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hunnylagoon · 4 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Pt1: Coming Down With Me

Ellie Williams x reader

I once met a girl with skin like kiwi. Even the butterflies were drawn to her, landing on the top of her nose, the dip in her palm. But the kiwi stung my tongue, scarred my lips and made me bleed. I do not care. Cover me in your kiwi kisses, burn my mouth and scar my flesh. Bleach my eyes and dip my heart in lemon juice. Sing your sickly sweet words until my ears bleed.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood best friends until you grew up. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / people are mean lol / best friends to enemies to lovers / roommate! Ellie

Part two here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I know everything about you,

You know everything about me.

I had always been bound to the earth while Ellie danced with the stars in the night sky among delusion and dreams. Though, more so than anything, we were bound to one another.

Our parents were friends, even before we were born. They met at summer camp when they were teenagers, the same camp that Ellie and I were eventually shipped off to every summer. Of course, I have no recollection of when I was an infant, only stories that my parents shared with me; My dad told me that I learned to crawl backwards before I learned to crawl forwards. Joel kept a photo album of his girl.

I can't remember days of crawling around and babbling incoherently, but I can tell you what I remember.

Five years old- Kindergarten

Despite the air being unbearable hot, it was infused with excitement as Ellie and me set foot in the petting zoo. I had never seen so many animals in one place, my little brain was going nuts. Accompanied by the gentle hum of content animals, the aroma of straw, and the distant melody of joyful chatter, the petting zoo rang true to its rustic charm.

Ellie, with her auburn curls bouncing in the breeze, led the way, her eyes widened at the sight of a fluffy alpaca lazily grazing in the sunshine. I giggled as we approached a pen filled with adorable piglets, their tiny snouts sniffing the pure air far away from the dirty stench of the city.

Our parents, watching with affectionate smiles, guided us to the lamb enclosure where soft, woolly creatures nuzzled against tiny palms. Ellie's fingers gently traced the contours of a lamb's ear, and she couldn't resist a delighted squeal as she felt the velvety nose of a goat.

As the afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the scene, the families strolled through the meandering paths, passing by a pond where ducks quacked merrily. Ellie and I, hand in loveable hand, marvelled at the wonders of the animal kingdom, our hearts brimming with the pure joy of discovery and a blooming friendship.

Seven years old- Grade Two

On this particular day, Ellie and I had been messing around in her backyard; that's all we did on the weekends at that age, you couldn't get us to go inside. We spent the morning entwined in daffodils and hyacinth that Joel has so tenderly nurtured, careful not to crush the dainty flowers beneath our wild flailing bodies.

We had the brilliant idea to paint rocks so we had been searching her yard for the perfect flat stones we had in mind. Ellie picked up a rock and immediately threw it back down, jumping away with a shriek.

This had piqued my curiosity (As well as Joels who sat on the back porch, watching us), I went over to where she stood petrified and found nothing more than a little snake staring up at her. I dropped the stones I had been carrying and bent over to get a better look at it, it was brown and had a few white vertical stripes cascading up its thin body.

I slowly moved my hand outwards to touch but was swiftly interrupted by Joel scooping me up "That's enough of that kiddo."

Nine years old- Grade Four

Joel's house garnered an expansive backyard and just past the old fence that Ellie and I had thrown one too many softballs at was a lush forest. I would always clamour up the wood fence and poke my little head over it to try and gather a glimpse of wildlife, Ellie usually had to give me a little boost. "Hold still!" She hissed with her arms wrapped around my torso to help lift me, my scrawny arms shook as I tried to pull myself up even further.

The wood rot of the ancient fence finally set in and with the both of us pressing our mighty weight against it collapsed with the fence. We heard the splitting of wood, I got the worst end of the stick, toppling over and putting my hands out to protect myself. I could've sworn that I heard my wrist break like a crunch.

While I did what felt like a three-sixty frontflip over the fence just for my small head to come down on the end of it with a solid smack, Ellie had just flopped on top of it, green eyes widening in shock when she saw my once straight arm now had an abnormal bump coming out from my wrist. "What's wrong with your hand?"

"I don't know I'm probably dying!" I screamed as loud as my voice could carry, that was the first time I had felt adrenaline run through my veins. "You killed me!"

"No, I didn't!" She retorted, scrambling off the fence and back up to her feet. She was clad in a Jurassic Park T-shirt that she practically was swimming in and those pink and orange plaid Bermuda shorts that any kid in the 2000s owned. "Dad!" Ellie yelled, calling for Joel.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and finally, I released the sob that had been building up in my throat. She was almost dumbstruck and just ended up kneeling and wrapping her arms around me in a hug.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." She muttered.

10 years old- Grade Five

Ellie had been practicing guitar the entire time I was at her house, Joel had gifted her his old guitar and she was so set on perfecting every cord, every half-hour she would ask for a song recommendation and then flip through the songbook she got to find it.

I was curled up in her bed reading The Hunger Games over again "Els, are you team Peeta or Gale?" I was always at Ellie's house, mine was too busy all the time; I had three siblings, Naomi and Aaron who were twins and two years younger than me and my brother Elijah who was three years older than me. I loved going to her house on Saturdays so I could sleep in and wriggle my way out of going to church. Even though her house was right across the street from mine and my parents would bang on Joel's door, he always covered for me.

"Uh," She was distracted by something in her songbook "Team Katniss?"

I nod in approval to myself as she isn't paying attention "You know who Gale reminds me of?" I ask and without Ellie giving me a response I answer anyway "Luke, I think I kind of like him."

Those are the words that get her to look at me "Ew, he's so weird."

"He's nice to me."

She wrinkles her nose in distaste then shrugs, returning to her guitar which sits awardly in her scrawny frame.

12 years old- Grade Seven

"Fuck!" I yell, kicking the grimy green dumpster in the graffiti-covered ally out of anger, though I kicked it a little too hard now my foot hurts I refuse to admit it "Fuck I hate them!"

Ellie leans against the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley, our bikes discarded on the ground while I hopelessly rant to my friend about my parents. She doesn't say much, just little nods of agreement. My parents had caught me skipping church and they laid into me, saying that I had no respect for them or god and whether that was true or not didn't matter, I was full of pre-teen angst and needed to call my friend to go for a bike ride around town.

"She fucking tore my room apart, I never see them get mad at Aaron or Naomi!" I drag my hands down my face before I look back at the dumpster and kick it again "Ow, cunt!" I'm now hopping on one foot while my knee bends my other leg and I hold my beaten red Converse, covered in doodles, to soothe the pain of my poor toes. It's moments like this that remind me why I love Ellie, because as stupid as I look hobbling around and cussing, she doesn't laugh at me even though I know she wants to.

After a little bit of me aimlessly yelling I finally wind down. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remember those breathing exercises that we were taught at school assemblies. "Thanks for listening to me talk shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," She shrugs "I've seen you do worse."

This cracks a smile on my face, I turn my head and am met with the Jackson skyline, a beautiful pink sunset on the horizon "Sun's setting," I say.

"Sleepover?" Ellie asks.

"Sleepover," I confirm.

13 years old- Grade Eight

We were thirteen when our parents shoved cash into our hands and dropped us at the mall to go back to school shopping by ourselves for the first time. Every parent's nightmare was a busy mall so when they figured us old enough to venture into the dreaded foodcourt on our own, believed they were taking that opportunity.

Ellie had bought a couple of T-shirts and hoodies here and there, not too particular about what she was buying, though I was very nit-picky over what I wore so I forced Ellie to judge every single outfit that I wore and rate it, she gave the same answer every single time "It looks fine."

"Cool but I don't wanna look fine, I wanna look pretty," I say in frustration, walking back into the dressing room to try on another outfit. Ellie is sitting in the fitting room on a pink velvet couch, arms crossed and waiting for me to finish. "How's this?" I ask, walking out of the changing stall and giving her a little twirl.

"It looks fine- I mean good, everything looks good on you." She sounds almost exasperated. Ellie's hair was still that vibrant auburn colour that my mother was obsessed with, it had yet to fade out into a duller brown with age.

"Really?" I perk up just the slightest.

"Yeah, you look really pretty." She gives me a little nod of confirmation. I know that she's only saying that because she wants to go to the food court and get a cinnamon bun but I believe her anyway.

14 years old- Grade Nine

We were just nearing the end of the second half of our soccer game. It was the tournament and we were only a point away from placing first in the league, the thought of it had kept me up all week I was running off of Subway sandwiches and Gatorade.

Riley (the midfielder) swiftly passed the ball to me before she was surrounded by the other team's defence, I looked up to the clock and there were only seconds left in the match. I let my instincts take over, my parents forcing me into soccer since elementary school was not going to wind up useless. My footwork took me up the right wing just before the penalty box.

I wasn't paying enough attention to notice the tall blonde girl in a slick back ponytail closing in on me. I hear Ellie shout my name and that's all I need to make this last pass, I barely even looked up before power-driving the ball to Ellie who was merely six metres away from me. I slipped onto the muddied field with that kick, watching Ellie waste no time to score our final goal the second her cleat touched the ball.

The clock deadlocks and I drag myself off the ground running towards my best friend, I jump on her almost taking her down with me though she manages to steady herself. "I fucking love you!" I scream hugging her with all of the force I can muster. She hugs me in return, unable to get any words out between her laughs. The team is quick to swarm us, everyone is shouting about our well-deserved victory but not one person is louder than Joel in the stands.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Snow was falling as I stood in the foyer of the high school, still waiting for my date for the winter formal to arrive. Conner had asked me out weeks ago, we hadn't talked much since though I just figured that was because he was shy. I even left school early to get ready and spent hours meticulously pinning every hair into place and adjusting my navy blue satin dress so it would drape across my body in just the right way.

My sister, Naomi was an aspiring makeup artist so I let her dust my eyelids in silver glitter, I forced Warren to drive me. All of that was just for me to get stood up. Conner hadn't texted me all day, I knew he wasn't coming that didn't stop me from forcing denial on myself. "Hey," I heard a soft voice sound behind me, I wasn't surprised to see Ellie. Even though our parents were no longer friends, we were close as ever.

"Hi," My voice was hushed and feeble.

"The dance started an hour ago," She said, that night she had been wearing a white button-up with a pair of jeans and her hair half up. It was clear the dance wasn't as big a deal to her as it was to me. All she had done was ask Riley to go with her and call it a day. Despite her lack of effort, she looks beautiful as ever "I don't think he's coming," She said bluntly.

That's the exact moment I felt myself crack, tears welled up in my eyes and I lurched forward to hug her, flailing my arms helplessly to search for comfort "Then why did he ask me to go with him?" My sobs were drowned out by the sound of Kesha blasting in the overcrowded gym.

"I don't know, but he's an idiot for standing you up," Ellie holds me close and I never want her to let go "I wouldn't have ever done that to you."

16 years old- Grade Eleven

This is where things begin to fall apart. I found Ellie on the back porch of some random guy's house at a party. "I figured I would find you out here," I say, taking a seat next to her on the wooden steps, I hug my knees close to my chest.

"What's up?" Beside me, Ellie is unnervingly calm, she nurses a joint, taking a long hit and letting the smoke turn to clouds.

"Conner kissed me," I say cutting to the chase

I can tell she doesn't like the thought, she hated Conner, ever since he stood me up at the winter formal but she bites her tongue "You guys gonna date?"

"I think so."

"Good for you."

"I don't know if I liked it," My eyebrows are furrowed, and I pull my knees in even further, inhaling the crisp autumn air and the smell of Ellie, she smells like cannabis, firewood and bar soap.

"What do you mean?" Ellie puts out the end of her joint and tucks what remains of it into an empty Altoids container.

"Nothing," I dismiss it, "It doesn't matter, I just wanted to talk to you," Ellie had softened every burden for me since we were girls. "Um, so, my parents are sending me to boarding school next year."

"No, they're not-

"They are."

Ellie doesn't seem so calm anymore, she adjusts her body to face mine and she's so close I swear to god I could've counted every freckle on her face. "Why, what did you do?" The way she looks at me makes me wish that she was a boy.

"Nothing!" I retort "They think I'm straying from god, it's a Christian school." That was my code for 'they think I have a crush on you and I rather not get disowned by my super religious parents!'

"come stay with me and Joel-

"Ellie, please," I place a hand on her thigh "I don't think I can get away from this one."

That was at the end of September, it only got worse from there. I partially wished that I didn't tell Ellie that I had to leave, every time we hung out it just felt like words were hanging between us like birds on a wire and neither of us could say what we wanted. I forced myself to distance myself from her, I didn't know how else to handle my feelings.

She would blow up my phone and come by my house even visit my work but I just told her that I was busy. I could tell that she didn't believe my excuses for a second, she had English with my new boyfriend, Conner and would get him to relay messages and notes to me.

It didn't get easier to ignore her, my family prying about where she had been. I never told my parents that Ellie was gay, though I know they had always had a suspicion and that's why they could never love her all the way completely, the way Joel loved me and looked out for me. My mom and dad liked that I swapped out Ellie for Conner, by February, my dad even started to call him son.

In March Ellie and I had stopped talking completely, she gave up on texting me and coming by my house just for my siblings to lie about my whereabouts. It hurt to see the resentment gleam in her eye every time she passed me in the hallway.

She didn't speak a word to me until the start of the summer bonfire which was custom in our town. If I had known she would be there I never even would have thought about going. I rather not rehash this awful night, not right now just know that it ended with some alcohol, a bit of blood in the sand and me telling Ellie 'I would pick him over you every single time.' Yikes, that's not a good look for me. I spent the rest of my summer burying her in the back of my mind until boarding school finally came upon me and I graduated with friends I didn't like in a place that didn't feel like home.

I was sixteen then now I'm nineteen, no longer a girl but not yet a woman. Those were some key moments of our friendship. I'm not so sure why I felt so mature at the age of sixteen. I had taken a gap year and loved every minute of it, I backpacked in Australia, worked as a camp counsellor in the summer then left to work at a turtle conservatory in Bali, I was making pennies but the experience was worth it.

I arrived at my new home sunkissed with Ellie far in the back of my mind. I didn't know much about who I would be rooming with, I had only spoken to Dina over a Zoom call who was a friendly girl with warm eyes and ink-black hair spilling over her shoulders. I just prayed that none of them were Craigslist killers.

It took me entirely too long to find parking, when I finally did, I grabbed two of my suitcases, unable to hold anything else, the rest of the boxes jammed into my car would have to wait. I read over the text that Dina sent me what seemed to be a million times to make sure I had the right address. It was a small-ish one-story flat with brown walls that had white accents along corners and the doorway with a wood-panelled gable roof. As far as college housing went, I was happy. It looked like something I would've made in the Sims when I was a teenager.

I walk to the front door, the entrance is framed by intricately carved moulding, its details telling a story of craftsmanship and tradition. The wood, polished to a warm, inviting glow, exudes a sense of richness and history. I knocked on the door and heard a voice shouting that she would get it.

The door swings open and I'm met face to face with Dina "Hey!" She smiled "It's nice to meet you, I think you'll like it here," She held the door wide open, motioning for me to go in, and I obliged. "Let me give you a tour." Dina is clad in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt and her hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail.

The layout of the house seemed somewhat odd to me, there was a corridor straight ahead when you walked in, the first room was the laundry room and contained the washer and dryer with some hampers and shelves of detergent and laundry freshener. "This is the laundry room, we have a wash schedule along with a chore schedule so we will put you on that tonight," Dina told me, I just nodded politely in response feeling a little too awkward and out of place to say anything.

"Alright so this is the kitchen, there's a half bathroom beside it," She says, swinging her arms wide open for exaggeration I can see the chore chart hanging on the walls, it's written in chalk, and it is the laundry schedule. There are little laminated tags with each person's name on them, though I can't quite make out the names from where I am standing. The fridge is covered in postcards, magazine cutouts, polaroids, and bright magnets of papayas and flowers, I automatically assumed this was Dina despite not knowing the other roommates. The kitchen is open with no walls to hide it, the oven and dishwasher are built into counters against the walls as well as the sink which i spotless at the moment, there isn't a dining table but a kitchen island with stools. Past the island you can see the living room, there are two grey couches with decorative pillows and fuzzy throw blankets, a coffee table that looked handcrafted with care and of course a TV.

Have I mentioned there are plants everywhere? Like everywhere. "Okay, so," Dina keeps on moving and I trail behind with my suitcases, over there is my room and Cat's and Abby's," She points to the left of the living room where there is a short hallway with three doors, one on each wall of it. "There's Cat now," She waves at her roommate.

Cat is relatively tall, she has black hair that's tied into a bun, and she's wearing plaid pyjama pants and a black tank top, I can see her abundance of tattoos. She has one sleeve of laurel cascading up her arm and the other is patchwork done right, each separate piece blends almost seamlessly into the next. "I like your tattoos," I say, not wanting to sit in any more silence.

She grins at me "Thanks, love," I nod in response to her, Cat looks down at the suitcases that I'm lugging around "Dina, take this poor girl to her room already."

"I was just getting there," Dina teases and motions for me to follow her "So over here is the bathroom and of course your room, I left your copy of the house key on your mattress," She opens it up. The bedroom is completely blank aside from the boxed bedframe, shelf, vanity and mattress that I had to send over prior. There's a built-in closet in the wall.

I put my suitcases on the ground "I'm gonna grab the rest of my stuff from my car," I offer up a tight-lipped smile.

"Wait a second," She takes my hand and then knocks on the bedroom door parallel to mine. "I'm coming in!" Dina announces pushing the door open, there's a brunette girl hunched over her desk. My breath hitches in my throat when she turns around "This is Ellie."

I can see the panic that momentarily takes over Ellie when she spots me before it's replaced by a false coolness, "Hey," She says before turning back to her laptop and putting her headphones back on. It felt like my heart had shut down, why the fuck did I sign the lease?

"Sorry," Dina shuts Ellie's door "She's not the friendliest of the bunch but she'll warm up to you eventually," Dina walks to the front door with you Abby should be around here somewhere."

I had gotten so frustrated trying to set up my bed frame that I sheepishly left my room and asked for help, god bless Abby. She was putting everything together so easily, I watched her in awe as she finished adding the final screw to my bedframe. "Want help setting up the mattress?"

"Yes, please," I say, I grab one end of the mattress while Abby gets the other, she tells me to lift on three and I listen, she carries the majority of the weight but it still feels like an accomplishment on my part. "So does everyone here go to Northridge?"

"Yeah, except for Cat, she's a tattoo apprentice."

"Cool, cool," I search for words, "What are you majoring in?"

"Kinesiology," It makes sense, I could've called that by looking at the fit gym rat who was now sitting on my bed. "You?"

"Wildlife biology,"

"So you like animals and conservation and stuff?"

"Mhm," I nod "It's honestly kind of hard to not have any animals in my life." I was missing all my pets back home, when I wasn't with them I was working at a conservatory or at a summer camp where I took care of all of the horses, and Ellie's dog, Achilles.

"You'll get used to it, living with Dina is the same thing as living with an animal," She smiles and for the first time, I feel comfortable. Abby watching me with her blue eyes as I begin to unpack my abundance of boxes, I kind of just dump everything onto the ground because I can't remember which box has what, the first thing I search for are my coat hangers. I dump out a box with a bible, wall cross, and rosery and golden cross necklace from a box of random knickknacks. "You religious?"

"Kind of?" I question it myself "Not really, it's just my family, I packed that stuff to make my mom happy."

Abby nods "I get it."

"You do?"

She backtracks "No, but I can try to."

I shake my head, "I wouldn't try if I were you, I spent nineteen years trying to get away from it." I was sure other Christian homes were healthy but mine wasn't one of them, the way my parents obsessed over Jesus was honestly frightening.

"Hey, do you wanna come watch a movie when your done unpacking?" Abby asked, "Get to know your new roommates a little better."

I don't entirely want to, I wasn't ready to talk to Ellie. I still hadn't wrapped my head around the fact that I was living with her and that she was pretending she didn't know me, despite this, my words betrayed me "For sure."

I sat on one of the couches beside Abby, I made myself as small as I could, thinking that maybe I could make myself disappear. Cat and Ellie crammed themselves on the other while Dina took the plush armchair. I felt so out of place everyone here had relationships, I had one with Ellie before I severed it 'Grown Ups' was playing on the flatscreen though it seemed I was the only one paying attention.

The four girls all laughed and talked their way through the movie, Abby, Cat, and Dina would ask me a question here and there but I didn't know them well enough to pitch in. I kept telling myself that I needed to push through, if Spiderman could do it, so could I.

I didn't even finish the movie, halfway through I excused myself saying I was tired which wasn't necessarily a lie. It was difficult to fathom how well Ellie was playing it off, acting like she never met me. I walk into the bathroom, clean towel in hand, ready to scrub off the stress of today. Beside the mirror, I see a cardstock poster decorated with bright markers and doodles.

HOUSE RULES

#1 No underwear left in the bathroom

#2 Wash your dishes

#3 Break it? Tell Abby

#4 No smoking inside

#5 Privates are private!

#6 Pls don't drink and drive (We have a couch)

#7 Give your beloved roommates a heads up before having someone over

#8 This is a residence of women so the seat goes down!!!

#9 Respect the bedrooms

#10 Having sex? Keep it quiet

#11 NO DRAMA!!!!!!!!

#12 Follow chore and wash chart

#13 Don't eat what's not yours! (Without asking)

I finish reading the last bit and mutter to myself "Wasn't planning on it." I run the water so hot that it feels cold and I'm quick to not use all of the hot water and have my roommates hate me on my first night here. Everyone has their little drawers in the bathroom, mine is empty aside from some floss and cotton pads that the girl before me left behind. I make a mental note to make use of my bathroom drawer tomorrow and fill it with makeup remover or conditioner, or something like that.

Brushing my teeth and wrapping myself in a strawberry towel that I had purchased at a craft fair, I open the bathroom door, I can see the light of the TV and the sound of chatter from the living room. However, I ignore it and make a B-line to my bedroom. Even though I had spent hours unpacking and pinning up posters it still didn't seem homey.

I slip into shorts and a t-shirt, leaving my hair as is and throw myself onto my bed. My towel is discarded onto my bathroom floor. When I turn on my phone I am bombarded my messages from my parents, my mother has probably sent me twelve Google pins to the closest churches, I answer her with a thumb-up emoji and settle into my bed to scroll through social media and see how much fun all of my friends are having.

Fucking Ellie. She's plaguing my thoughts, I think of what I said to her and it makes me cringe, I want to smother myself with my satin pillow. I don't even have food to eat, grocery shopping wasn't something that I put on my priority list and right about now I was but Ellie, god, why was I such a dick? Because I didn't know what else to do- whatever, I was a scared teenager. What would you have done? Probably kiss her you lesbo.

Lord, it makes me sick to think about what could've been.

15 years old- Grade Ten

Ellie and I were sitting at a fire pit at her uncle Tommy's lake house. It was a Fourth of July party except we were the only teenagers there; everyone else was friends of Tommy and Maria or some distant relatives of Ellie's or children of said people.

After five years of practicing day and night, Ellie had just about mastered the acoustic guitar, she played and I sang, wrapped up in her flannel, I was tucked close next to her.

She struck every cord perfectly and I began to sing absentmindedly, the song that had been carved into my brain. Ellie looked so insanely beautiful illuminated only by fire and the stars that hung in the sky, if it hadn't been a sin I would've kissed her.

Talking to her felt as holy as praying to god but I knew it was as sinful as worshipping the devil.

If it was so wrong why was I born in God's image?

Her gentle hand strummed on the chords of the guitar, the same calloused hand that had once turned water into wine. Her laughter was the sound of a church choir

I wish I told her how much I liked her but what would've happened if I did? What would my parents think, they would kill me.

Part of me didn't care how my parents would react, if I spoke up, I could say goodbye to my inheritance and having college paid for. Maybe that was an unfair assumption to make on my part. Ugh. FUCK, I don't know, let's get to the next part of the story.

I couldn't sleep that night, I thought maybe a glass of water would soothe me, well I didn't really think that but I was hungry and thirsty and water was the only thing in that house I had the right to ingest. I figured that I could fill myself with water and zip to Denny's in the morning then grab some groceries.

Poking my head out of my door, I checked to see if anyone was still awake before gingerly taking hushed steps towards the kitchen, I was trying to be as light as Thumbelina. I hadn't noticed Ellie bumming on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"You cooking all of that non-existent food you brought?" She jeered. Oh, now she wanted to talk to me.

"I was gonna have some warm water soup for dinner and chew on pistachio shells from the cup holder in my car for dessert," I answer "I'm treating myself tonight." She didn't think it was funny at all, a few years ago she would've been cackling at my subpar joke, but now she just seemed unamused. "Sheesh, tough crowd."

She stays silent.

"You used to think I was funny," I say.

"I also used to think the tooth fairy was real."

"Harsh," I mutter. Turning the tap on and sticking a finger underneath it to test the temperature. I put my hummingbird mug underneath it and let it fill. "Hey, Ellie," She doesn't answer "Have you told them any bad things about me?"

She nearly scoffs "No, believe it or not, I don't talk about you, I don't even think about you," There's venom in her voice "You haven't crossed my mind since you walked through that door."

"Why are you pretending you don't know me-

"Because I don't fucking like you," She says it like it's so obvious and it honestly is in this moment "Just because you're pretty and you act like a sweet little Christain girl, that doesn't mean shit."

"I'm not trying to act like anything-

"Yeah, well it seems pretty insincere to me," Ellie seethed and I could feel a sting in my heart, I would do some pretty horrendous things for a time machine right about now. I can tell that there won't be any salvaging for this, she hates me to death and rightfully so.

This is where I give up "Okay, sorry," I grab my hummingbird mug and retreat to my room.

I endured four months of that.

Ellie was pushed to the back of my mind while I ran through classes and got a job as a waitress at a stake house. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, to keep her out of my head but she was always there, she hung around like a song I can't shake, like I'm haunted by the melody.

Some nights when the city decides to quiet down I can hear her play guitar, and I'll quietly hum along to it. Songs she used to sing for me, she now sings for another woman, another soul. I knew that she had girls over, but I never got to meet them as Ellie did everything in her power to pretend I didn't exist.

The only communication I got with her was in the roommate's group chat, and it was always brief.

Ellie: Having a friend over tomorrow night

D-manz: Friend? With benefits??????????

Kit-Cat: Nah they're hardly even friends, just benefits

Abs: Don't get her pregnant

Me: 👍

As long as I was with the girls, Ellie was not. She avoided me like the plague, it was like she despised my existence. If we go clubbing, she takes a separate taxi, petty if you ask me. The girls knew something happened between us but they couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was Dina's conspiracy that Ellie used to date one of my friends and broke her heart. While I bonded with Cat, Dina, and Abby, Ellie would pretend to like me. She would occasionally laugh at my jokes or ask how my shift was when Dina was in the room.

Trust me when I say I would rather forget than dwell on it but it was impossible. I know that I'm nothing more than an obstacle to her, a stain on her bedsheets, a sore in her mouth, but she was still my diamond in the rough. I will willingly ignore all of her cutthroat words and her jagged edges.

Because I know everything about us.

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ghouljams · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/thyme-in-a-bubble/738887284193132544

https://www.tumblr.com/hirpinia/724279071977160704/kittycoles

https://www.tumblr.com/thyme-in-a-bubble/737528439392927744

when Price and Witch married and he moves into her little house (she’s too happy there to ever leave no matter who asked her!)

I may have also been thinking of turning my home into my own Witch cottage 😅

*^* I love these images so muuuuuuch they're so cozy and wonderful. I want a witch's cottage for a home too.

You've never seen snow blanket your house like this. Never seen it thick and woolly over your garden, cool even in the blistering sun. You scoop it up in your hands with joy, packing it into snowballs as you dust the chill off the roses. You don't think it will hurt anything, the garden is still warm, and the ice drips in tantalizingly clear icicles off your roof. You set up your snowballs on the brick wall, making a little snowman for yourself while you're supposed to be watering.

Price is setting up a fire when you wander back inside, your fingers are pleasantly cold, and you go to push them against the back of his neck. He swats at you and you laugh, a little taste of his own medicine. You go to check the front of the house, pulling the curtain back on your front window to watch the fat snowflakes that float down from the grey sky. The city outside is starting to find itself blanketed as well.

"There's snow in the back garden," You tell Price over your shoulder. He grunts, and you hear the soft creak of your kettle being set on its hook over the fire. You glance at him, watch him dust his hands off and sit back to watch the fire. The smoke from the kindling curls towards him curiously and you rush to shoo it up the chimney. "He's got enough of you," You chastise, watching the tendrils slip up the brick with annoyance. You don't need to clean soot out of the carpet.

Price's fingers trace their way up your leg and under your skirt. "There's snow out back," He reminds you. You nod, letting him guide you down to sit between his legs. He arranges your skirt like a blanket over both of you and you lean back into his hold.

"I've never seen it on this side of the fence," You hum, "but the plants seemed alright."

"Good," Price's hands make their way around your waistband, tugging your shirt free of its tuck. You shiver when his fingers stroke over your stomach, the chill not entirely unwelcome. "Wouldn't want my season to break yours," his fingers splay, wide against your skin, soaking up your warmth. You tip your head to the side, resting it against his shoulder so her can press his nose against your pulse.

"Since when has Summer ever been scared of you?" You smile, the urge to argue with him never seems to truly leave you. Maybe it's the way you feel him huff, the curve of his lips against your neck before his teeth tease their warning, that makes disagreement seem so appealing. Maybe you're just argumentative by nature.

"Not since you came around," He hums, "see the appeal now." The appeal of warmth, the draw of the fire, the bright sunshine in your smile. Summer has no reason to fear his chill, not when it balances him out so nicely, settles in his lap like a heater and warms him to his core. He'd gladly melt for you, just as he's sure the snow in your garden is gladly melting for your flowers. Held up just long enough by his own magic for you to enjoy it. Consider it a gift, for the first snowfall of the season. The roses ought to enjoy it as much as their gardener does.

#cod x reader #x reader #cod x oc #x oc #1fae1 #john price x reader #john price x oc #captain john price #john price cod #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #captain price #price cod #fae!price #price x witch #oc: witch

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beanlot · 1 year

Text

MISTRESS

sevika x maid!reader

at first, you were her maid. but master liked you just enough to make you her mistress.

word count: 4.0k

genre: smut

warnings: amab!sevika, age gap, sevika cheats on her wife, slight spanking, spit, vibrator use, master/servant relationship, breeding kink

────────────────

“what a gorgeous colour.” her fingers ironing the corners of her lips, mahogany lipstick cleansing from the cedar skin in superlative fashion. she was objectively sumptuous, a classy woman surrounded by old money and platinum basin sinks; an easy life enough that she didn’t even have to raise a finger to apply honeydew exfoliation masks to her glistening skin. “don’t you think?” she stares at you through the mirror, umber eyes fanned by silky lashes - lids glossed with everlasting lustre of golden butterscotch, tempted to believe you could see your reflection if stood close enough.

“yes, madam.” you nod, fingers clasped onto a hanger, vintage dress glittered with merlot gemstones fluorescent against the sapphire tiles of the floor. you weren’t lying, it was a gorgeous colour. and madam wasn’t particularly sinister against you, or even sinister at all..

“you filthy pig.”

“don’t you dare touch my antiques.”

“look at you, fix this messy hair. i will not have guests over whilst you look like a disgusting hooker.”

mostly.

“vika loves this colour.” she sighs, french-tipped nails tapping against the argyle jewellery around her neck. her scent of prevailing pumpkin spice suffocating you momentarily when she turns around, taking the hanger from your grip; you’ll watch as she lays the dress against her body, feminine curves of her hips accentuated through the garnet jewels as she subtly twirls around. she hum, lashes batting through the scrutiny before she shoves the hanger into your chest hurriedly. “be a dear for me and tighten the waist.”

and sure, you don’t expect the best of treatment regardless. you were on the back burner, disposable in every aspect with your dull shirt collar; onyx skirt tucking in your buttons and the driest of hands from the constant polishing. “yes ma-“ a shrill bark interrupts you, and it’s when you turn around that you see a woolly poodle, pastel frilly dress, wiggling through the door.

“ugh, pinkiebear! what are you doing, my baby snuffles?” and just like that, as madam scoops the pup into her arms, you’re left alone in the bathroom. moroccan rose handwash beside her gold-plaited cosmetics, pomegranate face serums and emerald earrings; you’d wondered what the oils would feel like on your fingertips, the creaminess against your skin soaking with pulchritude. it feels like bait when you see that one tub is already open, pale watermelon serum calling your fucking name - she won’t notice, there’s no way.

so you tenderly swab at the surface, the velvety touch on your skin.. it already makes you feel pretty, glammed up, like her. and the dysphoria only amplifies ironically when you massage the pearly ointment into your cheek, the winsome highlight when you turn your head not going unnoticed.

wine glass and plate in hand as you approach sevika’s master’s study, nudging the door with your shoulder. it was smoked salmon and caviar, and if you weren’t so fond of her, it would be rational to believe she was intentionally inflicting the purgatory of starvation onto you. but she was not resentful, her muffled tone of come in prompting you to amble inside; the air murky from her cigar smoke, illuminated by dim apricot from the scattered lamps. and she’s there, with every inhale, you can decipher the ocherous flame between her lips - her fingers clearing her desk when she sees the wine bottle tucked under your arm.

“thank you, darling.” she murmurs within the fever dream, fumes seeping through her lips to which she fans out when you’re beside her desk. it’s elixir to taste, and although it’s toxin on your tongue, it’s contradicting - plate and wine glass settled against the oak, careful to avoid her disarray of books and orderly inklings when you pour the currant. she examines this, raising an eyebrow before tapping the tobacco against an ashtray. “are you hungry?”

fuck, you have no idea.

“no, master.” you shake your head, because even though you could feel your organs internally booing inside from the withering, you were under an obligation of being polite. and hell, it was reasonable for her to concern herself with your wellbeing per se: she was older, much older; yet you merely took it as manners, sympathy that you weren’t born into such opulence. so when you finish pouring, tenderly placing the bottle beside master’s glass - it’s paralysis when her coercive words refrain you from leaving the room as you intended. “come here.” she instructs, virescent globes eclipsed with hues of oxblood when you maintain eye contact from your awkward distance. she’s manspreading, white button-up loose against her chest, and the uncertainty only amplifies when master’s tone becomes demanding. “come.. here.”

so you shuffle towards her, and you’re not sure if it’s the nicotine or the peril brunt of her influential stare, but your blood pressure raises when you stop - that maybe you’d said something wrong, gotten a wine she didn’t like, or you were vicariously responsible for the chef’s error. but the neurotic thoughts plummet when you see her slice an intricate cube of the salmon, fork held out to you with sincerity.

“try it, it’s good for you.” she advises, and you’re under automatism to obey - her fingers scraping against yours when you take the fork, examining the glassy block. you’re not sure what it’s seasoned with, only able to distinguish the honey glaze and sprinkle of pepper; you couldn’t even fucking describe what salmon tasted like, a luxury that your flimsy uniform never got to see up close. and you feel emotional when it finds itself between your teeth, erupting with foreign rich oils and glacé syrup.

you want to appreciate it, had you not interpreted the investigative glances she’s giving you. skeptical eyebrows dipping in, defining the droopiness of her lids and the eclipse of gunmetal in her narrowed pupils - they search your face, because there’s something about you that master just can’t pinpoint. “you’re glowing.” she mumbles, fingers branching out toward you and framing your jaw ever so tenderly; thumb stroking along the curves of your cheekbone, the familiar and velvety texture of your skin no stranger to master. “you’ve been using my wife’s stuff, haven’t you?”

great.

of course, how could you have been so recklessly fucking dense? you’d just swabbed a few thousands onto your face and expected that nobody would’ve been able to put two and two together, and now you’re stood here like a fucking embarrassment whilst her conquering globes assess you. master was going to obliterate you for even contemplating putting your filthy wilted fingers on her wife’s belongings, and you’re just waiting for her to call the chef over to slice you into little pepperonis and use your torso as a fucking piñata for her fancydancy din-

“looks good on you.” she mumbles, and the harmonising words nosedive into your stomach with more adamantine force than waiting for her to beat you to a pulp. her fingers streamlining down your jaw before she picks up her plate, ludic smirk concealing the mulberry on her lips as she offers her plate towards you. “don’t tell.”

you look back and forth, and it’s only when she nudges the porcelain into your stomach that you realise what she meant. she was only really interested in the wine, and within her hospitality, gave you something to eat for the night.

───────────

“your muscles are all contracting, just relax.”

“i’m trying..”

“you should really look into tai-chi, saves me hours of making these for you.

i’ll be back tomorrow,

ice or magnesium for any muscle pain,

is that a chip in the wall?

anyway, i’ll see you tomorrow, my lovely~.”

you’d been waiting outside her room for about forty minutes, folded blouse and dress shirts in hand; although you liked to consider yourself respectful of master’s private conversations, not even the bricky walls and thick interior of the hallways could muffle the massage therapist’s jarringly piercing voice - one that only amplifies when master’s door opens, a tiny woman pootling herself down the hall with a bowl of water, peppermint leaves floating within the misty pool.

it’s rosemary and eucalyptus when you inhale, frissons of sweltering air blossoming your way as the door closes over only slightly. but you’re prudent, you’re conditioned to be, waiting outside her door for her to have her few minutes of privacy - but she calls you in when she identifies your shadow against her marble tiles, eyes absentmindedly tracing the silhouette of your hips.

and when you walk in, nudging the door ever so slightly, she’s face-down on the master bed; surrounded by canary silk pillows and lime basil candles, her wine cellar visible from where you stand. you approach the palladium drawers, and whilst your job was plainsailing, the difficulty of having to avert your eyes from her bare back did it’s due diligence to make it just a little harder for you. but you stay silent nonetheless, the palatable glimmering against her burly shoulders, one that made you envy a massage therapist’s expertise as you organise her shirts.

“you have pain, master?” you mumble, clearing your throat when it starts to disintegrate at the mercy of her tensing shoulders, glorious muscle twitching. “my shoulders, darling. it’s not so bad.” she doesn’t move, and although you seem satisfied with the composed silence, the thought of leaving in it made your stomach sour.

“is there anything i can do?” you offer, graphite eyes piercing into your body when she turns her head against the pillow - you can tell she’s engrossed in those retrospective thoughts of hers by the way she’s zoning out, clouding globes that flutter over you before she pats the mattress.

“lay with me..” she mutters, black pepper fragrant when she inches away, leaving you a temptingly delectable space beside her. it feels wrong, and your ears can already feel the wrath of madam’s scream when she finds out you dared even the slightest courage to lay in her bed, beside her wife.

but master was at the top of the food chain.

so you reluctantly obey, not oblivious to the raw sensation of eagerness when her bare abdomen raises slightly from the mattress - she’s toned, noir curves that only excite the vim when you’re slithering into the space she’d left you. but it’s not enough to dilute your inhibitions, your body rigid when her fingers flutter against your waist; she notices this, intoxication when her whisper caresses against your ear. “relax, relax.” she whispers, the suggestive timbre diminishing you - she waits until you slump into the satin, plumose textures under your fingertips, before her arm cases over your waist and trails you against her bare chest. it’s morally profane, warmth from her breasts contagious on your spine, skin sweltering idyllically - kittenish and lewd and wow you’re getting horny.

it’s silent for a few minutes. but you feel dirty, her vanilla comfort something you ruined.

“you remind me of my wife when we first met.” the vanilla wisps against your jaw curdling into vulgarity when her fingers tenderly clutch at the hem of your skirt, and although one part of you feels like nothing more than a doll for her to use the one night her wife is out attending a dinner, another is relieved when the wintry air strikes your thighs.

“young,” her fingers lifting the skirt enough that her perverted eyes can search your hips, the way they embrace the black straps of your underwear.

“pretty,” her nails glissading against your inner thighs, forefinger sinking between them enough that they’re under automatism to separate. you try to convince yourself that it’s because you don’t want to get into trouble, disappoint that streak of high expectations you managed to leap over the past few weeks - but by the vim in your clit, it was disgustingly undeniable it was because fantasy was becoming reality.

“fertile.” she delicately taps your clothed clit, subtle sensitivity that already gets your hips rolling into her crude touch. her engagement ring flaring in your peripheral when her left hand slinks around your body, black opal glinting as her palm rests against your breasts. “look at me.” her lips tickling against your cheek as you turn to her, hues of predatory oxblood glossing over her lead pupils. she likes that she owns you, conditioned you to be her little pet, dominated your identity to nothing more than her servant.

so the overly obscene taste on her lips when she’d pressed her forehead against yours, skin searing with wealthy indecency was no shock. she was impulsive, lips against yours, unseemly sounds of anticipated smooches as you drink up the taste of peppermint. she wants to be delicate for you, but the instinct outlasting the grace when she hears you hum. you’re heedless of your sloppy grinding, shaky exhales which only worsen when she pulls away; her thumb draping your bottom lip down only slightly. jewels of her spit streamlining into your mouth, your tongue absorbing the droplets filthily. “pretty girl.” she swallows, eyes darting along your jaw, her spit slowly drizzling down your neck.

you want to tell her that this is wrong, that she’s a married woman, but the night already feels drilled into stone when her fingers manipulate the buttons on your chest, cleavage satisfying her sadistic eyes with every one coming undone. your shirt loosens, sinking down your back and accentuating the feminine enticement master was under whilst her fingers revel in the linen cotton of your bra, the straps cunningly draping off your shoulders. “these would look gorgeous in some silk.” she whispers, your breasts tingling when there’s nothing there to cover them anymore, her fingers folding your bra down to your stomach.

“would you like that.. me to buy you some pretty outfits?” she mumbles, admiring the way your nipples harden under her fingertips, delicately pinching the responsive buds. you nod, because you expect her to want you to, flinching when you roll your hips against her sturdy thigh; thick imprint of her veiny cock paralysing you momentarily.

“do me a favour.. lean over in that drawer.” she gestures to the bedside cabinet, and you’re sceptical when you lean over, your skirt hitching up ever so slightly. and if the humiliation of having your ass presented to her like a fucking showpiece wasn’t degrading enough, the barbaric strike of her palm against it was. you squeak, flinching necessarily - her palm easing the inflamed area intricately, before walloping back down onto your skin. you want to fucking weep, blinking through the blur of your tormented tears, opening the drawer to which a plaited vibrator lays.

“that’s the one.” she confirms, taking it from your fingers as you lay back into the mattress, ass ignited with scorching goosebumps from the brutish force behind her arms. you go to defend yourself, because honestly, you feel lower than the bottom of the food chain - you were no blossoming mighty oak, but rather a withering sunflower under her assertion.. but she knows what you’re about to say. “master, i haven’t do-“

“you’ll be fine, we haven’t used it yet. it’ll make you feel good.” she sits up, and although she intends to comfort you, it only intimidates you further when her tongue wets her lips; fingers slewing the fabric of your underwear to the side and leaving your slit prey to her predacious stare, only amplifying when she unveils how truly drenched your folds are. but she doesn’t say anything, only leaning over whilst a bullet of her spit seeps between her lips and missiles itself against your clit.

you already feel numb, the heavenly pressure of seventh heaven when you hear the whirring of her vibrator, your thighs quivering with the company of your stimulated whines when the tip purrs against your clitoral hood. “that’s it, atta girl.” she praises, her breasts pressing themselves against your bare spine when she situated herself beside you again. it’s nirvana, humping against the vibrator so primitively, erogenous arcady to hear your incessant whimpers echo throughout the room. you’re sweating by now, at peace with the fire and brimstone breeding on your skin - but you want more, your fingers grazing over the stiff imprint of her desperate cock.

her breath is jagged, submerging the vibrator harder onto your clit, your ankles starting to twitch at the susceptibility. you’re not sure if it’s enough to make you come just yet, but that thought deteriorates when her finger glissades down your slit and streams itself inside of your hole. “fuck.. you’ve made my cock all hard.” she sighs against your cheek, your walls greeting her indiscriminately; spasming with every hum against your clit. she’s testing the waters, fingertips taking a liking to the spongy textures when she tenderly twines it upwards, the pornographic desire in your clit to orgasm more reckless than ever. but you’re not the only one suffering, because sevika is finding that her cock is actually starting to fucking hurt from the distress of not being able to just have her way with you again and again and again.

but she’s patient, finger gliding itself in and out of you; assaulting that carnal pit in your walls as your thighs tremble as she fucks you with them. instinctive sobs leaving your throat unmonitored, and honestly, you wouldn’t be able to describe it even if given a fucking thesaurus - sneezelike corkscrew ballooning itself inside your hips when she hooks another finger inside, arousing squelching with every hammer against your folds. “please..” you whisper, unbeknownst to the soreness in your fingers as they lock, clenching tightly on her belt.

and when she’s satisfied with how vulnerable you are under her, the sensitivity just right, she’ll admire the quavering of your hips and the tightening of your thighs before dragging the vibrator away from your clit. “huh?” you squeak, cunt clenching around her fingers at the sudden loss of her manipulation. you’re about to complain, wail about how much of a fucking tease she is, but she relieves the anguish by leaning over your thighs; her tongue replacing the device and doing its dirty work when it swipes over your hood, delving between your folds and schemingly flicking over your erect bud.

just like that, you’re shaking again, thigh hoisting itself up and planting itself on her bare, burly shoulder. your mewls of master twirling repeatedly in a rabbit hole of ecstasy when her damp lips envelop your clit and suck with cruelty, fingers maintaining their agonising operation; battering into you with precision and artsy discipline, like she’s done this too many times before.

but it’s dispiriting for her, because she wants to be a lovemaker for you, wants to appreciate you for the fine young woman you are - yet the throbbing in her cock conquers that yearning, and it’s then that she pulls away with such self-hatred. “are you gonna let me put my cock inside your cunt, darling?” she exhales, fingers slewing out of your brimming hole, selfishly drizzling your discharge over the mattress and coating over the sable leather of her belt when she goes to unbuckle it.

“yes. yes, master.” you comply, ultramarine daze when you blink; pixels of orchid blooming in your vision when you even did as much as look down to her belt. fingers tackling the every latch, submerging as they frame her veiny shaft - cock springing out and admittedly, inciting nothing more than disruptive thoughts of am i going to fucking live to see tomorrow after this.

she’s thick, and monumental.. fucking handcrafted by gods with such clarity. enough that all of that internal envy becomes more.. not envy, because you know this is gonna really fucking hurt, and you’re not liking how much she exceeds your expectations at the expense of what’s gonna happen to your poor fucking vagina. “you still want it?” she murmurs when she notices the hues of uncertainty in your eyes, superficial doubt that she interprets easily - it’s an ego boost, artificial concern to conceal her everlasting inclination to ruin you. but you blink at her, flickering between her eyes and the slightly palatable mulberry tip of her cock, before you nod.

it would be cruel for her to nosedive straight into you, and even she knows this, her tip glissading through your folds and lubricated with your slick. she’s slightly sensitive, the warmth of your cunt only amplifying the immense throbbing, but she’s consistent this time - your clit rubbing against her head only instantaneously as she accustoms herself with your textures.

“this might hurt, just a little.” she whispers against your jaw, fingers grappling at your hips as her own angles forward, tip insidious as it skims into your walls; your body merely a betrayal of your conscience when your walls welcome her. but it’s smooth, as she pushes herself in with such fucking entitlement, your insipid moisture coating her cock.

because she owned you, every little fragment.

her mindless breaths against your bare shoulder, the subtle rocks in her hips purely intuition. she hasn’t felt this in years, the vehemence of her girth wrapped around such a fine woman, and it motivates the urge for her to start thrusting your hips back into her. your whimpering sobs with every cudgel of her skin against yours, the indignity of her abdomen pounding against your spine and the raunchy heat of her cock assaulting your cunt.

influx of adrenaline when she hears you mewl, her sloppy kisses on your nape sultry and blistering. “i know, i know it feels good..” she sighs, both hands clenching at your thighs, your hips, your waist- anything to feel herself become adaptable inside of you, anything to get a taste of the rapture inside of herself.

“pretty.. pretty girl..” her muffled groan echoing in your ears as she gets herself off into you. she was dictating your self-worth, dictating your fucking life.. and although some of it felt as if it was just pulling the pieces together, another felt it all shatter into irreversible ruins as her left hand compressed itself onto your clit; engagement ring ever so slightly abrading itself against your wet folds.

and that’s when you feel it.

the sheer pinnacles of rhapsody so distinct as her fingers roll your clit in circular motions superlatively, cock swollen and erect. “please.. please..” you sigh, the jagged timbre exposing how receptive your bundles of nerves were; fingertips touching the very eminent icicles of orgasm when she speaks her foul language in your ears.

“i’m gonna come inside you, do you want that?”

“uh huh.”

“gonna make you the mother of my fucking kids..”

“mhm, yes, master..”

and then it erupts inside, whirlwind of frenzy that you could only compare to what felt like being edged for hours. your clit numb and jaded, the overstimulation aggravating as your walls pulse around her cock so tightly that she doesn’t even need to continue pummelling into you. conclusively, you were a mess - her palm sealing itself over your lips to repress the uncontrollable cry, tone it down ever so slightly, arms that confine your body as you tremble and do your upmost fucking best to recover.

and after a few minutes of her rocking a few inches back and forth into you, the dishevelled grunt and adhesion of her bangs against your cheek; quivering fingers against your lips and hips that airbrush themselves to divinity let you know that she’s just came.

and something feels off, seriously off. so full and saturated, and it’s when her cock slews itself out of you that you know there’s no way you’re the only one behind all the mess; looking between your legs and flinching at the pearly cream drizzling out of your hole, thick and balmy. your juices meshing together in such harmony that you feel disgust, and yet hypnosis. because she never wanted a maid,

she wanted a mistress.

#sevika x reader #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #arcane x reader #sevika smut

2K notes · View notes

g-xix · 6 months

Note

okay but a coming and supporting ginge at his Sunday league fic?? like super close friends who have this first kiss after a match where he makes a really good save??? Would be so cute if you’re still looking for ginge!fic ideas 🫶🏻

Sunday League | AngryGinge13

THINGS TO KNOW -AngryGinge plays as a Goalkeeper in football -He's hot -I've never watched Sunday league in my life, idfk what im writing abt here.

-October, Autumn weather was steadily rolling in when your best mate Morgan had his football game over the weekend -"You coming to watch?" He asked, cheeks tinted pink as he dropped into the driver's seat besides you, fastening his seatbelt before looking at you for your answer -"You know I don't know much or really care about football that much?" You shivered, the car's seats feeling almost frozen despite the fact it was just Autumn. -Ginge noticed your coldness and plopped his jacket in your lap and put the car heaters on, before pulling out -You always had a little bit of a crush on your mate Morgan, and as he looked back- putting his arm around the back of your seat to check he road before pulling out, you felt yourself blushing at the way his biceps peeked from beneath his jersey, his fingers just close enough to brush your shoulder and send electricity racing down your skin -You'd only known one another for a couple years, but had definitely become close friends. -So close that you often wondered whether your hopes of it developing into something more were ridiculous. -"Well, I don't care if you don't know much about football," He shrugged, "I like having you there with me." His words brought a certain warm to your heart from their sweetness, and you could only feel yourself melting inside as he leaned over with a cheeky grin. "...Plus you're my lucky little lady- always save more goals when you're watching"

-That last line was what sold you- and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in a woolly scarf, beanie and even your gloves- the Autumnal chill too harsh for you to go out unprepared -It wasn't a massive game- just a Sunday league one, and you could walk down to the pitch and find a place to watch in there -You got there and wasn't expecting many people to actually be there watching, but there was a little queue outside the pitch which surprised you, considering you thought it was just a little Sunday League game -Turns out Strathon (neighbouring, and most competed) town's team was going to be playing against Morgan's team. -Little breakfast bar in the pavilion area was packed with lads getting their early pints going and people just basking in the warmth -You joined in the pavilion, blowing on your fingers and warming yourself up... -Your nose was bright red and stinging, along with your ears. Felt like bloody Winter. -As you ordered yourself a hot chocolate, you felt a weight drop onto your shoulders. -You wheeled around and spotted a grinning Morgan behind you, his arm draped around your shoulder, hands kitted in the keeper gloves -"See you arrived alright, pet." He gave your head a little pat with one of the gloves, flicking the fluffy bobble of your beanie -"Yeah, wouldn't miss it for... much." You answered slowly as intrusive thoughts slowed your thinking. Morgan just laughed, already knowing your reason -He looked damn good in his kit- flicking his head so his fringe fell back, chest large and puffed confidently as he punched his gloves together, clearly excited for himself

-You let him get down to the pitch and warm up, watching from the pavilion and walking down into the stands after a ten or so minutes when everyone started running to get to their seats -Despite not being a massive football fan, you were a bit nervous for Morgan. -For some reason, you really wanted to see him do well. And you hadn't seen him play before, especially not actually trying hard before, so you were praying for him to pull out a masterclass.

-And by god by half time were you on edge. -Surprisingly, for someone who was generally uninterested in football, the tense atmosphere had you stood up the majority of the match -Morgan had been working hard in goal, some of his saves having you screaming as every time your heartrate shot up, fearful of Morgan missing. -Clearly though Morgan could hear your excited yells from pitchside, as he clearly let out a laugh each time he caught the ball or punched it away- his eyes drifting just slightly left to try catch a glimpse of your ecstatic face before kicking the ball out again -So far, Morgan hadn't let any goals in either- the score a solid 0-0. -That did however mean you were bricking it for the second half. -Second half, your heartrate was above 80 for much of the game. -And you couldn't help but admire how good Morgan looked (which only had your heartrate going higher) -His fringe was messy and spiked about his head, and the developed muscle definition on his legs did have you feeling a bit feral in the stands -Somehow you managed to calm your nasty thoughts down and focus on the game, though, instead settling for bricking the second half. -You watched as Morgan booted the ball down pitch, one of the forwards controlling it and making a break through the defence line- getting you up and out of your seat, face pressed in your mittened hands in suspense as you watched the forwards do his thing and swing his leg back before... -Yells and cheers were heard as you and the rest of your row all got onto you feet, celebrating the forwards that'd been scored, as well as Morgan, who'd set it up in the first place. (Though it might've just been you who was cheering for Morgan, there) -Your head flicked back to Morgan in goal and you watched as his he let out a victorious yell of his own, patting his mate on the back before looking out into the crowd- his eyes scanning the crowd before they found your own, as indicated by the grin that lit up on his face, his eyes sparkling even brighter as he pointed with the gloved finger straight at you- a little shoutout to his unofficial-but-both-of-you-wanted- WAG. -And it was clear you were passionate for Morgan when one of the defenders got in Morgan's way and ended up letting Salford let a goal in- Morgan could hear you yell WANKER from the stands despite the uproar from both sides of the crowd and the rest of the pitch's yells. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at being able to hear you despite the slight annoyance of conceding a goal.

-The full 90 minutes had elapsed and still your heart rate was through the roof, as the ref blew the whistle and it was decided- penalties were going to be taken. -The opposition took the first penalty... And Morgan's fingers brushed it, only just letting it in. -But luckily, your town scored one as well. -The next one also went in, and Morgan yelled a curse out, your heart thumping in your chest in fear. -And you were thanking God as the next ball went in, as your town scored once more -You coudn't help but admire Morgan in goal, sizing up the opposition as he waited for them to shoot. Morgan just looked so good, hitting his gloved hands together and bouncing from side to side, all too good looking in his kit -All admiring was cut short as you watched the shooter take his run up though, striking the ball and sending it mid-left... -Morgan caught the ball, pulling it tight to his chest and skidding to the side as he saved the pen, a scream leaving your throat along with the rest of your stand as you all cheered the save, watching Morgan let out a yell of his own, completely high on the adrenaline as he rolled the ball out and jumped, looking back to your stand -His head moved bit by bit slowly until he found you in the stands, the grin lighting up on his face once more as he found you- lifting his hands and signing the love symbol as best he could with his gloved hand, making your heart swell a bit as you felt your cheeks blush a bright pink, making heart hands at him before crouching down behind the people in front of you so that he didn't see how bright your cheeks were glowing (and only glowing brighter by the second) -You had your fingers crossed behind your back as you watched your team take the third penalty, the same forwards that had scored earlier took the run up, striking the ball hard and sending it up right... and crashing past the goalie's fingers and into the net behind.

-Screams filled your stands as the front few rows began jumping over the wall to go and join the winning team on the pitch- the bustle around you sending you forwards also, leaving you no choice but to get up and onto the pitch as well. -"Y/NNNN!" You heard your name yelled happily, before feeling a great force run into you -Morgan's arms wrapped around your waist, picking you right up as you squealed happily, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning into his body whilst he gave you a joyous spin, his heat radiating through the thin kit and warming you up greatly also, the hug slightly sweaty from Morgan's playing, though neither of you cared -"You were bloody brilliant!" You exclaimed as Morgan placed you back on the floor, getting up onto the tips of the toes to place a little kiss against his cheek whilst your arms were still wrapped around one another -You took your arms off Morgan's shoulders, one of Morgan's hands leaving your waist and coming up to his face to touch the place where your lips had left a kiss against his cheek. You could feel a blush rising to your cheek as Morgan paused completely to acknowledge the kiss, whilst his other arm still remained around your waist- his eyes looking off into the distance as if completely zoned out. -"I played great?" He repeated, and you could see a little grin start forming on his face as his eyes came back into focus before meeting yours, the cheeky grin now fully formed on his face as he tapped his lips with a gloved finger. "Surely I deserve a bit more for that then..." -"What, you want a proper snog?" You joked, though you could feel your heart lurch into your throat, almost making you choke up as you felt a nervousness wash over you. It wasn't quite clear whether Morgan was just giving friendly banter at this point or genuinely trying for something... -"Only if it's from you," He shrugged with the grin still plastered on his face, though he broke eye contact to look to the ground almost as though he were nervous, himself. -Fuck it. -You got back onto the tips of your toes, one hand resting on his cheek to pull his face down to yours so that you could press your lips onto his own firmly... before pulling away approximately after a millisecond of contact. -Morgan's eyes fluttered open. -"What, that's all?" -"You want more? You fucking initiate it then, it's nerve-wracking, you know?" -"Fine!" -THERE. Morgan got that great big snog he was looking for. -His arm snaked around your shoulders, holding you possessively as his lips met yours, fireworks fizzing and exploding in your stomach and making your heart thump even harder than it was at the start of the second half. You were sure he could taste the coffee and cocoa butter on your lips as well, as it felt almost as though he were chasing something- the way his lips moved on top of yours so passionately. -"GOWARN MORGAN!" The cheers from his teammates were what broke the kiss up, your lips detaching from his as you let out a laugh, burying your head into the crook of his neck, nose warming against his body- hot from the adrenaline of kissing and football. You could feel Morgan's body shake slightly as he was slapped on the back by his teammates, shouting a variety of other praises and cheering for him for "Finally getting some..." -You personally? -Couldn't be more grateful for the fact you'd come to watch the match and were now in the arms of your first kiss.

BONUS SCENE!

You waited by the car, taking a sip of your gingerbread latte and checking the time on your watch. It'd been almost a whole forty minutes since Morgan had said he'd be out the changing room in a sec, and had given you enough time to get through three peanut butter cookies from the pavilion and two hot drinks.

It had been courteous of him to offer to drive you back, especially after your little moment on the pitch (which still had you smiling giddily and blushing when you thought about it), but you were half considering just walking home, when-

"SORRY, I didn't mean to take that long!" The back door of the changing rooms leading into the car park swung open, as a dishevelled looking Morgan flipped his head, flicking his fringe out of his head as he jogged over to you and the car.

"Yeah, you took your time," You responded, opening the passenger seat door as Morgan opened the car, chucking his duffel bag in the boot and plopping his ass in the driver's seat.

The car wobbled a bit as the two of you sat down, and as you reached over to put the radio on- Morgan leaned back to grab his seatbelt when something shiny fell out of his pocket.

"Oh shoot, you dropped-"

You held up the four or so shiny packets that'd fallen out of his pocket.

TROJAN CONDOMS XL STIMULATION WHERE IT COUNTS-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" You exclaimed, dropping them back down and rushing to unbuckle your seatbelt, jaw dropped whilst Morgan scrambled to pick the other three up and shouted "NONONONO-"

"THEY'RE NOT MINE, I PROMISE, PLEASE JUST REALISE-"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE NOT YOURS, ARE THEY FUCKING USED?!"

"YES- I MEAN- NO, NO OF COURSE THEY HAVEN'T BEEN USED-"

"wHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THSOE RIGHT NOW?!"

"I CAN EXPLAIN-"

"ARE THEY MEANT TO BE FOR US?!"

You looked past Morgan as saw the rest of the team exiting the locker rooms, patting one another on the back as they said goodbye- one of the players spotting Morgan and yourself in the car- his face stretching in a cheeky grin as he pointed at the two of youse, drawing attention from the other boys as he yelled:

"USE 'EM WELL, EH MORGAN?" He passed a wink on to you as well, making you groan and slide down your car seat in embarrassment, hands pressed over your face as Morgan tried not to cringe too hard himself.

"Yeah, they were the ones that gave it," Morgan explained wearily, rubbing his face with a hand of his own as he tried not to make eye contact with the others outside the car.

"It was only a kiss, anyways..."

"Yeah well, that's what The Killers said as well and look how that ended up."

You couldn't help but deadpan up at Morgan whilst he tried not to burst out laughing at what he thought was god-tier comedy.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, his phone was connected to the car's sound system-

"OI BIXBY, play Mr Brightside on Spotify!"

Hearing those starting chords from the car's tinny radio system drew a second groan from you as you sunk even further into your seat, much to Morgan's amusement as he cackled and pat your head.

"Get used to the shitty jokes, love, I'm taking you out for dinner tonight for a first date so you better start liking me sooner or later..."

--------

WELLLL IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE'VE SEEN SOME ANGRY GINGE CONTENT HA'NT IT??!! Much love n hoping everyone enjoyed bc i LOVE LOVE LOVE a little bit of autumn fanfiction it's such a cute lil vibe teehee

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

#angryginge13 #angryginge #angry ginge #morgan burtwistle #fluff #oneshot #youtube #youtuber #twitch #twitch streamer #sidemen #danny aarons #aanny daarons #wroetoshaw #ksi #tobjizzle #zerkaa #miniminter

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marchsfreakshow · 6 months

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Nicknames and Praise {James Patrick March x Reader}

You're a sub. A big one. So James helps you find a way to ride him confidently.

Pure Smut underneath the cut !!

No one's perspective

18+!! MINORS DNI Warnings: pure Smut, bare-bones plot, pnv, riding, praise, use of the nicknames daddy and master, Just a lotta praise. Crud smut writing ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Whines and small groans took over the room. Sloppy kisses pressed to your lips and his lips. People walked past the room, distracted by the noises coming from room 64. They were distracted by the wonder of how much he was pleasuring you, or how much you were pleasuring him. They simply carried on walking, however, not wanting to peek in and distract you and James.

Both of you were almost high from each other's scents, unable to keep yourself from kissing his neck and wanting to leave marks. "Sir...please. please let me lay down.."

"no no Mon Cher...you're staying on top of me today. I'm teaching you how to be a good girl for daddy."

You gulped as you sat up, and nodded. "Yes, daddy." A blush made your face more red, and James stared up at you. Almost intimidating you. Fine. The clothes were coming off. First your thin, woolly jacket. It barely hid your sheer, white shirt. The shirt proudly showed off the bra you wore especially for James. Dark red. Almost a maroon. James secretly hoped it was a matching set because it looked so good on you.

He cursed under his breath. A rare thing, for James. Cursing. You leaned down and smiled warmly at James. "You're such a good girl, aren't you? Wearing your best lingerie for me. You planned this didn't you?"

"Maybe." As you were leaning down, he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, revealing the seductive underwear you put on earlier.

Your skirt went next. He wasted no time moving you around so you were laying under him. Both of you were staring at each other, the tension wanted to be cut. Cut by James turning you around and undoing your skirt, ripping it off along with ripping a hole in your tights. A perfect hole that lined up with your pretty, plump ass.

James stared at your ass. He stared for so long, that you propped yourself up on your elbows and attempted to turn around again. "Sir...?"

"I'm going to make you scream."

You let out a little squeak as you let yourself move your face back into the pillow. "Oh, puppy no. Not today." James grabbed your hair and moved your head up, only slightly, so your neck didn't feel like it was going to rip open. He would most likely prefer that, however.

"Sir...Daddy please.."

"Please what?"

"Please do me already." You whined, staring at the general direction of the headboard. He let out a 'hm' and a little laugh, letting go of you already. Your head immediately plopped back onto the pillow. James had sat himself down next to you and was staring at you. The lust in his eyes was like a fire, wanting to be ignited by your moans, and making you feel like a fuck toy for him.

His trousers had been taken off, and his shirt, messily unbuttoned. It made you want him more. You hastily straddled him again, and he chuckled. "Look at you my whore, so desperate for me yes?" You nodded again, hiding your blushing face from the man below you. "Go on, put it in."

The eye contact was unbearable. You slowly move your own underwear to the side. It matched your dark, maroon bra. Uncomfortable but lacy, and it turned James on more. You took his cock out of his own underwear, staring longly at it. But you looked back up, and he was staring darkly at you. The light in his eyes was no more. All he wanted was to see you whimper and feel embarrassed as you rode his cock, without any guidance. He wanted you to do it solo. Ride him, pleasure him, and make you feel more dominant because of how much of a submissive woman you were for him.

"oh, my pup can't even put it in herself can she?"

"I...I can do it daddy." You quietly moaned, adjusting yourself until you were lowered onto James cock. He made you sit upright on it, so it reached the G-spot immediately. It made you whine slightly and grip onto his sides. Your whines turned him on more, both of you staring intensely at each other. The tension rose again quickly. It ended when you leaned down and hid your face in your master's neck. Yet, you attempted to continue moving. You rocked your hips back and forth rather than up and down.

James groaned heavily but pushed you and kept you upright. "You're such a good girl for your master. Riding me just right.." You nodded in response, hiding your face in your hands. "Look at me, angel."

He held your hands away from your face and gestured down towards you sitting on top of him. Gulping slightly, you started to move again, attempting to go faster. The small whimpers and moans left your mouth as you moved, with James holding your hips and helping you move.

It was easy to find your pace, but he wanted you to look at him. If only looking at him didn't make you weak, and soft. If only looking in his general direction didn't turn you into his putty to play with. His eyes truly intimidated you, you became a whimpering, slutty mess under his hands. Even if he just praised you for looking at him while he fucked you raw.

"oh pup. Mm, puppy."

He was close. You could tell.

He had his eyes screwed shut, his hands still gripping onto your moving hips.

Quickly, you took the opportunity to grind down, and rock back and forth on his cock as fast as you could. "f..fuck. daddy.." You whispered in between your own moans. James continued to moan your name out, resisting the urge to cum without looking at you.

As your head was thrown back, he opened his eyes to look at your pretty face. "my pretty girl.." his voice was breathy. You looked back down and immediately hid your face. "Daddy didn't teach you to hide your face...when he's gonna come." James barely managed to get out between breaths.

Despite feeling incredibly embarrassed for no reason, you carried on grinding and riding James. He whispered and moaned out praises for you as you cried out his own names you had for him. Your dynamic was heard by everyone on the current floor of the hotel. Yet you didn't care at that moment, you were being James' good girl, and taking him until both of you were in a mess.

When James gripped your waist one last time, you could feel him coming, so you let yourself flop down. You hid yourself in his neck again. "You're such a good girl for me.."

"mhm.." You managed to squeak out as you moved around and lay beside James. Soon though, you took your cloth and cleaned yourself and James up. "I love you, darling."

"I love you my hummingbird. I'm so proud of you. Next time I'll do everything hm?"

"Thank you daddy." Before kissing him softly, you laid the blanket over yourself and the man lying next to you.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @ahsrulez420 @taintandviolent @lilthbunny @howtobesasha @hyperharlz @tatelangdonsweater

{[please ask to be added to the taglist!]}

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #james march #ahs hotel #jpm x reader #smut #jpm smut #evan peters smut #james march smut #james march x you #evan peters x reader #x reader fics #x reader smut #ahs x reader #ahs smut #american horror story hotel

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outofangband · 3 months

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I really loved @gwaedhannen ‘s post about wanting more strangeness in First Age Beleriand and I had a post awhile back about potential strange ecology for Middle Earth so I wanted to revisit it with some more thoughts!

Following up to my speculative biology ideas for elves,

Like the last list, these are more jotting down ideas, please please feel free to give me any to elaborate on!

Mammoths on the Helcaraxë and other cold reaches. Tolkien talks of all creatures that walk or have ever walked the earth existing in Valinor and throughout Arda hence prehistoric and extinct species can also exist here. I do also headcanon smaller herds of woolly mammoths and woolly rhinos in northern Hithlum and north of greater Beleriand. Stellar’s sea cows in the frozen waters:(

Early cenozoic aquatic birds such as Hesperornis off the coasts of Balar and Alqualondë.

Enchanted orchards of Valinor; large, seemingly abandoned self containing gardens and orchards. There are fruit tree orchards hidden behind ivy covered walls; some always filled with Autumn breezes, citrus groves always kept warm and bright lined with lemon trees and deep green grass. Except for the Maia who tend them, the only beings who enter the orchards are elves who do so, usually by mistake.

There are places throughout Arda where the Music was not well, loud, enough. They can be the size of a footstep or a field and are not fully connected to the space time continuum. Those who tread on them will end up elsewhere in time or space and will never realize what had happened.

In the great expanses of unexplored Valinor, there are coves, glens, lagoons, and all sorts of other places that seem shift and change, being there one day and not the next. Even while walking through familiar, charted territory, there is always the possibility of ending up in a hidden clearing, covered in hanging mosses and with strange lights all around.

The forests of Beleriand are full of strange, sometimes dark creatures that have never been properly documented. They are the strange hybrids of Yavanna’s creations and Melkor’s corruption and a few have escaped the eyes of even the Ainur.

The underground lakes of Middle Earth, especially around Angband contain blind, hungry beings, nourished by the volcanic soils. Strange fungi and lichen stick to the walls of the caverns and passageways beneath the fortress.

There are hot springs in several locations in Beleriand South of the Ered Wethrin (there are many in the Ered Wethrin of course but these are not exactly relaxation destinations). Namely in Himring, throughout Hithlum, north of Barad Eithel, parts of Dorthonion, in the caves of Androth, and parts of the Ered Luin. Not all of these are used by residents and not all maintain safe temperatures or conditions but some do! In many parts of Northern Beleriand, they're used for bathing and communal relaxation. There are other springs throughout the March of Maedhros and I like the idea of Himring being built around a hot spring. There are hot and warm springs in both Nargothrond and Menengroth. The definition of warm springs differs from hot springs only in average temperature

The caves of Menengroth and Nargothrond allow elves and others access to the strange wonders of the underground world of Middle Earth. They are lit by lanterns and by certain bioluminescent plants. There are windows in key areas that allow sunlight to filter into some of the larger halls and though there are small gardens of species that do not require direct sunlight, some are stationed in the areas where sunlight filters in. A small tributary of the river Narog flows directly through one of the great halls of Nargothrond. Its flora and fauna remain untouched by the elves and algae and aquatic plants as well as small fish, salamanders in their early stages, and stranger creatures are visible to see for those who walk along it.

In realms with Ainur or certain Eldar rule, natural life may not follow typical laws. Melian has great influence over the biodiversity and climate of Doriath for example even without meaning to.

The horror potential of the boundaries of the girdle or of Nan Elmoth. Time and space distorting, the forest becoming a maze, bird calls confusing and disorienting unwary or unlucky travelers

The Ered Gorgoroth, the eerie, mysterious mountain range, bordered to the north by Dorthonion and to the south by Nan Dungortheb. It was said the spawn of Ungolian haunted these mountains and the valley. I have some more posts on this but I've always imagined there being many pools and meres in Ered Gorgoroth, many harmless though frigid and some completely corrupted by the powers of Ungoliants spawn and other beings. Unfortunately, it’s not always possible to know which was which until it was too late.

Chemical reactions causing glimmering or colorful water. Elves learn carefully when this has occurred due to natural phenomena and when it is the result of unnatural influence or Ainur presence.

Salt lakes and landlocked waters mimicking ocean conditions. I’ve always imagined there being a lake like lake Baikal in the March of Maedhros

More Bioluminescence

The realms draped in dragon reek especially around Nargothrond. The pools of Ivrin are ruined by Glaurung and they are the source of the river Narog, the largest tributary to Sirion. The entire land could be poisoned. I imagine that plants wither or lose color, birds and frogs stay silent, animals are thrown off of their natural cycles, The orchards in the hills barren or producing foul fruit, strange happenings resulting from drinking from the river Narog or even eating animals that drank from it…

Alternatively the effects of the water where the power of Ulmo is still strong such as in Nan Tathren or the Twilit Meres

#the silmarillion #beleriand #musing and meta #Valinor #Doriath #ered gorgoroth #I hope these are ok I’m very tired

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pastelispunx · 2 months

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She spins! Guinevere spins!

So named because I used King Arthur Baking twine to get her rigged up enough to spin yarn.

#yarn #knitblr #fiber arts #fiber crafts #textiles #spinning wheel #antiques #my woolly wonders #with the wool

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woolandcoffee · 1 year

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As part of the 18th c ball I'm going to later this year, I'm going to be attending a "knickers tea" hosted the following morning by the same event organizers. The dress code for this tea is much more loose - basically, you can wear anything you want from any historical period, and while the event is called a knickers tea, that's really more a suggestion to wear historical undergarments than a requirement.

Initially, I just thought I would make an 18th c banyan or dressing gown, but now I'm starting to wonder if this would be a good excuse to make a late Victorian tea gown. I've been wanting to make one for a while, and it could pull double-duty by satisfying the house coat that's on my Capsule Wardrobe list. I already have about 10 yards of a really lovely golden/bronze silk dupioni which I had been thinking of turning into a tea gown anyways. Yeah, I might just have to do this.

#woolly rambles #oh and in case you were wondering - yes it is extremely likely that my capsule wardrobe sewing will not be finished in 2023 #but such is life

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bambiswriting · 3 months

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We'll create these lines.

TASM!Peter x Suicidal reader

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation.

A/N: Currently feeling some strong emotions. Needed to chuck some comfort into the world.

Please, if you're in the same boat, reach out to someone. Somebody always cares.

Easier said than done, I know, but don't do what I'm doing and send yourself hurtling down a hole of believing no one gives a fuck. I'm hoping that this provides some catharsis to anyone feeling similar.

“I just don’t want to be alive right now.”

You’re numb enough to not feel the words bleeding over your lips. Truthfully, you haven’t wanted to be alive for a great many years. Hell, you wonder if you’ve ever cared for the whole arduous fucking ordeal. And by the look on Peter’s face, you imagine that he knows that. Or you know he knows that. Like he knows everything. The same way he knows the map of every line of those bloody lips. The lips that now fan breath across his face.

The puffs of grief-filled air hit the broken strands framing his forehead. They blow back, the same way this feeling has knocked you back, into this bed, under this blanket, where you wish the creases and woolly waves would carry you out to sea, and deposit you into the silent depths.

But Peter is with you there. He’s a rope, or a buoy, or whatever other shitty metaphors there are. He’s not letting you drown. It’s terribly hot under this blanket.

His face is three inches from yours. You counted them. Measured them according to the length of Peter’s fingers. That feeling of them massaging your scalp is one of few sensations keeping you grounded to the shore. Absently you count the number of moles on his cheeks, then a second time, to verify the result. You love his moles. You love the lines around his eyes, too. Lines telling the sun that this soul has been kissed by joy. You want to be the one to kiss them. You want to kiss the lines into his face.

You don’t realise it, but he’s inched closer. He presses a kiss over your murky eye, then the other. “I want you to.” So small. Closed the gap between your lips that he just chased for contact. “I want you here.”

You want him to be kissed by age. Joyous age. No pain, ever. You wish death upon yourself. To never have to witness his pain. But you must witness his bliss. You live for his life. You have to.

“Why…” The lone syllable is lead in your throat.

And he’s speechless. Losing the sand in between his toes. Watching it erode away. He might lose the grip on the rope. How could he tell you what that means? What you mean, to him?

“My world would go with you.”

You may live to create his lines.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #marvel #Spider-Man #self insert #my writing

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leggerefiore · 3 months

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Slippage

cw: fluff, winter weather, short

pairing: Ingo/Reader

Due to heavy snowfall, the Gear Station had been closed yesterday. While that might have caused some mild panic among those that used the trains to get around Unova, it had been simply too risky to get even a skeleton crew of staff in from the dangerous weather. As distressed as your beloved Subway Boss might have been, you managed to calm down the twin by telling him that he and Emmet alone can not control all the trains required. Ingo had seemed to relax at that and finally agreed to attempt to enjoy the unexpected day off.

It had been a sight watching him sit by the window to watch the weather while drinking a cup of coffee. Chandelure had floated near him, flames glowing a bit brighter than usual in an attempt to keep him warm. You had even managed to get him to cuddle up with you and watch some mediocre television shows. It was wonderful to hear him commentate on the house finding show. Certainly, you could tell his expectations for a home were solely to be within reasonable walking distance to the Gear Station. A joking mention of kids from you, however, made him reconsider somewhat as he began to debate ease of travel to schools into his plans. The rest of it had been spent trying to make a somewhat appealing stew together.

Of course, that was yesterday and today. Well, today, he felt immense pressure to get the Gear Station semi functional no matter what. The Battle lines would be temporarily unavailable, but travel lines would be open for a reasonable number of hours. You gazed at the man as he bundled himself up tightly to go fight the weather. Emmet had apparently already gone off to get things ready before he woke up. Part of you wanted to beg him to stay behind, knowing that while it had just been snowing yesterday, the ice would come today. He likely would never agree to it, not with Emmet already there.

Ingo sighed as he picked up his bag in the entryway. “Dearest, please stop looking at me with those eyes,” he sounded partially defeated while his face remained in its usual frown. His brows did press together, however. “I assure you that I will be fine,” he took a step over to you to cup your cheek with his gloved hand. The woolly texture of it was much unlike his usual ones. “If anything compromising were to happen, I would return home at once,” he continued softly, “After all, if I am in danger, then my passengers surely are, too.”

His dedication to his job was truly something else. You still frowned. There truly was no stopping him. Resting your hand over his, you sighed and softly removed it. With a lean forward, you lightly pecked his lips. “You better. If Chandelure brings me your soul, I'll be pissed,” you threatened him half-heartedly. A chuckle came from him. He then pressed his own kiss to your cheek before saying his farewells and heading out.

You went to the window to watch him leave, seeing him eventually depart from the entrance of the apartment building. Just as you were about to move away and find something else to entertain yourself, you watched him slip and fall on ice that had settled on the sidewalk.

Needless to say, you rushed down after him.

It seemed it was too dangerous for even him, after all.

His face was bright red as you helped him up, and he stammered endlessly about the situation.

(Ingo still went in. He just used his Chandelure to melt any possible ice in his way.)

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokemon/reader

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faithinus · 1 year

Text

Eyes Open

Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader 🤍

Summary: Starting out with a classic friends to lovers blurb. The reader and Joe are close friends. She wakes up in his bed one morning and overthinks everything. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: nothing too serious in this piece, just good old friends to lovers, but there are suggestions of past smutty activities, and of course this is real person fiction. Apologies in advance. This is my first time writing in years!

Word count: 2.1K

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There was a subtle hum, like someone was yawning but with their lips pressed together. It was almost inaudible but you caught it. The bed shifted from weight lifting off of the mattress. You became suddenly aware that the pillow smelled different than the one you had at home. That’s when it hit you that you were in his home, sleeping in his bed.

Eyes still shut, you tried to orient yourself in the room. If you opened them, you risked being face to face with Joe. Sure, you wondered what he looked like still sleepy. Oh god, Joe probably had cute puffy eyes and messy curls and a woolly morning voice. As much as you wanted to find out, you weren’t ready to confront last night and all of its potential consequences just yet. So, you kept your eyes shut and tried not to move. Feet padded across the wood floor and the bathroom door creaked open. How long could you lie here until you had to confront the elephant in the room?

Then, the door clicked shut. Your eyes shot open.

Last night’s silky black dress had been haphazardly tossed on the floor next to the bed. One of the straps was clearly broken, collateral damage from your fit of passion. You couldn’t remember whose fault it was, and quite frankly didn’t care. The two of you stripped each other so quickly. It was almost ravenous. So many months of being friends built up a palpable tension that burst as soon as you stepped through his front door.

Thinking about last night brought back the feeling of your spine against the wall, his breath on your neck, his hands snaking up your torso -

The door clicked open, snapping you out of your thoughts. You forced your eyes shut immediately. It was your only defense.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Not quick enough. He must’ve seen.

“No,” you whispered “s’okay”. With eyes open again, you got the chance to take him all in. Joe stood across the room, curls disheveled, last night’s slacks sitting loosely on his hips.

“Want a coffee?” he chimed, pushing a few strands off his forehead. For the record, Joe’s morning hair was just as noteworthy as you thought it would be, but his nonchalant attitude was confusing. He just slept with one of his best friends. How was he acting so calm about this?

“Yeah, sounds nice. Thank you.” You tried to match his cheery tone but the words came out more groggy than intended.

“You tired? Didn’t sleep well?” Joe teased and threw open a curtain. The sunlight hit your eyes. You squinted and dramatically threw your head in the other direction in protest. His phone screen lit up with a notification. Time: 8:20 am. It’s not that you didn’t sleep well. In fact, you were out like a light once your head hit the pillow. It’s that you didn’t sleep very long. Joe had your undivided attention until the early hours of the morning and he knew that. He was taking this opportunity to poke fun. You were trying to decide if him finding this situation amusing was a good sign for the status of your relationship or not.

“No s’fine,” you said rolling over on your side. Your bra sat cockeyed on your chest, partly exposing a nipple. The air caught in your throat and you tugged up at the fabric. Joe looked away and chuckled under his breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I haven’t seen.” He smirked and inspected the street outside the bedroom window. The satisfied look on his face made you roll your eyes. If it was anyone else, he would’ve sounded too proud, too fuckboyish. However, his confident attitude secretly made you want to pull him back to bed for round two.

And you understood. It was comical that you were rushing to cover yourself up when hours ago you had been shuddering under his touch. He had seen the full buffet, but now you were desperate to hide... at least until you could figure out where Joe’s head was at. He opened a dresser drawer and took out the first t-shirt he saw. It was black with a design on the front from an old band you barely recognized. Joe tossed it at the bed and it landed in your lap.

“Lemme go get that coffee, yeah?” He slipped out of the bedroom door. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around how casual he was acting. It was as if he was going through his normal routine. He acted totally content with sleeping with his best friend and carrying on with business as usual. Joe offered you a coffee, tossed you a shirt, and waltzed off like he had done it 1,000 times before. I mean of course he had done this before, but did he regularly bring friends home? Oh god, did you just accidentally fall into a friends with benefits situation? Wait. Did that mean he just gave you his hookup shirt?

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and slipped Joe’s t-shirt over your head. You brought the collar up to your nose and inhaled, half expecting it to smell like another girl.

It didn’t, of course. But it didn’t particularly smell like Joe either. Tie game.

You looked over your shoulder at his bedside table. Three of his rings sat in a little pile. You had to hold yourself back from focusing on them. If you let your eyes linger too long, you could almost start to feel the metal pressing into your hip, hands desperately pulling you in. You shook your head, trying to snap out of it. If this was all simply a one-night stand to Joe, you were going to curse yourself later. A one-night stand meant you need to go back to acting like friends. Acting like friends meant you would spend god-knows-how-long trying forget about the damn rings and all the places they touched you.

How had it even happened? The scenes of last night came back to you in bits and pieces, but not because of the alcohol. You were just in shock.

The two of you were out at a birthday party. Many of your mutual friends were in attendance. You had greeted Joe when he arrived and he didn’t leave your side during the entire event. From the outside, anyone could have mistaken it for normal, friendly behavior. Everyone knew you two were close, but you noticed the difference. Joe didn’t make his usual rounds. He spoke to you until someone else went out of their way to come up to him. His presence felt more intense. Each time you two would lock eyes, it was clear neither person wanted to look away. Everyone else had faded into the background.

Somewhere along the way Joe had gotten more touchy than normal. He had complimented your dress and played with your shoulder strap in a way you didn’t expect. When you walked through the crowd, his hand found your lower back. One of your favorite songs came on and he laughed at the way you sang. You teased him for the way he moved his hips when he danced.

As you swayed back and forth, your fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. Joe encouraged you to undo a few, making a comment about how hot it was getting in the crowded room. You knew that caring about the temperature was a lie by the way he got closer. Joe let your breath hit his face. His forehead was nearly touching yours and his palms slid down your back. At that point, you were sober enough to make your own decisions but intoxicated enough to act on your true feelings. One thing led to another and he was leading you out the door to call a cab.

He had one hand on your thigh the whole way home.

Joe’s head popped through the door frame, two coffees in hand. “I didn’t know if you wanted cream, so I made one with and one without.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Joe held out the mugs in front of you and raised his eyebrows, begging you to pick. “Thank you,” you whispered, taking your preference. With your other hand, you picked your dress off the floor and examined a tear along the seam. “I’m no good at sewing. It’s a shame. I really liked this dress”.

Joe lowered himself onto the bed next to you. He suppressed a smile at the work you two made of your outfit. “I know a good tailor up the street. I can have it done for you.”

“Is this what you do for all the girls? Rip their clothes and take them to your tailor friend?” You said it like a joke but were secretly dying for answers. It would be totally unreasonable to assume Joe never brought a girl home. That wasn’t the point.

As difficult as it was to admit to yourself, you were just sick of it. Sick of stealing glances across rooms and brushing it off. Sick of taking an interest in every one of Joe’s hobbies, opinions, or whereabouts and chalking it up to “being a good friend.” Sick of searching for a new movie to watch and your first thought being: “I wonder if Joe likes this one?”. Sick of rethinking every past interaction from a romantic standpoint. Sick of acting like other people are a legitimate option.

For a moment, a flash of genuine hesitation was in Joe’s eyes. He looked away from you and sipped his coffee.

“The girls? And who might they be?” he mumbled into his cup.

There was an instant pang of regret in your chest. Your question was definitely not a pleasant conversation starter.

“I don’t know Joe…you are a hot commodity these days,” you bumped your elbow into his, trying to play it off as a joke once again.

He furrowed his eyebrows and stood up. The air in the room was noticeably heavier. Ah great, you made it awkward already. Joe took a few steps and then paused, back still facing you. “Did you think- is this… a one time thing?”

You didn’t respond. Joe may have been looking for your confirmation, but you couldn’t give that to him. Your stomach was doing flips, urging you to say no. The way you looked at each other over drinks, in the cab, in his bed, even now, none of it was consistent with a one-time deal.

“You didn’t have to come back with me,” Joe spoke up. His hands went to his hips and eyes dropped to the floor. “If you are regretting this-” he trailed off nervously.

And then you laughed, which only confused him more. The last thing he did was pressure you or give you anything to regret. In fact, he was impressively attentive. The way he whispered “y’sure?” breathless between kisses, the way he glanced up at you looking for clues of your pleasure, the way he squeezed your hand and mumbled “I know” into your neck. It was all so attentive.

“No Joe,” you shook your head as you laughed. “That’s nonsense. You were lovely, really.”

He spun around to face you. “Then what are you on about?... ‘All the girls?’” he mocked your tone.

Now it was your turn to go shy under his gaze. You looked down to fidget with the hem of your - well his - shirt. You hoped you wouldn’t grow to regret this moment, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Am I crazy or was last night the result of a lot of built-up feelings? I don’t want to lose this friendship… but I don’t know if I can pretend like this never happened either. I need clarity here.”

He stood in front of you silently for the next several seconds, lost in thought. Way to leave someone with a cliffhanger, Joseph.

In an effort to cover your tracks you stood up and began rambling “I’m just worried about our friends, Joe. They probably saw us together last night. I don’t want things to be awkward between everyone. They are going to find out and-”

Joe stopped you in your tracks when his hand reached out and gently made contact with your cheek. His fingers tilted you up to face him. If Joe was anyone else, his steady gaze would be intimidating. But it wasn’t like that. It was admiration not a challenge. Your bodies drifted closer together. You lingered with your lips open, dangerously close to his, but not yet kissing. The corners of his mouth turned up. “Let them.”

“What?”

“Please. By all means, let them find out.”

One more glance at his eyes and Joe was pulling you in by the collar of his shirt. The way his lips pressed into yours was dizzying. One of your hands slid up to his shoulder and drew his body closer. Sugar and dark roast were still on his tongue. It was going to be a while before you wanted to open your eyes again.

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #fluff #faithinus writing

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