#//someone rolled a divine intervention

[heartheaded]

"Can’t I just sleep?” (claire?)

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ❝... Oh my god.❞

She was praying as a joke, really--a last resort, a lament of anger towards Castiel for someone more qualified to be a father and--Well, according to the scripture, she couldn't have wrangled anyone better.

The question is, why here and why now? If what everyone says is true, God doesn't just do this. Come down to earth. Especially to her, a Nephilim, whom the angels see as abominations most of the time.

Guess she doesn't really know his opinion for sure, though... and something tells her that even if she did have the instincts to be hostile, that it would end in her own ending.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ❝That did not actually work.❞

[sadnymi]

Alibi.

Slytherin boys x reader ( platonic) , Theodore Nott x reader ( not so platonic)

Summary: Summary: You accidentally got yourself involved in some Slytherin boys' drama.

I was deep in the forest, kneeling on a bed of pine needles, my hands clasped in prayer. The air was still, the only sound was the whispering of leaves above. I was right in the middle of asking for some divine intervention in my life when, out of nowhere, something heavy crashed into me from behind.

I was flattened to the ground with a shriek, my thoughts of divinity abruptly replaced with panic. "Merlin's beard! What in the name of—" I twisted around, ready to fend off whatever forest creature had decided to tackle me.

But it wasn’t a creature. It was Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherins. And he was bleeding. Profusely.

He groaned, clutching his side. "Sorry," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Sorry? You're bleeding all over me!" I squealed, trying to push him off, but he was too heavy and I was too flustered.

"Calm down, will you?" he said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone who looked like they'd been in a fight with a hippogriff and lost. "It's just a little blood."

"A little blood?" I shrieked again. "It looks like you were stabbed! Wait, were you stabbed?"

He winced. "Yeah, probably. Can you stop screaming? You're making my head hurt."

"Stop screaming? You literally fell out of nowhere, bleeding to death on top of me! Of course, I'm screaming!" I finally managed to wriggle out from under him, kneeling beside him in the dirt. "Who did this to you?"

He groaned again, his face pale. "Don't know. Didn't exactly stop to ask."

I fumbled in my bag for my wand, hands shaking. "Okay, okay, just... just hold still. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding." I pointed my wand at his wound, but then my mind went blank. "Uh, what's the spell again?"

Theodore groaned, but this time it sounded more exasperated than pained. "Episkey. It's Episkey."

"Right, right," I muttered, feeling my face heat up. "Episkey!" The wound didn't heal completely, but at least the bleeding stopped.

Just then, we heard a rustling in the bushes. I turned, ready to scream again, and out stumbled none other than Mattheo Riddle, his face splattered with blood.

I let out another scream, louder this time. "What is it with Slytherins and blood today?"

Theodore winced. "Can you stop screaming? You're going to attract every creature in this forest."

Mattheo, looking a mix of annoyed and amused, glanced between us. "What in Merlin's name is going on here? Why are you screaming?"

"That's what I want to know!" I said, throwing my hands up. "First, he crashes into me, bleeding all over, and now you show up looking like you’ve been in a bloodbath."

Theodore groaned again, trying to sit up. "Mattheo, could you do us a favor and not kill her with another heart attack? She's already a mess."

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Calm down. This isn't my blood." He knelt beside Theodore, checking his wound. "How bad is it?"

Theodore waved him off. "Don't worry. The boy who did this is already dead. I killed him after he stabbed me."

My eyes went wide, and I started to hyperventilate. "You killed a boy? You actually killed someone? Oh my God, we're all going to Azkaban! I was just praying, and now I'm an accessory to murder! What if they find the body? What if they use Veritaserum on us? I can't go to Azkaban, I haven't even finished my O.W.L.s! Oh God, oh God, oh God—"

Theodore, clearly at the end of his patience, slapped his hand over my mouth. "Can you please stop talking for one minute? You're not helping."

I kept mumbling behind his hand, my eyes wide with panic. He glared at me. "Why can't you just shut up for once?" He looked at Mattheo. "A little help here?"

Mattheo smirked, watching the scene unfold. "You seem to have it under control, Theo."

"Seriously," Theodore grumbled, pulling his hand away. "We're in the middle of a forest, I'm bleeding, and she's having a meltdown about Azkaban. Can this day get any worse?"

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I was just praying for some divine intervention, not a bloody crime scene!"

"Well, you got it," Theodore said dryly. "Now help me up, and let's get out of here before something else happens."

As we struggled to get Theodore to his feet, I couldn't help but mutter a quick prayer under my breath. "Please, if anyone's listening, just get us out of this mess."

Theodore chuckled weakly, wincing at the pain. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Just as we managed to get Theodore to his feet, the forest seemed to come alive with movement.

From the shadows emerged a group of masked men, all dressed in ominous black cloaks. My heart sank. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Theodore groaned. "What now?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed. "This day just keeps getting better."

I had a full-blown breakdown. "Who are they? What do they want? Why is this happening?" I shrieked, clutching Theodore's arm as the masked men closed in.

The leader of the group, his voice muffled by the mask, pointed at me. "Grab the girl!"

I promptly hid behind Theodore, using him as a human shield. "Why me? I don’t even know what’s going on! I was just praying! Praying! I didn't ask for this! Why would anyone want to grab me? I don't know anything! I'm not important! I was just trying to—"

The leader looked slightly puzzled. "You must be important if you're here."

"What?" I spluttered. "No, this is just some weird punishment because I sneaked out of Hogwarts! I was having a terrible week and needed some divine intervention, so I came to the forest to pray for guidance and peace and—"

"I don't give a fuck," the leader snapped, gesturing to his men. "Grab her!"

The masked men advanced, and Theodore stepped in front of me. "No one will touch her," he said, his wand raised despite his injury.

Mattheo mirrored his stance, wand also at the ready.

I peeked out from behind Theodore, still rambling. "Seriously, this is all a misunderstanding. I was just praying because I failed my Potions test, and Professor Snape looked like he wanted to turn me into a newt, and then my cat got sick, and I just needed some clarity in my life, so I thought, 'Why not go to the forest and pray?' But then Theo crashed into me, bleeding everywhere, and now you guys show up looking like Death Eaters on a budget! This is just a cosmic joke, right?"

The leader looked exasperated. "Shut her up."

One of the masked men tried to grab me, but Theodore and Mattheo both fired off stunning spells, sending the attacker flying back.

Theodore turned his head slightly toward me, his eyes serious. "You need to stop talking now."

I nodded, clamping my mouth shut, but my mind was still racing. "This has to be some kind of punishment," I whispered. "Why else would this be happening? Maybe I angered a forest spirit or something."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Or maybe it's just bad luck. Now, please, stay quiet and let us handle this."

The leader, looking frustrated, signaled for the rest of his men to attack. "Get them all!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying silently. "Please, let this be over soon. And if we survive, I promise I'll never sneak out of Hogwarts again. Or pray in the forest. Or—"

Before I could finish my desperate plea, a figure appeared from the shadows and stabbed the leader in the chest. The leader collapsed, revealing none other than Lorenzo Berkshire, better known as Enzo, looking out of breath and slightly bewildered.

"Sorry, guys," Enzo panted, wiping the dagger on his sleeve. "There was this dragon—well, maybe it was a big bird. Hard to tell in the dark.“

Mattheo and Theodore wasted no time, seizing the moment of confusion. They grabbed the nearest masked men and swiftly dispatched them with a combination of spells and physical blows. The remaining attackers fled into the darkness, clearly not eager to meet the same fate as their leader.

Enzo, looking around at the chaos, spotted me and raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute. Is this Y/N from Charms class? What are you doing out here?"

Before I could launch into my explanation, Theodore sighed and muttered, "Here we go again."

"I was just praying," I began "Well, I had the worst week ever. First, I failed my Potions test, then my cat got sick, and I just thought maybe if I could get some peace in the forest—"

Theo turned looked me dead in the eyes then slapped his hand over my mouth, his expression one of exasperated patience. "I swear, if I hear one more word about praying or forest spirits... or Potions tests or your cat, I'm going to lose it."

I gazed up at him, ready to argue, but then something struck me. His eyes. They were a striking shade of blue, filled with intensity and a hint of something softer, something...beautiful. I blinked, momentarily speechless.

Enzo, clearly amused by the whole situation, leaned over to Mattheo. "Is she always like this?"

Mattheo smirked. "Pretty much."

Theodore, still holding his hand over my mouth, looked at me with a mix of annoyance and something else I couldn't quite place. I nodded slowly, my panic subsiding slightly as I got lost in those mesmerizing eyes.

Finally, Theodore removed his hand, and I took a deep breath, determined not to start rambling again. "Okay, okay, I'll be quiet."

"Thank Merlin," Theodore muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Enzo clapped his hands together. "Alright, now that we've got that sorted, how about we get out of this forest before any more dragons show up?"

As we started to move, I couldn't help but blurt out, "Enzo, there's no dragon out there, you idiot!"

Enzo turned to me. "And how do you know that?"

"Because dragons don't just wander around the Forbidden Forest chasing random students!" I snapped. "They’re kept in the Dragon Reserve, or did you sleep through that part of Care of Magical Creatures?"

Enzo raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what about that time Hagrid smuggled a baby dragon into his hut? Ever thought about that?"

I scoffed. "That was a one-time thing! And it wasn't even a fully-grown dragon, it was a Norwegian Ridgeback hatchling! There's a huge difference!"

Enzo crossed his arms, a playful smirk on his face. "Well, maybe it was an escaped Ridgeback, then. You can't rule out the possibility."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Escaped Ridgeback? Do you hear yourself? The chances of running into a dragon in the middle of the night are practically zero! You're more likely to find a Blast-Ended Skrewt out here than a dragon!"

I opened my mouth to retort, but Theodore swiftly grabbed me and pulled me away. I couldn't help but look at his strong, albeit bloody, hand on my waist, leaving a bloodstain on my skirt.

As I glanced from his hand up to his face, I couldn't resist commenting, "You've got a pretty good grip for someone who was just stabbed."

Enzo and Mattheo burst into laughter, and Theodore shot them a deadly look. They quieted down, though still wearing amused expressions.

Theodore leaned in close, his voice low and intense. "You will not say a word about what you saw tonight, understood?"

His proximity made my breath hitch, and I felt my heart race. Dirty thoughts flitted through my mind, and I mentally pleaded, Please, God, I didn't mean to have them. You shouldn't have made him that pretty if you didn't want me to have them.

"Y/N," Theodore said, his voice breaking through my reverie. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

I blinked, snapping back to reality. "Uh, yes. No talking about tonight. Got it."

He brushed the dust from my shirt and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.

"You two need a moment alone, or can we get moving now?" Mattheo said.

Theodore shot him another glare. "We're moving."

Enzo, called after us. "Hey, Y/N, if you see a dragon on the way back, be sure to let me know!"

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. "If I see a dragon, I'll make sure it eats you first!"

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

[jamminvroomvroom]

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember. 


everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

-

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

-

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

-

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

i’ve removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

[endless-ineffabilities]

For His Eyes Only (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: credit goes to this genius anon! This one is set right before part 7, when they've just started their fwb arrangement. Again, no taglist for minishots. I trust that this will find you when it finds you <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Fabien hoped to comfort Ewan over his recent heartbreak with the reader, but soon discovers that things between them have taken an unexpected turn.

Fabien and Ewan slid into a booth at their usual pub, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and laughter surrounding them. The two lads were incidentally in the same part of town for respective meetings, and thought to meet afterward.

Fabien couldn't help but eye his friend with a mix of concern and curiosity. The last time they’d met, Ewan had been putting on a front, dismissive about his past involvement with you. But Fabien saw right through him.

“So, how’s it going, mate?” Fabien asked, trying to sound casual but clearly probing. “How’s it really going? I’ve been meaning to have a proper one-with-one with you, you know?"

Ewan, who had been looking unusually cheerful, took a long swig of his beer. “Yeah, I’m good. Really fucking good, actually.” The statement was loaded, and while it wasn't exactly insincere, Fabien could sense something lingering underneath.

Ewan’s upbeat demeanor felt too polished, too forced. Fabien asked, “Did you find some magical cure for heartbreak?”

Ewan’s lips curled into a mysterious smile. As he leaned forward to grab some peanuts from the table, he tilted his head slightly, revealing a conspicuous hickey on his neck. Fabien’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Well, well,” Fabien said, trying to suppress a grin. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

Ewan caught on, freezing in place as if a deer in headlights. But he quickly rolled with it, his smirk widening, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and defiance. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Fabien leaned back, feigning shock. “So, did you find a new lady to help you get over things, or is this just a new accessory? Anyone I know?”

Ewan replied, “It’s not what you think. Things are a bit… complicated.”

“Complicated?” Fabien echoed, his curiosity piqued. “Like, how many people are we talking about?”

Ewan shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile betrayed a hint of pride. Or was that bitterness? “Let’s just say my lips are sealed.”

Fabien laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging. I’m dying to know what’s really going on.”

Ewan just raised his glass. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

As they clinked glasses, Fabien couldn’t help but marvel at how Ewan had managed to move on so quickly and intriguingly. Last time they met, in the pub with the other lads, Ewan could not conceal each flicker of emotion on his face when Fabien told him about meeting you. That glimmer of hope when Fabien hinted that you and Jacob didn’t seem like anything more than friends.

Whatever was happening in Ewan’s life, it was clear he wasn’t about to reveal all the juicy details just yet.

Ewan offered to buy another round, gesturing to the bartender while pulling out his wallet.

Fabien glanced down, his eyes catching on a familiar photo peeking out - a sweet, old picture of a younger Ewan with his nan. It made Fabien smile softly, but as Ewan fished around for his card, the photo flap flipped open a bit too far, revealing something else entirely.

Fabien blinked, doing a double-take as the new image came into focus. It was you. And not just any picture of you - oh no, this one was definitely… memorable. You were seated sideways to the lens, twisting provocatively to meet the camera’s gaze, your arms draped alluringly over your bare chest. A duvet, blessedly, thank the gods, covered your lower half, but the whole scene was just shy of being a full-on scandal.

Fabien’s mind raced between wanting to laugh and praying for divine intervention to erase what he’d just seen. “Uh, Ewan...” Fabien swallowed nervously, trying to find the right words to address the situation without making it even more awkward.

Ewan, still busy with his card, finally glanced up, noticing Fabien’s expression. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion before following Fabien’s gaze to the open wallet. The moment he realized what was on display, his eyes widened, and he snapped the wallet shut with an embarrassed exhale.

“Fuck's sake,” Ewan cursed, trying to play it off, though the pink tinge in his cheeks betrayed him. “Yeah, that’s, uh… a private moment.”

Fabien stifled a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Private? No kidding, mate. But aren't you holding on to the past?”

Ewan shot back with a protective edge to his voice. “Look, this is between me and…” He trailed off, giving Fabien a meaningful look. “And it’s not for public viewing.”

Fabien held up his hands in mock surrender, a grin still tugging at his lips. “Hey, your secret’s safe with me. But you might want to keep that flap under control, or you’ll give someone else a heart attack.”

Ewan rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Just… forget you saw anything. That view is for my eyes only.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m trying,” Fabien replied with a chuckle. Ewan’s reaction just about gave away the lone culprit for the fresh lovebite on his neck.

As they continued their conversation, Fabien couldn’t help but think that he was right all along - whatever was going on between Ewan and you, it was clearly more cherished than he’d realized.

“You better erase all trace of that picture from your brain,” Ewan smirked at some point later, humorously warning.

Fabien incredulously responded, “Mate, I have a girlfriend! Damn, I worry about the poor sod who will ever try to properly steal her from you.”

“So do I.”

Good ol' blast from the recent past! See you for part 9 💙

What did you think of Ewan's precious little picture? If you have more minishot ideas, let me know below!

[lizardboiii]

Tongue Tied┃One Piece

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: 18+, SFW, violent undertones, f!reader, mihawk's eyes, terrible nicknames

│wc: 1.8k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: poneglyph writing/speaking in different font. normal font is any other language as written. enjoy <3

・❥・

│Chapter I: Bird of Prey

Squawking.

Soft and high pitch, the incessant cries of seagulls flooded your ears like a symphony. You groaned audibly at the noise. An action you almost instantly regretted as a sudden rush of frigid sea water seeped into your cracked mouth. 

Hacking up a storm, you were quick to come to your, mostly delirious, senses. You laid sprawled out on a strange gloomy shore. The water, almost too calm for your liking, combined with an eerie fog rolling in from the seemingly endless coastline, felt as if you entered purgatory. 

Stumbling to your soaked feet, you tested your balance. Though your legs wavered slightly, you managed to pull yourself from the water’s surprisingly strong tide. You felt like you might be sucked back out to sea. 

Swallowing nervously, you grimaced at the bitter taste of salt still lathered on your tongue. It was a sickly reminder of your current predicament. You were completely stranded, alone. Clenching your eyes shut, you replayed the moments before the disaster. 

Your rickety fishing boat swayed innocently on the open water, unaware of the massive storm brewing overhead. You had no time to prepare, no time to act, no time to ensure any self-preservation. In the blink of an eye, the sky blackened.

The small white capping waves surrounding you abruptly grew in size and violence. Your small boat stood no chance. The futile struggle to stay right side up only lasted moments. With one final wave, your boat capsized from the continuous abuse.  

Shrieking, your body was thrown into the raging sea like a rag doll. You struggled hard against the current, only managing to break the water’s surface every couple of seconds. 

Eventually, your arms grew too tired, too weak, too heavy. It became more of a struggle to convince yourself to stay afloat than to fight the waves dragging you beneath their depths. Then, the world went dark.

Taking a deep breath, you willed away any more dreadful thoughts. The sooner you could find another spare ship the quicker you could go back home.

Scanning your surroundings, you searched for any ships, abandoned or not. Immediately your eyes caught a shocking scene. Nestled far beyond the shore, a massive crumbling castle towered over the island. You couldn't help but remark how fitting it was.

The discovery did little to encourage you. An abandoned castle meant no life, and no life meant no ships. You threaded your fingers through your hair. How could this get any worse?

The sound of thunder mocked your internal monologue. Groaning loudly, you began your venture towards the lonesome castle in an attempt to escape the rapidly forming storm. 

You managed to reach the half point mark before your skin began to crawl. You couldn't help but feel like something, or someone, was watching you through the underbrush. Though you tried to chalk it up to paranoia, you swore you saw something red glowing within the trees. It was just your luck to be marooned on a haunted island.

Whether it was divine intervention or simply uninterest, you managed to reach the chipped steps of the castle unscathed. Although that didn't stop you from hightailing it inside. 

A closer look inside the fortress told you just how regal it once appeared to be: large stained glass windows, tall decorative pillars, and corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. You were in awe from the moment you entered.

In due time, you found your way to an equally extravagant dining room. The wood of the table was scratched and weathered, but ultimately well taken care of. However, the real centerpiece of the room was a massive chair befitting the end.

The plush seat was adorned with gold trim and a deep red leather. You wondered if someone had lugged it in there from the throne room. Swiping a finger across the armrest, you rubbed your fingers together. A thick layer of dust slowly floated to the ground.

You hummed more so to yourself, “𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍.”

Spinning on your heel, you shamelessly plopped yourself down on the gaudy throne. It wouldn't hurt to live in a palace. For a short while at least. You could stay there until you were able to either build another boat or be lucky enough to be rescued.

You smiled, “𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗.”

・❥・

After a month of trial and error, it seemed like you greatly overestimated your raft crafting capabilities. The trees on the island were far too thick for you to cut down with no ax, and any driftwood washed up on the beach seemed to crumble from even the gentlest touch.

You were starting to wonder if you’d be trapped there forever. 

That was until you ventured out on your daily search for partly salvageable driftwood. Aloft the gentle waves was an all too strange… ship? Raft? Casket? To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was.

There was only thing you knew for sure, the small vessel was currently barreling towards your remote island. You could barely contain your excitement. 

You were going home.

Dropping the withered planks in your hands, you allowed them to shatter against the plush sand before bolting to get closer with the ship. Your eyes remained locked in on the crossed shaped mast that grew ever closer. Its black sails signaling “Freedom”.

Your tunnel vision made you stumble and trip over your own feet as you ran. And when you weren't running - you were crawling. Your hands desperately clawed at the damp sand in order to lift yourself back to your feet. You could not bear to lose your fleeting chance of leaving your island prison.

Eventually, the gothic ship docked. Its black sails were slowly being pulled into bundles when you finally managed to reach it. And reach it you did. 

You met the ship with little discretion. Squabbling and frantic, you made no effort to contain your emotions in front of the ship’s presumed Captain. Manners could wait until your safety was secured.

Thrusting your hands in the air, you made your presence widely known, “𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎!”

The man before you hesitated slightly before releasing his hold on the black stained linen. Turning his obscured face, you noted the lackluster expression he wore. He seemed neither surprised nor unsurprised, merely…inconvenienced.  

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,” you laughed awkwardly, “𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠!”

The man greeted your pitiful tangent with a stagnant silence. If you hadn't noticed his previous disinterest, you definitely noticed it now. Taking a deep breath, you internally assessed your newly appointed “savior”.

He stood tall, extremely so. He was taller than any man you knew on your home island. You assumed you'd only reach his chest if you stood side by side. However, he certainly did not lack in the muscle department either. He was broad, thick even. You wondered if his shoulders were as firm as they looked.

Gradually, your eyes wandered to an elegantly crafted coat. The dark red of his sleeves were a stark contrast against his unnaturally pale skin which, unsurprisingly, he left on full display. Not that you minded of course.

However, the most striking attribute he bore was his eyes. They shone brighter than any golden jewel found on the Grand Line, rivaling the sun itself. You certain even Helios swooned over his canary colored irises.

Entranced, you allowed yourself to be captivated. The thick black rims surrounding his pupils produced an almost stained glass appearance. All you wanted to do was consume more, read into them like a devout worshiper. It was as if they bore scripture.

You unconsciously shifted forward, trying to get a closer look. That was your first mistake. Abruptly, those very eyes sharpened with hostility, sizing you up like a hawk. It seemed your sudden movement labeled you a threat.

“Who are…”

The temperature felt as if it plummeted. Icy and thick, you didn't need hands around your neck to feel like you were being strangled. You couldn't understand why this was happening, mainly because…

“You?”

You had no idea what he was saying. 

Hands trembling, you stared at the man above you in confusion. You were sure if you did not respond he could, and would, take action. Maybe if you weren't quick enough in answering he’d kidnap you and sell you off for some pocket change. Or worse, he would kill you for just causing him trouble.

You racked your brain for any semblance of a response. What could you have even done to warrant such an intense reaction?

“…𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝,” You swallowed hard, “𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍?”

The tense atmosphere gave way slightly, releasing its invisible hold on your throat. 

Sighing quietly, the ravenette grumbled to himself, “It seems we don’t speak the same language. How inconvenient.”

Annoyed, the taller man searched your person with his honey laced eyes. Satisfied with his findings, he returned his attention back to his vessel. You pondered if your lack of weapons made you into a problem that could be “dealt with later”.

However, you didn't want to be tossed aside until later. You wanted to return home. And if that meant attempting communication with a hostile vampiric asshole, you'd have to try!

“𝚄𝚖,” You scrambled to the other side of the man's ship in an attempt to regain his attention.

“𝚂𝚒𝚛, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝!”

Goldy, newly nicknamed, paid you no mind, favoring to strap down his ship without haste. You chewed on the inside of your cheek in frustration.

Shuffling beside him, you implemented drastic measures. However, your hand only managed to move a centimeter towards Goldy’s arm before your wrist was swiftly snatched in a painful grip.

Not wasting a moment of Goldy’s notice, you began frantically pointing at yourself with your free hand, “𝙸!”

You motioned at the ship, “𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy released his iron grip and stood to his full height, “Stop being troublesome.”

“𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!”

The ravenette merely continued to stare at you disinterested. Perhaps he was debating if cutting you down now would be easier than listening to nonsensical ramblings.

Nevertheless, you waved your hands down your body, “𝙼𝚎!” 

You gestured at his ship, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You clasped your hands together, “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎!”

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

Goldy easily ignored your pestering and walked around you, “I don’t have time for this.”

“𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝!” You ran after his form, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You followed Goldy with continued pleas. Yet, his long legs persisted across the desolate beach to the hidden pathway located in the tree line.

Your brows furrowed at the observation. It took you a week to find the secret trail that led from the beach straight to the castle. How could he have found it so easily?

You finally fell silent as Goldy traversed the path like the back of his hand. He walked confidently. It was as if he had been on the island before.

A sudden thought crossed your mind. 

Goldy lived here.

・❥・

[operationslipperypuppet]

Fantasy High: Junior Year predictions that aren’t as much based in things I think will logically happen, but ones that either should happen or would be very fun/funny

Loose Duke reminiscent perception checks from Lou, constantly looking for Chungledown Bim.

Related, the return of Chungledown Bim, but they successfully escape him yet again.

Either a wedding between Hallariel and Gilear, or them having a kid. I just think Fig and Fabian would make great older siblings but also that they’d have a real hard time handling it.

Garthy O’Brien is at Mordred and it’s immediately clear that there’s something poly happening between them and Jawbone and Sandra Lynn.

Riz has some serious beef with another young licensed PI. This beef is mostly shown through Riz hissing at someone on the street, and they don’t meet this other person until episode 15. They’re pretty normal and the beef does not make sense.

A reveal that Porter is not evil or plotting something but that he was a member of Sandra Lynn’s adventuring party that she got kicked out of. Bonus if he was a deciding vote or the one who pushed her to leave. This would be fun to justify Fig’s paranoia a bit, but her reasoning was completely wrong. The best way for this reveal to happen would be for him to apologize (sincerely) to Sandra Lynn.

Adaine actually tries to include Alewyn in a lot of things, and they actually learn some important lore from Alewyn and she doesn’t put it forward in a condescending way.

Gorgug rolls up to Riz’s office, drags him out, and they go throw rocks at the river (like Riz wanted in Boys’ Night).

Another crab party live stream. That’s actually how the season opens. Kristen is crowned Crab King.

Someone suggests they go to a Drisden party. The boys scream “no” at the proposal.

Kristen succeeds in her first ever divine intervention roll (#BeardsleyBlessed)

Aguefort says something to Gorgug in the first episode about how difficult he finds him.

Gorgug changes his subclass. We had a lot of subclass changes at the end of fhsy and I think him focusing on artificing a bit more may cause him to refocus and not be as lost in rage as berserker works. The I’m going into a worry helps me think this lol

they start at level 11, there were talks of them double leveling post nightmare king forest but that wasn’t what happened with the one shots (which logistically makes a lot of sense to me). I also just think Adaine should get 6th level spells.

And finally, Brennan homebrews the spell Ice Feast, but only Adaine can cast it.

[pascals-doll]

 CONVENIENCE STORE

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 in which ellie self-loathed in her mistake as the weeks pass. you both went back to your regular lives, so will life spare a divine intervention? | WC: 12.0K

🫧 THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

🫧 SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.3 HERE

🫧SHE TOLD ME WATCH THE SNAKES CUS THEY WATCHING YOU! TYSM BABIES FOR THE IMMENSE FEEDBACK ON THE FIRST CHAPTER OMG 🥹!!

🫧description: MODERN AU! DESCRIPTIVE ANGST!, INTRO TO 2 IMPORTANT SIDE CHARACTERS!, latina!reader, descriptions of reader having bronze/tawny skin, mentions of religioius la virgen, a little bit of a abby mention ☺️, mentions of smoking marijuana, talk about about identifying sexuality, mentions of toxic relationships, bff!dina, reader speaks spanish! (very little in this this chapter), dina speaks spanish, reader’s nickname from her close friends is “gatà”, mention of y/n once (___), kissing! love reconciliation, use of pet name (mama).

CHAPTER TWO

oh, how Ellie texted you the morning right after as she woke up thinking about you. the way she grabbed her phone, opened the contact, and began to fly her fingers away in confidence.

Ellie had every intention of contacting you, she genuinely couldn’t get you out her mind as she had already put the lipliner you left her on her nightstand for safe keeping.

just like any regular person with the phone number of who they spent the night dancing with and even ending the night off with a kiss, you would think to text them.

yet, she sat there on her bed slightly hung over but Ellie truly believed that she could’ve been plastered, and she still would’ve remembered meeting you. she had her phone in her hands.

how hard could it be right?

how hard can it be to just type a quick message to the girl she over the moon infatuated with after the first night?

it was alot harder than ellie definitely thought….

Ellie wishes she could say that as she had her phone in her hand, her thumbs got to typing away with ease, and already asking you on a date.

a simple hello could’ve also just sufficed.

still, her fingers wouldn’t move, loosing control. it was like the wiring in her brain had short-circuited; a blank mind being the only thing processed.

in reality, she sat there with phone in hand, staring at the blank blue bubble waiting to be written in.

it had been 2 weeks since the night of the party.

2 weeks.

two weeks.

how did Ellie fuck up this badly?

she wasn’t quite sure, but she had been living in an eternity of pity and grimace since then.

why?

it was because only Jesse’s ass could be spending almost any given moment he has on the phone with Dina while Ellie couldn’t even send you one damn text.

one night Ellie came back from home working late-night at Joel's car-shop.

she was beyond exhausted and the first thing she heard as she walked through her shared apartment with Jesse was Dina's laugh.

Ellie was happy Jesse finally found someone he genuinely likes but it was her own 'pussy-ness' that irked her.

she practically dragged herself to her room in her own wallow but of course, Jesse wanted to greet his best friend.

"hey Els! how was work with y'old man?" Jesse questions, approaching you while still on the phone.

"fucking mute that shit!" Ellie panicked as she whisper-shouted like she was going to be caught or seen. Jesse rolled his eyes before pressing mute on the Face-Time.

"bro what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jesse retaliates, he looked at her like she was wielding a gun around.

"what the fuck! nothing!" Ellie sneers out harshly like as if she wasn't the one causing a scene.

Jesse huffed out but before he could speak, a familiar voice rang through the speaker of his phone.

'Deens! I brought my mom's menudo! your favorite!'

She knew it was your voice, even off one night with you.

she would be able to recognize your voice anywhere.

Jesse watched how you relaxed when you heard her, completely pulled into a trance in a matter of seconds between a phone call that wasn't yours.

"do me a favor—and a favor for yourself, text her for fuck-sake." Jesse sighs out, shutting the door to your room.

Ellie was sure it was too late to try again now.

it was too late all because of her own overthinking.

she was sure it would take a miracle to get another chance with you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

on your side of things, you felt completely fooled.

when you woke up the next morning and finally was conscious enough to check your phone; just to see your notification box empty.

could you even be angry at Ellie?

you would begin to slightly overthink.

you didn’t know why you cared so much, you were cross-faded half the night and it was just a party….so why couldn’t you stop thinking about her.

you’re not gay…..well…no….ehhh..

you literally felt so stupid as you mentally pondered with yourself. even if it was just drunk you acting up last night.

you remember it so vividly and clearly, there was no way you could try to play this off.

“que piensas, gatà?” Dina huffs out, bagel in hand as she throws herself on her bed right next to you, referring you to the name she's been calling you since 7th grade.

“has he texted you?” you gave Dina this look which Dina reciprocated by arching one eyebrow in case you were trying to insinuate something.

“girl…he called me!” she looked around with an exaggerated look of shock with a hand on her heart causing you to giggle out with her.

you let out a whistle at her playful smugness “‘atta girl!” you were happy that at least one of you got a message back.

"What!? did she not text you?" Dina asks you slightly shocked, Dina did not miss the little kiss you had shared last night.

you didn't even meet her gaze, just twiddling with your thumbs.

"no... but I mean, she was just another person at a party that you have a good—" you rambled, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince Dina.

she quickly cut you off "yeah babe, but that was with men and during all those stupid little breaks that dick claimed were needed." Dina begins. you already know what she was getting at.

"hoe, if you don't look at me."

you brought your eyes to meet with Dina's.

"look I know we made out in 8th grade—" Dina chuckles out which causes you to groan out annoyingly. you throw one of her stuffed animals at her; she caught that shit with ease.

"Dina!" you beam out, you were internally cringing for some reason and felt anxiety bubbling inside you out of the blue.

"babe! you were on gay shit last night. somebody had to say it." Dina could've worded this so much better, but it was Dina.

she was going to put it in the only way your current stubborn self would understand; by being blunt.

you weren't shocked.

you weren't acting as if hearing those words make zero sense to you.

you were confused, maybe slightly ashamed too.

you couldn't quite put a pin in your emotions which was now causing an inner distress to ignite.

"I-I-am....I-I" you sounded like an infant trying to mutter your first word.

que mierda, fucking get it together.

you internally scolded.

"___, I'm not telling you anything. I'm just saying that Ellie is definitely a lesbian and she made you feel something. that is okay—i mean girl! you were with your ex since our highschool sophomore year....do you really even know yourself—like that at least?” Dina was your closest friend and each word that fell from her lips was for your own good.

you needed to open your eyes.

yes, you were so assured of yourself and your life.

yet, you let someone dictate for so many years how to feel. you were never sure of your emotions till now; but you still find yourself struggling with the aftermath of how he treated your feelings as you forgot how to treat your own.

just having to recollect the memory of it, how he could take the power away from your words.

it enraged you as you felt sick.

"no, he fucking deprived me of myself." you spat out, a slight shake in your voice at the mix of emotions. you wanted to cry; not knowing why.

Dina got closer on the bed to now be completely side by side with you. she pulled you into her embrace from the side.

"you deserve to find out, it is your life now." Dina reassures you, calming you down.

she was 100% right.

you deserved the opportunity to find out who you really are, not just naive high school you because you were way past that time.

you needed your mental to catch up with you after being under someone else's impression.

you were going to do just that.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

after that morning after the party; for the next 2 days, you hoped for something.

a text or a call.

you got nothing.

you will say you thought about Ellie quite often, but you gave up hope she would contact you what felt like to be a while ago now.

you had a life to get back too, you were too slightly egotistical to let yourself get too wrapped up in ‘what if's'.

you weren’t quite sure now on your whole self-discovery journey.

you weren’t reliant on the woman but the way you couldn’t even restock items while you were at work without thinking back to her.

the way Ellie felt.

the way she felt on you.

you recalled every single little thing about her like you had been precisely studying a subject for school.

the way her lips fell perfectly into yours.

the way her warmth was able to whelm you in.

the way she was able to pull you into her by doing nothing.

she had completely contaminated your membrane with just her.

it was becoming infuriating as the days pass.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie was beyond fed up with her mind.

anywhere she went, almost everything reminded you of her.

it felt like universe was trying to rub her stupid mistake in her face.

Ellie was working another day at the car shop with the clock reading 5:40 pm.

the sun had begun to set as she finished up the last tweaks, she needed to make on the car's engine she was working on.

she wiped the slight sweat off with the back of her wrist as her hands were covered in black grease.

"why don't you g'head on home, kiddo. I’ll finish it up." Joel perks up from behind as he placed the toolbox he brought in on his workbench.

"you sure?" Ellie questions as she walks over to the utility sink at the far corner of the repair-shop.

"Yeah, I gotta work on that client's tires—the one I told ya he came in makin' a fuss his tires weren't low enough." Joel chuckled out slightly at the end which caused Ellie to give a soft giggle.

"you talkin' about Sergío?" you recall a couple months back how a man came into the shop with the coolest lowrider she had ever seen up-close.

"yup. that's tha'man." Joels southern accent draws out.

"he should be comin' in soon" Joel told Ellie as he began to move the car Ellie finished up into the lot with the rest of the other vehicles.

now you could call Ellie crazy for this but there was no way this was coincidence.

Ellie was sat on the stool, sipping on a soda as she took her small break as she watched the familiar old school impala drive up.

the blaring headlights caused her to raise her hand, shielding her eyes with the long of her arm.

Ellie's vision was obstructed temporarily but as it quickly refocused; she immediately noticed the huge rosary pendant that hung from the man's rearview mirror.

it was the same religious female procession that was on your lighter.

for some reason whenever she thought of you, she would then see an image or an item of the beautiful prophet.

call Ellie delusional......but to Ellie, this was a sign.

if this is you, please let me see her again. she mentally prayed for.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

more days passed during these dreadful two weeks.

the both of you lived in sync as you both spent time moping over each other during your daily duties of life.

another day where you were having an unpleasant smoke session. you usually would roll up after you got out the shower, depending on the weather for your drink of choice.

you would have a hot tea or iced latte to go with the lit joint in your hand as you sat on your woven chair outside of your porch.

your mind couldn't even relax as you inhaled your kush, you would ask yourself if it was something about you that made her 'unattracted' to you.

she probably thought you were one of those girls…

you felt yourself physically cringe at the fact you even thought that.

you truly just didn't know.

Ellie had been the first woman to ever give you enough attention to have you really question yourself.

couple months before you left after the college semester finished, there was this girl in your finances class that had sat down next to you.

she had the strongest female physique you seen, her arms showing she was a gym-rat.

you even remember her name being Abby, she was sweet when she flirted with you.

it had been the first time a woman ever flirted you which automatically caused your body to flush and grow shy.

you remember shutting the poor girl down by just switching your seat, not really processing the fact she had just flirted with you.

you rubbed your head slightly as you continued to drag out your joint, puffing your smoke out after each inhalation.

this situation is different, you weren’t in a relationship this time.

you had already got a taste of Ellie and now it was something turned gluttonous.

you ash your roach before grabbing your bag and heading off to work; your brain tingling still over the auburn beauty.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you worked in a convenience store; it was owned by your family. more specifically, your tía owned the store ever since your tío had passed away a couple years ago.

she needed help with the store, so you quit working as a sale's assistant to spend half of your day behind a counter.

you honestly thought this was better than the shit you called your old job, you were practically your own boss all day.

the convenience store was located at the corner of a cold-de-sac.

it wasn't too far from a couple car-repair shops and a plaza that had a few options of chain-stores.

your family made a lot of connections through the shop. you would say that the area you lived in was community dominated and tend to be the same community who have lived there since you were born.

your convenience store was like the hot spot for your neighborhood due to the popularity of your tío before his passing.

this made your heart full, and it was worth it every time one of the regular's came in, like right now.

"aye! Pachuco!" you shrilled in pure excitement as one of your dad's friends that you grew up with walks in through the front door.

your convivence store was a little bit different than your regular 7/11 or liquor store.

the counter was all the way in the back, so it would be a bit hard to see who's coming in unless you look at the reflective circular mirror that was at each corner.

Pachuco dressed exactly like his name though, you could not miss him from miles away.

"como estas, neña!?" you leave your section behind the counter, greeting him as you smile at his term of endearment.

you enjoyed the times your job and store gave you, especially moments like these because you never knew if it could be someone you knew who can walk through the doors at any moment.

"I've been good! what will it be today?" you question happily as you get back behind the counter.

"how's that little boyfriend of yours?" the question was a harmless one, he didn't have a single idea that you guys broke up, but you still felt yourself wince at the mention.

"aye pachi, boys will be boys." you state simply, not wanting to get into it.

he observed your demeanor as you pulled out his favorite pack of cigars from the back-shelving.

"then just two Tylenols, gracias Mija—ay! what did i tell you? don't fuckin' date this age. to be honest, we never stop being dumbasses! Jaja—es un milagro que mi esposa no me haya dejado!" Pachuco laughs out as he pays.

you let out a laugh with him before giving him one last hug before he is on his way out, waving goodbye and throwing him a smile.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

“so kiddo….y’tellin’ me that you finally get a girl that gets—you— t’dance and y’dont text her?” Joel summarizes to his understanding at Ellie’s rundown of that night while cleaning grease from the wrench he held.

Ellie just stood there with an awkward look on her face “I thought I raised you right…” Joel grumbles out teasingly.

the awkward look completely fell into a straight-doomed face “jokes kiddo! jus’jokes!” Joel chuckles out, putting the wrench down and popping the hood of the car he was working on.

“ugh! why did I even tell you!” Ellie now began to complain, throwing her gloves off and onto the chair she was once sat on.

“oh, c’mon now! jus’admit it….it was love at first sight.”

the phrase his Ellie’s ears completely drowning out all her sense.

Joel’s voice echoed through her ears with only you as the single thought that lied on her head for what felt like was already decades.

“you wouldn’t even believe her beauty, man…”

Joel knew you were kind of-talking to him, but you were so lost in thought it was almost as Ellie was trying to process it herself still.

“alright alrigh’—why don’t you go down t’store and get us couple drinks, yea?”

Ellie agrees with a nod her head before hold her palm out towards Joel’s direction.

“what?” Joel questions with a hip popped as he works on the popped-hood.

“the money, fam” Ellie remarks simply.

Joel’s expression glazed as ellie continues for stand there with a cheeky expression causing a roll of his eyes.

“fine ma’treat” he mocks out, pulling out a 10 from his jean-pocket.

“awh! thank you Joel.” Ellie’s tone was sarcastic as she threw joel a goofy grin that joel returned.

“you almost 21, y’know that right?” Joel interjected sassily with an eyebrow raised.

“that’s why you let me near the stove now!” ellie bantered childishly before grabbing her headphones; leaving out the car-repair lot.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: land of the snakes

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Ellie walked down the cracked gray pavement as she took in her surroundings.

she observed each end of each street, looking at the street signs as she walked down; headphones blasting Cole.

she looked at the gas stations, smoke-shops, and laundromats as she crossed the cross-walk as she turned the street more into the busy neighborhood.

she peered an eye-out for a store as her head moved to the beat of the music, the buzzing of the street inaudible to ellie.

she watched as a group of women were walking up with different drinks in her far-view from more down the street.

Ellie followed the direction from where they came from turning the corner. at first, she was greeted with a plaza and a parking lot.

she passes the plaza slightly and it was almost hidden if a person werent looking in the right direction, they would miss it.

Ellie did not miss the store that she assumed the girls must’ve come from.

she couldn’t miss it when the convenience store had a mural of La Virgencita.

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks, only paying attention to the music in her headphones as she couldn’t fathom it.

♫ ain't no wedding and I do the most here

I'm the President you the co-chair.

you the player, yeah, I'm the coach here.

—I coast here.

this weather got me set up on this West Coast shit, yeah ♫

Cole playing in my ear and im seeing this? fuck my life.

Ellie pondered to herself as she just stared at the store, taking in the mural while the lyrics rang through her mind straight into the recollection of you.

her mind recalling your brown skin and the your gold jewelry sparkled as your eyes pierced through her.

she could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she observed the beautiful painting on each side of the store.

Ellie felt she was going mad but every single part of her reeling her in like fish on a rod.

she felt closer to you somehow.

like as if you were there.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

call yourself unprofessional but it wasn’t like you worked in a office or something.

if that was the case, you definitely wouldn’t be rolling up like you are right now.

you took the split cigarillo that was now packed with good greens up to your lips to lick a slick stripe along the cigarillo before pinching it sealed.

you grabbed your lighter, flicking it open as you focused on the ignited flame; drying your saliva into the blunt.

your focus was interrupted by the sound of the store-bells chiming.

no mamés—im on my fucking break. did they not read the fucking sign.

you complain mentally as you remember switching the ‘We’re Open’ to ‘Closed’.

you walk out from the backroom where the surveillance cameras were back behind your counter.

you knew someone entered but you couldn’t see who.

you decided to duck into the room real quick to put the rolled blunt into the wrapper; placing it in your sweater-pocket.

♫ nothin’s impossible

and all you lame—show me what not to do

i met a real bad bitch in the club tonight

she told me, “Watch the snakes ‘cause they watching you” ♫

Ellie was greeted with aisles of merchandise the second she walked in. she took a few steps down, passing a few aisles as she got closer to the section of refrigerators.

she wasn't paying attention much to her surroundings as she just took in the style of the store. she moved one-side of her headphones off her ear before opening the fridge and grabbing a lemonade for herself, and a sparkling water for Joel.

Ellie turned the corner, catching a glimpse of the clerk counter but she didn't see anyone behind it. she went down the aisle that was now in-front of the counter, grabbing her favorite bag of chips and a slim-jim.

now the next moment that happened.... Ellie swore it was all in slow motion.

if Ellie thought something was wrong with her brain before, her entire cerebellum just shut down for fucking sure.

she turned around with full expectation of having to wait and not seeing you behind that counter.

it genuinely was a miracle.

it was like the universe had been listening all along to the both of you, plotting this moment perfectly to unfold divinely.

Ellie dropped the snack items that were in her right hand, drinks in her left as her pupils flared. completely gleaming her eyes at you just standing there.

♫ now if you only had one wish is it devious?

'cause you already know who your genie is

ain't get a cover now your mag on my penis

like damn, he turned out to be a genius ♫

you felt frozen in place as you both burn into each other’s stare, neither of you processing the moment.

you caught a glimpse of the 'random woman' when her head was turned. she had her hair up in a loose bun and from the back—what looked like a black jumpsuit.

the second she turned around, your heart stopped.

you actually felt your heartbeat turn irregular as you were sure your eyes were gaping as jaw slacked obscurely.

you both were just gawking at each other absentmindedly. slowly, you began to remember how the woman didn't even text you and now here she was; meaning she lived in the area. your area.

you felt yourself emotions fume up "are you gonna pay or?" you nettled out, sounding way meaner than you meant too. you bit your lip in regret as you watch Ellie blink herself back into reality.

she took a step closer, still feet away from the counter you were behind. she tore her eyes from yours.

the woman didn't owe you anything but for some reason, you found yourself pushing for an answer "you come in here for that-" you began, taking your manicured nail and pointing at the items she held in her hands "or for somethin' else?" you finish questioning.

your tone was still bothered but you weren't rude.

Ellie didn't miss a single emotion though, feeling each one of your emotional vibrations straight into her heart. she wanted to open her mouth to explain everything.

in her heart, she was ready to tell you how you made her feel something no one else ever has before or how she wanted to ask you out to a fancy restaurant like she's never done because she's never met a woman who oozed of such divine elegance; while your looks could kill anyone with just one glance.

for fuck-sake, she's looks even better than I imagined.

Ellie knew this was the worse time to be checking you out, but this was something only Ellie had been dreaming about. she needed to soak in this moment.

you were wearing a black Juicy tracksuit; the zipper was halfway zipped revealing the pink halter that slightly pushed your breasts up complimented by your signature cat-eye liner and cocoa-lined lips.

your bronze skin shining through the same statement gold necklaces on the night she first met you, your hoops this time were small gold ones that Ellie didn't miss them. she took in the same details and your different ones.

you crossed your arms starting to get more irritated as you felt like the woman was judging you.... not checking you out.

“i-i’m—” ellie huffed as her eyes didn’t leave the floor before finally gaining the confidence to stride herself over and placing all the items on the counter.

“i’m sor-” you cut her off.

“i’m not gay.”

if you thought ellie’s facial expression was wistful and apologetic, her face went sour—completely deadpanning as each syllable was uttered out your mouth.

you jump immediately “wait!—” now it was your turn to take a breathe, Ellie didn’t move from her spot although her heart felt like it had been ripped out her chest.

“I’m not sure…. it’s a long story.” your explanation was pathetic.

"I was just gonna apologize...I see..." Ellie’s eyes trailed off from yours down onto the items on the counter as she dug into her pockets.

you examined her, trying to pick up on any sense of how she felt.

you looked at her up and down, she was wearing a mechanic jumpsuit that had a few stains and a white wife-beater under it. you felt yourself grow nervous at how good she looked; she looked worked out, but it made you even more attracted to her.

the small details of her becoming clearer as her freckles on her face were kissing her all across her cheeks, you took in how her clothing looked like she just came from a car-shop, and how her loose bun let a few free strands fall in her face.

you felt her rooted into you completely, just taking in her appearance bloomed your heart.

you felt yourself sigh once more, picking up the merchandise scanner and scanning each item. your hand wanted to shake so bad as the invisible blimps of your skin goosebump.

say something, say something.

your mind was burdensome as you force a sentence out of you "I'm-I'm on my break. the sign said closed." your voice was low, wanting to be hidden almost.

Ellie watches you bag her snack and drinks, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the tension that riled within her racing body; heart thrashing against her chest.

"the mural—it caught my attention.... I didn't even know there was a sign." Ellie's eyes meet yours once again.

"I understand if you didn't like me." you rush out, Ellie almost didn't catch it as you held onto her bag of items; she didn't even get the chance to hand you the 10 bill yet.

Ellie thought she was hearing things, there was no fucking way you just stated that shit.

she couldn't help but let out a very audible scoff.

"you ain't even let me say'somthin''" you could hear somewhat of a country undertone in her now loud and clear voice. nothing like the first night, where you could barely hear her.

you rolled your eyes as you felt no hope with the woman, handing her the bag.

"I never said that did I?" Ellie didn't hand you the bill yet, still in her hand. the way she let the sentence fall from her lips made your face hot.

she finally handed you the 10 "you said you were on your break?" she hinted as she held the bill in-between her fingers, making you grab it from her.

you lean in, reaching your hand out but not grabbing the bill "don'tcha know it's rude to interrupt a lady's smoke sesh?" you tease.

"m'sorry mama, any way to make it up to you?" Ellie slys out as you both flirt over the counter with each other like some shit out of a movie.

"join me?"

"i could listen to that 'long story' of yours"

you both gave each other a soft smile as you chuckled, finally taking the ten and putting it in the register before stepping outside your store with the fine roughed-up woman.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the moment was picture perfect.

you both stood outside your shop, the mural captivating the background behind the both of you as you leaned against the gumball machines that were outside on the side of your shop-doors with Ellie in front of you.

you took the blunt out of the wrapper the cigarillo originally came in, taking it between your lips.

Ellie watched you bring your signature lighter up to the tip to ignite it. you puffed on it a couple times, flicking the lighter to crisp the edges to make sure it burned correctly.

you handed her the blunt, eyes meeting as you caught her staring. there was a moment of silence as she puffed herself. you kicked your feet up in a soft bored-playful manner as you continue to challenge your mental.

"Ellie..." you began, her name falling off like butter as it sounded like a lullaby to Ellies ears. she had all ears and eyes on you as she continued to drag out the blunt.

"I would love to tell you everything—but for right now...." you took a deep breath as you felt the cottonmouth begin to catch you.

Ellie leaned closer, putting a hand over yours comfortingly. she did it unconsciously, by the time she even realized she had her hand on your shoulder; she was already feeling ready to comfort you to even mentally process.

"that's okay-like I said, I'm all ears"

you couldn't process how compassionate she was with you as you spoke up.

"not too long ago, I broke up with a long-term boyfriend—he cheated that's not the point—the point is that.... I have never been with anyone besides him." you explain, your pauses being inhalations of the sparked bud.

Ellies brows furrowed but she listened to you intently, she couldn't believe a woman like you could ever be cheated on.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve someone like that." she reassures once more causing your heart to skip a beat.

you disregard the comment by giving her a soft smile and passing her back the blunt, not wanting to focus too much on that aspect "I know I sound complicated, but I just never got the chance to figure it out" your voice was somber, picking at your fingers nervously.

your breath hitched as her hand gently picked up your face by your chin, her face a good distance from yours as the steps she took closer to you only closed the space that was left between the both of you.

"y'know that is not your fault right?"

those words brought you back to what Dina told you weeks ago.

"thank you...." you gave her a weak smile as you trailed off "not what you thought, huh?" you gave her this look of pity, not for her but for yourself.

"maybe not but to be fair, I was thinking a lot worse after 'I'm not gay' right then and there" Ellie lightens the mood by making the both of you laugh as you continue to smoke together.

"i may not know much—" you puff out before taking a couple more hits of courage out of your blunt.

"but I know I really like you, Ellie."

your voice was sincere, not a single doubt, or hint of all of this being a 'joke'. she searched your face to see any hence of regret or anxiousness. she found none.

your face was assured and if anything, you had straightened yourself up more which inched your faces closer slightly as your confidence flourished through you within seconds.

the switch up drove Ellie crazy.

your demeanor screaming 'I know what I want' and it was all pointing towards the woman in front of you in this dirty black jumpsuit which made her look ravishingly good.

Ellie followed your confidence naturally, something only you were able to derive out of her so easily.

she inched her face closer as you let out of puff of a cloud of smoke in front her face in a playful manner before her face met yours, now only feet away from yours.

"been one night and I already can't think of any other woman than you, mama."

your heart was running a thousand miles per second.

the same nickname she called you affecting you more than before.

"that why you ain't text me?" the real question of the evening.

the confidence Ellie had just gotten completely diminished.

"I'm not maddd" you drag out, reaching a hand to tug on her jumpsuit gently as you smirk. you weren't anymore.

Ellie was like putty under anything you did, your look and if you commanded her to do anything; she would do it in a heartbeat and Ellie knows she would.

just like that, her tense aura calmed down.

"i was so fucking ready to ask you out on some fancy shit. i was gonna tell you im picking you up at 7, having a whole ass bouquet while you stepped down all divine as fuck—i was so close! my fucking fin—"

Ellie couldn't finish your sentence by the crashing of your lips onto hers.

the kiss wasn't heated or fast, it was purely passionate. you both sulked into each other as your bodies needed this. you indulged in the warmth you both brought each other, your arms wrapping around her neck as the once lit blunt blew out while still in between your middle and ring finger.

the mix of the tobacco from the cigarillo creating a swish in the taste of each other's tongues in distasteful pleasure as neither of you could care or process anything besides being together right here in this moment like a heaven-sent.

if this was the work of the divine, ellie found herself mentally thanking them as your lips moved in sync together.

Ellie pulled away with the biggest smile on her face, biting her lips ever-so-softly before speaking.

"Is there any way tis'beautiful woman could spare a poor mechanic woman one more chance?" Ellie takes a hand, placing it across her heart dramatically causing small giggles to erupt out of you.

you pick up on how ellie mentioned she was a mechanic. ‘that’s so fucking hot’ you thought to yourself.

Ellie watched you in pure admiration and beauty "and what would that be, hmm?" you hum out contently, your forehead's brushing against each other.

"that date. you and me, and a fancy dinner—how about it, mama?"

Ellies eyes gleamed hopeful as your gaze's pour into each other.

"i thought you would never ask, bebé"

there you two were, rekindling outside of a convenience store.

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to join taglist click here !

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day nine: vintage fics 🧡 (published pre-season six)

by CANDLE_BECK

Last Day on Earth 10.8k words, rated E, published july 2009 A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

Eight Things You Should Know 7.7k words, rated T, published dec. 2008 Being in love with Dean is the most annoying thing.

Speechless 11.2k words, rated T, published oct. 2008 Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Second Map of the World 13.9k words, rated E, published sep. 2010 They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

American Myth 11.5k words, rated M, published nov. 2007 As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me.

by WHEREUPON

Breathing Hard 9k words, rated E, published aug. 2009 The day Dean figures it out.

Love Letter 4.8k words, rated E, published sep. 2009 It's almost fall and Sam hasn't said anything about leaving.

Head On 8.3k words, rated M, published june 2009 And then, just like that, Dean falls.

by SEVENFISTS

Wear Him Like a Habit 2.2k words, rated M, published march 2008 Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Someone Else's Blood 6.7k words, rated E, published aug. 2006 The first time, of course, was an accident.

Life As We Know It 13.7k words, rated M, published apr. 2007 On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

Just Reach Out 1.9k words, rated E, published apr. 2006 Sam wakes up slowly. The dull hum of noise in the distance resolves into Dean's voice, quietly singing along with the radio. Sam's face is stuck to the leather seat. He's been drooling a little; the corner of his mouth is wet. He moves his hand tentatively, feeling it prickle, heavy with blood. The window's rolled down.

The Art of Manly Hugging 1.6k words, rated E, published aug. 2007 Sometimes, you know, Dean just needs a goddamn hug.

by COYOTESUSPECT

Odysseus, American 10.1k words, rated M, published feb. 2010 Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam.

Divine Intervention by coyotesuspect 3.8k words, rated T, published aug. 2008 "Dude," says Sam. "I think Castiel just hit on me."

by ASTOLAT

Leader of the Pack 14.9k words, rated E, published dec. 2007 Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Inseparable 6.7k words, rated M, published jan. 2008 It was just plain sense, so Dean didn't understand why something about the way Dad said quietly, "It's time you had your own bed," made him feel guilty and confused.

Unasked 15.3k words, rated M, published june 2007 Sam doesn't ask.

Worth The Wait 4.4k words, rated E, published jan. 2008 Sam couldn't remember a time when he didn't want Dean.

Generosity 1.7k words, rated E, published may 2007 John had traded the gun; he'd have traded away more, and he was still feeling the cold dread of the moment when the demon had cocked its head like a pistol and said, "You know, I'm feeling generous today," because if it hadn't taken more, that was only because it figured what was in store was going to be worse.

by MOLLYAMORY

North of Wednesday 3.5k words, rated G, published feb. 2008 Coda to Mystery Spot.

Open Road 2k words, rated T, published may 2010 Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

by FLESHFLUTTER

whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home (dean/cas, sam/dean) 2.2k words, rated T, published march 2009 There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger 3.9k words, rated M, published june 2007 If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

by others

The Last Outpost Of All That Is by gekizetsu 59k words, rated E, published feb. 2008 The world ends while they’re asleep.

a journey of a thousand miles by killabeez 2.3k words, rated T, published aug. 2006 Sam spends a lot of time being afraid, but it's not the things that go bump in the night that scare him the most.

Almost At Home by balefully 24.3k words, rated E, published july 2008 Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen 2.9k words, rated M, published jan. 2010 When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

[bcolfanfic]

not to be a freak but you're one of the couple people i've seen vaguely mention clegan and watersports...going to be really brave and ask if you have more thoughts you'd be willing to share. on the topic.

oh godidduid. the reason ive never elaborated on this is bc im so paranoid a hater from my main blog is gonna lurk me on here and see it and try to start "this girl is a FREAK!!!" discourse over it lmfaogjjgfk. i've been hoping someone else would post headcanons or something and i could just hang out in the replies. but. i will take the fall. putting it below a read more line so people aren't smacked in the face with piss stuff on their dash if they don't want to be.

godddd. the thoughts that have been rolling around in my head for like...months on this topic.

i saw someone the other day post abt gale being the one that wakes up in a cold sweat thinking abt it and yeah i fuck with that.

darling baby gale that's never touched a man before bucky thinking about watching him piss himself and not being able to sleep until he gets off into his hand to the mental image <3

is too pussy to bring it up but. in a moment of divine intervention they're getting hot and heavy one night and before bucky has his pants off he kinda stops gale says he has to pee and he'll be right back.

and gale is SO brave seizes the moment and grabs his arm all flushed and frantic like no no its okay (: its okay (:

bucky was. not expecting that but he's sooo turned on. gets that signature wild bucky grin on his face all okay doll (: whatever you want (:

doesn't take his pants off and they keep making out and grinding on each other half stripped and the longer it goes on obv the more john. really has to go.

starts getting kinda breathless telling gale he doesn't know how much longer he can hold it and gale is on another. astral plane lmao has never been so sex drunk crazed in his life.

grabs his hips grabs his ass to keep him grinding on him whining and begging. tellin him its okay pleasepleaseplease, good boy bucky its okay, c'mon c'mon

and then bucky pisses himself all flushed and whiny still grinding on him while he's going and getting gale wet too when it soaks through and gale busts his pants <3

and eggs john on to finish too calling him a good boy watching him grind in his own piss face scrunched up groaning into gale's neck when he finishes and makes an even bigger mess of himself.

[sunkiss3dlily]

to you, i'm just a man (to me, you're all i am) part three | joel miller x reader

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3604

Summary: You find yourself in trouble with David and his people, and you decide to sacrifice yourself for the ones you love the most.

Note(s): Okay, you guys are gonna hate me but I decided to make it four parts as, once again, the third part became too long, but I promise, the fourth will be the last part! I hope this sets you up for the grand ending we are all waiting for haha! Thank you for all the support! And as always feedback is appreciated, but please be respectful! Please give me any (detailed, please!) requests in my inbox or comments if you have any, I would love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! ♡

Taglist: @wonwoosthetic @paleidiot @orcasoul @slut4mascss @paqerings @missladym1981

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

Fiery orange embers adorned the stack of logs before you. David sat just behind them, opposite you, while the lifeless form of the prized buck lay on the floor, maintaining the distance between you and David.

"You weren't kidding about being a good shot," David complimented, rubbing his hands together by the fire he had made in the centre of the abandoned shack where you two had taken shelter while waiting for James to return with the medicine. "You must've had a lot of practice with a weapon like that, huh? Someone in your group teach you?"

You, for one, did not appreciate his attempts at small talk and straightened up, keeping your rifle balanced on your lap, aiming straight at him just in case. You rolled your eyes slightly, keeping an eye out for the other man, James, in case he tried to sneak up on you.

"You're not one to trust easily; I get it. I've been there." He nods, and you narrow your gaze back towards him. His attempt to relate to you did little to ease your skepticism. The flickering flames danced across his face, casting shadows that only deepened your suspicion. He let out a breath. "Do you believe in God?"

You let out a scoff of disbelief that he was asking you that question.

"I know, I know," he chuckled. "Weird time to find religion, especially with it being the end of days and all, but I've... I've seen and felt things—things that cannot be explained. It's like there's a force out there guiding me and protecting me." He notices your unamused expression and shrugs. "Call it what you want, but I choose to believe in God and his will, and by acclaiming that faith, he has shown me that everything happens for a reason."

An odd chill that isn't just the breeze of the cold wind rises on your skin, multiplying the goosebumps by a hundred. You shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"Like us, meeting in the woods today—maybe, just maybe, our paths crossed for a good reason. Perhaps our meeting was for a greater purpose."

You raise your eyebrows, yeah right. "What, like some divine intervention?"

David nods, his eyes filled with a glimmer of excitement that unsettles you to the core. "Exactly. Like some sort of divine intervention. Call it coincidence if you will, but I believe there is a plan in motion, and our meeting is a part of it. Maybe we are meant to help each other in some way. It may sound far-fetched, I know, but sometimes life surprises us in the most unexpected ways."

An exasperated sigh passes your lips, and it is evident that you are not playing into David's hand by opening up to him.

He clears his throat, sitting up, and this grabs your attention instantly, your hands tightening once more on the rifle. "I can prove it to you, if you like."

"Prove what?"

He smiles and gestures aimlessly: "I can prove that everything happens for a reason, that you and I were meant to meet each other this way."

You gaze back at him with a stoic expression, clearly unamused by the direction of the conversation. However, beneath the surface of your irritation, a subtle pulse of unease begins to intensify, growing more palpable with each passing second in this man's presence.

David leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, as if trying to imprint his words on your mind. "You see, we didn't expect this winter to be so cruel. Nothing'll grow. The game's been hard to find, but I'm sure you know all about that." He paused, letting the weight of his words linger before continuing. "So I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could."

A shiver ran down your spine, and you tightened your grip on the rifle, sensing there was more to this story.

"And only three of them came back." David's eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight, his voice taking on a sinister edge. "The one who didn't make it was a father. A man with a daughter, just a teenager. Can you imagine the pain of losing your father in these times?" He let the question hang in the air, studying your reaction.

Your heart raced, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach as your thoughts unconsciously wandered to Ellie and Joel.

"You see," he continued, leaning back slightly but maintaining an unsettling gaze, "it turns out he was murdered. Murdered by this crazy man."

Another heavy pause lingered in the air, his words sinking in, and you could sense the direction this conversation was taking, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

"And get this." David's tone took on a chilling cadence. "That crazy man was traveling with a little girl and a woman that looked just like you."

In a swift motion, you rose to your feet, rifle poised, and aimed squarely at him, your finger coiling around the trigger.

A contented smile painted itself across his face, and he playfully shook his head in amusement. "See? Fate has a way of guiding us."

Your heart raced, a symphony of adrenaline orchestrating its frantic beats as the thought of Ellie having to defend herself and Joel against who knows how many of those men right now consumed you. "You've been watching us all this time?"

David casually brushed aside the notion with a nonchalant shake of his head. "No, not at all. Just you, just today, just by chance. You see, it wasn't planned, but here we are nonetheless."

The panic inside you was something you hadn't felt in a long, long time. You felt utterly terrified, though your tone was angry as you gritted out, "Where the fuck is your friend? If he's so much as—"

David's eyes glinted with calculated charm as he interrupted your brewing anger with a sly smile. 'I told you, we are not here to cause you or your little girl any harm. We can protect you, both of you. Isn't that right, James?'

You turn rapidly, only now noticing James standing in the doorway, rifle raised and trained on you. You wish you'd had the common sense to remove the bullets when he left. Taking a step back, you aim the rifle back at David but keep your eyes trained on James. "Shoot me and I'll take your fucking preacher down with me."

James glares back at you, though his hold on the rifle is shaky. "You killed Alec."

"She didn't kill anyone, James," David calls, redirecting the taller man's attention back to him. "Lower the gun."

James looks as though he is going to argue, but David shakes his head, and so James concedes.

"Did you bring the medicine?" You ask, keeping your gaze flitting between both men equally so neither of them can catch you off guard. James nods his head once under the watchful eye of David. "Toss it over here."

To your surprise, the bag is tossed your way almost immediately, and you clutch it desperately in one hand, feeling the bottles and syringe against your icy fingers as your heart races. You take a few steps back, watching them both cautiously.

"He's sick, isn't he? The man?" David speaks with a feigned sincerity as he moves to stand up. "You know, he's the only one we need. You and the little one can make it out unscathed if you just hand him over. It's not like he's going to make it out anyway."

You ignore his words, stepping back slowly, the snow hitting you almost immediately as you make it out of the shack. You gesture your gun towards both of them, "I'm leaving, and if I ever see either of you again, I'll fucking kill you."

"It doesn't need to be like this," David calls, still trying to persuade you despite your threat. "You and your daughter can join us, no questions asked. You still have a chance."

You fire a warning shot at James' boot, the impact jolting him with pain. His rifle reacts, rising in response, but you're already hurtling back through the trees. Desperation fuels your every step as you race through the clearing, the silent prayer to any deity echoing in your mind – a fervent wish that Joel and Ellie will still be alive when you reach them.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

You descend the basement steps with ragged, labored breaths, catching Ellie off guard as she tends to Joel's semi-conscious form, gently offering sips of water.

"Where the fuck were you?" Ellie demands, her red-rimmed eyes reflecting her worry. "You were gone for hours!"

You shake your head, having no time to properly respond, dropping to your knees beside the mattress where Joel lies. You lift his coat and shirt, revealing the wound that looks even worse than before.

Ellie abandons her attempts to moisturize Joel's lips, watching as you retrieve a syringe and a bottle of penicillin from the bag James gave you. "What is that? Where did you get it?"

"Penicillin. It'll help with the infection," your breathing is shaky, and you can tell your demeanor unsettles Ellie. Ignoring her second question, you are too panicked to care. "Shit. Where do I put this?"

Ellie looks at you, dumbfounded, before turning to Joel and shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey, man, where do we put this? Joel? Joel!"

You draw liquid into the syringe while Ellie attempts to wake Joel, desperately wracking your brain for any inkling of an idea on where to administer it. However, the looming threat of David and James has put you on high alert, making it challenging to think straight. With an unsteady breath, you declare, "Okay. I'm gonna put it in the wound."

"Yeah, o-okay," Ellie nods, not entirely confident in your idea. "You got this."

Her words, albeit sweet, do nothing to reassure you.

"Fuck," you mumble, reaching over to clasp Joel's limp hand in yours. "Please don't let this be the thing that kills you."

His hand twitches slightly as you make contact, but you are too preoccupied with angling the syringe correctly to notice.

You press down onto the plunger as the syringe makes contact, and Joel's hand tightens on your own, weakly, yet the first proper sign of life in so long you could weep. "I'm here," you murmur, more for your own assurance. You made it in time."I'm sorry," an apology for the pain you are causing him physically, but secretly an even bigger apology for him being the injured one. If it had been you, you wouldn't want them risking their lives like this for you. You'd want them to move on, but you couldn't, and wouldn't, stop trying for him. For him and Ellie.

He groans faintly, and his grip on your hand loosens entirely as you finish plunging the medicine into his wound, steadily retracting the syringe and covering him back up, tucking him under his coat carefully. You lay a hand over his forehead and feel he is still quite hot, but hope that the medicine will start fighting against his fever soon enough.

As you settle down onto your knees beside the mattress with a shaky breath, you look up to meet Ellie's eyes. "No one came here while I was gone? You didn't hear anyone outside?"

"No," she shakes her head, her eyes filling with that familiar fear that you've only seen a few times in her usually bright eyes. "We're not safe here, are we?"

You breathe out shakily, debating on whether to lie or be honest. You slowly shake your head, deciding that it was best for her safety if she knew what was really going on. "I met two men in the woods. They knew who I was, what Joel did to that man. They were members of his group."

"They want to kill us?" Ellie asks after a beat of silence, looking down at the floor to avoid your gaze and to avoid you noticing her fear.

"Not us," and that is all you need to say for Ellie to understand.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

You administered another dose of penicillin to Joel's wound after a couple of hours, fumbling blindly in the dark. As you repeated the motion of clasping his hand in yours, you felt the familiar warmth of his grip in return. This time, it seemed just a little bit stronger, though that might have been your exhausted and desperate mind playing tricks on you.

"You'll wake me if anything happens, right?" Ellie's voice cut through the darkness, causing you to visibly flinch as you were checking Joel's temperature, your hand tensing against his cool skin. She seemed to sniffle before speaking again. "You won't just leave?"

Clearing your throat softly, you replied, "I won't just leave, I promise. But you need to get some rest. We might have to start moving tomorrow, whether Joel is ready or not. We'll have to make our way back to Jackson to get him some proper help."

Silence followed, and you found yourself lying down beside Joel, shuffling as close to him as the floor allowed.

"Are they going to come for us?" Ellie's voice startled you a few minutes later. You did your best to calm your racing heart before responding. "I don't... I don't know. They might try, which is why we need to start moving as soon as possible."

"You didn't kill them? The two men."

You sighed, closing your eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

You didn't know. Something niggled at you with the realisation that maybe you should've.

"Goodnight, Ellie."

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

Sleep eluded you that night, despite pressing close to Joel and feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm. Even the reassurance of your rifle's presence, just a quick flex of your fingers away, failed to bring the peace you sought.

As the morning rays beamed overhead, the burden of exhaustion settled throughout your body. Yet, giving up wasn't an option—not now, not after everything.

Drawing another dose of penicillin into the syringe, you administered it into Joel's wound with an exhausted expression. Closing your eyes, you pressed slowly down on the plunger, dozing for a moment until you felt fingers wrap around your wrist.

It was so gentle that it barely phased you until you finished pressing the plunger down. Opening your eyes, you found a large hand clasping your wrist. Without much hesitation, you wrapped your free hand around Joel's hand and looked at his face, relief blooming in your chest.

'"Joel," you whispered softly, careful not to disturb the sleeping Ellie next to him. His eyes were half-lidded, maybe even less, but they remained fixed on you. Squeezing his hand gently, you observed as his lips parted, though no audible sound emerged. "It's okay; you're okay. Just rest. We're right here. I'll get you through this, I promise."'

After covering his wound and tucking the coat back around him, you released his hand and settled back down beside him. His head turned in your direction, eyes still open, and he gazed at you with an expression that eluded your understanding. Yet, you could discern a softening of his features as he looked in your direction, as if looking at you brought him some comfort.

His fingers twitched in the corner of your eye, and upon closer inspection, you found them almost outstretched. Gently reaching down, you intertwined your fingers with his, and he responded with a reassuring squeeze.

Tearfully, you lowered your head and pressed it against his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his on the mattress. "Thank you for holding on," you murmured into his shirt. "Just a little longer, okay? Just until I can get you back to Jackson."

You feel him nod, and as you look up, you notice his eyes are beginning to close fully once more. You squeeze his hand, and for a moment, you feel his cold thumb gliding along the back of your palm in a soothing motion until he falls back to sleep, his hand still in yours.

Smiling faintly into his shoulder, you follow him into the realm of sleep.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚,

The frantic call of your name jolts you awake, tearing you from the easiest slumber you've experienced in days. Instantly, you sit up, watching as Ellie races down the staircase, mirroring the urgency you displayed just the day before.

"Ellie? What's happening?" Your voice, thick with sleep, responds, momentarily forgetting the looming threat of David and James.

She clutches Joel's rifle, urgency etched across her face. "They're here, the raiders. There's a whole group."

Panic courses through your veins as you quickly shake off the remnants of sleep, your mind racing to formulate an action plan. "Did they see you?" She looks too panicked to respond, her gaze fixed on the staircase. "Ellie? Focus! Did they see you?"

"No, no, I ran back here before they could." Ellie blurts out, her eyes flicking back up the staircase. "They've got guns and—fuck, my footprints. They're going to track us here."

You know she's right.

"I'll lead them away," you decide almost immediately, moving to stand up but stopping when there is a light tug on the bottom of your coat. You turn, seeing Joel looking up at you with an intense desperation in his eyes. He struggles to speak, just like before, but with the way he shakes his head, you can already tell what he is trying to convey. "I have to, Joel. I have to! I'll... I'll lead them away, and if... if I don't come back, then that'll give you both enough time to get on Callus and start back to Jackson."

His eyes plead with you, but you turn away, and Ellie's face is panic-stricken in the same way.

"They'll fucking kill you!" Ellie argues. "We need to stay. We can't go without you!"

"You have to, Ellie. You have to."

Another firm tug on your coat, and you turn back to look at Joel. His eyes are watery, and his mouth opens, but all he can utter is, "Stay."

You shake your head, fighting back your own tears. "It's going to be okay. I'll... I'll find my way back to Jackson somehow."

He shakes his head, and you bite your lip to hold back a sob. You reach down, intertwining your fingers. He holds them without a second thought, and then you squeeze.

Once. I.

Twice. Love.

Thrice. You.

Through your tears, you manage a smile as his body tenses in realization. Before he can react, you gently pull away from his grip and stand up, taking your rifle in stride. You can't bring yourself to look back at Joel, even as you hear him attempt to utter your name numerous times in a hoarse voice. It's torture, but you force yourself to hold back.

"Ellie." You stand in front of her, and she avoids meeting your eyes until you gently place a hand on her shoulder. That's when you notice the tears swimming in her eyes. "It's going to be okay, okay?"

Her lip wobbles, but she nods, replying shakily, "Yeah."

"You're so special, Ellie. You're going to change the world; I already know it." You assure her softly, cupping her cheek. She leans into the touch—the gentlest she's ever known. "But do as I said, alright? Don't you dare follow me. Stay with Joel, give him another dose of the penicillin, and get both of you back on Callus if I don't make it back. Then, just get the fuck out of here. Don't look back, okay? Not for a second."

She attempts to say your name in a pleading tone, but you silence her with a shake of your head.

"Promise me, Ellie," you implore. "Promise me that you will not follow me, please."

She nods, and her lip trembles so much that you can't resist pulling the teenager into your arms. One of your arms wraps around her shoulder, while your other hand rests against her ponytail, running your fingers through her dark locks as if for the last time. Neither of you had ever embraced each other before, but it feels right now. Ellie means something to you now. Joel means something to you now. You have to do this for them.

"I have to go," you murmur, gently pulling away from the hug. Ellie frantically wipes away the tears sliding down her cheeks as you smile sadly at her. Without finding the strength to turn around and say a proper goodbye, you rush up the staircase, closing the door behind you. Leaning against it, you let out a soft sob, grappling with the thought of never seeing either of them again. Yet, you'd rather have them lose you than for you to lose them. You scan the room hurriedly, searching for something to block the door and buy them some time.

Your eyes land on a heavy-looking wooden table pushed against the wall. With a surge of adrenaline, you grip the table's edge, your muscles straining as you drag it towards the door. The weight feels immense, but you refuse to let it defeat you. Sweat beads on your forehead as you finally position the table in front of the door, wedging it against the frame as best you can. It may not hold for long, but it's all you can do in this moment.

Pressing your hand against the door as a silent goodbye, you make your way out of the house, determined to end this.

©️sunkiss3dlily, 2024.

[sixthsensewulf]

I'm THROWING IT OUT THERE. . Guys the Ally moment is a Box of Doom roll... But it's not a D20 roll I don't think. . I think it's a divine intervention roll. . I'm just guessing from the next time trailer...

I'm more wondering who Gorgug is fighting with. . He is going to be driving the ship as well as lifting someone up?

But I can probably assume the finale is a fight with Porter. . I honestly want that. The Bad Kids need to kill a staff member, they earned it. Lydia could be a good Barbarian teacher tho. Aka the Bad Kids put another one of their allies in the school XD.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 4!!

Someone mentioned a play on Divine Intervention, and I thought that would make for a short, sweet, tag-able title. So here it is - Fanatic Intervention!

This poll came really close. Gosh. Please share this around. I want anyone who would like a chance to play to have the chance to play. This isn't about followers or activity, this is about letting people know they are welcome and invited :)

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*****************

The Metatron walked calmly through the halls of Heaven. Anyone who didn’t know any better would use a word more like “stalked” or “stomped.” Of course, no one in Heaven would ever use these words to describe the Metatron, even if his eyes were angry and his feet fell firmer than usual. No, the Metatron was the Voice of God – he merely walked with purpose, grace even.

At the end of a corridor that did not exist, he approached a door that opened at his touch and his touch alone, into a room that took up no space. It is in here that he stopped, the door closing behind him as it was right to do, and brought his hands together in Prayer.

“I beseech you,” he began, “Mother and Father both of All Creation, Commander of mine tongue, and through whose Grace I carry out Thine Will.” He paused, unsure exactly how to proceed with asking if someone new was supposed to be there. “In my best efforts to bring about the long-foretold Second Coming, I have come upon some trouble. A human was dropped into the path of my efforts* and has suggested that they are here at Your Will. If this is so, please instruct me so that I may step aside or aid them as appropriate. I wish only to serve You, Your Will, and Your Designs.” With this, the Metatron paused and waited. He waited for what felt like eternity, even though he kew all too well it wasn't. He was met with nothing but silence. With a sigh, he spoke now to himself (and if anyone had been around to hear, they might have – mistakenly, mind you – inferred his tone to be sad).

“I suppose I should have expected nothing less.”

He straightened himself. Well, clearly The Almighty trusted him to sort this trouble out for himself. Oh, how he adored the trust and love the Almighty had for him. Alright, so, given that he was sort out this trouble himself, he deigned to use all the knowledge and intelligence that the Almighty had granted him. He had other resources that he could consult.

Exiting the room, he walked once more (with purpose and trust in God – not with pride), to the Room of Records which held The Book of Life. If anyone saw him, they said nothing and let him pass. If he saw anyone, he paid them no mind. The Metatron approached The Book.

The Book of Life holds all the world’s stories, whether they are true or not. Every. Single. One.

He turned the pages to the one where he had seen the passage regarding The Second Coming, and the events leading up to it. His eyes widened in surprise (he was far too important to gawk). The lines that had carefully discussed Aziraphale returning to Heaven, and the Second Coming of Jesus, had all been painted over with what appeared to be a thin white tape. And overtop of this tape, new words were appearing, detailing the arrival of the strange human and their interference. The Metatron glared (not snarled) at the way in which their interaction was being recorded. After a moment, he experimentally scratched at the tape. Much to his relief, the white tape gave way, revealing the original words still lay underneath. Well now, that was good news. The original plan, writing, story, was still there – hidden just beneath the surface. No doubt, if he took the human out of the equation, so to speak, the Plan would continue as is had been written so many thousands of years ago. He smiled, closing his eyes, and thanking God for this insight. Now, all he had to do was find a way to get rid of that human.

Suddenly, the lights in Heaven started flashing red, and a siren began blaring. The Metatron rolled his eyes. WHAT, exactly, had happened now? He went to the room that contained the large rotating figure of Earth, and noticed a large red plume of smoke trailing from it. While all of the lesser angels were fussing with it, Metatron stayed near the door that didn’t exist. He had no need to inspect it closer. He knew precisely what it was.

*(not that kind)

It didn’t take you long to tell them about the Second Coming, and convince Aziraphale and Crowley to ward the bookshop. Well, there was some slight resistance, but you pointed out that if they did a Big Joint Miracle On Purpose, then there wasn’t likely to be anything that anyone could do about it, even when they did notice. And thus, it had gone without a hitch.

Now, Aziraphale was collecting stacks of Bibles that he felt would be helpful for research, Muriel was taking notes, and Crowley had gone to get some wine (something about needing a drink to deal with all this). You look to your phone, pointedly ignore the Lives Counter, and start toward Google to help with research.

BUT

Does your Good Omens playlist still work? You can’t help but wonder, and your curiosity has you distracted and opening the app. Oh, well, there it is. Honestly it’s impressive. But then again, you suppose, Good Omens exists in this world, and the songs in your playlist exist here too, it’s just the show (specifically the Final Fifteen) that doesn’t exist here. Not anymore anyway. Any songs related to the show are gone, but otherwise your playlist is still very much intact. You smirk, crank the volume up on your phone, and start blasting Mother Mother’s Problems.

Now, dear Reader, I will take you aside to reassure you that Hozier is on the list of music they must and will hear. I have merely chosen this one because I don’t know your playlists, but I know mine, and this song fits the mood I expect you must be feeling. You are on the other side of panic, having explained everything, and secured the bookshop, you are now feeling the glee of being in Aziraphale’s bookshop with your favourite characters. You need something upbeat to dance to, wouldn’t you say? And Take Me To Church, being the most upbeat Hozier song that I know of, doesn’t quite cut it.

Crowley enters the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses (only two? How dare he. Doesn’t he know you’re...well...not going to deny a demon the temptation of a glass of red?). Aziraphale sighs the word “Bebop,” and you begin an elaborate sort of bouncing while singing the lyrics and pointing at them in turn.

“So,” Crowley says quietly to Aziraphale, “Any idea what’s actually happening here?”

You, dear Reader, are lost in your dancing. You are having the time of your life making up dance moves and trying to convince Muriel to at least bob in time with the music. You notice none of this.

Aziraphale sighs. “Honestly,” he replies to Crowley, “I can’t say I do. But given what we have to work with, I rather think that trusting them is our best option. Besides,” Aziraphale glances at you, then back to Crowley, “They don’t feel like the bad sort. I may not always be the best judge of character when it comes to angels, but I’m certain that this human is, well, rather the good sort.”

“Mm,” Crowley replies. He pauses, watching for a moment as you try to convince Muriel to stand and take your hands. “And, what about...you know, the thing that Nina and Maggie erm...talked to us about?” He notices Aziraphale’s cheeks turn pink.

“I think that we had best leave that for when the world is safe,” but the angel sounds resigned when he says it. Crowley suspects that “the world,” is actually meant to mean “we and the humans.” He doesn’t mention this, he only nods. The demon pauses.

“Wait a minute, wait, is this song about…”

You had finally convinced Muriel to walk in a twirl under your arm when Crowley finally notices that you had been trying to make it clear as bloody daylight that the song’s lyrics fit them to a T. Now that you have their attention, your smirk grows into a full mischievous smile.

“If you think this is impressive, just wait,” You say. And NOW you turn on Hozier.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[souiiore]

THE HOUSE AT EMERALD RANCH

arthur morgan oneshot!

pairing: arthur morgan x oc (name not mentioned)

cw: minors dni, nsfw content ahead, piv, unprotected sex

wc: roughly 2.7k words

summary: After her husband's affair, she found herself alone in her small homestead at Emerald Ranch. In a desperate need of a man's hand, she took in a stranger that showed up on her doorstep asking for work. But the the tension between them was more than overwhelming.

In an AU where Arthur never got sick with TB, set at the beggining of autumn in 1901, Emerald Ranch.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

It was the year 1901, two years after the gang's great fall, Micah's big mouth and boasting and Dutch's sweet tooth for lies and manipulative tendencies long forgotten.

Autumn was knocking its wind against the windows, draining the bright green from the crowns of trees and replacing it with colors more pleasant to sore eyes. The weather was gloomy, the sun turning in the sky amidst thick blankets of clouds.

She sat on her porch, wrapped in a blanket with a mug half-filled with something vaguely resembling coffee in her hand, watching the birds pack their few feathers and lift their tiny bodies to fly somewhere warmer. Then she heard a grunt—perhaps the sound of exhaust.

From behind the corner of a shed that adorned her garden, Mr. Morgan emerged. His work shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, his hair slicked back with sweat, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held a pair of gloves in his hand, which he carefully folded over each other and tucked into the back pocket of his work pants.

"Got your fence fixed up, but I noticed the wheel rims on your wagon are rustin'. Want me to take a look at those too?"

Ever since her husband fled with another woman, she needed a man's help at her small homestead in Emerald Ranch. Manual hard work like fixing fences, repairing wagons, and mending rusty gutters had to be done by someone with strength, which she lacked.

As if sent by divine intervention, a man almost a head taller than her showed up on her doorstep not long after her husband's affair, saying he was looking for work. Why? She didn’t pry. So she invited him into her small kitchen, offered him a cup of coffee, which he politely accepted, and they discussed the work, including payment.

He might have lacked passion for the work—it clearly wasn’t his cup of tea—but he was not lazy at all. Anything that needed fixing was swiftly repaired in the blink of an eye.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan," she offered him a warm smile. "Come sit with me."

He climbed the stairs to her porch and took a seat on the wooden bench he had repaired three weeks prior. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a match from his pocket. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he crossed his ankle over his knee and struck the match against the sole of his boot. Cupping his hand around the flame, he lit the cigarette, taking a few puffs before waving his hand in the air to extinguish the match, carefully placing it among the rest of the cigarettes. He knew how much she despised clutter around the house and tried his utmost to respect that—a kind gesture she noticed.

However, that wasn't the only thing that caught her attention.

It all began with the curious looks thrown in her direction. Whenever she worked in the garden—planting flowers, weeding the beds, picking tomatoes and cucumbers, or feeding the horses, gathering eggs from the hens into a small basket hooked on her elbow—and she lifted her head to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she felt a pair of icy blue eyes watching her.

She couldn’t help but reciprocate the gaze. She found herself staring at him whenever he picked up the axe to chop wood. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have, watching him intently—how his muscles moved under his shirt, strands of hair glued to his forehead with sweat, his biceps flexing as he lifted the axe only to strike it down, splinters flying with the impact.

Then there was the proximity. Sitting next to her as close as possible, almost deliberately, their shoulders bumping against each other, his legs spread wide, their knees touching, invading her personal space. But it didn’t bother her. In fact, she liked it, and at times, when he left a few inches of space between them on the bench, she found herself longing for his warmth.

She sighed contentedly, inhaling slowly. Her nostrils filled with his scent, the smell of tobacco and musk overtaking her senses.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Mr. Morgan?"

"Don’t mean to trouble you, ma’am."

"Oh, it’s no trouble at all! I cooked for two anyway," she frowned, "can’t seem to get used to it."

"Reckon he was a prick," he scoffed, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the opaque vapor.

She watched the branches sway in the wind. "Not right off, no. But I guess I let his charm mislead me."

She took a sip from her mug, and he hummed in response. "That must be tough on ya."

"It’s something you can put up with," she said, turning her head to look at him, only to find him already staring at her.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. Her lips parted to breathe, as if her lungs were under the weight of a giant rock. He was so close to her, the already narrow gap between them couldn't seem to close further, though it, unbeknownst to her, did.

He stubbed out the cigarette, broke the eye contact, stood up, and dusted off his pants. "Guess I oughta be on my way."

This made her stand up too and tug on his wrist. "Stay," she pleaded almost desperately, but she didn’t care. The look he gave her was priceless.

She let go of his wrist and searched his eyes for an answer. He then nodded, almost in defeat. She opened the door to her house and stepped inside, and he followed her wordlessly, closing the door behind him.

She stepped into the kitchen while he took his seat at the table, his eyes lingering on her every movement. She fetched two plates with silverware and set them on the table, arranging them with quiet precision, while his eyes remained locked on her. Then she retraced her steps to the kitchen and returned with a pot.

"Hand me your plate," she said, extending her arm toward him.

She ladled three servings onto his plate, then reached for her own and added two. Circling the table, she settled into her seat and said, "Be careful, it’s piping hot."

"Smells real good," he commented, taking a spoonful.

The room fell silent, with only the clinking of silverware against plates echoing. She wiped her mouth with a napkin when she finished and stood up to grab the plates and carry them to the sink. He thanked her for the meal and stood up, but before he could turn around and walk away, she sprinted to his side and leaned in to peck his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur."

He froze in place, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, woman, you can’t do this to me," he grunted, gently placing his hands on her face and kissing her passionately.

She grabbed his waist to stabilize herself as she almost lost her balance with the impact of his body pushing hers back. She had to pull away for a moment to catch her breath when the back of her thighs hit the dining table, and he rested his forehead against hers, brushing strands of hair behind her ears.

She swallowed down a lump in her throat before leaning in carefully and reconnecting their lips, his meeting hers halfway. He bent down, his hands leaving her face to grab her thighs and lift her onto the table, his lips tracing down her jaw and onto her neck.

Her arms, as if with a mind of their own, wrapped around his shoulders and neck, her hands slipping into his hair, fingers threading through his locks and pulling at his roots. His hand sneaked under her skirts, pushing the fabric up as it pooled at her waist. His palms kneaded the delicate flesh of her thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles, and she sighed into his ear, the sound making heat rise inside of his body.

"My... bed, please," she spoke between breaths, and he lifted his head from the crook of her neck.

He had a satisfied look on his face, flames of lust dancing in his eyes, and she saw her reflection in them. Her lips and neck were slick with saliva, her pupils dilated, yet her eyelids covered half of them.

He leaned in for a quick kiss before she pressed her palms flat on his shoulders and applied pressure to create space. She then hopped down from the dining table, grabbed his wrist, and led him through the house into her bedroom.

Upon entering the room, she lit a lantern that hung on the wall, which casted a soft, warm glow over the room. She stepped closer to him, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his hands, her lips seeking the thin skin on his neck, his stubble scratching against her cheek.

She guided his hands to her back, around her waist. "Undress me," she whispered softly, and he didn’t need to be told twice.

His nimble fingers swiftly undid the knots of her skirts, and she felt the fabric loosen and fall to her feet. His hands traveled up her body to the first few buttons of her shirt, and she took a shuddering breath. Within seconds, he managed to undo them all, his fingers slipping under the fabric on her shoulders and pushing it back, making it pool around her elbows.

While he was busy undressing her, she took matters into her own hands and began unbuttoning his shirt as well, revealing more of his pale skin to her hungry eyes. She then paused, tracing her fingers over an ugly scar that peeked from beneath his shirt. Her eyes scanned his face, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Ain't lived a good life," he stated, cupping her hand that traced the scar. "Done plenty of bad things, ma'am."

She then lowered her head, kissing his shoulder and around the scar, making sure not to miss a spot. He sighed, removed his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, and took them off.

His hands grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and making her wrap her legs around his waist as he stepped closer to her bed and gently laid her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His lips wasted no time and attached themselves to hers, his hands kneading her thighs again, inching closer to the waistband of her bloomers.

She pulled away to remove her chemise, her bare chest now revealed to his sight, and he gulped, his eyes wandering hungrily. Her hips lifted, allowing him space to pull off her bloomers, her cunt glistening with slick. She bit her lip, unable to suppress the moan threatening to spill from her mouth, and her hands involuntarily reached for him, grabbing him by the nape and pulling him down into a chaste kiss.

"Is this alright?" came his silent question as his fingers reached her lower belly.

She hastily nodded and shivered as his finger traced the outline of her core. His watchful gaze remained fixed on her face, his eyes unwavering, and she squirmed underneath him in discomfort, craving much more than he was providing.

His finger slipped between her folds and curled inside her. Her hand found his bicep, and she dug her fingers into his skin, urging him on. He took his sweet time with her, adding another finger while his gaze stayed on her face, watching her contort in pleasure.

It didn’t take her long to lose her composure, and she yanked him down to her, chasing his lips in a hungry kiss that made a smug smile appear on his face. She moaned into his mouth when his fingers left her, and he wiped them on his thigh.

"Arthur, take me, please," she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

He had to restrain himself from ravishing her right then and there. His hand swiftly freed himself from his union suit, while the other cupped her face, his eyes questioning. She gave him a curt nod, and he leaned in, kissing her gently as he gave himself a few strokes and entered her inch by inch.

He felt her moan into his mouth, his restraint faltering, and a grunt slipped past his lips. The fingers on the hand that cupped her face stroked her cheek soothingly, brushing her hair out of her face.

"You're beautiful," he commented barely above a whisper, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks.

His eyebrows pinched together as her legs wrapped around his waist, her cunt stretching with him inside. His other hand cupped her thigh, stroking it up and down in a gentle rhythm, as he remained still inside her, waiting for her to give him a sign she was ready for him to start moving. His lips kissed her collarbone, nibbling and biting the soft skin, leaving bruises in its wake.

"You're okay?" he mumbled with his eyes on her, his lips still glued to her skin.

"Yes," was all she could manage before bucking her hips.

His hand left her face and reached for hers, encasing his palm in hers, intertwining their fingers, and pressing their locked hands into the pillow beside her head, his hips snapping into a slow, rocking rhythm.

"Fuck," she moaned, her limbs wrapping around his body, her nails scratching at his back.

Her eyes rolled back, and she threw her head back, more skin revealing on her neck. His beard lightly scratched her skin, and she didn’t know what to concentrate on: his lips, his hands, or his thrusts.

Even if he lacked passion for work, he had more than enough passion for this. His hands caressed her so carefully, treating her skin like fine china that would shatter under slight pressure. His touches were light and calculated, his warm breath fanning over her neck, and his lashes lightly tickling her skin.

She couldn’t help but get lost in the pleasure, her back arching involuntarily. Her nails left crescent marks on his back, and he groaned into her skin with a huff.

But then she pressed her hands into his chest, and he stilled, his eyes finding hers for an answer.

"Lie down," she breathed, and he obliged, letting her flip him onto his back and straddle his hips.

If he wanted to, he could easily overpower her, but there was something about her wanting to be on top that made him shiver with excitement and lust. His hands immediately found her waist, thumbs pressing into her belly as she traced her fingers from his chest down to his abs, admiring him from above.

She bent down, her hair now covering both of their faces as she kissed him, her palms flat on his chest as she sank down onto his dick so slowly it took everything in him not to buck his hips and slam into her.

"Christ, woman," he groaned, his hands squeezing her waist as she lifted herself up and then sank back down.

There was a knot in her stomach building up, threatening to snap any second, and it took all her willpower not to let this feeling overtake her. She trailed kisses along his jaw, kissing the scar on his chin, his hands clawing at her skin with each sway of her hips.

Their skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and she felt the salty aftertaste on her tongue after licking her lips. Then his eyes closed, and his face contorted. "I— fuck," he groaned, and that was the last straw for her.

The knot snapped, and her vision went blurry. Her body stilled and shook as she slowly came down from her high, warmth spilling inside her with one last thrust of his hips.

Her body collapsed on top of his, and he held her close, kissing the top of her head and lying as still as he could not to disturb her.

She remained unmoving, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest as his thumb drew patterns on her back. She could hear his rapid heartbeat slowing, and the blood in her ears and heat from her face slowly subsided.

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an: a little something while i struggle with writing chapter 3 of bd&s lmaoo. anyway, hope u enjoyed !! btw the house that i had in mind while writing is the green one where u can spot a girl standing at a window at times i reckon

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Divinity

When the attack comes, it’s not an ambush. One moment the Chain are eyeing the trees off the path as they walk, and the next there are people in the trees. An aura, rotten and bloated, rolls off the figure that leads them. Dark Deity.

Wild hisses, hand tightening on his sword. Everyone in the group bears his Claim. While it’s easier to override an old, faded Claim, like Skull Kid had, it’s hard to take someone freshly Claimed. The champion isn’t going to give this evil a chance.

Dark Deity tilts his head as if meeting on a morning stroll. Despite their distance from the river, fog still clings to the trees and dips of the land. Standing at the edge of it, eyes burning and leaking mist, Dark Deity is more amorphous mass than hylian.

“Hylia might have done her best to hide her pets, but even she can’t protect you forever.” Behind him, hylians shift in the mist. It’s hard to see how many there are. They slide too smoothly and Wild’s reminded again of joints too loose to hold them up.

Are they the same hylians who surrounded Dark Deity before? Or are these his hylians, from Wild’s era? Will he see the face of someone he knows as he cuts them down?

Dark Deity steps forward again. His double helix sword is held casually, like an afterthought. The teeth of them gleam—clean this time.

It’s Wind, from somewhere behind him, who yells, “Where are the monsters?”

When the deity laughs, it’s the scrape of rocks crushing everything in its path. “I found the leader of that pathetic rabble. He might have put up a fight, but the monsters did not. Fighters need cunning.”

Reaching out, he strokes the head of a hylian like it’s a pet. There’s no response in the dead eyes. Just dark ochre dripping like tears.

“I won’t leave anything up to chance. Or intervention by the goddesses. What did they ever do for us?” The end of the question comes out a hiss. “Left to rot and suffer, surrounded by screams of pain and agony. Innocents, sacrificed in the name of the royal family. Of justice.” Dark Deity spits and a fang presses against his lip.

“Who are you?” Wild asks.

“An echo. A memory. A thousand hurts left to fester and join. I am the wrong the blessed hero leaves behind.”

It’s no more of an answer than the first time the question was asked in Arbiter’s Ground. Or maybe it is. Wild isn’t going to take this moment to pull about the nuances. What matters is that Dark Deity is a product of dark magic, the Fierce Deity mask, and Time’s body, all being misused.

Dark Deity’s aura roars over them and the Chain grunts under the weight of it. Without Wild’s Claim, they’d have run screaming long ago. Now, the boys ready their weapons and spread out, keeping an eye on not only the deity but the soldiers as well.

“I think we’ve talked long enough, little hero. This ends today.”

Wild is about to switch his sword for a claymore when the hilt of a sword is pressed into his hand. He glances down, then to the side to see Sky’s firm nod. The Master Sword sings in his palm. The chosen hero doesn’t give him a chance to protest, just plucks the unused sword from Wild’s hand.

The divinity in the sword sings to him and something deep inside sings back. Dark Deity’s smile fades and he steps forward. The possessed hylians follow.

Read the rest here!

[oddeyes588]

A little late to the party but I do have some thoughts about Fantasy High Junior Year now that it's over. First of all, overall? Great season, had lots of laughs... but man, is it just me, or were there a lot of parts in this season that just... were kind of annoying? For me specifically, two big things... and no, I'm not talking about the Rat Grinders. While I'm a little disappointed with how that ended, I'm not too bothered.

Like, idk if this is a hot take or not, because they were arguably the biggest parts of this season... but I found myself especially annoyed and/or disappointed about K2 and Porter.

Like, don't get me wrong, I thought K2 was funny—especially at first—and Porter being the main villain of the season was 100% for the bit and I can respect that... but man, I couldn't help but be disappointed with Porter going full irredeemably evil, as well as just straight-up annoyed by K2's existence (at least in regards to the story. gameplaywise, making a homunculus of their cleric was VERY smart) (oh god if K2 exists in our world now she might come after me. dont forget me).

In regards to Porter... he was for sure an ass, he caused Gorgug a lot of grief with the MCAT, but he also had such a really sweet moment with him when that thing finally got signed?? It was very, like, not a perfect teacher but someone who did have his best interests in mind, paired with a really nice message about how it's alright to get mad. It was an important part of Gorgug's character growth this season! Integral to unlocking his Barbificer subclass!

...and then all of that just gets thrown away because turns out Porter was evil the whole time and this was all just leading up to his big master plan of killing a god and becoming a god of war. He was never offering genuine advice, he never cared about Gorgug or had his best interests in mind, he thought Gorgug's fascination with Artificing was stupid... and now he's dead. The End.

And that just feels... really disappointing, honestly. He was a chill guy, and yeah he had no right to bar Gorgug from pursuing what he wants and force him to take so many years of school in a single year, but it also resulted in some serious growth on Gorgug's part! It was great! Him being Evil The Whole Time felt... almost like a character assassination, honestly.

And then... there's K2...

I'm gonna be real here. I don't care if using a homunculus and shit for multiple divine intervention rolls is how it actually works in the rulebooks, and I know that objectively having more rolls is always better, especially when the stakes are high... and especially considering that Ally was not getting the rolls they needed otherwise.

This was hilarious. It was also supremely annoying, because it just fully took away from any big moment Kristen could've had this season regarding her and Cassandra after her creation... and this happened TWICE.

Like, from a storytelling perspective, I feel Brennan's pain viscerally. These episodes were truly such an experience for me, because on one hand, I was laughing at the sheer comedy of it all... but there was another part of my brain thinking this truly, truly sucked.

Kristen was figuring out her devotion to Cassandra, finding an understanding in what her role as Cassandra's cleric is... and right at the end of the season all of that kind of comes to a halt because in the end K2 did the divine interventions.

...Well, at least that still leaves some room for whatever Kristen will have to deal with in Senior year. Unlike Porter, who is dead and gone and we're definitely not bringing him back.