#firefly muse list

[ghostlyscribes-a]

i am major indecisive but sometimes i just think about adding e.d warre.n to my muse list......

#( FIREFLY SPEAKS ) : #why do i need them both? because i said so #and because i love both immensely uGH #if i do that i think while i'm at it #i'll tidy my muse list up in general #bit messy innit

[anika-ann]

A Night at the Museum (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, fluffiest fluff; canon-divergence from Defending Jacob

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader  WC: 5000

Summary: You always loved wandering through your museum after closing time – there was something so peaceful about it, a new layer of beauty to space and all the art that adorned the walls.

Tonight however, the peace is interrupted by a charming handsome man who has no business to be there… will you throw him out?

Warnings: 18+ for allusions to smut, TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF., uncomplete list to keep some mystique - so read at your own risk (but no supernatural elements)

A/N: a story dedicated to lovely @chase-your-dreams-away ✨, to everyone who enjoys a tooth-rotting fluff and to all you lovelies who support my writing shenanigans - you know who you are, giving me love and life 💕 Happy Holidays, if you celebrate! // divider by @firefly-graphics

Every single step you took felt so light it was almost as if you were floating.

The endless beauty adorning the walls, the soft intimate lights reserved for occasional night visiting hours only accentuating the already romantic atmosphere of the art museum, walking through the halls and galleries equalled a magnificent experience that made your soul shiver and yet feel at peace. You let the serenity wash over you as you roamed the art museum, already having helped usher the lingering visitors outside. The sound of your heels echoed in the vast galleries, your eyes drawn from one beautiful piece of art to another, even as you had seen them all a hundred times.

There were simply sights in this world that would never get old, you mused, a small smile playing on your lips, a slow steady pace bringing you to another section – and having you freeze in your step.

Just standing there without a care for the outside world, apparently immersed in admiring a painting – one of favourite, you realized distantly – stood a man. A man who most definitely did not worked here.  Your heart skipped a beat.

“Excuse me, sir,” you called out lowly, anything louder than a that feeling wrong in the otherwise quiet gallery. “It’s after hours. You can’t be here.”

He startled too at the first sound of your voice – his head snapped to you, piercing but kind blue eyes wide with surprise, as if you brought him down from a haze, from a deep thought; from thorough appreciation of art. You would have smiled at that, since you knew the feeling too well, but you were too distracted by the man’s handsome face.

Awfully, unbearably handsome, with a ruffle of dark hair and a clearly well-kept beard, a dark blue suit that only highlighting his beautiful eyes, hands slipping from his pockets as he straightened upon facing you; his biceps bulged a bit with that movement, visible even under the suit jacket. There was a good-natured expression on his face, a pleasant note in his voice as he responded on the same volume, if not slightly quieter.

“Oh. Sorry.”

His voice was as lovely to hear as his face was to look at; almost like he had belonged here, the central piece among the sea of art, a sculpture capturing the peak of a man crafted by talented hands of the old masters.

As you walked closer to him, your chest ached a little; he wasn’t just handsome. He was drop-dead gorgeous. And while that didn’t authorise him to be here, it sure made your approach more amicable. You were only human, after all.

“I was actually heading out,” he continued, “but I just… got a little caught up in admiring the art.”

The corners of your lips rose involuntarily. You could see that easily happening to anyone – it was after all a painting close to your own heart and soul. Some might call it too simple – an image of hands, one larger, rougher than the other, held out palm up to the other, softer, smaller one, fingertips barely brushing, the mahogany brown background with a few lighter strokes of brush adding an aura of warmth. But its simplicity and what some would call imperfections were deceiving.

Many would argue that hundreds of art students all over the world drew a hand study every day. Masterfully executed or not, this particular piece of art could indeed be called plain; but it wasn’t. As things stood, the painting was no Creation of Adam, your all-time favourite, but it had earned a rightful place in the art gallery and n your heart, and it wasn’t only because of how old the painting was or who had created it.

If you were being honest, you were never able to quite put your finger on why, but it always tended to touch something deep inside you. So truly, you understood the man perfectly.

He had no business being here so late – and yet. Perhaps for his pretty face and his breathtaking physique indeed, perhaps for his warm gaze having returned to the painting with curious, soft eyes – you couldn’t just have him dragged away, keen on hearing his insight instead.

“How so?” you inquired.

His gaze snapped back to you, surprised. He examined you for a bit, as if he couldn’t figure out whether you were asking or just bidding your time before security found you, but in the end, he just smiled, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, I couldn’t say. I don’t know the first thing about art, so I can’t even appreciate it properly-“

“Of course you can,” you interrupted him, regretting your hastiness when his eyes widened, watching you intently. You smiled apologetically, gaze dropping before it returned to the painting, the sight of the beautiful man too much – and you were used to looking at art every day. “What I mean is… sure, the knowledge of history of art and art technique can help you recognize a painting’s value to the world, but not its value to yourself.”

You cringed internally; you sounded like a fool, a pretentious one at that, contradicting your own words. And yet, his voice was soft when he spoke again without a hint of offense.

“I’ll take your word for it… but still. Might help to have a guide… what do you like about this painting?” he asked, gaze returning to the art in question. “That is, if you like it at all.”

“I like it a lot, actually. It’s one of my favourites.”

“How so?” he echoed your earlier words, something about the way his gaze flickered to you making you feel warm all over. He sounded genuinely curious. About what you thought. He seemed interested in your very personal insight; and in the intimate lightening of the gallery, you reluctantly gave in, all too aware of how close you seemed to stand now, side by side, barely two feet apart.

“I like how it makes me feel. I like wondering what made the artist capture this particular moment in time – not sooner, not later. Not when the hands touch further or part completely. And what the moment even is. All that wondering just leaves a lasting impression.”

“Yeah… I suppose that’s what I could say as well,” he mused, tilting his head slightly to side as he considered your words. “Tell me more.”

It wasn’t an order – despite the wording, it sounded more like a plea. Something pleasing hummed in your chest, a gentle stroke to your ego.

“It’s the position of the hands. Hands can be so expressive, we can say so much with them, with a touch. And I don’t mean it in the sense of sign language, where people literally use them to form words agreed upon earlier, but… they can convey feelings, capture so much more than words themselves often can,” you tried to explain, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You sounded like a crazy person who read Jane Austen too much – and you were all too aware. You often couldn’t help it, when you talked about art – but the poor man didn’t sign up for this. You chuckled bashfully. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” he opposed, causing you to risk a side-way glance. His gaze lost nothing of its warmth, quite the opposite; his lips melted in a gentle smile and he was certainly paying more attention to you than the painting. You’d lie if you said it wasn’t flattering. And the electricity you seemed to feel in the air sure wasn’t unpleasant either. “I never thought of it this way, but I certainly cannot argue with that. And I argue for living.”

“Ah. A lawyer then?” you said, his hands rising in surrender in response.

He had really nice and big hands. Someone should paint them. And he should put them on me.

“Guilty as charged.”

“And with a sense of humour, I see.”

There was something a little shy and definitely intimate about his laugh, his gaze firmly on yours. “I have been told I only have old man jokes these days.”

“Well, that’s just rude. You should have that person arrested for such insult.”

“That’s not how this works.” He was laughing again, crinkles around his eyes. He had such a gentle laugh, quiet, fitting for the space. “Now… what do you think is happening here then?” he beckoned to the painting.

You pursed your lips, accepting his prompt.

“Well, that’s one of the things I love about it so much – it can be whatever you want it to be. A man and a woman… there’s this atmosphere of longing. Tenderness to the touch. Uncertainty, as if they aren’t sure if they are allowed. The man especially. Maybe they are future lovers…” You felt your cheeks heat, blush spreading as the man’s eyes flickered to yours. “Maybe not. Maybe it’s a goodbye.”

“How do you figure?”

“The blurry lines,” you whispered, your smile turning dreamy. You truly did love this piece – it conveyed so much emotion, offered so many interpretations. Made you feel so much. “They’re not accidental – the moment is hazy. Maybe it’s a memory, a painful one, a memory of a goodbye smeared by unshed tears. Maybe it’s a dream – dreaming about what can’t be, no matter what the heart desires.”

“Wishful thinking,” he murmured under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he’s an artist asking his muse to be let into her favour.”

Your head snapped to him in surprise; but for once, he kept looking at the painting. Still, your breath caught; that definitely was a lovely interpretation.

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

Your gaze returned to the painting, even as your gaze was drawn to him instead, distracted, your thoughts consumed by the image of his handsome profile and the well-fitting suit – and those damn hands. He stood even closer now, slightly behind you; you could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek, the woodsy tones of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket. You could get in trouble, lingering here, with him – but deep down, you felt you’d happily do so. And probably thank him for it.

He spoke again before he gathered your wits, a warm smile in his voice. “Could be a lonely artist who set his eyes on the most beautiful of women…”

You felt the back of his hand brush yours. No accident; a lover’s caress. You felt tingles spread thought your whole body from the point of contact, your heart thundering in your chest even as it shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t have such an effect on you. Not after two years of much more intimate touches, teasing brushes of his fingertips, his palms roaming your body firmly, his lips appreciating every inch of your skin. A simple touch of a hand shouldn’t have made you shiver, but it did. With Andy, it always did. Especially when he talked like that, your face growing warmer by the second at his praise. Because it was clear he was no longer talking about the painting on the wall. Not when he ran his fingers over the back of your hand before turning it so your own hand slipped into his easily, and squeezed.

“…and was somehow insanely lucky that she accepted when he asked her out two years ago. And ever since then, his life’s been full of happiness he thought was no longer in cards for him. How’s that for knowledge of history?” he asked cheekily now, full grin spreading on his lips as he pulled lightly on your hand to spin you around to face him, his free hand already cupping your cheek as you giggled, letting the façade fall.

“You’re a charmer and a flatterer,” you muttered as he leaned in for a kiss, palm cradling your face and guiding you closer to his lips, soft whiskers tickling your face as your lips finally met.

His hand released yours, sneaking around your waist instead, deepening the kiss, making your toes curl in your pumps even after having received thousands kisses like this from him.

You had met pretty much like this – with you working late and him charming your wits out of you and having you lose yourself in his beautiful blues, mesmerized by his almost startlingly handsome face, even if he had been the one who had got a bit lost in the museum complex. Sparks flew, hearts fluttered, hands wandered – much sooner than they ever had in your previous relationship. But the whirlwind of passion was wrapped in an intimacy on an emotional level too – you had never fallen so fast, body, mind and soul, but Andy Barber was simply special. Bless his heart, he hadn’t really known much about art back then – but he had a quick mind and willingness to learn, eager to listen to you as you talked about your long-life love, watching you with a curious adoring gaze, a patient smile on his lips.

He told you he’d pick you up after work so you could celebrate the two-year anniversary of your first date. So as soon as you shoed away the last visitors, you hurried to the staff room to freshen up at least a bit. Andy hadn’t told you where he would take you up until two hours ago – where he called you on your short break to inform you that he was, in fact, a sneak who had an exceptional way with words.

Bribing your colleagues with god-knows-what, he had arranged for you to have the museum for yourselves up until midnight – a private tour with the softened lights saved for the evening, likely wandering hand in hand, beauty surrounding you as well as love. You had no doubt he had brought refreshments too, having left work right after lunch, probably preparing one of his excellent recipes; the premise of spending your special night like this with him had you giddy and soft for the rest of your shift. So when you saw him standing there like that, you couldn’t help but re-act your first encounter for a bit – but you didn’t expect him to lean into it so fully, letting you relive the awe of a handsome stranger being so impressed by whatever you had to say.

The nip of teeth on your lower lip brought you back to reality, heat swirling in your belly, having you press into Andy’s firm body further, not an inch left between you just as it should be, especially since your head was already beginning to spin with the lack of oxygen.

He was the one to retreat, smiling against your lips, nose caressing yours, your palms smoothening over his shoulders lovingly.

“You started it,” he opposed, pecking your lips again and then once more for a good measure, a little breathless himself. When you met his gaze, you saw nothing but adoration in his eyes. “I simply played along. …hi, by the way.”

You chuckled and returned his greeting, meeting his lips once more.

“Hi stranger. Happy anniversary.”

His smile was almost blinding as he tucked the lose strand of your hair behind your ear, fingertips stroking your cheek.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he whispered, eyes roaming your face so attentively – as if he was admiring what had been no doubt etched into his memory by now – that your felt your skin heat up again, gaze lowering timidly. “You’re beautiful. I love you.”

I love you. It was a simple admission – but that didn’t mean it still didn’t send your heart flutter, especially when he looked at you as if you were the single most precious piece of art in the whole complex.

“I love you too—what?” you questioned, when his eyes suddenly flickered behind you, back to the painting, and a frown twisted his features.

“There’s something missing,” he mused, causing your chest to spasm with panic. You spun on your heels and escaped his embrace so fast you nearly toppled over. Your eyes frantically searched for any sign of what was wrong – a missing plate with description? Had piece of the golden frame broken away? A- “I do like the painting, but it’s just… it’s missing something.”

You huffed out a breath of relief, turning back to Andy swiftly, hitting his chest with the back of your hand, earning a burst of silent laughter.

“Sorry-“

“You are not! Don’t do that, Andrew!” you whisper-yelled, your ribcage actually aching a bit from the sudden scare. “I’d be in real trouble if there was something missing, you know that! But do enlighten me, Mr. I Don’t Know The First Thing About Art. What is missing here?”

He had the decency to look a tiniest bit guilty as he gently touched your shoulders, spinning you back to the painting, wrapping his arm over your middle to pull you flush to his front.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful. I know you love this one. But I… I think finally figured out what the scene is about,” he explained slowly, voice dropping back to a whisper, only a trace of gentle laughter in his pleasant timbre.

“Oh?” you inquired nonchalantly, still pouting a bit even as your exasperation evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. You could get fired if something got lost on your watch, so that was a mean joke – but you should have known better. You had known him for two years now after all.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, guiding your hands to lay on your stomach, placing one of his warm palms over them, chin resting on your shoulder. “Well, obviously, they are a man and a woman.”

“Is that how you win all the cases at court? With your excellent observation skills and dead-on-point arguments, Mr. Obvious?”

Andy continued, unbothered by your snarky teasing.

“And he’s an old, maybe a little dorky man, who is crazy in love with this gorgeous woman with passion for art…”

The corners of your lips twitched as you turned your head to him, nose nudging his cheek as you understood where this was going. “You’re not that old… but you’re plenty sappy for sure.”

“Who said I was talking about us?” he teased, squeezing your hands again as he nudged you to look forward again despite your prolonged ‘riiiight’. “But he’s a little bit like the artist, asking a muse for her favour… he’d feel like the luckiest man on Earth if she’d allow him.”

You leaned your weight back onto Andy’s warm body, tilting your head, as a full smile spread on your lips along with the sweetest warmth curling in your heart.

“Well… I know you said it’s not us, but… if it were, he wouldn’t have to ask. He’s already plenty in her favour.”

You let your eyes slip shut, revelling in the feeling of being in the arms of the man you loved, almost tasting his own affection for you on your tongue, feeling it float in the air. You felt at peace; safe, warm and loved. Nothing could measure up to the serenity of the moment. Whatever Andy had planned for you two, as nice as it no doubt was, it didn’t matter much – you could just stay like this for hours, with his lips occasionally reaching to kiss your cheek, your temple.

“I adore you, Andrew Stephen Barber,” you sighed. “Sappy and all.”

His chest rumbled behind you as he hummed, his finger softly stroking your hand, pulling you somehow even closer to him. “Well perhaps he’s asking something else then.”

You felt your eyebrows rise, eyes fluttering open, smile still plastered on your face – you were probably grinning like a loon at this point.

“What’s he asking then? And what was that thing you said was missing?”

He caressed your fingers again. You felt him gulp behind you before he straightened and took your left hand, bringing it to your shoulder, to his lips, his hold on you never faltering.

“Maybe he’s asking if he could gain her favour forever.”

You chuckled breathlessly. Sap. For someone who had already been married once, even if mostly for convenience of an unplanned child, and then got divorced, he sure stayed a romantic.

“Forever is a long time,” you hummed noncommittally, not at all opposed to the idea though.

Andy was without doubt your Prince Charming in a three-piece suit, the wishful image of a happily ever after having crossed your mind more than once. With him, forever sounded sweet – and entirely plausible.

“Yeah, I know. But I want to try my luck asking anyway.”

That was the only warning you got before Andy suddenly released you from his embrace and used the gentle hold he still had on your left hand to turn you to face him, the strangest expression on his face.

Adoration. Affection. Worry. A nervous smile.

Nervous? What reason-

The realization slammed into you the very second Andy began to drop to one knee, a voiceless ‘oh my god’ knocked out of you along with your breath. A little blue box held up in his free palm, he gazed up at you as you watched him with wide eyes already filling with tears.

God, had you had any capacity to do so, you’d feel like a dumbass for not figuring out sooner what all his talk had meant. Why the missing thing. Why this was the painting he decided to stand in front of, this one among hundred others that adorned the walls of this place. Why the hand that had been right under his had been your left one, the whole time, and he hadn’t been caressing all your fingers. He had been – perhaps subconsciously – tracing a line of a ring which he hoped to put on your ring finger.

“Andy-”

“Sweetheart… I’m supposed to be great with words, but now when you’re actually facing me when I kneel here, they all… disappeared. But know that I love you. I love you with everything I am, with my whole heart. I will never understand art as well as you do, but I promise I’ll never stop trying and never stop listening, because I want to understand everything you love. I promise I will always do all I can to stay in your favour, in the favour of a woman who might as well be a muse herself,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes turning glassy as a huge lump grew in your throat, several tears escaping you and rolling down your cheeks even as you were biting your lip – as not to cry, a not to laugh giddily.

He wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of your lives with you and he wanted to make it as tangible as possible. He made this damn moment all about you, a true promise, a true testimony that he meant what he was saying. You bit your tongue hard as not to blurt out your answer before he could even ask the question.

He choked a little as he said your full name, thumb pressing to the edge of the box for it to open and reveal a no doubt beautiful ring – but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it, not when his lips twitched in a smile, his hand a little clammy as he still held yours. Or perhaps it only felt that way because your own were trembling, your heart threatening to beat its way out of your chest?

“Will you marry me?” he asked at last, finishing the question with a wide grin as you started to nod halfway through, the yes escaping a little too loud in the enormous room, the echo drowned in Andy’s relieved laugh, his hands – indeed shaking – slipping the ring on your ring finger meticulously before rising to his feet and framing your face with his palms and smashing his lips to yours, a grin to a grin, salty tears to salty tears.

Your fingers found purchase into his locks, holding onto him for dear life as he kissed you with vigour, nearly bending you backwards in half, one hand gripping your nape, the other moving to your lower back instead for better balance as he continued to steal your breath all for himself, an insistent press of his lips tasting like heaven and a promise of happiness.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips. “I love you.” A kiss to your nose. “I love you so fucking much-“

You giggled against his lips, returning the affection as much as you could, your heart pounding in your chest, pressed against Andy’s ribcage – his heart was racing too, as if he had run a marathon or argued the case of his life in front of a full courtroom.

“I love you too-“

“Thank you-“

You laughed breathlessly, yelping when his hands slipped under your thighs and he lifted you to up to spin you around, a brilliant smile on his face.

“You’re a sneak, Andrew Barber,” you teased him, the world still spinning even as he set you down, taking both of your hands to place a tender kiss to your fingers.

It was the first time you actually took a proper look at the shiny ring – and your breath caught in your throat, eyes burning, nose tingling with fresh tears.

“Andy…”

It was gorgeous – and most definitely not a mindlessly picked piece of jewellery with the biggest diamond in a ten-mile radius to show off. No. Much like he had shown dedication to the proposal itself – you were getting married, holy damn, Andy just PROPOSED – he must have put plenty of thought into choosing what was to adorn your finger for hopefully a very long time; forever even. Delicate but intricate in design, a bigger centre stone with what seemed to be a thousand of tiny gemstones surrounding it as a halo in an unpredictable but beautiful pattern. He must have spent a fortune on it – it was a piece of art itself. Probably one of a kind.

Just like the gem of a man who now stood in front of you with a mix of pride and bashfulness in his expression as you admired your new accessory – a new promise.

You met his gaze, eyes probably shining brighter than the ring.

“It’s gorgeous,” you sighed, unable to resist and leaning in for another kiss, hoping to pour all your gratitude and delight into his lips. “I see what you did here, Andy. Thank you… and I really really adore you, you have no idea. I’m the lucky one.”

He shook his head with a grin, nudging your nose with his, hugging you close. “Let’s agree to disagree, sweetheart…”

A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips. “Mr. Barber… are you already disagreeing with your future wife?”

Judging by certain sensation against your belly, you weren’t the only one who felt a shot of euphoria through your veins when you said it; Andy’s pupils dilated, gaze flickering to your lips, this time with less than sweet intent, hand wandering from your lower back to the globes of your ass instead.

You giggled and let him pull you to him until you realized the direction you were facing – not. Because like this, Andy’s hand appreciating your ass was perfectly visible to the camera.

“Andy, wait-“

“I wouldn’t dare to disagree… guess we can both thank to our lucky stars then…” he muttered, completely ignoring your protest, lips nearing yours, suddenly painfully slow, butterflies fluttering in your stomach despite the rational voice in he back of your head that your really shouldn’t give in. But how when his palm sprawled further, long fingers reaching to your quickly heating centre.

“An-“

He swallowed your noise of protest and plea at once, your knees buckling an inch when he stroked over your covered slit.

 “Celebrate with me?” he whispered against your lips, his hips rutting against yours making you whimper.

“Andy, the cameras-“

“-are off, I bribed the guard, I swear-“ he cut you off as his other hand slipped under your pencil skirt,  already tracing the line of your panties on your thigh.

“Andy-“ you whined as his lips retreated only to pepper soft slow kisses down the column of your throat, your head tilting back on its own volition as your body craved his touch, your core now throbbing. He’d better not be joking about the cameras, otherwise you really would-

“Come on, love, you gonna let me pin you to the wall like the masterpiece you are deserves?” he whispered and it was a terrible, terrible line, but he nipped at your pulse point and your feet obliged as he back you into the wall, fingers pushing the soaked fabric of your underwear to side, finding your hot and wet and waiting for him. A groan escaped his lips, his hard cock rutting into you as his fingertips teased your slit. “Gonna let me paint you all pretty with my cum, like a good little wife?”

“Jesus, Andy-“

“Gonna say yes to me one more time today, won’t you?” he demanded huskily, a knowing teasing lull to his voice as he kissed you again, letting you taste his sinful smile. He knew you would. You could never tell him no, not when you knew what awaited you was pure bliss, a loving but no less filthy ecstasy.

It was wrong. It was beautiful. It was insane and you’d happily take the leap. You were getting married. What other answer was there, especially with such a reward in your reach?

“Yes,” you sighed, head hitting the wall lightly, the hard warm planes of Andy’s body indeed pinning you in place, right between two damn exquisite painting. “Yes, I will.”

And then, because that beautiful bastard seducing you in the least appropriate place deserved a retaliation, you breathed out the last coherent words you could form before Andy made you forget how to do so:

“I will always say yes to my husband.”

Misc characters masterlist

Full masterlist

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed 🥰

Once again, Happy Holidays to all who celebrate 💕

Headboard info: framed picture from this artist (edited) - https://displate.com/displate/5918780, gif from Tenor

#r #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber #defending acob au #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #a night at the museum #anika ann #gift fic

[myers-meadow]

Meadow's Masterlist for Michael Myers & Thomas Hewitt & The Grabber

My list of works is growing and growing, so I split my masterlist up. Here is the list for the fics I've written for Michael Myers, Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt and The Grabber. Created and last updated on 24-04-2023. All my writing, even the shorter pieces that don't go onto AO3, are reblogged over at @myers-meadow-archive for ease of keeping track and archival purposes.

The link to my list for my other masterlist with Otis Driftwood, other horror writing and several other fandoms is here.

The links are in order of fandom, the newest writings are at the top.

Reblogging my writing is very much appreciated, but reposting it, on any site, is plagiarism.

Michael Myers

Feeding him by accident (sfw, oneshot)

Sunday roast (sfw, oneshot)

With s/o who likes being picked up (request, headcanons)

RZ Michael Myers x female therapist: New urge (heed warnings, oneshot, 18 +)

Wrapped with a ribbon (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Through lace curtains. (18 +, drabble)

Valentine's Day in Smiths Grove (sfw, oneshot)

Care for me, 18 +, heed the warnings for each chapter. part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5 (final)

Stargazing (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Untitled fluff (sfw, oneshot)

Shapes on his skin (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Floral and fading (smut, oneshot)

Priest! Michael Myers (RZ) 18 + heed warnings

Bo, Vincent and Lester Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x reader: Planetarium. (angst, comfort, sfw, oneshot)

Multi-chapter fic Vincent x OC x Bo/Poly Sinclairs. The Ambrose Summer Vacation. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. (ongoing, 18 +)

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader: art and comfort request.

Bo Sinclair x fem OC: Sweet treat. (18 +, oneshot)

Ambrose Boba Tea Shop AU Vincent/Mango boba; Lester/Black milk tea

Vincent x you/female reader x Bo Drabble

Thomas Hewitt

Letter by letter (sfw, oneshot)

Musings of Luda Mae (Sfw)

Kiss your boyfriend (dark, oneshot)

Safe with him (dark, spiritual sequel to Kiss Your Boyfriend, drabble)

The Grabber

Eggs for breakfast (request)

The Grabber x Max's girlfriend: The rhythm of life (heed warnings, one-shot).

Punishment (18 +, heed warnings, drabble)

Birthday headcanons

Male reader headcanons (request, sfw)

Request masochist reader (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Helpful people get rewarded (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Request for apprentice reader (sfw)

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

#masterlist #meadow's writing #thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt #the grabber #the grabber x reader #slasher fandom #slasher community

[dandysnob]

shuffled playlist meme

Rules: you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. Put your mp3 player, iTunes, Spotify, etc. on shuffle and list the first 10 songs and then tag 10 people. No Skipping!

Tagged by @frampk (●°U°●)​ Thank you! 💚

Tagging @meinewellemeinstrand @marimayscarlett @samshinechester @vulnerant-omnes @naomullen @naraism @namelessrammgirl @franwikema @morgana-lefay @themarten ✨️

#tag games #the weeknd #rammstein #owl city #emigrate #matia bazar #HIM #muse #bloc party #mango

[viking-raider]

ALWAYS US - PART FIVE

Summary: You're triggered into remembering your early days of the end, before you and Henry met.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Parts: I II III IV

Warnings: M - Post Apocalyptic!AU, Fluff, DDLG, Daddy!Henry, Little!Reader, Daddy Kink, Stuffie, Bonding, Kal Love, Semi-Non-Verbal Communication, Language, Blood, Shotty Medical Care, Memories, Flashbacks, Triggers, Fear, Separation Anxiety, Angst, Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Assault, Theft, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Doubt, Self-Blame

Inspiration: Not sure what sparked Muse for this. But it’s interesting!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @viking-raider-library and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

You watched the gradual tension and distress build in Henry’s body as he searched the shelf along the wall. His shoulders stiffening with each useless item he pushed aside, before he gave up and gripped the shelf divider. His head hung for a moment, a stillness falling over the room that only increased your fear, before you saw Henry push off and storm for the door.

“Daddy.” You croaked out, voice still raw from all your tears and half afraid to make a sound after the incident with the looter.

But Henry didn’t acknowledge you. He didn’t look back at you or even twitch in your direction. He unlocked and yanked the door open, then disappeared into the hallway. Taking the only light source you had, plunging you into darkness. You mewled at the door, your breathing picking up as panic slid in beside your fear; fresh tears, like lava, streamed down your face.

He had left you. He had promised not to, but he had done it anyway.

Not again. You thought with agony.

*Two months after the end*

“Come on, Kitten! You gotta keep up!”

You gasped at the voice of your Daddy and boyfriend of four years. Standing back up from where you were squatting down, picking a pair of dandelions that were growing between the cracks in the sidewalk, you ran back to him, holding the two yellow flowers up to him.

“Looky what I found, Daddy!” You said excitedly, beaming at him.

He looked at the flowers and gave you a soft smile. “They’re cute, Kitten.” He told you, gently patting you on the head.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” You asked, twirling the flowers between your fingers.

“Somewhere farther out of the city, Kitten.” He answered, pulling a map out of his back pocket. “It’s less safe every day in London.”

“Even with the virus all gone?” You inquired, lifting a brow at him.

“It’s not all gone, Princess.” He replied, studying the map. “It’s just having a harder time spreading, with so few people left to infect, is all. But, that’s not what I meant.” He frowned, trying to pinpoint exactly where you were. “I meant, that the people that survived-”

“Like us!” You grinned, giggling.

“Yes.” He sighed, trying to focus. “The people that survived, like us, are becoming very dangerous. So, we need to leave and find somewhere safer, so we don’t get hurt by them and we have a higher chance of survival.”

“Where are we going to be safer?” You asked, a knot of fear and worry in your stomach, even though you knew he would find somewhere.

You trusted your Daddy after all, he would take care of you, like he always did.

“I heard about a colony in Bath that's taking people in. So long as they’re not infected or planning on causing any trouble.” He said, chewing on his lip.

“Is Bath-”

“Kitten, please just let Daddy figure this out first, then I’ll answer all your questions.” He snapped, giving you a stern look.

You gulped and nodded at him, pressing your lips together and turned your attention back to your flowers. Taking a deep breath, he went back to the map, studying it and the area you both were in currently, having traveled half a day from your flat in Central London already. The two of you stood there for ten more minutes before he felt like he knew where he was going.

“All right, Kitten, this way.” He said, taking your hand and hurrying across the street.

“Is it far?” You mumbled, returning to your interrupted question.

“Yes, Kitten. It’s very far.” He answered, biting the corner of his lip. “It’ll take almost two days to walk there.” He explained to you, scanning the street you were going down, making sure no one was lurking about.

“If we don’t get lost.” He added under his breath.

You did indeed get lost, which had only sent your Daddy into a rage. You watched him scream and kick things about, curse everything he could and that came to mind, for nearly twenty minutes before he finally calmed down again. He pulled the map out for the four hundredth time, trying to figure out where he led you both wrong to end up in Farnham, instead of Reading.

While he did that, you had found more dandelions growing around the car he spread the map over the hood of. So, you moved around, picking them, thinking of making a cute flower necklace to cheer him up. Once he was done figuring out the map stuff. You had just squatted down behind the back bumper, to grab one growing between the curb and asphalt, when movement up ahead caught your attention.

“Daddy.” You called out to him, feeling uneasy as three figures appeared at the corner.

“In a minute, Kitten!” He barked back, leaning closer to the map, tracing the route from Farnham to Bath with a sharpie he had nicked from a store.

“Daddy!!” You whined urgently, jumping up as the group turned in your direction.

“Kitten, I said, give me a minute!” He yelled, ensuring the group of three noticed the two of you.

“But Daddy!” You snapped back, sprinting over to him. “People!”

His head shot up and he leaned sideways, looking along the car and down the sidewalk to see them advancing. “Oh fuck!” He gasped, quickly gathering up the map and grabbed your hand, swinging you around and took off in the other direction, pulling you along with him.

“Run, Kitten.” He encouraged you, starting to pant with exertion of the heavy pack on his back.

You pushed yourself to run as fast as you could, not wanting them to catch up with you anymore than your Daddy did.

“Don’t look behind you!” He scolded, catching you turning your head to look back at the three pursuing you. “Just keep running!” He hissed, his face pouring with sweat and breath wheezing in his lungs.

You stumbled over your feet and the uneven pavement, using your grasp on his hand to stay up the best you could, not wanting to fall and halt your progress. The group let out loud whistles, calling out profanities and other things, giving away their unfriendly intent. But you were starting to lag, unable to keep up.

“I can't.” You mewled up at him, sweaty brow pinched.

“Yes, you can.” He said, shifting his grasp to your elbow, pulling you to stand up straight. “Just a little bit more.” He huffed, lungs and throat burning. “Come on, y/n. Please, just try a little harder for me.” He begged, casting a look at you, that begged you to drop out of Little Space and pick it up.

“I'm trying, Beau.” You whimpered back, calling him by his given name, trying to be as Big as you could.

He stared at you for a moment longer, before pulling you around the street corner. His eyes were frantic over all the building fronts and practically dragging you across the road, shoving you into a smashed up barbershop.

“Get down and hide!” He snapped, shoving you behind the register counter, before joining you.

“Beau-” You whispered, curled up on the floor behind him, as he glanced around the side of the counter.

“Hush.” He reprimanded you under his breath, then ducking back as the group ran by.

Beau sat back, turning to rest against the counter and wiped at the sweat still dripping from his face, while working on getting his breath back under control. His head thumped the counter and he cast his eyes to the ceiling, his breathing calmed down and a look of exhaustion washed over his face. You reached out and rested your hand on his shoulder, sliding closer to him, to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“They're gone.” You told him, softly.

“They could have caught us.” He snapped, his eyes jerking to you. “They almost would have, if I hadn't pushed you on.” He rebuked you, harshly.

“You wouldn't have even known they were there, until it was too late.” You answered, your brow knitting together. “If I hadn't said something.”

Your voice has a bite to it.

Beau floundered for a moment, before his face hardened and he stood up, turning on his heels and stormed for the door, growling under his breath as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. You watched him for a second and sighed, knowing he was doing his best to take care of both of you and get you to somewhere safe.

“Beau!” You yelled out to him, as he disappeared towards the next store front, and made to follow after him, before you heard the commotion.

The three men that had chased you down the street had doubled back to look for you, catching Beau as he came out of the shop and were only aided in finding him with you yelling out his name. Frightened, you dropped to the floor and hid underneath the counter again, trembling in the fetal position as you listened to them assault and rob him, before running off again.

Thankfully paying no interest in you.

You slowly crawled from underneath the counter to the door of the shop, and pulled yourself up to go outside, finding Beau laying on the sidewalk. They had taken his backpack, which held all of the possessions the two of you had taken from home and acquired from some looting you had done. The only things you had left were the clothes you both had on your back and the few items you had in the Superman backpack you'd taken from a shop just before leaving London, to carry the few Little Space items you decided to take with you and the couple of items Beau had or let you carry.

“Daddy?”

You whimpered at Beau, dropping back into Little Space without meaning to. “Daddy?” You whined, your bottom lip trembling as you inched closer, finding him bloodied and unconscious, but alive.

“Daddy.” You cried, shaking him to try and stir him. “Daddy wake up.”

“All right, Peanut.” Henry sighed looking you in the eyes, and reaching out to cup your cheek. “I need you to be a really brave girl for me.” He said, licking his lips and giving you his bravest expression.

“Can you do that for Daddy?” He asked, caressing your skin with his thumb.

You nodded at him, biting your lip and feeling sick to your stomach over what you knew was going to happen. Henry smiled at you, leaning in to kiss you on the lips for a long moment, before pulling away.

Henry set everything on the cleaned metal tray table, the closed packet containing the purple sutures and needle, and the flush and gel lidocaine syringes, with three bottles of sterile saline and gauze. He broke open a bottle of saline and pulled out the surgical scissors from his pocket, cleaning them, before carefully cutting off the leg of your leggings, giving himself access to your wound without having to pull them completely off, leaving you exposed in your pull up.

Which he was sure he needed to change.

Taking a deep breath in and out, Henry set the scissors down, cleaned his hands, then ripped open the box of gloves, pulling on the black latex with a snap that made you start. He gently touched your wound. It was still bleeding, but thankfully not as badly as it had been when he first found you on the playground. Some of it had congealed and crusted over inside and around the edge. It would have to be cleaned out first, he knew that much.

So, Henry grabbed one of the saline flushes and uncapped it.

Using one hand, he gently spread your wound, giving you a soft and sympathetic look as he did, knowing it hurt, then pushed down the plunger, squirting the clear solution into your gash. You hissed and tensed up, your hand shooting out to grip Henry's arm.

“I know, baby girl.” He cooed, dropping the empty syringe at his feet and grabbed a wad of gauze to dab at your wound, clearing away the blood.

Dropping more gauze to the floor, having dried up your wound the best he could, Henry grabbed the lidocaine next. Pulling out the plug and screwing in the tip, he looked up at you, his brows deeply creased knowing this was going to hurt like hell, when he started pumping it into your wound.

“Where's your nee-nee?” He asked, clicking his tongue at you, referencing your soother.

You reached into your jacket, pulled it out and popped it into your mouth, getting his point for mentioning it. You also grasped Sparkles tighter, readying yourself as best you could for the initial pain of the gel. But you looked forward to the relief it was going to give you. You nodded at Henry, letting him know you were ready, as you could be, and he nodded back at you. He squeezed the gel along your wound, filling it with half the gel in the syringe, before spreading some on his gloved finger and rubbing it around the outside as well, trying to numb as much of the area as possible.

“I'm going to let that sit for a few minutes.” He said, dropping the empty syringe and pulling off his gloves. “Let it soak in as much as possible, before flushing it all out with more saline.” He explained to you.

You nodded at him, suckling your soother and twisting Sparkle's mane around your fingers. Henry looked at your bloody hands and the blood that had been smeared all over your unicorn from your clutching at it and felt his stomach twist. He felt like he failed to protect you, that he allowed himself to get too distracted with what he was doing.

If he hadn't, he would have caught you sneaking off, and prevented the whole matter.

“Here.” He sighed, picking up some gauze and soaking it in saline from the bottle. “Let me see your hands, so I can clean the blood off of them. You've gotten enough of it on Sparkles.” He commented, holding his hands and the soaking gauze out to you.

You glanced down at Sparkles, seeing the brown stains on its white body, before slowly letting it go to rest in your lap. You held out your hands to Henry, allowing him to dab at them, cleaning the blood off.

“I'll wash Sparkles when we get home.” Henry said softly, seeing your eyes go back to the beloved unicorn. “I have some spray that washes blood stains out.” He explained, tossing the filthy gauze aside. “She'll be good as new, before you know it, Peanut.”

“Promise.”

You smiled reluctantly at him, though you believed Henry when he said it, but it quickly vanished. “I'm sorry.” You mumbled around your soother.

Henry drew a deep breath, his shoulders moving with it, before he released it and glanced around, spotting a stool with a couple of the wheels busted off. “I know you're sorry, Peanut.” He answered, pulling the stool over beside you and carefully perched himself on the dusty and split seat.

“I'm sure you're especially sorry now that it's gotten you into this mess.” He said, folding his arms over his chest tightly and motioning to your wound with his head.

You nodded, looking away from him. You were incredibly sorry about how it had turned out.

Beau grunted as he lowered himself to the floor, his broken ribs screaming with every breath and movement he made. You sat down across from him, toying with the excess strap from your backpack. Neither of you had spoken since Beau came back around after getting jumped. You had expected him to lose his temper upon finding out all your stuff had been taken by the three assailants, but he had instead dragged himself up, looked you over, nodded, and started limping up the street.

You looked around the small convenience store he had decided to stop the two of you in for the night, several of its shelves had been knocked over and its merchandise taken or strewn about the floor. The air was growing colder as the sun went down and night closed in. So, you pulled your arms inside of your jacket and huddled up on yourself, to keep warm. The loud growl of your stomach filled the silence, but neither of you moved to find any food that hadn't spoiled to turn it into your pitiful dinner.

“Da-”

“It's late.” He cut you off. “You should go to bed, it's been a long day and tomorrow will only be longer.” He said, casting his eyes around and spotted a utility closet.

Getting to his feet with a loud groan, Beau shuffled over to the closet and yanked open the door, finding it contained a mop bucket and a cart with some cleaning supplies. Pushing them out of the closet, he turned to you and jerked his head inside, confusing you.

“Come on, Kitten. It's safe inside.” He told you, softly. “Trust Daddy.”

Biting your lip, you turned onto your hands and knees and crawled into the closet. Beau moved away for a moment, coming back with two bags of mixed trail mix and sat down, pulling the door closed as he did.

He ripped open one of the bags and handed it over to you. “When you finish it, I want you to lay down and go to sleep.”

“All right.” You mumbled, taking the mix from him, picking around the raisins as you ate it.

When you finally finished eating, you pulled your back pack off and turned onto your side, using it as a pillow, your eyes on Beau, watching him barely eat as he stared at the wall in front of him, barely acknowledging your presence.

“I love you, Daddy.” You whispered, drifting off to sleep.

“Mmhm.” Beau hummed back as your eyes closed.

When you woke the next morning, you found yourself alone in the utility closet, with the door closed. Frowning, you sat up and pulled your backpack on, figuring Beau had just woken up early and hadn't wanted to disturb you yet.

So, you got up and stepped out of the closet, going in search of him.

“Daddy?” You called, weaving through the store, looking around every corner as you made your way to the front. “Daddy!” You yelled out, the crease between your brow deepening, when you didn't receive an answer from him.

You stepped outside, looking up and down the street, a sick feeling in your stomach. “Beau!” You barked, your voice echoing back was your only answer.

He just went looking for supplies. You thought to yourself, going back inside the store, picking through the stock on the floor, finding a candy bar still in its wrapper and reasonable condition, before going towards the drinks at the back, eyeing what was left before chancing a can of Lemon Drop flavored Bang.

“Breakfast of champions.” You quipped to yourself, carrying your meal back outside to sit on the curb and wait for Beau to come back for you.

But, after three days of you staying at the convenience store and sleeping inside the closet, because it was safe, you were forced to acknowledge the fully formed feeling in your stomach.

Beau wasn't coming back.

He had abandoned you at some point that first night or early morning, while you slept. Not even bothering to leave you a note for why or apology. The man that had vowed to take care of you four years before, who doubled up on his vow when the virus hit the city and he decided you both needed to leave, had left you to fend for yourself.

In all reality, you were capable of fending for yourself, you were an adult after all. But that's when you were in an adult mind set. Your issue was you had the horrible issue of regressing far too often. Everyone around you knew it. Whether or not they knew you were a Little or not, they commented on how sometimes you just seemed too distant to care for yourself.

What hurt you the most, was thinking he had left because of what happened to him.

You blame yourself for it.

If you had just shut up and not said a word. If you hadn't called out his name and just followed him quietly out of the barbershop, then those people wouldn't have harmed him, then Daddy wouldn't have left you.

I can do this. You thought to yourself the morning of the fourth day. I can do this. You kept repeating to yourself, while trying to prevent yourself from regressing in your depression of being left high and dry. I have to do this. You sighed, going around the convenience store, grabbing the best food you could carry with you; trail mix, several cans of roasted peanuts, candy bars, a few more cans of Bang and bottles of water, stuffing them into your backpack.

You walked out of the convenience store and took a deep breath. He said, there was a safe place in Bath, you had remembered. Then, that was where you were going to go too, you resolved yourself, setting out. Even though you honestly had no idea where Bath was or if you were going the right way.

But it turned out, it didn't matter, you had found safety elsewhere.

In someone else.

“But, it turned out how it turned out, little one.” Henry told you, pressing his lips together and resting his chin against his chest. “You decided to be naughty and sneak off away from Daddy, to do something I warned you was bad, and it got you hurt.” He stated the facts of the situation.

“And so, we are now here.” He said, motioning to your wound.

“Time out?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“I haven't decided if I'm going to punish you.” He confessed, shaking his head and pushing his jaw forward. “Part of me thinks this is more than enough punishment for what you did. You're going to have a pretty little scar from it, that's for sure.”

You let your soother drop out of your mouth, its clip catching it from falling into your lap. “Leave?”

Henry's head went up and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, leave?”

Shifting and hissing as you did, you bit your lip and glanced in Henry's direction. “Will you leave me?” You asked, sounding more Big than he had ever heard you.

“Why are you so suddenly afraid I'm going to leave you?” Henry asked, standing back up and moving to your side, his hand resting on your arm, his eyes searching yours, seeing the fear and apprehension in them. “I was only gone for a few minutes, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, cocking his head, in his heartbreak.

You took a deep breath, you had never told Henry about Beau, especially about him abandoning you. “He did.” You muttered, staring down at Sparkles.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, before he understood. “That's how you survived.” He said, licking his lips. “You had someone.”

“Mmhm.” You hummed, nodding. “But we got into some trouble, and he left.”

“Was that why you didn't talk for such a long time?” He asked, rubbing your arm and brushing his fingers against your cheek, a little happy that you were finally opening up that little bit of you.

“It was my fault.” You sighed, blinking rapidly. “If I hadn't said anything, they wouldn't have hurt him, and he wouldn't have left.”

Henry got a lump in his throat, before he hugged his arms around you. “Whatever happened, it was his choice to leave. That is no fault of yours, baby.” He purred at you, kissing the top of your head. “He could have stayed afterwards, but for whatever reason he decided not to. You wouldn't have been able to change that.” He sighed, resting his head against yours. “But, as for me,” He pulled away and held your face in his hands, making sure you looked him in the eyes.

“There is absolutely nothing you can do that would make me leave or abandon you. I love you and I'm going to take care of you, forever.” He chuckled softly, smirking. “Even when you've been naughty.”

“You promise?” You whimpered at him, closing your hands around his wrists.

“With everything in my heart and soul, Peanut.” Henry replied, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “If I didn't mean to take care of you, I never would have taken you home that day Kal and I found you.” He said, glancing down at the Bear, who dozed on the floor, at the foot of the table.

#Henry Cavill #Viking-Raider Fics #daddy!henry cavill x little!reader #Always Us #Always Us *fic* #Henry Cavill RPF #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfic #HenryCavill #Henry Cavill Fandom #Viking-Raider-TagList #Viking-Raider-Library #Fluff #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Daddy!Henry #Little!Reader

[jobean12-blog]

His

Pairing: Nick Fowler x reader

Word Count: 830

Summary: Your neighbor comes over to welcome you to the neighboorhood but your husband knows better. 

Author’s Note: This is for my lovely friend Lilo @sparkledfirecracker and her follower celebration: Lilo’s cheesy writing fest! Congratulations my love! You dserve them all and a million more! I used two of the quotes from the prompt list, they are bolded, and included some sweater fun- hopefully you guys know who our mystery neighbor is haha, thank you so much for hosting and hope you enjoy! The idea came from a gif that was shared in the thot neighborhood and my love @yarnforbrains said it was a Nick move and I couldn’t agree more! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you sweets! 

Warnings: sassy reader, possessive Nick, light dirty talk, fingering, choking, smut (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Gif NOT MINE: Credit goes to @buckysbarnes

Every step he takes is purposeful and in only a few long strides he closes the space between you and cages you against the wall.

“Did you answer the door like this?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

His eyes drop to the open buttons at the top of the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, before he runs his long fingers down the material.

“No,” you answer, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you lower your lashes. “I put this on after my bath.”  

Nick grabs your chin with his other hand and lifts your eyes, his fingers at the hem sliding underneath and teasing your skin.

“What did he want?”

“He just wanted some cream for his coffee but I told him we were out. He wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood too. He didn’t stay long.”

“Cream…and a welcome” he muses, his lips lifting into a sideways smirk.

You nod, your breath hitching when his fingers reach your bare hip and he squeezes hard.

“You let him into our house…when I wasn’t home.”

“Nick!” you whine. “He’s harmless. A bit of a pretentious asshole, but harmless! You should have seen his sweater!”

“So, you noticed his sweater?” Nick simpers as his hand leaves your hip and he starts to toy with the first closed button of the shirt. “I thought you only liked my sweaters.”

“I do! And the only reason I did notice was because his was ugly!” you huff. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

“Oh, I did sweetheart. And I saw the way he looked at you. At what’s mine.”

“What do you mean you saw?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

He purses his lips and gives you a pointed look as he slowly pops open the first button, his rough fingertips ghosting over your newly exposed skin.

You shiver, despite your annoyance and inability to deny the way his touch ignites your entire body.

“I have to be able to keep an eye on my wife at all times and it’s a good thing too now isn’t it.”

You roll your eyes and lift your chin defiantly.

“Don’t be mad angel,” Nick croons. “I have to protect what’s mine.”

With deliberate movements he continues undoing each button until the shirt hangs open. His knuckles caress your stomach and when he reaches your shoulders he pushes the material off. He tilts his head and reduces the space between you to nothing, lining his body up with yours so you can feel the hard press of his cock.

“If he ever touches you. If anyone ever touches you…,” he whispers as his heated gaze rakes over your naked skin.

He doesn’t finish the sentence and he doesn’t need to. You know what will happen and you can’t help the arousal that floods through you, your thighs squeezing together with a desperate rush.

He steps back with a smug smile, slowly unbuckling his belt until the leather hangs freely at his waist. You take a tentative step toward him, lifting your hands to the zipper of his pants but he grabs both your wrists and drags you against his chest.

“Nick,” you breathe out.

He presses your knees apart to skim his fingers up your inner thigh and dip them between, a satisfied hum rumbling in his chest.

“Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He teases your clit, rubbing light circles before he collects your arousal and slides his fingers through your folds.

“You love making me angry, don’t you?” he asks as he pulls his glistening fingers away and lifts them to his mouth.

Your lips part, your cheeky retort hanging off your tongue but the moment he starts to suck his fingers clean the only thing that comes out is a wanton moan.

His eyes close and he pulls his fingers free, dropping his hand between your legs again, whispering, “you taste like you do.”

He rests his forehead to yours and you’re unable to look away from his eyes when his dark lashes lift and he pushes two fingers inside you. You whimper his name, circling your arms around his neck and dragging your nails through his hair.

He walks you backward toward the couch and when your knees hit the edge his free hand grazes the base of your throat.

His fingers close around the delicate column and your mouth falls open with a strangled cry. Your hands fumble to get his pants open but he shoves you back onto the couch and pushes his fingers deeper.

“Did I tell you to touch?” he growls.

You try to shake your head no but you can’t, the strength of his grasp keeping you locked in place beneath him. He puts more pressure around your throat, your pulse hammering against his skin as he leans over and whispers a promise in your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

@book-dragon-13 @thebluemage @breakablebarnes @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @justile @jhangelface0523 @lookiamtrying @loricamebackyetagain @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @nano--raptor @weekendgothgirl @randomfandompenguin @turbolisedcomet @rebel-stardust @goldylions @loki-laufeyson-1054 @seitmai @peaches1958​ @lizette50

#nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler x female reader #nick fowler x you #nick fowler imagine #nick fowler fanfiction #nick fowler smut #nick fowler x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #liloscheesywritingfest

[revasserium]

31 days (nonconsecutive) of aus:

in a rather ill-fated attempt to write more au's and get my creative juices flowing, i'm challenging myself (and u, dear unfortunate stumble-uponer of this post, if you'd like) to write the below list of aus in no particular order -- please feel free to send in a request if you'd like to see a specific au with a specific character

coffee shop au; death before decaf, ft. roronoa zoro

angels and demons au

mafia au; after a gunshot wound, ft. leona kingscholar

peter pan au; the art of being lost, ft oikawa tooru

urban fantasy au

idol au

little red riding hood au; a hunter's heart, ft. roronoa zoro (gen fairytale!au but whatever)

roadside diner au

hogwarts au

college au

high fantasy au

mythology au

doors into other worlds au

writer and muse au

convenience store au

regency au

art heist au

sherlock holmes au

faery court au

goblin market au

online dating au

guardian of hell au

sandman au

spirited away au

impressionist movement au

fashion week au

superheroes au

1920s au

reincarnation au; the story of the fox and the firefly, ft. harry gray

assassin/hitmen au

roommates au; a story in reverse, ft. jamil viper

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #twst #twisted wonderland #writing prompts #ikemen series #blue lock #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ikemen prince #ikemen vampire #bllk x you #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikepri #ikevamp #31 days of aus #and yes im considering combining this with some of the things i already have in my reqs/drafts but!!! #also some of these got weird and im morbidly curious as to what other ppl might write based off this u__u so #pls lemme know if u write something based off this! :D #also hELLO ikemen fandom i know i've only writte one (1) thing but i promise there's more to come u__u

[late-to-the-party-81]

Take a picture [it will last longer]

AN: This is just filth. There we go. Porn with a smidge of plot. Enjoy!

Beta’d by the wonderful @endlesstwanted

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Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - 

@buckybarnesbingo k3: AU: Artist/Muse

@stuckybingo G1: Kink - Blindfolds

@steverogersbingo C1: Body Pose/Position Protocol

Build a Bucky Bingo by @buckybarnesevents: Jan: Dom Big Dick Bucky Barnes

Master list | BBB Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list | BaBB Master List

Summary: Bucky was just planning to spend the afternoon helping his sub get his body poses correct, and he wasn’t expecting to be so inspired. But when the muse hits, you have to follow. It’s a good thing his sub is the best boy ever, always wanting to please his dom.

Relationship: Dom Photographer Bucky Barnes x Sweet Himbo Sub Steve

Chapter word count: 4.2k

CW: Modern AU, D/S relationship, Sir/Boy dynamic, Himbo Twunk Steve, Dom Bucky, an Artist and his Muse, Blindfolds, Collaring, Leash, Submissive Body Positions, brief mention of exhibitionism, brief mention of semi-public sex, brief mention of Pet Play, Explicit Sexual Content, Safe Sane and Consensual, Pre-established relationship, Bucky Barnes POV

The shutter on his camera clicked as Bucky took a photo, then he shifted to the right, looking at the play of light across his canvas, and took another. This was the best idea he’d had in a few weeks, and now his mental juices were flowing: he could just imagine a book full of the classiest images. 

Not these ones, though. The ones he was taking now would be just for him to look at. If he went ahead with the idea, he’d have to actually set up a proper photoshoot with lighting and make-up, and maybe a few different models. At least, if he did that he wouldn’t be trying to take pictures with his cock trying to fight its way out of his pants.

A small whine broke the relative quiet, significantly louder than the subtle click of his camera, and Bucky lowered it to take in the sight in front of him without it being filtered through a viewfinder.

Steve, his beautiful golden retriever of a boyfriend, and the subbiest twunk he’d ever met, was positioned in front of him in the most delectable manner. A red blindfold was wrapped across his eyes, and other than the matching collar and lease, that was the only item of clothing he wore. He was positioned on his hands and knees - Table pose - back flat, abs tight and his heavy, half chubbed cock hanging towards the floor. And because he was in table pose, Bucky had decided to make use of him like that. Upon his back was a silver tray, which in turn held a flute of champagne. 

Steve had been holding that pose for five minutes now, as Bucky took his shots, but he was strong and Bucky knew he could manage for much longer than that.

When Bucky had decided that Steve needed to practise his poses this afternoon, he hadn’t intended to turn it into an impromptu photography session. But Steve was his muse, and inspiration had struck as soon as the muscular blond had adopted the Kneel pose, sitting back on his knees, back straight, chin up and hands palm down on his thighs. The afternoon light streaming in through the huge floor to ceiling windows had been perfect, casting highlights over Steve’s pale, freckled skin, corn coloured hair and blindfold that Bucky had placed on him.

And his boy was so good, because Bucky hadn’t had to say a word, hadn’t needed to command Steve to stay still and wait, as he’d briefly left the living room to acquire his favourite SLR from his study. Steve didn’t move a muscle, a perfect Sub just waiting for instructions.

After Kneel, Bucky had instructed Steve to adopt the Humble pose, and when he leaned forward, head resting on the back of his arms as he pressed them to the floor, his knees moved apart, showing off his tight hole, heavy balls and thick cock. Despite the fact that Steve must have known he was being photographed, he didn’t say a word. Such a good boy.

When Bucky had taken all the shots he wanted of Steve’s supplication, - the play of light across his muscles was extraordinary - he ordered him back onto his hands and knees, grabbed the end of his lease and had him crawl closer to Bucky’s arm chair. Once the right distance away, with just one word Steve shifted into the Stool position. Bucky sat down and raised his legs, his black, italian leather shoes settling right into the small of Steve’s back.

He carefully angled his camera so that the only part of himself in frame was those shoes. Juxtaposed with just how big Steve actually was, it just highlighted the submissive element of the pictures. Not that Bucky was small by any means, but Steve was a few inches taller and his muscles more defined. Bucky was thicker, a little heavier. Pure Dom. 

The Table pose had come after the Stool. Bucky had lost sense of how long they’d been going, but he knew that Steve was in that beautifully soft headspace, with how his movements between poses became a little more laggy each time as he tried to tune back in to what he was being told. 

He’d explained how it felt to Bucky once, that intoxicating headspace where everything was quiet, stress-free and comfortable, his mind wandering without any thought or desire other than to please his Dom.

However, they were almost done. Just one more pose for Steve to hold and then Bucky’s sweet boy, and Bucky himself, would get their reward. Bucky could hardly wait. They way Steve just gave it all up for him, whenever he asked, was a heady experience. 

When they’d first met, in a dingy gay nightclub in Manhattan, neither man had been looking for a relationship, just a quick hook-up. However, when Bucky had teased Steve back at the blond’s apartment calling him a ‘bad boy’, he’d suddenly looked so upset that Bucky had immediately known the young man had a praise kink as big as Staten Island. And if that didn’t just press Bucky’s buttons!

“Oh, you wanna be a good boy, huh?” he’d purred, with just a hint of derision. Steve had just nodded emphatically, lower lip between his teeth, but Bucky wasn’t having any of that. “Words, sugar.”

“I-I wanna be a g-good boy,” Steve had mumbled. Bucky had combed his fingers into the mess of golden hair, then sharply gripped it and pulled Steve’s head back, making him whine. “W-wanna be your good b-boy. S-Sir.”

Hearing the honorific fall from Steve’s lips had almost made Bucky blow his load in his pants then and there. “And does my good boy have a safe word?” Bucky’s excitement had been off the charts, but he’d tried to keep himself outwardly calm, maintaining his Dom aura.

“Queens,” Steve had stuttered. Bucky had leant forward, lips against Steve’s ear.

“What about a colour?” he’d asked with a nip to the soft lobe.

“Green, Sir. Oh God!”

What had transpired next had been the best sex Bucky had had in a long time. His favourite part had been when Steve had started to cry after the fifth time Bucky had denied him his orgasm while fucking him on his cock. He’d leant forwards and licked the salty tears from Steve’s face as he’d lain on his back, big hands holding his muscular legs bent and spread wide, trembling with need. Bucky swore that was the moment he fell in love. Or at least in deep, deep lust. Bucky had stayed the night, which was very unlike him, and when Steve had tentatively asked for his number the next morning, he’d found he couldn’t deny him that.

He’d spent the rest of the day in an artist’s haze, having taken hold of his camera straight after his shower once he’d returned home. He’d gone out on a walk and ended up taking photos of everything in sight, seeing them now highlighted with a radiance they hadn’t had the day before. Those photos had become the basis for a new series that he’d ended up displaying in the ICP, and also convinced him that maybe being in a proper relationship wouldn’t be so bad.

Now it was nine months later and Steve had moved permanently into Bucky’s penthouse apartment. Despite Bucky’s wealth and prosperity, Steve had insisted on keeping his job at the local gym as a class instructor and personal trainer, much to Bucky’s amusement. He liked that Steve was insistent on still maintaining his independence, and not acquiescing to Bucky’s attempts to make him a kept man. Also, Bucky would feel bad about depriving the world of Steve in tight shorts and spandex. He’d decided one day to surprise his lover and pick him up from his shift, and having arrived early, had snuck in to watch Steve finish off teaching his spin class.

However, the sight of Steve’s muscular thighs barely contained by his short shorts, the way the seat of the spin bike was being almost devoured by that sinful ass, and how his sleeveless tee was stained wet with fresh sweat, had almost destroyed his brain. He didn’t know whether he wanted to photograph Steve - which he knew he wasn’t allowed to do, anyway-, or drag him off the bike and fuck him right there on the floor - also not allowed. Instead, he’d settled for waiting for Steve to finish and then dragging him into the staff locker room, swallowing his cock down and fingering him until he exploded down Bucky’s throat. Steve had babbled incoherently the entire time, and had had to lean on Bucky very suspiciously as they made their way to the car.

Unlike some guys, Bucky wasn’t afraid to let other people see his boyfriend. He was secure in their relationship, knowing that Steve would never take up the blatant offers he regularly received; not only because Steve wasn’t like that, but also, half the time Steve had no idea that he was being flirted with - he just thought people were being nice. Bucky would shake his head and smile to himself.

Also, if Bucky had been jealous about other people seeing Steve, then he wouldn’t be able to indulge his passion for going to the local club. Steve was such a sweet Sub, it would have been heresy not to show him off. His skin was so naturally pale - thanks, Irish genetics - that when it turned it red, whether that was from embarrassment, tears, or a paddle, it just stood out all the more, and Bucky never failed to be struck by the beauty of it.

That was also the crux of it. Steve wasn’t just his lover or his Sub. Steve was also his muse. Whether it was Steve’s body that helped inspire him, or Steve’s delightful, almost naive way of looking at the world forcing him to see the mundane in a new light, Bucky had never been so prolific in his work. Which led them back around to how the current scene had shifted from Bucky’s original idea and gotten his creative juices going. This wasn’t the first time Bucky had photographed Steve during a scene, and he doubted it would be the last. There were already a few tasteful shots printed and framed on the walls of their bedroom.

Bucky set his camera down, lifted the tray from Steve’s back and placed it on their actual coffee table. The mahogany and glass piece of furniture had nowhere near as much beauty as Steve serving the same function. Before instructing Steve into his final and most demanding pose, Bucky picked up the champagne flute and took a mouthful of it - he didn’t want to waste it after all. However, he did decide to test his Sub’s control.

Walking around Steve, who was breathing slowly, his mouth slack, Bucky stopped once again by his ass. He then lifted his arm and tilted his hand, allowing a small amount of the champagne to stream downwards to hit the bottom of Steve’s spine and spill down his crack, over his hole, and drip off of his balls. And Steve, his perfect, perfect boy, didn’t move at all, only letting out a cross between a squeak and a moan as the cold liquid made contact with his warm skin. The sight was so erotic that Bucky didn’t even think of denying himself and just dropped to his knees, poking his tongue into the cleft of Steve’s ass to lick up the fizzing alcohol. Steve squeaked again, and Bucky’s cock twitched in reply. It was just a shame for Steve that he couldn’t see it.

Getting back to his feet, Bucky picked his camera back up and gave Steve the instructions for his final pose. 

“Steve. Wheel.” No further elaboration was required. Bucky began to shoot as soon as Steve started to move. He pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet. He raised his arms over his head and let himself bend backwards until his palms met the floor and his stomach was raised to the ceiling. His legs were spread, shoulder width apart for balance, and his cock dangled temptingly between them. Bucky circled him, still taking pictures, but also listening to Steve’s rhythmical breathing. Getting into this pose was no effort for Steve. The trick, though, would be holding it, and Bucky wouldn’t be the sometimes mean Dom that he was if he didn’t make it just a little trickier.

Bucky picked up the tray and carefully balanced it on Steve toned, flat abs. This time there was a reaction from Steve, albeit a very tiny one. Just the briefest of flinches as the cool metal touched his stomach. Bucky stroked his hand down Steve’s tensed thigh.

“Good boy. You’re doing so well for me. Almost done now.”

Steve whined, making Bucky’s smile broader. He took more pictures, making sure he’d gotten one from every angle, capturing every shaft of light and the way Steve’s leash had slid past his right shoulder to dangle and then coil onto the floor by his head. He zoomed in, capturing the peppering of sweat droplets on Steve’s brow. How one of his freckles was distorted through the salty liquid. There was a small tremor in Steve’s arms and thighs now - Bucky could see the muscles twitching. His boy had had enough. Bucky might be mean sometimes, but he never set Steve up to fail knowing how badly that would affect him. He capped his camera, placing it up on the bookshelf knowing he wouldn’t need it again today, and then removed the tray with its half full glass of champagne still on it. Leaving Steve where he was, he walked through to the kitchen, downed the rest of the alcohol and washed up the flute. Again, he didn’t hurry himself walking back through to the living room, and as he took in the vision that was Steve once more, he felt a rush of emotion. Love. Lust. Protectiveness. Joy. Steve gave him all of these things and accepted them back in return. 

“Steve, Kneel.” 

With a muted sigh, Steve let himself slip to the ground before righting himself and resuming the first position he’d adopted, back straight, his hands on his thighs. Bucky crouched in front of him and slowly removed the blindfold, adoring the way Steve blinked owlishly at him as his glassy eyes were uncovered. He was still fairly deep in subspace, despite the physical demands that had been placed upon him.

Bucky then took hold of the end of Steve’s leash and stood back up. “Heel.”

Steve hurried onto his hands and knees at Bucky’s side, keeping perfect pace as Bucky left the living room and made his way to the bedroom. Every time they did this, it strengthened the idea in his mind that Steve would look even more delectable with a pair of ears and a tail plug. Not just his boy, but his puppy. It would be very cute, and arousing, to see him humping a stuffy. However, that idea would have to wait for another day. For now Bucky needed to give his good boy a reward for all his hard work. 

He stopped by the end of the bed, Steve stopping immediately as well, and let the leash drop. He pulled his sweater over his head, placing it on top of the easy chair, and began to unbutton his shirt. Steve cocked his head to the side, his eyes widening and his cock started to fill out again as Bucky started to reveal his thick chest sprinkled with dark hair. Bucky undressed calmly - not too hurried, but not drawing it out either. Once he was naked, he stepped back close to Steve and cupped his face with his hand. Steve pushed his face against Bucky’s palm and spoke for the first time in over an hour. 

“Sir! I need you. Please.”

Bucky swiped his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone, captivated by the delicate fluttering of his long eyelashes - if he were a poet he’d write sonnets about those eyelashes. “I know, baby. You were so good for me. So very good. Now get up on the bed and present for me, sugar.” 

Steve eagerly obeyed, moving so fast he almost got tangled up in his leash, and assumed the position, face down ass up, holding himself open in record time. Bucky moved leisurely, climbing up onto the bed behind him and just giving himself a moment to just look at Steve. Really look at him.

The swathes of delicate pale skin pulled taut over firm muscles. The smattering of freckles that changed in number over the course of the year, depending on how much Steve’s skin was left uncovered. Steve’s face was turned to the side, his aquiline nose in stark profile against the dark sheets of the bed and his lips were pink and swollen from where he’d had bitten on them in anticipation of what was to come.

In a word, he was perfect.

Bucky reached out his right hand, extending his pointer finger and bringing it to the skin at the back of Steve’s neck, just under his collar, trailing it slowly down his body to swirl it over his dry hole. Steve shuddered and let out another needy whine. Bucky did it again, just to tease him.

“Sir, please!” The sound of Steve’s begging rolled over Bucky, the knowledge that Steve was choosing to put the power of his pleasure in Bucky’s hands making him dizzy. It was time to stop delaying.

He placed a grounding hand on the small of Steve’s back and leant over to open the top drawer, snagging the bottle of lube. “You need it so much, don’t you angel-boy?”

Steve nodded his head into the comforter, knowing the sound of the drawer being opened and sinking deeper into subspace in a Pavolvian response. Bucky flicked the cap open and allowed a generous dollop to fall onto Steve’s exposed hole, enjoying the shudder it elicited. He slid his pointer finger through the viscous liquid, both smearing it around and covering his digit. Happy that everything was well lubed, Bucky started to circle Steve’s ring of muscle, gently pressing on it and urging it to relax under his touch. He slid his free hand down to cup one of Steve’s pert ass cheeks, groping it lewdly.

An expert in Steve’s body by now, Bucky knew when to press his finger a little more firmly, a frisson of lust and power shooting through him as Steve’s ass opened and accepted the intruding digit. He thrust it back and forwards slowly but firmly, still working on getting Steve nice and loose. He let go of his boy’s ass check so he squirt a bit more lube, covering his second finger and tucking that in beside the first. Steve moaned deeply and his knees slid a bit further apart, opening and displaying himself even more.

Bucky curled his fingers and rubbed straight over Steve’s sweet spot, blatantly enjoying the feeling of power when Steve jerked as though zapped by electricity. As he continued to stroke over Steve’s prostate, his boy started to move his hips, fucking himself on Bucky’s fingers, lost in the pleasurable sensation of it all. Bucky swatted him on his ass, not hard enough to hurt, but harshly enough that the sting would pull Steve up a bit to a place where he could hear and follow instructions.

“Don’t come, baby. You come on my fingers, you don’t get my cock. You’ll just have to lie there as I jack off over your ass cheeks. I won’t even let you see.”

“No!” Steve exclaimed, a note of distress in his voice. “I’ll be good. I’ll be your good boy. I won’t come. I swear it.”

Bucky rubbed his free hand over the pale pink mark he’d left on Steve’s buttock, soothing his flesh. “Shh, shh, sweetheart. I know. I know you’re my good boy. I was just reminding you, because sometimes, when you’re deep in your soft place, you get a bit forgetful, yeah? My sweet boy.” Bucky took the opportunity to add a third finger and Steve jolted again.

“Sir!”

“Almost ready. Just a little bit longer and then I’ll fill you up. You did so well today. I won’t make you wait too long for your reward. Just got to make sure you’re ready for me. Remember your Sir is big.”

“‘M ready now,” Steve complained with a pout, but Bucky just swatted him again.

“You’re ready when I say you are. You aren’t normally a brat, so don’t start now.”

Steve buried his head into the comforter again, his ears turning pink with shame at Bucky’s words. “I’m a good boy,” he wailed in despair, but Bucky just continued to grin and saw his fingers in and out, nudging Steve’s prostate in a teasing, almost cruel manner. Steve shook and trembled under him, trying not to be too needy or come too soon. Both were apparently proving difficult, from the amount of squirming he was doing. However, Bucky took pity on him soon enough, his three fingers now moving easily. He pulled them from Steve’s body, missing the warm clutch of it but knowing that what was to come would be so much better, and wiped his hand on sheets. He took hold of his cock, adding some lube to it, and jacked himself a few times. He kept his gaze on Steve’s ass, his hands still spreading his cheeks wide and his now slack hole drawing him in.

“Here we go, sugar,” he drawled and he heard Steve draw in a deep breath and then exhale as he felt Bucky push against him. The head of his thick cock popped through the first ring, and Bucky hissed between his teeth as he felt himself consumed. With his hands curled around Steve’s hips, fingertips pressed into his cum gutters, Bucky rocked back and forth inching his way inside. They moaned in sync as he bottomed out and Bucky allowed himself another moment just to feel. This would never not feel like a religious experience and deserved the time to be fully appreciated. He couldn’t wait for long, though, especially when Steve was squeezing around him and letting out mewls of need.

He tightened his grip, part of him hoping to leave bruises that could be photographed beautifully tomorrow, pulled back and then trust back in, enjoying the wail that Steve let out. Bucky was like a man possessed, his brain taken over by the sensations around him. The feel of Steve on his cock. The sound of Steve’s punched out moans. The sight of Steve’s fluttering eyelids, slack mouth and needy hole clinging to him. The taste of his own sweat as it pearled on his upper lip as he drove forward. The smell of sex in the air, heavy and musky.

When Bucky slid his right hand from Steve’s hip to grasp at his cock, Steve’s hips began to buck, fucking into his Dom’s fist and back onto his cock. He was so gone, and Bucky was feasting on it. Photographing Steve earlier had been a form of edging himself, and Bucky was ready to come. Ready to fill up Steve until he was leaking.

He jerked at Steve’s cock, bringing him right to the edge, and then just letting him stay there for a heartbeat. Then for a second.

“Come for me, baby. Come now. Then I’ll fill you up, just the way you like.”

Steve obeyed him like he always did, wailing into the bedclothes - squirting over them too - and spasming around Bucky’s cock, squeezing him, near strangling him. Bucky roared as he followed Steve over the cliff, his balls tightening and his cock spurting out rope after rope of cum into Steve’s warm channel. 

Bucky collapsed over Steve’s back, his hands taking some of his weight, and pressed kisses to the back of Steve’s neck. He really didn’t want to pull out yet, but he should so he could start on the aftercare his boy needed and deserved. With a groan he pushed himself up, but then stopped. Steve, despite the fact that he was lying with his eyes closed, lost in his own little world, was still holding his ass cheeks apart, which gave Bucky an unobstructed view of his puffy rim which was now dribbling with his own spend. In that moment Bucky cursed himself for leaving his camera in the other room as this - this - was a picture perfect moment. However, it couldn’t be helped. 

As Bucky got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom to clean up and grab a washcloth to do the same for Steve, all he could think was that they’d have to do this again, and next time he would have his camera. His tired dick gave a feeble twitch at the thought, making Bucky snort.

For now, though, he needed to get back to Steve, clean him up, pull him in for cuddles, and start bringing him back to reality. Pictures could wait for another day.

Tag list: @km-ffluv @wheezy-stucky @christywrites @alexakeyloveloki @doasyoudesireandlive @galactusdevourerofworlds @crayongirl-linz

#stucky fic #stucky au #buckybarnesbingo2023 #steve rogers bingo #stucky bingo #build a bucky bingo 2023 #steve rogers x Bucky Barnes

[mysticaldeanvoidhorse]

Forged in Love

Hephaestus x Aphrodite!reader

Page break credits @firefly-graphics

Master list

Part 9

taglist: @streets-in-paradise @floraroselaughter @stitchattacks

taglist open :)

     When you returned, you filled Athena in, per her insistence.  You didn’t tell her everything, saving some just for yourself.  She was very encouraging, saying that this seemed a wise match.  You had tentatively thought so as well but hearing it confirmed by the goddess of wisdom helped to seal matters in your mind.  The only thing stopping you was that you still didn’t know him very well, he was very guarded, though you knew enough to know he was more open with you than anyone.  And that made you feel really good.  Funny how you were the goddess of feelings (more or less), yet this guarded man who didn’t let anyone in made you feel better than all those who constantly tried.  The irony was not lost.  It was funny to you how you had thought he was a recluse who was not worth anyone's time, whenever you thought about him which wasn't much, until you met him just once.  However, was this a good idea?  Rushing into a marriage with someone who you hardly knew, even if he seemed like the best option?  Was another god you knew better a good idea? You were running out of time.

“The truth is, you don’t have much time to decide.  Hera likes the idea and would bless this marriage.  I am unsure if she would bless anyone else for you.  And though her marriage isn’t something to aspire to, her blessing is still very much needed.”  Athena had told you, after you confessed your doubts.

“I understand that, but is he too good to be true?”

“Everyone is on their best behavior in the beginning to be sure, but you know the other gods and they are not options.”

“But what if he turns out to be the worst of them all?”  You were starting to panic.

“It is true you do not know him well, but what does your heart say?  You of all of us would know best if love can be found from the both of you.”  You were silent for a moment, unsure what the truth was.  You thought you knew the answer but were scared in case you were wrong.  The last thing you wanted was to be trapped and even if he was a wonderful choice, you were still being forced regardless.

“Listen to me, my friend.”  She started again.  “You can talk to him and make it clear what you expect once you are married.  If not love, something where you do not hate each other. Find an agreement you can both live with so being together is not a nightmare.  I don’t want to see you wither away like Hera.”  She gave you a sad smile, and hugged you then left.  You had a lot to think about.

     A few weeks had passed and you realized that no matter what, this was going to happen.  So you needed to talk to Hephaestus and make sure you were on the same page like Athena had suggested.  He had agreed to meet at his forgery once again, not liking to leave and though you felt at a disadvantage you knew the location wouldn’t matter; the conversation was going to be difficult regardless.

“Hello Hephaestus”  You started, a little awkwardly.  He had brought you to another balcony overlooking yet another lovely piece of land that stretched for miles.  You mused to yourself how lovely it would be to spend many days out here.

“What can I do for you?”  Not one to beat around the bush, not that you had expected it of him.

“Honestly, it is a little awkward, but I think we need to talk about this forced marriage.”  His expression darkened just a bit, or maybe you imagined it.

“What about it?”  He asked, in a deeper, not as friendly tone.

“I guess I wanted to make sure that this is what you want, and if it is, what our expectations of it are.”

“Expectations?”

“Yes.”  

“Such as?”  He lifted an eyebrow.  His was an intense gaze, and the only one you ever felt the need to shy away from.  Any other god you could flirt your way around it, but not him.  You couldn’t be fake with him, even if you tried. And you didn’t want to

“I am not naive to think that though we are… getting along right now, that we still don’t know each other very well.  And I don’t want to wake up one day knowing that not only do me and my husband not get along, but that we could hate each other.”  Again no expression.  What you would give to know his mind.

“Like my mother.”  Interesting that this was the first time you had heard him refer to Hera as mother.

“Yes.”  You hated to admit it, but you feared turning into her one day.  Locked away, barely surviving, hated by her husband, respected by none.  The thought alone made you shudder.

“What is it that you want of me?”

“I want…that is I-”  You didn’t know what to say.  

“Do you want a companion?  A friend?”  He took a step closer.

“Well yes, but-”  Another step.

“You want someone who you can get along with and live amicably with?”  Another step.  He was so close you could reach up and kiss him if you wanted.  The thought shocked you.  Where had that thought come from?  And why was it the only one in your mind?

“Or do you want passion, love, fire?”  His eyes bore into your own.  You would be lying if you said you didn’t like the intensity.

“I am the goddess of love, of course I want that.”  You whispered.

“And you are worried you won’t find that…with me?”  You couldn’t read his emotions but thought that maybe there was some sadness in his eyes.

“I’m scared, Hephaestus.”  He nodded, smiling sadly, and began to back away.  The moment you couldn’t feel his heat you reached for and grabbed both his arms to which he instantly tensed up.  But you noticed he didn’t back away.  “I am scared that I won’t yes, but having met you, I am scared that I might actually get all that I want.”  He slowly brought his arms to wrap around yours.  “I am scared that you are too good to be true and once this.. Connection, this spark dies down, we will be left with nothing.  So my hope is that at the very least we can live together amicably, as you say.  That I won’t hate my very existence knowing that you grow tired of me.  That I am not at all what you want.  That you will resent me for forcing you into this marriage.”  You hadn’t admitted half of this to yourself and yet it was all the truth.  He had a way of making you be honest with yourself, a good trait since love can blind.

“This is what bothers you?”  He searches for more but does not find it.

“Yes.”  You barely whisper.

“Then let me tell you my fear.”  No sound could be heard, you held your breath knowing that whatever he was about to say would change everything.

“I fear that you are going into this blindly.  That you see an option that is the best of the worst, and will quickly change your mind and feelings.  That you will see me for what I am.”  It had hurt you to know he thought you so trivial but you knew that it was also in your nature; you were emotional and emotions change and are fleeting.

“I know that I am trivial,  but I have changed a lot.  I cannot promise I won’t become more sound, that is who I am; I am Emotion.  But I can tell you that love will not change.  Will I get upset, go crazy?  Most definitely.  But love..that does not change.”  You knew whether you loved him or not, but knew it was not the time to say yes or no to it.   “And I do see you for who you are.”  You could tell he wanted to pull away, so you moved closer, so that the rest of your bodies were practically touching.

“I see a man who has so much more to offer than others see.  More than he himself sees.  A man who would help out a complete stranger and have next to no expectations of her.  Someone who is always doing things for others and thinks he deserves nothing in return.  I see a man with so much to offer but is so humble.  I see a man that I could easily love.”  His coal eyes had a flicker of fire and you thought it was the most beautiful thing.

“Is that truly what you see?”  He asked in such a vulnerable way, your heart ached.

“I see so much more.”  Your hand reached to cup his face.  He visibly relaxed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Then I think your fears are unfounded.”  You smiled.

“I think yours are too.”

#Forged in Love #aphrodite x hephaestus #Hephaestus!Bucky #hephaestus greek god #hephaestus x aphrodite!reader #Hephaestus #aphrodite!reader #Aphrodite #Greek Mythology #greek fanfic #Greek Myth Fanfic #greek myth retellings

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of March. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) We Were Starving | Explicit | 1835 words

Louis has a run-in with another Alpha. Harry reminds him who he belongs to.

2) Lucky Once, Could Be Lucky Again | Explicit | 2676 words

Louis has been letting the rich and famous knot him for cash since he found himself walking out on the lavish lifestyle of his rockstar future mate. Life throws him a curveball when his booking service calls him with a request for the most exclusive, high end omega escort in the city for a very important client. That client is one of the most famous alphas in the world. Harry Styles. The rockstar he walked away from.

3) Fireflies | Not Rated | 4183 words

Anyone who has ever worked or interacted with Louis always deemed him to be a stereotypical, powerful and intimidating Alpha - with his over dominating presence, confidence, and the way he speaks with so much conviction.

It does not help that Louis is an extremely private person, never talking about his friends and family, his weekends or vacations. Everyone just assumed that Louis, an unbelievably unbearable and bossy Alpha, hadn’t been able to bond with an omega yet. Of course, rumors flew around the office.

That is, until, Louis attended his company’s annual dinner with his Alpha, Harry.

4) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?”

Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.”

Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.

5) Choices | Explicit | 6671 words

Louis chooses everything Harry does to him.

6) In This World, It's Just Us | Explicit | 12839 words

Harry is Louis' older brother's best friend. Harry and Louis are in a secret relationship.

7) Where I End and You Begin | Explicit | 42730 words

“You know you’re kind of a brat,” Harry muses, eyes firmly on Louis as he leans back crossing his arms over his chest.

Louis smirks, “You’re not the first one to say that big boy, but I’ve learned to take it as a compliment.”

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.

Harry’s brain repeats to himself while Louis glides a hand across his face.

He’s so screwed.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry. #blp #fic rec #blp fic recs

[writingcold]

Hi!  Here we are at Chapter Two!  If you’ve not read the previous chapter, you can find the Master List for B & W here.  We might still be in setup mode, but you’ll want to start at our first part to get into our lovely characters.

Chapter two finds our new shop girl, Cora, in a bit of a bind.  There is more character background and story building in this piece.  Please be patient!  There’s a lot to build here!   

**This is a piece of fiction.  I have put in a lot of work researching, writing, rewriting, editing, tossing it all and starting over.  I do not know the guys of GVF.  They became my muses for this long ass story.**

Thanks to @whitesuitjake for the Jake edit in the cover.

Thanks to @gardensgatedaisy and @lvnterninthenight - Britt and Bobbie, ilysm.  Thank you for all your support. (You’re probably getting tired of me thanking you, but too damn bad.  Y’all are fucking amazing.)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Content Warnings: None.  Just some pain and injury. Of course, language, mentions of drinking, smoking.  It is the 1920’s.

Word count: approx. 5700

Chapter Two: Wounds and New Friends, Cora’s POV

     The end of day three of her trial week found Cora standing in the alley peeling away the shoe of her left foot.  She had landed wrong coming off one of the ladders, pressing the back of her tight shoe into the thick skin of her heel.  The cut was made worse from ten hours of standing, with the back of the shoe digging further into the wound.  Walking had become excruciating due to the bruising.  Her legs trembled as she fished her handkerchief from her handbag and wrapped it around her heel.  She bared her teeth as she tried to push her foot back into the shoe, but sucked in a loud groan when her foot just would not accept the prison of leather.

     “Hey there,”  a masculine voice called out from the street.  “Need help?”

     She wiped at her face, hoping that Daniel did not see the pain.  “I’m fine, thank you.  Just a cut.”

     Mr. Daniel Wagner, from what she was able to discern from her past few days, was close with all the Kiszka brothers, but he was particularly close with the youngest, Samuel.  His lean frame entered the alley slowly, his near black eyes taking in her condition.  He pushed back his hat as he bent, hands held behind his back so as not to intimidate her with his closeness.  He was dressed in pressed slacks, dress shirt and vest, his jacket folded in his hands.  Cora was unsure of what his duties at the store were, but he always seemed to be working in several areas of the store and office. 

     “That is not good, Miss Janas,”  he said with a sympathetic nod.  “Come on.  Let’s get you situated.  Sam’s good with these things.”

     He bent and picked up the shoe then assisted her towards the back of the building.  Cora had not been to the area, keeping to the store only, and certainly not the dancehall, though the music that flowed out into the street was always interesting.  The garage had three wide carriage doors, all of which were open to allow the cooler evening air in.  The deep red brick was neatly kept, but the cavernous inside looked chaotic with tools and shelves full of metal and parts she had no idea what could be in existence for, and the smell of oil and gasoline hung heavy.

     “Sammy!”  Daniel called out as they approached a garage.  “Sammy, I need you.”

     Samuel Kiszka was an anomaly - he wore his hair longer, but yanked back under his hat so that it bunched up against his shirt collar.  His face was always rich with thought, like he was working out complex problems that she would never hope to understand.  His lanky frame was not as tall as Daniel’s, but he seemed to be too big for his actual size.  He was dressed in tweed trousers and an undershirt with his suspenders hanging down on his waist.  The moment he saw her, he ripped the suspenders up and over his shoulders, disappearing for a moment, only to return as he was drawing a jacket across his torso.

     “Sorry, Miss Janas.  Was working on the Earl - I mean the automobile,”  Sam replied, his warm eyes drifting down to her foot that she gingerly was standing on the ball of her foot.  “Oh, that’s awful.  Daniel, bring her in.  Let’s get that cleaned up.”

     “Really, it’ll be fine,”  she insisted even as Daniel tugged at her to move towards a chair in the corner.  “I need to be getting home.”

     “On that foot - I don’t think so.  Besides, do you really want to walk home?  You’ll get blood all over your lovely shoes,”  Sam said with a grin.

     Before she could stop him, he had a knife out and cut the thick brown stockings at the calf to slowly pull away from the wound.  She let out a yip and couldn’t take her foot away if she tried, Sam had her leg in the vice of his large hand.

     “What?”  he asked without even looking up at her.

     “These are…  were my only pair,”  she whispered, eyes on the discarded piece of stocking.

     “You can buy another pair from the shop,”  Sam remarked without a glance at her.

     “I don’t have the money,”  she whispered as her stomach stabbed with embarrassment.

     Daniel’s hand came down on her shoulder.  “We’ll get you over to my Molly’s house.  I’m sure she has a spare pair that you can have.”

     “But I really need to get home,”  she started, but her jaw dropped as Sam brought up a rag pressing it to the wound.

      He shook his head.  “Damn sister, it’s like you sliced the whole of your heel in these things.  Danny, go grab me some water, please.”

      Daniel disappeared for a few minutes while Sam leaned back on his haunches and pulled a silver cigarette holder from his pocket.  He held one to her in offering, but she shook her head.  Her mother did not like the habit, so she had never tried.  He struck a match and lit his own as his eyes squinted at her foot.  With the water retrieved, he set into cleaning away the dried and fresh blood with a look of seriousness.  

     “Well, you’re lucky there’s no sign of infection,”  he said quietly, dabbing at the heel.  

     “Sammy, how’s my baby…”  A fourth voice, full of smoothness, stopped as his heels hit the cement of the garage.  “What the hell boys?  What’s going on here?”

      Cora looked up to see Jacob, hand on one hip, face surprised, not in a good way.  The dark button up and vest strained under the crisp linen of his suit.  She recoiled, bringing her hands tighter against her abdomen like she could disappear.  In the few days of working in the store, she noticed that any time that man was around, the air grew tense, like fabric pulled too tight.  He was typically quiet.  When he did talk it was low, almost hidden, and usually only to the eldest of the clan.  The other shop girl, Renee, no matter what she was doing, would drop away and find something in the opposite direction of the store to do.  She said that Jacob had an awful temper and to just steer clear.

     “She’s hurt, Jake,”  Sam remarked without looking up from his work.

     “I caught her in the alley trying to fix it herself,”  Daniel said, moving closer to her.

     The man’s dark eyes swung from Samuel to Daniel to Cora and she could not stop the visible flinch.  The silence that followed made even Sam stop in his actions.

     “She’s Josh’s new shop girl,”  he said quietly, each word punctuated with a tightness that felt like a hard drum.

     “Not news to us, brother,”  Samuel remarked, finally looking up at his older brother.  “She’s hurt, Jacob.  We’re not keeping her here against her will or anything.”

     Cora blinked hard, trying not to crumble under the man’s attention like she did something wrong.  She tried to tug her leg back.  Sam held it firm, shooting her an annoyed expression.  The curse that fell from Jacob’s mouth made her blush.  His mouth fixed into a fine line as his eyes narrowed at her.  

     “Get her home,”  he said firmly.  “Don’t need any worried mamas coming round here.”

     “Gotta take her to Molly’s first, Jake,”  Daniel said with a nod.

     The flare of incredulousness that washed over him made him seem all the scarier. “Why’s that?”  

     “Had to cut her stocking away.  It was her only pair,”  Samuel said quietly, as he bent to inspect the wound closer.

     “Then take her back into the shop,”  Jacob scolded.

  ��   “Jake,”  Danny said softly, shaking his head.

     Jacob’s dark eyes landed directly on her as if seeing through her.  Cora tried to make herself as small as possible.  Once he had her gaze however, she could not look away.  The hard set of his mouth and jaw made her visibly shudder.  She watched as he dropped his gaze, tugging his hat off to smooth his hair back.  The brown wave that he immediately hid once more caught her attention.  Unlike his twin who kept his hair short, with soft curls, Jacob’s was longer in the front to slick back in the more current style.  Faded sunshine struck him, making the dark brown brighten and soften his edges for a moment.  A moment she took note that there was something beyond the anger that prickled beneath his skin.  Cora felt the fear of his thunder drain away for seconds, taking in how he held himself in a tight form, but his eyes on her - surely his visage of her did not hold concern?  He took the corner of his mouth between his teeth before retreating and pushing back an air of annoyance.

     “Fine.  Take the Kissel.  Get her to Molly’s, but do not linger.  I mean it, you two,”  he said in a hard voice.  “Get her home and get your asses back here.  Josh is not going to like this.  At all.”

     “Does he have to know?”  Sam remarked as the elder brother began walking away.

     “Don’t be a wise ass, Samuel,”  Jacob called out in a path of smoke.

     Cora finally took a full breath.  “Really, I can make it home on my own, fellas.  I’ll be fine.”

     “Committed now, babe,”  Samuel said, rising up to cross the garage to a cabinet. He returned with thin material and a small jar of salve.  “We’ll get you over to Molly’s and get you home.  Josh won’t bluster at us too bad.”

     “I just don’t want to cause trouble,”  she said quietly.

     “No trouble, doll. Let us handle it,”  Daniel said, calm oozing from him to surround her.  

     She winced as he first smeared a large fingerful of the strong scented balm across the wound, then watched quietly as Sam wrapped her foot tightly before trying to get the shoe back on.  It stung a little, but admittedly it felt much better.  She followed them to an auto that was out back of the garage.  The polished silver sedan was the fanciest car she had ever seen.  Samuel held the door open for her and helped her inside before sliding into the front seat next to Daniel.  Before she knew it, they were in the nest of bungalows that she had tried to tell her mother about.  Even in the long shadows of the early evening, her eyes dragged across each of the neat little box-like buildings.  They rolled to a jerky stop, catching Cora off guard and causing her to rock back against the seat with a thud.

     Samuel held his hand out for her as he opened her door, assisting her out of the car like she was special.  She followed the two towards the small home, painted a bright blue with white trim.  The door flew open to let out a soft looking woman who wrapped herself about Daniel like no one was watching.  The musical laughter made her blush as they kissed in front of her.

     “Molly, this is Miss Janas.  She’s the new shop girl,”  Danny said, finally giving her a reprieve from her blush.

     The look the woman gave to Daniel was one of surprise.  Cora hobbled a bit up the walk, catching the eye of Molly immediately.  “Please, I’m Cora,”  she said, attempting a smile.

     “I destroyed her stockings,”  Samuel replied leaning in to kiss Molly on the cheek.  “I’m hoping you can help.”

     “What do you mean ‘destroyed’, Samuel.  Do I need to straighten you out for something you did to this little lady?”  she said with a lot of sass, but a hardness in her eyes that let Cora know she was serious.

     “No, ma’am.  Miss Cora hurt her foot,”  Samuel said with a shake of his head.  “Your knight rescued her from the alley and brought her to me.  We thought maybe you could share a pair?”

     Molly’s quick smile and bright eyes were immediately disarming.  She nodded and waved the three inside.  “I’m sure I have something that will work for you.  And perhaps we can get you gussied up, baby.  I can’t believe Joshua allows you to wear that in his store.”

     “He asked if I could get another dress, but I needed to make money first,”  she said, embarrassed as the words fell from her mouth.

     Molly stopped cold with a hard look.  “Please tell me he didn’t just give you a week’s trial?”

     “Yes - a week’s trial and if I do well -”

     Molly groaned with a finger point at Sam.  “I’m telling you, that little brat may have charm on his side, but I swear, one of these girls someday is going to put him in his place.  Let’s see if it’s you, Miss Cora.”

     She looked back at Samuel and Daniel as the woman pulled her by the hand towards the front door.  Molly grumbled about her being like the perfect kind of skinny and how she would kill to have the ability to wear any form of drop waist without the boobs getting in the way.  

     She was met instantly with the scent of lilac as she stepped gingerly up the stairs, onto the narrow porch and into the home.  It had four rooms and a bath.  The luxury of the idea of four rooms with a bath - running water, no outhouse - for one person made her look upon Molly like she was the richest person in town, though she knew it was not true.  The plain white and wood clad walls were warm as the curvy dancer dragged her to the back bedroom with a snap of electric light. 

     Cora’s eyes popped at the amount of clothing the woman had strewn about the small bedroom.  These were not just day dresses, they were dancing girl glad rags that made her blush at how much leg would show if she donned such an item.  Each was covered with adornment such as splashes of sequins and crystals, and beadwork that she had never seen in person, just on the picture show screen.  She was relieved when Molly opened a wardrobe to reveal modern, yet much more modest attire.  

     “If you plan on getting past this week's trial, you’re going to need this one,”  she said with a confident nod.  She pulled out a dusty colored tan skirt with an emerald under top and a smart little jacket that was the same color as the skirt.  “Now, it’s not too flashy, but just enough so that Joshua will notice that you are attempting to fit into his shop.”

     Cora gazed at the garment with a kind eye.  Molly was right, the green would be the snap, but the tan would dull down that overall look to be more suitable.  Just as she was to thank her, Molly was back to the wardrobe, pulling out a soft rose colored blouse and matching cream colored jacket that also matched the skirt.  The grin that tugged at her mouth before throwing it at her was full of playfulness.  

     “One more,”  she said with a nod.  “This one will be for Jacob.”

     “Pardon?”  Cora stumbled as Molly was combing through the pieces.

     “Oh, honey.  I know a Jake girl when I see one,”  she laughed.

     Cora straightened.  Her mouth opened but nothing came out, until she finally swallowed hard.  “I - I don’t know if I understand what you’re implying.”

      Molly stopped in her search to look at her, bottom lip in between her teeth.  The coy gleam in her eye sparkled.  “Look, doll.  I’m just saying that Jacob, for the hardass that he can be, has a type, and you certainly are it.  Wispy, pretty, smart.  His trifecta.”

      She squinted her eyes at Cora for a long moment waiting to see if there was an argument to be made.  Cora decided to remain quiet, feigning interest in a baby blue skirt that was laid out on the bed, full of crystals and sequins.  Molly turned her back once more, resuming her search.

      “Ha!  This,”  she cooed as she pulled out a drop waist dress that was clearly too small for her lush curves.  “This is what you need to wear on Saturday.  You hear me?  Save it for the last day of the trial.”

     Molly held up a dark blue chiffon overdress with a waist that would reach just below mid thigh.  There was black trim that boxed out the neckline and at the wrists and hem.  The underdress was a rich jeweled blue silk, with embossed flowers of colors blended in the blue, that would only peek out when she moved. Down the sleeves and up both sides were embroidered floral designs with tiny glass beading.  It looked luxurious compared to anything that she had ever worn before.  Cora took the garment with care as she could not help but close her eyes at the feel of the expensive fabric.  Molly had a pair of thin stockings in one hand and thicker brown in the other, waiting for Cora to catch up.

      “I can’t pay you for this, Molly,”  she said quietly, a flame of shame crossing her cheeks.

      “It’s fine, doll.  You’ll owe me nothing more than getting through that trial and getting Joshua to hire you permanently,”  the woman said with a grin.  “Shoes.  Those damn things cut you up because they’re too small.  These will do you better.”

      Soft leather mary janes greeted her when she looked down at the woman’s next offerings.  Tears struck her cheeks, hot and fat as her breath caught.

      “Aren’t you just the sweetest,”  Molly drawled, wiping at Cora’s cheeks with a rough thumb.

      “Jake was serious about hurrying up,”  Sam called.  “I don’t need him to switch me.”

      “When are you going to realize that you’re bigger than he is, Samuel?”  Molly called, helping her to fold all the items neatly.  “Give him a little chin music one time and I’m telling you - he’ll back down.” 

      Cora rolled her lips into her mouth to keep from smiling.  

     “Crack him once and he’ll put lead in my belly,”  Sam jabbed back.  “Come on.  It can’t be that hard.  We gotta go.”

      Molly rolled her eyes, but relented.  The two women strolled out, the new shoes on her feet felt more like pillows than shoes.  Daniel and Sam were already waiting at the door for her, shooing her along outside.  In a repeat at the garage, Samuel held his hand up for her as he held the door open.  He grinned as Daniel started the car and they rumbled out of town in a hurry.

     Between the jumps, bumps, and sways, Cora felt like her backside would be bruised.  She held onto her newly acquired treasures tightly so as not to lose them in the darkness of the seat.  Her heart fluttered as they made turns and curves in the near black of the evening with only two very dim lights to lead the way.  She wondered how Daniel could see anything, but thought it was best to be left unasked.  They had her home in a quarter of the time that it would have taken if she had walked.  As they rolled to a loud stop, she saw her mother and younger siblings stream out of the tiny cottage they called home.  

      With flair, Samuel slid out from his seat and made a big deal of helping Cora out and ensuring that she had all of her items before closing the door.  He assisted her to the front of the car before she looked up at him.

     “Thank you for this,”  she said quietly.  “Please tell Daniel I appreciate him, too.  That was the bee's knees.  Truly.  I’ve never been in an automobile before.”

     He smiled at her, his dark eyes catching a bit of the light from the lights of the house.  “We’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss Cora.”

     She smiled at the formal tone as he turned back to the automobile.  The look on her mother’s face was distrustful and angry.  She tried not to limp as she walked towards her family, but by the time she reached the door, the littles were swarming her and nearly took her down as the pain flared in her foot.

     “That better not become a habit, Cora,”  her mother scolded before turning and heading inside.

     “Yes, Mama,”  she said, looking over her shoulder as Sam and Danny disappeared into the distance.

     “I suppose there is a reason for that nonsense,”  Rosemary continued.  “Honestly.  Riding in an automobile with two strange men.”

     “Mr. Kiszka and Mr. Wagner are respectable gentlemen, Mama,”  Cora said as she sat her outfits down on the table to remove her jacket.  “They were only helping me out.”

     “And why is that?”  she asked as she pulled the pot of beans off the woodstove.  

     Cora’s eyes went to the hand-me-down shoes that were on her feet as if she could guide her mother to notice.  “I cut my foot on my oxfords.  They helped me and did not think I needed to walk home because of the injury.”

     Her mother paused as she started dishing out bowls of the thick mush.  “What did they expect in return?”

     “What?”  Cora sat up straight, her face blushing at the connotation.

     “You come home in an expensive auto, with two men.  One of your stockings is cut away.  You have new clothes and shoes.  What am I supposed to think?”  her mother said with a hard edge.

     She placed her hand on the clothes protectively.  “Mr. Samuel patched up my foot, Mama.  That was all.  It was an act of kindness.  Friendship.”

     Her mother shook her head and called out for the children to get to the table.  Cora stood and moved her items into the shared bedroom of the family before joining them once again at the table.  There was no sound as they prayed, ate, and left the meal finished.  Junie was sullen as she dried the dishes next to Cora who was washing.  Their mother was in the other room, settling down the youngest of the brood.

     “I’ve met him,”  Junie whispered, looking to make sure their mother did not hear.

     “I cannot believe that she is making you do this, Junie,”  Cora remarked, not really caring if her voice could be heard or not.  “It’s not right.  I should be the one she’s trying to get rid of, not you.”

     Junie shrugged at her.  “But I can’t work like you.  We all know that, big sister.  She’s going to keep you for as long as she can.  She’s even got you convinced that you have to support this family when, really, you can be anywhere and we’d be just fine.”

     Cora knew that she had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, but she could not fathom a reality that allowed for her to not be ensuring her family be taken care of.  

     “Will you show me your new rags?  I love the shoes,”  she cooed as she set the bowls in a stack on the table for the next day’s meal.

     “You said you met Mr. Archer?”  Cora asked after she checked over her shoulder.

     “He seems like he is quiet,”  Junie whispered.  “His children are mean.”

     “You don’t have to do this, Junebug,”  she said as her heart dropped into her belly.

     “I don’t have the same prospects as you do, Cora.  This is my one chance to alleviate hardship on this family.  I can do my part,”  she said quietly.

     “You had better wash that whore perfume out of those clothes tonight,”  their mother remarked as she sat back down at the table.

     “Yes, Mama,”  Cora said as she grabbed the wash basin to move outside.  “Junie, can you get the clothes please?”

     It would give her a reason to show the girl the outfits that otherwise would have to wait until she actually wore them.  Junie retrieved the clothes and the washboard on her way outside.  

     “They smell like lilacs,”  Junie said dreamily.  

     “Her whole house smelled like that,”  Cora said as she tried to explain what had happened and the woman who was so very generous with her clothes.

     “What does Molly do that she can have the ability to just give away clothing like this?”  Junie chirped, her fingers lingering on the dark blue fabric of the outfit she was to wear on Saturday.

     Cora looked at the propped open door and found that her mother stood just inside, watching the girls chatter.  Swallowing, she started to drag the tan skirt across the bumps of the board.

     “Go ahead and tell her what your new friend does for her money, Cora,”  her mother said firmly.  “I’d like to know as well.”

     Thinking back on the brief time she had with Molly, she realized that what Molly actually did to earn her way never was broached.  The clothing was that of a night life - flapper attire with pretty crystals and glitz that she was sure the woman was probably the most glamorous woman in town.  “I’m going to assume that she works in the dancehall, Mama.”

     “You know what kind of women work in the dancehall, Cora,”  Rosemary said sharply.

     “Doesn’t mean that they cannot be friends,”  Cora said just as sharp, her eyes hard.  “She was a lovely woman who was willing to help me.  That means in turn, she has helped this family.  That counts for something.” 

     “Junie, to bed now,”  her mother demanded.

     “She’s going to be a married woman, Mama, perhaps she needs to hear this conversation,”  Cora remarked, swishing the skirt in the water.

     “Cora,”  her mother fumed.

     “You can’t call someone a whore just because they work in the dancehall,”  she said firmly.  “And I, for one, will not fault a woman for doing what she needs to in order to survive.  Especially in this world of men.”

     “Remember that when it has to be your mother, sister or yourself,”  Rosemary said in a hard voice.  

     “If marriage is your only reason for women to be allowed to be close to men or have sex, then there really is no real difference between a married woman and a whore and no reason to look upon either differently.  Both must survive within the confines of men and the structure they provide,”  Cora continued, voice matching her mother’s as she started wringing the skirt out into the basin.

     Junie’s mouth dropped open at her sister’s brashness.  Cora held her ground, not liking that her mother did not have trouble looking down her nose at a woman who was doing what she could to live, no different than themselves with their family.  Rosemary stood with her painfully thin arms folded across her chest.

     “Junie, to bed now, girl,”  her mother ordered before turning her back on her daughters.  “Cora, I would think that perhaps you should whet your tongue a bit and feed your brain in reality before you run your mouth off again on matters you have no idea what you speak of.”

     Hanging the skirt on the line, she set into washing the rest of the items.  When her hands wrapped around the dark blue number, her eyes rolled closed.  Molly had called her a Jake girl.  She had said that she was his ‘type’.  She had no idea what any of that meant other than perhaps that she could catch his eye.  Perhaps that would mean that she could make him smile?  Samuel and Daniel were quick to laugh with happiness.  Mr. Joshua was brimming with smiles, though she was sure that those were part of his professional manner.  Mr. Jacob was always serious.  His dark eyes holding onto something that she could never quite understand or ever see all of what was going on with him.  His thunderstorm of a temper was always chaotic and unpredictable, save for one thing, there was always calm afterwards.  

     The strong vision of him standing in the corner of Mr. Joshua’s office, hands splayed on the desk and looking over whatever his twin was showing him blazed in her thoughts.  The way his eyes always met hers, too hard at first, then softening as if he could sense that she needed a more delicate touch.  It made her stomach flutter and unexplored knowledge dance through her mind.

Chapter Two: Pt. 2 Molly POV

     “Please do not tell me that you hurt that poor girl to get her to me,”  she said as Danny sat down next to her, a sarcastic grin tugging at the corner of her plump lips.

     He scrunched up his face.  “No, it was just a coincidence.  I’m actually afraid that if I would not have seen her, she would have kept trying to walk on it.”

     “She’s really a doll, though, Danny,”  Molly said, clinking her glass of sherry against his mug of beer.  “She seems like she can hold herself rather well.”

     “Sam thinks that she runs numbers when she is collecting goods,”  he remarked.  “And I overheard Joshua commenting that she’s a natural with customers.  Folks know her from church and foster right into that connection.”

     She paused for a moment before leaning over his shoulder.  “I hope we didn’t turn things for her by meddling.”

     “Why whatever do you mean, meddling?”  Josh said as he appeared behind Danny.  “Which ‘her’ are you talking about?”

     Molly looked up at him over the rim of her glass.  He was with Catherine, and Jacob was following right behind.  Her stomach soured at the sight of the eldest’s interest.  Danny sat up straight as Josh held Catherine’s chair for her to sit.  Jacob looked on edge.  Samuel and Susannah were wise to remain at the bar.  She wished she could crawl under the table and join them.  Clearing her throat, she nodded at Danny.

     “That new girl of your’s, Joshua,”  Molly said, surprised that her voice was as strong as it was.  “Danny found her in the alley with a cut heel.”

     Josh sat down, eyes narrowed like he was studying the situation.  “Well, if she’s injured, then perhaps that’s proof that she can’t do that job after all.”

     “She got hurt in your shop,”  Molly scoffed.

     “No different if you got hurt down here, Miss Molly,”  he said, leaning towards Catherine.  “If you can’t perform, you wouldn’t be working here.”

     “Kind of an idiot-”

     “Molly,”  Danny broke in, voice firm.

     “Kind of a poor business move, Mr. Kiszka,”  she continued, ignoring him and shifting into professional mode.  “From what I hear she’s been good for your little front of a store.  I just gave her some window dressing to level the playing field, boss.”

     Josh shook his head.  “Alright.  Enough of the banter.  What the fuck happened today and why is Molly calling me an idiot?”

     “Josh,”  Jacob said, his voice low.  “Miss Cora cut her foot.  Sam and Danny helped her out.  That’s all.  I sent them over to Molly’s to get her cleaned up and on her way home.”

     “How droll,”  Catherine sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Why is this even important?”

     Molly noticed that Jake glared at the woman before regrouping.  “It was not anything that should affect the shop, is what I’m saying.”

     Danny tapped her shoulder.  “Come on, Mols.  Let’s go dance.”

     She let him take her hand.  She heard Catherine scoff behind her.  Molly tried to turn back around but Danny wouldn’t allow her to return to the table.  

     “Sweetheart,”  he whispered, tugging her tight against him.  “Let Jake take care of it.”

     “But-”

     He swept her out and dipped her down before spinning her, effectively ending the conversation.  Molly could not keep her eyes from Catherine, Joshua and Jacob.  She said something that made Jake shoot venom.  In a chain reaction, Joshua leaned forward, mouth hard like he ended the conversation, leaving smoke and cinders behind.  Danny swept her around once more to recapture her attention.  

     “Leave it,”  he whispered, eyes squarely on her own.

     Molly screwed her mouth to the side.  She reluctantly turned her attention away from the fire that was obviously brewing between the twins.  The fuel had been there, growing since Bea had scrammed five months before; since Catherine had strolled onto the scene three months ago; since the family booted them out of Detroit to take the reins on the UP twenty months ago.  Molly had been a constant, witnessing the slaughter that Josh had brought to the family from the moment they set foot in Kingsford.  She had fallen in love with the tall, dark stranger the moment she had strolled into the dancehall to meet the new proprietors and Daniel stood on the fringes looking like he had choked on a lightning bolt. 

      Wetting her lips, she pushed her smile to the fore as her fingertips grazed Danny’s chin.  The blackness of his eyes and the warmth of his aura filled her with the moment.  Instead of arguing, she pulled closer to him and dropped the attention to the group behind them where it belonged.

Hope you enjoyed this bit. Next chapter is one of my favorites and contains our first Jacob POV.

If you'd like to join the tag list, let me know or join here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol@loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf@gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka #danny gvf #danny wagner #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fan fic #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet au fanfiction

[tavtiers]

The Sylph of Breath [symbols: fairy wand, wind]

The Sylph class has its basis in the nymphs of Greek mythology. An example would be the Fairy Godmother trope.

The Breath aspect’s main theme is freedom. You can find its official description here.

A Sylph of Breath is among those who alter paths, drive, and passion. This is the “classpect group” they belong to. Members include: the Sylph, Maid, Bard, and Prince of Breath/Blood. These classes are all opposites or inverses of each other that alter the Breath/Blood dichotomy (paths, drive, and passion). A description of classpect groupings can be found here.

The Sylph of Breath passively assists the Breath aspect. Passive classes are guided by others or act for the benefit of others. They are more likely to be kind, but less likely to stand up for themselves. Sylphs and Maids aid their aspect and everything it symbolizes or use it as a form of aid. Simplified, the Sylph of Breath is motivated by others to assist freedom.

In personality, the Sylph of Breath feels useless when they can't help others and dislikes commitment. Personality descriptions can be found here.

Their archetype is the Mother Escapee, defined by helping freedom. Archetypes are explained here.

Their opposite is the Maid of Blood, who actively assists connection.

Their inverse is the Prince of Blood, who actively destroys connection.

A classpect or “god tier” is an individual’s best self. All classpects go through a journey from unrealized, to struggle, to realized. When a character is unrealized, they neutrally exist as their inverse. On their struggle, they will wildly flip back and forth between their inverse and true classpect. In their worst moments they will act as their inverse, in their best their true classpect. When realized, they will stabilize as their true classpect. They will still have room to grow, but will become happier, more successful people.

This means that the Sylph of Breath begins life motivated by themselves to destroy connection. When their struggle arrives and they are at their worst, they will continue this behavior in negative extremes. However, when at their best, they will find purpose in instead assisting freedom for others. When realized, they will stabilize and continue to assist the Breath aspect passively, in a positive way.

They share their archetype with the Maid of Space, the Escapee Mother.

The Sylph of Breath would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Shine [Sylph] and Breath [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Glimmer and Flurries. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

Two possible gods, or denizens, to reign over their planet would be Zeus (God of Thunder) or Hermes (the Messenger God). Other Breath aspect denizens can be found here.

When the Sylph of Breath completes their planet quests and dies on their quest bed, they would rise to ascension on the wings of fireflies (symbols of the fae). A list of soul animals can be found here.

The characters that I have currently classpected as Sylphs of Breath are: Florence + the Machine from Ke$hastuck and Sylaise from Dragon Age.

If any of the links not connected to my blog break, the content can be found on my Google Drive.

Official Aspect Descriptions Personality Descriptions Aspect Denizens

Muse of Life analysis can be found here.

#sylph of breath #homestuck #god tier analysis #classpecting #my post #ask #florence + the machine #sylaise #ke$hastuck #dragon age

[fxreflyes]

Prithee tell us about your favorite visits to museums, firefly. It’s a long and silent January night and your stories will keep madness from us. (To be read in the voice of a Dickensian child of 6 years old, sitting before the hearth.) ☕️

hey hey!! :) my favorite seafaring vessel, a joy as always to meet u here. fret not, i will not let madness consume you! <3

(the context for the voice definitely helped, i most certainly did read it in the voice of a dickensian child. i can hear the crackle of the hearth as i pen these words!)

oh where to start! this is a bit of a brain dump, but is semi-chronological and images included in the order of discussion

first, summer of 2016, going to the hermitage and making puns about all of the art! they were not good puns. i believe my brother called the statue below a "boar"ing statue. it was quite hot since we went in summer and we were very surprised that the musuem had no ac since there is generally some to protect the art from the elements. so twas a very sticky and humor filled walk thru some art that has seen quite a lot (pic 1)

fall of 2018, went to the met's heavenly body's fashion exhibit with 2 friends from high school. i love & still go to musuem's w one of them, she's v sweet. the exhibit took place in the part of the museum that is older and looks like a church, so it was v prescient!! (pics 2-4, the leather jacket was so cool)

spring 2019, went to the met again (can u tell i went to college in nyc) and to the frick for my art history class to do a scavenger hunt for the class. quite honestly the most fun assignment ever. it was going through the museums and finding the art and writing about it. there were 50 or so things to find out. we went 3 times total for 3 sessions of the hunt. went w my dad for one, he has said he wants to do more even now

fall of 2019 i went to the met's instruments of rock n roll and saw instruments from a lot of famous musicians! i have a bunch of pics of them, but was v fun i went w my dad and got a bunch of music taste from him so that was cool. i was v amused by this many headed guitar hahaha (pic 5)

winter 2020 i went to a black tie gala in an art musuem so that was v fun & festive!!!

ok covid took a hit to this list so fall 2021! natural history musuem in london! went w my brother bc he was doing his masters same time as i was studying abroad there. i mean it's gorgeous. my brother is v interested in rocks so spent a while in the geology section! lots of cool rocks.

feb 2022, went to the met around my bday! my bf flew to visit me. saw very cool swords. pictured below!

summer 2022, went to the Louvre and the musee d'Orsay! saw the painting of dante and virgil in hell which was v cool, i have always loved that one.

for the sake of brevity, lets go to feb 2023, went to the whitney to see my fav artist edward hopper and an exhibit on him! went w the same friend as i went to the met in 2018 w. went w my brother too. fav exhibit ever probably, just bc i love hopper and i have included my fav painting by him, new york movie! my mom had a book on hopper growing up on our coffee table so always read it

oh my this is not brief. the fire is dwindling! ill stoke it.

this summer! the prado in madrid! i love goya so seeing his work was just so cool. they v sadly didnt allow photography in the museum but saw his black paintings the ones w saturn eating his children.

i hope my little tales help stave off the madness <33

#i just finished work & saw this & want u to kno i smiled #this took me so very long to write hahaha sorry i hope youre still awake #twas so fun!! #there r so many more museums too!! #i also wrote this to the country playlist u made me ty :') #ships tag

[myers-meadow]

Meadow's Masterlist

My list of works is growing and growing, so here is a masterlist. Last updated on 18-04-2023. All my writing, even the shorter pieces that don't go onto AO3, are reblogged over at @myers-meadow-archive for ease of keeping track and archival purposes.

The links are in order of fandom, the newest writings are at the top.

Reblogging my writing is very much appreciated, but reposting it, on any site, is plagiarism.

My AO3

Otis B. Driftwood

A muse for him and him alone (heed warnings, multichap)

Gn reader: Knocking on a stranger's door (sfw, alternate beginning to Sweet thing)

Fem reader: Sweet thing/forgotten hot cocoa (mild smut, oneshot)

New Year's (drabble, sfw)

Gn reader: Late Night Visit (to the Firefly House), (sfw, oneshot).

Dating headcanons

Slow burn Otis Driftwood x OC in an AU shared with @immortal-velociraptor and @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better. Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter 6.1, chapter 6.2.

Moon Boys/Arthur Harrow

Moon boys and Arthur Harrow x OCs: Chapter one.

The Grabber

Eggs for breakfast (request)

The Grabber x Max's girlfriend: The rhythm of life (heed warnings, one-shot).

Punishment (18 +, heed warnings, drabble)

Birthday headcanons

Male reader headcanons (request, sfw)

Request masochist reader (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Helpful people get rewarded (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Request for apprentice reader (sfw)

Sinclair brothers

Bo Sinclair x reader: Planetarium. (angst, comfort, sfw, oneshot)

Multi-chapter fic Vincent x OC x Bo/Poly Sinclairs. The Ambrose Summer Vacation. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. (ongoing, 18 +)

Vincent Sinclair x gn reader: art and comfort request.

Bo Sinclair x fem OC: Sweet treat. (18 +, oneshot)

Ambrose Boba Tea Shop AU Vincent/Mango boba; Lester/Black milk tea

Vincent x you/female reader x Bo Drabble

Michael Myers

Feeding him by accident (sfw, oneshot)

Sunday roast (sfw, oneshot)

With s/o who likes being picked up (request, headcanons)

RZ Michael Myers x female therapist: New urge (heed warnings, oneshot, 18 +)

Wrapped with a ribbon (18 +, heed warnings, oneshot)

Through lace curtains. (18 +, drabble)

Valentine's Day in Smiths Grove (sfw, oneshot)

Care for me, 18 +, heed the warnings for each chapter. part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5 (final)

Stargazing (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Untitled fluff (sfw, oneshot)

Shapes on his skin (fluff, sfw, oneshot)

Floral and fading (smut, oneshot)

Priest! Michael Myers (RZ) 18 + heed warnings

Thomas Hewitt

Letter by letter (sfw, oneshot)

Musings of Luda Mae (Sfw)

Kiss your boyfriend (dark, oneshot)

Safe with him (dark, spiritual sequel to Kiss Your Boyfriend, drabble)

Other horror characters/Multiple fandoms

Valak x reader, Ed Warren x reader: Serpent Tongue (dark, 18 + heed warnings, oneshot)

Jason Voorhees x reader: A Strawberry Summer (fluff, sfw, oneshot).

Slashers and their favourite flowers headcannon list

Notes from your slasher S/O

Other fandoms

Gaunter O'Dimm from The Witcher 3 - multichapter (completed), oneshots

Nuada Silverlance from Hellboy 2 - multichapter (completed)

King Radovid and Geralt of Rivia oneshots

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

#masterlist #writing masterlist #meadow's writing #michael myers #house of wax #slashers #halloween #slasher community #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #rz michael myers #the grabber #albert shaw #the black phone #house of wax (2005) #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax imagine #rz halloween #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #bo x oc x vincent #poly sinclair #poly sinclairs #bo sinclair x oc x vincent sinclair #michael myers x reader #rz michael myers x reader

[angeldcgs]

yesterday i posted some opens and today i come to you, good mutuals, with an offer to plot with any and all of my newer muses listed under the cut. most of them are a little whacky but there's something for everyone <3 give this a like if you're interested in any of them and i'll come to you to plot!!

the mcdermott family: based on the firefly family from h.ouse of 1.000 c.orpses (2003), the mcdermotts were a family of circus performers/carnies who owned and operated a local carnival in town. when travelers and townsfolk started going missing in alarming numbers, the cops started poking around the carnival and uncovered numerous bodies and other nightmarish finds, resulting in the majority of the mcdermotts either being locked up in prison for life, or slain in a deadly stand-off with the cops. these five are the only who remain in town, still carrying out their gruesome acts but on a much smaller scale, confined to a trailer park rather than their beloved carnival, as it was torched by the townsfolk following the arrests.

oberlin "obie" mcdermott (e.bon m.oss b.achrach fc)- he/him, 47, heterosexual, dominant, retired circus clown/junkyard owner (billy's brother, duncan, dolly, and mac's uncle)

billy mcdermott (k.yle g.allner fc)- he/him, 35, bisexual, dominant, mechanic/serial killer (obie's brother, duncan, dolly, and mac's uncle)

duncan mcdermott (h.arris d.ickinson fc)- he/him, 27, bisexual, dominant, drug dealer/serial killer (dolly's twin, mac's half brother)

dolly mcdermott (h.unter s.chafer fc)- she/her, 27, queer, switch, contortionist/serial killer (duncan's twin, mac's half sister)

mackenzie "mac" mcdermott (c.amila m.orrone fc)- she/her, 24, bisexual, dominant, robber/serial killer (duncan and dolly's half sister)

the dobbs brothers: raised in an abusive religious cult and kept separate from the rest of the world, the boys never learned how to live in modern society or be "normal" people until the feds broke up the organization and they were placed in foster care, but even then, it was a rough adjustment. zeke took to the change well, reveling in all the attention they were receiving from journalists and news outlets all looking to tell their story, while sammie still struggles adapting to this new world that's so diametrically opposed to the one he was raised in.

samson "sammie" dobbs (j.ohnny b.erchtold fc)- he/him, 26, bisexual (closeted), submissive, grocery store clerk

ezekiel "zeke" dobbs (f.red h.echinger fc)- he/him, 21, pansexual, submissive, pizza delivery guy

others:

kirby o'connell (m.argaret q.ualley fc)- she/her, 27, lesbian, switch, karaoke bar owner

your average everyday lovable lesbian fuckboy, think shane mccutcheon in the l word but a touch less brooding. bought an old run down bar for cheap at an auction with the intent of turning it into a queer friendly karaoke bar, but it turns out the former owner was using the bar as a front for a money laundering scheme, and now the criminal organization in charge of that is expecting her to continue to be involved.

louise "lou" walsh (t.alia r.yder fc)- she/her, 21, pansexual, switch, writer

a compulsive liar who's constructed an entire backstory for herself to better support her image as a "starving artist". really, she comes from an incredibly wealthy midwest family, the kind who own every building and every business in their small town, but that's not the kind of backstory that sells books.

#{ ooc } #not tagging this i'm leaving it up to god

[sunsetkrp]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐊𝐑𝐏'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃

the employees of sunset galleria are hitting the road this summer !! after loading up on a fleet of luxury charter buses and traveling to south korea's scenic western coast, you'll all have the opportunity to camp out on bandisbul beach all weekend ! camp in style inside comfortable yurts right on the beach and watch the fireflies gather among the waves as night falls ... more details below the cut !

happy summer, campers !! starting today, your muses will be traveling to bandisbul beach, before having the weekend to enjoy all it has to offer. in real time, the event will last two weeks, meaning you will have that stretch to create new event starters ! also, the beach is completely fictional, so feel free to headcanon extra features to your heart's content ! here's some extended inspo for what the yurts look like ( x, x, x. ), and below contains some details and inspo pics (just click the titles !) for other amenities bandisbul beach offers !

the yurts — not your average camping tent !! these cylindrical wooden structures house a variety of interiors based on your needs. for singles or couples, you'll find a master bedroom feel with a large bed, a breakfast nook, and a small bathroom with an open shower. if you're looking to bunk with friends, yurts with up to three smaller beds are available instead ! the bonfire pits — nestled among the shallow sand dunes, the pits are perfect for resting around after a long day in the waves with those closest to you, or for roasting some goodies from the general store ! bandisbul general store — the place to go if you wanna stock the mini fridge inside your yurt with snacks or drinks ! they also serve hot foods like tteokbokki, tteokguk and tteokkochi !! bandisbul beach bar — enjoy bottomless margaritas mixed with the fresh, salty air right on the water at this ambient beach bar ! a long list of signature cocktails and plenty of top and bottom shelf liquor will have you feeling fantastic as the sound of waves lapping mere feet behind you sets the perfect mood. bandisbul pier — a large, wooden pier that offers breathtaking views of the firefly gatherings at night. there are boat and jet ski rentals available, and large viewfinders line its edge for better views of the picturesque surroundings ! you can also find a small surf shop in the middle that offers rentals for any water board you're in need of, along with other water toys (shoutout giant swan & unicorn floaties) ! inflatable obstacle course — set up especially for visiting sunset galleria employees, take a crack at the giant, floating obstacle course ! some of the obstacles can be physically taxing, so feel free to take a rest on one of the lounge areas, or have a bounce on the trampoline ! the sea caves — in the rock formations around the beach, gorgeous aquatic caves can be found. do you have the guts to rent a small boat for a trek inside ?? if so, you'll be rewarded with some of the most stunning scenery you'll ever see, and a small sandbar that allows a private swim !

and of course, like i said, if you'd like to headcanon any part of bandisbul beach you have full creative liberty to do so !! it is a completely fictional location so go crazy !! go wild !! and most of all, enjoy a little vacation from sunset galleria~ please remember to tag all event posts with 'sunsetevent: beach weekend' & have fun my dears 🧡🧡

#sunsetevent: beach weekend #/ omg i hope you all enjoy the event 🥰 if there's anything you think it needs or anything i can improve upon pls do lmk !! 🧡