#the dirt where i live is very red which is fun but it's a little bit of a spook to see my cats after they roll around in it lol

[jeremy-lemon]

In passing it looks confusing to me but I'm genuinely excited to get to know the munsell color chart

#lemme study the dirt colors i wanna study the dirt #the dirt where i live is very red which is fun but it's a little bit of a spook to see my cats after they roll around in it lol #Ill probably be sick of the chart after looking at it long enough but tbh im fine with that 😂 #archaeology #i just want to know what all the little numbers and letters mean

[slutforalastor]

Say It With A Smile, Part 1

You'd always considered yourself an unremarkable sinner. You hadn't done much of anything to really deserve damnation, save for your lack of penitence. In terms of Pascal's wager, you'd gotten the worst outcome. Or at least, what you knew of Hell had made you figure it would be the worst. In reality, there were things about your eternal afterlife that could be worse, although there were many things that could be better, as well.

Trying to get away from the things that could be better, the murder, cannibalism, trafficking, and general malaise of the street, was part of what had attracted you to the Hotel. Sinners might've turned their noses up at the idea of needing to be reformed, but you'd never been much for vice. You had your fun, did your experimenting, but settled into the things that helped you forget, which were fortunate enough to not be things that shortened your life expectancy.

Not that you'd lived a full life. There was little romance to your demise; you'd simply been more focused on your phone than on the bus with the faulty brakes squealing its way down the avenue. It happened so quickly that you were still holding your hand a few inches from your face, but now it was painted a soft, sandy grey, your nails sharpened to points.

But that's the past, and at present, you're stooped outside the door of the towering hotel, the marquee blinking its welcome in bright flashbulbs. The knocker, shaped like a key with one ever-watchful eye, beckons to you. Time to get on with your afterlife. A few raps against the door, and you hear a commotion, several voices clamoring ever closer to the entryway.

The door swings open, the Princess of Hell beaming at you, and some of her entourage piled behind her, trying to see who's come to call. "Oh my Gosh, please tell me you're here to be redeemed!" she squeals, immediately grabbing your hand and yanking you into the foyer. For how impressive it was on the outside, it's even more impressive within. The ceiling goes up higher than you thought possible, a grand staircase standing in symmetry on either side of the welcome area. A demon, winged and catlike, rests his elbow against the bar, talking to a spider-like sinner in a stool, with one of their four hands wrapped around a drinking glass. They're the only ones that haven't made a crowd around you. In your immediate vicinity, so close as to make you wonder if they're going to attempt to assimilate into you, is the Princess, who breathlessly introduces herself as Charlie, and lets you know how exciting it is to have another member, how much you're going to love it here, and the rattled-off names of the other guests and staff, spoken too quickly for you to have any chance of remembering. Another demon, muted gray and deep blue, a red x mark over where one of her eyes should be, pulls you to the side, Charlie continuing to ramble before bursting into a song and dance everyone seems to be ignoring.

"Sorry about Charlie, she's… very happy to have another guest. I'm Vaggie. Let me actually introduce you to the rest of the crew."

Vaggie guides you from demon to colorful demon, letting them introduce themselves, some shaking hands, others offering a raised hand in greeting, and one in particular obsessively dusting the dirt and caked-on blood off your shoes, muttering to herself.

"There's one more somewhere around here, although honestly I wouldn't mind if he didn't-"

"Didn't want to wait a second longer to greet our newest guest?" a crackling voice finished for her, the demon it belonged to forming up from a shadow in the middle of the floor. The cloud of black slowly giving shape to a deer-like man, appointed overwhelmingly in red and smiling overwhelmingly wide.

"Ah, Alastor, I was wondering when you'd join us."

"Come now, my dear, never underestimate the value of making a dramatic entrance," he countered, whirling his staff around his hand before settling it back into place with a decisive tap. He turns his focus to you, his eyes narrowing and his smile developing a few additional angles. "Alastor, just Alastor, so lovely to make your acquaintance." You offer your hand to him to shake, and he gives it a firm squeeze, perhaps a little harder than manners would dictate, releasing it after a single motion. "I'm something of the host around here; although you can't fault Charlie for enthusiasm, it'd take her a whole day just to tell you about the room we're in right now, and a hotel lives and dies by its schedule, you know."

"We'd love to give you a tour," Vaggie offers, Charlie's musical number having just entered the poignant, reflecting chorus.

"'We'? Ahaha, Vaggie, someone needs to make sure Charlie remembers to breathe. I'd be more than happy to get our new guest familiar with the hotel. Follow me, little one." Alastor speaks with such animated confidence that you can't help but do as he asks, letting him lead you up to the stairs and into the deeper recesses of your new home. ----- Also on AO3!

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #lord forgive me but I demand satisfaction

[comicaurora]

Hey Red! Huge fan of OSP and Aurora, my question for you is what animated superhero shows would you recommend?

little bee with an incongruously elephant-themed username, you are officially my best friend

Batman: Beyond

Fifty years after Batman: The Animated Series (which I also recommend, natch), Bruce Wayne has long since retired from being Batman and become a grumpy recluse until hooligan with a heart of gold Terry McGinnis steals the cowl and the fancy suit it's attached to in order to avenge his murdered father and goes on to become the Batman Of The Future, mentored by Bruce. One of the only truly episodic superhero cartoons - almost no overarching plotlines, just character arcs and the occasional villain with their own thing going on. Has a recurring rogue's gallery but also a higher villain bodycount than most superhero shows; villains of the week are not guaranteed to survive their episode, even (and especially) villains from the original Batman run. Exceptionally horrifying plotlines include "man presumed killed in industrial waste accident actually buried alive in horrifying immobilized undead purgatory and animates living humanoid masses of dirt for revenge", "all the cool kids are splicing their DNA and shockingly the dude in charge is evil about it" and "somehow the joker has returned." Also has a surprisingly good follow-up tie-in comic series (and a few less-good ones).

Justice League and Justice League: Unlimited

The first couple seasons (aka just Justice League) are almost entirely two-parters, mostly character-driven, focused in on the main seven founding Justice League members. The finale reshuffles the status quo somewhat, and then Justice League: Unlimited vastly expands the cast and incorporates basically every other DC hero ever written, but somehow doesn't completely fall apart like other shows that tried to follow suit. Most episodes of JLU are self-contained singletons that focus on small subsets of the expanded League - like "Double Date," which focuses on Huntress, The Question, Green Arrow and Black Canary and is well regarded as one of the best episodes. Features seasonal overarching plotlines as well as self-contained episodes that work in isolation. The JLU episodes that focus on the original seven Leaguers are always fun, but it's also nice to see other heroes get spotlighted.

Green Lantern: The Animated Series

Do you like lancers? Do you like sad bad boys? Do you like starcrossed love stories? Do you like self-loathing jerks with hearts of gold? Do you like it when Green Lantern is also there? Have I got a show for you! I firmly believe this show only exists to justify someone's OC fanfic romance between the world's angstiest bad boy and a sentient spaceship, and there are only Green Lanterns in it because there have to be. And it's worth it. Also features some deep pulls from the Green Lantern canon like Larfleeze, Mogo the living planet and Saint Walker the first Blue Lantern. Only two seasons and the art style takes some getting used to, but man it's got some high points. Extremely overarching-plot-driven with the occasional more episodic adventure.

Teen Titans

One of those shows that oscillates wildly between "so lighthearted it's a little tooth-aching to watch" and "so crushingly dark it's unbelievable that this is the same show as those other episodes," just how I like it. Extremely episodic which makes it easy to skip around, which is good, because a lot of these episodes are kinda dumb. Adapts some of the most iconic plotlines of The New Teen Titans, but it's a very different adaptation of all characters involved to the point where it's hard to think of them as the same characters at all. This is not a bad thing, it's just a thing. A superhero show where it feels like everyone is legitimately friends with everyone else, with shipping relegated to the background in favor of platonic dynamics. Main villain isn't allowed to be called his supervillain name because it has "death" in it and that's a no-no, so he goes by his actual legal name instead. For some reason a big deal is made over his identity and face being hidden despite his identity in the comics being Just A Buff Old Guy and his villain name being his legal name he pays taxes under.

Static Shock

Took me a criminally long time to watch this one, and I've only gotten through the first couple seasons, but it's really good. A solo hero rather than a team, Virgil's fun to watch because his powerset is limited but he's really smart with it. Turns out giving a brilliant nerd electromagnetic powers means he figures out a lot of ways to use them beyond "zapping things" or "magnetizing stuff" and it's fun to watch him figure out solutions to problems he can't just blast his way through. Also while the show had to limit some storylines to just coding and subtext (Virgil's best friend Richie is gay, but the kind of gay that's not allowed to be explicitly stated anywhere except creator interviews) the show is incredibly overt in discussions of systemic racism, police brutality, gang violence, sky-high familial expectations and how Virgil struggles to deal with all those things. Has a very brightly-colored and cartoony palette compared to other DCAU shows, making it incredibly jarring when someone hands Virgil a straight-up real gun in the first episode, which he promptly throws in the bay because he's a Certified Good Boy.

Legion of Super Heroes

Criminally underrated and only two seasons long! Clark Kent, long before he becomes Superman, gets recruited by a superhero team from the 31st century to travel into the future and help them out with a supervillain problem. He sticks around for a while learning to be a better superhero and live up to the legend he'll someday inspire, including acquiring his suit from a museum dedicated to himself. Lots of fun dramatic irony as an audience is expected to know stuff about Superman that even Clark doesn't know yet, like what Kryptonite is and why his powers don't work on planets with red suns. First season is very episodic. Everyone gets timeskipped in Season 2 and when Superman comes back he's actually been Superman for a while and is a lot better at it now. Standout character through both seasons is Brainiac 5, who is typically written romantically interested in Supergirl and in this show appears to have the exact same level of affection for Superman, which implies that his type is "kryptonians who can bridal carry me" and probably confuses the hell out of the remnants of Original Brainiac buried in his sourcecode. His "true form" is a ten-foot killer robot, which means he chooses to look like a twinky blond. In season 2 he uses a holodeck to play out dramatically dying in Superman's arms, which is around the point where "subtext" becomes "text." Superman and an edgy lancer clone of Superman spend the season 2 finale helping him out in a Battle In The Center Of The Mind versus Original Evil Brainiac, a process I am convinced only takes as long as it does because Brainiac 5 has two Supermen fighting for him and he's not gonna let that opportunity slip away. Take a drink every time he uses the phrase "twelfth level intellect" and finish the glass whenever he and Superman play out a scene that would be less romantic if they kissed.

Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes

On to Marvel finally! Rock solid through all of season 1, the writing gets a little shaky through season 2 - some episodes are spectacular, some are just okay, and a couple verge on full-on idiot plots. Still well worth a watch, if for no other reason than the broadly incredible character writing. This show writes Captain America so well that when he's replaced with a Skrull in season 2 the audience can tell that something is missing; Skrull-Cap acts the way Captain America acts when written by somebody who thinks he's boring, while real Cap acts like a real person who happens to be an absolute paragon of heroism. This show also writes Thor really well and respects his status as the powerhouse, and broadly all the characters are well handled and make good, smart decisions for the information they have available. This is what I consider to be the definitive version of The Avengers, and its existence is why I'm not mad at the MCU when it does my faves dirty - I know I'll always have EMH season 1!

X-Men: Evolution

So, SO early 2000s! Most of the younger X-Men are de-aged so they can double up superheroics with high school drama, which means this version of Wolverine is a full-on dad and it's great. This show also invented X-23. Also if you watched basically any anime in the 90s there are a lot of familiar voices, which makes certain scenes very jarring - Light Yagami as Nightcrawler is one of the funniest bits of dissonance. Also for new God of War fans, Magneto might sound very familiar. Quality is hit-or-miss in places - the season 1 finale is kind of laughably terrible and the show mostly pretends it didn't happen - but it has some extreme high points, mostly the Wolverine-centric episodes. Almost every conflict could be resolved immediately by Nightcrawler's powers, so unfortunately he gets knocked out at the start of nearly every fight, which circles around to being very funny after a while.

Spectacular Spider-Man

The best Spider-Man cartoon, I think! Very much a solo story - just Spider-Man alone vs his massive rogue's gallery, no other superheroes. Extremely quality banter and arcs - several villains have their origins during the series, many appearing in important roles before becoming proper supervillains. Very much an overarching-plot story, and unfortunately canceled before some of those arcs could be resolved, so it ends on a bit of a bummer, which is fairly standard stuff for Spider-Man, tbh. This is a good version of Peter, which is good, because we spend a lot of the show in his head; we get a nearly-constant inner monologue from him so we always know what he's thinking, so he'd better be likable.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

[internet-sadass]

My Bloody Betrayal (Harry Warden x female reader)

Blurb: Your boyfriend, Joel, takes your joke about having a date in the mines a little too seriously. You turn up for your date and encounter who you believe to be Joel, dressed up in full mining kit. The date goes to plan, and you end up getting down and dirty in a mine shaft, but do you really know who it is gripping your throat and touching your body?

(this is a terrible description but tldr: you accidentally bang Harry Warden)

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, dubious consent (reader is tricked into having sex with someone), accidental cheating, outdoor sex

A/N: I'm down so bad for Harry Warden, he's so AUGHH therefore I had to bash out a fic about this lovely masked man <333 If this is terrible and confusing, I am sorry, it is a very odd plot and I doubt I pulled it off well. 

Pulling your jacket closer around your shoulders, you walked into the rickety (and definitely not up to current safety standards) lift and pressed the button. It cranked into action and began the 2,000-foot descent into the mines.

‘I wish Joel wouldn’t take my jokes so literally’. You thought, pulling at your hair, trying to fix it now the damp night air had started to make it frizz up. ‘ I bet he thinks this is a real smooth way to get some loving out of me’. 

Joel, after deciding that your joke about a ‘spooky’ date in the mines was a legitimately good idea, had added his own twist. With a dumb smile painted across his face, he’d told you that the first one to get spooked when they were exploring the shaft where Harry Warden and the other four miners had been trapped all those years ago had to give the other whatever they wanted. In Joel’s case, that meant getting to do more than just kiss you and fondle your breasts through your blouse. You had no objections to him going further than kissing and touching. Joel wasn’t the only one desiring more than just tame petting. However, you wanted your dear boyfriend to work for it. If that meant playing along with his ‘if you get scared, then I get to see you naked’ scheme, then so be it. 

Entering the shaft, you peered into the darkness. Joel had said to meet him down there, and then he’d show you around the vast warren of tunnels he called his workplace. 

“Joel?” 

A light flickered to life, illuminating the narrow tunnel you were in. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust. In the center of the tunnel, illuminated by the single bare lightbulb above, was a figure kitted out in the mining gear and gas mask you’d seen Joel wear on the few occasions you’d picked him up from work. The figure tilted its head at you.

Cogs whirred in your head, and it didn’t take you long to piece together an explanation for whom this figure was. After all, there was only one logical answer.

“Oh ha ha, very funny, Joel. You thought I’d see you and think, ‘shit, that’s Harry Warden’ and start screaming the moment I set foot down here?” Walking up to the masked figure, you ran a hand up his arm, then pressed your hand to his chest, feeling the solid body hidden under the layers of rough fabric. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to spook me.” 

A deep chuckle came from within the mask, vibrating along the tube. The figure, which you had decided was definitely Joel, ran a hand down your back and over your backside, squeezing it.

“Mm, good to see you too. But don’t get my dress dirty, Jesus!” You scolded him, looking over your shoulder and down at your body to see if any dust or dirt from the mining suit had stained your pretty red dress. 

The masked man backed away slightly, taking his gloved hand off our body and instead offering it to you to hold. You couldn't help but grin, feeling a little giddy and lovesick at your boyfriend being romantic and sweet while geared up in an objectively creepy-looking outfit. As ridiculous as this whole date idea was, it was just a bit of fun that both of you needed in your dull adult lives. The pair of you set off into the mines, Joel leading the way, the light on his helmet illuminating the narrow walkway, his hand firmly clasping your own.

***

The whole ‘not speaking’ schtick Joel was doing bothered you less and less as time passed. Sure, it was a bit disconcerting or even annoying to say something to him and get a muffled ‘mm’ or a deep chuckle, but you admired his dedication to making this date ‘spooky’ by playing a role. Once the two of you had finally reached the fabled shaft where the miners had died, Joel stopped and pointed at the closed-off shaft. 

“This the one?” 

A nod was your answer.

You looked at the shaft, which had since been repaired and was in use. It wasn’t all that creepy unless you thought too hard about the lore behind it. 

“Oh wow, Joel, I’m so scared of this shaft that looks identical to all the others we have passed.” You teased, grinning at your boyfriend. There was a ‘hmph’ from within the mask, and he shook his head, pointing again.

“You want to go in there?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You said with a shrug, taking the lead this time and entering the shaft. Joel followed, his hand still holding yours. Once inside, you stopped, facing him, looking up at the two dark goggles that hid his eyes.

 “I think your plan failed. Guess you’ll be doing what I want since I didn't even flinch, let alone scream the whole time.” You guided his hands to your waist, no longer concerned about your dress getting dirty, and pressed yourself close to him.“You know what I want?” 

A tilt of his head told you to explain.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You whispered harshly, annunciating the ‘fuck’ by pressing your thigh against his crotch. A groan rattled along the tube, the hands on your waist squeezing your sides before pushing you against the wall. His gloved hands roamed over your body, squeezing your thighs, the plush of your lower stomach, your tits, exploring the curves and contours as if he was mapping out unchartered territory. The hem of your dress was pushed up, exposing the meat of your thighs and your soft cunt to him. The coarse fabric of the gloves had you twitching as he ran his hands up your thighs, caressing the insides of them, letting his thumb brush over your clit, giving you the slightest hint of pleasure. You felt yourself clench in anticipation.

As sensual as it was to have scratchy gloves wandering all over your body and to have your boyfriend pretend to be some silent, dominant beast of a man, you wanted to see his face, to kiss his lips and his neck. You made a move to remove the gas mask, curling your fingers under the base of it. 

Joel jerked his head away from you and let out a firm ‘no’.

“You want to keep it on?” You asked, confused as to why he wanted to keep his face covered and, on a more practical note, how he was going to fuck you properly while wearing a clunky gas mask. 

He nodded, bringing his hand up to cup your check. You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his. The hand on your cheek ran down your jaw and throat, giving it an experimental and light squeeze before resuming its incessant caressing of your body.

Those hungry gloved hands guided you to turn to face the wall. Joel fumbled with the zip on the back of your dress before finally getting a grip on the zipper and freeing you from the red fabric. The dress slid off your body, falling to the ground around your ankles.

“I really thought you were going to rip my dress off, but you’ve got a lot more self-control than I thought you had.” You mused, still facing the wall. You glanced over at Joel, who stood motionless for a second before he lunged at you, wriggling his fingers under your bra and yanking at it until the clasp gave way.

“H-hey, don’t break that, it’s my-”

As soon as your ruined bra started to fall off the front of you, your panties got the same treatment, being torn off your body and discarded. Heavy breaths rattled through the tube, and his chest heaved as he panted, exhilarated at tearing the remainder of the clothes from your body. You quickly forgot all about your favourite bra being destroyed when Joel pressed his body against yours, the firm rod of his erection solid against your ass and lower back. A growl reverberated down the tube. 

“I didn't know you wanted to play it rough. You wanna be rough with me, baby?” Your voice was husky and dripping with lust. The cool air of the mine against your slick lips made apparent how wet and needy your cunt was. A fresh trickle of arousal coated your lips. You felt Joel crouch behind you, his hands spreading you open so he could get a better look at what his presence and touch had done to you. He rubbed his thumb dangerously close to your opening, tugging at your flesh to peak at your pink insides. A low rumble of approval came from his crouched form.

Tugging his gloves off, Joel sunk two fingers into you without warning. You gasped and tried to turn your body away from his touch. This annoyed him, as his free hand clamped down on your hip, holding you in place and preventing you from squirming away. His two fingers probed you, curling up to tickle your G-spot, scissoring to stretch out your hole. The shaft was filled with your moans and the sound of your glistening cunt being played with by your curious boyfriend, the noise bouncing off the walls and echoing through the rest of the empty mine. 

The sensation of fingers up inside of you was joined by two more fingers rubbing circles on your clit, as Joel removed the hand holding your hip and repositioned it over the front of your crotch. You’d stopped resisting him now, so there was little point in trying to hold you in place, not when that hand could draw more pathetic whimpers out of you. Both his hands worked at different paces; the thrusts of his fingers inside you were slow and drawn out so he could caress every velvety inch of your walls, whereas he rubbed your clit at a feverishly fast pace. You were quickly coming undone, gripping at the grimy walls as you felt the pressure building in your belly.

“J-Joel, please don’t fucking stop. Please - ah god, fuck - you're so good at this.” Your words came out in an incoherent mess as you bucked back against him, almost knocking him over. 

Joel got up, removing his fingers from you for a moment, only to pull you against him, his head on your shoulder as he plunged two fingers back into you, using his thumb to stimulate your achingly sensitive clit. Now you were so close to him, you could hear how heavy his breathing was, even through the mask and the respirator tube. Arching against him, you keened as he kept pumping you, kept playing with your clit. The tension broke, and you felt yourself clench around his fingers, trapping them inside you as you practically wailed in satisfaction. You leaned your body weight against him as your legs trembled, all your strength leaving you as you came down from your orgasm. You flopped in his arms like a rag doll, held up only by the arm he’d wrapped under your breasts.

You were only given mere moments to regain your composure before Joel took your hands and placed them against the wall, forcing you to resume the position you had been in before. His breathing was ragged as he hurriedly undid just enough buttons on his boiler suit so he could slip his cock out. The crown was angry and red, leaking pre-cum as Joel gave it a pump and lined it up with your entrance. He slammed into you, shoving his full length in until his hips pressed firmly against your ass. A hand joined yours against the wall as he leveraged himself before starting to rut into you, drawing his cock out until only the tip remained submerged inside you before ramming it back in. His pace was relentless as he drilled into you, the drag and friction of his solid cock against your gummy walls making you moan and whine his name. You’d never expect that Joel would fuck like this, like some animal turned half-mad, driven only by the need to dump its seed into whichever mate would take it. Although the gas mask distorted his breathing and groans, you could just about make out the fact he was cursing to himself with every thrust. A hand grasped your throat again, squeezing it in time with the clench of your cunt, as if he was trying to show you how your tightening walls felt around his length. At this point, your head had turned to mush and you couldn't do much more than moan and stutter his name out over and over. 

Joel’s end was so close that he could feel his balls spasming as they got ready to unload. He slowed himself, trying to eke out more pleasure from the vice-grip of your cunt, drawing himself out all the way and then forcing himself back into you until his tip prodded at the innermost point of your core. His fingers gripped uselessly into the crumbling wall, and he pushed himself in as far as he could, holding himself in your heat until he felt his cock throb one last time. Viscous arcs of seed spurted out his slit, and he grunted in relief as he filled your womb and your hole with a load he’d been holding back for far too long.

The pounding of footsteps brought you to your senses as you struggled, trying to push yourself up off the wall and grab your clothes before whoever was out there could come in and see the state of you. The solid body of the man who’d just fucked his load into you stopped you from moving, his hand still caging your throat.

“Joel!” You hissed, trying to twist around to face him. The hand on your throat kept you immobile. “We need to go or hide. If someone sees us down here, the whole town is gonna think I’m-”

Joel had heard voices coming from the shaft up ahead. He’d been wandering about the mine for the last hour, desperately trying to find his girlfriend, cursing himself for being so stupid as to instruct her to get down and meet him there. His car had broken down, so he’d entered the mine twenty minutes after the arranged rendezvous time. He knew she had to be down here somewhere since he’d seen her car parked on the lane outside the mining site. 

He called out her name, hoping to hear an answer. All he heard was a hushed whisper that suddenly stopped. That single sound was enough to guide him to the shaft he’d intended to bring his girlfriend to earlier to spook her by playing a prank on her. He’d intended to get a scream out of her by pulling on a gas mask and pretending to be Harry Warden. In retrospect, he felt that this whole idea of a date in the mines was incredibly stupid.

Joel was about to call his girlfriend’s name again when he shone his torch into the shaft, only to be met with the sight of his girlfriend, naked and bent over, with a man dressed head to toe in protective mining gear grasping her throat, his hips pressed against the plump flesh of her ass. Horrified, Joel froze, staring at his girlfriend as the man let go of her throat and stepped back, sliding his half-soft cock, which was glistening with cum, out of her.

You looked from Joel, who stood at the entrance to the shaft, and the man behind you. If Joel wasn’t the one in the gas mask, the one who had led you into this shaft and fucked you against the wall, then there was only one other person it really could be.

Harry Warden.

You’d just fucked Harry Warden.

#my bloody valentine #harry warden #harry warden x reader #harry warden x female reader #harry warden x you #harry warden imagine #my bloody valentine 1981 #my blood valentine 2009 #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #harry warden x reader smut

[grogusmum]

MARCH: In Which, Beans Are Not Beans, Eggs Are Everyplace and I Have To Eat Them (this is doing my part, people!) An Eostre Story as told by Grogu Djarin

WORD COUNT: 1000ish

RATED: G

WARNINGS: excessive fluff and sassafras, oh and food. Lots of food.

A/N: Here is the March installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms Ostara or Eostre marks the vernal equinox, the first day of spring in the Northern Hemisphere and one of the two days when the amount of daylight and darkness is equal- and from here on in the days get longer. Ever wonder where all the bunnies and eggs in the Easter celebration come from? It comes from this holiday right here. 

During a milestone celebration, I did a Grogu Character Takeover and got this ask-

Have you ever seen rabbits on the farm or is big ears the only rabbit you’ve met? That reminds me, since you like eggs so much have you heard about Easter which is all about hunting for eggs. I think you’d be amazing at it. Did you know bunnies can be made out of chocolate?

I thought it might be fun to expand on Grogu’s answer for this month's year of creation fic.  This is set in A Galaxy Far Far Away AU. Here is a link to that series (though you don't really have to read it to get what's going on here except that Din and Grogu are on Earth with a pagan f!reader who lives in a house called Juniper Cottage.) This is not a “witchy” one, but I hope you enjoy!

At Jupiter Cottage, Easter is called Éostre, but I was told when it comes to eggs and bunnies they are very the same! This is one of those Special Days on the calendar on the wall. And that means fun and food!

First is The Preparation. 

When I waked up one day the Jupiter Cottage had bunnies everywhere. Wooden ones, and softy ones, plus also ones that might break so please do not force lift them, thank you very much. AAAALLLLL the winter decorations were gone and the little seeds we planted on the windowsill a few weeks ago on that day about guessing when spring comes were peeking out of the dirt! 

But the most important thing is collecting eggs. This is a thing I am very good at. And the hens do not mind one bit!! We have “an Agreement”. That is permission to eat their eggs. I was very shocked by this news cuz my past experience with eating eggs was… well, let’s just say- Not. Great.  ANYWAYS, all the hens love me very a lot and we are best friends. Eva is the only hen in the hen home that gives us white eggs, so we had been saving up her eggs for a little while so we would have plenty of white eggs “for coloring”.

This is what you do: the eggs get boiled up first. This can be a frustrating process. Cuz if they crack, you can not color them. But I do not mind it, cuz I get to eat The Mistakes! Then they go in little cups. The cups all have their own colors- there is blue water, and red water, plus also yellow water, and all the waters smell weird. I am NOT allowed to drink ANY of them! 

I had trouble remembering this rule. 

We dipped the eggs in, and when they came out! They were all the colors of red and purple, yellow and blue, and green (my favorite)! This is cuz of mixing colors together and making other colors! WHAT?! Dad and Me were taught to draw pictures on the eggs before putting them in the color water with this little magic crayon! It was a very big surprise I tell you, cuz you couldn’t see what you drawed at all! Then, after putting them into the waters, WOW, the drawings is RIGHT THERE! We drawed rabbits and suns, plus also mudhorns…. and frogs a-course.

I was so excited at bedtime the night before Éostre! I was thinking about that bunny visiting us and giving me chocolate and things. I got wiggley, plus also very giggling, and stopping wiggling and giggling is hard, I tell you!

Dad sighed his sigh of you are my dear child, who never does anything wrong ever, but I am just a tired father many times.

The sun waked up and waked me up, so it was not my fault at all! So I waked Dad and he said, all super sleepy and gravel, I’m sleeping, lil womp rat.

So I just went out to peek out the door for the surprises the Éostre Bunny left for me. I brought Long Ears with me. (You know who Long Ears is, right? Yeah, we’ve discussed that guy) Cuz she is an expert being a bunny and all. I found a trail of the tiniest color eggs I have ever seen in my entire life. First, I sniffed it, and then I tasted one, cuz that is what I do! And they were so yummy! They did not taste like ANY egg I have EVER had, and I have had many eggs, even some we do not talk about!

(Frogs are friends, not food!)

ANYWAYS I was informed later that they are called “jelly beans”. But they are not beans at all, they are candy, so a Special Treat! Which is code for I can not have them all the time, which is not what I want to hear, Father!

How can they not be beans, it says bean in its very own name!? Like Candy Corns, did you know they are not corns at all? I was shocked by that news. But I do not care so much cuz candy corn is not so much… good. It is sweet. But… blah, crayony. How I know what crayons taste like is another story, that I am not telling at this time.

The jelly not-beans leaded to a basket, oh boy! It had so many good, good things! Chocolate rabbits! Well, rabbit SHAPED chocolate. I got a little concerned. And so did Long Ears! And these guys called Peepses! Have you had them?! Like baby chicks BUT NOT! These peepses are yellow with white fluffy fluff inside and chocolate on their bottoms. Plus also a wooden duck guy that you pull with a string and his big orange feet go whap whap whap on the floor and his bill goes quack quack quack and I walked him around and around! Oh and a little wooden cup on a stick, plus also an egg on a string… it is a game of trying to swing the egg into the cup. This is hard. And the egg is hard. And bonky when it hits you in the face.

Dad likes it and is good at it. He says I will get better, I just need to practice. I just walked that Duck guy around some more.

In New Hampster it is still cold outside even when it is Spring. Sometimes it snows. But not this time… So when it was not “the crack of dawn, for kriff sake” we went outside to do The Egg Hunt. It is a good thing I am a good egg finder! Cuz eggs was every place- under blueberry bushes and the jupiter bushes a-course, and in the garden shed and under Clara, which was funny. She said, Grogu did I lay a purple egg!? And I said, no silly chicken!

Pfft, I love her, but that guy. We also went for a walk in the woods to look for green and had a feast! 

Then a special moment happened! That was the Moment of the Equimox! This is when the sun moves across a line on Earth. And you get to do an eggsparmint. That is standing an egg up on one end, and it will stay! Or so they say, cuz we tried and tried… Dad and me were skepical.

And that is the special day of Eostre at Jupiter Cottage. And it was a good thing I like eggs so much, cuz we had to eat them for DAYS! We ate them hard boil, and devils, plus also salad samich.

this is Long Ears.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my writing here, and if you are interested in being tagged for this or any of my other works, here is my taglist form.

And if you want to ask Grogu a question, you can find him @grogu-explains-it-all

#as told by grogu #grogu #grogu djarin #wheel of the year series #year of themed creation #eostre #easter #ostara

[saey707]

could i get sett x fighter!reader whos very nimble and quick on their feet? they fight a lot like jinx but without the guns. headcannons, drabbles, whatever you want!

✿ Prompt: You and Sett play fight ✿

♡ champion focus: sett ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hey anon, I was a little confused on this one... (◎_◎;) Hopefully I got this right, but hey, I hope you enjoy nonetheless! <3

“Oh come on~ Please?” Nudging your boyfriend’s arm, you trailed beside him, trying to keep pace. Though, this proved to be a challenge, considering he was much taller than you, with strides that definitely exceeded your own smaller steps. Without turning his attention to your pouty face, he continued to flip a coin in his hand. He wouldn’t let himself succumb to your mind games!

“It’s not like we’re really going to be fighting! We’re just doing it for fun!” You persisted. 

Sett smirked, “For the last time. No. I ain’t gonna fight ya, darlin’!”

With a response like that, you huffed, crossing your arms with a coy grin making its way onto your smug little face: “Oh? Don’t tell me the boss is afraid to lose against lil’ ol’ me.” You taunted, Sett offering nothing more than a snort of haughty derision.

“I ain’t afraid ta lose to ya, darlin’.” “Then fight me!” Tilting his head up at your statement, he looked to the side.

Sett took an abrupt turn down a left corridor, stopping you in your tracks. With a skid in your step, you caught yourself before you could fall back. You raced beside him once more, taking note of the new direction you were taking with him. Definitely not the way to his luxury box...

“Where are we going?” You shot him a coquettish look, watching his cheeks flair up. Though, this was something only you were able to take note of. His beautifully sun-kissed skin had a certain way of covering up the embarrassingly red heat that brushed across his cheeks. 

“I think ya know damn well where we’re headed, darlin’...” 

As you and your boyfriend ventured your ways into the arena, he parted from your side, losing the familiar comfort of your heat. 

You prowled a few steps before him, observing how he rolled his shoulders, watching you yourself excitedly jumping up and down, wiggling your arms to warm yourself up. 

And as your fight began with the brute of a man, you wasted no time in starting off light, nimble even. You denied him to opportunity to count down, watching as he stumbled back a little, surprised by your eagerness to kickstart your “play fight”. The shots you threw his way were lightweight, enough to throw Sett off guard when he believed you were actually going to land a kick to his face.

But as the fight proceeded, the more frustrated you grew. Sett dodged and whipped his body every which way to avoid your punches. 

His own vows to you were partially to blame: So long as he was still standing, living, and breathing, he vowed to never lay a hand on you. 

If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Sett, it was that he was far from willing to let the one’s he loves get hurt by his hand. And there were only two people that fit such a category: His mama and you.

“Come on, hit me!” You complained, “...Or at least let me hit you!” You added. A chuckle followed, Sett shaking his head as you proceeded in throwing wild, exhausting kicks and punches his way, your initial excitement and intensity fading with each and every punch you threw. “I ain’t layin’ a finger on you!” He exclaimed.

You yelled, throwing your fist at him, Sett catching it in his hand as you sighed heavily, struggling to free your hand from his grasp. 

“Seeeettt, let go, this is cheating!” “Not in pit fightin’ it ain’t, baby.” You growled, feet digging into the dirt as you continued to try and pry your hand from his grasp.

“You done?” He asked calmly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, noticing the irritated look in your eye. Sett knew he was really in the bag now; Not fighting back, but because he was bold enough to make such a comment.

Still, he didn’t throw one punch, watching you meekly toss up your other fist, Sett catching it with ease. 

His eyes softened as you nodded your head:

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” You grumbled.

Blowing air from his nose, the half-Vastayan pressed his lips to your forehead, “You got guts. I’ll give ya that much.” He spoke sincerely, watching your eyes light up as you held his hands. 

Oh Sett knows that look alright...

“So you’ll let me try out to be one of your contenders?!

#saeybaewrites #request #short #sett #sett lol #sett lol x reader #sett league of legends #sett x reader #sett league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader #x reader

[the-lonelybarricade]

They Are the Hunters, We Are the Foxes

Part V: When She Invited the Wild In

Elucien Week Day 5: Alternate Universe, @elucienweek2022

Summary: Nesta had been very firm in her instruction not to stray from the path. The path was safe—sprinkled with iron dust every morning by the mercenaries who protected their villages. But Elain had spied the blackberries, plump and ripe for the taking, if only because no sensible human would have dared. Ordinarily, Elain wouldn’t have. Too terrified of the fae and what she heard they did to young, pretty human girls like herself. But today, Elain was to be married. Even facing the woods was less daunting than that.

CW: Little red riding hood AU. Dubious morality, mildly dubious consent, forced marriages, smut, and gratuitious use of the word “wife”. Unhinged from start to finish.

Read on AO3・Elucien Week Masterlist・Series Masterlist

-

Previous Chapter

Elain was getting fed up of men declaring she was their wife. 

Graysen, at least, wasn’t lying about it. But she certainly felt he lost points for saying it with a shard pressed threateningly to her chest and his hand wrapped around her throat. Her knife had scattered out of her hands from the attack, and she could see it laying out of reach in the dirt while she flailed helplessly against Graysen’s much larger body.

Lucien stayed where he was, his body tense and hunched. Fury coiled hot and wild in his eyes, staring at Graysen with the promise of death were he to do anything to hurt Elain.

The man above her laughed. “Look how well you have him trained. Did you have fun fucking that beast in my house?”

It was anger—possessive, jealous anger—that Graysen spat at her with his words. Elain was shocked it was something he cared about, given being locked in the cellar should have been the larger concern.

But he laughed, cruel as the glass dipping into her chest. “You think I couldn’t hear you from down there? Gods, did you really think it was human with the way it was shaking the house? Or did you spread your legs willing for a faerie bastar—“

Lucien cut him off with a furious growl, which only encouraged Graysen to tighten his grip on Elain’s throat. He used it to jerk her to her feet, his handling turning increasingly rough and impatient when she stumbled from the loss of balance.

“Here’s how this is going to work, fox.” Graysen jerked his chin back toward the cellar doors. “I have a nice little fox trap down there with your name on it. You’re going to get inside, and if you do anything else we’re both going to get to watch the light leave pretty Elain’s eyes.”

“You’re a bastard,” Elain hissed, disgusted that he spoke about her life as though it meant nothing to him at all. 

And truly, what should he have expected? He was the one all of her initial hatred of Lucien was truly directed towards. He’d essentially bought her from the market like a pretty toy. It was him and his father who were famed for their cruelty.

“At least I’m not a whore,” he said back, pressing his fingers harder against her windpipe for emphasis.

Elain was beginning to feel lightheaded. Lucien was watching her intently, and he whimpered with concern when their eyes met.

She didn’t know what compelled her, but she found herself shaking her head. Run, she thought. Because Graysen would surely kill him, and despite everything Elain knew she would rather die than live to grieve Lucien. And how could she blame him for wanting this man dead?

Lucien, of course, ignored her. With fluffy ears pressed low, lips curled back in hatred, he skulked towards the cellar. Graysen followed, dragging Elain with him.

Her nose curled at the scent of the cellar. It stunk of excrement and urine—exactly as one might expect from a man who spent weeks locked down here, and so much worse. Blood and rot cling to the air, and she had a sense that many things had died in this cellar.

Mainly evidenced by the remains of a man collapsed in the corner—Lord Nolan, if she had to guess, though he was decomposed to the point where it would have been impossible to find a resemblance. 

Elain started to gag and Graysen only held her tighter, hissing, “If I had to endure it, so do you.”

He grabbed for a fox trap, carved from the most peculiar blue stone. It was housed among several others, and Elain’s stomach twisted to see the evidence that Lucien was not the first. That fox in the foyer flashed back through her mind. She recalled the grief she had overheard from Lucien and Helion, and how the sickening trophy had disappeared after their trip to Velaris.

She wondered if targeting Lord Nolan and Graysen had been as much of a personal affair as it had been for her benefit. 

The trap clattered as Graysen set it on the floor, raising an eye in challenge as he opened the front. Lucien complied with a flicking tail, ducking into the trap. It snapped shut behind him and Graysen released her the second it did.

Elain was certainly concerned for Lucien, but her stomach was heaving, demanding she get away from the sights and smells of the cellar. She darted up the steps so that she could fall to her knees outside and empty the contents of her stomach into a bush. 

The sound of footsteps distracted her enough from her gagging that she was able to glance up, looking first to the eyes of Lucien. Trapped in the cage. His eyes were wide and sad, and Elain couldn’t help feeling he was trying to tell her something in his gaze.

I’m sorry, maybe. I love you. Whatever words poured out of a man who knew he was moments from dying.

She matched Graysen’s disgusted stare next. It wasn’t ladylike to vomit at the sight of decomposing bodies, clearly. Elain wiped her mouth, privately content with the idea that he found his prized wife off putting. “What are you going to do with him?” She asked, gaze flickering back to the fox.

He sneered. “Why, have you come to care for it?”

“I am asking my husband if he intends to kill something in our house,” she responded coldly, not missing the way Lucien winced when she called Graysen husband. “I think I have a right to know.”

“You are my wife,” he snapped. “You only have a right to what I deem worthy of you knowing.” She narrowed her eyes, staring at him expectantly until a muscle feathered in his jaw. He produced a pistol in his other hand, which told Elain enough about what he intended to do. “I’m going to avenge my father and my wife.”

Elain grit her teeth. He was not avenging his wife, he was avenging his pride. That his possession had been taken from him. 

“Go inside, Elain,” Graysen snapped. He cocked the pistol. In warning or in preparation. Either way it made nausea turn in her stomach once more. “I’ll deal with you afterwards.”

“Lucien,” she choked, her throat becoming tight at the thought that this would be the last she’d ever seen of him. “I—“

“Go.” Graysen jerked the cage to make his point, tossing Lucien’s small body against the metal bars. The fox made a hissing sound, from pain perhaps. Or more likely, swearing.

Stiffly, Elain scrambled to her feet. She didn’t let herself look at Lucien, only glared at Graysen with every ounce of surrendered hatred that he expected from a woman. 

She walked as many steps toward the house as it took for Graysen to forget to ensure she obeyed him. Her knife still laid on the ground and, once he was out of earshot, she grabbed for it. 

Could she sneak up on him, she wondered, and jam it into his back? Elain wasn’t certain she was strong enough to kill him that way, and with a loaded gun in his hand she thought it was risky even if she was certain she wouldn’t hesitate. And Elain did not feel certain. It wasn’t as though people just woke up one day prepared to kill the husband they thought their fake husband had already killed. She was still trying to wrap her head around it.

After a moment’s contemplation, Elain held her breath and dived back into the disgusting cellar. There was indeed all manner of weaponry inside. It seemed foolish that Lucien would lock someone in here, but the opened medicine kit and emergency rations splayed over the work table made her wonder if Graysen had been left for dead and simply survived despite the odds. 

She grabbed for a pistol, despite being uncertain how to use one. She had seen Graysen cock it. Simply aim and pull the trigger, right? Elain prayed it had bullets, but there was no time to learn how to check. She was nearly out of breath and Graysen could be readying to shoot Lucien any second.

They’d gone in the direction of the woods on the far end of the property. Elain raced after them, wincing against the stones and wild grass that pressed into her bare feet.

It was dark once she descended into the trees. The sun wasn’t high enough to break through the canopy, and Elain needed to squint to navigate her surroundings. She tried her best to harness her own inner-fox as her feet touched the mossy carpet to smother the sound of her steps. She couldn’t let Graysen know she had followed.

“You should be thanking me,” she heard him say. Elain sank crouched behind a tree as she tried to get in range. How far could a pistol shoot? “This is a quicker death than you deserve.”

He pointed the gun barrel to the cage, fingers poised on the trigger. Elain acted in blind panic. Her fingers were shaking—her whole body, in fact. But all she could see was Lucien, trapped in a cage and snarling at the man about to take his life. Something tugged sharply in her chest, a cord bounding her to Lucien that was stronger than any empathy or fear.

Hot rage flooded her senses. And a ferocious instinct narrowed her world to one, singular thought. Mate.

A gunshot. Once.

Twice.

Elain had never been close to a firing gun before. She was not prepared for the way the explosions rang through her ears and reverberated through the trees. Graysen stumbled, and Elain dropped the hot metal from her hand in favor of launching herself at him.

All she could hear was that second gunshot. Fired after her own, likely in Graysen’s shock at being shot—not anywhere substantial.

It was his leg that he clutched, blood running between his fingers. And all Elain could think was that it was not enough. She shrieked as she tackled Graysen to the ground, finding he went down easy thanks to the injury in his leg.

There was no hesitation. That knife was still in her hands and it was no longer only for protection. It was for vengeance. She stabbed it down blindly, not even paying attention to where she lodged it into his chest. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop until he was dead. 

Over and over, until her mind was numb to the sensation of blade sliding through skin, until she no longer registered the blood splattering her clothes and seeping into her red cape, until Graysen had stopped scrambling and gone limp beneath her, until Lucien whimpered where he sat in the cage.

Until Lucien whimpered where he sat in the cage.

Unti—

The knife clambered to the forest floor, splashing where it hit the puddle of blood. Elain practically tripped over Graysen’s body in her scramble to get to the cage, paying no attention to the pool she sat in.

There was only Lucien. Only Lucien—Alive, alive, alive.

A fox, and a liar, and a killer, but alive. 

She found she could forgive the rest as she opened the cage. The fox slid out, and light shattered through the trees, so bright Elain needed to look away. She blinked the spots from her vision, staring blankly at the fox that was no longer a fox. He was a naked man, with golden brown skin and worried eyes. Her husband that was no longer her husband. 

She had two of those now.

“Elain.” It was the first time she’d heard his voice in over a day. Rasped from disuse but rich and lovely all the same. 

She couldn’t fathom why, but hearing it made her cry.

Lucien wasted no time in gathering her into his lap, and she pressed her face into his bare chest as sobs wracked through her body, pushing the air out of her lungs on trembling breath.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, rocking her gently. “It’s okay.”

“You’re not my husband,” she whispered. Like it was the most pressing issue, despite the dead body that laid beside them.

“I don’t care what a piece of paper says.” He held her tighter. “ You are my wife and… and so much more.”

“Mate,” she said through a sniffle, and Lucien went stiff. She glanced up at his ruinously beautiful face, noting the way his eyes had gone wide. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re equals.” Something tugged in her chest again, like a string tied around her rib. It seemed to pull her towards Lucien, a beautiful golden thread that bound their souls together. His eyes were so soft as he stared at her. Blood covered and splotched cheeked as she was, he still looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.“It means you’re my wife in every way that matters.”

“And you killed people,” she whispered.

“We killed people,” he clarified, with a kiss to her forehead. There was pride glimmering in his voice, like it was an accomplishment and not something she would need to live with.

Elain searched his face, thinking of all the servants that had disappeared. “How many?”

“Only the Lord,” he said darkly. “Though the son was supposed to be dead as well. I thought they both were when I tossed their bodies into the cellar.”

“The servants?”

“Were glamoured to believe their master had dismissed them.”

Elain did not know what a glamour was, but she understood enough to breathe a sigh of relief. Still, she searched his face, so many questions still swimming in her mind. Most prominently: “Why kill Lord Nolan and Graysen?”

His eyes glinted. “He was going to marry my ma—”

“But there was something else,” Elain prompted, fixing him with a look that warned not to lie to her. She had a feeling he would be getting used to it. “Wasn’t there?”

Lucien swallowed, eyes flickering to where Graysen lay bloodied on the forest floor. Slowly, he nodded. “They killed my mother.”

Once again, Elain put the pieces together too slowly. The funeral she had overheard, the woman they had been mourning… “The fox,” she whispered, horrified to think of what they had done to her. “The fox in the entryway?”

His jaw clenched. “I was already on my way to kill them when I ran into you.”

Elain had too young when her mother died. But if it had been any one of her sisters… She understood the bloodlust. They were still sitting in the result of that very same brand of vengeance. To think, after the days these secrets had hung over her and yet they all unraveled in the space of a morning. And with it, her anger.

“And you already knew…” She thought of that adorable face that watched her through the blackberry brambles. “You already knew I was your mate then?”

“From the first moment I laid eyes on you.” His finger stroked through her blood streaked hair. The touch shocked through her, electrifying every nerve. She had missed touching him in his human form, and she might have pressed to touch him more if she couldn’t tell he was considering something. After a long moment, he sighed. “There is something else you should know.”

Elain wasn’t certain she could handle knowing anything else. Certainly not when he introduced it with such dread in his voice. She slumped into his chest and shut her eyes, voice small as she asked, “What is it?”

“Mating bonds can be accepted or rejected.” Oh. Elain relaxed, having expected far worse news. Perhaps Lucien feared her rejection. 

She opened her eyes to see that he was staring at her so cautiously, gauging her reaction. Feeling suddenly timid, she asked, “Is it like being married?”

That made him laugh, softly. “In a way, yes.”

“Then I accept,” she answered. It was fascinating, the way his eyes immediately softened, his mouth parted open with gentle shock. It was clear he couldn’t believe it was that easy.

“You do?”

“Of course.” She frowned, his reaction suddenly making her doubt her resolve. “Why? Is there something awful I have to do to accept?”

“No.” He looked sheepish. “You have… already accepted. The day we met in the woods. A mating bond is accepted when a male is fed by his female.”

Fed by his… 

Would you like some berries?

Elain sat up, smacking at the hard muscle of his chest with her open palm. “You ate the blackberries knowing it would accept the bond!?”

“You said you accept!” Lucien protested, gently deterring each of her attacks with his forearm. She had laid in bed with him enough times to know he was likely enjoying her being rough with him, and that made her want to smack him harder.

“Not then!” 

“But now,” he said, snatching her wrist. Elain was hapless to the way he tugged her closer until she was straddling his still very naked lap, her soaked cape and skirts likely smearing blood over his skin. If Lucien cared, he made no indication. He was far too busy fixing those ridiculously adoring eyes over her face. “You accept it now?”

Elain gave up fighting him. With a sigh, she gave in to the pull of her body that demanded she touch him, comfort him. There was no use denying she had strayed too far from the path to ever turn back. “I accept.”

The sun had come up enough, now, that it filtered through the trees, illuminating Lucien’s brilliant smile. She could have sworn he was the happiest man in the world at that very moment, the way he beamed brightly at her before warm hands framed her face and his soft lips were on hers.

He tasted like the wind on a crisp Autumn day, rich and wild and haunting. Elain had run freely through that wind as a little girl, and now it embraced her, drew her in and pulled her close until she became a part of it, too. Elain’s mouth opened beneath his, and she swore a piece of her soul heaved a sigh of relief as the final notch finally fell into place. 

It felt like becoming, like surrendering, like finally letting her soul break loose.

And letting the wild in.

-

Elain had killed Lord Graysen before the sun had finished rising off the horizon that morning, and she and Lucien had fled the manor before it had finished its path across the sky. Neither of them had very many items of sentimental value hidden away in the manor, and their servants would be discreetly coming with them in separate carriages.

She wondered how long it would take the authorities to discover Lord Nolan and Graysen were dead. When they did, would they think her a victim or an instigator? Not that it mattered, when they were fleeing to one of the most influential Lords on the continent.

Helion. Her father-in-law. Of sorts.

He was nothing short of delighted when their carriage rolled up, unannounced.

“Miss me already?” He teased, light dancing in his eyes as he watched his son step off the carriage. He bowed to Elain when she emerged. “Your beauty remains astounding, Lady. Has your husband calmed enough that I may give you a hug?”

Elain laughed at Lucien’s disgruntled expression. “My mate has learned how to behave himself much better,” she said, feeling a warmth bubbling in her chest at being able to contribute to their affectionate teasing. “I promise we will be well mannered guests.”

“We won’t be guests at all,” Lucien interjected, gliding between them to accept a hug on Elain’s behalf. Because, despite her words, he was still horribly territorial. 

“You never were,” Helion said earnestly to Elain from over Lucien’s shoulder. “You have always been family, which means that this is your home.”

Home. This beautiful palace, headed by the warm, wonderful Lord Helion and his charming son. The girl who had ventured down the path from her sister’s cottage would never have believed it, the warmth and love that existed in the place she would be calling home.

Lucien pulled away so that he could offer Elain a sly smile over his shoulder. “I promised my mate she would want for nothing.” 

Helion nodded enthusiastically. It seemed he was just as doting as his son as he agreed, “Anything you want and it is yours, Elain.”

She understood, at least, where her husband's devotion came from. Elain’s heart wept with sorrow to think of the relationship Helion must have had with Lucien’s mother—his mate, Lucien had explained in the carriage. The two days trip had been devoid of the fucking they had done last time. Which had been a result of a frenzy brought on by the mating bond.

Elain wanted to scream at all of the things she had been blissfully oblivious to. It was why she felt no shame in asking this of Helion. He had been well aware of the secrets his son kept, and she would be reminding them both of it for a long while to come.

“Do you think you could get a letter to my sisters in the village?” Hope squeezed in her chest. “It would need to be done discreetly.”

At Helion’s searching glance, Lucien elaborated, “Elain murdered her husband. The authorities will likely be searching for her.” He clicked his tongue. “Such a vicious killer, my mate.”

Helion’s laughter interrupted the biting remark she had prepared. His eyes were sparkling with that same mischief that lived in Lucien. “I have a friend who owes me a favor. Consider it done, Lady.”

It was the final thing plaguing her. Feyre had last seen Elain fighting back tears on her doorstep, promising to return the next day. Its possible no one had discovered Graysen and Nolan’s bodies yet, but regardless her sisters would be worried that she had never turned up or sent word. And if the authorities ever did show up, her sisters would probably assume that she had been the culprit—and that Graysen had deserved it.

She wondered what they would think of the fae. Elain supposed she couldn’t force them to come live with them in Velaris, but she hoped they would at least consider it.

“Come inside, then,” Helion hailed, grabbing them both by the arms. “We have a mating and a first kill to celebrate!”

-

“Do you think she’ll ever write?”

It had been two weeks since the day the authorities showed up at their cottage door to ask after Elain. Feyre had been honest when she said she hadn’t seen her sister in over a month, though she would have given the same answer even if it weren’t true.

Their final parting played over endlessly in her mind. Elain had looked terrified when they’d hugged each other goodbye. Whatever Graysen had done that had driven her to murder, Feyre hoped the bastard rotted in his grave. Just like his abusive father.

It was a conversation Feyre and Nesta entertained frequently with each other. Puzzling out how sweet, gentle Elain could have become a killer, and where she might have fled. Feyre only hoped that wherever she was, she was safe. Happy, hopefully.

Nesta sighed. The conversation was always painful to her. Unlike Feyre, she didn’t get a last goodbye, and Feyre was certain that troubled her. “Not if she’s smart. The authorities will be intercepting all our mail. I hope she’ll stay wherever she’s hidden and forget about us.”

It was the same answer she always gave. Feyre wondered if she truly felt that way. Perhaps it was unwise, but Feyre hoped that one day Elain would find a means to provide them with answers. At the very least, to let them know she was okay.

A movement in the brush caught her eye. They had been sitting outside their cottage to enjoy the sunset. The shadows of the forest were elongated at this time of day, which meant she had trouble spotting the creature at first.

But there, black as night as it slunk through the bush, was a cat that watched them with such human intelligence it made her skin crawl. Their eyes met, and Feyre felt herself relax as she held its gaze.

“Look, Nesta.”

Nesta turned her head, following Feyre’s stare until she, too, was studying the odd cat. She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t encourage it, Feyre. It’s probably a stray.”

Its expression hardly changed, yet Feyre had the distinct impression that it was smirking at them. Come play, its eyes said. Come see. She studied it carefully, wondering why she felt such a pull. Some force was demanding she look closer. 

Eventually, her eyes caught at the ribbon tied around its neck.

Her eyes widened. “No, look. It has something tied around its neck.” Feyre stood up, approaching the cat carefully. “Here, kitty.” 

The cat came closer and Feyre outstretched her hand so it could sniff. She’d heard that was how one should greet strange animals, yet the cat ignored it entirely in favor of stroking itself against Feyre’s leg. “What a sweet thing you are,” she cooed, scratching it around the ears. It purred, craning its neck into her touch, which gave her the opportunity to slip the note away from the ribbon.

She unraveled it, still absently scratching at the cat’s neck while she peered over the scrawled note. Nesta came over, her curiosity finally winning over her distaste for the animal. 

The note was in Elain’s handwriting:

Dear sisters,

I hope my friend has managed to deliver this message to you. As the authorities have likely discovered, Lord Graysen is dead. I am safe in Velaris and I encourage you both to come to the city at once. I will see you both suitably looked after once you get here. 

With the most heartfelt affection, 

Your sister,

Elain

P.s. You will both be aunties by the end of summer.

“She’s pregnant,” Feyre marveled, uncertain whether to be overjoyed or horrified. “Do you think it’s Lord Graysen’s?”

Feyre secretly hoped her sister had found a lover to run away with, and that she had a fantastically scandalous love story to tell when they next saw each other.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nesta snapped. “Of course it’s Graysen’s. She must be terrified.”

That hung in the air for a moment. Both of them mourning what Elain had to endure. Watching her leave down that iron dusted path the day she was to be married was the hardest day of Feyre’s life. That helplessness… It made her sick to think how Elain must have felt. And now to be a mother, widowed.

It made Feyre want to cry. She did not know how they would get to Velaris, since they hardly had the money to hire a carriage. But Feyre knew they would get there by any means necessary, to be with their sister through her pregnancy.

“I’m burning this letter,” Nesta said from where she’d been reading over her shoulder. Feyre huffed as the paper was sntached from her hands, not bothering to turn as Nesta’s footsteps retreated inside the cottage. 

She was still absently stroking the cat. With the letter gone, she turned its attention back to running her fingers through its soft blue-black fur. It was most peculiar color she had ever seen. She longed to paint it, wondering exactly what colors she’d use to achieve such a unique shade. The cat had rolled onto its side, eyes half-lidded as it pressed its head closer into her touch.

“What a clever thing,” she praised, thinking of the journey it must have had to get here all the way from Velaris. “I wonder how Elain was able to get you here. Did you stowaway in someone’s carriage?”

It was hardly listening to her, far too preoccupied with the attention she was providing it with her fingers. She laughed, strangely endeared to the creature despite never being too fond of cats.

“Nesta,” Feyre called. “Will you bring out some of that cooked chicken?”

“You shouldn’t feed it,” Nesta grumbled, carrying out a piece of chicken despite her words. Nesta would never admit it, but she had always had a soft heart for animals. Feyre still remembered the way she had puked the first time they’d gone hunting together. “It will never leave if you do.”

The cat cracked open one eye, looking very much as though it found that prospect appealing. 

Feyre accepted the piece of chicken, studying the sleek creature. There was an awareness to it that was unlike any cat she had ever encountered. Objectively, she knew that should make her wary. But Elain had been the one to send the thing, after all. “I suppose we should take it back to Elain, shouldn’t we?”

She turned, enough to see how put out Nesta looked at the suggestion. Feyre laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said to the cat. “I’m sure she’ll warm up to you eventually.” 

The cat made a face as though it didn’t believe her. Judging by Nesta’s huff of breath, and the way she stormed back inside, Nesta didn’t believe her either. Stubborn creatures, all around. Feyre thought her heart must have a unique affection for them.

She placed the chicken in her palm and held it out carefully. “Eat, sweet little thing. You must be hungry from your long journey.”

The cat sat up, studying the food in her palm curiously. It looked up at her, expression oddly contemplative. For a moment, Feyre swore its eyes had been the most vivid amethyst. 

A trick of the light, surely.

Having made up its mind, the cat stretched forward and sniffed curiously at the chicken in her hand. Then, careful of its sharp teeth, it opened its mouth against her flat palm. She felt the scrape of its tongue as it ate the piece of chicken right out of her hand.

And once the chicken was gone, and any remnants on her hand licked clean, she could have sworn the cat smiled at her.

-

Previous Chapter・Next Work

#They Are the Hunters We Are the Foxes #Elucienweek2022 #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

[watch-out-it-bites]

Miette had a wretched dream last night

It was a cold night. There was fencing. I could feel whispering above us, there was nothing there though. We were looking for a place to stay the night since two of our friends were already dead and we were scared. Suddenly a weird shack grows out of the ground involving time magic bullshit? It was an open shack, no doors. We entered. The only thing to luminate the place was a single light bulb in the center of the room and the oddly bright moon (it was very close for some reason)

There was a little bit of fencing to keep us from falling, and in the center of the lower floor was an elevator. The sides of the room had giant holes (sort of) filled with water(? It was pitch black but a liquid. I just assumed it was dirty.)

The elevator was nonfunctioning for now. The place was entirely made of wood. The first to die was VB, who stepped on a wood panel and got their foot caught in it. We tried to pull them out, but something pulled them under and through the wood. So that was another dead, no fun. We were all offput, however, not mourning. You don't really mourn in dreams anyway.

I dont really remember what happened next, but crimas noticed something across the water, some sorta mechanical thingy. He fell into the water(?), but lived, and went ahead to the mechanism. Elevator on! He went back across, and we all hoped onto the elevator. Crimas and Mimesy made small talk, though I don't remember what it was over.

The elevator goes down, upon exiting we are surrounded by meat, glowy dust, and roots. I don't remember if we reacted to this. Mimesy had a candlestick and I had a lantern (Where we got these? Who knows!) Crimas was coughing now and we kept hearing footsteps, hooves, and meaty sounds.

There were two exits. North and east. We all decided to go north, this hallway was made of glass. We could see the dirt and faces. It was scary and it was dark. We enter a room made of stone with candles around it. The room was covered in censorships/pixelated stuff? And we didn't notice it at first because we were focusing on the stuff around us but directly in front of us there was something watching. It was singing and we couldn't tell, a low horn. It was weird. It was terrifying

Oh yeah there was also a pedestal.

It had many legs and I refuse to draw its actual eyes.

But so it sort of twisted its was out of that hole in the wall and looked down at us as we were frozen in fear. It was so quiet aside from that.

So we ran! And it chased, we ran back, through the east which somehow turned us further north?? And directions were getting weird, we were in a narrow part of the cave, trying to slide past the wall when crimas just. Got DRAGGED back by the creature and disappeared. SO now it was just me and mimesy. The creature was so quiet compared to us, all we could do was run. Every so often it made a tapping sound(?) As past all of its extra legs it had one pair of hooves. I tried to throw my lantern at it but that didn't really work because it was stuck to my hand somehow?? But we kept running and running. And we found a door! We opened the door, slamming it shut on the creature. Turning around was a pitch black room. It was moist. We could hear the creature on the other side humming. There was a thin layer of that water from earlier. Mimesy was dragged into the water, leaving only a candlestick.

This room had no blood like the others. It was just weirdly moist and creepy. However, I wasn't allowed to look at the ceiling. I knew I couldn't. It would take me out of the dream. I would've been scared.

So I kept walking through the water. Soon there was none. And I found a door.

Opening the door, i was met with a car. Two, a red one and a silver one. There was an open door on the other side that I hadn't noticed yet. It seemed I was in a store now. I look at the car and. I start panicking. I realize I can see my reflection in it, I back away and through the open door, only to realize I'm in a mirror store. Well. Grand SCALLOPing luck, I suppose. I cover my eyes because it's not a good idea to see yourself in dreams or something! Upon the littlest sight of my reflection, I woke up.

Man, that was a dream. Sorry that yall died.

#crimas #vb #mimesy #im so sorry you died first vb. devastating. i know. #dream

[yvenigliol]

M&M'S Headcanons : What they do on a Minecraft server

Blue is an absolute MENACE on a server. From building noise machines under people's homes to trying to crash the server with an excessive amount of TNT, his idea of a fun time includes lots of pranks and annoying people. His target of choice is Orange, who always has funny reactions. But don't worry, he IS a civilized man and will not actively destroy people's builds. He might build the most hideous monstrosity known to men right next to their house to ruin the view though, after all SOMEONE has to keep the rent down in the area.

Brown saw a fun game about mining and crafting with your friend and thought "How can I introduce capitalism to this world?". She is really into redstone and optimizing resource collection. She has built farming machines for pretty much everything you could need, and has committed countless atrocities against villagers. She doesn't share freely though, people have to trade with her, often with rare things she can't bother farming like elytras or high quantity of blocks. Other spokescandies have made it a game to try and infiltrate her base to steal her ressources, which means she has many redstone security measures around her place.

Green really likes building, and she's really good at it! She has made entire cities with different themes and aesthetics, and always has a construction project in the work. She really likes making holiday themed decorations at different times of the year, and always tries to convince the others to play along and build something of their own. Since she needs a lot of blocks from different biomes and is always looking for nice scenery for her builds, she's often exploring around the map, and has made a giant system of ice roads in the nether that the whole server uses. Her worst 'enemy' is Blue, who loves to build ugly dirt houses next to her builds.

Orange is... not a big fan of minecraft. He likes it alright, but he's not really into building and he's scared to go into the mines. Most of his time is spent above ground, making big farms, making him the one other players go to to get food.The little exploring he does is going to different biomes to get all kinds of animals and build a zoo. He's not very good when it comes to building pretty stuff, so Green helped him a bit. On his own, he probably wouldn't be playing, but he sees it as a nice bonding opportunity and loves going on VC and having nice conversations with his friends.

Red is here to WIN. He was preparing to fight the ender dragon from the start, immediately going to mine for diamonds. He wants to have the best equipment possible, trying to get the strongest enchantments for his armor and weapons. He always has an objective he's working towards : first the ender dragon, then the wither, then collecting rare things like elytras, etc. He sometimes joins Blue in doing pranks, but his are a bit more destructive and deadly to other players. He also organizes little PVP battles on the server, which he wins most of the time (except once where Orange beat him by sheer dumb luck, no one lets Red live it down).

Yellow likes to farm. He finds it relaxing to just break blocks for hours while talking to his friends. He has really good enchanted armor and tools that Red gave him (he says he just had them laying around and didn't need them anymore, but everyone knows he made them for him). Green often uses him to terraform places or to go collect resources, building a cute house in exchange. His base is full of dogs and cats he found all over the map, each with their own name tags, and he has colored sheeps named after all the other spokescandies.

#m&m's x reader #m&m's headcanon #green m&m x reader #brown m&m x reader #blue m&m x reader #yellow m&m x reader #red m&m x reader #orange m&m x reader #minecraft

[ledenews]

#BethanyCollege #cityofwheeling #ohiocounty #UpperOhioValley #WheelhouseCreative #wheeling

[muffindaddystyles]

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

.

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

..

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

..

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

[gyusfavlibra]

THIS IS MY WORK! PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES/APPS!!!!

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, hand job, sex in bathroom, language, jealousy, fighting, arguing.

Y/n and Sarah sat quietly on Kie's bed as they waited for Kiara to stop degrading the lavender dress she wore while standing in her large mirror. Mrs. Carrera coming through the door to make sure the girls were all dressed. "This is disgusting."

"I know it's just horrible."

"I'm asking you guys to just relax and go to a fun party."

"I look like a bourgeoisie pig."

"I think you look beautiful," y/n said while shrugging at Kie. She just gave a smile back to her, still hating the look no matter what compliments were given.

"Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?"

"Mom, people not three miles from her have no power, no running water, and we're going to Midsummers."

"That's so tone deaf."

"Y/n," the mother scolded at her niece. "Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island club?"

"Yeah, mom. How could I forget? You had to grovel for, like, ten years--"

"Twelve years, and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough-"

"To keep up with the Joneses-"

"No, so you had the same experiences that I had as a child."

"But weren't parents as teens out, like partying, getting drunk, making out in the backseats of their cars at drive in movies," the cousin listed while putting her things in its bag. "Getting pregnant."

"That doesn't sound fun," Sarah added.

"Do you girls even know what the Island club is?"

"A factory farm."

"For debutantes," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"It's a nice place, with nice people where you can do fun stuff."

"With out-of-touch rich people, while the island sinks slowly into the ocean."

"Water filling the poor's destructive lungs while the wealthy ones get away on million dollar boats."

Sarah sat quietly laughing on the comfy blanketed mattress. Mr. Cerrera sighed, saying one last thing before walking out. "Okay, I want you to put on your party face, girls, if you want to live."

"Did your mom just threaten to kill us?"

"Maybe. I think so," she nods as she turned around to the duo, fixing the flower crown that sat on her cousin's head. "You nervous to see Rafe."

"Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I was curious. I know it's only been two days, but-"

"Hey, he broke up with me. So if he wants to talk, that's in his duty. Not mine. I did nothing wrong."

Sarah got off the bed, swinging on it's pole. "Except flirt with JJ, or so he says."

"I was not...flirting with JJ. He has a crush on Kiara. I'd never."

"But Rafe doesn't know that."

°°°°

*flashback*

"What if she doesn't like it?"

"She'll love it. She's hippie."

Y/n and JJ sat on John B's porch, smoking a blunt. The girl was trying to help him do something nice for Kiara so JJ could ask her out without feeling weird. He's liked her for the longest and he was finally ready to tell her how she feels.

"Alright, now practice what you're gonna say."

Just as Y/n finished saying the statement, her own boyfriend, Rafe Cameron showed up. Standing behind them listening in.

"Okay, uh, hey I have to tell you something...uh important," the blonde began speaking, using hand gestures because of his nerves. "I really really like you. Like not like friends like, but I have feelings, uhm, strong feelings for you. Because you're like super hot, andnyou're like a really cool chick. So I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna...go out with me."

"Yes, t-"

"What the hell!"

The manly unknown voice shocked them both, their figures jumping at the sound because they thought they were alone.

"Rafe, what're you doing here?"

Y/n asked confusedly as she stood from the steps. The Kook just scoffed and walked back out. Ignoring her question. She shared a glance with JJ before going to follow after him.

"Hey! Where you going? What's wrong?"

"A pogue!? Y/n, seriously?!"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're cheating on me with a pogue?" He shouted. Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, looking at the unnecessary upset individual.

"What do you mean cheating? I'm not cheating on you. We were just talking."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit! I heard it all."

"Rafe, it's not like that. Jj was just-"

"I should've known better. I should've known," he fumed. His right foot swung to kick the dirt near his truck that he was so very close to getting into.

"Known what?"

"I should've never trusted a pogue. I knew something like this was gonna happen. You were just gonna throw me away like Sarah did, Topper. Right? Huh?"

"You sound ridiculous. I was never throwing you away. I was helping him out."

"Yeah, while you're at it. Might as well help sleep with him too."

Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from the angered boy who's brain had just functioned what he said. Part of him regretted it very much. But the other part thought you deserved it because of his cheating accusation.

He opened his vehicle door. Stepping one foot inside. "We're done."

The girl just laughed with held tears reaching for the openess. She turned around to head back inside as Rafe just drove off.

°°°°

"Hey, no tearing up today. Go to this stupid thing and show him that his little cheating accusation act didn't hurt you at all. You're stronger than that."

"Thanks, Kie."

The girls finished up their last minute touches. That includes sweeping their dresses with roller for no hair, any makeup redos, or hair finishes. The ride to the country club was quiet. Well, y/n was quiet.

This would be her first time seeing Rafe since their break up a three days ago. They've been doing everything in their mighty to avoid each other. And it definitely worked. But like her friend told her, she wasn't gonna get worked up. Letting Rafe see her weak was like telling him he was right about everything. But he wasn't.

"Jesus, Kook land."

"I forgot how packed this thing is every year."

"Well, let's go. I gotta walk out with my family."

The Cameron family walked out with their heads high and the Kook crowd cheered for each one. Y/n kept her eyes gazed to Kiara since they were in the middle of a conversation. Not caring if that family came in or not. That excludes Sarah.

Rafe watched from his spot by his dad, as they exited to outside. Breath hitched when he saw Y/n and her dress. It was a dark toned red, had tulle, and a revealing  chest opening.

A red flower crown on her head, complimenting her beautiful down hair. She looked amazing and hot to Rafe. He had to clear his throat before excusing himself.

"Hey," the red dresses girl heard from beside her as a hand landed on her lower back. She removed it before her eyes retracted to theirs. Kie just pursed her lips before leaving to hangout with Sarah. Y/n internally screaming that she left her there.

"What do you want?"

"Uh, you look nice."

"Okay. Thanks. You don't too. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just saying hi."

"Bye."

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are you mad at me? Shouldn't I be the mad one here?"

"Why?"

"Because of what you did," he said with furrowed eyebrows. Y/n shrugged.

"I didn't do anything."

"Do- do you not remember what happened on the cut three days ago? The fight."

"You slut shaming me and accusing me of cheating with JJ. That? Yeah, I remember that."

"Accused? I heard you."

"Heard what exactly?"

"JJ, was telling you he liked you and thought you were a cool hippie chick, which you are not. You're not hippie. And then he asked you out and you said yes. As soon as I walked in."

Y/n stared at him blankly. Before bursting out laughing. A few guests behind them staring with a look that showed they weren't used to loud talkers or laugher. "Oh my god. You thought? Jesus that's absolutely hilarious."

"What is?"

"That you think- you think that JJ was confessing feelings to me. Whew that's rich."

"I heard it, Y/n."

"He wasn't confessing anything to me you shit head. He was practicing for when he asked out Kiara."

Rafe was confused. Majorly. Inside and out. "But she-"

"He likes Kiara. And she's my cousin. You think I'd really hurt anyone like that? How low of me do you think? Have fun at this party."

Y/n walked off to go look for her disappeared friends. Not wanting to spend another second in a spot with someone who was so rude over something he knew nothing about. Just assumed. Never asked.

As she walked down the corridors of the porch that many people stood on drinking, a hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes fixated on the blonde in a black tux and a bow tie.

"Holy shit, JJ. You scared me. What're you doing here?" She asked as she hugged him.

"Well, Sarah somehow convinced her dad to let me in tonight to hangout with Kie."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was just looking for her myself. C'mon. She's probably inside."

She grabbed his hand. Pulling him inside. They found Kie just minutes later with Pope. He was working the grill with his dad. Sarah was getting raided by Topper about their own stupid shit. Y/n decided to go get herself a drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

The straw rested on her lips as she stood against the porch railing. Gazing over all the people who say around laughing, probably bragging about their money, summer vacations, their older kids getting into a good college. Typical kook things.

Her eyes focused on a specific couple talking off to the side. Her eyes burning a whole in the back of Rafe's head as he tried to flirt up a storm with some Kook she didn't know whatsoever.

Her body was fuming. Was Rafe really gonna sit in front of her and flirt with a whole other girl that isn't her. Just a few days after their breakup. It's like he's trying to play victim. And she's had it.

"Hey, Sancho. Lassie."

The brunette Rafe was talking up a storm to laughed. "I'm sorry who are you?"

"Oh, you gonna introduce me to your side piece here?"

"Would you stop? We're just talking."

"Talking? Yeah, okay," Y/n laughed. The girl just looked at her dazed. "Hi, I'm his girlfriend. Y/n. And you, yeah you're excused."

Rafe was truly enjoying this scene. Internally rooting for Y/n. He wasn't gonna object to that fact that she called herself his girlfriend. Because now that he knew the truth, it changed his perspective.

"Who do you think you are?"

"I already told you. Wh- can you not hear correctly?"

"He said he was single so, why-"

"He lied. So, you can go away now- Rafe. Let's go. We need to talk."

"What're you his mother now?" The rando questioned. Y/n turned to her and gripped her face.

"If you wanna keep these teeth, then I suggest you stop talking. Go find somebody else's boyfriend to mack on."

She dragged Rafe by his hand into the upstairs private bathroom. Locking the door behind her. "What're you doing?"

"Just having a friendly conversation. There a problem?"

"You were flirting, Rafe. That was flirting," she paced. Hand against her for head.

"Like you're any better. You lied to me."

"I've never lied about anything."

"You said JJ liked Kiara."

"Yeah. He does."

"Then why is he holding your hand, hugging you, and leaving inside with you instead of the girl he supposedly likes," Rafe argued. Gripping onto the large counter.

"Rafe, I grabbed his hand and brought him inside to find Kiara. And I hugged him because I was happy for my friend. God, Rafe how many times do I have to tell you that I am not cheating on you."

"It's kind of hard to believe that shit when I keep seeing things with my own eyes."

"Then stop assuming and come ask me. Jesus, do you not trust me or something. Because I trust you. Anytime I hear that you're at a party doing lines with hot blonde's next to you, I brush it off because I know you'd never. Why can't you just do that for me."

Rafe stood from his seat. Pinching the bridge of nose. The guilty conscience grazed through his mind as he listened to her words. He had issues with trust and with others, but he knew it wasn't a reason to take it out on the only person who's loved him for him.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. You're right. I should trust you. Just like you trust me. I'll work on it. I promise."

"Don't promise me that. Just show me that you love me just as much."

The words clicked. He did love her. And he cared about her. More than anyone in this world. And he wanted to show her. In the most physical way possible.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just c'mere," he repeated as he grabbed her by her waist, pulling her closer to him. She stumbled, but Rafe's grip kept her in place. He moved his face closer to hers, lips almost touching as they grazed against each other.

He used the hand placed on her waist to grip the fabric of her dress. Pulling it upwards. Her breath hitched as he hand snaked under the red tulle and right onto her now soaking core. His pointy finger swept across the waistband of her panties.

Y/n wasn't expecting this as the outcome from their miniature argument but she wasn't complaining. And neither was Rafe.

He pushed her underwear down as much as he could from their position, before going back to her walls and making circular motions. Rafe finally closer the space, kissing her lips practically roughly as he continued rubbing her.

He kept a firm hand on her waist to make sure she had a gripping support if he legs gave out, which they indeed will. The motions stopped as Y/n pulled her lips away from his. Rafe stared at her daring eyes, questioning if she wanted his to continue.

"Put them inside me," she whispered. The Cameron smirked before obliging to her demand. He stuck to fingers into her wet cunt. A soft moan escaped her lips as he did so. Pumping them in and out of her. Y/n rubbed her hand against the erection in his dress pants.

"You like that, yeah?"

She nodded as the locked her lips. Not being able to speak because knowing if she did, she let out a loud moan and even at this club would hear.

She unbuckled his pants, putting her handninside to grip his penis and pump it as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The hand he held to her waist was now gripped on her neck, gently. Y/n clenched around his fingers. Feeling her high come close. "Dont stop."

Rafe began pumping faster just as Y/n did so. The teens were so horny that they were both already reaching their extent. Rafe's shaft twitched in her hand. "I'm cumming."

"Do it for me."

That's all it took for Y/n to finish. And Rafe too. His liquids filling her hands as they both let out moans due to their intense actions. In one swift motion, Rafe snaked a hand around Y/n's waist turning then so she was against the counter. Her pulled the straps of her dress of her shoulders, leaving kisses as he did so before connecting his lips to hers.

Her pulled his tuxedo jacket off him. Snapping the bowtie off as well. Y/n moaned at the tluchnof his hands on her breast. Massaging them in his hands over the fabric of her strapless bra.

Y/n unbuttoned the spots on his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Rafe stop his gripping motions and pulled down his pants and boxers. He sat her up on the counter. Her bare ass connecting to the coldness of the marble designed setting.

Rafe rubbed his tip against her fold once or twice before pushing himself into her. Not giving a warning, but Y/n loved the suddeness. Y/n let a moan into his next as he began thrusting his hips. The girl gripping her black painted nails into his back.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Enjoying the feelings of Y/n's cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that?"

"Yes, god yes."

Y/n sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Each moan and huff she exposed in his earn make his whole body shiver. Rafe let out a grunt before answering. She clenched her walls around his dick. The dirty blonde groaned slamming into her body. "Do it again."

She did so. Clenching around around the boy as he slammed into her again. This time, hitting the spot that made her whole body go insane. "Tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine."

A moan escaped her lips after he said what she had wanted. Her hand smacked down onto the edge of the sinks counter. Grilling onto it for dear life. "Tell me it again."

The feeling of her finishing was fastly approaching. As well as for Rafe. The moans she let out made his go over the edge as he fucked her hard. "Tell me, Rafe."

"You're fucking mine, ah-"

Each of them let out a loud moan as they finished. Covering each others mouths. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs but for precautions they covered either way.

Rafe's head fell forward onto her chest. Taking large breaths as y/n did too. "Shit, y/n."

The Cameron pulled out of her. Helping her get redressed and cleaned just after he did himself.

"You're still on the pill right?" He asked as he zipped his pants.

"Yeah. It's fine," she smiled up at his 6'4 figure. Rafe reached down to kiss her passionately.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, too."

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[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

[say-narry]

Note: English isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox :)

pairing: Louis!peaky blinders era x reader

warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex (don't do that!), curse words, daddy kink, overstimulation, dirt talk, mention of jealousy, mention of astrology.

Words: 4k

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Astrology

In my spare time I loved to read about astrology. It was a habit I adhered to since I was a teenager and now as an adult, it was my secret cringe.

So many times, the things described there met the personality traits of someone I knew and that made me believe it even more.

Sure, there were some holes in the script, but I had been in this world forever, so I just ignored that and kept it as a supposed truth and that was only affirmed when I met Louis.

Friends in common, I liked the way his accent sounded, a few drinks here and there, we shared the lighter to light the cigarette and ended up kissing at the end of the party at Calvin's house.

That was a year ago now.

I already knew all his quirks and as Louis lived more at my place than at his mansion here in London, he had to follow my rules, which was a little difficult even though he is Capricorn. Lately it was complicated to deal with him, because he seemed to ignore me and my weekly horoscope had already said that my relationship would be shaken by the smallest things and that I should be careful.

"Babe, don't leave your shoes like that. I already asked for them!" I complained as I placed our shoes side by side by the door. This was one of his manners that annoyed me deeply. "My friends will be here soon!"

"Nah." he muttered, not even looking at me.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, going to check the cheese and chocolate fondue I was preparing.

My friends Peter, Anne, Sam and Paul were coming over for happy hour. I am on vacation at work, an accounting office, so this is a perfect opportunity to hear what's new.

"Babe, is there any way to go to that grocery store down the street? I forgot that Anne has a gluten allergy and forgot to buy the gluten-free bagel." I stirred the melted cheese in the small pot on the stove.

No response from Louis.

Because my house is small, there's no way he couldn't hear me. I stretched my body back a little and in my half vision through the door, I could see that Louis was still concentrating on the smartphone game while gnawing on the corner of his left thumb.

I took another deep breath, it seemed that Louis became a child watching the games on the device and this was another flaw of his sign's characteristic, however I knew he was loyal and domineering, which eventually gave me an idea.

I turned off the stove and wrapped the fondues, putting them in the electric oven in warm-up mode so that they would not cool down.

My friends would arrive in half an hour, it was time to put my idea into practice.

I grabbed my purse, checked the pounds in my wallet, put on a sweatshirt and ran to the door.

"Luv, where are you going?" Louis asked without looking at me.

"Grocery store, babe." I put on my moccasins and closed the door.

It was dusk and for a change London was cold, for as soon as I passed the small gate in my driveway I sped to the grocery store.

As luck would have it, I found the guys a few meters from my house and ran to hug them.

"How are you, Y/N?" Sam, the blond girl with freckles and green eyes asked me as she released me from her hug.

"Fine! But I need a little help from all of you, specifically you, Paul and Anne." I pointed to them, who were inches away from me.

My couple of friends looked at me, Paul was a tall man with blue eyes, a muscular body and a beard. He was dating Anne, a tall, beautiful black woman with curly hair and honey-brown eyes with a mouth to envy.

"What happened?" Anne asked.

I explained to them that Louis seemed to be ignoring me as if I was just someone else working for him, but that he was the dominating type and so I wanted to tease him and see if we should continue with this relationship or if he was just distracted.

"I swear it won't go any further than that, I love Louis very much but this is killing me." I held the brown paper bag against me.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Peter suggested.

"Louis is a Capricorn, you know how it is. When he focuses on something, that's it." I rolled my eyes.

"That's fine with me, it will be fun watching a music star want to kill me because his wife wants me." Paul grabbed the bag from my hands and winked at me, and we laughed.

"It's fine with me too, you know I find it sexy to see men jealous." Anne winked at Paul, who closed his face, causing us to let out a few more low chuckles.

"I think there's a way we can help too." Sam put his arm around my neck and held Peter by the waist.

I had the best friends in the world.

"He simply came in halfway through the meeting with a huge mark on his neck. Emily wanted to climb the walls!" Peter commented on our co-worker.

We were all sitting on the floor of the room with the creams and fondue mixes on the coffee table. Louis was on my right side with black sweatpants and the jacket I loved so much, Paul was on my left side, next to him was Anne followed by Peter and Sam.

"But we know why Tom's nights out..." Sam looked at me suggestively and then looked at Anne. I straightened up waiting for what was to come.

Louis followed the conversation, sometimes hugging me around the waist and offering me something to eat. I just helped myself to a glass of red wine.

"Why?" Anne asked as if she didn't understand.

"Oh, you know, since the S/N went on vacation he has been gloomy, seems to have forgotten how to do calculations on the spreadsheets, and gets sad at lunchtime." Sam replied, alternating his gaze between Louis and me.

Louis, who was serving himself a piece of bread and cheese, grimaced, but said nothing.

"It's true, we know he's not over it yet."

I had the glass in my mouth trying to hold back the laugh I wanted to give.

"Get over what?" Louis asked me with a frown and I arched my shoulders, pretending not to know what they were referring to.

"Tom is in love with Y/N, Louis. Ever since she came to the office, he only has eyes for her." Anne answered by pouring herself some strawberry slices and pouring the melted chocolate on top. "You know, alluring and attractive men don't get over it so easily when they are dumped by a beautiful woman."

My eyes were watering from holding back tears of laughter. It was funny to imagine this situation, since Tom was a very well married gentleman, father of three children, and would soon be a grandfather.

"I'm going to get some more wine." I pushed myself to get up, because I needed to release the laughter that was stuck in me.

"I'll get it, babe." Paul took the glass from my hand, passing his hand through mine and stood up.

"Oh, thank you Paulie!" I smiled and sat back down.

Louis's face was red, he chewed angrily and stared at me. His blue eyes fixed on me in an uncomfortable way, as if he were reading my thoughts.

"What's up, babe?" I asked as Anne, Sam and Peter talked among themselves, I tried to stroke his face but he turned away.

"Nothing." he nodded, and I narrowed my eyes.

Paul returned with my full glass, I took it and thanked him again. Since I was sitting only on the carpet, I decided to do a little stretching. Purposefully, Paul looked at the open buttons of my black blouse that was thin and skinny long. Unconsciously, it was tighter than I usually wore which highlighted my breasts covered by the bra.

Louis seemed to notice, he huffed and ran his hand through his hair. I just ignored him and pretended to pay attention to my friends' conversation.

I felt his arm going around my shoulders and a few kisses on my neck, and I simply held myself together not to react, but it was so good his affection.

"We were talking about Tom before and now I remembered, can you believe that every day he comes into your office and wipes down your desk and computer?" Sam was sharp in the theater, I just wanted to thank her for that.

"And I'll tell you something else, he takes his shoes off before he comes in. " Peter continued.

Broadway was losing these actors to an accounting office. Louis leaned back on one of the sofas and crossed his arms with a brave expression.

"Tom has always been very nice to me." I commented, swirling the rest of the wine in my glass. "But I don't know..."

"I don't know, Y/N?" Louis spoke a little louder, turning his face abruptly to me.

"Yes, Tom is a nice guy but he is the kind of guy who ignores things I say, he was not organized and sometimes we almost missed deadlines... If he is like that at work, who will say to have a relationship with him."

I drank the rest of the wine and almost saw Louis erupt.

"Nothing beyond that stays between you?" I looked at Sam, who put his hand over his mouth, holding back his laughter, as did Anne, Paul, and Peter.

"Nah. " I repeated Louis' murmur from earlier and repeated his motion, leaning back against the couch behind me.

He ran his fingers through his bangs and chuckled gracelessly, denying it with his head. I narrowed my eyes in surprise at his reaction.

"It's getting late isn't it? Want some help cleaning up, petal?" Paul stroked my arm.

"I'll help my girl, Paulie." Louis imitated my voice when I called him and stared at Paul's hand on my arm, moving his mouth as if he were dissatisfied.

We talked some more, Louis was still silent and crossed his arms, his legs intertwined with each other and swinging rapidly.

I knew that Louis was about to explode, so I said goodbye to the guys who thanked me for the evening. Paul gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. They motioned for me to tell them by text what was going to happen, I silently agreed and closed the door.

Louis had gotten up and was removing things from the coffee table. I started to organize the room and finished taking the last dishes to the sink.

"You and this Tom guy, have you ever had anything?" Louis was sponging one of the dishes. His sleeves were rolled up, which gave me a view of the tattoos on his wrist that I liked so much.

I poured myself the rest of the wine and leaned back against the sink where he was standing.

"We only went out together once." Which was true, but it was with the rest of the office and nothing happened because his wife accompanied us and I saw him as a father or even an uncle. I would stay in my tantrum, yes, he was the one who should end his.

"Hm." Louis answered.

"Why the question?"

Louis remained silent, washing the dishes as if it were the most fun thing in the world.

"Louis? If I asked a question, I want an answer." I said angrily, tired of the tantrum.

He continued in silence. I took a deep breath trying to oxygenate my brain and continued to stare at him.

I drank the rest of the wine and left the glass in the sink. I walked slowly to the door, still trying to remain calm.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked.

I just turned and smiled, raising my two middle fingers in his direction.

"Fuck you!" I shouted nervously, pointing at him.

Without waiting for his response, I headed towards my room, but within three steps I felt something pulling me, two cold, wet hands.

Louis might be shorter than most men, but he still possessed great strength.

In one swift movement, I felt him turn me around and my back hit the wall to my right and my head bounced, causing me to grunt in pain.

Louis pressed his body against mine, my hands went up to push his chest.

"I don't want to talk, Louis." I said annoyed, almost in tears already.

"What's up, luv? Your babe wants to know... "Louis brushed his nose across my neck, soon after caressing my face by turning and pulling it slightly to the opposite side, my eyes automatically closed."What were those teasing things earlier?"

My body stiffened, I couldn't hide anything from him.

"Let go of me. " I asked, still pushing him slightly, but it came out more like a groan.

Louis let out a small laugh and began to distribute wet kisses down my neck, sometimes my body betrayed me and shivered.

Louis's right hand, which previously held my waist, lifted my blouse to gain access to the skin of my belly and with a rush, held my right breast, massaging it lovingly.

"I'm sure my girl is getting wet..." His warm breath hitched against the cartilage of my left ear. "You like to tease me by showing off those luscious breasts, but in the end you're all mine, aren't you?"

I groaned as if in agreement. My hands, which before had been pushing her breasts, had moved to her back, scratching the white fabric.

"Who's my little whore? Hm?" His teeth went to my jaw, scraping it lightly, and then down to my neck where I felt pressure being applied.

Oh, hell! He was marking me.

"I-I-I..." I answered weakly and brushed my crotch against his.

My body arched and I held on to his arms, I could already feel the throbbing in between my legs as they buckled.

"My silly little girl!" He moved a few inches away from me and I opened my eyes, staring at Louis's long lashes in front of his blue orbs that were almost covered by his dilated pupils. "I saw what you did with the whole Tom and Paulie thing."

When I regained consciousness, I bit my lower lip and smiled mischievously, returning my hands to his back.

"What are you going to do about it, stud?" I teased.

Louis's hands went around my waist as he made a point of kissing me fiercely and hotly. My hands grabbed his face, pulling him to me, afraid that he would just stop and leave me there, hot and needy for his touch.

His hands went down to unbutton my jeans and unzip me. I let out a moan in anticipation and I could feel him smile in the middle of the kiss.

Louis pulled away from me and spun me around, placing me face down against the wall.

"Louis..." I moaned softly, thrusting my ass toward him.

I felt his pelvis fit over my ass and his member was already hardening, I tried to make more contact, but his hands on my waist stopped me.

"I know, luv... I want you too." I felt his chest against my back as I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall and pressed my hands against it, trying to support myself. "I want to feel your pussy squeezing my cock as I fuck you very slowly, because I know you like to feel my cock pulsing in you."

I was already dizzy, biting my lower lip trying to hide my moans, until Louis pulled away and his hands hooked on the hem of my jeans and pulled them down.

"Spread your legs, Darlin'"

I did as he cried out, with a little difficulty because my jeans were still binding my legs and the state of my panties was embarrassing.

His hand slid up and down my ass, and then slapped me with his open hand, which made me jump in surprise.

"My girl doesn't like to be neglected, huh?" Shivers ran through me, my breathing was heavy and my brows furrowed and more slaps came, making my skin burn and my eyes water. "You get needy for my cock when I don't fuck you, don't you?"

In one swift act, my panties were keeping company with my jeans. I pushed my hips even higher, rubbing one leg against the other in an effort to relieve the agony my clit felt.

"Daddy will take care of you, luv!" I heard some noises and then the glorious sensation of Louis's hot tongue running over my pussy.

"Louis!" I moaned loudly and his breath hitched against my exposed intimacy as he let out a laugh. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them even further apart, leaving me wide open for him.

Louis's tongue ran from my sensitive spot to my entrance, sucking and licking. I swayed my hips trying to get closer, but whenever I did he laughed and ran just the tip of it all the way over. My eyes rolled back and a vibration came in the pit of my stomach.

He didn't last long there, but the sound of my wetness clicking on his tongue was something out of reality.

"Babe, please..." My right arm kept pushing against the wall while my left was bent and I massaged my breasts, trying to relieve myself somehow.

"What's wrong, kitten?" Louis groaned and blew against me.

I turned my head to the side and Louis had stood up, taking off his sweatpants along with his underwear and his white jacket, and threw them on the floor beside us.

"Daddy..." I murmured.

Louis' member was hard, and with the glans of his member shiny and pink, his left hand wrapped around it, going up and down slowly. Louis stroked my ass with his free hand, his lower lip was biting and his head eventually fell back as he sighed.

He knew how sexy I found the veins in his hands tensing up and showing as he played with his cock. The tattoos on his wrist added a special touch.

"Lucky for you I want to get it over with, luv... Otherwise you'd have to beg me to fuck you..." He spoke as his cock touched me, dragging and teasing me, making me almost fall to my knees on the floor. "I'm going to fuck your little pussy so hard, babe? I want to hear you moan for the rest of the night, do you want to feel my cock all the way in here?" His finger ran across my entrance, giving me mini shocks in that area.

I mumbled the only sound left in my throat. I turned my face forward and leaned my forehead against the wall. He knew how much I melted for his dirt talk.

My arm against the wall was aching, my forehead was sweaty, and my legs were almost giving way from the way they trembled.

Louis launched himself inside me without warning, burying his wet member until his balls slammed against my clit.

A scream tore through my throat, my nails digging into the wall. Louis didn't even give me time to get used to it, he immediately began thrusting against me. Back and forth, thrusting hard and trying to go all the way in. I was panting as was he, my eyes still closed, enjoying his member filling me.

I turned my face to the side opening my eyes and I could cum right there at the sight, my heart throbbed even more seeing Louis with his nails digging into my hips, his tattooed chest and arms tensed tightly and his head relaxed back with his mouth ajar.

"Fuck!" My eyelids fluttered and I could feel the anguish in my uterus rising.

"My girl is so hot, so warm and tight ... oh!" Louis went down again and if it wasn't for the euphoria, I could feel him almost ripping me in half with his cock slamming against my uterus.

I tilted my head back and one of Louis' hands grabbed my loose hair and formed a sort of ponytail. His hand forced my neck, causing my body to arch and my ass to bulge even more.

My back began to ache as his hipbones crashed against my muscles, he had never caught me this way before and I was already addicted to it. Louis let go of my hair and went back to kneading the sides of my hips.

I put my arm in front of me and bit down on it, feeling my face hit him lightly with the thrusts, my throat aching with the moans, and Louis murmured my name as he tried to sink even deeper inside me.

"Whose pussy is this, babe? Who fucks it hard and the way you like it?" Louis, still not stopping his thrusts, rotated his hips and a wave of ecstasy hit me at the cervix. My pussy clenching rapidly, I was getting there. Louis fucked me so fast that I couldn't even scream.

"You, babe! Only you, Louis!" I spoke softly and felt him kiss me on my back.

"Are you sure, babygirl?" Louis teased and again I felt his chest against my spine.

His cock was halfway out of me and seconds later I was already missing him, which didn't last long as I pushed my hips back against him, burying his cock back into me. I stood on my tiptoes and his member reached the hidden spot that Louis sometimes managed to reach.

"Come on my cock, babe! Because I'm going to mark you, fill you with my milk... Do you want it, my naughty little girl?"

My breath came out of my lungs in a sharp intake of breath. My body exploded inside, shuddering as Louis forced himself to orgasm. Small jolts ran through me, and the ground no longer seemed to be beneath my feet.

My man's nails sank into my skin, his thrusts became sloppy and a loud moan came from Louis' chest, his cock swelled even more inside me and I felt hot spurts fill me, joining my liquid. He groaned loudly and his hands gripped my waist tightly, easing the grip seconds later. Violent trembling came over my knees, causing me to close my eyes in shame as Louis continued inside me and hugged me from behind.

"What's up, Luv? Did I hurt you?" He pushed my hair away from my sweaty, flushed face. Louis kissed the top of my head and I could feel some shocks from the orgasm still being delivered and the delicious feeling of having him inside me.

I nodded positively and then negatively, answering his questions.

"Sorry about the last few days, I was so distracted, thinking about the new album, and then I realized that I didn't do the right thing to the point where my perfect girl insinuated herself to our friend and they talked about some guy at work."

"How did you find out?" I lay my face against the wall, feeling the frosty, chilling cold on my face. I was tired, almost closing my eyes.

"I know you, darlin'... You can't lie, your sign says so."

I covered my face in shame that he knew my shameful secret. Louis pulled his member out of me and already I felt it go limp, Louis tightened his embrace around my buttocks and his arms wrapped around mine, tucking me in.

"Thanks for not giving up on your Capricorn. He'll pay more attention to his girl."

I nodded and turned around, kissing him slowly, feeling his tongue caress mine calmly and tenderly. He was everything to me, giving him up would be the last thing I would ever do.

I pulled away still hugging him and could see his sweaty bangs.

"Thanks for the sex against the wall, it was amazing." I blinked, placing a kiss on his chin.

"Maybe tomorrow you'll rethink it." His face turned into a smile, kissing my cheeks.

I stared at him even longer, not understanding his statement.

"Uh... I may or may not have left some... marks." He gave me his best puppy dog face, squeezed my ass, and kissed my neck lightly.

I rolled my eyes eagerly to see these possible marks.

"All right, they're marks from my Capricorn..." I said, kissing him and jumping on his lap. "But if you ignore me again, you won't have sex against the wall or anywhere else." I shook his shoulder to get his attention and he agreed.

"No more Capricorn stuff!" He promised, raising his right hand.

Astrology thing or not, I loved the guy standing in front of me.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson one shot #louis tomlinson blurb #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson fluff #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson imagines #louis tomlinson fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles #liam payne #liam payne smut #one direction

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 20, Story #2 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: Dittany Author/Artist: FloreatCastellum Pairing: Neville/Hannah Prompt: Bravery Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Discussion of maternal death, mentions of violence. 

Hannah's mother had been a muggleborn, and that had been her death sentence. 

Or rather, she had been a muggleborn with the audacity and bravery to be proud about it. 

Most muggleborns ended up slipping entirely into wizarding society, and as much as they might say that they would keep in touch with their roots, the magic took over. Jeans became robes, electronics didn’t work in their homes so their pop culture references grew stale, the effort involved in keeping the statute of secrecy for extended family and old friends was too exhausting to sustain, so they saw them less and less and eventually… 

This had not happened for Mum, even though the Abbotts were a very old family, well rooted in the magical community. She had agreed with Dad to live in Godric’s Hollow, because the Abbotts had lived there for many generations, but she had insisted on Hannah attending the local primary school, where she could make muggle friends. She was adamant that they make regular trips to Liverpool, to visit her side of the family, who believed that she worked in HR (which she did, but for a potion manufacturer, not for a haulage company as they believed) and that Hannah had received a scholarship to an exclusive boarding school, and that Dad owned a pub (which he did, but they neglected to mention that it was frequented by witches, wizards, goblins, the occasional hag and a half giant). And when the Stephens side of the family came to visit, they would have a flurry of activity where they would hide away anything magical-looking, and from the loft they would bring down the big television, and they would speed read some muggle newspapers so they could give their opinions on Tony Blair or Men Behaving Badly or Charles and Diana’s divorce or whatever else they thought might come up.  

That was life as Hannah knew it, and it never felt complicated or brave or shocking or daring or any of the things she later found out it was. 

She remembered certain details from the day very clearly. She’d been easing sneezewort plants out of their pots, the last repotting before winter, her fingers shaking at the long, pale roots, creating a rain of soil. The last of the cream coloured petals, curled and brown at the edges, fell onto the potting bench. There was a sudden shock of cold air, a breeze from the door opening that hit their faces and whipped through their hair.  

‘Professor Dumbledore’s here,’ said Susan with surprise, and Hannah had glanced up to see him closing the door to the humid greenhouse, his long white beard tucked into his belt, Professor Sprout hurrying over to him. 

Hannah looked back down at her plant. The roots were all tangled together. Professor Dumbledore was probably here for Harry Potter, there were all sorts of rumours flying around about secret meetings between the two of them. 

The plant needed a much bigger pot, but the roots were strong, there was no rot there. 

‘Hannah.’ 

There was no hiding the bewilderment on her face. She had never had a direct conversation with the Headmaster before, and here he was, speaking kindly, gently, softly, one hand touching her shoulder and the other, black looking, gesturing to the door. 

‘I need to-’ she started saying, as he led her out. Everyone was staring. 

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Professor Sprout, and her voice sounded so strange, ‘I’ll finish up here for you.’ 

Perhaps part of her had known then. She knew it was something terrible. She was too afraid to ask. No one was ever pulled out of class for a good reason. She walked up to the castle alongside him as though in a dream, her heart beating up through her throat and into her mouth.

She was not sure how it happened, but suddenly she was in the warmth of his office, staring at Professor Dumbledore’s grave face, his lips moving, without really hearing, except for that first, terrible, world destroying little phrase. 

‘I’m so very sorry to tell you that your mother has been found dead.’ 

There would be no worse event, no greater loss, no stronger pain in her entire life. 

There was still dirt under her nails and in the creases of her palms, she noticed, as she reached into the silver box of floo powder. 

It had been so long since she had seen Godric’s Hollow like this, golden and red in its autumn. Fallen leaves tumbled and floated down the river that rushed through the village, or collected in the gutters along the cobbled roads, damp and heavy. The sun stayed a little lower each day, casting long shadows across the beer garden of The Lost Owl, and the wind ruffled the sign on the door which read ‘Closed due to family bereavement.’ 

During the days, she wondered what to do with herself, stuck between boredom and terrible, overwhelming grief. When she could cry no more, she wondered if there was something wrong with her for wanting to find something interesting or fun to do, but when she tried to read, she could not focus. When she tried to listen to the radio, she would fall asleep. She could not bring herself to ask her weeping father to play cards or chess or anything with her. She thought of going back into school, but how could she see other people? Now that the world had ended? She wanted to tell people about it, wanted to say the words enough until they made sense to her, or until someone found the right words to say back that would make it OK, but she did not want to do this to her friends. 

At nights, she would cry herself to sleep, and her whispers, please come back please Mummy please come back, would grow and grow and grow into sobs, begging into her pillow as the agony of it tore at her, the desperation, the feverish thought that there had to be something, that this couldn’t be it, there had to be a way, a special way, just for them, just for her, because it was her mother and there was no way she could live without her. Mum wouldn’t leave her like this, there was no way Mum would allow it, she would go to the ends of the earth to make sure that Hannah was happy, she had always said so, she had always promised… 

But Death was something parents could not protect their children from, it seemed. The more Hannah thought on it, the more she became crushingly devastated, horrified to realise that each and every human on Earth had to endure this at some point. In different ways, at different times, with different feelings, but the mere act of bringing a child into the world was to condemn that child, one day, to the unbearable pain of loss. Every person she passed, she wondered, have you suffered as I have? Or is it yet to come for you? She wished she could spare them from it.

The aurors said she was probably targeted because she loudly and openly discussed her muggle heritage in the pub, and it must have been heard by the wrong people. That was what passed for bravery these days. 

In the church of St Jerome, the stained glass window pattered with rain, and Hannah looked up at the colours of red and yellow and green rather than looking at the coffin with the splay of lilies, and she wondered when this nightmare would end, when Mum would come back, and tell her that everything would be all right. 

***

Months passed in unbearable agony, worse than she could have imagined. But there were glimmers of light there too. 

Here, at the school she thought she would never return to, in the place that was filled with unimaginable horror and oppression, she had purpose again. More purpose, in fact, than she had ever had in her life. And with it, new friendships that ran deeper than she had ever expected. 

‘This way,’ Neville whispered, and they ran low across the lawn of the grounds. Some of the windows in the castle behind them blazed with light, so that she thought for a terrible moment that they must be visible from the Great Hall, but, of course, the windows would be black with night to anyone who looked out from them. 

It was the summer term now, but the air was still cold as they panted, as though Dementors were close, which, she reasoned, they might be. She could feel the dew of the grass, left to grow long since Hagrid had left, soaking the bottoms of her jeans, seeping through her ratty trainers. 

Following the dark shadow of Neville’s figure, she ran through the grounds until she heard the crunch of gravel underfoot, and, ahead, the slight shine of starlight reflecting off the greenhouses. 

‘They’re in greenhouse three,’ Neville muttered, and her stomach dropped. 

He did not notice, and continued to hurry along the garden path, past the raised beds for the hardier plants and herbs, and she followed, but at a walk now, dread gnawing at her. 

He stopped at the door, holding his hands up to the glass to peer in. ‘OK…’ he said, still breathless from the run. ‘OK, looks clear… Now, while I talk to the venomous tentacula, you grab a tray, and fill it with perlite and only a few handfuls of compost, it’s a mountain plant so it likes it nice and rocky.’ 

‘OK,’ she said, and though she thought she sounded normal, he turned to her. She could barely make out his expression in the darkness. 

‘Are you all right?’ 

‘I… I’m sorry, I just… I haven’t been in the greenhouses for a long time… especially not this one. I should have thought before I volunteered, I'm sorry.’ 

She felt immediately embarrassed for blurting it out, and she had no idea if Neville would even grasp what she was getting at. He had been in the class, yes, but did he even remember that day? What had been the worst day of her life had been a perfectly ordinary school day for the rest of her classmates, and so many terrible things had happened since then. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I can’t leave you out here.’ 

She thought he was telling her off, or saying that they had to go back, but before she had the time to feel hurt or ashamed, he was holding out his hand towards her. 

She swallowed, and then placed her trembling hand in his. She was not unaccustomed to physical touch with him, or many others. Over the past year, she had tended wounds and comforted people as they cried, she had grasped hands and arms and knees under desks to soothe people or tell them to control themselves, she had passed secret notes and morsels of food and whatever else needed smuggling, slipping it nimbly from her fingers into their palms as they passed in the corridors.  

But now his fingers pressed firm and reassuring against hers, and there was something very different about them holding hands. 

She let him lead her into the greenhouse; the humid, warm air surrounded them at once, like an odd sort of hug that sat heavy on their lungs. Tall, leafy plants towered above them, brushing the domed glass high above their heads, which magically reflected the brilliant stars above them and lit the place in glorious silver. 

Now that she was in here, she felt a little better. The dread that had stopped her ever returning here, that had caused her to drop herbology and pretend that this part of the castle no longer existed, had not come to pass. It was, after all, simply a greenhouse, and Mum could not die again. 

‘Are you all right?’ he said gently. 

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’ 

He nodded, and reached for some gloves on a nearby bench. She missed his hand around hers. ‘Let’s move quickly, and get you out of here,’ he said, donning some goggles and a thick leather apron.  

She went to the potting tables where Professor Sprout always stood, and seized a large seedling tray. As she took handfuls of compost and perlite, she could see Neville wrestling with the venomous tentacular, saying, ‘I’ll bring you doxy granules tomorrow - I’ll move you to a sunnier spot - I already checked with Professor Sprout - come on, you knew this was part of the deal, we agreed-’

Eventually, when he had tied enough of the writhing vines together with garden twine and stroked the shoots into calmness, he gave a nod to Hannah, and started to remove his protective gear as she hurried over and they squeezed behind the plant

There, on a table surrounded by blue lanterns to make up for the blocked light caused by the tentacula, were long, deep pots, stuffed with dittany. Their slender, arching stems were clustered with pleasant green leaves, with a dusty sort of whiteness, and they were dotted with pink flowers. She had never seen the plant as it was before; she had only ever remembered the little vials of dittany kept in their first aid kit, good for scraped knees and cuts from any broken glass in the pub. Mum had always said it was good to be prepared in an emergency, it had been one of her funny little things like that, along with being a bit of a hypochondriac, and so Hannah had had a vial in the bottom of her trunk when she returned to school. That, combined with her good potions knowledge, had helped her stumble into a kind of mothering role that she found had rather suited her. 

‘I just need the flowers, the book says,’ she said, as Neville started gently pulling some up by the roots. 

‘Yes, but I think it’d be good if I can grow another set somewhere, as a back up so we don’t have to keep sneaking out here. It’s just me and Seamus in the dorm, I don’t think he’d mind if I put them in the window between Harry and Ron’s beds. Here, take these, cut the flowers where the stem splits off - yeah, there - so it’ll grow back.’ 

‘It’s really pretty,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be so pretty. It’s usually that the most useful plants are the ugliest.’ 

‘It is,’ said Neville absent-mindedly. ‘It’s from Crete. The healing properties were only discovered in the 17th century - people used to think it was an aphrodisiac, and it’s still used in some love potions.’ 

She looked at him, and though the light in the greenhouse was white starlight only, she could still see his cheeks burn red. 

‘It’s… it’s not, though,’ he mumbled. ‘Well… a little bit, but I… I don’t know why I said that.’

‘Because it’s interesting,’ she said quickly, as he busied himself repotting the seedlings. He nodded rapidly, and cleared his throat a little, and she cast around for something to say. ‘You… you should be careful, growing these in the dorm. If you’re caught-’

‘There’s no rule against growing plants,’ he said. ‘I’ve had plants up there loads of times. Especially my mimbulus mimbletonia, that’s had pride of place for a while.’

‘You know they don’t need an explicit rule,’ she said quietly. ‘They do what they want. If they think you’re… doing anything good, anything kind. That’s enough.’ 

He nodded, looking down at the delicate, thin roots of the dittany. There was a reason that he and Professor Sprout were growing such an innocent plant in such secrecy. ‘I know… but… it’s worth the risk.’ 

‘That’s very brave.’ 

‘Is it? Just growing a plant? Is that what passes for bravery these days?’ 

‘Yes,’ she said honestly. ‘Anything good does now. And it’s not just that.’ She paused, still cradling one of the delicate, rose pink flowers in her hand. ‘I mean… what were you thinking in muggle studies the other day? I hated seeing you screaming like that.’ 

‘Well I had to say something. It was repulsive, what she was saying about muggle children.’ 

‘No one believes her, no one really thinks-’

‘We don’t know that. Maybe some people might start believing her, because it’s easier. And anyway, it’s not just about that. Remember Umbridge?’ 

‘I try not to,’ she said dryly, and in the pale, washed out starlight she saw him grin. 

‘I know it’s stupid, but as Ginny and Luna haven’t come back, and Harry and Ron aren’t here, or Dean, or loads of other people… I’ve been-’ he sighed, as though frustrated he couldn’t find the words, ‘I’ve been trying to think about what they would do. I can’t afford to be Neville Longbottom, I’ve got to be someone braver. And Harry used to just completely go off on her, used to tell her straight in lessons that You-Know-Who was back, and, yeah, it got him more trouble than it felt like it was worth at the time, but you know what? I always found it really inspiring.’ 

‘I did too,’ she said quietly. ‘I remember thinking… well… why would he stick to a lie through all that?’ 

‘Exactly. He had principles, and if he was here he wouldn’t stand for any of that rot. There’s a lot of times over the past few months where I’ve just tried to…’ he shrugged helplessly, ‘pretend that I’m Harry. That I’m brave.’ 

‘I don’t think you’re pretending at all,’ she said. ‘You are brave. You always have been. You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you?’ 

‘Somehow.’ 

‘No somehow about it. You’re the bravest man I know, and that includes Harry.’ 

‘How on earth does it include Harry?’ he asked, and he sounded like he was on the verge of laughter. 

‘Because he’s had to be,’ she said. ‘I’ve grown up in Godric’s Hollow, you know, I’ve seen the ruined house that he lived in. He’s had to be brave all the way from when he was a baby. But I didn’t. You didn’t. You’ve chosen to be brave, you’ve chosen to channel him. You're a pureblood, you could choose, every day, to keep your head down and get on with things, but you don't. You stand up and call her a bigoted liar in class and get tortured and you never back down. I find that more inspiring than anything.’ 

‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said quietly.  

‘And you were brave lots of times even before. Don’t you remember winning those points all the way back in first year?’ 

He beamed, and looked at her directly, for the first time since he had blurted out that dittany was an aphrodisiac. ‘You remember that?’ 

‘Of course I do. Dumbledore pointing out about standing up to your friends - he was so right, that does take a lot of bravery. I tried to do it next year, when Ernie was telling me that Harry was the heir of Slytherin. I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t as brave as you, but at least I tried, I suppose.’ 

‘I think you’re very brave too,’ he said. ‘Looking after everyone like this, handing out essence of dittany, running out here with me to get more… I’m sorry that you’ve had to come back in here. I didn’t think.’ 

‘I didn’t either,’ she said, and she started cutting more flowers. ‘I was just so focused on the idea of more, I didn’t really think about where I’d be getting it from… But, you know, I’m OK, actually. The thought of it was worse than the reality. It’s just a greenhouse.’ She looked around. The white starlight bleached the dark greenery into shades of silver, bounced off the watering cans, sparkled in the droplets of water from the sprinklers. ‘A very beautiful one.’ 

‘I like to think so,’ he said, a little hoarsely. ‘I always found this whole place beautiful, but now it… sometimes feels like only the greenhouses still are. They’re the only place I haven’t seen people being tortured.’ 

She paused. ‘I’m secretly thankful my mum isn’t alive to see this. Is that awful? I’m just glad she never had to worry about me being here. I feel bad enough for Dad.’ 

‘It’s not awful,’ said Neville. ‘I know what you mean.’ 

‘Do you?’ 

‘My parents don’t know anything about what’s going on, and for the first time in my life, I’m glad,’ he said, and for some reason his words seemed to surprise him. 

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, and without thinking she put down the little secateurs and touched his arm. He breathed deeply, not quite meeting her eyes, pressing down one of the seedlings quite firmly into the tray, before finally turning to her.

‘I live with my gran, because… my…’ He took another deep breath, and suddenly there was a clanging from outside. 

They froze, and heard a low voice swearing. 'Bloody wheelbarrow…' 

Hearts thudding, they ducked down and stayed silent, Neville silently mouthing for Hannah to get onto the large empty shelf under the potting table, where bags of compost were usually kept. He reached up, fumbling for the secateurs, and then started crawling along on his belly. 

'What are you doing?' she whispered, horrified. Alecto Carrow was opening the door to the greenhouse, still muttering and swearing about the wheelbarrow he had tripped over. 

He put a finger to his lips, and then pointed at the venomous tentacula, which had begun to writhe against the twine. The snip snip snip of the secateurs seemed unreasonably loud, but from the other side of the greenhouse Carrow did not appear to hear them, rifling noisily through the plants and shrubs, sending terracotta pots crashing to the floor. 

'Anyone in here?' he demanded. 'I saw your footprints in the gravel. Hello?' 

The vines of the tentacula waved threateningly, and Hannah watched with trembling fear as one of them reached out to Neville, still prone on the ground, and started to wrap itself around his throat. 

'Don't be cheeky,' she heard him mutter to it, and he calmly prodded it with the secateurs until it released him. 

It kept one tendril around his ankle, but Neville seemed to allow it as a compromise, and instead watched through the vines as Carrow upturned a table, still shouting and swearing. 

After several, agonisingly long minutes, Carrow came close to them. The venomous tentacula silently released Neville’s ankle, and raised it's spiked tendrils. 

'OW! Son of a bludger-' 

A long line of expletives followed, and the venomous tentacular shook noisily, whip-like noises echoing through the greenhouse as it reached after Carrow, now bolting from the room. 

'Grab the tray,' Neville told Hannah. 'He'll be heading straight to the hospital wing, we should have a clear path back. Quickly, before the tentacula gets over-excited and turns on us-' 

She did so at once and he held back the spiked vines as she squeezed past the plant, and hurried safely out of range. 

She stood there, holding her tray of little dittany plants and the heads of the flowers. She watched as Neville easily unentangled himself from the tentacula, patted it, said, 'thanks mate,' and grabbed a clear cover for the tray. He came close to her as he fitted it over the dittany, protecting them from the cold night air they would have to hurry back through.  

His face was inches from her own, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat a little as she looked up at him. There was a slight clunk as the lid of the tray found its place. For a moment, they were perfectly still, just their breathing in that humid place, and his eyes, shining light blue in the pale light, lifted from the tray of dittany to meet her own. 

'Do you really think I'm brave?' he whispered. 

She nodded, and he seemed to be steeling himself for something. Please, she thought, please make this place good for me again. Her hands gripped the edges of the tray.

Very gently, very slowly, he leaned closer over the tray. His hand moved as though to softly move her face to meet his, but he didn't need to, for she was already naturally tilting her head, and her heels were lifting a little off the ground without her bidding them to. 

Their lips met, soft like the petals of the dittany between them, sweet like the fragrance. His fingertips were trembling slightly as they caressed against her cheek, but then they calmed as the kiss deepened. 

The tray pressed into them as he tried to move closer, and it reminded them where they were. They broke apart, panting and gasping as though they had just finished the run down from the castle. 

She had never kissed anyone before. She was glad, unbelievably, overwhelmingly, joyfully glad, that her first kiss had been with Neville, in this place where the warm air was scented with damp soil and sweet flowers. 

'We… we should take these back,' he said, his voice slightly hoarse. ‘Let - let me take them.’ 

He took the tray from her, and in her happy daze she allowed it, and let him lead the way out of the greenhouse. Joy had returned to her again, beneath the fogged glass, amongst the green plants, bursting with life. 

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #neville x hannah #tw: maternal death #tw: mentions of violence

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

#THIS LEGIT TOOK ME ALL DAY #AND I HAD A BLAST #im simply not ready #jiara nation how we feeling #UGH i missed them so much dude #outer banks season 2 #obx #long post #shot by shot rundown #jiara #the pogues #obx2 #john b routledge #pope heyward #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #jj maybank #jarah b #john b x sarah #jj maybank x kiara carrera #cleo #rafe cameron #topper thornton