#Glamorous tree stands

[inboundremblog]

Winter Wonderland Decorations for Christmas: Transform Your Home Into a Magical Holiday Escape

Winter wonderland decorations for Christmas, holiday time is magical, and you can only really feel it when you make your home a winter wonderland. In any climate, adding winter wonderland accessories can make any room feel comfy, festive, and beautiful under a canopy of lights. In this guide, you'll discover all you need to make a Christmas wonderland, and you'll find styling tips, indoor and outdoor designs, and DIY projects.

Winter Wonderland Decorations for Christmas: What Is a Winter Wonderland Christmas Theme?

Winter wonderland decorations for Christmas, a winter wonderland theme means celebrating the peaceful, snowy outdoors and the beautiful sparkle. Whites, silvers, icy blues, and sparkling highlights are what you'll find in this type of decor instead of the usual red and green. There's a calm, dreamy atmosphere throughout, which is lovely for anyone who enjoys snow, lakes, and frost twinkling in their surroundings. Imagine wreaths made of snow-covered greens, sparkle ornaments, and accessories made from soft fake fur. Often, antlers, bumps of birch bark, and soft candle or fairy-light reflections from metallic materials are seen in this style.

Creating a Winter Wonderland Inside Your Home

Start by decorating your entryway because it tells guests what to expect in the rest of your home. Let guests feel welcome with a mini Christmas tree and ornaments in shades of silver or pearl. Place a string of small, bright white lights along the banister or table beside your stairs. A winter-themed candle like pine, cedarwood, or vanilla helps make the atmosphere cozy and welcoming. Inside, the living room should be arranged with your main tree, taking central attention. Hang snowflakes, classic glass baubles, faux icicles, and metallic ribbon on a white or flocked tree. Place faux fur throws, velvet pillows with an icy color scheme, and a matching tree skirt around the tree. A warm fireplace mantle looks lovely and is covered with snow-coated garland, white candles, mercury glass, and adorable little woodland creatures or reindeer. Create focal points by putting a glittering snowflake or decorated wreath over the fireplace.

Arranging your winter tablescape in the dining room makes the meal feel special and celebratory. Cover the table with a white cloth and run it with silver or crystal; then, arrange chargers with snowflakes, white dishes, and sparkly napkin rings—a beautiful frosted floral centerpiece with white roses, silver eucalyptus, and crystal twigs. Suspend glass, acrylic snowflakes, or icicles from the chandelier to add a lovely floating effect overhead. Small changes can bring a lot to the kitchen as well. Stick snowflake decals to cabinet doors or windows, string a light garland over your upper cabinets and arrange some glass jars filled with candies, marshmallows, or silver sprinkles on display shelves. Substitute your daily kitchen towels for those with a gentle snow pattern to coordinate everything well.

Winter Wonderland Outdoor Décor Ideas

Changing your home's outside looks is also important when creating a winter experience. Put a snowy wreath at the entrance decorated with white berries, pinecones, and a silver bow. Put matching mini-flocked trees or topiaries at the sides of your entry, lined with white light in the planters. LED candles in colorful lanterns and fake snow bring a more cozy and festive atmosphere. You can make your front yard spectacular with cool-toned string lights on your bushes, trees, and roof. Tie large snowflakes to the end of large branches or the porch beams. Install little solar-powered lights to create a bright path for the guests. Deer and other creatures lit at night on the lawn are playful, and having a silhouette nativity scene can give your lawn a gentle and spiritual feel. A snow machine or artificial snow blanket will create a sense of winter in warmer areas.

DIY Winter Wonderland Décor Projects

You can have a festive look without spending a lot of money. There are many cheap and straightforward methods to decorate your home for winter. A perfect example is frosted mason jar lanterns, which look wonderful in any setting. Paint jars with Mod Podge, roll them in Epsom salt and fill them with tea lights to enjoy a snowy atmosphere. You could also make snowflake chains from white or metallic paper as a simple idea. Gather the fairy lights, attach them end to end, and display them across windows, mantels, or at the top of stair railings. Fasten a vintage pair of ice skates onto a pine wreath using silver ribbon and fake snow bits. You could apply some glue to pinecones with a brush and cover them in silver or white glitter for rustic holiday or table decorations. A beautiful addition to your table is to spray some white bare branches, arrange them in a vase, and then cover them with twinkle lights for a wintery effect.

Styling Tips for a Cohesive Look

Try to select one set of colors and make sure they are used in the whole house for your winter theme. Some charming palettes combine white and silver, white and gold, or pale blue to white. Combine different light sources to make the area friendly and welcoming. Add fairy lights, LED candles, and spotlights to show off your essential decorations. Don't forget about texture: join soft materials with hard ones, such as glass, wood, and glitter, to make the display stand out. Remember to use scent—cinnamon sticks, vanilla, and evergreen sprays make everything feel more like the holidays. Don't forget to consider how comfortable the clothes should be. Ensure your winter wonderland doesn't feel too chilly; include a few cozy bits and personal ornaments or pictures in cute frames.

Bringing the Magic Home

Making your living space feel cozy or magical for Christmas can be timelessly beautiful with a winter wonderland theme. This style captures everyone's interest and suits different home designs because it has sparkling lights, crisp surfaces, and calm colors. Dressing your mantel or front door is easy, yet you can also cover all areas inside and out for the most significant effect. Either option, making your home look like a winter wonderland, helps you treasure Christmas time with your family.

–Turn your home into a magical snowy escape with winter wonderland decorations for Christmas featuring sparkling lights, icy accents, and festive, elegant décor ideas. If you wish to find out more, our website has all the information. https://mrgreentrees.com/tag/winter-wonderland-decorations/.

Transform your home into a snowy retreat with magical winter wonderland decorations for Christmas.

[shushmal]

There's an incredibly pretty girl at the front desk in Family Video, and Steve—Eddie's boyfriend of eight months—is leaning over the counter with a sly smile and half-lidded eyes.

Eddie pauses in the doorway, struck dumb for a moment as he takes in the scene, and then gleefully ducks down behind the nearest shelf.

"So tell me," Steve says, all low and intimate. "What kind of movie were you looking for?"

"Um," the girl says. She doesn't sound very enthusiastic—barely indulgent at best. Eddie wishes he could see, but any sight of him will ruin Steve's chances right now. He's got a pretty good mental picture though. "I really like those old black and white movies, the really glamorous ones, you know?"

"Oh, totally," Steve sighs, like he's swooning. "Like Cary Grant, Clarke Gabel?" Eddie can practically hear his smirk. "Katharine Hepburn? Ginger Rogers?"

"Oh, I love Ginger Rogers!"

"Really?" Steve says matching her excitement. "Well, you're just in luck! Robin here knows all about those old black and white movies, don't you Robin?"

Eddie presses a hand to his mouth to hide his snickering. Robin had looked like a hooked fish when he'd walked in, she's gotta be gaping stupidly right now. "Uuuh," he hears her mumbling, and tries not to snort too loud. "Y-Yeah, uh, golden age of Hollywood stuff, absolutely. I could? Show you where they are?"

"Oh my gosh, that would be amazing!" the girl says, her interest in the conversation now warmed by several degrees. Eddie is still a little in awe of how well his boyfriend can sniff out gay girls.

"I got the front here, Robin," Steve cuts in smoothly. "You ladies take your time, make sure you pick out a good one!"

Eddie waits another beat, listening at their footsteps shuffle away, before he pops up from behind the shelf. Steve, lighting up like a Christmas tree, beams at him.

"Am I a genius or what?" he whispers, grinning ear to ear.

"Your lesbian powers know no equal," Eddie says just as quietly, taking the girl's spot at the counter, leaning into Steve's space. Steve happily mirrors him, until they're tucked together, the world narrowing down to the two of them. It's Eddie's favorite place to be. "All hail Steve Harrington, blessid he, lesbian whisper. Come to aid all useless queers in the fight against singledom."

"Thank you, thank you," Steve says with an air of novel benevolence. "I promise to only use my powers for good."

"Dingus. Doofus."

They jump away from each other as if shocked. Robin glowers at them both, but the pretty girl behind her is giggling and standing way too close for friendly, just at Robin's elbow.

"Move it, lovebirds," she hisses as she rounds the desk. "I need to check Claire out."

"I think you already have," Steve says. His smile this time is down right evil.

Robin actually hisses at him, and hip checks him away from the register. Eddie does a bow, sweeping his arm out to give Claire the prime spot in front of the desk, before he turns back to Steve.

"My dear, if you could please," he simpers, all posh and nasally. "Show me to your finest, grossest horror movie, thank you my good sir."

"Ugh," Steve groans already heading off into the shelves, not waiting for Eddie to follow. "You're lucky I love you, Ed. Shit gives me nightmares."

"I know," Eddie sings, chasing him. "I love you too."

[xo100]

Shifting gears - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and you, childhood best friends, discover a deeper connection during a drive in his new Porsche. After discussing his playboy image, the conversation takes an unexpected turn, leading to a realization of long-hidden feelings and shifting your relationship from friendship to something more romantic and intimate.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2250

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees that lined the road, casting dappled shadows over the sleek Porsche as it cruised effortlessly along the winding asphalt. The roar of the engine was almost hypnotic, a perfect blend of power and control, much like its owner. Lando Norris gripped the steering wheel with ease, his fingers drumming absentmindedly as he glanced over at his passenger—his best friend, someone who had been by his side since they were kids.

While Lando had built a reputation for himself as a playboy—charming, confident, and always with a new girl on his arm—you were the complete opposite. Introverted, quiet, and shy. But that’s what made your friendship so special. You balanced each other out.

Today, though, something felt a little different. Maybe it was the car, the air of freedom and luxury it represented, or maybe it was the conversation you were having that shifted the mood. Either way, the usual playful banter between the two of you had taken a slightly more serious turn.

“So, who’s the flavor of the week this time?” you teased, your voice light but carrying a hint of genuine curiosity as you shifted in the leather seat.

Lando chuckled, a low, throaty sound that seemed to vibrate through the car. “Not sure yet. You know how it is,” he replied with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the road.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no judgment in your expression. “Yeah, I know exactly how it is. You with some random girl, one night, maybe two if she’s lucky, and then you’re off to the next. It’s like you’re collecting trophies or something.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I’m just… having fun. Life’s short, you know?”

You snorted softly. “For you, maybe. I can’t even imagine doing that. Just… being with someone like that, without any meaning. Doesn’t it get old?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, finally glancing over at you. “Why, you thinking about trying it out?” he teased, though his tone carried a hint of something deeper, something that wasn’t quite a joke.

Your face flushed, and you quickly turned to look out the window, trying to hide the sudden rush of heat that crept up your neck. “No,” you muttered, “I’m not like that.”

Silence filled the car for a moment, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. Lando’s eyes flickered back to the road, but his expression was thoughtful now, less playful than usual. “You don’t always have to be so… sweet, you know,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter, almost serious. “It’s okay to let loose sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less… you.”

You blinked, surprised by his words. He wasn’t wrong; you were the “sweet” one, the one who always cared too much, worried too much. But hearing Lando say it so bluntly made you feel strangely vulnerable, like he could see right through your carefully crafted exterior.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s constantly in the tabloids for having one-night stands with half the population,” you shot back, the words harsher than you intended.

Lando laughed, though there was a sharpness to it. “Touché. But you know, it’s not as glamorous as people make it out to be.”

You frowned, turning back to him. “What do you mean? You always seem like you’re having the time of your life.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s fun, I guess. But it’s not… real, you know? It’s just… I don’t know. It’s easy. I’m used to it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had never heard him talk like this before, so openly about the lifestyle he had embraced. It wasn’t like him to get deep, not about this.

“Then why do you keep doing it?” you asked quietly.

Lando glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw something different in his eyes. Something almost… uncertain.

“Because it’s easier than thinking about what I really want,” he said softly.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car off the main road, slowing down as he drove into a secluded spot overlooking a lake. The car came to a stop, and the silence that followed was deafening. He turned off the engine, and the two of you sat there, the tension in the air thick and palpable.

“I mean…” Lando began, his voice low, almost hesitant, “I’ve been with a lot of girls, sure. But none of them were ever you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “What?”

He turned in his seat to face you fully, his expression serious now, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “You. You’re different. You always have been.”

Your mind was racing, trying to process his words, but all you could focus on was the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“But we’re… friends,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

“I know,” Lando said, his gaze never leaving yours. “And that’s why I’ve never said anything before. But… I don’t know. Lately, it feels like things have changed. Like maybe we’ve changed.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been close to Lando, but you had never let yourself think about him like that. He was Lando—the charismatic, carefree playboy who was always with someone else. But now, sitting here in the quiet of his car, it was hard to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest, the way his words made your stomach flip.

“I…” you started, but you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Lando leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on the edge of your seat, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer, some kind of sign. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I will.”

But you didn’t tell him to stop. You couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you were quite sure if this was really happening. But then something shifted. The kiss deepened, and suddenly it was like everything that had been simmering under the surface for years had finally come to a head.

Lando’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with more urgency. You could feel the heat of his body, the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were climbing over the center console, straddling him as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate.

You had never done anything like this before—never been this close to someone, never let yourself be this vulnerable. But with Lando, it felt… right. Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped as he kissed a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looked up at you. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, barely controlled.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes.”

The next few moments were a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, the world outside the car fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him, in the way he made you feel. It wasn’t rushed or careless like you had imagined his one-night stands might be. It was slow, deliberate, and full of a kind of intensity you had never experienced before.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over. You found yourself lying in his arms, the cool leather of the seat beneath you, your breathing still ragged as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Lando’s hand stroked your hair gently, his touch comforting, grounding. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden glow over the lake, and the quiet between you was no longer filled with tension, but with a kind of contentment you hadn’t expected.

Finally, Lando broke the silence. “You know… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he said, his voice low. “But I’m glad it did.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Me too.”

He shifted beneath you, turning slightly so he could look down at you. “So… what does this mean for us?”

You thought about it for a moment, your mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. But when you looked up into his eyes, you knew the answer.

“It means… maybe we’ve changed,” you said quietly, echoing his words from earlier.

Lando smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart

skip a beat. He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“I guess we have,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but it held a weight of everything unspoken between you. Years of friendship, of shared memories, of teasing and laughter—all of it led to this moment. The line you’d been dancing on for so long had finally blurred, and neither of you could deny it anymore.

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, basking in the comfortable silence that followed. The world outside the car seemed distant, irrelevant. It was just you and Lando now, and that felt right.

Eventually, though, the practicalities of life started to creep back in, and you couldn’t ignore them forever. You shifted slightly, sitting up in the seat, the reality of what had just happened slowly settling in.

“So… what now?” you asked, your voice quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile newness of what had just formed between you.

Lando sat up too, his hand still resting on your thigh, a small, reassuring gesture. He looked at you thoughtfully, as if considering his words carefully. “I don’t want this to be some random, one-time thing,” he said slowly, his voice steady. “You’re not like those girls. You’ve never been. I don’t want to screw this up.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at his words. “I don’t want that either,” you admitted. “I’ve never thought of us like this before… but now, I can’t imagine it any other way.”

His eyes softened as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more tender, as if sealing the promise between you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” Lando confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Your heart skipped again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from the overwhelming realization that you felt the same way. Maybe you’d always felt it, buried somewhere deep down.

“I think I’ve always liked you too,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly at the confession.

Lando’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and joy. “Good. Because I’m not letting you get away now.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt simple. No more games, no more hiding behind jokes or casual flings. Just you and Lando, finally facing what had been there all along.

The sun was almost set now, casting a soft orange glow over the lake as the two of you sat there, side by side, in the quiet of the Porsche. The future felt uncertain in the best way possible, full of possibilities and new beginnings.

Lando gave your hand a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You know,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye, “I think this Porsche might be my new lucky charm.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Of course you would say that.”

He grinned, that familiar cocky smile back in full force, but this time it was softened by something else—something deeper, more real. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home. But tomorrow… maybe we can go for another drive?”

You nodded, your heart light as you leaned over to kiss him one more time. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As Lando started the car and pulled back onto the road, you couldn’t help but glance over at him, your best friend—your something more now—and feel grateful for every twist and turn that had led you here.

And as the Porsche sped down the road, the two of you heading into an uncertain future, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[stargrillzz]

MAD IN LOVE

SUMMARY: endless mixed feelings, no matter how bad it is, it doesn't seem possible to get him out of your head.

NOTE: you always return to where you were happy, and I was happy reading Rafe's fics.xoxo

DIFFERENT

The music store wasn’t glamorous, but it had a heartbeat.

The soft buzz of vintage amplifiers, faint hum of a guitar track looping through the speakers, and the smell of old records and pine cleaner gave the small space its own kind of rhythm. You leaned against the counter, tapping a pen idly on the register while watching the minute hand crawl toward closing time. Twenty more minutes. Just twenty, and then freedom—then surfing, laughter, sunlight, and the only real family you'd ever known.

The bell above the door chimed, and your tired gaze lifted lazily. But then you smiled, immediately brighter.

Kiara and Sarah swept into the store like a gust of salt-tinged wind, both wearing messy ponytails, sandy shoes, and the smug grins of girls carrying a secret.

"And those happy faces?" you teased, pretending to squint suspiciously. "Did John B finally ask you to marry him?"

Sarah laughed, her head tilting back. "Almost."

Kiara bumped her hip against yours and leaned on the counter. “Tonight’s the party of the summer. So before we even touch our boards, we’re going shopping.”

You grimaced playfully. “Shopping. Right. With which money? Because my wallet is currently crying in a fetal position under my bed.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “You’re dramatic.”

You lowered your voice. “Guys, I seriously can’t spend anything right now. Rent’s due and—” You paused, embarrassed. You hated how easily your reality bled through when you least wanted it to.

Sarah immediately cut in. “Then we’ll go to my place. Problem solved.”

You raised a brow. “Are you serious?”

She gave you that look—confident, kind, impossibly golden. “That’s what friends are for. You think I don’t hoard half the store every time I go into town? You’ll leave my closet looking like a goddess.”

You hesitated, heart full but pride bruised.

“Come on,” Kiara nudged. “Let us spoil you for one night.”

You finally smiled, cheeks warm. “Fine. But only if I don’t have to wear heels.”

—

It was strange how quickly you forgot where you were until you were standing in front of the Cameron estate.

It rose like a monument out of the trees, all white walls and clean-cut hedges, expensive silence hanging over it like fog. You always felt slightly out of place there, like your presence upset some invisible balance. But Sarah made you feel safe—Kiara too. So you followed them up the stairs with a surfboard bag slung over one shoulder and your old Vans squeaking against the polished floors.

Laughter echoed through the upstairs hall as Sarah opened her bedroom door, beckoning you in. You stepped into her light-drenched room, already eyeing the walk-in closet like it was Narnia.

“Just grab whatever speaks to you,” Sarah said, tossing you a pair of jeans. “We’ll mix and match.”

But before you could even make it to the pile of tank tops, you felt something.

That presence.

The energy in the air changed like a cold draft slipping through a cracked window.

You turned—and there he was.

Rafe Cameron.

Leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression on his face like he was always thinking something he’d never say out loud. He didn’t flinch when you looked at him. If anything, he smiled.

Slow. Crooked. Like he’d been waiting.

His eyes flicked down and then up again, pausing just long enough to make your skin feel hot.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said casually, voice thick with something you didn’t want to name.

You didn’t say anything. Just blinked.

Kiara saw him next. Her shoulders tensed immediately, lips pressing into a hard line.

“Keep walking,” she muttered under her breath, hand brushing your lower back as she guided you forward.

You followed her lead. Not because you were afraid of him. But because you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t.

—

Half an hour later, Sarah’s bed was covered in clothes. Your arms were full of borrowed outfits. Kiara was arguing with Sarah about the superiority of combat boots over wedges when you excused yourself.

“Be right back. Bathroom.”

You slipped into the hallway quietly, head down, trying to remember which door was which.

And then—

“Hey.”

His voice froze you.

You looked up, halfway between fight or flight. Rafe was standing just a few feet away, like he’d materialized out of thin air. Maybe he had.

He looked different in this light. Softer somehow. Like the sun spilling through the window had rounded out the sharp edges of his face. But his eyes—his eyes were still the same shade of blue that made you feel like the tide was about to pull you under.

“What do you want?” you asked, arms folding instinctively.

He didn’t move toward you. Not yet.

“You look really pretty today,” he said simply.

There was no smirk. No arrogance. Just honesty. Raw and unexpected.

Your breath hitched slightly. You weren’t used to kindness from him. At least not the kind that wasn’t wrapped in tension or sarcasm.

“Thanks,” you said, quieter than you intended.

“I mean it,” he added.

You nodded once. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He stepped back, barely.

“I’ll be downstairs… if you wanna hang out,” he said. “Watch a movie or something.”

You stopped.

The ask wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t pushy. But it felt dangerous anyway. Not in the way he looked, or the things he’d done—but in how you wanted to say yes.

And you hated that.

“No, thanks.”

He tilted his head, almost disappointed. “Why not?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Because it doesn’t make sense. Because we shouldn’t. Because I don’t want to.”

That part—I don’t want to—wasn’t even fully true. But it had to be said.

He looked down. Then back up.

“Why not?” he repeated, softer this time.

Your stomach twisted. “You know why. I’m not the one to stop you. I’m not judging you. Believe me, I’m the last person who would. But I can’t act like nothing’s happening when you go through life hurting and humiliating the people I love.”

You let the words settle. He didn’t move.

“You might be kind to me,” you added. “But you’re cruel to them. That’s not nothing. That’s not invisible.”

He blinked once, slowly.

“I’m not the villain you think I am.”

You shook your head. “You’re not the villain I want you to be. That’s the worst part.”

He took a small step forward, almost pleading now. “I don’t know how to be different with them. With you... it’s not the same.”

“But we are the same,” you whispered, voice cracking. “We both come from chaos. But you keep choosing to burn everything that loves you.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared at you like you were the first real thing he’d seen all day.

You turned toward the bathroom, hand on the door.

“I’m not the one who needs saving, Rafe. Not this time.”

And you stepped inside, closing the door gently—but firmly—behind you.

Leaving him alone in the hallway with nothing but your words echoing in his chest.

BURNING STARES

The Chateau buzzed with energy, still carrying the scent of sunscreen and sea salt in its beams. The walls had soaked up the heat of the long day, and now, as the sun dipped low and gold streaked across the horizon, the entire place vibrated with anticipation. Everyone was getting ready for the beach party — but when you stepped out of the room Sarah and Kiara had transformed into a mini salon, everything stopped for a beat.

Your boots clicked softly on the wooden floor as you walked down the narrow hallway, smoothing your palms over your thighs. The makeup was subtle but transformative. The black halter crop top showed just enough skin to make your nerves hum, and the fitted skirt — borrowed from Sarah — hugged your hips like it was made for you. You’d never worn anything quite like it before. Never felt quite like this before.

As you walked into the room, John B’s eyes widened like he just saw a UFO. “Holy shit.”

You raised a brow, arms crossed. “What?”

He grinned. “I didn’t know you were a woman.”

With a dramatic gasp, you hurled a pillow at his head but laughing your ass off.

Pope looked up from the couch, a kind smile lighting up his face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Pope.” You softened, touched in a way you didn’t expect.

And then — of course — came him.

JJ was leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in hand, his button-down open, windblown blond hair still messy from the beach. He was grinning before you even looked at him.

“Damn,” he whistled, scanning you head to toe with a slow, exaggerated motion. “I think I just got a boner.”

You laughed under your breath, but didn’t look directly at him. That only egged him on.

“Like, for real. That outfit should come with a warning label.”

You finally turned to him, lips curving. “And what would the warning say?”

“‘Caution: May cause cardiac arrest in blond degenerates named JJ,’” he said proudly.

Kiara rolled her eyes. “You’re a menace.”

JJ winked. “Tell that to her.” He leaned toward you just enough to drop his voice. “So, if I play my cards right, any chance I’m your date tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You gonna buy me dinner first?”

“Pfft. I’d steal you dinner and build you a raft to sail away with me. I’m romantic like that.”

You snorted, shaking your head as Sarah grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the door. “Come on, seductress. If you make him flirt any harder, he’s gonna trip over his own ego.”

JJ called after you, “I like tripping over you!”

You didn’t answer. But you smiled all the way to the beach.

The party was everything a summer night should be.

Bonfires crackled up and down the shore, casting flickers of orange across bronzed skin and wind-tousled hair. People danced barefoot in the sand, their laughter swallowed up by music that pulsed from cheap speakers tied to pickup truck beds. Someone was handing out rum in coconuts, and there was more weed in the air than oxygen.

You let the rhythm guide you, moving easily between groups, sipping something sweet from a red Solo cup. JJ found you every few minutes with another dumb compliment or joke, throwing an arm around your shoulders and whispering things that made you laugh louder than you meant to.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance with me?” he asked at one point, his hands already extended like he was about to twirl you.

“I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, walking off with determination toward the coolers.

For a while, it was perfect.

But as the night wore on, the crowd felt heavier. Louder. Hotter. You found yourself needing air, needing quiet. You slipped away, climbing up the dunes just far enough that the music dimmed to a heartbeat and the ocean waves became clear again, curling and collapsing against the shore.

The stars above you were sharp and infinite. You hugged your arms, breathed in deep, let the night wrap around you.

And then—

“You always sneak off when you look that good?”

Your heart jumped.

You turned fast.

Rafe Cameron stood at your side, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you like he already knew every thought in your head.

You hadn’t even known he was at the party. You definitely hadn’t seen him arrive. But now he was here. Too close. Too real.

You tried to control your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you,” he said simply, his eyes drinking you in. “Clearly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “This is a Pogue party. Thought you’d rather die.”

“Maybe,” he smirked, stepping forward slightly, “but you make dying look like a good time.”

You turned your head, pulse racing. “I didn’t come here for drama.”

He tilted his head, voice dropping. “No? Then why are you dressed like that?”

Your stomach twisted.

“I don’t owe you an answer,” you said flatly.

Rafe didn’t back off.

“JJ seems to think he’s got a shot with you,” he murmured, eyes dark and hot. “He’s been all over you tonight. Laughing, touching. All that boyish charm shit.”

“He’s my friend.”

Rafe’s lip curled. “He wants more than that.”

You crossed your arms. “And what—you’re jealous now?”

“I’m not jealous,” he said. “I’m pissed.”

You blinked. “That’s worse.”

He stepped even closer.

“I’m not gonna pretend to like your friends,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t give a shit about them. And I’m not sorry for anything I’ve done. But I see the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”

He was right in front of you now. His scent — that stupid mix of salt and sweat and expensive cologne — wrapped around you like a noose.

“You could hate me,” he whispered. “I’d still want you.”

You swallowed hard.

“This is stupid.”

“Maybe,” he said, his hand brushing your arm. “But tell me to leave.”

You didn’t.

He leaned down, voice a little breathier now.

“You shouldn't look that good,” he whispered near your ear. “Not if you’re gonna act like I’m not allowed to want you.”

Your breath hitched.

And then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was all teeth and heat and fingers gripping your waist like he wanted to brand himself into your skin. You hated how good it felt. How your body leaned into him before your brain even caught up. How easy it was to fall into him, to let yourself forget.

But it didn’t last.

The sound of someone calling your name in the distance broke the spell.

You gasped, pulling back. Your lips were swollen. Your mind scrambled.

“I—I have to go,” you stammered, stepping back fast, avoiding his eyes.

Rafe didn’t follow. Just watched you with that same unreadable expression. Hungry. Possessive. Like he’d just gotten a taste and would never stop now.

You didn’t look back.

But all night long, no matter how close JJ stood beside you, you felt him.

Watching you.

Like he already knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

I WOULD NEVER

The music store wasn’t busy that morning.

A few people came in, aimlessly browsing old records or asking if you had aux cables. The place always smelled like vinyl and dust, and the hum of the ceiling fan above kept the air from getting too heavy. You’d been restocking the cassettes in the back when the little bell on the front door rang.

“Hey, welcome in,” you called out over your shoulder without really looking. Your fingers continued shifting through a disorganized pile of tapes.

Silence.

You turned.

And froze.

There, standing in the middle of the store like he belonged in another world entirely, was Rafe Cameron.

And he was holding a bouquet.

It wasn’t a small, gas station arrangement either. It was large and beautiful — too many deep red roses, eucalyptus, something else that looked expensive and probably wasn’t even local. Wrapped in dark brown paper and tied with a black ribbon. The kind of flowers no one in your life had ever given you.

He wore a dark t-shirt and loose jeans, one hand tucked in his pocket, his jaw sharp and his expression unreadable.

You blinked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” he said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“At my job?” Your voice edged toward a whisper. You glanced toward the front door like someone might walk in and see this happening. “Rafe—”

“I wanted to bring you something.”

He took a few steps closer and held out the flowers.

You didn’t move.

“Is it some kind of joke?”

“No,” he said, voice steady. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

You couldn’t answer. Because no — he didn’t. He looked serious. Too serious. His face was calm, but his eyes burned, locked onto you like a laser. You took the flowers from him slowly, still watching him like he might do something impulsive.

“They’re… pretty,” you said, uncertain. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

You placed them gently on the counter. “Why?”

He smiled, slow and strange. “Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“Last night—” he started, and stopped. “You looked so good. I couldn’t stop watching you. And when you kissed me—”

“I didn’t kiss you, Rafe,” you interrupted, voice trembling slightly. “You kissed me.”

“And you didn’t stop me,” he said, that grin widening for just a second before fading. “You could’ve shoved me away. Slapped me. Screamed. You didn’t.”

You hesitated. Your heart was beating faster now.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” you said slowly, stepping back behind the counter like it might offer protection. “But this can’t happen. You showing up here? With flowers? That’s not… you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t raised — if anything, it dropped lower. “You think that’s not me? You don’t know what I’d do to keep you. I’d give up everything else. I’d cut people out. I don’t need anyone.”

You stared at him. “You’re scaring me.”

His brows drew together. “Why? I’m being honest.”

“No, you’re being intense.”

He took another step forward, voice tightening. “You don’t get it. Whatever wrong I do — whatever fucked up shit I get into — I’d never hurt you. Ever.”

The way he said it made the air feel thinner.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was talking to himself now. “Your friends? They hate me. I know. That’s fine. I’d still burn everything down just to be close to you.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The words were too big. The silence between you grew louder.

Then—softly, like a switch flipping—his voice shifted.

“You looked so sweet behind that counter,” he murmured, gaze dragging over you, slower this time. “Like you didn’t even know how hot you are. All innocent with your little name tag and messy hair.”

You took a shaky breath.

“I could fuck you right here,” he whispered. “I could make you forget why you hate me.”

Your hands clenched into fists against the counter.

“But I won’t,” he added, stepping back a little. “Because you’re not ready.”

That was almost worse.

You didn’t know what to say.

He looked down for a moment, then up again, softer — but not safer.

“I know I’m not easy,” he said. “I’m not trying to be.”

He paused. His eyes searched yours with something real, something twisted and honest.

“But I’d never lay a hand on you. I’d never scare you on purpose. I’d never be rough unless you asked me to be.”

You exhaled sharply, your chest too tight.

“I’d give you everything,” he said, almost under his breath. “Everything I’ve got. And I wouldn’t care who I had to hurt for it — as long as it wasn’t you.”

A few beats passed in silence. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.

Then, as if it was perfectly normal, he nodded to the flowers.

“Put them in water, okay? They’re fresh.”

And just like that, he turned and walked out — the bell chiming softly behind him.

You stood frozen for a long time, hands trembling, heart caught somewhere between thrill and fear.

You weren’t sure what just happened.

But you knew it wasn’t over.

Not even close.

WRONG DIRECTION

The sun was soft on your skin — not harsh like midday, just warm enough to make your arms glow, stretched out on the faded towel beneath you. You’d come out here for yourself today. Just a quiet hour before going back to everything: work, the Chateau, the Pogues. You hadn’t even brought your phone, which was probably a mistake — but you were too tired to care.

You tugged your sunglasses down and exhaled, letting the sound of gentle waves and distant kids laughing lull you into a near nap. Your limbs were loose, your skin buzzed with sun. You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be this still.

Until you heard the crunch of footsteps in the sand behind you.

You turned your head lazily at first, expecting some tourist or someone asking to borrow sunscreen.

But then you heard his voice.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.”

You sat up quickly, heartbeat ticking faster before your brain even caught up.

Rafe.

He looked casual — in board shorts and a white tee that clung to his chest just slightly from the heat. His hair was damp like he’d just been in the water, but the moment he locked eyes with you, there was nothing relaxed about the way he watched you. He didn’t smile like a jerk or try to be cocky. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at you like you were the only person on the whole beach.

You cleared your throat and pulled your sunglasses off.

“Jesus. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to. I just… saw you from the other end.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Your towel was too small to look dignified sitting up, so you adjusted your posture, covering your legs and brushing sand off your chest. His eyes flicked down for half a second, but when they returned to yours, they were steady.

“You always come here to tan alone?” he asked, a quiet little teasing note in his voice.

“Sometimes,” you shrugged. “Didn’t know I needed permission.”

His smile twitched. “You don’t.”

He looked out at the ocean for a beat before glancing back. “I was gonna head home soon. Thought maybe you’d want to come over.”

You raised a brow.

“To your house?” you asked slowly.

“Yeah. Just to watch something. Hang out.”

You laughed once under your breath, not unkindly. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going over to Tannyhill with you.”

His smile didn’t fade. He stepped a little closer, voice softer. “You don’t have to stay long. If it gets weird, I’ll take you straight home. No pressure. I just thought—” his fingers flexed slightly in his pocket, like he was holding back— “maybe you’d want to just sit next to someone for a while. Without all the noise.”

You looked at him, lips parted, not answering yet.

He added, a little quieter, “We don’t have to talk about anything heavy. Just… a movie. Something stupid. Or funny. Or scary if you want to cling to me a little, I wouldn’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your smile betrayed you.

“Fine,” you muttered after a pause. “But if Sarah sees me in that house—”

“She won’t,” he said quickly. “She’s out with Wheezie, I think. You’ll be in and out before they even show up.”

You gave him one last skeptical look, but when you stood and shook the sand off your towel, Rafe grabbed it before you could fold it and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't say anything, but the small gesture made something flutter in your chest you tried to ignore.

The room was darker than you expected — cozy, even. Rafe’s room wasn’t what you imagined: clean, neat, a little cold, but there were worn corners, personal touches, signs of a boy who didn’t know what to do with comfort. He handed you a bottle of water and settled beside you on the bed, remote in hand.

The movie was something mindless. You forgot the title halfway through. You were too aware of how close he was sitting — not touching, but near enough that you could feel the warmth of his arm. Every now and then, he’d glance at you sideways. You’d pretend not to notice.

Half an hour in, he turned to you, elbow propped behind his head.

“You know you’re really fucking beautiful, right?”

You gave him a dry look. “That’s subtle.”

“I mean it,” he said, quieter now. “Even when you’re annoyed with me. Especially then.”

You tried to look away, but he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping.

“I think about kissing you every damn day. Do you know what that feels like?”

You swallowed.

“Rafe—”

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said quickly. “I just… I want you to know I mean it. I meant everything I said at the store. I don’t care what I’ve done, who hates me, how fucked up everything is — you are the only thing that makes me feel like I have something to lose.”

Your breath hitched.

“Rafe…” you whispered again, but this time, there was no sharpness in it. Just hesitation. Vulnerability.

And he saw it.

His hand came up gently, fingers brushing your jaw, then your cheek. He didn’t rush the moment — just held you there like he’d been dreaming about it for years.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said softly. “Not even if you walked away right now. But I swear, if you stay... I’ll spend every second proving you don’t have to be afraid with me.”

You didn’t answer — not with words.

Instead, you leaned forward, slow and unsure, your forehead barely touching his. He didn’t move. He let you come to him. When your lips finally met, it wasn’t urgent or messy — just real. His kiss was warm and deliberate, like he’d been craving the taste of you, but he was afraid if he pushed too far, you’d vanish.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your skin.

You kissed him again. This time deeper. And he exhaled like it was the first full breath he’d taken in days.

It was just a kiss. But it felt like a turning point.

And for once, you didn’t pull away.

“Tell me you want this,” he muttered, mouth hovering over the spot just below your bellybutton. “Tell me you want me.”

You moaned, threading your fingers into his hair. “I want you.”

“Louder.” He kissed lower. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I want you, Rafe.” You gasped when his mouth hit the inside of your thigh. “I want you so fucking bad.”

That was enough.

His tongue was on you a second later — slow, skillful, filthy. He moaned into you like you were his last fucking meal. His grip was bruising on your thighs, dragging you closer, grinding you into his face with a kind of frantic reverence.

And when you came, shaking and breathless, his eyes stayed locked on yours — watching, claiming.

“Look at me when you fall apart. That’s it, baby. Let me see what I do to you.”

You barely had time to recover before he was kissing up your body again, lips slick, voice thick.

“You still want to stop?” he whispered.

You shook your head. “No. Please.”

He kissed you like he’d never stop.

You helped him out of his sweats — then he was over you, between your legs, eyes wild and full of everything he couldn’t say.

“You know what I am,” he muttered. “You know I’d ruin this whole fucking island if they touched you.”

You kissed him hard.

“I don’t care.”

He pushed into you slow — thick and deep — and both of you groaned like it physically hurt to be that close. His body shook with the restraint it took not to slam into you all at once.

“Fuck. You feel like heaven,” he hissed, forehead against yours.

You grabbed his hips. “Then take it. Take all of it.”

And he did.

Rafe fucked you like he needed to carve himself into your skin — hips snapping against yours, filthy promises spilling from his lips.

“I’ll kill for you.” “You were made for me.” “No one’s ever gonna touch you again. No one gets to see you like this but me.”

"Oh God" you scream. Feeling absolutely every inch of him growing harder and thiker inside you.

"You love how a fuck you, huh?" he kisses you harder "me cock deep inside you, giving it to you harder every time"

Every single dirty little word that came out of his tongue only made you wetter, and. that made him even harder.

"Maybe I should cum in you, what do you think?" he whispered "spill all my cum deep inside you so you're dripping every time for me, so every time JJ or any fuckying loser even smells you, they'll smeel me, that this pussy is mine"

While he was saying all this, he kept thrusting so hard, as if sticking it in you hard would make you stay with him forever. His thick cock was hitting every spot inside you.

WONDER

It started with the beach.

A week after that night in his bed, the two of you crossed paths again — like gravity pulling two doomed stars into the same orbit. You didn’t plan it. You were just walking along the dunes with your friends, the sunlight painting your skin, your sunglasses low on your nose.

Then you saw him. Standing under the pier, hands in his pockets, staring at you like a man starved.

You knew you shouldn’t have gone to him. Not with Sarah sitting ten feet away, not with JJ sprawled on a towel cracking jokes, not with Pope and John B shouting about a wave they were going to ride.

But you did.

You slipped away like you always did. Quiet. Breathless.

And Rafe was waiting behind one of the support beams, grabbing your wrist the second you were close enough, yanking you into the shadowed space between the pillars.

“Missed you,” he murmured, lips already dragging along your throat, his hand slipping under your bikini bottoms without preamble, his breath hot. “You know what I want.”

And god help you, you wanted it too.

You always did.

Then it was the bathroom at The Wreck. Then it was his truck behind the dunes after dark. Then it was the back of the music store during your shift — the door locked, his palm over your mouth to muffle the sounds you made.

You didn’t know how it became routine. Just that it did.

That every time you locked eyes, something in you clicked open. And something in him cracked.

You knew it was dangerous. You knew someone would catch on.

But every time Rafe whispered, “Mine,” against your skin — every time his hands gripped your hips like they were the only things keeping him sane — you forgot how to say no.

You forgot how to care.

Until one afternoon, back at the store, after a particularly breathless encounter where he'd bent you over the counter between stacks of vinyl, you slumped back into your chair, trying to catch your breath as you adjusted your clothes.

Rafe leaned down and kissed the side of your face. Tender, like it was all innocent.

But your heart was racing. Not just from what he did. But from what you felt.

You glanced at him, unsure. “Rafe…”

His thumb was already on your lips, quieting you. “Don’t.”

You pulled away just enough to speak. “What is this?”

He blinked at you slowly, head tilted like the question didn’t make sense.

“I mean,” you continued, “we keep doing this. Over and over. Like we can’t stop. But it’s just... it’s sex, right? I mean, it can’t be more than that.”

He was quiet for a second, watching you.

Then he stepped between your knees again, his large hands wrapping around your thighs, grounding you in place.

“You really think I’d let you give yourself to me like that,” he said softly, eyes dark, “and then just walk around letting some other guy touch you?”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in closer, his mouth brushing your jaw.

“You think I’d let someone else have you? Touch you? Look at you?”

You swallowed.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice suddenly sharp. “And I’m yours. That’s all there is to it. Call it what you want, but this? this is everything to me”

“It feels like something else,” you said, voice quiet. “It feels like something real.”

He went still.

And then — with no warning — he kissed you hard. Not just hungry, not just rough.

Devoted.

The kind of kiss that made your skin feel electric and your spine melt. His hands curled tighter around your thighs, like he was scared you’d disappear.

“You don’t need to worry about what we are,” he said after he pulled away, breath still hot against your lips. “You feel it. I feel it. That’s all that matters.”

“But—"

“No.” He kissed your temple. “No doubts. Not about me. Not about this.”

You looked down, your chest aching. “This can’t last forever.”

He smiled then, slow and almost cruelly confident. “It will. You just don’t know it yet.”

Then he stood upright, adjusting himself like it was nothing, grabbing his hoodie off the hook as he headed toward the door. Before he left, he glanced back.

“You’re coming over tonight,” he said. “You don’t have to pack anything. You’re staying.”

Then he was gone.

And all you could do was sit there — sweaty, flushed, and spinning — heart hammering while you wondered whether he was right.

Whether you’d already become his

[ellieslittlewh0re]

ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

-

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

-

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

-

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

-

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly. 

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

[1920sladydectective]

Christmas Tree Smut - NSFW

I wrote this because my wife bought me all of the Rocklove jewellery Ambessa and Mel collection as a surprise for finishing my uni assignments and then we put up the Christmas tree. So thank her. :D

Not proof read, some pet names and choking but it’s a short drabble so not much.

Ambessa was tall. You were fully aware of this, it had its multitude of uses and attractions. This, though, you had yet to see this year.

There she stood, bundled in furs with a stern eye, surveying the tree.

“I think it’s fine,” You muttered to her left, tipsy smirk on your face.

“Since when has fine been acceptable, Dear? Do you love it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say love,”

“Then it is wrong,” She marched off down the sea of green, analysing as though picking new recruits.

You had been looking for two hours, and she had bought you five glasses of spiked mulled wine. Still she would not pick one. You just wanted to decorate a tree, have too much stollen and then kiss underneath the mistletoe. Instead, she was striking the fear of God into the farm attendant as she looked for her “Perfect” Tree.

From the uncharacteristically loud yell of joy, you hoped she’d found it. You were determined to love it even if it was half dead, just so you could leave. It was, in all fairness to Ambessa, astounding. Ten foot tall, plush and full, it loomed just as she’d wished.

“Will it fit?”

She looked at you like you were an idiot. Of course. Her castle ceilings were insanely high, that’s why you’d come to this farm in the first place.

The farmhand chopped it down, with constant commentary and criticism from Ambessa until you whacked her with your handbag and growled. Poor boy must have been a teenager, and Ambessa was calling him a spineless fool.

Then, in a flash, the magic happened. She picked it up, as though it wasn’t over three feet taller than her, and began to wander off to the soldiers waiting to transport it. You tensed, blindly handing the boy far too much money for the tree as you trailed behind her glamorous, toned form.

Her eyes sparkled as she placed it down, a wry grin on her face, “Something intriguing darling?”

“Don’t tease,” You sighed, gazing happily at her.

The journey back was simple, your wine addled mind floaty and dozing against her shoulder until she kissed you tenderly to wake you.

Once the great, hulking thing was situated, Ambessa began putting the lights on. You were not allowed on the wooden ladder, as if a glass bauble prone to dropping. That was fine with you, you’d just stare at her arse the whole time.

Finally, blissfully, you could decorate the fucking thing. Boxes and boxes of glass ornaments from your marriage and travels were brought into the room by attendants, a large wooden table used to spread them out as you contemplated how you wished to decorate this year.

Humming carols to yourself, you danced around Ambessa placing baubles and standing back to survey. She was only to place them where you said further up, your tone demanding and clear. It made her smirk, your perfectionism. Each year she grew to love it more.

Swiftly, she hugged you from behind and began to nibble your neck as you placed a pair of robins on a lower branch.

“Y-“ A huff, “You’re distracting me,”

“You’re distracting me, Little one,” She purred, nuzzling against your nape, “So commanding, so artistic, how am I supposed to resist such seduction?”

You melted slightly against her, taking in the warm glow of the lights as you tilted your head, offering more of your neck.

Ambessa left large, sharp marks all down your throat and collarbone, relishing in branding you as she wrapped her arm around you and began to tease your nipple.

Your knees buckled, ripping an amused moan from your lips, “You do this every year, you never let me finish the fucking thing,”

She pinches your nipple through your dress, hard enough it hurts, “But I let you finish don’t I? And isn’t that so kind of me? Aren’t you so thankful?”

“Yes,” You slur slightly, going limp in her hold as she tugs whimpers and sighs from you. This was how she liked it, the tree would be half done and she would fuck your under it’s great branches and then allow you to finish it naked with your legs trembling.

This year it seemed she had grown especially impatient, and started the process only a third of the way through. You were powerless to resist though, namely because you didn’t want to.

She lay you on the floor, fluffy blankets and pillows preemptively placed, as her wicked tongue trailed down your body, hands preoccupied with abusing your tits until your eyes rolled. Once she finally touched your molten core, you were already in the blind throes of pleasure, her name echoing for all to hear. She allowed you your wantonness in these moments, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

The sparkling of the tree made your vision blur, pleasure merging with whimsy as you smiled dumbly up through the branches.

“Pretty girl,” Ambessa groaned against you, “Perfect slut,”

She stripped herself of all clothes, spreading your legs wider as she positioned herself between them, brushing her cunt against yours. Rutting against you, she wiped your mind of anything other than your clits rubbing against each other, tongue hanging out as you spluttered and leaked.

Panting, her eyes hazy, she squeezed your neck lightly as you came, squirting all over yourself at the overstimulation. Her orgasm was loud and shameless, wrecking you on her search for pleasure as she lent down and bit your nipple between her teeth.

“I love Christmas,” You giggled nonsensically, smiling at the mistletoe bauble directly above your head.

“As do I, my darling,” She huffed, curling you both into a blanket as you basked in each other.

[swanimagines]

The Umbrella Academy: Imagine being part of Klaus Hargreeves’s cult and him falling in love with you.

requested by anon

Note: nowadays all requests are done straight to asks, this is my old template of posting and I no longer have their asks!

Your life had never been anything glamorous. It felt as if luck had decided to abandon you the moment you were born — your parents leaving you at the doorstep of a chapel shortly after birth, being taken in by nuns in a monastery, having to deal with beatings whenever you dared to question what God supposedly said. Everything was sin, you were expected to devote your life to the Lord without no one asking what you wanted.

When you were a teenager, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you ran away in the dead of the night. You successfully stole clothes as no one would suspect a nun to commit such a sin. And then you just… drifted around, doing work where you could be taken in, sleeping in the backroom of your current workplace, trying to avoid customers the best you could in fear someone would recognise you.

But one day, you met Klaus, and he just… managed to make you feel like you had finally come home for the first time, his demeanor just glowed with hope and safety. Something in him just pulled you in, and before you knew it, you lived in his manor, sitting there with other “children” and listened to this man preaching about the world and its state.

But the shadows of your past found you eventually, and one night you woke up in cold sweat, heart racing, frantically expecting one of the sisters standing there at the doorway, ready to beat you with the Bible. But then the familiar, musky scent of the bedroom filled your nostrils and you sighed, trying to calm down. You still got up from your bed and tiptoed outside, wandering into the small gazebo by the pond and sitting down. You listened to the grasshoppers, the rustle of trees as a gentle gush of wind blew through, and you slowly felt at peace again.

Then, footsteps. You whipped your head around to look and saw your leader slowly making his way towards the gazebo, a soft smile on his face.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Klaus asked, taking a seat across from you. You shook your head.

“Nightmares again,” you mumbled, rubbing your knees. “They just seem to follow me everywhere.”

He sighed, before slowly shifting and making his way to sit beside you. “You’re my favorite from the family, you know.”

You turned to look at him, your eyebrows shooting up. “Oh? Why is that?”

He smiled at you again, before taking your hand. “You’re amazing, clever, loyal, and I… I sense you will do great things in the future.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and let out a little laugh. “Are you sure it’s me you’re talking about?”

He wasn’t laughing, rather his smile disappeared. “Don’t you dare think anything less of yourself than you are.”

You squeezed his hand gently, before shaking your head as tears began forming in your eyes. “I’ve been ridiculed and belittled all my life. I’ve been broken and torn apart for so long, how could I possibly mend myself together to go out there and do something good, something that matters?”

He was silent, and you pulled your hand off his hand to wipe your eyes before you closed them and took in a shaky breath, squeezing the bench.

Klaus looked at you for a moment. Ben had left his side now, understanding the delicate situation that required you two to be alone. A moment ago, he had been teasing Klaus for being so lovey-dovey the moment he sat beside you, and Klaus had tried to remind himself not to swat him, or rather the air through him. But now, there were actually just the two of you, sitting there in silence. Klaus waited for you to speak again for a moment, but then he just couldn’t wait anymore and cupped your cheek, guiding you gently to look at him. 

“You’re broken, that’s true. But,” he whispered and wiped a tear away from your cheek, “you can heal, even if it doesn’t feel like that now. And one day, you will thrive again. Our whole family believes in you here.”

And I believe in you the most, because I have grown to feel deeper for you, to love you, he thought, but left it unsaid. If you wouldn’t return his feelings, him just slapping his feelings at you could, and likely would, ruin the moment. And he wanted nothing more than to bask in hope, establish a stronger bond, and wait that maybe one day you’d return his feelings or at least gave enough signs that he would be confident enough to take the jump.

He felt so much, for the first time in years he could feel happiness and euphoria without drugs. Feeling like his “children” were fond of him, but honestly he’d give it all away for you. If his family ever disbanded, he would be happy they went to spread the word of peace to others, but he just hoped you would stay with him. This timeline, being in the middle of the Cold War, being afraid of Russians… it was different. Different atmosphere, even when he knew nothing would happen. Him being able to “predict” some things had gathered the first batch of the family, which had then slowly grown. He would have never believed that one of the people joining his family would be someone like you.

And now, looking into your eyes, his eyes wandered around your face. Your lips.

He took in a breath and retreated from you, before doing anything drastic. “We should go back to sleep.”

He stood up, but you grabbed his hand before he could start walking. “Klaus?”

He turned, meeting your eyes again. Your lips widened into a careful smile as you stood up too and you bit your lip. “Thank you.”

He nodded, offering you a smile as well, and you walked back to the mansion together, and Klaus went to sleep grinning like a schoolboy, knowing Ben was following him with a smirk. And when he took off his slippers and the bathrobe, Ben’s voice chuckled from the darkness. “Well, well. Looks like it went better than you thought.”

Klaus sighed dreamily, sitting up against the headboard of his bed and looked at Ben. “They’re wonderful, the angel in the darkness, the flower in the middle of a burned field…”

Ben laughed, cutting Klaus off. “Yeah, I figured. Your face when you look at them, I wish I could use a camera. Or that we even had a camera, I’d—”

Klaus interrupted him, clearly not even listening. “They’re wonderful, Ben. Simply wonderful. I wish I could marry them on the spot.”

Ben chuckled again. “Well, this is a cult—”

Klaus immediately scowled. “This is not a cult, how many times—”

“This is most definitely a cult.”

Klaus sighed and dramatically slid to lie down, turning his back on Ben and pulling the blanket over him like a child. Ben huffed and shook his head, taking a seat on the armchair by the window and waiting until the morning. He couldn’t wait to see how desperately in love Klaus would grow out to be as his interactions with you would continue.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[l2vedive]

PLOT TWIST w. lee chan (dino)

celebrating new years, implied exes + fluff (800)

pairing: lee chan (dino) x fem!reader

note: i'm alive !!! i saw svt yesterday and i'm still reeling w the excitement AAAAAA but also , happy new year mooties and caratblr !!! i'm a little late so here's something before january ends <3

you’re wandering through times square on a crisp december evening, the air electric with the promise of a new year. neon lights paint the streets in a swirl of watercolours, and the distant murmur of excited voices fills the air. you tuck your hands into the pockets of your coat, your breath visible in the cold, when you spot a familiar figure standing just a few metres away.

it feels like time stops.

it’s chan.

you haven’t seen him in five years—not since the two of you broke up. back then, you were young, unsure, and overwhelmed by the weight of trying to make life work. but now, as your eyes meet across the bustling square, something shifts. he looks older, sharper somehow, but his smile—the one that always lit up your world—spreads across his face when he recognises you.

“oh my god,” he says, almost breathless, as he steps forward. “is it really you?”

your heart races. you smile, mirroring his disbelief. “chan! i—what are the odds?”

neither of you hesitates. you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around each other in a hug that feels both familiar and new. there’s no awkwardness, no hesitation—just warmth.

“you look...” he says when you pull back, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory. “wow. you look as good as the day i still had you.”

“so do you,” you reply, laughing softly. your heart blooms at his comment and you try to push that funny feeling down. “it’s been ages. how are you?”

“better now,” he admits, his cheeks reddening—not just from the cold. “are you, perhaps, busy ? or do you have time to catch up?”

“oh! not at all,” you say, surprising even yourself with how easily the words come. “i'd love to.”

soon, the two of you are walking through central park, the city’s noise fading into the background as the quiet beauty of the park surrounds you. snow dusts the ground, and the bare branches of the trees reach up towards the night sky.

“so, what’s new?” he asks, glancing at you with a soft smile.

you laugh. “that’s a loaded question. i finished university, started working. nothing too glamorous, but it’s good. what about you?”

“same, really. i’m in music production now,” he says. “it’s been kind of challenging, but worth it.”

there’s a pause, comfortable yet heavy with the elephant in the room waiting to be addressed.

it comes like whiplash.

“i’ve thought about you,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “over the years. more than i should’ve, probably.”

your chest tightens. “me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i always wondered how you were doing, if you were happy.”

he stops walking, turning to face you. “i am. but right now, being here with you... it feels like a piece of something i didn’t realise was missing just clicked back into place.”

the vulnerability in his voice takes you by surprise, but you don’t shy away from it. instead, you take his hand, your fingers cold against his warmth.

“i’ve missed you,” you say honestly.

the two of you continue talking, sharing stories of the past five years—mistakes, triumphs, and everything in between. as the hours slip by, the conversation feels effortless, as though no time has passed at all.

eventually, you find yourselves back in times square, where the energy is even more palpable. the countdown is minutes away, and the crowd surges around you, buzzing with anticipation.

chan turns to you, his face illuminated by the flashing lights. “this feels surreal,” he says, his voice barely audible over the noise.

“i know,” you reply. “but in the best way.”

the countdown begins.

“ten...”

he takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“nine...”

you glance up at him, your heart pounding.

“eight...”

his eyes search yours, soft and full of something unspoken.

“seven...”

“can i—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“six...”

“yes,” you whisper.

“five...”

he leans in, his breath warm against your cold skin.

“four...”

your eyes flutter shut.

“three...”

his lips brush yours, tentative and soft.

“two...”

the kiss deepens, and everything else fades away—the noise, the crowd, the cold.

“one...”

the crowd erupts into cheers, confetti raining down, but all you can focus on is him and the promise of a future you both dreamed of, something familiar, yet different.

when you pull back, he’s smiling, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “so,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet hope. “where do we go from here?”

you smile, taking his hand. “wherever we want.”

you don’t say it aloud, but you both know: this is the start of something new. or perhaps, something familiar, rediscovered and revisited.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[cailinsblog]

Autumn in Monaco- lando norris

Lando Norris x reader

Please repost

Masterlist

The air in Monaco had taken on that familiar crispness, signaling the arrival of fall, even in this glamorous coastal city. The leaves on the trees lining the quiet streets had turned shades of amber, gold, and deep crimson, creating a picturesque scene against the azure backdrop of the Mediterranean. It was the perfect morning for a cozy coffee date, and that’s exactly what you and Lando Norris had planned.

Lando, your boyfriend and Formula 1 driver, was often busy with races, media events, and training, but today was one of those rare, slower days. You both had decided to take a stroll through the quieter parts of Monaco and grab coffee at a little café nestled away from the bustling center. It was your special spot—the one you loved for its charm, its warm atmosphere, and the way the barista always seemed to remember your order. Plus, the sight of fallen leaves dancing along the cobbled streets made everything feel like a scene from a romantic movie.

“Ready to go?” Lando asked, standing by the front door of your shared apartment, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. His car keys dangled from his hand, but you shook your head with a smile.

“I was thinking we could walk,” you suggested, adjusting your cozy scarf. “It’s such a beautiful day out.”

Lando grinned, that playful sparkle in his eyes. “Walking it is, then. Let’s make the most of this perfect fall weather.”

As you stepped outside, the cool air nipped at your cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The sun was shining, casting a golden glow over the colorful leaves that blanketed the ground. Lando took your hand as you started down the street, his fingers warm against yours. You couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of it all—the two of you, together, with no rush and no interruptions.

Monaco had a different energy during the off-season, quieter and more peaceful, and you loved moments like this when you could just enjoy each other’s company without the constant hum of the racing world. As you walked, you pointed out the vibrant leaves and the way they crunched underfoot, laughing as Lando kicked a small pile, sending them swirling in the air.

“I think fall is my favorite season,” you mused as you looked around. “It’s just so cozy.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Yeah, but you say that about every season. You love summer when we’re at the beach, and winter when we’re by the fire.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Okay, fine. But can’t I love all the seasons?”

He smiled, squeezing your hand. “You can love whatever you want. Just as long as I get to be there with you.”

The walk to the café was serene, the sounds of the city muted by the quiet streets and the soft rustling of the leaves. As you turned a corner, the small café came into view. It was a charming little place with ivy crawling up its stone façade and a few wooden tables outside, though they were empty today because of the chill in the air. Inside, the warm glow from the windows beckoned, promising the smell of fresh pastries and the sound of gentle conversation.

Lando held the door open for you as you stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and the cozy warmth immediately made you feel at home. The café was quiet this morning, just a few locals reading newspapers or working on laptops, and your usual table by the window was free.

You both settled in, and Lando went to the counter to order your drinks. You watched him from your seat, your heart swelling with affection as he flashed his charming smile at the barista, engaging in a light conversation like he always did. Even in the simplest moments, Lando had this way of making everything feel special.

A few minutes later, he returned with two steaming cups of coffee—yours with a touch of cinnamon, just the way you liked it, and his plain and strong. He set them down on the table with a flourish, as if he were presenting the most luxurious drinks in all of Monaco.

“Voilà, mademoiselle,” he teased, his British accent a bit exaggerated as he sat down across from you.

“Merci, monsieur,” you replied with a laugh, taking the warm cup in your hands and feeling the heat seep through your fingers.

You both sat there, sipping your coffee and watching the world go by outside the window. The leaves continued to fall, swirling in the gentle breeze, and you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect moment. The kind of moment that made you pause and appreciate how lucky you were to have someone like Lando in your life.

“This is nice,” Lando said after a while, his voice soft. “I feel like we don’t get enough of this.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were warm and filled with the same contentment you felt. “Yeah, I love these quiet mornings with you.”

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his again. “I know it’s hard with how busy things can get sometimes, but I really love doing normal things with you. Like this.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Me too, Lando. It’s the little moments that make everything else worth it.”

He smiled, a genuine, soft smile that melted you completely. “You always know exactly what to say.”

The two of you spent the next hour chatting about everything and nothing—about his upcoming races, about the plans you had for the rest of the fall season, and about how much you were both looking forward to the holidays. Every now and then, Lando would make a joke, or you’d laugh about some old memory, and it felt like time had slowed down, giving you both the chance to simply enjoy being together.

Eventually, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the café began to fill with more people, you both decided it was time to head home. Lando insisted on paying, of course, and after saying goodbye to the barista, you stepped back out into the cool afternoon air.

As you walked hand in hand back through the quiet streets, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Being with Lando, sharing these simple moments, was everything you could have ever hoped for.

Back at the apartment, the warmth enveloped you once again, and as you settled onto the couch, Lando pulled you close, wrapping his arm around you. Outside, the autumn leaves continued to fall, painting the world in golden hues, but inside, everything felt just right.

“Thank you for today,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for always being my favorite part of it.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, with the world quiet and peaceful outside, you knew that these little moments, shared with Lando, were what made life so beautiful.

[sgiandubh]

Landcon Paris 7: the logistics

I said it before, I will say it again: it's not exactly for the cast that I reluctantly (at first) embraced the idea to give in and go to the Landcon, this year. I first and foremost went for the people I was very curious to meet and hug. And I also went there because I do believe that your fandom's experience is not complete until you watch its dynamics - but about this, in a separate, concluding post.

There seems to be a consensus about Landcon's logistics being the stuff nightmares are probably made of, and I can absolutely confirm this. I have written yesterday about the little legal arrangements that to me prove the organizers' first and foremost objective is the maximization of profits, sometimes at the expense of common sense or empathy itself. Because let's be clear, for once: Landcon's honchos are not exactly born yesterday. This is the seventh edition of this event, which by the way is the only official, licensed OL fan convention. By now, they should have a pretty clear idea about their audience/clientele, which is, as far as I could see, mainly composed by mature women, many of which had just arrived in Courbevoie after sometimes exhausting mid- to long courier flights or grueling train rides or drives. That means they left home the day before or pretty early in the morning and were sometimes unable to check-in to their hotels or accommodations before the allotted time window for registering, taking their bracelets and buying whatever extras were still available for sale (almost all of them).

The venue is definitely not the problem here, except perhaps for the unapologetic Brutalist eyesore that is everything but glamorous. Seen from the curb, it could be anything: a hospital, a faculty, one of those non-descript local government office buildings, an insurance company's headquarters. But once inside, I found the Centre Evénementiel to be just one of those multi-purpose spaces that I do know so well from my other, real life: a pretty intuitive to navigate, rather clean and safe affair. The Courbevoie Municipality could easily organize there a minor European summit, for example.

However, I find it absolutely unacceptable to have a Reduced Mobility Zone that was just a half-dozen of very basic pliable chairs, scattered haphazardly in a side area of the main hall, that was not properly designated, nor signaled as such. You had to be a regular and know there was also a special designated line for Reduced Mobility/Difficulty Standing attendees, people who are easily overwhelmed by the colossal hullaballoo of screaming, shouting, shushing ladies. The flow seemed endless and very much decided to get those bracelets at Mach 4 speed, which made everything look more like an Oriental bazaar, than an effective, well-oiled machine worth the rather steep ticket fees. Same goes for all the rest of the already tired people: rest or simply comfortably waiting for your sweating, swearing and grumpy party was not in order, you got the pump up the jam and move it, move it. Ugh. Such an eyeroll and so easy to address, with a bit of extra care.

I also found it very questionable to limit the staff's special needs assistance offer to the extras' moments only, cutting the Reduced Mobility attendees from their +1 friends. And the situation in the main auditorium wasn't any better, so to speak. The lady who sat on my right was visually impaired and used one of those telescopic walking sticks that you just cannot see while running around like a headless chicken to get your pics. I kept on being terrorized either by the idea of stumbling on it - imagine a pachyderm plunging in slow motion like a felled sequoia tree, IN THE DARK - or falling on her. The struggle was real, while at the very same time the panel was droning on and business as usual.

Except for the tchotchkes for sale area which was seriously clogging the space dedicated to the extras' lines, there was nothing else on offer. Not a single bottle of Evian, not a slice of one euro greasy pizza Margherita (wee joke: there are no one euro pizza slices in our old and mercantile land). To be completely honest, they did have three food trucks outside (reheated, microwaved fried chicken/squishy hot dogs with violently colored sauces and the infamous Pizza Tony - all for the price of a kidney transplant) and huge garbage bins to accommodate the ditched leftovers. But no sitting lunch area or even those sorry standing tables you sometimes see in hotels, in front of their meeting areas. Classy: I was just trying to piteously cope with a stubborn chicken strip while standing near a full ashtray, just as C was gracefully sashaying through the main entrance (and being almost one hour late!), at less than six feet from me. Embarrassing does not even start to cover it. A diva slides by and you look like a carnivorous beast, trying to feed yourself, while smoking and gossiping at the same time. One of those moments you're probably sorry to be alive on such a nice day, after all.

Enough said. I will spare you the cheap vaudeville of the lost and found bracelets at Registration Desk, the higgledy-piggledy offset alphabetic lists that made us stay in line twice and my flat-footed ordeal, while waiting in a seemingly infinite line of women who could not decide on what the fuck they wanted for their extra photos and autographs. And I will spare you this because at the exact moment my tolerance level crushed and I was about to uncharacteristically leave, swearing like a drunken sailor in at least four different languages, I met @irunfraser standing in line. And there was finally sunshine and birds were singing suddenly, everything was fine in the world, because @irunfraser and I hugged like death row inmates before their last meal, even if we talked perhaps only four or five times in DMs. What we told each other then was strictly in Spanish and I will provide neither a transcript, nor a translation, for once: it's between me and her only. But such is also the magic of this very strange Nowhere Land - it does bring people together and makes a true friend out of a non-descript handle. And such is, I believe, the strength of our underdog community, where people are overall smiling and warm and damn caring. And while I am at it, a final and special shoutout to @pamalissou, who knows everyone and everything five minutes before it becomes public. And without whom I would have never ever had my terrible, terrible C pic I am, nevertheless, very proud of.

Next - my photoshoot experiences, as they happened, spare the C one, which I covered separately. Sorry for the length: concision has never been my forte and never forget I am a babbling, sentimental imbecile.

[marcuspikegf]

THE ART OF BEING INFALLIBLE -1/4

Harry Castillo x f!bodyguard reader 

rating: general audiences

wk: 1.3k

reader is an ex army bodyguard working for harry for the past 6 months, this is set a year post the movie. i would assume harry has a bodyguard for some reason unspecified, and just fell for her DAY ONE. reader is struggling to keep work and feelings separate.

You appreciated your early starts, appreciated the way you could hear the birds chirp softly in the early morning sun. New York famously never slept, yet in your apartment, you could always hear the birdsong weaving in between the sparse honks and skids of the traffic below.

Coming from an army family, you were used to the early starts – having appreciated them in the early morning runs your father had you do. Your father was an ex-marine, and he raised four girls, but trained them well. A lap around the large garden of the farmhouse, past the barn and the far fence, around the stables and the plum trees.

Your sisters would grumble, sometimes loudly, sometimes under their breath. But no one dared skip. Not with your father standing at the porch, stopwatch in hand, nodding silently as each of you passed. He never yelled. He didn’t have to. The weight of his expectations was enough.

You were the third, somehow the runt of the pack, a little shorter than your sisters, but expected to follow in their footsteps. Maya had gone infantry – the kind of stoicness stories are told of. Jen had followed your father into the marines, half in time with the sea as you four joked. The youngest, Bella was cool under pressure, slipping easily into tactical communications.

You on the other hand, your father had given you a rifle on your tenth birthday, and you had been shooting cans and bottles off the fencepost ever since. A sharpshooter, you liked the silence before the shot – the single breath before the trigger, the focus in the scope that let you be five steps ahead of your unit.

Yet these days you couldn’t run as fast as you once did, the scar on your hip an ugly reminder of the early discharge from the military, and you did what the rest of your colleagues recommended you do, go private.

It wasn’t glamorous, not like people imagined. You weren’t diving through windows or dodging bullets daily. It was more like standing still for hours, watching, listening, assessing.

Your current client was a banker, one of the finance bros you had often scoffed at – a Harry Castillo.

The one who had been on the cover of Forbes two years ago, the one with the quiet money and the loud ring. A measured smile, custom tailored suits – you were unsure if he even knew your name, you had been his personal detail during the daytime for the past six months, and he had said nothing but his plans for the day, and sharp nods towards you.

You threw on the uniform you often wore, a black bodysuit with black trousers to match. It was practical and sleek, the material hugged your frame, unassuming enough but built to move faster. You made it clear in your contract that you weren’t wearing a ridiculous suit that made you look like you protected some sort of mob boss. You ran a hand down the sidearm strapped to your thigh, the familiar weight settling your nerves. This was no longer about running laps or sparring in the barn – you were here to watch, to guard, to be the last line between a man like Harry Castillo and whatever threats a man like that would have…

You weren’t really sure.

Perhaps he was just paranoid?

You took a cab to his luxurious building in manhattan, your ford fiesta was just a little too embarrassing to drive through those gates.

The doorman barely glanced at you as you stepped out, the city’s noise muffled behind the marble walls and polished brass fixtures. Inside, the elevator took you up to the penthouse floor, the kind of place where the air smelled faintly of expensive leather and rare cologne.

You slid into your role without hesitation – alert, silent, watchful.

Castillo was already in his living room, staring out at the waking city, by his floor-to-ceiling windows. His gaze was fixed on the skyline, as if he were calculating something, lord knows. He saw your reflection in the window, stepping in and then standing rigidly by him, used to standing like that.

Your hands pressed against your lower back, and a thought crossed your mind: maybe this was your undoing. Six months in, and you had realised that you were dangerously attached. His quiet kindness, the fleeting warmth in his smile – you’d taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him like this. A traitorous heart, betraying every rule you’d ever lived by. But what could you do? He barely knew you, but you tailed him for days. You knew what foods he ate, how gently he spoke in business meetings, how desperate he was for love.

You were the bodyguard of course, stoic and calm as you looked out somewhere into the mid distance, the facade of unbothered, the mask of professionalism. Yet inside, the walls you’d built around your heart were crumbling, and with every calculated step he took, every calculated word he said – perhaps not directed towards you – you felt yourself slipping further away from the detachment you once prided yourself on

He caught your gaze in the glass, for a moment the wall between client and protector thinned. Your gaze would be your undoing, you were sure of it, the way it wandered when it was not supposed to.

There was something in his expression then, something almost vulnerable, before he masked it with that familiar measured smile. It was a glimpse behind the carefully constructed persona, and it stirred something deep inside you, something you had sworn to keep buried deep inside.

You quickly averted your eyes, tightening the invisible boundary between the two of you once more.

But the truth was clear: the more time you spent by his side, the harder it became to remember who you were supposed to be – and who you were becoming.

“Coffee?” He asked quietly, almost as if he was saying it to himself. Of course you picked it up – your hearing as good as any of your other senses, always alert.

You nodded, and he saw your reflection in the mirror again, quiet and steady, yet your fingers twitched, betraying you as you clasped your hands in front of you.

“I can do it,” you said, steadying your voice. A simple statement, still weighted…with everything.

You moved to the kitchen, the polished surfaces gleaming under the soft light. As you prepared the coffee, the silence between you stretched – comfortable. His coffee machine was new, out of your price range, and you were fascinated by it, playing around with it when you waited for the night guard to pack up.

A soft hiss filled the room as the machine steamed the milk, and the rich aroma of coffee began to fill the air, almost heaven for a starved soul like yours. Sleep deprived, hungry.

When you handed him the cup, your fingers brushed, and a jolt shot through you. You pulled your hand back quickly, clearing your throat.

He took a slow sip, brown eyes never leaving yours, and you could swear you imagined his eyes ghosting over your figure in the bodysuit. A cruel trick of the mind.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” He said, voice low and smooth like chocolate.

“Anything.” You found yourself saying, even before you realised it, your heart quickening.

He set the cup down gently and stepped closer, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. “There’s a function tomorrow night. High-profile, lots of investors, press – I need…” He paused, looking at you again with those wide eyes, disarming, full of kindness. “Someone to stand beside me…ground me. I need you to be more than just my bodyguard – for a few hours, I need you to be my date.”

likes + comments + reblogs are love!

[hisui-dreamer]

where the light is dim

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

Synopsis: everyone's wandered off in the festival, and you can't even find a familiar face

Tags: poetic themes, fluff, diasomnia shenanigans

Word count: 436

Notes: happy chinese new year everyone🧧🏮🎆!! this was heavily inspired by a chinese poem that takes place on new years (which i attempted a translation of below hehe), and plus it's the year of the dragon, so now we have mal mal festival time (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Masterlist

The east wind blows breezes a thousand blossoming trees,

The stars, like rain, descend like a gentle breeze.

Bejewelled carriages and fine horses leave a fragrant trail on the road,

Phoenix flutes resound in the wind, the jade lantern’s light flows,

All night, the fish and dragon lanterns dance.

Maidens adorned with gold, extravagant pins in their hair,

Smiling shyly, fragrance lingering in the air.

In the crowd, searching countless times,

Suddenly, turning my head,

There stands the one, where the light is dim.

―青玉案・元夕 辛棄疾

The street pulses with energy, vibrant and bustling beneath a canopy of scarlet lanterns that sway gently in the evening breeze. Each lantern, adorned with intricate designs and tassels, casts a warm, inviting glow that bathes the cobblestone pavement below in a rich crimson hue.

The air is alive with the hum of chatter and laughter, as locals and visitors alike meander through the thoroughfare, their footsteps echoing against the ancient brick walls that line the street. Vendors peddle their wares from colourful stalls, their voices competing with the lively strains of traditional music that drift from nearby taverns and teahouses.

'Where is he?' you thought to yourself, tired from the heavy ornaments painstakingly styled into your hair as you turned and turned your head to catch even a glimpse of him amidst the bustling crowd.

Malleus had invited you to a short trip to the Far East, prompted by Silver's longing to explore the lands of his childhood hero, and swiftly organized by Lilia's enthusiastic urging. You're not sure whether Lilia was aware of it or not, your travels happened to coincide with a grand local festival.

The street offers a multitude of intrigue, from mouth-watering scents from the food skewers to the delicate souvenirs hand-crafted by merchants, and it's not long before you find yourselves gradually becoming separated from the group amidst the bustling crowd. The allure of the vibrant surroundings pulls each person in a different direction, until eventually, you can no longer spot any familiar faces amidst the sea of glamorous outfits adorning the local ladies.

A whirring noise catches your attention, and you turn to the direction of the sound. Your gaze is met with the spectacle of fireworks illuminating the night sky, their explosions of brilliance painting the heavens with vibrant hues, scattering glittering sparks like diamonds. Brilliant reds, dazzling blues, and alluring golds intertwine and collide, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colour that captivates all who gaze upon it.

It's a view you want to share with him.

You weave through the crowd once again, deftly sidestepping opulent carriages and elegant ladies. Their alluring perfume mingles with the joyous melodies of the flutes, enveloping you in a whirlwind of sensation that leaves you momentarily dizzy.

A glance down a narrow alley catches your attention, and in the distance, a lone lantern flickers. Squinting to sharpen your focus, you realise you've found the very person you're looking for.

Malleus, tucked away in the shadowy corner, his focus fixed solely upon a weathered lion stone statue.

You can't help the exasperated smile that graces your lips.

Maybe you should've expected that.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[ynyaan]

𝙃𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙨 𓏲𝄢 | 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𓆩♕𓆪

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝙎𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮𝙏𝙤𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙨!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 | 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: You who are sensitive to sounds, take Sukuna Ryomen to a festival. "What the hell was that? An act?" Sukuna scoffs, his eyes never leaving yours. Maybe, he won't ever look away again.

tw. description of panic attack, slight ooc sukuna(?)

note. imagine Sukuna in any body you want. I personally did not write him having four hands in mind, though this takes place in the heian era. so sukuna is sukuna in whatever body you wish him to be in <33

.ᐟ 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙤𝙣

You worked as a maiden at a shrine high in the mountains. It was established by the king of curses himself. Performing duties that consist of protecting and cleaning the shrine for the king to glamor at once he comes by. You weren't even sure why he visits everyday, it's not like the shrine grants miracles or oracles everyday and you doubt the king of curses even believes in the Gods.

Though since you've been stationed alone (with Uraume coming by sometimes), You have no choice but to make talk with the king himself. Plenty of times, you've overstepped boundaries, annoying Sukuna and asking him questions unrelated to your profession. You were so sure you were only alive because Sukuna actually enjoyed your company.

"My king!" You strode to Sukuna, who was closely approaching the shrine. He walks past you, not acknowledging your presence, yet it is by routine that you follow him wordlessly.

"There are no messages for you today, my king. The shrine here has been quiet and peaceful." you bowed your head even if his back was turned. The shrine was most likely quiet due to Sukuna's constant presence, his aura so dark it wards off the good spirits.

Sukuna walks over to his usual seat close to a tree. A seat that has a gorgeous view of the village below. You sit next to him silently, adjusting your white-painted kimono with streaks of gleaming red.

You fiddled your hands together. You recall a newspaper you read earlier today. It promoted a festival, the first one you’ll have a chance to witness. You hoped to bring the king of curses with you since you've heard all sorts of stories about friends, lovers, and families having a splendid time inside the festival, eating all sorts of junk, and enjoying the breeze till night falls.

"Out with it woman." Your daydreaming has been stopped abruptly, not realizing you've been staring at the horizon for a while now. You look at Sukuna, who has been staring at you for who knows how long.

"Ah..it's nothing, my king." you nervously say without thinking, knowing Sukuna expects a response the moment he asks for one.

"Lying will get you nowhere, doll." He says before relaxing his body whilst changing his sitting position to a more casual one.

"T-The festival, my king." You gulp, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. After all, these may as well be your last words.

"I was hoping to invite you, for I intend to participate tonight." You manage to finish your sentence alive, but you are offered a scoff and a scowl. "Why do you think I'd go with you? A creature as lowly as yo-"

"Sukuna. I-I promise you, it will be fun!" You cut off Sukuna, your hands curled into a fist, and your pleading eyes lie on his. Sukuna’s eyebrows rose, surprised by your disrespect. Regardless, you slowly moved closer to him and proceeded to softly grab his arm.

"Sukuna, please! Just give it a try. I guarantee you won't regret it." You plead once more, recalling the memory of when you first tried saying his name. It was the first time you thought the end of your life must be due. Surprisingly, Sukuna did nothing but stare at you with those piercing eyes before walking away. An unspoken cue that he allows you to.

"Brat, go by yourself." He says before standing up and leaving the shrine, leaving you alone. Did you just try to invite the King of curses to a night together? and somehow you are still alive? you count that as a win.

The time to go to the festival has arrived, and you are currently standing outside the entrance. The festival opening gave u a warm greeting with the decor, the lanterns above that gleamed red and gold. Muffled voices could be heard everywhere, and people were constantly rushing in and out.

You haven't finished admiring the outside when someone had bumped into you from behind. You quickly turn around and see Sukuna Ryomen, dressed in a proper kimono that covers his chest. He doesn't look at you. He simply huffs with his arms crossed.

"Sukuna!? you came!" You smiled, catching Sukuna staring at your lips.

"Whatever, doll. It's my duty as king to oversee what ruckus mortals have caused." He grumbles before walking past you and into the crowd.

You smirked in triumph. This night will be more than good, you could tell. You grabbed Sukuna’s arm and walked next to him into the festive night.

Shops of food and trinkets were to be seen, the sky lit up by stars and lights, and the stage preparing something of the sort. You and Sukuna push through the crowds and into the shops. You were about to get separated till you felt the man behind you grab your hand sternly. Your hands felt warm, your heart pounding in your ears, and all there was left to do was push forward.

"Mmn! This taste'm reall’ good'm" You try to word out while chewing on the street foods you bought. "You really'm should try shom' kuna'." You say, still munching.

"What did you call me?" You turn your head at him, his expression showing pure surprise. "..Hm? I called you-"

dun, dun, dun. The hearing of drums could be heard loudly throughout the festival. Following that was a series of cheers and yells from the crowd gathering around the stage.

Dun Dun Dun Dun. Your grip on your food tightened. Sukuna glances at you, but you don't seem to notice. He'd expect you to rush over to the stage by now.

Your heart starts pounding. The taste of food left on your tongue feels uncomfortable. "Sukuna, I think we should-"

Bam, bam, bam, the drums were now louder and repetitive without stopping. A pair of guitars chimed in as well, and a speaker took on the middle. The crowd yells and cheers- and jumps- and the- lights and the scene escalating in front of you was moving and everything is so, so, loud.

You breathe. Or maybe you don't, because Sukuna has grabbed you by your arm. Your stomach is knotting so tightly, and your heart is pounding so loudly it's ringing in your ears. The drums, the guitar, the speaker, the lights, the crowd, the-

Sukuna grabbed you on both sides of your arms. You try to focus on his face. Why is he yelling, you wonder? what is he yelling, you wonder?

Your vision cleared slightly. Sukuna, who is always stone-cold, is looking at you with an emotion you haven't seen on him before. His eyebrows were bridged together, and he's saying too much, saying things too fast. He doesn't understand what’s happening, he doesn't know what to do.

Another loud boom rang in your ears, and the speaker screamed, 'Get ready for tonight's biggest hit yet!'

You were shaking like a leaf by now, your arms slowly covering your ears as your eyes were tightly shut. Suddenly, someone was carrying you, the breeze hit your skin way too fast, and you realize that Sukuna was running.

You don't know how long you’ve been carried, but the moment you opened your eyes, you were atop a hill, the breeze cold and the noises muffled. The festival could still be seen, and the lights were still so bright.

You wipe your tears. A second ago, you felt as if your eardrums were to burst and your irritation would explode out of you.

"You scared me there, princess." You look behind to see Sukuna sitting on the grass next to a tree. His words came out softer than he intended it to be.

"What the hell was that? An act?" Sukuna scoffs, his eyes never leaving yours. Maybe, he won't ever look away again.

You walk slowly toward him, you felt exhausted and limp. You walk till your standing right in front of him.

"I'm sorry Sukun-"

Fireworks. A sudden, jumpscare-like sound appears behind you.

You flinch hard, but before you could cover your ears, big hands wrap around your head and pull you down. Sukuna pulls your head to his chest, his hands covering your ears, and your face flushed at his actions.

His chest was rock solid, but surprisingly, it was so comfortable. It felt safe, undeniably secure. You thought you could fall asleep in his arms right then and there.

No, you wanted to see the fireworks. You were here for the festival; it's not fair not to see it to the end.

You slowly shift your head upwards to look at Sukuna. But before you could part your lips to say something, he kisses you.

Sukuna Ryomen, kisses you.

His hands were still covering your ears, and he used his hold on you to pull you even deeper. His kiss was passionate, deep, harsh.

Your lips part, and your mouth is still gaping. Sukuna smirks wordlessly before moving your position so you could see what was left of the fireworks.

Your back was rested on his chest, and his hands were still covering your ears. You forgot to react to the kiss and were taken aback by the beauty of the fireworks. It was a shame you couldn't tolerate the sound of it, but the sight was so much more worth it.

This was made possible because of Sukuna. Sukuna, the King of curses who has kissed you tonight. You were sure your life would never be the same again.

an. apocalypse by cax started playing while writing the kiss scene; im soft.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 <𝟥

[inkspiredwriting]

Snapshots of Love

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Hey guys surprise surprise. I'm posting another one shot today because unfortunately I won't be able to do it tomorrow. Have a great day :)

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves sighed as he walked into the cozy living room of their home, rubbing his eyes after a long day of work. As he stepped inside, he noticed a familiar scene that instantly brightened his mood: his wife Y/n sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a scatter of old photo albums.

Y/n looked up from a particularly thick album and smiled warmly at Five. "Hey, I found something interesting in the attic today."

Five raised an eyebrow and walked over to her, intrigued. "Is that so? What did you find?"

She patted the spot next to her, and he sat down, leaning in to see the open pages filled with photographs. "I found this old photo album. It’s full of pictures from our life."

Five’s eyes softened as he gazed at the album, a flood of memories rushing back. "I remember that album. I didn’t think we still had it."

Y/n chuckled and flipped through the pages, revealing snapshots of their journey together. "Here, look at this one."

The photo showed a much younger Five and Y/n, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, grinning from ear to ear. Five was holding a map upside down, looking completely lost, while Y/n was laughing hysterically.

“I remember that trip,” Five said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I insisted we didn’t need a guide, and we ended up lost for hours.”

Y/n laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, but we found that amazing little café because of it. The one with the best croissants we’ve ever had.”

Five nodded, his smile widening. “You’re right. That was worth getting lost for.”

As they continued to flip through the pages, each photograph told a story. There was a picture of them at a Halloween party, dressed in glamorous outfits. Another showed them at a garden party, looking completely out of place yet having the time of their lives.

Five paused at a picture of them in Rome, sitting on the steps of a temple at sunrise. “That sunrise was incredible,” he murmured, tracing the edges of the photograph with his finger.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with nostalgia. “I remember. We stayed up all night just to see it. It felt like the whole world was still asleep, and it was just us.”

The photos transitioned to more recent memories: their wedding, their first house, and the birth of their children. Five lingered on a picture of them holding their newborn daughter, Maddie, both looking exhausted yet indescribably happy.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Five said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

Y/n nodded, her eyes misting over. “We have. And look at us now. We’ve built a beautiful life together, despite everything.”

They turned to a picture of their son, Milo, his mischievous grin eerily reminiscent of Five’s. Five chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s going to be a handful, isn’t he?”

Y/n laughed, squeezing Five’s hand. “Just like his dad.”

The last page of the album held a recent photo: the entire Hargreeves family, including five’s siblings, gathered around a Christmas tree, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

“We’ve had our ups and downs,” Five said, his voice filled with gratitude. “But I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.”

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “Neither would I. We’ve made some incredible memories, and I can’t wait to make even more with you.”

Five wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “Here’s to many more adventures, Y/n.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, the album open in front of them, reminiscing about the past and dreaming of the future. Five pressed a gentle kiss to Y/n’s temple, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As they closed the album, Five looked at Y/n with a tender smile. “Thank you for finding this, Y/n. It’s a reminder of how strong we are together.”

Y/n leaned into him, her heart full. “Always, Five. No matter what the future holds, we’ll face it together.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the memories of their past, Five and Y/n felt more connected than ever, ready to take on whatever adventures life had in store for them next.

[sunbleachedfl13s]

Your Alcoholism has Summoned a Vampire

(remmick x fem reader) (part 4/5)

BIG TW + cw: READER GOES ON A MASSIVE BENDER, h0rny dreams, very mentally unstable reader, non-glamorizing depictions of add1ction and depression, allusion to s3lf h4rm, remmick is a massive loser, reader is a massive bitch, no mentions of race

a/n: its angst time guys get ready!!! this is more of a mini-chapter, i was planning on making it a long one but decided to splice it up rather than having a massive gap between part 3 and part 4. anyway, ill try to get part 5 out asap, pls lmk what yall think your comments are keeping this fic going :p

word count: 1.8k

You’re alone.

There's a great finality to the sound of the door slamming. It was as if you'd finally fallen off the precipice you'd been teetering on the edge of for months. But it wasn’t till the waning hours of the afternoon that you realized what this meant.

Your father wasn't coming back.

-

Smoke burns the inside of your lungs, coating your throat with an ashy chalkiness as you take a long drag from your cigarette. 

You sit on your front porch, blowing tiny grey clouds into the murky air as the sun dissolves behind the mountains. With twilight steadily approaching, the cicadas began to sing, and a few fireflies began to rise from the dead grass, buzzing about your lawn. But they weren't the object of your attention. Your eyes stay fixed upon the treeline. 

You didn’t want to admit to yourself how much you were anticipating the man’s arrival tonight. It was as good as promised, considering the awful little carcass you’d found on your porch that morning. That had to be his doing, you were sure of it. 

His. It bothered you that you kept on referring to him that way, through impersonal pronouns. He must have a name, you conclude, everyone does. But had he ever told it to you? Had you simply forgotten? No, you couldn’t have. 

If he had told you his name you’d be trying to forget it right now. 

You squint, scouring the darkening thicket of Spanish moss trees for his familiar shadow. The distance between your porch steps and the beginning of the forest was just too far to properly make out any fine details. And the drooping boughs of tillandsia moss that hung from the branches didn’t make your searching any easier. 

To your dismay, nothing was lurking in the shadows. So, you flick your cigarette butt onto the lawn, shake a new one from the pack, light it, and wait. 

You sit on the steps of your porch for hours, and your confidence slowly fades with every hour that goes by. Not even a whisper of his presence crosses your path. All night, you chase a ghost that fate already knew you’d never catch. So, when the sun rises, as it always does, you find the only ghost that haunts your house is the shaky girl huddled on the stoop with cigarette burns covering her knees. 

And you realize that this girl is stupid, so stupid, for believing in ghost stories. For believing that she could be some special exception to the natural order, able to laugh in a demon's face and still have him begging on her porch night after night. For believing she was important enough to come back for. 

The screen door slams behind you, rattling coldly in its hinges. Your sleepless night has clouded the corners of your vision, your axis uneasy as you stomp down your hallway. 

He must’ve found some other poor soul to coax an invitation out of. Fresh blood wasn’t hard to come by. It wasn’t like yours was any different from anyone else's. 

You wrench a half empty bottle of mystery liquor from its hiding place in between your mattress. It tastes like motor oil, and you have to plug your nose to stand it. It’ll be worth it, you tell yourself. Right now, all you want is to go to sleep. To forget about how much you hated him for not showing, how stupid you felt, to stop thinking about why, exactly, you cared so much. 

You don’t remember falling asleep.

-

The world is blurry when you open your eyes. Your room is smothered in the night’s dark blue shadows, save for the thin stream of moonlight shining dimly from the window.

You’re lying face up on your bed, which is strangely devoid of any sheets or blankets. A bone rattling chill shakes you to your core, you’re freezing. You’ve got to stop stripping down to your underwear in your drunken stupor, you always end up regretting it later.

Your bedroom door creaks open, a pitch black hallway revealed beyond its threshold. Sitting up on your elbows, you strain your eyes through the suffocating darkness, and just barely make out the familiar shadow standing in the doorway. His eyes flare for just a moment, two ominous red pinpricks in the sea of blackness.

In your hazy, semi-conscious state, a muffled confusion is the only thing running through your mind. How could he possibly have gotten in?

You blink, slowly. You feel his nails digging into your shoulders before you even open your eyes. His outline is blurry, features nondescript, as if he was merely the concept of a person. The moonlight glints off the saliva coating his rancid maw of jagged fangs. His mutated gums were cracked and blistered, soaked in wet spit. It runs down his chin, and onto your face, like the nauseating slobber of a dog.

He pushes you into your mattress as he holds you down, his ragged, humid panting much too close for comfort. His face hangs low over yours, the air between you so damp and sticky you could barely breathe. His breath was hot against your face, spit like acid, teeth like ice against the paper skin of your neck. Fangs sink deep into your veins as you melt into the mattress. You lose control of your body, muscles dissolving under his weight. Smoke passes through your lips as you let out a breath. It clouds your face as you fall through the floor, closing your eyes. Cold air fills your lungs as you fall, flooding your veins. Your breathing deepens, smoke following every exhale. Your head rolls backward, eyes nearly following. You could lay exactly where you were forever. Bliss runs through you, slow and thick, and you fade in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep your head above water. From your place somewhere far away, you feel something cold and sharp slide between your thighs. You feel fingers flex and you let out a g-

You wake sharply with a gasp, shaking, tangled in your bedsheets and drenched in sweat. Amber beams from the afternoon sun flood through your window, dappling across the wooden floorboards. You look up at the door, which is shut, exactly how you left it before falling asleep. An empty glass bottle lies on the ground, the only remnant of what once filled it being the pulsing headache growing between your temples.

You gag, and stumble out of bed, throwing open your bedroom door and barely making it to the toilet in time for you to puke your guts out.

It was a dream. A stupid fucking dream. 

You sink down to the icy tile floor below you, elbows barely supporting your head above the toilet seat. A guttural groan creaks from your throat as you stare down into the vomit filled toilet bowl. This was pathetic.

Your subconscious was betraying you, bringing the desires you’d rather not acknowledge to light. Your fingers claw at the roots of your hair in anguish. You didn’t care, you tell yourself, you couldn’t give less of a shit about him.

Yet still, the hopeless little voice pipes up in the back of your mind.

“It’ll be nighttime soon… maybe tonight he’ll-”

NO. You dig your nails into your scalp. He wasn’t coming back. Just forget it.

“But what if-”

“God, won’t you shut up?!”

Your voice cuts through the silence, then settles. You wonder, for a moment, if you’d really said anything at all.

You stand, swaying on bare feet, and push down the toilet handle, watching the mess of bile and mucus vanish in a swirl of water. You shove your nasty, pleading, desperate fantasies into the dusty corners of your mind, to be forgotten. You didn’t care about him, you didn’t miss him.

Maybe, you think, if you kept on quelling your delusions with this lie, you’d start to believe it.

-

That night passes in claustrophobic silence. So too, does the night after that. For the first week, a childlike hopefulness burned within you once the sun set, and you found yourself sporadically peeking through your curtains at the thicket of trees just beyond your property despite yourself. Each time was met with rejection, a familiar landscape devoid of what you’d hoped for. Yet still, you kept looking for him. Night after night. 

Days blurred together in a sloppy mess of inebriation. You’d wake at odd times, sprawled on the floor, sticky with sweat. You threw every distraction you could think of at the gaping pit of emptiness that lay deep within your core. But liquor never lasted, and the cuts were never deep enough. Even masturbating on your bedroom floor yielded no results, besides a horrible cramp in your inner thigh.

Still, anything was better than facing your troubles sober. You went for every attempt at escape, no matter how fleeting. And now, without the obstacle of your father, your self-destruction could spiral exponentially. Nothing was left to stop you from drinking yourself to death.

In that first week of solitude, you played music every night. The same record you denied him nights prior spun round inside your gramophone all night. You cracked all the windows and cranked the volume to the max, hoping, stupidly, that it would act as some juvenile siren’s call, luring him back onto your doorstep. It never worked. So, after seven consecutive nights of failure, you shoved the record back into the cabinet and stopped trying. Why bother? He wasn’t coming anyway.

Once two weeks had passed, your few scraps of wistful longing had been totally replaced with bitter resentment. If you had it your way, you’d never be awake. And god, did you try. Drink was all you did. You were tired, so tired, and no amount of sleep ever seemed to help.

When you were conscious, there were always new cuts and bruises for you to find, new glass bottles lying shattered on the floor, new foaming puddles of puke for you to sloppily mop up. Once, you’d woken to find a succession of kitchen knives stabbed into the wooden planks of your bedroom wall, which you’d simply shrugged off before collapsing back onto your mattress.

After three weeks, the house started to smell. Of vomit, stale cigarette smoke, and the musky stink of body odor. Hygiene had never exactly been your top priority, but this depressive episode sure exemplified things. You were a decomposing corpse, in almost every way. All that was left was for you to die. Which, you hoped, would come sooner rather than later. Each time you opened your eyes was met with disappointment. Each time you drifted off to sleep, you passively hoped it would be your last. 

Eventually, you were granted your wish for apathy. After nearly four weeks of uninterrupted self destruction, he no longer plagued your every waking thought. Days bled into each other, congealing into a bleak, thoughtless, sepia toned daze. Sometimes you’d wake, your mother’s name fresh on your lips. You’d been calling for her in your sleep. You forget, in these brief moments, that she wasn’t breathing anymore, and you’d wander about your house aimlessly, wondering where she was. But reality always came crashing down, fueling your bender ever more.

Four weeks later, you lay on your kitchen floor, gazing up at the ceiling blankly. It’s night, again. The glow of the waning moon illuminates your tired home. Sometimes, you swear you could hear the walls breathing. 

It is then that you hear a knock at your front door.

part 5 coming soon

[ratsummer]

So my bestie was telling me the other day about Phantom wanting to practice kissing and I am running away with it!!

It doesn't take long after he's summoned for Phantom to want to kiss his pack mates. Unfortunately, he is a very anxious and not-yet-well-adjusted ghoul, so he agonizes over who to go to for a long, long time. They're all so beautiful, and everyone has been happy to help him, but the thought of kissing them... of being vulnerable in that way... He agonizes over everything that could go wrong for hours on end. After much sleeplessness and pacing around his room with a notebook (Cirrus taught him about decision trees) he finally decides Mountain is the safest bet.

First of all, he sees Mountain kissing literally everyone, all of the time, everywhere. Anyone can see he's good at it. Anyone can see he likes it! Also, both Swiss and Rain have independently confessed to Phantom that Mountain is the best kisser. Mountain has never laughed at him for not knowing how to do something, so he at least almost certainly won't be mean if he thinks it's weird that Phantom hasn't ever kissed anyone. Really, Phantom feels pretty safe that he can walk away from the situation unscathed, no matter which way things go.

So. It's gonna be Mountain. Phantom works up all the courage in his little heart and goes to Mountain's door. When Mountain greets him, he sees a skinny little ghoul (the littlest quint he's ever seen, that might never wear off) clutching his weighted bat stuffy close and barely able to stammer out a hello.

The one thing that Phantom had unfortunately left out of consideration was Mountain's height. Even glamored, the guy towers over him. He's also generally quiet, so he really just has a very consistenly... looming quality to him. Which is fine! So fine! But Phantom is already embarrassed and nervous and this big beautiful ghoul is just looking down at him with his big pretty soft gentle eyes and his sweet lovely smile and it's all so disarming and Phantom is just shrinking in on himself more and more and he can't even say hello to Mountain and he's such an idiot and he shouldn't have come and-

"Hey, snuggle bug, come here. Come back to me."

And, oh. Mountain is kneeling in front of him. He's shorter than Phantom now, but only just barely, and... wow, okay, Phantom can breathe again. And Mountain is just holding his hips and gently squeezing, and his big heavy tail is gently thumping on the ground, and he's still smiling that beautiful soft smile.

It's such a relief to have Mountain holding him that Phantom doesn't realize he's crying until Mountain reaches up to softly wipe his cheeks. And then Phantom is giggling, and his face is so hot, and then he starts crying for real, and he feels so stupid but also so safe. And he apologizes to Mountain over and over, sorry, he doesn't know why he's crying.

And around his gasps and half-stuttered apologies, he finally manages to confess. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I just wanted to kiss with you."

And Mountain is grinning so big and pulling him close, and even though he's on his knees he's somehow still making Phantom feel safe and small. And Mountain nuzzles up under his jaw, and presses a sweet, tiny kiss there. He cups Phantom's cheeks, and tilts his head down so he can press a lingering kiss between his horns.

"I would love to kiss with you, snuggle bug. Should we get in my nest?"

And Phantom can only whine and nod, knuckles white as he clings desperately to Mountain's shirt. He refuses to let go, even as Mountain stands and towers over him once more, stretching Phantom's arms out over his head. Mountain just laughs softly, not mean at all, and grabs Phantom's thighs to pick him up and wrap them around his waist.

Phantom squishes himself as close to Mountain as he can, snuggled up against his chest like a baby bat. He tucks his face into Mountain's neck to breathe in his warm, familiar smell, and wraps his tail tight around Mountain's hips. Mountain is rubbing his back, a deep, rumbling purr rolling through his chest as he closes the bedroom door and turns to his nest.

"Alright, snuggle bug. You're alright. Mounty's got you."

And maybe Phantom's entire body is finally relaxing from being so tense for hours, stressing over whether he should or shouldn't approach Mountain. Maybe his eyes are heavy from crying. Maybe he's finally warm and calm and maybe a big, cozy ghoul is kissing his hair and wrapping a big, cozy blanket around him.

Maybe he can get kisses tomorrow.