#he'll be hounded for the rest of his life

[groenendaelfic]

There are two unpopular Young Royals hills I’m willing to die on.

One is that Wilhelm is a prince and a minor, he can’t abdicate from shit. Not formally and not legally. Not yet and not for a while.

The other is that Wille will never be able to live in a normal apartment building, be it as Crown Prince or after having given up his titles.

[the-whispers-of-death]

You know that pretend to be my boyfriend trope where one character tells their family that they're dating in order to get the family to back off about them being single and now they need a pretend boyfriend? Yeah, imagine that, with Gaz.

Despite being a soldier, your family is hounding you for being single. As if you have time to get a partner. But you can't handle the questions about when you'll finally be taken, so you tell them that you're dating.

Your family is ecstatic, and they keep asking questions about your partner and since you've been around only your squad, the 141, you tell them that your boyfriend is a soldier like you. And you tell them the appeasing shit, how your boyfriend's so sweet and just amazing. That you can see a future with them.

And you think that's the end of it and after your leave is over, you head back to the base. Months pass by, you give your family vague details about how your life is going with your "boyfriend" and then you get into deep trouble when they basically trick you into saying you'd bring your boyfriend to the Thanksgiving dinner your family has every year.

So now you have to try and see which of the 141 will pretend to be your boyfriend, and you decide on Gaz. Mostly because he's your best friend, but also because he fits the description of your fake boyfriend's personality that you gave your family.

One day, you and Gaz are sitting next to each other in the recreational room and you decide now would be the perfect time to ask him to be your pretend boyfriend.

"Hey, Gaz. I have a favor to ask you," you say, looking up from your book to look at him nervously. You hope and pray that he'll say yes to your favor.

Gaz raises his eyebrow, having never seen you so nervous before. You were usually so composed. "What is it? Did you accidentally kill a soldier during training and then hid the body? I'll go MIA with you," he replies, half-joking.

You laugh and smile, your nerves eased so easily as is always the case with Gaz. "No, but good to know you'd still be my friend if I accidentally killed a soldier." You take a deep breath before continuing, "I told my family that I was dating someone, a fellow soldier. And now they've tricked me into saying I'll bring my boyfriend to the Thanksgiving dinner."

"{Name}, are you asking me to be your pretend boyfriend?" Gaz asks, cheeky and flattered that you asked him for the ruse. It makes him roll his shoulder back so his posture is straighter. "You can count of me, mate. You know I always got your back. So what have you told them about me, then? We'll need to keep our stories straight."

You two spend the rest of the day, developing this story further. And as the day wears on, you realize just how lucky you are to have a friend like him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I'm really thinking about that one Ghost post you wrote about him basically making himself at home at the reader's place when she found him near dead in the woods and it still is scratching my brain all right 😭 him devoting his life to her and the fact her husband is there completely upset about this all is the perfect drama.

the thing i love most about this is that i never mentioned ghost by name in that post <3 not once <3 but you're right. it is so, so ghost-coded. ghoded, if you will.

you're the hands in which he rests, a weapon; submissive in the way (as was once said) a sheep-guarding hound is submissive to the livestock it protects. 

so mismatched is his demeanor with yours--harsh and scarred--and that it frightens the townspeople around you. and your guards.

when you do get hurt, they jump at the chance to accuse Ghost of hurting you. no matter how you insist you're fine and demand the townsfolk see reason--you witnessed the attack, for god's sake! not to mention your wound is shallow and looks much worse than it is. but the guards lock him up in the small dungeon under your family's estate.

at your direction, Simon doesn't fight his captors. you both know, for all his strength, he'll be killed if the guards see their chance to take his life. they've never trusted him.

and so he's hauled off, chained up like a dog, lying in wait for his sheep. 

when you return to see him, having pushed through those who insisted you stay away, that he's dangerous, that he hurt you--only then does Simon strain against those chains. he wants to be at your side. he's driven half out of his mind with worry that the assassin who hurt you might come back and finish the job without him there to protect you. 

he'd pull the chain bolts clean out of the rotting brick to get back to you if not for the guarantee you'd be kept from him if he did. although it's not by your choice. 

he's even willing to confess to crimes he never committed, would never commit, if it meant being in your debt, imprisoned in your home, back by your side.

you stay with him as long as you can. his arms are locked behind him and he rests on his knees, more animal than man, as he presses his face against your waist. his desperation abates once you take his face in your hands to comfort him. he's lightheaded.

you assure him you'll be back, that you'll figure this out and get him home and out of those chains soon. he strains against the chains again as you pull away.

it's not until there's a second attempt on your life that he's vindicated.

the only story anyone knows is that when you screamed, by the time your guards made it up to your bedchamber, the blood from your attacker's corpse was already soaking into your rug. one of them tried and failed to coax the bloody dagger out of your shaking hands. your palms were clean. 

you tell the guards this was the man who attacked you before. you tell them to bury him and not speak of this again; to leave your chamber for you to clean.

once they're gone, Simon emerges from the shadows, hands bloody, to disentangle your hands (white knuckled) from the dagger, to usher you into the wash basin. you see the iron cuffs on his wrists, chains snapped off, and say nothing.

nobody is ever quite sure who released him. just as nobody is sure who the assassin worked for.

strangely, your husband seems to avoid you after that.

;)

more Ghost / masterlist

[luveline]

imagine being giddy while out with the BAU team getting tipsy and talking about your sex life. but the reader is secretly dating hotch, so she stays quite. until one of the girls starts hounding reader about how she said her current partner is the best sex she’s ever had. and hotch just tries to not be a cheeky little shit.

this is not quite what u meant but I hope it's OK! ♥︎ fem!reader

There's a girl across the way. Tall, gorgeous, making eyes at Derek Morgan like her life depends on it. 

"Morgan, come on," Emily says, "I thought you had game. This is just sad." 

Morgan nods agreeably, an action dripping in sarcasm, and downs the rest of his drink. "I got better than game," he says, patting Emily on the arm as he stands. 

"What's better than game?" she asks incredulously, twisting in her seat to follow Morgan's path with her eyes before turning back to you and the others, expression reflecting her disbelief. 

"I should've let him buy me that appletini he promised me," you say, dipping your head toward Hotch on your left, and Rossi on his. "I don't think he's coming back." 

"I'll get it," Hotch says. 

"Always on the boss to pick up the slack," Rossi drawls with a smirk.

Hotch nearly laughs. "Another round. The same for everyone?" 

"I wouldn't mind an appletini, boss," JJ jokes. 

"You know, he'll actually get you one now," Emily says, all of you turned to watch him making his way to the bar. 

Morgan and his gorgeous girl are hitting it off quite clearly halfway down the bar. JJ, who's a little tipsy already, beams at them and wiggles her shoulders. 

"I think somebody's getting lucky," she says. 

"I hate to say it, but I'm jealous of Morgan right now. Don't," Emily says, sliding down into her seat, "tell him I said that." 

"I thought you were steady with that guy," you say sympathetically, "the chiropractor." 

Emily moans out in sadness. "I was. Turns out guys don't like when you cancel four dates in a row. He... was really good at his job." 

Emily might be more intoxicated than you'd thought. You laugh too loudly and think maybe you are, too. 

Hotch approaches from the left with a tray of drinks in hand and you slide your chair out of his way, feeling his "Thank you," warm the back of your neck. 

"Laugh at my pain," Emily says at your giggling.

You shuffle forward to hear her better over the small hubbub of Hotch, Rossi and Reid sorting drinks into place. Penelope appears again from her excursion to the bathroom and slides right into Morgan's empty seat. 

"What about you and mystery man?" Emily asks.

You're less subtle than you should be, your eyes straying to the shadow of Hotch in your peripherals. "What about him?" 

"Is that still going well?"

"It's going more than well," JJ says knowingly, retrieving her appletini with a sweet thanks. "What did you tell me on the way back from Illinois?" 

"I told you that in confidence," you rush to say, to plead, eyes widening. "Tired confidence." 

"What did she say?" Emily asks, her smile turning evil. 

JJ laya back in her seat, almost tipping her drink, and covers her eyebrows with her index finger. Everyone knows immediately that she's imitating you, worse when she puts on a quiet awe. "I didn't know it could be like that. I mean, I didn't realise a man would care so much about making sure I feel good." She fans her face. "And he really cares, JJ." 

"Please don't," you say, covering your face with both hands. You're not truly upset, but it's embarrassing nonetheless. 

"It's sweet!" JJ cries. 

"What? You're having heart to hearts without me?" Penelope asks. 

"It wasn't a heart to heart, Pen, I was just tired, and–" 

"So you didn't mean it?" 

The entire table waits for your answer. You feel Hotch's silence louder than everybody else's, and you're so flustered you don't know what to do. You hadn't counted on letting him in on how happy you are in the bedroom, not this soon. 

"I meant it," you breathe, "but it's not something I wanted to share with everybody." 

"No? You won't want me to tell them about how big his hands are, then," JJ says. 

"JJ," Hotch says, and you can hear his awful smile, "let's not embarrass her too much."

Emily jumps to your defence, and soon the table has turned on JJ completely, jokes about one specific New Orleans accent taking centre stage. 

Hotch slides your appletini closer while they're distracted. "He cares, honey. More than you know." 

You take a shuddering breath. "I know," you say, voice small. 

"You do? So you won't need reminding?" 

"How about you, sir? Things still going well with that younger girl?" Penelope asks, all gossip. 

A big hand lands on your thigh. You still, the heat of his skin seeping down into yours as he inches inward. 

"I'd say things were going well," Hotch says. He punctuates with a secret squeeze. "She might say differently." 

[ghostgirl101]

Hi! I saw you did a obsessed oliver quick, would you consider doing the same for felix catton?

Dating Felix Catton Would Be Like This...

A/N: I would absolutely consider it, and here you are 😎 also if anyone has any oneshot ideas for Oliver or any of the other Saltburn guys then drop them in my inbox, I wouldn't mind writing a proper imagine scenario for them too 📩 next up is more Oliver Quick stuff anyways, so go crazy. Also, why did I find this kind of hard to write? Maybe I'm just used to Oliver's craziness and not this pretty little aristocrat's 🙃

🍾• Contrary to Oliver, Felix's type of obsession would be less murderous and delusional, more realistic, kind of vain... he's a Catton, a rich boy everyone knows and loves, who wants to be him or be with him. He's used to getting his way, learning new things about people until they get boring or get on his nerves, and then life goes on.

🍾• Not this time.

🍾• You'd meet at Oxford, either by coincidence, or by getting in with his clique of friends somehow. Chances are you helped him out on a test or covered for him in a class, and so he calls you over in recognition next time he sees you, to hang out with him and Farleigh and the rest.

🍾• There's something about you that gets the pretty aristocrat interested. Maybe it's just your charisma, your beauty, some definition that makes up you. You're different from his other friends, don't follow the crowd, have a different mind, a worldview he doesn't get. And he likes it.

🍾• So prepared to be hounded with questions over a drink at the pub after classes, all curious but friendly eyes following yours as you summarise yourself, your background, your ambitions. And what are his? Well, he lives in a beautiful estate with his high-class family, goes to Oxford because he can... I never really saw that he made any plans for himself in the film, so my guess is that he's not all that bothered about it. He's got money, he's got connections, he'll do what he wants, like always... so long as it meets the Catton expectations.

🍾• Assuming you don't have the same outrageous luxuries as Felix does, he wouldn't see the need to impress you or get your attention at first, because his status is a given around school and everyone's after him. But if you're not the same as the other girls who crowd around him when they're given a good enough chance, he'll find himself keeping on calling you over, wanting you around for your input on things they do.

🍾• Probably shows off his wealth - unknowingly or not - by buying you something for an unnecessarily high price, like a designer fountain pen when yours runs out in English, and he'll shrug and smirk softly, because it's nothing, don't worry about it.

🍾• Farleigh will undoubtedly be interested in you, but I see him warming up to you instead of being mocking and sceptical like he was with Oliver. Probably because you give off a lot better vibes than Ollie, and treat his friends like normal people, not tiptoeing and aweing of them because they're all rich and popular, but getting on as well as you can. There's something special about you that Felix saw to try pulling you into his circle, so you don't have to do anything but be yourself.

🍾• And when the summer break does come by, you're invited to Saltburn with his closest; a dazzling, rare invitation from the young Catton himself, probably away from others in a nice spot around campus. He'll give you his charming smile and warm eyes as he tells you to come along with them, that his mum will like you because you're beautiful, and that he really wants you there.

🍾• Expecting you to go all squealy and eager with a dozen yeses - if you can manage it, hold that all down to give him a nod and a shrug with a light smile as you agree calmly and casually instead, because that's a whole new response he'd never expect from any lucky person he shows an interest in. How come you're not falling all over him like the whole of Oxford does just by him being there?

🍾• You'll definitely be showered with attention at Saltburn. Elspeth will marvel over your complexion or your eyes or your hair or your outfit (or all of the above). Venetia will probably be grateful to have someone around who has a proper personality that she can talk to and will make friends with you fairly easily.

🍾• You'll catch onto Felix's jealousy over the attention you get pretty quickly, because he doesn't even try to be subtle about it. He'll just shamelessly approach you and complain in his own way that you're his guest, and he brought you here so you two could hang out. His sister's annoying, Farleigh's a troublemaker, so you should probably just stick around him, right? Makes sense, doesn't it?

🍾• Sure it does, Felix.

🍾• He's a nice guy really, kindhearted and sweet enough, but at the end of the day, the world is his to play with, and so are its people. He just needs to understand that you're not a toy... you're an individual, and so if it's going to be anything like his other "relationships" where he gets bored and leaves them to it without a second thought, you're not interested.

🍾• Which is all shock and horror for Felix Catton, because is this really what a proper relationship means? Proper thought and feeling 24/7, staying with that one person instead of having flings with whoever whenever he feels like it?

🍾• So just give him a hot minute to sulk about it over there while you have a good time with his other friends and Venetia, because the more he sees you hanging around with others and being true to yourself, adjusting to Saltburn's black-tie standards but not letting it shape or belittle you, Felix has to actually realise that he hasn't got a whole lot of depth or meaning to his life if it doesn't involve you somehow, in the closeness that he wants and needs it.

🍾• Okay. Convinced. He'll give it a shot.

🍾• I think that Felix would expect it to be difficult for him, because he's used to his carefree, no-strings-attached game of life instead of anything serious. But it'd come easier than he'd think. Other people just don't interest him as much as you, simply because they're not you. They don't have the same little... thing. Girls trip over his feet and cling to him, everyone wants to be his mate, to try to fit into his rich lifestyle, but you do it all effortlessly, and it's puzzling.

🍾• And so hot

🍾• Felix would be casual and open with PDA, since everyone will come to grips with the two of you being an item after you've been dating for over the span of a few solid days. An arm slung around your shoulder, messing with your hair with a fond, teasing look, linked fingers under the table. Nine out of ten times, he'll beat you to it and reach out to you first, because whatever he says, there's a needy boy in him somewhere 😏

🍾• This guy was a complete playboy before you, so needless to say, when you're getting real close, Felix has a pretty good grasp of what he's doing, and he'll do it right. Petnames too, of course, Surprisingly - but unsurprisingly - things like darling and beautiful, but he'd probably try to make a nickname out of your name and shorten it to give you one, finding it funny if you give him a mildly annoyed and amused look because it sounds weird.

🍾• He'll be all bright eyes and grinning proudly as he takes you to his parties, to have dinner with his parents, who get on with you wonderfully, because you're polite but not a suck-up like everyone else, and can hold a good conversation with them while looking over their shallow spins on things.

🍾• Honestly though, from what I saw of Elspeth, she made me laugh out loud a good couple of times from watching, so being friends with his mum wouldn't be a bad thing at all. And Felix would like to see you getting along with his family, because it just proves that you're a perfect fit, like he knew you were.

🍾• You'd make a friend for life in Venetia if you tried to comfort and genuinely help her with her insecurities and problems, not play her like the rest... I felt so bad for her tbh

🍾• You'll never want any material thing ever again, because his money can buy pretty much anything you want. I'm pretty sure his family would give you some kind of allowance when you're serious with Felix anyway, since they can see it in him that he's serious about you too, and the whole relationship is a great step he's made in his life. Any financial support you need, you've got it. Don't even mention liking the look of something in a shop window, because chances are you won't get the item, you'll part-own the store 😭

🍾• So, basically, you don't just get a gorgeous young aristocrat who finds every little unique, original thing about you fascinating and attractive, you get the whole of Saltburn as your second home. Just try to make friends with Duncan, and you'll probably get all the dirt on them too lmao- he'd get on better with you than he did with Oliver anyway, since he apparently was the first and only one in the household to realise that there was something off about Oliver.

🍾• Ohhh, and if we're getting to the twisted-up subject of Oliver Quick...

🍾• Let's just say that it could go two ways. Either he'll be obsessed with the both of you, and treat you the same way he treats Felix, looking up to him with intense, wide ocean green eyes, shadows after him in the hallways after dark. Or, once he's done destroying Felix... his obsessive, delusion-spiked gaze will flick straight over to you.

🍾• Either way, steer clear, that's all I can tell you.

[heartfullofleeches]

dilf bull/hound darling: i’ve been used as a breeder before but i’d love to find someone special to connect with and start a future together you know?

kaimana [heard breeder and got so hard he got nauseous]: i think i hauve Covid

Former Breeder Darling takes a trip out to the beach nearby where the farm they used to work/live on. They strike up a conversation with an attendee at one of the bar stands. The guys a little awkward, but sweet - they guess he didn't have much interaction with others before he got the job and was still getting the hang of things. He noticeably becomes a whole lot clumsier when Darling mentions the details of their past career and current goal.

"So - what brings you out here, Stranger?"

"There's a farm a bit up north from here.. Worked there almost my entire adult life. Job was starting to get to my head so I quit."

"Oh, is that so? I try not to head too far from home, but now I'm starting to regret that. What type of work did you do?"

"I was a breeder.....on top of some manual labor.'

The glass Kaimana held slips from his hands.

"Holy..... You good, Kai?"

K....Kai?? You're giving him nicknames already?? Kaimana grabs the broom propped against the wall behind him - using it to support his wobbly legs instead of cleaning the shards of broken glass at his feet. "Y-yes, I'm fine!... Please continue."

"Eh, not much more to say. Whenever someone needed some assistance having a kid I helped out. Didn't think much of it when I was younger. Paid good, and I got to live on the farm for next to nothing which allowed me to save up over the years.... I had no attachment to it till I received some photos of one of my kids... Well... Not my kid, but their folks were nice enough to send them... It got me thinking... about a family of my own."

You look up from your glass to find Kaimana frantically scribbling something on a napkin.

"My number! .... I-if you'd like to keep in touch. Have you found a place of receidence yet? I know a lovely hotel closeby. I can take you there!- W-we could get to know each other a little better - maybe or dinner or-or a nice bottle of wine."

You chuckle. "Dinner sounds good. Been meaning to try some of the seafood this area is know for.. You should probably clean up that glass though."

You're probably right about that. If he faints atop a pile of glass he'll have to miss your date getting stitches! It's a somewhat difficult for him to move with one particular area of his clothing so drenched in his own fluids.

"Y...yes... dear.... Dear customer, I mean!... haha..."

"Cute." You down the rest of your drink and pull a few bills from your pocket, tucking the napkin in that same sleeve as you stand from the counter. "See you later, Kai."

Kai waves as you depart. He wouldn't call it a goodbye as he'd see you soon enough.

"See you.... Honey."

[themoonchildwhofell]

all my ghosts

pairing: Farleigh Start x reader

content/warnings: fluff (im so sorry guys), pretty fast paced lol

summary: HC of a healthy farleigh x reader relationship (thank fucking god)

note: really wanted to write farleigh finding a nice partner that helps him with his trauma lol. possibly post saltburn. I'm so sorry my dudes. I really am a sucker for fluff! still based off of a Lizzy Mcalpine song.

"'Cause I hate all of my habits but I happen to love you."

Farleigh met you at a 7/11 near the place he works at. He's pretty bummed about not having to go to Oxford as well as fully disconnecting from the old life he had.

It was exactly July 11th. He remembered because you got a free slurpie at the convenient store.

You looked good for someone who was staying up due to an exam. You finally decided to claim that free slurpie they had since sugar wakes you up.

Farleigh, on the other hand, was just exploring the place. He didn't really want to stay at his mum's place. So he decided to get his own place.

He didn't really want to go out that night. It was a not-so-impulsive decision due to the fact that his case of cigarettes were all out.

The fluorescent lights weren't really giving you justice. As well as the bags under your eyes but who cares? You really need to pass this math exam tomorrow.

He approached you being the extrovert that he is and asked for your name and number. His excuse was to tour him around since it was his first time back at the States. (he was already living there for 3 weeks)

You agreed to tour him around. Praying that he wasn't a murderer of some sort.

You two went out the very next day to "tour" him around. At the end of the day, he did ask if this was a date.

"No. But maybe we can set a proper one?" you suggested.

He liked that. It means he gets to see you again.

Months pass and you both seem to connect really well.

The relationship progresses to you both being a couple.

Everything felt great. There was the usual fights, of course. I mean Farleigh is kind of a diva. You expected him to be annoying at times.

But most of the time, he's the loveliest.

It's the same with Farleigh as well. He loves your company. You make him feel good and sane. Especially after all the loss he experienced.

There are times that he feels like you're too good for him especially with all the baggage he has. All the trauma from Saltburn and his cousins passing.

These trauma did manifest some bad habits that he's actively fighting. But it helps him when he thinks that he might have a lot of ghosts with him haunting every piece of him left in Saltburn; He still has you.

Dates with him are always unpredictable. You both tried to do cocktails once at his apartment but failed. You both decided to just drink the wine and eat all the fruit.

You also tried cooking. Which was fun and messy. But the mac and cheese was good. He was really convinced that he could make a better mac and cheese than Gordon Ramsey. You giggled at how adorable he was and agreed. That night ended in a sink full of dirty dishes, slow dancing to Master & A Hound by Gregory Alan Isakov and tiny sweet kisses.

Sometimes, you both try clubbing. But end up going home early to just drink at home and watch some movie or have sex.

You both tried to finish two bottles of brandy one time.

"You really think you can beat me at drinking?" Farleigh smirked.

"Fuck! I'm 3 shots deep, my boy. And I feel sober." You we're not. You both didn't finish the bottles of brandy. And he had to carry you to bed.

"You know... I'm pretty drunk right now. But I really love you, Farleigh. You and all your ghosts." You passed out right after. He did say he loved you too. But he'll probably just repeat it once you both are sober. That was the first time you both said I love you.

You had the realization that you'd want to spend the rest of your life with him one Saturday morning. You both we're on the couch watching Bluey. You made him watch Bluey because at first he didn't want to since it's a kids show. But he saw the one episode with Chili and it really stuck with him.

He was laughing at a particular scene when he said. "I think we're like them. Chili and Bandit."

You stared at him. "Yeah. I guess so." It kinda dawned on you how compatible you both are. How you can live like this for the rest of your life.

He had the realization that he wanted to marry you the time you we're at his mom's home celebrating Christmas. You were helping with decorating the tree. He decided to quickly grab the star at the top of the cupboard in the hallway. While going back to the living room, he saw you sweaty, with your tongue out and concentrating on placing the lights on the tree. He realized he has never felt happier than that exact moment. He would love to spend every christmas decorating trees with you.

[dj2slugs]

Guide Rabbit/Blind Sam Au I made lol

Sam is blinded as a kid by some chemicals getting into his eyes and is the only member of the Freelance Police. Him and Max don't meet until later in life and the rabbit takes a liking to him, becoming the second member of the Freelance Police. The lagomorph takes it upon himself to be Sam's self-proclaimed guide rabbit when they're out on cases or out on the streets together. Since in canon Sam tends to place his paw on Max's head, I changed it in this au to where when he does this, he does it to get a mental image of what Max looks like. This is also what he does if Max is leading him somewhere. Max tends to talk a lot, and Sam likes to listen to him, sometimes asking what things look like so Max will describe them to him. Max talks a lot and Sam likes to listen While people tend to underestimate Sam because of his blindness, Max knows better. He's seen Sam take out three people at once with just his cane before. That being said, Sam still gets lost sometimes on the streets after taking a wrong turn or two. Max put his number as Sam's speed dial (yes, they have portable phones that can fit in their pockets) for Sam to call when that happens. Sometimes Sam refuses to call in order to save face, this irritates and upsets Max to no end. (Bonus info below)

(Bonus snippet of one of the chapters for the fanfic I'm workin' on)

The rabbit leans over the arm rest of the couch. Sam's eyes are closed, but his ears perk to listen to him as he begins to speak. "If you could have your eyesight back, what's the first thing you'd want to see?" The hound hums for a second, in thought before responding. "Well…. I think I'd want to see what my self proclaimed "seeing eye rabbit" looks like. Like…really looks like… Not that I don't trust your descriptions lil' buddy, but surely there's more to it than just "a sexy high-flying lagomorph"." Max laughs, nearly toppling into Sam's lap as he does. "That's really sappy Sam. What? Can't get enough of me?" He playfully punches the hound's shoulder drawing an unbelievably bright smile and slight giggle from him. "Maybe…" The rabbit's laughing tappers off as Sam responds, pale blues eyes opening to look at him. He can't help but be glad the hound can't see the bright red blush covering his face right now. (Bonus Bonus extra note for this au)

After getting to know Max and bonding with him Sam's worst fear is losing him. Like him having nightmares about talking to Max and then, suddenly, he can't hear his voice anymore, he can't feel his fur under his paw, he can't find his paw to hold as they walk, and he panics because he can't find Max. Where is he? Did he leave? Did he get hurt? WHERE. IS. MAX. And he'll wake up sweating, in a panic.

(Bonus Bonus Bonus extra note)

Max kinda just lives in an old car he found (the desoto) and when he becomes part of the Freelance Police he starts living out of the office. When Sam figures this out he offers Max to live in his apartment instead and he ends up crashing on Sam's couch after that.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 27th Of July In 1976.

Elvis Presley Community War Memorial Hall Syracuse New York;

 steady stream of flashbulbs illuminated the big hall as Elvis Presley moved through C.C. Rider and I Got A Woman, teasing the heavily-female audience with many of those no longer infamous 'bumps'. The crowd joined in as Elvis Presley broke into Amen and then quieted as the Tupelo, MS. native switched to one of his biggest hits, Love Me. Elvis Presley got acquainted with the crowd early as Charlie Hodge, the only 'scarf man' in show business, provided him with a seemingly-endless flow of baby blue and white scarves. Elvis Presley draped them momentarily around his neck or wiped his thoroughly soaked brow and cast them into the audience. He might as well have been giving out $10 bills the way the recipients reacted.

Many in turn presented him with gifts - handmade items, clothing, yellow roses, etc. - and a few were rewarded with kisses from Elvis Presley's tremendous vocal range manifested itself in You Gave Me a Mountain and minutes later he had 8,400 Bicentennial-oriented men, women and children on their feet with a moving vocal and narrative rendition of America the Beautiful. He turned to a medley of his biggest hits - All Shook Up, Teddy Bear and Don't Be Cruel - but got as much applause from songs he borrowed from Olivia Newton-John and Peggy Lee. Jailhouse Rock, another old favorite and Polk Salad Annie followed before Elvis Presley introduced the talented group of singers and musicians who back him up. The latter served as a rest period for Elvis Presley while at the same time providing the opportunity for solo spots for his guitarists, drummer and piano players.

Elvis Presley got in a few bars of Early Mornin' Rain, What'd I Say?, Johnny B. Good and Love Letters during the instrumental solos and then brought the crowd to its feet with a stirring rendition of a former Timi Yuro hit Hurt, Elvis Presley's latest single. An encore performance of the latter plus a few short bars of Hound Dog brought Elvis Presley to the nostalgic Funny How Time Slips Away and the crowd moved closer with the realization that the concert end was near. Telling the crowd that 'You've been one of the finest audiences we ever worked with', Presley said he'll be back 'if you want me'. A thunderous standing ovation followed, giving Presley his answer, and security men whisked him out of the building as a virtual sea of humanity closed in on the stage. Love live Elvis Presley! Rare Candid Photos Taken Here Of Elvis Presley From This Show Concert By A Fan Audience Member.

A Elvis Presley Female Fans Review Who Attended This Show.

[bruciemilf]

oh that's ok but batkids reacting to bruce getting hurt in general?

It's such a bizarre feeling for all of them; They all bear marks. Not one bat is without scars; You'd be more of an anomaly if you weren't hurting than if you were.

Jason has his autopsy scars. Dick has calloused hands from all those years of jumping, or deeper memories carved deep in him from his Robin days. Damian carries traces of training where someone his age shouldn't.

They all know; No one with the Wayne name is a stranger to pain.

But Bruce; Bruce has more than all of them. They know, because mending and healing wounds is a family tradition, just as tracing them when snuggling up on a huge bed is.

But they can't conjure a moment in time when Bruce's were fresh. They're all healed and pink and more memory than guests. And it's not as often as them.

It's Tim who figures it out. Those eyes were designed for detail. " You didn't think he took all those vacations to actually relax, right?"

" Bruce's idea of relaxation would send someone in a psych word, so no. So all this time, he went away to...Heal?"

" Something like that. I don't think he'll be successful with this one, thought."

Not even Bruce can walk off a coma.

It wasn't supposed to be that explosive. Bane's twisted little bombs had 5 minutes left on them when Barb checked, and they were supposed to get the hostage to safety on time, and Tim wasn't supposed to miscalculate--

" Your self-employed guilt is no help to anyone, Drake." In Damian language, this passes as It wasn't your fault, so Tim knows him, and knows better, than to put it to heart.

Dick wants the graveyard and sunrise shift, but Jason shuts that down, set in his way. Either they all look after Bruce, or none of them do.

They take turns.

Jason sits by Bruce's bed side with his feet planted deep in the carpet. Shoulders squared, posture ready and stiff for any incoming danger, gun safety off and bullets still hot in their holder. A hell hound made man.

" You're not doing it right."

Tim shoots a dagger of annoyance with his eyes alone, because he hasn't slept in hours, because he's trying to track Bane down, because he needs to send that bastard packing straight to Arkham's smallest cell.

All while maintaining some degree of calm as he tries to change Bruce's bandages, " I'm a genius, not a nurse."

" Maybe if you actually watched Grey's Anatomy like the rest of us normal people, --"

" Just because it helped Bruce get through med school--"

" If you're a selective genius, just say that."

" I'd rather be a part time genius than a full time idiot--"

" Dick!" Jason calls, but, Tim privately thinks he's hoping Bruce would answer, " Timberly's mean to me again!"

" Am not!"

" If you guys don't stop I'll tell B!"

Because he will wake up; He has to. Before Batman, there was Bruce Wayne, and if there's one dog to bet on in Gotham City, it's him.

Cass makes sure Bruce has clean sheets. That his burns are medicated and tamed and watches very closely for any sign of discomfort. Bruce winces at the small cotton ball of alcohol and there's a collective breath of relief.

Alfred makes sure they have sleep. That Jason won't wayward his way into a battle he'll regret and take Damian with him. That Dick actually has some sleep. That Duke and Cass are updated on patrol.

They're fearful. Every breath they take are like small stones stacked up on top, waiting to drop to the core of their bellies as a week passes and there's no sign of Bruce even flinching anymore.

Of course, when he does, -- because he always does, -- it's when they bicker. Tim can't remember who started it. He said something, and then Damian tossed a snarky comment because he's mean when he's scared, and --

" Can you be nice to eachother for 10 minutes?"

They all jump on him; He hisses, every numb nerve in his muscles buzzing back to life, but he's being squeezed and embraced and hugged in the ground by his kids, so it's not the worst fate in the world.

" Did I miss something?"

" Jason crushed the Batmobile."

" TIM!"

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1013 - Goodie

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex, Under-Negotiated Kink (Including Unexpectedly Being Called Daddy), Mentions of Weight (Not Derogatory, Just Not Ignored) | POV: Goodie | Pairing: Goodie/OC (Female) | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Winding Down After The Gig, One Night Stand, Mr. Goodie's Wild Ride

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

"She's either into you or me," Gareth says, then looks at his watch for the thousandth time tonight. Gareth hasn't let any of the rest of them forget it all evening that his girlfriend is still flying in tonight.

They're just trying to wind down after the show, and all Gareth can think about is when Di is gonna get here. It's kind of disgusting. There was a time, and not that fucking long ago, thank you very much, that Gareth would have been working this bar like a goddamn pussy hound. 

And to Goodie's dismay, it somehow always worked. 

He'll never understand it. Gareth isn't anything to look at. None of them are, really. All decidedly average, as far as Goodie can tell.

Freaks, the lot of them. 

But Eddie somehow landed Steve. 

And Di's cute as shit. 

Both of them are punching way, way above their weight class. 

Goodie isn't sure why the fuck Gareth didn't just go wait at the airport terminal if he can't relax enough to enjoy himself. He can't make her get here any faster. They already went through this with Eddie and his dogged obsession with Steve, and now Gareth's acting like he's in love. 

They're all ate up. They get their damn dicks wet, and think they need to commit for life. Gareth from a few months ago wouldn't be acting like this, he'd still be pulling a girl or three a week, like he made a Robert Johnson crossroads deal, but for pussy instead of musical success.

The girl walks by again, and Gareth raises his eyebrows.

Maybe she is looking. Maybe not. Gareth definitely has an overactive radar for women that hasn't dampened, even in a relationship, apparently.

After Eddie and Jeff bailed for the night, and Gareth's on the payphone again, Goodie leans against the bar, waiting on a drink.

A hand touches his back, pressing into the leather of his jacket, like they're leaning in close. He's sure it's Gareth telling him he's finally leaving, but when he turns, it's the girl Gareth had clocked as interested.

"Am I in your way?" he asks, taking a small step to the side. There's not much room to maneuver, but he can pretend to make room. 

She smiles and shakes her head, "You're in Corroded Coffin, right?"

He nods, a little surprised. She doesn't look the type to follow their music, not really, not even where they are now, sort of barnstorming the mainstream.

"Yeah, I'm Goodie," he says, offering him her hand, "the bass player." 

"Bass is good. I like it deep," she says, holding out a Sharpie, tugging down the top of her tank top, "Make it out to Gina?"

He's signed tits before, they all have, but not usually outside of a gig. 

The stool behind him is free, so he sits back on it, and she immediately wedges herself between his legs, both of her hands resting on his thighs.

He braces his left hand against her collarbone, definitely for leverage, and not at all so the heel of his hand grazes the top of her tit, as he drags the ink of the marker across her skin. It doesn't look great, but he's pretty sure it was just a reason to approach him.

And he doesn't mind that, not at all.

She looks down as he signs. 

He lets go, and she grins, leaning close, pressing her chest to his, whispering in his ear, "Got somewhere for us to go?"

Hell yes, he does. 

He may have bitten off more than he can chew, with this one.

"Pull my hair," she says, and fuck, she's something else. She's already facedown, ass-up on the bed, and he can follow orders, grabbing a fistful of hair, close to the scalp, and tugs as he fucks into her. She's making a lot of fucking noise, and he's gonna get a ration of shit from Eddie and Gareth, stuck in the rooms on either side of him.

Hell, as loud as she's being, Jeff might hear, down the hall.

"Fuck me, daddy! Spank me!" she screams, rocking back on his cock. Fucking herself. Being called daddy isn't really his thing, but he can roll with it. 

He's just along for the ride. But he's pretty sure he can't pull her hair and spank her at the same time, not unless she wants him to crush her.

Hell, she may like that. Fuck if he knows. She's clearly a fucking freak, and from one freak to another, he's into it. He's just aware of his size and knows which positions work best. On his back, get ridden, is always a popular fucking choice.

"Harder, harder," she chants, and he slams his hips against her ass, over and over. 

He lets go of her hair, and smacks her on the ass. She keens at that, making a racket. He hits her again, harder, and she just gets louder.

Daddy, daddy, daddy.

Goodie tries to ignore that, and focus on everything else.

She slides off his cock, rolling onto her back. 

He catches her feet, and puts them on his shoulders, sliding into her. Then scoots forward a few inches on his knees, changing the angle, pressing more of his groin in direct contact with her clit. It's a go-to fat man move, and he's damn well-practiced. His secret weapon. 

He pounds into her, and she's damn near screaming. Not everything she's done tonight does it for him, but this definitely does. Moaning, pushing back with her feet, clawing at his thighs, tits bouncing.

He puts his hand over her mouth, and she comes. Loudly. And the way she's gripping and pulsing around his cock, he's pretty sure it's the real deal. He shifts, and keeps grinding against her, extending her orgasm, as he finally comes with a groan.

He's just slid out of her, still dealing with the condom, when she says, "Let me know when you're ready for more."

God-fucking-damn.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[shadohood]

After multiple fallen attacks once humble town of Snowdin was turned into a military outpost with the forest around it used to stop the fallen in their tracks once they left the land of exiled.

Snowdin is a harsh place to live in, being constantly surrounded by members of the royal guard gives any misplaced word or action a price too big to pay. This place won't let you leave either, every citizen can theoretically replace a dead guard or serve the ones that are alive.

Once his brother joined the royal guard, Sans had to follow to prevent all the suffering Papyrus will inevitably face, even if to the outsiders he'll be just another rookie. Sans makes little to no progress in his "career", staying at his post as one of the forest overseers. The skeletons couldn't escape the harsh treatment of the guard members, Sans even lost a tooth in one of the meaningless fights he got into.

Any rookie who joins the guard will have to face judgment and suspiction from a crowd of those taught in blood and dust to attack outsiders. Papyrus was one of those rookies. Not having too good of an imposing facade, he had to create one for himself. First was a crack in his skull, caused by one of the trainings, then sharpened teeth after a tough day of humiliation. His determination and skill with traps allowed him to climb up the ladder quick, now he's one of the overseers of the Snowdin forest that he fills with traps and puzzles to prevent the fallen and civilian escapees traversing between the land of the exiled and the rest of the underground.

Long time members of the guard like the hounds seem to been "modified" In some way. Monsters that were in contact with them say that the dogs are "unnaturally soft" And "sticky". Most of them also behave in an unstable manner, some seem to be in a kind of constant trance, others attack everything that moves friend or foe, one of them even had to be restrained. The most sane ones seem to be the dogi, they take care of others, but often lose control.

The hounds often become victims of many traps in the forest, serving as additional obstacles in them.

The town itself is way less jolly and humble then it used to be. Hotels are now also used as barracks and bars serve the rations for the guards, sacrificing warmth and liveliness of the town for practicality.

Everyone who lives on the border between the land of exiled and the rest of the underground has to be under constant watch. Many who misspoke or acted somewhat suspicious were immediately exiled to the ruins, sometimes leaving their children behind (such as monster kid).

Many civilians join the guard under threats of separation from their families via exile. Even when there is no fallen in the underground, life of a guard is not easy, exhausting practice sessions, other fight-hungry members of the guard and civilians and constant scouting for the new fallen.

The only escape rout for those ready to take that risk is a mysterious ferry person that appears at night to transport you to many corners of the underground. Some say that they were once attacked by the high ranking guard members for their activity.

CR!Underfell navigation: (Waterfall) Next <-- --> Previous (Ruins)

(I take commissions, btw, I can draw you, your ocs, some kind of illustrations, a lot of things really)

[theroyalsims]

"RUGGED GUS" SPOTTED IN TARTOSA. FUTURE CONSORT HAS SOLD HIS BUSINESS, AND IS REPORTEDLY "ADJUSTING WELL" TO MASSIVE LIFESTYLE SHIFT (WHICH INCLUDES A NEW ROYAL BODYGUARD).

If you all thought that Rugged Gus - with his casual jeans, shirts, and jackets - has officially been put to rest following the engagement announcement, well it looks like you're wrong.

Gus, a.k.a. the future husband of Crown Princess Anya, was spotted looking very much like his pre-engagement self, and reverting back to his old style. The royal fiancé was photographed leaving his sister's flat in Tartosa.

Reports claim that the man of the hour has officially moved to Brindleton earlier this month, and will most likely only fly back to Tartosa to visit his family and settle some "loose ends." One insider claims that things are starting to sink in, and he's come to realise what he has to give up to marry Anya:

"Everyone's talking about Anya, but really, Gus has had to give up quite a lot. He's had to shed his citizenships, relocate to a new country, and even be baptised into a new religion. And since he's decided to marry a future Queen, meaning he'll be Prince consort one day, that means he also had to give up his career and his business, which he built from the ground up. That's not an easy feat, to let go of a life, a lifestyle to which you've grown accustomed. But he's doing it all for Anya."

Gus established Aslan Builders, a construction company specialising in high-end builds and restorations. However, due to his new status as Anya's fiancé, he had to sell his shares and let go of the company altogether. This is because members of the Royal Family are not allowed to engage in private businesses. There were earlier murmurs that Gus would not be given any royal titles and would not receive Brindleton citizenship so he would be allowed to continue with his company, however, this was nipped in the bud by no other than The Queen herself. One palace source claims:

"Basically, Her Majesty thought that it might, one day, be possible for certain countesses, duchesses, or princesses, but since Anya is 'no lowly princess,' it would not be possible at all for her husband and future consort to be a foreign businessman without any royal titles. And everyone sort of agreed. It's unheard of. It's just not done."

Good news, for Gus, however, is that he gets to keep his many, many properties and investments. He even added another one: a luxury flat located three blocks away from Anya's home in the city.

Despite the sudden changes in his life, Gus is said to be taking it all in stride:

"Considering everything, he's doing great. He's adjusting well to his new life. He's thought this through and he knows what the endgame is - a life with Anya. So I suppose now, he's taking it all in, learning, coping, because really he knows that Anya is a package deal. You get her, The Royals, and the whole of Brindleton."

"If there's something he does struggle with, it's being given his own protection officer. But he gets that it's again part of the protocol. It's just amusing to see Gus, big, gigantic, and hulking Gus, being followed around by a bloke in a suit. But he respects that his security is just doing his job, and it's for everyone's safety."

"He also finds it a little irritating that his sisters and his mum, and some of his friends are now being hounded by the press. Things have gotten a little out of hand that he had to pay for his family's security. He even got his mum a chauffeur."

The coming months will very busy for the future royal. Word on the street is his "royal training" is underway, and we'll be seeing him join the royals on his first official engagement sometime soon.

We're rooting for you, Gus!

[ysoandi]

An Understanding | Rick Grimes

(fem!reader)

Summary: After pulling a dangerous stunt in a run, Rick seeks to teach you a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, Dom!Rick, Rough Sex, Sub drop if you squint.

Word Count: 4.2K

You weren't running.

At least that's what you told yourself as you quickened your steps. No. You just needed to go back. Go back to the house. Before he catches up to you.

You'd made it to the porch. The house was silent, courtesy of Olivia taking Judith in. And you thanked your lucky stars that Carl was out. No doubt hanging around with Enid. You've never been more grateful in your life to have the kids out of the house.

Reaching for the door, you'd thought yourself lucky to have made it this far without him hounding on your back. You knew that you made a mistake today. A big one but you thought maybe he'd already gotten over it. Maybe he just went back to the armory, checking, making sure that everything was going back to its place. Maybe he'll just go on about his day. And maybe he'd come back to the house when you and the kids have already gone to bed. However, you weren't that fortunate.

A hand reached out, clasping tight around your arm and you closed your eyes as you felt him turn you towards him.

"Y/N," he hissed, face close to yours, his breath fanning out on your cheek, "What the heck was that?"

You didn't bother saying anything. That would turn out to be another mistake. It seemed that today was going to be filled with a lot of those.

"Answer me," you opened your eyes to see his chest moving fast, like a bull who has a matador within his sight. And there you were with your silence, red as you waved it in front of him. His frustration grew and when he saw you weren't going to answer anytime soon, he dragged you into the house.

You blinked and found yourself pushed against the wall.

"What the hell were you thinking? Pulling a stunt like that? Huh?" You shut your eyes, remembering what happened on the run.

You'd all went to a shopping centre that Glenn had scouted before. With no sight of a big number of walkers, you'd all made a run there in the hopes of finding whatever you can find. Diapers, formula, antibiotics, gauze. So many things needed, so little the chance of finding them was. But you'd held out hope.

It was expected to not find all you wanted but you still looted a decent amount of stuff. You'd gone into the pharmacy, jumping over the countertop and tried to find anything useful. Rick had been across from you, inside a clothing store. And when you saw him lift a small dress, a frilly orange thing, your heart had clenched at the sight.

You forced yourself not to stare, moving your attention to the shelves in front you. You had no idea what you were grabbing but you gathered all you can take in a plastic bag you found lying on the side.

You were pushing the heavily filled bag to the other side of the counter when you heard it. The sound of the unmistakable growls of walkers. It was coming from behind you and once you turned around you found more than half a dozen of those dead ones. That probably was the moment when the reality of the situation had set in for you. Where had they come from? Glancing behind them, you saw the open storage room door. How long had they been there for?

You'd grabbed your knife, the handle cool against your palm, when Daryl shouted,

"Y/N!"

You didn't turn back, but instead took a step towards the walker closest to you and thrust your knife in that small spot in-between the eyes. More came out of that damned storage room, and it was like being dunked into cold water. There were too many. You couldn't take them all. And neither could the rest.

And that's when you made a decision.

Turning back, you looked up at the metal shutters. You'd bumped your head into them when you stood up after jumping over the counter but now you were glad. Because now you knew what to do.

You reached over, arms straining to grab the shutters. Rick had dropped the dress, making his way over to you, machete in hand, the rest following close behind but there's no need. You'll make sure to give them a chance.

Not able to deny yourself one last look, you let a small smile stretch across your face. And Rick's eyes widened as if just now realising what you wanted to do, jaw going slack and that's when you pulled.

The heavy clang of the metal was loud in the small space behind the counter. It only helped in cementing the walkers' attention to you if it weren't already but that was the plan. So it was fine. Everything was fine. You didn't plan on dying. Quickly that is. At least not without a fight.

You were readying yourself, planning on lunging towards the first walker to get close enough when you saw it. A cramped little window, just above one of the shelving units on the left side. That's when a small thing unfurled within you. You didn't dare call it hope yet but it got you moving, darting towards the other side, hands gripping the shelves as you began to climb. You heard the groans behind you, worryingly close but you were nudging the window now, pushing it open.

The shelving unit began to shake as the walkers pushed their weight forward. The window slid forward and you wedged your way through the opening. It was a tight fit but nothing that a bit of wiggling couldn't solve. One last push through and you were out, panting on the ground, the asphalt hard and hot beneath your palms. It felt like your heart was trying to carve its way out of your chest.

When your breathing had settled down, you stood up. You weren't far from the gate. The window had led you on the other side of the shopping centre and now you had to make your way to it again.

Walking around, you shook away the remnants of fear. The shaking of your hands, the shudder running down your back. No. It wouldn't do to be afraid. The worst was over. Hopefully.

You'd turned around the corner and found them. Right in front of the gate, clustered together, murmuring amongst themselves. You got closer and saw Rick holding a hand to his face, expression hidden from you but whatever it was that he was hearing from Glenn had him shaking his head. You could practically see the agitation, stringing his back straight. He looked ready to implode. Daryl was at his back, crossbow in his hands as his eyes flitted between the men.

However, when you got closer, finally within their sights, Sasha was the first to notice. Her eyes widened when she saw you. Her arms going limp, the gun lowering, and then she was running.

"Y/N!" She threw her arms around you and you found yourself leaning into the comfort provided. When you looked up, you found Rick already looking at you. And you almost took a step back at seeing the expression on his face.

The rest of the group had welcomed you back, giving hugs and occasional pats to the shoulder but Rick didn't even come close. When things had settled down and their surprise and happiness has turned into relief at your survival, Rick has just shook head, his jaw tightening before turning away.

He wasn't happy. But he was alive. That's what matters.

The group had noticed the absence of a reunion between you and Rick. And soon enough you were all walking back to Alexandria in silence. When you reached the gate, you hoped that Rick would be too busy with anything for the rest of the day. You hoped that you'd be granted reprieve. However, it seems there were other things planned for you.

The hands around your arms tightened and your were brought back to the present.

"Open your goddamn eyes, y/n," he let out. You looked at him and you thought you could almost cut yourself on the sharp line of his jaw, "You wanna tell me what that was back there?"

You don't know what happened in that moment. Was it the fact that you felt his body pressed up against you, chest to chest? Or was it the little pants he let out between each word as if it was physically exhausting to hold himself back? Whatever it was, it had that tiny thing in your lower tummy unfold. Pulsating. Wanting to spread its warmth until all you could feel is the need and nothing else.

"It was the right thing to do, Rick," You were surprised at how steady your voice sounded, "The only way. Carl and Judith can't lose you. And if it was you or me that had to get out. I'd always choose you."

"You can't fucking do that, y/n," Rick pressed closer and oh. You were so wet, it was like a fucking waterfall between your legs. You wondered if he noticed that, how much you wanted him. And when you shifted, you became aware of his need pressing against your thigh. "It's not your fucking decision to make."

"And who's gonna stop me, Rick?" You raised a hand to his chest, feeling the strength of the muscles that lay beneath his shirt, feeling the hammering of his heart beat. Maybe it wasn't the anger that had his heart kicking into overdrive. "You?"

"Yes," he hissed and your faces were that much closer. All you had to do to take his lips was stand on your toes. But you didn't. Not yet. A moment passed. You stared into each other's eyes. You wondered what he saw in them because you felt him almost take a step back, his shoulders lowering. But then it was like you'd been imagining things. Rick pressed so deliciously close to, body tight against you, and sealed his lips over yours.

And it was good.

So good in fact it had you gushing. Your insides melting like he'd just lit them on fire. And it was like he sensed it too, sensed that burning inside of you because before you knew it his tongue was rolling in your mouth, pushin in.

You weren't sure how long it was but when he pulled back your head was full of cotton. Hazy. It took a while for you to remember what you were arguing about in the first place.

"You think you can just go on and do things on your own? Think you can leave me behind?" His thigh was pressed between your legs, and you groaned, hips moving forward, humping down on his knee. You were staring at him, forced to witness the anger in his eyes. Anger at you. It was when Rick pushed you back, pinning you againt the wall, halting you from finding any release that you realised he was expecting an answer.

"I did it for you, Rick," You let out, a whine making its way out of your throat. You were getting desperate now. For him to understand you or for him to let you continue rolling your pussy on his knee you didn't know.

"I don't care if it was for me. Don't ever do that," He pressed in closer, his hands keeping your arms by your side, "I can't lose you, y/n," his voice didn't break but the distress at the idea of you being in danger again was clear.

"Do you understand me, y/n?"

"Yes," You breathed out and he groaned as if he was hurt, as if you'd taken a shot at him before pressing his lips to yours, sucking hard at them. You were sure by the end of this they'd be puffed up and swollen red from the attention.

His hands landed on your face, holding you to him and you groaned once one of them gripped at your hair, tight, pulling your head back. You let out a soft cry as he bit down at your neck, sucking and licking a path down to your collarbone. This was good. It was numbing. It made your head empty, no thoughts whatsoever except for the feeling of his hand, lips and tongue on you.

At feeling the hard bulge pressed against your hip, you reached a hand down, fingers fumbling with his belt before you pulled down his zipper. Rick groaned once you palmed him through his briefs, pulling back to look at you.

"Pull me out, y/n," he let out and you did just that. Pulling his cock out until it lay heavy and red in your palm. You looked down and felt yourself get wetter at the thought of him all hard because of you.

"You see what you do to me?" His breath fanned your cheek and you nodded almost absentmindedly, mind still too focused on the weight of his cock in your hand, "Then take some fucking responsibility for it."

Rick bared his teeth, hands turning you around until your cheek was pressed against the wall. You let out an ugly squawk at the sudden shift that quickly turned to a moan when he got in close, dick pressed in close to where you want it. You could feel yourself seeping through, pussy pulsing hot as slick soaked your panties. Pushing back, you tried to hold in a whine as he rolled his hips, grinding into you.

"You feel that, Y/N?" You nodded your head, frantic pants leaving you. "This is what you do to me, sweetheart."

His hand slid down your chest, slipping between the vee of your thighs, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

"Riiick," You drawled out, back arched, willing him to touch you where you needed. His fingers opened the button of your pants and you couldn't help trying to buck into him, nudge your wet pussy into his palm. But that was the wrong course of action it seemed as his other hand fisted into your hair.

"Aaaah," a whine was pulled out of you.

"I need you to be good for me, y/n," Rick breathed out behind your ear, the hand closest to your cunt stilling. "You hear me?" And maybe it was the hint of desperation in his voice that made you nod your head, eager to please him.

"Good girl."

That's all it took for you to melt into his embrace like putty. The hand that gripped your hair soon let go as it busied itself with getting rid of your shirt. When the relentless buttons refused to give in under his careless ministrations, that's when his other hand came up and joined the first into ripping your shirt off.

It was a beautiful day outside and as the buttons of your shirt pitter-pattered on the floor, you thought maybe it could've even been a great day to spend in the garden. But here you were instead. Face pushed against the wall, moments away from a rough fucking.

"Rick," You let out, mourning your shirt as its tatters hung limply around your arms and waist.

"Hush now," His voice was rough, and you're sure if you could turn around and look at him, you'd see his eyes darkened, the blue overtaken by his lust, "I'll have Carol sew it together later."

It was hard to argue after that when his hand cupped your tits, the weight of them filling his palm. He squeezed one of them and you groaned, eyes shut at the firm pressure.

"You ain't never gonna leave me like that, y/n," a hand trailed down your navel until it was stopped by the waist of your jeans. He was panting in your ears as if he'd been running a mile before he stood behind you. "Not again. Not ever," He slid his fingers beneath the strap- finally. You shut your eyes, at feeling your wetness gladly drip into his palm. It hurt. It burnt. You needed him to douse the flames that were currently licking up your deepest insides.

You ground into his fingers, smearing your slick all over them, trying to find your release but the hand on your tit reached to grip your jaw. Firm.

"Stay still, y/n."

You ignore him, grabbing the hand that's down your panty and pushing it closer to your cunt. It felt good. Like a salve. Like you were hurting deep down in your pussy and this man who was heaving behind you - as if he was under the heaviest of weights - could just make it feel better instead.

But your relief was short lived.

"Ah," your breath punched out of you.

Your cheek was pushed against the wall. Again. This time the sweat almost making you slide down. You felt pinpricks, his hand fisted impossibly tight in your hair. Holding you still. Holding you close.

The hand in your pants left, and instead grabbed yours, both of them. You shut your eyes at the thought of the bruises that were going to undoubtedly show up. He raised your arms up.

"I said. Stay. Still," he was close. His lips brushing your ear, breath hot. Rick took each one of your palms, pushing them against the wall and let go. When your arms fell. He grabbed them and shoved them against the wall again. It didn't take long for you to understand the message.

Brace yourself.

"You ain't gonna be cummin' on my fingers," Rick growled out. "You don't fuckin' deserve it," His hand slid down back to its place, nestled between your folds. "I'm gonna make sure that everything's alright down here," a long finger pushes inside of you, breaching until it stop at the knuckle.

"That this pussy can take me and once I'm sure, I'm gonna fuck you against this wall," your breaths were becoming faster, excited at the lovely picture appearing in your mind. "And when I'm done, maybe you'll have learnt your lesson."

A whine rips itself out of your throat. An unbearable sadness wells up inside of you. Why doesn't he understand? Why doesn't he get why you've done what you've done? Tears burn your eyes. And at the feeling of a second finger joining the first inside you, you can feel it build up. The burning wave that wants to crest over. You try your best to stay still but your hips betray you every once in a while, twitching back down on the thrusting fingers.

You hold your tears back but then two becomes three inside of your cunt. And that blue sadness gets washed over by that toe-curling white pleasure, mingling with each other until all you can do is try not to drown in it.

You're close now. Rick knows it too. You're clenching down on him, wrestling to keep him there but he pulls out nonetheless. Your chest is rising and falling, the thrumming of your blood a loud white noise in your ear. Your cunt throbs, aching at the emptiness.

The metal of Rick's belt buckle reach your ears and that's when you notice he's breathing as hard as you. You feel the soft flutter of your jeans and panties against your skin as he drags it down to your knees, leaving it there. He presses close to you, the hardness between his legs against the crack of your ass cheeks. Your eyes feel dry when you open them again.

"Rick."

He grunts, his hips snapping against you. You turn your head, slightly, making sure he's looking at you. He is. And despite thinking that Rick looks like he wants to fight, you say, "I'm not sorry," His eyes darken, a snarl lifts the corner of his lip. You'd probably be worried at the expression if it currently didn't feel like your body was in heat.

Keeping your eye on him, you continue, "I never will be."

He bares his teeth at you for a second and you're sure he's gonna eat you. You're certain. But Rick just presses against you. His clothed chest against your back, the buttons of his shirt rough against your skin. His fingers move to your face, squeezing themselves between your lips, forcing their way in. You can taste yourself on them, salty, slick. The smell making you heady.

"I haven't been trying enough, y/n," His other hand fists against his cock, brushing the back of your thigh. "And that's my fault. So I guess I'll just have to teach you your place," the head pushes past your entrance and you gasp, the stretch still causing a delicious burn despite his efforts at opening you up. "Every fucking day," he thrusts, the length of him pushed inside of you completely.

You can hear babbling and it takes you a second to realize it was coming from you.

"Shut up, y/n," He gave another thrust, his fingers - thick and calloused - drove deeper into your mouth, almost reaching the back of your throat. "Don't fucking talk back."

You were drooling, the spit leaking out your mouth after finding nowhere to be with Rick's fingers in your mouth. The sound of slapping skin filled the house. Loud. Obscene.

You were getting close now. You could feel it, heating up your gut, wanting to spread its way through your body. You wished you could touch yourself. But Rick was a heavy weight pressing against your back, preventing you from sliding your hand to where you want it to be.

The thrusts were brutal. Their pace only pushing you closer and closer to that equisiteness you knew was ready to wash over you.

"-iick—" you chocked around his fingers.

"Yeah, I know, y/n," Rick panted against your shoulder. "You're gripping me tight down there," his thrusts slowed down, turning into grinds instead - delicious deep strokes that you could almost feel in your guts. "But the only way you're cumming," Rick pulled back from you. "Is on my cock." He drove in hard and it was like all thoughts had dissipated from your head. He built up that pace again, his hips smacking against your ass.

Rick's shirt stuck to your back, your sweat melding it to you. Your cunt was burning. Set ablaze. It felt like you'd accidentally smacked it against the corner of a table. Those flames were rising up, quickly. And before you knew it, your legs were spasming out, your nerves singing as hot sparks spread through your body.

"Aaaah," your moans were long. Needy. Your bones have turned to jelly. The weight of them becoming impossible for you to bear on your own. But that didn't stop Rick. Instead his thrusts have picked up their speed. Slamming in and out of you, having your eyes roll back, almost in a trance. The slaps of your cunt have turned wet, the gush of your pussy only making it easier for him.

He was close. You could feel it. You could sense the desperation fueling him. Making him seek his pleasure. Your mouth was empty, chin shining with spit. His hands were on either side of your own, entangling with them as he pushed you against the wall until it felt like you couldn't breath.

Rick gave one final thrust and pulled out. Hot spurts of his cum landed on your ass, dripping down. You lamented the loss. Later on, when you've regained the higher functions of your brain, you'll give the man a deep kiss for his careful thinking.

But now you couldn't even pull your legs beneath you to walk. Rick had fucked that ability out of you. So you stayed there — both of you, against the wall, heaving for your breaths. Your sweat has matted your hair to your forehead. For a moment, you were certain that your body was stuck to the wall. But when Rick pulled away, pulling you with him, your body had simply peeled away like a wrapper off a candy.

Rick was silent.

You stumbled against him and his strong arms lifted you up. You could only close your eyes and lean back on his chest.

When you had opened your eyes again, you were laying on your stomach, naked. Rick was kneeling beside the bed, cleaning you up with a warm towel. You stared, admiring the profile of his face. He rubbed circles into your skin, his hands gentle. So unlike their previous treatment of you. Rick didn't look at you. Not yet. But you were patient.

"You're part of this family, y/n," his hands finished with the towel, setting it aside. Blue eyes snapped to yours. "You know that, right?" Your heart ached at seeing him so lost. So confused. So hurt at the mere idea.

You gave a small nod. Not quite trusting your voice. Rick looked away.

"I can't lose you, y/n," his voice strained. "I can't." His hand found yours and you squeezed him tightly. Offering what comfort you can give. "We can't lose you. Not me. Not Carl. Not Judith. Do you understand?"

"Yes," you croaked out, voice unadjusted.

Rick looked back at you. And you were filled with such sudden affection towards the man. This man who knelt in front of you with fear in his eyes. Fear for you.

"I understand now, Rick."

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

okokok i'm obsessing hard over this au but also I’m in an emotional nightmare zone right now so it’s hard to work on it so here’s a basic summary of the plot so I can infodump it to you guys.

in 2012, four year old emily innes goes missing. she is not reported as a missing person. her five older siblings are told she ran away, and learn quickly bringing up the subject makes them the target of their parents wrath- one once isolated to emily. her uncle never learns there was a sixth innes child, having been estranged from his sister for quite a long time. as far as the world is concerned, emily innes never existed. there is no search effort for her. she is not on the front of any newspapers. her disappearance is not a mystery, because as far as the world is concerned the innes family, falling through the cracks of the legal system at the best of times, might as well not exist either.

in 2012, four year old clementine (no last name, not anymore) grins as she sits in a red-and-white dress in her friend mr. dream's fancy car. he's the only one who pays any attention to her, anyway, he gives her gifts and plays with her and he’s been the only person nice to a freak of nature like her since he visited. and he's come up with the best game, where she gets to pretend to be a good kid and he's her dad and he'll pay for her to go on the big rollercoasters tubbo did and eat a big big bowl of icecream. just… after she takes this nap. she’s been so sleepy after he gave her the carsickness meds mum never bothers to get.

in 2012, an unremarkable flight takes place, from England to the coasts of the USA. none of the passengers will remember a tired looking man who fiddled with his hands a bit too much and the girl they assumed to be his daughter, asleep in the seat next to him. in twelve years time, some will recognise the man on the news broadcasts, and the girl now nearly a woman (no, man), and will blame themselves for not seeing red flags.

in 2024, thirty-nine dr dean somnus gets into a car accident. he will lose function in his right arm for the rest of his life from the injuries, and he will lose consciousness and not wake until after a day and many frantic procedures. a well respected man in the town, the local paediatrician, this should have been a happy moment. instead, as he frantically describes what at first seems like a sick joke but one that quickly dawns on them as something far too panicked to be fake, police are called. local cops, one’s not equipped for what this will turn out to be.

in 2024, sixteen year old tommy somnus awakes in a hospital bed. one far away from not only his council flat he once called home but the room he’d reluctantly began to call home too. it would be months before he would leave. he expects to see his parents. they don’t even call. they never reported him missing in the first place. he's half starved, confused, and scared. he will spend the next few months in hospital, kind faces and professionals helping him recover enough, physically and mentally, he'll be able to walk out those doors and see the sun for the first time in twelve years. when he does, a barrage of cameras will photograph him, interviewers will hound him, and he'll long for the tight embrace of the room he was rescued from, and find the torture that scarred his body and mind within far less gruelling than the spotlight.

in 2025, thirty-nine year old dean somnus is sentenced for his crimes. the sentence isn’t as long as the media would hope for. it’s too long for the boy it’s meant to protect. the evidence is clear- examination of the room imprisoning tommy, the copious photographic and video evidence, and the ready testimony of both kidnapper and victim leave no moment of the captivity a secret. fresh out of medical school, single (and with disgust at the idea of marriage), and unstable, dean somnus had no chance in hell of adoption, so he simply took a child instead. tommy was chosen due to his vulnerability and the similar appearance allowing the two to appear related. tommy's captivity involved severe physical and mental abuse, but he was not harmed in any other way- the copious toys in tommy's room, almost-happy home videos, and the pride in dean's voice talking about “his” tommy make it clear this was a case where a child was abducted to be raised, though clearly not well. this is not salacious enough for many sleazy tabloids, and in a few months time this clear evidence is distorted under unrealistic claims.

in 2025, forty-three year old phillip craft is tired. learning he had a nephew he never met, that he’d been held captive for twelve years, and his birth parents were not considered appropriate custody had taken a lot out of him. of course, he'd taken tommy in- better than if the poor kid ended up in foster care or something, and besides, after his own son he was prepared for the teenage rebellion years. still, it’s hard to say tommy is more than a stranger- one polite in a way that’s heartbreaking knowing why- and each day is a challenge. there’s medical appointments both physical and mental, trying to socialise a teenager who’s near-feral in terms of his social development, sorting out his online school (because god he was not letting him get thrown to the wolves and put into an actual school enviroment, he can barely handle having phil and his wife both in the room with him at once), and trying to somehow, impossibly, comfort him after the hundredth time he comes across a sickening podcast joking about what they think really happened to the point they ignore what happened, a youtube video blaming him for trusting strangers as an abused, neglected child, some random sickos blog post ranting about how he's proof that kids like him are being forced into changing themselves and speculating on his medical history, and the dawning realisation that he can't avoid it no matter how hard he tries, and. he's sick of the world. he cares, but it’s not enough. it won’t ever really be.

in 2025, seventeen-year-old tobias “tubbo” undell (soon to be née undell) watches the news at his soon-to-be-husband's house, flopped over the sofa. life is a chaotic mess- he’s gone from top of every science class to having a son far too early and having to figure out how to manage being a parent while still in school himself, and how being a nuclear engineer really meshes with the whole nuclear family thing. he almost misses the face on the television, something about a scumbag over in another country getting jailed, some dumb sensationalised crime, and then he glimpses a familiar picture. it’s him- as a little kid, still in dresses, but him- and he's grinning, holding hands with emily- god, he nearly forgot she existed, they were best friends until she just vanished and no one else seemed to remember her- and then the words “kidnapping” and “abuse” suddenly feel so loud and he can’t feel anything but his own heart beating. he orders plane tickets to America the next day. he has to see emily- no, tommy- just this once. one last time. for closure. and then he could finally be a grown up.

[edward-cabrini]

"The Curse of Want" Deep Dive: Chapter 1

Where should stories begin? Personally I believe they should start from the first event that will affect the principal protagonist. In this case that is less than a year after Lorcan's birth. Alone with her hound and babe clasped tightly in her arms Lorcan's mother, Annie, is standing in the rain watching the approach of a fian as her dog barks and growls. Annie's decision to join the fian, in order to provide for her son, ultimately brings about everything else that follows. As you might imagine a vulnerable single mother wandering through battlefields looking for scraps and salvage to barter with is not in much of a position to refuse aid.

The rígfénnid, Eamon, is a vile and detestable rapist and opportunist. However, he does protect Annie and the baby as promised. Even seeming to become something of a real father figure to Lorcan. For most of Lorcan's time in the camp he refers to his mother as Ma and father as Da. Though he's brutal and cruel, Eamon, takes an interest in educating Lorcan. Teaching him to fight, and trying to make a man of him so that he can survive, maybe even thrive by his side. It's this decision to train Lorcan that sparks one of Lorcan's qualities to shine though in it's purest form. Annie, questions Eamon as he drags Lorcan from her to begin his first lesson. In retribution for her question he threatens to throw her to the rest of the fian for use. Lorcan immediately begins dragging his father away saying, "Let's go I want to!" Whether he truly is interested in learning to live as a mercenary or not is secondary to the immediacy of his reaction to a threat against some one he cares about. This moment of selfless self sacrifice is repeated through out Lorcan's life in ever darker hues, but we'll get to those moments as they crop up. It's not long before Lorcan ends up in his first battle. An assault on sieged river castle. It's walls having been bombarded for weeks on end, are weak and crumbling. The defenders are haggard and ready to surrender. A final push and the castle will be recaptured from Waullen hands. Eamon's fian is ready before the weakest wall ready to assault with ladders. By chance the wall give way, the brutal melee see's Lorcan kill a man for the first time. Although child soldiers aren't uncommon, one as young as Lorcan is. Following his training Lorcan thrust his spear at the gap in the knights armour through the knight's groin and into his pelvis. Of course, this isn't a fast way to kill a man and in his dying moments the knight tries to strangle Lorcan, sending them both to the floor. It's at this point, disarmed and trapped under dead weight, that a second knight goes for Lorcan with a mace. Lorcan takes up the slain knight's sword and just barely manages to kill this second knight a in brutal struggle on the floor. The first man was quick, almost a surprise to Lorcan, barely registering. This second knight was slow and horrible as a kill.

The sword Lorcan has just picked up is the same he'll carry with him for the rest of his time as a mercenary. He may have been trained to use a spear by his father, but he's essentially trauma bonded to his weapon now. It saved his life when his spear failed him.

The way into the castle is clear and Lorcan follows after the charging fian. Having been struck by the mace and who knows what else, we don't return to Lorcan until he awakes atop a pile of corpses. Looking for his father he finds him only to be met with callous dismissal of his own survival. Lorcan isn't special. He's just another of Eamon's fenids now. Death is a certainty, maybe not now. Maybe not for a long time, but eventually. Personally, I think it's this dismissal of the staggering feat that is surviving the assault is what eventually leads to Lorcan's stoicism. His lack of self preservation is ultimately fuelled by a need to prove he deserves the next day. He'll shoulder whatever burden he needs to to prove it. Not the healthiest outlook, but a functional one.

Naturally Lorcan will escape this abusive "home" but for now I'll leave you with a quote from Chapter 1, spoken by Lorcan to a wounded Eamon:

Eamon grabbed Lorcan by the scruff of his shirt. "Don't think this changes anything boy, you still belong to me." He reminded his son as he doubled over in a coughing fit. "I'll look after you as well as you looked after my Ma," Lorcan promised, kicking his crutch out from under him before storming out the cathedral.