#Yet Another Thing You Didn't Know Fire Was Into

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: Mitski, what about me is eternal like the.. moon?

I had so much fun doing this

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love is mine, all mine, all mine

I'm sitting right in front of your cards in utter awe. I got goosebumps when I laid eyes on your cards, pile 1. Let me begin by saying this: you've seen some DARK and truly terrible times, haven't ya? Even as I say this, it feels like an understatement. There have been times when you were stripped down to bare bones, and you had to "grow back the rest of you." I apologize for the gruesome metaphor (but hey, I'm just the messenger; this ain't really coming from me :p). Maybe you've had to encounter times when you felt painfully lonely, stuck in your head and in your general life too, like your spirit was beaten down. Or maybe it felt as if the universe snatched away something you thought was incredibly precious? But I hear that it wasn't what you thought it was; that's why it had to go. You probably didn't see it that way at all, and THAT'S ALRIGHT because we don't have Spirit's perspective, now do we? I see that you really struggled to put yourself together after that somewhat 'impossible-seeming' loss. It seemed like it came outta left field.

BUT GUESS THE FUCK WHAT. You, my friend, took this PAIN and these fucked up times and turned it into a damn palace of gold. You read that right. What's eternal about you? Your alchemy. Your fire. Your willpower. Your ability to take life by the balls. Your refusal to let it beat you to dust. Your refusal to be small. Literal goosebumps, you feeling it yet? It's your connection to God/Source/Universe. Your faith. Your mastery of your mind, babe. Yeah. You've somehow mastered your mind in this process of putting yourself back together. Acknowledge that ish! 'Cause you really did do that.

Nothing can ever get you to stop dreaming, and much less trying to stop you from achieving them, love. You're a powerhouse of energy, and God bless anybody who ever underestimates that (you included side-eyeing you right now). Not you getting low key called out, haha.

Don't get me wrong, though; being a powerhouse of energy doesn't necessarily mean being in everybody's face trying to assert your dominance, y'know? It can look like silent crying in the middle of the night and waking up the next day determined to overcome the thing that made you cry the day before.

Your light is what's eternal about you. It never goes off. Like ever. Your dedication to learning and growing through whatever, and I mean WHATEVER, life throws your way is what will never die, sweetie. It's like a part of your essence at this point. I hope you're proud of that and know that it's what will bring you to your success in life, whatever that looks like for each one of you beautiful ass people reading this :)

Haha, that's so cute; I just heard Spirit go "you're going places, sweetheart" ><

And with that, let's end your FABULOUS, goosebumps-inducing (btw, I don't say that about just ANYTHING), and awe-inspiring reading here.

Thank you, pile 1, for sharing your energy with me today. I love you guys so, so much and… not gonna lie, I'm low key honored to have been in your presence today. Haha, see ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2:

My baby, here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for her?

My god, why is there so much happening as I tap into your energy, pile 2? And I mean it in a nice way, though. I heard T Swift's song "The Last Great American Dynasty" as I was shuffling for you, and I heard Spirit go, "she's sweet and salty," lol. We'll see how all that plays into the reading eventually.

The first thing I noticed was your incredible balance within your mind and heart. It's shocking. Maybe you've been working on getting these aspects of yours to agree with one another and balance each other out, or it's simply your personality, but… pile 2, this beautiful mind-heart balance is what's eternal about you, love. Your peace. Your calm. The childlike innocence of your heart blending seamlessly with your mind's unending curiosity for life. Your emotional intelligence. The way you flow… like water, I heard. Wow! I find that so amazing, ugh, like can we be friends, pile 2? T-T, 'cause I definitely need some of that in my life right now, not gonna lie, haha.

There's that AND then there's a whole other dimension to you where you give 'life of the party' vibes as well. OH, so maybe that's why I heard Spirit say "sweet and salty," like two very different things but produce a wonderful taste together. Complex. Addicting. You make people want to come back for more, pile 2. Mmmmmm! Love that!

You have this laid-back vibe to you as well that a lot of people in your life appreciate. I see that your ability to lighten anybody's day is what's eternal about you awwww. I heard "she's the sunshine of my life." UGH, this is too wholesome for my heart; please save me. You seem to really perk up people's day/week or just life in general. You give, like, Saggi vibes, bro. It doesn't matter if you have that in your chart, but it's just your soul. The eternal aspect of you feels bright, expansive, loving, and so vibrant in energy, my god. You've also got strong feminine energy too… you must be really good at attracting 'cause you're strong in your feminine energy AND you're chill and detached from it at the same time. Effortless manifester, master manifester are some words that come to mind as I describe this.

Your divinity is what's eternal about you. Your 'witchy vibes.' Your embodiment of your highest truth. Your commitment to maintaining this divine connection in your day-to-day. Bro, what's eternal about you is that you can turn any old mundane task/thing into something fun and magical and full of meaning and symbolism. You live life deep, and even though there aren't a whole lotta people who can join you there, you wouldn't have it any other way. It's your raw authenticity, babe. Circling back to "The Last Great American Dynasty" song, maybe you're like Rebekah that T Swift sings about, "the most shameless woman this town has ever seen." People tend to call raw, authentic women shameless, but you couldn't care less. You will forever do what you like 'cause you're a free-spirited divine mystic in the body of a teeny lil human. Love it.

That's all I have for you, pile 2. Thank you for spending time with me! I love you so much <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3:

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you?

Ah, my divine activators. What's eternal about you? Your intensity. BS detection might as well be your middle name. Sherlock Holmes who? 'Cause you're the new detective in town, baby, sniffing out illusions, falsities, fake people, LIES, victim mentality. None of that runs free with you around, I'll tell you that. It's your capacity to hold divine truth, lovingly, which is INCREDIBLY hard, btw. You can't stand half-assed people and people who seem to not have their "heads screwed on straight." Lmao, what kinda people are you surrounded by, pile 3? Ooh, I heard that you're divinely planted where you are so you can activate a lot of people into awakening to their true selves, but it looks like nobody wants to actually awaken. Lmao.

-Side note: My heart goes out to you if you've been surrounded by really difficult and chaotic energies that bring you down a lot. That SUCKS so hard, bro. Been there myself too lately, and it's not a fun merry-go-round to co-exist with. Just keep being your amazing cool-ass self, ok? Things will work out eventually. You already intuitively feel that things will get better, so trust that feeling!-

If I could describe your energy, I would use the Phoenix rising from the ashes symbolism to do so. Ohhhhh, as I told you that, I saw a vision of T Swift's music video of "Look What You Made Me Do," where she comes out of the grave and sings, "Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time." I'm a fan, pile 3. Omg. That's some badass ballsy energy, and I'm so here for it right now. You're the epitome of what psychological death and rebirth looks like. You're the textbook definition. And THAT'S what's eternal about you. No matter where you are or what you end up doing in life, you'll always be able to "rise up from the dead" and do it iconically too. Haha, I literally heard that. Lmao. This ability of yours is an extension of the greater aspect of you - your higher self. Whoa… I just heard you've had this ability for lifetimes and you will take it strongly with you to the next ones as well. Powerful. It's etched in your soul, pile 3. You know what you want and how to get it, even if not immediately; you always do eventually. It's the security you possess within yourself that's eternal, love. Nothing can really shake you at this point. Lmao. You've got a strong-ass foundation.

-Side note: I'm really seeing a healed and fully realized root chakra for you. If you haven't gotten there yet, you're well on your way! Good job! Root chakra work is the most brutal, btw, so… you really have my respect. Haha, moving on-

You have warrior energy present quietly in your personality as well. You give spiritual warrior vibes. You don't prefer to live in it 24/7; it's simply something you tap into when a situation calls for it. Otherwise, I see you being quite heart-centered, full of love, looking at the world with rose-colored glasses. Your inner child is what's eternal about you. Your divine sensitivity and your capacity to hold your emotions without judgment and live big from a place of heart. You embody the energy of water in my eyes, tbh. Life-giving but also destructive if need be, and there's absolutely nothing weak about water. Phew. You are eternal as the oceans are.

Ahhh, pile 3, that was sooo much fun! Thanks for stopping by, and I love you soooo much!

~~~~~~~~~~~

[bitterchocoo]

Can you do Boothill with a male reader who has the abilities of Absolute Solver from murder drones

Male reader went missing after the ICP destroyed Boothill's homeland. Many years later, Boothill and the other met male reader but male reader already got possessed by the Solver

I want an angst with a happy ending story please

Absolute

Boothill | M. Reader as the Absolute Solver [Murder Drones]

----------

"The flesh demands invitation."

----------

"What are you doing all smiling like that?"

"Huh? Oh nothing."

[Name] narrowed his eyes at Boothill's words, not believing it. He says it was nothing, but his scans say otherwise. The other can't help but laugh at [Name] expression, those neon [Color] eyes that narrowed on his visor. "I was just thinking about what to get my daughter."

"I see, got any ideas yet?"

"I'm thinking..."

Without saying anything else, [Name]'s visor changes to that of a shopping list. "Well there are countless gifts you could get from across the galaxy so—"

"Wait wait wait!"

His visor glitches and goes back to normal. [Name] looked at Boothill for a second seemingly confused. What was that about?

"I want to make it special."

"Oohh.." [Name] blurred out as he finally understands. "If you're going to handmade it. I could help if you like."

"Heh, thanks [Name]."

For as long as he knows [Name], the robot is a kind person who's happy to help those in need. He was a joy. Everyone was. Everyone on his home planet was a joy, like a small neighborhood. Everyone gets along with one another, there's rarely any conflict it's just a nice and welcoming place. Home.

Therefore [Name] didn't deserve this, none of them deserved this. It's outrageous. What did they do? What kind of sin did they commit to have on this planet. Their home. Destroyed in such a way.

As Boothill look at the surrounding fire and destruction of his home, he began to search around the area. Any place he thinks people will be at. Anywhere.

There are at least survivors right? Surely there are some people who survived this.. who saw the attack an immediately run towards a safe place.. surely..

Right..?

But nothing..

Boothill find nothing but ashes and ruins of once someone's home.

Everything..

..is destroyed.

Why.. why does this have to happen? He was happy. They were happy! What did they do to deserve this?

SCREW THE IPC!!

----------

"Upgrading models? cutting maintenance costs? There are many reasons the client may wish to disassemble a drone individual or a series after a period of use. Following these two simple steps is key to avoid—"

"Incompletely disassemble drones may occasionally reboot from software death alone. More than undead federal fine hazards. Its corrupted AI carries an increased risk of future errors."

.

.

.

He stood there completely motionless. How is he supposed to react to that? After so many years...

Staying at the Express may be the best call for him. It's a free ride after all. Not to mention everyone is quite nice. Dan Heng was even willing to show him the Data Bank but...

This is one of them..? One of the information they've obtained during their travels? Don't get him wrong, it's useful, incredibly useful. But... if Boothill were to obtain such knowledge long ago..

He would have properly disassembled him.

To prevent such a fate from happening to someone he holds in high regards. If he were to do that... none of this would have happened!!

He—it screeches as it tries to get out of its restraints. That's not him. That's not [Name]!!

This was just another planet. One where the Nameless has set their sights on. They thought it was just another Stellaron Crisis. But... this is not the work of a Stellaron.. but the work of a drone that's not been properly disassembled.

It continues to screech as the researchers expose the drone to the artificial sunlight. It screeches in pain and agony as the researchers run around, trying to put a stop to this... thing..

He can't watch this.. he can't watch this any longer.

Without saying another word Boothill leave the Cathedral to get some fresh air. He can't. He just can't watch that.. whatever they were doing to someone he cared for.

----------

"MacGuffin." The robotic voice echoes throughout an empty.. bloody.. ruined.. Cathedral.

Is this the type of thing the Nameless has to handle? Not the Absolute Solver no no... Fighting for your muddle fudgling life! Dodging an attack Boothill ready his revolver and shoot the claw-like thing.

It laughs at their attempts. It's six against one and yet they're losing how pathetic! "Thank you for the new host." It stated casually before narrowing avoiding an attach by Himeko's laser with a smirk on it's face the Solver summons it's claws once more and began it's onslaught of attacks. In a blink of an eye, all of them experience multiple near death situations left, right, and center. Fighting someone who can regenerate is cheating! They could be here for all of eternity!

Where's the cure!?

Its perpetual grin seems to widen every time any of them try to harm it which of course never worked as the Solver's regeneration rate is incredibly high. It laughs, summoning a miniature blackhole that was quickly disabled by Welt as he attack the Solver. "Have any of you find it get?" "No, we're still looking!" March replied, firing an arrow at one of it's claws while looking around for the crucifix that holds the data. The cure for the Solver. "Well I'm sorry, but fighting while searching is not easy!" Caelus cuts in, looking around the place as he ducks under the benches to avoid a stray attack. "Just focus on searching, we'll try to cover you!" Dan Heng stated firmly, using his powers as a  Vidyadhara to at least land a critical attack on the Solver.

With each attack the Solver just keep regenerating! But each time they themselves is inching closer to their own demise! Boothill took cover as he reload his bullets while looking at his surroundings for any potential threats. But something else caught his eye..

It's the crucifix!

Quickly taking it from the bloody floor, Boothill examine it for a moment, making sure it's the real deal. After a quick and swift examination, the usb connector pops out at the bottom of it. It's real alright. The cure for the Solver and the key to ending this nightmare.

"Cover for me!" He signaled before making a run for it. The Nameless did their best to keep the Solver at bay until Boothill does the finishing blow and slammed the crucifix usb model straight into the drone's visor and just like clockwork it let out a glitched robotic groan as it tries to take out the crucifix and in its efforts the cure done it's job. Motionlessly throws crucifix away the drone immediately slump to the floor.

Looking amongst themselves, the Nameless stood their ground not knowing whether the fight is over or is the Solver playing tricks on them. With caution Boothill slowly approached his old friend. Surely he's still there right? The Solver is dead. The patch worked! It has to work! Or else it....

Kneeling in front of him Boothill extended his hand. Waiting for a respond from the other. Anything! Much to their surprise the drone took the other's hand, slowly looking up, revealing it's---no, his neon [Color] eyes on his visor while the crack where they inserted the patch is slowly being healed. Yes! It worked! Letting out a dry, pained laugh Boothill gave [Name] a tight embrace. He's back. His old friend's back.

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep3

• almost certain that is sugarfoot cooper is dismounting in the scene from the movie he is filming 🥲 • the film cooper was filming here is called "the man from deadhorse", a clear play on the concept of "beating a dead horse" • just realized he [presumably] shot the bad guy character twice • i also noticed that the duster the bad guy character is wearing looks an awful lot like the duster cooper wears as the character he “plays” in the wasteland to cope. is... cooper playing a bad guy character based off one of his movies?? • saw a couple of different variations of "feo, fuerte, y formal" [all saying mostly the same thing] cooper says "he was ugly, strong, and had dignity" wikitionary says it denotes a conception of masculinity. very curious about this these words and the scene because cooper is obviously viewed as a concept of masculinity in hollywood, to the point where he's being asked to essentially engage in statecraft via propaganda as this movie scene is making his character do something completely antithetical--- killing the bad guy instead of solving another way, he basically says a line about "commies" then shoots the him in the head

• what's more is that some are viewing the three concepts of "ugly, strong, dignity" to mean either a variation of cooper, lucy, and maximus or of cooper himself, didn't even think of this and it's a particular interesting trichotomy of cooper pre and post war • "well, joey, i'll give you two out of three on that front" and now i don't know which two out of three • cooper goes out of his way to thank the actor jorge for playing the bad guy in his film • cooper presumably read the script, probably had a table read, rehearsal, and still didn't want to do film his good guy character killing the bad guy [perhaps after cadillac bob got fired, there were rewrites and cooper was not told until then] out of context, this is charming, he values his characters so much that they mirror his own values [walton has argued with writers, directors, actors about his characters too!] but in context, it is either the beginning or yet another chapter is cooper's conflicting and morally challenging struggle of "right" and "wrong" in this show • need to know more about cadillac bob! he was doing the moral good type of writing on cooper's programs and i am curious if the firing was an ousting [as being labeled a communist is career over here] because the wiki says he was fired for refusing to write this storyline for the "new america" and then they wrote this character change for cooper to have a firmer anticommunist stance to influence the public. cooper wants to change the scene so bad, he asks for a writer and i find it amusing the director thinks doing a 180° on his character would be good because "the audience knows you're a good man. they want to see that even a good man as yourself can be driven too far sometimes" idk but this is about all the horseshit i can take • [this is precisely post war cooper's arc and character if that wasn't obvious enough] • enter barb. i love the sensual "married couple flirting like strangers" energy behind this scene • lavender flowers are supposed to represent purity, silence, grace, devotion, serenity, calmness--- just a little something for you romance girlies to think about with this scene • "tastes like someone touching you for the first time" and they make it a point to show cooper and barb's hands and cooper purposefully touching barb's fingers as they exchange the candy • they kiss each other and they're like "sorry, makeup" and "sorry, lipstick" 😭 • looks like barb secured cooper some vault tec contracts • cooper winds up on siggi's headless body and i can almost see the algebra and trigonometry floating around his brain trying to make heads or tails of this shit • from my understanding, there's no chems that keep a ghoul from going feral within the fame universe but there are chems that can and have turned people into ghouls, i see speculation that cooper may have a chem addiction and what we see are withdrawal symptoms, as when lucy finds him outside the super duper mart, he's still on the ground and not acting much feral but [of course coughing, drooling, etc could be the show's symptoms for ferality] i digress • almost think because it's dry and arid af out there, that's why he need a chem

• literally howling because of how lucy was handling siggi's head, she got over the shock and disgust quick 😭 • lucy is crazy for lighting another [camp]fire at night like that • lucy putting a tracker on siggi's head was smart though • lmao did the brotherhood of steel not know lord titus' regular speaking voice or • maximus lying to the brotherhood of steel, maximus selling his teeth for caps instead of literally anything else, maximus thinking he can leave his power suit uncovered and unattended without it being pulled for scrap--- like lord, maximus, please make a sensible step 😫 • the voice modulator mechanic person was very sci fi though • took me a second watch to realize maximus' tooth extraction resulted in a bit of a lisp glfgd • not maximus getting bullied again 😭 • maximus getting a wrench and toilet seat and beating the shit out of them wastelanders with them rotf • crushed that man's head like a watermelon❤️ • thaddeus being sent to inadvertently squire for someone he helped bully is his karma lol • "remnant from the old world" directly implying the enclave is a continuation of the us government • lucy arriving on the serene scene of a fawn near a lake where hollywood boulevard once stood [lucy being a parallel of the innocent doe, doe eyed, and this is bambi ok 🥲 • an undamaged, normal appearing fawn representing beauty and purity can grow in the wasteland and then it being snatched by a gulper likewise demonstrating that it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye • lucy once again being crazy for walking around with the barely contained rotting head, like of course the abomination snatched that too 😭 • cooper conveniently appearing with a cocked gun in her face and she just smiles and says "hello again" like excuse me?? 😭 • cooper's head tilt gets me every time, oof • he ain't have to lightly pistol whip her like that 😭 • lmao poor chet • betty to some degree i keep wondering if she knows extensively about the vaults of 31, 32, 33 or if she is just doing what she is told [here's to hoping she isn't janey 😢] • norm using the word "escape" instead of perhaps "leave" when describing lucy's departure from vault 33 is intriguing, i think • it took me a minute, and i don't think i've seen much talk about this but i legitimately think norm's lack of enthusiasm and drive for life in the vault is directly connected to his mother's death but i have seen no clear age for him--- they don't show his memories like they do lucy's and i would want an explanation or exploration on his lore here because... he already uncovered vault 31's secret but i don't think he knows what hank has done and him finding out will be huge as well like for lucy • norm is rightfully angry at the raiders for what they did but i am almost willing to bet he might be implicated in their poisonings as a diversion tactic by someone like betty but it's all just a theory [a film theory gldfgldfl] • because someone in the fucking kitchen and handling the food poisoned them raiders... • ghoul prejudice being loud and clear and amongst the brotherhood of steel 😭 • ghouls leaving radiation trails is insane • lmao maximus and thaddeus coming up siggi's headless body and then trying to compare his mugshot • maximus thinking it was the ghoul who beheaded siggi when it was lucy as siggi's request lol • dogmeat barking up a storm because she wanted cooper's foolishness upon lucy to cease • "you know, they use to do these things called "studies"" like lucy doesn't know what a study is? she's a teacher! 😭 • rads going up because of the water or cooper or both? • ok so i now get why when lucy told cooper torture was wrong that he went into a whole spiel--- not only was cooper in the military but for thirty years post war, dom pedro kept him in a coffin confined on an iv drip to keep him alive but would dig him up and slice pieces of him off and then put him back. cooper's behaviour using her as bait [not torture] is of course not excusable but cooper is coming from a deep place of hurt and bitterness, this monster was whittled

• cooper goes on to say "it made sense. i mean a man hurts me, i wouldn't want to do him any favours. and yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from the earth. in fact, as time marched on, i've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." oh, cooper 😞 • he says this as he picks what looks like giant leeches off lucy [didn't have to do that] • "well, i ain't torturing you, sweeheart" here go the first instance of fimiliarity with a patronising pet name in the style of cowboyism and southerness gldgldlf • almost looked like lucy started cooperating when cooper told her he was using her as bait gldgldl • ok so it looks like cooper cut the rope? so lucy could get free i guess idk but then the gulper got ahold of the anchor so he couldn't reel it back? [not sure, anyways, he botched this lmao] • he starts striking at the gulper with what looks like a harpoon i guess when it catches lucy's leg [could've definitely let her get ate but didn't] • lucy basically saves herself with dogmeat biting the gulper and scaring it off • cooper empties lucy's bag and destroys her stuff so it's only right cooper's karma is his vials getting smashed in the process of using lucy for bait lol • cooper getting mad and taking out his gun and cocking it at lucy like it was her fault his shit got smashed 😭 • "oh, i'm sorry, i should just let you use me as bait in the poison river!?" the way she says it always almost brings a tear to my eyes like get his ass 😭 • for the first time in the show, cooper realises he was wrong and/or messed up [and to his detriment] • lucy protests her treatment, "do unto others as you would have done unto you" and cooper starts mumbling to himself "those gulpers digest real slow. you got time." because he already going through withdrawals, help • so he ties her up like a dog and says the wasteland got its own rule and it's "thou shalt get distracted by bullshit every goddamn time" 😭 this is so a reference to gameplay and how they themselves are going on a fucking side quest lmao • lucy asking about dogmeat 😢 dogmeat staying because that gulper has siggi's head ☹️

• lmao maximus masquerading as lord titus asking thaddeus to say something about him • you know? it's good writing to me to explain why a [secondary] character would bully or behave as thaddeus has to maximus--- he's not merely side character and wanted to say nothing but nice things about maximus when he thought he died, i'll give him that • "we can judge a person and a society by how they treat their enemy" goes boom because of the game lore and also because somebody kills all those raider prisoners lol • this disconnect between the vault dwellers and wastelanders--- they're talking about teaching these people shakespeare when some of them eat people for survival • norm wants the raiders to die and they keep showing steph and this might be a red herring but i think she poisoned them mfs, personally • hmm why does steph know what hank would do in this situation like that flgdlgdl • maximus trying to protect thaddeus from danger • thaddeus calling cooper an abomination because he's a ghoul 😭🖐️ • the little scream thaddeus makes as the gulper gets him ❤️ • dogmeat really loved siggi ☹️ • cooper and lucy walking near an incinerated hollywood tour bus is so lmao why cooper walk past that • at first i thought cooper was displaying cruelty by not letting lucy drink his water but then it occurred to me it might be irradiated, the next scene with water like this, she gets sick from radiation from drinking water • lmao when he emptied the last drops of water in his canteen out in the sand in front of her 😭 • "ain't much stays clean up here, vaulty" he is talking about himself • lucy gazing at billboard of vault boy, cooper shooting the face, then they cut to vault boy's origins being cooper--- • symbolism and parallels like this can kill a man but i did want to just say there's so many layers to this. to be short he has such contempt, shame for what he thinks he's done, people hundreds of years later worship this thing that represents the end of civilization and he feels responsibility because he was deceived as well. lucy none the wiser. she just thinks he's crazy and horrible for no reason. if only she knew. • the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin

Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs

Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Old. He feels old. 

His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does. 

Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night.  It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.

He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves. 

Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you. 

Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look. 

The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland. 

Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire. 

The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.

- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?

He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?

- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.    - For real?

- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.

Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's. 

- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?

The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.

- Try ten thousand.

A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes. 

- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest. 

The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now. 

- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.

- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much. 

Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep.  Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form. 

You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body. 

- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.

- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him. 

***

The raiders come at night, as they always do.

You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses. 

The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion. 

A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him. 

The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.

Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression. 

- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree. 

At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees. 

Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.

- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!

But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.

Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.

Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins. 

***

Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind. 

His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit. 

The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second

He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping. 

So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes. 

Did you really trust him that much?

A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later. 

He was getting too damn old for this. 

Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg. 

So, not just raiders, but fiends as well. 

Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.

He hears your scream tear through air.

His head whips back, hat almost falling. 

A shot rings out.

Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot. 

Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get. 

Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at. 

Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened. 

That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief. 

You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure. 

- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-

His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach. 

- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!

There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.

You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood. 

Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it. 

- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...

Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement. 

You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life. 

Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer. 

Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where. 

- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...

- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.

Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage. 

 It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later. 

The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said. 

So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely. 

[sirfrogsworth]

I have a favorite photo.

It's the one I am most proud of.

It involved a lot of luck, but also required a lot of effort to capture.

I use it as the header for this Tumblr.

It was a foggy morning and I thought it looked spooky. My instincts were telling me I could get a unique image. I dragged out my lighting equipment and had Otis roam around in the yard. I set up my shot in an area I knew he would pass by. I didn't have wireless flash triggers yet, so I was using the little flash on top of my camera to trigger my big flash. But that doesn't work great outside. Typically it is meant to bounce off walls and ceilings so the external flash can see the light. I was trying to use a tiny mirror in front of my little flash to direct the light towards the big flash. But I kept getting the angle wrong and my flash was only firing once every few shots. I also kept missing focus as I was concentrating on too many things at once.

By all accounts, it would take a miracle to get the shot.

I should not have gotten a good shot.

But for one single frame... the fog, the sun, Otis, and my flash all cooperated.

I didn't even realize my efforts had worked until I loaded the files onto the computer. And the second this image popped onto my screen, my jaw dropped.

Up until this point I had never captured an image of this quality before. This was very early in my photography journey and I was still figuring things out. And I think seeing what was possible—what I was actually capable of capturing—that was the moment I was all in. The moment I wanted to be a "real" photographer.

This is the RAW file. The side of his face was a bit dark, but that is why you shoot in RAW. That is recoverable.

This is my original edit in 2013. The biggest thing that bothered me was the ear tips. I always wish I hadn't cut those off.

But thankfully technology has advanced enough that I can give Otis his full ears back.

And here is the remastered 2024 edition...

I used other images as reference to make sure the ear shape and size was perfect. And I also used another image of his Super Otis badge facing forward and comped that in.

Otis has a very specific shade of orange fur and it is very sensitive to editing. If you make him brighter, the orange changes to the wrong orange. If you make him darker, same thing. But I am hopeful I got that lovely orange fur pretty close to his actual coat.

I don't know if I would have fallen in love with this artform without this image. Or without Otis. He gave me so much in his short time in this world. I can never thank him enough for that.

[abyssembraced]

((...how is it always my h.ollow k.night stuff that manages to breach the containment of this blog lmao

actually no it's not just h.ollow k.night but rather stuff related to h.ornet specifically sgddgsg

Anyway. I said this on my Actual Kirby Blog but I'll say it here too! Magolor Epilogue mode in the RtDL remake?? 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

[flangore]

❥ scarlet plumes

feat.: Valentino/f!reader

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning

You were not the type to get into trouble.

Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.

All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.

There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.

When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.

You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.

“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”

In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.

Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.

Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.

“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”

One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”

With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”

“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”

“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”

This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.

“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”

Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.

It's entirely unnecessary, either way.

You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.

It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.

“Val—?”

“Bend over, baby.”

“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”

“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”

“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”

Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.

This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.

“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.

“Sure doesn't seem like it.”

The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.

Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him

“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.

The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.

This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.

You weren't able to breathe.

Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.

“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”

His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.

When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.

“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”

“Val, 'm sorry—”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”

Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.

Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.

Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.

“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”

Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”

When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.

i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE

[harmoonix]

💃🏼 𝐕 𝐄 𝐆 𝐀 𝐒 💃🏼

Astrology Observations

💃🏼 If you have Capricorn or Aquarius Placements and you suddenly start to feel like your life turns more chaotic than ever is probably Saturn telling you that you need to change something, maybe your routine, maybe your sleep schedule, maybe your self - worth etc (Capricorn/Aqua Sun/Moon/Rising)

💃🏼 Sagittarius Sun/Moon//Rising/Venus/Lilith people easily get attached by them for their outgoing nature and spontaneous energy

💃🏼 Leo Lilith/Leo Placements they are very attractive at the first sight, they are remarkable at making good first impressions

💃🏼 Aries Sun/Venus/Rising/Mars > People always make good boundings with them, they are these main characters who always unite people

💃🏼 Pluto aspecting Mercury > These natives are always so intuitive, they can tell when someone lies to them or when they're being fooled by someone

💃🏼South Node aspecting Sun natives probably didn't focused much on themselves in a past life, you have the chance now! Same for Leo South Node

💃🏼 Mars in fire signs feels so excited, their energy grows over night, extremely passionate, everything they do is with passion and love

💃🏼 Jupiter/Sagittarius in your 11H helps you to manifest things fast, if you actually use methods of manifestation...it can be very helpful

💃🏼 Libra Mars/Mars in the 7H. These natives have one hard challenge and that is to find peace among their relationships, sometimes you tend to argue with your partners and chaos comes rapidly after

💃🏼 Aquarius Placements/11H Stellium creates beautiful friendships, their communities are so unique from a person to another

💃🏼 Moon/Sun or Mercury in the 8H are those people who stay in the shadow yet they know everything about anyone like their some detectives or spies

💃🏼 Lilith aspecting Sun, people can dislike/hate you for who you are, they secretly envy the person you are inside and cannot help it but to hate it instead

💃🏼 Lilith aspecting Mars natives can find themselves around with misogynistic/selfish/arrogant people quite too often, cut these people off from your life

💃🏼 Chiron aspecting Venus natives, people don't understand what they are going through romantically, they usually don't like to talk about their love lives if they're not feeling comfortable

💃🏼 Capricorn Chiron natives, that person who is hurt but doesn't wanna talk about it, they can get exhausted way faster than other people, pretends everything is fine when is not

💃🏼 Scorpio Lilith/Venus/Moon easily attract people who want to use them for their power or for their own benefits, your intuition can tell you the most of it

💃🏼 Venus/Lilith/Juno/Mars in the 12H can dream about their future spouses/future partners, you can aslo have a feeling of "deja-vu" when you'll met them

💃🏼 Gemini Venus/Venus in the 3rd house, their voices are so catchy!! Venus rules over your voice here and it gives you beautiful artistical talents

💃🏼 Moon in the 9th house can indicate your spouse's family can get along with you quite easily. Like not a very attached relationship but you have common respect for eachother

💃🏼 Lilith aspecting the Midheaven can be very liked by people but disliked in the same time because in way people wish to be like you

💃🏼 Lilith in Gemini/Lilith in the 3rd house gets crazyyyy, Lilith here is more communicative than ever if she doesn't like something she'll say it right

💃🏼 Jupiter aspecting Sun natives can easily be liked for their personality and aura, they have a sense of generosity in them

💃🏼 Aries Saturn and lesson with needing to have patience for the things you really want is very real, things may come for you but you need patience for that

💃🏼 I start to realize that Cancer Saturn's natives karma is not always about their family but about creating their own type of karma as well, about nurturing the family you gonna have (when you grow and have kids or a spouse)

💃🏼 Pluto in the 7H natives are literally those type of people who go through a major changing in a relationship, but be careful because a relationship can change into a good thing but also in a bad thing (If is a toxic relationship is time to say byebye)

💃🏼 I adore 10th and 11th house Venuses for standing their ground when they're in a toxic relationship. They won't stay with someone who drains their life and they know their own standards

💃🏼 If Mercury is in a fire sign or fire house the native can be brutally honest when they're talking. Like that type of honesty is rare

💃🏼 Mercury Retrograde is actually a hidden blessing because is represent "Find your voice" at the right moment you'll need it (Ofc Mercury Retrograde in a natal chart not a transitioning one)

💃🏼 Pluto aspecting Juno can get into really toxic/posesive relationships if they don't take care, actually you can be approached by people who share those traits

💃🏼 The ruler of your 9H can help you to embrace your faith way easier:

Sun - You can embrace your faith by being yourself

Venus - You can embrace your faith by loving yourself

Jupiter - You can embrace your faith by believing in yourself

Mars - You can embrace your faith if you follow your ideas/desires

Saturn - You can embrace your faith by using teaching technics

Moon - You can embrace your faith by trusting your guts and intuition

💃🏼 1st house ruler in the 11th can make you to focus more on your friends/friendships more than anything else something like "Friends over anything"

💃🏼 11th house ruler in the 10th house can indicate most of your friends working in the same job/career as you, also you can influence your friends about work and jobs

💃🏼 2 jewelry tips about your Venus!!

Venus in Air/Water Signs can wear more silver/white gemstones

Fire and Earth Signs can wear more gold/red or yellow gemstones

💃🏼 Heavy Sagittarius in your chart can indicate you have a very spontaneous personality, good jokes, good charm and catchy appearance

💃🏼 Cancer/Libra/Pisces/Virgo Moons can have watery eyes in general, their eyes play a big role in their appearance

💃🏼 Heavy Aries or Taurus in someone's chart can indicate someone who is more grounded with a leader spirit, they can just be everyone's type

💃🏼 Talking about types, men with earth Venus or Mars make sure to treat their partners with respect and love, I love that common respect they have

💃🏼 Sun in your 7H makes you to attract partners who have the same hobbies/passions as you, same goes for if you have Leo in the 7H

💃🏼 Uranus in your 5th/7th house can have unexpected relationships, like you met someone new, then someone between you 2 starts to fall in love and y'all end up in a marriage overnight

🏜️ Is Friday today so we have to party 🏜️

H a r m o o n i x

[cute-sucker]

note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

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you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him. 

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room. 

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain. 

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something. 

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!" 

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm. 

"rafe? please." 

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress. 

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great. 

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant. 

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany. 

"i have to go." 

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the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat. 

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him. 

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body. 

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in. 

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy. 

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed. 

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle. 

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart. 

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you. 

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay." 

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay. 

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms. 

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears. 

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes. 

 "you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby." 

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day. 

[rynwritesreid]

Take a ride| Spencer Reid

A/N: First of all, I hope that this is suitable compensation for everyone affected by my last fic. Second, my next non-requested smutty upload will be Sub! Spencer. And lastly, thank you so much for all the love guys, I am slowly working through your requests. Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Summary: You love to challenge authority, always knowing when to stop pushing buttons. However, you decide to see how far you can push Spencer before he gets angry enough to do something about it.

Content: Fem!Reader. Smut. Dom!Spencer Sub!Reader. Oral (both f & m receiving). Thigh humping. Fingering. Light bondage. Angry Spencer. Semi humiliation kink. Edging/overstimulation. Bratty reader. Power imbalance kink. 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

Spencer knew what he was getting into when he started dating you.  You weren’t defiant, per se, you followed the rules but only when you thought necessary. You didn’t mind getting lectured by Hotch, in fact, Spencer thought it was something you enjoyed.

 

Spencer knew you would not be someone who would easily submit to anyone or anything. He knew you were going to be a challenge, he just underestimated how much of a challenge you were going to be.

 

It wasn't just your defiance that fascinated him; it was the way you effortlessly challenged authority without ever crossing the line. You had a knack for bending the rules while still managing to stay within their boundaries. It was as if you had an innate understanding of when to push back and when to surrender.

 

Even though you loved pushing Hotch’s and the FBI buttons, you loved pushing Spencer’s more. Normally you wouldn’t take it too far, just far enough where you knew you were in for a treat later on. Spencer would normally overstimulate you; he loved hearing you beg for forgiveness, saying sorry over and over again until all you could do was moan.

 

But you wanted to see how far you could take it with Spencer, what he would do. You decided to play it safe to start off with. Every time he spoke, you would roll your eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to acknowledge what you were doing, he would simply carry on talking. Though after about a day of doing this, he would glare at you.

 

But instead of discouraging you, his glare only fuelled the fire within you. You craved his attention, even if it meant pushing his limits. So, you intensified your defiance, not holding back anymore.

 

As Spencer continued to talk, you let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms, openly displaying your disinterest. The room fell silent, all eyes on you and Spencer. His glare intensified, a mix of frustration and intrigue evident in his eyes.

 

"Is there something you want to say?" he finally asked, his voice slightly strained.

 

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," you replied sarcastically. "I didn't realize I had to be interested in every little thing you have to say."

 

Spencer's jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He wasn't used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone he cared about. He didn’t say another word to you, he just took his eyes away and talked to the rest of your peers.

 

Once everyone had gone back to their desks, Spencer walked over to you. His eyes never leaving yours. “Roll your eyes one more time at me, and so help me God.” You could feel the tension in the air as Spencer stood before you, his voice low and controlled.

 

You knew you were starting to get to him, but you knew you could still take it further. “I thought you were an atheist, Spencer. Why are you asking God for help?” Even though your question was rhetorical, you asked it with a level of sincerity.

 

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his voice full of warning. "You know exactly what I meant."

 

You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the underlying intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface. You had pushed him to his breaking point, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a strange surge of exhilaration coursing through your veins.

 

Spencer took a step closer, his proximity only heightening the charged atmosphere between you. The air crackled with unspoken desire and unyielding defiance. There was a part of you that wanted to relent, to submit to his authority, but another part revelled in the power play that unfolded before you.

 

"And what if I don't comply?" you challenged, your voice laced with defiance. "What will you do?"

 

He didn’t answer straightaway, so you answered for him. “Exactly, nothing. Maybe you should go back to your desk and get some work done before Hotch complains.”

 

Spencer's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire as he watched you, the challenge in your voice only serving to further ignite the fire within him. He could feel his control slipping, his usual calm and composed demeanour unravelling at the sheer audacity of your defiance.

 

With a calculated move, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You underestimate me, Y/N," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "But I assure you, I'm more than capable of making you comply."

 

He walked back to his desk, not allowing you to have the final word. You could see that you had rattled him, and that only fuelled your determination to push him further. You wanted to see how far he would go, how much control he was willing to relinquish.

 

For the rest of the day, you played it cool, focusing on your work and pretending as though nothing had happened between you and Spencer. You barely looked up at him, you wanted him to think he had won for now.

 

But as the hours ticked by, you could feel Spencer's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin. You knew he was silently contemplating his next move, strategizing how to regain control over the situation. And you were eager to see what he had in store.

 

Finally, as the workday drew to a close, Spencer stood up from his desk and walked purposefully towards you. His steps were measured, his expression unreadable. When he reached you, he took hold of your arm firmly but gently, guiding you towards the exit.

 

"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning innocence even though you had an inkling of what Spencer had in mind.

 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at you. “Spencer, where are we going? I wanted to go to Rossi’s tonight, he’s teaching us to make homemade linguini, remember?” He still remained silent though.

 

“Are you ignoring me? How mature Spencer.” Spencer's grip tightened on your arm as he led you outside, away from the prying eyes of your colleagues. The cool night air brushed against your skin, adding a layer of suspense to the already charged atmosphere between you.

 

"Enough, Y/N," he finally spoke, his voice laced with both frustration and desire. “You’ve being testing me all day. And I think it’s time someone reminded you who’s in charge here.”

 

“No one’s meant to be in charge in a relationship, but if you want, I can go grab Hotch, I mean he is the one in charge after all.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed, annoyance and irritation flashing across his face. He had reached his breaking point, his patience worn thin by your relentless defiance. Without a word, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his grip firm and possessive.

 

"Enough games, Y/N," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. "You push me, you challenge me, but do not mistake it for a lack of control."

 

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "You want to play? Fine. But just remember, I always win."

 

“You don’t always win. I mean you haven’t won today. And what about Rossi’s?”

 

Spencer's gaze bore into yours, his intensity unwavering. "Rossi's can wait," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Right now, I'm going to remind you who's in charge."

 

He walked you over to his car, letting go of your arm so he could open your door, a gesture he always did, not matter how angry he was with you.

 

You slid into the passenger seat, still unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. Spencer closed your door and made his way to the driver's side, taking a moment to compose himself before he started the engine.

 

As the car roared to life, the tension inside the vehicle matched the charged atmosphere between you. Spencer's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the streets with a precision that mirrored his meticulous nature.

 

You decided to break the silence, you wanted to apologies to him, not because you were actually sorry but because you wanted him to think you were. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I was just bored today, and I thought it would be fun seeing how far I could take things. But I now realise that’s something I shouldn’t have done. So, I am truly and utterly sorry.” Your voice calm, but low, so it seemed like a real apology.

 

He remained silent, his eyes never leaving the road. “Spencer, please respond. I didn’t mean to anger you, I thought you would find it fun.”

 

“I don’t want to hear excuses, or fake apologies. You obviously need to learn a lesson.” Spencer's voice was cold, devoid of any hint of forgiveness or understanding. The atmosphere in the car became suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of unease crawl up your spine.

 

As Spencer continued to drive, the surroundings began to blur into a blur of streetlights and passing buildings. His steely gaze never wavered from the road ahead, his control unyielding and unwavering. It was as if he had transformed into someone else entirely, someone you had never seen before.

 

You glanced at him cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction. The anger in his eyes was still palpable, but there was something else there too—a hunger that made your breath hitch and your heart race. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, an electrifying current that left you both exhilarated and apprehensive.

 

"Spencer," you whispered tentatively, reaching out to touch his arm. Your fingers brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from it. But before you could say anything more, he abruptly pulled his arm away, his gaze still locked on the road ahead.

 

"Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. The sharpness of his tone startled you, causing your hand to retract back to your side.

 

Once he had pulled up to his apartment, you didn’t wait for him to open your door, and simply jumped out and waited for him. As you stood outside his apartment, you could feel the tension between you and Spencer reach its peak. The air crackled with anticipation, each passing second heightening your desire for him. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, the culmination of your shared lust and pent-up frustration.

 

Spencer finally emerged from the car, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. He eyed you intently, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and longing. Without saying a word, he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the entrance of his building.

 

He pulled you up the stairs, not even letting go off you to open up his door. Once inside his apartment, Spencer slammed the door shut behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

 

“Spencer, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do?” Spencer's silence hung heavy in the air as he continued to hold your wrist tightly, his grip unyielding. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around you, intensifying the sense of anticipation and unease. You watched as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of sincerity in your words.

 

His voice was low and gravelly as he finally spoke, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and desire. "Sorry isn't enough, Y/N. Words won't be sufficient to teach you the lesson you so desperately need."

 

He paused for a second, trying to come up with a good enough punishment. “The only way you’re getting off tonight, is my thigh.”

 

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intensity in his eyes was enough to confirm that this was no idle threat. He meant every word.

 

“I am very serious. Remember, you did this to yourself. If anything, I’m going too easy on you. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum for the rest of the week, or make sure you struggle to walk for the next few days.”

 

You gasped, the gravity of his words sinking in. As much as his punishment excited you, it also stirred a deep sense of vulnerability within you.

 

"Spencer, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and apprehension. "I didn't mean to push you this far. I just wanted... I just wanted to feel your control."

 

A flicker of understanding flashed across his eyes, but he remained resolute. "Control is not something to be taken lightly, Y/N," he said sternly. "It is earned and respected. And tonight, you will learn exactly what it means to surrender."

 

He led you to the living room, fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, every second stretching out into eternity as you waited for his command.

 

"Undress," he ordered, his voice firm. A small part of you wanted to tell him that if he wants to see you naked, then he should undress you himself. But you knew then that would be pushing it a little too far.

 

He stood still, watching you as you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing a light blue lace bra. His eyes scanning your body, his tongue licking his lips. He looked at you as if you were prey. As you moved onto your trousers, his eyes followed. It was almost humiliating. He was staying fully dressed, while watching you undress yourself for him.

 

Your heart raced as you slid your trousers down your legs, feeling exposed under his unwavering gaze. "You look beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes continued to roam over your body, taking in every curve and dip, fuelling a fire deep within you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his words, even though you knew it was merely a precursor to the punishment that awaited you.

 

“But when I said undress, I meant fully.” His voice had gone back to being cold.

 

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether you were ready to bare yourself completely. The room grew colder as you stood there, shivering slightly under his gaze. With a deep breath, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it slide down your arms and dropping it to the floor.

 

Spencer's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and dominance as he watched you undress. The air crackled with tension, the anticipation thickening with each passing moment. You kicked off your panties, finally standing before him completely exposed and vulnerable.

 

You watched as he walked over to his sofa. He sat himself down and open his legs slightly. He patted his thigh, as if he were asking you to sit on it for him.

 

Taking a step forward, you approached him with a mixture of trepidation and longing. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin, heightening your senses. With each fleeting moment, the anticipation grew, electrifying the atmosphere.

 

You positioned yourself in front of Spencer, his thigh invitingly raised and awaiting your compliance. Slowly, you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. The contact sent a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, causing you to inhale sharply.

 

Spencer's hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you onto his thigh. The pressure against your core was immediate, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat. The friction of his thigh against your sensitive flesh sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making it difficult to suppress the moans that threatened to escape your lips.

 

"Ride my thigh, Y/N," he growled, his voice laced with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. "Show me how badly you want to be controlled."

 

Spencer's hands tightened their grip on your hips, guiding your movements with precision. Each motion sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, building the tight coil of desire within you. The room filled with the sound of your moans, mingling with Spencer's low groans of pleasure.

 

As you rode his thigh, the intensity of the moment consumed you. The room fell away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of desire and control. Spencer's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements with expert precision.

 

“Is this all it takes for you to actually listen to me? You just want to cum huh?” He chuckled.

 

You only seemed to be able to nod your head, the only thing leaving your mouth were moans. “Maybe I should have asked you to grind against my shoes instead, you seem to be enjoying this too much.”

 

Your body trembled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation as Spencer's words sank in. The thought of grinding against his shoes sent a surge of excitement through you, despite the humiliation it would bring. You were at his mercy, completely under his control, and you craved more.

 

Spencer's grip on your hips tightened as he felt your body tense with desire. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting the dominance that radiated from him. With a sudden surge of confidence, he released your hips and reached down to unbutton his pants. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the room as he unzipped his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.

 

You watched with hungry eyes as Spencer's erection sprang free, standing proudly before you. A shiver ran down your spine as desire pooled between your thighs, the ache for release growing stronger by the second. The anticipation was palpable, hanging thickly in the air like an intoxicating fog.

 

"Get on your knees," Spencer commanded, his voice low and commanding. You obeyed without hesitation, the need to please him overpowering any remnants of resistance. Your knees sank into the plush carpet, bringing you eye level with his throbbing length.

 

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you took him in your hands, stroking his length firmly. A groan escaped from Spencer's lips; his head tilted back in pleasure. The power dynamic between you had shifted completely, and you revelled in the sense of control you now held.

 

With every stroke, Spencer grew harder in your grasp, his desire evident in the way he gripped onto the edge of the sofa. You marvelled at the way he responded to your touch, relishing in the way his body reacted to your every movement.

 

You leaned in closer, flicking your tongue against the sensitive tip of his cock. Spencer's breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you took him further into your mouth.

 

Your lips wrapped around him, the taste of his desire lingering on your tongue. You reveled in the power you held over him, eager to please and satisfy his every need. Your tongue glided along his length, tracing the veins that pulsed with his desire. Spencer's grip on your hair tightened, his hips canting forward, urging you to take him deeper.

 

The intensity of the moment consumed you as you surrendered completely to him. Each thrust of his hips brought you closer to the edge, your own desire building with every flicker of your tongue against his sensitive flesh. Your senses heightened, the sound of his moans filling the room, mingling with your own pleasure-filled gasps.

 

Spencer's control wavered as he neared the precipice of release. His grip on your hair became tighter, guiding you with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The powerful waves of pleasure coursed through him, radiating from every inch of his being.

 

As Spencer's release neared, you could feel the tension in his body intensify. His breaths became ragged and irregular, and you could sense that he was on the verge of losing his grip on control. With a final, desperate thrust, he released himself into your mouth.

 

You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste of him as his essence filled your senses. The primal satisfaction that filled the room was overwhelming, leaving you both breathless and intoxicated with desire.

 

Spencer collapsed back onto the sofa, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You rose from your knees, licking your lips and savouring the lingering taste of him on your tongue.

 

Spencer knew he wasn’t done with you yet; he knew this wasn’t a proper punishment. Spencer's eyes burned with a renewed determination as he met your gaze. Despite the intense pleasure that still lingered within you, there was a hunger for more, an unquenchable longing that pulsed through your veins.

 

"Get on the bed," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. The room seemed to dim around you, shadows dancing against the walls, as you obeyed his command.

 

The bed beckoned you, its soft sheets invitingly cool against your heated skin. You climbed onto it, positioning yourself on all fours, ready and exposed for whatever Spencer had in mind.

 

Spencer stood up from the sofa, his eyes fixed on your vulnerable form on the bed. He moved towards you slowly, the anticipation building with each step. As he reached the edge of the bed, he trailed a finger lightly along your spine.

 

He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a length of silk rope, his eyes never leaving yours. With a swift motion, he secured your wrists together, binding them tightly but not painfully. You tested the restraints instinctively, feeling the rush of helplessness mingling with arousal.

 

With your wrists secured, Spencer moved to the foot of the bed, his gaze darkening with a predatory hunger. He wasted no time, his hands trailing up your legs, skimming over the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. A shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling tightly in your core.

 

His touch was teasing, tormenting, as he neared the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along the edges of your arousal, but never fully delved into it. It was a maddeningly slow torture that left you trembling with need.

 

"Please," you whispered, unable to contain the desperation in your voice. The ache within you was unbearable, the longing for release. Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smile, relishing in the power he held over you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Patience, my love. I deserve patience after the stunts you pulled today.”

 

His fingers continued their torturous dance along your inner thighs, inching closer to your throbbing core. Every brush of his fingertips ignited a fire within you, intensifying the ache for release. Your body quivered with need, yearning for his touch to finally grant you the satisfaction you craved.

 

Finally, Spencer's fingers made contact with your slick folds, teasingly skimming against your sensitive entrance. A gasp escaped your lips as he dipped a single finger inside, drawing out a slow, deliberate stroke that had you arching your back in sheer ecstasy. Each movement was precise, calculated to push you closer to the edge without granting you the climax you so desperately sought.

 

"More," you begged, your voice filled with a desperation that matched the wildfire burning within you. Spencer's eyes gleamed with delight at your plea, relishing in the power he held over your pleasure.

 

With a wicked smile, he added another finger, curling them inside you expertly, hitting that spot that made your entire body quiver with every stroke. The intensity of the pleasure built rapidly, transcending everything else in the room. Your moans filled the air, mingling with the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you.

 

But just as you were on the precipice of release, Spencer pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping and reaching for something to cling onto. The sudden emptiness made you whimper with frustration. Spencer's eyes held an intoxicating mix of dominance and satisfaction as he watched you squirm on the bed.

 

"You don't get to come yet," he murmured huskily. "Not until I've had my fill." Spencer's words hung in the air, teasing, and taunting you. Every fibber of your being throbbed with desire, yearning for release. The hunger in his eyes reflected your own as he positioned himself between your spread legs.

 

Lowering his head, Spencer's hot breath fanned across your sensitive flesh. His lips brushed against your inner thighs, peppering soft kisses along the way, deliberately avoiding the centre of your need. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that made your body ache for his touch.

 

Finally, his tongue flicked out and traced a slow circle around your swollen clit. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. He continued to tease, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks that had you writhing beneath him.

 

Each flicker of his tongue against your most intimate place intensified the fire within you. Your hips rocked instinctively, seeking more friction, more pleasure. But Spencer held firm control over your pleasure, denying you the release you so desperately craved. He continued his torturous ministrations, never relenting, never granting you the satisfaction of that mind-numbing climax.

 

Your body trembled with every stroke of his tongue, your need escalating to a maddening frenzy. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans, your pleas mixed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your throbbing core. The tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, threatening to shatter your sanity.

 

Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. You were at his mercy, surrendering yourself completely to his touch. The pulsating waves of pleasure radiated through every fibber of your being, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

 

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, when the ache for release became unbearable, Spencer pulled away.

 

Your whole body cried out in protest at the sudden absence of his touch. You whimpered, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Spencer's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, revelling in the control he had over your pleasure.

 

"Please," you begged, your voice dripping with need. "I need to cum."

 

Spencer's lips curled into a wicked smile, knowing full well the power he held over your satisfaction. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself over you, his hard length brushing against your thigh. The hunger in his eyes was palpable as he captured your gaze.

 

"Oh, my love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I'm not done with you yet. I want to watch you unravel completely."

 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, desire pooling between your legs once again. Spencer grasped your wrists, releasing them from their restraints, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

 

With a swift motion, Spencer positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his throbbing length. The anticipation was maddening, the need for him to fill you overwhelming every inch of your being. You let out a soft whimper, begging him to take you, to quell the ache that consumed you.

 

But Spencer relished in your desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a hunger that matched your own. It was a battle of dominance and surrender as your tongues danced and clashed, melding together in a frenzied embrace.

 

When he finally pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck, peppering heated kisses along the curve of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. As his teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, electrifying every nerve ending.

 

With agonizing slowness, Spencer entered you, his hard length filling you inch by inch. You gasped at the delicious stretch, the feeling of him stretching you to your limits. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, a mix of pain and ecstasy that had your body arching off the bed in pure bliss.

 

He began to move within you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, intensifying the ache for release that had been building within you for so long. Your fingers clenched against the silk restraints, the sensation of being bound adding an extra layer of arousal.

 

Spencer's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, hitting that spot deep inside you with every powerful stroke. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingling with your moans and gasps.

 

Your senses were completely consumed by the pleasure, nothing else existing except for the connection between you and Spencer. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that matched the blaze within you. Every movement, every thrust, carried you further and further into a state of raw ecstasy. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire.

 

As Spencer's rhythm became more erratic, your body responded in kind, meeting his every movement with unyielding fervour. The bed rocked beneath you, a symphony of creaks and moans echoing through the room. Sweat glistened on your skin, the scent of desire mingling with the air.

 

Time lost all meaning as pleasure coiled tightly within you, ready to unravel at any moment. The fire burned within your core, threatening to consume you whole. Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip possessive yet exhilarating.

 

With one final thrust, the dam broke.

 

An explosion of sensation ripped through your body as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails dug into his skin. He quickly followed you, releasing his seed deep in you.

 

He pulled out and had a look a triumph plastered across his face. “I think we should probably get ready to leave now, huh?”

 

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[tomriddleslove]

I’m here.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo is spiralling and he needs a way out. He doesn’t expect to find it right in front of him. Alternatively: He doesn’t realise he is loved, by you.

A/N: Riddles 🤝 Internal Monologues. I’ve postponed a smut to write this because my heart belongs to angst. REQUESTS ARE OPEN 😻

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Child abuse, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Family environments, Depression. This is quite a heavy read.

Mattheo liked to think of himself as an independent person. It wasn't of his own volition, of course. He didn't exactly have the most supportive home environment. From the day he turned up to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, with scuff marks on his shoes, ragged clothing, hunger gnawing at his insides like a ravenous beast and a bruise spattering the left side of his face, he learnt that the world would not show mercy on him. No, Mattheo had to do it on his own.

He did indeed feel grateful for his friends, who didn't need to utter a word in their support. It wasn't hums of sympathy or pitying looks. It was them brushing off his back when he fell, it was saving the work for him when he had rough evenings, it was pouring him a coffee when he sat down for breakfast without saying a word. Their friendship was not reflected in their words, no, for words were futile. It was in their actions. And Mattheo would be eternally grateful for them.

But even then, it was he who was surrounded by so many, who felt the most alone.

He couldn't ever speak of his issues, he didn't think he ever could. His friends loved him, but not in the way unconditional love came. It need not be romantic, no, Mattheo was not a fool. He didn't care for that when he could barely get himself together. But his deepest secret was not his family's past, nor was it the hidden bruises under his uniform.

Rather, it was that Mattheo simply, had the most terrible, incredibly human need, for love.

For the sort of love that would let you look at the most broken down, raw parts of a person, and still speak of them with reverence.

It tears at your skin. It digs its claws into your feeble skin, and it pulls, It tugs, and it screams. It bares its teeth, it etches its name into your soul. It feeds on you, it consumes you, it hurts you. It bleeds in front of you.

It bleeds, yet it does not cower under the weight of its own vulnerability, because it knows you love it. You lean down, and you cradle it as though it was the most delicate thing on earth. It shrieks in your arms, it continues clawing at you.

You hold it. You are not afraid.

It bleeds, and it makes you bleed with it.

It’s ok.

You'll clean it. You are not afraid.

It was, in its purest form, an ugly thing. Ugly, yet so undeniably beautiful. His heart could only ache, and clench at the thought of such an unconditional love. The idea that someone could see him for him, see Mattheo for Mattheo and not for his father, or for his friends, or for his loud, raucous persona that he put on, or his unhealthy habits.

But how could someone see Mattheo for himself, when he himself didn't know who he was?

He wondered what the rest of his life held for him, often. Sprawled out on his bed, a near-empty bottle of Odgens’ fire whiskey loosely clutched in his hands. His hands are cold; they never warmed.

He always had this feeling in his throat. A sort of suffocating weight, a pain that restricted him. It made it hard to swallow, and even harder to speak.

People would think he'd be out partying. Maybe getting with a girl. With his friends.

It's not that he didn't do that. He did. But it got to a point where the face of one girl blurred into another, he couldn't tell his mornings from evenings. Floating on a high that would sink into an undistinguishable low, one and the same.

He never slept. Whilst they didn't outwardly question it, his friends would jibe and jeer at him, assuming the bags under his eyes were due to his late-night rendezvous with another girl.

Would they look at him differently if they knew it came from nightmares?

He couldn't sleep, because every time he closes his eyes the depths of his mind torment him with images from his past.

His father’s hand comes down, cruel and unforgiving. The bruises mar his skin, but it became the norm. The purples and greens became akin to home more than anything else he had.

In his dreams, his legs do not reach as far as they do now. His calloused hands are smooth once more, and his eyes are wide and honest.

He is young once more, and it does not bring him ease.

He seeks out his mother, he yearns for comfort. She does not give it to him. He is met with the harsh sound of a slap resounding, and his cheek starts hurting. He's confused, and then-

Oh.

Right.

His eyes close, and they open again. He is now looking in the mirror, and he is back to the way he is now. He is standing there, and he cannot tell why he is. He looks the same, yet somehow unrecognisable. Mattheo knows himself well, but right now he feels as though there is a stranger in front of him. That can't be him, he thinks, but he has the same faded scar on his right eyebrow, and his jaw is clenched in the same way. His nose is slightly crooked from when he tried to mend his broken nose at the age of 8.

He meets his eyes in the mirror, and they stare back at him. There isn't that familiar gleam of exhaustion. There isn’t sadness, yet he isn't relieved to see it. He looks in the mirror, and he sees himself. He sees his father reflected in him.

He is watching, and a child approaches him. He is young, as Mattheo was. He barely manages to walk over without stumbling. He looks up at Mattheo - the one in the mirror. Mattheo looks down, but he does not see the kid next to him. He stares back at Mattheo in the mirror, and his reflection is looking down at the child. His stomach starts to hurt. His insides churn, and the reflection raises a hand. The child looks up at him, the same way Mattheo looked up at his mother. The hand comes down, and the harsh sound of a slap resounds throughout the room. The child cries. Mattheo's cheek hurts.

He wakes.

Gasping, sweat clinging to his forehead. His body is freezing, and his mind is reeling. His heart is pounding frantically, and he throws the blanket off him, rubbing a hand over his face as he groans.

He couldn't sleep, He was terrified of trying to do so. His eyes flicker over to the clock on his wall.

2:00 am.

Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees the child looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He sees his reflection raising its hand. In the silence, he hears the sound of the slap, he hears the cries of the child. It mingles with his own, he cannot not tell whose is whose.

He gets up, slipping his hoodie on. His movements are groggy because even if his mind couldn't sleep, his body still needed it.

Then again, one more night of resorting to drinking himself to sleep and he wouldn't be sure if he would wake again. His feet lead him to your room before his mind registers it. He doesn't know why he's standing outside your door, but you were his friend. Perhaps, a closer friend than the rest of them. He knew you'd be up, and he needed to not be alone right now.

Mattheo was a very independent person most of the time, but now was not one of those times.

That terrible, incredibly human need comes back again.

His hand rests on the doorknob, the cool metal still warmer than his own skin. He hesitates, but he pushes the door open.

Your door was always open for him.

As he expected, you were awake. Stretched out on your bed, propped up on a few cushions as you read a book. Your eyes flicker up as you look over at Mattheo, the confusion on your face very quickly fading as you see the state he's in.

You do not say anything, and he is grateful. You put your book to the side. You do not slide over to the side and offer Mattheo a spot next to you like you always do. You instead, continue looking over at him. Instead, you open your arms. You do not say anything, and you beckon him over.

He does not move immediately. He gazes at you for a second and once again, his feet move, and he gravitates towards you before his mind can even compute what he’s doing. The mattress squeaks slightly under your combined weight, as he comes over. He lowers down onto you, his head resting on your chest as he wraps his arms around your midsection. You cradle him as though he was the most delicate thing on earth. His cold skin meets yours, and its intransigence wavers.

He warms, and it is the most beautiful feeling.

He clings to you, as though trying to merge his existence with yours, afraid you'll slip away.

You hold him.

“I'm here,” You whisper.

It doesn't take long after that.

His head is hidden in your chest. Your fingers card through his brown curls.

You hold him.

He weeps.

You hold him.

You do not let go. He cries, and he cries till his throat is dry, and your shirt is soaked. He cries, and not once does your hold on him waver.

You are not disgusted by him. You do not look at him differently. It is amidst those tears that he comes to the realisation that he did not have to search very far. He is not just seeking comfort; he's holding onto the love and acceptance he's always craved. The raw, unfiltered emotion takes him by surprise, and he lets it wash over him. He did not cower under his own vulnerability any more, no, for his vulnerability is both liberating and overwhelming.

His sobs gradually subside, and your hold only loosens slightly when his body no longer shakes with the weight of his emotions. The feeling in his throat is gone.

He doesn't look up at you, but it's okay. You still look at him the same way. Your lips press a tender kiss against his messy hair lightly. His arms wrap around you tighter. You both remain silent. You don’t need to speak the words, because Mattheo knows.

Everything would be okay, if only for tonight.

[freyito]

ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴡ/ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ

this is another little drabble thing for all the men in mk1, since i thought it was another super cute idea and i have so many requests for the lin kuei trio! but barley any for any other characters!!! i think they all deserve the same love :D these are pretty much little snippets of like how they sleep, what they do before they go to bed with you, little late night excursions, and who wakes up first/how they wake up, stuff like that :) this one took a looooot out of me goddamn, but i love it and i hope u all enjoy it too!!!!

cw: gn reader, literally just fluff, shang tsung is a diiiiiiva, proofread

-Liu Kang

Nights with Liu Kang are ethereal. When you're up to it, he's gonna take you to the most secluded place he can think of, where you can almost see the entire universe shining within the sky. He'll recount stories from the past to you, point out constellations,- even in the overcrowded sky- and even make up some, just for fun. Just because he's a god doesn't mean he won't make time for you. He actively seeks you out during the night, really.

Liu Kang doesn't move much in his sleep, either. He's got his arms around you, and his head pressed up against yours. It's the only way he can sleep well, he says. If you slip out of his arms somehow, he's awake almost immediately. It gives him peace of mind. He's also relatively warm, since he is the god of fire. So don't expect to be all covered up in blankets.

Liu Kang also refuses to leave until you are awake. He does not want to give the impression that he is abandoning you, he knows what its like to suddenly wake up alone. Quite frankly, you take precedence over godhood, and he doesn't mind waiting to start his day.

-Bi-Han

Bi-Han really enjoys nightly walks through the forest. He believes it's a great way to end the day and to wind down. The soft sounds of the wind running through the leaves, a streaming flowing in the distance, and no one but you and him. Sometimes, he'll just enjoy the silence, and other times he'll talk to you. Mundane things, stuff that even he seems to prideful to ask. But he'll ask about your day, and he'll want every little detail. Especially if you didn't get to spend your day with him.

Bi-Han also doesn't move at all in his sleep. He'll hold you every now and then, but he's more than content just sharing a bed with you. As said before, he almost has an aversion to touch. Sometimes he'll turn his back to you, but not because he's mad. It's simply a comfortable position. There are some times where he will wake up in the middle of the night and find himself wanting to hold you, so he will. He'll hold you close, almost as if he's afraid of loosing you.

Normally, Bi-Han wakes up first. Sometimes he'll be gone when you wake up, but he's soon to return. Other times, you wake up in his arms, while he's still sleeping. It's a game of chance to see who wakes up first, really.

-Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang will always wind down simply by laying in bed with you, your legs tangled amongst each other, his fingers caught up in your hair. He's so close to you, just mere centimeters from his lips, yet he does not close the distance. His eyes are transfixed on you, the silence full of love and passion and content. At the very last moment, when you get too impatient, he finally places his lips on yours. And you always melt into them, every single time.

Kuai Liang tends to move in his sleep a little, but not enough to wake you. Normally, you two will fall asleep spooning, but you'll wake up with him either pushed away from you, or somehow even closer. It's not voluntary, and when he finds himself away from you, he's a little heartbroken. But he'll make up for it, almost too quickly.

Kuai Liang will always wake up before you, he enjoys watching your sleeping face. He loves these small moments of vulnerability, it's something that matters deeply to him. To him, being able to fall asleep with someone isn't easy. He has to be comfortable being with you, and for you to be this vulnerable with him, it makes his heart skip a beat.

-Johnny Cage

Two words. Night drives. Johnny is and always will be down to take night drives with you. Around the city, somewhere in those smaller towns, or even on the country roads. Even if he complains that the country roads will fuck up his tires. He'll go anywhere you want, play any music you want, or none if you prefer Johnny's sweet, smooth voice. He'll always have his hand on your thigh, too. His hand won't wander, but he definitely enjoys your presence.

Johnny can't stay fucking still in his sleep, not for a second. Yeah, maybe he'll fall asleep with you in his arms, but when you wake up, he's sprawled out over the bed like Patrick fucking Star. You've lost track of how many times you've been kicked off the bed. All in love, though. He isn't doing it on purpose, he swears. Pinky swears. He'll get a bigger bed, soon! So you don't have to fight for your life to stay on it over the night!

You will always wake up before him, unless Johnny has a gig. He hates waking up in the morning, even if it's next to you. However, if you make an attempt to get out of bed while he's still asleep, he'll subconsciously grab onto you. He condemns you to an eternity in bed with him, as if it's your own personal hell. It isn't, but you always pout.

-Kenshi Takahashi

Like Kuai Liang, Kenshi prefers nothing more than settling down with you in bed. He enjoys the mood, having you rest your head on his bare chest, playing with your hair, running his hands down your back. Those quiet moments where you two just enjoy each others presence, finding peace within the chaos of the world. As ashamed as he is to be considered a (former) Yakuza, he does enjoy it when you trace his tattoos with your gentle hands.

While you fall asleep on Kenshi's chest more often then not, he's quite restless. He has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night and seeking your comfort. And when you end up waking up with him, there are very quiet, tender moments. He'll call you his, runs his hands down your body all warm and tender, and kiss you passionately. If those moments don't end up with something else, simply sharing the intimacy and his feelings for you gets him to go back to sleep.

Surprisingly, you'll wake up before Kenshi does. Always. Perhaps it's the fact that he can never get a full nights sleep. But he likes waking up to you being there, he won't throw a fit like Johnny does if you get up without him, but it does sting a little for him. Though, he'll always find you in the house, and will always surprise you by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

-Kung Lao

To wind down, Kung Lao really enjoys just messing around. He's gonna chase you all around the house, slow dance with you from room to room, serenade you (horribly), and many more. He likes to make the time he spends with you as fun as possible, even if he's teasing you. By far, he loves carrying you around the house, telling you all sorts of stupid stories amidst telling you exactly how much he loves you.

Kung Lao tosses and turns quite a lot in his sleep. Yet, his arms will always find their way around your waist. Even if it's just for a couple of seconds. Sometimes, he has a habit of pushing you around the bed. He hates that he does, and he's tried to fix how restless his body is when he sleeps, but he just hasn't been able.

With that, Kung Lao always makes up for it in the morning. He's always going to wake up before you, always. Perhaps it's because of his life as a farmer, or maybe he just feels real guilty about his sleep habits. He refuses to let you leave the bed when you do wake up, he'll hold you real close by your waist and rest his forehead on yours. He'll stare in your eyes for what feels like forever, until he gives you a quick kiss on the lips and frees you.

-Raiden

Raiden enjoys just talking about your day before bed. To sit down, enjoy the sunset with each other, and talk about the mundane. Even if he's Earthrealm's protector, he really misses the mundane, the boring side of life. So to just hear about your day, even if all day was spent at home, is a great pleasure to him. And he'll tell you about his, too.

The man sleeps easy, Raiden doesn't have much troubling him in his sleep at all. He's perfectly still, although he does tend to lay on his back. He loves it when you cuddle up to him, even if you really only lay on his arm. He doesn't mind if he wakes up and it's numb, no, really.

Raiden is an early riser, and if you are too, then that's perfect. He also enjoys spending his mornings with you, in fact, he'll stay in bed til you wake up. He pretends he wakes up at the same time with you, just because it feels like a very special moment to him.

-Zeffeero

Zeffeero likes to use his magic to span out pretty little tricks for you. Laying down, your head resting on his shoulder, his hand lazily tracing your waist, as he spins out little spirals, forms stars, almost like shadow puppets. He'll argue that it's a waste of his talent, but you know he loves doing it for you. He loves that little sparkle of adoration in your eyes.

Zeffeero has a harder time going to sleep. He actually struggles a little with physical touch when he's trying to sleep, so more often then not, you two end up sleeping facing eachother. He'll cuddle you before bed, of course, but he just doesn't know why he has a problem with it when he's asleep. He's perfectly still, in his sleep though.

Because of this, you always wake up to Zeffeero playing with your hair, admiring your features, and even humming slightly to himself. That being said, it doesn't matter how early you wake up, he will always, always wake up first. It's almost like a challenge for you, but you don't relinquish the sweet sanctity of sleep.

-Tomas Vrbada

Tomas loves making the night magical, with what he can do. The amount of effort and thought he puts into every night to make it the perfect experience is almost scary. Anything you want, he'll do. However, he loves slow dancing with you in your room before you two fall asleep. Especially in the dark. It's a wonder how he doesn't bump into anything, guiding you along. During this, he loves to intertwine his fingers with yours, pulling you in real close by the small of your back, and peppering your face with kisses.

After you two end up falling onto the bed, Tomas keeps you close. He wraps you two up in the covers, and falls asleep relatively quickly. As peaceful as he seems during the day, at night he feels haunted by what would have been. Tomas has chronic nightmares, and he tends to wake up a lot in the middle of the night. If he wakes you up with them, he feels so guilty. He doesn't wake up suddenly, since he is used to this, but he does tend to twitch in his sleep.

It's a 50/50 chance with who will wake up first, if it's Tomas, he re-adjusts and pulls you in even closer. He hates waking up, he's the type to spend at least an hour in bed with you before properly waking up. If you wake up first, and leave the bed, he actively seeks you out in his tired state. Once he finds you, he drags you right back to bed.

-Baraka

Night walks are one of the greatest ways to end the day with Baraka. Anywhere, he'll always make the small trip worth it. Normally, you two walk in silence. It's not a bad thing, simply spending time with you reminds him how loved he is. But sometimes you'll find odd little things to talk about, tell stories, all of it.

Baraka prefers not to hold you, in fact he's afraid to even sleep in the same bed. He loves you, and it's because of that. He's worried about spreading Tarkat to you, so he'll keep his distance in bed. He wants so desperately to hold you, to bury his face in your neck and feel your warmth, but your life is not worth that. Because of this, he sleeps with his back to you.

Baraka wakes up before you. He sleeps lightly, and any little twitch wakes him up. Normally, he can never really get back to sleep. So he'll sit up in bed and wait on you to wake up. He thinks it's important for you to wake up to him, because with all the things he wants to do but can't, he at least wants you to know he'll always be there.

-Geras

Geras' favorite thing to do to wind down before you two go to bed is to read with you. Perhaps he is a construct of time and has no use for mortal literature, but he kind of finds it interesting. Whatever book you're reading, he wants to read, too. Having you sit on his lap, while you two read the same book, it makes him tired. Even though he really has no concept of being tired. You bring out a whole range of emotions that he never thought was possible from a construct.

If you don't fall asleep as-is in Geras' arms, he loves spooning. He really has no need for sleep, but he will gladly guide you off to sleep. He'll stroke your hair, place kisses on the back of your shoulders, and whisper all sorts of sweet nothings. And once you're asleep, he goes right back to watching over the timeline. He'd love to sleep with you, but it is really only something he can fake.

By the time you're awake, Geras is right back in bed with you. He'd hate to have you wake up alone, so he always takes an hour or so out of his tireless watch to be with you in the morning. He'll wake you up gently, make you some tea, and hold you close for a couple minutes, before kissing you and sending you off on your day.

-Syzoth

By far, Syzoth is probably the most cuddly. He enjoys watching some of Johnny's horrid movies before bed,- but only the nice ones- while he's all wrapped around you. He's got his legs tangled up with yours, holding you close to his chest, and kissing the crown of your head. He actually refuses to have you leave his arms- unless you really need it or are uncomfortable- because keeping you close is the only thing that really sends him to sleep.

You'll fall asleep like that, too. You have an effect on Syzoth, he just feels so happy and safe with you that he'll fall asleep halfway through the movie. While he tends to wake up every now and then, he doesn't move a damn muscle in his sleep. Not a one. Sometimes, he'll squeeze you just a little tighter when he wakes up. To remind himself that you're there.

You end up waking up before Syzoth does, and it's a struggle to get out of his hold. But, by then, he's awake too. He'll let you escape, but when you get out of bed, he insists on pulling you back to bed with him. For at least 20 more minutes. And then, he'll follow you around as you brush your teeth, shower, etc. He's especially clingy in the morning.

-Havik

As mentioned in my love languages post, Havik loves naps. So normally, you find yourself laying on his chest, while he tries to fall asleep for the third time today. He believes being able to fall asleep with someone is the ultimate vulnerability, so having you there makes him feel stronger. As long as some part of you is touching him while he drifts off, he's happy. And if you even stray from him, he's pulling you back in, all grumpy.

Havik has trouble sleeping properly, despite his favorite pastime. He finds himself waking up quite often, and he has some rather visceral reactions. He tends to wake you up, too. But he's always apologetic. He'll pull you in closer, loosing himself in your eyes. Only then do you two end up falling back asleep. Sometimes, it repeats a couple times through the night, but there are some nights where he sleeps peacefully.

You will always wake up before Havik does. But he's still very aware of his surroundings, so if you try and leave the bed before he's even semi-conscious, he's going to pout and pull you back in once more. He'll hide his face in your neck, muttering "mine", until he's fully awake and ready to start the day.

-General Shao

Shao is a fucking CUDDLEBUG. Despite his big and mean demeanor, he loves showing you around the city before bed. Even if you've seen it a thousand times before, he loves the palace at night. He's got his hand on your waist, in the moments he knows you two are alone. And when you two get back home, he's carrying you to bed. He refuses to let you walk. You're his, and he's going to treat you like royalty. He'll make sure you're all snug and comfortable under the sheets, then get underneath them with you.

When Shao is still in his sleep, he's got one arm around you and your head pressed up against his chest. For someone with a life like his, he sleeps peacefully, though he does sleep light. Any little sound that isn't just you shifting in bed, or the house settling has him awake and fully alert. I'd be lying if I said he didn't have a couple knives ready. Not that he needs them. He'll slink out of bed and scout out the whole house to make sure nothings amiss. And once he's sure that no ones here to try and hurt him or you, he'll get back in bed. When you ask what happened, he'll saying "Nothing" in this tired and grumpy voice.

Waking up in the bed alone is a common occurrence. Shao's a general, so he has to be up bright and early, no matter how long you two stayed up til. He regrets that he can't spend time in the morning with you, but sometimes you'll find him getting ready, and that's quite enough for him.

-Shang Tsung

Wherever you two are, Shang Tsung enjoys taking you out on a "romantic" night, walking and talking, a little slow dancing here and there, and really just showing you off to the complete strangers of the night. He'll even steal some passionate kisses under the moon, just to top off the night. And when you return home, he's whining that he's too tired and will just drag you right to bed.

Shang Tsung loves to be held in bed, yeah he'll hold you too, but you have to be the big spoon. Have to. He's a diva like that. And if you so much as accidentally move in his sleep, he's going to pout and whine in the morning that you didn't hold him. But he sleeps rather soundly, aside from that. In fact, he's a pretty heavy sleeper.

You are the first to wake up, and Shang Tsung will wake up only a second after. You know, to whine that you aren't holding him close enough. After that, though, he refuses to leave bed. Begging you to stay, almost desperately. Especially in the morning, he seeks your comfort. He wants to hold you, whisper all sorts of things to you, all to ease his mind.

-Reiko

Reiko is the only one who thinks the very, very best way to end the day is sparring. He's going to tackle you in bed, and while you writhe and try to break free of his touch, he's going to pepper your face with kisses and make his way from your bottom lip, to your chin, to your neck, only to pick you up and fake throwing you back down. Yeah, it wakes you up more than it tires you out, but after a couple minutes, he'll give up and lay down on the bed with you. Out of breath. He puts way too much effort into play fighting with you, really.

Those moments are the very rare moments you get to see Reiko drop his serious, war-ridden face. After all that, he'll roll over to his side and lay his arm over you. He won't full-on cuddle you at night, he finds it harder to sleep like that. But he makes sure he's touching you in some way. However, he has a hard time sleeping peacefully. He's haunted, and he tends to wake up at least twice a night. He doesn't have a big reaction, it's more like he's flinch a bit and wake up. It's something that will never wake you up, but he will always take a minute to hover over you when he does wake up.

Like Shao, Reiko always wakes up first. But he'll wake you up with him. All gentle like, he won't shake you or anything. He wants to make sure he gets at least a few words and waking moments with you before he starts his day. And before he leaves, he always pulls you in for a soft kiss, one full of yearning and adoration. That's something he will never forget to do.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[beeing1alive]

Tokyo Revengers Boys, if you kiss them without warning

Note: You are not yet in a relationship in this scenario, but about to be. I hope you like it

Mikey didn't think about it at all and just kissed you back a few seconds later. You couldn't tell by looking at him, but he was naturally uncomfortable. He doesn't regret it though, he loves your soft lips and wants to kiss them again, but he knows that he'll probably have to make the first move.

Darken just looked at you for a few seconds and realised what you'd just done. As always, he tried to play it cool, like he didn't really care, but I can tell you, later that night, he thought about it and he couldn't stop smiling and he hoped that he'd get to kiss you again someday.

Mitsuya blushed, but pulled you close. Honestly, he likes you either way, so why wouldn't he do that, it's one of the best chances he'll ever have. He would have acted on intuition and of course he let you go as soon as he realised what he'd done and apologised. Still, his thoughts kept going back to it, he doesn't know why himself.

Chifuyu definitely enjoyed it and even closed his eyes to savour the moment even more. But unfortunately, this magical moment had gone as quickly as it had come. When your soft lips moved away from his again, he woke up from his own little bubble and got a little scared. Of course, he apologised to you and disappeared as quickly as he could.

Baji took you by the shoulders after the kiss as gently as he could at that moment and asked you what you were thinking. You might think at that moment that he didn't like it but, let me tell you, he loved it. Since that moment, he hasn't been able to think straight or sleep. He wants you to do it again. Again and again and again, but of course he won't tell you that.

Takemichi has stopped breathing, but still puts an arm around you. With his arm gently wrapped around your waist and your face so close to yours, your lips on his. He doesn't quite know why, but he thanked you for the kiss and maybe cried a little, not crying, but maybe a single, happy tear running down his cheek.

Angry returned the kiss. Simply without thinking about it and, in fact, at that moment without any charm. Unfortunately, the embarrassment only came afterwards and, much to his regret, much more strongly than usual. He ran away, to be honest, but he couldn't do anything but think about it all day until he finally lay in his bed and replayed the whole moment in front of his eyes, like a film, over and over again and he also wondered what would have happened if he had stayed there.

Smiley pulled you closer to him and asked you what you thought you were doing. Paired with that mischievous grin, he looked very amused, but don't worry, you'll just have to remain constant, withstand his gaze and, if you're feeling particularly brave, kiss him again. I promise you, his confident facade fell away and he did the anoint like his brother, he ran off to think about it, which he actually did. He couldn't think about anything else, but that's another problem.

Hakkai's brain has stopped working. He can't remember almost anything, just one thing. Your soft, gentle lips on his and how much he longs to kiss you again. He probably left without a word, didn't talk to anyone else that day either, and this memory, this realisation, only came into his head in the evening and he thought about it for the rest of the night and his cheeks glowed red, like fire, the whole time.

Kazutora asked you directly what you had done. He didn't understand why this, objectively speaking, so simple touch felt so good. He's just so starved for touch and will also ask you if you can do it again. Please, just give him another kiss, then he'll be satisfied for a while and think about it for a while until it occurs to him that he might like you. It hits him like a wave of emotions, he wants you to touch him more often, but he doesn't know whether and how to tell you.

Koko was confused but happy and asked you what the kiss was for. For a few seconds he was afraid that you might have just kissed him because you wanted money from him, but this thought quickly disappeared when you told him with that sweet blush on your face that you just wanted to kiss him and hadn't thought about it. He also gave you a kiss and then just carried on with what he was doing before, leaving you confused. But honestly, he didn't sleep that night because he had to think about your soft lips.

Inupi returned the kiss and he loved it, of course he didn't show it outwardly, his usual expression adorned his face, but the slight, sweet blush on his face gave him away. He actually thought about it for a long time and came to the conclusion that he liked you. I mean, what else could be the reason that he wants to kiss you again and again and that he really longs for it?

Hanma teased you about it, but of course he understood that it meant a lot, he's not as stupid as he seems. He laughed about it and made fun of it, but he caught himself thinking about it over and over and he wanted to feel it again. No kidding, he wants to be kissed by you again, but a little more intimate, more personal. As you can guess, he'll never admit it, maybe someday when you're in a committed relationship.

Attention: The characters and the GIF do not belong to me. All credits go to the original owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed please contact me.

[thatlittleegyptologist]

UK Politics Rundown: BoJo's Bizarre Exit Edition

Ok, so, people keep asking me to explain what's going on in the UK right now, mostly because they're seeing Brits just revelling in the levels of fuckery going on. So, a brief bullet pointed run down:

Most of you have probably heard of the Sentient Mop that is Boris Johnson, former Prime Minister of the UK

Most of you probably know about his penchant for lying to the public and basically not giving a fuck about it

This culminated in a huge police investigation into literal parties this man held while we were in Covid lockdown. Including one the night before Prince Phillip's funeral at which the Queen sat alone. And if you know how the press reacted to that one, you know he was in the shit for it.

Anyway, he lied about many of those parties, got fined for attending those parties, and is still technically under Parliamentary investigation for lying to Parliament while stood on the floor of the House of Commons (the room where they yell about laws every day).

There was also a Vote of No Confidence, which is a way in which the Conservatives can remove the leader of their party if they think he's terrible. Boris won this, but by a smaller margin than he would have wanted. No new vote can be held for another year based on the current rules (more on this later)

Fast forward 2 weeks from the end of that to last week and we get some news about an MP (Chris Pincher) who initially seemed to have got drunk and done *something* (as yet it was undefined) and he was suspended from the Conservative party pending investigation.

The following day (Thursday) it emerged that it was because he had allegedly sexually assaulted two men while drunk at a Conservatives club, and that there had been reports of this behaviour before. So he had the whip (basically the ability to vote as a Conservative MP) removed.

On Friday tons of Conservatives did the rounds on the news with 'oh we didn't know he was Bad. Boris definitely didn't know or he wouldn't have appointed him to his position'

On Saturday Boris does an interview where the reporter challenges him and says 'you were told about this in December 2019), Boris then admits to knowing about it but says he 'forgot'.

People are piiiiiiiiiiiised

Fast forward to Tuesday this week (5th July 2022). Late Tuesday, two Cabinet Ministers (think of like the Secretary of State/Housing etc in the US, it's roughly equivalent) Rishi Sunak (Chancellor of the Exchequer) and Sajid Javid (Health Secretary) resign, citing Boris lying to them about many things but this being the final straw.

I mean sure lads, everything else was terrible but this is what did it huh?

Don't worry about it. Their resignations were designed to do exactly what's happened so it was a calculated move.

This kicks off what you've seen in the last 48hrs, with Cabinet Ministers, Senior Ministers, and Junior Ministers all resigning. At one point it was 6 resignations an hour.

The previous record for most ministers in a 24hr period resigning was 11 in 1932. Boris did 53.

Current total of resignations is 59. He fired Michael Gove (who's been hired and fired by the last 3 Prime Ministers, so congrats on that achievement Michael!) So it's basically at 60.

There are not enough ministers in jobs currently to run most departments

Press didn't know what to do with themselves and everyone in the UK was on Facebook marking themselves as 'attending' Boris' leaving party, and generally just having a great time with governmental collapse

Yesterday Boris refused to go. You may have seen footage of the entire House of Commons telling him goodbye very sarcastically. This is the normal levels of shithousery in the House of Commons, but it's also very funny.

Boris was still refusing to go late last night, saying he had a mandate from the people. You got this in 2019, love, it doesn't count anymore.

Literally everyone was writing letters and going on TV telling him to go, including people who'd got new jobs from him 24hrs before

Anyway, between 6:45am and 8am another 10 people resigned, which is how we got to 60 after yesterday's bonanza, and by 9:15am Boris said he would resign as PM and Tory Party leader

He is literally blaming everyone but himself at this point but no one is listening to him anymore

This has triggered a Leadership election, where untold horrors await us because that person will be the new Prime Minister....until they're forced to call a General Election

However, Boris still remains as Prime Minister for now. He said he'd stay until there was a new leader elected. So he's down, but he's not yet out.

But the fun doesn't stop yet! The 1922 Committee (the backbenches of the Tory Party in Parliament) has elections for positions on Monday and they might (and probably will) elect people who want to change the rules so that another Vote of No Confidence can be held. If that happens, the rules can be changed in less than 24hrs and they'll hold another vote to oust him before a new leader is elected. Personally, I hope Theresa May wears another ballgown to this vote after she did to the last one. Boris was the one who ousted her to become leader, so she's revelling in shithousery and it's fun to see Tory on Tory violence.

Highlights of all of this include: Reporters interrupting each other to say someone else just resigned, the people heckling Boris from the gates of Downing Street, the one guy who resigned while in a Parliamentary Committee meeting with Boris that was to discuss all the lies Boris has been telling (and informed him during this meeting. He's a Tory but the balls on that man jeez), Hugh Grant (yes, film star Hugh Grant) paying a bloke to go play the Benny Hill theme tune on Live speakers around Parliament, reporters interviewing Larry the Cat who is literally a cat and responsible for keeping the mice at bay, and every single person in the UK making memes/jokes/videos and just generally having a fantastic time as the government implodes.

Will a new leader change anything? No

Are the British public scared or worried about this? No

Is it just really really fucking funny? Yes. So funny

And that, guys, gals, and non binary pals, is the current account of what's going down in the UK as of 7th July (late afternoon).

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[ellemj]

Off-Limits: Ch. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Read Ch. 1 here.

Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.

            James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

            You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.

            If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.

            You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.

            Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.

            3:58 pm.

            Two more minutes, he tells himself.

            “This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.

            “That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

            3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.

            The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.

            As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.

            You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.

            “You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”

            The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.

            “Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.

            Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.

            The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.

            “Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.

            Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.

            “Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”

            That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.

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