#drowning implication cw

[aresenics]

 have  you  seen  VERO  DE  LA  ROSA   ?   we’ve  heard  through  the  grapevine  that  they’re  ADROIT  but  also  DECEIVING.  when  you  think  of  them,  you  think  of  short  fingernails  and  bloodied  palms  from  taut  rope,  the  intricate  lines  of  old  weapons  you  see  mounted  on  museum  walls,  and  looking  up  from  deep  underwater  as  sunlight  shines  through.

THE  SECOND  KING  OF  SICILY  .

mentions  cw:  drowning  ,  homicide  ,  violence  .

*̲    ⋅   𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒔  :

FULL  NAME:  vero   rafael   de   la   rosa   .

PRONUNCIATION:  “  veh  -  rro  ,  ”  an  audio  example  can  be  found  here  (  the  italian  version  /  1st  example  )   !

NICKNAME(S):  ve  /  v  ,  rafa  (   by  youngest  sibling   )  .

AGE:  forty  -  five  .

GENDER  IDENTITY:  cisman  .

PRONOUNS: he  /   him   /   his   .

ORIENTATION:  biromantic  &  bisexual  .

LANGUAGE(S)  SPOKEN:  spanish  (   primary   )  ,  italian  (   secondary   )  ,  english  (  conversational   )  &  french  (   literary,  conversational   )  . 

ACCENT:  diego’s  irl   ! 

PARALLEL(S):  to  be  announced  .

*̲    ⋅   𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅    𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌   :

BIRTH  PARENTS:  status   —   deceased  (   killed  in  battle  against  vero   )  .

SIBLINGS:   status   —   alive  ,  two  older  &  one  younger  .  

MARITAL  RELATION:  status   —   married  to  the  king  of  sicily  .  

CHILDREN:  status   —   alive  ,  three  (   two  adoptive  &  one  biological   )  .

OTHER  RELATIVES:  father  in  law  (  deceased  )  &   two  sibling  in  -  laws  (  alive  )  .

*̲    ⋅   𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆  :

FACE  CLAIM:  diego  luna  .

HAIR  COLOUR:  waves  of  black  that  reach  the  nape  of  his  neck,  usually  smooth  &  soft  but  unruly  .

EYE  COLOUR: dark  brown  .

HEIGHT:  five  feet  eleven  inches  .

BODY MARKINGS:  a  scar  across  his  left  eyebrow,  indentations  across  his  knuckles,  another  at  his  right  thigh  .  one  tattoo  behind  his  right  ear  in  honor  of  his  youngest  sibling  &  another  located  at  the  space  where  his  stomach  ends  and  thigh  begins  .  vero  has  a  couple  of  helix  piercings  +  cuffs  along  the  top  &  center  portion  of  his  left  ear  .  

*̲    ⋅   𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓    𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆  :

the  enigma  -  inexplicable to an observer, such as the means by which something is effected, the motive for a course of conduct, the cause of a phenomenon, etc.

*̲    ⋅   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒕   𝒐𝒇    𝒊𝒕   :

vero  was  only  seven  when  he  was  made  to  take  after  the  selachians  of  the  sea:  swashbuckling  thieves  that  cared  none  as  to  whether  they  sailed  north  or  east,  nor  south  or  west;  wherever  their  compass  carried  them,  there  were  surely  fortunes  to  be  found  and  if  there  weren’t,  the  people  they  had  captured  were  useful  enough.  he  had  been  thrown  into  deep,  creature  infested  waters  in  traditional  test  to  see  if  he  could  manage  on  his  own.  he’d  gasp  and  sputter  the  salts  of  the  sea,  thin  legs  flailing  and  unruly  hair  plastered  against  his  forehead  as  he  tried  his  best  to  appease  the  ones  who’d  done  it  without  mercy  -  his  parents.  his  eldest  siblings  would  turn  their  chin  down,  eyes  narrowed  with  half  expectancy  and  half  anticipating  failure.  the  littlest  would  cry  out  for  someone  to  help  him,  only  to  be  answered  with  a  shove  to  quiet  down.  no  one  will  be  there  to  help.  he  had  to  learn.  they’d  leave  him  to  his  devices  after  a  moment  of  panicked  splashing,  getting  absolutely  nowhere,  not  daring  to  move  in  fear  that  any  lingering  animal  would  grab  at  his  legs  like  wounded  prey.  the  piercing  cold  didn’t  help  stir  numbing  limbs  either.  they  would  turn  away  from  the  edge  of  the  ship  and  continue  on  with  their  duties,  worrying  none  for  the  son  that  stood  overboard.  vero  had  set  it  in  his  mind  then.  the  sea  was  his  and  his  alone. 

as  vero  grew  from  child  to  man,  he  vowed  to  use  what  had  been  gained  from  silent  observance  and  cunning  trickery  to  master  quick  hands,  as  clever  and  smooth  as  the  seafolk  that  forged  him.  it  would  all  lead  to  their  greatest  downfall.  the  frailest  of  their  children  had  become  the  very  rival  that  would  overturn  their  power,  seizing  their  ship  and  claiming  the  crew  that  once  spat  at  his  feet  (  sparing  the  youngest  and  gravely  injuring  the  two  eldest  ).  wielding  many  a  sharp  weapon  and  swiping   purses  from  the  belts  of  those  who  bragged  about  never  having  been  fooled.  a  siren  who  used  a  gentle,  pretty  face  to  best  the  burliest  of  men  and  most  brilliant  of  women.  the  peak  of  piracy,  taking  what  was  his  and  slaughtering  the  name  of  anyone  who  dared  to  avenge  stolen  riches.  his  greed  and  deception  led  him  be  known  among  the  reefs  and  eventually,  the  shore.  a  slip  of  paper  would  roll  upon  his  desk  on  a  stormy  night,  carved  in  red  ink  and  sealed  shut  with  the  thickest  of  wax.  therein  read  an  offer;  a  deal.  become  one  with  the  land,  labor  for  me  and  dig  into  the  secrets  of  the  elite.  find  your  way  into  the  royal  family  and  we  will  both  find  what  we  are  looking  for.  i,  the  throne.  and  you,  everything  you’ve  ever  wished.

and  so  it  was  agreed.  vero  would  band  with  two  other  men,  all  skilled  in  their  own  proclivities  and  creating  a  pact  that  they  would  do  anything,  spout  any  fable  and  fool  anyone  if  it  meant  worming  their  way  into  the  circle  of  the  french  nobility.  vero’s  chance  would  present  itself  at  the  stories  of  an  upcoming  rebellion,  watching  as  the  new  generation  tore  down  conquistadors  and  any  tyrannical  group  that  took  down  innocent  ships.  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  attack  one  night  when  they’d  been  recuperating  from  a  battle  fought  the  evening  of;  replenishing  what  was  left  of  their  stock  and  patching  up  any  flaws  to  their  ship.  he  used  the  cover  of  night  to  dismantle  their  crew,  nearly  taking  more  wins  than  losses  of  men.  however,  despite. their  exhaustion,  vero’s  crew  was  bested  and  at  once,  they  were  all  caught.  they’d  been  brought  to  their  knees  with  sweaty  locks  gripped  between  the  fingers  of  a  scowling  seafarer.  the  sharp  end  of  a  sword  met  at  vero’s  throat,  belonging  to  a  young  man  of  sunkissed  cheeks  and  windswept  curls.  the  conniving  siren  would  stare  up  at  him,  eyes  pools  of  black.  of  wonder.  there  was  his  way  in.

 with  the  intention  to  have  vero  properly  dealt  with  by  his  father,  diego  had   intended  to  set  sail  to  sicily.  home.  however,  being  that  there  were  a  sudden  lack  of  hands  to  aid  in  the  repair  and  journey  back,  vero  was  forced  to  serve  every  need  of  the  crew;  a  form  of  punishment  until  his  final  sentencing. 

 through  tsunamic  waves  that  threatened  to  set  the  ship  off  course  they’d  sail  as  one,  earning  an  array  of  permanent  scarring  and  grunts  of  brute  strength  to  hold  the  boat  in  place.  shallow  currents  provided  the  perfect  excuse  to  dock  and  venture  out  onto  unfamiliar  islands,  diego  stopping  to  show  vero  the  joy,  trust,  and  community  that  he  and  his  father  had  guided  and  fostered  among  the  sicilian  people.  by  the  time  they  returned  home,  vero  had  captured  his  heart.  the  most  perfect  plan.  a  success.  diego  declared  the  desire  to  commit  them  for  eternity  and  despite  his  father’s  suspicions  about  vero’s  intentions,  he  gave  them  his  blessing  and  they  married  not  long  after. 

a  domino  effect  of  life.  first   the  passing  of  his  father  in  law,  then  diego’s   coronation  as  sicily’s  new  monarch.  they’d  adopt  children  together,  even  having  their  biological  child  via  a  surrogate.  it  all  came   far  too  fast  for  him  to  catch  breath.  he’d  never  seen  himself  as  a  father.  as  a  husband.  never  even  saw  himself  getting  this  far  (  a  reoccuring  jest  among  his  crew  that  he  wouldn’t  live  past  40  ).  and  yet  here  he  stood.  and  he’s  … .  happy  ?

every  time  that  he  looks  at  his  husband  he  cannot  get  enough.  as  if  seeing  him  for  the  first  time  all  over  again.  everytime  his  children  pass  by  his  heart  swells  and  he’s  not  sure  if  it’s  healthy  for  it  to  grow  that  much  in  size.  the  men  who’d  made  the  pact  have  grown  weary  of  his  idleness,  hunting  him  down  and  finding  the  perfect  moment  to  ambush  him;  threatening  to  bring  harm  if  he  doesn’t  deliver  his  promise.  a  fool  -  proof  plan  foiled  by  the  surge  of  warmth  that  had  been  shown  to  a  once  savage  beast.  but,  he  is  in  love.  with  all  of  it.  a  sea  creature  with  claws  for  hands,  gripping  onto  life  with  a  wild  thirst. every  waking  moment  that  he  is  with  family  he  is  consumed  by  guilt,  knowing  that  he  is  far  too  gone.  the  choice  is  yet  to  be  made:  fight  alone  with  the  risk  of  death,  unable  to  tell  his  kin  as  to  why  … . . or  bear  the  truth  and  reap  the  consequences. 

*̲    ⋅   𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅   𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔   :

to  be  announced  .  <3

#* ━━ v. de la rosa › intro. #francehq.intro #murder tw #drowning implication cw

[peppered-moths]

imagine this, if you will:

it is the end of the world. survivors like them are used to it. scott and martyn are in the final four (again, again). it doesn’t matter who the others are. martyn is running out of time. they all are, really, but his death is far more imminent. they stand in the ruins of the coral isles.

scott takes his hand. you know what has to happen next. no winner may ever win again, may never survive the ticking of their clock.

martyn protests. of course he does; loyalty is stamped in his very soul. loyalty and love (though they’ve never called it that, never will). time ticks down. twenty minutes, eighteen seconds.

the ocean is warm. still beautiful, despite the ruins of the coral reef. the only fish left are pufferfish now. the world ends. the world always ends.

for them, it ends as it began; with water, with blood, with one final embrace. there is no burial, no consigning scott’s bones to the ocean. there is only red, and a promise to end the world on his lips.

(martyn wins, in the end. he kills the other two, as many times as he needs to, as many times as it takes. the world won’t end. the world won’t fucking end until he’s done with it.

there is blood on his hands. there is blood still spiraling in the water, the last remnant of a life that may as well never have existed. martyn wades in. salt-copper tang fills his mouth.

drowning is very easy when you’re tired, even when you fight it. his vision goes hazy, even as he panics, even as he flails, stuck to the spot by the rocks he’s piled in his pockets.

the moment before everything goes black, martyn thinks he sees scott swimming towards him.)

the world ends. it always does.

#majorwood #limited life smp #ficlet #i guess? #cw: drowning #cw: swearing #scott smajor #smajor1995 #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #anyways i hope this hurts you #trafficshipping #traffic smp #the majorwood implications are fuckin me up again #sorry not even remotely sorry

[cynicallyscorned]

" Where's Macaque? Don't ask me. Ask the car at the bottom of th' lake. "

#🚫 — hahaha! welcome to the shitshow! ❪ crack. ❫ #drowning cw #drowning implication #said as if that would do literally anything to him skdfjds #blows a kiss to my lmk mutuals

[look-on-my-works]

A form comprised of parts that do not fit.

There is a roughly cobbled together figure, and he stands by your peripheral vision;

Not the most appealing of forms, but each stitch was crafted with care,

And each badly fitting item was well chosen in the eyes of the beholder.

He tries to speak, of course, this shambling memorial to confusion, but the voicebox drips with venom;

Not his choice of course, but often creators will be cruel,

And fathers will be reflected so dutifully in their sons.

He speaks in this scathing and venomous tone, a plea, you think. Is it a plea? A cry for recognition, a something, a someone, a voice that didn't mean to hurt?

It twists and turns as though a tourniquet putting pressure on some wound deep in your chest, and you cannot place if it cuts or blocks off blood flow;

To save or to kill will look the same to the smudged near ghost of a friend lost, a broken mirror isn't wrong, just a strangled perspective, you see.

He hates his voice, he gargles out, through this rotten oesophagus, and he wishes so dearly for you not to speak of it, let him rest, let him go, let him free;

But all you can hear is the burn of stomach acid and the seeping, sediment seething in your gut.

You stumble away, put distance between yourself and the threat and the acid is neutralised by a viscous bile, a vicious tear from closeness to a tormenting time dilation;

It does move slower as the adrenaline shreds through roped capillaries,

A hangman's noose and the coronary artery does not sit as a crown but slips, choking around a broken neck.

This figure, this form, this fast approaching foolish coagulation of disorders and scraps,

He doesn't know it's his fault

He knows it could only be because of him

You look him in glassy and marbling eyes which marvel back at you in the second, in the hour, in the day, month, year, and you tell him.

You tell him the truth and the fact and the indisputable statement

His voice is his own

If he cannot fix it, what is he?

He is not good enough?

He is not correct?

He didn't do it, he pleads

He didn't do it, he cries

He didn't do it, he sobs through the drowning lake of tar,

and you cannot hear him anymore.

#poetry #poetry on tumblr #cw injury #cw illness #ask me to tag with anything please #cw drowning #just a Silly poem! no hidden implications at all and no need to interpret it! #FatedPoems

[utahimeow]

cw — reader and gojo have a daughter, established marriage, gojo is sad but reader comforts him

satoru gojo is not a man of many fears. heights, spiders, needles, death—fearing these is alien to a man who’s looked death itself in the eye and refused to let it touch him. however the words that his five-almost-six year-old daughter just uttered send shivers down his spine.

he’s frozen, eyes wide, face pale. he thinks his lungs stop working and his heart stops beating.

big, blue eyes round as a bug’s stare up at him, oblivious to the implications of it all.

the sentence echoes in his head like a taunt. he thinks he’ll hear it in his nightmares tonight.

then, her little hand as she tugs on his pant leg yanks him back to reality.

“daddy, i said my tooth fell out!”

satoru gulps, gaze falling to the crumb of bone in her hand, then to the tiny gap that’s now in the front of her mouth.

he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

you’re home from work not long later and the girl rushes to greet you at the door, screeching with delight to announce the loss of her tooth to you.

you’re gasping dramatically, gathering her up in your arms as she gives you a gummy smile so wide her eyes scrunch shut. staring at her is like looking in a mirror, a perpetually perfect reflection of you and your love combined into one small being.

“it didn’t hurt, did it?” you ask her.

“nope! i didn’t even cry,” she tells you, beaming with pride.

“oh, how brave you are,” you tell her, kissing her soft cheeks, grinning as her giggles bubble throughout the entire foyer.

she wriggles out of your grasp and then she’s off again, bounding back upstairs to her room to the pile of plushies upon her bed so she can continue to brew up tales and backstories for each of them. now that both her mother and father have heard her big news, she’s satisfied enough for it to no longer need to be on her mind.

you’re not surprised to find satoru in the kitchen, rummaging through the snack cupboard. you are surprised at the fact that he doesn’t turn to greet you like he always does. with a pout, you stride over to his towering frame and snake your arms around his slender waist, pressing yourself flush to him.

“hi, lover,” you hum.

in your embrace, satoru becomes lighter. the tension in his hard muscles lifts, his shoulders dropping, his back shedding the weight of the world.

“hi, pretty,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, yet somehow his voice still drips with affection for you.

“what’s the matter?” you ask him. you’re well aware of your husband’s melodramatic nature, and it’s because of that that you don’t find yourself worrying over his state of despair. still, you’re rather filled with a curiosity—what minuscule nonsensical issue has him down today? did they discontinue his favourite kitkat flavour?

hands migrating up his torso and finding his chest, you squeeze your fingers into the fat of his pectorals. in the blink of an eye, satoru is facing you and his cold hands have grabbed hold of your wrists. he grins down at you softly, amused by your antics as always, but you blink again and his face drops, growing almost grave.

“talk to me,” you urge, prying. his soft grasp leaves your wrists, moving to envelop your hands which drown in his. he brings them to his lips, kissing at your fingertips, making your heart beat in your ears and your face grow hot. it’s strange to think he once shrivelled away from your affection, convinced he was not worthy of it.

“how was work?” he asks.

“fine. good. same as always,” you tell him. “but you’re avoiding my question. and your feelings.”

he shakes his head, a child through and through. “tell me about your day.”

“satoru,” you say, stern, and it feels like you’re scolding your daughter for not listening to you. “i hate it when you’re… off like this.”

his eyes pierce through yours then, filled with unspoken apology. then, he exhales, long and hard, a sigh that’s heavy with weariness. for you, he’s learned to surrender.

“our daughter losing her tooth today made me realise that she’s getting older and i can’t stop it,” he admits.

you sigh along with him, half relieved that your conscience had been right in believing that it wasn’t anything serious. well, in the sense that no one had died. the rest of you knows he’s not being irrational. since becoming a father, and even before that, when having children was just a distant fantasy for him, an anxiety had lived inside of him. an anxiety of fucking up, of being inherently unsuited to fatherhood, of the idea that she may suffer the consequences of him being her father.

and now, a new anxiety sprouts.

“true, but we get to watch her grow, satoru. don’t you think that’s amazing?”

he stays silent, mouth forming an absentminded pout.

“i just keep thinking about when she was a baby… how tiny she was, how she would waddle around, and drool on my chest. soon she won’t be my little girl anymore, you know?”

“satoru,” you say firmly. your hands curl around the back of his neck, scratching at the snowy hairs of his undercut. “she’ll always be your little girl. i know that because she’s your whole world, and you’re hers. she may never be that little baby again, but she’ll never be as little as she is now either, so love and cherish her now instead of moping about the inevitable passage of time.”

satoru smiles a dopey smile at you, the same one his daughter has.

“i’m so glad i married you,” he says. his hands are warm now as they settle on your lower back, dipping down, down, down.

you roll your eyes at him, opening your mouth to reply with something witty, but he beats you to it.

“i’m being serious now, baby. you always know what to say when i’m being stupid.”

“when you’re being overdramatic, you mean,” you say, grinning playfully.

“hey, it just shows that i care, doesn’t it?”

you pull him down to your face by his neck and kiss him, moulding your lips against his, tender and warm and home. it’s not just his thoughts that melt away when he kisses you, it’s his entire head, until all that’s left is a man with nothing but his wife on his mind, heart beating for no reason other than to keep him alive so that he can keep thinking about you.

briefly, you pull away, in spite of how he chases your lips with his, because he could kiss you until the end of time and you could do the very same, but there’s something weighing on your mind suddenly.

“if you want a second baby i can make that happen, by the way,” you tell him, your hips pressing against his.

“oh, now you want another one? but every time i ask for one i get an earful? heh,” he says, quirking a brow, but unfortunately for him he’s hard in his pants in an instant.

“yeah, but now i feel bad for you.”

“babe, i don’t want a kid out of pity!”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

[nuffintop]

Pretty please

Sub! Young Coriolanus Snow X Fem! Reader Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI Synopsis: Desperate, Needy Coriolanus Snow, comes to you for release the night before the Games. CW: Begging. oral (f receiving). Biting. Implications of Master-Sub Dynamics. Dacryphilia. Edging. Pussy-drunk Coriolanus. p in v. WC: 971

♡♡♡

Snow lands on top, but you have Coriolanus Snow begging on his knees for you. It’s all too much for him, everything’s piled up –  not winning the Plinth Price, meeting Lucy Grey, the first look at the arena and the chaos afterwards – his head is pounding from the realisation of the danger he is in; from the lack of control he has over what goes on tomorrow when Lucy Grey and the other tributes enter that arena. He needs this. He needs you. 

He’d barged into your room when you were looking over the plans for your tribute, pushing your chair back and occupying the space left behind. His face is buried between your thighs, he’s spent the past few minutes nuzzling them, his hands squeezing the fat of your thighs keeping you in place, letting out soft whimpers, just begging for a crumb of your attention, begging to please you – the one thing he has control over, the constant in his life. 

“Please, just once, that’s all I need, please,” he mouths at your panty-covered slit, his tongue snaking out to circle your clit through your panties, he won’t go further until you allow him to. He has your hand grasped in his, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your palms, pleas escaping his lips muffled against your skin. “Please, please let me taste you.” 

In all his life, Coriolanus has uttered a title besides your name on one occasion, and that was when you’d edged him for hours, to get back at him for when he distracted you in the library. It was a slip of the tongue, when you’d finally allowed him to cum down your throat. But right now, Coriolanus still has his wits about him, but he’s slipping; if you don’t give in soon, he’s bound to make the same mistake again. 

He continues lapping at your pussy through your panties, eyes brimming with tears when he looks up at you, because you’ve still not given in, and desperation’s taken hold of him. You’re staring down at him, lips pursed to keep your moans muffled, contemplating whether you should give in, when you finally crack. “Fine. Just once, and that’s it, you have to —” he picks you up in his arms, pinning you against your desk before you can finish. He’s on his knees again, and you’re looking down on him, watching as he digs his teeth into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down – and that’s the last of his patience.

Coriolanus Snow eats you like a man starved. It’s messy and sloppy, and he’s loud, moaning whenever your wetness coats his tongue, his fingers stirring up your insides, while his mouth remains latched onto your cunt. It was supposed to be just once, but each time you cum, he hungrily laps up your sweetness. You could drown him, and he wouldn’t mind it, he’s too far gone, addicted to the taste of you.    

Coriolanus Snow eats you for his pleasure, drunk off the taste of you, his mind shutting off as he feasts on you. At times you can hear the low groans he lets out whenever he cums, untouched, when he realises he’s brought you to the brink again, and you reward him by letting him continue to get drunk off you. 

And when he finally pulls away, leaving a departing kiss on your swollen clit, he kisses up your trembling form, looking down at you, eyes glazed over with lust – the corner of his eyes red from fallen tears – while he rubs his bulge against your thigh. When you glance down you can see the extent of the mess he’s made of himself, unable to contain himself, leaving his pants soaked in his cum. He cups your cheek, thumb stroking across your bottom lip. 

“Please,” he rubs his bulge against your drenched folds, “after this, I- I promise we can be done after this, please. I- I need to feel you.” 

Snow lands on top, but for tonight, he just wants you to take control of him, to sink into your warmth, while your hands are on his chest keeping him pinned down tothe bed, letting him watch the way your hips move against his, bringing him closer to release. 

He can barely hold himself back. He’s panting after just a few thrusts, face buried between your breasts, moaning your name, rambling about how good it feels to be inside you, thanking you for giving him a smidge of your attention. And with every move of your hips, he groans deep in his throat, hands gripping your hips for support when he feels the way you clench around his cock. A pitiful whine escapes his lips at the feel of your walls tightening around him as you ride out your orgasm, using him to get yourself off, and he follows suit, unable to hold himself back any longer, leaving bites across your breasts to keep his sounds at bay. 

Snow lands on top, but just for tonight, he’ll let you hold him, begging to be used by you, feeling safe in your arms. He kisses over the marks he’s left behind, moaning your name like a prayer, he has you leaning all of your weight on him – begged for it, so he can feel close to you, and when you try to move away, he pulls you right back.

His hold on you is bruising as he pushes your hips down on him while he thrusts up into you, continuing to beg, lips brushing against your nipples, while he looks up at you wide-eyed, letting you know he’s not done with you, or rather, he doesn’t want you to be done with him.“I promise you won’t regret this. I’m sorry I just – please, I’ll make it good for you. Please. One more.”

#annwrites♥️ #archives; coriolanus snow #I can't fix him but i can turn him into a whimpering mess #annssubs #sub! coriolanus snow #the way i kept saying his name painfully wrong for a good three days #sub! coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolnaus snow smut #coriolanus snow x fem reader #tbsosas smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #young coriolanus snow x reader

[kissesforsatoru]

ETERNAL DEVOTION ⟶ part one of two | wc : 1.3k

PRINCE! KUROKAWA IZANA x FEM!READER

₊˚⌗ izana is tired of waiting; he wants you. he wants you, he wants you, he wants you. so, he calls you to his room in the middle of the night, and he plans to take you, willingly or not.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, super heavy stockholm syndrome, abuse of power, manipulation, master/servant dynamics, innocent-ish reader, virgin reader, nsfw implications + sexual tension, hints of coercion, one very heated kiss, use of pet names (my lovely servant, love, etc.) ⟶ smut will be in part two.

notes : this was such a spur of the moment little thing that i wrote??? i don’t know where it came from and it’s a bit different than most of my other works i think but! i hope you guys all like it 😭😭

“my prince,” you greet softly, bowing your head down in a display of respect as you sit on your thighs and fold your hands across your lap.

“look at me.” he bites the second you settle, and you do; you look up at your master through your lashes without even a sliver of thought, let alone hesitation. he makes a small, pleased hum, his lips curling into a lazy smirk.

you’re dressed in precious little—a thin, loose nightgown that you sleep in every night—drawing your master to stare at you with a flare in his lilac eyes. he licks his lips sensually while overlooking your body, making you out to feel utterly exposed to him. you would have worn something more appropriate, something much less revealing, had his summon not been urgent, leaving you no time to change before coming here.

you shift a little bit, attempting to hide more of your body to preserve as much of your modesty as you can, but it doesn’t work much; really, all your little movements serve to do is draw more attention to your body from your master.

“do you know why i called you?” he asks, a lilt of amusement dripping in his tone. you gulp before hesitantly shaking your head—the maids never told you, or perhaps you were in too much of a hurry to remember, but either way you aren’t exactly sure what it could be that your master needs, especially at such an hour when normally he and you are both asleep.

“use your words,” he urges gently, but an edge of authority leaves no room for you to deny his wishes—as if you would anyway.

“forgive me, my prince. i don’t know the reason you’ve called me here,” you whisper low as you bow your head down again in apology, only to look right back up at him as soon as you're done. he wouldn’t be too happy if you didn’t; he loves it when you look at him just as much as he loves to hear you speak to him.

“c’mere then,” he says, patting his thigh, “i’ll show you why, yeah?”

you crawl towards him slowly so as to not jostle the little clothes you have on and reveal even more of your body to him, but his eyes remain steadily trained on you, making you feel like he could see easily through the thin scraps of clothing you wore. when you reach him, he gently nudges your shoulders to guide you between his legs, and then one of his hand's ghosts over your skin until it reaches your nape, while his other hand comes to your chin, directing you to look up towards him.

he leans down close, and you gasp quietly, flustered by the proximity between you and your beloved master—his presence always has you fumbling for air and scraping for a semblance composure, but he’s never quite gotten so close that you feel deliciously suffocated by him. you want to pull away, if only a little bit because of how overwhelming his presence is for you, but you don't. you'll gladly drown in the high he gives you whenever he's close.

his eyes flick to your mouth and your tongue flits out to swipe along your lower lip, and instinctively you lean in a little bit closer. he smirks.

“you belong to me, you know that?” he asks in a low whisper, the warmth of his breath fanning across your face lightly as he speaks; you have to fight back a whine scratching in your throat for an escape at the sensation.

and, you do know that—of course you do. he saved your life, and in return you gave it up to him and him alone for the rest of eternity. while all the other castle staff can eventually retire and live lives outside of attending to the royal family, you will always be bound to him, even in death you will be his loyal servant and belonging.

you nod, and then quickly follow up with a small ‘yes,’ when you see him raise an eyebrow at you in warning. the command use your words, rings inside of your mind and you bite your lip in shame of making such a foolish mistake. his thumb strokes gently along your neck when you oblige his earlier orders though, causing your breath to flutter shakily when you sigh out in contented pleasure.

“i own your life, you serve me, so you’ll always devote yourself to me, yes?” he asks you, and this time you immediately reply with a soft ‘yes,’ instead of nodding your head.

he smiles, pleased, tilting his head a little bit to the left. he doesn’t say anything else right away, but the silence isn’t awkward as the both of you are caught by the other. his eyes are on you, your lips, and your body pressed firmly against him, while you’re paying rapt attention to the way he holds you so close to him, to the fan of his breath on your face, to his soft, cold fingers tracing your skin and leaving behind tingly shivers. he hums low, drawing out a fluttering feeling in your tummy.

“won’t you please your master, then?” he then asks, and the air in your lungs quickly dissipates, leaving you to choke on a withdrawn gasp.

“what is it that you mean, my prince? how may i please you?” you ask him nervously, aware of the many implications behind his words, but– but is that really what he would want from you, his lowly servant? he has many women and men of noble or royal lineage that he could have, all of whom would be much better for him in both class and experience, so why you? you know nothing about... sex, other than the basics you've learned through hushed whispers and giggles from the royal staff and other attendants. even if you weren't such a lowly servant, you could never hope to please him with such inexperience. does he think you’ve been off with a man? you haven’t.

“c’mon now, love, you know what i mean. i’ve waited long enough to have you, my lovely little servant, and i won't wait any longer, so quit playing dumb while i'm asking you nicely because i will take from you what i want using force if i have to,” he groans while beginning to press rough kisses to your check and jaw, nibbling on your skin in warning when you gasp and whine.

“but–“ you start only for him to interrupt you with a sight, and then before you can even process what's going on his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss. he shoves his tongue into your opened mouth to lap at the inside eagerly, swirling and mixing your saliva with his and savoring the addicting flavors of you. you don't shy from kissing him back; instead leaning yourself more into him like a puppy following its masters whims without question. the kiss is all too imposing and all too messy for you to keep up with him properly, but he doesn't mind at all as long as you're not pulling away from him, rejecting him.

he knew you wouldn't; you're too enthralled to ever deny him of anything he wants.

he groans as he pulls away to see you breathless, eyes glazed over with hazy lust and your pretty lips swollen from his kiss. he smirks at the sight of you so easily wrecked by him. just a simple kiss and you're already panting and pawing at his chest for stability do you don't fall over. so fucking sensitive, so pliant just the way you should be for him. and only him. nobody else will ever affect you the way he does.

“i don’t give a shit about whatever it is you were going to say, you belong to me and i will have you if i want you. and i do—i want all of you. do you understand me?” it's not a question, but a warning: 'don't you ever fucking try to refute me again. you do as i say without asking any questions.'

"mm, 'course, my prince," you try to sound like you aren't completely drunk off of him, but your words slur together and come out all breathy and whiny like one of the sex wrecked whores.

he smirks again lazily, "good. now won’t you please your master, like a good little servant, hm? you have to after getting me all riled up,” he motions to his lap, and you gasp realizing how hard he is. his thick, heavy cock is pressed against your tummy, and it’s huge, but you still have no doubt that its real size is hidden beneath the robes he’s wearing.

you bite your lip and look up at him, but he gently nudges your head down against his cock, “go on, love. your master is dying to have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.”

© 2023 by kolyasobsession━all rights reserved. plagiarism is strictly prohibited. comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated.

#yandere izana #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana x reader #yandere izana kurokawa x reader #yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere tokrev x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo rev #yandere prince #male yandere #dead dove do not eat #cw coercion #izana x reader #izana kurokawa #izana x you #izana x y/n #tokyo revengers izana #tokyorev izana #tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you

[bitbugbites-re]

𝙳𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻 // 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

As summer comes to an end, you’re desperate to get some pool time in while you still can. However, since it’s now October, you’re pretty much out of luck. Luckily for you, there’s an indoor pool at the Y. Not to mention, it comes along with a cute pool boy!

a03 link

word count: ~8.6k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // drowning // ktober

a/n: literally supposed to be reading the bible for class rn but god be damned, this lady knows how to write erotic fiction !!!

p.s. -- if you're only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

You’re not crazy. You just want to swim.

Frowning, you stared down your phone as you read the most recent messages from your friends. They were replying to the flurry of texts you had just sent.

The first response read: “Girl. Lol.”

The next was: “You didn’t think about this in September???”

And the last response wasn’t even a response. It was a TikTok link leading to a video about things to do while in Vegas. You didn’t even live in Vegas. You’re on the East Coast.

You sighed, placing the phone down for a second before popping a Keurig cup into the proper machine, waiting for it to finish warming the water. When the buttons lit up, you pressed 12oz and leaned over the counter, one of your hands resting on your cheek. With your free hand, you picked your phone back up and re-read your initial texts as you listened to the liquid pour a straight line into your mug.

“u guys”

“I wanted to go swimming at least once this summer but I forgot”

“do u think there are any pools still open??? I don’t even care if its cold im desperate”

Yeah, so maybe you are a little crazy after all. It was October, and there was no way that even one pool would be open. You felt a little defeated, your desperation morphing into disappointment. Suddenly, the whirring of the Keurig slowed before spitting out the last bits of bitterly strong tea, a burning droplet jumping out and landing on your hand. You wondered if that was the Keurig’s way of calling you crazy as well.

Shaking your hand before wiping it with the opposite sleeve of your shirt, you stood up straight and leaned your back against the counter. With your phone in hand, you tapped out a string of shushing emojis in the group chat. Fuck it. You’re crazy and you’re proud.

You then pressed the video on, “Fun Things To Do In Vegas” which was accompanied by three exclamation points and a couple of emojis with their tongues out. The emojis implication almost made you a little scared of what “things” were going to be listed in the TikTok.

Before you could actually watch the video, though, a notification from your group chat popped up. It was from the friend who sent the Vegas video – they likely just now actually read the chat.

“Claire: Wait, what about the YMCA near your house? Doesn’t it have an indoor pool? Probably not the same kind of swimming that u were thinking of, but it’d be swimming lol.”

Oh shit. That’s a good idea. – Is what you both thought and simultaneously typed in response. Not missing a beat, you opened the search engine app on your phone and looked up the YMCA closest to you. Just under the images (which mostly consisted of it’s pool, oddly enough), you noticed that it was open from 5 A.M. to 9 P.M. 

It was only 6:30 P.M. right now. Meaning, it was still open.

You switched back to the group chat’s tab and typed away.

“guess who’s going to the pool tonight”

“(it’s me)”

“anyone wanna come with?”

Surprisingly, the responses flooded in pretty quickly. They said:

“Claire: I wish, but I’ve got a class in an hour. I knew it was a bad decision to pick a class at 7 at night smh. Can’t ever meet up with u guys on weekends anymore :/”

“Ada: Can’t. Lots of work. Maybe next time.”

“Jill: Sorry, I’m at work right now. Had to pick up my coworker’s shift again. How about on the weekend?”

You groaned out a whine, throwing a mini-tantrum. You didn’t really want to go alone, because what fun would that be? Nonetheless, you didn’t want to wait for the weekend either. It was rare you guys ever actually had the same schedule, so you were sure the plans would just end up getting canceled or be pushed back even further. You’d just have to go alone. 

You typed out a message informing your friends of your plan before placing the phone down with a heavy hand. Dragging your way down the narrow hall to your room, you plopped yourself down on your knees, opening up the dresser drawer that stored your bathing suits. You had an idea of which one you were going to wear, as it was a black one-piece with a deep-wired V down the front – It was appealing in the way that it wasn’t too revealing, but not unattractively modest either. Perfect for a venue that was family-friendly and not as free as the beach.

After a couple of minutes of rummaging, you slumped down to a hunch and huffed. You couldn’t seem to find the swimsuit. Not even after pulling out each bathing suit one by one. You searched, and searched, and searched, but it was nowhere to be found. 

You caved to your frustration and picked out a bikini instead. You didn’t have any other swimsuits, so it was either a simplistic bikini or nothing. And after all that hullabaloo in the group chat, you were not choosing nothing.

Changing quickly, you then grabbed your things and headed for the car. It was now already after 6:45 P.M., and you were running out of time before the Y would close.

Soon enough, you were turning your car wheel to pull into the YMCA’s parking lot. You found a spot fairly fast and quickly put the car in park, removing your keys from the hole with a twist and pull of the wrist. As the car’s engine whirred, shutting off, you observed the parking lot. You noticed there weren’t too many cars. Hopefully, most of the people would be in the gym or another section of the Y and not the pool, you thought to yourself.

Stepping out of your car, you held onto the handle as you got dusted in the face by the wind, your hair flinging all over the place. The wind was pretty bad, but the chill alone was enough for you to huddle your arms over your body before running into the building. You were starting to regret coming to the pool so late in the day, especially in October, nonetheless. At least the air smelled nice, though; there must’ve been a place nearby having a bonfire, as there was a heavy waft of burning wood.

You pulled the heavy glass door open, practically swinging it with all your might, and walked in heaving. Maybe you should be going to the gym instead of the pool – how could you be out of breath from only a short jog across the parking lot?

No matter, you walked up to the counter and paid for a day pass. You got to go in free since you’re a first-time visitor, although you felt a little guilty considering it was going to be wasted on a less than two-hour excursion. It was probably fine though – you don’t think you’d need to go to the Y again after this, anyway.

Walking through the building, you admired the decorative furniture and monotone walls contrasted with bright accent walls and signs. It had a clean, modern look and you were pretty impressed by how well-kept it was; it must’ve been hard for the janitors who worked there considering it was a pretty big community establishment. You appreciated how spotless they were able to keep it with this knowledge in mind.

Soon, you found your way to the pool after getting lost and asking a very tired-looking staff member. You almost felt bad interrupting them – their dark undereye mixed with the lighting made them look as if they were ready to be taken out back and put down. Not that you blame them – they must’ve been here for a while now. You were sure you’d look like that too if you had to work until nine at night.

As you pushed the door to the pool open, you were immediately exposed to the hot, humid air. Typical of a pool. You had to admit, though, it felt pretty good as compared to the cold breeze outside. Besides, you probably wouldn’t feel this type of heat again unless you decided to put your heater on full blast in winter. Although that would turn your room into what was practically an oven and not a fun chlorine-smelling paradise – so maybe it wasn’t the same after all.

You observed the area, your eyes immediately landing on the few kids splashing around in the middle of the pool. Great. In situations like these, you tend to sit on the side of the stairs to the pool – but that spot seemed to be occupied by a group of older men and women, so you crossed that option off. You didn’t feel like getting dragged into a conversation about retirement homes, or grandchildren, or…stuff. You weren’t really sure what the elderly chatted about.

Admitting defeat, you decided to just go sit on one of the pool chairs instead. You figured you’d just wait it out, betting that both the kids and the elderly wouldn’t stay for much longer. It was almost pitch-black outside, and seeing both children and old people at night was practically like spotting a leprechaun next to a pot of gold, you thought.

As soon as you sat and plopped your stuff down in the middle-most chair, you took in a breath and looked around. And that’s when you saw him.

You swore your heart stopped beating for a second. He was gorgeous. 

Most of the men you came across on a day-to-day basis looked downright horrendous, dressed in sweats and backward caps with dumb labels like “GymRat,” so to see a fit man with a haircut that suited his looks and facial scruff that looked like it was actively trimmed was like seeing that your younger sibling didn’t pick all of the marshmallows out of your favorite cereal and eat them. A blessing, that’s what this is, you thought.

You figured he was the lifeguard, as he was sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, leaning back with one leg dangling and the other using his heel to support his placement on the seat. He had one arm lazing on the armrest, while the other held his tilted head in place as he watched the kids dash up waves of water at one another. Every once in a while, his lips would curve into an amused smile, and he’d shake his black curls out of his face, eyes not straying from the children at play. Cute, you thought.

Watching him for a while longer, you noticed three things about him:

His eyes stayed trained on the kids in the pool, not the elderly. Every once in a while, if they made a sudden movement, he’d sit up, as if he were ready to leap from the tall chair at a moment's notice.

He seemed to be pretty proud of his body, or at least his looks. His posture was confident in nature and he never covered up any part of his body with his arms. 

He had a charismatic personality, or at the very least, was on good terms with the janitors. Every time they passed by, he’d quickly turn his head, see who it was, and make a comment of some sort. He always had a grin on his face as he did, and never showed a bit of discourtesy nor dislike, even if the janitor didn’t return the energy.

Of course, those weren’t the only things you noticed about him. You also noticed he had a great body. Did you mention he had a great body? He had a great body.

He didn’t even need to be shirtless for you to tell. His arms and thighs were fat with muscle, his calves fit for a marathon runner, and his chest with mounds big enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew how to flex them one at a time, as a kind of party trick.

You also could tell that he was a pretty hairy guy, not that you were complaining. You liked that in a man. You wondered what it would feel like to run your hands down his arm as his legs brushed up against the skin of–

And then he looked in your direction. He saw you. As you were at your apex of wanting to eat him alive.

Your face burned with embarrassment as his eyes met yours, and before you made a fool out of yourself, you looked away. Grabbing your phone which now felt sticky from the humidity, you pulled up the group chat, pretending to be busy. 

“guys”

“there’s a rly cute lifeguard here and he caught me staring”

“im so embarrassed”

You stared at the screen for a while, waiting for your friends to respond, but none came.

Damn. Why is it that whenever you need a distraction, no one is active?

It didn’t take long after for you to give up, slinking your phone back down. You picked up a book instead, sneakily glancing up at the lifeguard once more to see if he was still looking your way. He wasn’t. His eyes were trained back on the kids, which surprisingly, made you feel a little disappointed.

You read for a while until eventually, you received a notification. 

“Ada: Lol. You have a crush?”

“Ada: You should go up to him.”

The longer you considered Ada’s suggestion, the more your heart raced. You seriously considered it for a moment, but abruptly shut it down after thinking about how weird it actually might be.

“I can’t do that”

“I don’t even know what I’d say”

Ada replied almost immediately.

“Ada: Then make him want to go up to you.”

It wasn’t bad advice. You thought about it for a bit, staring at the paved concrete below your pool chair. An ant scurried on by, passing your left foot, and once it was out of sight, you snapped out of your daze and returned your head to a forward position.

Once you did, you noticed the lifeguard’s gaze on you. He was looking at you first this time.

As soon as your eyes met, he flung his head to the side, pretending to rub his neck. It was pretty awkward to watch, as his hands moved aimlessly and unpurposeful, as there was really no physical reason for him to need to touch his neck. It was easy to tell that he was only doing it to play off the fact that he was caught staring, too.

His attraction – or at the very least, interest, was mutual, then. You felt a fire of confidence rising in your chest, and you now knew how you’d get him to come up to you first.

You stood up from your chair, keeping him in your peripheral view, pretending to dust yourself off before seeing his head move back in your direction. Good, he was watching you again.

Very slowly, you began to remove the regular clothes that rested atop your bikini. Once fully stripped to your swimsuit, you made sure to fold your clothes neatly. After each article was folded, you would bend over, your behind facing his direction, placing it flatly onto the pool chair. Each time you did this, you couldn’t tell if he was looking, but you were sure that he wouldn’t have been able to resist at minimum, a glance.

Once done, you began to walk towards the water. You felt a little conscious in your stride, your step heavy, but also determined to play it cool. When approaching the stairs of the pool, you grabbed onto the accompanying handlebar, creating a divide in the water as you were further submerged. You passed the elderly group, and once they thought you were out of earshot, one exclaimed, “I wish I still had a young body like that.” The others chuckled, agreeing with the notion. You blushed and continued your journey to an empty spot in the pool.

Wading through the water, you then came up near the area where the kids were playing. You went to the side opposite the lifeguard’s chair and leaned against the wall. It was a little noisy – no, very noisy being near the kids. On top of that, you were occasionally hit with splatters of water every time they tried to mimic professional swimmers, but at least your plan was working. You think. 

You weren’t really sure because you were too scared to look back up at the lifeguard. But that’s OK. All girlbosses have their weak moments.

While lost in thought trying to figure out your next step on alluring the lifeguard (as, for some reason, he wasn’t already proposing marriage and offering a bride-dowry to your parents consisting of 400 sheep, 200 goats, fifty pieces of silver, a years’ worth of unleavened bread, and seven years’ labor), you noticed two children playing roughly, one a bone-thin blonde, and the other a brunette missing one of his front teeth. 

The blonde child was in a small floaty, laughing as his friend tried to swim under the tube and get inside of it with him. Every time he dived under the water, the boy would swerve his donut-shaped float, swimming a few inches away, laughing. This went on for a while, until eventually, the blonde boy switched his tactic and began pushing his friend’s head away from his float while under the water.

You grew concerned as you watched, knowing they were starting to get a little too carried away, and you looked around for their parents. You then spotted a couple of adults on the pool chairs near the towel rack, busy conversing about something you couldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what to do and turned your head back to the kids, and then there was a stifled thump.

Your heart started to race as the blonde boy started to look worried, noticing his friend wasn’t coming up out of the water. You noticed what was happening when the child leaned over his tube, holding his reddened elbow, freezing in place.

The toothless boy was knocked out.

The child with scrawny arms somehow managed to deal a blow hard enough for his friend to lose consciousness. He whipped his head around to get the lifeguard’s attention, desperately screaming, “Help! Help!” 

The lifeguard was already halfway down the chair even before the boy started yelling. It seemed like his gaze had been so focused on the children earlier because he knew something like this was bound to happen.

The child was now sobbing, looking around for his parents, of which the whole group was now running over to see what the commotion was about.

You saw the kid whose body started to sink downwards, your heartbeat stammering in your chest.

You had to do something.

Launching yourself forward, you began to swim to the child nearby. As you did, you heard the lifeguard jump in the pool, a loud splash of water mixing in with the cries of the children’s parents. 

You made it to the boy under the water first, diving straight down. Once you got a hold of him, you yanked his arm up, pulled him to your body, and positioned his behind on your arm, so that his head would immediately be above the water. 

Both of you came up, and you gasped for air, blinking rapidly so that you could see. The lifeguard was right next to you, hurriedly taking the boy from your arms, rushing him toward the edge of the pool, and plopping him down on the concrete. You followed over, as did pretty much everyone at the pool, watching the lifeguard push desperately at his chest.

After a short while, which actually felt like forever, the boy gasped, throwing up the water that was in his lungs. The lifeguard helped the boy sit up a little, rubbing his back as he continued his violent coughs and sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I got’cha, bud.”

Once the brunette had finally gotten a hold of himself, he ran to his parents, who held him and began petting his head. The other parents, who seemed to all be friends, began thanking the lifeguard profusely on both the boy's and his parent’s behalf.

The lifeguard was crouched, slightly hunched over, breathing heavily, simply shaking his head to assure them it was okay. “Just doin’ my job,” he smiled despite the apparent stress on his face, “Actually, you should be thanking the kind lady over there.” 

His gaze moved from the worry-stricken parents to you. “She’s the one who saved his life.” 

You blushed, your eyes moving from him, then to the parents, not sure what to say. You didn’t think you did that much. 

The parents came up to you and began thanking you as well, telling you how brave it was of you to dive in after the boy. You were only able to stammer out a couple of “it’s no problem’s” and “thank you’s” in return.

Soon, almost everyone left the pool, deciding they had witnessed enough of the pool for the night. Even the group of elderly packed their things and headed towards the changing room. 

You too had figured it was probably time to go, forgetting your entire plan of romancing the man who had just previously given you all the credit when he was the one to bring the boy back from unconsciousness.

However, as you turned and began walking back to your stuff, the lifeguard ran up to your side, trying to get your attention. “Hey, hey.” 

You turned to face him, stopping in place. “Um–yes?” you said, a little taken aback at his greeting, not expecting him to have started a conversation.

“Ah–oh,” he said, tripping on his words. “I just wanted to thank you, for saving the kid.”

You smiled at his words. “Sure,” you said. You then tilted your head, quirking a brow. “I didn’t really do much, though. You did more than me, so–”

He quickly cut you off, a tint of excitement in his voice. “No, no! If you hadn’t gotten him out, he would’ve been under even longer. Every second matters–you saved his life. I only got the water ‘outta his airway.”

You blushed a little at his enthusiasm for your act of heroism. “Well, uh, thank you–”

“You were so cool,” he said, and you swore you felt your heart explode.“Thanks,” you mumbled out, and soon enough, silence grew between the two of you. You were trying to figure out what to say back.

“Well, I should–” the lifeguard started to say, turning his body to leave. You scrambled for a response back, not wanting him to go.

“You were cool, too.” You said, your voice sounding a little wobbly. You felt your face start to grow red, your blood rising in degrees with every millisecond that passed.

The lifeguard seemed shy now, too, raising an arm behind his head, rubbing at his neck like he did earlier. “Oh–really?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out.

There was silence once more before the lifeguard laughed a little and held out his hand to you. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet ‘ya, Phelps.”

You took his hand, shaking it gently. He had a good handshake, and his hand felt huge in your own. “Phelps?” you said, not really understanding why he was referring to you as that.

“You know, Michael Phelps? The swimmer guy? Because you dove in to get the kid?”

You let out a long “ooooooh” as soon as you recognized what he was talking about, and laughed in response. “Pretty rude to call a lady Michael Phelps, dont’cha think?”

He laughed back before running his hand through his hair – which, miraculously, was able to stay dry since you were the one to reach the kid underwater. “Sorry, pretty lady. What should I call you then?”

You blushed a little upon hearing him call you “pretty lady,” a cheeky grin growing on your face. “You can call me Y/N. Or pretty lady, too. I don’t mind either.”

He laughed, shaking his head in an amused manner. He placed his hands on his hips, and tilted his head back a little, grinning. “Okay, pretty lady. How old are you? You in college?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. What about you?”

“Yep. I’m a senior. You?”

You replied, and from there, your conversation began to take off. You talked about things as small as favorite colors, to medium things like what your majors were, to big things like how many dogs were too many dogs for a person to have. You both seemed to click really well, and you had to admit, you had never met someone as easy to talk to before Carlos.

As you both started passionately debating on whether or not the pool slide was white or beige, an announcement sounded over the speakers.

“Attention guests, the YMCA will be closing in five minutes. Please make sure to gather all your things and head to the exit. Those who are still in the building after closing will be escorted outside by staff. Thank you for choosing the YMCA, and we hope to see you again soon!”

You and Carlos looked at one another, not sure what to say. 

You realized then, that all this time, you’d been keeping Carlos from leaving when he probably could’ve packed up early for the night. Embarrassed, you jumped up from where you both had been sitting. At some point during your conversation (before its interruption), you both had sat at the edge of the pool, your legs resting in the water.

“Shit, I’m sorry for keeping you–” you said. “I’ll go get my things so you can leave–I’m so sorry–”

As you turned in a hurry to go get your stuff, you felt Carlos’ hand rest on your shoulder, stopping you. “Hey, hey–you’re fine, you’re fine.”

You jumped a little at the contact, your face turning red, and once you turned to face Carlos, you noticed he had realized what he had done.

You were wearing a swimsuit. You had on practically next to nothing. And he, a stranger, was touching you.

He pulled his hand back, going to rub his neck, but pausing as he began to raise it. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself now. “Uh–”

“Sorry, shit–I didn’t mean to–uh,” he stumbled. “Was that weird?”

You took in a deep breath and averted your gaze. “No. No, you’re fine.”

“Are–are you sure?” he pushed.

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m worrying. You can tell me if–”

You sighed and looked him in his eyes. “It’s fine. I liked it.”

Upon hearing the words come out of your mouth, you froze. Your frustration with his reluctance to accept your assurance must have gotten to you, as you didn’t mean to say the last part. 

“You liked it?” he said. He seemed a little surprised, with a mix of something else. You weren’t quite sure what.

“Um. Yeah–yeah.” you asserted. And then there was silence again.

Unable to take the awkward tension, you cracked a joke. “I’m flattered by your desperation to keep me from leaving. Very, uh–flattering touch.”

Turns out you weren’t very good at jokes.

Nonetheless, he seemed to like it. He chuckled a little, which made your heartbeat increase in pace. He seemed to have good humor even in cringy situations. You liked that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re flattered, at least. I’d do it again if I needed to.” He smiled.

You blushed, and that’s when your mouth started to move on its own. “Then do it.”

“What?” he said, a little surprised.

“I’m on my way to leave. The building closes in…” You checked the clock on the wall. “...a minute or less. If you don’t want me to leave, then touch me again.” You looked up at him expectantly.

He paused for a minute and it was clear he was debating on what to do. You waited, watching him shift in place – going to rub his neck again, as he had been doing whenever he was nervous.

Suddenly, it was 9 P.M. and the announcement over the loudspeaker played, declaring it was closing time and all the guests who hadn’t left yet needed to begin their way on exiting the building. Your heart dropped a little, taking his lack of response before the loudspeaker’s interjection as a “no.”

You smiled weakly, taking the hint. You turned to grab your things off the pool chair and spoke. “Well, it was nice to–”

In a heartbeat, he grabbed your shoulder with a sense of determination, spinning you towards him. He placed one hand on your hip, pulling you in, before kissing you with wild passion.

You felt the roughness of his stubble first and then the softness of his lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes, kissing him back. 

He was a fast kisser, constantly changing the way he sucked at your lips, alternating between tilting his head to the side so that he could press his mouth into yours, and tilting his head downwards so that he could pull your mouth while you struggled to stay connected. He was constantly desperate for more access as if he wanted to make sure you felt him all over your lips, not one spot untouched.

Your hands rested on his soaking wet shirt that clung to his skin from when he had jumped into the pool to save the kid. It felt a little cold, but you got used to it as your kiss continued.

The only thing the two of you could hear was each other’s heavy breathing, along with the smack of your lips as they collided. That was, until, the sound of the pool door opened.

Both you and Carlos separated immediately, your lips feeling cold at the sudden touch of air, missing the warmth of Carlos’ own warm lips. You did, however, still feel the tingle left from his feverish push-and-pull play.

With about a two-foot distance now between the two of you, you both looked over to see what the noise was exactly.

In walked an older woman, one you would’ve guessed was in her early 60’s. Her hair was completely gray, resting in a shaggy bun with little hairs falling out. She looked rough – and ready to go home for the night.

“H–hey, Mary. You almost done for the night?”

She eyed him suspiciously before replying. “Wouldn’t that be a damn miracle.” 

She continued to go about her business, and you felt awkward watching their conversation. 

Suddenly, Carlos’ head shot towards you and then back towards Mary. “Oh, uh, I was just about to escort this…young, damsel-in-distress out of the building. She didn’t know where the exit was, you see.”

You shot him a dirty look as if saying, “I know where the exit is.”

Mary didn’t seem to care. She simply took the mop out of the water in the cleaning cart and plopped it on the floor. It made an uncomfortably loud squelch sound in an otherwise silent room. “Mmm.”

Carlos grabbed your things for you, and put an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I’ve gotta maintain my status as a gentleman, so…we’ll be on our way! See ‘ya later, Mary!”

It sounded like she mumbled out an “I hope not,” but you weren’t too sure.

The two of you walked quickly to the door, and once it shut behind you, Carlos let go of your arm. 

“Well, that was, uh–something?” He smiled, still holding onto your clothes and other items.

“Yeah,” you said, before looking up at him with an amused smile. “Damsel-in-distress, huh?”

He laughed and shuffled on his feet. “What, you the type that doesn’t like to be saved?”

You smirked. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You wanna find out?”

He grinned as he looked at you, raising a brow in an amused fashion. “Only because you make it sound so alluring.”

After hearing his reply, you closed in on his body, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stood on your tippy-toes, whispering in his ear as your cheek brushed against his lengthy hair and scratchy stubble. “I’ll show you every part of me that you want, but you need to take me somewhere private first.”

You pulled back, and you saw that he was grinning. It was evident in his eyes alone that he was excited, although, there was a mix of something else, too. The other kind of excitement, perhaps – it was a very lustful look.

He held out his hand, and as you took it, he led you down the hall. You both laughed a little at the situation, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was cold in the building, probably mostly because you still only had on a bikini, but you weren’t too focused on it. The warmth of Carlos’ hand and the anticipation for what you both were about to do were the main things on your mind right now.

Soon enough, Carlos pulls you into a room, and you look around, observing it. It was a locker room, although you hadn’t noticed whether it was for men, women, or unisex. You figured it didn’t matter all that much, though – it’s not likely that anyone would walk in.

Carlos twirled you around, pulling you into his chest again. He looked down at you, smiling before leaning down and kissing you. 

This time, his kiss was soft and exploratory. He took his time, not making any wild moves, although still leading the pace like he did the first time he kissed you. Maybe you were a damsel-in-distress after all – it was starting to seem like you were swept up in his game with no escape.

After a while, he broke away from the kiss, looking at you with gentle eyes. 

“I don’t have a key to lock the door. Someone could walk in. Is that okay?”

You laughed a little, smiling. “Let them walk in.”

He chuckled back, speaking in a soft voice as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re a bold girl, huh?”

Before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. His hands moved down your back before interlacing his fingers, keeping you pressed to him.

The kiss you shared was slow again at first, but it didn’t take long for it to pick up again. At the apex of your kiss, Carlos pulled his lips away, moving them to the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, and finally to your neck. It tickled at first due to his facial hair, and you let out a small laugh, but eventually, it started to feel really good.

He found all of the sweet spots on your neck, sucking and licking, desperate to hear the pleased moans that escaped you every time he touched you the way you liked. Once he seemed to want more, he began to travel further down your body. You smiled when he ventured over your breasts, gasped when he reached your stomach, and paused when he kissed your pelvic area.

Petting his hair, you spoke. “Carlos?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, looking up at you. He was waiting for you to give the go-ahead.

You felt a little nervous asking, but you knew it was important. “Have you been tested recently?”

He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been sexually active for a while, so I haven’t gone to get a test any time recent. The last time I did, though, there were no concerns.” He then picked up your leg, throwing it over his broad shoulder. He placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Is that okay?”

You nodded your head and returned to running your fingers through his curls. He smiled up at you and started kissing through the bottom piece of your swimsuit again.

Once he figured he had done enough teasing, he removed your leg off his shoulder, slipping the bottoms down. You stepped out of it, and he picked your leg up again, placing it in its former position on his shoulder. 

“You’ve got a pretty pussy.” he said nonchalantly, placing a kiss on where the slit started. 

You laughed a little, pulling his head back to look up at you. He let you do it. “And you’ve got a pretty face to look at while you eat my pretty pussy.”

He let out a small exhale of a laugh, and you felt his breath brush up against your clit. Your grip on his head shivered, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Soon enough, he was licking and kissing your soft spot. He took his time, remaining very gentle and attentive. No tremble, no shake, no quiver went unnoticed while he worked. 

As you started to get closer to orgasm, you pulled him by his hair, tilting his head up at you. His eyes were half-lidded, staring up at you, his lapping at your folds unwavering. 

You rubbed yourself a little more forcibly into him, grinding against his face. He seemed to like it, as he placed a hand on your hip, bringing you down even harder onto him every time you pushed up against him. 

You felt yourself getting close, and the moans you had been stifling were getting hard to hold in. “Fucking god, Carlos, I’m close.” you murmured.

Carlos didn’t respond, nor speed up, he simply shut his eyes and kept the pace he had been going at. You stared down at his eyelashes, admiring how long they were as you came.

Your body shook a little, and once the high was over, you were panting, relying on Carlos to hold you up. He slowly pulled away, placing your leg back down, running his hands up your body as he stood up with you. 

He held you for a moment, placing your head against his chest, and rubbing your back as you calmed down. 

Once your breathing was steady, you pulled away from him, grabbing him by the shirt. His eyes widened, and he gave you an amused look.

You clung to him for a moment, before running your hands down his body as you got onto your knees in front of him. 

Panicked, he took your hands off him and held them gently. “Hey, hey– you don’t have to–”

You looked up at him, still panting a little. “I’m paying you back.”

He shook his head, and then let go of one of your hands to caress your face. “Nah. Not this time. You can pay me back another time. After all, if I let you pay me back now, you might just run away and I won’t get to see you again.” 

He smiled down at you as he said it, and you blushed a little when you realized he said not this time. That meant that there would be other times.

He then helped you up to your feet and kissed you again. It was a gentle kiss, but after your last orgasm, you were feeling needy for something faster.

You took the lead from him, kissing him as aggressively as you could to show that you were ready for him to be a little more rough with you. He seemed to get the hint but pulled away from the kiss. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, seeming a little downcast at the thought.

You smiled at him, your arms now around his neck. “I do.”

He perked up a little and smirked at you. “You’re a little too prepared for a damsel-in-distress, aren’t you?”

You laughed and replied as you went to get the condom from your purse. “I’d say I’m just the right amount of prepared.”

As you walked back over to him with the condom, he pulled you in and started kissing your neck once more. He moved from up, down, up, down, then up again before whispering in your ear. “Think you’re prepared enough to put it on me?”

You laughed at his smooth words, and you whispered back. “What, you don’t know how to put one on yourself?”

He chuckled, and pulled away, taking the condom as you handed it to him. He tore it open using his teeth, staring down at you as he did it. Once it was open, you made a smart remark. “You know you’re not supposed to use your teeth to get it out, right?”

He chuckled, placing the wrapper and condom in his palm. He made a closed fist and went to remove his clothes. You admired his body as he did – and in regards to your earlier comment about him being a hairy man, you were right. He had just the right amount of chest hair, as well as a happy trail stemming from his trimmed pubic area. “Guess you were right – I don’t know how to put one on, after all.”

You laughed, watching him slide the thin condom onto his shaft. He was pretty big – you were a little worried about being able to fit all of him in. 

Once he was certain the condom was on well, he looked over at you before picking you up in a rush. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your head in his neck. After a couple of seconds, you felt the cold wall against your back, and arched into him a little, trying to escape from the freezing touch.

He made a hmm noise that sounded amused at your squirming and then began pecking little kisses on your neck. You slowly eased back against the wall, getting used to the cold.

Once you did, Carlos began to press his body into you. You could tell Carlos enjoyed getting as much skin-on-skin as he could when intimate because he was always somehow buried in your touch. 

His hips ground his cock into your stomach, humping you slowly as he continued to suck your neck. You were starting to get a little impatient now, wanting him inside you already, and so the next time he ground into you, you ground back.

He didn’t seem to be expecting it, as he let out a throaty, closed-mouth moan. He got the hint, though, as he pulled back a little, and propped himself at your entrance. 

Slowly, he lowered you down onto his cock. He inserted the head first, watching your expression to see if it was okay. You winced a little, and he noticed.

Whispering, he tried to encourage you while he eased into you. “You’re doing good, Y/N. Most damsels-in-distress would’ve given up by now.”

You laughed, feeling him sink into you more. He smiled, watching your face as you adjusted. “Want me to make some noise for you?” he said, lowering his voice.

You nodded your head, interested in what noises he was going to make. 

He placed his head on your shoulder, beginning to make subtle grunts and moans the more his cock delved into you.

You started to get a little more wet from hearing his voice, turned on by the presumable pleasure he was feeling as he moved in deeper and deeper. Eventually, he was fully in, and you were more than ready to get started.

You tapped his shoulder, insinuating that you were good to go. He picked his head up from your collarbone, then pressed his forehead against yours as he began to pull out, then push back in.

Both of you gasped silently, gripping one another as a way to express how good it felt. He continued to move, alternating the way he did it, going from rolling his hips in a continuous rhythm to jerkily bucking into you. Carlos was proving to be a spontaneous lover, and you had to admit, you enjoyed being kept on your toes.

Eventually, things started to pick up, and Carlos was now thrusting into you with a feverish desire. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, hearing his heavy breathing every time he pulled away for air. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he came, and so you decided that you would start making your way to orgasm as well.

One of your arms reached down to your clit, and you began to rub yourself while Carlos buried himself in you. He pulled away from the kiss with a pop, which actually wasn’t as audible, since it was drowned out by the sound of both of your breathing, moaning, and collision of skin. 

He buried his head into your neck, a slur of whines, grunts, and moans escaping his lips.

You listened to his voice, closing your eyes, and focusing on reaching your climax. It didn’t take long after he caught on that you were right there, and whispered in your ear, “Do it. Cum on me. Cum on my cock.”

As you came down from your high, you trembled in Carlos’ arms. You noticed he was starting to become shaky himself, and you were a little worried as you felt his hands wobble underneath your bottom. It was likely that his arms were getting tired from holding you up for a prolonged amount of time.

You pulled his head in close, whispering in his ear. As you did, you heard his breath hitch, panting as if he were desperate for air. “Carlos,” you said, “Let me help you cum. What do you need?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a moan came out at first. “My back…scratch up my back.”

You listened to what he asked, digging your nails into his skin, softly at first, and then a little more rough once you felt him shiver. He seemed to like it a lot.

He continued, which surprised you a little. You thought he would’ve stopped at his one request, but he didn’t. He must’ve been a needy man. “Kiss my neck,” he huffed, “please, Y/N.”

You followed what he asked, kissing on his neck as you clawed up the muscles on his back. It didn’t take much longer after that, and soon enough his entire body was trembling. He thrust a couple more times into you, grunting as he did, and you felt his cock jerk as he spilled his warm seed into the condom. 

As soon as he came, his hands lost most of their grip on holding you, and you unwrapped your legs around his waist, jumping down. You felt him press into you, heaving as if he weren’t getting any air. You smiled and decided to comfort him as he did for you earlier after eating you out.

Pulling him into an embrace, you felt his head rest against the wall, trying to reach your shoulder, but failing as he was too tall. You chuckled and began to rub his back, talking to him in an endearing tone. “You good, Carlos?”

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good.” he huffed, and soon after his response, he pulled back, standing straight as he looked down at you.

“So, was it good? For you, I mean.” He said, running a hand through his hair. 

You laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “It was really good. The best I’ve ever had, I’d say.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and kissing it, “It was good for me, too. Turns out I really like saving damsels-in-distress. Who knew, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. The two of you then continued your back-and-forth witty remarks, while agreeing on going to wash yourselves off quickly in the showers that were a part of the locker room you just had sex in. As you both bathed in separate stalls, you continued to talk, practically yelling over the bustling of the shower head as the water fell.You hoped no one was nearby outside, because it was likely they would have heard you.

Once finished, the two of you got dressed and grabbed your stuff. Luckily enough, the locker room that you went into was the men’s, so Carlos was able to grab his things from the locker he usually uses when on lifeguard duty.

The two of you then walked out of the building together, acting like a newlywed couple. You teased one another, laughing and joking around as you had the entire night.

Once outside, feeling the chill on your skin, you both paused, not sure where to go from there. You both didn’t really want to go your separate ways.

You desperately wanted to ask for his number, but you weren’t sure how to do so in a witty and playful way. You didn’t want to ask outright, because for some reason, even after all you just did, you worried it would come off as desperate. Even though you were desperate.

You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by Carlos. “Hey, so, if it’s alright with you–you wouldn’t mind me asking for your number, would you?”

You giggled, happy that he was thinking of the same thing. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. I was just thinking of asking the same thing.”

Carlos smiled, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers. “Make sure to give me a cutesy name and contact photo.” He said playfully grinning at you.

And that gave you an idea. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture right now? That way we both get to have a cute contact photo.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair, and then let you hold your phone up, ready to take the picture. 

“Cheese!” you exclaimed, and he laughed as you pressed the camera button. 

After taking the photo, you sent it to him straight away. The two of you then realized it was getting late, and you couldn’t drag your time on with one another any longer. You said your goodbyes, and both went in different directions to get into your cars.

As soon as you got into your car, you started it and began to think about your night. Your cheeks blushed, and you immediately grabbed your phone. You had to tell your friends what happened.

Unsurprisingly, they all freaked out on you, exclaiming how they were wondering where you went. You laughed a little, typing out a quick summary. After hitting send, one of your friends began to ask strange questions.

“Jill: Wait, what does he look like?”

Puzzled, you typed out a relatively simple description. After a couple of minutes, your friend responded.

“Jill: Wtf I think I know him”

“Jill: He’s in my science class???”

“Jill: Dude sucks at science lmao”

You were a little taken aback by the revelation of Jill knowing Carlos, although you were a little more shocked at him sucking at science. He seemed like a science-y kinda guy.

As you continued to chat with your friends, you got a notification from Carlos. Your heartbeat quickened, and you wondered what he had to say so soon.

Upon opening the notification, you saw that what he had sent was a screenshot of your contact name and profile picture in his phone – it was the selfie the two of you took, along with the name “Damsel.”

You reply with your own screenshot, which also used the selfie the two of you took, while his name was set to “Phelps.” It didn’t take long for him to reply,

“Phelps: Hey, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to call a gentleman Phelps?”

You laughed out loud, and could already tell you’d be spending the rest of your night talking with Carlos.

Oh well. The night was still young.

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

#carlos oliveira #carlos resident evil #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira fluff #resident evil smut #resident evil fluff #resident evil #resident evil oneshot #kinktober 23 #kinktober #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #instalove #pool boy #re3 remake #size difference #re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #smut

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard Part 4

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Drama. Skinny dipping. Minors DNI

It’s that dream again.

That dream where everything’s perfect.

It’s a sunny day. Everything’s in slow motion, but the sounds are in real time. Everyone is whooping and cheering. Children laugh and run past him. In the distance they zipline and play games. Counselors smile as they wave at him. Everyone is happy. Everything is perfect.

But there’s one thing missing. Skylar. It’s often in these dreams she’d walk past him and smile, giving a coy wave and a wink. She’s dressed in her loose counselors’ tee and jean shorts. Her blonde hair that catches in the sun flows behind her and her blue eyes sparkle. She’s perfect. But she’s nowhere to be seen. 

He hears the distant shrill of the lifeguards’ whistle. The water is still and perfect. There’s no one at the lake but you. You’re in the lifeguards’ bright red leotard and wearing shades. Sunlight glints off your perfect legs. You lie back in your chair, a sigh of pleasure echoes as you soak up the suns’ rays. Then you look at him and the sounds of laughter are drowned out. You smile perfect whites and blow him a kiss.

---

After a week, the camp had put out a missing persons’ flier for Skylar, Ian, and Bill. There was really nothing Jack could do to protest on the basis he’d look suspicious. It made him feel awful once local parents caught wind that people were going missing and decided to pull most of their kids from the camp. He couldn’t have imagined how much of the experience had been ruined for them, and he even had to hold back some tears of his own as he watched the smaller ones scream and cry to stay but to no avail.

But no, he reasoned, it was better this way. Less kids at the camp meant less of the likelihood that they’d go wandering past campgrounds. And that was less people to keep track of going near the shed, which after that fateful night with Bill he’d made certain no one else had ventured near it. And in the meantime, he’d kept himself occupied… a little side project you might say. He planted flowers. 

He planted them behind the shed, on top of the mound where they’d been buried. He hadn’t even known where he’d gotten the idea. But one day he’d simply ran up to the local convenience store, found some seeds and started planting. They were scorpion grasses - “forget-me-nots”. He grimaced at the implications. It didn’t take long for the other counselors’ to start noticing them in the distance. So of course they questioned him.

“Oh that?” Jack asked, “That’s sort of a… garden I’m starting.” That earned him a few narrowed glances and side eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, using the flush of guilt to play it up like he was embarrassed. “I… haven’t been able to really sleep much since Skylar disappeared so… I just started without thinking.” At the very least, the words were true. And a half truth is always good to sell in the right context. Finally he said, “I figured maybe… If I planted these they might see them. They might want to come back. I dunno…”

They ate it right up. Their looks of suspicion turned somber and apologetic. They muttered sorrows and walked past him giving pats on the back. All except you, who sucked your teeth at the explanation. You shook your head, “They ain’t coming back.”

All eyes were on you now. Another counselor named Olivia folded her arms and raised a brow, “And… why is that Y/N?” She asked.

“Because they’re guilty.” You replied matter-of-factly. Jack gave you a pleading look, which you aptly ignored.

Olivia pressed, “Of?”

“Being slimy, trifling, no-good adulterers.” Your statement was met with scoffs and mumbles of disbelief. You simply shrugged, “You heard me, they were creepin’.” You then proceeded to spill everything you heard from Jack that night, though you were sure not to mention his name. Still, it made the mascot visibly wilt. And now it looks to everyone like he was pining after a “bad girl” who acted like a “good girl” and led him on. Where that last part came from he hadn’t known. But apparently everyone knew at some point he liked Skylar.

People weren’t so sympathetic towards you however. You’d been cheated on, that much was certain. They had no reason to dispute you, and it would explain your shit attitude the week before. But your apparent hostility towards the whole thing had made other counselors grow wary of you and they began to talk.

“She’s not even joining in on searches for them!”

“Yeah, that was still her boyfriend and best friend. You’d think she’d be a little more caring about the whole thing...”

And then things got on the more insidious side.

“I know she can be a bitch sometimes but this is too far.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out she had something to do with their disappearance.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. The thought that anyone would be accusing you of murder… It rubbed him the wrong way. The more ruthless part of him thought this was likely the best case scenario. You hadn’t mentioned his name and suspicions were already on you. You weren’t exactly what came to mind for blood thirsty ax-murderer but looks could be deceiving. He could always just relocate the bodies, adjust some wounds and… He shook his head clear of the incriminating thoughts. That wasn’t who he was. The goal was discretion and scarcity. There was no need to make things more complicated. Aside from that, there were things that needed clearing up…

You were on lifeguard duty as usual, and while there weren’t as many kids to manage, it was all the more reason to stay vigilant of them. Some counselors left due to stress but it was more you hung around to stave off boredom. You lie back in your chair, soaking up the sun’s rays, absentmindedly chewing gum. Jack shuddered, remembering his dream.

He got it again when he walked to your high chair and knocked on the stilts. Without even looking down you hop from your chair and take off your shades. You grin, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“We need to talk.” Jack said.

“You always wanna talk,” You then turn to the kids in the lake and tell them to take a hike. They all groan, disappointed their fun was interrupted. Nevertheless, they obey and go to dry off.

“I think they may hate me more than they did a week ago.” You said casually.

“I want to talk about what happened earlier this week.” Jack said.

“What about it?”

Jack sighed, “Don’t play dumb. You made such an unnecessary scene back there.”

“Sorry.” You said unapologetically.

 “I mean it. People are starting to talk.” Jack briefly glances around, “They think you have something to do with Ian and Sky’s disappearance.”

Your eyebrow furrows, “Where’d they get that from?”

“You’re bitter. You don’t help with searches. You’re just generally-”

“A bitch?” You interrupted.

“... Uncompromising.” Jack corrected.

“Oh yeah sure...” You said. “You know what? Let ‘em talk, Jack. I don’t have anything to hide! I couldn’t give less of a damn if they were found or gone forever. If they’re found – goodie. Whooptie fucking do. If they’re gone? Also good because I don’t wanna see their sorry asses anyway!”

You go to march off the docks but he sidesteps you.

“Hey- Y/N, stop.” He said.

“Bye Jack.” You bumped past him.

“Y/N-”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, heading back to the main campgrounds.

---

It’s nightfall.

The other groups of counselors have just come back from a fruitless search. The kids have been resigned to their cabins since seven in the evening, now having a curfew to prevent further disappearances. You, however, stay right where you are. You pull out another stick of gum and pop it in your mouth. The sugar sweetness turns bitter when your fellow counselors cast scornful looks your way. Even Shaun, whom you’d grown to be good buddies with since summer started, avoided your gaze. 

They aren’t even a few feet away from you when Shaun decides now is the best time to boost morale. “We’ve had a long day… what do you guys say to a movie night?” He said, a good natured lilt in his voice.

The counselors clamor around him, humming in agreement. You don’t miss the wary glances casted your way and hushed whispers about what to do about you, as if not getting an invitation would cause you to drop in and ruin their good time. Which in all honesty, wasn’t a bad idea.

“We aren’t going to invite her, right?”

“It’d be alright to ask,”

“But do we have to?!”

Exaggeratedly, you checked your nails and attempted to drown out their whispers by chewing your gum harshly. Before you knew it though, someone came up beside you. Nick Hererras. Oh boy.

Nick was an emo guy who had some kind of influencer page on Twitch or Youtube. He had an obvious crush on you and while he was cute in his own right, his sullen and heartsick vibe around you was somewhat of a downer, especially in contrast to how easygoing he’d be around others.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey…” 

“Hey,” You replied casually.

“...It was kind of a long search today.”

“You must be tired.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled softly, “I-it was a lot.” You hum curtly. He wets his lips, picking up that he’s losing your attention before even getting it. “We- we’re having a movie night! Shaun’s hosting so… typical horror bullshit. Slashers and all… Maybe you’d like to come… a-and join us?”

You look past him and at the group of counselors. Many of them shift uncomfortably and scrunch their faces up in discomfort, obviously displeased Nick went to invite you. The fact that they don’t even hide their disdain makes your ears burn hot. You shoot up from the steps and start towards the docks, “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the invitation.” You bite out.

Nick’s weak protests could be heard. Some of the counselors sighed in relief.

“Thank God.”

“Well, we tried.”

---

“Goddamn…motherfucking-”

You roughly shucked off your pants and pulled off your shirt. The force of their removal from your body could have very well ripped them but you didn’t care. Your skin was burning with anger, embarrassment, and everything in between. With added frustration you hurriedly tore off your underclothes before taking a running start across the docks. The wind blew through your hair, though it did nothing to cool your skin; you wouldn’t be pacified until you were in the water.

Upon reaching the edge of the dock, you leapt off the wood as easily as you would a catapult. You flew through the air hands out before pulling them in along with your feet, the aerodynamics of your form caused you to flip over twice and land in the water with a big splash. The force of your dive pushed out the surrounding water, shooting it up around you. It fell in droplets on your skin as you rose to the surface. 

You sigh, wading on your back and letting the water carry you for a while.

These past few weeks have been hell. Nevermind the ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend eloping to god-knows-where, or that the head counselor had suddenly gone AWOL – but to think you were actually being suspected of murder? Jack might’ve not said those exact words but it was obvious enough what he was implying.

Your mood sours when the mascot comes to mind; even more so when you remember the garden behind the shed. 

“He’s so stupid…” You hiss. He so obviously still harbored feelings for Skylars’ trifling ass. And why that made you so ornery you couldn’t figure it out; it’s not like he owes you his allyship due to Skylars’ actions. But you didn’t understand how anyone could still like someone willing to do something so shitty. But then again, you often had your own well-being in mind and if someone proved a threat to that, it was pretty easy for you to cut them from your life completely. You’ve lost a lot of potential friends in the past because of that, and you assumed Ian would’ve been different. But in the long run he proved to be no different than the rest…

Snap.

Your head shot up as you peered out into the darkness. “Hello?” You called out. The woods responded with silence. Thinking it was the kids you called out, “If there’s any campers out there, go back to the cabins – it’s past curfew!”

Silence. Then the subtle crunch of branches beneath footwear.

“Y/N?” Jack’s soft voice called out to you before he emerged from the trees. He wasn’t in his usual costume of the big blue foamy jacket and brown pants with garish primary colored shoes. He now wore a tight white tee that hugged his muscular frame, with a pair of gym shorts. He still had on the makeup, though, probably having forgotten to wash it off.

Your ears burned hot as you realized he’d be one of the first to see you like this: swimming in the buck. Subconsciously, you folded your arms over your chest as he approached the lake.

“Y/N, why are you all the way out here?” Jack asked, “It’s not smart to separate yourself from the other counselors.”

Your initial shyness depletes when he mentions the other counselors. “You should tell them that, they’re the ones separating themselves.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Shaun’s hosting some stupid movie night and no one wants me there.” You said.

Jack blinked in surprise, “Shaun? But he’s one of the nicest counselors here.”

“Well, Nick tried… to extend the invitation, I guess. But it’s not like I wanted to go anyway. Horror movies…” You scoffed, “they’re so dumb. And it’s all Shaun watches!”

Jack sighs, “Still, you should stay close to the camp. I dunno what I’d do if another counselor went missing…”

A smirk broke out on your face as you swam up to the boardwalk, placing your hands on the wooden edge as you looked up at him. “Oh? And what would you do, Jack?”

Your sudden change in demeanor caused him to blush bright red, “I-It’s not like that!” He exclaimed, “I mean, I just want you to be safe!”

“Aww. Look at you, worried about lil’ ol’ me!” You cooed.

“Y/N, you-” He paused, finally getting a better look at you in the moonlight. It shone off your wet skin and hair, giving you the feel of some kind of siren, especially with that seductive look on your face. His eyes were drawn to your neck and shoulders, which seemed not to be covered by anything. And then he spotted your clothes…

“God, Y/N! Are you seriously skinny dipping right now?!” Jack exclaimed. 

You immediately clutched your shoulders, but you start cackling, not really finding it in you to feel guilty like before.

“Eeeyup! Care to join me?”

____

Hiii! Sorry this took awhile. This shit is hard to write my guy. It was intended to be longer but I've hit my limit...

Don't fret however, there's more to come!!

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #sunny day jack fanfiction #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack x you #sdj x reader #sdj x you #summer camp au #camp counselor au #slasher au #horror #the lifeguard #my fics

[mofsblog]

(CW suicide) Does anyone else think TF like definitely tried to kill himself during the 10-year time period where Graves was in jail? No, like this has been an interpretation of mine for so long. It's just sooo. I feel like TF's absolute grief and guilt during that time period doesn't get talked about enough and like understandable because in the main lore it's only vaguely alluded to and implied and never really explored but like. If you think about it, you can not tell me this man did not cry himself to sleep for months if not years

Like it's fact that Graves got locked up (something TF probably blames himself for), which is already bad enough but then you take into account how TF has pre existing trauma surrounding abandonment because of his folk leaving him and I don't know about other people but I feel like a very common feeling when you're traumatised or hurt is being afraid you're going to put someone you care about through that so TF probably took it twice as hard because he felt like he "abandoned" Graves in prison. All of that guilt gets like 50% worse if you count the implication that TF has been in love with him for a long time and was self aware about it so now it's also guilt from "fuck I doomed the man I love because I couldn't save him"

AND THEN IT GETS EVEN WORSE WHEN YOU CONSIDER THAT, HE DID TRY. He did try to break him out. And that trying lead to at least 3 of their crewmates/friends getting killed. No like I can not state how absolutely devastating that period probably was for TF. The survivors guilt from Graves being imprisoned, the guilt from the fact he got their entire crew killed trying to save Graves, the fact that it's canon he never spoke to anyone about it and held it in for years

All of this concluding in this line that I've always found interesting

Like I could already go on about how his identity and name change seem to have happened right after the last of his crew died and how it's really likely he changed everything about himself to distance himself from everything that happened and how it was probably too painful being himself because of the guilt and grief

But what I find interesting is the mention of the river and how it's implied this name change happened after he visited and left the river. Now there's a high chance I'm looking too much into this and this is mainly my own headcanon and interpretation but how likely do you think it is he changed his whole identity because he failed a suicide attempt (in which he probably tried to drown himself) and using a different name and identity was the second closest thing he could do to stop being himself and existing as himself

No, like I'm sorry, but it's the fact he went to a river despite not knowing how to swim after thinking the man he was pining after was abandoned by him and TF put him through the exact pain he had to go through, not to mention the isolation and beatings TF just sentenced him to by "letting him get captured" AND THATS ON TOP OF THE ACTUAL AT LEAST THREE FRIENDS/CREWMATES HE ACTUALLY GOT KILLED IN AN EFFORT TO SAVE HIM. and then the fact he literally had zero outlet during all of this. I don't know, I just feel like it's a solid possibility. TF's repression of his emotions through his nonchalant and playful attitude tends to, in my opinion, make people overlook how badly the whole thing probably affected him and I feel like that's a bit of a shame because there's so much angst potential there

Anyways I'm normsl about the league of legends gambler guy

#SORRY IVE BEEN PLAGUED BY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT. i jusy think hes neat and deserves happiness and the world #twisted fate #tobias felix #tfgraves #Malcolm graves #<- didnt focus too much on him but hes mentioned quite a lot and integral to this sooo. also hes getting his own post later #league of legends #lol #suicide mention #drowning mention #tf just strikes me as the kind of guy who seems chill and well adjusted and then one day without any warning you find out he killed himself #he needs therapy so bad #im glad he got his hubby back at least

[den-kunn]

[They Knew.]

characters: Lin Kuei warriors, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, others.

cw: Implications of: human trafficking, sexual assault and pedophilia.

They know what happens in the other rooms, they know how unfair and unjust it is. They always heard yelling, screaming, drowned pleads and voices begging for help, to be put out of their misery. They saw people tied up, bodies shivering with dirty clothes revealing the crimes committed to have them in the clan. They knew the moment they stepped in, they were no longer people. No matter how much they cried to make it stop. They were only objects: merchandise.

One would believe they become insensitive to whatever happened in other rooms, maybe flinch due to a sudden headache caused by the amount of noise... but no. Tomas still hides in a little ball, Kuai still cries with his eyes closed, Bi-Han still wants to throw up, they still cover their ears hoping the noise would stop, hoping whoever is suffering at the hands of the warriors will die a quick death.

They knew if they attempted to stop them, they would suffer the same punishment. Tomas already feels hungry eyes wanting to devour, Kuai heard a comment that made his body shiver, Bi-Han still sees warriors stepping too close for comfort...

#content warning #do not read if you're uncomfortable #human trafficking #lin kuei #bi han liang #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #short fic #no nothing bad happens to the trio #don't worry I'm not going that path with them #mk inception #world building

[theladyoracle]

✧ General Creepypasta Headcanons ✧

𖦹⭒°｡⋆𖦹 The Lady Oracle's AU 𖦹⋆°｡⭒𖦹

Featuring: The Slenderman, Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, BEN Drowned, Eyeless Jack

a/n: Just jotting down some of the general headcanons that have been piling up in my notes app! Honestly it's so much that its starting to lag down the note LOL!

Also I take requests so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE shoot them into my ask box!

cw/tw: mention of murder (obvi), mention of torture, mention of vomiting, implications of 'incidents', implications of cannibalism

The Slenderman/The Operator

10ft tall...and then some

He/Him/It

Goes by both Slenderman and the Operator. The only difference is that he makes his Proxies only address him as the Operator. Denizens (lower ranking creeps, I'll make another post about this probably for my au...) are allowed to address him as either. This is to make sure that the Proxies don't get 'too friendly' with him

Seldom cares about anything going on between the people who live in the manor unless it directly affects him. Will actually get so annoyed if people bother him with petty problems or drama. He only cares about his things, his home, and his business

Is basically a dirty, evil capitalist landlord

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss fr fr /hj

Is very supernaturally inclined. Reads books, casts spells, and brews potions. Is very knowledgeable of other realms, creatures, and magicks

Is very secretive with everyone in the Slender Woods. For all they know; he is the strongest, most powerful entity there is in the woods and they should fear him. This is how Slenderman likes to keep things

Out of touch with humanity, but sometimes its really funny! He will forget that humans need food to survive, and finds it 'inconvenient' that they need air to breathe...okay maybe its only funny to me

He finds some human things charming! Like fashion - he has a tie for every occasion and always wants to look presentable. He also loves a good riddle

Thrives with paperwork. Literally has a contract for every Proxy and Denizen. Loves structure

Will call the Denizens his 'children' at times....but will seldom ever call his Proxies his children. Proxies are regarded more as property or dogs than they are people

Jeff the Killer

Denizen (at age 21)

Is 29 years old

He/Him/His

5'10 with wide shoulders, a thin waist, and moderate muscle mass

I headcanon Jeff to be half Korean (on his mother's side) I believe this due to the traditional pronunciation of Liu's name

Loves using a knife as his primary murder method because its intimate - he truly considers it to be an art

Is close with BEN. He sees BEN as like a younger sibling (similar to Liu.) So he spends a lot of time barging into BEN's room (much to his distaste) and annoys the fuck out of him. I think he does this because he's pretty lonely too but doesn't want to admit it...

Before his psychotic break, he was obsessed with other famous serial killers. His other hobbies before murdering his parents include: manifestos, torture methods, and anatomy

Is a total metal head - doesn't listen to anything except for alternative music

Will totally ask you to "name 3 songs" if you're wearing a band t-shirt (even if he doesn't know the band...)

Owns a tattoo gun! Is really fucking bad at giving tattoos.....

BEN Drowned

Denizen

He/Him/His

I think of BEN as a sort of shapeshifter. Taking inspiration from the game Majora's Mask, I like to think that BEN is able to change his "skin" to however he wants to appear, but has a default form that gradually changes (so for example depending on who he chooses for a victim, he can portray himself as a 12 year old boy, a teenager, or even older) but his default form is one that can age as though he never drowned as a boy

This isn't just limited to age - he can use this to look as freaky as he wants. Usually this is just to make himself look more uncanny for his victims

I don't think BEN in my AU is the ghost of Ben Lawman (the boy who drowned) I think that Ben Lawman's essence was twisted and possessed by something inherently evil during his death

When he was found in the woods, the Slenderman saw the wicked potential that this new entity possessed and offered him a deal

Probably like 5'5"-5'6"

Skinny, like really skinny - despite how much he eats

BEN is a total incel :/

Frequent Discord, Reddit, and Twitch user

Despite the Slenderman giving him the incredible gift to age as if he never died, he is still so fucking immature. it's like dealing with a child

He always seems annoyed when anyone comes to talk with him. He takes everything as an attack and has the crudest, most annoying, immature sense of humor

He has to be bribed to do LITERALLY ANYTHING

His room smells like dirty socks and vape juice

Literal definition of "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM I'M PLAYING MINECRAFT"

Jane the Killer

Denizen

28 years old

Latina

Lesbian

She/her/hers

5'7" . Soft hourglass-shaped build with strong thighs and legs!

She is a woman of science and logic, and is overall just a very intellectual woman - lowkey kind of nerdy, it's sweet if you get to know her

Comes across as 'no nonsense' to newbies and people who don't know her well, but she's secretly very sarcastic and clever! She has the realest conversations, and is a powerful ally to have

There are a lot of rumors about her in the manor, because she seems to be the Slenderman's favorite

Oftentimes is doing a lot of household errands or chores for the Slenderman as part of her contract

Helps compile mission files for targets (sometimes helps with research, but mostly puts them together and then serves the assignments underneath resident doors)

Does the interrogations and initiation processes for new recruits to the manor (asks them questions to build their contract, shows them around, etc)

Quick-witted and sarcastic - doesn't let anyone talk shit to her. Literally no misogynistic comment goes by unchecked. She absolutely tears into the creeps that come at her

Has an absolute adoration for old horror films, true crime, and investigation shows

She loves solving mysteries or puzzles. Brain teasers and riddles are totally her thing! But...is like way too good at it. I mean, she can guess the answer to any riddle first or second try, and she's ALWAYS guessing the ending of movies within the first fifteen minutes. It kind of takes the fun out of everything

Usually likes to spend her down time alone. She feels like the 'mom' of the mansion otherwise (and hates when she feels like that)

Eyeless Jack

5'11" with a slim yet muscular build

25 years old

He/Him/His/They/Them

EJ is exceptionally intelligent - both in creative problem solving and just in general with his anatomical knowledge

He's is so quiet in everything he does. Sometimes this is comforting and sometimes its creepy. He's silent. He types quietly, he wraps wounds quietly, he cleans quietly....kind of just a strong and silent type kind of dude

He is the only resident of the manor that the other creeps feel safe and comfortable getting care from, because he actually keeps a sterile and clean environment while he performs operations

KIND OF RANDOM! But I think his parents were total hippies (literal cultists)

I like to think he was a vegetarian before the incident :'(

His skin looks super ashy gray but it's actually super smooth - he moisturizes all the time in attempts to get his radiant glowy skin back but it never really works with his dark gray skin

Has to wear eye masks to bed so that the ooze doesn't get all over his pillows and sheets. Usually he doesn't care if it drips on him or his clothes, but hates when he wakes up and it's all over his face

Cannot eat anything besides human organs without vomiting - and HATES vomiting. Like he's developed somewhat of a fear of it now...especially how it looks when it comes up

That's just about it for now! Thanks byyyeeee~!

xoxo -Oracle

#creepypasta #creepypastafandom #theladyoracle #theladyoracleau #creepypasta au #slenderverse #creepypasta headcanons #creepypastahc

[purgemarchlockdown]

Amane and Her Costuming

CW: cults, child abuse.

(Edit: Added a few things and cleared up a few sentences.)

I've been thinking about how Purge March affects Magic so I'm going to let out some thoughts on that right now. As archivalofsins pointed out on this post right here the flag Amane is carrying does not have the exact same symbol as the balloon. I don't got any other way to put it other than it's more aesthetically pleasing, with the accents and the dots and so on. Same post also mentions how Amane isn't allowed to go amusement parks which is actually important to what I'm thinking about:

Q.05 If you went to an amusement park, what ride would you choose to go on? Kazui: Not gonna lie, I kinda want to go on the merry-go-round. Amane: That’s a place I’m not supposed to go.

As I've mentioned extensively in my analysis of Animal (that i need to update) Amane isn't allowed to indulge, she isn't allowed to have frivolous things, she isn't allowed to have attachments to things like that.

And as I mentioned in my initial thoughts on Purge March: In the scene where the Amane who fails to represent the flag gets drowned, the rule Amane fails is the one about vulgarity, and we also see Amane being punished both by herself in her mind and Gozake. I Doubt the cult is talking about the actual meaning of vulgarity but instead about "frivolous" and "indulgent" things, things that aren't "modest," (in the sense of being moderate and not the other definition) which can included Literally Anything from breathing to eating good food.

This makes Magic's costuming and presentation really interesting to me because it is kind of "frivolous" isn't it?

Ignoring the darkness lurking within it for a second. Magic has anthropomorphic animals and fun mascots and Amane is wearing a lovely magical girl-esque oufit. I'm a big magical girl fan and I would definitely call magical girl outfits very ornate and very extra. Let me get a design from Precure for a second:

Here's Cure Mermaid from Go Princess! Now admittedly I'm using the Go Princess designs (cause I like them) and the theme is inherently pretty extravagant but even the less extravagant magical girls have their own kind of extra-ness to their designs.

Ahiru from Princess Tutu (which I need to finish its really good guys go watch it!) is a simpler design in a lot of ways but is still pretty extra with the little crown and wing-like accessories on the back and the hairpiece (? Honestly I'm not sure) Thing that Ahiru has on her head.

Amane's design in Magic follows these design conventions of extra-ness and fun and what not:

She has 4 different colored buttons on her vest and colorful lines on the outer part of her skirt and fluffy balls on them and a cute hat and long socks (or maybe just straight up leggings) with an yellow zigzag, she has a badge on her chest (and before this a bow) it's a very ornate design!

The Purge March designs aren't this extra (and they certainly have less color!) but even then she is still wearing a performance outfit!

Like Look at it! She has big boots and a cute skirt and a Giant Cape and a really big hat with a FEATHER on it! This isn't holding back in the slightest! She's wearing a fun pretty costume!

This is pretty consistent with how marching band outfits can look too.

Outside of her mind however we see Amane in a school uniform:

It's a pretty regular uniform overall and I don't think we see Amane outside of this uniform though, unless the drowning scene counts:

It does look a lot like her school uniform though which has Horrific Implications but even if it isn't the clothing is the same shade of dark blue and is overall pretty dull.

However her hat is something I find really interesting.

It's a cute hat with a cute little ribbon tied into a bow around it! She wears it basically everywhere! She wears in her T1 design even though she was in Prison! Edit: Something I forgot but remembered right now is that the other girl has the same hat she does so its probably apart of the uniform, still Amane keeps the hat around and both Magic and Purge Marge have her wearing a hat of some sort. It's not a unique hat or anything but I do think it means something to Amane for her MVs to keep on giving her one.

(Her bag also has sticker markings but I'm unsure if those stickers were about her cult or not so I'm not mentioning them but it's possible that Amane Decorates her bag.)

Amane likes this stuff! If were bringing the Minigrams into this, (and I'm going to cause Shidou brought the pancakes into Tirage) this Minigram has her her hair styled, and in it she's bothered by her bedhead! She likes that Mahiru styled her hair! She likes dressing up and being cute! Her outfits in her MV have an extra flourish to them, capes, bows, feathers, extra colors.

No wonder that's one of the rules she fails to obey

#milgram #amane momose #008 #milgram amane #milgram meta #milgram analysis #cw cults #cw child abuse #I should probably post this later but fuck it Ill just reblog it

[noahsresources]

missing them sentence starters.

CW for implications of death & suicidal ideation. change pronouns, descriptors, & play with context if so desired ♡

❝ my heart breaks whenever i think of them. ❞ ❝ sometimes i look up at the night sky and i feel better knowing that they’re looking at the same ones. ❞ ❝ i was just barely clinging on to hope with them here, but now that they’re gone ... what else is there to live for? ❞ ❝ they were the only one that could fill this void. ❞ ❝ knowing that i’ll never see them again is a special kind of heartbreak. ❞ ❝ sorry, but you can’t fix this one ... no matter how hard you try. ❞ ❝ i see them in you.  in your face, in your words, in your actions. ❞ ❝ the ocean connects our shorelines together.  it’s comforting to know that. ❞ ❝ god, it hurts so bad, i can’t fucking breathe ... ! ❞ ❝ i know they’re gone, but ... i see them everywhere i go.  the bright blue sky, the cool breeze, the whispering leaves ... i know they’re still all around me. ❞ ❝ they’re in a better place now, but lord knows i’ll never be without them around. ❞ ❝ this belonged to them.  they gave it to me, and it’s like a piece of them is still with me because of it. ❞ ❝ my biggest regret is not being able to do everything with them. ❞ ❝ their absence is the only thing i can’t bear to deal with. ❞ ❝ missing them comes in waves, but tonight i’m drowning. ❞ ❝ i-i just want them back here, by my side ... ! ❞ ❝ the silence only reminds me that they’re not next to me. ❞ ❝ i wish i could touch them.  i wish i could hear their voice again, look into their beautiful eyes ... just one last time.  but apparently that was too much to ask. ❞ ❝ wherever, whenever we meet again, i’m gonna give them the biggest hug ... ❞ ❝ i guess how much i miss them is my heart’s way of reminding me how much i love them. ❞ ❝ nothing makes this room feel emptier than wanting them in it. ❞ ❝ they’re everywhere except right here, and it hurts. ❞ ❝ nothing makes sense anymore, not without them. ❞ ❝ i hope they’re proud of me. ❞

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp memes #rp starters #rp starter #angst prompts #angst prompt #angst memes #angst meme #angst #romance #memes #mine

[arealphrooblem]

A Favor for a Favor Part 4

Part One Here

CW for the fic overall: kissing/fade to black off screen sex, mentions of non-consensual drugging, non-graphic wound care, off screen murder mention

Synopsis:

When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.

The Present

When Roxanne’s hands started to resemble her grandmother’s, she reluctantly crawled out of the tub and into the soft clothes left for her -- sweatpants and a dark t-shirt. Both felt buttery, sinfully soft against her skin. She used the brush by the sink and combed her wet hair into a single braid before stepping out. 

The combination of the hot bath and the pain killers made her sleepy and relaxed. She hurt still, but it was a distant echo of the pain she had earlier. Roxanne could think again, beyond the blind panic and excruciating pain.

 And that was a problem because the last thing she wanted to do right now was think about all the implications of what happened to her. 

 John waited for her in the living room, reading on one of the arm chairs.  Dressed out of his suit and in soft pants and a henley (they almost matched), he looked so painfully domestic, so terribly innocent.  

Her traitorous heart squeezed in her chest, as it did so many times when she watched him through the camera lens. He breezed through her work many times after he won the mayor race and then, more recently, the senate race. 

And every time the sight of him ignited a blistering cocktail of rage at what he allowed himself to become: this master manipulator who lied as often as he breathed, putting on a wholesome face when he ran the criminal underground, and a persistent longing that she couldn’t shake off. Like deep down she still thought she could save him.

Which was stupid and unhealthy but it wouldn’t leave her. 

Looking at him now, bathed in the soft glow of the lamp beside him, reading the exact kind of cheesy sci-fi book her father had in his library, she couldn’t shake the feeling that underneath the darkness he cultivated to survive was someone good, someone worthy of care. 

He jerked his gaze up from his book. 

“I was beginning to wonder if you had drowned,” he said idly. 

If he heard her thoughts about him, he didn’t show it. 

“That would solve a  lot of problems for you if I did.”

“Yes, having the dead body of an Agency Hero in my bathtub definitely solves problems for me. Come here.”

He opened the first aid kit and took out gauze, medical tape, antibiotic cream and bandages. Roxanne found herself stepping forward to obey without even thinking of it. A thread of unease wound through her. Had he expanded his powers to actual mind control?

“I can only powerfully suggest what you think you want to do anyway,” he said.

“It’s so fucking creepy when you do that,” she complained as she settled next to him. 

“My apologies,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s hard to stay out after being blocked for so long.”

“I can’t even feel you in there anymore.”

“That’s the goal.”

He took her left hand in his and dabbed Neosporin on it with a Q-tip, his touch still impossibly gentle. The intimacy of it made her squirm, stomach twisting.. She could almost believe in this moment that he might have some humanity still left in him. 

It was a dangerous, stupid thought.

“What's going to happen to me,” she asked softly, “now that you’ve got me right where you want me?”

He placed a bandage on top of her knuckles and began wrapping the gauze tape around it. 

“ . . .This is not where I want you.”

She snorted. “Really? Me powerless and vulnerable and at your total mercy is not what you’ve dreamed of for years?”

He said nothing for a long moment, focusing on securing the bandage tight and taping it down before moving onto the next hand.

“If I told you where I actually wanted you, it might scare you away,” he murmured finally.

“Please tell me this penthouse apartment doesn’t come with a torture dungeon,” she joked, hoping to God it was just a joke.

“I keep my torture dungeons at the docks in old warehouses.”

“We’re not going to make a surprise return trip are we?”

Pointed silence followed her question as he put intense focus on wrapping her other hand. He was messing with her, right? He had to be. Why the bath, the tender medical care, why take her home if he only intended to hurt her later?

His fingers slid gently into her hair, turning her head to the left as he searched for the cut above her ear.

“If you’re so worried about what I might do to you, why did you come to me?”

Roxanne swallowed, her gaze darting away.  

“You’re a mind reader,” she said, stiffening. “You should know the answer.”

“I want to hear you say it out loud.”

She hissed as his fingers brushed over the cut in her hair. He leaned forward, lifting her hair to get a closer look. The woodsy, spicy scent of his cologne, which probably cost more per ounce than her electric bill, danced just under her nose. She could turn her head and kiss him. 

“I didn’t have anyone else I could trust,” she whispered.

He chuckled, a low rumble. “Since when do you trust me?”

“I didn’t because you were an enemy of the Agency. But now I can’t trust the Agency.”

“And,” he prompted.

“And . . .I thought I would be safe with you.”

Admitting it felt like handing him a knife and offering her throat. The possibility that he would hurt her had always occurred to her. And logically, that’s what she expected. But something in her gut told her that he wouldn’t and it went against all reason.  

He dabbed more Neosporin on his finger and pressed it gently over the cut. 

“I was safe with you, all those years ago. You will be safe with me now.”

She believed him. 

The spare bedroom sat tucked away behind the library. Roxanne glanced around just enough to note the dark jewel tone colors of the decor before collapsing into the bed and passing out. 

She didn’t stir for fourteen hours. When she did finally rise, she felt like a zombie digging out of their own grave. Everything hurt. Everything.

“Finally. I was about to do the spoon test.”

John appeared in the doorway. The smell of something divine wafted from the open door.

“Is that . . .coffee?” she croaked.

“It could be. You should get up and find out.”

She did so with a groan, hobbling out through the study and into the kitchen like someone’s grandma. The weight of his gaze followed her long before his footsteps. The kitchen had a bar with tall swivel chairs that she slowly clambered into. 

“Take these first,” he said, pushing the bottle of Ibuprofen and a glass of water over to her. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Right now I like that it exists,” she said.

“Excellent. You can have as much as you want -- after you tell me everything that happened last night.”

“Are you seriously bribing me with coffee?”

“No. I’m holding the coffee hostage until I get information.”

He took a long, pointed sip from his own mug. Her mouth fell open.

“You’re diabolical,” she hissed.

“And you’re stalling.”

“Is this another power trip just to hear me say what you could read for yourself?”

He pinned her down with a stare that made her feel like sitting in the principal’s office. 

“You refuse to think about it and I find it tedious to sift through the myriad random thoughts that run through your mind just to find answers you should be giving me yourself. Now quit being childish and tell me everything.”

It spilled from her in spurts and false starts. It was humiliating to admit how blindly she had trusted Erik, a fellow agent and friend, when he asked to meet with her that evening long after everyone else had gone home. She didn’t even think to question him when he took her into the service elevator -- the one with no cameras. 

Hell, her first thought when he plunged the syringe into her wasn’t even betrayal. It could have been a vaccine to something from a powered villain. It wasn’t until she felt a strange, heavy exhaustion flood her limbs that something felt wrong. When the elevator doors opened to the basement, she tried to blur away and fell to her knees instead. 

“Did he attack you?” John asked, voice slow and deadly.

“I attacked him first. I thought he was some kind of shape shifter, targeting heroes one on one. Even then I didn’t think it was -- him.”

“And then he hurt you.”

“ . . yeah.”

She swallowed, eyes burning. It was made painfully clear just how much she depended on her powers to fight when he beat her soundly and in seconds -- head thrown against the wall, kicked in the ribs, kneed in the mouth and nose. 

“He left me there and walked out like nothing happened.” 

To her horror, tears slipped out the corners of her eyes. She pressed the hells of her hands against them, as if she could stem them from that alone. 

“I know you think I’m naive and stupid,” she said shakily. “But I don’t understand why.”

He pulled her hands gently away from her face. “You are naive, but you’re not stupid. You worked with him for years, you had no reason not to trust him. Tell me, what is his Agent name?”

“Why? Do you want to send him a thank you card?”

“No. I want to kill him.”

The look in his eyes was downright terrifying. She had only seen John’s public face, the one that won him so many elections. The winsome, handsome, boyish smile with perfect white teeth. This reminded her of the John she first met, half feral and ready to stab anyone in the face.

Of course, he only got his wealth and his elections from his power. If he lost that, well . . . .He’d be worse off than her. No wonder he looked so pissed.

“Shadow.”

John’s mouth thinned into a tight, grim line. Erik patrolled at night due to his ability to travel through darkness. Undoubtable they had run ins before. Roxanne wasn’t the only one on the quest to dismantle John’s unground organizations. 

“Did he say anything to you before he left?”

The memory was hazy from pain, but she thought hard. 

“Something like . . .that I wasn’t cut out for this work. That he was doing me a favor.”

“I see.”

“I don’t know if he was working alone or if it was really even him or if the Agency told him to do it. I don’t know anything and I don't know how to find out without telling the whole freaking world that I’m a sitting duck!”

Her voice started cracking at the end and she bit the inside of  her cheek hard to stop herself from breaking down. John waited her out quietly, his expression hard as stone.

“Can I have my coffee now?” she asked after a few minutes, throat tight.

His eyes softened into something that looked dangerously like pity. 

“Yes.”

Part five here

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #writeblr #a favor for a favor #dark villain

[pencilpat]

Sanders Sides: College AU - Part 3

Character sheets | Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Patton has a very bad night, like many before it, that quickly descends into a very nice night, like none they've had before it.

Janus seethes. Remus tries to help.

2,531 words

[CW: alcohol, manipulation, implied abusive father, nightmares, panic attack, religion, sexual themes/implications, unintentional misgendering

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

It’s always the same sea. The dark, choppy water blasting foam into their mouth, tossed around and around in the storm.

Every night this dream comes, and even asleep Patton’s dream self has come to accept it, letting the waves toss them limply as they choke. Suddenly they are tossed onto a rock, and their drenched form lays naked on the cold surface. Shaking, they gasp at the freezing air, coughing up seawater. They drag themselves to their feet, stumbling down the rock, compelled by the same force as always. “Someone wants to see you,” calls their mind, driving each shivering footstep.

They make it to the beach, that grey sand cutting into their feet with torn bits of shell. There, as always, they collapse on the beach, subconsciously preparing themselves. There is a great sloshing of the ocean, and a shadow rises above them; they gasp wetly as it overtakes them. Patton sits up on the coarse sand, turning to look at the statue before them. “Hi, pa,” they whisper. The statue is silent, looming.

Hugging their legs, Patton looks up at the stone eyes. Their gazes lock, and they brace themselves.

Water gushes from the eyes, nose, and mouth of the statue, falling directly onto them in torrents, burying them beneath deep, dark water. They can do nothing but sob and choke, drowning, drowning, drowning.

They jolt awake, gasping. Patton grips their hand into the sheets just beside the body of their sleeping partner, glancing up at him through hurried breath to make sure they haven’t woken him. Virgil is sleeping soundly, thankfully, and they swallow hard as they sit up and stare at the wall.

Being in bed becomes too upsetting, and like many nights before this they stand up to go sit in the living room. They fall onto the main couch and drop their head into their hands. If they didn’t know any better, they’d think God was torturing them. But they know by now that He’s not watching close enough to care. Their face furrows up, and a few hot tears spill into their palm.

The house itself is upsetting. All of it is. They need to get out. They need to run! This swelling restlessness fills their gut, and Patton inhales sharply as they go back to their room just briefly to put on clothes. Virgil doesn’t stir in his sleep as they quietly dress themselves, throwing on one of Virgil’s black hoodies over their own clothes, perhaps to make them look scary, but more to make them feel scary. They glance at his black hair peeking out of the covers as they pass through the doorframe, but worry over him isn’t enough to unravel the storm twisting their gut and telling them to escape, somehow.

In Roman’s car, halfway towards nowhere, the world barely feels real to them. Patton listens to wind whistle against their ears from the window and zones out to the tune of yellow street lights and honking late night drivers. They even honk at people themselves, something they’ve never done before. It’s just the agitation, they tell themselves, rubbing their forehead. It’s just the lack of rest and the fact that I’m in the party side of town.

Rows and rows of bars line the streets, and Patton’s fingers tap the wheel anxiously. They chew on their lip, breathe in deep, and pull over on the street next to the first one appearing to be a gay bar – perhaps that will be safer? Having never gone to a bar in their life, Patton feels ridiculous and child-like on the sidewalk outside. Being an over 6 foot, stocky person brings them no comfort, and they bet they’d look small next to a 4-foot-nothing guy right now.

The door is pushed open onto music and mostly darkness. The only lights are underlighting the bar and the neon glow-in-the-dark dance floor and wall designs lit up under black lights. People are mostly dancing rather than sitting, so the bar has many available seats. Patton nervously shuffles onto a stool that glows with bright blue flecks under the lighting. Every seat is a seemingly random color, and they do admit the effect is very pretty – like bioluminescent sea creatures in the deep dark. The haze of bodies crushing and pulling and swaying makes them dizzy.

“Hey, buddy?” someone calls, fully tapping them. Patton startles, adjusting their glasses as they look up at the bartender. “I asked what you’d like to drink!” The bartender is an older woman with buzzed hair and black lipstick on, Patton would consider her very pretty if they were focused enough to process it. Instead, they stumble on an order.

“Um, how about, uh- I don’t know the names of drinks- Uhh a martini?” They laugh nervously, but manage to spit out the first drink they could think of.

The bartender gives them a look that seems to be pitying, and nods, going off to make their drink. Patton puffs out a breath and sets their forehead in their palm.

“You look nervous,” a smooth voice from beside them calls out above the bumping music. Patton startles, and turns to look at the golden flecked stool beside them. A woman with two toned hair smiles at them there, giving a little wave. She already has a drink, something that glows and bubbles under the blacklights. “Up here, honey,” she laughs, and Patton’s wide-eyed gaze meets hers properly.

“S-sorry! I… ah, geeze, I guess I am nervous.” Patton lets loose a high-pitched giggle, truly overcome with the nerves.

“Cute jacket. You look too old for this to be your first night out. Is it the being alone?” The woman sips her drink, animatedly glancing around the two of them as if looking for threats. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite without consent.”

Patton gapes at her open-mouthed, cheeks going dark with blush. The girl laughs smoothly, and also begins blushing. Patton can just barely see lighter patches of vitiligo under the lights, but every part of her skin aside from her face is covered somehow, mostly in skintight black clothing.

“You look like someone just puked in front of you or something, am I that bad at flirting?”

“Oh, oh no no, it’s not that! I’ve just- I never- This actually is my first night out. Um, ever. I’ve never even been in a bar before.”

The girl tilts her head to the side, her face seeming to wrinkle with confusion. “Wait, seriously?! Your first time ever?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Oh my gosh! Do you have a drink coming? I can help you choose a nice one if you’d like.”

“I- I’ll be honest, I ordered a martini on impulse, I don’t know any drinks.” Just as they were saying it, the bartender comes back over holding said drink, setting it before them.

“Oh, hey!” she calls to the woman. “Let me guess, you’re paying for this one? Or are you managing to sit next to a pretty girl and not flirt for once?”

Patton cringes at the girl comment, but they don’t expect much else from a stranger considering their presentation. The woman nods and winks, shushing her finger over her lips. The bartender laughs, definitely knowing this woman well. She must be a regular, Patton decides.

“Get two BJs for us, and then we’ll see.” As the tender walks off with the money, Patton glances at the woman cautiously. She looks at them as well, smirking. “Based off of that face I’m guessing ‘girl’ wouldn’t be best.” Patton startles, and the woman smiles wider. “You make expressions like a cartoon character, and you cringed the second that word left Katty’s mouth, love.”

“W-well… Yes, uh, girl wouldn’t be best. I’m nonbinary. Thanks for, um… noticing? I-I don’t know.”

“You can relax. You’ll be ok, um…?” The woman extends her gloved hand in question, stalling for a name.

“Pat,” they offer, shaking her hand. They know better than to give a full name to a stranger.

The woman’s smile chills over a bit, but she doesn’t say anything. “Call me J.”

“Jay, like a bird? Or the letter?”

She laughs, melodic and cool. “Yes, the letter. I mean, you know how it is with strangers and all.” Patton tenses up slightly, and turns back to the bar to stare at their martini. ”Are you going to try it, Pat?”

“I- I will, yeah,” they gulp, another nervous laugh worming its way out of them. They pick up the drink, and bring it to their lips shakily. It doesn’t taste nice, but it’s not horrible either. It does make them cringe slightly, and the woman definitely notices as Patton watches her black-stained lips curl up at the corners yet again.

“Didn’t like it?”

“It’s really… unique. I haven’t had much alcohol before. I don’t think anything else really tastes like this!”

“Unique. What a funny word for it.”

The bartender, Katty apparently, comes back with two shot glasses stacked high with whipped cream. The liquor inside is a light toffee color. “Here you go, guys! Make sure she drinks it right!” She walks off before any corrections on gender can be made, and Patton chalks it up to her seeming to be older, in her 50s at least.

J grabs the drinks and slides them to the edge of the table. “Stand up with me, there’s a special way to drink these – you can’t use your hands,” she winks, gesturing to her mouth. Patton flushes again as they watch her place her hands behind her back, and lean over the shot glass, taking it around the rim in her mouth and tilting her head up and back to knock the alcohol into her mouth. She sets it back on the bar with a flushed laugh.

Patton stares at their own, unsure if they can manage that feat. They try though, for the impulse of it, stanced with their feet to the side and leaning down. They can feel how intensely they’re being watched by J as their lips close on the glass, whipped cream already on their tongue. It hits them why it’s called a ‘BJ’ as they lean back and choke just slightly on the sweet alcohol. It’s nice, though, tasting like coffee and cream.

“Good job!” The woman claps her hands together once, chuckling.

“That tasted really good actually,” they admit a bit timidly.

“Of course you like the sweet stuff. You look that type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look sweet as pie, honey,” she says, putting on a faux southern accent like a stereotypical cowgirl.

Patton laughs, bashful. They don’t get flirted with often, and in fact Virgil is their first partner ever-

Oh. Virgil. Patton tenses up, suddenly horridly ashamed at having felt attraction to anyone else. “Oh my god, I- I’m sorry, I forgot to say, I have a partner! I- Oh my gosh I’m sorry, I know you’re flirting with me but it’s-“

“Calm down, honey,” J laughs. “I could kind of guess, honestly. The hoodie doesn’t fit well… and it doesn’t suit you at all. Patchwork isn't your thing - very 'unique' though. One of a kind.”

Patton blanches slightly, staring at her, not for the first time tonight. “You’re really um… perceptive!”

“Hell, someone has to be on this miserable planet, right?” She laughs, then sighs. “Well, there goes my night.” A pause. “Or maybe not. You still need a bar buddy, even if the partner slot is taken. Who else would keep you safe among these scoundrels,” she hisses the last part, like someone telling a campfire story with intent to terrify. “You, Pat, are going to get all of the best drinks from the best bars in town or so help me god.”

Patton laughs, untensing and feeling a little more comfortable by J being silly to them instead of flirtatious. “Well, I mean, if you say so! I- I do probably need to go tonight-“

“What?” J calls, as a particularly loud song begins, covering up all speech between them. Patton huffs in frustration, and grabs her hand gently, tugging her all the way out of the bar. When they turn back to face her, standing on the pavement in the streetlights, she looks at them with a bemused smirk, friendly and open.

“I needed to get out of there. Look, J, how about you give me your number? You seem nice, and you’re very welcoming… I don’t drink often. Or really at all besides tonight. But maybe we can try other things?”

J laughs again in that musical, cold tone, touching her forehead. “You sure are something, Pat. Denying my flirting but still taking my number? How could you,” her tone is light and teasing, and she holds out her hand to receive their phone. She adds a number in, and texts herself. “There you go, Mx. Pat. If you don’t mind, I have more bars to hop. So… see you sometime, then.”

Patton nods silently, though they give her a genuine smile and a wave as she walks off down the street. They walk towards the car with a shaky breath to themselves. Patton looks down at J’s text to herself, and finds a simple heart emoji followed by a green apple as the contact name.

---

Janus slams the door as she steps inside, slumping against the wall, having no assistance of crutches tonight. Remus startles upright, mid mouthful of candy from her cupboards. “Hey, you’re back!”

“Ugh,” she simply offers, dragging herself along the wall. She wobbles, and semi-collapses down to the floor with her back against the wall. Remus makes a noise of surprise and rushes over to her, reaching out a hand. “I’m fine, Remus, stop. I just… need to sit here.” Her head spins, woozy with drunkenness. Her heart is beating so quick it sounds like pounding in her ears.

“Janus, you look like hell’s asscrack! Jesus, you reek of booze, are you okay?”

"I’m fine. Leave it at that.”

“But you just nearly fainted! Are you-“

“Yeah, my heart gets weird when I drink, asshole,” she hisses, putting her dizzy head in her palm.

“Jan, geeze, are you seeing doctors and stuff? You know I can help you out, money-wise, I make-“

“Shut up.” She grits her teeth, trying to breathe through the beginning of tears. A few more breaths and they disappear.

“Why? Can I not help you? You… you’re living so poorly, y’know, and I make enough to-“

“I don’t need to owe you something,” Janus seethes into her palm, eyes squeezed shut.

“Who said anything about owing me something? I can pay for it, rea-“

“I don’t need your fucking money, Remus. Just stop. Stop.”

“I want to help you.”

“You don’t even know me anymore.”

Remus is silent, and she leaves it at that, hauling herself up and dragging her way to her room without glancing back at him. Remus watches her go, watches her shut her door and leave him alone. Strangely, though, the sensation of a wall being erected before him isn’t there. There is openness, still, simply concealed under anger that is not his causing. He scratches at his facial hair, sighing. He resolves to check on her later, maybe talk about it when she isn’t exhausted and reeking of a night of drinking. He does know her, and nothing about her has changed.

Janus has always been a liar, after all.

#college au #sanders sides #sanders sides au #tss au #ts au #janus sanders #patton sanders #my writing #sanders side fanfic #tss fanfic #moceit #dukeceit