#save the knockers :{

[girlbob-boypants]

Also making Caldarus thin to try and show he's malnourished doesn't really work when the guy who's favorite foods are all sweets and also spends a lot of time digging at archeological sites looks like this comparatively

Like if we take this at face value as meaning he needs food and/or magic to recover and that'll change his body, it means he'll just turn into a similar body type to March and Ryis. Who you can also see the ribs of btw.

[jizzlords]

❝ so — i'm thinking of getting breast reduction surgery... ❞

[tojisteddy]

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off those gorgeous legs, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near. 

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. dirty talk. oral (fem receiving). fingering. degrading language. spit.

⍣ ೋ notes: thank you for being our first guest here at skzotel! it means a lot to me and definitely means a lot to the staff :) below you will find your detailed investigation report along with an internal service memo in the form of our leaked group chat texts. enjoy <3

INTERNAL INVESTIGATION REPORT Filed by Concierge Aeryn Subject: Staff Conduct – Front Desk / Early Check-In Encounter Staff Member Under Review: Seungmin Requested by: Guest (Room 706) Requested Resolution: Formal Investigation & Internal Service Memo

[Location: Front Desk, 7:08 a.m.]

Aeryn’s heels clicked crisply over the marble floor as she approached the front desk, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable save for the tiniest upward quirk at the corner of her mouth.

Seungmin didn’t look up from his monitor. “If this is about the bathrobe shortage again, tell Jeongin to stop pocketing them.”

“Not robes,” Aeryn replied smoothly. “You, actually.”

Now he looked up. “Excuse me?”

She handed him a copy of the complaint, neatly printed on SKZOTEL letterhead. His eyes skimmed it—then narrowed. “I didn’t ogle anyone.”

“Oh? Because the guest certainly believes otherwise. Said they were too flustered to catch your name tag, which, as I recall, is attached to every suit you own.”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair. “Tall, dark hair, working early at the front desk? Could’ve been Hyunjin.”

Aeryn smiled, dangerous and sweet. “It wasn’t.”

“How would you even know—?”

“Because Security Officer Han very helpfully reviewed the security footage for me this morning.” She paused, then added with a deliberately raised brow, “The full footage. Including the angles he installed without my permission.”

Seungmin winced. “Of course he did.”

“I saw it,” Aeryn said, coolly. “You watched them walk in. Your eyes followed. You lingered. You brushed your fingers across theirs. Twice.”

“That could’ve been—”

“Twice, Seungmin.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then: “...Fine. Maybe once. Not twice.”

Aeryn didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she tucked the clipboard under her arm and folded her hands neatly in front of her. “You’ll be heading to Room 706. Apologize. Be charming. Fix it.”

“And if they don’t want me there?”

“You’ll know very quickly,” Aeryn replied, stepping away with a ghost of a smirk. “But given the tone of the request, I’d say your odds are promising.”

[Location: Room 706, 7:12 a.m.]

Seungmin stood outside the door, one hand in his pocket, the other hovering just above the knocker. He exhaled slowly.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, then knocked twice.

The door opened.

And there you were. Robe tied loose. Hair still damp from your shower. Surprised—but not displeased.

He cleared his throat, expression unreadable.

“Guest of 706,” he began, “I’ve been instructed to apologize for... perceived impropriety during your check-in. I may have—allegedly—been too forward with a key pass-off. Or made eye contact longer than protocol allows.”

Your brow lifted, just slightly.

He sighed. “Look. I don’t do this often.”

You stepped aside without a word, letting the door fall open.

He hesitated.

You tilted your head. “Well? Don’t leave a guest waiting.”

Seungmin stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that didn’t match the easy calm on his face.

The room smelled faintly of bergamot and steam—like you’d just stepped out of a long, indulgent shower and hadn’t quite come back to earth yet. There was still condensation on the bathroom mirror, still warmth in the air, and you watched with interest as he surveyed the space like he was taking mental notes for a report.

Typical.

“You have a nice view,” he said casually, nodding toward the open curtains. His tone was professional, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“I’d say the same,” you replied smoothly, adjusting your robe—but not before letting it fall open for just a second longer than necessary. His gaze flicked down, caught it, then returned to your face without flinching.

Of course he didn’t flinch. He was too composed for that.

Too composed… for now.

“I assume this is the part where you offer me complimentary wine and a fruit basket as compensation for my emotional distress.”

“That’s standard protocol,” he said, stepping further into the room. “But I had a different resolution in mind.”

You raised a brow, pretending to mull that over. “A personal apology?”

“Personal, yes.” He stopped in front of you, close enough now that you could smell the faint hint of spice on his skin, some luxurious cologne no doubt mandated to all staff.

His voice dropped slightly. “Sincere? Not exactly.”

You smiled, slow and amused. “You’re not very good at apologies, are you?”

“I don’t do them often,” he murmured again, echoing himself from earlier.

Your fingers lifted, brushing his lapel. “So you said. And yet, here you are. In my room. Under direct order.”

His breath caught, just briefly, when your hand drifted from his lapel to the first button of his shirt. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t lean in either. Just waited, patient and still, like he wanted you to make the next move.

You popped the button open slowly. “How does the guest know it’s genuine? Your apology, I mean.”

He tilted his head, ever so slightly, and then—his hand found your waist.

Not harsh. Not rushed. But firm. Intentional.

“They don’t,” he said simply. “Unless I show them.”

Your breath hitched.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that asked for forgiveness. It was the kind that demanded silence. Claimed space. Took its time.

Seungmin’s lips were warm, soft but certain, coaxing yours apart without pressure. He kissed like someone who thought things through. Every movement had a purpose. Every flick of his tongue was measured—until you whimpered, barely a sound, and then something inside him snapped.

His hands dragged you forward, robe loosening with the motion, and his mouth deepened against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected from the picture-perfect front desk boy. Your fingers found his shoulders, digging in. His hands—God, his hands—palmed your hips, your waist, your ass, dragging your body flush to his.

When he pulled back, he was breathing hard. His hair slightly out of place. His lips pink from the kiss.

“You’re not going to file another complaint, are you?” he asked, voice thick and a little breathless.

You blinked at him, dazed. “That depends.”

“On?”

“How thorough your apology is.”

He laughed once—low, dark, sharp. “I can be very thorough.”

He didn’t ask for permission before pushing the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor like a discarded secret. He took a slow, indulgent second to admire you—then pressed another kiss to your collarbone. Then your throat. Then just beneath your jaw.

Each kiss got slower. Deeper. Each pause dragged heat through your skin, made you ache in anticipation.

When he dropped to his knees in front of you, the look he gave you wasn’t reverent.

It was dangerous.

Seungmin looked up from between your thighs like a man about to ruin someone—and document it for internal records.

He didn’t speak when he pushed your thighs apart—just watched.

Watched as you shifted under his gaze, robe forgotten on the floor, heat prickling across your bare skin under the scrutiny. His hands were cool on your knees, thumbs brushing slow, lazy circles like you weren’t already trembling.

"Look at you," he murmured, almost bored. "One little complaint and now you're desperate to be on my tongue."

You opened your mouth to answer—but he was already dragging his lips up the inside of your thigh, so close, and then pulling away just as fast.

"Did I say you could speak?"

Your breath caught. The look in his eyes had shifted—no longer professional, no longer cautious. This wasn’t an apology. This was punishment disguised as indulgence.

"You think I didn’t notice," he muttered, voice low against your skin. "You wanted me to look. Wanted it so bad you put it in writing. Complained about me like it was some scandal when you were dripping through your panties the second I handed you the keycard."

You whimpered, body jolting when his tongue flicked over your crease just once, cruel and shallow.

"Yeah," he smirked, hearing it. "There it is. Filthy little liar. Filing paperwork like you didn’t want this. Like you wouldn’t beg."

One hand hooked under your thigh, pulling it over his shoulder with casual strength. The other? Slid between your legs and—fuck—he didn’t tease this time. Fingers spread you open, dragging through the slick heat of your cunt like he already owned it.

"God," he breathed, almost laughing. "You’re soaked."

You nearly choked when his tongue pressed in—slow, mean, licking you like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. No pattern, no rhythm. Just long, luxurious passes, licking up everything you gave him without a word of praise.

Because Seungmin didn’t do praise.

No. He licked like he was testing you. Tongue curling just inside, pulling back before you could grind down. Holding your hips still with one brutal grip, tongue replacing his fingers, letting his nose nudge your clit but never giving it the pressure you needed.

"Don't squirm," he said flatly. "You're here to take what I give you. Nothing else."

And you tried—God, you tried—but when he spat onto your cunt, using his fingers to rub it in like you were something messy beneath him, you keened, hips rocking up involuntarily.

Wrong move.

Suddenly, his hand was on your throat.

Not tight. Not dangerous. Just enough to still you.

Enough to make you listen.

"You wanted something to complain about,” he growled. “I'll give you something to report."

Then his mouth was back on you—focused now, tongue flat against your clit, lips sucking just hard enough to make your legs shake, and his hand didn’t leave your neck. Not until your moans got breathy. Panicked.

"You're gonna cum," he said, not asking. "Right on my face. And then I'm going to make you thank me for it."

You nodded, frantically. Mindless.

"No," he snapped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. His mouth was shiny with you. His voice was filthy silk. “Ask.”

Your voice cracked. “P-please. Please, let me cum—”

He went back in with no mercy.

This time, he didn’t stop. Tongue relentless, fingers slipping back inside, curling, punishing. Your orgasm hit like a wave dragged over marble—sudden, loud, and humiliatingly hard. Your thighs clamped, your body jerked, and Seungmin held you down and fucking ate it.

He didn’t pull away when you came. Didn’t even slow down.

If anything, he got meaner with it—tongue flicking over your clit in tight, practiced circles while two fingers stayed buried deep, fucking you through the aftershocks like he was trying to draw another one out of you. Like your first orgasm was a proof of concept and now he had something to perfect.

“Sensitive?” he asked, way too casual for a man kneeling between your thighs, wrist working in and out of your soaked cunt. “You gonna cry about it?”

You whimpered, hips twitching, thighs trying to close around his head—he shoved them apart again without ceremony.

“Thought so.”

His mouth found your clit again, more deliberate now. Tongue flat, wide, slow at first—then faster when your hips tried to squirm. He held you still, firm and patient and infuriating, dragging another wave of pleasure out of your wrung-out body like it was owed to him. Like this was all part of his process.

You came again, louder this time. Less controlled. Less pretty.

He licked you through it, chin wet, lips wet, eyes half-lidded like he was bored of your reactions but still hungry underneath it all. And when he finally stood, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then dragged that same hand along your cheek. Not rough. Not sweet either.

Just… a mark. A reminder.

You should’ve been dizzy. Humiliated. You were still trembling, legs weak, heart rabbit-fast in your chest.

But you smiled up at him, slow and sly, voice still ragged as you asked, “Is this the part where I tip?”

Seungmin snorted. Just once. Then he leaned down, kissed your cheek—mockingly soft—and murmured:

“You couldn’t afford me.”

Your fingers curled in his shirt again, dragging him closer by the collar. “Maybe not. But I could file another complaint.”

That got a look out of him. One brow arched. One corner of his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a grin.

“You want to be punished again?”

You tilted your head, lips brushing his. “What if I said yes?”

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. Just held your chin in one hand and whispered, “Then next time, sweetheart, you’re going to be the one on your knees.”

______________________________________________________________

🗒️ INTERNAL SERVICE MEMO From: Concierge Aeryn To: SKZotel Staff – All Departments Subject: Incident Debrief – Room 706 / Front Desk Conduct Classification: Staff Eyes Only / Group Chat Archive

Team,

Per request of the guest in Room 706 and in accordance with our transparency protocols (and Chan’s insistence on “team bonding”), the following is a transcript of the internal staff group chat from this morning, shortly after certain actions were taken by Front Desk Staff in response to a formal complaint.

Please note: This conversation has not been edited for professionalism, grammar, or good taste. Proceed accordingly.

– Aeryn Concierge, SKZotel

[anon16783]

a heart

barty crouch jr x fem!reader (angst)

synposis : reader and barty being exes.

(warnings : implied cheating(?), misunderstandings(?), can be left to interpretation)

continuation if interested !! : “please tell me you understand”

—

“are you okay?” pandora looked at me with worry laced on her face.

“yeah just thinking about the potions test, professor slughorn’s gonna hex me.” i laughed dryly at my misfortune, pandora seemed to notice the absence of emotion in my laugh.

“yeah sure.” she went back to her yorkshire pudding as my eyes wandered to the slytherin table.

his arms were wrapped around her shoulder, her body pressed on his torso. i flickered back to my food but i immediately sensed the intensity of his gaze, my eyes turned to pandora afraid to see a smug smirk on his face.

“let’s go.” she whispered.

i laid in bed at night, memories flushing, playing like a trailer for a movie. bartemius was the love interest but clearly i wasn’t for him.

—

i remembered him waiting for me after muggle studies his book bag slumped lazily on his shoulders, “princess! took you long enough.” he’d plant a loving kiss on my cheek as we walked to transfiguration together. i’d look at his eyes but they never seemed fully mine, at the time i thought they were.

as we exited transfiguration about to head to lunch a slytherin girl came up to us, “hey barty, i need some help” she said in a shrill, flirtatious voice.

“i’m busy with my girl.”

“go help her barty, it’s okay.” i exclaimed with trust, i wanted so much to be liked by his peers that i didn’t hear the malicious intent behind her voice.

i guess that’s when it started.

the next few days she’d come up to us calling for him, i always encouraged him to go until he started going on his own.

one time i walked into the library with pandora, both of us heading our own way promising to sit at the table in the corner once we found our books.

“you should dump her.”

oh my merlin, gossip? let me in.

as i peaked through a hole i made by taking out books on the shelves i saw the slytherin girl pinned to the wall by ,,, wait. barty?!

“i mean she’s really pretty come on, but she’s predictable, boring. im snoring just thinking about her.”

suddenly the books i grabbed dropped out of my hands as thick rivers treaded down my cheeks.

barty moved from the girl and looked up at me, sheer horror glistening in his eyes.

“sweetheart-“

i ran. i ran out the library door with pandora looking at me dumbfounded as barty chased me down the halls.

i rushed back to the ravenclaw tower, the eagle knocker asking me a riddle.

“i can break, i can be clogged, i can be attacked, i can be given, i can be kept, i can be crushed, yet i can be whole at the same time. what am i?”

“oh! i don’t know!” i hated the impossible riddles this stupid common room would make me answer.

a voice that made my gut wrench saved me the trouble of unlocking the code, “that’s simple. a heart.”

“a heart?” i muttered back.

i turned to see barty with a tear down his face, hands motioning to grab me.

the common room door opened suddenly and i turned from him, “that’s a bit rich coming from you.”

the following two weeks was met with constant letters expressing sorrow all starting with “i love you, please let me explain.” i never actually read past this line -throwing out each letter before i believed his lies. eventually he gave up and two weeks later i saw him parading around with the slytherin girl around his arm.

i felt humiliated, betrayed, used. i would never forgive him.

—

the next day at breakfast the same thing happened again.

“are you okay?” pandora would ask.

“yeah i’m fine.” i’d reply back, pandora not really believing me would let me be since i had grown tired of her prophecies and advice i could decipher as much as the ravenclaw riddles.

i’d look up at the slytherin table and then back at my food as i could feel barty’s heating glare on my head. this time i decided to show him that i no longer cared about him. i turned to the boy next to me, he was good looking, smart, and charming.

“hello.”

he raised his eyebrow, his lips quirking up, “finally noticing me, are you?”

“what do you mean?”

“oh nothing.” he went back to his toast his eyes never leaving me.

my eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he started to laugh, his booming voice echoing through the walls. i subconsciously started to join him until my eyes accidentally flitted back to slytherin and i finally saw barty’s face, it wasn’t smug or proud, it was broken.

[sol-icide]

‘Lunar didn’t know what to expect when Monty activated the portal to Sun’s dimension. Magic was so rarely used in their world now, so he had done little exploring of other realities—that was more the gator’s domain. He took one last glance around before Monty could usher him and Earth through the portal.

The wooden cottage he called home rested in the center of a floating island, bordered by a deciduous forest and streams of water that cascaded into the vast nothingness below. Several other islands floated nearby, some small and slowly unraveling, others much larger than the one that homed the cottage. This reality still held some semblance of life; the day and night cycle was not completely disrupted, so the wildlife around them continued to survive. That’s how most dimensions looked now—the better off ones, at least.

So when Lunar saw the swirls of violet and mauve pooling in the portal, he knew Sun’s dimension was far worse than his own. Upon stepping into the new reality, his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of water-soaked pine and conifer, but it was the excess of negative energy in the air that made him nauseous. It stuck to him like a wet blanket he couldn’t shake off.

To steady himself, Lunar seized Earth’s hand, who assured him with a firm squeeze. He couldn’t tell whether a storm had passed or was just beginning, judging by the darkened clouds circling overhead. The sky itself was split in two: one half held a burning sun, its flames so vividly tinged with reactive magic that even the creatures below could feel their intensity; the other half hosted a violet ocean speckled with stars. Tendrils of purple energy whipped through the sky, coiling around rocky islands—similar to those in Lunar’s dimension—suffocating any life they might have held. A heavy fog stalked beneath Lunar’s ankles, coating the hilly terrain ahead. If not for the lantern Earth was holding, he would have easily missed the gravel path that snaked up the tallest hill, leading to an almost castle-like mansion.

“I don’t think I have to say this, but I will.” Monty lowered his eyes at Lunar. There was a tenderness behind them despite his solemn gaze. “The magic here is too unstable for us to add anything else to the mix. So keep that lightning of yours under wraps, kid.”

“Monty,” Earth softly interjected. “He knows.”

Lunar returned Monty’s steady look. “I thought we were past treating me like a ticking time bomb.”

“Hey, come on now. You know that’s not what I said–”

“Can we just go?” Lunar looked away from the gator animatronic. “Please.”

The walk up the hill was silent save for the scraping of shoes on gravel. The path grew narrower as the mansion loomed closer, giving way to moss covered stones. Lunar tightened his grip on Earth’s hand as his stride faltered. The negative magic clinging to him made his body feel sluggish and heavy. He tried to focus on the soft clinking of Earth’s lantern beside him, but the farther they ascended the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The tension between the three animatronics lingered in the air.

“Do you guys feel that?” Lunar shivered involuntarily. “It’s like the whole place is alive...”

“And watching us,” Monty added, his broad shoulders tensing. “Yeah. I feel it.”

The air grew thicker, the fog denser, until even the light from Earth’s lantern struggled to cut through the gloom. The dark silhouette of the mansion was sharp against the dual-colored sky, its windows like hollow eyes that followed their every step. Despite the blazing sun to their left, the world seemed to darken as they reached the base of the mansion’s towering doors. Lunar paused, taking in the sheer size of the structure. It felt ancient, as if it had stood there for centuries, watching as dimensions rose and fell around it. Monty stepped forward, thumping the brass door knocker against the hard wood. Lunar’s eyes followed the gator’s motions with bated breath. He braced himself for the person he was about to face.’

A little excerpt from the first chapter! 👀 what do y’all think?

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

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

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(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[anidiotwithnukecodes]

Need to put a baby in him guys

Very Breedable and submissive indeed

Malewife material

[lesbiantvfish]

not much of a human au guy but human para is too canon to not draw.

((restraining myself with force from drawing human para with huge knockers. I will at least give him some belly here but nothing more………aaauuuug para with ghuge boobes save me. Save me))

[patricia-taxxon]

watcher's guide for michael haneke, from someone who has seen all his features at least twice

first, watch Caché. like you should have done that already if you're even a little interested in film as an artform, it's an all-timer by all accounts and is also quite representative.

then, I need to restrain myself and not just name four or five more films at once because I genuinely believe 50% of them are just complete knockers. but I'm gonna instead point you to Code Unknown, because it's very good and representative of a different type of film this guy does, the loosely connected ensemble cast hyperlink tone poem. These ones can be kind of difficult to get your head around, especially if you're expecting something more conventional. The White Ribbon and 71 Fragments are the others, as well as Happy End, but I personally think that one is best saved for last cus it's likely his last movie and it feels like a fitting closer.

After Caché and Code Unknown you'll be pretty well equipped for the marathon, and you really truly can't go wrong in my opinion, but hit Amour and La Pianiste first if you're still unsure about committing to the chronological hike. Watch both Funny Games's too. Time of the Wolf is underrated. I'll stop before I just recommend all his films again

[ajesterwrites]

9. the fatalist

summary: you spontaneously visit the boarding mansion, but it's not stefan who awaits you.

pairings: damon salvatore x reader, stefan salvatore x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2.2K

YOU WEREN'T USED to running. For you, everything was all about poise. You could be doing something you absolutely hated, as long as you looked good doing it. But after you were sent to Coral City's Trauma Center, you changed. Before, you had values, morals, a specific set of rules that guided you through life and your relationships. Then suddenly...you didn't.

The adjustment was difficult, but you tackled a fresh mindset and embraced your new identity with style. So the concept of you knocking on the door of a boy you met only a few days prior was something that would turn almost anyone's head.

Even as you rang the ancient doorbell, you couldn't help but laugh. The mere idea of you awkwardly standing outside, waiting for someone to answer, was absurd. But now it was you. And only you, since after five minutes of waiting, the only thing that greeted you was silence.

For a moment, you thought you had the wrong address. But you'd seen the picture Caroline sent you, a photo undoubtedly obtained by her casual stalking, and a place like that was hard to miss. It didn't even look like a house. It was more like a mansion you'd find in a horror film or a murder-mystery.

Reluctantly, you slammed the door knocker four times. The door creaked opened. You gasped quietly. Peering through the narrow opening, you realized you had three options.

Either you could wait a little longer and risk looking desperate, go inside and risk looking invasive, or you could leave. Nobody would know that you were ever there, which could save you some dignity.

Opting for the third choice, you followed your nature, and turned to go. You hadn't even walked two feet when a black crow nearly crashed into you. You yelped and ducked instinctively, covering your head with your hands, and then whirled around to find yourself gazing into the mesmerizing crystal blue eyes of a handsome stranger.

"Oh my god," You blurted out, placing a hand over your thumping heart. The stranger towered over you, smirking mischievously, and tilted his head to the side as if to say What's this?

"You must be Y/N," The man replied coolly. There was something about his tone that made you feel...off. It was charming and alluring, like the bright tip of a flame waiting to burn you. "I'm Damon, Stefan's brother."

You frowned. Brother? "I didn't even know he had a brother."

"Well Stefan's not one to brag," Damon joked. You chuckled softly. He reached his arm out, motioning for you to come forth. "Please, come in. I'm sure Stefan will be along any second."

You followed him inside and shut the door behind you. "Do you always keep your door open like that? I mean aren't you afraid of anyone getting in?"

"Nope."

"Then you must be pretty confident in your self-defense abilities," You said, but Stefan's brother was so unresponsive you weren't sure if the words actually left your mouth. As you looked around the enormous home, you noticed there was no security system installed. And Damon looked like a man who could defend himself. "Wow. This is your living room?"

"Living room, parlor...Sotheby's auction," He quipped. He stopped beside you. Your eyes wandered the room in awe. Between the regal rugs, chairs, lamps, and paint job, it was easy to say Stefan and his family had exquisite style. They'd really embraced the whole vintage vibe in a beautiful way. "It's a little kitschy for my taste."

You nodded slowly, but even you couldn't hide your surprise as you marveled at the setting.

"I see why my brother's so smitten," Damon said, turning to face you. You looked at him. Stefan was smitten? Had he...talked about you to Damon? That was a good sign, at least. "It's about time. For a while there, I never thought he'd get over the last one. Nearly destroyed him."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't expect someone with Stefan's face to stay single forever, but there was something about his tone that didn't seem right. He was trying to tell you something and it seemed like he was trying to let you know that without making it obvious.

"The last one?" You asked, painfully ignorant.

"Yeah. Katherine, his girlfriend?" Damon said, frowning insincerely when he saw that puzzled look on your face. "Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet."

You smiled politely. "Why linger in the past when there's a whole future ahead of you, right?"

"Interesting mindset," He replied, pretending to ponder your words. "It's too bad he's not looking for a relationship, he could really use someone like you in his life."

"We're just friends," You murmured, hoping to salvage some control over this conversation. Technically, you were being truthful. You were just friends—the reason you'd showed up was because you'd hoped you could be more, but you were beginning to regret it.

Damon nodded. "That's good. I would hate for you two to get involved when he's on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."

You smiled. "Have you always been such a fatalist?"

Damon chuckled softly, keeping his eyes trained on you with a pleased smile stretched across his face. "Hello, Stefan."

You turned to see Stefan standing by the entrance. "Y/N." His eyes were fixed on you, but he looked like he wanted to burn a hole in someone's skull—and you had a feeling it wasn't yours. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Yeah, uh, sorry," You said, stepping toward him. "This was kind of a spur of the moment thing and I really didn't think this through. It's stupid, I know, I just-"

"Oh, don't be silly," Damon intervened, coming to your side. "You're welcome any time. Isn't she, Stefan?"

Stefan didn't respond. Instead he just stood there, paralyzed, his thickening gaze boring into his inattentive brother. Or maybe Damon did notice the way Stefan was staring at him with such flaming eyes but simply didn't care.

"You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies," Damon went on. You struggled to keep your eyes on him when you could practically feel Stefan's impenetrable, long look. "But I have to warn you. He wasn't always such a looker."

"Thank you for stopping by, Y/N," Stefan spoke up monotonously, darting his eyes to you occasionally but maintaining Damon as his primary target. "Nice to see you."

If poison had a voice, that would be it. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on, but the only thing you did know was that this wasn't your problem and you weren't going to make it yours. The tension between the two was incredibly palpable, suffocating even. You'd never felt anything like it. You never knew that family members could hate each other so much.

"Um, yeah, okay," You said awkwardly, taking Stefan's lingering gaze as your cue to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Damon."

"Great meeting you too, Y/N," He replied. Without tearing his gaze from yours, he lifted your hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles.

Caught off guard by his gesture, you stood there in a daze and smiled forcefully before turning to the other brother. You opened your mouth to say something to Stefan, but quickly shut it and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before scurrying out.

And this is why I don't run.

◇◇◇

By the time you got to your house, you were exhausted. On your way there, your bike tires blew out so you'd been forced to walk halfway, and it'd been lifetimes since you walked such a great distance. All you wanted to do was take a relaxing shower and sleep. But you learned a long time ago that life wasn't there to cater to your desires. You didn't know exactly what its purpose was, all you knew was that when you arrived inside, Bonnie and Caroline's laughter floated through the house.

You followed their voices to the kitchen and stopped. "What are you guys doing here?"

Bonnie looked away from the pot she'd been stirring on the stove and smiled. "Oh, hey, Y/N! Jenna and I are just making jerk chicken from Grams' recipe book and Caroline is baking some cookies for tomorrow night."

"Yeah but enough of that," Caroline said, setting the bowl of batter down so she could prop her elbows on the counter and listen intently. "How'd your talk with Stefan go?"

"Well...I went to his place... and according to his brother-"

Caroline and Bonnie turned to each other and traded confused looks. You didn't speak silence, but still know exactly what they were—or weren't—saying. 

Did we know he had a brother? Caroline asked and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. She figured Caroline of all people would know the answer to that. Bonnie shook her head; Nope.

"Yes, you heard that right," You confirmed. "He has a brother. And before they got into that weird tense family moment, he told me that Stefan is looking for a rebound, not a relationship. Maybe this is a sign."

Caroline scoffed. "You can't be serious. A sign? Please. That is complete bullshit and you know it."

You blinked. Caroline wasn't one to curse very often.

"You barely even tried!" Caroline continued. "We've been friends for almost a decade, and I know that when you want something, you take it. That's why we have such a great dynamic!"

"She's right, you know," Jenna chimed in, stopping to chew a chocolate chip cookie. "It can't hurt to try again."

You stared at her with uncertainty. It could definitely hurt. It could hurt you. Besides...Holly didn't want you to start new relationships. There was too much that could go wrong. Too many questions that could be posed. "I don't know, it was a long shot anyway. I mean, you saw how things turned out with Matt."

"Yeah, we did," Caroline agreed. "And I wanted to gouge my eyes out with a pitchfork but-"

"Graphic."

"But I've seen you with Stefan, and it's..."

You watched her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "It's what?"

"...different."

"What she means is watching you two interact doesn't make innocent bystanders, such as us, want to scrub our eyes out with bleach," Jenna offered, and Caroline nodded perkily in agreement.

You blinked at the pair. "Wow. Is that really how you guys felt when Matt and I were dating?"

"Well, I mean-" Bonnie started to say, but Caroline cut her off.

"Yes," The blonde practically exhaled, as if she'd been waiting to get that off her chest for years. But Caroline had never been one to bite her tongue—you wondered what the sudden confession was about. Especially since she seemed to be interested in Stefan herself. Why help you out when she could easily eliminate the competition?

"Moving on..." Bonnie continued, giving Caroline a warning look before turning to you with a warm smile. "You're finally happy. Really happy. Don't let your fear ruin that."

"What fear? It's not like I'm scared," You scoffed, grabbing a knife to chop vegetables. But after a brief moment under Bonnie's watchful eyes, you sheepishly looked up, biting your lip. "And if, hypothetically speaking, I am, what exactly do I have to be afraid of?"

Bonnie smiled sadly. "This is the happiest you've been since your parents died. And no offense, but you tend to be a little..."

"Pessimistic?" Caroline offered. "Cynical? Apathetic?"

"Yes..." Bonnie responded, a little irritated as she looked over at Caroline, who was too busy tasting her batch to notice. "But believe it not, the world isn't going to catch on fire because your life is good. And even if it does, I'll see it coming."

You laughed. It seemed this psychic thing was going to be a running gag and inside jokes in their lives. You didn't mind. It was nice having things almost return to normal.

"And," Bonnie went on. "Caroline heard from Bobbi, who heard from Kelly, who heard from Cristina, who heard from Margaret that Stefan is going to be at the festival. Maybe you two can patch things up when you get there?"

Caroline smirked. "And if you're really lucky, maybe you two can-"

"I think I wanna focus on a little soul-searching first," You interrupted, fighting back a smile. Your transformation was astounding, to say the least. Four months ago, you probably would've found a way into his pants, but you'd come to appreciate the internal beauty of those around you.

"Trust me." Caroline lowered her voice. "You'll have time to do plenty of searching."

"Caroline!" You and Bonnie exclaimed before bursting into giggles. Caroline smiled proudly while Jenna struggled to fight back a grin.

"This is why I'm the fun one," Caroline commented, pleased with herself.

"Whatever," You scoffed and threw a dish towel at her. Caroline squealed and tried to dodge, but it landed on her face. You and Bonnie erupted in a fit of giggles, and Caroline, though irritated, couldn't help but join in.

Chapter Ten

[larkandkatydid]

I am stressed as hell about this election. I’m trying to do more get out the vote stuff in Michigan (hi fellow Mittenhead!) but I have a sinking feeling it won’t be enough and idk if Big Gretch can save us. How are your campaign activities going?

I mean, I am utterly terrified and I'm genuinely not sure how I'm going to make it emotionally through election night. I will say that I have mostly hopeful expectations based on what I've been seeing, but also that I don't trust my expectations at all, since Trump's 2016 win took my naive ass by such surprise!

That said, because of my job I've been driving all over the rural parts of the Lower Penninsula and here are some positive signs I've noticed that at least people are doing everything they can affect the results: 1)Every highway is absolutely flooded with billboards and I-75 north of Flint, which mainly serves as a way to funnel hunters and fisherman Up North has a "I'm a Republican Gun Owner and I'm Voting For Harris" or some variaton on that message on a billboard literally every mile. 2) Driving from Midland to Mt Pleasant, a pretty traditionally conservative chunk in the middle of the state, I saw a shocking (to me) number of Harris lawn signs in every small town I passed. 3)I went to buy another roll of postcard stamps yesterday and the guy at the counter said something like, "You volunteers are working so hard. I have sold you all so many stamps." 4) when I got home from being gone four days, it was clear that at least 2-3 door knockers had been by. Whatever happens, it just seems very different from 2016 complacency. God willing, that will matter.

[amityahasfanartnowapparently]

That Time Fox's Fat Tits Saved The Galaxy - Chapter 8 - Amity Ax - (INTRO ONLY)

Hello! Chapter 8 is still very very VERY much in progress, but I got inspired to release the first two pages early. Think of it as an early holiday present :D

If you'd rather save it for when the whole chapter is out on ao3, DON'T look under the cut ;)

Also DISCLAIMER: this intro is liable to change at some point while I'm editing everything else. And consider all the tags in my fic applicable to this post too. You've been warned.

DroidBoy6969:

ok, like, I get why everybody is talking about the tits. I really do. don’t get me wrong, they’re great tits!! but that ass needs some appreciation too! Just LOOK at it! the MUSCLES, the ROUNDNESS, the TIGHT AS KARK PANTS—it has EVERYTHING

TallMannSpotted:  @DroidBoy6969 YESSS I want to be those pants <3 <3 <3

whats_love090992:  @DroidBoy69 if this is a non-tits appreciation post, I’d like to give an honorable mention to the arms and back. Hot damn. I want him to pick me up and snap me in half like a 2x4. And that v-line in the front… *chef’s kiss* Perfect. Phenomenal. Breathtaking.

xXx_R4nc0rD3str0y3r_xXx: @DroidBoy6969 get out of here butt boy this is a tit-man only site!!!!

[See 21938451 more replies]

Unfortunately_YourMother:

everyone unfollow me right now this is going to be the only thing I’m gonna post about from now on. fuck. shit. Ohmygawdzzz

kenobis_glistening_abs444:

HUGE W for the war effort that this absolute UNIT be out here serving the people, if u know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

KittyqueeN:

No joke, I just clocked out for like an hour watching this guy run on repeat. the kriffing bounce is like… hypnotic. Literal drool down my face rn. I can feel the heft of those bonkers in my SOUL

dontlookatme.:

b…boobies…

cock_expert_420001:

Look, I’ll pay any amount, PLEASE more content like this @TheRepublic. I could feel myself becoming roughly 50% more patriotic just watching this compilation

ZDprofessional:

YESSS YES YES YEEEAAAS!!! OHHH MY GODS. OH MY GODDSSS BROOOOO!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ALSDGJDkjfifherALSDGJKHAG GRRRRRR!!!!! GRRRARRAARRRGRGRG! BRGRGRGRaaaAAAAAARRAR!GGRRGAA! I’M CRAZZY IM CRAZY IM CRAZY. YOU HAVE NO IDEAA YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!! sorry ok. I’m normal now. cool tits.

NautilaRulz:  @ZDprofessional Dude.

TiLeavesComments:  @ZDprofessional somebody get this fine gentlebeing some water. they’re about to die of Thirst

RyurayguYuhahyrrararr:  @ZDprofessional rabies core

[See 103020 more replies]

H00tH00tMutherfarker:

I can’t believe this is real. What are they FEEDING this one to make knockers like that??? He’s got some Enormous Boobs. Absolutely Perfect Pecs. A Rockin’ Pair of Hooters. A Prize-Winning Set of Black Melons. Some Tasty Teats. A Couple of Family-Sized Milk Jugs. Some Bountiful Baps. Some Gorgeous Gazoingas…[read more]

JustSomeGuy:

Listen, I get that everybody is horny about this, but I’d like to say that this trooper is like, actually NUTS. I went back to the OG video and timed it, he was in a dead sprint for like a full HOUR. The next time you’re out of breath climbing the stairs, remember this man’s existence and weep in shame. 

NotMyOrder:

Clones really do be built different…

Drgahamne14156994:

Hello, I’m Dr. Garm Hamne. I’m a doctor from Corellia and earn 600k annually. I’m looking for a sugar baby who…[read more]

TheCommenterrrrrr:

Screaming crying throwing up I need him to choke me

FoShadeDingKing!!:

Damn where do I gotta go to spend the night with one of those

RRoller:

This is fake. You bantha-brained morons are falling for a government plant. This has sphotoshop written all over it.

N3varG0naGiv3:  @RRoller It’s OK bro, just count backwards from 10 while you inhale the copium. It’ll be over in a snap :)

U_Up?:  @RRoller because that’s what I’D do if I was trying to sphotoshop a government-approved thirst trap into looking so good it brainwashes the minds of millions. I’d make the trooper running laps in the back of the vid busty enough to belong in an art museum instead of using editing magic to make the group of buff, sweaty men duking it out in the foreground look like living gods. what a totally reasonable conclusion you’ve come to 

Nvr_Gn4_Letudwn:  @RRoller bruh just grow up and admit you wanna fuck him so bad it makes you looks stupid XD

[See 348079 more replies]

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[ymiahha]

🍓🚬 | strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you. (Sanji x Fem!Reader fanfic – · ep. 1)

📑 – · | 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰: sanji attends a party to find someone to replace his ex with, only to find out that not a lot of women he saw there felt good enough. but everything changes when he meets a pretty lady who asked to light her cigarette...

❗ – · | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬: this whole fanfiction is based on the song “strawberries and cigarettes” by troye sivan. this story takes places in a college au. it will be told in sanji’s pov. this ep is sfw! contains cursing and smoking. y/n will appear like a mary sue, but, in later eps, will be shown that she isn’t. hopefully not too ooc.

🗨️ – · | 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫: hellooow! 💖 i’m ymiah, but i also go by eula (both are internet names). i’m an aspiring sanji x reader author (not limited to that tho!) and this is my first ever post here on tumblr! i rlly hope i’m welcome here! 🫶 i’m looking for moots who have the same interests as i do (interests will be added in a pinned post... hopefully soon? but you can comment/send me a message for now, if u want to! :'>). i am open to recommendations and tips! if this post doesn’t do too bad then i’ll continue to upload future parts! (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

I sighed wearily as I climbed up the stairs to the topmost part of this building. Stupid elevator was broken. This dumb party Luffy invited— no, dragged me to is a bust. There was no one there who I actually liked.

He bribed me by saying there was gonna be a lot of hot babes... and to be honest, he was right, but... I dunno, none of them felt right. I mean yeah, they had awesome knockers and big butts, but I wanna find someone who wasn’t half as bad as my ex. Tsk.

“Just drink it off, bozo,” Zoro had yawned. “Alcohol saves problems.”

“Yeahhh, no,” I had declined his offer, my smile intoxicated with sarcasm. “Thanks, but I’d much prefer a referral, y’know what I mean?”

“I know! There’s this party my other boys are throwing, there’s gonna be lots of chicks, Sanji!”

“I don’t really—”

“You’re going! I refuse your refusal!”

I arrived at the terrace. I leaned my arms on the bar, admiring the city view dully with my blonde hair blowing in the wind.

I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t even hear the soft footsteps from behind me.

“Hey.”

I turned, eyebrows slightly raised. I was surprised to see a gorgeous girl—(color) hair, (color) eyes, brown coat. She had a short, black, pencil skirt on, pairing it with brown boots. Her outfit put mine to shame—I went to the party in my usual blue long-sleeved polo, with black slacks. It kind of annoyed me how there was now a white chalk stain on the side, for some unknown reason.

In between her fingers was a single cigarette.

“Light my cigarette, will you?”

I blinked. Instead of replying, I gestured my head for her to move next to me. She did.

I took out my lighter and she placed the cigarette in between her pinkish lips. It took a few lights for it to budge, but after three or four lights, it worked.

We stood in silence, the only sound being the rustling wind, the faint party music and noise, and the puffs of air from this lady’s cig.

“So, what brings you here?”

I was slightly startled to hear her speak. Curse that voice, it was so damn soft and alluring to the point it kinda gave me goosebumps.

“Got dragged. Climbed up here ‘cause I couldn’t stand the volume.”

“Hah, same. Want a cig?”

“Yeah, why not.”

She handed me a cigarette. I placed it in between my lips and lit it up.

“I didn’t quite catch your name.” I said, blowing out puffs of air.

She coughed softly. “Y/n.”

“Sanji.” I introduced myself. “All my friends get on my back for smoking all the time.”

“You smoke all the time? Shit, so do I. I smoke whenever I feel like garbage, and hell, life is garbage.”

“Which leads you to—”

“—smoke all the time—” we said simultaneously.

“—yeah.” She added. We laughed together.

“You seem pretty cool, Sanji. Wanna hang out sometime?”

I couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was actually offering me to go on a date with her. Is this whole moment even real?

I chuckled. “You’re pretty bold, asking the guy out. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

She smirked and removed the cigarette momentarily to speak. “You were taking too long.”

“Alright. When are you free?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“It’s a Sunday, aren’t you gonna be busy?” I glanced at her. She was a few inches shorter than me, just up til my nose.

She chewed the insides of her cheeks before replying. Finally, she shook her head. “Not really. Are you gonna be busy?”

I gave it some thought, just like she did. Me and my family were supposed to go to church tomorrow evening…

“Not really.”

“Then it’s settled. We meet at Akebono Fields. Tomorrow night 8 PM, you, me, and my car.” She looked at me, smiling.

She was rather… dominant? Assertive? Damn.

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, my dad handed me his old one when he got a new one.”

“I take it you must be rich?” I asked, sort of impressed. She had immense beauty and immense wealth, what else could she ask for?

“I guess you could say that.”

Wow. This girl was casually blowing my mind, just like that.

Silence. She reached inside the pocket of her jacket to pull out her phone.

“It’s nearly midnight. I should get going.” She blinked at me with those long eyelashes and gorgeous eyes.

“See you tomorrow, pretty.” I said unconsciously, lost in her gaze.

She merely giggled, tapped her cigarette to put out the light, and, with one final glance, waved to me before descending the stairs.

[strangelittlestories]

If that year’s winter had not been cold enough to crack the air, or if it had not overstayed its welcome like a troublesome relative, then the village never would have called upon the woman with all the skulls.

But the warmth came late and, worse, when it did it brought the sickly sweet smell of blight on the wind. The people tried to hope it away, but it clung in their nostrils, the ghost of future hunger pains.

When spring finally limped into view, the first long-term crops emerged shrunken and sickly. Barely thawed earth was dug up to reveal blackened roots beneath. The farmers toiled to get their first plantings of the spring in the earth, but a second snap of frost killed their progress and many of the seeds.

So, with a hard and hungry year promised, Evelyn (the village librarian) volunteered to make the journey to the Tower of Skulls and Soot.

Evelyn was no fool. She took all reasonable precautions. She brought gifts: a small jar of her own baby teeth, saved by her parents in case she ever saw such desperate times; and a parcel of old poetry books that no-one ever checked out as they were long past the fashion. 

She took protection too: from beneath the library’s floorboards she excavated the Quiet Stone, a worn piece of marble that resonated with all the silent moments of revery that echoed above it. With it, she could take any place she travelled to into a library. She also brought a knife (because some people didn’t respect libraries).

When she reached the tower, she was struck by its strange appearance; the impossibly elongated femurs and humeruses of its pillars; the lightning blackened spire; the hanging baskets of death-pale flowers. Inside herself, she noticed a new feeling squirm at the sight and it was … not unpleasant. She gulped and raised a hand to the jawbone knocker on the front door.

The door creaked open, revealing a light and airy corridor - totally empty. Most people would have asked, in a similar situation: well, who opened the door? Evelyn was left wondering: how on earth does a hinge made of cartilage creak?

Soft whispers coming from nowhere and everywhere guided Evelyn through the hallways and winding stairs (mostly made of stone, but with some bone accents). The way was lit by skulls mounted on the walls, with small patches of glowing fungus growing from their mouths. Eventually, the gentle susurrus guided her to a solar near the top of the tower. 

Evelyn had never been in a solar before, but had read descriptions in books and had always thought they sounded most elegant and sophisticated. She was glad to see she was correct, as this room was spacious but not gaping, well appointed but not gaudy, and comfortable but not too cosy. It was filled by crisp morning sunlight that spilled through a huge window that took up the entirety of the east wall.

Sitting by the fireplace was the lady with all the skulls. She rested on a chair with a frame built from the skeleton of some fierce and hunched creature, but filled in with plentiful soft cushions. She wore a sleek robe of pure white; it looked soft.

“Greetings, fell mistress. I bring you a gift of-” Evelyn began confidently, before tripping over the final step.

The jar of teeth went flying from her hands and shattered on the floor. Molars and broken glass covered the floor.

“Well, that’s certainly an improvement on pitchforks and flaming torches.” The lady’s lip twitched almost imperceptibly. “But your aim certainly needs work.”

She flicked a finger in the direction of the teeth, which transformed immediately into a dozen tiny creatures that began to gobble up the glass. They were like a cross between cats, ferrets and tiny dragons. The shards went crunch in their teeth (Evelyn’s *teeth* had *teeth*).

“I, uh, also brought poetry.” Evelyn held out the books. “It’s quite old, I’m afraid. But I like it.”

“A poorly flung tooth grenade *and* classic poetry?” An eyebrow was arched. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to assassinate me or court me.”

Evelyn blushed.

“If I might ask-”

The lady waved a hand.

“I already know what’s on your mind. And yes, I will raise your village’s crops from the dead.”

“Actually,” Evelyn continued to blush, “I was going to ask you where you got those robes. People in towers - especially with so many skulls - always seem to have robes. And I’m sure no-one nearby makes them. At least, not ones so fine as that.”

The lady looked at Evelyn properly for the first time. Once more, Evelyn felt that strange squirming sensation and again realised that she didn’t mind it.

“I keep a small colony of zombie silkworms. They’re picky eaters, mind, but they do make the most delicate threads.” She paused, noticing something in Evelyn’s eyes. “I could gift you some, if you like.”

“Um…”

“Now come on, let’s get to your village before they think I’ve eaten you or harvested your clavicle or some nonsense.” She rose. “I swear, folks may think all the skulls are a *bit much*, but … when the killing winter comes, they remember they need a necromancer.”

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With thanks to Character of the Month member Ellie Williams for the character of Evelyn.

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