpie only to stop herself on the edge of the water, anxiety and adrenaline shaking through her body. 

“What are you doing!? We have to go after him!” Chilchuck yells at her as the party runs after Senshi. 

(Y/N) trembles as she stares into the water, “I-I can’t!” She breathes out desperately trying to will herself to run out onto the water. The deep, dark water…

“What do you mean you can’t!?” He stops, turning to yell at her. 

“She's scared of deep water.” Marcille yells over her shoulder, trying to think of the best way to save Senshi from his watery doom. 

“Then use your magic! You're a mage aren’t you!?” Chilchuck looked between the terrified (Y/N) and the rest of his party. 

“My magic doesn’t work well under the water!” She yelled back. ‘Shit shit shit. Fuck.’ Was all that ran through her head, before clenching her eyes shut and running out onto the water. Trying to keep her screams of fear trapped in her throat.

When the kelpie emerged from the water she finally let out a scream directed at the monster, the sound waves quaking through its body as it collapsed to the surface, allowing Laius to stab it with his sword and thankfully killing it. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Chilchuck looked astounded at the scene.

“Magic?” (Y/N) responds, a questioning tone to her own words. Carefully opening her eyes only to close them again, “Ohhhh fuck.” 

“What kind of magic was that?” Laius stares with wide eyes at (Y/N), “That was so cool! You screamed and it collapsed! Can you do that to any monster?” he kept asking more and more questions as he walked closer, rambling further about his theories.

“Someone get me off of this water and I’ll tell you!” She tried to breathe deeply, putting her hands out to balance herself in her blindness. She felt a hand grab her own, turn around, and lead her back to shore.

“I think we should set up camp for the night..” Senshi suggests, a melancholic tone laces his words as he looks back to the kelpie he believed he befriended.

“Sounds good to me, anything to get away from this water.” (Y/N) mumbles, trying not to look into the water.

“You’re supposed to tell us what that was.” Chilchuck grumbles, releasing her hand and looking away with a grunt, trying to hide his pink tinted cheeks.

“She will after we eat, she’s shaken up enough as it is.” Marcille defends, wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and leading her further away from the water.

“Something tells me Marcille knows about her magic.” Laius thinks aloud, bringing a hand to his chin as he thinks.

“No shit, they went to school together.” Chilchuck rolls his eyes, walking after Marcille and (Y/N).

After finding a spot to make camp Marcille left Chilchuck and (Y/N) to return to Senshi and Laius.

“So… water?” Chilchuck begins, only to be cut off.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/N) objects, taking a seat on the floor and taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. 

Chilchuck nodded, seating himself on the floor nearby. (Y/N) lets out a breath and looks at a spot on the floor, tracing out a summoning circle on the ground before splaying her hand to the spot and speaking, “Fire.” with her words a fire lit in the circle and she moved away, trying not to burn herself for the thousandth time she’s cast the spell.

“That’s… a unique magic.” Chilchuck tries to joke, attempting to lift the mood.

“Heh.. yeah. You could say that.” She gives him a lazy smile before looking back at the fire.

It was a while before the rest of the party rejoined them, Senshi appreciating the fire for cooking, Laius still rambling about monsters and (Y/N)’s ‘new magic’. The party chatted amongst themselves until dinner was served. 

As everyone began eating (Y/N) took the opportunity to explain her magic. “At the school we went to, they had many different tracks to take. I took the bard class. No matter your specialty there are always base classes to learn about magic, one of them being how to channel your magic. Marcille uses her staff to channel her magic, in the bard classes you’re taught how to channel your magic into other things, some people use instruments and some choose to channel it into your voice. It’s not as strong on its own but when paired with an instrument you can cast very strong spells.” she explains, trying to recall as much as she could.

“How exactly does that work?” Laius couldn't keep himself from asking, desperately wanting to learn more.

“Instead of using incantation we learn to cast with intention. I channel my magic into my vocal cords and guitar, as long as I speak or sing with the intention of the spell I want to cast it does not require an incantation.” (Y/N) nods to her own words as she speaks.

“So you’re less a mage and more a bard.” Chilchuck says bluntly, taking a bite of his food.

“Yes, but being a bard isn't the only magic I know, it's just the one I choose to use the most. And bards don’t get a lot of respect compared to mages.. If certain people were to find out I was a bard I think it would make my personal life a lot harder.” She lets out a laugh, scratching the back of her neck.

“And her magic is very strong! You saw how just her scream made the kelpie collapse.” Marcille praises, gushing about her friend’s talents.

“And I didn’t even have a true intention behind that scream, I was just scared.” (Y/N) laughs again, finally digging into her food. Another delicious meal that she relished in, cherishing every bite.

Setting up their bed rolls (Y/N) volunteered for the first shift once again, the party agreed and set up to sleep. Once she was sure they were sleeping she pulled her guitar from her pack, gently strumming the strings, playing a soft melody she hoped wouldn’t wake anyone. Humming to the melody as she tried to come up with a new song, a song she deemed her strongest. A song to slay even the red dragon.

When her shift ended she carefully walked to Chilchuck to wake him for his shift. He lets out a groan as he wakes, having probably the best sleep he’s had in awhile after being lulled to sleep by (Y/N)’s playing.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to strip down like you did last night.” He grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Too late.” (Y/N) snickers, already having her boots and pants removed.

“What if Laius or Senshi sees you!?” he begins to yell before quieting his voice, “Do you have even an inch of modesty in your body?”

“I literally saw the outline of Senshi’s dick today, I think that boundary has already been crossed. And it’s not like I’m completely exposed.” she brushes out her shirt, making sure it covers everything before Chilchuck can catch a glimpse.

He lets out an agitated groan while rubbing his temples, “You are unbelievable.”

“You try pushing out a kid in a room full of people and still find the will to care what people see.” (Y/N) scoffs before cursing herself at her words, turning her eyes to the floor in disappointment with herself, trying to stave off the memories.

Chilchuck stays silent as he climbs out of his bed roll, “Get some sleep, you need it.” choosing to push her words to the back of his mind.

“Yeah..” she speaks quietly, laying in her bed roll facing away from the fire. Away from chilchuck.

Sleep was not an easy task, her mind plagued with thoughts of her past. Her failures. Her massive fuck ups. How could she ever forgive herself?

What felt like hours passed before she finally drifted to sleep. Her dreams filled with images of a baby boy, with the most beautiful blue eyes and tufts of brown hair. An elf with those shared features by her side. Until he wasn’t.

(Y/N) awoke with a gasp, having been awoken by a familiar blonde elf.

“Good morning (Y/N)~” Marcille greeted with a smile. The rest of the party was slowly waking up themselves and preparing for the day.

(Y/N) felt a cold sweat drip down her face, using the back of her hand to wipe it away. 

“More nightmares?” Marcille looked at her with concern, reaching out to help her stand. 

“Not quite..” (Y/N) shrugged it off, reaching for her clothes to get dressed. Her mind never strayed from her dream. 

“Woah hey!?” Marcille uses herself to Shield (Y/N) as she stands, her shirt one again not leaving much to the imagination.

“Huh?” She looked at Marcille in confusion, pulling her pants on, still in a state of tired oblivion. 

“What if one of the boys sees you? You’re completely exposed!” Marcille whisper yells, glaring down at (Y/N) who only tilts her head to the side. 

“I feel like I just had this conversation…” (Y/N) blinks away the sleep as she speaks. 

“We had the same damn conversation last night.” Chilchuck grumbles, trying not to look at (Y/N), still being able to see her despite Marcille’s efforts. 

“I still don’t exactly see the problem, I mean. Who wouldn’t want to see me half dressed~?” (Y/N) lets out a laugh, pulling her boots on and pulling Marcille’s arms back down from shielding her. 

Chilchucks blush only brightens as he lets out a tsk. 

Marcille lets out a whine, “what happened to the sweet and innocent (Y/N) I went to school with?”

(Y/N)’s expression turns cold, “I genuinely don’t think you want to know.” She brushed past Marcille, walking to help Senshi prepare breakfast. 

Marcille stared after her, worry and sadness laced her features. What she didn’t know was a certain Half-foot shared in the worry. It’s been two days and yet (Y/N) already seemed like someone to worry about. 

Standing back at the edge of the water sent chills down her spine, “ha. Hahaha no. Nope.” She turned on her heel only to be caught by the shoulder and turned back around. 

“If Senshi can get over his thing with magic you can get over your fear of water.” Marcille smiled but spoke sternly. 

“Marcille, I-“

“No. No buts.” Marcille cast water walking on the party and began pulling (Y/N) towards the water. 

“Nooo no no please no.” (Y/N) whined, digging her heels into the ground to no avail. 

“You're such a crybaby.” Chilchuck grunts, walking ahead out onto the water.

(Y/N) let out another cry, clenching her eyes shut. “You're gonna be fine, stop whining.” Marcille says while tugging on her hand.

“How can an adventurer be so afraid of water?” Chilchuck asks over his shoulder, looking back at the terrified (Y/N) and Marcille pulling her along. 

“It’s a long story and I don’t think it’s any of your business.” (Y/N) shouts back, peeking between her fingers at her surroundings before closing her eyes again. 

Making it safely across the water (Y/N) collapses to the ground as she breathes through her anxiety. She felt herself get pulled up by the collar of her shirt and set back onto her feet.

“We gotta keep going.” Laius says as he lets go of her shirt, “The water is behind us now, you’re ok.” He pats her head with a smile only earning him a frustrated pout and his hands swatted away.

“I’m not a child!” (Y/N) nearly growls, marching forward as she rolls her eyes, “Thank you.” She says over her shoulder to Laius before catching up to Marcille.

“You’re being quite the grump today.” Marcille giggles, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand as they walk.

“I didn’t sleep for shit so that doesn’t help.” (Y/N) grumbles, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Maybe if you didn’t stay up past your shift you’d sleep better.” Marcille scolds, looking down to her short friend.

“You weren’t complaining when you got to sleep in.” (Y/N) nearly snaps back, trying to watch her tone.

“Sacrificing your sleep for others is only going to hurt you in the end.” Chilchuck interjects, side eyeing the two mages.

“I hate that you’re both right.” (Y/N) mumbles, glaring down at the floor. “Sometimes it’s easier to stay awake than it is dealing with my dreams.”

“Do you have nightmares in your pillow? We can help get rid of them.” Marcille asks, taking a peak at the pillow that was wrapped in her bed roll.

“No it's not that, I’ve already looked.” (Y/N) sighs.

“Dreams are often a way our brains use to try to cope with things that have happened to us.” Senshi begins, “it sounds to me you have unresolved issues. Talking about them sometimes helps.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, “I’m fine. I don’t have issues I need to talk out. I’m a big girl, I can handle them on my own.”

“But (Y/N)-” Marcille starts before being cut off.

“Just drop it ok? It’s not like now is a good time to hash up bad shit.” (Y/N) states, hopefully finishing the conversation. Marcille nods and looks to the side, hating that she pushed enough to make her this upset. What could possibly be bothering her this much?

[crownmemes]

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 21

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"When was the last time you talked to him?"

"You messed with my brain?"

"What other explanation is there?"

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

"That was pretty cool what I did, right? You want to make out?"

"You're pretending you had an affair with my wife?"

"If I never tell him, it'll never hurt."

"Why don't you stop pretending that you haven't reached a conclusion?"

"I assume you're here for a reason. What do you want from me?"

"Does your voice always get that high and annoying when you're angry?"

"Are you having an affair?"

"What do you call each other? Husband? Partner? Lover?"

"Why do you have a gun?"

"Do you think he's capable of having a real relationship?"

"You think this is interesting to me?"

"May I have this dance?"

"So, you want me to tell you the story of my life?"

"Do you think there's a place for men like us to go to get away from the killing?"

"Am I ever going to live this down?"

"You're not scared?"

"How can I tell what's real and what's not?"

"You're an only child, aren't you? Everything is about you."

"Are you going to ignore me all day again?"

"Why is it so wrong that I don't like to cheat?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're annoying?"

"Are you saying you want to date me?"

"How far do you expect to get in life with an attitude like that?"

"Can I ask what he's done to deserve your loyalty?"

"Does your conscience let you sleep?"

"Do you think people can change?"

"Do you know why people are nice to other people?"

"You think this is who I wanted to be?"

"Why don't you move back in with me? At least until you get back on track."

"You know what happens when you interfere in other people's relationships?"

"Didn't your mother teach you that two wrongs don't make a right?"

"Isn't it your birthday around now?"

"Can you please be a human being for one minute and talk to me?"

"Aren't you curious about why I'm here?"

"Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"You would murder me?"

"Do you live alone?"

"Doesn't this seem a little bit obsessive?"

"Is it your plan to come to church tomorrow?"

"Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of the other guests?"

"You think you’re incapable of making a mistake?"

"You're worried I'm going to break his heart?"

"Why do you have to analyze things to death? Why can't you just let it be nice?"

"You followed me here, didn't you?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Are you working while we're in bed together?"

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone, and thank you to @onthewaytosomewhere for the early tag. I've written a little bit today, my shoulder is marginally better, so I'm pushing through. Today (when i wake up) will be making holiday baklava day, so I'm doing an early post. I hope you all have the most wonderful Sunday. <3 Since Wednesday's post was sad, I said something about today's being smutty. SO have some smutty Professor Henry and Research Assistant Alex below the cut, also also, a sneaky snippet of a new wip i started (yes I have five now don't look at me)

----

Professor Hen x Research Assistant Alex (AKA Alex's bi awakening)

‘Baby’   That could have been the very moment that Henry’s heart leapt out of his body, falling right between Alex’s knees. He was certain it would lie there, perhaps picked up and tucked in Alex’s back pocket, taken back to his dorm, forgotten about. Or maybe it would stay on this floor forever, stepped on and untouched. “It’s so pretty, baby,” Alex repeated, one hand slowly stroking down the length of the other man’s shaft, “I like when they’re uncut,” he mused to no one in particular, “Your tip’s so pink, so wet,” he hummed, gently tugging to watch the foreskin pull back, exhaling in a shaky breath. He watched with a mesmerized expression, leaning in and licking over that damp tip just once. Each lick from Alex was testing, slow as he stroked his hand leisurely. He seemed pleased to just watch the way Henry’s foreskin moved, chasing behind it with little laps from his tongue. “S’fuckin’ perfect dick, fuck, tastes so good,” he mumbled, pressing slow kisses against rosy skin. Henry’s heart was no longer on the floor, Alex was currently devouring it in front of him. There were poetic liberties being taken in Henry’s head. Every inch of his body prickling with electricity as this beautiful man kissed and touched him. It was filthy and horny and so absolutely fucking beautiful. Alex may as well have been covered in blood from maw to fingertip, Henry’s heart half-eaten in his hands and stuck between his teeth. Henry might just die here in this room; nothing was ever going to touch this moment. He watched with shaking breath as Alex worked, his fingertips massaging the other man’s scalp, pleasure slowly taking the place of guilt in his stomach. “Love this pretty dick, baby,” Alex muttered between kisses. He wrapped his lips carefully around the tip, tugging up gently and letting his tongue slid between Henry’s foreskin and cockhead. He slowly and gently let his tongue glide in little half circles, eyes fluttering up and locking on the man above him. The way Henry’s cheeks were light pink, lips even puffier from being bitten. It was everything he hoped it would be. “Alex,” Henry breathed, it wasn’t as though he’d said anything before that, he hadn’t been able to manage. It was a small miracle he uttered anything comprehensible now, even if it was just one syllable and four letters. That was plenty for him, the last word on his lips as he passed away in this office room, and the very name of his demise felt suiting enough.

---

AND biblically accurate fallen angel wip (the new one)

Crumpled down on the floor in a mess of old boxes and screens from confessional boxes was a man. He was pale and mostly naked- well, Alex assumed anyway. There was a white sheet of some kind that sparkled under the light from his phone, it covered most of the lower half of this man’s body. He was blond and despite having a thicker figure looked incredibly frail. He was grimacing at the light, drawing attention to darkness under his eyes, high cheek bones, and plump pink lips that looked incredibly dehydrated. It took Alex a moment to register everything- to see the blood. He was bleeding, but there wasn’t a wound directly visible, only a smear of crimson on the floor and wall behind him. “Holy… shit dude, are you okay, you’re bleeding? How the fuck did you get in here? Have you been here all morning? Since last ni-” The very second that Alex extended a hand to help, the man drew back into a sitting position and hissed!? He fucking hissed- and Alex screamed, rather humiliatingly if he had to be honest about it. But if someone jolted away from you and hissed only for you to see the glimmer of teeth just a little too sharp you would scream too. Alex would argue that harder than any case he’d ever taken. “Woah woah, okay easy, easy, I’m not going to hurt you,” Alex swallowed hard as he spoke, his breathing verging on panic. “Do you… speak?” Light eyes blinked up at Alex, slowly, as if processing each word, “I speak every language. You are afraid of me. There is no need for you to be afraid.” “Yeah, buddy, well, you’re naked and bleeding, and you just fucking hissed at me. Also, your teeth are like- normal but…weirdly a little too sharp, it’s really hitting the uncanny valley for me, so I’m about as scared as I’ve ever been in my entire life,” Alex laughed, “Also you being British is really fucking unsettling.”

----

wow that was so long thanks for stickin around

YIPPEE NO PRESSURE TAGS TIME

@taste-thewaste @henrysfox @mikibwrites

@softboynick @stnichols @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese

@redlipstickandglitter @eusuntgratie

@thesleepyskipper @tailsbeth-writes @thighzp @lfg1986-2

+ literally anyone else I'm tired and forgot. (i am always sleepy) or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[russellsppttemplates]

Omg I love all your work! 🫶🏼

Can you do Fraser and Clara maybe they are dating and nobody know and Carlos catch them in her room and call Lando?

Im so sorry if my English is bad, is not my first language!

Note: thank you 🫶 don't worry about it, english isn't my first language either!

The Norris family had joined you for a family vacation, everyone travelling directly to Mallorca after the race.

"My sunburn from yesterday is still quite red, I'm going to my room and read there today", Clara reasoned as she saw everyone else get ready to hang out by the pool.

"That's smart, cariño, do you want me to reapply the cream?", you asked, wanting to make sure she was being diligent about it.

"I can do it myself - if I twist my arm like this, I can get there", your daughter exemplified before heading upstairs.

Everyone else seemed to enjoy the time by the pool, you choosing to swim instead of just sitting around until you felt something snap, "Oh! Crap!", you hissed, holding the top of your bikini to your chest as one of the straps ripped from the band around your back.

"Is everything alright?", Matilda asked you, brushing her wet hair away from her face.

"Yes, just my top strap ripped, I need to get a new one", you said as you stepped out of the pool, Carlos helping you with a towell, "Actually, amor, can you get it for me, please? I'll just get the floors wet and then someone will fall", you asked your husband.

Carlos nodded, kissing your cheek and heading up to your room. On his way there, he noticed Clara's bedroom door was open and he took a peek inside, seeing his daughter cuddled up to his friend's son. Clara's head laid on Fraser's chest, the teenagers taking a nap as Carlos recognised his daughter's book on the Norris boy's hand, his thumb marking the page.

Walking to the hallway's balcony, he waved Lando over, calling him to join him upstairs.

"Do you want me to help you look through your wife's swimwear? I'm not sure how comfortable I fe-oh! Oh", he gasped as he noticed his son cuddled up with Clara.

"Do you think they're together?", Carlos whispered.

"Wouldn't you be together to do something like that?", Lando mused as he watched his son's protective hold on who he assumed was his girlfriend.

"We have to tell the wives", Carlos said as they walked downstairs.

"Damn it", Lando muttered under his breath, "I have to tell my wife she was right about this", he tsked, receiving a raised brow from Carlos, "she has been saying that they're dating for a couple of weeks now".

"Happy wife, happy life", Carlos patted his back, "you have to tell her she was right".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)