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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

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Unfamiliar Nobody

You are a witch preparing for winter. Luckily, you have an extra set of hands - if they'd ever help.

Content: Possessive behavior, Semi-Safe/Semi-Sane/Consensual Intimacy, implied (pseudo) cannibalism, Violence and Death, Unhealthy but Happy Relationship

You haven’t been the same since the ritual.

Souls are tricky things, somewhere on that rickety fence between the Seen and Unseen, a bit of practical magic so common that people don’t think much of it.

Souls are like stones or plants. Abundant, but varied. Some are rare and precious, some are beautiful, some are poison. One soul does not weigh the same as another, and the beings that deal in their collection and sale value them differently. Souls aren’t rare and only some of them are powerful.

It’s a narcissistic misconception of humans - even the ones that can perceive beyond the physical world. That a soul is considered precious and coveted and powerful by all things of heaven, hell, and beyond.

Not so.

That said, like a bit of gold or a well-woven blanket, a soul can be commodified. Reshaped and displayed, butchered for parts, sold…

The selling of a soul has its merits, though not many. High risk, high reward sort of gamble. Tempting for clever witches - or desperate ones.

You were neither when you built the summoning circle that night.

You weren’t looking to forge any contracts or make deals beneath that moon. Didn’t expect to invoke any infernal beings or heavenly apparitions with the stars.

Well, best laid plans and all that - not that it had been an especially well laid plan anyway.

Baring your soul that deep into midnight had not yielded the results you intended. Or maybe it had and your expectations were just skewed. Souls are tricky things.

And yours hasn’t been the same since.

You always rouse as the sun begins to set. Late afternoon at the earliest, when most everyone else is finishing their suppers.

You can manage stark daylight, but poorly. It hurts your eyes and prickles your skin. A deep hood and long sleeves does the trick when required, but you don’t make a habit of it if you can help it, if only for the teeth that bury in your throat when you return.

Tend the garden in the dying rays, light the shop candles before night nestles in. Say your blessings, leave your offerings, wriggle out from beneath clingy weight to secure any provisions or materials from the town.

As the temperature cools and the shadows deepen, you settle into your work.

The shop once belonged to an apothecarist. Died in a plague some four decades ago, or so you’ve been told. No one of any skill or natural talent replaced them afterwards. Too frightened, perhaps, of what could be lingering within.

It wasn’t haunted until you (and your shadow) occupied it.

You’ve stocked it up quite nicely now. Herbs and spices, vegetables and fruits, roots and seeds. Thistles hang from the ceiling and bones rattle in the drawers. Mortars and pestles line a wall, weights and measures beneath the counter. Not a single thing labeled or organized, the latter of which disconcerts your… companion.

Fickle is not the word for him, but it’s the one you use.

(And he is a he, at least according to the long, thick cock he crams into you every chance he makes for himself. Though you suppose such trifles as gender are superfluous to nonhumans. A categorical fallacy for your own ease of reference.)

You told him once, that if he did not like the disarray of the shop, he was welcome to rearrange as he saw fit. In response, he left teeth rings around the base of each of your fingers, telling you how easy it would be to bite them off. He didn’t, of course - wouldn’t - but you spent a good portion of that evening updating the inventory logs (sat on that long, thick cock.)

The shop was never reorganized.

Tonight you wake to his tongue, a dark and wicked thing, improbably dexterous, lapping at your thighs.

“Winter comes,” he drawls into your skin. His voice is dredged up from the deepest pit in his chest, scrapes against his throat before nuzzling into your ears.

“I thought so,” you sigh, sleep laden and languorous. “Felt it on the wind yesterday.”

He hums. Or maybe it’s a growl. It’s hard to say when he’s sinking his teeth into the plush of your thigh, though he does it without hurry.

For a creature without definite expiration, there is little need to be hasty.

You click your tongue when he threatens to break skin. His jaw locks like that, just on the verge of taking without being asked. This is his price for greeting the evening with you - or so he claims.

“We’ll have to begin preparations,” you muse to the inky ceiling. “I’ll make a list over tea. You’ll help, won’t you? What kind of winter will it be?”

He relaxes his bite, laps at the iridescent fluid left on your skin. His saliva, or what passes for it in this vaguely human form.

“Long,” he drawls. An unseen thumb rubs circles into your calf. “And frigid.”

You hum, can already see it in your mind. Howling winds and a silent earth. Still and peaceful, little creatures huddled down and hibernating. It was a good, warm, lush summer that promises a sweet, abundant harvest.

“A lot of snow?” you ask, fingers buried in something almost too coarse to be hair.

He unseals his mouth from a fresh, livid mark on your hip. “Da. Snow.”

Your fingertips trail over the gnarled, raised topography of long-healed wounds. Marks that go beyond flesh, wounds of essence. No matter his appearance, he will always be scarred - disfigured, even.

Sometimes you fancy that he was some fearsome fae king or warlord of hell before retiring to become yours.

Sensing the direction of your thoughts, he nips at the meat of your thumb. Draws blood the time. You hook your index finger around a too-sharp canine and shake a bit. He grunts and slides his tongue over the pinprick of blood.

“Any storms?” you ask.

“Two,” he rumbles around your finger. “Maybe three.”

You didn’t used to love winter so. But this will be your third with him. As the climate chills and the nights lengthen, he comes into his patron season. It’s helpful to have a thing of the cold and dark when times are lean and everything (even people) lose their pretty foliage.

“Shall I expect more pelts, then?”

You balked the first time he brought (more) death to your door. Thought him cruel and ruthless. Perhaps he is without you to metamorphose the slaughter into necessity.

Furs for warmth, meat for food, bones for your work. Nothing gone to waste under your care.

“Pelts,” he agrees, “skins, down.”

You trace your thumb over the bridge of his crooked nose, press between his brows when he tries to tilt his head into the warm apex of your thighs. He bares his teeth against your wrist but cannot defy you.

“Tea for that drop of blood,” you bargain.

He sighs deep and vexed. “Mistress.”

Before slithering from your blankets, though, he buries his nose against your pubic mound and takes a deep, noisy inhale.

“Nikto!”

A village girl comes a little after the sun has fully set.

You finished your tea (and bread, for the price of a wet, filthy kiss) while making a list of preparatory chores. Have started grinding up rosemary to replenish your stock.

Nikto senses her before you do, pthalo eyes flicking up. She hesitates at the closed door, poised to knock, then decides against it and simply pushes in.

You pretend as if you’ve just glanced up from your mortar, an easy smile at your visitor.

“Good evening,” you call.

“E-evening,” she replies, lingering in the door.

While you’ve taken measures to keep the air of the shopfront clean and light, it’s something of a fruitless endeavor when Nikto’s made his den here. (Or more accurately, in the room behind the shopfront, where you dwell.)

Still, she only wavers another moment, finding nothing immediately alarming or perilous. She can’t see him lounging on the back counter like a lazy cat.

“Have you need of something?” you ask.

Your easy, friendly tone loosens her shoulders, coaxes her from the doorway.

“I’m here for something for my grandmother?” she says.

You tilt your head. “Anna?”

She blinks. “How did you know?”

Because Nikto grumbled it just now.

“You have her eyes,” you lie. “I have her medication just over here. One moment.”

You turn away to collect the little parcels that make up Anna’s bi-weekly order. Brews for her tea, ointment for her joints. You’ll mix extra as the chill sets in, fewer trips while seeing her through the harsh season.

“Usually Alexei comes to collect these things,” you say.

She rocks back and forth on her heels, a more curious eye trailing over your wares now.

“Mama and I have come to take care of nana. She’s getting older, you know. And this town has better prospects than our old village.”

You hum in agreement, neatly bundling all the items in a cloth and tieing a length of twine to secure it.

“Uncle Alexei is away with papa to finish sorting matters back there.”

“So you and your mother have come ahead, then,” you summarize.

“Mhmm!”

“Well, Anna is lucky to have you. She speaks fondly of you and your mother,” you say.

The girl lights up, cheeks rosy with pride. You slide her grandmother’s order across the counter.

“Anything else?” you ask.

“No, thank you!” she replies, dropping coins into your palm.

You glance at them (overpaid as usual, oh Anna) and sigh fondly.

“Hold on,” you call, “here.”

You pass her a little jar sealed in wax. She accepts it with a bemused smile.

“What is it?”

“For travel sores, when your father and Alexei return.”

She absolutely beams. Any apprehension she had when entering your shop is long melted away.

“Thank you, Miss!” she chirps, waving, and sweeps out the door.

Niko pounces in an instant, arms so tight around your waist that you don’t even stumble from the force.

“What’s gotten into you this time?” you ask.

“You were thinking of those men,” he grumbles. You’d call it childish if he wasn’t damn near mauling your neck.

“They’re well-paying customers,” you scoff, “and more good will is never remiss.”

He snarls, but moves on quickly. “You were so kind to that little girl. She had stars in her eyes.”

You hum in question, surprised.

“Makes me think of you with little ones. Younger ones.” He’s near rambling, drool soaking into the collar of your dress. “My brood. Clinging to your skirts and your hips. Getting sticky hands in the beeswax.”

You huff out a startled laugh. “You’re thinking of babies?”

He moans into your ear, pressed tight to your back. Broad palms knead at your lower abdomen.

“Little voices calling ‘mama’. They would all adore you, want to be just like you. Mother is god in the hearts of children.”

“All?” you repeat, twisting to stare owlishly. “How many is ‘all’?”

“As many as you will let me breed into you.”

Another laugh escapes you, a bit bewildered. He’s never spoken like this before, never seemed interested at all by the women (or their husbands) that come to the shop to ease their pregnancies or births.

“You couldn’t stand to share my attention,” you scoff. Which is to say nothing of it even being a possibility. You’re not sure that you and he could produce viable offspring.

He pauses, nose in your hair, considering.

Finally, he grunts, “Maybe.”

You’d thought so.

It’s not just the change in your natural sleep rhythms. You crave the iron of raw meat and inhale deep the burn of black smoke. Sometimes, you’re too preoccupied with the spill of ink on parchment, or the length and depth of shadows.

Subtle things, perhaps. A change beneath the skin, in the dark parts of your eyes.

You used to ask your questions in the sun, and look for the answers in the bloom of flowers or swirls of clouds. Now you whisper into abyssal shadows and they whisper back with a man’s rasp.

Not everyone can see it, the unusual glint in your eyes or the sharp edge to your smile. For those that do, it’s something of an open secret - that you provide more than helpful tonic and tinctures for common ailments.

A serum against pregnancy. A syrup for unkind spouses. Cut cords for bad friends and bent coins for poor business partners.

Tonight it’s the smith’s daughter. She’s just come into adulthood this past spring. A crown of youth on her brow, vitality draped around her shoulders. Darkened, this eve, by deals made with her as the currency. You see it beneath the sweep of her skirt, a chain of her father’s own making, a key in the hand of the mayor’s son. It drags her step in your doorway, rattling along the wood floors.

“Irina,” you greet.

She doesn’t admit it right away, demuring to purchase her father’s usual burn salve. You don’t pry, instead taking your time to spoon the thick, cloudy mixture into a small jar.

“You’ve…”

You tilt your head to show your attention, expression open. She clears her throat, smooths her skirt, tries again.

“My father designs to wed me to Boris.”

She blurts it like the words escaped between the gaps in her teeth, looks shocked in their wake You flick Nikto a reproachful glance.

“Is that so?” you reply mildly, as neutral as you can manage.

“I don’t want to,” she whispers, as though it is a shameful secret. But there is little shame to be found in your presence, and when your expression only reflects polite interest, she repeats herself, stronger. “I don’t want to. Boris is a coward and his father is…”

Mean. Lascivious. A bastard with a heavy hand and wine for blood, kind only to coin.

You don’t make her say it all aloud, you’ve heard it just fine.

“Is it an ear you’re after?” you ask. “I’ll listen.”

You do not offer more. It is something she must request of her own will. For your sake as much as hers.

It only takes another breath for her to gather the courage.

“Would you help me?”

“I would.”

You don’t jump as Nikto pours himself over your shoulders, teeth already scraping the nape of your neck. He’s hard and insistent against your spine, where scars of his teeth have begun to blossom. You sense that you’ll have a new notch for the collection soon, already feel slick and achy with the promise of his maw.

“What will it cost?” Irina asks, fidgety.

Your cunt three times over. Your blood on my tongue. Your juices down my throat.

“That will depend on our solution,” you say over Nikto’s sibilant entreaties.

Irina’s brow furrows. “Not coin?”

“Maybe coin,” you correct. “Do you want any of these three men dead?”

She startles, pales. Nikto groans in your ear, hips jerking hard, cock catching on the laces of your corset. Irina mistakes the sound for your shop settling, eyes flicking nervously around as if either of you will be caught.

“N-no!” she answers. “No, that’s too - I just want papa to change his mind. O-or for Boris to… to wed someone else. Is that wicked of me?”

You shake your head, soften your smile to ease her conscience. Once upon a time, you stood on the other side of the counter like she is now.

“Then coin won’t be necessary. I have a different price.”

Her shoulders lower, just a bit, curiosity where she should be wary. Coin is a paltry payment in comparison to things a creature like you could request instead.

“What is it?”

“Scrap from your father’s forge, as much as you can manage, and whatever Boris gave you for your hand. Bring them to me tomorrow night.”

You fish a shirt button from beneath the counter. Prick your thumb on a needle and press the droplet of blood that wells into the smooth surface.

“This is a contract of my services,” you explain as it dries in the open air. Nikto inhales deep and ravenous, tongue flicking over the shell of your ear.

“If you take this, there is no going back. Do you understand?”

Irina hesitates; she’s always been a smart girl. That’s why she knew to come to you.

“What happens if I don’t come back with the payment?”

You flick a glance at Nikto, but he’s too busy toying with the ribbon around your throat. Patience fraying with each beat of your heart.

“Even I don’t know, but I’d rather neither of us find out, yes?”

“Alright. I understand.”

She accepts the bloodied button and drops it into the pocket of her frock.

“Tomorrow,” she promises, and steals out into the night.

Nikto bends you over the counter, heavy body flattening you to the polished wood. It’s unnaturally warm beneath your cheek. You suck in as much air as you can while he paws at the hidden parts in your skirts. He growls to find you wet and willing (always, regardless of what your mouth says) between your thighs.

“Tithe,” he rasps, sinking to his knees.

Massive arms snake around your thighs as he finds his home between them. Buries his nose in the soft crop of curls so that his tongue and lips and teeth can partake in the sweet offerings below.

“All this for a severed tether?” you gasp, hips twitching in a bid to escape the too much, too fast, too good of it all.

His grip does not relent. On the contrary, it only tightens, dragging you down to smother himself in your cunt.

“Yes,” he hisses.

He takes and takes and takes. Sucks your clit until it’s throbbing at the slightest touch. Licks at the rim of your cunt, forcing his tongue deeper and deeper. Impossibly deep, until you feel the tip of it curl against the hard wall of your cervix, the root of it as thick as two of his fingers.

Your knees have long given out, your voice but a weak trill in your throat. It’s only when he hears you sniffling that he wrenches himself away.

“Give me,” he demands, surging up.

Laves that slick, black, inhuman tongue up your jaw, over your cheek. Doubles back to swipe at half-dried tears that dripped down your neck and onto your hands. He makes an obscene sound when the salt mixes with the dried blood on the pad of your thumb.

“I want to eat you,” he snarls, baring his teeth against the tender veins of your wrist.

“Maybe one day,” you pant, “when I’ve passed on. You can have my corpse.”

His eyes snap open, a manic rage burning so hot it feels cold.

“Never,” he snarls, cruel fingers plunging into your tender cunt.

You cry out and grip onto his shoulders, fresh tears sliding down your hot cheeks. There is no mercy in Nikto, not even for you. He strokes and pets your walls relentlessly, abusing all the sensitive places he’s long mapped out. Brutal as the muscles in his arm bunch and jump with the pace and force of it.

“Never,” he repeats. Teeth in your throat but you can still hear his voice. It’s so loud and rough that glass rattles. “Just like this. You stay just like this for me. Mine, all mine. Always. My little witch.”

He makes you cum on his fingers, then jerks his angry cock using your release to ease the way. Spends himself in burning, sticky ropes directly onto your clit. As you drag in ragged breaths, he draws his sigil inside your cunt with your mixed fluids.

The bond has long been formed, there is no need to renew it. Your soul is no more or less his than before. You still shiver with the memory, an echo of the sublime sensation of your soul taking new shape. Making room for something else to lace through it.

“S-someone is coming,” you whimper, weak in every sense.

“Dmitiri,” Nikto answers. You knew who it was, of course, but you don’t think he would abide you saying any other name right now.

“Leave his order on the counter and make sure he pays,” you sigh, limping away in search of water.

Nikto may be a bastard, but he manages to follow your orders most of the time.

Irina returns the next evening with all that you asked. A bucket of metal scraps and shavings. In a little velvet pouch, a simple gold engagement ring.

“The button too,” you request.

Nikto, raven-shaped this evening, swoops in to snatch it from her fingers. She yelps, moon-eyed as he perches on a tall shelf and swallows the button down his scarred gullet.

“Should… should it eat that?” she asks.

You don’t even glance at him. “Too late now, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t look amused so you laugh softly and assure her, “He’ll be alright. He’s done it before.”

You turn away, scooping up the items for the spell.

“Now then, take this pin. Carve your name into one candle, and Boris’s name into the other,” you instruct.

“Which one is which?” she asks, a green candle in one hand.

“Your choice,” you reply simply.

When she’s done as you ask, you tie a piece of twine between the two, about halfway down. Set them on a metal plate facing each other and light first Irina’s, then Boris’s.

“Pull up that stool. Watch the candles burn down to the wick.”

It takes nearly an hour. You keep half an eye on it. Watch the candle meant to represent Boris start to eat at the twine, a slow encroachment towards the midpoint. Only for Irina’s flame to latch onto its end of the tie and scorch through the knot, the remaining length falling away.

Irina gasps softly, glances up to find you already watching. Studiously turns back to observe the remainder of the melt.

In the meantime, you continue forming the other half of your spell. Irina has been too preoccupied to notice the raven’s disappearance. Nikto is behind you again, guiding your hands to carve the woodblock in neat little peels. His fingers are threaded between yours, dripping raw power that you shape with intent. If Irina were to look, it would just seem that the candlelight casts strange shadows down your forearms.

When the candles have burned down to nothing, and Irina turns to you expectantly, you press a finger to your lips.

“Do not speak again until sunrise. When you get home, throw this into the hearth, as deep as you can get it. No trace of it will remain, rest assured.”

You press the carved wooden key into her palm. Her eyes trace the unfamiliar runes in wonder, but she keeps her silence and takes her leave with one final, grateful nod.

It is only just past midnight, but you yawn. The connection between Irina and Boris was not a strong one, but severing the covetous teeth of the mayor’s greed was tedious.

He has a weakness for fair hair and light eyes - both qualities passed down to Irina in lovely spades. Qualities his own wife doesn’t possess, but he would gladly see in his son’s if he had his way.

“Nikto.”

“All for a severed tether,” he purrs.

You tsk at him, shove his face away when he tries to steal a kiss.

“Finish the spell and then you will be rewarded,” you huff, waving him off. “Useless thing.”

He moans softly, eyes burning into you. “Useless,” he agrees, sharp teeth grazing your cheek. “Worthless.”

“Out with you. We’ve not all night,” you chastise.

He sinks slowly into the shadows; his eyes are the last to disappear.

Winter preparations are well under way.

A small mountain of firewood is steadily accumulating in the backyard, stacking higher and wider by the day. You’ve already finished harvesting the last of the garden, drying, preserving, and pickling by the jar. Have knitted half a dozen more shawls and socks with thick wool yarn.

Cough medicines, warming tinctures, lotions and ointments. You’re accumulating your winter remedies along the back wall and in crates beneath the counter, well-stocked for the town and smaller surrounding villages that frequent your shop.

Thus far, Nikto has brought you two pelts, and promised two more before the season truly sets in. A new pillow has also been added to your nest bed, a puffy, heavy thing of feathered down and cotton.

You like it so much that you bounce on Nikto’s cock until morning when he brings it to you, spitting into his mouth whenever he opens it in supplication. You drop lavender buds into the casing and breathe it deep as he lays you down after daybreak. It makes an excellent throne for your pelvis when you’re too worn (or over-pleasured) to hold yourself up any longer.

Still, as promising as your preparations are, you need items unavailable even in town. The journey to the nearest city is one day's (or night’s) walk there, and another back. Well worth the trouble.

Nikto has no particular affection for any dwelling, so long as it’s yours. He’s just as eager to travel as you are.

Before nightfall, you drop off any orders expected in your absence, and receive well wishes from your customers. No one asks why you are traveling alone at night. No one warns you that it would be too dangerous.

Nikto accompanies you along the well-trod road, a hooded figure more likely to be mistaken for the grim reaper than your familiar. He’s human enough if you don’t look at him for too long. A tall man thick with muscle, broad-shouldered, built for labor. Likely malformed beneath the scarf hiding his features below those blue eyes - or perhaps just shy.

Just don’t try to peer into the depths of that hood, or ponder that mysterious scarf for too long. The moon acts as a strange prism, waters down the light into eerie refractions. One might start to imagine sharp teeth peeking through ripped lips. Or glimpse poorly sewn hills of flesh, nothing but dark, empty space between the seams.

Luckily, there are no travelers on the road this late into the night. Any errant gaze is that of night creatures, and those know well to avoid the shadow at your side - and you by extension.

The trip into the city is no great adventure, but you weren’t looking for one. Nikto, you sense, is something almost like disappointed. You arrive in the small hours of the morning, just as the earliest risers have begun their day.

The innkeeper seems surprised by such an early (or late) guest, but is happy enough to welcome you in. Bread has yet to be bought from the baker, but there’s stew that’s been simmering overnight. It’s warm and hearty and thick. You eat two bowls with a cup of peach wine, pay for food and board for the next two days, and retire to the second story of rooms.

The bed is not nearly as comfortable as yours. The blankets are thin and woven, though they are layered enough to be warm. The mattress and pillow are both straw - comfortable by most standards, but a poor substitute for your cotton and wool and furs and down.

You make due on Nikto’s rumbling chest (prideful that you miss what he has so diligently provided) and let yourself drift into slumber.

At midday, you wake. City merchants aren’t accustomed to your odd hours, and you don’t want anything to be out of stock - you’re not the only one that’s made the journey for winter.

Luckily, it’s an overcast day and the sun isn’t too obnoxious when you venture out. You get a sweet bun from the bakery to tide your hunger while you shop. Follow Nikto’s whispering for directions, or to pick the best items of any selection. Spoil yourself a bit on honey from abroad and a new grimoire.

Return to the inn at the brightest part of the day for a nap. Rouse again in the late afternoon for more exploring and shopping, as well as a drink at one of the alehouses.

You’ve no friends in the city - or anywhere, really, for that matter. But being surrounded by good spirits and bright noise provides an unusual source of energy. There’s a band to watch and strong drink, some gambling that you amuse yourself meddling in from afar.

There are eyes on you, but there always are in such a busy place. You tend to attract very few gazes, but the ones you do will return time and time again, musing at the lone figure by the wall. None are brave enough to approach - especially not when it grows dark enough for Nikto to reveal himself.

Even he is in unusual form, telling you stories of a bygone time. A time when perhaps he was more finite than he is now. He uses names you’ve heard before, in passing, and chuckles at exploits more mortal than he deigns to participate in now. You like to hear it, like to provide him with the excess buzzing in your veins.

When the crowd begins to thin, you take your leave. He stays at your side (always too close, nearly underfoot) all the way to the inn, and is waiting in your room when you come up with the meal. He manhandles you into his lap and feeds you with his fingers, pours water into your mouth from his.

You stave him off until your food settles, and then he’s taking you into his lap. Has you twice before you doze off. Wakes you three hours later with his tongue lapping at your swollen folds. Has you twice more before you settle in properly until dawn.

The second day passes in much the same fashion as the first. Your indulgence this time is a pretty, slender knife, a length of ribbon, and a simple burgundy frock. The combination has Nikto salivating by the time you return to your room to rest. Not that there’s much to be had with you splayed out over your new garment, his hands and mouth and cock working you over until a puddle of slick and cum forms beneath your writhing bodies.

You send him to wash the stains in annoyance, and it’s returned seemingly pristine - though he gloats that the scent of your coupling remains. At least to him.

Nasty creature.

“If I get tired, you will be carrying me,” you huff on the road home.

He nuzzles his nose into your temple, a silent assurance that you need only say the word.

Halfway there, a band of highwaymen makes the fatal mistake of trying to ambush the two of you. Aware that anyone coming from the city will be laden with coins or goods, they would be correct if you were anyone else.

You click your tongue, steps never faltering.

“Kill anyone that’s taken an innocent,” you call over your shoulder.

“Mistress,” Nikto churrs into the air, breath so cold it sinks in the chilly air.

An unnatural growl reverberates off the trees. You don’t spare a glance behind you, steps easy and light, crunching over dead leaves and dry twigs.

A hand lands on your shoulder - heavy… and then not. Heat splatters and soaks into your sleeve, dripping down towards your wrist. The severed arm falls with a wet, fleshy thump.

Always so messy.

You tilt your head, veer off the road and follow your intuition until you find a stream. Humming, you shed your clothes and saunter into the gentle current. It’s frigid, only just unfrozen. You sigh, minding your step for slippery rocks as you wade deeper. The water rises past your scratched calves, over bitten thighs, soothes your well-used cunt and the bruises on your hips. Tingles over the silvery flesh of your scarred back until it’s nearly to your breasts.

Only then does the water darken around you.

Nikto’s hand closes around your wrist, draws your arm back until he can lick away the smears of a stranger’s blood.

Feast before the season’s famine.

You moan softly at the drag of his serpentine tongue along your skin. The ball of your shoulder, the curve of your tricep and bicep. Tickling the bend of your elbow… up your forearm… and wrist. Twisting between each digit. You lean into the sturdy pillar of his body until his other arm curls around your waist. You stand with him in the water like that, cradled by shadow and bathed in moonlight.

He is never hasty, but tonight he’s unusually slow. Almost lazy.

Wait, no. Not lazy.

Deliberate.

Each flick of his tongue, scrape of teeth, brush of lips is applied with the same care and reverence afforded to an altar.

You tilt your head to rest against his shoulder, bare your throat. Peer through lidded eyes at the thick fingers twining with yours.

It’s as if he plunged his hands into a fireplace and didn’t care to dust away the charcoal and ash afterwards. It fades at the forearm into alabaster. In the crease of his elbow, it looks like he has ink for blood. You know from experience that it tastes of almonds and tannins, heavy on the tongue like thick wine.

You let him lay you down on the bank, dry and clean. He pampers you on his cock with slow, languid rolls of his hips. Grinds deep, pulls out only halfway to massage the head into that sweet spot over and over until you’re shuddering apart with a deep, heavy moan. He finishes on your stomach and thighs, drawing symbols into your skin before rubbing it in.

“Nikto,” you croon, thumb drawing a line down the left side of his face. From forehead, over his eye, down to the corner of his mouth where there’s an unnatural split. He lets you scrape your nail against the big canine, amusing yourself on the sharper bicuspid just beside it. “My Nikto.”

He purrs into your chest, drooling down your sternum.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks.

You smile, indulgent.

“I belong to Nobody.”

There is a possibility of a second part. Maybe. If that's something people want.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #nikto fic #nikto cod #nikto x reader #witch reader #afab reader #mind the warnings #heavy kink

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saintshadow · 25 days ago

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❝ 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖞 ❞

𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖎

You have insane foresight, & it helps you avoid a lot of fuckery. I see that you’re lucky as well because your ancestors bring you a lot of blessings. You could have ancestral protection. (Purr) you could be lucky in love or relationships too, perhaps you have your perfect foundation for love. You just genuinely have so much support it’s crazy. Like really protective support too. Your people ride for you they do NOT play. There is a lot of abundance & support around you too. You’re lucky in ways you don’t see yet, because the gears are turning and culminating into something bigger. Trust that the right things will unfold for you & ride out the chaos. A huge surprise could be around the corner!

Your balance and generosity, you could be someone who gives to others and who will even give when they have very little. You are very caring and doting with your loved ones. They feel very cherished by you & see you as an ultimate friend, lover, etc… I’m thinking of “the lovers” as an archetype, you could have cancer or Capricorn placements or Capricorn in the 7h. You could also have Saturn/venus or Venus/nn or Venus/pluto aspects in the chart. You’re lucky because you’re sweet. Some of you could be highly favored by Saturn because of your resilience through hard times. You always push through, & because of that once your Saturn return comes you could reap a lot of benefits and rewards.

Your charisma and dedication to the truth also brings you a lot of luck. You could be divinely favored or could have a “divine” purpose, perhaps you’re naturally spiritual. I see this as very 9h/sag energy, so you could have these influences in your natal chart. Perhaps your dedication to upholding balance & truth brings you significant luck if you have strong Jupiter influence in your chart. Jupiter does rule over the law & social order after all.

You could be lucky in a new endeavor involving a partner, i felt urged to say “life partner”. So perhaps you and your person could be planning something. You’re very lucky in this plan, it will work in great benefit for you. Some kind of information or direction regarding this could come to you soon.

𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖎𝖎

You’re lucky because you know how to move on quickly. You’re not one to be bogged down by the difficulties in life. You’re like the energizer rabbit, you keep going. I feel like you’re an idealist; you’re not afraid to ditch something if it isn’t working either. You’re the type of person who can really keep it pushing w no hard feelings. Relationships/Friendships may not be your strongest suit- you have a type of social prowess that really gives you an edge in life. People admire you, they want to be you. You are really good at bringing value to people, I would even say that you’re very cunning in how you use this particular gift. Could be a Taurus, Capricorn, or Virgo. You’re very good at pushing things into your favor.

Perhaps even controlling a story or narrative, you are good at social positioning & know how to set yourself up for success. Tbh, this is giving business mogul. You’re not here to play and you’re not afraid to step on toes to get what you want. You could be lucky because of this aggressive approach to life. You could be Martian honestly. People respect you & mostly get the hell out of your way as to not become caught in crossfire or to avoid becoming collateral damage. You may also be lucky because you have a dual nature, very much serving Jekyll & Hyde. You’re highly manipulative & you’re not afraid to use it.

Y’all got the ancestral hookup, whether this be spiritual or physical. Your family could come from wealth, visibility, or high social status. Regardless- your ancestors are PROVIDERS.

𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖎𝖎𝖎

Your hardworking nature and steadiness, even when you feel uncertain you persist. That’s one thing about you, you don’t give up. Even when you want to, even when you throw a private fit or have a mental breakdown. You NEVER give up completely, you’re currently remaining lucky because you’re pushing past the imbalance and discomfort. It’s healing you. You’re also cunning af, you know how to make something happen & you’re difficult to knock out of your square. Once you want something it’s YOURS. I feel like you can also handle a lot of pressure or weight which usually results in luck for you- but I get the idea it ISNT instant gratification.

A lot of your luck comes from long term effort & progress. This feels very Saturnian, you may not FEEL as lucky as you are. You have a very specific path & mission in this life and I keep seeing like how you’re blinded from seeing or knowing certain stuff. It could feel like sometimes you don’t get to do what other people do, you get the full extent of punishment or other things- I see with this pile you have to go all in usually but get it tripled even quadrupled in return. I’m getting a specific message that your blessings can at times take years to cultivate, simply because of the depth and specificity of your blessings. It’s an entire vibe, a setting, a way of being.

You’re also lucky because of the way you hold on to what you love, & you keep it private. It could also be because you see potential hardship & heartache in advance which gives you a head start to try fixing things ahead of time. You are balanced and fair in your connections as well- perhaps even taking on the responsibilities of others which generates a positive flow of energy around you at times. It’s like martyrdom, giving something up now in order to have it given back to you in the future during a time of need. Idk how else to explain it haha

Dice divider: @kodaswrld

#tarot community #tarot online #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #askbox #pick a picture #pac tarot #pac #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot deck #tarot cards #tarot

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honeytonedhottie · 2 months ago

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shopping tips from a professional shopaholic⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💕

in this post im going to give you the rundown of my all-time FAVORITE activity… shopping! and i must say im quite the professional. i’ll be talking about navigating sales, identifying deals, and finding the CUTEST stuff that’s worth ur buck…💬🎀

GOOD DEAL VS. BAD DEAL ;

let’s imagine there’s a big sale going on. $5 for 10 basic tank tops that are so cute! but the quality isn’t very good. but it doesn’t matter cuz there r 10 different tops right? WRONG. quality > price ALWAYS, sometimes cheap isn’t a good deal if it won’t last. if it’s a reasonable price for good quality than it’s a good deal, but if u have to pay a pretty penny for good quality products it’ll be worth it in the long run.

when shopping for clothes think of investing in pieces that will actually get used. imagine ur looking at two super cute hand bags, one is $50 that you’ll prob wear like twice and that you don’t anticipate will last very long and the other is $150, it’s designer and it’s high quality and goes with more outfits.

the $50 bag worn twice = $25 per wear. not worth it.

the $200 bag worn 100+ times = $2 per wear. way more value for your money.

now THATS girl math. investing in well made pieces actually saves you money in the grand scheme of things. you’ll have go to pieces, so make sure ur thinking about you’ll be wearing the piece ur about to buy.

FINDING THE GOOD STUFF ;

when shopping i love to go to the mall or online shop but ultimately THRIFTING has my heart. i’ll find these super cute pieces or pieces with loads of potential that i have a vision for, and i’ll DIY it until it’s exactly what i want. that way i have original pieces in my wardrobe that no one else does. it makes me feel like a custom barbie doll 🎀

when shopping i gravitate towards clothes within my color palette (pinks, black, browns, creams). because i know my colors and my palette so well it’s easy for me to mix and match pieces and thinks blend easier. next i check the fabric bcuz even if a piece is cute, if it won’t last i don’t bother wasting my money.

another thing i always make sure to do is try on the piece before purchasing it because the fit is also important. i want the piece to flatter my proportions. another thing i take note of is unique details that elevate that the piece already has or that i can add. some examples include…

faux furs

rhinestones

cute ruffles

always browse beyond the mannequin displays. oftentimes the best pieces are hidden in the back of the rack or in sections you wouldn’t normally check. also, don’t sleep on the kids’ or men’s sections, they have good stuff there too!

NAVIGATING SALES LIKE A PRO ;

sales are such a blessing when u know how to navigate them correctly. when theres a sale make sure to ask yourself if you'd buy that same item at full price. if not, PUT IT DOWNNN. a discount literally means shit if the item is just gonna collect dust in ur closet.

also, know what a real sale is as opposed to a fake one, some stores mark up prices just to mark them down again. do ur research and compare prices to different shops to see if you’re actually getting a deal.

PRO TIP : holiday sales and end-of-season clearances usually have the best markdowns, so that’s when i go all out and stock up...👛💕

ONLINE VS OFFLINE SHOPPING ;

the perks of online shopping include :

better for finding exclusive pieces

online only discounts and promo codes

make sure to check the reviews for something before buying anything!

the perks of offline shopping include :

you can actually try on the pieces

you see the item in person, feel the fabric, its much more intimate and personal

impulse buys are typically less tempting

to get the best from both worlds i'll do some research before shopping in person to check the quality. if I love it, i buy it right then and there. iff it’s cheaper online, i'll order it online.

REWARD SYSTEMS AND MEMBERSHIPS ;

if ur a shopaholic TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MEMBERSHIPS AND REWARD SYSTEMS, especially from shops and boutiques that u frequent.

🎀 keep track of birthday and anniversary sales

🎀 subscribe to emails

🎀 sign up for store memberships

SOME OF MY FAVORITE ONLINE SHOPS ;

🛍️ i.am.gia

🛍️ shou shou cherry

🛍️ princess polly

🛍️ prty grl beauty

🛍️ depop

🛍️ poshmark

🛍️ pieces of porcelain

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jennaflare · 1 year ago

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So Disco Elysium is the only game you've ever really liked

I get it! It's a phenomenal game with superb art and writing, and its themes are consistent and deeply explored. It sets a high bar for video games. But there are other really, really fantastic games out there. This is a list that is 100% my own taste of things that aren't necessarily similar, other than the fact that they're really fucking good. (A lot of these are on sale for the Steam Summer Sale until July 11 2024!)

In Stars and Time

In Stars and Time is a time loop game where you play as Siffrin, the rogue of a party at the end of their quest to save the day by defeating the King, who is freezing everybody in time! But something is wrong: every time you die, you loop back to the day before you fight the King. You're the only one who remembers the loops, so it's up to you to figure out why it's happening, and how to break out.

In Stars and Time is a heart-wrenching dive into mental health, friendship, and love. It's about feeling alone, and how awful it is when the people who love you don't notice (and how awful it is when they do). It's about falling deeper and deeper into your worst self and your worst tendencies, and how to come back from it.

The creator also did one of my favorite Disco Elysium comics ever, which is only tangentially relevant but worth mentioning.

Roadwarden

In Roadwarden, you play as the titular Roadwarden for an undeveloped and "wild" part of the kingdom. Monsters roam the forests and roads, and it's your job to keep people safe. On paper, anyway. Your real mission is to find out what is of value in the area, and how to take it from its people. How well you perform this task is up to you. It's an oldschool text-based RPG, and I take a lot of notes by hand when I play.

Roadwarden explores exploitation and industrialization by making you look in the face of your potential victims. You can only learn what your bosses want you to report on by getting close to the residents, after all. There are mysteries to be solved, secrets to be gathered, and hearts to win.

The Longing

The Longing is an adventure-idle game where you play as the solitary servant of a sleeping king. Your task is to wait for him, for four hundred days. Time in the game passes in realtime (for the most part). There are caves to explore, books to be read, and drawings to make.

The Longing is about loneliness and depression. It's about whether or not you decide to stay in that hole, and if you do, what you do with yourself while you're there. Maybe you'll wander. Maybe you'll stare at a wall. Maybe you'll just sleep until it's all over.

Papers, Please

Papers, Please casts you as a newly hired customs officer in a country that is rapidly tightening its borders as its fascist government tightens its fist. This game is stressful. Sometimes you intend to help out the revolutionaries when they asked, but then you got so stressed out trying to make your quota so you can feed your family and pay your bills that you didn't notice the name of the person they were hoping to contact while going through their papers. Sometimes someone puts a bomb in front of you and expects you to defuse it. Sometimes someone suggests you steal people's passports so you can get your family out, and with the horror you see daily, the idea tempts you more than you'd like.

Papers, Please is all about hard choices and testing your moral fortitude. Everything you do has consequences. Being a good person in this game is hardly ever rewarded, but not in a way that feels overly cynical. Papers, Please asks you what kind of person you want to be and what you're willing to sacrifice to get there.

The Return of the Obra Dinn

From the creator of Papers, Please, The Return of the Obra Dinn is a game where you play as an insurance investigator for the East India Trading Company. The ship the Obra Dinn has just floated back into port, its entire crew missing or dead. It's your job to figure out what happened aboard the vessel. For insurance reasons.

I don't know how to go into the themes of this too deeply without giving away too much, but the mechanics of the game itself make the game worth playing. You have a magic stopwatch that allows you to go back to the moment of a person's death, allowing you to try and figure out who (or what) killed them, and how. And the soundtrack is extremely good.

Outer Wilds

In Outer Wilds you play as an unnamed alien, and it's your first day going to space! Your planet's space program is pretty new still, so there's still lots to explore and discover on the planets within your system. There are ancient ruins from a mysterious race that once lived in your system, long before your species began to record history. Why were they here? Where did they go? How are they connected to the weird thing that keeps happening to you?

The fun of Outer Wilds is in the discovery and answering your own questions. The game never tells you where to go, and it never outright tells you anything. There are clues scattered through the system, and it's up to you to put them together and figure out your next steps. It's about the way that life always goes on, no matter what, even when it seems like the end of everything, forever. I'd recommend NOT reading anything else about this game. Just go play it. Seriously, the less you know, the more fun this is.

If on a Winter's Night, Four Travelers

In If on a Winter's Night, Four Travelers, you explore the circumstances of the deaths of four individuals.

This is a short one that took me about two and a half hours to play. If for no other reason, play it for the stunning pixel art. The game explores sexism, racism, and homophobia in the Victorian era and leans heavily into horror themes. Best of all: it's completely free!

Pentiment

Pentiment takes you to the 16th century, where you take the role of Andreas Maler, a journeyman artist working on his masterwork in the scriptorium of an abbey. When someone is murdered, Andreas takes responsibility for finding the culprit.

The game is set over 20~ years and you get to watch how Andreas' actions affect the village in various ways (who's alive the next time you come by, have people gotten married and had children...). It's an exploration of how the past affects the future, and what parts of that past we choose to keep or discard. It has beautiful art, and fans of both Disco and Pentiment often compare them.

Other games you might wanna check out

Night in the Woods, Dredge, Oxenfree, A House of Many Doors, Inscryption, Slay the Princess, Citizen Sleeper, Chants of Sennar, Loop Hero, The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood, The Pale Beyond, Where the Water Tastes Like Wine, Elsinore, Her Story, Before Your Eyes, Pathologic (not delved into above because the venn diagram of Pathologic fans and Disco fans is basically a circle)

#disco elysium #pentiment #outer wilds #in stars and time #roadwarden #if on a winters night four travelers #papers please #the return of the obra dinn #the longing #video games #hoping so badly there are no glaring errors in this #made this because i have spoken to many people who Dont Play video games but liked disco

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eternal-evergreens · 8 months ago

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｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend. Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text.

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world.

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts?

View fragment? Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments. Fragments found: 2 Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1: Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity! If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below: Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high! Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them. Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again.

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Other relationships: Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest. You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests. Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check.

You’ve unlocked a new quest! Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure.

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze.

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent.

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.”

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?”

“How did you-”

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away.

Thank God.

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

———————

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch.

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said.

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard.

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes.

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it.

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.”

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes.

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory.

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward.

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in.

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Detention.”

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat.

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud.

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you?

Sighing, you head back inside.

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him.

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes.

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen.

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says.

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers.

…

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.”

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous.

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything.

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead.

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away.

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin.

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it.

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving.

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze.

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims.

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says.

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming.

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea.

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit.

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project.

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

———————

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minswriting · 11 months ago

Text

No Higher Being Than You - Spencer Reid x Reader

about: for all my girlies who love munch spencer, here is a one shot about spencer worshipping you like you’re a god

warnings: NSFW content, minors do not interact, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, religious comparisons, not an accurate depiction of religion whatsoever.

word count: 0.6k

Ever since Spencer was a young boy, he had never really believed in a higher power. His mother was a paranoid schizophrenic and his father was never really around. Religion was never a topic of his childhood. How could it be? Spencer had to raise himself. And by doing so, he read many books, one of them including the Bible. When he read the Bible, he didn’t believe any of it to be true. It was all fictitious, nothing of real value that could explain how the world came to be. The scientific theories about the world had always made much more sense than a silly book. So it was safe to say that religion was not something Spencer believed in. He was a man of science.

Until he met you.

When you had walked into the coffee shop that Spencer frequently went to before work, he was completely mesmerized. The Boy Genius didn’t care for beauty most of the time. He wasn’t really too interested in people as a whole until he had met Maeve. But as he saw you, took in your appearance, he couldn’t help but thank the Lord above for blessing him with such a sight. And he had thanked the Lord once more when you had given him your number that exact day.

And ever since then, the two of you had clicked.

Not only were you the most beautiful person Spencer had ever laid eyes upon, you were the kindest and sweetest person ever. Your smile radiated the room each time you walked in, your laugh was music to Spencer’s ears. You were a mixture of funny, sarcastic, intelligent. You truly were a divine being. Spencer was completely and utterly enamored by you. He never failed to make sure you were shown just how much he adored you. Especially right now.

Spencer’s tongue lapped around your cunt, taking in the sweet essence that were your juices. You tasted magical as though derived from the Garden of Eden. The forbidden fruit that was worth every drop. Spencer took his time eating you out, savoring each and every moment. His nose rubbed against your clit as he tongued your hole. If premarital coitus were truly a sin, God wouldn’t have made it so lovely.

You were whining and moaning beneath him, your hand tugging his brown curls. Your sounds were beautiful, everything Spencer could’ve dreamed of. The hitch of your breath, the arching of your back, the curling of your toes, all because of Spencer’s touch. It was a blessing to be with you and his reward was making you feel good in any way he could.

“S-Spencer!” You moaned, tugging at his hair.

Spencer replied with a moan, burying his face deeper into your cunt. The vibrations of his voice sent tingles into your pussy, causing you to whine in pleasure. He moved his mouth to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub. You let out a high pitched moan, relishing in the pleasures Spencer was giving you. And Spencer could tell just how close you were.

You were his muse, his higher being. If God were real, you were it. You were the divine entity from the Heavens, blessing the Earth with every fiber in your being. When you came, thighs clenching around Spencer’s face, he felt praised by the skies. And he didn’t stop there. He made sure to make you cum multiple times.

Spencer Reid isn’t a religious man. But meeting you had given him a new meaning of religion. You were his higher being, his one true God to worship. And you absolutely knew it.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #spencer criminal minds

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anna-proxx · 24 days ago

Text

Bounty hunters

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary: you and arthur go bounty hunting, then get some rest in a hotel and shared bath.

word count: 5.1k

tags: fluff, mildly suggestive, high honor arthur, bounty hunting, established relationship

warnings: mentions of murder and violence

a/n: this took way too long and had to be rewritten and edited way too many times. so i'll post it before i go insane. take it as my comeback here on tumblr. <3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

✮ masterlist

Two piercing eyes of a wanted man stared at you from the poster you held in your hands, once again checking the provided information.

This one was a murderer, said to prey on young beautiful women to whom he, once alone, sliced their throats, then left their bodies in ditches and rivers. Some were very young, barely adults, some prostitutes he took up in the saloons, the rest damsels in distress lost in the wilderness. He would try seducing them first, luring them in as a lover only to strike as a beast; though it was unclear what his motive was. Was it vengeance? Some messed up sense of power and control?

The sheriff of Strawberry told Arthur he'd fled to the mountains once his identity was uncovered, disappearing from the towns he'd get his victims from.

Now you and Arthur were heading North. The chilly morning air grew colder on your skin the more you progressed towards the mountains with snowy caps. You had spent the night camping on the way, and had your trip's motive been forgotten, it would've made a nice retreat.

But 70 dollars was on the criminal's head, and the reward was tempting enough to try. And luckily for Arthur, you were there with him, a young woman fitting all the criteria for the perfect bait.

Not that Arthur was keen on the idea, of course.

In fact, when you first proposed it, he brushed it off as completely unimaginable, saying that if you had a death wish, you might wanna pick a different way to go than by hands of some maniac.

But you were stubborn and claimed that if he didn't allow it, you'd go alone. So, after a few mumbled curses, he reluctantly agreed.

Your plan was reasonable. The whereabouts of the killer weren't clear, and using yourself as a lure seemed smart. Especially with Arthur hiding nearby, ready to strike before you could be harmed. Just knowing he'd be close made you calmer.

You rode alongside the river, birds chirping in the trees while ducks waddled around in the shallows of the crystal clear water. You paused to take the sight in, and for a moment forgot about the paper in your hand.

The morning sunlight was gentle, enough to wake up nature after its slumber, but not too much to the point of hurting your eyes. It was perfect.

“Don' get anywhere outta my plain sight,” Arthur spoke towards you as he ruminated, worry still clouding his mind.

You softly smiled, finding his care endearing. He got into dangerous situations every day, yet couldn't stand seeing you in such circumstances. As if you weren't terrified every time he rode out.

You weren't reckless or inexperienced. You could handle a gun way before you and Arthur had even met. But it wasn't that Arthur underestimated your abilities, you knew that. He just wanted to avoid any harm done to you as much as he possibly could. Sometimes, it seemed like he valued your life more than his own.

“I'm not an amateur Arthur, not planning to get killed today either,” you reassured him kindly, knowing very well the answer would hardly calm him.

You were getting close now, and you felt as though the air had thickened with suspense. As if there was a cougar holed up in these mountains instead of a man, grazing its teeth for your flesh specifically.

You shoved the poster back in your satchel and blew warm air into your palms, your coat being barely enough to shield you from the growing coolness.

Arthur noticed and gave you another worried look. “Yer cold. Lemme give you my—”

“No, no,” you interrupted him, your focus now fixated on the hills before you. Spots of snow lay between the grass. “I think we're here. I'm actually...” you started taking your coat off, “gon' play the damsel in distress to the maximum, make myself seem vulnerable.”

You didn't even have to look at Arthur to know he was frowning.

“And won't even have to play bein' sick, if ya go like that,” he gestured towards your bare forearms with his hand, watching as you shivered. You couldn't hide a smile, moved by his concern.

“Just take my weapons, will ya?” you said as you took off your gun belt, then hopped down and grabbed the rifle from the saddle to make yourself unarmed.

“Maybe the seventy dollars ain't worth this,” he grumbled, despite taking the weapons you were handing him.

“I wonder what Dutch would say to that.” You snickered, and decided to give him your satchel as well.

“I don' care 'bout what Dutch says, I care 'bout havin' you in one piece by the end of the day.”

Your cold hands found his, covering them as you looked up into his eyes. You trembled and shivered and Arthur still thought it was a stupid idea.

“I'll tell him my dog ran off. Just don't get spotted and don't kill him unless necessary, okay?”

Arthur nodded, and when you tried pulling away to get back to your horse, he held your fingers, keeping you in place. You turned back to him, seeing not an outlaw, not a bounty hunter, just your Arthur.

Your voice softened under his troubled gaze. “We've done this before. We make a great team, remember?” You gave him a smile. “If he tries anything on me, I'll get him first. He doesn't know about the power of my right hook.”

Finally, you eluded a low chuckle from your companion as he shook his head.

“He'd be right to fear ya.”

You smiled at the change in his voice. With a squeeze of your fingers, he let you go, and you mounted your horse again. Though you converted to pants for their practicality in animal and bounty hunts long ago, you were now attired in a simple dress, as not to raise suspicion. But it did put you in bit of an inconvenience.

“Ya should still wear smthn', don' need blue lips to bait him,” Arthur protested at your shivering form.

“You can kiss those lips back to pink after we're done here, cowboy,” you said playfully, getting nothing but a huff in return. You promised yourself to properly snuggle him later.

Your horse neighed as you set him in a trot, a lane of fresh snow before you, two lines of hoove prints trailing behind you. You couldn't make out any paths, so your best bet was just getting the man's attention, wherever he was hiding.

“Finch! Hey, Finch!” you shouted a name of your imaginary dog. You didn't even have to feign the trembling in your voice as the coldness seeped into your body. Still, you coiled on the horseback, making yourself look small. Small and helpless.

“Finch, boy!” The cold air irritated your throat.

At the same time, Arthur snuck like a shadow just a few meters behind you, taking covers behind anything he could. The snow made it slightly more difficult.

He hoped the criminal would be at least a bit eccentric, taking time with his harmless victims. Though if he just as much inflicted a sliver of pain on you, you two probably wouldn't get the whole 70 dollars for bringing him alive.

The breeze felt sharp as it blew in your face, turning your skin redder with every blow. Snow softly cracked under your horse's hooves as you got deeper into the mountains.

“Finch! Where are you?” A fit of cough interrupted you as the cold dry air scratched at the walls of your throat. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you held your breath, when finally...

Noise came from behind a rock and shortly you found yourself face to face to a man on his black horse. The recognition was immediate—the picture from the poster had come to life. Dark eyes and blonde curls, contrasting with each other just as much as his kind voice opposed his intentions. Russel Graham in the flesh.

“Ma'am. Are you alright?” he spoke in a deep smooth voice. Your stomach flipped as you imagined how many women had heard that voice as the very last thing before they died. His gaze was unwavering.

“I lost my dog. He... he ran off into these mountains somewhere.” You paused as you swallowed, your body still shaking. “If wolves get to him, I...” You trailed off and feigned a sob, rubbing your palms for warmth.

“You're freezing, ma'am, let me give you a coat first,” he interrupted you, taking off his own coat and getting close enough to hand it to you. You accepted it with an appreciative nod.

“Thank you.” You draped it over your shoulders, resisting the revulsion it brought you to have his clothes touching you.

“So, you're looking for your your dog? What does he look like?”

“Brown American Foxhound.” White vapor escaped your lips as you exhaled, and you briefly looked up at the sun shining through the tree crowns. “He's very dear to me.”

“I'll help you look for your dog, ma'am.”

He's baited alright. Now he was trying to bait you.

“But you look worn out. I'm camping nearby, let's warm up first,” he added.

You nodded and soon followed the criminal toward his hide. You reminded yourself that Arthur was somewhere near.

“Thank you, Mister...”

“Hartley,” he uttered without looking back. Of course he'd use a fake name.

“Mister Hartley. Name's Maisie.” You hadn't used the name before.

“Miss Maisie. Yer lucky I was hunting 'round here. You wouldn't believe what hides in these mountains.”

Oh, you knew quite well.

You only hummed in response, staying in the man's tail.

Once you finally arrived, an opened bed roll next to a crackling fire and a few things lying around, you took note of your surroundings. The area was shielded by big rocks from above and one side, but other than that, it was pretty much open and there wasn't really a good hiding spot.

Arthur would have to hide a bit further, potentially taking longer to arrive when needed.

You took a deep breath as you encouraged yourself, moving your frozen fingers and toes to be ready to act when things go down. The cold air was still biting.

Graham helped you down and his gloved hands remained on your hips longer than you'd like. He studied your face, so you did the same. There was a little cut above his left eyebrow, and a wild little look growing in his eyes.

When he stepped away, you curiously looked around, acting naive while still having him in your peripheral vision.

“Let me make you coffee, miss. Are you new to this area?” He crouched down to get the coffee ready and you slightly relaxed as his gaze swayed away from you.

“Yes, sir. I have relatives near Strawberry, wanted to help them with their animals. Moved here just a few days ago.” You instinctively walked to the opposite side of the fire.

Graham nodded. You took a quick glance at the knife behind his belt. You remembered very clearly what sheriff told Arthur when he picked up the poster. A sliced neck. Every single time.

“The nature's a real beauty 'round here, but I reckon it's better not to wander too far from the town. It's dangerous.”

You forced a smile, pulling the man's coat tighter around your body. You still trembled.

“I wouldn't come here if Finch hadn't ran this way. He's the only one I have from home—”

“Please, sit.” The man gestured toward the blankets next to the campfire. He was growing impatient. Maybe the law being onto him put him on edge.

“Oh, sir...” You hesitated, looking down at the fire. “I'm really scared for him, I must find him before a wolf or a bear does.”

“You won't do much if you freeze,” Graham countered, handing you a cup of hot coffee. “Sit for a while, then we'll go looking.”

You didn't like how pushy he was. But you still had a moment of surprise on your side.

Though you complied to his request, and sat down at the fire with coffee in your hands, your insides felt like a taut string, adrenaline bubbling underneath. He had you in a vulnerable position. In a place like this, you doubted he would try to seduce you—and he already had you alone—which meant he might cut this short.

“What a beautiful day, you were lucky not to run into a snowstorm,” he said as he got up and looked up at the sky, seemingly in thought, walking up behind you.

Your back was toward the opening, where hopefully Arthur waited. He would never let anything happen to you.

“Yes. Thank you for having me here, sir, you're very kind.” You hid any disdain from your voice. You sipped on your coffee, while he most likely already imagined the pale snow stained with your crimson blood.

“Don't mention it. I'm thrilled to be here with you, ma'am.”

Everything in you stiffened and filled with nausea. The string within you was about to snap—something in the air changed. The man's steps stopped behind you.

With held breath, you cocked your head to the side and saw light reflected against metal, held in a black-gloved hand.

It was less than split of a second that you turned and rolled to your back, kicking the knife and throwing the contains of the cup to where you guessed his face would be.

The coat fell off of you, and the hot liquid burnt your arm as you shielded your face, but it got him too. An angry yell echoed against the walls, accompanied by a clink of the knife against the ground.

With all the strength you had in your cold body, you kicked him in the stomach, making him stumble back. You were at disadvantage, lying on the ground, but at this point it didn't matter anymore.

“Arthur!”

But before the name even left your lips, Russel Graham had already found himself in an iron grip.

Arthur held him from behind, a frown on his face as he shoved him to the ground and pinned him down, tying his wrists together. He moved confidently and swiftly.

“Yeah, you ain't touching her, you bastard,” Arthur growled, a tone you didn't hear from him often.

“You son of a bitch!” the man yelled, writhing on the ground. Arthur hit his face before tying his ankles.

You were still sat up on the ground, stunned from the shock of what just happened. The fear drained away from your body with a chilling aftershock.

Your body was freezing, except for the burning red mark on your arm. But that was the least of your worries.

When Arthur was done, he stood up and left him squirming on the ground like a worm, turning his focus to you instead.

“You al'right?” He offered you his very warm hand and pulled you up to your feet. You didn't let go right away.

“Yeah. He didn't get me.”

“Here.” Arthur took off his coat and helped you take it on. You were surprised by how quickly he could turn tender when it came to you.

“I'm still gonna kill you, you whore!” Graham reminded himself with a sharp angry tone. He looked quite pathetic rather than threatening now, lying tied up on his stomach like that.

“You ain't killin' nobody, you piece of shit,” Arthur countered harshly, leaning down to pick him body up and swinging him over his shoulder.

“The law will deal with you, Mister Graham,” you remarked, a small satisfied smile tugging at your lips. Even though you were cold and a little ruffled up, this was a success alright.

While Arthur whistled for his horse and stowed the atrocious man on the back, you walked up to the black horse who had been watching the whole situation unfold.

“What about you? You don't wanna stay here, do you?” you spoke in a softer tone, patting the horse on the neck. “Come on, be nice and we'll get you to the stables. You'll get rid of that brute.”

You took the rains and walked towards Arthur who eyed you worriedly.

“You sure you're 'kay?”

“Yes, Arthur, I'm sure. I'll be even better when we get somewhere warmer.”

“Don' worry, we're goin' straight to Strawberry.” He nodded toward you. “You takin' that horse?”

“You maggots, I have bought that horse!” the criminal yelled. Both of you ignored him, which seemed to offend him further.

“Yeah, can't let him freeze here.”

Arthur nodded. Then he mounted his horse and returned his attention to the bounty. “I don' reckon you'll need a horse where you're goin'.”

Thankfully, the black horse was friendly. He let you ride him, your own mare following right behind once you reached the edge of the mountains where she waited.

“You'll regret this!” the man shouted.

“Yeah, that's what they all say,” Arthur said scornfully. “Killin' women? Ain't that pathetic.”

“You've got no idea how good it feels, to have those sweet creatures turn lifeless before you.” He was probably just spurring his capturer on.

“Spare me of the details,” Arthur grumbled.

“You'll have a whole audience watching you swing now. Ain't that fun?” you chimed in, feeling cocky with how the situation turned around.

“You better stay quiet, whore,” his tone was much rougher than before, “Such a shame I didn't get to slash your pretty ne—”

Arthur hit his face. “One word. One. Word.”

Graham actually shut up at the hostile warning.

“We need him alive, Arthur.”

“Yeah, but not necessarily conscious and with his bones in tact.”

You smiled, trotting alongside Arthur as the sun's warmth finally started spreading into your body.

“Alright, but his face has to be recognisable.”

Arthur gave you a little silent look, and you knew you calmed him down a little. You always managed to.

You galloped through the meadows, the bounty giving up on his occasional tantrums the closer you got to town. Arthur inconspicuously checked on you every now and then, as if you didn't notice his little searching glances.

Then finally you could see the town and soon enough it followed with the creaking of wagons and chirping of people. Those standing nearby took curious glances at the man strapped at the back of Arthur's horse.

‘Welcome to Strawberry’, the sign above said. A quaint tourist town.

Both of you stopped before the cubic building, ‘JAIL’ in big letters on the wall. Russel Graham tried his last frail attempts at bargaining for his freedom, but there was no way to escape his fate now.

Arthur carried the man inside the sherrif's office, maybe a bit more roughly than necessary, and you remained waiting outside, just hopping off to stretch your sore body.

You weren't freezing anymore, but the chill remained settled in your bones, and you still nestled in Arthur's coat. You did feel tired, though.

The place had lots of green, and you liked that; it fit right into the landscape, like a picteresque heart of it. Very charming. Very cozy. Some kind of preacher rambled on, somewhere near.

Arthur was just shoving the stack of bills in his satchel when he emerged, his step confident.

“Got it?” You touched his forearm without realising.

“Got it.” He looked at you from below his hat. “We got the rest of the day free, I reckon.”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

You both knew what that meant—a hot bath, proper meal and a warm shared bed. The best part of these trips.

The stables were at the outskirts of town. You rode over the bridge overlooking a waterfall, one that could be looked at for hours. The black horse did earn you a few extra bucks.

It was even warmer inside the hotel. You waited just a few minutes before the bath was ready, and you took the time to take in the interior. Red wallpapers made the room look even dimmer, and it complemented the rustic decoration. It was big on a hunting theme: A large bear by the entrance, chandelier made of antlers, rocks, and interestingly branched wooden railings. The burning fireplace added onto the cosiness. You assumed the place worked as the tourist center.

Arthur led you up the stairs, warmth growing on your lower back where his hand rested. He held the door open for you, and the smell of soap and lavender hit you.

The bathroom was quite homely, with the same red wallpapers and pale light dimly illuminating the room. You immediately relaxed when the door shut behind you.

Fighting the silly blush on your cheeks was basically pointless. Arthur shuffled on his feet.

“You go first, I guess,” you mumbled and immediately felt ridiculous for how awkward you were. You had done this before but it was the same every time. These situations weren't your strongest suit, and his neither.

So you walked to the window to absent-mindedly watch the street, when Arthur undressed.

After a few moments, the water softly splashed against the walls of the tub. Your head turned to see Arthur settling underneath all the foam, his naked shoulders above it. There was another thing accompanying the pink flush on your cheeks; a little feeling of excitement seemingly jumping around within you.

Your chilled body craved the hot water, and your stomach coiled at the sight of your lover. You knew that nothing would separate you from him until after the water turns cold.

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head back, arms stretched over the edges of the tub.

You quietly slipped out of all your clothes and walked over, your heart making two beats for every step you'd make. You submerged and sat on the opposite side, every single negative thought forgotten as your muscles loosened. All the work was so worth this.

“Thank you for not letting me die today,” you broke the silence, a small timid smile on your face. Arthur opened his eyes and looked at you, failing to keep a straight face.

“I'd rather have you not risking like that next time.”

“Sure, let's have you be a bait next time.” You started shifting towards him. “Or better yet, hunt for rabbits instead.”

Arthur chuckled, not taking his eyes off you. “Or maybe I just won't let ya go anywhere away from me.”

With that you settled onto his body, your own mellowing at how nice it felt to have him against you. As if even your bones were melting, and you'd soon fuse together.

Your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. You didn't wanna get into any dirty business, as you were both tired and grimy, but that didn't wipe the red hue off your face. You pretended that you weren't flustered at all; he couldn't see the blush on your face if you rest your head on his shoulder.

His rough hand found your back, and he touched you so gently, as if he thought you to be fragile. Your eyes closed; the more comfortable you were, the sleepier you got.

The room was quiet, with muffled sounds from the outside and Arthur's breathing. His heartbeat rhythmically thumped against your own.

“You did a good job today,” he suddenly uttered into your ear and it woke you from your daze.

“Did I?” You couldn't help but smile. God knows why you liked hearing him praise you so much.

“Uh-mm. The best actress I've seen.” His palm slid over your spine in circles. You lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“Don't overrate me,” you nudged playfully, beaming.

But he carried on with a lively twinkle in his eyes. “That kick was smthn' too. Guy's lucky you didn't aim for his teeth.”

A lighthearted laugh left your lips and you leaned closer.

“You did well too, Mr Morgan,” you murmured, a bit of sensuality in your voice. You couldn't overlook that little crooked smile, or the way he briefly looked away, not knowing how to take the compliment.

His chest heaved against yours and his fingers lazily trailed up your spine to your nape.

“And what was it about kissing your lips back to color?” he reminded, to your surprise, and now it was your turn to get flustered.

You didn't like his gaze studying you so closely, so you did the only thing that crossed your mind; your lips collided with his a little clumsily, and your stomach did a few inept twists.

Arthur's lips moved against yours, so gently it made you lose your goddamn mind. He pulled you even closer, and your heart skipped a beat when he let out a pleased hum. His lips were soft and warm, and you slightly opened your mouth.

It was a little risky; his heated body tempted you, and every little touch turned your thoughts into a cloud of vapor. All those bottled up feelings were now free to surge through, and if you were hot before, you were now on fire.

Your heart tried to keep up with all the senses stirring in your body, your pulse quickening. Strange chills danced in place where his palm now rested on your back, while your stomach grew hotter; but then he moved his hand lower.

Way lower.

“Arthur,” you whispered when you broke the kiss, barely any space between you two.

Your own mind inquired why you couldn't just straddle his lap and...

You cleared your throat. “Everyone would hear us,” you said with a dry mouth, partly to convince Arthur, partly to convince yourself.

“Sure,” he agreed with lack of air in his voice, and the way he watched you made your head dizzy again. His gaze was so soft, and admiration was written all over it. He made it so hard to focus. His hand slid back up to between your shoulder blades.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Clueless.

“Like that.” You shook your head.

Grabbing some soaped water, you rubbed it in Arthur's hair, leaving foam where you brushed fingers through the strands. His eyes opened with surprise, but the amused chuckle he let out had no trace of protest in it.

It was quiet, peaceful.

“Why do you tag along with me like that?”

That question caught you off guard, as it came all of a sudden. But knowing Arthur, he probably had it in his mind for a while now.

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?” you said as a matter of fact. Wasn't it as clear to him as it was to you?

Where else would I be?, you thought, but didn't say out loud.

Arthur looked away, and you still washed his hair.

“It gets ya into dangerous situations.”

“But I get to be with you, don't I?” You searched for understanding in his eyes. “Alone.”

You caressed the nape of his neck. “Besides, it's better than just sitting around.” You squinted your eyes. “I ain't a saint either, y'know? I was far from it long before we met.”

“Hmh,” he grumbled, but a smile emerged on his face, and you felt relief. Perhaps knowing you're not doing it just for him made him feel better.

“Not that I'm complaining 'bout spending alone time with ya.”

“You better not,” you mumbled with a smile and kissed Arthur's cheek without thinking, and he paused. He never expected it. Such a sweetheart.

You took turns cleaning each other, exchanging shy smiles and stolen kisses, while you tried remaining reserved. No words could describe how safe you felt with him, in all ways a person could feel safe.

You liked to trace his little scars in these moments, wondering about the stories behind them. His skin was red from the hot water, and the scars remained light. You liked kissing the scar on his chin, and he could never not smile when you did.

Then, Arthur kissed a little red bruise on your neck, and that almost crossed the line for you.

Save it, you thought.

You spent a long time in that tub; by the time you were leaving, you felt as clean as you haven't in a long time. Both of you got in spare clothes you had brought, and Arthur now stood before you in a shirt that was your favorite.

You mumbled something about how handsome he was, and how he ought to wear his black chaps over his jeans, a little grin on your face. He laughed and shook his head; like he hadn't already heard that from you before.

You headed to the rented room that was just next door, the same red wallpapers and a rustic feel to it. Now it was time for the food you got acquired the way, and you realised just how hungry you were.

“You should chew more,” Arthur commented on your eating manner, amused.

You lifted your eyes to meet his. “Worry 'bout yourself.”

But he was right—you felt a bit sick later, when you sprawled on the motel bed. On your back, fighting the sleepiness. It still couldn't defeat the happy, satisfied feeling in you that quivered all over your insides.

Arthur sat on a padded chair and scribbled something in his journal. You turned your head to look at him.

“Don't tell me you're drawing the guy.”

“No, of course not,” Arthur scoffed, as if offended. “I'm drawing you, in the bath tub,” he added, holding back a crooked grin.

“What?” You sat up abruptly, got off the bed and walked over, peeking at the opened pages.

The drawing was a scenery that you'd seen today.

“Idiot,” you grumbled, hearing him laugh despite it.

You turned around to return to bed, but Arthur reached over and his hand gently touched fingers. You turned back around with a softer look.

“How do you remember things so well, anyway?” You really couldn't play annoyed at him for too long.

He wrapped his arm around you when you sat on his lap, still holding the journal in his other hand.

“I don' know, it's just easy for me,” he answered absently.

He had pretty eyes; pale moss-green spilling into the rippled azure blue. His skin still smelled of soap and all you wanted was to snuggle up and nuzzle his neck.

Finally, you rested your head over his collarbone and let him finish his drawing, with his arms loosely encircling you.

“Are ya tired?” His voice stirred you from your trance.

“A little,” you lied.

It took a few more minutes before he was finished and closed the journal, placing it beside him. You had your eyes closed but felt his movements. The little hesitance of when he wondered what to do with you, before gently picking you up and laying you down on the bed.

From the previous fervor was nothing left; your mind was a fuzzy mess and all you recognised was that you're safe and comfortable. When the mattress dented as Arthur lay down beside you, when his arms ptotectively enveloped you, when you felt his lips on your forehead in a soft kiss.

You snuggly settled against Arthur's chest, and were lulled to sleep by his calm heartbeat. Oblivious to just how happy Arthur was—how happy you made him—and how much you soothed all his pain that he carried all these years.

Arthur pulled you closer, and fell asleep beside you.

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