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flightlessangelwings · 2 months

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What Was Unspoken, And What We Finally Said

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word count-3.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), sexworker reader (respectfully), mutual pining, reader is said to have been with both men and women but her sexuality is up to you, unprotected sex, hj, finering, oral (f receiving), protective!Din, soft!Din, feelings, no description of reader other than body parts and no use of y/n

Notes- This is part a bonus Valentines fic and part a thank you for 5,000 followers fic! I would have liked to do a full follower celebration but since I'm low on writing time lately, I'm doing 2 gift fics for y'all instead. I just want to say thank you each and every one of you for following and supporting me all these years!

Since this is Star Wars, I looked up if there was anything like Valentine's Day and while there isn't one canonically, there is a "Lover's Day" that the fandom kinda agreed is equivalent so I used that here but it can be read any time of year since it's Star Wars and we can say it's any time lol! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

You were exhausted.

If you were honest, you weren’t even sure what day it was… or even what time of day at all. Things had never been busier at the brothel the last couple days, and you weren’t sure why. Especially today it was back to back clients for you. The extra credits were nice, and much needed, but by the Maker were you wiped out. But it wasn’t all bad. The brothel you worked at was safe and respectable and the clients almost always tipped well. You even had a lengthy list of regulars, which was nice. Many of them even came by today too.

The day started with a visit from one of your favorite bounty hunters, Fennec Shand. She was usually more quiet and stoic, but today she had an air of playfulness about her, and the smirk she wore on her face made your heart flutter. Later in the day, Axe Woves came by, and seemed more flirtatious than usual. He always left you with a wink and a kiss on the back of your hand, but today he left a lingering kiss on your cheek… and extra credits in tip.

But there was one person you looked forward to seeing more than anyone else. And he hadn’t come by in some time.

You let out a heavy sigh as you flopped down onto the bed. Wrapping your robe around yourself, you closed your eyes as you finally got some time to rest after a busy day. Just as your body relaxed into the plush mattress and you felt yourself about to doze off, there was a knock at the door.

“Coming,” you sighed as you pushed yourself up, ready to turn away whoever was on the other side of the door. You just wanted to rest for the rest of the night. “Listen, came you come back tomor…” you froze mid word as your eyes landed on the one person you had hoped to see, “Din!” you breathed.

“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, tilting his helmeted head to the side, “I had a bounty in the area and I thought I would come by.” Since it’s been awhile, he thought to himself, and I missed you.

“No, no,” you ushered him inside before he could walk away, “Come in.”

The Mandalorian walked past you, entering the room while you closed and locked the door, “Everything alright?” he asked, noticing the exhaustion in your voice.

“Fine,” you replied as you crossed the room and sat down, motioning for him to sit next to you, “It’s just been really busy here the last couple days. Not sure why,” you shrugged.

“Want me to come back another time?” he asked plainly, his tone hiding his true disappointment especially after having not seen you in so long. Din truly looked forward to the days when he could come by the brothel and spend time with you.

“I think I can muster up some energy for my favorite client,” you replied with a flirty wink. It took everything you had to not sound like you desperately wanted him to stay, and even if you couldn’t even pull yourself off the bed you would do it for him.

Din tilted his head to the side slightly as a soft amused huff escaped his lips, “Your favorite, huh?”

You heard the smile in his voice. Biting your lip and subtly shimmying your shoulders, you closed the gap between your bodies and traced the chestplate of his beskar armor with your finger, “Don’t tell anyone else. They might get jealous,” you purred as the room started to warm around you.

Din reached in his pocket, pulling out a generous amount of credits and placed them on the nearby table before he leaned in closer to you. He cupped your face, tenderly caressing the side of your head in his gloved hand, “Your secret is safe with me.” Din gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek while his large hand cradled you softly while he pushed his body against yours.

“Din…” you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut and you allowed him to guide you back until your legs hit the bed.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured as his hands moved down the front of your body and tugged at your robe.

A gasp escaped your lips as the cool air hit your skin. But, you didn’t feel cool for long. Even through the darkness of his vizor, you could feel Din’s gaze on you, and you could tell he eyed you hungerly. The way his breath hitched whenever he saw you bare for him, the way his helmet tilted slightly, the way his hands gripped you just a little bit tighter… you knew all Din’s tells by now. And you craved the feeling of being under his touch.

“Beautiful,” Din sighed as he guided your body down onto the bed. He stood in awe over you for a moment as your robe fell open and framed your figure. His pants felt tighter as his cock reacted to the way you settled yourself, spreading your legs wide for him. Din let out a low groan as he tugged his gloves off. They were the only thing he ever removed, and he only ever took them off with you.

“Din,” you whispered again as the bed dipped as he hovered over you, “Let me…”

You ran your hands down his chest once more, imaging what it would feel like to feel his bare skin under your touch instead. You bit your lip when you reached the hem of his pants, and you expertly unzipped and freed his cock without letting any other sliver of skin show. You knew the trust he put in you, and you never took it for granted. You felt honored that he even trusted you with his real name- something else you held near and dear to your heart.

Savoring the groan he let out, you stroked his length slowly. You made sure to squeeze right where he liked it, and you let out a whimper every time a louder growl escaped his lips involuntarily. But you let out another whine when you felt his thick fingers cupping your pussy, and you mewled when Din pushed them inside you.

Pumping his fingers to the same rhythm as you stroked his cock, your moans harmonized with his grunts as you both prepped the other. Heavy breaths filled the room as you fought to keep your eyes open and locked on his vizor. Din rested his helmeted forehead against yours as he thrust his fingers deeper inside you, causing you to cry out louder. But, being a professional, you kept your wits about you and squeezed his cock harder in response.

Din groaned and let out an amused laugh, “Are you ready for me, mesh’la?” he cooed.

“Always,” you whispered back with a smirk of your own.

Another short huff echoed from his helmet as he murmured your name and pulled his fingers out of you. At the same time, you let go of his cock, your hand brushed against his as he reached for it to line himself up with your pussy. The two of you froze for a moment as your gazes met, and for a breath, time felt like it stopped.

A whirlwind of emotions ran through both of you as you stared at each other. It was as if you could both sense the other had something to say, and if you both had a secret you kept buried. Yet, it remained unspoken between the two of you. Your mouth dropped open and a deep breath escaped your lips, like you were about to put into words what neither of you would say.

Before you could, though, Din thrust his hips forward, driving his cock into you in one swift movement. Your head dropped down into the bed as you let out a loud, obscene moan as you felt the familiar stretch of his cock.

“Din!” you cried out as he reeled back and thrust forward again.

“I know,” he grunted as he felt his skin sweat underneath all the armor. You had an effect on Din that no one else did. He lost all control when it came to you, especially when he was inside you. And the way you moan with every thrust of his hips only made him come more and more undone.

You cried out in ecstasy as Din rocked in and out of you in a fast and steady rhythm. Tears filled your eyes as you clutched the sheets. He made you feel something you had never felt before. And every time Din visited you, it became harder and harder to deny your growing feelings for him.

Passions ran wild as Din picked up his pace, thrusting deep into you harder and faster. He growled from under his helmet as he felt your warmth engulf his cock. Grabbing your hips, Din gave one harsh thrust, driving his length as deep inside you as he possibly could.

The gasp you let out when he did that made his cock twitch, and Din knew neither of you would last much longer. Din kept a strong grip on you as he repeated the action, changing his thrusts to slow and deep and deliberate.

“Fuck… Din…”

“I know,” he grunted.

You moved your grip from the sheets to his arms as you clung to him for dear life. With every slow, deep thrust, you felt your climax inch closer and closer and closer until you finally spilled over the edge. With a loud scream and trembling legs, you came hard on his cock. Squeezing your inner muscles as you gushed between your bodies, wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body as Din continued to thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

With a low groan of your name, Din came right after you. He spilled himself deep inside you as he drove his cock as deep as he could once more. Din kept his pace as long as he could, riding out both your orgasms as you moaned and groaned together, clawing at each other in desperation as you did so.

After one last thrust, Din pulled out of you. He watched as you collapsed onto the bed while he regained his composure. Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs, and Din rested himself on the bed next to you in silence. His breath hitched in his throat as you immediately rolled close to him and nested yourself comfortably against his body.

“Hey,” you breathed, breaking the silence, “Is your bounty urgent or do you want to stay for the night?”

Din let out a short laugh, “He’s frozen in carbonite,” he sounded pleased with himself, “He’s not going anywhere.”

You smirked against his beaker chestplate as his unspoken acceptance lingered in the air like a comforting blanket between the two of you. Together, you laid in silence as Din wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart pounded at the feeling of being in his arms, and you wished that it could be like this every night. But, he was a Mandalorian bounty hunter, there was no way that was in the future for you.

Suddenly, an explosion of fireworks echoed from outside, making you gasp and jump up with fright. Din tightened his grip around you, pulling you even closer and going on high alert. The two of you looked out the window as another color firework lit up the sky in the distance. More and more fireworks continued as the show went on, and in the distance you heard a crowd ooh and ahh at the marvel of the show.

Then the realization hit you. “Maker…” you breathed as you burst into nervous laughter, “Do you know what today is, Din?”

He turned to you but said nothing.

“It’s Lover’s Day!” you laughed more to cover the nerves. You just spent the evening of Lover’s Day with Din…

He seemed to mull over for several moments, his gaze moving down before he finally said, “So it is,” Din was quiet again as he turned back to you.

Even without seeing his face, you felt your skin warm under his gaze. Somehow, you felt all his emotions just in the way he held you, and as Din moved his hand and cupped your face your world felt like it was spinning. You savored the warmth of his touch, and you let out a deep breath as you leaned into his hand and closed your eyes contently.

“Since it’s Lover’s Day,” Din was the one who broke the silence this time, “Let me take care of you…”

“Din…”

Carefully, Din rolled your bodies so that you laid on your back while he hovered over you. Looking up at him, your breath caught in your chest and your heart fluttered as he pushed himself down and settled between your parted legs.

You let out a whine as heat rushed through your body. All you could do was swallow hard and moan in anticipation as you watched Din lean forward so that he hovered over your exposed pussy.

He murmured something incoherent before he rested his hand on your hips, gently pinning you in place. Not wanting to let go of you, Din used the leverage of your body to tilt his helmet up while he positioned his face over your folds.

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt his breath on your skin, “Din…” you whimpered as you closed your eyes tightly.

Din growled as he licked his lips before diving into you. The cry you let out sent a jolt through his veins, and combined with tasting you, Din almost lost all his composure. “Fuck,” he groaned against you before he lapped at your cunt again.

His hips bucked against the bed as he savored the sweetness of your pussy. Din groaned into you as his hands gripped you tighter, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. And the way you moaned and cried out in pure bliss only added to the overwhelming sensations and emotions he felt.

Not having expected this, tears quickly filled your eyes and your mind and body floated in the pleasure that Din’s tongue brought you. With every lap of his tongue, you felt a shock of pleasure tingle through your veins. And it wasn’t because he physically made you feel good either. It was the act itself, Din putting himself into a vulnerable position just to lick and suck at your pussy, and doing this for you.

It had to mean something, right?

“Fuck… Din…” you whimpered as you moved your grip from the sheets to his wrists, finding just the tiny sliver of skin under his armor.

Din grunted into you as he pushed his face more against your body. His hands shifted slightly so that his fingers curled around yours, holding both your hand and your hips at the same time. As much as he wanted to murmur soft words of encouragement, to tell you to cum in his mouth, he also couldn’t tear himself away. From the first taste, Din was addicted to you, and he already knew he wanted more… Wanted you.

Your legs trembled on either side of his helmet as you felt your body warm as your climax was about to hit. Without warning, you came hard with a loud scream, arching your back off the bed and gushing into Din’s mouth as your cries of pleasure filled the room.

He slurped and sucked at your folds as he tongue hit your clit over and over again, allowing you to ride out your orgasm on his tongue. And Din greedily lapped up every drop of your release, swallowing as much of you as he could. His grip on you tightened as he moaned against your body, lapping at you until you couldn’t take any more.

With one final gasp, you flopped down limp on the bed as Din broke away from you with a huff. His helmet slid down to cover his face in one smooth motion as he sat up and licked at the corners of his mouth from under the cover of his armor. He watched you with captivate fascination as your breasts rose and fell with your deep, heavy breaths as you recovered from your intense climax.

There were so many words on the tip of his tongue. So many things that Din wanted to tell you. The tension in the air was so thick that it almost overpowered the smell of sex in the room. Din ran his hands up and down your body, gently caressing you and letting his touch speak for him instead.

“Din,” you murmured as you broke the silence and blinked your eyes open to meet his armored figure in the low light, “I…”

He moved his hand to the side of your face, not covering your mouth but the motion itself paused your thoughts. He said nothing as he pushed himself up to your face, stopping for a moment to rest his helmeted forehead against your own. As the two of you sat like that for a few moments, he brushed your cheek with his finger tenderly. Din whispered your name as he broke away, moving his hand to cover your eyes as he did so.

Your lips pasted with a gasp, yet you stayed still, fully trusting the Mandalorian. With your eyes covered by his large hand, your world went black. Faintly, you heard a hiss in front of you, but before you could ask what was happening, you felt something on your skin. His breath.

Din pulled his helmet up just enough to uncover half of his face. His lips felt cold as the air hit his skin, but he was instantly warmed again when he pressed his lips to yours. He swallowed the moan you let out as he kissed you for the very first time. Tightening his grip on you, Din pushed himself even closer against you, desperate to feel you as close as possible.

You surrendered yourself to him willingly. Tilting your head, you were mindful to keep your eyes covered as you deepened the kiss by parting your lips for him. Din eagerly accepted the silent invitation, and you both moaned into the other when you tased each other for the first time. The fireworks continued around you, but the only explosions either of you cared about were the ones happening between you.

“I know,” Din murmured against your lips when he reluctantly broke away from you.

You let out a deep breath against his face, and you knew he felt your smile against his skin. Din placed one last kiss on your lips, lingering on yours for several moments before he pulled away and dropped his helmet back down.

Blinking your eyes open, you grinned when you were met with the familiar silhouette in the darkness once more. A soft smile lit up your face, and it made Din’s chest tighten with the sincere look in your eyes. Just as you were about to say something, though, a knock at the door made both of you jump to attention.

Din was quick to stand and shift into attack mode. Out of pure reflex, his hand reached for his blaster, ready to protect you.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist with one hand as you reached for your robe with the other, “It might be another client. Hang on,” you slid the robe over your shoulders and wrapped it around you as you moved around the Mandalorian.

He didn’t stray far from you, hovering behind you as you opened the door and recognized the man who stood on the other side, “Hey, I’ve got an overnight tonight,” you told him in a kind voice, “Can you come back tomorrow? I promise I’ll leave a time open for you.”

The man stuttered as he suddenly felt nervous as the Mandalorian glared at him from over your shoulder, “Y-yeah,” he finally said, “Sure… Sorry,” he mumbled before he turned and left.

Closing and locking the door, you turned back to Din and shook your head as you grinned, “He’s a nice guy,” you explained to him, “One of my best tippers too… So please try not to scare away my source of income.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology as he visibly relaxed. Din had no issue with what you did for a living, he only had your safety and best interest in mind. He had seen you mistreated once before, and while he knew it was a rarity, Din never wanted to see you hurt ever again. Especially not if he could prevent it and protect you.

“Let’s lay down,” you said softly as you reached your hand out to him. Your heart fluttered for a moment as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him back to the bed where you both made yourselves comfortable. Din immediately pulled you in close and held you in his embrace.

Settling down for the night, you never felt more safe than you did right now, in Din’s arms. Yawning heavily, you felt the exhaustion start to overcome you once more, and you knew soon you would be sound asleep, “Hey Din,” you muttered sleepily, “Happy Lover’s Day.”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as you quickly started to snore softly. He looked forward to nights like this, nights with you. And it was pure coincidence that he happened to come to you on Lover’s Day. But perhaps it wasn't a coincidence. Perhaps he was meant to be here tonight… with you. As Din listened to your steady breaking while you slept, he leaned in and whispered, “Happy Lover’s Day, cyare.”

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shade-e-e-es · 8 months

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Hours later, Doc is still fuming as he thinks of all the ways he should give it to that stinky mutt. To cool off he decides to go on a walk.

He quickly finds out it does not help. As is his nature as a creeper, he walks silently, ears perked for any sign of sound.

He picks up his pace as he hears the dull thud of someone chopping a tree. It’s either Etho or Beef making a project in the middle of the night.

Or it’s an intruder.

He’s hoping it’s an intruder because then he can attack something, as messed up as that sounds.

And oh the joy he feels (and fury) when he sees the red shirt and brown tail of Ren Dog.

The bushes rustle as Doc moves to step out. He only pauses for a second as Rens ears perk and he starts to growl, his swing stopping as he adjusts his hold on the axe. A battle stance.

Fine. A fight.

… maybe he should try and. Talk a little before he blows this guy up.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, MAN?” Doc hisses.

He expects Ren to rush him. To growl and attack even if it’s just with words. It’s how he acts during the day, after all.

He did not expect the smile, the tail wagging, and the excitement.

“Doc! My dude!! Jeez man you scared me!! I thought you were a freakin skeleton or something!! Sorry, didn’t mean to growl at you like that!!”

Doc stares blankly. What. Why is he.. so excited. And before he can even open his mouth to hiss out something about taxes or his tree, Ren continues.

“I’m really genuinely sorry about the tree. I’d have come and asked if I knew you were awake. I can never tell what your guys’s sleep schedules are! Besides Bdubs. Always know when he’s passed out!!”

“Seriously like that dude will pass out the moment the sun goes over the hills even if we’re trying to talk to him! It’s a bit funny though so it’s fine on our end. Guys gotta sleep! Oh- right. I can pay you back and stuff for the tree. I tried to pick a smaller one far away from your projects so I don’t mess any landscapes up. I’m also going to replant the sapling and all that!!” Ren shifts from foot to foot, a smile on his face, a wag in his tail. His eyes almost sparkle as he stares at Doc.

And it.

This doesn’t make sense to Doc. Why does.. Ren doesn’t act like this! He’s! Quiet. He’s grumpy. He acts like he hates every single member of the nHo and yet here he is raving about Bdubs in a joking way to Doc of all people.

“What.” Doc says.

“Oh. Uh.” Ren chuckles a little. “Sorry. I am. Nervous, NOT ABOUT YOU!! I just don’t want to be away from Iskall for too long. See I’m here to get wood to make a fire over in our camp. Iskall has a fever and we both agreed that staying at the resistance base would be better than going to our houses. Too much movement. But I.. suck at taking care of sick people. So I’m doing what I know best! Chopping trees, making fire, cooking soup!! (If you happen to have any notes on making soup please let me know. I lied about knowing best on it.)” Ren leans in, whispering the last bit.

He’s so animated. He can’t stand still. Doc is.. flabbergasted!!

It doesn’t compute. It just.

“Why are you. Being. Nice???”

“Wha?”

PT 1 | PT 3

#docm77 #rendog #renthedog #docm77 fanart #rendog fanart #nho #hc nho #hermitcraft season 5 #congrats on your free art!! xd #hermitcraft #hc doc #hc rendog #hc ren #Ren #doc

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not-neverland06 · 2 months

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Bad Day

pt. two

part one

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) warnings: reader embracing the dark side, graphic descriptions of violence Summary: Another set of tourists, but this one’s different. You actually have to meet this group. They’re particularly difficult, too, causing more damage than any of you expected. Can you survive the night, again?

You focused on the way the knife glinted as it spread mayonnaise over the bread. You watched it glide through the thick substance and brought it back down, flipping the blade and smoothing and spreading it-

Your fingers tightened around the handle and you winced as you slammed your eyes shut. You couldn’t be around blades, even ones as dull as this, without thinking of that night.

You’d fought, more than anyone else ever had, Bo told you. You’d also killed one of your friends in cold blood, no one had ever done that either.

He had been tied up and vulnerable and you hadn’t even given him a fair shot at surviving you.

You didn’t feel guilty about it, and that’s the part that haunts you. You didn’t try to justify your actions and cry yourself to sleep over the guilt you felt for being alive while your friends lay scattered throughout town. You slept deeply, peacefully, in the arms of the men who murdered them.

You’d wake up after having a dream about that night and you would feel exhilarated because it had been the first time you’d ever truly stood up for yourself. You reveled in the power you’d felt when you’d swung that ax into his neck.

You didn’t even remember their names.

How fucked up was that?

You basked in the memories of their demise but their faces were lost to you. One blur that bled together the more you tried to picture them.

You didn’t mourn them or feel pity, you felt no guilt, and that’s what fucked with you. Were you a bad person?

You had to be.

But you’d never been one before Ambrose.

You distracted yourself from the thoughts. You’d spiral and never get back up if you let yourself go down the rabbit hole. You tore off a piece of turkey and threw it at Jonesy, she pounced on it the second it hit the floor.

You finished the sandwiches, one going into a brown paper bag the other a plate that you wrapped with plastic. You left the kitchen, winding around boxes and junk that they called sentimental. You’d gotten into a nasty fight with Bo a few months ago about cleaning the house up a little, but he had refused.

You hadn’t realized how many beers he’d had that night and chosen the wrong moment to suggest change. Something he was staunchly against. He hadn’t hit you, never had, but he’d thrown a bottle near your head, the glass shattering and bouncing off the wall. Some of it had hit you, scraping up the back of your arms and legs. It wasn’t too bad, but you hadn’t felt that terrified of him since the night you came here.

You’d been petty, stolen his keys and camped out in one of the houses in town. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep, not with the wax family watching you, but it had gotten the message across. Lester had told you Bo thought you’d left and lost his fucking shit. Vincent, apparently, had been even worse.

By the time you got back the house was in worse shape then when you’d left.

Bo had told you he’d think about cleaning some of the stuff out. That had been three months ago.

You grabbed the flashlight off their father’s desk and used the hatch in the office, dropping down into Vincent’s lair. Vincent, when he’d discovered just how much you hated the darkness that led into his workspace, had started leaving a flashlight out for you.

When Bo got pissed at you he’d hide it. You’d have to crawl to him and beg for it back.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t care what it was that he stole, he just wanted to exercise some control over you. Remind you of your place in this town, under him.

The flashlight was a nice thought from Vincent, but it didn’t really help you much. You used it anyway, wanting him to know you appreciated how much he cared. Because you’re pretty sure he’s the only real reason you’re alive.

When Bo had caught you down here, standing over Owen’s dead body, he told you he didn’t know if he was going to keep you alive or not. You knew he meant it, he wasn’t teasing you or playing around, he genuinely did not know what to do with you. You were an outlier in a long list of repetitive victims.

Vincent swept in behind him, glanced down at the ax, the injuries all over your body, and hesitantly stepped towards you. They looked at each other, a silent conversation laying in their gazes.

Vincent took a slow step towards you and you recognized his actions for what they were. A test.

Earlier, you’d seen Vincent try to help his brother, ease his pain and wrap up his wounds. Bo had reacted cruelly, the only thing he seemed to be capable of.

You watched with a blank stare as Vincent kneeled down in front of you, brushing his fingers over the scraped skin of your knee.

You jumped slightly at the burn of flesh against your wound, but otherwise didn’t react. Slowly, he stood back up, grabbing your arm with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your first meeting. He led you back to his desk, flipping over the drawing of your face and pulling out bandages.

Some of them he had to toss to the side because they were covered in wax, others he used on you.

Bo watched it all with a frown on his face and crossed arms. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Vincent’s head shot up and his arms tightened around you. Again, you forced yourself not to react, not to flinch away from his hold and grimace as you heard his muffled breath next to your ear. Vincent didn’t say anything, didn’t move his hands to communicate, he blocked you in like a guard dog and after a moment you heard Bo cussing and storming out.

He mentioned something about getting the restg of your group, but nothing after that. You could only relax once you heard the basement hatch slam shut. “Thank you,” you whispered to Vincent. He grunted, but offered nothing else.

His fingers were quick, precise in the way they cleaned and wrapped your wounds. They were also surprisingly gentle for someone who had just slammed a blade through your friend's skull.

Vincent kept you squirreled away down there, sleeping on a cot in the corner of his large and stuffy studio. You weren’t sure how many days or weeks had passed with him idly sketching you and sculpting different wax animals for you, the lack of windows made it hard to tell, but you do know you were much better off here than in Bo’s dungeon.

You’d learned bits of sign language from him, you were bored and he seemed eager to teach you. To finally have someone who would speak his language too.

He was kind in his own way, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to get the fuck out of there.

Bo had stormed down one day, saw you, and lost his goddamn shit. Apparently, he’d thought Vincent was only keeping you around for a bit of fun and then killing you. The fact that you were still alive, and being taken care of, nearly gave him an aneurysm.

Again, Vincent hadn’t let Bo hurt you. He’d protected you from his brother’s wrath and forced Bo to accept that you were staying.

Sometimes you wished you weren’t kind to him. That you had yelled, kicked, and clawed at him. Called him a freak and told him to go to hell and find his precious momma. You would be dead, sure, but you wouldn’t be here.

Thoughts like that had disappeared a long time ago, left with the summer heat. You knew it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, you’d been a psych student before your world was flipped on its axis. You knew what the signs were, but this wasn’t loving them to save yourself.

This was accepting that there was no place for you in society anymore, not after what you’d done. Not after you’d actually helped Vincent sculpt his wax around Allison’s pretty face.

You’d enjoyed it, a sick satisfaction from seeing the bitch dead, your survival a victory over her.

When she’d been alive she had a top. This really cute white, lacy number and no matter how many times you asked, she would never let you borrow it. She had no qualms stealing your clothes and never giving them back, but god forbid you ever even looked at that top.

It hung in your closet now, yours to do with whatever you pleased. You smiled every time you thought about it.

“Vince?” You knocked on the doorway and clicked the flashlight off as the door creaked open. The warm glow of candlelight leaked out into the dark abyss. You slipped inside, shuddering at the rush of heat that hit you. It wasn’t always hot in here, only when he was preparing a new batch of wax.

You frowned, he only did that when there were visitors coming. Lester must’ve called ahead, told them he spotted someone on the road. You closed the door behind you walking towards his desk and dropping the plate on top. Your fingers skimmed over the sketches, catching on another one of you.

You picked it up and smiled, it was a sketch of you curled up on the couch with Jonesy, your face pressed into her fur as you slept. You remember waking up from that nap, frowning when you heard wood creaking behind you but not seeing anything.

What a weird little stalker. He knew he could ask to sketch you and you didn’t mind, but he always ran away like you were gonna be mad at him. You shook your head, placing it back down, and walked further into his studio.

You found him sitting at his table, curled over something you couldn’t make out. You could see his wrist flicking, the carving tool in his hand, and figured he was making another animal for you. You already had a whole shelf full of different animals, practically your own wax zoo.

“Hey,” you whispered, hands creeping slowly along his shoulders. He tensed slightly before he leaned into you. “Brought you lunch.” His movements paused to sign, Thank you.

You glanced down at his hair, curling around him like a dark curtain and frowned. “Vince, you got wax in your hair again.” He shrugged and continued working. You sighed, walking back towards his desk and rustling through drawers until you found the brush you’d left down here for him.

Sometimes you think he does this on purpose because he likes how you take care of him. You ran the brush through his hair a few times trying to make sure you’d gotten all the wax out. He let out a low groan, his head tilting back and thudding against your chest as you stood behind him.

You chuckled, scratching your fingers along his scalp and he let out a long sigh, melting into you. You’d have to force him into the shower later, to wash everything out of his hair. It was astounding how stubborn both brothers were about just showering.

You weren’t sure why they resisted so much, maybe it was something that happened between them and their parents. Either way, it was a fight to get them near the water and even then you had to bribe them with your body, luring them in like a siren just so you could wash the grime off.

You braided Vincent’s hair away from his face and he stilled, temporarily becoming your doll while you did what you wanted to him. He was always a bit easier than his brother. He was eager to please, even more eager for your praise. For you to tell him you were proud of him.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss against the waxed cheek of his mask. “Eat your lunch, please.” He nodded but the second you backed off he was back to carving into the block of wax before him. You sighed and glanced around his space, collecting the dishes of other half-eaten meals you’ve brought down.

The bell rang above you and you let out a sigh or relief as you stepped into Bo’s shop. A cool breeze rustled the fabric of your top. Seems like he got the air conditioning up and running again, even in winter you could still wear a tank top and shorts and be sweating. “Bo?”

“Back here!”

You walked towards the garage, brown bag clutched tightly in your hands and poked your head in. He was bent over, head under the hood of a car and oil smeared all over his coveralls. Your eyes traveled over the car he was working on, wincing when you realized it was yours.

You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten here. You’d seen Bo towing it in, along with Owen’s but you’d always avoided paying too much attention to it. You weren’t sure why he bothered working on it, maybe it was a taunt towards you or he was just bored. You never really knew with him.

“Brought lunch,” you offered, walking towards his work table and jumping on top, the bag going next to your thighs. He lifted himself up, looking towards you and smiling.

“Thanks, hun,” you hummed in response, sticking your neck out as he approached. He chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

He reached for the bag, pulling out his lunch and taking too big of a bite. “‘M gonna have to go up to the house,” he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. “Need to change before our visitors get here.”

You nodded, staying quiet as he stared at you. You’d gotten used to this look and even more used to what was about to happen after. He’d tell you to follow him and would help you off the desk, deceptively sweet as he tugged you down to the room below the garage.

Then he would tape you up, muttering to himself about not letting you leave. You’d submit easily, letting him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to tell him you were staying.

But his gaze shifted back to the car and you frowned at the side of his face. He should’ve told you to move by now. Instead he leaned back against the desk, his hand skimming your own. He didn’t look at you while he spoke.

“Want you to work on your car.”

You blanched, eyes going wide as you stared at him. That wasn’t even close to what you were expecting. You had gotten so used to sitting under that grate, listening to the screams of his victims as he hunted them down. Now, he wanted you up here, wanted you to see it.

What was he doing?

“What?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “fucked somethin’ up, want you to fix it.” He crumpled the bag into a ball, tossing it into the trash can and turned back towards you. You didn’t see anything on his face that would give away why he was keeping you up here on the surface and it set you on edge.

This had to be some sort of test. Maybe he was seeing if you would try and use the new victims to escape or warn them off. Or he wanted to see if you could pretend like you belonged, go along with his act and keep the victims feeling safe and compliant while he killed them off.

What the fuck?

You were used to how things worked in Ambrose. There was a system set in place, one you had learned to follow. This went against what you’d come to know and it was setting you on edge as you watched him walk off, heading up the hill and towards his house.

You stayed glued to the desk for a while, you weren’t sure how long, but it was enough time for Bo to have cleaned up. He popped his head inside the garage, suit on, and frowned. “What’re you doing? Move your ass.”

You jumped, leaping off the work table and rushing towards the car. He laughed at your panicked movements, staying a moment to admire your ass as you bent over the hood before you heard his boots on the gravel, heading towards the church.

You didn’t appreciate this switch up with him, how erratic his moods and behaviors were. He made it impossible to track and read him, to fully understand why he worked the way he did.

You were grateful that, at the very least, he had given you a distraction from trying to figure out what this test was and if you were in trouble or not.

You inspected the car, forcing yourself to remember everything he’s taught you while you’ve lingered in his shop.

“Oh, they're right here.”

You jumped, rolling out from underneath the car and glancing towards the doorway that connected the garage to the auto shop. Two unfamiliar voices echoed within Bo’s shop.

“Fan belts?”

“Yeah,” a guy and a girl. You poked your head over the top of the car and saw the guy was a lot taller than you and broader. Shit, you really hoped you didn’t run into him once they figured out what was going on up here. “But he doesn’t have the right size.”

“Just pick one, Wade, I don’t want to be in here much longer.”

“Alright, just hold on Carly.” You grabbed a rag, wiping your hands off and stepping towards them.

“You plannin’ on stealin’ that?”

They both jumped, whipping around towards where you leaned in the doorway arms crossed over your chest. “No,” the guy rushed to defend himself, his girlfriend shaking her head frantically. “We left some money on the counter, we just needed to get out of here, that’s all.”

“There you are,” you all turned towards Bo. His posture matched your own, leaned against the entrance to the shop, hands tucked in his pockets. God, he looked good. Now that you weren’t fighting for your life you could fully appreciate how handsome he looked all cleaned up. Bo glanced at you then back to the other two, “She botherin’ you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, glaring at him over their shoulders. He winked when they faced you and you figured he was putting on another show. Huffing out an irritated breath you rolled your eyes and turned back towards your car. You frowned at the oil streaked along your skin and clothes, you’d never be able to get the stains out.

“Oh,” Carly started, shaking her head and glancing back at you again. “No, of course not, we just didn’t know that there was anyone in the shop.”

“She’s new, don’t like lettin’ her around customers, too much attitude.” You could practically see his smirk from under the car. He was probably so proud of himself, being able to tease you without you snapping back for once.

“She’s fine, um, I left some money on the counter, but you don’t have any fifteens.” You watched as Bo’s feet moved towards the register, most likely pocketing the money. “Is that enough?”

Bo’s tone was easy going, the perfect southern gentleman as he helped a poor lost couple. “Close enough. You know, I’ve got the right size up at the house. Only a couple blocks from here…”

You forced yourself deaf, trying to block out the rest of their conversation. These people weren’t exactly assholes and they didn’t seem particularly deserving of what was about to happen. Your friends were bad people, you didn’t feel guilty about them, but there was something about this couple that had your stomach burning in anxiety.

Maybe this was why Bo had you outside, playing mechanic with him. He wanted you to see the harsh reality of what it was they did here. you couldn’t always cover your ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Was this what the test was? See how committed you were to him and Vincent, to Ambrose.

You used the car as a cover, dropping the wrench beside you and covering your face as you tried to decide whether you were going to cry or throw up. It was fine, the idea of all this, when you were hidden under the grate. The straps were a reminder that it could be you up there being hunted again.

Being face to face with the victims was entirely different.

A hand slammed down on the roof of the car, the metal reverberating around you, “Hey!”

You screamed, jumping up and nearly hitting your head on the underbelly of the car. You rolled out, glaring at Bo while he stood smiling down at you. He kneeled down, laying a hand around your thigh and squeezing.

“You’re gonna stay here, keep an eye out for any more of their friends, and behave. Okay?”

You nodded and he dug his nails in, “Yes, Bo.”

“Good girl,” he stood up and walked towards the garage door. You watched him, afraid to take your eyes off his back. He turned back around, one last lingering look that had you feeling cold, “Don’t fuck up.” You flinched as the garage door slammed down behind him.

“Help! Help me, please!” You jumped up and ran to the front of the auto shop. Carly ran face first into you, her fingernails digging painfully into your skin as she looked behind her.

“Shit,” you grabbed her biceps and pulled her away. “What’s going on?”

She backed up, wiping her eyes and gulping as she tried to catch her breath. “That- that guy, Bo, I think he did something to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s okay.” God, you were just as freaked out as her. What the fuck were you supposed to do? “Let me get the phone, we’ll call someone.”

She nodded, running to the door and locking it. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside, keeping an eye out for him. You knew you didn’t have long before she started to get suspicious. The station had a working phone, but there was no way in hell you were actually about to call the cops on Bo.

You paced back and forth, running your hands through your hair as you looked around, trying to find a solution. Your eyes snagged on the wrench by the car. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Carly was still stuck to the window. You ran for it, grabbing it and turning back towards her.

You raised your hand up, wincing as she caught your eye in the reflection of the glass. “What’re-”

She crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling around her arms.

You saw in the reflection Bo approaching you from behind, back in his coveralls. “Atta girl!” You didn’t react when he slung his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Did good, baby.” He released you, huffing out a big sigh and walking over to the girl, “Alright, grab her ankles.” His tone was no longer adoring going right back to business.

You looked at him like he was crazy, ”Bo, what?”

You dropped the wrench to the ground and he frowned from where he was picking up her wrists. “You got a problem?”

”Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? Why am I doing this?” He dropped her arms unceremoniously and you winced at the crack they made against the cement. He stepped over her, stalking towards you and you stumbled back, heart beating faster in fear.

His hand snapped out, grabbing you before you could make it far. You whined as he dug his nails into your cheeks, puckering your lips and gripping your jaw hard enough for it to creak. “You’re doing this ‘cause I said to. Do we have a problem?”

He was so good at making you feel small. You wonder how Vincent’s put up with it all these years. “No, Bo,” your words were muffled by his grip, but he got the message. He released you, but you didn’t go far, his arm wrapping around waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand coming up to push some of your hair back. “It’s alright, darlin.’ We all make mistakes, right?” His tone was condescending, his smirk even more so, but you played along like he wanted you to. Nodding and accepting when he pressed a violent kiss to your mouth, your teeth clashing together and lip splitting from the force of it.

He backed away from you, chuckling loudly and going back to the unconscious girl on the floor. You grabbed her by the ankles like he’d told you to and helped him drag her down to the basement. He propped her head on your shoulder while he unlocked the door and you struggled under her dead weight.

“Why is she going down here, Bo?”

Your mind went to the Polaroids covering the walls, the things he’s had you do in that chair and you felt anger burning in your gut. Not worry or fear for her like you should feel, but white hot burning rage at him for trying to pull something like this.

He looked over his shoulder at your expression and grinned, “Nothin’ like that, baby. Little bitch put up a fight and wrecked my truck, I ain’t done with her yet.”

A good person would wince and whisper and apology to the unconscious girl, say they were sorry for the pain she was about to experience. Instead you felt sated, relieved, and completely fine with hauling her body up into the chair and taping her down.

You held her legs down as he taped them and she started to move around. Bo tossed you some superglue and you gripped her by the jaw, clamping her lips shut and pouring glue over the seam of her mouth. She whimpered and you ignored her, moving mechanically, distancing yourself from the fact that she was a real moving person. In her place was a wax statue, full of imperfections that you needed the glue to fix.

All three of you looked up through the grate at the sound of the boots stomping in the garage above you. Bo shared a look with you and nodded towards the door. You let the girl go, slipping out of the basement and closing the door behind you. You came up through the entrance behind the register, glancing outside to see a man in front of the garage.

You let out a breath of relief, closing the door to the shop as you stepped into the garage, he hadn’t got a chance to see the pool of blood. “Can I help you?”

He turned around, a particularly bitchy look on his face. “Looking for my sister, Carly, seen her?”

There was a loud yelp and you frowned. You walked towards the work table, reaching for the stereo and turning the volume to Bo’s music on. You covered the grate from his view as Deftones blasted through the small garage.

“Sorry, it’s my dog, she hates new people.”

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah, might’ve seen her. Pretty girl, blonde hair?”

He nodded his head, giving you an appraising look. You weren’t sure if he didn’t believe you or was checking you out. You really preferred that he didn’t believe you, you weren’t prepared to deal with Bo if he thought someone was moving in on you. ”My boss, Bo, took her and her boyfriend up to his house a few minutes ago. They were lookin’ for a fan belt.”

“His house?”

You shrugged, “He keeps extra shipments there. Wasn’t too long ago, you want me to take you?”

He sucked on his teeth, shaking his head and backing away. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

You panicked, fists clenching as you watched him retreat. “It's really no problem.”

“I said I’m good,” he snapped.

You could see Bo creeping up behind him, the same wrench you used on the guy’s sister in his hand. If he turned around he would see Bo. Carly was easy to take out, she was small, trusting. This guy looked built and like he’d been in a few too many fights. “Wait!” You shouted, too scared to come up with a good distraction.

He glared at you and opened his mouth to say something just as Bo struck. The wrench came down on the guys head with a disturbing crack, but he didn’t fall like he should have. He stumbled forward and whirled around on Bo, his fist catching him in the jaw and tackling him to the ground.

You could clearly see blood pouring down the back of his head, but he remained unphased as he pounded into Bo. “Shit,” you cursed, darting to the side to pick up another weapon but you failed to notice how the man had stopped beating Bo. He must’ve seen you moving somehow because in a split second something was slamming into your side and the air was leaving you as you were slammed into the cement.

You groaned, feeling like your lungs had collapsed and curled up in an attempt to protect yourself as he directed his attacks towards you. “Nick!” A shrill voice screamed from the grate. “Nick!” He leapt off of you, heading back towards Bo and ripping the keys off his belt as he made a run for it.

Your vision was red, blood pouring down from a cut on your forehead. You took in a painful breath, your lungs wheezing, your ribs had apparently taken the majority of his punches. With your brain pounding against your eyes you rolled onto your knees and crawled towards Bo.

He wasn’t as badly injured as you had thought he would be, must’ve gotten in a few hits of his own. “Bo,” you grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Bo!” You tried again, shouting this time and slamming his head down on the cement.

He groaned and you let yourself fall back, head lolling on your shoulders as you tried to get your vision to stop swimming. “Shit, he got me.” Bo sat up, wiping the blood from under his nose, “Get home.” He ordered, tone not leaving any room for an argument. You nodded as he stormed off, but instead of going home like he told you to, you laid down on the cold cement and groaned.

Should lungs hurt?

You eventually managed your way to the house, once you’d got breath back, your injuries weren’t as bad as you’d thought they’d been. You stumbled into the doorway, glancing at a trail of blood leading into the office and trudging your way to the fridge. You grabbed a beer and threw yourself down on the couch.

It didn’t take long to hear footsteps creeping towards you. Your heart clenched when you saw how hesitant Vincent was to get near you. You loved Bo, but he could be a real fucking dick to his brother. You leaned your head against the cushion, rolling it to the right and smiling at Vincent.

It seemed to be enough for him to feel comfortable approaching you. He kneeled on the floor beside you and fussed over your scrapes. “I’m fine, really,” you reached up, taking his hand in yours and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I think they got Bo pretty bad, though.”

He tugged his hands from yours, taking off his gloves and signing. How bad

”One of the guys, he’s pretty strong, busted his sister out from the basement after attacking me and Bo. Actually managed to knock Bo out for a minute.”

Stay here

“Wait-” you reached out, trying to grab the back of his sweater but he was already making a run for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, his truck starting up a minute later. You sighed and fell back against the couch, letting your eyes shut as you tried to relax.

You hadn’t realized just how relaxed you’d gotten until you heard the door slam. You jumped up, glancing out the living room window and realizing how dark it’d gotten. You moved off the couch, placing your beer on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen.

Bo was leaning on the counter, already a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was completely soaked in blood, his nose leaking and a bandage wrapped around his arm. “Holy shit, Bo, what happened?”

You ran forward, hands instinctively going to the arrow buried in his arm. “Back off!” He snapped. You frowned and stepped back from him, trying not to upset him any further. You heard the rumble of a truck on the driveway and you glanced through the window.

Two bodies lay in the bed of Vincent’s yellow truck, a blonde girl and some guy you hadn’t seen before. Vincent jumped out, Jonesy following behind him, and made his way towards the door. You opened it before he could, grabbing him by the cardigan and making sure he wasn’t hurt like Bo.

He took your hands in his and shook his head, gently moving you back. “What have I told you about leaving without me?” Bo shouted. “You wait for me!”

Vincent nodded, not bothering to respond to Bo. There was a moment of tense silence before Bo offered a half-hearted smile to Vincent, “We’re almost done, Vinnie, momma would be proud of ya.”

It was the closest to an apology Vincent would ever get, you all knew it. Bo can’t apologize, his parents had permantly fucked with his psyche, and it started with his dad doing a risky surgery to seperate his boys. Vincent’s face would permanently be ruined but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Bo had gotten the fucked mental end of the separation.

“How many are left?” You asked, reluctantly releasing Vincent’s hands.

“The girl and her brother,” Bo paced, taking a swig of his whiskey. He hissed and clutched his hurt arm. “Alright, help me out with this.”

You had to hold yourself back from snapping at him. Oh, can I help now? Dick. You grabbed hold of what was left of the arrow and yanked as hard as you could, Bo clenched his teeth and let out a loud pained groan. You winced at the amount of blood that started coming out, Vincent moved you to the side, already having a bandage ready and tying it tight around Bo’s arm.

“Where do you think they headed?”

Bo grunted, speaking through clenched teeth, “House of Wax.”

You nodded and stepped back from him once it seemed like Vincent wouldn’t need your help. “I’ll go with you both.”

”No,” Bo shouted and Vincent shook his head wildly.

“Don’t be a dumbass, you need my help. They’ve already kicked your ass, I’ll stay out of sight, promise. I just want to be there in case they get the upper hand.” Bo looked unsure and Vincent was still shaking his head. You placed a comforting hand on both of their arms and begged, “Please. Let me help.”

Bo shook his head and your stomach dropped, worried he would say no. Finally he let out a long sigh, “Stick with Vincent.”

You nodded, feeling Vincent’s hand grab onto yours as he led you outside. Bo grunted and slowly followed after you both, his left arm stiff beside him.

You followed Vincent into the bowels of the House of Wax, he moved slowly, keeping one hand behind him to make sure you didn’t bolt. You weren’t planning on it, but they didn’t seem to completely trust you for some reason.

You heard footsteps ahead, quck and frantic, rushing through his workshop. Vincent pulled out his bone handle daggers and ran down the rest of the steps. You stayed on the stairwell, keeping your head peaked around the corner.

The brother was in there, rushing through the workshop and knocking shit over without a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed Vincent yet, too busy looking for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or what the plan was until you saw him grab a pile of sheets, getting ready to throw them in the fire that kept the wax warm.

Shit, he was going to set the whole damn place on fire.

Even if you did manage to kill these two, it wouldn’t matter, the police would come, they’d see the bodies. Bo and Vincent would be locked up and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what would happen to you.

You could always plead insanity, show the jury the scars from your bonds and they’d think you were just a victim forced to do the unimaginable.

You considered it for a moment, letting him get away with this, thought about the freedom that might await you. There was an empty feeling associated with that image, you’d miss Bo and Vince, miss the fucked up life you were living here.

There weren’t any worries here, just make sure the victims didn’t make it past the woods and you were fine. No taxes, or wondering how you’d afford to keep living in your overpriced apartment, no fucked politics. You were free to be whoever you wanted, do whatever you wanted.

You grabbed a lead pipe off the stairs and threw it at the wall. It provided enough of a distraction for him to drop the sheets, not yet making it to the fire, and for Vince to grab him. You watched long enough to see the knife go through his throat and then ran back up the stairs towards Bo.

You heard screaming before you made it through the door, Carly shouting something at him. What worried you was that you didn’t hear him respond. You turned the corner, feet sticking to the wax as you gripped onto the doorway for balance.

She was standing over him, baseball bat in her hands poised to bring it back down over his face. You could already see blood leaking down his face from where she’d hit him before. Without thinking you charged at her, wrapping your arms around her middle and taking her down to the floor.

She let out a surprised yelp but you didn’t let her get much else out before you were wailing on her. You don’t know what happened after you grabbed her. You only remember punching her the first time, remember your knuckles splitting and your blood mingling with hers as she wrestled with you.

All you could see was Bo laying on the floor, not moving, as this bitch stood over him with a bat. You were blinded by rage, a hot fury burning in your gut and keeping you moving as you pounded your fists into her. You felt satisfied by the sound of her bones crunching under you.

She screamed at you, words you couldn’t hear as your blood rushed through your ears, and threw her hand up into your chin. You groaned, jaw whipping to the side. She pounced on you, digging her fingers into your throat until you couldn’t breathe and flipping you both over.

You dragged your nails down her face, the skin digging under your nails like warm wax. You dragged your palms down until you could feel her throat, the movement it made as she took in a deep breath. You felt it bob up and down under your touch and you squeezed. She let out a strangled yelp and you could feel yourself slipping. You were becoming lost in a place of animalistic panic.

You were almost dead, the man you loved was most likely lying dead next to you as you fought for your own life. Your vision was cloudy until it went completely black and then you felt arms wrapping around your chest and pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, still in fighting for your life until you recognized the voice in your ear.

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s over.” You slumped back at the sound of Bo’s whispers. You ignored the feeling of his blood leaking into your shirt as he sat down with you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing until it hurt.

You didn’t mind the pain, though, embracing it because it meant you were both alive. Both of you were okay. You reached back, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into him. Carly lay dead a few feet in front of you, her face mangled and you looked down to see her blood soaking into your clothes.

You had your own wounds from where she’d fought back, bleeding lacerations that you’d fix later. For now you sat with Bo, watching as Vincent stomped towards you both. In a minute you’d get up, help them clean up the house and the bodies. Then you’d all go home, you’d make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up in one of their beds. Probably Bo, if his panicked grip was anything to go by.

Life would go on as it always had, except you’d never have to see that chair again. You’d never be looking up through a grate as blood pooled on the garage floor. You’d go with Bo when he went to the city for supplies, you’d be able to pick out clothes that weren’t plucked from the hands of the dead.

It wasn’t right.

You weren’t a good person.

You didn’t deserve salvation or heaven after all of this.

But you’d found it and you were perfectly happy.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #house of wax 2005 #House of wax x reader #sinclair brothers x reader #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you #Slashers

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bluetintcore · 2 years

Text

nsfw alphabet ᥫ᭡ patrick bateman.

synopsis ˒ in which i walk you through the ropes of sex with our favorite psychopath!

pairings ˒ patrick bateman x fem!reader.

warnings ˒ SMUT; pure filth; mentions of murder; mentions of knife and blood play; mentions of bondage; mentions of cheating; mentions of an axe; i think that may be it!

word count ˒ 1,4k

note from me ˒ thats my leg btw ;) creds to gif owner!

a = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

first of all, he’s smart and he knows what women want. he knows that they want to be loved and treated after sex, so he’d do just that to keep you whipped. he’d run you a nice bath and he’d even join you if you wanted. he’d wash your hair and body and he’d press loving kisses to your neck while doing so. he’d even carry you back to bed.

b = body part (his favorite body part of his and yours)

patrick is a little overly cocky, he knows he’s attractive. so if we’re being honest he really doesn’t feel he has any flaws, but if he had to choose his favorite body part would probably be his arms. he loves how defined his muscles look, he often finds himself flexing into any mirror he comes in contact with. he’s obsessed with himself.

on you, it’d have to be your thighs. he’s a big thigh guys. he loves how smooth they are and how your muscles flex when you walk; never fails to make him yearn for you. while fucking you, his go to to grab would be your thighs so support him. your thighs are his main hype man ngl.

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

he really likes to cum inside you. he just thinks it’s so warm and comforting. but he’ll honestly cum anywhere you want him to. your face, your belly, thighs, etc. but his all time favorite is inside.

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

he has 1000% fantasized about murdering you mid sex. like he’d be fucking you and then out of nowhere he’d pull out an axe and go all psycho on you. of course, that’s a secret for a reason. you’d never know that.

e = experienced (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

oh abso-fucking-lutely. this man is a total fucking womanizer. he knows exactly how to charm and hit all the right spots because he’s hit them many times before on other women.

f = favorite position (goes without saying)

surprisingly, he really enjoys missionary. he likes to look into your eyes so he knows he’s making you feel good; it’s something of a confidence booster for him. but he also really likes giving you back shots. however, he’d be open to trying any position.

g = goofy (is he more serious in the moment? humorous? etc.)

he’s serious. you would never catch this man cracking a joke during intimate times. in fact, if you even cracked a joke he’d probably look at you like you just said the most terrible thing. he doesn’t think sex should equal humor, and he prefers to be serious. and he would like it if you were serious too.

h = hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i think even before he met you he’d be big on being completely shaved down there. having a ton of hair makes him feel dirty (not that it is). so 99.9% of the time he would keep himself completely smooth.

i = intimacy (how is he during the moment? is he romantic?)

he can be, if he really loved you. most of the time he prefers to keep his mouth shut BUT if you’re lucky he may call you beautiful and tell you how amazing you feel. but that’s on a good day.

j = jerk off (masturbation headcanon)

you know, i don’t see him being the biggest masturbator. if he was horny, he’d come to you. if you didn’t want sex, he’d find someone who did; it’s as simple as that. but don’t be sad, at least you were his first option!

k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

obviously bondage. he’d love having you tied up and helpless as he had his way with you. he’s also into knife play and blood, ironically. as said before, if you weren’t comfortable with this he wouldn’t force you; because he’d find someone else who would.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he’d be okay with anywhere in his apartment. his bed, his couch, as long as he’s comfortable he doesn’t really care. to be completely honest, i don’t even think he’d have sex anywhere other than his apartment. anytime the two of you go out it’s always “let’s go back to MY apartment”. guess he just feels more comfortable there.

m = motivation (what turns him on?)

you getting hit on by other men. obviously you can’t help that and he knows it, but it’s the feeling of one upping those men that want you. after all, he’s the one fucking you every night; not them. so anytime you two are out and about if you get hit on he immediately wants sex.

n = no (something he wouldn’t do)

be submissive. during sex he is ALWAYS the dominant one. i feel like being submissive would absolutely obliterate his ego and that would seriously fuck with his head. so, if you’re a switch sorry about your luck because you’re a soon to be permanent sub.

o = oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he prefers receiving but he would never dismiss going down on you. he’s amazing at it, too. however when going down on you he’d never let you finish, he’d have you so close but right before you cum he’d stop and say, “i still have to fuck you.”

p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

never in a million years would patrick bateman have slow and sensual sex. he doesn’t like sex if it isn’t his way and that’s rough and fast. MAYBE on your anniversary he’d be soft and sweet but probably not even then.

your relationship with patrick revolves around him let’s be real.

q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they’re not his favorite. but since he doesn’t go outside of his apartment for sex, he’d never really have to worry about them.

r = risk (is he okay with experimenting? does he take risks?)

as long as it doesn’t completely beat up his ego, he’ll do it for you. it’s the least he can do. surprisingly, as much as he may fantasize about hurting you, he never actually would. he might try spanking, but that’s as far as he’d take it.

s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

he can go about 5-6 rounds throughout the night, 3-5 on a bad day. he usually lasts about 25-30 minutes.

t = toys (does he own toys? how much does he use them? on you or him?)

i don’t really think he’d be a big toy guy, honestly. he’s all about you and him intimacy, not a toy. probably laugh in your face if you brought it up to him. he may use a vibrator on you, but that’d be it.

u = unfair (how much does he like to tease?)

he does tease you, but not for a very long time. he’ll tease you for the first few minutes of being intimate and then he’ll stop and just fuck you. mostly because i think he gets extremely needy too.

v = volume (how loud is he? what kind of noises does he make, etc.)

not a moaner at all. he’s too focused on what he’s doing to put effort into making noises. when he’d cum he’d let out a groan, but other than that he’s mostly silent other then loud pants.

w = wild card (random headcanon)

while he may not be the most vocal person during sex, he loves hearing you talk dirty to him. like tell him how good he feels and how nobody else could ever fuck you this good and he’d be absolutely over the moon. it always got him in a good mood and going.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s BIG. he’s about 6 inches while he’s soft but 8 when he’s fully hard. it’s pretty thick too, and a long vein runs under the bottom and comes up just on the top of his shaft running over his tip. it’s pretty perfect ngl

y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

excruciatingly high. you’re always in constant pain because this man never gives you a break (with your consent ofc). he has to have sex with you at least once a day or he has a hard time functioning. so dramatic patty

z = zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?)

he always waits until you fall asleep until he decides to go to bed. it’s kinda creepy, but you never asked about it. so after you go to bed, he’d follow right after you.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale #christian bale x reader #christian bale imagine #christian bale smut #christian bale headcanon #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #slasher headcanon #slasher smut #oscars 2022

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 10 months

Text

Stay With Me

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Synopsis: Really just a lot of drabbles about reader growing up with big brother Dean.

Warnings: ANGST at the end, but with a happy ending (Because I’m a total coward that doesn’t believe in any other kind of ending, deal with it I’m never changing)

Author’s Note: Another one, really? Yeah I don’t know where they’re coming from, enjoy it while the obsession lasts!

“Stay with Dean, ok?”

That was your earliest memory. John Winchester, covered in blood, placed you in the strong arms of your oldest brother, and ran off to go after the vampire that had killed your mother and injured you.

You had tried to follow him, thinking he would somehow lead you back to your mom, too young to understand that she was gone forever.

Dean had snatched you up, holding you in his lap even as you struggled and cried.

“Hey, hey, stay with me baby, stay with me.”

A chill in the air bit into your skin. You were bleeding from various vampire cuts. You were trembling, and the only parent you had ever known was gone forever. But all you had to do was look up into your big brother’s eyes, and you somehow knew that everything would be ok.

…

“Hey, stay with me.”

Your eyes snapped up to your big brother, who was gesturing for you to keep up.

“But I wanted to get a balloon from the clown!” Your six-year old self whined, pointing over at one of the carnival booths.

Dean’s eyes scanned the area, before he lifted you into his arms and gave a meaningful glance to Sam. Sam looked terrified, but you couldn’t understand why he seemed so scared of the nice clowns.

“We’re not here to play with the clowns. You gotta stay with me, understand?”

You sighed in annoyance, glancing over at the clown with the big balloon. You really wanted one of those.

You let out a whine and kicked your legs, trying in vain to get out of Dean’s arms, “But Dean!”

Dean just chuckled, “c’mon baby, I’ll get you a funnel cake if you’re good.”

That was enough to make you go from whining and squirming, to clapping and leaning your head against your brother’s shoulder.

“Ok Dean.”

“Good girl.”

…

“Stay with me.”

“But Sam said to split up, shouldn’t we-”

Dean cut you off with a- “Y/N look out!” as he tackled you sideways. You saw the ax bury itself right where your head had been a second ago, the spirit wielding it clearly angry at having missed.

You and Dean both scrambled to your feet as the spirit vanished into thin air. You reached out to your brother and gripped onto his arm, trying to control your breathing. Dean took a moment to pull you into his chest, which you appreciated since you knew he was also trying to focus on where the spirit went. But you were only thirteen, and it was one of your first hunts, so Dean was going to make sure you got through it both physically and emotionally whole.

“Ok, ok, I’ll stay with you.”

Dean’s chest rumbled as his low chuckle reached your ears.

“Good girl.”

…

“Stay…stay with me. Please?”

Never, not even on a hunt, had a night scared you as much as this one. Sam and dad had spent hours yelling at each other, before Sam had finally packed a bag and stormed out the door, college-bound. You had run into his room while he was frantically shoving clothes into a bag, and you had begged him not to go away. He had just smiled sadly, wrapped you into his arms, kissed your head, and said goodbye.

And now this. Now Dean was staring up at you, his eyes almost…almost…vulnerable. Lost, even. Asking you to stay like he thought you were about to run away like Sam. It scared you. Dean was never vulnerable, he was never weak, he never had to ask you for anything. Then, you realized. Maybe he was just as scared as you were. He and Sam had been more than inseparable, they had a bond that you had been so certain would never be broken. But now it was.

You walked over to where Dean was leaning against the wall, and slid down next to him. He pulled you into his arms, and clung to you as though you were his anchor to the world. You reached your hand up and pulled his head against your shoulder. Even with Sam gone, you had never felt safer and more secure than you did right now in Dean’s arms.

“We’re gonna be ok,” your voice was quiet, but resolute. Impossibly, Dean’s arms got even tighter around you.

“I know we will, baby. As long as you stay with me.”

…

“No, no, stay with me, I’m right here baby, stay with me.”

You struggled to clear the fog clouding your mind, fighting your way back to the voice that was calling to you. You blinked your eyes open and saw Dean, his face hovering over yours, his eyes wide. Panicked. You felt something warm and wet against your hand, and you looked down to see that it was covered in dark red liquid that was pooling around a tear in your shirt.

The demon. It had attacked you, ripping open a gash in your face, your leg, then finally your stomach.

“Dean…” your voice croaked past the lump in your throat, and you reached a hand up towards your brother. He gripped your smaller hand in his, and you felt his other hand behind your head, holding you up.

“You’re ok,” Dean swallowed hard, and you felt a tear drop onto your nose. Dean was crying. “You’re ok baby, I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you, just stay with me, please.”

You felt the ground beneath you shake, and it took you a moment to realize why. You were in Baby, the car driving dangerously fast. You craned your neck to see Sam at the wheel. You glanced back and forth between your brothers, confused.

“Dean…why’s Sam…”

Dean brushed your hair away from your face, cringing when his hand came away from your face covered in blood.

“Shh, shh N/N, don’t try to talk. Sam’s driving so I can be here, I’m not gonna leave you baby.”

“We’re almost there,” Sam called from the front seat, glancing to the back for a split second. “Dean, you’ve gotta keep her awake.”

Dean looked down at you, alarmed when he saw your eyes drooping.

“Hey, hey c’mon N/N. Stay with me, I know you can, I know you can, ok? I’m right here, stay with me, stay.”

You forced your eyes open, and focused all of your attention on the green of Dean’s eyes. It was a pretty color, you decided. You had never really noticed…

“Pretty eyes,” you murmured.

“What?” Dean propped your head up a little higher, trying to keep you awake.

“You have pretty eyes,” you smiled up at your big brother.

Dean laughed softly, blinking rapidly to push the tears away from the surface.

“Yeah, ok sweetheart. Look right here, look at my eyes, don’t you fall asleep ok?”

You gripped his free hand hard in yours, squeezing it to try to force yourself to feel something other than the numbness that was threatening to take over.

“Ok Dean.”

…

The second that Sam brought the car to a stop, Dean had you cradled in his arms and was rushing you inside the emergency room.

“Help! I need help!”

…

You felt like there was a weight chained to your legs, dragging you down, down, down. Deep into some black…thing. Something you didn’t understand. Something that scared you. You struggled, trying to…to what? To fly, you supposed. But you couldn’t do it. You were being dragged down, and nothing could…

Wait. There was…something. A voice? It was calling out to you. The voice made you feel weightless, and impossibly, you felt yourself drawn to it, lifting up and away from the black void that threatened to claim you.

The voice was deep. Soft. soothing.

The voice was home.

“You come back to me. You hear me? I need you to stay with me.”

You knew that voice…

“Dean?” you felt your eyes open, and you felt suddenly snapped back into reality. A sharp antiseptic smell accosted your nose, and a harsh beeping made your ears ring. A blinding light was above you, but then suddenly, it was blocked out.

Replacing it was a pair of bright green eyes.

“Baby? Oh, baby…” Dean’s strong arms wrapped around you, and you let your body collapse into him. Your brain still felt foggy, but you understood enough to know that you had just come back from a very dangerous edge, one that you weren’t ready to fall down. And so you clung to the thing that had brought you back from that edge.

You clung to your big brother.

You felt tears dripping down your cheeks, soaking Dean’s shirt.

“I stayed with you,” you cried, clinging to the fabric of Dean’s shirt as he held you in his arms, one hand at the back of your head, holding you to him, while the other rubbed up and down your back.

“I know, I know you did, sweetheart. Baby you were so strong.” Dean’s voice came out thick, and a little higher than usual, and you knew he was crying too. “I know you stayed with me. And I’m never gonna let you go, ok? I’m never gonna let you go.”

You smiled against your brother’s warm embrace.

“Ok, Dean.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #winchester x sister!reader #winchester x sister

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moonrisecoeur · 5 months

Note

IM BACK CUZ IM MENTALLY UNWELL OK. and yes you’re the best sub Leon writer 😏🥱 and yes I liked it, SITTING ON HIS FACE? 😍🥱

I’m so sorry for blasting ur req box but YOURE AN ACTUALLY GOOD SUB LEON WRITER SO can you blame me? concept: idk why but re4 Leon is so free use coded and so imagine he is on a mission with a new assigned partner but she’s an asshole to him (“fuck off man, I can do it myself, “I don’t need your help”, “you’re too nice and gonna be taken advantage of 😐”, etc. You get the gist) and his goofy ass just tryna be nice and helpful, cuz this is leon we are talking about. But the fun part ⁉️ they have cameras installed in the hideout they are saying at for security purposes. But ofc, Leon always tries to check on reader to make sure she’s ok - even if she’s an asshole to him. AND YK WHAT READER DOES 😭 she’s way too horny and just goes at it, girl got a masturbation problem on god. Every night. One night - wrong time and place - Leon opens his laptop to see the cameras making sure she’s ok AND HELP HE SEES HER … yk. And he feels guilty like he shouldn’t watch but he does anyways. And this goes on for weeks. Until one night he’s sick and tired of her always being so mean and he accidentally lets it slip that he’s been watching her LOL AND SHES LIKE UHM BOY WHAT 🙄⁉️ and he tries to play it off like “I didnt mean to” but like, my brother in Christ… you’ve been watching every night for weeks 🤨 wdym you didn’t mean to? ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT SHE PUNISHES HIM AND HEAVYYYY ON THE FREE USE THING. Love you bae 😘

i made a couple minor changes just for convenience :) fem reader she/her pronouns!

also i didn’t write the smex scene IM SORRY but i have been working on this all day and i need to get to other asks but i promise i’ll write some more free use in the future because it’s so smexy

"look, i know you don't like me-"

"oh? really? tell me what you think you know, kennedy," you scowl at him, and though it spooks him just a little, he tries to seem unphased.

he frowns, not hurt by your words but definitely concerned that you'll make a bad partner, "you don't need to be this hostile. we're allies. we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"right..." your voice echos, and leon knows that if it came down to it, you wouldn't protect him, wouldn't save him, would barely help him. he's practically on his own for this mission, just has an extra body with him to shoot at the bad guys.

it hurts, to some degree, because even without knowing you well, and even with you being cold and rude to him, he knows he'd come to your rescue in a heartbeat. something about him feels fond of you, even though in your entire time knowing leon kennedy, you haven't said one nice thing to him.

he thinks that maybe he likes that you've never been nice to him. he doesn't really know what to do with that thought.

leon is proved wrong.

despite the harshness of your words, you come to his rescue, fighting off the villager who almost decapitated him with an axe like both of your lives depend on it (because they do).

he watches you fight nervously, but when you come out on top, aside from the gash wound you take to the hip, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"this is what happens when you hurt my partner," you groan, holding your side, trying to speak through the pain even though leon can see the blood seeping between your fingers.

you whisper something in your victim's ear, something leon can't quite make out, before you kill him. leon wonders what it was briefly. he decides it doesn’t matter.

you both breathe a sigh of relief, but it's short lived as you collapse to the ground. you saved him. you got hurt saving him.

"here, let me help you," he mutters, coming over to you, not even stopping to ask if you want his help because he knows you'll say no, "stop fighting me. you're hurt and i need to patch you up."

the pain is agonizing, but even through gritted teeth and tense breaths, you push through it. he has to commend you a little bit, you're tougher than you look.

but when you try to push his hand away, claiming "i'm fine, kennedy," he sees the struggle in your face, hears the hurt in your voice. his heart seems to stop. he's worried, "i can do it myself, you don't have to- fuck, dude, i don't need your help-."

"-just relax, okay? i got you..”

you don't have the strength to push him away, but you know you shouldn't anyway, so you just slouch back against the wall and try to breathe, "fine, just fuckin... hurry up."

"i'm just trying to take care of you. we're partners, right? i gotta look out for you," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood even slightly. he wishes that this would be the time the barriers come down, that those skyscraper walls that prevented him from coming any closer to you emotionally could come crashing down, if only for a moment.

"you don't have to do anything. you're choosing to put yourself in danger to help me," you groan as you lean back, looking up at the ceiling, "suprised that no one's tried to take advantage of your willingness to help before."

"someone did," he mutters annoyedly, focusing more on the wound then it being your wound, on your body. his eyebrows, almost naturally furrowed from years of stress, somehow make his face even more sad to gaze upon. it's not that he's unattractive, far from it, but he's... worn. tired. a piece of your heart, no matter how far you keep away from him, aches in sympathy.

leon carries you back to the safe room, a hideout you both are using to rest and recover in while you plot your next move. he lays his jacket on the ground to at least give you something comfortable to lie on. you don't look comfortable, but he can't do anything else to help you.

he looks through his things, trying to concoct something that will at least make you feel a little bit better. he finds a first aid spray, and his heart jumps out of his chest in excitement. he uses it to take care of your wound, and waits for you to wake up from your unconscious state.

he decides to go back out, hoping to maybe find some other things to help you both on your mission. he knows you'll berate him for leaving on his own, risking his own life needlessly. but god if he didn't imagine what it would be like if he found something you could really use, and watch your eyes light up. even if you didn't like him, you'd be happy. he wants to see you smile, to praise him for a job well done.

he cringes at how pathetic it sounds, but he sets off either way, leaving you wrapped in his jacket with a note from him saying what he's doing.

he doesn't do it intentionally. at least... not the first time. genuinely, he just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alive and breathing and safe. and you definitely were.

he doesn't know why its so hypnotizing, why he can't put his goddamn phone away with the stupid security app on it. of course it's you, though. you're hypnotizing.

he watches every pixel, every distorted view of you touching yourself in the safe room, obviously unaware that he could... see this. he's glad there's no audio, or else he'd be unable to control himself, even in an abandoned building surrounded by zombies. maybe its the years that haven hardened him, burned the fear out of his soul and numbed him to the presence of those things, but he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable desire right now.

have you been doing it the whole time? you both had spilt off from each other multiple times, and he would almost be upset at the idea that every time he was fighting for his life and barely, barely winning that fight each time, you were getting off a couple hundred feet from him in another room... if it wasn't so fucking hot to watch you masturbate.

he keeps watching until he notices that you're having an orgasm, body twitching and your chest heaving up and down as you take deep breathes. it's so fucking sexy, leon probably could have cum on the spot if he watched anymore.

you keep doing it. he keeps watching it. over the course of the mission (of course he had to be stuck on a long, secluded recon mission with you of all people) he's watched you too many times. he doesn't think he has enough fingers to count how many times, which either means he's been on this mission longer than he thought or you have a fucking addiction. he's almost kind of impressed at how efficient you are. takes you 10 minutes tops, and then you just get back up and keep on trucking? his sentimental, post-nut ass could never.

and, though you recovered from your wound, you haven't displayed any sense of gratitude for leon taking care of you when you passed out after getting hurt. not that he expects it, truthfully. you saved his life, he saved yours. you were even.

he just doesn't feel like he's broken any new ground. he feels like, if anything, you feel even further away, emotionally. he's about had it.

"hey, we need to talk," he says, ominously; he doesn't intend it to be so, "i understand you don't like me. it's fine. i don't even care anymore. but i am tired of you talking to me like i'm a pushover."

you look over at him, reloading your gun with a displeased look on your face. leon hates the inner urge he has to cave and apologize to you, as if his body would rather give up any sense of dignity he still has in favor of being slightly more tolerable to you.

"well? are you going to say something?"

you scoff, looking away, "didn't know you were so fucking sensitive, kennedy," and you turn around, ready to walk out, before he snaps, "this isn't a pleasure trip. sorry you're not having a good time."

"clearly you're having a good time with all the pleasure you're giving yourself while i'm trying not to die."

he stops. panicking. trying to think of how to spin the words he just said and make it not sound like he knew every tell you had when you were about to cum or exactly how you touch yourself in order to get yourself off quickly.

you stop as well. and you look back at him with this expression on your face that is completely unreadable.

maybe it wasn't the best move to reveal the only card he had left to play if it mean he would get this reaction out of you considering that, again, you so clearly do not like him.

... right?

"what... did you say, kennedy?" you ask, pure venom in your voice. it's not a question, you so clearly heard him correctly.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that-"

"have you been watching me?" you take a step closer, eyes boring into his soul so intensely he can't make eye contact. he has no way out of this situation. he feels out of breath, nervous, god why are you getting so close to him? "answer me, leon," not kennedy, leon, "have you been watching me masturbate?"

he looks up, trying to keep himself from making eye contact. he knows the second he looks into your eyes, he will be putty in your hands, free for you to mold into whatever you'd like. he knows you're not looking at him with distain like usual, it's something else.

something hungry.

"yeah," he breathes, barely getting the world out at all. you take a deep breath, as if you're debating what you're going to do.

"what you did was wrong, you see that, right?"

"yes, i know, but-"

you scoff, annoyed. god why in this moment, just inches away from you, you notice the moles on his neck, the angle of his jaw, the entrancing aura of his eyes. it's so damn distracting, and you have to pull yourself together, "but nothing. you watched me without my consent, you got off on it, didn't you?"

"god, you're making it sound so bad, i... i'm sorry, okay? how can i make it up to you?" he asks, trying so damn hard as always to please.

this is where you come to realize that maybe you didn't hate leon kennedy all this time. maybe you found yourself too comfortable, too at ease in his presence. maybe he was safe and sweet and gentle and it didn't sit right because nothing in a world with zombies and bioweapons and cults and parasites was gentle. but leon is.

you look down, considering your options, "i have an idea. you're free to refuse and we go back to before, and you get nothing from me. do you want to hear it?"

"sure?"

you take a breath, going for it, "i’ll be… blunt. if you couldn’t tell, i’m a bit.. insatiable. i need something to get myself off now that i’m getting bored of my own hands out here. you help me, and i’ll forgive you for watching me.”

his thoughts stop. he genuinely can’t put together a coherent thought, what did you mean? "are you.. are you fucking serious? you barely speak to me, every time you do speak to me you act like i'm the scum of the earth, you act like i'm not here when i saved your ass and carried you and patched you up, i-”

you cut him off with a kiss. it’s not gentle, it’s rough and messy and your fingers dig into the skin of his cheeks, leaving him red and breathless. he finally gets it. you don’t want him to help you, you want to use him.

he lets you push him down, pin his body to the wall as you kiss him breathless. he lets you dig your nails into his neck even if it hurts. he lets you touch and kiss him as rough or as gentle as you like. and you don’t like being gentle, clearly.

“use me,” he whispers between kisses, and when you pull away, eyeing him intently, as if urging him to explain himself, he does, “do whatever you want. just keep going until you’re satisfied. don’t… don’t hold back. whatever pleases you… i want that. i want to please you.”

“awh, you just want me to be happy with you, don’t you?” you coo at him, endeared by his selflessness. truly a good man in a bad world, “that’s all you’ve ever wanted, hm? for me to like you?”

his resolve cracks just a little bit more, “uhm, yeah…” he his voice is shaky, unsteady, and he just needs to give in.

“then you’re going to let me do this every single time in horny and need something to get myself off. i’m going to do whatever i want to you, and i’m not going to ask. you’re just going to let me. if you don’t, then we go right back to being enemies, and you really don’t want that, right?”

he stutters aimlessly, his knees going weak. he’d truly be done for if you weren’t hold him up with a strength he did not know you had.

and you just keep going, “i’m not going to ask or care if it’s a bad time. i want it to be inconvenient, uncomfortable, ill-timed. i want it to be permanently in your head that i can have you whenever i want you. that i can do whatever i want to you.”

“only i get to have you, got it?”

“g-got it,” he mutters weakly, feeling your hands on him, touching him in places he hasn’t been touched in a while. he didn’t realize how desperate he was.

“only i get to touch you, only i… get to fuck you.”

he nods helplessly.

“it’s too bad i didn’t bring a dildo in my bag when we set off for this mission, because i would so fuck you with it until you’re seeing stars and apologizing for going behind my back… but i suppose i’ll just have to satisfy myself with your cock…”

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octuscle · 4 months

Note

Hello Sir! I know you can help me with my problem. Soon new year, and in new year I want become big brut hairy bear, with bald head. I ready pay any price for it. Can you help me in this question?

You couldn't necessarily tell by looking at Liam. But he was already 19 years old. He constantly had to show his ID. He was annoyed. At least he wasn't ugly. On the contrary. He had hundreds of followers on TikTok. But most of them thought he was a kid. No one believed that he had finished school and wanted to start training as a draughtsman the following year. When he asked a construction company for an internship until then, they told him that they didn't accept underage trainees.

"Guys, how old do you think I am? And what can I do to be thought of as older?" Liam added to his new pic. Comments poured in. bears_and_boys_1982 sent him a link. Looked interesting. Probably something similar to FaceApp, Liam thought. He downloaded the app. And nothing happened. One of his buddies had replied that he should meet them for a cigarette and a beer at the bus stop. If he smoked enough, he would soon look older too. Liam laughed, put on his fake Moncler jacket and set off to meet his mates.

It was already after 11 p.m. and Liam was just about to turn out the lights when his cell phone beeped. "Installation complete, defining profile" was on the display. What the hell? Ah, the app from the bear and boy guy, Liam remembered. Let's see. It really was something similar to FaceApp. And it seemed to be free. You could capture a whole range of things. Age, occupation, hobbies, weight, height. Liam played around a bit. But it was awkward to use, the interfaces were old-fashioned, and there were no pictures or graphics anywhere. Liam lost the fun pretty quickly. He was also tired. He locked the phone, put it on the bedside table, turned off the light and soon fell asleep. The cell phone buzzed a few times during the night. Messages lit up. "Settings saved", "Target defined" and finally "Transformation started". After that, there was silence. Until the alarm clock rang at 04:30.

Quietly, so as not to wake his parents, Liam went to the bathroom. This internship was exhausting, but also fun. He was assigned to the bricklayers. Actually, he would have preferred to do something in the office on the computer. But his colleagues were nice and he had the feeling that working in the fresh air was good for him. Showering before work was silly. Liam sprayed some Axe under his arms, brushed his teeth and set off. The bus always picked him up at 05:00 and drove him to the construction site with the other colleagues.

After work, Liam drove back to his parents' house. His father needed help building the new carport. In other words, Liam was supposed to build a new carport. Initially, Liam's parents had grumbled that Liam didn't want to study, but only wanted to be a craftsman. Nowadays, the two wizened academics were happy that at least one of the family knew how to work. Before it got dark, Liam prepared the concrete for the foundations, dug the holes for the foundations, built the formwork and poured the foundations for the carport. Tomorrow he would install the support beams. Liam declined his mother's offer to stay for dinner. He had an appointment with a few colleagues for a beer. And even though the work had been exhausting enough, he would still like to go to the gym for an hour beforehand. He was increasingly developing a paunch from too much beer and too much junk food.

Life on the construction site was a man's world. The containers were small and stuffy. Especially for a colossus like Liam. The bunk bed, where Liam slept downstairs for safety reasons, was hardly more spacious than in a submarine. The air reeked of sweat, beer and male farts. But mostly also of cum and testosterone. Liam loved this world. He was almost always sorry to go back home at the weekend. Here there was always the opportunity for a quick fuck or a blowjob, just like tonight in the shower room. The apprentice looked almost greedily at Liam's fat, cheesy and uncut cock. It didn't matter whether colleagues were about to join him. At best, an orgy would develop.

The weekend at last. Liam had been a foreman on the construction site for a long time, but his boss still called him home at weekends to do smaller jobs. Hehehe, Liam knew what these tasks were. As a rule, his boss's wife wasn't at home on weekends like that. The boss would then cover the beds with the leather sheets that he hid from his wife in the tool shed and Liam would then fuck him on the sheets, in the hot tub or on the kitchen table.

He always felt a little uncomfortable in his boss's house. He hated the pictures of that princess who died a hundred years ago hanging at the shithouse. And he constantly had to be careful not to lose any of his body hair or beard, which could make his boss's wife suspicious. And Liam was constantly losing hair everywhere. Especially from his head. But Liam also didn't give a shit about his boss's problems. There was a good commission for the weekend work. And there was also commission if he pissed standing up and didn't lift up the toilet seat or if he shot his cum on the carpet while he was cumming. The rest wasn't his problem. By the time his boss's wife came back from the yoga weekend, he was long back in his man cave. With a bit of luck, with the hot apprentice's head between his thighs.

Pic of the former Liam found @toughukladz and pic of the current Liam found @eurobeef

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age progression #bear tf

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ponett · 17 days

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Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

#rakruined #ask #slarpg asks

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thefishermansharbor · 1 year

Text

Poisonous Jealousy,

The Arcana x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Headcanons about Lucio, Asra, and Portia feeling jealous of how their partner acts with someone.

Asra Alnazar:

Unlike how the rest of his personality is, Asra gets jealous easily and often. He can’t help his possessiveness, so he doesn’t act on it often. He’s good at containing himself.

Asra feels a big deal of guilt for all of his envy, and whether you mind or not, he worries it’ll make you feel uncomfortable or controlled.

He respects you and trusts you to not cheat on him but still he can’t help but overthink a bit before ultimately intercepting.

Still feels guilty about it even if you say he was doing you a favor.

You smile warmly at the shopper. “ Let me know if I can help you find anything, sweetie!”

Asra knew that this wasn’t special, and that you called everyone nicknames – but the way the stranger seemed to enjoy it got under his skin. He couldn’t help but curl his hands into fists as he watched the stranger’s expression twitch into a smirk.

The stranger had a likeness to your lover, except the stranger was taller, and had a mischievous feeling to him. The man spoke,

“ I was just wondering what time you got off work.”

Asra knows you’d never ever cheat on him, but his blood boils. There’s a slim slick feeling in the back of his mind as he watches the stranger inch closer to you. He can’t help himself but intervene.

He walks right in between you and the man, throwing his arm over your shoulder and giving your cheek a quick kiss. The man rolls his eyes, suddenly moving backwards.

“ I’m sorry to say that my PARTNER here will be busy with me after their shift. Maybe another time.” Asra offers the man a polite smile, but under it he’s practically seething with disgust for the stranger.

The man shakes his head in distaste, a little humiliated. “ – yeah whatever, I wasn’t that interested in you anyways.” He leaves the drapey magic shop, Asra’s grip on you only tightening while the man walks out.

“ What was that about?” You ask.

“ Sorry, I really didn’t like how close he was getting. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” In part, this statement is true.. But the bigger reason behind it was to satisfy that possessiveness that had been crawling around in the back of his mind. You shrug, and he kisses you quickly. He trusts you.

Portia Devorak:

She doesn’t get jealous at all. Actually, she prides herself on the trust she has for you. She lets almost anything slide, as long as the person she’s jealous of isn’t physically or emotionally hurting you.

But if it’s a particularly bad day and someone is really bothering her - she’ll try to one-up them in some shape or form. They’re talking about how good they are at darts? She’s better and she’ll prove she is.

She also does something nice for you, to prove that she’s the better lover than whoever the other person is.

She’s passive aggressive because she doesn’t want to be outright rude to another person for the reason being only that they were hitting on you.

One of the other pirates was bragging to you about his exceptional axe-throwing skill. From what Portia could see, you were interested in the conversation and were happy to hear it.

Portia smiled, she was so glad you were bonding with the ship crew. But then again, she couldn’t help this inkling of a feeling. Was she jealous? No, no.. she trusted you. She just couldn’t help but think about it. The other pirate was your type, and was far more reliable than the mischievous Portia.

She runs the situation over in her head - she was pretty good at axe - throwing, and she could probably take him in a competition.. She walked over and sat down next to the two of you.

“ Hi my love! What’re you guys up to?” She said excitedly. You began to speak, but the pirate cut you off.

“ I was just telling this beauty,” He winked at you, “ about my expertise.” Portia nodded, her hand taking yours and squeezing it gently. “ – how great!” She smiled so wide it could’ve been a frown.

“ What are you an expert on, then?” She asks.

“ Ax - throwing.” He said proudly, crossing his arms. Portia’s eyes narrowed, still holding that forced smile. “ GREAT. Just GREAT. Should we do a bit of that, then?”

“ That's maybe not the safest idea.” You offer sheepishly. The tension in the area pooling, Portia looks at you.

“ you’re right. Do I ever tell you how smart you are, my love? You’re just brilliant!” She says loudly. The other pirate seemed to be starting to get the hint now. But Portia kept going,

“ You’re also a brilliant kisser. You’re so sweet to me, you’re the best partner I could ask for.” She exclaims, extra sweetly. The other pirate seems a little unsure of himself now, his eyes running around the room.

“ – so, back to you.” Portia said finally, looking back at the other pirate. He stands and brushes himself off, “ well, maybe I should uh.. Leave you two for a moment.”

She nods, and waits for him to leave before kissing you. She felt like a winner when she did that, as if it was some sort of ‘ impress my lover! ‘ challenge that she had won.

Lucio Morgasson:

Will laugh it off at first. But if that person makes you uncomfortable - god forbid, he will cause a scene.

This grown man will do literally ANYTHING to get whoever was hitting on you to leave you alone. I kid you not, this grown man will bark at someone in order for them to get away from you.

He loves you and would do whatever needed to protect you or your honor, but also a bit of his own pride and jealousy can get in the way when he tries to intercept anyone trying to romance you in front of him.

Lucio accepts that you wouldn’t two-time him, but he wouldn’t mind showing off in front of you. He likes it when you’re proud of him.

You were at one of Lucio’s famously good parties. Everyone was happy and excited, dancing and twirling. You were talking to a foreign diplomat, drink in hand.

She smiled widely at you. Most of your conversation was about Vesuvia, but it started to edge onto a bit of flirting..

“ I knew Vesuvia to be the home of marvelous talent, but I didn’t know it was such a hotspot for gorgeous people like yourself,” She smiled, twirling her hair and being extra sweet with you. Lucio had been partying loudly and proudly like he always does, when he caught sight of you being a little too friendly with one of the guests.

He walked over, he thought it was a hilarious and desperate attempt from the diplomat to secure some false friendship. He chuckled to himself, she couldn’t possibly be serious… but then she was.

She was raving to you about how spectacular of a conversation partner you were, and Lucio felt.. Embarrassed? Were you liking it? Would she be better than him for you? Before his thoughts can cloud him, he walks over and smirks at the both of you.

“ How’s the party going?” He asks you. You smile and speak, “ I’m just chatting around, meet my friend, she’s very sweet–” Lucio’s temper breaks, and he takes a deep breath.

He picks you up. Completely up, as if you weigh nothing. “ I LOVE YOU!” He then shouts. A couple guests look over at you three, but most shove it off and go back to whatever they were doing.

The diplomat just sort of stares, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. She doesn’t know what to make of this, so she goes quiet. Lucio then carefully places you down, and glares at her.

“ .. sooo, your name?” He says almost bitterly. She stutters out a response, but it’s unintelligible and really quiet. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, the diplomat walks off defeatedly. Lucio grins, he thinks to himself, that’s a job well done.

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wanderingelvis · 1 year

Note

i loved your ‘elvis takes care of reader on her period’ and the ‘innocent reader’ fics!! I was thinking of another innocent reader fic? Or maybe just normal reader? Honestly which ever you vibe with more :) Where Elvis takes reader out shopping and they have a little fashion show + more cute stuff 🫠

Thank you! I loved writing this request - I hope you like it! I specifically had Sugar Daddy!Elvis in mind here 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 word count: 1,746

pairing: 1973!elvis x female innocent!reader

warnings: mention of virginity, slight smut, slight daddy kink

It was no secret that you'd had a modest upbringing - not just when it came to material items but also when it came to experience. Your mother and father had kept you sheltered and you'd had a relatively uneducated childhood which had hindered you a little when you grew older as you didn't really grow any wiser.

Elvis knew about your upbringing, actually, it was one of the things that drew him to you when you opened up to him one night. Elvis could relate to what you told him about not having many nice things or fancy possessions growing up and it made him feel protective over you, he wanted to be the one to expose you to his newfound world of luxurious and beautiful things.

And that's exactly what was happening, Elvis had taken you to a pretty boutique to pick out some new clothes for you as a special treat. Elvis had bought you clothes before, ones that he wanted to see you in but he'd never taken you shopping to actually choose the clothes before.

"It's pretty ain't it baby?" Elvis whispered standing behind you, rubbing the sides of your upper arms as he watched you chew on your lip as your fingers traced the soft tulle material of the dress on the hanger. You nodded gently in response, not saying anything. "Pretty dress like that should be on a pretty baby, don't ya think?" He hummed in your ear, sending shivers through your body. Even though he called you them all the time, you were still not used to the endless compliments and pet names that Elvis would give you.

Elvis could tell you were hesitant to indulge in these little luxuries, he knew your battle-axe of a father had it engrained in you from very early on that money was to be spent on the necessities and for saving and not to be spent on something as frivolous as a party dress. You shuddered just thinking about what he would say if he could see you right now, looking at silly party dresses.

But they were just so pretty.

"It's so much money Elvis." You said softly, feelings of guilty washing over you. You knew Elvis was generous, someone just had to mention that they thought something looked nice and the next day it would be on their doorstep, courtesy of Elvis, but you were just feeling so overwhelmed at the cost until your eyes lit up a little and you spun round in Elvis' arms to face him.

"I could maybe, um, I could maybe pay for some of it! I don't have that much left but um, I should be paid soon and then, then I could give you some of it!" You said, your eyes wide eager enthusiasm. "A-and I could, maybe, um, maybe I could owe you!"

Now, Elvis knew as soon as the suggestion left your soft lips that he wouldn't allow you to pay him a dime towards the party dress that you obviously adored, however, after years of people around him trying to take advantage of him for his money, your small gesture meant a whole lot to him.

Elvis chuckled a little as he studied your face which held nothing but sweet earnest, you were just so eager to please him. Elvis leaned down a little so he could crouch in front of you, taking your little hands in his big ones.

"Now lil' darlin', y'know I don't need any of your money, but that is awful sweet of ya baby,-"

"B-but I wanna give something back to you!" You interrupted, desperate to show Elvis that you really did want to contribute.

Elvis laughed that deep, Southern chuckle, his large hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced over it soothingly. "You're such a good lil' girl, y'know that?" Elvis cooed, raising his eyebrow slightly as he awaited your answer and watched as you blushed, recoiling cutely at the words.

You simply nodded in response, offering the big, tall, powerful man a soft smile.

"Oh baby, you know I wanna hear you say it." Elvis hummed. His tone was gentle and quiet but held so much dominance and power over you.

You opened your mouth which had suddenly gone dry at the command, "I-I'm a good little girl." You stuttered tripping over your words. Elvis knew that he'd made you feel all nervous and shy and he adored having that control over you.

"Atta girl." Elvis murmured. "Now, how's about you show me how pretty you're gonna look in that dress, hm?" Elvis whispered cooly, sending shivers through your small body and causing your eyes to go wide.

Elvis watched you intensely as you nodded at his not-so-negotiable suggestion. Elvis gave you a short nod back before rising fully and turning to the boutique workers who were stationed by the door, on alert to help with any request that either you or Elvis had.

"Ladies, I think we'll take it from here and Y/N here will try on one or two dresses. If y'all could wait outside the door and we'll let ya know when we're ready to make the purchase." Elvis dismissed, smiling at the women as they nodded and exited the room.

Elvis practically sauntered to the couch in the middle of the boutique room, his large frame leaning back on the velvet couch and occupying all the space. He grinned at you as he sat, spreading his legs out, ready to watch you undress.

You shot him a tentative smile, feeling a little giddy and very overwhelmed at everything that was going on. Delicately, you picked out the beautiful tulle party dress and laid it in front of you before your trembling fingers began to unbutton the cute, short little dress you currently had on.

Sure, Elvis had seen you naked before, you'd been intimate in many ways already - you hadn't quite gone all the way yet, Elvis had told you that you weren't ready for that and you trusted him, but you still felt vulnerable, getting undressed in a beautiful albeit very public boutique in Vegas. Sure, you were in a private area in the boutique that Elvis had instructed the workers not to enter, but you'd really not done anything as risque as this before.

"Look at ya, followin' instruction so well that I didn't even have to tell you to strip and you're already desperate to get naked for me." Elvis said, snapping you out of your thoughts, making you blush for what must've been the thousandth time this afternoon.

You loved the praise that Elvis gave you. You were always so eager to please.

You peeled off the dress, letting it drop to the plush, fluffy carpet, pooling by your ankles you were left in just your panties. You had forgone a bra and the cool air from the boutique breezed across your sensitive nipples, hardening them as Elvis watched, his eyes dark and full of lust.

"Such a pretty girl," Elvis cooed, barely audible but enough for you to hear and let out a soft giggle that just the sound of could make Elvis' cock twitch.

Elvis had been infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you. You were just a little, starry-eyed thing that was constantly seeking praise and reassurance, desperate to please anyone you encountered. The innocence that radiated off you had certainly made an impression on Elvis.

Elvis quickly realised that he could instruct you to do anything and you'd do it without question and not just because you were eager to please, but also because you were so naive that even some of Elvis' more immoral demands would go right over your pretty little head.

"Put the dress on for Daddy, baby." Elvis grunted, palming subtly at his lower region, the idea of you standing in the middle of the boutique, exposed and trembling with nerves but compliant to his every whim, making him feel aroused.

You nodded at his words, grabbing the gorgeous pink dress with your shaky hands, taking it off the hanger and carefully unzipping the fabric. You shot Elvis an innocent grin that he reciprocated as the excitement of wearing something so beautiful grew.

You stepped into the dress, shimmying it up your body, wiggling your hips adorably as you adjusted it to fit your frame. The excitement became all a little too much, consuming you entirely as you ran to the full-length mirror to see the dress on your body, gasping when you were met with your reflection.

"It's so beautiful!" You giggled angelically, twirling around to see the full skirt spin and looking over your shoulder to see the detailing on the back.

"Baby." Elvis said, making you turn to him immediately. "C'mere." He gently commanded, beckoning at you with two long fingers.

You scampered over to him, bare footed as he pat his lap, gesturing for you to sit there, as you did, giggling as the tulle covered the both of you as you swung your little legs, your feet not quite reaching the floor when you leant back on Elvis' chest.

"My beautiful girl." Elvis hushed, kissing the top of your head.

You were in heaven.

Elvis continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, praising you and complimenting you, making you feel all fuzzy in your tummy, which you told him straight away, making him chuckle at how utterly sweet you were.

"D'ya like the dress, little 'un?" Elvis said, teasing you as the answer had been obvious as soon as you'd entered the boutique.

You nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes! Oh, I love it! It's just so, um, so beautiful! And look at the pretty beads and pearls! It's so sparkly! Oh Elvis, it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen!" You said, not understanding that Elvis was teasing you but it didn't matter, Elvis loved making you happy like this.

"Well, I think we ought to buy it for ya then baby, what do ya say?" Elvis chuckled.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, it's the nicest thing I've ever been given, it's the nicest thing I've ever worn! It's gonna be so special! I'll only wear it for special occasions!" You said with those adorable bush-baby eyes of yours.

"Special occasions hm? I think that's a good idea lil' mama." Elvis said, brushing your hair behind your shoulder as you sat upright in his lap. "You know what that means, little one?" Elvis asked, making you furrow your brows and tilt your head to the side cutely in confusion.

"What?"

"Daddy's gonna take your virginity in this dress, baby."

taglist: @reddie-freddie @meetmeatyourworst @octobers-snow @kxnnxy @slimerspengler @elvisbf @astralheart21 @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @wwebaby657 @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @gothicphantom @eliseinmemphis @fallinlovewithurlove

#sugar daddy elvis #elvis presley #elvis #elvis fic #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis oneshot #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis angst #elvis fluff #elvis x oc #yandere elvis #70s elvis #innocent reader #innocent!reader

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imtrashraccoon · 13 days

Text

Headcanons!

Nightmare & his gang's reactions to being (affectionately) called a "bad boy".

I decided to do this rather than actually write something. @owl-bones ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Axe

"uh... that's not a good thing, right?"

Poor guy is confused. He's already hyper aware of how much he's changed from the harmless comedian to a hulking monstrosity and he's constantly questioning why anyone would want to be friends with, let alone date, him. He still thinks it's a bit of a weird thing to call him once you explain, although he's flattered that you like how tough he looks. He doesn't really get it though? He's just being himself.

Killer

"you know it, cutie~"

Congrats! You just boosted his already very high ego. He already likes to wear stereotypical bad boy clothes so he's all too pleased to wear his new title as well. He's gonna be extra obnoxious about it for a little while but if you're this close with him already, you must have the patience of a saint. Don't be too surprised if he steals a motorcycle from some poor guy and tries to convince you to go for a ride. He doesn't have a license though...nor has he ever actually driven one.

Dust

"...? i thought that was obvious..."

He's a little confused but he's got the spirit. While he doesn't care as much about his appearance as Killer, Dust still has some fashion sense. He likes caps and has at least half a dozen already. Since he's the brooding type, nothing will really change but he's secretly pleased that you like his style. He might start showing off a bit, just to see your reaction, but ultimately will still want cuddles at the end of the day.

Nightmare

He gives you an odd look before patting your head in a slightly patronizing way. "I'm a villian, dear~"

He is actually rather amused by your comment but believes it isn't very accurate. He does his fair bit of brooding but that's about where the comparisons end since he has a variety of hobbies that tend to clash with the stereotype. He also dresses rather fancy and wouldn't even consider wearing anything like that. Probably... He might humour you if you're really close with him, but you'll owe him big time.

Baggs

He laughs. "oh, darling! if you only knew everything i've done, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. ...what?"

He'll insist he knew exactly what you meant and then question what you thought he meant. Good luck getting him to elaborate on whatever his statement implied though. You're a special person and he'd really rather not risk your opinion of him changing if you did find out. He's quite good at distracting you too, even without using his powers to modify your memory...

Bonus!

Cross

"huh? ...uh, thanks?"

It took him a second to realize you were actually trying to compliment him and now he's rather flustered at the thought. Isn't he a bit too uptight for that? He's a soldier, not some punk. But, the idea that you see this other side to him is kind of nice. Be prepared for questions about it and he might try to show off for you too. Despite not being sure of himself, he somehow succeeds and looks effortlessly cool at the same time.

Error

"N-no?? I'm literally j-just being myself??"

He is very, very confused. What even is a "bad boy"? He's not even doing anything wrong and is just purging the useless worlds like he's always done. You beg to differ, which actually starts to frustrate him. His clothes are comfy and he made them himself, there's no way he'll change, even if you beg him. You might have a sulky sack of bones on your hands for a while. Good thing he's easily bribed with chocolate and binge watching the latest installments of his favourite show universe.

#raccoons headcanons #disclaimer i know very little about this topic myself #i had to write this though #i have a type after all #horror sans #killer sans #dust sans #nightmare sans #baggs sans #cross sans #error sans

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mangowillow · 7 months

Text

last to know | ch. 1: haunted dreams

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst (who am i without it), hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: nothing really; well, maybe except seokjin's intrusive thoughts about an axe k*ller— but it's tame, i promise! oh, and jeongguk gets slapped. be nice and let me know if i miss anything! there's a mini flashback in this chapter in all italics marked by a ♥!

word count: 3,900

author's note: i am very nervous about this first chapter because it's been A WHILE since i last wrote ~something~ so anyway! here you go, enjoy!

fic masterlist

New York, 2023

It was right when the DJ turned up the volume that Jeongguk felt the impact of a palm hitting him square in the jaw.

Jeongguk doesn’t know what stimuli to focus on: should it be the loud music blasting through the speakers or the sting of the slap that he probably deserved. It doesn’t take his brain too long to piece together what just happened 5 seconds ago. He knows what’s coming and he is also very much aware that he did see it coming sooner or later.

“Fuck you, Jeongguk,” Ae-cha grits through her teeth. Jeongguk swears she’s about to cry, tears threatening to spill amidst the blue glow of the lights above them. “We are dating, how can you say that—”

“We sleep together when it’s convenient for the both of us, Ae-cha.” Jeongguk downs the rest of his scotch, along with the remnants of his pride. “I never said anything about dating.”

“You are such a jerk!” Ae-cha turns a shade of red, tears in the corners of her eyes. It isn’t the first time Jeongguk has ever made a woman cry, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel that hollow ache in his chest; the one he felt the first time he made that mistake. He should feel bad, he thinks, but then again, he also doesn’t.

Does that make him a bad person?

“I didn’t listen to my friends when they said you were trouble. I wanted to prove them wrong—” Ae-cha starts, but Jeongguk cuts her off.

“Why? Why do you have to?”

Ae-cha’s eyes grow wide as she watches Jeongguk stare at his empty glass.

“You should have listened to your friends.” Jeongguk says, matter-of-fact. Ae-cha scoffs and Jeongguk knows now is the right time to probably shut up.

But he’s a jerk, just like Ae-cha says he was.

“I told you right from the beginning… we just use each other because we’re both lonely,” Jeongguk feels his throat turn dry, “I think somewhere along the way, you misread my actions.”

Ae-cha doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She closes her eyes for a minute and Jeongguk looks at her, waiting for her rebuttal. Or maybe a second slap. Whichever comes first.

Ae-cha speaks in a voice so low, it’s perplexing how Jeongguk is still able to pick up her words— “Your problem is that you do not care about other people’s feelings, Jeongguk. You only care about your own.”

Jeongguk tightens his jaw; now he feels his heart aching.

“You hurt people. You ruin good things. You keep your heart under tight wraps and you do not let anyone in. If you keep that up, you will end up with no one.”

Jeongguk stares at Ae-cha, wanting to say something, but failing completely. Maybe this is what he gets for sleeping with a psychologist— a rude awakening.

Before he can say anything, Ae-cha turns on her heel and walks away. Jeongguk remains at the bar for a bit more until the song changes into a slower tempo. It feels like a chore walking back to the table where his best friend Yoongi was— like walking on lead.

“That must’ve hurt—” Yoongi starts, fingers reaching out to the peanut bowl and putting some into his mouth. Jeongguk plops down on the chair with a sigh. “What a shitty night,” he quips.

Yoongi hums, “And whose fault is that?”

Jeongguk looks at his best friend in annoyance. Yoongi chuckles, putting more peanuts into his mouth. “What’d she say?”

“That I’m a jerk who hurts people and ruins good things.”

“Is it true?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t think I need to do that, kid.” Yoongi concludes, glancing at Jeongguk. He takes a swing out of his beer bottle before continuing, “You know damn well the answer to that.”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue and takes the beer from Yoongi. He takes a swig himself, letting their conversation die out by drowning it into the same old music he’s used to hearing almost every night.

Jeongguk comes home to his apartment that night, tipsy and his heart in pieces. Walking into the living room, the corner of his eyes catch the stack of luggages already packed and loaded. He didn’t feel like sitting on the couch so he opts to sit on the floor, his fingers grazing the carpet absentmindedly. A beat later, he allows his heart to bleed once more— as he always seems to do every single night for the past few years. Leaning his head back against the edge of his couch, he cries himself to sleep, wishing, praying the ache in his chest—and the words you hurt people—would go away in the morning.

Seoul, 2023

Your eyes try to take in the art in front of you— The Artist’s Garden in Giverny, Claude Monet, 1900. Usually, many emotions overwhelm your system and you cannot help but discuss any painting with the next person willing to listen.

And once upon a time, you were enthusiastic about your craft and love for the arts. It was almost always too easy, too often that you could come up with pieces to add to your gallery. But that hasn’t happened in over a year— maybe more than.

In the stillness of the room you are in, you hear light footsteps coming closer to where you are. You keep your eyes trained on Monet’s painting until your brother Seokjin sits beside you.

For a while, you and Seokjin just sit beside each other— no words, only a quiet understanding that close siblings seem to share and empathize with. Seokjin’s parents adopted you when you were eleven; a year after you and your parents met a horrible car collision. You are five months older than Seokin, yet that fact doesn't deter him at all, and more often than not, he usually ends up acting like your older brother. When he first met you at the orphanage, he grew fond of you real quick— already asking his parents when he’d be allowed to play with you. He doesn’t mind that you were once part of the system, that you are his half-sister— not really. He never treated you any differently. He loves you with his whole heart and he will always protect you.

This is why he also cannot stand stillness at times, especially when it involves you.

“Have you been waiting long?” Seokjin asks.

You have a habit of kicking your right foot into the air when you don’t really know how to respond right away. You take a sharp inhale before shaking your head. Seokjin follows your line of sight— you were still looking at the painting.

“Does it make you feel better? Looking at this, I mean…”

Seokjin’s question makes you look at him instead, like you just realized he had been sitting there this whole time and you never knew. He meets your eyes, sees the sadness in them. He will always know no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“Happy birthday, ____”

You don’t respond.

“Taehyung and the others are waiting down at the cafe. Do you still want to meet them?”

You nod once before giving Seokjin a smile, “Of course.”

Seokjin slides into the gap between the two of you and instinctively, you rest your head on his shoulder as he envelops you in a side hug. He rubs a hand up and down your arm before planting a light kiss on top of your head.

“I know it doesn’t get any easier, ____. But I just want you to know that I love you… We all love you.”

With shaky breath and tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, you whisper, “I know.”

As Seokjin gets into the driver’s seat, you hand him an envelope. Seokjin has an inkling what it is, but he asks you anyway as he squints his eyes at you.

“What is that supposed to be?”

You push the envelope towards him a bit more, just humming, “It’s the last payment.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes as he presses the ignition. He doesn’t take the envelope, “Oh come on, Seokjin, just take it.”

“And for the nth time, you shouldn’t have to pay for something I willingly helped you out for. We’re siblings, for gods sake, ____.”

You lower your hands, setting the envelope on your lap. Eyes cast down you mumble, “I know that. I was able to sell a painting again after a long time and it felt good… But I already told you this before— I’d feel better if you just please take this.”

Seokjin lets out a sigh— usually he makes that sound when he’s already defeated.

“Please don’t tell me you’re giving me all the money you worked hard for,” Seokjin starts and you shake your head as soon as you heard the word all. “No, not at all, I— I had some saved up and the rest of it will be for rent.”

You look at Seokjin who still looks suspicious. You playfully roll your eyes and Seokjin sees you smile for the first time that night.

“I promise.”

Seokjin sets his eyes on the parking lot, placing his hands on the steering wheel, “Fine—” you squeal as soon as he gives in and you place the envelope in the glove compartment. “—but this is the last time, all right?”

“Yes sir, that’s the last of the payments,” you respond a tone higher than your usual. Seokjin chuckles as he sets the gear into reverse.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help moving some of your stuff?” Seokjin asks as you fasten your seatbelt.

“Not really, I think I can manage just fine.”

You expect Seokjin to be backing up the car right now, yet he remains unmoving. You chuckle.

“I’ll be fine, Seokjin. Movers will help me move some of the heavier stuff.”

“Listen, ____, I was beyond ecstatic when you told me you were moving out of… there. I just don’t understand why you need to move in somewhere else when you can just stay with me.”

“Seokjin—”

“And it’s not like you have any problems with money or anything, I mean, you are doing okay right?”

“I am,” you answer with a smirk.

“Yah, don’t give me that look, ____. I’m serious, I really don’t understand why you have to stay somewhere else.”

“I already told you. I don’t need a big apartment, I just need a place to sleep. And isn’t it weird if we live together— people are going to think we’re co-dependent.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off, “And I know what you’re going to ask next. Why did I choose to move in an apartment on the other side of the city? And I already told you a dozen times— I need to learn how to be on my own for real this time. And it’s much cheaper compared to all the other apartments in the city center, I mean— have you seen Seoul?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, woman. Sure yeah, valid, but have you met your neighbors?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask confidently.

“Well, they could be an ax killer or something—”

“Or they could just be an ordinary person with a normal life, Seokjin.” You laugh at your brother’s catastrophic thoughts. You completely understand where he’s coming from— he just wants to protect you.

“That’s only hypothetical,” Seokjin snarks as he stops at a stoplight. You lay your hand on top of his on the console.

“I know you’re worried about me—”

“I am, you brat.”

“And I will forever be grateful… but I need to do this,” you reply calmly, almost like you were whispering. “I hope you understand.”

“I’m trying, ____. It’s not exactly easy to do that when you’re not giving me the grace to understand exactly why you need to do this… when you can just stay with me. The house is too big. And the cafe is right next door!”

“And we will get to that someday… but not right now, hm?” Seokjin sighs in defeat. “I will call you every single night if that will make you feel better.”

“Yah, those kinds of things have to come from the heart, not because you’re forced to do it just to appease me.”

“I’m not… I actually really want to talk to my little brother every day,” you tease as Seokjin scoffs.

“Fine, you have to call me every day, okay? Promise?”

You grin wide, “I promise.”

“And I am not your little brother, we’re only 5 months apart.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m older than you.”

Seokjin grumbles under his breath but a smirk was on his lips, “And you’re always going to be my brat.”

The coffee shop you and Seokjin run together has been passed down by your parents. Ever since Seokjin could utter the word, “coffee,” everyone in the family knew he was destined to manage the coffee chains. Even though you were technically the older one, your parents were more lenient and allowed you to forge your own path. Seokjin understood that and he wouldn’t have it any other way despite your pleas to help him with all the major business work. It has been a few years since the original coffee shop in Seongsu-dong expanded into different branches across Seoul. When you flew back from New York, you immediately put up your own artist studio right beside the cafe. Seokjin even pitched in on the idea of a gallery where people can choose to paint while drinking their favorite latte. Four years later, people now come for the art displays and occasional indie music performances, at times poetry nights.

Four years later, you were also making a name for yourself as an artist. Seokjin once told you you were a jack of all trades, master of everything because you were crafty with your hands— painting, dress-making, cooking. And you brush him off every single time.

Because if anything, one of your greatest weaknesses was believing whether or not you were good enough for anything or anyone.

Seokjin opens the door for you as you both enter the coffee shop. As soon as you come in, you are greeted by your long-time friends— Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin. You met Taehyung and Jimin in New York because you were all fine arts students. Hoseok came into the picture as Taehyung’s lover not long after the three of you came back home to Seoul.

“There she is, our little star,” Taehyung greets you with his signature boxy smile. His arms are wide open, ready to engulf you in a tight embrace. Jimin and Hoseok follow suit, each with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s about time you show your pretty face, ____. It’s been ages since we last saw you,” Jimin quips.

“But I text and call you guys almost every day,” you defend. Hoseok pushes a plate of strawberry cake towards you and adds, “It’s not the same as seeing you in the flesh, ____. You look amazing, as always.”

“Thank you, Hobi. That’s reassuring, considering the fact that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“Too many commissions?” Jimin asks.

“More than that, the gallery show at Seojung Art is in six months, and I still haven’t started on my piece.”

“Do you already know what you’re going to create?” Taehyung asks as he takes a bite of his croissant.

“That’s the problem… inspiration isn’t coming. It’s a bother,” a frown now evident across your face. Jimin holds your hand.

“You know you’re really talented, right, ____? You’ll pull through.”

“Thanks, Jiminie,” you smile at him.

“Maybe one of the customers’ paintings here could ignite a spark?” Taehyung starts. “I mean, sometimes the best kind of inspiration hits when you least expect it.”

“You’re right. I’ll sleep on it tonight… if I do get to sleep,” you chuckle, but they all know it’s more than that.

Seokjin comes back to the table with your hot mint tea— a drink that almost always helps you fall asleep.

“What’s with the dead atmosphere, guys? It’s been a while since we all got together like this and you’re all moping,” Seokjin jokes. He has always been the life of the party contrary to his very introverted nature.

“It really is a good night, isn’t it?” Taehyung replies as he eats up the last bit of his pastry. “Hoseok and I actually enjoyed the night breeze on the way here because it was just the right amount of chilly.”

“Always the romantic, this one,” Hoseok laughs.

Jimin carefully watches you as you sip your tea in silence. “Are you all settled to move in tomorrow, ____? Do you need help?”

“I’ll be fine, Jimin. I don't have as much stuff to pack, anyway.”

“Oh yeah that’s right, tomorrow’s moving day. Are you excited?” Taehyung jumps a bit on his seat, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Not really, I mean, it’s going to be pretty boring moving stuff around, don’t you think?”

“But it’s also the start of a new beginning.” Taehyung supplies.

You smile after taking a bite of the cake, “That is very true.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to talk, but then closes it. He changes his mind anyway, “Her neighbors don’t own axes or something, right Taehyung?”

Taehyung giggles, “I don’t know, hyung, It’s not like I went into every apartment on her floor.”

Seokjin turns pale and Taehyung laughs. Taehyung used to live on the same floor as the one you’re about to move into— before he moved in with Hoseok.

“Seokjin is so worried about the neightbors that he couldn’t stop ranting about it on the way here,” you chuckle. “But as I told him, I’ll be fine.” You placed emphasis on the word fine as you held Seokjin’s hand for reassurance under the table.

“Are you telling that to us or to yourself?” Seokjin starts. He has a way of being so upfront with you that there were moments when it became the cause of your fights and misunderstandings. Seokjin sometimes does not know when to stop, yet you know he always means well. You love and dislike him for it at the same time.

“Hyung…” Jimin readily interjects.

“It’s okay, Jimin…” you put your fork down and paused before looking at Seokjin. “I am telling all of you and myself… that I will be fine. I am honestly really thankful that you’re all here now to keep me company.”

You’ve been saying the word “fine” and “okay” a whole lot that night— you started to doubt if you really are or if Seokjin was right— that you’re just trying to convince yourself of it.

“Are you holding up okay, noona?” Hoseok asks, worried.

“Of course—” you take a sharp exhale before continuing, “It also means that time is helping me get past it. And I am okay with that.”

None of your friends respond.

“We love you always, ____. You’ll always have us.” Taehyung said.

“Happy birthday, noona,” Jimin smiles.

Your friends sing you their greetings as Hoseok brings out their surprise birthday cake and flowers. As you try not to cry at their gesture, you try to give them the most genuine smile you can muster. Yet in your heart, you know it’s not enough to convince them. Or yourself.

♥ “You do not get to tell me shit because I have done everything for you—”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Jeongguk—”

“And yet you still came here with me. If you are really that resentful about moving here… about marrying me— then why did you stay? Why are you still here?”

“I never said I resented you.”

“Yeah? Well it feels like it. You make me feel like shit whenever I can’t help you! God I— you know what? I’m done. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

“W-what do you mean you can’t—”

“—I’m saying we should end this. I want a divorce.”

Yoongi gently shakes Jeongguk’s shoulder to wake him up. “We’re almost landing, Jeongguk-ah,” he whispers.

Jeongguk slightly jerks from his sleep. His body feels heavy, his brain foggy but at the same time trying to recover from the dream he just had.

“It’s the same dream again, isn’t it?” Yoongi asks, knuckles turning white as he holds on to the arm rests. Turbulence has always been a bitch— well, at least to Yoongi. Jeongguk doesn’t answer him; instead, he looks out the plane window, thinking the plane couldn’t land fast enough.

“You keep calling out for her, you know? When you dream, I mean. Did you know that?”

That gets Jeongguk’s attention. He bites down on his lip ring before shaking his head, “No. I didn’t know.”

From baggage claim until Jeongguk and Yoongi exit through arrivals, there has been nothing but silence. Yoongi notices how Jeongguk’s hands couldn’t keep still: he’d take them in and out of his pockets. As they walk to the car that awaits them, Yoongi asks once more— “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?

Jeongguk lets out a long breath before looking at his best friend: “I will be.”

“This is the last of the boxes, ma’am.” One of the movers holds a medium-sized box. “Where do you want me to put it?”

You get up from one of the boxes you were opening, “Oh, that’s okay, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“I just need you to sign one more thing before we wrap up.”

“Of course,” you take the pen and sign on the dotted line.

“Have a good day,” The movers gave you a small bow before they went on their way. Looking around the room, you let out a sigh. The apartment is bigger than you initially thought but you are happy about that. There’s an extra room spacious enough to set up a painting studio.

Your eyes land on the last box that was given to you by the mover. Inside it are memories that you don’t feel ready to touch just yet. Despite everything else scattered around your room, you pick up the box and shove it into the back corner of your closet. Maybe someday you’ll have the heart to open it again, but right now, it stays out of sight.

You were about to start opening one of the other boxes when a soft, melodic voice comes up behind you— “Hey baby.”

You turn around quickly, your heart and body naturally gravitating to the owner of the voice: Kim Woosung, your boyfriend.

“Hi,” you softly respond, heart happy upon seeing your boyfriend’s smile. He sets the take-out bags down to hug you. Woosung then gives you a long kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “I missed you.”

You don’t lift your eyes to meet his right away, but your hands reach out for his as he cradles your face. When you finally look at him, he gives you that warm smile you have always loved. With Woosung, there is peace, the kind that secures your heart. As he aligns his forehead with yours, you feel all your worries melt away.

With Woosung, everything feels safe, so right.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Woosung apologizes. You shake your head gently and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re just in time.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #woosung x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook divorce au #jungkook fanfic #childhood friends #divorce au #mwillow: last to know

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red-balloon12 · 3 months

Text

I just “watched” episodes 7 and 8 of Hazbin and I have a lot of thoughts.

But let’s start off with episode 7

Rosie and Camilla were EVERYTHING this episode. I love them both and I didn’t really have much to say about avails before this episode but like…I loved them a lot. Rosie is an absolute sweet heart (despite her being a cannibal)

Vaggie has wings now….Y E S. There’s SO much visual potential for this. I can just imagine her carrying Charlie bridal style through hell and her expressing with them as. I know a lot of people were confused but I’m gonna give explanations now: Lute ripped off her wings, she didn’t cut them with an angelic weapon which means Vaggie was able to grow them back through “The Power of Love”™️ and sheer will power.

At first I was a bit disappointed that Charlie and Vaggie didn’t actually properly and I was a bit underwhelmed by Charlie’s reaction to Vaggie’s but I’ll tell why I’m not as disappointed anymore.

Alastor was behaving a little bit like Charlie’s father figure in this which is funny considering episode 5. (But I know Chalastor shippers are gonna be weird about it and use the scenes for their fuel. Smh.) Not to mention I can see Camilla becoming a mentor/motherly figure for Vaggie in the future. But oddly enough I can also se Rosie being a mother figure for Charlie too.

Camilla’s song is probably my favorite out of the song list so far and while I’m a little disappointed it wasn’t a duet between her and Vaggie like the first song kinda was, we did get a training montage out of it and the explanation about Camilla defeating an angel leading up to it was freaking cool. (I really like how Camilla’s footwear was used as instruments in the song, I love stuff like that)

And now….for episode 8

I really liked Vaggie’s war outfit, Charlie’s was okay too.

I’m not gonna lie to y’all, I lowkey was kinda rooting for Adam when he was going up against Alastor. I’m sorry but I just…do not like him…or his fans for that matter. And GOD DAMN was it refreshing when Adam broke his staff, that man needed to be humbled….I just wish it wasn’t Adam that did it…cus I don’t like Adam either. And I feel like Alastor’s fans are coping with the fact that their precious deer demon daddy lost to a damn angel. (And yes he did loose to him. Cope and seethe) My guy wasn’t gonna land a scratch on Adam without an angelic weapon, what did people think was gonna happen?? But I’ll give Alastor props for holding out as long as he did.

Speaking of him, the reason why I didn’t mention the deal he made with Charlie yet is because it connects with this episode. So I’m 95% certain he has a contract with Lilith and it had something to do with that stick of his. His staff was probably the source of a lot of his power and it can’t be regenerated because it was broken by Adam’s guitar/axe. That “favor” that Alastor wants from Charlie might be to have her make him a new one, a more powerful one that he could possibly…idk…kill Lucifer or Lilith with? Idk dude, the man’s be scheming. But I’m like…98% certain his gonna be the BBEG by the end of this…and if not him, than Lilith.

CHAGGIE DUET- STARMOTH DUET- I’m so ill about them. This is why I wasn’t so mad about them not talking because of THIS SCENE. At this point, I could care less if people still think they have no chemistry after this or they think they’re boring. They’re real, they’re canon and they are beautiful. COPE AND SEETHE, BITCHES! I just hope they get more original duet pieces and not reprises in S2 but the fact they used the same song from Charlie and her dad is really cute.

I liked Vaggie calling Charlie petnames during battle. Little things like that is what makes these two so nice to watch.

Vaggie Vs. Lute…dispite me hoping Vaggie would be on even footing with Lute, it wasn’t realistic, and I’m glad they kept it realistic. Vaggie was out of practice for YEARS meanwhile Lute was not only going at it after Vaggie’s falling but she was also the lieutenant. But this is where Camilla’s advice came into play. Lute fought Vaggie with vengeance in mind as well as her thinking she was indestructible. This lead to her downfall when Lute was so caught up in mocking Vaggie, she accidentally gave Vaggie time to think of a way to outsmart her. Lute fought hard but Vaggie fought smart and it paid off in the end. And we got that BADASS line from Vaggie at the end of it. I love it when my girl gets W’s.

I’m disappointed how Charlie was overpowered by Adam though. I was so ready for her to throw hands with him. But I can see why this is the case as well. Charlie never really had to go all out before in her life. So she’s kinda rusty and inexperienced compared to Adam and Lucifer. (Also rip Razzle or Dazzle. You will probably be missed) But she did get two good hits which I can appreciate and she was the first to actually do damage to Adam. Something I can also appreciate.

Speaking of which, Lucifer absolutely OWNED Adam as he should. We stan a short king who loves his daughter.

Sir Pent was absolutely ROBBED of his moment by Adam and I don’t care that they made up for it by him going to heaven (I do care but sksnjs I’m still salty) And am I the only one that like…didn’t care all that much for his crush in Cherri? Like, I do like it in theory but the pacing…OH THE PACING IS THE REAL VILLAIN OF THIS SHOW. I wish they had a little bit more build up to that kiss. But hey, at least we have confirmation that the hotel does work. Rip Sir Penny. You WILL be missed.

I don’t know how I feel about Nifty of all people being the one to end Adam. On one hand it WAS foreshadowed at the beginning but one the other hand..it felt cheap(?). Like it would have been more satisfying for say Vaggie or Charlie to land the final blow, from a narrative standpoint at least. But…it was Nifty. And uh…was I SUPPOSED to feel bad for Lute seeing Adam die? I’m sorry but they both deserve to get their wings cut off. Adam was a fun villain but I’m glad he’s dead.

Hopes/Predictions for S2

I want more Early Stage!StarMoth. One of the criticisms people have with their relationship is how little set up they have. The best way to rectify this is to show how they were when they were still crushing on each other. A good example of this is Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe. Ruby and Sapphire were already established as a couple for Y E A R S but because we got to see how they fell in love and how they worked in the early days, people got more invested in their love story. So I hope Hazbin does the same with Charlie and Vaggie.

I also want Vaggie on her own. I know this is contradictory to my first want but I’ll explain. The theory as to why Vaggie seemed a bit shallow for a lot of people in the show was because they felt like Charlie was Vaggie’s whole personality which is something that I semi do agree with. So I want Vaggie to pick up a new hobby in S2. Whether it be her doing some dancing or maybe she becomes a musician. I just want more of VAGGIE.

And speaking of…I want Camilla to become some sort of mentor for Vaggie. I mentioned it earlier but I’m gonna do it again. Lute’s gonna come back in S2 and she’s gonna want revenge on Vaggie. We’ve seen how underpowered Vaggie is compared to Lute when it came to raw skill. But Camilla knew how to fend off from the angels and Vaggie did use her advice. I think and hope that if Vaggie keeps on training under Camilla, she can definitely surpass Lute and become a better fighter from it. Hell, Camilla can even help Vaggie deal with her anger issues.

It would also be fun if Lucifer trained up Charlie to be a better fighter (or Vaggie and Charlie can train together. It would make for some good moments between them)

This is a smaller want but I want Vaggie to cut her hair…she looks so much more cooler with shorter hair. And maybe a name change??? Maybe?

I want Charlie and Alastor to fight. It’s probably gonna happen with that deal and all. Some one is gonna suffer and Charlie (after having more experience) is gonna take on Alastor and I want her to remind him why she’s the damn Princess of Hell.

I just want the cast to interact with eachother more. Don’t let it just be Charlie and Vaggie or Angel and Husk. I wanna see how Vaggie and Husk would interact. They’d seem like a pretty chill duo.

I predict Lilith is gonna be the BBEG if not Alastor. She’s either gonna have to throw down with Charlie or Lucifer. And if somehow Alastor reforms, he may throw down with her. Lilith is gonna fight SOMEONE. (And Charlie may have to do a sing-nu-jitsu on her)

I predict Angel and Husk are gonna have to face with their soul binders (Alastor and Valentino) and both of them are probably gonna be rushed.

I predict Lute and Vaggie are gonna fight again and I HOPE Vaggie is more ready for it than in the finale.

I predict either Angel or Husk is gone be next in-line to be redeemed (which means either one is gonna “die” next season)

I predict another standoff between Alastor and Vox…and this time Vox is more cocky since Alastor took a BIG hit in the finale.

I predict Emily is gonna become a sinner.

And last but not least…I predict Vaggie and Charlie are gonna have a wedding at the end of the show.

My “final” thoughts for Hazbin Hotel S1: Pacing and tone shifts were the biggest flaw for this season. Moments, relationships and topics suffered from the poor pacing and while some of the blame goes to the lack of episodes, most of it goes to the writers. I can’t tell you how many moments fell flat due to the rushed episodes. You don’t really have time to breath with this show and the moments that you do get to breath are some of the best moments of the show.

(There’s also bias issues but that’s a separate topic-)

But for what it had…it wasn’t the worst. And I’m actually kinda looking forward to season 2.

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