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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

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Playing with Fire

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

As the age-old saying goes, “if you play with fire, be prepared to get burned”! Will Idia and Ace be able to withstand the chef forged in the flames of hell’s kitchen?

asdhbasildsb PRETEND LIKE THIS ISN'T BEING PUT OUT AFTER THE EVENT 😭 (At least I'm all caught up on Master Chefs now...)

Imagine this…

"Alright, let's start cookin'!"

"HOLD IT!! Where do you think you’re going, Trappola?!”

"Gack!" Ace felt himself being yanked back by the collar, forcing the air out of him. The Ramshackle Prefect had him in a formidable grip—one rivaling that of Riddle's iron fist. "What's the big deal, stoppin' a guy from makin' a meal?"

A drawn-out sigh came from behind Gordon. “Fwehehe… Leave it to Ace-shi to solo-rush the boss battle… He's the type to button mash to skip past the tutorial and jump straight into things."

Annoyance surged up, and Ace spat out his heated words. "Oi, can it! Least I'm not shaking in my boots before getting anywhere NEAR the kitchen!"

“Not looking like that you aren’t.” Gordon flicked the first year’s chef’s hat, setting it askew. “Fix your hair! We don’t want any of it getting into the food.”

“Yeees, sir,” Ace groaned with an eye roll.

Gordon glanced at Idia, taking in the few hair clips he had scrounged up to clip his bangs back.

“You, Shroud!” Gordon snapped at him. “All your hair’s got to go up.”

“E-Eh…? All of it? B-But Ace-shi doesn’t have to! Th-This is gamer discrimination!!”

“Are your ears not working? Yes, I said ALL of it.” Gordon pointed to the blue flames that sprouted from the dorm leader’s scalp. “It has nothing to do with your hobbies, you’re a walking fire hazard!! What’s going to happen when a drop of oil hits you?”

“B-But my hair doesn’t even behave like regular fire does…” Idia mumbled, earning a glare from his instructor. “E-Eeep!! I-I got it, I’ll do it already!!”

“Oh, how the tables turn,” Ace sniggered as he secured the last of his bangs. The rest of his hair was too short to maneuver under his hat, spiking out on either side of his head.

“Alright, I’m gonna go ahead! Smell ya later, senpai!” He threw a wink and a wave at Idia before prancing into the kitchen.

The cheek and cheer made Idia cringe. What little motivation he had for this class wilted down to cinders.

He sniffed and mournfully did away with his hair, tucking every last bit of blue out of sight. When he at last dragged himself to the kitchen entryway, he hesitated on stepping through.

Haunting memories plagued his mind—the booming demands, the door being bashed down with fists and frying pans. Two monstrous men hovering above him as he cowered in a ball. The darkly easygoing expression on Floyd, Sebek in an imposing, militant stance, glaring down at him.

“Oi, Firefly Squid-senpai. This all the noodles you got? You’d better tell the truth or else Crocodile-chan and I will squeeze you senseless~”

Idia's fingers trembled terribly at the thought. Clamminess collected on his palms. The room seemed to spin

Gordon materialized by his frozen student's side.

“In you go then!” He gave a firm smack on Idia’s back, propelling him stumbling forward.

Ace, already at his station, looked up from inspecting bell peppers. A rainbow of red, orange, yellow, and green filled several baskets-but when he saw Idia, the peppers’ bright colors paled to Ace's massive grin.

“BAHAHAHAHAH!!” The first year keeled over, unable to contain his laughter. One arm cradled his stomach to keep himself from collapsing, the other pointing a knife at his upperclassman. “YOU TOTALLY LOOK BALD!!"

Idia flushed, shrinking into his chef's uniform. Were his hair visible, the flames would have, no doubt, been tinged pink with embarrassment.

"S-Sure, go for the low blow and pick on the guy whose character looks like crap in the event exclusive armor... This is why I wanted to send my tablet for this course instead of coming in person!!"

"Not bloody likely."

Idia stiffened at their instructor's voice, and the sharp clap that followed it. The sound echoed like static tracing along his scalp. His culinary nightmares had only just begun.

"If you've got the time to fuck around, you have time to cook. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, you two!"

Gordon Ramsay made sure to plant himself squarely between Ace and Idia's work benches. Knowing what chaos the kitchen grounds could breed, he didn't want to take any chances by leaving either or unsupervised. Not again, not after so many sessions with NRC's various problem children.

Chop, chop, chop...

"Groan..."

How many times have I taught this course by now? Gordon mused to himself, dragging a hand over his face. The horrors he had witnessed brought back the beginnings of a migraine, the slow simmer of rage.

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop...

"Groooan..."

They aren't all bad kids, he thought. Some were just misunderstood, overeager, or lacking the technical abilities. Patience, Gordon, patience. They're children. They have plenty of room to grow.

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop…

"GROOOOOOOOOOAN!!

He snapped.

“… Trappola, your task is to cut the bell peppers, not to complain as you do it!!" Gordon bellowed with a huff.

"But teeeach," Ace whined, "there's so many veggies!! Why do I have to be the one to chop them all, anyway? Just cuz it's easy doesn't mean I like doing this, y'know!! My hand hurts, it's totally cramping!"

"You have the talent to make them the same size and shape. That will help the peppers cook more evenly once we throw them on the heat." Gordon pointed to another basket full of peppers. "So suck it up!"

“Can’t you make Idia-senpai split this work?! He’s barely doing anything on his own anyway, and a cute little underclassman like me sure could use the extra helping hand!”

Gordon deadpanned.

“What?! I am cute,” Ace insisted, “and I wasn’t joking about wanting that helping hand.”

“And you’re not getting it.”

"Uggggh, fiiiiine.”

Ace unenthusiastically returned to his chopping board. As he brought his knife down, bisecting a crimson pepper, his expression lightened with a realization. “Hey, you know what? With so many peppers lying around, I could cram an extra helping of it into Deuce’s portion!!”

Gordon frowned. “… Is that seriously what’s motivating you?”

“Haha, yup 🎵”

What a fast turnaround. Perked right up.

“All I need now’s a dish that’s easy to hide peppers in! What should I go with? A soup? Stir fry? Oh, ooor I could do an omelet—the ultimate betrayal!” He snickered in a self-congratulatory manner. “Deuce won’t ever know what hit him!!”

The master chef heaved a sigh and glanced at Idia’s station, leaving Ace to his mise en place. “And how are you doing over there, Shroud?”

Idia jumped at the mention of his name. His fingers, sticky and (aptly) peppered with pepper seeds, were fumbling with measuring spoons.

"I-I'm fine..."

"Well, what's taking you so long? In the same time Trappola's knocked out a few crates, you've been standing around twiddlin' your thumbs."

"S-So what if my stat growth is a little slower than Ace-shi's?! Cut me some slack here, this process couldn't be more inefficient if it tried!!"

Idia furiously shook his head. "It'd all be done by now if I had a machine to throw together a meal... instead, I have to tediously measure spices by hand and deal with this stuffy place. These steps could all be automated."

Gordon snorted, unimpressed with the dour attitude. "If everything were automated, you'd be putting a lot of people out of their passions."

"Jobs," Idia corrected. "You mean their jobs."

"No, I mean their passions," Gordon shot back. "A fire burns because it has fuel, and passions exist because of the spirit behind them. That's something no A.I. could replicate."

"Hihihihi..." A smug, challenging smile emerged on Idia's blue lips. "Try telling that to Ortho. Bet he could perfectly recreate any recipe you throw at him in record time. Think you could honestly take him? Heh, bring it."

“You certainly changed your tone quickly—but if you can talk like that about your own creation, then I’d better see that same energy in your dish.” The closest pan was gripped and handed to a slack-jawed Idia.

“B-B-But…!!”

“Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Gordon was already at the stove, cranking up the heat. A circle of flames erupted from the burner. In the glow of the fire, Gordon appeared not human, but like a demon chef from hell.

“I-I wasn’t built for this!!” Idia wailed in protest, only to have a spatula at him.

His instructor’s response was blunt and full of snark. “Perfect opportunity for you to ‘get good’, then. There’s no teacher like experience.”

Idia struggled to produce a counter argument—but his mind was moving fasting than his body. Gordon had seized the arm with the pan by the wrist and guided it to the stove, adding a splash of oil to it. The third year flinched as heat crept onto his skin.

“Peppers in, and cook until tender!!” Gordon ordered. "If you can’t take this much, you won't last long in my kitchen!"

Idia fearfully obeyed, tossing in a few of the peppers he had just washed. The water droplets crackled upon contact, and—

Crackle, sssszzzt, POP!!

“E-EEEEEEeeEEeEP!!” Idia launched back, dodging the flecks of hot oil that sprayed at him. Cook until tender? The apprentice chef would be tenderized sooner than the vegetables would!

“Hoo, boy. This is gonna be a looong class,” Ace muttered from his station. "Dude has no chill at all..."

“Haven’t I suffered enough?! J-Just put me out of my misery alreadyyyy!!”

“We’ve only just started, boys!!” Gordon barked. There was no mistaking the blazing passion in his composure and in his eyes. “Put your backs into it!! I’ll make men out of you yet!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Idia Shroud #Ace Trappola #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #Gordon Ramsay #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #something no one asked for #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #can’t believe we’re now 16 students in to Master Chef #SORRY FOR ALSO GETTING THIS OUT LATE BUT AT LEAST IT'S NOT DURING ANOTHER MASTER CHEF THAT I HAVE TO ACCOUNT FOR #if twst won't give me bald!Idia then I will make it happen myself.

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 9 months

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One piece characters of your choice getting courted by siren reader? Maybe? Thought it’d be cute

-Besides Jinbei, it was a smart thing to have more than one crew member on the Straw Hats who was an expert in water, and you had joined shortly after meeting Luffy and the rest of his crew on Fishman Island.

-You were a siren, a rare type of mermaid that is semi-aquatic, as in you could gain human legs when you were only a child, unlike other mermaids who could get human like legs once they were older.

-However, no matter which form you were in, you had glittery silver scales that trailed up your arms and the sides of your torso and between yours breasts and up your spine, and if you were in your human form, you had them trailing from your hips to your ankles.

-Like all mermaid types, you were stunningly beautiful and always drew stares wherever you went, and since joining the crew, many grew jealous of Luffy who had three beautiful women on his crew.

-You didn’t care about others, as you were only focused on (Love) and giving him courting gifts, traditional gifts that sirens would get for the male they wanted as a mate, shells, pearls, or large fish or sea beasts to show that you’re a provider.

-Jinbei- was honestly stunned when you gave him the first bright pink conch shell, giving you a grin but not outright rejecting you, “You know I’m an old man right? You could go for someone younger.” Your hands immediately rose to your hips with a pout on your lips, “I don’t want someone younger- you’re the one I want!” You and Jinbei had known each other for years and he knew that you were a fierce warrior but also had a kind and gentle heart. You gave him more gifts, pretty shells and gemstones you found in the ocean, but when you brought the corpse of an octopus Sea King to the surface after going out hunting, Jinbei couldn’t help but laugh loudly as Luffy and the others cheered about having an octopus feast. While you were eating, Jinbei surprised you by putting a light blue conch on you lap, returning your affections. Sanji collapsed to his hands and knees, sobbing comically as you had tackled Jinbei to his back, covering his face with kisses.

-Sanji- when you first met the amorous cook you weren’t completely sure what to make of him, carrying him to the infirmary where his friends were on Fishman Island, “Hey I found this weirdo bleeding out of his nose by the mermaid lounge.” His friends seemed used to his antics, but to you they were new and he was elated when you joined the crew. Nami noticed your lingering stares on Sanji and warned you that he was a pervert and that he flirted with everything, but Robin spoke up, “Who knows, if he has a partner, he might mellow out with the flirting.” That’s when you decided to start courting Sanji, bringing him large fishes and other things you had caught while in the ocean. You were beginning to pout as he didn’t seem to be accepting your gifts, as he would just thank you with a huge smile and make what you caught for everyone. When you presented him with a pale pink conch, he admired it, holding it up, “I’ve never seen this color before! It’s beautiful!!” your eyes sparkled and when you deflated in defeat when he didn’t accept your feelings again, going to Chopper to hug him while you pouted. Jinbei chuckled, seeing this and went and told Sanji that you had been courting him and giving him gifts. Sanji burst out of the kitchen door, leaving a perfect hole of his body as he ran for you, yelling out your name as stars were in his eyes, realizing that you had been courting him. Nami and Robin were happy that he mellowed out with the flirting with them at least, and the two of you did your best to keep your nauseatingly sweet affection behind closed doors after he finally accepted your feelings.

-Brook- when you first met him you were sparkly eyed, as you had never seen anything like him before, and he adored your attention on him, melting under your affections. Your first meeting with him went better than it usually did with females, when he asked you if you would show him your panties and you responded back, “What are those?” despite being a skeleton, he and Sanji both flew back, blood spurting from their noses. You learned, after joining the crew, what panties were as Nami and Robin had to teach you to wear them when you were in your human form. You grew close to Brook, he was very sweet to you, always played music, and never failed to make you laugh. When you started with the courting gifts, bringing him shells, while he adored them, he didn’t seem to understand the meaning behind them, which made you pout, and instead of explaining it to him, you just tried harder. Jinbei was the one who realized this, chuckling softly at you and told Brook what you were going. When you brought back a pale pink conch shell, a bright smile on your face, Brook pulled out into his arms, “If you’re all right with a dead man, I will do my best to make you happy.” You beamed with elation and since you were together, he asked you to show him your panties and you almost killed him as you had forgotten them that day as you had been out in the water for most of the day. At least the two of you were happy!

#one piece #jinbei #brook #sanji #straw hat pirates

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yaboi-julien · 2 years

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(Based on this post by @questbedhead)

Full image description below cut!

Image Description: A long form comic including three pages, all set in a dingy necromancy store and illustrated in a cartoony, fully-colored and shaded style.

In the first panel, a hooded figure sits behind a desk with his back to us.

In the second panel, we see part of his face which has a big sly smile on it as he looks over his shoulder. Behind him, a door opens with the ring of a small silver bell.

In the next panel he spins around in his chair and says: “Welcome to Blood-Bath and beyond, your home for necromantic wares! Anything I can help you find--”

Next: “...Today?” he finishes, seemingly dumbfounded. In the middle of the frame are three new people. Barry Bluejeans is in the middle, he is a white middle aged chubby man with brown and grey hair, stubble, and wearing a white shirt, brown coat and glasses. To the left is Taako, a dark skinned elf with straight choppy dark brown hair died lavender at the bottom, wearing a large purple wizards hat, a purple cape with gold stars, a frilled shirt and high-wasted pants. To the right is Lup, a dark skin elven woman with a face identical to Taako’s but with longer curly dark brown hair died red at the tips, and wearing a wine red wide-brimmed hat and wine red dress. The twins each are resting an arm on one of Barry’s shoulders, framing him.

In the next frame, Barry has a finger resting on his chin as he says “Uh... yes, I’m looking for a spell book with level 12 or higher spells.”

Next is a close-up of the shopkeeper’s eye, squinting forwards with a thought bubble that says: “Level 12?”

Next is the same close-up of the shopkeeper’s eye, only this time it is wide and looking up past Barry.

Next is a frame of just Taako and Lup, with Barry just slightly out of frame. Taako covers his hand as if to whisper something to Lup as they both look judgmentally in the direction of the shopkeeper. A speech bubble comes from offscreen as the shopkeeper says “Right away, sir.”

Starting the second page is a frame of the shopkeeper dropping a large book onto the table in front of him. The book looks to be stitched together from skin, with a large green eye-shaped jewel on the front cover and small fangs on the spine.

Next, Barry has picked up the book and is looking at it with a smile of curiosity as he says “Oh, neat!” The twins both peer over his shoulder as the shopkeeper looks at the three startled.

Next is a close up of Barry’s hand sliding a collection of very different looking coins across the table, including some golden hoops, a silver perforated coin with a dragon emblem, a pale blue coin, a canadian loonie, and a thin gold bar with line markings on it (it’s not a loss easter egg don’t worry about it)

The next panel is shot from over the shopkeeper’s shoulder. Barry excitedly shows an interested but calm Lup something in the book as Taako rolls a bunch of teeth around in one hand, bored. The shopkeeper thinks: “Who is this guy?!”

Next is a panel showing half of the shopkeeper’s face, the border of the panel cutting him off vertically as he stares forwards intently.

The next panel is exactly the same, except he has narrowed his eye, the pupil now glowing, as the words “true sight” are spelled above him

In the next panel, Barry is shot from the neck up, looking excitedly at something offscreen.

Next is the form of Barry’s red robe litch form, shot from the exact same position as the previous panel. He glows a faint red, the inside of his hood empty and black save for two glowing white eyes.

Starting the next page the shopkeeper recoils in surprise, his thought bubble reading: “A litch!” In the foreground, Barry and the twins are starting to leave, Taako dropping the coins Barry had paid for the book with into a small bag.

Next the shopkeeper lunges forwards with urgency, shouting “WAIT!”

Next, “Who are you?!” he shouts at the trio. Barry is looking over his shoulder at the shopkeeper, and Lup had put her arm over his shoulder.

Next is a very close shot of the bottom of Barry’s face, his mouth in a null position.

Next is the same close up shot of the bottom of Barry’s face, only this time he has a large sly smile on his face.

Next is a medium shot of Barry, he has a big gentle smile on his face, his eyes closed and one hand up in a polite wave as he says “Name’s Barry Bluejeans!”

In the final panel, the shopkeeper lays passed out over his desk, a small cartoon of a round ghost floating away from his body as the door in the back of the room closes. A small creature sits on his desk, eating the chocolate gelt which had been swapped out for the real coins.

End Image Description.

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natalia-lafourcade · 2 years

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Happy Anniversary SHINee!

Image Description

7 GIFS of the K-Pop boy group SHINee

(1/7) Shot of all the SHINee members dancing in front of the camera. Key is on the left wearing a mulitcolored corduroy jacket. His brown hair is cropped short. He is dancing by pointing his wrists at the camera. ONEW is behind him smiling at the camera. He is wearing a red leather jacket over a black dress shirt with white stars and blue jeans. Taemin is to his left and headbanging. He is wearing a black velvet jacket with colorful patches over a striped red and black turtleneck. He is also wearing blue jeans. Jonghyun is next. He is motioning towards the camera with his hands. He is wearing a black leather jacket with fringe and a red western shirt. Minho is behind him, partially obscured. His hair is bleached silver and he is wearing a red and black jacket with a white t-shirt underneath

(2/7) Closeup shot of ONEW and girl whispering something in his ear. The shot changes to an ever closer view, where we can only see half of ONEW’s face and the girl’s side profile.

(3/7) Closeup of Minho. He is comped into the shot. In the background we can see a number of girls dancing behind him. Minho’s hair is silver and he is wearing orange tinted sunglasses, a gold chain, and rings. He is also wearing a brightly colored, checkered, 80′s style sweater over a white dress shirt and tie.

(4/7) Shot of Taemin sitting on the ground with his legs out in front of him. He is wearing a canary yellow two-piece suit with a turquoise turtleneck underneath. He is also wearing gold rings and three small gold hoop earrings in his right ear. In the background we can see two girls, both wearing yellow. One is laying down in her back and another is sitting down on a step next to Taemin. As the camera pans, Taemin motions to her with his hands and smiles.

(5/7) Shot of a number of girls standing in a line. Suddenly, they turn and take a step away from each other, revealing Jonghyun standing behind them. The girls are all dressed in blue and red and Johngyun is wearing a matching blue, two-piece suite with a red turtleneck and gold chain. As the camera reveals him, he smiles and motions his hand towards the camera.

(6/7) Shot of Key facing the camera and making finger guns towards the sky. In the background, we can see a number of girls sitting and standing on white steps. Key is wearing rimmed glasses, a white bucket hat, a graphic tee, a black shirt, and asymmetrical suspenders.

(7/7) GIF of SHINEE standing side by side against a white background. Jonghyun is in the center wearing the same blue suit as in the earlier GIF. His hand is outstretched towards the camera, revealing a number of gold rings on his hand, and he is smiling. Taemin is to his left wearing the same yellow and turquoise outfit as before. Minho is on his right wearing a black pinstriped suit with a red dress shirt underneath, a gold chain, and black sunglasses clinging to his lapel. As the shot pans out, we can see ONEW on the far left in a red two-piece suit with a brown shirt underneath and a gold chain. Key is on the far right wearing a baseball cap, a gold chain, a brown checkered suit, and a cyan shirt underneath.

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allthecolorsotherainbow · 1 month

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Descriptions

Adding onto my previous post about the SOULs!

Basil (Bravery):

Basil is 5’8” with light brown skin. He has freckles across his upper arms and cheeks, and his eyes are a vibrant amber. He wears silver, wire framed glasses which have a crack on the bottom-right corner of the left frame. His hair is curly and light brown in color, going down to the middle of his neck. His clothing as of falling consists of a white t-shirt, jean shorts which have a tear running along the bottom of the left side of them, long dark gray socks, and black, worn sneakers. He also has a small, black backpack which he keeps on his back and an orange bandana.

Petula (Patience):

Petula is 4’8” with tanned white skin. Her left eye is an icy blue while her right eye is a glossy white. Her hair is straight and blonde, tied into low pigtails that go to her shoulders. Red ribbons are used to hold the pigtails in place. Her outfit consists of a light gray shirt that has a rainbow symbol on the center of it, with a pastel blue jacket alongside a light blue, knee-length skirt. She has fluffy, white, knee-high socks along with dark gray crocs. She holds a toy knife from a play set.

Briar (Kindness):

Briar is 6’2” with dark brown skin. Her eyes are emerald green. Her hair is back and tied up in beaded braids, the beads being a dark, transparent green. It goes down past her mid-back but above her waist. Her outfit consists of a white, short sleeved crop-top alongside ripped jeans, black socks, and white sneakers. She has an apron tied around her waist and burn scars littered across her hands and upper arms. She holds an old, rusting frying pan.

Pine (Perseverance):

Pine is 5’4” with white skin. Their eyes are a pastel purple and their hair is long and wavy, dyed indigo. Their hair goes down to just around their mid-back, left loose. Their outfit consists of a navy blue sweater along with turquoise shorts. They wear black, thick framed, rectangular glasses that are used to help tuck their hair behind their ears. They don’t have shoes, instead just having dark yellow socks that are turning black on the bottoms due to dirt. They hold a well-loved notebook and a purple mechanical pencil.

Cozbi (Integrity):

Cozbi is 5’11” with light brown skin, dark brown freckles littered across his nose, cheeks, arms, and legs. His eyes are a dark blue, though they are mostly covered by his hair. His hair is short and wavy, going down to just above his shoulders while dark brown in color. Their outfit consists of a dark purple, long-sleeved shirt with a large star embroidered into the center of it along with a dark blue skirt that has crocheted stars hanging off the edges of it in a circle around the entire skirt. They also have black tights and light purple ballet shoes. They mainly use their ballet shoes during a fight, but hold an old quarter-staff.

Clover (Justice):

Clover is 5’2” with tanned white skin. Their eyes are a dark, mustard yellow. They have long, dirty blond hair which is tied into a low ponytail tied up with a yellow hair tie. Their hair goes down to just past their neck. Their outfit consists of a milk chocolate brown long-sleeved shirt along with a dark brown, sleeveless vest along with a belt with a golden buckle and dark blue jeans. Their shoes are short, brown boots that add another inch to their height. Alongside their outfit they wear a cowboy hat and a yellow bandana with blue spots. They wield a toy four-shooter loaded with rubber bullets.

Frisk (Determination):

Frisk is 5 feet tall with light brown skin. Their eyes, when open, are bright red. Their dark brown hair is close-cropped to their chin, unevenly cut. Their bangs are clearly hand-cut, uneven and choppy and slightly covering their right eye. Their outfit consists of a blue and purple striped shirt along with shorts that go to just below their knee. They wear light and dark brown sandals and have bandages littering their face and knees. They carry a stick that they had snapped off a tree branch.

#integrity undertale #bravery undertale #justice undertale #frisk undertale #kindness undertale #patience undertale #undertale yellow #perseverance undertale #undertale #clover undertale yellow

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shittybundaskenyer · 2 years

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✹ ▬ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

rating: Explicit

pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

summary: A curious evening in the Parlour House when you meet a certain deputy.

warnings: low honor Arthur (low honor arthur but he's not a total asshole), deputy Arthur, reader is a thief, strangers to lovers, lust at first sight, catching some feelings, smut, oral sex (female receiving), arthur eats pussy like a champ even if he's low honor, i’m kinda thinkin’ about a part 2?

word count: 5355

a/n: I first stared writing this for a request but it turned into it's own thing. I'm thinkin' about continuing this with another part...... with some more spice and some more thievery. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN | NEXT PART

The new deputy looks at you across the crowded Parlour House, watching you from behind the golden rim of his glass, the whiskey quickly disappearing from it. Only a rock of ice remains, and the glacier-colored pierce of his stare, so blue, so distracting in the yellow evening inside the stuffy saloon. Rhodes' crimson earth bathes in navy shadows outside now, only broken by golden circles of lamplight. The sun is gone; dipped behind mountains far in the distance.

The deputy is alone, like usual, drinking away pains you don’t know about. Maybe he tries to drown the memories of past lovers into honey-colored poison, or maybe he’s just a drunkard like the rest of them, like the Grays who supposedly protect this town with their life. It’s funny, leaving lives of innocents cradled in the palm of fools. That’s why this place is your favorite to steal, to whisper lies with prettily painted lips into the ears of the menfolk playing cards upstairs. It's too easy.

But that deputy—he watches. Sometimes runs his gaze over you when you chat up the men dressed in nice suits at the bar, or when you order only a beer and sit in a corner, watching, waiting. For your prey of the night. A drunk lady with a silver chain around her neck, pearls and a nice hairpin, or an old man with wine-burgundy cheeks and a hundred dollars neatly tucked into his breast pocket.

Tonight, tonight he looks like he’s had enough of your games.

Your beer sits unfinished in front of you, piss warm now, the bottle’s neck dewy from the humid air inside. A large palm slides it away from before you on the table and it leaves a wet ring in the wood. It’s a well-worn hand, calloused around the roots of the fingers and at the heel of the palm, life-line divided into two. You look up and almost filch from the same pair of turquoise eyes.

Deputy Callahan.

The deputy sits down in front of you, blocking your view almost entirely with his broad frame. He wears no hat today, nor the six-pointed brass sheriff star. Honey-brown locks fall into his eyes as he leans over the table, circling a finger around the rim of your beer glass, making droplets of lukewarm water roll down the amber glass. You smile at him when your gazes meet, something like a lightning striking red earth, and your eyes glint.

“Can I help ya, Mister?” your voice is more sweet than the stolen candy tucked into your hidden pocket. He knows you’re playing a dangerous game, you can see it in the barely noticeable squint of his eyes. He watches you like a hunter watches a grazin’ doe. A game of predator and prey, cat and mouse. But you're a wolf dressed in sheepskin, and he knows it all too well.

He pulls a pocket watch from his vest, a golden, engraved little thing that tick-tick-ticks at the rhythm of your heart. It’s a distraction, one that works all to well, masking the frown pulling on his eyebrows as he looks down at it. It’s past eleven, the hour of magic. This is when you make a second round around the drunk patrons, chatting them up and robbing them blind while they’re too deep in the amber haze of whiskey and beer.

Deputy Callahan knows this.

"I ain't in the mood for your games, little Miss," he grumbles, startling you with his deep voice. Shit. He really sees through you. Probably spent his evenings observing you twirling around the saloon like an actress, a working girl, a bath girl, anything you wanted to be. Maybe he only played the role of a miserable fool, a drunkard deputy. Maybe he’s smarter than he lets on.

"You ain't in the mood for anythin', Mister,” you answer while you pull away the beer bottle from before him and swallow down the few gulps of warm drink. It pulls your nose into a small frown, and does nothing to calm your nerves. But this is your stage. You won’t cower before a man who thinks he’s the law now here. This is not how it works in Rhodes. “Besides, do ya see cards in my hand?" you fan your fingers over the table, nimble, clever fingers. You have the audacity to smile again, all sweet and pretty as you look up at him. "Yeah, you thought you was watchin' me, but I watched you, too, Mister Callahan," you say his name like it’s a secret, but he doesn’t flinch. Not in the slightest. He’s such a strange man. “Closely,” you add, quiet now.

"Is that a threat?"

He leans back on his chair, crosses his arms over his chest. They’re strong, well-muscled arms, dusted with brown hair and faint scars. He scratches his beard, eyes never leaving you. His watch still hangs halfway-out of his breast pocket.

"'Course not," you fan your lashes against your cheek and push a lock of hair behind your ear, the pearl necklace feeling heavy in the hidden strip of fabric sewn into your dress under your breast. “I jus’ thought you looked… sad.”

It’s the truth. Every heated evening the deputy only kissed the bottle.

“Well, it ain’t your goddamn business.” He could kill you with his voice. Spear you on it, talk you to death. It soothes you, makes the little, curious night bugs vibrate in your ribcage.

"You know, ya should live a little, Mister," you lean a little closer, over the table. The neckline of your dress in not too deep, but just enough that he flicks his eyes from your smile to your collarbones.

"What do ya know of livin', little Miss?"

"Come with me and I'll show ya."

So this is how you end up perched on the railing upstairs, looking down at drunk fools and chattering ladies like angels plotting the killing of gods. The deputy is silent beside you, his face still masked by that thoughtful frown. He can’t make sense of you. You confuse him, maybe charm him.

You don’t even think when you grab into his shoulder and make him look where you’re pointing downstairs. “Do ya see that man with that ugly hat?”

Mr. Callahan nods and you watch how his hair falls into his eyes from the movement. He’s a handsome feller, strong-jawed and tall. You wish he would be not so uptight.

“Yeah,” he drawls and leans on the railing, one elbow next to yours. It’s so warm it almost startles you.

“I always send him one more whiskey when he’s had too many already. He sings real nice to the ladies, about lace bloomers and garters and rosy lips,” you can’t be distracted so you share your little observations instead, and they spill from you like water from a riverbed during a storm. It’s good to finally have someone listen. “And that lady, she always hits his husband with her purse when he loses at poker,” you point to another person, sitting near the poker table with a flute of champagne in her hand. “Or those girls, they lure men into that room downstairs and you can hear him scream within like two minutes.”

He doesn’t say anything, the only reaction you get from him is a small twitch in the corner of his mouth when the two girls drag the feller they was chatting up into the secluded room back behind the bar, where a red oil lamp burns.

“All this civilization and we’re still livin’ like animals. Chasin’ the pleasures of the flesh,” you sigh. Mr. Callahan looks down at you, handsome face halfway-obscured by his shoulder.

“And killin’ each other for money,” he whispers. Gooseflesh blooms over your arms. He’s smart. He’s real smart. Maybe you’re in a lot more trouble than you first thought. “So, little Miss, you come here every night to laugh at folk?”

He’s mocking you. You just know it.

And that nickname, that’s what means you’re in danger. Even though it sounds sweet when it leaves his lips, it’s submerged in venom and masked with sugar. Cyanide inside a peach seed.

“I come here to have fun. To be someone else I’m not,” you’re spilling over, wanting to say everything and nothing. He’s—He’s just so good at listenin’, at judging you with only glances of glacier-blue eyes. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long, or maybe he’s just playing you better than you play him. Cat and mouse. Predator and prey. The roles changing every second you gaze into each other’s eyes. Maybe at the end of the night you can find his soul in there, masked by mirrors of blue-green lakewater, or maybe he can capture you, caught red-handed with your stolen treasures and a chain around your wrist.

“Are ya an actress?” he asks, still looking at you, still observing every twitch of your body. He reads between the lines, because even though you’re mostly sunshine and sweetness, there’s a secret you keep in darkness. A lie you live every day when the sun settles and the moon can’t see.

You think on your answer a little. Chew it like raw meat. If he’s really as smart as he’s not trying to be, than he will see through the mirage you constructed from cherry-tinted lips and soft fabric. You turn towards him and smile again, because you like playing this game. You like danger and you like him, playing along, letting him be pulled by a string dipped in honey, wrapped around your little finger.

“I’m anything folk want me to be. I’m a working girl, a wife, a lover, a bandit, a mother,” you tell him, quiet. Something glints in his eyes. Something like the euphoria of victory. “A chimera, an illusion.”

Mr. Callahan lays his open palm in front of you on the railing. You catch his meaning and lay your own onto his, fingers fanned out and a bit trembling from the warmth of him. He looks them over, swipes a thumb along your middle- and forefinger. Nimble hands. A thief’s hands.

“So a thief,” he murmurs, voice gone soft, like he’s not believing his eyes. You want to pull away your hand but he doesn’t let you. He digs his thumb in next to your life-line, not hard but firm. The line is divided in two, just like his.

A half-crescent lays in your skin in the wake of his fingernail.

“No, no Mr. Callahan,” you shake your head and let him touch you. You can’t run if the hunter in him pounces anyway. Callouses catch on your flesh. Trigger-trained, hardened by the polished ironwood grip of his gun. “An artist!”

It’s the truth, just colored into a rainbow. A con artist, a cheater, a puppeteer. That’s what you are. A lie so beautifully constructed you can almost believe it. But oh, he’s smart. So smart you want to hit him. To fuckin’ kiss him.

“And what are ya gonna be for me?” he whispers now, the question tickling the side of your face. You didn’t see him lean closer. He’s playing a game too, a game that makes blood rush into your belly, between your thighs.

“A friend maybe. Or more, if ya want it,” you pull away your hand, and make sure you brush his chest in the process. Yes, just there, in that small breast pocket, there’s his watch. His eyes still on yours, ocean-colored and glinting in the yellow light. You smile at him again, how could you not? You’re in your element still, he’s warm next to you and the golden watch fits just right into your palm. The corner of his mouth twitches, those full lips almost pulling into a smirk. Almost.

The watch goes right under your skirt, into a hidden pocket when you step back, playing the innocent girl, blinking once, twice, and just then looking up at him. You right the sleeve of your shirt.

Mr. Callahan didn’t notice. You still have your charm.

You stole from a lawman. If this doesn’t get you hanged, nothing will.

But the air changes. You can feel it, something heavy lingering above you; something blue inside the golden haze of the chandelier hanging in front of you. Mr. Callahan puts a palm over his gun belt, just where his six-shooter sits neatly tucked into a leather holster. That movement too, has a telltale weight.

"More you say?" He looks down at you while he pulls a cartridge from the belt. It's false-golden, not a treasure but a curse. He twirls it between two fingers, holds it up, just before your nose, and behind it, his sea-colored gaze watches. He unwraps you with his stare, claws down the layers of the measly disguise until nothing is left.

Just you.

Wide-eyed and caught in a trap so well crafted you didn't realize it was deadly.

The deputy smirks, pulls out his revolver and loads the cartridge into one of the empty chambers. The cylinder clicks back with a high sound, one that quiets the bubbling noise of merriment inside the Parlour House.

You stand there, like a deer caught in front of a roaring train at midnight, blinded by its light.

"Here's what you're gonna be for me," he says lowly, spinning the gun in his hand and then pressing its barrel above your kidney so fast you barely register how it happens. "Come with me."

"Mr. Callahan I—," you try to protest, but you're already in front of a door, no one bothered by the little scene you're causing. It's like the deputy is not even threatening you with a gun. There's only one god here in Rhodes, and it's not the law. It's the man who's holding a six-shooter to your back. It's violence. Money. Alcohol.

Lemoyne is a world ruled by vices.

"Shh. I'm not gonna hurt ya if you do as I say, little thief."

You gasp. You can hear it in his voice, the edge of knowledge. 'Course he knew. Handsome fellas like him know too much. Know what hides under a too pretty girl's skirt, behind her laughter, glinting in her eyes.

Lies. Beautiful, easy lies.

"I ain't no thief," you're not giving up this easy, even though you're in the B2 room now and he's locking the door. The key turns with a deadly click, like a buckshot fired.

"Yeah, yeah. Could feel your slender little hand just right under my vest," he brushes away your protests with a flick of his wrist as he comes closer, but the gun is back in its holster. That's good for now; the viper lulled back into sleep.

"What—"

"I may be a fool, but I ain't stupid, little Miss."

The deputy adjusts his gun belt and invades your space, stands just before you. You take a step back and find yourself pressed into the dusty wall with rotten, torn wallpaper and bug-eaten wood crumbling around you. The red gloom of the only burning oil lamp in the room makes him look dangerous. Makes him look like no lawman, more like a killer. Eyes too blue, teeth too sharp, hands too rough.

"Are ya gonna arrest me?"

"No," he shakes his head and it makes a lock of honey-brown hair fall into his eyes. Right now he looks wild like an animal, like the wind, like a man with no gods, nor laws. Maybe he too, is more than he lets on.

"Then what do you want?"

He grabs your arm, strong fingers wrapping around you like a cord of rope, and just as rough in texture. He turns you, makes you face the wall and you tremble from the compromising position. He feels so close, too close, his chest hot against your back.

He huffs a breath just behind your ear, making you shiver when he speaks, palms flattening out over your shoulder-blades.

"Don't move," it's an order and the voice that whisper-shouts it is an outlaw's.

“Thought you was playin’ me, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

“I—”

“Shh, darlin’. No shame in losin’.”

One hand slides over the waist of your dress, a bit lower where it parts at the side. It's like he knows there are hidden pockets there. He pulls out a pearl necklace from one of them, twirls it around and drops it to the worn burgundy rug under you. Then a pocket watch.

His pocket watch.

"I'm gonna take this back," he dangles it beside you for a second, then tucks it away, back to its original place in his breast pocket. "I should take the others too. It's stolen property after all," he muses, for fun now, enjoying how gooseflesh rises on your neck when his lips almost brush your ear.

Christ alive, you're frightened and so fucking aroused it makes your knees weak.

You huff out something that can sound as a chuckle, and he takes it as your answer, emptying your pockets while your legs try not to buckle. He's not a deputy, you just know it. None of them is smart enough to know about hidden pockets under a skirt. To know about all of them.

"How do you know 'bout them hidden pockets so well?" you ask, make him stop in his movements. There are no more stolen goods. The hands retreat and you turn, eye-to-eye with him again. A smile hides in his eyes but never reaches his lips.

"I have a few friends who are experts in the art of fooling men into emptying their pockets and then some," he shrugs and even has the audacity to right your skirt where it rose up a bit.

"Are they in jail?"

You watch him while he puts your take into his satchel. Two pocket watches and nice jewelry. Ten dollars. A carved bone hairpin.

"No. They're pretty girls, just like you. With clever hands and doe-like eyes," he looks up at you when he says pretty, adding to the low burn of the fire stirring in your belly.

Who the hell is this man? And why the hell are you so mesmerized by him?

"Wanna know why I'm letting you rob people blind every evenin'?"

You nod, so quick your head spins a little. He gives you another twitch in the corner of his mouth. A smirk. The dangerous kind.

"Truth is, you make me go crazy. Every time I see ya twirling around this saloon I watch and I can't look away," he brings his hand to your face but hesitates before he brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Shit, shit, shit! You know what he means, of course you do and Jesus, does it make you tremble. Is that want in his eyes? Is that your own gaze, just mirrored? Could be the lust bubbling up inside you a real sin? "And I ain't no lawman," he adds, leans in to whisper it into your ear, lips brushing the rapidly reddening skin. A shiver runs through you and you feel his smirk just where your hairline starts.

"Then what—"

"First, you gonna promise me that this stays between us two," he settles a hand against your waist, just brushing a circle with a finger. You knew he was no lawman. There’s no way someone like Sheriff Gray could be as clever as Mr. Callahan. "Then you gonna empty that breast pocket under that flimsy dress."

Fuck, he knows that too.

"Are ya an outlaw mister?" you ask while his thumb slides under your breast, where that little pocket lies. You want him to touch higher. You want him to touch you proper.

"Wanted in three states."

You stare at him and there's something that glints dark in his eyes. You reach into that pocket, feeling out the two hidden peppermint candies in it and then pulling out one. Mr. Callahan's eyebrows rise up as you put it into your mouth.

You hold the candy between your teeth, a flash of white and red, like bloody teeth, and you can feel him suck in a breath against you, stunned by your boldness. You grin and wait. For him to scold you. To steal away the sweetness. To kiss you, to kiss you so hard you’re no more tasting honey but rich whiskey and tobacco; tasting him.

"You're the first person who ever noticed," you murmur, munching on the candy.

"Noticed what?"

"That I'm just playin'," you crush the peppermint with your teeth and he watches how your lips shine as they move. His thumb resumes its movements, a bit bolder, a bit rougher. Restless night bugs stir awake inside your belly and they start to flicker.

"'Cause you play well. Just not as well to fool me."

You shake your head with a grin on your face. Maybe you finally found your equal. Equally wild and equally insane. A handsome devil disguised as an angel of justice.

"Ya like working girls, Mister Callahan?" The peppermint dissolves in your mouth and his hand slides higher, where your breast starts to swell.

"I like women who are a bit more… interesting. More stubborn. More clever. You're good with your hands, ain't ya?" He leans to your neck, murmurs the question right above the bare triangle of flesh on your shoulder. His free hand reaches for yours and guides it around himself until your fingers touch slightly curling, short hair on his nape. "But what if I tell ya I'm good with mine too."

He knows how to make your breath hitch, that's a fact. Your other hand grabs into his arm and squeezes, and the one on his neck threads into honey locks.

"There ain't no more pockets, I swear," you're so close now, close enough for your noses to almost touch. You exhale and he makes that gulp of air a part of his own body. Your lungs bloom peach flowers, swell with ripe fruits. Nectar and cyanide. The turquoise of his eyes.

"No, I know. I want to take another kind of treasure from you," one of his hands skims down your body, where your skirt parts for the hidden pockets and he cups your jaw with the other, calloused thumb brushing under your chin, tilting it up. He leans close to whisper, "but only if ya want me to."

"Fuck," you curse, burning from the inside out, poisoned by want. No, more. Need. So pure, scorching need that your hands fist into his hair and his shirt-sleeve. He doesn't want you to play a two-dollar whore. But he asks, in that clever, hidden way, that you give him something that's only from you, a metaphorical part of you, something a man wants and a woman has.

"Such a pretty girl with such a dirty mouth," he chides and swipes that thumb over your bottom lip, the rough skin catching on it. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him in the gut. You want to make him forget that he's clever.

"Ya want to ruin my good reputation?"

"Ain't no other soul in this room, jus' you an' me, darlin'," his thumb slides in, just barely, and you wet the tip of it with your tongue. Something in his eyes changes. Turns dangerous, like a predator ready to pounce. "Ain't no witnesses of your sins… Or mine."

You almost growl. "Then fuck it and kiss me!"

You don't have to ask him twice. He curls around you, molds you until you fit the broad shape of him, until you almost beg for his tongue to waltz with your own. But this dance is not slow. Not careful, nor sweet. It's a tango, a fight, a duel. You kiss him, and he kisses you back, and there's nothing else in the world anymore, only honey and poison.

He parts from you only to look into your eyes and ask for your permission, for his hands to freely roam, to keep his promise, to let him pick away everything, like how vultures clean a corpse down to the bones.

You nod, hasty and still hungry for his kisses, but it's enough.

You kiss and kiss and kiss, until your lips are sore and his own bleed ruby, bitten by your hungry teeth. He releases you for only a second, to wipe the blood away and whisper his name against your mouth.

Call me Arthur when I touch ya. That's my real name.

Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. King, knight. Of heaven or hell, you can't decide.

And then, just then, there's a rough heat against your thigh under your skirt, his hand, his goddamn calloused fingers slipping between, through the lacy waist of your bloomers to the wet seam of your cunt. Christ, his hand. That one thick, curious finger that parts your folds and makes way for another, and then for his thumb. You part from him with a gasp, your hand flying to his shoulder, fingers digging in.

“Will ya sing for me, little bird?” he murmurs onto the hollow of your throat now, before he leaves a gentle kiss there, and then nips the skin and makes it bloom with red. A bruise, marking that he was here.

You can't answer. Not when he's falling to his knees and inching down the fabric of your skirt. It pools around you, hidden pockets damned and all, and he looks up at you like how people look up in church and somewhere between the rotten roof plates they see a god. Those eyes—turned green in the red glow of the oil lamp, a complimentary shade so in high contrast with the room, it captures you and never eases its hold. You’re prisoned by him, the irony of it all, and he won’t let you escape, not when you know you will see these eyes even in your dreams.

You tremble when his hand is back between your legs, patting your thigh to open up wider. You know where this is going. Towards something so unorthodox and exciting, something that would make even the working girls downstairs blush. A man is kneeling before you, eyes glazed over and shaded by his lashes, lips shining wet from a kiss you just shared. And he's gonna kiss you there, too, where you pulse with want and heat, where his fingers just touched and left you fucked in the head already. Your back collides with the wall behind you and your lungs run empty. There’s no room for air anyway, it’s swallowed up by swamp butterflies and overgrown cypresses, filling the space your ribcage offers.

Your bloomers only make it to your knees before he has two fingers against your opening, not sliding in but teasing—gentle, curious touches that make you bite into your lip to keep in a treacherous whimper. The callouses on his trigger-finger catch on the soft flesh, create quiet little buzzes of need that crawl up to your belly like grape vines, bearing the fruits of want. Of need. You're rendered into a mess. A glorious, trembling mess. He likes you like this, all moldable flesh and heaving chest, a testament of decadence. Honey crystallized into sugar, grapes turned raisins.

And then he pulls your folds apart with those two fingers, makes space for his lips.

The kiss comes soft. Careful. No one has ever done this to you and it’s already the best thing you’ve ever felt. It’s strange. It’s so obscene it makes blood rush into your cheeks, down your neck, over your breasts. You bloom all over, dewy with sweat that form little droplets in the dip in your spine and the valley of a thigh, all from a few seconds of pleasure, of gentle, teasing kisses.

You want to bend over yourself, to open up wider, to close your legs around his head. Arthur holds you steady, holds you up and wide open, broad shoulders hot against your legs, even through his shirt; his beard a scrape you think you’ll never forget after this ends.

His fingers push in. First just one, getting soaked to the knuckle, and then two, a delicious little stretch, and you can’t keep your mouth shut anymore.

“S-Shit, that’s—” you pant, hands scrambling against the wall until Arthur reaches for them and gently pulls them towards his head where you can tug on those honey locks of his. “Fuck, Arthur.”

He thrusts his fingers in, watches them for a few seconds—how they sink in and then come out shining wet. Then he’s back with his mouth, kissing harder than before, giving gentle little sucks on that small spot where pleasure blooms into licking flames of need.

You break apart on those lips, tiny little pieces of you scattering around and evaporating into the red glow of the room and the peach pink fuzziness of his kiss, his tongue, his everything. Your body goes numb, empty, your soul flying somewhere above, floating like a water-lily on a quieter part of a river with duckweed in your hair.

Somewhere in the room a whisper of his name echoes. It comes from you, broken and breathless, but you enjoy how it rolls down your tongue. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

“Good?” he parts from you for only a second, gazing into your eyes and finding only molten heat. He smiles, a real smile for the first time, and it’s something that’s even more arousing than his fingers gently rubbing you from the inside. Another material for your dreams.

"Yeah—," you gasp, and then down right moan when you feel his grin on the flushed skin of your cunt. “So good.”

“Then lemme fell ya,” he murmurs and he’s back to the kissing and sucking and licking and curling his fingers up, up into a sensitive spot inside you that makes you clench so hard around him that he can’t move. “That’s it sweetheart.”

The climbing pleasure feels like galloping towards the peak of a mountain, flying almost, so sudden and dizzying you pull on his hair a bit too hard and get a groan muffled into your cunt. You try to apologize but the words are trapped somewhere between your lungs and your lips, forever lost, but you smooth your hand over his nape, saying sorry with touch alone.

Arthur watches you when it’s too much.

He watches how your lips open on a silent scream, how the air gets trapped trembling in your chest, how his fingers squelch as they try to make it last for as long as he can. You whimper his name while fire licks all around you, melts the joints of your knees and bubbles out from your belly in forms of white-winged, palm-sized moths. No wonder the French call this feeling a little death. You’re reborn with the imprint of his smile forever burned inside your skull.

Arthur only pulls away when he’s sure you won’t fall to the ground, but he can’t help himself in giving you one soft kiss on your oversensitive cunt. His fingers slip out and they leave a line of creamy want tickling down on the inside of your thigh.

He wipes it away with one corner of your skirt.

You pull on the collar of his shirt until he stands, until you can kiss him so hard your teeth clink. He tastes of you, of whiskey and tobacco.

“Here’s what you gonna do, sweetheart,” he murmurs, barely parting from your lips, nose-to-nose. “Every night when you finish collectin’ your wares, you bring ‘em to me to that church ruin, you know the one, and give me a cut. If ya agree, I won’t bring you in for petty thievery.” It sounds like a threat, but it feels like a promise. A promise of more. A promise of future. “Watchu say, little Miss?”

“Okay,” you nuzzle him and touch a finger to his lips, still sticky with your want. Arthur kisses that fingertip.

“Good,” he whispers, and you get another smile, a secret one that is full with promises of nights like this.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction

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goforth-ladymidnight · 2 months

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Foxglove

I'm researching flowers and their meanings for Flower Language Day for Tamlin Week, and I just found more proof that Nesta and Lucien were originally endgame. (Of course SJM said as much, but it's there in the text, too. And not just because of the flames on the dresser.)

It almost makes me angry at how perfectly they were set up, only for it to be discarded in favor of... what we got. Here's why:

image source

FOXGLOVES: "insincerity"

Every time foxgloves are mentioned in A Court of Thorns and Roses, they're directly (or indirectly) associated with glamours.

[Nesta] sneered at the pillar of foxglove I'd painted along the edge of the table—the colors too dark and too blue, with none of the white freckling inside the trumpets, but I’d made do, even if it had killed me not to have white paint, to make something so flawed and lasting. ~ch. 2

I approached a bench in an alcove blooming with foxglove when the sound of steps on shifting gravel filled the air. Two pairs of light, quick feet. I straightened, peering down the way I’d come, but the path was empty. ~ch. 8

Nesta reached into her pocket and tossed something onto the churned-up earth. It was a chunk of wood, as if it had been ripped from something. Painted on its smooth surface was a pretty tangle of vines and—foxglove. Foxglove painted in the wrong shade of blue. My breath hitched. All this time, all these months … “Your beast’s little trick didn’t work on me,” she said with quiet steel. ~ch. 30

In folklore, foxgloves are associated with the Fair Folk, who may have given foxes the flowers as gloves to sneak up on their prey, in addition to wearing them as hats or gloves themselves.

In case my point isn't already obvious, the character in ACOTAR most associated with faeries and foxes and sneaking about is, of course, Lucien.

The stranger whirled with fluid grace. His mask was bronze and fashioned after a fox’s features, concealing all but the lower half of his face—along with most of what looked like a wicked, slashing scar from his brow down to his jaw. It didn’t hide the eye that was missing—or the carved golden orb that had replaced it and moved as though he could use it. It fixed on me. ~ch. 6

Then, in ACOWAR, we finally learn what Lucien's eye can do.

“This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her [Vassa's] curse.” ~ch. 33

Nesta can see through glamours. Lucien can see through glamours. Lucien wields fire. Nesta (eventually) wields silver flames. The narrative parallels are so perfect it breaks my heart. Even the painted dresser pointed to SJM's original plan:

I slung off my outer clothes onto the sagging dresser—frowning at the violets and roses I’d painted around the knobs of Elain’s drawer, the crackling flames I’d painted around Nesta’s, and the night sky—whorls of yellow stars standing in for white—around mine. ~ch. 2

In summation, SJM laid everything out in the text for her original endgame couples. I still don't know who Elain was originally paired with, but I'm okay with not knowing. That's what fanfiction is for, after all. And at this point, I'm more interested in Feyre/Tamlin and Nesta/Lucien.

I know the dresser also points to F/eysand as a couple (and the night sky symbolism in the text is not lost on me), but in the first book, Tamlin was the Rose to Feyre's Thorn, and Lucien was the Fox to Nesta's Glove.

I mean, yeah, it sounds funny to say it that way, but gloves are symbolic in their own way, as well. Gloves in Victorian times, for example, were symbols of a woman's purity. And what does Nesta's name mean? PURITY.

Do I need to go on, or have I made my point?

#it shouldn't make me mad #but it does #i think it's the wasted potential of this series #i like the first book #most fans don't #and that's okay #but as a writer #the fact that these poetic details were there #and then scrapped #it hurts my heart #we could have had it all #lucien x nesta #nesta x lucien #lucnes

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diamondcrownacademy · 6 months

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DCA Info Part 36: Outfits from 2020 - 2021 (Part 1)

View Part 2

Art colored by @au-ni-ro

🍎 Evonie Apfel

🏵 Coronation Outfit

During Coronation Ceremonies, Evonie wears a white and gold off-shoulder gown with a pale yellow petticoat. The neckline has a pale yellow rose, the angel sleeves have gold bands and she wears a gold collar and fingerless gloves to match. Evonie accessorizes with a gold circlet with a red heart shaped jewel on her head.

🗡 Fencing Uniform

For Fencing Classes, Evonie wears a pale yellow tunic with the sleeves having silver bands. She also wears silver and blue bodice armor with a gold chain at the bottom and the breastplate has an apple on it. She also has a short red overskirt.

👑 Pomefiore Outfit

During visits to the Pomefiore dorm, Evonie wears a modified version of the Pomefiore dorm uniform possibly suited for females to wear. Evonie wears a purple robe which reaches just above her knees. On the top-right corner of the robe, there is an intricate golden pattern which displays the Pomefiore logo. There is also a golden floral pattern, which displays the poison apple, on the outer fabric of his deeply slitted-sleeves. The inner sleeves of the robe are a rich-red with black trim, they also have the same floral pattern. Her robe is held together by a thick black sash, similar to a kimono obi. On top of her sash, there is another belt made out of red rope, which has been tied to her waist in a thick knot.

🐰 Allison Liddel

♥️ Tart Thief Outfit

Inspired by Ace, this outfit includes a red romper with the pants having gold heart details, maroon folds and yellow lace. Over the romper is a red bolero jacket with maroon trim, a gold chain with red heart jewels, maroon folds with red heart gems, and yellow lace. The footwear consists of a pair of red and yellow boots with maroon bows and heart motifs on the top.

The accessories include a red bow with a heart charm, a pale red scarf and a pair of maroon gloves.

♠️ Flamingo Duo Outfit

Inspired by Deuce, this outfit consists of a two toned bolero jacket with a white outline, one side is violet with an argyle pattern while the other is purple with stars on them, the jacket is held together by a pair of silver buttons with blue gems attached to a pair of white string. Underneath the bolero jacket is a deep indigo turtleneck dress with the skirt being pale lavender with white stars. The footwear consists of a pair of two toned boots that features the same patterns present on the bolero as well as white soles and deep indigo details.

The only accessory included is a periwinkle bow with indigo ruffles and a blue spade charm.

☘️ Polite Clover Outfit

Inspired by Trey, this outfit consists of a short pale yellow green puff sleeve bolero with the collar having a chain as well as pale green cuffs with gold trim. The remainder the dress's bodice consists of a teal almost dark sea green bodice with thin black lines. The dress's skirt is made up of two layers and both feature argyle patterns and gold trim, the only exception is that the top layer has green diamonds on the trim and the top layer is a lighter shade of green than the bottom. The footwear consists of a pair of mint green kitten heels with green straps, gold buckles and gold chains with clover motifs on them.

The accessories include a green hat with a ribbon and clover charm, a pair of dark green gloves and light bracelets that resemble shirt cuffs with gold buttons and a green sash with a gold outlined clover shaped charm that has a green gem in the center.

🔶 Dazzle Ribbon Outfit

Inspired by Cater, this outfit consists of a pale yellow tunic with various gold ribbons and bands throughout. The bodice has a gold ribbon with an orange diamond charm layered over a red one. The tunic's overskirt is gold in color with the trim and interior resembling stained glass in orange and pink colors. The footwear consists of a pair of orange kitten heels with one having an X strap and the other having an ankle strap with yellow diamonds on it.

The accessories include a yellow diamond hair clip attached to smaller diamonds and yellow ribbon. Another accessory included is a gold belt with a bow on the side attached to a black chain with a yellow diamond.

🌹 Royal Rosette Outfit

Inspired by Riddle, this outfit consists of a red rose printed dress with puff sleeves and gold accents. The bodice includes gold details outlined by gold ruffles and there are white and red roses on top of the puff sleeves. The dress's skirt consists of two layers with the first one being red with a rose print and the second one being magenta with the same rose print, both layers have gold trim. The footwear consists of a pair of magenta boots with gold soles and the top of each boot has a red and white rose. A pair of maroon and gold stockings is also present.

The accessories include a maroon hair ribbon with a maroon gem, a floral crown of red and white roses and a maroon wrap bracelet.

#clothing information #DCA info #diamond crown academy

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password-door-lock · 7 months

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Mystictober day 3-- Wizard/Potion

The first time you see the commercial, you nearly spit out your drink— which is just regular tea, and not the sugary, Dr.Pepper-esque concoction that your brother-in-law is currently peddling. You don't even risk pulling out your phone to keyboard-slam about it on the messenger— you wouldn’t want to miss a single second of the brand-new, Halloween-themed Sevenstar Drink ad.

First of all, the premise is absolutely comical. On screen, Saeyoung sports a long, midnight blue cloak decorated with silver stars and moons; it goes without saying that the matching hat sits atop his head. With an oversized, novelty wooden spoon, he stirs a cauldron full of a glimmering red liquid. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be Sevenstar Drink, but you very much hope that it’s just water with red food coloring. You can't imagine how sticky that cauldron is going to be in a few hours if it's actually full of the sugary beverage that the commercial is supposed to depict, which, to its credit, tastes delicious. Unlike the prototype version, the Sevenstar Drink on the market today is made professionally in a food-safe facility, and, as of last summer, comes in diet and caffeine-free varieties. "If you're a busy wizard like me, then you probably spend all day, every day bent over a cauldron, stirring ingredients that nobody needs to worry about into a magic potion to share with all your friends," Saeyoung announces with all the gravitas of a practiced storyteller. He then drops his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, leaning toward the camera as if letting the viewer in on a secret, "Or enemies."

He pretends to stifle a feigned yawn that sounds surprisingly real. Sometimes you forget how skilled he is at acting— you’re so glad that he is finally able to use those talents for a cause that means something to him. Just about everybody on Earth is aware by now that any and all profits made from the sale of Sevenstar Drink are used to fund supplies for orphanages and various programs for their residents. "That can be tiring work."

You have to cover your mouth with your hands to keep from drowning the TV out with your laughter. "But no longer." The image shifts to a clip of Saeyoung, still in the wizard costume, sipping demurely from a can of Sevenstar Drink. He releases an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. "Drink Sevenstar Drink, for all your potion-making needs. All proceeds go to charity!" He then disappears in a puff of red smoke, with the help of some very impressive special effects.

Before you can take a breath, the Sevenstar Drink logo appears on the screen, and Saeyoung's disembodied voice launches into a rapid-fire recitation of what might be best described as the fine-print portion of the ad. "Sevenstar Drink is a division of C&R international. This commercial was filmed by a professional in a controlled environment— don't try evaporating into a puff of smoke at home. Sevenstar Drink is not responsible for any legal trouble you may encounter when you get caught bent over a cauldron, stirring ingredients that nobody needs to worry about into a magic potion." You’re beginning to suspect that whoever is in charge of the marketing department of C&R gave Saeyoung free reign over the contents of his commercial. If that’s the case, you’re very grateful— you just watched one of the most entertaining ads on TV.

Only when the logo fades to black and you're confronted by a new commercial for a fast food restaurant do you open the messenger to greet the absolute pandemonium that has unfolded over the course of the past thirty seconds. You get the feeling that sales of Sevenstar Drink are about to go through the roof.

#This idea popped into my head the moment I saw the prompt and it wouldn't leave me alone #MM_mystictober2023 #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble

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lpvncnt · 6 months

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* ◟ : 〔 TAMINO , CIS-MALE + HE / HIM 〕 PHILIP GOFFIN-VINCENT , some say you’re a TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DOGGED and DEPRAVED, one can’t help but think of STRUGGLIN' by TRICKY, MARTINA TOPLEY-BIRD when you walk by. are you still a CLEANER, ACTIVE ASSASSIN at THE BORDERLINE HOTEL, RED EYE even with your reputation as THE GARGOYLE? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and STUPID SHOW-PONY HIGH ROLLER, PATIENT LIKE THE HYENA WAITS, GET IN YOUR CAR AND RUN ME OVER INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR OTHERS TO DO IT FOR YOU, YOU LAZY FOOL, although we can’t help but think of JONATHAN CRANE (DC COMICS) + ERIC DRAVEN (THE CROW) + JASON DEAN (HEATHERS) + ANTON CHIGURH (NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

FILE: LIP VINCENT

STATUS: ACTIVE. HEIGHT: 6'2". SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL, AROMANTIC. DATE OF BIRTH: 12/25/1995 HOMETOWN: MALMEDY, BELGIUM. RESIDING: BROOKLYN, NY. ROOMMATE WITH [TBD WANTED CONNECTION].

Instead of the usual biography, I felt like the following poem captured the energy of the past a bit better than I could ever express:

INSOMNIAC

THE night is only a sort of carbon paper,

Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars

Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --

A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus

He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness

Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie

Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days

Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,

Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,

A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.

His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.

Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --

How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!

Those sugary planets whose influence won for him

A life baptized in no-life for a while,

And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.

Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.

Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.

Each gesture flees immediately down an alley

Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance

Drains like water out the hole at the far end.

He lives without privacy in a lidless room,

The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open

On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats

Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.

Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,

Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.

The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,

And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,

Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

— Sylvia Plath

AESTHETICS

Repugnant amount of weed smoke filling a suspension-lacking 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, that only a 100% masochist would drive in New York. You were not born to cry. Leopard print BB belts stacked on the waist. A soul, emptied. No pride, no pleasure, no desire. Life is just like a Wong Kar-Wai movie. You've got two fists comically full of metal, the weight shifts you off your feet when that punch is thrown, your poorly welded home-made 'rings' -- made from a chunk of all the old silver jewelry you've collected from the bodies over time, all these precious keepsakes melted onto a fork -- made to hurt -- should be illegal. Lots of little projects like that scatter what you call 'home'. An angel dies every time a shitty fuckboy like you flashes his mid-section in local Bodega for no reason. Recently adopted a Belgian Malinois, Osiris, who is still in training and needs a muzzle (an excuse for enabling bad behavior, could be symbolic). Egregiously loud mumble-rap. When stressed, likes watching ballroom dancing while chainsmoking cigarettes.

Hi, I'm Samuel, 24, PDT, a sweet little Californian baby boy who will do tricks for treats, gee whiz am I glad to be here. All of this is a bit vague but will be fleshed out with time -- if you've got any questions on specifics I'd be super happy to clarify. Huzzah !

#lawlessintro

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pickledpascal · 6 months

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New Perspective

Chapter Eight: I Can Be Mom (Unless You Want to Be Dad)

Warnings: Smut, a smidge of transphobia, remember when i said bottom Jensen??? yeah, use of butt plugs, yeah...

Word Count: 3.9k

New Perspective Masterlist

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@MOCCAINDEAN: WHAT DO YOU MEAN JENSEN WENT TO SOME RANDOM ASS COLLEGE BAR

Reply to @MOCCAINDEAN by @ lesbiandean: HIS GF IS 21… OF COURSE HE DID

Reply to @ lesbiandean by @MOCCAINDEAN: …. wait you're so right oops

The first time Jensen had heard of Avery's desire to dress up as someone from Barbie was a week or so before its release. When it did come out, she went on opening day with her friends dressed in all pink. It was a far cry from what she usually wore—she wore a lot of dark colors, different blues mostly. He felt like he was missing out but there wasn't much he could do since he was in Texas and doing some voice acting at the time.

The next time Avery brought up wanting to dress up for Halloween, it was September. It was some off-hand comment Avery didn't really think about making but Jensen took it to heart. It was early October when they made their plans.

"Howdy, partner." Avery smirked, doing the worst Southern accent Jensen had ever heard. He found it funny. She had her makeup done already and wore her costume—an embroidered shirt that had fringe, black slacks and belt with a hefty belt buckle, white cowboy boots with silver accents, and a white cowboy hat she borrowed from Jensen. She was Ken.

And Jensen was Barbie.

He wore the signature sleeveless pink denim top and bell bottoms that had a little string in the front to keep them up on his hips decorated with stars and stripes of white at the sides. Jensen might've asked his costume designer to take a bit of creative liberty. His boots were white with silver on the toes. Jensen's cream-colored hat was on Avery's desk since he was about to get his makeup done.

"Howdy to you too, sweetheart." Jensen chuckled, letting his Texas drawl out.

Avery had Jensen face her, uncapping her concealer tube. She was glad they were similar in skin tone. She put a few dollops under his eyes and blended them in. Jensen wet his lips as he watched Avery focus. Her eyes were focused on blending the concealer, tongue peeking from between her lips. She was adorable. She powered his face then brushed some blush on his cheeks then on his nose. Jensen wrinkled his nose a bit, not used to the contact there.

"Be still." Avery teased softly, cupping his chin.

"Yes, ma'am." Jensen said out of instinct.

Avery narrowed her eyes as she grabbed an eyeshadow palette. She wanted to go for a more neutral look because he was wearing a hell of a lot of pink already. Jensen felt a little ticklish as Avery brushed some auburn color on his eyelids. Trying his best not to twitch his eye, he tapped his fingers against the arms of his chair.

"Alright, look up for me, honey." Avery whispered as she grabbed a tube of mascara and uncapped it. Jensen complied. Avery ran the end through his lashes and smiled. "Just one more thing." She sifted through loose products in one of her drawers.

Jensen watched, glancing back up at Avery. He wondered if she'd ever do eyeliner on him.

The one last thing was a silver bullet of lipstick in a muted pink color similar to Jensen's lip color, maybe a shade or two deeper. "Open." Avery tapped his chin with her thumb.

Willing away the thoughts that came over to him, Jensen did as asked. She swiped the product over his lips and put it away once she was done.

"There you go." Avery smiled. Jensen in makeup that wasn't specifically meant for TV was cool to see. Especially since it was her handiwork.

"How do I look?" He asked as he stood and looked at himself in Avery's full-length mirror. He looked taller than usual and it wasn't just the heeled boots he wore.

Avery followed Jensen and looked at him in the mirror, setting a hand on his hip. "Hot as hell." She whispered in his ear. The urge to grab his ass because of the stars on the back of his pants overtook her. But she didn't act upon it.

Jensen laughed quietly and turned in her arms to press a kiss to her lips. She eagerly returned the favor. She couldn't believe her life. The fact that she had a boyfriend, that he wanted to do a matching costume, that he was fine with being the Barbie in their equation, and that he was Jensen. Avery didn't think she'd ever get over that. Maybe in a few hundred years when she's dead and buried.

"Now, don't ruin all my hard work." Avery pulled away, grabbing Jensen's hat for him.

Jensen took the hat and placed it on his head like he's done a million times before. Just never quite like that. "I wouldn't dream of it, darlin'." He teased.

"I guess I'm getting a Texas Barbie tonight." Avery chuckled as she collected her wallet and phone. There was no need for a purse since she had plenty of pockets. On the other hand, Jensen didn't. For once. But Jensen decided he didn't need his phone anyway.

"And this Barbie knows how to ride." Jensen winked.

Avery's brain stopped. She bumped him with her hip. "Picture time." It was best to not even mention it or she'd go insane.

The pair took a few photos in the mirror to have a full look at their costumes. Besides a few changes to Jensen's costume had, they were fairly accurate to the movie. And Avery loved it. Then they took a few selfies that, absentmindedly, Avery uploaded to her Instagram. It was a ritual to show off her costume for Halloween every year and it slipped her mind that maybe… maybe it wasn't the best idea to do that this year.

averyxcario: barbie and ken !! my ken is actually a barbie and comes fully customizable

The only thing that could make the night more perfect for Avery was if her Mustang was painted pink. Maybe she should've asked her brother for a temporary wrap, she still liked her blue.

Avery's plan for the rest of the night was to go to a special Halloween drag show at a local queer bar. Jensen liked the idea but was a little… nervous. He had only been to a handful of gay bars in his life but he always felt weird. Like he was imposing. Previously, he'd only gone with friends, not with someone he loved. Someone he loved who was very connected to her queerness and, even if she didn't have many Instagram posts about it, was proud of herself and the woman she was.

Jensen partly blamed his awkwardness on his upbringing. His aunt was a lesbian but, in his family, their thought process was more out of sight, out of mind. As long as she didn't explicitly bring it up, neither would his family. So seeing people be so vocal was… a lot.

Avery understood. She promised they'd leave if he ever felt uncomfortable. Jensen wanted to protest especially since queer bars were a lot of queer people’s safe space but Avery admitted Elena or Jay could get too overstimulated so they'd go home because of that sometimes. Or sometimes Avery's battery would drain quickly.

So Jensen and Avery stood outside the bar. They looked at each other before they stepped inside. There was a mix of people there. Kids Avery's age, adults Jensen's age, and a few elders filled the bar. Most were in costume while a few decided to dress vaguely witch-like or vampire-like. Or maybe that was just how they dressed. A drag queen was on a stage near the back of the bar. Jensen had expected to feel that awkwardness again but he just didn't. There were a few people heavily making out in some corners and—Were those people with dog collars? He was, for the most part, unphased.

Avery guided Jensen to the bar, hearing a few whistles and earning a few bedroom eyes on the way. "Can I get whatever special cocktail you got?" Avery yelled to the bartender over the music blaring as the Queen performed and the delighted screams of patrons. She glanced at Jensen. "Make that two!" The bartender simply nodded.

Jensen and Avery were lucky to grab seats at the bar. Jensen leaned to Avery's ear so they could talk and hopefully hear what he said. "Is it always like this?"

"No." Avery glanced at the stage. "That's a RuGirl and it's Halloween. Halloween is a gay ass holiday, add a RuGirl into the mix and suddenly every queer in town is here." She explained.

The bartender gave the pair their drinks. Under the dim, blue light, the liquid looked deep purple. And a bit fizzy. The glass was short and decorated with a plastic stirrer that had a skull at the end. Jensen took a hesitant sip. A pleasant surprise. The cocktail tasted of blueberries, lavender, and vodka. The carbonation had to be from tonic water or something.

"What's a RuGirl?" Jensen caught himself asking.

Avery pursed her lips, disappointment evident on her face. Mostly in herself. She hadn't quite told Jensen everything she liked. Apparently being a Drag Race fan was one of the things that slipped her mind. "Being a RuGirl means you've been on Drag Race." Jensen knew the show. However, he only saw snippets of it online. "And that," Avery pointed to the stage as she sipped her drink. "Is Violet Chachki."

Jensen watched the performance. Violet was wearing some sort of jeweled bodice that had red jewels sewn in a certain way to make it look like blood and was lip-syncing to some Lady Gaga song he didn't quite recognize. He could understand why some might be mesmerized by her. The way she danced, the way she looked so confident. Like she could have anyone in the room. And she was probably right.

"She's so hot." Avery sighed wistfully.

Jensen chuckled. He became used to how Avery would offhandedly call someone hot—usually a girl or feminine-looking person. At first, it was a bit jarring but he knew Avery liked him and only him.

Someone brushed past them, turning towards Jensen. "You're a pretty boy." It was a man. He looked around Avery's age, if a bit older. But his words did not match how he looked. If Avery could describe him with one word, it would be "twink." Being so bold as to say a grown-ass man was a "pretty boy" to his face was hilarious.

"Thanks, man but I do have a girlfriend. Even then, I don't swing that way." Jensen tried to let him down gently, hinting at the fact that Avery was literally right next to him.

The man glanced behind Jensen at Avery and narrowed his eyes. "You're straight? Why're you here then?" He scoffed.

Avery had to resist the urge to laugh. She forgot she passed so well that people thought she could be a cis woman. Or maybe this guy's gaydar was horrible. Both were very viable. A lot of people didn't know Avery was trans until she'd made one too many jokes about her dick that it started to get suspicious if she didn't have one. And Jensen might've been straight but Avery was anything but.

Amused at the situation, Jensen had the best idea of what to say in return. "I dunno. I mean, my girl does have the best dick I've put in my mouth."

The man was speechless, trying to grasp words but failing so he simply turned and ran to another side of the bar.

Avery burst out laughing, banging her fist against the bartop. Jensen sipped his drink to mask his smile as he watched her tear up from laughing a little too hard. "Saying that insinuates you've had other dicks in your mouth." She said after she wiped a few tears at the edges of her eyes.

Jensen simply shrugged, staying silent. Avery's eyes went wide. He didn't. But it was worth it to see her reaction.

"I'll krill myself, I swear to God." Avery breathed.

Jensen rolled his eyes and licked his lips. Avery caught the movement with her eyes before she felt hands on her shoulders. She was about to tell whoever it was off until the person came into view. She had her fair share of catcalls, unwanted contact, and unwanted flirting.

Violet Chachki.

The words died on her tongue.

Avery hadn't even registered the change in song. Government Hooker. Violet stood in between Avery's legs and ran a finger down her jaw as she lip-synced to the song.

I could be girl, unless you want to be man

I could be sex, unless you want to hold hands

I could be anything, I could be everything

I could be mom, unless you want to be dad

Comment on averyxcario's post by ellablanca: MY PARENTS!!!

Comment on averyxcario's post by MOCCAINDEAN: oml… OH MY LORDDDDD

Comment on averyxcario's post by acklesfrckles: jensen in makeup… omg

Comment on averyxcario's post by DAR3D3VILS: i didn't know i needed this until now

The rest of the night was uneventful beside those two instances. Avery was speechless for a while once Violet left her alone and needed to bury her face in the bar top, hat falling off. The pair made it home—Avery only had one drink in her system while Jensen had two. Avery went to try and kiss Jensen but their hats were in the way and she lifted a hand to cover her face, a little embarrassed.

Jensen took her hand and removed Avery's hat as well as his own to finish their kiss. "You don't know how to do a cowboy kiss, huh?" He asked, amused.

"No, ‘cause I didn't grow up in fucking Texas where they probably teach that in school." Avery countered, rolling her eyes.

Jensen hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he leaned in near the shell of her ear. "They also teach us how to ride." He whispered.

Avery let out a breath, more like a purr. Her hands found their place on Jensen's hips and pushed him down onto the bed. He was surprised at the sudden aggression but once he saw the dark look in Avery's eyes, he understood. He was fucked. She hovered over him and unbuttoned his top. "Be honest with me." She looked into Jensen's eyes as she pushed the fabric off him. "Is there a reason you took so long in the shower today?"

"Uh…" Jensen swallowed, feeling suddenly very shy. "Maybe."

Avery cocked an eyebrow, hooking a finger under his chin. They both knew the truth. She just wanted him to say it. "Don't lie. Tell me why."

Jensen bit the inside of his cheek, feeling his face warm. He just wanted to get Avery topless so they were even. "I wanted to… prepare myself." He admitted softly. In hopes something like this would happen.

Avery licked the inside of her teeth, deciding not to press further. Jensen's entire chest was red along with his face, she wasn't sure if he could handle anymore teasing. "Good boy." Maybe a bit more. Jensen took a deep breath to suppress the whine that wanted to push itself out of his throat. "Do you want to take off my shirt?"

"Yeah." Jensen sighed, hands fumbling with the buttons of Avery's shirt before he was able to pull it out of her pants and push it off her shoulders. Almost immediately after, he grabbed for her belt.

Avery stopped him, pressing a kiss on his lips as she did it herself. "Eager?" She chuckled as she shoved down her pants as well.

"If you don't put your dick in me soon, I'll off myself." Jensen said without thinking. He was talking to Elena a little too much the past few months.

Avery bit her lip, the edges were turned upward in a smile. She didn't want to laugh. But it was hard not to. She ran a hand through Jensen's hair before she grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled them off. Imagine her surprise that Jensen wore cloth panties in a similar pink shade of his costume. She glanced up at him, he seemed a little too interested in her chest.

With a sigh, Avery sat back on her heels and ran a hand up Jensen's shoulder. "C'mere, honey." He sat up and awaited her next words. "Take off my bra."

Jensen's mouth felt dry. His hands found the clasp of her bra and—unlike most men Avery had been with—unclasped it with ease. Avery felt the tension in her chest ease. He slipped the straps from her shoulders and took in the sight. He appreciated the new area of skin he had access to. With a glance up at Avery, Jensen pressed a few kisses to her sternum.

Avery gasped as a hand flew to the back of his head. "Don't distract me." She ground out. Repeating last night was tempting but not what she was there for. Jensen relented and pulled away, watching intently as she shoved down her legs. His mouth felt empty. "Now…" Avery ran her hand up his thigh and slipped her fingers under his underwear. "It's your turn."

Jensen's heart sped up. Not even at the fact it would be his first time fully naked in front of Avery but because of what was underneath.

Avery rubbed Jensen's thigh once the underwear was off. "You wanted to ride?" She asked softly, pulling him into her lap. She wasn't used to the weight since Jensen was a pretty hefty guy but she kind of liked it. "Then do it."

Jensen drew in a breath that sounded similar to a whine. He may or may not have thought that a butt plug was a good investment considering he wanted to try bottoming for Avery. Looking back, he was right. He took it out and reached over to put it on the nightstand. Avery set a hand on Jensen's hip to brace him lightly while the other settled on his thigh as he lifted himself up, grabbing onto her shoulders.

"Go slow." Avery whispered. She didn't want Jensen to accidentally hurt himself by getting more than what he could take.

Jensen took the advice and slowly lowered himself, drawing in a sharp breath. The sensation made his brain buzz. Avery was of similar size to him so to say she was packing would be an understatement. He wasn't used to the weight inside him but it filled him in ways he hadn't thought were possible. Mainly because he didn't think he would ever do anything like this. His mouth hung open once Avery's dick was fully seated inside him. He wanted to move but Avery held him still.

"Take a second, honey." Avery whispered, letting out a breathy moan of her own. Jensen was glad this affected her too. "Just… adjust."

With a wordless nod, Jensen whined. He knew Avery was just looking out for him but his patience was wearing thin. After what felt like an eternity, he could feel Avery's grip loosen. She deemed it was fine for him to start moving.

Once he did move, Jensen let out a choked moan. How did people do this regularly? He didn't know. "Fuck!" His head fell as he leaned into Avery's shoulder and chased the feeling.

Avery panted into his ear, egging him on. "You're doing so well…" She whispered. And she meant it. She wasn't sure what she expected from a man like Jensen but this was not it. The eagerness, hell, the desire, to be the one getting fucked. She imagined Jensen hadn't had a chance to get that. Or, if he had, they were few and far between.

The sound of her praise went straight to Jensen's core, only stimulating him more. It was all becoming too much at once. The sound of her pants, her words, the way she felt inside him, his movements. Hell, even the way the bed creaked with each lift and drop of his hips.

"Avery–!" Jensen whimpered when her tip brushed against his prostate at just the right angle. "Fuck, please!" He didn't even know what he wanted. He just wanted it.

As if she knew, Avery bucked her hips upward. Jensen's mouth fell open at the sudden movement. His orgasm hit him at the same time. He hadn't even registered that it was building, too lost in what he was feeling. He came in between them, a few drops getting on Avery's stomach.

Avery stilled her hips before Jensen shook his head once he felt like he could breathe again. "I-I want you to get off too. I want… I want you to fill me." He sounded ruined. He was.

Avery lifted a hand to Jensen's cheek and made him look at her. She wanted to see his face. "Okay," She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "But I won't last too much longer."

As Jensen began again, he remembered how sensitive he could get after an orgasm. This wasn't an exception. A string of whines left his lips while he could hear more panting and gentle moans from Avery.

"Shit–" Avery breathed, feeling her orgasm break. "Honey, fuck–!" She couldn't even begin to describe how much she felt. It was hard to explain. The feeling in her chest, the pleasure that fried her brain. It was all so much.

Jensen understood. He drew in a shaky breath, pressing light kisses to Avery's jaw. She had marked him as his and that felt… good. Right. He wasn't sure if there were words he could say that would accurately describe his feelings. Physically or emotionally. This all felt so good. So right that it made his head dizzy with pleasure.

Avery cupped Jensen's cheek with tired eyes. "We need to… do something about this okay?" She meant clean their bodies off. She didn't want to feel sticky in the morning and, as much as Jensen likely wanted to fall asleep, she imagined he didn't want to either.

The man nodded slowly, rolled off her. He felt empty. Like he was missing something.

Avery ran a hand through Jensen's hair and kissed his cheek before she stood to grab a damp towel and wiped herself off, putting her underwear and bra back on. Deciding to pity her royally fucked lover, she cleaned him. He was able to put on his underwear even though his ass felt sore. So Avery wrapped him with her fluffiest blanket.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Avery asked softly. She knew sometimes when sex was intense that people needed something to bring their energy back up. Jensen seemed like he needed it too.

He wondered what he did to deserve someone like Avery. "Carrots sound pretty nice right now." Jensen needed something to gnaw on, keep his mouth busy so he shut off his brain.

Avery smiled softly at the request. She quickly went downstairs to grab a bag of baby carrots and handed it to Jensen. He munched on a few.

While he was distracted with the carrots, Avery filmed a small video. Something she wouldn't ever post. It wouldn't ever see the light of day. Or so she thought. Just for her. To stay in the depths of her drafts on TikTok.

The couple went to sleep that night with not a care in the world.

pickledpascal: just railed this mf and he's out here eating carrots

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taglist: @nancymcl

taglist open here !!

#oc #oc: avery cairo #jensen ackles x oc #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #spn fanfic #supernatural #spn #new perspective #smut #transfemme #transgender #queer #violet chachki #transgirl #self indulgence babey #ride a cowboy #this is thee smuttiest thing ive ever written

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novemquadragintillion · 9 months

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How I visualized all the Tarot Club members before I saw any official art of them:

The Fool - completely shrouded by gray fog. People can see just a vague human shape. As the fog shifts and swirls, certain features are revealed a little, such as hands and mouth (tapping on the table and grinning). He wears a simple outfit.

Klein - short black hair, brown eyes. He wears a top hat a lot, golden colored glasses, black trench coat or suit. Carries around a cane and pocket watch and topaz pendant. His character design overall has lots of black and brown and a little orange. Older looking than the official art.

+ Sherlock - same^ but with a beard. More brown than black outfits.

+ Gehrman - more black than brown. Sharp facial features (especially sharp cheeks and chin, not a filled out face). Cold and ruthless eyes.

+ Dwayne - white side burns, blue eyes, lots of brown in character design. old classy gentleman outfits basically

+ Merlin - oval face, very ordinary. classy younger gentleman overall.

Alger - dark blue hair with blue-green tips. Seaweed-like hairstyle. Has a little bit of stubble. I imagined him often with Lord of Storms robes, like magician robes with lightning patterns on them. Without the robes, I thought of him wearing classic pirate outfits.

Cattleya - thick wavy black hair and purple eyes with round glasses. Black robes, silver stars on and around her. Thick build, kinda muscular. Pirate hat or witch hat, whatever my brain thought of at the time. Older looking than the official art.

Derrick - brown-blonde hair that's partially curly, light brown eyes. Teenager (since called 'Little Sun'). Very tall, broad shoulders, and wore classic plain medieval clothing. With the lightning hammer(?) on his back.

Audrey - basically Athanasia De Alger Obelia from Who Made Me a Princess?*, but older with brownish blonde hair and emerald green eyes.

Emyln - short black hair, red eyes, wears lots of black. Arrogant teenage vampire vibes.

Fors - long brown hair, scholarly outfits. I didn't really imagine her as anything much, except lots of browns in her design.

Xio - short white-blonde hair, wears almost all black, is short. Black hat (and a little black cape during missions). I just realized.. I basically almost imagine her as Ange from the anime Princess Principal*.

Leonard - black trench coat, or black suit. Black hair. Green eyes and red gloves. Carries around a small notebook. I didn't really think about his hair length, but I felt taken aback a little when I saw fan art of him for the first time, with long hair. I think I imagined him with short hair more.

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* Athanasia, and Ange

#lotm #lord of the mysteries #lotm spoilers #this random person's ramblings #I'm writing and posting this because I hope someday I'll have the motivation to draw at least a few of them #And draw them in the way that I envision them while reading. I don't want to forget #save for later #btw if there's very little description of a character it's because my brain didn't visualize the character barely

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knightsofsliverandgoldstory · 11 months

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Marc-André Fleury/ F!OC

Cover by @newlibrary ❤️

Summery: A story where a world famous goaltender with a heart and soul of gold becomes a knight in shining silver for a female hockey player in the NHL who is trying to balance being a single mother and athlete after just being traded to the Vegas Golden Knights. Can Marc-André Fleury show Barlow Kane he can be the father her daughter never had, help her make a home and a life in Nevada and be the love of her life she never thought she would find?

Warnings: maybe a swear word or two?

Word count: 2,318

Follow my main account @callsign-denmark or main masterlist to find other stories like this and read on my A03. Use my hashtag "KOSAGstory" when you reblog to find the series!

"I got to go mom. First day of training with the team.... yes mama... I know. Yes.... I love you too. Bye!" After shoving her phone into her bag she throw her bag into the cubby. Running a hand over her dark dirty blonde hair, Barlow Kane pulled it back into a braid. She quickly pulled on her padding, pulling on her uniform before grabbing her #42 Golden Knights Jersey. She pulled on her skates and laced them tight before tucking her hair up onto her helmet. She grabbed a stick and speed walked out to the rink. The 28, soon to be 29 year old pushed off onto the ice as the cold air of the rink hit her face.

Barlow was the younger sister of Patrick Kane, she has been playing hockey almost as long as he had. She had recently been traded to the Vegas Golden Knights from the Edmonton Oilers. This was her first practice with the team since moving. She went to the corner behind the net and began to stretch. She was on of the first ones on the ice. Some of the men were standing around talking before going to get padding on, others just skating around for fun before going to get their gear on. She warmed up before starting speed drills.

Barlow took off like a bullet from a gun, shooting across the ice to the other side of the rink as fast as her legs could carry her. She was ranked the 2nd fastest skater in the NHL. The speed she brought to the ice was insane. She moved faster then most, took turns far sharper and was not afraid to crash. She was crazy in most eyes. But she lived for the Thrill. She pushed her legs faster, picking up more speed. She slid to a stop, snow spraying high on the glass before she was off again, racing for the other side of the rink. She moved with such ease you couldn't tell she was working hard. She smiled as she slid to a stop again at the net, snow flying over the net in a sheet. She took off once more racing for the other other. She slid to a stop and before she could turn to race to the other side she noticed two men standing at the bench watching her. One was taller, his hat backwards as he leaned on his stick. His dark eyes followed her as she moved. He had a strong jaw line and laugh lines around his eyes. He was handsome with tanned skin and cocoa colored eyes that seems to search your soul.

Barlow smiled slightly at him before going back to her speed drills. She raced fast on the ice, snow flying onto the glass as she slid to a stop before turning.

"Who is that out there?" The taller of the 2 men, Marc-André Fleury asked. He watched as she moved so smoothly on the ice, how fast and strong she was. Her blue eyes had seemed to take his breath away when she looked at him.

"That's Barlow Kane. Patrick Kane's little sister. She just got traded to here." The goalie coach standing next to Flower answered him. He looked up to see Flower's eyes never leaving the woman, his face filled with wonder as she moved. He laughed and slapped Marc-André on the back.

"Good luck man. She is not the easiest person to get to know. She typically keeps to herself from what I hear." He tried to tell the star goalie. But Flower was in his own world as he watched her move.

Barlow stopped her speed drills and took some pucks to start some patterns runs. She looked up to see the tall man still watching her. She knew he was, Marc-André Fleury. One of the best goalkeepers in the NHL. And she had been one of the lucky few to score on him inna dramatic way. She saw him disappear down the tunnel, probably to get into his gear. Other players started to come out into the ice and she watched them from her corner. She watched as they warmed up, trying to remember each player and their skills. She passed the puck around her feet, moving her blade fast back and forth. She was standing behind the one net, trying to stay away from the others as she was not ready to make friends yet.

Barlow was so focused on her passes she never heard the skater come up behind her till a voice brought her out of her daze.

"Hello." A soft, french accent said behind her. Barlow jumped and turned around to come face to face with Marc-André Fleury. His soft smile and his deep set dark eyes made her heart flutter. "I'm Marc-André Fleury. But people call me Flower. Welcome to the team." He spoke softly.

Barlow took his out reached hand after she took of her glove and shook his warm hand. She smiled lightly up at him. Her small 5'7 frame looked even shorter next to his 6'2.

"Barlow Kane. Alot of people call me BK or K-Low." She said softly back to him. She let go of his hand and pulled her glove back on. She leaned on her stick as he placed his helmet onto the net. He placed his water bottle into the pocket on the back of the net and he leaned against the crossbars as he looked at her.

"I like Barlow. Its different, like my name." He smiled brightly at her. Barlow shook her head with a smile and grabbed her stick standing up straight.

"I should get practicing." She said as she started to skate away. She felt his eyes on her as she started to do some zig zag drills with the puck. She moved fast. Her skating saying she was sure of her skills. She started to skate backwards with the puck when Peter DeBoar, the head coach came out onto the ice.

"Alright everyone. We are gonna work on shootouts and slapshots. But first I would like you all to welcome the newest Knight to the team, Barlow Kane." He said waving Barlow over to him. She skated over, sliding to a stop and giving a small wave. "Barlow is a Two Way Forward and brings alot od speed to the ice. She is going to really help us this year on our cup run boys." Peter said before patting Barlow on the shoulder.

"Why dont you show us some of your speed and take a shot at getting the puck past Flower?" He asked her. Barlow nodded and took a puck and went to the far side of the rink from Flower. She knew he didnt remember her, but she was going to make him remember. Last year she made a power play move that shocked the crowd. She single handedly took the puck from one side of the rink to the other, snowed out Flower, sending the puck over his head to bar down into the net, winning the Oilers the game and sending them into the Playoffs. So that's what she was going to do now. She was going to show them exactly who she was on the ice.

Barlow dropped the puck onto the ice and clicked her helmet strap together. She eyed up Flower who pulled his helmet down. She smiled and took off at top speed, racing across the rink like a bolt of lightning. The puck was in front of her, she moved it side to side so he couldn't tell which way she was going to shot it. She got closer, she saw him getting ready to go down to block it. Just what she wanted. She came within 10 feet of him before hitting the breaks, snow flying through the air and over him and the net. She saw him duck his head and she hit the puck, sending it over his head and into the net with a loud *Clink*.

Flower looked up, covered in snow and shook his body to shake it off. He stood up and Barlow stood there, and smacked her stick against the ice with a cocky grin on her face.

"Remember me?" She smirked. She saw his face light up, his lips curled into a smile as his eyes danced.

"You pulled that same stunt a year ago. You went to the playoffs then because of it." He laughed. Barlow smiled and took a bow as the other guys clapped or laughed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Peter standing behind her.

"Nicely done. That gentleman... is how we will get to the Playoffs this year." He said before patting her shoulder again. "Welcome to the team Miss Kane!" He said before walking off. Barlow smiled before skating to the side of the rink as others worked on slapshots at Flower. She took a drink of water, feeling the cold liquid rin down her throat. They practiced for a good 3 hours before calling it quites. Barlow slowly made her way to the locker room, her legs on fire. She stripped of her padding and grabbed clothes for a shower. They had put in a shower separate from the guys for her. She let the hot water rush over her sore body and sighed at how good it felt. She knew she had to hurry, the babysitter was going to be dropping her 3 year old daughter off soon. She soon shut off the water and pulled on shorts and a shirt that hugged her curves before walking out to the locker room. What she saw surprised her.

Her daughter Harper was very shy around new people, especially men. Harper's father had died when she was 2 weeks old, so she never had a father figure on her life to help raise her. Barlow had raised her on her own in Canada with the help of her best friend who babysat her when she was at hockey.

She found her daughter sitting on Marc-André Fleury's lap as he tickled her belly, his nose nuzzled into her soft curly red hair. "Ain't you just the cutest thing." His accent was thick as he smiled at the child. Harper giggled and placed a hand on his face.

"You pretty." She said softly making him chuckle. Her daughter turned her head and saw Barlow standing at her cubby a few down from Flower's and she squealed, wiggling from his arms. "Mommy!" She cried running to her mother. Barlow smiled, bending down to pick up her baby. Harper was her heart and soul. She loved her child more then anything.

"Hey baby." She sighed as she held her daughter, hugging her tightly.

"Mommy I made pretty friend." Harper said pointing to Flower. Marc-André stood up and walked towards them as Harper smiled and waved at him. Barlow smiled, still in shock at how much she took to a stranger.

"She is beautiful. I didnt know you were married." He said as he poked Harper's side. Barlow felt her smile slip and she ducked her head a bit.

"I'm not married. My fiancee died 2 weeks after she was born." She said softly.

"My Daddy is a Angel now." Harper said.

Barlow watched as Flower's smile slipped away and he looked down at the ground before looking at Harper. "My Daddy is a Angel too Little One." He said softly. He looked up at Barlow and she saw companion in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your lose. But you have a beautiful little girl." He said, his accent thick and deep. She felt her heart flutter at the sound of his voice. She held Harper close to her, nuzzling her face into her soft curls.

"Thank you." She whispered. She looked down at Harper and kissed her nose. "Come on Little Bird. Let's go get lunch baby." She said as she shifter her on her hip so she could grab her bag.

"Harper! Oh there you are! I'm so sorry Barlow. I went to the bathroom and she ran out of the room." Katie Deck, Barlow's best friend said as she rushed into the room. Barlow smiled and shook her head.

"No worries. She made a new friend and he watched her while I was getting dressed." She said before flashing a smile at Flower. "See you around." She said before walking out of the locker room with Harper in her hip. Marc-André watched her leave, leaning against the wall. His heart fluttered. Something about the younger Kane made him want to get to know her, and get close to her, and possibly fall in love with her. With a shake of his head he went back to his seat and finished getting dressed, slipping a shirt over his head. Stone poked him in the ribs, making him jump slightly.

"I saw that."

"What did you see, Stoney?"

Mark raised his eyebrow at him and gave him a knowing looking. "Don't play stupid, Flower. I saw the way you looked at the younger Kane."

Trying to hide his smile, Marc looked down at his shoes, tying them tighter. "I was being nice. Her daughter was adorable and I wanted her to feel comfortable."

Mark wasn't fooled in the slightest. He shook his head and grabbed his bag as he stood up. "She is shy and not very talkative. And she has every right to be. Just be careful." He said with a pat to Marc's shoulder before walking out of the room. Flower leaned back against the wall of his bench and let out a sigh. Looking over at Barlow's bunch, he smiled slightly.

"I'll do whatever I can to make you feel welcome here." He thought softly to himself.

#KnightsofSliverandGoldStory #Marc-André Fleury Story #Marc-André Fleury Fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl fluff #vegas golden knights #minnesota wild #chicago blackhawks #marc andre fleury #Marc-André Fleury #nhl goalies #nhl goaltender story #KOSAGstory

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