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#did he learn that fishing trick from them

joycrispy · 7 months

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One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #unfortunately I do not have trains of thought #only long meandering strolls of thought #sorry about it #anyway tl;dr Crowley is a nerd #also I have a strange emotional attachment to the idea of 1500's Crowley...#...facedown in a pile of Mona Lisa sketches; drunkenly info-dumping about Aziraphale #and Da Vinci is just like. 'Ahhhh mio amico Antonio. You fucking simp.'

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anonymousangstmonster · 3 months

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Idea #39

The Fentons were a family of merciless mer hunters.

But when Jack Fenton found a barely-a-year-old, white haired, black scaled, green eyed guppy washed up on their private beach, he couldn’t just leave the little guy to probably get eaten alive by seagulls. He’d always had a soft spot for kids.

He somehow convinced Maddie to let him keep it, as long as he was responsible for it. Jack had to feed it, clean it and it’s tank, train it, make sure it didn’t try to eat people, entertain it, the normal things you have to do to take care of a pet. Sure Maddie was the one that made sure it was fed most of the time since Jack forgot, but he did all the other things! He even gave him a name, Danny.

They actually got to learn a lot about merfolk biology taking care of him.

Over time the pair of scientists grew more and more attached to the little baby mer in their lab. He was practically a son to them. He was so sweet and cute, who wouldn’t love him instantly!

They taught him how to talk(he had such an adorable voice!), they taught him about the outside world(his eyes always sparkled with curiosity and wonder when listening to their stories).

When an old mer hunting friend came over to visit, he told them to be careful, that the creature could be using its siren powers to make them love it. They assured him that Danny’s powers(if he had any) were disabled by the small and unobtrusive cuff around his wrist.

They arranged for a little boy Danny’s age to come for a playdate, since he always seemed so lonely by himself in his artificial habitat. That young boy was named Tucker Foley, and the two hit it off instantly. Playing in the shallow area of Danny’s ‘exhibit’ with beach balls and plastic boats.

More time passed and Danny grew, his aquarium growing along with him.

Sometimes other hunter and scientist friends of the Fentons would come see the lab, and they would see a teenage merman in a comfortable environment and not on an examination table.

The parents wanted to see their boy free and happy, so they released him into the ocean. It wasn’t until later that they realized they never prepared him for the outside world, they never taught him how to hunt for himself, to avoid fishing nets, he might get seriously hurt or even die out there because they were ‘so eager to get rid of him’.

One of their worst fears were confirmed when they found him washed up on their beach bleeding from his tail, abdomen, and arm, unconscious.

Mer au combined with “Danny has always been lab rat” au, and wholesome up until the plot.

“I also just want Jack to invent a ghost(mer) treat and make Danny do tricks for it.” -that applies to this as well. Also I had the idea for that when eating a soft peppermint for the first time in forever.

ALSO GUYS THIS AU IS SHARED WITH @doiyi-yt! GO CHECK OUT HER STUFF UNDER THE #fish boy au TAG!

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ivystoryweaver · 7 months

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im so interested in what u think the moon boys would be like as dads???

Ohhhhh, this is gonna hurt my heart. In a good way. I have a lot of feelings about Moon Dads and I've not yet written fics about it so yeah...

I'm gonna jump right in with Marc.

I think if Marc had a child, he would be all in: attentive, tender, affectionate.

I don't actually believe Marc would be afraid of parenting. I know that can be a popular hc/fic plot and I totally understand why, and love reading those.

But I think Marc would be one of those people that would try to do the opposite of what was done to him. Example: his parents were married and that went well... (sarcasm)

Yet Marc got married. He and Layla were together for years and, according to her, had "adventures together", meaning they worked as a (likely successful) team. Marc bailed on Layla once his mom passed and he could no longer control or hide his disassociations (plus Khonshu's threats for Layla to be his next avatar).

Point being: Marc did get married and seemed pretty successful at it, for the most part.

Marc is in charge of bath time. This includes little toy boats, fish that squirt water, bubbles. He's going to wash their hair, or whatever hair needs they have, depending on race and hair types. If it is a hair type he isn't as familiar with, he is going to be talking to his partner, looking up vids, whatever it takes. Touch is going to be so important to him. He is the dad who will know how to do french braids or styles for textured hair.

He's never going to react in anger. If he is angry, he's going to hand the reins to Steven or sometimes Jake (if he is able, it's obviously not a parlor trick), or he will just say to his little one, "Daddy is going to take a time out. I'll be back in a minute and we can have a talk." The idea of putting himself in time out is so endearing to his child that they end up calming from whatever misbehavior they were attempting, wanting to join him in the corner for time out, touching a plushie or reading a book in his lap.

They learn very young that their father's expressions can be stern but his hands are safe. They will not want to disappoint him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven can converse naturally with children, this we see in the first episode. Steven's open, engaging nature is great for children. His own childlike wonder will shine in fatherhood. He was also able to quickly redirect the behavior of the girl who was littering at the museum. So a spunky child in a doctor's office waiting room will be easily wrangled by a distracting toy, quick game or wonderful story.

Steven is your go-to guy for bedtime stories. With a young child, Steven will share how wondrous the world around them is. He'll always have a anecdote or a fun fact for tweens or teens.

He will offer choices. "Do you want to put on 'jammies now or after a story?" "Do you want to help Dad set the table or feed the cat?" Steven has lacked agency in his life, so he is going to give it to his child. He will teach them to speak up for their needs.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake is going to be such a little shit as a dad. I'm sorry but there is no nicer way to say it lol. Jake's used to operating in the background and he's a night owl. He's the fun dad. He's the "don't tell mom" dad (or don't tell dad, dad). Kid wants stay up 15 extra minutes? It's Jake that's gonna sneak them some of the popcorn he popped after they were supposed to be asleep. As a partner, you'd find your little one on Jake's knee in the most comfy chair, watching the Yankees play baseball.

You give them The Look™ and they know they are busted. They exchange guilty glances and then Jake starts repeating words in Spanish. Baseball, Popcorn, very good! If you are already all Spanish speakers then Jake pretends to be practicing in both Spanish and English.

Either way, he and his little twin, with their adorable curls, give you shit eating grins.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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#ivy replies #inbox #asks #✧ ˚ · . answered #nonniekins #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector headcanons #steven grant headcanons #jake lockley headcanons #moon knight headcanons #moon boys #moon knight system #moon dads

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dixonsgirl93 · 8 months

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Daryl Dixon finding out you’re pregnant with his child and what he’d be like as a dad:

(I gotta be honest, I don’t normally like pregnancy/child tropes. They just don’t interest me in fiction HOWEVER this thought came to me. How would our sweet, traumatised boy react to having a family of his own??)

He’d be in shock, not believing you could really be carrying his baby, that he was gonna be a dad

He’d say he needs space/time to think about what this really means and he’ll disappear on “runs”. You wouldn’t hear from him for at least a couple weeks

He’d be terrified at first. Because of the idea of bringing a child into a broken world, because he fears he’d be a terrible father

He’d have to come to terms with not being able to run off and do his own thing. He’d have responsibilities now

He already knew he was never going to leave the pair of you. It was never in his mind to abandon you

He’d work even harder to protect you both, putting himself on the line more but secretly he’d enjoy it in a way, because he had something that was his and he’d give his life 1000 times over to protect what belonged to him

He’d teach them how to hunt from an early age, to fight, how to use his crossbow, the right berries and mushrooms to eat, how to fish and anything else Daryl knew, he’d pass it all on

What you wouldn’t know, was that when the child was much older, Daryl would teach them how to protect you both, should something happen to Daryl. He’d teach them to not let the grief consume them

While you were pregnant he’d kiss your belly loads, lovingly patting it and feeling the kicks. And when he first felt a kick he’d get teary eyed and it would be the first time he felt like a dad

He’d talk to his child while in your belly, telling them stories of the old world and of how badass he thinks their mom is

He’d be the first to bring you comforts, pillows, blankets, enough food so you could both stay strong

He wouldn’t be home too much, wanting better to be hunting for you, making a nursery for you but when he was home he focused his attention on you and the baby

He would be more anxious, wanting to provide for and protect you constantly but not being able to do both all the time

He would think of the family he lost and compare you and his child to himself, Merle and their dad, desperately wanting his child to have a better life than he did

When the baby was born, he’d spend a lot of time just holding and looking at them, memorising their features, looking for you and himself in them

He’d gently run his fingers over their soft skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could hurt a child, imagining his own scars and childhood

During childbirth he’d be at your side the whole time, encouraging you to be strong, giving you praises, clutching your hand and not caring that your nails were digging into his skin from the pain

When the child was older and told him that they were proud to have him as their dad, he’d sob, not caring who saw because it was something he’d been worried about for years. He was so certain he would fail any child in his care

If the child was a girl, he’d teach her not to take shit from men, he’d tell her about the certain tricks men use. He’d teach her to be strong and independent

If the child was a boy, he’d teach him how to be respectful to women, he’d teach him how to be a leader, how to protect people, how to be unbreakable but that emotional vulnerability was not weakness, but strength

He’d be a stern dad, soft sometimes but the child would quickly grow to be respectful, learn to communicate their feelings and feel safe and loved. Something Daryl never got

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rillils · 3 months

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STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 2/3 (here is part 1)

picking up from where we left off:

some 65 years into the future, steve's plane is fished out of the ice, and they find him, frozen like a sexy hot-dayum popsicle, but still alive thanks to the same super serum that made him go from Smol to Lorge.

steve is thus brought back into the world, but it's a world he no longer recognizes after all these years; a world where all the people he used to know and love are long dead, and his own face has been turned into a tool for propaganda over the years. obviously, he has a hard time adjusting, and he turns to fighting again, joining this group of kinda possibly superheroes, aka the avengers.

lots of exciting new things happen, sure; but steve is still pretty miserable. until one day, a mysterious masked assassin dressed in bondage gear (but not really), and sporting one very shiny metal arm (!!!!), is sent to kill steve's sort-of-boss. and then to kill steve himself. oh no!!

in what is possibly the most gripping, most visually pleasing hand-to-hand fight sequence in the history of cinema,

(NO BUT SERIOUSLY, all jokes aside, if you've never watched it then please do bc it's!!! *shrieks* so fucking good!!!)

a fight sequence which also happened to unlock both steve's and an entire fandom's competence kink with that little sexy knife-flipping trick alone -- i know you know what i'm talking about, don't you lie to me babes--

as i was saying, steve manages to knock the mask off of his opponent's face. and who do you think appears before him? can you guess??

DING DING DING!!! EXACTLY!!! IT'S HIS LONG-LOST BAE BUCKY! who apparently doesn't recognize him??

confused and upset, steve fights to uncover the truth. turns out, the man is indeed the very same bucky he grew up with and loved. only, he didn't actually die in that tragic fall in the ravine; rather, due to the experiments performed on him while he was a war prisoner, he survived long enough to be found and captured by the enemy. who then proceeded to torture and brainwash him, using him as a tool for murder against his will, and literally putting him back in the freezer when they didn't need him.

which, as it happens, is how he stayed so young in the first place: he, uh, spent the better part of 70 years frozen. yeaaah, are the parallels paralleling or what, hmmmm?? preserved in ice like your mom's best lasagna from last week? plunging to a 'death' that isn't really a death? waking up in the future kinda screwed over? :D

ANYWAY

steve is even more devastated than before, now that he's learned that while he was asleep in the ocean, bucky was out there suffering. when he finally confronts bucky again (and it's fucking epic and also fucking heartbreaking, believe you me) steve is desperate to bring bucky, his bucky, back. knowing in his heart that his bae is still somewhere in there, no matter how deeply buried.

in the most critical moment(TM), steve chooses to stay behind, on a plane that's about to fucking blow up around them - just like bucky did for him all those years ago - because if he can't save bucky, then he'd rather die with him.

only, bucky is scared and confused af at the moment, and he attacks steve, because 1) he has a mission after all, he's supposed to kill this guy dammit, and 2) wtf is even going on here??? who IS this man, WHY does he keep saying that they've known each other their whole lives?? and WHY does bucky feel like he's actually seen him somewhere else before?????

AND HERE IS THE PIVOTAL MOMENT OF ALL PIVOTAL MOMENTS: for the first time in his life, steve refuses to fight back. like he literally drops his shield out of the plane and into the river underneath, in a very powerful and symbolic gesture, signifying his surrender: he's not going to hurt bucky anymore, no matter what. THIS FUCKER LITERALLY LETS BUCKY BEAT HIM TO A PULP, WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO DEFEND HIMSELF, 100% ready to let bucky kill him if that's what's gonna happen here, because that's still better than living in a world where bucky's gone - a world where bucky will look at him and only see a target, or a stranger at best.

and then!!!!

no this is like, this is THE most romantic shit, okay, like you could try to convince me that it isn't for the next hundred years and i wouldn't buy it, because. BECAUSE.

at the very last moment, steve finally manages to break through bucky's brainwashing, breaking the metaphorical spell bucky was under. and do you know how he does that? i ask you, do you know how steve does that, my love?

by repeating to bucky the very same words bucky offered him way back in the beginning, when he proposed asked steve to move in together. till death do us part the end of the line, baby. romeo could NEVER

bucky, who was about to deal the fatal blow, freezes instantly, finally recognizing the man under him.

and when steve falls out of the plane, bucky jumps after him, instinctively saving his life instead.

but bucky can't stay. confused, wounded, vulnerable, and only just beginning to remember who he used to be and what was done to him, he slips away and hides from steve - and from all the other people who might be looking for him, and probably want him dead. you think this is gonna stop steve, though?? now that he knows that bucky is still alive, and that he remembers him??? now that he knows that bucky's not lost to him forever?? AS IF!!

(to be continued in part 3)

#stucky #stevebucky #i have literally no idea how to tag this but???????#the silly stucky recap you didn't ask for #part 2 :D #catws #rillers scribbles

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stvolanis · 3 months

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THE LOST BOYS + STAR W/ THEIR

SUPERNATURAL S/O

DAVID

Werewolf S/O

• when you first met, you were at each others throats constantly— people weren't lying when they said Vampires and Werewolves don't get along.

• you quickly bonded as you realized you were each other's mates.

• David absolutely adores your wolf, but he'll never say that out loud.

• he likes to call you pup and puppy a lot just to tease you but he knows that you secretly like it which is why he keeps doing it.

• will give you head pats and praise you like an owner would to a dog just to watch you get flustered .

• he loves watching you hunt, he finds it very amusing. you don't like eating humans, so you stick to animals like a normal wolf would but you don't judge him for eating humans.

DWAYNE

Witch S/O

• you met after he watched you cast a spell near the woods of their cave because he smelt a scent that he'd never smelt before and followed it.

• he knew that witches existed since he was a bit of a bookworm, but he'd never met one so both of you instantly clicked.

• he loves silently watching you cast spells and watching you mess with rude people on the boardwalk.

• he likes to call you 'his witchy woman' because that's exactly what you are to him, plus, he just likes teasing you.

• begs you to teach him some things for research since he wants to learn more about what you can do.

• even though you're a witch and are fully capable of handling yourself, he still likes to protect you when needed and you don't mind.

MARKO

Angel S/O

• you met when he found you in the woods, your wing had been badly injured and he decided to help you out.

• consumed by his crazy good looks and charming nature, you both instantly fell for each other.

• Marko absolutely loves your wings and thinks they're super pretty and soft, and he loves to nuzzle his face into them.

• he likes to think that you were a gift sent down by the gods, for whatever reason so he calls you his angel, precious and dove. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, as you were complete opposites of each other.

• he loves flying alongside you, watching the way your wings gracefully flap and all the cool tricks you like to do.

• your pretty innocent so he constantly has to protect you from creeps on the boardwalk, but he secretly doesn't mind since you praise him for it.

PAUL

Fairy S/O

• you were walking alone in the woods, flowers blooming behind you as you walked and Paul found the trail and thought it was strange so he decided to follow it, which is how he found you.

• at first, you were scared since you knew he was a vampire but once you got to know him, you instantly took a liking to him.

• Paul loves your wings and thinks they're beautiful, he also loves all of your powers.

• he has a thing for calling you 'fairy princess' even though you've told him you aren't a princess, but you don't really mind. he also loves calling you flower.

• he likes to watch you flutter around the cave, feet hovering over the ground since sometimes flowers subconsciously bloom where you've walked when you weren't paying attention.

• Paul finds it adorable that you don't really know anything about sexual stuff and constantly teases you for it.

STAR

Mermaid S/O

• you met when you spotted Star sitting near the ocean of the cave and sensed she was a vampire, so you curiously swam up to her, a little nervous but she assured you she was harmless.

• you talked for a while and asked each other all kinds of questions and met each other everyday. And that’s when the both of you started to develop strong feelings towards each other.

• Star always gushes about how pretty your tail is and that she wished she had one, but you told her that you wished you had legs.

• she likes to call you her shell baby after you cutely brought her a shell you'd found on the sea floor.

• she loves being next to you in the ocean while you show her cool tricks you can do. When she found out you could talk to fish, she thought you were the most amazing person she’s ever met!

• you asked the gods if they'd grant you legs temporarily whenever you wanted, to which they gave you and you spent the day at the boardwalk with Star, stumbling around sometimes and in awe at the sights around you which she thought was adorable.

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starscabaret · 2 months

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Hear me out…

Jaden getting addicted to reader’s smile as she becomes his own addiction

Smile Struck Introduction

pairing: yandere! Hood Drug Dealer Jaden 💸 x Fem Reader

summary : meeting of course, its a little long but enjoy n give feedback! I love Jaden omg

warnings: drugs will be involved in most of his stories… he’s a drug dealer duh! and cursing

Authors note : check out my oc profiles to learn more about jaden

Jaden liked to drive to clear his head. Of course, he could relax at home. But something about driving with no purpose other than to think and listen to music calmed him. There was no destination, that would ruin the relaxation. He just drove until he felt calm. He could think straight. Breathe easy.

And he loved his car. He cared for it like it was his first and only child. He never let his car get dirty. Never missed an oil change. Hell, he never even let the gas go below a quarter of a tank. His car was just one of the things he was proud of. His career choice although illegal, he was proud of.

He always made sure his family was straight. He played it safe, he had little to no enemies, and his criminal record was clean. He also had respect. In his hood, people knew and respected him. He didn’t sell to kids, he didn’t go around starting fights, and he didn’t bring the cops snooping around in the area.

It was a Monday night, people weren’t exactly blowing up his phone trying to get served, so he had time for his relaxing drive. As his drive neared its end he stopped at a nearby gas station. His car would attract attention of course, but nothing most folks weren’t used to. This was the inner city, with plenty of tricked-out cars.

He wanted a pack of gum and a bottle of water. Also to fill his beloved car with premium gas. He loved to chew gum. Later you’d notice when you kissed him you could taste it.

He hopped back on the highway to head home. He felt great. Things were good for him. Business was good. Life was good. His mom didn’t have to worry about much. That’s what mattered most to him.

A smile on his face as he drove, was soon removed. He felt the powerful jolt of another car hitting his rear. He was a player but not too player for a seatbelt luckily. He was unharmed …. But his most prized possession was not. His jaw clenched as he unbuckled his seatbelt to get out of his car and assess the damage. Oh, and curse the other driver the fuck out!

They were 100 percent at fault. They rear-ended him. He would never drive so recklessly not in his baby! When he stepped out of his car he was bombarded by you.

“OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OK??? IM SO FUCKING SORRY PLEASE DO NOT CALL THE POLICE!!!”, you screamed frantically with tears streaming down your face. In your disheveled state, you grabbed him, hands all over his chest checking for injuries.

Wow, you were breathtaking even in tears and in shock. He had expected some ugly ass old man had hit his car. Not you, the most gorgeous woman he had seen in a while. He had to get on your good side. So instead of cursing you out as previously planned he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I’m fine, are you ok? no cops sweetness I promise.”

“Oh hello, my goodness, yes I’m ok, but I’m sure my car isn’t, and I don’t even want to think about what I’ve done to yours.” You replied hands still in his against his chest.

“Don’t worry we’ll get it fixed, from the looks of it mine is still drivable… but yours … you should probably call your man to pick you up.” He was fishing, he hoped and prayed you didn’t have a man. And even if you did, no one he couldn’t get rid of.

“Uh no actually I don’t have a boyfriend, I’ll call my dad, he’s going to kill me …fuck.” With that realization, you began to sob. Cute, you were a little crybaby.

“Shh shhh, I can drive you, and I can get it towed I know a guy it’s free.” He cooed; he already didn’t like to see you cry. Especially if he could fix it. He had tons of connections, none with a tow truck though, no worries he’d pay.

“No that’s too much, I fucked your car up, and now you’re helping me, you should be getting my information and taking my dumb ass to court.” You replied.

“Oh yeah that, let’s exchange information, I just need your name and number my insurance company can sort the rest out.” That was a lie, he didn’t plan on filing a claim, and he had enough cash on him to cover the repairs. But he did need your name and number.

“Of course, it’s f/n l/n, 000-000-0000” you spoke while he inserted it in his phone and texted the tow company.

“Got it, my guy is on the way with the tow truck, oh and I know a nice repair shop it’ll be the cheapest I told him to take it there. I’m sure I can get you a low price.” Now that was the truth, his uncle had one of the best repair shops in the city. The price would be free because he would pay and not tell you.

“My gosh I can’t thank you enough sir, you are so nice, especially considering the circumstances” You couldn’t believe the kindness and mercy of this handsome … very handsome stranger after you hit his very expensive car.

“No problem, it’s what I do. You can call me Jaden, not sir, sweetness. Hop in, I’ll take you wherever you need.” He replied with a smirk.

And that’s when he saw it…. Your smile. Your smile was so big, bright, and beautiful. He swore he almost fell over. Your smile was natural he could tell you never had braces but cared for your teeth. They weren’t fake like the veneers lots of girls would get these days, they were natural in color. He swore he could count all 32 of them.

You were gorgeous before. but something about that smile. It did things to him, his mind, his body. He knew he would do literally anything to keep that smile on your face. Whatever it took, whatever he could do. And if it was something he couldn’t, he’d become a better man for you so he could.

He had to see you again. He had to make you want him like he wanted … no needed you. Even though you had nearly demolished the back side of his first love, and when he thought about the damage, he damn near threw up. You had given him the opportunity to insert himself into your life, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

So, as he drove to your apartment, you two talked, starting to get to know each other. You both liked what you saw and what you heard. He realized you were new to the city, no close friends, or relatives. No way to get to and from work while your car was being repaired. So, he offered. Of course, at first, you declined it was too much. You barely knew each other, he had already done so much, what about his job? He reassured you and told you he owned his own business it was fine, what else would you do? So, you agreed. He was elated, now he could see his sweetness every day. At least for a little. But no, it wouldn’t end there, he was smooth. He’d ask you out before your car was fixed. Fuck that he’d ask you as soon as possible. He didn’t mean to rush things. He just knew you were perfect for him.

The first day he came to pick you up, you texted him to honk and just text he was outside. But he was a gentleman at least for you. He came to your door and knocked. You were shocked but smitten by the gesture. Even more so when he had breakfast ready for you in his car, opened all the doors for you, buckled you in, and asked what you wanted to listen to. That same evening, he asked you on a date at the end of the week. To which you agreed. You were excited, he was kind, and so many other things. Your rides to and from work were filled with laughs and smiles from both of you.

On that Saturday evening, you two went on your first date. He made sure to trap all week so he could spoil his darling. He took you to a very nice restaurant. He sat beside you in the booth, not across from you. He liked to be closer to you. His large body blocked you in and you couldn’t even be seen by outsiders he liked that. Your outfit was beautiful. For work, you still looked stunning, but you dressed more formally, not yourself. But here with him on this date, you let your creativity flow in your outfit. He was fly, and you matched it. It wasn’t revealing but man did it arouse him, you always did.

At the end of your date at a mom-and-pop ice cream shop. Where of course once again you insisted on paying, he frowned at you and pulled out a stack of cash. Your displeasure disappeared once you two were at the table sharing ice cream. You even used the same spoon. You didn’t realize it, but he did, it was intentional he was even feeding you. He made sure you got a spoonful first, so he could taste you off the spoon. When he drove you to your apartment and came to a park you turned to him, “Jaden, I don’t want to seem fast, or like a hoe or something but I really like you. Thank you for everything, from my car to the perfect date.”

If he could Jaden would dap himself up. He knew he had a game. But with you, he had to be careful, you were special. He turned to you and spoke up, “It’s no problem sweetness, any man would do it for the woman he’s interested in.” He said as he grabbed your hand from the console intertwining it with his and kissing the back of it.

Whew, your pussy was on fire. You had to get out of this car before he had you in the backseat. Then he’d really think you’re a hoe. Of course, he wouldn’t but you thought so. “Jaden uhm I should probably head inside, would you … would you like a kiss?” You could barely get it out before he grabbed the back of your neck kissing you deeply. You were starstruck, while he seemed so calm, so reserved. But inside he was crazy for you. The kiss was perfect, your lips and his lips together sent a chill down his spine and made this dick throb. He willed it down. He would be good to you.

“Goodnight y/n, let me walk you up, I’ll text you when I get home. You will call me before you go to sleep, sweetness?”, He asked.

“Of Course, Jaden,” you replied.

He planned on making you some part of his life the day you met but this week and tonight’s date sealed the deal, and if that wasn’t enough, you smiled at him with all 32 of your teeth before you closed and locked the door to your apartment. There it was that smile; damn he was absolutely sprung.

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

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𓆩[in our next life || I]𓆪

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing and foul language || mentions of forced prostitution || Finnick loves you so much || mentions of self-blaming for being sold || smoking, smoking opium || mentions of death || slight angst in worrying about the games || smut warnings include: public sex, sex outside, spit, cum eating, oral (♂), face fucking, riding, size kink, stomach bulge, dirty talk, teasing, multiple orgasms, multiple rounds, scratching, talks of having children, probably some breeding kink thrown in there honestly (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in masterlist)

When the Third Quarter Quell was announced, you were making dinner for yourself and Finnick. The dish full of expensive fish fell to the floor, breaking on impact as you stared at the hologram TV, holding back a sob as your chest began to swell.

How could this happen? You were supposed to be guaranteed a safe life, a happy life after winning, not that it was actually possible considering the monstrosities you had to do in your own games.

It was common knowledge that you could fight, especially with Finnick as your mentor since the Reaping and practically best friend since birth, but you refused to show any skill during and before your games. Like Johanna in the later games, you weren’t deemed a threat until you killed eight people by trapping them in a net and throwing them down a waterfall, surpassing Betee’s amazing feat of six kills at once. Even then, though, you couldn’t protect the person you wanted the most- a young boy, younger than your age of fifteen, Reaped from District 3.

Your kills of the games didn’t settle in until you left, finally processing the fact that you ended the lives of others who were trying to do the same as you, survive. You had let a superiority complex settle in during your tour, tricking yourself into thinking that if they wanted to live, then they would’ve tried harder.

It didn’t last long, though, after you saw Finnick again- his fake persona immediately falling when he got you alone, kissing you immediately, whispering soft praises and ‘I thought I’d never see you again’s. The real torture began when your tour ended and Snow finally pulled you into a horrible underground of the rich and plentiful, selling you to the highest bidder until Finnick stepped in and forced Snow to put him with you.

As much as you felt that it was your fault Finnick was being dragged into this life again, he assured you that it wasn’t the case, even though it was- in your mind at least. While Finnick took secrets as payment, you took two things as payment- money in forms of lavish gifts or cash, and death in the form of poisoning them. It wasn’t like Snow could do much when you threatened his family just like he did yours.

You learned later on why Finnick accepted this second form of torture, and you hated yourself even more when you figured out it was because of you, because they threatened you. They threatened to kill you, and just like that, you learned another thing about Finnick- he truly loved you, no matter how much you thought differently at first.

After that, you both had finally gotten out of the cruel grip of the Capitol and Snow, finding a makeshift home in the Victors Village of District 4. You and Finnick made your relationship public, to the dismay of Snow, but it was quickly fixed whenever everyone found joy in your relationship. You both even had a television show for a while, almost making your life seem normal until you ended it, dreaming of a life with no cameras and the fake personas you both made.

You knew what some people thought about you and Finnick - the Crown Prince and Princess - the most popular couple that ever happened in the history of Panem, a lustful couple that could never keep their hands off of each other after a series of lovers that weren’t quite voluntary.

You were broken out of your thoughts when you heard Caesar’s voice, his horrible laugh you only wanted to forget. He spoke to the other host, smiling. “I wonder if we will be able to see our Prince and Princess again! Oh, I miss seeing them. I miss their reality show as well!”

Claudius laughs. “Well, if we do see them, hopefully it’s in the games! Finnick and Y/N have always been my favorites, they’re amazing.”

Caesar laughs too. “Oh, yes! They are some of my favorites, and who knows, love in the arena again?”

You don’t hear the door open, Finnick quickly running into the kitchen of your shared home. He looks down at the broken bowl full of food, but ignores it as he quickly cups your face. “Y/N? Darling, look at me.”

Quickly, you do as he says, smiling. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I’ll pick it up now. The floor is clean, I swear on it.”

He groaned. He hated it when your persona just flared up, especially in moments like these when you acted as though you both were on a TV show again. “Y/N, don’t do that!”

Your eyes widen, gasping as he slowly rubs your cheeks with your thumbs. “We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

You shook your head. “No we’re not. No we’re not, we’re going to go back in and we’re going to die.”

He shook his head in response, stroking your face. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

You inhale shakily as he slowly kneeled down, picking up the fish that didn’t land on the floor and setting it on another plate. “Why don’t you go set the table?”

You nod, slowly kneeling down to attempt to pick up the broken shards. “Yeah, yeah I will-”

He kneeled in front of you, pushing your hands away. “Go set the table. I’ll pick this up.”

You nod as he kisses your hands softly, helping you stand before you go to the dining room. Outside was havoc, and when someone knocked on the door, Finnick beat you to it.

Mags stood there, hands shaking before Finnick slowly grabbed her wrists, helping her inside. “Come eat with us, Mags. Y/N made her famous fish.”

She inhaled, but nodded as she slowly walked to the table. You kiss her head softly, placing a plate in front of her as Finnick sets the food down, an array of sides to go along with the fish such as potatoes, roasted vegetables, and rice. You sit down next to Mags, Finnick on the opposite side of you for the four person table, sighing heavily as everyone begins to serve themselves,

You don’t, though, Finnick saying how good your fish always was and how excited he was to have it for dinner. Mags smiles as she slowly eats, almost like a bird, but Finnick stuffed his face. He paused when you didn't serve yourself, but smiled when he reached forward to hold your hand. “Are you tired, my love?”

You nodded, smiling at Mags as you stood. You pressed a kiss to her head, inhaling shakily before moving to Finnick, kissing his lips.

“I’m going to take a shower. I love you.”

He smiled sadly, nodding. “I love you too.”

You slowly go up the stairs, Finnick picking up the plates before washing them and leading Mags outside. As you took a shower, Finnick rubbed his jaw as he held a pipe. Normally, he never smoked - especially opium - but he needed it more than ever now.

Mags waved her hand, holding it out to him before he slowly handed it to her, watching as she inhaled deeply. “I think they’re going to rig the Reaping,” he whispers, looking back to stare at the restroom light to make sure you were still in there. “For it to draw me and Y/N.”

Mags exhales the smoke before looking at him, smiling. She makes a gesture, pretending to search in a bowl before gesturing to herself.

It took him a minute, but he shook his head. “No. No, you can’t do that. I won’t let you-”

She pushed him away, putting her middle finger up towards him before handing back the pipe. She stands, pressing a kiss to his head before waving and going back towards her house. He sighed, taking another deep inhale from the pipe before he felt soft hands on his back.

He turns around, smiling when he sees you, your hands running down his spine before going back to his shoulders.

“Are you going to come inside?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he sets down the pipe. “Why don’t you stay out here a little longer with me?”

You accept, slowly laying between his legs before kissing his thighs. “Fin? Fin, I want-”

“You don’t have to, darling,” he whispers, stroking your head as you lay on your stomach, kneeling before pressing your chest against the soft fabric of the chair. “Darling, wait-”

You hush him as you slowly pull down his pants, bunching them up at his thighs to watch his cock immediately harden and slap against his stomach. “You want me to wait when you’re already so hard?”

He laughs. “Well, darling, it’s hard not to when your pretty ass is pressed against my- fuck, got dammit-”

He inhaled sharply as you took him into your mouth, not even half of his length fitting inside of your mouth as you let your jaw go slack. You hold his upper thigh, bobbing your head as he tilts his head back. You hold back gags as you attempt to relax your throat, pushing your head as deep as you could before pulling away, gasping for air as your spit dribbled down his shaft.

You giggle as you use your hand to pump his length, pulling him back into your mouth as his hand slowly cups the back of your head. He groaned out loud, a gasp falling from your lips as he started to shallowly thrust, grunting. “Fuck, darling, you’re always so good. So, so fucking good.”

You hummed around him, watching as his eyes rolled back, another hand going to cup and squeeze his balls. His hips buck, a gag falling from your lips as your own rut against the chair, desperate for friction.

His moans get louder as you press your face against his pelvis, tiny pubes pressing against your nose from his well groomed body, groaning out as he pulls back your hair. You could feel your saliva running down your chin, gagging with each thrust as he cursed. “Let them hear us, darling. Let all of them hear us fucking.”

It wasn’t the first time you both had sex outside, but this was the first you both weren’t holding back. You could hear the wet noises echoing in the trees, the slow trickling of the river near by you and Finnick swam in before, where you both had made love too. It was rare you and Finnick didn’t fuck somewhere, especially in Victors Village.

You gagged loudly, thankful for the fact that Mags’ house was far away from your own. If there was one thing that you never wanted in your lifetime, it was for Mags to hear her adopted children having sex.

Your thoughts were distracted as Finnick pulled you closer, hips thrusting faster, harder. His cock was pounding, thrusting into you quickly, grunts echoing as he groaned. “Fucking hell, darling, you’re doing so good. Fuck, fuck! You’re perfect, c’mon, focus on me. Focus on me.”

You nodded around his cock, gagging as you pulled away just for him to bring you straight back down. He laughs, staring down at your wide, hazy eyes as he stroked your cheek. You looked so innocent sucking him off, choking and gagging so prettily around his cock.

It had taken you both time to actually have sex and enjoy it, and actually finish because of pleasure instead of faking. Now, almost every touch from each other turned the other on, and you both wouldn’t have it any other way. He sucks in a breath as he forces you deep into his cock, your choking turning him on even more as you squeezed his ball sac. He groans out your name, hips bucking quickly before he cums, balls basically clenching as he cums down your throat.

Your eyes rolled back as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking as hard as you could to take all of his cum as deep as you could. You swallow all of it, as much as you could before he pulls out, the rest of his cum filling your mouth. With a giggle, you open your mouth wide as he stares down at you, leaning towards your face to kiss your lips. His saliva mixed with his cum and your own, your cunt aching as he pulled you back into his lap, his cock already hard and prodding at your sex.

“Fuck, darling,” he whispers, watching as you swallow and lick at your lips and down your chin. “Holy shit.”

“You taste so good,” you whisper, gasping as he slowly pulls at your dress, bunching it up at your waist. He pulled your panties to the side, a gasp falling from your mouth as his head slowly prods against your cunt, slowly pushing inside of you. You throw your head back, groaning loudly. “Fuck, Finnick!”

He groans into your chest, his hands moving from his cock to your back, rubbing at your spine before pulling at the ties of your nightgown. The breast area of your nightgown quickly falls as he unties your dress, leaning down to press his lips against your nipples, popping and sucking against them. You pull him closer, groaning as he sucked on one, his hands cupping at your tits as your hips buck into his.

“Fin, Fin, Fin, Finnick!” You moaned out, gasping as his hips thrust upward, into you, deep and deeper, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside of you as you groaned.

“Fuck darling, just like that. Come on, get off on my cock. Wanna watch your face as you cum over and over, again and again.” He laughs as he drags his teeth over your nipple, watching your face scrunch up in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Come on, cum. Your pretty little cunt clenches when you're close.”

His tongue flicked at your nipple, his other hand pushing down under your dress, his nimble fingers rubbing at your clit. “Come on. Cum. Cum, now. You want to feel good, right? Cum. Want to watch you fall apart.”

You scream out, whining as he leans up, licking and sucking at your neck before snapping his hips up. His tip felt as though it was pushing into your stomach, his fat cock stretching you out so good as his tip makes a noticeable bulge on your tummy. You could see it from under your dress, his other hand moving from your breast to your stomach, pushing and rubbing at the bulge as the other does the same to your clit.

You screamed out, eyes watering with pleasure filled tears and you whined loudly. “Fuck, fuck! Yes, yes Finnick!”

He laughs, kissing your neck. “You still haven’t cum yet, darling. I can’t cum until you do, I fucking love you too much. Come on, come on! Do I need to do more, darling? Give you more pleasure?”

You shake your head, mouth lulling open. “No, no, it’s too much! Too much, Fin, fuck!”

“It’s too much and you still haven’t cum?” He laughs, his fingers squeezing your swollen, sensitive clit as you screamed out. Your walls clamp down on him, his hips thrusting up into you until his balls pressed against your ass. You choked, eyes rolling back as you came, a mind blurring orgasm immediately processing itself through your body- nails digging into his shoulders, dragging down his back before his cum spurts into you.

It was quick, cum filling your deepest parts, almost inflating you as he rubs against the bulge. You were being filled, cum pushing into your deepest parts as he pulled you lower.

“Yes, darling,” he praises, kissing at your neck as he pants. Your weak form collapses onto him as he strokes your back. “You did so good.”

“Again, Finnick,” you whisper, rubbing your face against his shoulder. “I want to be filled by you again.”

He nods, how could he resist you? How could he refuse something you wanted?

“Yes, darling,” he repeats. “Whatever you want.”

He took you inside, fucking you over and over again anywhere you wanted. You both weren’t even fucking anymore, not whenever you both got to your bed, now making love as he panted above you. You were so full, so full of him, of Finnick, the man you wanted to marry and to grow old with.

You weren’t able to, though, not after this Quarter Quell. You sobbed against his chest as he cradled your body, pulling you as close as possible as he kissed your head. His tanned skin was rough, covered in scars, his hands rubbing at your back to calm you down as his soft voice whispers into your ear. He whispers praises, assurances that he would never let anything happen to you. His golden hair made a halo over his face as you looked up, sea green eyes staring down at yours glazed over in unshed tears.

“Finnick, I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Again, he shook his head. “Don’t be scared. You don’t need to be scared, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I want to be with you, Finnick. I want to be with you until the end of time, until I’m dead.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that, Y/N.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheeks. “Why? It’s the truth. I want you, I’m going to be with you until my heart stops. Promise me you’ll do the same, please.”

His eyes water, tears finally running down his cheeks as he nods. “I promise, darling. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You smiled, stroking his cheeks to rid them of tears. “I wish I could’ve had your babies, Finnick,” you choked back a sob, eyes watering as he gasps. “I wish we could’ve had children.”

“Stop, please stop, Y/N,” he sobs this time, leaning forward to kiss your tear covered lips. “Stop saying those things.”

“In our next life, Finnick,” you smiled, stroking his cheeks before kissing his lips. “In our next life, I swear to you, we will be happy. We will be safe. We will,” you inhaled shakily. “We will live a long, happy life together. We’ll have children, we’ll have a family. Nothing horrible will happen to us, no traumas, nothing. I swear to you.”

He sobs, pulling you closer. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do that for you in this life.”

And you kissed him. You kissed him so hard, throwing your weight over him, pulling his mouth as much as you could into yours. Your tongues dance, rubbing and swirling around each other’s before your hips rut against his. “You’ve done so much for me now. In this life. You’ve made me the happiest woman in this life, I swear.”

He smiles at you. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You giggle sadly, nodding. “I love you too, Finnick. I love you, now and forever.”

The next day would be the Reaping, and soon, the Third Quarter Quell. You were going to make sure Finnick got out alive, even if it was at the cost of your own life.

You didn’t know he was thinking the same thing.

next part will be uploaded this Wednesday (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.10.23)

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which-qsmp-egg-would · 2 months

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It's finally time for the February summary!

And you NEVER guess who won again!

Richarlyson

With 12/58 polls won (20%!!!) and another win under his belt, it's safe to say I'm scared of him. Richarlyson was voted most likely to:

Dig holes in the yard for no reason

Be a terror to a babysitter

Pretend to be kidnapped during a road trip

Try to get struck with lightning

Be a biter

Be better off if he were raised by wolves

Spin in an office chair enough to break it

Wear shorts in 0° weather

Lick a metal pole as a joke but get stuck

Be an Ethogirl

Start the plot of 'The Parent Trap'

Love 'Fortnite'

Wonderful chaos child.

SunnySideUp

Some things never change, do they? Coming in 2nd place for the 2nd month in a row, with 11/58 polls won, is our sunshine princess! They've been voted most likely to:

Sleep with no less than 7 blankets

Demand to paint her parent's nails

Watch Winx Club

Hold their breath to get what they want

Cry every time a parent takes her fishing

Drive around the island in a toy car

Become a leaf millionare on the playground

Wear light up shoes

Follow an internet tutorial to become a mythical creature

Have the most insane roleplay with barbie dolls

Make friendship bracelets

What perfect results for Tubbo's princess!

Dapper

I was actually surprised to see Dapper in 3rd this month! With a score of 9/58 polls won, she's certainly climbed the ranks this time! Dapper has been voted most likely to:

Be really into bugs

Have a dinosaur hyperfixation

Learn how to perform magic tricks

Be able to name every local animal species by name

Perform surgeries on his stuffed animals

Hyperfixate on 'Digimon: Digital Monsters'

Love 'Undertale'

Create "potions" in the bathtub

Collect mundane objects

Ah, just like his father. (I think they would love Digimon, and I will CRACK on this hill)

Pepito

Next is the littlest huevo ever, Pepito with 8/58 polls won! Pepito has been voted most likely to:

Climb a tree and get stuck

Have a comfort blanket that's probably falling apart

Have a pocket full of rocks by the end of the day

Sit on the floor to watch TV

Only sleep in a onesie

Wear velcro shoes because Pepito can't tie Pepito's laces

Accidentally call the teacher mom/dad

Be unable to keep a poker face

I'm realising how long this post is going to be now...

Tallulah

Now is when the point drop off happens. Coming in at 5/58 polls, Tallulah has been voted most likely to:

Eat flowers and judge them by color and taste

Make Valentine's day cards for everyone on the island

Write a musical for her siblings to play in

Cut her own hair

Be the teacher's pet

I'm glad to see her higher up on the list this month! I can't wait to see if her model gets redesigned, I'm confident it will look awesome.

Chayanne

Coming in just under his sister with 4/58 polls, Chayanne has been voted most likely to:

Be concerningly excited to go fishing

Read Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War'

Play the drums

Make a pillow fort to comfort a sibling after a nightmare

He may have come in lower this month, but I'm sure he's happy his sister is getting the attention.

Ramón

These next three are tied, with 3/58 polls won! Ramón has been voted most likely to:

Get really into Hide and Seek

Be on tech for Tallulah's musical

Join Richas in the plot of 'The Parent Trap'

Leonarda

With 3/58, Leonarda has been voted most likely to:

Pretend to be a werewolf on the full moon

Be raised by Wolves

Wear Heelies

Empanada

Now the last with 3/58, Empanada has been voted most likely to:

Sew cool outfits for her siblings

Exclusively eat poptarts in the morning

Have a sugar crash from all of the Valentine's day candy

I'm noticing a theme with those three.

Pomme & Chunsik

Unfortunately, Pomme and Chunsik did not win any polls in February. While Chunsik is the newcomer, Pomme hasn't won a poll yet! Although after that wonderful Paintball poll, I imagine that will change for March! Better luck next time, my complimentary-colored eggs.

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evilminji · 3 months

Text

Back on my DpxNaruto ideas cause there's room for SHENANIGANS~!

You ever go on a BIT of a road trip? To a Really Good Restaurant you've heard exsists waaaaay that away? And it's far... but not Unreasonably Far(TM)? You could make it a day trip! Maybe check out the surrounding area! Buy some other stuff or see the sights.

You got a long weekend.

And you heard it's REAL good.

Imagine~! If you will! Broke ass, scruffy, Built Like His Father, Feral Like His Mother, "just here for the snacks, man" type College Student type Danny! A GIANT. Perpetually reeks of engineering oils and the unplace-able yet universally familiar scent of Ectoplasm. And? Probably whatever high-end self care products Sam's mom sends her, since Tucker can't use um.

He eats like a bottomless VOID because somehow he's STILL growing. Will be for centuries. Long after his HUMAN half stops? His ghost half is gonna keep going.

Sucks, man. :/

He hungy.

But he already SPENT his monthly budget on that part he desperately needed. And cheap ramen sucks after the fifth meal in a row. And it's not like he can go fishing or anything. So what to do???

Visit... lunch lady? Maybe? He considers?

He figures "Why Not?". Makes a portal and lazily floats towards the Box-Lady Lair. But? So deep in though is he? He doesn't look where he's GOING and *gentle bonk* oop! Oh man! He's so sorry!

Some giant dude in armor with a HUGE mane of hair. The guy just laughs good naturedly, says it's fine. And turns out? They're going the same way! He's part of Lunch Lady's Cooking Club. Oh, sweet! Danny's heard she started one of those...

But wait! If he's heading over? Is the club NOW?

No, no! He's assured. The guy also watchs Lunch Box for them. He's good with kids, comes with being part of a big clan.

They get talking. Danny fascinated. Ninjas, huh? Cool. And that's when? The guy drops, with no small amount of pride, the little tidbit.... that oh by the way~ no big DEAL~☆

But WE produced some of the BEST cooks in the ENTIRE known world.

Okay now he HAS to try this food. This guy is waxing poetic about it. Descriptions that make him actively drool. Mentioning how this aunt ran THIS stall and that nephew was learning at THAT restaurant. And Danny just? W... Where did you say this was?

Hell yeah! Direction? Achieved!

Danny gonna get him some FANCY BBQ! \( ^ - ^ )/

Smash cut to him making a day of it. Finding the right area. Asking around. Trading some stuff from the Speeder to a dude for not only the location body but permission to take his wallet. Guy says he can have it in return for a travel chess set and a proper grave. Nice!

So he locks up the Speeder, squeezes past the weird "Summon Realms" bubbles, dodges the SUPER cranky Shinigami, aaaaand? We're in! BBQ here we come! It's takes like? Basically nothing to find the guy's body. He's supposed to burn it, put it in an urn, and deliver it to one of some Deer clan near the BBQ shop. Along with his stuff.

Hope they don't mind ice urns.

Just? Imagine A Void. Like Vanta Black. A hole in the world in the shape of where a man SHOULD be. Where ANYTHING should be. You can see through it, the color of simple existence fighting to make your eyes overlook What Is Not. Were it 2D, you know you would be able to see it clearly, but in the presence of a third dimension?

It's Not There.

You are LOOKING at it... and everything it is, is Empty. Void. A perfect Nothing.

Not hot or cold, neither light nor dark, just... Not There. With Chakra being present in all life. Air, the soil beneath you, all of it. This is? A perfect shadow upon the world. No suppressed Chakra, no hidden bloodline trick.

It's like the Patron Spirit(s) of the Ino-Shika-Cho decided to come and visit.

Or, more accurately, the SON of one such spirit decided to sneak off and visit. He has the height, the hunger, and the gregarious nature. The perfect shadow, the black hair, and the incredible intelligence. And those blue eyes? The ability to dive into bodies and take them over? (He wanted to see if he could do it WHILE his "new friend" was doing it to someone)

Most terrifying, though? APPARENTLY his mother? Was some Uzumaki Spirit. Red hair, purple eyes, his dad fell in love with her at first ass-kicking defeat. Terrifying women and Nara's, man. Good to know it even transcends biology. Even their GAURDIAN SPIRITS fall to it.

Now the question?

What sort is THIS one? And can they, POLITELY, make it leave?

@babbling-babull @lolottes @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

#dpxnaruto #dpxnaruto prompt #bbq road trip au

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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I've been dreaming of the Savanna Cleaner.

Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat well for a day. Teach a man how to fish, and he’ll never go hungry.

He'll clean up his plate, and the town along the way.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

He's up before the first crack of light hits the horizon. When the sun makes itself known, Ruggie is already halfway across town.

Sneaking is a specialty of his, learned from a young age. He darts along the savanna, quick as a whip, even when he's balancing several large containers. Their contents are as precious as gold.

His shadow ducks into alleyways and behind homes, hugging the darkness as the sun seeks him out. It was here where he would hide, waiting for easy pickings: gullible people to relieve of their wallets, rotten or meager scraps of food no one but the truly desperate desired.

Those days are long behind him now.

He passes a schoolhouse, a library, a park and a playground. All shiny and new, bearing shiny plaques. They had sprouted up years back, paid off by some generous benefactor. To liven up this place, they had said.

His destination appears along the road ahead. It's a building, simple and squat, with a similar plaque hanging by the entrance.

[The Sunbeam Community Center]

{Donated by Ruggie Bucchi}

He sneaks around, producing a hairpin from the breast pocket of his vest. A tool of his trade. Setting his containers down, Ruggie kneels and jiggles the pin around in the lock of the back door.

A minute later, and the door swings open without a problem. He enters, containers and all, placing them on the first free counter he spots. The instant his hands are freed up, a band of shrieks erupts from somewhere in the sun-streaked room.

“Get’im!!”

Small bodies rush at him from every direction, bursting out of cabinets and from behind furniture. They cling to his limbs, grip at his clothes, squealing for attention. Ruggie careens this way and that, body swaying from the extra weight thrown on top of him.

"Alright, alright," he groans, "I get it, you little brats! Get offa me already! How's a hyena supposed to get anything done like this?!"

"Awww, do we HAVE to?" one boy whines.

"But we haven't seen you in forever, Ruggie-nii!" a girl complains. "You're so busy with your fancy big-bucks job that you can't hang out as much as you used to."

"Yes, now off or no treats! We gotta fill our stomachs first before playing, right?"

At the promise of food, the children scrambled off of him. They collect in a sizable pack, all staring up at Ruggie with wide eyes.

Heh, always does the trick. He knows--at one point, he had been in their shoes.

"That's better." Ruggie adjusts his crooked shirt, then eyes the slum kids and street rats. Grimy, thin, sickly--that is how he remembers them. Now they've filled out a little more, their outfits well-fitting and clean. Some of them have a restored ruddiness to their cheeks, or a sheen to their tails.

Receiving the basic necessities tended to do that.

"Anyway, how'd you guys get in before the staff did? They must all still be snoozin' in their cots."

"Picked the lock," the kids chant.

"Then we hid and waited to ambush our prey!"

"... Great Seven, guess I'm a bad influence after all," Ruggie confesses. Tsk. They beat me to the punch. I was gonna be the one to surprise them. He doesn't linger for too long on it. "Eh, whatever. My conscience is light. Since you're all here, you might as well help me prep for tonight’s soup kitchen services."

"Whaaat? You said we'd eat first!"

"Yeah, eating and then playing!"

A slow, mischievous smile spreads on his face. "Huh, did I say that?"

"You diiiiid!"

He laughs. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I didn't forget." Ruggie slapped a hand on one of the main containers he had bought in. "Here's your surprise--had Granny help me whip'm up."

"Thanks for the grub!"

The children clamor, greedy hands sticking out to snatch up rings of fried dough--perfectly golden, crisp exterior and fluffy interior. Some were dipped in chocolate, others iced in sugar glaze or coated in a fine powder. The toppings varied greatly, from crushed nuts to rainbow sprinkles and freeze-dried fruits.

One donut after another is wolfed down, fingers growing increasingly sticky from the indulgence.

"Oi, oi, eat that fast and you'll get bellyaches!" Ruggie warns. "And save some for me, I'm hungry too!!"

He makes a dive for one, capturing it before a child's nipping teeth do. The hyena sighs before popping it into his mouth and breaking off a piece. He's still chewing when one of the kids pipes up.

"I'm jealous, Ruggie-nii! You get to eat yummy stuff like this every day and swim in a pool full of gold and jewels and thaumarks."

Swim in a pool full of gold, jewels, and thaumarks? Is that what they think the mega-rich do for fun...?

"Nishishishishi, I wouldn't say that--but it's definitely a way cushier life than what I had before." He absentmindedly licks off granules of sugar from his thumb and goes in for another bite.

Ruggie thinks of his grandmother--sweet Granny Bucchi, who speaks with a stutter and needs assistance shuffling from her bed to the front door. She's getting up there in age, but never lost her fierce spark.

At least she can live comfortably in retirement now.

"... Yeah, definitely a cushier life than before," he remarks.

"You have buildings with your name on it too!" another child says. "They only do that when you give a lotta lotta LOTTA money! I want a building named after me too."

"’N you still visit us," a third adds, "to give us gifts 'n stuffs."

Ruggie finishes off his donut and shrugs. “What else am I gonna do with my cash, burn it?”

I wouldn’t turn my back on this place and take off into the sunset.

He had been poor, but he had also been happy here in spite of that. Long days watching Granny work her magic in their decrepit kitchen, sharing scraps and tricks to the local troublemakers, making up games that didn’t need tools or money. Those were precious memories, forever immortalized in amber.

He crams a second donut into his mouth.

Man, when’d I get so sentimental?

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up, Ruggie-nii. How can I be like you?”

“I wanna know too!”

“Me too, me too!”

“C’mon! Pretty please tell us?”

Ruggie swallows. "Okay, squirts. You wanna know the real secret to success? Clean the gunk outta your ears and listen up.”

The kids leaned in, ears perked and bobbing their heads eagerly.

Ruggie pretends to look both ways, then leans in as well, making a show of dramatizing his announcement. "… You eat well, play hard, and work and study even harder! That way, you can make your own bright futures and keep spreading the wealth~”

“Aw, we have to study?”

“That’s what the school and the library’s for. Can’t live off of money taken from the pockets of rich folks—you gotta sustain yourself, cuz I might not always be here.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.” Ruggie points out of the window, and to a sky brightening with sunshine. “One day, I’ll be a star too. Then it’s all up to you guys to send the same message to the next litter that comes along. One story from this generation to the next, and then to the one after…”

It’s how they tell stories in the slums, when they were too poor for paper and pencils. They had only words and the voices that spin them.

“… Oh, right. Speaking of that, how are you guys doing with your homework? I know you just started recently and it’s kinda tough getting into it.”

“Errr…” The kids worriedly glance at one another. Ruggie’s suspicions sharpen—this experience, so reminiscent of hunting down his dorm leader for missing assignments.

“You have been doing it, right?”

No one is brave enough to offer an answer. One girl at the head of the group blurts out, “Run!!” and sends the children into a frenzied panic.

They race for the exit, but Ruggie is quicker. He blocks the door and playfully snaps his teeth.

“Think you can escape?” A flash his teeth. “Try me.”

He’s having too much fun to let it be over this soon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Ruggie Bucchi #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #I’ve been Dreaming…#twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst anni #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary #twisted wonderland anni #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines

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mrcspectr · 1 year

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Before when I’d consider the way Steven’s flat was arranged for him, I always assumed it was mostly Marc’s doing. I mean, it’s really the only perspective we see. And I’m sure he had a strong hand in it; the postcards, the fish, the bed. He’d have to be pretty focused on the things Steven would notice were different, or if things were missing day to day. He’d have to make sure that his shadow didn’t fall on the things that he moved or changed, leaving no traces. And god, he’s not perfect at it. He misses things, he forgets. Sometimes his ideas aren’t the best. I mean, look at the key and the phone. Right under Steven’s nose, he was bound to find it eventually.

His influence on their environment, or really, lack thereof, would be practical. Marc would give Steven what he needs to be happy, to be safe. Marc the military man, Marc the minimalist, Marc the older brother, all roles he can never quite shake, coexisting in the only ways he knows how. Loving and well meaning, even as a ghost, forming a haphazard life in what little ways he knows how.

But all that stuff, all those things, pulled together in such a short amount of time. That’s not something easily accomplished alone. And maybe he thinks he did. Maybe he sees the books and trinkets, the vegan food in the fridge, and he has the.. vaguest sense of buying it. It doesn’t feel quite right, the memory looks foggy, or maybe there’s no memory of it at all. A blank spot or a brick wall where the trip to the market should be. But he fills in the blanks, makes excuses. Because who else would it be if not himself, right? Where else could it come from?

Jake Lockley is observant. It’s a skill acquired over long periods of silence, years of watching and waiting, time spent catching the details needed to keep safe, to shield. He could be a talker when he wanted to be, able to lay on the charisma and wheedle out information when necessary. The man could make friends anywhere he went, could charm ice and soften stone. But people like that learn to value the quiet, and all the things you can learn from that empty noise that you’d never hear in all the chatter.

There’s a notebook in his jacket pocket, filled with his chicken scratch. Being vigilant has never done shit for his poor memory, it seems, but writing it down fast and saving it for later seems to do the trick. He’s got a lot of lists: Steven’s groceries, the little vegan market a few blocks from the museum that’s always closed by the time he leaves work. (Jake does remember his disappointed face, every time he’d make the stop and see the lights off in the windows.) Subjects that Steven’s particularly interested in this month, collections of books tailored to each one. Lines run through them when Jake finds a copy in an old used book shop, tucked away into shelves or left in precariously stacked piles on the kitchen table for Steven to find. Names of all the museums in London and descriptions of the stock in their gift shops, so he can correlate miniatures and decorations for the flat with the Topic of The Week.

It seems small sometimes, to him. In the grand scheme of everything he and Marc do, what Marc accomplishes feels more important. Marc protects Steven’s heart from being broken, keeps him away from Khonshu wherever possible, and while he doesn’t always agree with the methods, Jake sees the good intent and leaves it at that, where he can. And he does his part too. He does the dirtier work, the harder tasks. The jobs no one else should have to take. And he does it silently, thanklessly. Jake gives without thought to receiving, doesn’t even try to ask. Probably wouldn’t know how, if given the opportunity. But his shadow is tucked into every corner of that flat just the same, whether Steven and Marc can see it or not.

#c:#mk meta #or a headcanon #sorta #moon knight

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bi-writes · 10 months

Text

what never left us | j.m.

there isn't a place dark enough to hide the things i've done for you.

type: one-shot, written in third person (no use of y/n) pairing: dark!joel miller x dark!afab!fem!reader word count: 11.7k (oops, strap in) warnings: implied age gap, extremely mature language and content, extremely mature written sexual content (see details below the cut), 🔞⚠️ summary: it isn't your fault that nobody understands how far you'll go for him; it isn't your fault that they don't understand what he is to you. complete masterlist

detailed warnings: extremely dark content ahead. includes themes of extreme violence and murder + sexual, emotional, and physical manipulation. read at your own discretion.

It was not quite clear when she realized she was not like other little girls. Her earliest memories were not the same as other women. She had no memory of life before, of dollhouses and pink tutus. She only had recollections of still-hot gun barrels and the stray bullets they left behind; she only truly remembered the pink that blood became when washed away by rainwater, and how it could stain canvas shoes the same color if she stuck out her foot to meet the flowing trails.

She had not been interested in the things that other little girls were interested in. She didn’t want to play pretend. She didn’t feel like braiding her hair or coloring pictures or reading stories. She was only fascinated by what was. By reality. By the things that shaped the world, and not the things that existed in fantasy. The scars on her fingertips from touching the sharp edges of blades too often attested too well to that fact.

The only thing she found she had in common with some other girls, finally, was the way her eyes followed other boys. She did not fawn over them as some others had. Some of them had been pretty, had smiles that were attractive, but this was where she again realized she was not the same as anyone else. Where others saw the possibility of romance, of love, of the idea of forever in one other person, she thought practically. The first boy she ever kissed was willing to trade the kiss for a box of ammo. The transaction had seemed agreeable to her then. She never saw affection or love the same way again.

Touch was a deal, a trade. It was not gentle or kind, it did not signify love or warmth or tenderness. She learned very quickly that in this new world, in the only world she had ever known, touch was scarce and a useful bartering tool. She could use it to her advantage, trick men into thinking they had control, kiss them until they dropped their guard and reap the rewards of their lust-clouded minds.

Perhaps that was why to show affection, she thought violence was her truest option.

But there was nothing romantic about this. If she looked up and tried to forget what laid underneath her, she might pretend; if the only thing in her view was the sky, then perhaps she could play along with the idea that it was just another day. But the shielded view was brief, and when her eyes dropped back to the body beneath her, all she could really do was wrench the hatchet out of the girl’s neck and clean it off against the fabric of their shirt.

The girl was pretty. She had long hair, glassy eyes, and pouty lips. She thought maybe those lips were what drew him to her. They resembled her own, the curve of them just round enough to almost look like they belonged to her. She bent down, fishing through the girl’s pockets, finding crumpled rations in one and a few pieces of contraband in another—cigarettes, a few batteries, and a tube of 20 year-old lip gloss. She clenched her jaw at the sight of it. It was strawberry flavored, and when she popped the cap open on it, she smelled the moldy, sickly artificial candy flavoring that she had noticed against the collar of his shirt just a few hours ago.

She wondered if he knew what he smelled like. She wondered if he knew she was observant enough to smell something different on him. Something new. Unwelcome. She wondered if he knew and chose not to change his shirt or decided to see how she reacted. She wondered if he knew at all how much she felt, and how easily she let it consume her entire being.

No. He was a man. He definitely had not thought that far.

She tossed the lip gloss back on top of her, standing up straight as she slipped the hatchet back into its place on her belt. She rolled her neck out, taking a few glances at her surroundings before leaving the girl to rot in a forgotten corner of the city.

No one would find her. Not for many days, at least. Perhaps it would be the smell that they would follow to her. Or maybe the rats would discover the girl first and cover her tracks better than time could.

It was dark, much too dark. It was too far past curfew to be able to use the excuses she normally used; it was too long after work shifts to pretend an extra shift ran over, and it was too early to be on her way to a morning one. So, she kept to the alleys, taking cover in doorways when she noticed lights flooding through the streets. She was small enough to fit into hidden spaces, and she used it to her advantage, slipping between buildings barely making noise. Going through undetected, being able to disappear into a crowd, blending in and fitting in and being unseen was her specialty; no one could hide better, and no one could get their hands on what she could.

Smuggling was all she knew. Since she was small, growing up on the overgrown city streets meant learning how to survive. She was not able to work enough to live, but she found that as a child, she could get through places that adults could not. With this knowledge and just a bit of bravery, she learned how to move through the city in corridors and through spaces that only she knew of. If someone needed something hidden, it would not be seen until asked for again. If someone needed something taken from one end of the city to another, she would get it there every time. She was resourceful, determined, and too good at what she did.

Even as she grew, she kept these routes to herself, even made new ones when others seemed to follow her tracks, earning herself an unrivaled reputation that too many people needed in the city to ever try and stop her. She knew many, many people; but there was only one man that she ever cared to learn the name of.

Joel.

He had heard from a friend of a friend about what it was that she did. Hiding, disappearing, moving things around, it was what he needed, and he needed the best. It was just another job, taking a bag from him, not asking questions or looking inside of it, and taking it to a secure location before dropping it off somewhere very specific on the west side of the city.

But sometimes jobs got messy. She didn’t lose the bag. She hadn’t looked inside. She hadn’t left the package in the wrong place. No, she just let the job get personal.

She was a bullet that he never saw coming. The first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was nothing but trouble. Such pretty features she had; he couldn’t stop looking at her. Hair lovely enough to pull. Greedy lips. Eyes he could get lost in. Figure-hugging denim, with enough pockets for her to hide something dangerous. And her voice—a siren song, a soft beckoning, a sound that he would never forget again.

The look in her eyes when he met her gaze for the first time told him she was thinking just the same thing. It was hard not to. There were men, and then there was Joel. All hard lines and words that stung like venom, but she liked them that way. And so she had smiled, wet her bottom lip, and purred as she took the contraband from him—tell me where you want it. In lieu of payment, she found herself tangled between the sheets of his bed, waking up to the sight of him counting the ration cards on the table and nodding for her to leave.

She had left. But it didn’t mean she stopped coming back.

She wanted to feel bad for sleeping with him. She wanted to regret every time she left his apartment with a shakiness in her step from how rough his touch had gotten. She wanted to take herself seriously when she promised that one more night was all she needed, and then she would never come back, but she always ended up right back where she started.

It was simple; she could not stay away from him, and he would not turn her away. There was a kind of satisfaction that came with ending up in his bed. Joel had his own reputation. He was good at what he did, too, and his name was enough to make others nervous. Joel could get his hands on things that no one else could; cigarettes, drugs, even books or the nostalgia of a certain candy for the right price. He ran his business like he fucked her—quiet, deliberate, easy.

He was not known to be a kind man. Often, she heard groups talk about him with distaste, complaining about the sway of prices in contraband or how they met the wrong end of his fist for trying to undercut him. She even heard a woman cry at the way he had killed her partner, but she just licked her lips at the thought, thinking the woman had been holding back part of the story, maybe perhaps a moment when her partner tried to hold a gun up to Joel’s head and cut their deal short. Joel was not a man someone tried to subdue; he was too good at reading the room, at handling himself around a gun, at using the rough timber of his voice to make others shake under his tense gaze.

And because of this, she felt her own power in the way she could have him underneath her any night she liked. What started out as a business transaction turned into genuine attraction, into learning what his kisses felt like and how warm his hands were on her bare skin and how nice his voice sounded as it spewed profanities into her ear. She was satiated inside having influence over a feared, unruly, unforgiving man, one at her beck and call. Joel was hers. He belonged to no one else.

She just wish he understood that. Then she wouldn’t have had to dirty her favorite weapon and dull its edge. Maybe, just maybe, that girl would still be so pretty.

When she shut the door to her apartment and turned on the lights, she bit back a smile at the sight in front of her. He was there, taking up her space, legs spread as he sat at her kitchen table and sipped liquor from a chipped glass. She realized early on that Joel had no clue how attractive he really was. He had no idea how the solidness of him was enough to have her on her knees; he had no idea that the low tone of his voice could get her off alone, and that there was no other living thing in this Godforsaken world that could handle her body the way he could. She put down her backpack, making her way to him, surprised but not unwelcoming of him waiting for her like this.

She stopped in front of him, expecting him to stand and kiss her and manhandle her into her bedroom, but he just sat there still, his jaw hard and tight as he moved the glass around in his hand and watched the liquor swirl with the movement.

“Where were you?” He asked. Her excited expression faded into something a bit dismal, and she tried to not let the annoyance show on her face. She made her way into her kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and taking out her own glass. She took a seat across from him at the table, tipping the bottle over and letting the clicking of glass against glass make up the only response to his question. She took a long sip of the drink, letting it burn her throat nicely before looking at him again.

He was staring right back at her, glaring almost. Joel could be mean; he often was, even to her, but she had learned to ignore this behavior. He was mean to everyone. He was mean and cruel and impatient, but she liked that about him. It meant there was no room for fluff, for nothingness. It was all or nothing with him, and she never liked to prolong a chase. She was quite content to let him have what it was he wanted.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, laughing even, but it was dry and humorless. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Answer my fucking question.”

She tipped her head back, downing the rest of her drink before standing. She shook her hair out of the style she had put it in that morning, shaking it out before starting for her bedroom.

She didn’t make it very far. Just as quickly as she had started to walk away from him, he had caught her by the arm and slammed her up against the wall, towering over her with his height and broadness. She grunted a bit as her head hit the surface roughly, biting her tongue to not spit in his face in protest. She stared up at him angrily, but he put a forearm to her neck, holding her eyes to his so he could stare right back.

“Tell me where you were,” he muttered. “I ain’t askin’.”

She tilted her head to the side, gritting her teeth as she struggled against his obvious strength. She tried to turn her head to the side, but he pressed his arm against her throat harder, forcing her chin up just to breathe.

“What did I say?” He snapped. “Tell me.”

“Or what?” She shot back, a sick smile ghosting her face as she coughed a bit against him. “What are you gonna do, Joel? Hit me?” She snickered a bit, shaking her head as much as his grip allowed. “You won’t.” She leaned forward as much as she could, but it was close enough for her breath to warm his jaw. “You know I’d like it too much.”

He let his arm fall, his hand wrapping around the expanse of her throat and pushing her head back into the wall. She let out a hard breath at the new hold, but he was in control. He was too strong to fight against, but there was a gnawing in her belly that didn’t want to fight against this. If anything, his angry eyes were pretty, and his touch was hot, and his commanding voice was making her head dizzy with filthy thoughts. His intimidation was not having the effects he desired; he should’ve known better, should’ve known that they wouldn’t work on her at all.

“Listen to me—” He choked her a bit, almost lifting her up off her feet as he pressed her as hard as he could into the wood behind her. “If I find out you were up to no good, you won’t like what happens. I fucking mean it.”

“Yeah?” She let out with a strained breath. “You think I—You think I care, Joel?” She smiled again, a sickly sweet one that made his entire body feel hot with indifference. “If you’re going to try and scare me, you could at least not lie to me.”

“And you could try and not make fucking messes that I gotta clean up,” he growled. His eyes trailed a bit down her face, along her jaw. He lifted his thumb up, touching a speckle of something on her neck and watching it smear across her skin. Blood, still wet, painting her throat eerily. “What…what did you do?”

She felt his grip loosen just enough, and she let her eyes fall down the expanse of his face before settling on his lips. She stared at them, watching as he breathed steadily. They were a bit dry, a bit chapped, and she wanted to hydrate them, swallow him in kisses and let the night melt into morning into another forgotten day.

“Strawberry,” she whispered, licking her lips slowly.

“What?”

“It was strawberry,” she said again, a bit louder. “Strawberry lip gloss.”

Silence, and she scoffed a bit.

“I thought it was cherry,” she added, a terrifying smile on her face. Eyes sparkling with nothing but mischief, a sickening amount of enjoyment and satisfaction swimming in the depths of them. “But it was fucking strawberry…”

She finally let her eyes slowly rise to meet his, and she tilted her head to the side. She stood up on her toes, her nose touching his, their faces close enough that they could breathe each other in.

“Was it worth it, Joel?” She asked, putting a hand to his chest. “Tell me. How did she feel?”

He let her go finally, his features knitting together. A clear frown came over his face, and he stepped back from her. He still had a hand on her throat, but it laid there with no force, just holding her there. His eyes moved over her face, trying to discern what it was that she was saying. She looked so calm, too calm, and that smile on her was making him feel more uneasy with every passing second. He said her name, but his voice was so low, uncertain.

“What did you do?” He asked again. “What the fuck did you do?”

She put her hands on his chest, caressing the warmth of him for a moment. She leaned up on her toes more, her lips just barely grazing his, and he followed her instinctively, leaning towards her to try and close the space. Instead of giving in, she drew her head back just enough to deny him and pushed roughly on his chest, shoving him backwards with a grunt. She slipped the hatchet from her belt, putting the sharp edge to the middle of his chest, keeping him at a distance.

It was almost poetic, holding him there with the same blade that had sunk so deep into that girl’s carotid artery. She remembered her eyes as the life left them. She had watched as the blood that was supposed to be pumping into her pretty little brain spilled out onto the cracked floor instead, feeding nothing but air until she stilled and never moved. For someone that had gotten close to Joel, she remembered thinking that someone with so little fight in them didn’t deserve to be in his vicinity, in his circle, to breathe the same air as he did. The girl wasn’t worthy. She didn’t know how to survive. She would never have lasted, anyways.

Disposable. Naïve. Weak.

But worst of all, in my way.

“I should be asking you that question,” she murmured darkly. She let the blade drag up his chest, along the column of his throat, until it sat on the edge of his jaw. She let it dig in just slightly, forcing a low growl from him as a small bead of blood followed the invisible trail she had traced with her hatchet. She met his eyes, smiling again. “But it’s okay, Joel. I fixed things. You’ll learn.”

Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t.

She came close to him again, leaning up and putting her lips to his. Against his better judgment, he leaned closer, giving into her just like he always did. She licked into his mouth, letting the kiss warm him everywhere in all the wrong ways, and she tasted something so dirty on him. She was sure he must have tasted the same thing on her because he was desperate to keep her close, to keep kissing her, to get lost in the essence of her as he normally did. She bit down on his lip hard, drawing a hiss from him, and she pulled away slowly.

She whined with satisfaction, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. Staring up at him, into those sad eyes, she could see no matter how much blood she had on her hands, he would end up right here, following her lips and desperate for her to touch him in any way she desired. She separated Joel from other men because of how she craved him constantly, but she was always put at ease to know she could play him just like any other.

“Now…” She stepped back, letting her hand holding the weapon lower as she tossed it onto the table beside her. “Unless you’re going to join me—” She nodded her head to the bathroom, where a cold shower was waiting for her, “—you can let yourself out.”

She didn’t look back as she made her way into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror as she heard the front door of her apartment slam shut. She smiled anyways, smoothing a hand over her neck, watching the splatters of crimson smooth over her in strange, abstract lines.

She was so pretty.

He would come back. He always did.

His name was Brian.

I think.

He was new. He had a lopsided grin on his face, an easy demeanor, and he sipped alcohol with a slight wince, meaning he had yet to really get used to the bitter taste of whiskey. He was young, but he was just like the rest of them. She guessed he had grown up amongst the groups that ran the city. He had the stench of a boy dressing up like a man, and he had an eerie confidence in his eyes. He knew nothing of how things really worked, but he believed he did, and that was why he was talking to her in a husky voice, letting his lips graze the shell of her ear as he talked sweetness into it.

Her nails drew lines against the skin of his exposed forearm. She was staring up at him, pretending to listen to what he was saying, a little smile on her face. She looked sweet, as she always did, but he had no idea the thoughts that ran through her head. He had no idea that all she was thinking about was the contraband he had promised her, and how much more she could get out of him if she batted her lashes a bit more.

He was a man that responded to her advances. This was the trade, this was the deal, and he was falling into her waiting arms. A carnivorous plant perhaps, flashing and beautiful with a sickly sweet aroma, all too wonderful until they realized the sweetness would stick them to her, and they would have nowhere to run as she ate them right up.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get ahead. There was no person she wouldn’t step on. There was no place dark enough to hide the red on her ledger. She had no remorse for the things she had done, and she never would.

The noise around the speakeasy was low and buzzing, and the lights were dim enough to hide the way Brian’s hands smoothed up the skin of her thighs, but her eyes were adjusted enough to meet a certain man’s gaze from across the room. At the sight of him, she leaned in, letting the stranger crowd her space, his breath warm against her cheek, her smile coy and dark and hiding her true intentions.

Joel could see right through her. He had others around him, others wanting his attention, his opinion, his time, but he couldn’t concentrate on them. His eyes were fixed on where she sat at the bar. The boy was too close to her, he knew that much. He couldn’t see underneath the bar, but he imagined that there were unwanted hands in places that only he was allowed to touch. It was infuriating how she provoked him. She knew he was there now, he had locked eyes with her, and she seemed to be urging his anger to bubble up to the surface. She seemed to want him to lose his temper, to lose his composure, to stride over and slam that kid’s face against the counter until he had no teeth left to chew his food.

She wanted Joel to be mean. She liked when Joel was mean. He had heard her say it before, heard her moan it in his ear as he practically choked her into oblivion against the wall of his bedroom. She liked Joel when he was mean, and he could only guess that at this moment, she wanted Joel to be mean for her. He clutched a lukewarm beer tight, turning away from her. She was doing this on purpose. He did not want to entertain her irritable advances.

But, God, it was so hard to focus on anything except for her. She had taken her jacket off now, revealing a black tank top that revealed all her pretty skin. She was sweating a bit in the dark summer heat, and her chest was glistening with a slight sheen, drawing eyes exactly where she wanted them. She was too good at this, too good at playing the stupid, gullible woman. She was too good at hiding how dangerous she was. She was too good at letting men think she would coo and lick and kiss when in reality, she would bite their heads off as soon as she got them alone.

She liked biting. The taste of blood only fueled the hunger in her.

But then she were gone. She had disappeared into a small corner somewhere, leaving the boy to sit at the bar and order her another drink. Joel found himself moving through the crowd, weaving between bodies until he put his empty bottle down on the wood counter and motioned for another.

“Ought’a be careful with that girl,” Joel said finally as he waited for his drink. The kid lifted his head a bit, turning to face him. He raised a brow, looking Joel up and down before shrugging.

“What, you speak for her or somethin’?”

“Reckon nobody does,” Joel muttered. “Nobody can.”

He was wrong, but he didn’t really know he was wrong.

The kid had the audacity to stand up straighter, moving a little closer to Joel, glaring a bit.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what we do, man,” he warned. “So why don’t you fuck off before you really piss me off, yeah?”

Joel didn’t even flinch, turning his head to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw just enough to show his irritation.

“All I said was t’be careful with her. Rest is up to you,” Joel finished, taking his new drink off the counter and taking a long sip of it. The kid leaned forward a bit more, shaking his head.

“Listen, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what your problem is, but fuck off,” he said lowly. “I don’t know who she is to you, but she sure isn’t with you, so I’m gonna take her out back, have my fucking way with her, and you’re gonna leave us alone. Because if I see your fucking face again, I won’t hesitate.”

Joel just smirked a bit, shaking his head before taking another sip of his drink. The boy had no idea who she was; he was so new that he had yet to learn her name, and it would be a mistake he would never forget, a lesson he would remember forever. She was all sharp nails and teeth, camouflaged in figure-hugging jeans and a beautiful smile, and the boy would learn too late how volatile she really was.

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

As Joel made his way back to his old spot on the other end of the room, he passed right by her. She let her hand catch his arm, dragging along the length of it. Her fingers brushed through his, almost intertwining, before making her way to her seat. He followed her figure as she took a seat again, whispering in the boy’s ear, something that made the kid smile and nod his head to the door behind her. She slid off the stool, her hand in his as they both disappeared out the back. Her eyes found Joel’s, and all she did was lick her lips visibly before the door shut behind them.

She knew he would follow. She knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. She knew he would open the back door just a bit, just to watch her as she took the package from the boy towering over her. She pocketed it, staring up at him as she slipped the small package into her bra, a sultry smile on her face as he got close to her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, two hands gripping her waist and shoving her into the hard brick of the wall behind her. She made a small sound of protest, but Joel knew she was playing a part. It was too easy, the kid was too comfortable; besides, Joel couldn’t remember the last time a man other than himself got the upper hand on her.

She sucked in a warm breath when she felt his two hands grip her ass possessively, forcing her to spin around and slamming her face into the rough wall behind her. She felt the rubble cut her face a bit, but she wasn’t worried at all by the compromising position. She could see Joel, staring from the crack in the door, and as the kid’s hands wandered to the front of her jeans, the door was kicked open hard, smacking against the wall behind it as Joel dumped the beer still left in the bottle and smashed the glass against the back of the boy’s head.

She smiled a bit, turning around slowly. The bottle made a sickening crunch when it shattered against the back of the boy’s head; his knees buckled instinctively, and he clutched the opposite wall for balance as he tried to regain his focus. She leaned against the wall as she watched Joel pick up the kid by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the brick over and over and over again. One large hand fisted through his short hair, using it as leverage to bring his face down against the rough, cracked surface of the wall. The sounds were unforgiving; bone crunching, struggling and pained breaths, the clatter of teeth as they fell against the pavement, hurried and spit apologetic words for mercy.

She let her fingers drag down the back of her neck, over her chest, and she bit her lip hard to keep from letting out a satisfied whine as she watched this man lose all of his constraint, all of his control, all of his poise just for her.

Just for her. All for her. Anything for her.

She had never seen this look in his eyes. Joel was hovering over her, staring down at her as he took shallow, angry breaths, finally letting the broken beer bottle fall to the ground with a loud clunk. She took her bottom lip between her teeth again, her eyes falling over his face in the low light of the street. His features were lit only by moonlight, but it didn’t hide the depth of his disapproval. It took everything in her not to let out a sound as he raised a hand to put a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face up to his to bring her just that much closer.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” He asked. His voice was a rumbling, deep whisper, and if she was anyone else, it would’ve terrified her. Instead, she just met his eyes easily, wetting her lips and letting a little laugh slip out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Is this what you wanted?!”

She shrugged a bit, not cowering even a little under his hard glare. She seemed to enjoy it, too much for his liking.

“I mean…I’m not thrilled…” She sighed deeply, looking down where the body laid beneath their feet. “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find another contact.”

Joel gripped her face harshly, his large hand suffocating most of her face as he squished it hard, making her look at him.

“That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Not having a goddamn contact?” He scoffed. “You don’t wanna talk about how you fucking let this boy put his hands on you? And that you didn’t do a damn thing about it?”

She shrugged again.

“You were here,” she said easily. “I knew you’d take care of it. You always do.”

Take care of it.

She knew Joel would not be able to help himself. She knew he would lose his temper just at the thought, and she knew what he might do when he saw it with his own eyes. She let it happen; she enjoyed it.

“You knew I’d kill the fucking kid—” Joel pressed his forehead to hers, unsure whether he should kill her, too, or kiss her. “—you knew what I might do. That’s why you did it.” He smoothed his hand up her face, across her cheek, into her hair. She let out a soft whine as he tugged harshly on it, his fingers tangled between the strands. “You don’t even fucking care.”

She shook her head, agreeing with him. It was true. She didn’t care. The boy was nobody, not to her. He didn’t matter. He was blood and flesh and uselessness, and nothing about him mattered. If anything, he would do more good fertilizing the dirt beneath him.

That’s what he was to her. That’s what everyone was to her, except for Joel. They were beneath her; blips on the same timeline as her, molded skin and pulp and bone and thoughts that would never mean anything. They either served her a use, or they were simply disposable.

“You’re right, I don’t care,” she echoed. “He’s nothing, Joel.”

Joel swallowed hard, pulling back to look at her. She stared up at him just the same. He dragged a thumb over her wet bottom lip, tracing the skin there. He shook his head slightly, his face almost saddening at the sight of her. She was too pretty for the twisted thoughts inside of her head. She was too beautiful to think so little of others, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her. The possessiveness, the need, it fed the demons that lived in him, and he could feel them growing. She was no good for him; in fact, she would probably be the death of him, but he liked the feelings that scorched his insides when he did things for her.

Dirtying hands, wringing necks, forcing broken glass into soft flesh—doing it with purpose had only made the violence easier. This was not romance, it was evil, pure death and smoke and malice that would fester the longer Joel stayed by her side. Everyone thought it was Joel blackening her insides. They had no idea how torn apart she was from the inside out, and how her pretty features only made the vicious woman inside of her that much easier to ignore.

If they could see what swirled in her eyes now, they would hide in their brick houses. If they knew the kind of blood she had on her hands, they would never make the mistake of crossing her again. If they knew how easily she decided life and death, they would probably hang her.

“You killed that girl,” Joel accused her lowly. “Didn’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, parting her lips and letting out a soft breath.

“What girl?”

She grunted as Joel yanked at her hair, pulling at it hard enough to make her head throb.

“Don’t play games with me,” he commanded. “I know it was you.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Joel,” she cooed, smiling up at him. “You know me. A lot of girls cross me. A lot of girls try and take what’s mine. It’s not my fault they have no idea what’s coming.”

It’s not my fault they don’t understand how far I’ll go just to prove a fucking point.

She spat out the last sentence, gritting her teeth as her eyes darkened. He pursed his lips, letting go of her only to nod down the alleyway.

He was motioning for her to start moving, and she did so without protest. She could feel his eyes boring a hole into her back, and every so often, she made sure to shake her hair out a bit and let her hips move with her slow steps. It was dark, and she had to keep to the shadows, and when the sound of a truck passing forced them to hide, she made sure to press her back to the front of him as they both used the backside of the building they were passing through as cover. He let out a sound of disapproval, but his hand still came up to hold her waist, and there was no mistaking the feeling of him against her.

Joel might’ve been a steel wall of hardened resolve, but he had his weaknesses. He was still a man, after all.

And God, what a man he was. As soon as the apartment door shut behind her, he was on her. Filthy, bloodied hands in her hair, lips biting into hers, knee shoving her legs apart as she used the wall to balance herself. She let her eyes flutter shut, savoring the taste of beer and warmth and maybe stale cigarettes. He tasted good, just like he always did, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she sunk her weight down onto his thigh, dragging her hips in eager grinds. The friction of the denim of her jeans against his felt too good, and she let her voice spill satisfied whines and gasps into his ear whenever their lips parted.

“Can’t fucking believe you—” Joel muttered between kisses. “—there’s something so fucking wrong with you—” She slipped her tongue into his mouth, covering his lips with hers, giving him nothing but sloppy, wet kisses that was making it hard for him to breathe. She put both hands on his chest finally, pushing him back and off of her, staring up at him with a little smile as she forced him to walk backwards until his knees hit the back of the couch. She rested both hands on either side of him as she dropped herself into his lap. “You’re not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying—”

She kissed him again, swallowing his words, letting them die on his tongue as she guided both of his hands to grab both sides of her ass and squeeze. She moaned into his mouth, letting her senses be consumed by him.

The touch of him, his touch on her, leaving nothing but hot, wet skin in their wake. The way he smelled, a bit like fire, maybe blood, something so him and so dark and so utterly good that her mouth was watering. The taste of him, so bitter and tangy. The sound of his gruff voice, groaning and grunting and whispering filthy words as she dragged her hips just how he liked. And fuck, the sight of him—brown eyes blown wide with desire, the filth and grime of today’s work enveloping her as his arms covered her in their security. He was a man too overwhelming to take in all at once, but she was trying, and it was killing her.

How could he not see that she was the only one that could handle him? How could he not see that there wasn’t another woman in this entire fucked-up world that could understand him the way she could?

How can he not understand that he’s mine?

She pulled away from his kiss reluctantly, but her lips found the edge of his jaw. She lapped at the skin under it, dragging her touch up to just under his ear, just where he liked. She found the hollow with her tongue, the place that made him hiss and grit his teeth and buck his hips up into hers, and she delved into the space there with as much fervor as her swollen lips allowed. She pulled a harsh groan from him, his hands slipping up her waist, her top coming with it to reveal her bare skin underneath. She let him lift the fabric over her head and toss it aside, and she adjusted the bra she wore, letting his eyes wander low and admire the sight.

“You’re gawking,” she panted, putting a hand to his chest. She tilted her head to the side, bringing her other hand up and running her fingers along the edge of the dark material, his eyes following eagerly. She leaned in, to talk into the skin of his cheek. “You can touch, Joel. You can rip it off of me…you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours…” She sat up in his lap, and he mouthed at the skin of her breasts spilling out of her bra, wet kisses that were making her realize she was soaking through her jeans now. “You can take whatever you want from me, Joel. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was true. She never wanted him to ask. Sometimes, she would stare at him from across a room and wish that he could saunter over and just take her against the wall she leaned against. She wished he would bend her over her kitchen table and not give her any warning before burying himself so deep, she felt him in her guts. She prayed that he would wake her up with a hand on her throat, his teeth against her ear, and his hips drilling into hers as his way of fucking a good morning into her.

I wish he would see that everything I am belongs to him, and that all I want is for him to just take and take and take from me.

She fiddled with her belt as Joel took care of her bra, tossing it aside. She liked how he paid such attention to her bare skin, how he kissed and sucked and breathed against the precious parts of her now exposed for him to taste. He lifted her hips to slide her jeans off, nearly ripping her panties as she tried to take those off just as eagerly. She was completely bare, naked in his lap, but she made no move to undress him.

There was something so enticing in the air. Joel, fully clothed and letting his hands wander and squeeze and grope and touch her everywhere, while all she could do was whine and tug on his curls and lick over his lips—it created a power dynamic that had her leaking onto his jeans, darkening the denim until he hissed, feeling the damp fabric against his skin. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hotly, begging him with soft words not to move away from her, to hold her tighter, to fuck her silly.

She gripped his shoulders tight, starting to pant with need as she rocked her hips into him with more force. He had barely ghosted a few fingers over her, but she was eager to come, in any way he would let her, and as he sat back with a smug look on his face, she realized he wanted her to ride him just like this, to get herself off pathetically fast without even seeing any part of him naked. She felt the denim smooth against her pulsing clit, and it only drove her hips faster against his, her face dropping to rest in the crook of his neck as she chased what she could only hope was her first high of the night.

Soft, wet, palpitating, every part of her aching with need, he could feel it. As she found her breath again, just after wetting his lap with her bliss, he had shoved two fingers deep into her, thick digits spreading her open and making her whine with overstimulation. He fit his thumb over her clit, watching her jaw go slack as she let her hips chase his hand. She was just reacting, her body absentmindedly following his every move, responding to him as he knew she would, and it was raw and wretched and pulling at every part of her.

But it was an act. It was a show. She was just pretending. Even though it looked every bit like she was just the submissive, pathetic, whining, pretty girl Joel was fucking at the moment, she knew that she had this man wound so tightly around her finger. Although he spoke the filthiest words and was making her wet his hand with need, he was hers to do with in any way she wanted. All she had to do was bat her lashes, kiss him soft, and beg, and he would give her whatever she asked for.

Whatever I want, whatever I need, whatever it is that my little heart desires—he will do it for me. And it won’t matter who has to die or who he has to hurt or who he has to step over to get it.

As much as it seemed Joel overpowered her, she was the one who painted the picture. Whispering in his ear, guiding his hands, telling him what he needed to hear. He could growl in her ear all he liked, but it never convinced her otherwise. She knew this was true; even despite what he knew about her, even despite all the lies she told, he was still here. He was kissing her, pumping his fingers inside of her and drawing soft moans from her, and she knew he would give into her like he always did.

Joel could pretend he was done with her as much as he liked; but he would come back for her eventually.

“Please—” She begged, throwing her hips down against his hand, feeling full but not full enough. “Please, Joel…I need more…”

“Now you’re begging?” He scoffed, sucking roughly on the edge of her jaw. “Now you wanna listen to me? Is that it, sweetheart?” She nodded in response, whining, pawing at his shoulders to get herself even closer, melt into him if it was possible. “Maybe you don’t deserve it.”

“Joel—!” She gasped, shaking her head. “I-I do…I do!” She brought his lips back to hers, breathing in his groans as she let her hands wander between their bodies, her hands finding the outline of him and squeezing eagerly. “I do deserve it…”

If it was possible, his eyes darkened, a black hue of anger and lust that made her heartbeat pick up faster. He tilted his head to the side, leaning close, his lips kissing just under her ear, mouthing there as he curled his fingers and shoved his fingers so deep, she stifled a scream. His other hand tangled into her hair, gripping her tight, making sure she understood that she was at his mercy, and not her own.

“Listen here—” He tugged on her hair until her eyes met his, and she let out a gentle sob of need. “Look at me—there you go, give me those eyes—” He put her forehead to his, and she spread her palms against his chest, feeling the warmth and broad expanse of him. “If you think for one second that you deserve more, you’ve got it all wrong.” He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I know what you did. I know that it was you.”

She arched her back, pressing her bare chest to his own, his flannel feeling so soft against her hot skin. She tried to grind her hips, but his other hand dropped from the back of her neck to her waist, keeping her still.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snapped. “You’re not sorry.”

She let out a shaky breath, shaking her head.

“I’m not sorry for doing it,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for making you upset.” She cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly, using her weight to push him back against the couch. As they kissed, she felt his grip loosen just enough, and she moved her hips again. His fingers flexed inside of her, his thumb finding her clit and making her moan softly with relief. “I’m sorry for making a mess, Joel. I’m sorry for making you mad…” She moved her hips a bit faster, riding his fingers as her apology, giving him the moans he wanted to hear and drenching his lap to show him how sorry she really was. “I-I’m sorry for letting him touch me…”

“Fuck—” He kissed her back eagerly, trying to find serenity here. It was impossible with her. She was all heat and fire, all bite and sharp edges. There was no calm with her, no peace. Chaos followed her, and sex was a vice that she used with fervor. She didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t running. She had no idea what life was like without risk, without blood, without the good, bad things that had her on an adrenaline high constantly. If she came down, if she stilled for even a second, Joel feared what might be left of her. He feared he might not recognize her. He feared that without her pretty face painted with that sick, sweet smile, he might not like who remained.

Reluctantly, she pried his hand from between her legs. She slipped dirty fingers between her lips, licking her arousal off his calloused hand. She kept her eyes on his as she ran her tongue over his knuckles. They were bruised, split probably from wrenching answers from some poor soul or perhaps the boy he had pried off of her, and she soothed the bite of his wounds with wet kisses and her soft tongue. She let his hand go, letting her own slip between their bodies and work on his confining belt.

“Now you listen, Joel,” she murmured, undoing the buckle, listening to the metal clink as she loosened the denim around his waist. “If I ever find out about anyone else touching you, I won’t hesitate to do it again—” She cupped him roughly, drawing a grunt from him, and she smiled darkly. “You can’t hide anything from me. And you’re stupid if you think you can—” She swiped a thumb over the tip of him, spreading the slight dampness there over him. “—and I’ll kill every woman in this God-awful place just to prove my point.”

She kissed him, letting her tongue find his. She lowered herself in his lap, the heaviness of him in her hand making her feel even warmer inside. She let go of him, putting both hands on his shoulders as she sat down on him, feeling him slip between her folds. She grinded down against him, smoothing her slick over him and watching his face twist with need and want and rising anger at her words.

She gripped his jaw roughly, gritting her teeth.

“You’re mine, Joel—” She put her thumb to his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open. She gathered wetness in her mouth, leaning forward and spitting right onto his tongue. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as he swallowed the spit she gave him easily. It tasted like her, like the cunt he adored too much, and if he wasn’t so embarrassingly hard between her folds, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to put his face between her thighs. She was such a filthy, sweet, delectable woman for him, and it twisted his insides in terrifyingly good ways. “—and I’ll kill you, too, if you don’t stop testing my fucking patience.”

This was what really drove her crazy. They were fabric cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. Instead of soothing the fires inside of her, he set them ablaze. The kiss they shared was all teeth, all bite, all rough breaths and filthy curses. They were both fighting for control over each other.

He pressed her into the couch, her back against the worn cushions. He gripped her hard, one hand on the back of her neck and the other gripping the outside of her thigh, her legs wrapped around his waist as he finally sunk into her with no warning. She let out a gentle cry of relief, enveloping him and squeezing around him as he buried himself until his hips were pressed to hers, his mouth at her jaw as he gave her no time to adjust. The feeling of him filling her to the brim, stretching her in every good way, would never be enough. She needed more, needed him inside of her, tangled around her, filling all her senses until it was all she knew.

“Can’t even call you a good girl—” Joel grunted, beginning a grueling pace as he fucked her into the couch, not letting up for even a moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back, trying to meet his thrusts with equal power, but it wasn’t fair. Joel was too hard, too rough, too overpowering, and she was failing as she tried to keep up with him. “Cause you’re not—you’re not a fucking good girl—”

She mewled, pressing her lips to his, trying to drink in his words and taste them and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. She arched her back more, pressing herself tight against him, and she moaned as he mouthed at her breasts, sucking the skin there and leaving soft bruises as he dragged his teeth against her.

“You’re always up to no good,” he kept growling. She panted, dropping her head back a bit as he kept up his pace. His hips were hitting her hard, punctuated by his words, and she closed her eyes to savor the stretch, the roughness, the perfection of his cock molding her insides to his. The squelch of skin on skin was so lewd, but it only made her wetter. “Always gettin’ into trouble…my pretty girl—”

My. Mine. She’s mine.

She was sin in one woman. She was the personification of every horrid, murderous thought Joel had ever had. She was the embodiment of his nightmares, the devil in disguise, the incarnation of the scars on his heart and the blood under his fingernails and the notches on his belt and the tick, tick, tick of the timer on his inner clock, the one he knew would break when he went just too far. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. Maybe that was why every part of her made him hot and bothered and needy. Maybe that was why Joel could not stay away from her.

Maybe that was why no matter what atrocity she committed, he never saw her as anything but his, and his only. He never saw her as tainted. Or evil. Or impure. She was just his, and that was enough.

That was perfect.

Perfection.

That was what her cunt had to be. It was perfection. Joel would drown in it if she wanted him to, if she allowed him to. He thought, selfishly, that relinquishing breath just for one more taste of her would be a kinder death than the one that probably waited for him. He thought about this as he nudged her head back onto the arm of the couch, going for the warm skin of her neck, biting it, kissing it. He wanted to bruise her and mark her, so darkly that she would find them in the mirror days from now and think of him.

He didn’t stop her as she threw her arms around his neck and brought their lips back together. She was whispering softly between kisses and whines, rocking her hips against his with just as much force. They were sloppy together. He had both hands on her hips, manhandling her taut flesh as he drove her body back to his again and again and again. She was so wet, dripping between them, a weeping cry from her own body that told him she needed him so badly, she would do anything to have him.

“Oh, now you’re quiet, honey?” He muttered in her ear, reaching up and putting his hand around her neck again. She sputtered as he sat back on his heels, yanking her with him, holding her up in his lap as he brought her body down on him over and over again. He looked up at her, at the pretty bounce of her on top of him, limp to his touch and crying for him. “Look at you—” he groaned, feeling the walls of her clench and squeeze and suck him in, telling him all too well how much she liked this, “—can’t even fucking speak—ugh—” he kissed her hard, “—have I fucked the brat out of you yet?”

“Joel—please—” she begged, letting out a soft sob of relief as his thrusts got shallower, faster. “O-Oh…” She put her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, feeling the scratch of his beard rough against her palms. She met his eyes, could see the shine and the darkness of them, and she leaned forward to kiss him softly. Despite the grueling pace Joel had set, despite the bruising smack of his hips against hers, her kiss was delicate and sweet, taking his breath away. She was too good at that, at making him feel. “Joel…” She sniffled, tears coming down her face at how good he felt. “Joel, I need you…”

She was so pretty. It was all he could think about. He caged over her again against the cushions, this time with his lips against hers and his body towering over her, the warmth of him and space of him enveloping her. He wasn’t fucking her anymore, this was something else. He hiked her legs around his hips, grinding deep, his pace slow but his thrusts just as heavy. She needed him. Just a few words, spoken through her lips, and Joel was soft. Petting her tangled hair, kissing her warmly, pressing his cock deep into her and staying there for just a few moments before pulling out slightly and doing it all over again. He drew long, relaxed moans from her, and he breathed deeply as he thought about how much her cunt felt like heaven.

He didn’t know how it was possible. She was not an angel, anything but; everything she touched blackened to its core. But he couldn’t think of another word to call her, to call this. He only felt this searing pleasure in his dreams.

And buried between her legs.

“I-I love you, Joel,” she purred, arching her back. Her chest pressed to his, and he couldn’t help but dip his head and lick the sheen of sweet that had gathered between her breasts. Salty, dirty, entirely her, and he dipped his head again to suck her breast into his mouth and smooth his tongue over her nipple. She cradled his head to her chest, panting now, her thighs shaking a bit as she met his eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, a haze in them that was cloudy and drunk with bliss. There was lust, more than anything else. If there was love there, Joel had no idea; he had never seen what loved looked like in her eyes.

He didn’t think it was possible for her to love anything. And perhaps it wasn’t. She thought it was love. To her, nothing else could explain how she behaved around him. The obsession with him, the possessiveness that overcame her, the protectiveness she felt whenever he came home with new wounds that would scar, the revenge she sought when anyone touched him. She didn’t care whether those touches were warm or kind. He was hers, and she would make them sorry for putting their hands on him.

She tugged his face back to her, feeling that coil in her belly tighten and tighten. She put her forehead to his, licking over his bottom lip before kissing him hard. One hand slid to press between his shoulder blades, the other pushed against his lower back, a silent gesture to get him as close to her as possible.

His breaths became more broken and shallower. She arched her back into him, pebbled nipples poking him as he snaked an arm under her and used this new position as leverage to fuck up into her at a quicker, more aggressive pace. He punched into her again and again, quickening with every breath as he chased the mind-numbing feeling that was growing in him. She squeezed him, her entire body trembling slightly as she tried to take every thrust, but they were both losing to each other, in the feeling of one another. She gripped his biceps now, her nails digging in hard enough to elicit a harsh hiss from him. She could feel blood, but it didn’t faze her—she wanted to mark him, scar him, until no other woman could have him like this.

If another woman held him there, they’d feel her hands, where her nails dug into him, and they’d know they were preying on another woman’s territory—one they would not live to speak of. She thought of this as he fucked her into a pleasure-drunk headspace, her high blinding her. She didn’t even register the scream that left her until Joel was kissing her quiet, swallowing the sounds, drinking in the cries of her ecstasy and tasting her mewls. It was like her cunt was taunting him, begging him, scolding him for not coming just yet—it took only another whimper of his name for him to collapse on top of her in a fit of groans.

She thought she might have come again when he did, it felt so good. Her thighs shook, her body molding to his as she felt him sinking deeper into her, so snug, his spent trapped in her as they both refused to move away from each other. When he tried to move off of her, she kissed him, making a soft sound of protest and keeping him close.

“Don’t go—” she gasped, slipping one hand low and gripping the back of his thigh, coaxing him to slide deep again and settle there. “Fuck—” She craned her neck to bury her face into the side of his, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. She chased the closeness of him, the muskiness that the air around him held. She never wanted to leave this place. She wanted to stay here forever, Joel cock-deep inside of her, and she wanted him to keep her here and never let her leave. She wanted him to chain her ankles to this place and force her to stay, naked and waiting. She wanted him to use her, to never let her go, to be selfish and mean and merciless with her until she was nothing but his, his, his.

She wanted to forget her name. She wanted to lose her memories of the outside world and confine them to these four walls. She wanted to kill the sad things inside of her and focus only on the pleasure and the love and the unforgiving warmth that settled inside of her whenever she was underneath him like this.

She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh and bite it, sustain herself only on Joel and whatever he would feed her. Because she knew she was dying inside, and only this feeling could save her.

She could not explain why she felt nothing inside when she did the things she did. She was not sorry for anything. She felt no regret or shame or sorrow. She didn’t think she could’ve done things differently or spoken softer or spared any more lives. The only time she felt even remotely human was like this—with Joel connected to her in the most intimate way possible. Then, for a few moments, she felt warm in her chest. She felt vulnerable. She felt new—as if she had been born again and was learning the differences between happy and sad, angry and alone, deep love and utter hatred. She felt all of those things with him and nowhere else, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep him here, with her, always.

There was no one she wouldn’t kill for him. No one she wouldn’t torture, no one she wouldn’t crush under her booted toes. In fact, she would take pleasure in it. She would seek out the feeling. Just like she did with the pretty girls that put their hands on him. Just like she would again.

Because she knew it would happen again. She didn’t know when or how or why, but she knew there would be more girls that would try and lure him in, more men that would try and cross him, but she would be ready for them. Because he was all hers.

They would learn quickly what that meant and the distance she would go to keep it that way.

She turned over, in bed now, laying on her back, her head settling against the pillow. He was turned to face her, their eyes meeting for just a moment before they went back to looking over each other. She reached over gently, her scarred knuckles meeting his cheek and running slowly down the skin there. Her eyes were soft, softer than he had ever seen before. She was looking over him, studying him in the light of the moon, letting herself commit the moment to memory. Something about it felt romantic; something about this made her feel something akin to emotion. She thought maybe this was why she cared too much for him.

He was the only man who had ever made her feel anything at all.

“So is this how it’s gonna be?” He asked lowly. His voice was gravelly and quiet, but it was still heavy with feeling. She met his eyes, her thumb circling over the apple of his cheek. “You don’t like how someone acts ‘round me, and you just…get rid of ‘em?”

She turned more, fully facing him, letting her thumb roam to trace the line of his nose.

“This isn’t…you,” he said finally, and this got a reaction from her. She laughed a bit, bitterly, shaking her head.

“Then you have no idea who I really am, Joel,” she murmured. She let her thumb fall to trace his upper lip gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone else. If you didn’t know that by now, then you haven’t really been paying attention.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, closing her eyes gently, breathing in the Joel that remained in the early hours of the morning.

“And I know that it’s you, too.”

“Wasn’t always me,” he muttered. When she opened her eyes, she saw a flicker of something in the way he looked away from her. Guilt. Abandonment, maybe. It was the faraway of losing something he had tried to hold onto. “Whatever I am now…wasn’t always me.”

She shook her head, leaning her head to rest against his shoulder.

“If you think…the way the world is now to blame for who we are, you’re wrong, Joel,” she said softly. “I don’t remember what it was like. Before.” She put her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve always been like this. And so have you.” He moved his head to look at her, frowning, and she shrugged simply. “The before…all it did was hide you.”

Joel looked away, back to the ceiling. She was right. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, to believe that the end of the world was to blame for the man that he had become, the thought would be wrong. Inside of him had always been the man he was. The man that made the tough decisions. The man that killed someone before dinner and fucked the woman he loved later that same day. The man that bartered and tortured and murdered and crushed and fought like hell—this man was someone that had always lived inside of him—judge, jury, and executioner. There had just never been an opportunity for that man to come apart, to come alive, to manifest itself into the hungry, angry thing that clung to him now, the man that had never left him. Unlike her, the man he was had been dormant, hiding among the memories of his daughter and the life he once loved. She had always been this way; she never had a need to hide her ugly thoughts away, it was a person that had never left her. They thrived. They kept her alive.

A soft kiss to the side of his face made him blink the thoughts away. Another kiss brought him back to earth.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything.”

But now he believed her. In her own sick, twisted way, she did love him. In the horrid things that lived in her head, he was there, bubbly and bright and bathed in pretty lights. She was not good for him. She would turn him black and blue inside, she would take all the good that still rested in him, and she would bury it deep.

And selfishly, he wanted to do the same to her. So, “me…me, too, darlin’,” was what he said back to her. Because—fuck—if anyone was going to truly ruin her, it was going to be him.

He would make sure of that.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo

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echantedtoon · 17 days

Text

Ocean Deep Ch1 Premise

In a world where inhuman and human creatures lives side by side, sometimes it was difficult to navigate where things were. So there was rules EVERY human followed. Don't engage. If you left them alone then they almost always left you alone... Unfortunately it's difficult when a whole pod happens to be under the impression that you belong to them.

IMPORTANT WORLD INFO:

This is set in a fantasy world with very little tech. Think Howl's Moving Castle kinda tech world. Also more Bride concept cuz I like it.

This is heavily inspired by @firelillys on Tumblr merfolk au. Please support all artists linked/mentioned here with their own works! I'll be providing important info for our mer cast and leave links for a better image of what they look like. I wanted to pick pretty fish for them all so some of the original fish ideas were scrapped from the first drabble.

KYOJURO:

Kyojuro would be a lionfish such as the one drawn by @yuki2sksksk on Tumblr linked below.

TENGEN:

Tengen would be a white butterfly koi fish and would look like the linked post below except less eel and more butterfly koi also below.

Merman Tengen (minus the eel like features)

https://x.com/littlegao_gao/status/1527621514123681793

his tail would be more like this instead

https://images.app.goo.gl/4Y3V2LkbRWKEua5v9

HINATSURU:

Hinatsura would have a tail that starts out red then fade to pink and would have sorta spotted like patterned semi flowing fins being a Strawberry Peacock mer.

MAKIO:

Makio would have an orange-gold tail with flowing fins being a Golden Dragon Koi mer.

SUMA:

Suma would have a blue tail with more ruffled fins compared to everyone else being a (all blue) Halfmoon Betta fish mer.

With this out of the way let's get onto the chapter.

In a world where inhuman and human creatures lived side by side, sometimes it was difficult to navigate where the danger lied. No where was safe.

The fae ruled the forests. Fairies and elves. Pixies and gnomes. Pans. Mischief makers. If not careful they'd whisk you away. Never to be seen again.

The dwarves and dragons claimed the mountains. Proud and strong. If insulted they'd be incredible does to crush you.

The skies were never safe either. Run amok with harpies. The plains ran with herds of centaur. The night plagued with vampires, werewolves, and demons. The day ran with fauns and tieflings and shape shifters. So many dangers and so many things to look out for. Especially when it came to courting a mate. As they say

"Beware the monsters who lurk and live amongst the world. Beware of those who seek courtship from maidens. Do not engage. If you ignore and leave them alone then they'll almost always leave you alone."

You must learn to learn their language and not be tricked by anything. Stay alert. Stay aware. Always stay vigilant.

And never let your unmarried daughters near them alone-

The sky was beautiful today. That's all really you could think to yourself. The fresh scent of flowers filling your sense of smell as dead flower petals was swept away with the dirt and dust. With each step you took the sounds of distant crying was heard. F/c eyes only stared at the floor where bristles met the ground and pushed them all away... Eventually you did spare a look briefly over your shoulder and felt your heart sink.

The Kocho family stood there. Or..what was left of the family.

The man hugged his wife tightly to his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shirt. It was the most recent travesty really. Two months ago their youngest daughter, Kanao, had gone down to the river just down the old dirt road and through the woods a bit, to gather more herbs which they sold alongside the medicines in their family shop but she hadn't returned for a few hours. Then when their two older daughters went to go look for her, they two never came back. Panicked, a group of men including Mr. Kocho and the girls' grandfathers had gone out on a wide man hunt searching deep into the nearby woods and combing the long beach nearby for any trace of the missing sisters. Nothing ever came up. No footprints or scraps of fabric. It's like they've never even existed! Some say that they were claimed by fairies. Others say a ghost spirited them away. One person whispered that a flock of harpies might've flown them away.

Whatever the case, they were gone and it's unlikely that they were coming back.

The parents had already accepted that their girls were probably not coming back and was here to make flower arrangements for a memorial service the family was hosting in their honor and memory. Your boss was standing in front of them holding a few sample petals for them to choose from. In the middle of their talk, Mrs. Kocho had burst into tears, so the older woman gave the couple a moment to process their own emotions.

This wasn't the first time a young girl disappeared into thin air.

When you were a little girl, your next door neighbor was a beautiful woman named Rei. Her pretty brown eyes and kind personality made her a favorite person to everyone. She loved going on night walks, but one night she didn't return from her walks. Her father moved his entire business three towns away a little after that. Another case was a girl your age who disappeared last year, Mitsuri. According to her brother, she ran into the woods to be alone after her fiance brutally broke up with her. As he went to find her, he saw her being carried away by a giant black and white naga, the boy had fled as fast as he could back but by then it was too late. Then later that same year, you heard rumors about a girl named Koyuki and her father disappearing from a boat ride near the river but since that didn't happen in your town, you didn't know if that one was true.

It wasn't always young women either. Sometimes it was young men that went missing. A famous case from up the mountains was the disappearance of Kagaya Ubuyashiki. The last anyone had seen of him was he was walking along a patch of birch trees. Witnesses said he was last seen speaking to a white haired woman before he vanished. People say she was a white birch spirit. Another famous case was Tokito. Again not in your town, but he was a lumberjack that often went into the mountains for wood but one day never returned.

Nevertheless it was both scary and tragic.

Which was why there was a few unspoken rules your parents always taught you before they passed away. Never go anywhere alone. Never trust mysteries strangers. ALWAYS carry protection with you. Never go out late at night. Stay away from deep woods. But above all else-

NEVER TRUST ANYONE WHO WASN'T HUMAN.

They were all bad and will try to trick you. Don't trust a single one. Do not engage. Like clockwork you've always taken them to heart. Always looking over your shoulder. Keeping your guard up. Keeping a dagger on you at all times. Never going out at night for any reason. You weren't gonna be carried away by some lovestruck creature! It helped a bit that you loved in the middle of town and rarely went into the woods for any reason.

"It's an excellent choice. These flowers are very beautiful. I'm sure your service will be beautiful." Your eyes finally turned away from the sight. Your sweeping resuming as your boss politely escorted the couple to the door. "Don't worry about the delivery. It's on the house. ...You both have my up most condolences." She bowed one last time to the retreating couple.

A sigh escaping from your lips. "It happened again..Why does this happen so much?"

"Because there are creatures who have become so fascinated by the easy prey of our kind. A human is seen as a trophy of sorts. A thing to show off what you have but others can't have..." The old woman slowly closed the door. "We must remember that as humans, there are those who will hunt us."...Old black eyes turned to yours. "You're a young, beautiful woman. Possibly the most beautiful woman in town now. I wouldn't forget to be careful during these times."

"Don't worry. I'm not allowing myself to be trapped by anything."

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geeks-universe · 1 year

Text

Kiss of Death Pt. 3

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

He wasn’t able to do much at all that day, his thoughts wandering back to his encounter with you. When he made his way back to their family home, he half expected you to be there. He couldn’t help the slight disappointment when you weren’t, but he managed to ignore that feeling entirely in favor of promenading around Hyde Park with his family.

They were all in especially high spirits, abuzz with talk of their latest guest. He could hardly muster the same enthusiasm to discuss your marriage prospects and fashion choices. It was made infinitely more difficult as, while making their way around the park, a number of young gentlemen wishing to learn more about the princess approached him.

What was meant to be a relaxing afternoon out with his family turned into a more sordid affair, not granting his thoughts any reprieve from you and your earlier encounter. He couldn’t help but ponder if you were perhaps having similar thoughts on the carriage ride home, causing his mother to cast a curious look in his direction.

She cleared her throat when it was made obvious that he was not actually paying attention.

“It’s unfortunate that Princess (Y/N) couldn’t promenade with us today.”

The look on her face was expectant. She was fishing for more information, obviously placing the blame for his sudden distraction on the family’s guest. Which, to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wouldn’t give her the chance to meddle in his affairs.

“I am sure the princess needs all of the reprieve she can get before the onslaught of suitors.”

Violet hummed in acknowledgment, though Anthony could tell she wasn’t quite ready to hang up the conversation.

“I think it will be wonderful,” Daphne stated, smiling first to her mama, then to Anthony. “She is quite nice, and I should like more friends to converse with.”

“Yes,” Violet agreed, “She is a very sweet girl, and beautiful too.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes, his expression giving nothing away.

“She wasn’t too sweet with Anthony this morning,” Benedict joked, beaming at his dearest brother.

Before he could reply to his brother, his mother was quick to interject.

“I believe you owe her an apology, Anthony.”

“The matter is settled,” he assured his mom, repressing the urge to fidget in his seat like a child being reprimanded.

His family was much too sharp to drop it there.

“Settled?” Violet echoed, the smallest smirk tugging at her lips.

Benedict was obviously struggling to keep a laugh in, purposefully shrinking even lower into his seat.

“You apologized?” Daphne asked, surprise evident in her tone. “When did you speak with her?”

He met Daphne’s gaze with a long stare, feeling a bit of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. What he had to be embarrassed about, he wasn’t really sure, but he felt like his conversation with you was… private, intimate even.

“Now Daphne,” their mother warned, her eyes not leaving her eldest son. “It is best we don’t question this miracle.”

Benedict’s laughs were deep and cheery as he found entertainment at his brother’s expense. As did Daphne and Violet, considering their own laughter echoed Benedict’s closely.

Anthony ignored them, casting his stare out the window of the carriage, trying his damndest to think of anything but you.

Curiously, in his effort to do so, he thought he saw a movement on one of the rooftops, but whatever the odd trick of the light was, it was gone before he could properly investigate it. He frowned, wondering briefly when you would be returning from the business you were conducting.

Anthony was a businessman by intellect, as well as by birthright. He was extremely familiar with the other businessmen in London, as well as those that he dealt with in the country. The business dealings of your family though? He didn’t have the slightest clue as to what the royal family might do.

When the Bridgerton family returned home they eagerly awaited your arrival. It was as if the entire house were just watching the seconds tick by, waiting for some hint that you might be on your way.

There wasn’t any.

The sun slipped below the horizon, afternoon melding into the evening, and they weren’t any closer to finding you.

With little to no fanfare, the Bridgertons slowly began to depart for the night, eventually leaving Anthony to his lonesome.

He debated retiring for the night, but his mind was no closer to settled, so he chose to review the family accounts. There was little actual need to do so, but, as of late, the Viscount found the task exhausting enough to lull him into a fitful slumber a top his hard desk.

This night had been no exception. Before long, after the fire had dwindled to embers, and the house had fallen silent, Anthony fell into a light sleep with his head nestled uncomfortably in the book he had been reviewing.

Usually, when Anthony had found himself in this position, he wouldn’t awake until the late morning with a normal amount of self hatred and a kink in his neck. This time, however, he found himself jerked out of the prickly claws of slumber by a warm hand on his shoulder.

Again, he found himself hastily throwing his arms in a desperate attempt to ward off whatever attacker snuck their way into his office.

“Easy,” your voice cooed, once again easily dodging his erratic movements. He wasn’t sure how your instincts had been sharpened so, but he was beginning to be grateful they had been.

“Princess,” like he’d been plunged into the ocean in winter, Anthony jumped to his feet, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What are-“

“Relax,” you hushed, nodding to the window. From there, he could see that the morning sun was only barely peeking through the blanket of night sky. It still was hours before anyone would be awake.

“I returned late,” you offered as an explanation. “That didn’t look too comfortable, thought maybe you wanted to sleep in an actual bed.”

He nodded a few times, collecting his thoughts and running a hand through his no-doubt messy hair.

“Returned late?” He echoed finally, realizing the implication of that statement.

Were you just now settling in for the night? It was practically morning. Upon closer inspection, he could see the exhaustion heavy set in your eyes, the skin just below discolored and swollen. Not to mention, was that…

“Blood?” His back tensed, and he rushed forward with a handkerchief, pressing the garment to your cheek with care and haste.

You hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t even bothered, really. Before you’d returned, you had been cautious to tend to any lingering wounds. You must’ve been so tired you missed the small cut on your cheek.

“Nothing to worry yourself with,” you assured Anthony lightly, finally interrupting his movements. You wrapped your fingers delicately around his wrist, watching with shining eyes as his gaze fell to where you touched him.

“It was nothing more than an accident.”

Not necessarily a lie, not really a truth, either.

“I shall be more cautious next time.”

Anthony was still frozen, glued to the same instant you’d reached for him. The moment you had deliberately touched him, even in such an innocent way, the steady thump of his heart had ceased. He was sure it would never start again, that he would be forced the relive the moment over and over again, left to marvel at the tingle that spread from where your skin met his to the base of his spine.

“Perhaps you need rest.” Anthony was unsure where the sudden words came from, as he was still rooted to the spot. His gaze wandered up the length of your face slowly, observing your expression.

Your brow was quirked playfully, and a devilish smirk was beginning to form.

“Anthony Bridgerton, are you suggesting I look tired.”

He puffed out a breath, letting the handkerchief slip between the two of you to the ground with a soft thud. His touch was slow and deliberate, the pad of his thumb running over the skin below your eye.

“I’m suggesting,” he repeated purposefully, tongue wrapping more cautiously over each word, enunciating with a purpose, “That rest would do us both good.”

You considered his words thoughtfully, finally nodding gently after a moment.

“Then I should bid you goodnight.”

Anthony tilted his head, considering the woman standing before him. You were steady, indomitable, but soft.

“Proper society would dictate that it’s morning,” he teased lightly, drawing his fingertips up towards a few stray strands of hair. Lightly, he pushed them behind your ear, surprising even himself with the gentleness of his action.

“Proper society would dictate that we should not be interacting at this time of day, much less without a chaperone.”

You both shared a quiet, breathy laugh, before the air grew dense with a shared awe between you. Anthony had furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the feeling. You frowned the second you realized how nice his presence was.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

You retreated before allowing yourself to feel vulnerable anymore. Anthony was left to stare at an empty doorway, trying to listen to your fading footfall, but silence prevailed. By the time he entered the hallway, you had already retreated.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to the cold, dark hall.

The wind replied with a cold gust that caused him to grimace. With no other distraction, Anthony walked lazily to his room, intent on questioning you further in the morning.

Tag list: @mysticwitchcraftco @ajanauia @khaleesihavilliard @kariiiel

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #Bridgerton imagine #it’s a little shorter #so I might just put out the next part too idk yet

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positively-mine · 1 year

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Hello I loved your bf HCs I was wondering if I could get headcanons of how Reki and langa act when they have a crush on someone?Would they try to impress their crush with their skateboard skills and other things. Thank you

Crushing on you

How Reki and Langa act around their crush

A/n: Thank you for your request, hope you like it! I think it's a little too long but once I started writing i couldn't stop. Also not proofread bc im still sleepy (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

When he realizes he has a crush on you he's like

And then becomes a blushing mess

Mind you he just realized this when he took a candid picture of you

He's staring at the picture and is like "I want to take more pictures of them"

And from them it spiraled into a worldwind romance

(Is what he would like to believe)

Honestly he thinks it's one sided pinning but little does he know...

Everyday when he enters the class he scans the classroom trying to find your face in the sea of students

He's elated when he finds out that you're in school that day

When's there's group work, he usually tries to strike a conversation with you

And when he's distracted you enough to realize that everyone else already had a partner

He'll swoop in and offer himself

(I like to think he's cunning)

And from there he's just cracking jokes and flirting with you a lot

He wants you to think he's reliable so he's offering to do a lot of things

Like, is your bag heavy? Let me help you

You're tired? Sleep a while and I'll wake you up when the teacher arrives?

You didn't bring your lunch? Take mine, i wasn't hungry anyways

I can definitely see him doing weird & cool things to impress you

Would take you to the skate park to watch him do tricks and practice with him

And if you don't skateboard he's going to ask you to rate how cool that trick was

Say 10/10 or we're going to have a problem 😕

Overall he's very blushy blushy like

The color of his hair blushy

Bonus

Personal hc that he's clingy so when you're together expect lots of physical touches

He found out he liked you when he wasn't just looking up to you anymore

Something along the lines of "wow, they're kinda cool...i want to be friends with them"

I have a gut feeling that he's more direct about his courtship with you

(It all came from his mom)

Once you've established a friendship, he'd ask to pick you up along the way to school

Waiting somewhere near your house or public transport area, whichever you take

Not very subtle, if he finds something funny or interesting he's immediately tracking you down to show you

Also another one to actively seek you out

He'd approach your table to ask if he could eat lunch with you

If he needs help with his classes, you're the first person he turns to

After school also offers to walk you home along the way

When you guys start hanging out more, i can definitely see him inviting you to watch him practice skateboarding

(Early on when he's still learning) he wants you to see him improve

Once his gotten better is he then showing off to you

He wants you to see what he can do coupled with his experience of skiiing

He's doing this to fish compliments from you

Another personal hc that he will do stupid stuff just to impress you

You'd have to deter him from doing such things pls, Reki isn't being much help

In fact he's encouraging Langa to do it

I can see him attempting to make a bento box for you

Heavy emphasis on the attempt

It's kinda messy and ameteur but he did it because he heard your classmates say food is the way to the heart

Bonus

Another one to be clingy, if you're walking together he wants to hold your hand or be close to you

#headcanons #x reader #reki kyan #reki x reader #langa hasegawa x reader #langa x reader #sk8 langa #sk8 reki #sk8 headcanons #sk8 the infinity #anime #sk8 x reader #sk8 anime

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