#and to this day it still remains my favorite site

[deantfwinchester]

Hands

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader as usual (let's just assume these No-Outbreak Joels are all the same couple tbh), established relationship

Summary: Friday nights are reserved for sweatpants and relaxation, of course. But when Joel's work week leaves his hands a bit worse for wear, the night may need to include a break for a little extra attention.

Warnings: extreme fluff once again. expect it at this point. i'm a one-trick pony, i fear.

A/N: finally got around to putting one of my many bulleted notes-app idea fics into paragraph form again! Will we get another one before the year's out? It's anyone's guess! -_-

——————

Friday nights are your favorites. No dinner to cook or rattling rolodex of tasks to come in the next twelve hours give you both a little room to breathe — to gently unwind from yourselves and into one another. It’s typically quiet, and when it isn’t, the volume is born of laughter from games or stories the three of you share.

Joel comes home from an exceptionally long week. You know he’s been on site every day—the whole team has—working longer and longer hours to wrap up the latest project before the client’s deadline. You’re pleased to hear his keys rattle in the door not long after five o’clock, and relieved because the air’s rapidly cooling earlier each night. Daylight Savings time is coming to an end, and today he barely beat the sunset getting home. 

You know the hour means little, however, and are less than astonished at the weary grin he bears on catching sight of you and Sarah on the couch when he walks in the room. She’s already got her purse on her shoulder, eager to head out when her friends arrive, and she’s excitedly recounting the events of the trailer for the movie they’ll be catching tonight. He stands idly in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the two of you chat. You make brief eye contact and smile back, assuring you know he’s there. Neither of you wants to interrupt her avid storytelling.  

“Well don’t you sound excited?” he says when she pauses to catch her breath. You both turn to greet him, and he moves more quickly toward you as you attempt to rise, gesturing to you to remain seated. He’ll come to you both.

He plants a kiss on top of Sarah’s head before leaning down to kiss you as he does each night. You place a hand on his chest and pause when he pulls back to get a good look at his face. You see the fatigue in his droopy-eyed smile, but can’t say anything to him. You already know it’s mirrored in your own expression.

The doorbell rings before either of you can speak again, and Sarah jumps up to head out the door. You wish her a good night, and he follows her to the door, checking for a familiar parent in the driver’s seat and seeing her off. You see him hand her some cash to go with his reminder to make good decisions, and he hugs her. You can’t help but giggle when she takes it with a wide smile.

He turns to you laughing when he sees she’s in the car, and shuts the door.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion, but amused at the sound of your laughter.

“Smart girl. I gave her a 20 before you got home,” you grin back at him. He stills in understanding and rolls his eyes. 

“You couldn’t tell me that two minutes ago?” he asks you in mock exasperation.

“But it’s so much funnier this way!” you add, giggling again. You both know he’s wrapped completely around her finger, though she so innocently does not. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him. One of the first reasons you fell in love. 

He shakes his head fondly, and places a hand on his stomach, which begins to grumble softly at him. You raise your eyebrows and meet his gaze. “Any thoughts on dinner?” he asks, and you grin back at him in amusement.

“Handled. Pizza’s already on the way,” you respond and he feigns relief. 

“You’re brilliant.” he says, walking up and grabbing your hand on the back of the couch. You run your thumb in little circles on the back of his hand and give it a light squeeze.

“Duh. Now go get changed! It’s do-nothing time starting now,” you respond, patting the top of his hand in encouragement.

“You read my mind,” he says, leaning down for another quick peck before heading off into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Naturally, you’ve been in sweats for over an hour now, shedding your own outfit immediately, peeling the school day from your skin. The unspoken uniform for these Friday nights is extremely specific.

The pizza arrives before Joel can even return from the bedroom in a feat of incredible timing. You’re gathering plates and filling glasses with ice when he emerges ready for the night. He moves forward to help you grab the dinner, but you shoo him away to the couch. 

“Nope, I got this. You sit,” you say, lightly shoving his chest away. You leave no room for argument. He grumbles a bit and raises his hands, backing away to the living room. You follow behind him with the pizza and plates, and return once more for the drinks before settling next to him on the couch. He sits on one end, and you sit in the middle, leaving little room between you.

You lean forward, putting pizza on one plate you pass to Joel before grabbing your own, then settle back against the cushion, both sinking in so comfortably a nearly audible sigh fills the room. The comfort in this relief is palpable, and the decompressing can begin. You grab the remote and put on the series you’ve been binging together recently, more for background noise than anything else. 

A few slices and sitcom episodes deep, you’ve set your plates down on the coffee table. With your bellies comfortably full, you’ve somehow slumped deeper, though Joel into the couch and you into his side. His arm is draped over the back of the couch behind you, and you’re nearly laying on him, head propped against his shoulder. 

You hold his free hand in both of yours and absently play with his fingers for a second when you notice the aggressive wear this week has lent his hands. They’re a raw, angry red at the knuckles; his nails are cracked in some places and peeling in others. Moving your fingers gently down toward his wrist, you focus more directly on the state of his, catching sight of a few hangnails and stretched cuticles that can’t be comfortable. He looks down as you begin to worry them beneath the soft pads of your own fingers, and you meet his gaze, brows furrowed as you look between his face and hands. 

“Keep doing that, please,” he says with a sigh before closing his eyes, “I wait all day to feel your hands on mine. They’re so soft.” He lifts your hand to his lips before pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. He loves the delicate, reverent way you play with his hands, like they’re small, fragile things in need of tender attention. You take his hand once again into both of yours and gently rub it between them, looking back up at him, concerned. 

“How do yours feel? They look like they’re hurting you,” you gnaw a bit at your bottom lip in thought, and he tries to assuage your worry.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Nothing worse than I’m used to,” he says. He knows from your deepening frown that you’re less than satisfied with this response.

You couldn’t care less if he’s used to it, he shouldn’t be. You know the protective callouses forged there don’t mean those hands are unfeeling in the slightest.

“Wait there. I’ll be right back,” you say, rising from his side and hastening to the bedroom. It’s his turn to frown now, both in confusion and at the sudden draft that’s appeared at his side.

You return not a minute later with a small tote around your wrist, and hands filled with half the manicure items you own. You sit down next to him and unpack, laying clippers, files, cuticle oil, and two different hand creams — a lotion he’s seen you use regularly, and a jar that must be a new addition — on the coffee table in front of you, along with the selected polishes and remover you had in the tote bag. You’ve been meaning to do your nails, anyway. 

Joel looks incredulously at you, unsure where this is going. Not that he’s a stranger to nail polish — he raised a little girl on his own long enough to have worn the rainbow on his fingers, but tonight? 

“Sorry, no color for you today, honey. Certainly not before these are healed,” you say. He’d chip half your handiwork away by Monday afternoon anyway the way he’s been working lately. Facing him, you cross your legs on the couch and smile, holding your hand out expectantly for his. He raises his eyebrows at you, but places his palm gently in your own. 

You grab the clippers and get to work on the hangnails first. Any peeling skin or cuticle right there at the nail you clip as gently as possible, making note of the reddened and slightly swollen areas at the base of his nail from which they protrude. Those will need careful attention at the end. He doesn’t squirm or react in any way, but you know they’re more sensitive than he’s letting on. 

Next, you clip back any breakages and unevenness in the nails themselves. You’d never find Joel Miller with dirty hands — he gets them clean as soon as he gets home, but all the scrubbing it takes to keep them that way takes its toll. A little trim at their length might help reduce the need for so much each day upon his return. 

After clipping, you grab his first hand again and rest it gently in the palm of your left while your right files steadily to even any rough edges left behind and prevent further injury. It won’t take much, but you’re sure to get them smooth so they won’t catch on anything or bother him later on. 

The cuticle oil is next. He looks at it questioningly, clearly a bit skeptical, only having seen it a few times when you or Sarah used it. He’s never ventured so far himself. While you brush it gently onto each of his nails, you explain its purpose. 

“This’ll just help your nails get a little stronger. It’ll get them hydrated a bit, keep ‘em  from peeling so much when your hands get dry. It’s kinda crazy how much better this stuff is for your nails than even water is. Water’ll make the peeling worse, actually. Weird, huh?”

He just nods along, listening to you, content to learn something new as always. Finger by finger, you massage the oil into his nail and nail bed. After the first round you go back through to massage again, both to make sure no oily feeling is left behind, and to prolong the rapidly concluding process. He could use the attention, anyway.

Finally, you pick up the jar he identified as a new addition: a canister of a hand repair cream labeled for “Healing of dry or cracked skin.”

“Never seen that one before,” he says, reading the label, “What d’ya need this for? Your hands are never dry! I think they’ve been soft every time I’ve held 'em since the day I met ya,” he smiles at you, and you bashfully brush off the compliment. 

“I don’t need it. I use the other one,” you say with finality, opening the jar and pulling the first of his hands into yours. You don’t grab a large dollop of the stuff. You don’t want him to feel a disconcerting weight, grease, or stickiness from this unfamiliar formula, so you get a little and begin. You add a bit more each time you reach a new spot on his knuckles, palms, wrists. 

You take your time, gently massaging into those roughened, tender hands far more than a simple healing salve. He understands why you have the jar now, looking at you knowingly, and you smile back. No words need be exchanged.

Once you’ve finished the last finger and the last stroke on his hands, you squeeze the one in your own, then pat it gently with your other, “There. Gotta feel better now, yeah?”

Joel stares at you like he just watched you reach up and place the moon in the sky, if for no reason other than to light his path. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you sweetheart,” he says, squeezing your hand back and smiling reverently at you. You blush beneath his gaze and look away, unsure what to do with the admiration rolling off of him in waves. You lean back against the couch, file in hand as you start going at your own nails. 

“Good. Don’t let 'em go that long again, either. Where they start hurtin’ ya? Maybe we oughta make this a weekly thing. Manicure night? Been needing someone to do my right hand,” you grin, wiggling the corresponding fingers at him. He smiles back at you, then reaches over and pulls you toward his side, back to your original position laying against him, head resting once again on his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says fondly into your hair, planting a kiss to your head in the process. You get comfortable once more, foregoing any plans to do your own nails tonight. You both know those “manicure nights” will be for him — and you’ve got Sarah to do your right hand already, when you do hers.

You grab the same free hand once again and admire your work, then lace your fingers between his own, and rest your twined hands on his leg. You’re satisfied knowing the hand behind you on the couch is comfortable now, healing from the week’s toils and melting into the comforting haze of the early autumn evening.

#oops i did it again #fluff without plot #this is my only genre #I just need more SFW care directed at this man #is that so much to ask #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #joel miller imagine #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #pre outbreak!joel

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, ...)

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick, Luis), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

Authors' Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “PI, actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #porcelainscribbles

[meatballsu]

I have rewatched TADC many times recently and I come up with many interesting theories about Ragatha (My favorite) and I think it is great to share them here.

Theory: Ragtha is kinda on Caine’s side, or at least she is the person who always “giving”.

This isn’t intend to propose that Caine and Ragatha are “bad” or something. I’m not sure if anyone is watching the GenV series (Spoilers alert!)

and I think Ragatha is sorta a role like Kate that supports the Caine.

One thing is that when Caine is stopped by Pomni questioning about how do they leave, Ragatha immediately takes the question with a little stuttering opening, like she helps Caine when the AI is malfunctioned.

Another thing is she apologized to Pomni when glitching, says Pomni had a bad day, it looks like Ragatha took the responsibility that she should take care of the newbies.

I also noticed a very interesting detail about Ragatha's motion design. I collected all the clips of she approaching while people remaining steady. You know it usually means this person is a sacrificer in relationships.

Even when she is not in a good mood about Pomni's “abandon” . Ragatha still approaches and stands by her side.

This gives me the feeling that Caine may have demanded or asked her for help to care the new "sucker".

Additionally, the Kaufmo part also striked me a little. (It may turns out to be simply the pilot needs and my overthinking. But consider I have to wait for months to expect a new episode so why not brain storm.)

So Ragatha is the person who promts to check Kaufmo:

Ragatha: Oh, wait, we should go check on Kaufmo. And I'm pretty sure he'd like to meet Pomni.

While Kinger refuses the idea and says:

I think Kaufmo's gone insane. Last time I spoke with him, he was rambling endlessly about some exit.

After they went to the carpet, Ragatha mentioned that:

Well, we usually do, when we first arrive, but after a while you start to realize that you really can't leave and constantly chasing an unattainable goal will start driving you a bit crazy. And eventually you get to asking what the point of anything is and you completely lose sight of who you are and why you're even alive and when you reach your breaking point something really terrible can happen.

When she saw the abstracted Kaufmo and she stuttered that the creature might be the “terrible thing” refered to what she said before.

At this time I think we can assume that:

Ragatha knows the pursuing exits could drive people to the breaking point.

Ragatha knows people who breaks will happen terrible things.

Ragatha knows by Kinger (who is unresponisive but still noticed somthing wrong) that Kaufmo is unstable recently.

Ragatha knows what “abstract” is, and someone( people who came earlier than her or Caine) kept warnig/brainwashing her that “ Don’t overthink about exist or terrible thing gonna happen”.

Why Ragatha wants to take Pomni to go check on Kaufmo even she knows he is in a unstable situation?

I think it can be explained that:

She wants to form a stonger colleague relationship with Pomni by taking her to meet the used-to-be-frindely Kaufmo (who liked to tell jokes). or—

She wants to warn Pomni by letting her see “the terrible thing” to stop her from thinking about exit.

By going through all this points, I feel that Ragatha is the most positive on the concept about “No exist”. It looks like she tries hard to prove that there is no way out.

This point is also supported by Caine. And Ragatha hints in a non-obvious way through the pilot that Caine treats them with good intention:

The official site introduces the series with:

So nevertheless, I think Ragatha is still a trapped victim, and the pilot seems to show that she grows a bit Stockholm syndrome and stands by Caine’s side to defend her sanity. That's why she is described as the sweetest optimist.

ps:

I find Jax's different attitude is intersting when Ragatha and Kinger mentioned their daily routine:

Jax didn't comment on Ragatha explaining their useless sleep routine.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #ragatha #kinger #pomni #caine #jax #tadc theory

[rehfan]

La Belle Dame avec Merci

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; SLOW BURN; Eddie & Reader are both over 18; fake dating/relationship; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

1.8K words of Chapter 1 below (no smut yet - this is a SLOW BURN) — more chapters to come! AO3 link

Tumblr Masterlist Link

Eddie Munson was on your radar about as much as any other guy in school. That is to say, boys were people to avoid on the whole; whether because they were just cruel to you, or users trying to get you in bed, and therefore people to pointedly stay away from or - if it ever would happen - a dreamy-eyed boy were to come along and finally be kind, the fact remained the same: boys were an inconvenience at best, a source of torture at worst. Keeping your head down was the rule for every day. None of them wouldn’t have anything to do with you anyway, but some would actively jump out of the way in the halls all the while thinking themselves clever and funny by quoting Monty Python: “She’s a witch! A witch! She turned me into a newt! I got better…” An act somehow always followed by a cackle from their clique.

Of course, Eddie himself wasn’t one of these. He mainly kept out of your way, even though you shared a biology class together. You knew him enough to hand him a pen or pencil if he asked you for one in desperation, but otherwise, he kept to the theater club and his D&D group, Hellfire, and gave you a wide berth.

So it was a surprise to you when you received notice from the librarian that Eddie asked for a tutor in history. Ms. O’Donnell was a challenging teacher, no doubt, but you were one of her favorites and were currently in her AP History class. Eddie was in American 20th Century history and while it wasn’t your favorite part of history, you could still help him get by. You thanked the librarian and went looking for Eddie.

It didn’t take you long. The librarian simply pointed behind you. He was at one of the smaller tables in the middle of the space, doodling in a notebook. His leg was pumping a mile a minute and he looked bored. It must be his free period, you thought. You sat opposite him without asking and he looked up surprised.

“So when would you like to get started?” you asked, unpacking a datebook and pen from your purse.

“What?” He was genuinely thrown off guard, but soon regained his composure. This was some kind of trick. Had to be. He searched the room and discovered the table behind you was loaded with jocks and party kids. They weren’t looking at either you or him, but something still smelled off. He narrowed his eyes at you and waited.

“For your tutoring. 20th Century History? Ms. O’Donnell’s class? The thing you asked to be tutored in?” You clicked your pen. “When are you free?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, utterly confused. You had never spoken to him for any length of time before but there was something about the sound of his voice you found fascinating. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear. Even if it was him turning you down for your academic services. “I never asked to be tutored,” he said, insulted. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll make it through her class all on my own, sweetheart, m’kay?” He tilted his head and gave you a smart-ass grin.

“Well then why did the librarian give me your name? And why did she say that you wanted to be tutored?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said, leaning forward, that grin still painted on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to set you up with the only guy in school who isn’t terrified of you.” This was not true. You did terrify him. Deeply. Your piercing eyes. Your pretty hair. Not to mention your rather distracting body. You were a fucking masterpiece and totally untouchable. The Impenetrable Ice Queen. The Queen who was now talking to him, the lowly bard. What was happening here? Doubling down on his declaration, Eddie leaned in even further and whispered: “I can be scary too, you know.”

Your spine stiffened. That was a shot across your bow you weren’t expecting. “I don’t understand. The librarian always keeps track of who the tutors are assigned to. If you didn’t put your name in for tutoring-“

Just then a group of kids behind you laughed. “Hey Munson! The Ice Queen? You getting desperate? Want to take your chances with the frigid bitch of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah man, hope you like cold fish!”

“And cold showers!”

You didn’t even want to turn around. From the look on Eddie’s face, you knew that it was the same group of people that hated him too - that is to say, almost anyone else in the school.

You closed your eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Jocks or preps?” you asked him.

“Looks like a mix of both,” he answered you and raised his middle finger at them all. Because fuck them, that’s why. He wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they were also insulting you and face punching after someone insults a lady is expected, no? The knight errant in him was itching for battle.

“The freak found the geek!” one of them called.

“Shh! Quiet in the library or all of you can leave!” said the librarian. She stayed long enough to watch the big group behind you duck their heads and pretend to study their books. Satisfied that everything was over, she went into her office to answer the phone.

As soon as she was gone, it started back up again, just quieter.

“Hey Munson, be sure your dick doesn’t freeze and snap off inside her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably cut it off as soon as he pulls it out of his pants.”

“And hey, Ice Queen, watch out Munson doesn’t have anything catching.”

“Yeah. God knows what that freak carries.”

”Probably what the green monkey had.”

“It’s so nice to know they care,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. As you kept your gaze in Eddie’s direction, you saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You commended him for keeping his temper, if only barely.

In that moment, as Eddie was steaming and you were trying to let their words pass over you, you came to an important realization: you and Eddie were in the same boat socially. It was also then that you realized that Eddie might be the answer to your prayers. In fact, out of all the guys in Hawkins, out of every single male soul, he was likely to be the one person that you could co-conspire with - if he were up for it, that is.

And if you were honest, there was something fundamentally attractive about the metalhead. You enjoyed how he held court in the cafeteria from time to time. It took bold resolve to speak his truth to the entire school. And there was something about his eyes. The intensity behind them was magnetic. You didn’t need much more thought.

You leaned in, resting your elbows on the table. “How game are you?”

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of his murderous plotting.

You slowed your speech to match the speed of his brain: “How. Game. Are. You? Will you play along with me?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see where this was going, but it was better than being carted off to jail by Hopper on a battery charge. He was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. He allowed his curiosity to override his anger. “A little improv, sweetheart? Heh. What do you have in mind?” He honestly didn’t know what to expect from you at this point, but he was seriously intrigued. The Ice Queen wanted to conspire with him. He was flattered.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, “and let’s blow all their tiny minds.”

Slowly you rose from your seat. Your skirt was long, almost to your ankles, but had a slit that ran to just above your left knee. You came around the table and lifted and parted the skirt, swinging your left leg clean over Eddie’s legs and settled yourself in his lap. Automatically, his hands were on your hips, sliding down to stop on your thighs, warm and firm. Eddie looked shocked for about three milliseconds, and it was a good thing he had recovered; if he were too shocked, you didn’t think it would sell the way you wanted it to.

Taking his face in your hands, you turned your head to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, another to his temple, and yet another to the side of his head near his ear. You were testing his waters. You could feel him tremble slightly, but he was holding fast. Good for him. “Follow my lead,” you whispered gently. Then you pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s brain shut off.

He responded to you much more respectfully than you expected; he kept his tongue to himself. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having you so close and pressed against him. All it would take would be you grinding your hips against his and he wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without a book in front of his crotch.

The whispered “What the hell-?” from behind you was completely worth the risk of trusting the honor of Eddie Munson. The sound of the rest of them whispering to one another in amusement, fascination, and shock was also satisfying.

The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds or so when the bell rang and everyone gathered their things. You got up. As you gathered your datebook, you smiled at him. “See you in biology, lover.”

There was an extra swing in your hips as you left the library. You could feel Eddie’s stare and knew that his dumb grin was on his face.

You were wrong, however. Eddie was too in shock to react. Too overwhelmed by your energy just now. He stared in confused longing, swallowing hard, knowing he could never really have you and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do now that he knew what kissing you felt like. What having you in his lap felt like.

With that kiss, you knew that the Hawkins High rumor mill was going to spin so fast, it might set the school on fire. That much, you could have predicted. What you didn’t expect was how hot and bothered it had left you. The warmth of him you had expected. Even the plush feel of his lips was a foregone conclusion. But the feel of him - him beneath you and in front of you, his hands on you, his scent spinning around your brain. That was overwhelming. This was either the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst. Unfortunately, only Eddie Munson could define that for you.

**************

CHAPTER 2 is now posted to AO3 and TUMBLR

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

[babyhatesreality]

Can please write a night time routine with daddy stucky please? You writing make me feel small

Absolutely darling. I love that you feel small when you read these stories, and I hope that you find warmth, comfort, and peace in that. May your bedtime stories always give you lovely dreams <3

Where You Still Remember Dreaming

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, nicknames, reader is named but name scarcely used, bath time, bed time, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

Bucky wandered into your playroom, leaning against the doorframe and smiling down at you. "Whatcha up to, munchkin?" he asked as he took in your lego creation.

You bounced excitedly on the balls of your feet. "Lookit, Daddy! I'm making 'Punzel's tower from Tangled!"

"Wow," he said, pursing his lips in amusement. "That's really something, bunny." He grinned as you mashed another couple blocks together. You weren't so much focusing on structure as you were simply trying to make the tallest...thing you could by using every lego you had and making it all not fall over. "Well, I think it's time for tower builders to take a bath."

"Don't need a bath, please, okay? Gotta build," you said determinedly, focused on your masterpiece.

"Tower builders gotta make sure they're clean and rested so they can keep building tomorrow," Bucky said playfully, sauntering in to the room and walking up next to you. You turned to him, your best Bambi eyes on while your hands were full of blocks.

"Please, Daddy? Please can I keep playing?" you asked, adding your best cutesy voice in the mix. You raised your arm and took a tentative sniff, then looked back at him hopefully. "I don't smell bad!"

Bucky's laugh burst out of him and he reached for you, picking you up and setting you on his hip. He took a theatrical sniff of you as well, then made an exaggerated grossed out face. "UGH, don't know what you mean. You smell terrible." He grinned impishly at you, letting you know that he was teasing. You giggled and wiggled in his arms.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Daddy, you silly!"

"I may be silly, but you need a bath just in case it's not my nose being silly."

"But...what about da tower?"

"You and I can work on it tomorrow morning after breakfast. How 'bout that?"

"OKAY!" you cheered, tossing the remaining bricks in your hand into the massive pile still on the floor. Bucky kept his sigh in- the playroom was allowed to stay in various states of disarray, that was the deal. But he still shut the door tightly on his way out so he didn't have to look at it.

He took you to the bathroom, bouncing you on the way and singing a little nonsense song about giving baby bunnies a bath, making you giggle and wrinkle your nose like a bunny.

"What would you like tonight, hm? Bubbles or bath bomb?" Daddy asked as you crossed the threshold to the bathroom. He set you down on the ground while you thought. It was a very tough decision and it had been a long day of building that tower.

"Ummm...bubbles please," you finally decided, pointing to the purple bottle that smelled like lavender. "Can I has the purple bubbles please?"

"Yes, you can. Good manners, baby," Bucky praised, leaning down to give you a kiss on the top of your head before starting the bath and pouring in your favorite "purple" bubbles. Just then, Steve stopped by the doorway, having just heard Bucky's last sentence.

"Someone's got good manners?" he said, grinning at you. "You wouldn't happen to know who that someone was, would you angel?"

"ME! It was ME," you said delightfully, wiggling happily. "PLEASE," you added smugly, with pride. Steve laughed.

"Yeah, those are some good manners, alright," Papa said. "Do you wanna pick out jammies tonight?"

Exhausted at the idea of having to make another decision so soon after the whole bubbles/bath bomb choice, you shook your head, putting your fingers in your mouth. "You pick please," you said, your words a bit garbled by your digits. Bucky gently pulled your fingers out of your mouth.

"No fingers baby," he reminded you. "You need a paci?"

You shook your head stubbornly as the smell of the lavender bubbles was already starting to make you sleepy and you weren’t ready to give in yet. "No, no need paci, 'm a big girl, Daddy," you stated, blinking heavily twice. Daddy and Papa exchanged a quick grin before focusing back on you.

"Okay, big girl," Daddy said patiently with a smile. "You go potty while Papa and I pick out jammies, okay?" They left you alone to take care of your business while Steve went to go get your pajamas, and Bucky went on the hunt for the nearest paci. He slipped it into his pocket- just in case. You were finished by the time he came back.

"Alright, Trouble, arms up," Bucky said. You did as he asked and he gently pulled your teeshirt over your head, going slower as the fabric neared your eyes. “Boo!” he said suddenly, whipping the shirt off so you could see. You squealed and giggled- you loved it when he did that. He grinned and helped you shimmy out of your soft blue leggings. After quickly testing the water once more, he turned off the spout and helped you in. 

“Can we play dinoswrawrs together, Daddy?” you asked excitedly, splashing around a bit in your exuberance. You had recently developed a love of dinosaurs after going to the museum with your daddies. 

“As soon as we’re done washing, we can,” he said, quickly squirting some of your favorite baby wash onto a soft cloth. He handed you a couple of your plastic dino tub toys with his free hand, which kept you happily occupied while he cleaned you all over. You were very good, tilting your chin up when he told you, although you did bring your dinos up to eye level and pretend they were flying while he scrubbed under your chin and behind your ears. 

“Ready for the waterfall?” Daddy asked, reaching over and filling a big plastic cup with fresh warm water. 

“YEAH!” you cheered, tilting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Here it comes!” Bucky carefully poured the warm water over your hair, making sure that he was avoiding your face and eyes. You never noticed how nervous he was to wash your hair- he was so afraid of getting soap in your eyes- because he turned it into a game about a waterfall that you absolutely loved. He would joke that the shampoo was the bubbles from the waterfall and that he had to pop them all, and you would giggle the entire time and hold perfectly still because you wanted your Daddy to win at popping all the bubbles. Then one more waterfall to rinse your hair and you were both home free. 

You took some time to play dinosaurs together, or dinoswrawrs as you called them in little space, screeching with laughter every time Bucky made a dino pop up out of the water or dive off the side of the tub. After a couple minutes of delightful play, he moved to pick you up out of the tub. 

“Alright, Dino Baby, time to get out,” he said, helping you out of the warm water. He quickly wrapped your dinosaur hooded towel around you, chuckling as he pulled the hood over your wet hair and you gave your best triumphant dino roar in response. He rubbed you all over, drying you off, then stood you in front of him in the mirror while he carefully dried and combed out your wet hair. You practiced your dino faces and roaring in the mirror while he did it- it was fantastic. 

Finally Bucky turned you around and picked you up, plopping you down on the counter. “Alright, show me those dino teeth,” he said. You happily obliged, and he brushed your teeth meticulously, laughing again when you roared triumphantly when it was all over. 

Steve was standing outside the bathroom for the final part of the brushing, trying unsuccessfully to look unamused. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping her calm down, not winding her up?” he asked his husband, one eyebrow arched playfully. 

Bucky shrugged and grinned. “Hey, the Dinosaur wants what the Dinosaur  wants,” he said, swooping you off the counter while you giggled madly. “Alright Dino Baby, you ready for your dino scales?” he said to you, meaning of course your pajamas. You roared in answer as he snorted a laugh and handed you off to Steve. 

“Okay, Baby Dinosaur, no more roaring tonight,” Papa said gently as he took you into his and Daddy’s room while Bucky stayed behind to clean up the bathroom. 

“I a GOOD dinoswrawr, Papa,” you explained. 

“You are a very good dinosaur, but we don’t want to wake up the other dinosaurs that might be asleep, right?”

“Right!” 

“So no more roaring tonight?”

“No more tonight, Papa!”

“That’s my good Baby Dinosaur,” he praised with a grin. He laid you down carefully on the bed and pulled out your sleepytime lotion. He only uncovered the parts of you he was working on so you wouldn’t get cold. He was tempted to tickle you, but he knew that would only get you worked back up, so he refrained. 

“Do you know what stories you want tonight, Princess?” he asked as he finished off your toes. 

“Ummmm...dump trucks please?” you asked. “And I in here wif you and Daddy please?”

“You wanna sleep with me and Daddy tonight?” 

“Yes, please!”

“Okay, Princess, you can sleep with us tonight. And what story do you want Daddy to read?”

“Um...Princess and Frog please!”

“Good choices and good manners!” Papa praised enthusiastically. “Okay upsie-daisy,” he said, helping you to sit up so he could rub lotion on your back. Since he had to move the towel away to reach you, he worked quickly, afraid that you were going to get too cold. “Arms up, buttercup,” he said, ready to pull your top over your head. You did as he said, and he followed up with the bottoms and a pair of warm socks. He always insisted on you wearing warm socks to bed, even though you usually lost them in the night with your wiggling. 

As soon as you were dressed, you hopped off the edge of the bed. Steve immediately intercepted you, pulling you back up into his arms. He knew your tricks all too well. 

“Papa!” you whined and wiggled. “Gotta get Jellybean!”

“Daddy will get her, baby, it’s time to get into bed,” he said patiently, walking around to his side of the bed. You clung to his neck tightly. 

“Ummm...need water!” you said, eyeballing the bed as if it was your worst enemy. 

“Would you look at that,” Bucky said, suddenly strolling into the room with a face-splitting grin, a sippy cup in one hand and Jellybean in the other. “Got you water already, Dino baby.”

Before you could protest that no, you needed OTHER water and that one was no good, Papa gently plopped down on the bed, you snuggled firmly in one arm so you landed in the middle with him on your right. He laid back, pulling you with him so you were laying down. You wiggled and gave a soft whimper of protest even though the bed was so soft and felt so nice...

Daddy tucked Jellybean into your left arm while Papa gently rubbed circles on your tummy. Despite your best efforts to keep it in, you let out a big yawn that you immediately tried to cover up by declaring yourself ‘not tired’. They both ignored that, too used to your antics. 

“Which books?” Daddy asked quietly. 

“Goodnight, Construction Site, and Princess and the Frog,” Papa responded, never missing a beat as he continued to rub soothing circles. You gave a half hearted wiggle as you tried to escape, but it just felt so lovely...Your eyes closed, but only for a second. 

Bucky found the books in the basket they kept in their room for you and handed them to Steve. Steve opened up Goodnight Construction Site and began reading. You found yourself turning into him and snuggling as he read. You weren’t really all that interested in trucks, but you liked the cool names of all of them and you liked the way Papa said good night to each of them. He had the best good night voice ever. You didn’t even notice Daddy getting ready for bed in their big closet until he slipped into bed next to you, sandwiching you in between them, towards the end of the book. You rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, trying to disguise another yawn, before wiggling around to get even more comfortable. 

Just as Papa finished his book, Daddy started his. They had learned the hard way that it took more than one story to get you down. You sighed, giving up and snuggling into Bucky’s right side, moving Jellybean around so she could hear the story too, as Steve quickly and quietly got ready for bed himself, snuggling back in as soon as he was done. You were lured away on the bayou by talking frogs and magic spells. Daddy did the best voices for stories. You wiggled and snuggled into the blankets as you felt the veil of slumber drifting over you, trying to find the perfect position. You didn’t notice Papa using the remote to turn almost all the lights off and gently tucking the blankets around you so you’d stay warm. You didn’t notice the way Daddy subtly shifted so you were safely snuggled in the crook of his arm, or the fact that he had the last bit of the book memorized so he could run his fingers through your hair after turning off his bedside light.

You were able to murmur a soft “love you daddies” before you went under. You drifted off into the land of dreams, snuggled warm and safe between the two people in the world that you loved most, and who loved you the most too.

#daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!Stucky #daddy stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #Daddy Steve #daddy!Steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little

[sorcerous-caress]

Hihi! I just wanted to leave a message letting you know how much I enjoy the stuff you've written. Your human kink tag is probably one of my favorites on this website to be honest, I've read through it so many times (its hard to pick a favorite, but i think mine my be the one with Halsin and the human tav/companions), and i adore the way you write for karlach and shadowheart as well (shadowhearts not even really one of my favorites, but you write her in such a way i think she ended up getting bumped up my list of favorites). Just wanted to say thanks for all that ig!! 🍒

Halsin is one of my fav when it comes human kink because you can tell the man is humanity's number one cheerleader.

"The average elf sleeps with 10 humans a year," factoid actually just statistical error. The average elf sleeps with 0 humans per year. XxHumanzlover69xX Archdruid Halsin, who lives in a cave & sleeps with 10,000 humans each day, is an outlier and should not have been counted

The average elf also consumes 0 human porn per year. Meluidil, the goonerbrained high elf, is personally responsible of 90% of the high forest traffic to human porn sites.

Halsin screams human kink. While wood elves have the least degrading view on the homosapiens amongst all other elf kins who view us as less than bugs, they still remain pretentious in their own way of patting us on the head for not burning down our forests...this year.

Take Kagha, for example. She'd be damned if she let a mere human direct her ways. In comparison to her venom filled fangs, we are mere deer fawns, clumisly still learning how to walk without tripping over our own feet.

But Halsin? Our "pathetic nature" brings out the protective instincts in him whilst making him crave us insatiably. He wants a cute human or a dozen to take under his wings and show them the ways of the natural order. Properly teach them about harmony and the various pleasures the oak father blessed his creatures with.

Humans categorize themselves as animals after all, don't they? Halsin would find that notion too silly and adorable of us. Yet he can see it in our graceless ways, primal hormones, and short-sighted nature. Its makes him pity how we can't truly connect with nature like he does, since if we're a part of the gaint picture that is nature, we simply can't step away to view it whole like elves can. We merely live in our veiled and narrow corner of the painting.

Or this is all just elf propaganda. Tales Corellon spinned to make his children believe they're inherently superior so they don't go making half elves left and right and therefore make him lose his domain. Who knows?

It's just that Halsin took the "humans are lesser than you" message a little too personally, and now he sees it as his duty to care and protect humanity.

It doesn't hurt that we are very easy on the eyes and easy to coax to bed. Elves have all these courting rituals that take years at a time just for a kiss, it's so refreshing to just walk to a human and make his intentions known in a poetic line or two that has them sliding onto his lap and touching his pointy ears all curious and wide eyed.

It's not every day that you meet a big, strong elf that shatters your painted glass view of delicate elves. That makes your human hunger for knowledge and cat-like curiosity go haywire as you tiptoe around the subject to get information from him.

He thanks his orc ancestor every night for the many cute humans asking to touch his muscles after a drink or two.

Humans are new, refreshing and constantly inconsistent. From the most primal cutthroat ones that wrestle the control from Halsin to the softest adorable ones that sit on his lap and let him do all the work. We are as cunning as we are dumb.

It's the most intoxicating drug he has had. The more he sleeps with humans, the more he wants more. No two are the same.

Nothing gets him going than watching two humans drown in the pleasure with each other, bodies glistening with sweat as they chase after one another's mouth. Hungry and impatient, Clearly frustrated with their lungs' burning for air as they are forced to break the kiss. Watch a human make another bend over under them, a struggle of power filled with possessive bites, moans and curses. Like their own emptions and desires are too intese for their human brain to process so they need more, melting in greed as they push their bodies past their limit just to scratch the itch.

He wants to watch two humans exhaust each other into oblivion before he takes over. Be gentle and guide them through one more orgasm just for him, experiencing first hand just how unbreakable the human spirit truly is as they stubbornly refuse to stop and keep demanding more.

Followed by providing aftercare for the two of them as they cuddle against him. Looking so Innocent with their soft features as they sleep, trusting him to watch over and protect them.

Halsin's other top fantasy is having a human druid be his disciple. Clearly new in the ways of Oak father and yet so passionate and determined. Halsin would show blatant favouritism as he takes them personally on quests with him, have them tend to the plants in his chambers just before he gently lays them over his bed and claim them.

On another note, poly Halsin with human Tav who's with Gale, Wyll or Minsc is literally his wettest dream. He wants to take you and your human lover on dates before fucking you both to sleep.

He enjoys hanging around in a full party of humans and laughing at their adorable antics while tending to their every whim. Poor human forgot their food? Halsin has some berries in his pocket, open wide, and he'll feed them to you

Your legs are tired? Come here and he'll carry you, don't worry about his wandering hand squeezing your thighs and waist, marveling at how squishy the human body is in comparison to elves.

Bored? Sad? Anxious? He will turn into a cat and be your best friend for the rest of the day. Watch you squeel at how fluffy his fur is as you pet and coddle him, a complete 180 to how you were before, especially if you happened to be closed off to him.

He does find it hilarious how humans who are shy around him or suspicious immediately change their attitude when he wildshapes into an animal they deem cute. He knows they know it's still him inside but their instincts to cuddle everything fluffy wins over their pride and they throw themselves at him.

-

Thank you so much. I haven't written or posted on this blog in a long while, so most people who read my stuff just come and go silently while leaving likes. It's discouraging to know the author is absent when leaving a comment because they think we might never see it, but I promise we do. Yours made me very happy, and I'm grateful for it <3

#♡human kink #♡smut #♡halsin #human kink #elf x human

[olderthannetfic]

Hey OTNF. I was wondering if you have any tips on how to get more involved in fandom again? I've been in fandom-adjacent spaces for close to 20 years now, used to go to cons several times a year and spend hours a day discussing the things I was currently into, but I've gradually lost my fandom friends throughout the years and never really made new ones. Nowadays I read fic and reblog stuff on tumblr and that's about it. I write occasionally and have posted on ao3, but it's mediocre at best. I am honestly also hesitant to go looking for online communities since I have no interest in fandom drama or just people judging me for my opinions (I'm not, like, a transphobe, I just read non-con and don't like when fics read like a therapy session). How do you find a decent community again? My old community (more like a friend group really) was very tight-knit even though we didn't all share fandoms or interests, and it originally formed in what was basically a chat room on a site for teens. Are there still chat rooms like that anywhere? Or are you stuck messaging people who seem nice on here (who then get to see your entire tumblr immediately...) and hoping you somehow manage to find a decent discord channel?

--

Some of the remaining tiny fancons have online versions or have moved entirely online. These are just hangouts of fans, no industry guests or anything like that. Many of them have year-round discord servers, though the actual level of conversation varies. Escapade and DC slash are my favorites. Both run viewing parties and other weekly events during the year, DC slash more so than Escapade. They watch Tatort every Wednesday, which I find hilarious.

It's definitely tricky, just like making friends always is. If you happen to hit the right space at the right time, a great group can form, but most of the time, you have to put yourself out there repeatedly to limited results.

If you're in any fairly active fandoms, reblogging with good tags and commentary and acting friendly and open to conversation may work.

[trainsinanime]

The shapes of railway networks

A while ago @ariadsishereagain asked me about countries that have no railway networks, and what I think of them. That's a fascinating question that has been in my mind ever since, because the truth is you can tell a lot about a country and in particular it's history during the 19th and early 20th century by its railway network. So let's do that. And the best way to do that is by looking at the incredibly detailed open-source world railway map OpenRailwayMap, a part of the OpenStreetMap project. I really recommend it! And let's start with one of my favorite examples of how railway networks differ:

At this zoom level the site sadly only shows incomprehensible internal abbreviations rather than city names, so let me explain: What we have here are France and Germany, along with some of the UK and Italy, some of various neighbouring countries and all of Switzerland, Belgium and Luxembourg.

France and Germany are the ones that I find the most interesting, because the shapes of their networks are so different. Not only is the german one much more dense, but you can see completely different patterns.

In France, the job of railroads is to bring people to Paris (PLY, short for Paris Gare de Lyon) The lines stretch out into every part of the country, but almost all of them converge onto mainlines going into Paris. You can see some lines along the coasts and the borders, and there is a medium distances circle around Paris (passing MZ, DN, TO, short for Metz, Dijon, Tours). This whole pattern is known as the Legrande Star, after Baptiste Alexis Victor Legrande, the french government official who designed it. His goal was to provide great access to Paris, the nation's undisputed political, cultural and economical centre. A couple of decades later, Charles de Freycinet added plans to connect all departments to the railway network, but he still followed the idea that the ultimate goal of almost every rail line was Paris. And so it was, and largely remained. Even the high speed lines, in red, follow this pattern to this day.

A result is that you will have to go to Paris whether you want to or not. Lille-Strasbourg? You're going through Paris. Bordeaux-Dijon?

You're going through Paris, and get to make your own way from Gare Montparnasse to Gare de Lyon on the Metro (and it isn't even a direct metro, you have to change trains). It's a massive detour but it's not like you have a choice.

Even if there is a direct TGV or a connection outside the main stations of Paris, you're still ending up very much near Paris; the difference is just that you're not going via the city centre, but rather via Disneyland. Legrande wanted to bring people to Paris; he was less concerned about connecting other places with each other.

Now compare Germany, and you will see a network that is more dense, but most importantly, utterly chaotic. You can see hints of a France-like star around Berlin (BSPD, short for Berlin Spandau, which isn't the most important station but what can you do), but it's really only dominating its immediate surroundings, the region of Brandenburg. You can see vague hints of a similar star around Hamburg (AH; don't ask) or Munich (MH), but also a massive tangle around the Rhine-Ruhr industrial area (around KD), or around the Frankfurt am Main area (FF). Red high speed lines are essentially random. Some of them do go to Berlin, sure. But many, like the one from Cologne to Frankfurt (KD to FF) or the one from Hanover (HH) south, do not.

And that really reflects the history. Germany wasn't a unified country when railroad construction began, and even though it did unify shortly thereafter, there's no hiding that its different parts developed separately, with no central planning, ever since the middle ages. Germany doesn't have a single central city like France. Berlin is the biggest and most important city, but not by far. Hamburg has huge cultural and industrial influence, Frankfurt is the most important financial centre and airport, Munich is huge, and there are agglomerations like the Rhine-Ruhr region that used to beat all of them in terms of industry. And the rail network, with no single central focus point, reflects that.

That doesn't mean Germany doesn't have its own blind spots. Due to being split in two, the east-west links aren't great. Getting e.g. from Cologne (near KD) to Dresden (DH) is pretty painful. Ironically, Berlin is one of the places that really suffers from this. There are plenty of trains to it from Cologne but they take forever, and you can see why: A lot of the route isn't high speed, it's just more or less upgraded normal lines. If you have a single destination, then it's easy to build all the lines there. If you want high-speed connections between everything, that's more difficult. (Also, our government isn't investing anywhere near enough into the rail network, both compared internationally and on its own terms, but that's a different issue)

Other countries in Europe tend to be somewhere between the extremes. Spain is fairly centralised around Madrid.

The UK is just as focused on London as France is on Paris, but it has strong regional networks around Leeds and Sheffield, and the weirdness in Scotland (four different lines between Glasgow and Edinburgh and counting!).

Italy, especially south of the Po valley, almost looks like a ladder: Lines are either on the one side of the Apennines or the other, with a few brave ones crossing through.

This works overseas as well. Describing the continental US as "like Germany" is certainly going to raise some eyebrows, but the map doesn't lie:

It's all on a completely different scale, but it's also a federal country with no one single clear centre. Yes, New York and Los Angeles are big and important, but neither is an all-powerful centre of the nation. What's fun about the US is that it's almost gradient-like: The more west you go, the fewer the railroads get. You can also nicely see the Alleghenies by the shadow they cast: Just a few brave rail lines managed to make their way through or around. Other characteristic items are the huge tangle that is Chicago, the closest thing the US has to a railroad capital; and the many places where lines are almost duplicated (just count how many different ways you can get from Chicago to Memphis, or Chicago to Cleveland), thanks to different competing railway companies that all hated (and sometimes still hate) each other's guts.

So that's what's mostly considered the "western world" or "industrialised world". I skipped Japan, China and India because the post is going to get too long no matter what, but they're all fascinating as well.

But if we go away from there look at countries where the colonialism was less settlers and more exploit mostly from afar, we see another very odd pattern emerge, like here in sub-saharan Africa:

The selection is somewhat arbitrary because you can find the same pattern everywhere south of the Sahara, and in one case (Mauretania) even in the Sahara: A railroad that goes straight to the coast. (The isolated sections inland are due to issues with the map software, they're all connected to one of the lines to the coast)

This kind of railroad is designed to extract a country's resources, and not much else. In Mauretania (not in this picture), that's iron ore. Elsewhere it might have been other ores, precious metals, gemstones, but also very often agricultural products, spices, dyes. The railway line exists to take these things, and bring them to a port. The line is not designed to actually help the nation grow economically. Think about it: All things being equal, you're probably just as likely to want to go parallel to the coast as perpendicular to it.

Also, each of these lines were built because there's something interesting at the end of it, or at least someone suspected there might be. If you wanted to develop the area, it would make sense to trade the interesting stuff in Togo with the interesting stuff in Benin. But the railway lines are not set up for that at all. The goal is to get the interesting stuff to a ship, and occasionally soldiers to the place where the interesting stuff comes from.

These days, the area that I screenshotted here is actually massive, full of people. The city of Abidjan has more than four million inhabitants (more than Berlin), Lomé has 1.7 million, Cotonou and Porto-Novo come close to a million if taken together, and nobody's quite sure about Lagos, but it's at least 14 million, and the metropolitan region might be 24 million. This is a band of cities that researchers think might, in the next few decodes, become on par with Washington-Philadelphia-New York-Boston in the US, or the Tokyo-Osaka in Japan.

And the rail connections in this region do not reflect this at all. A high speed passenger line and/or a heavy duty freight line could allow all these places to do business with each other, allow people to move to or visit each other, and just spur a lot of economic development. But the powers that built the lines, the colonial powers, were not interested. They had their harbour, and the region behind it, and they just wanted to extract whatever was there.

To be clear, that does not mean the railroads are evil now. Selling natural resources is still better than bringing no money into the country. And there are a lot of places where railroad junctions and depots became the point where cities were founded, so in some countries these lines do end up connecting the most important cities, more or less by accident. It's just that other lines or more lines are sorely missing.

A simple example for how this could look like is provided by Australia, where the colonists were settlers and did want to develop the land economically:

You have the lines from the coast inland, and sometimes quite a lot of them. But you can also see a line along the east coast, connecting the cities, and you can see that someone said "we need to build a railroad across the entire continent. No, two actually". That is not to say that Australia does everything right with railroads, they have a lot of weirdness there. But you can see that the railroads had more jobs than to just move resources to ships.

(The big exception is the Pilbara region, in the north west, with its odd tangle of lines. Those are all just resource extraction lines, where the world's heaviest freight trains haul iron ore from various mines to various ports. The mines and ports are owned by different mining companies that don't like each other, so everybody has their own line from their own harbour to their own mine, even if a different line would have been shorter. That's why you get the tangle there.)

So, that's basically it. The railroad map of a country shows you a lot about how a country works, and more specifically how it worked during the late 19th and early 20th century, when most railroads were built. Where they lead to and where they don't reflects what planners thought of as important, and in turn, it has shaped the way these countries developed. And personally, I always find this endlessly fascinating.

#railroads #maps #i suppose you could take the 6 to bercy and walk from there but it's still not exactly convenient

[bianotbia]

— 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 [𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧]

I had a really though week and a lot of things happened so I got a bit unmotivated to get back to writing, but slowly I'll get back to myself <3 for now just gonna repost this fic from a writting collab about the daydreams I have of a dilf at work (luckly I still had it on my drafts)

⤷ resume : things start to get awkward when you find out that your work crush, or rather your boss, has a nsfw account and happens to be your favorite "content creator" [wc: 1.8k]

⤷ contains : fem! reader x boss! levi, nsfw, work colleagues, modern au, age gap (reader is early 20s and levi is late 30s), dilf dilf dilf

⤷ now playing Ref:rain by Aimer

Raining… under the umbrella one summer afternoon as a shower passed

Kissing… I gently kissed your wet cheek

I’m still longing for that season

The rain pours down the gray sky, it falls across the monotonous buildings and hits the windows of the office. As I look mindlessly at the world outside my thoughts wander through familiar places or better a familiar person – Levi Ackerman is truly a sight for sore eyes on this boring afternoon. Even though he's part of the higher ups, that didn't stop me from fantasizing about him during those never ending meetings, admiring the fancy suits he wears, thinking about the muscles beneath his fitted shirts and his slender fingers running down my back. "You're staring again" Mikasa appeared beside my desk "I wasn't! I was just… zoning out" she hummed and took a sip of her coffee "You know he's married… and has a kid right?". A deep breath left my lips as I looked back at some documents in front of me "As if I could ever forget about that" yet an obscure warmth still settles at my stomach when I see him passing in front of my desk every day.

Miss You… the scenes outside my window grow distant

Breezing… I saw a rainbow just barely vanishing

I just hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow

I’m at a total loss these days, with my head in the clouds

Nothing but you is a part of me

This endless rain keeps falling by the time I leave the office, as soon as I get home soaked and tired I head straight up to the bathroom and fill up the tub. Drifting under the warm water my mind starts to wander through complicated feelings again. For the past few months I discovered a certain someone that makes videos on an +18 site, through many nights I stayed up late with heavy breaths filling up my tiny studio, the sight of his skilled hands stroking himself with a halfly open button up was already engraved in my mind but his identity was still a mystery. However lately I've come to notice a few curious things, that the fancy suits he always used in his videos seemed eerily familiar, or that his muscular physique and silent moans were quite similar to a certain person I meet everyday at work. Someone that would never cross my mind when I watched those videos on such lonely nights. Perhaps he did appear in many fantasies, but not without leaving a tiny taste of guilt on the back of my throat after the shockwave of pleasure ran over me. These mixed thoughts along with the boiling steam from the bath made my head dizzy, yet I still lean it on the edge of the tub while my fingers find their way under the water and the image of him on top of me paints itself once again inside this lustful mind.

It’s still not enough

It still won’t fade away

Innocence remains in the palms of our joined hands

What a good thing we lose

What a bad thing we knew

These phrases soak through me like rain

As the end of the year comes closer so do the company reports and the planning for next year projects. A group of employees were called to be responsible for these activities and even though I ain't a higher up I still ended up involved at it, to much of my desire and dismay since our areas operate closely we were paired to work together, which made us see each other a bit more frequently than expected. Write the report, check up data, make it along the norm, revise everything, it's an endless work that feels like an even more dreadful task since I have to face him everyday with those videos flooding my mind each time we cross our eyes. Memories of the way my fingers worked as I watched him undress his shirt and unbuckle his belt across the screen on the night before remind me of the golden shine on his ring finger, an anchor that pulls me down to earth and makes it explicit he has a family and a life outside the company. Yet for some reason this golden ring wasn't there anymore.

It’s still not enough

I still can’t say

The “goodbye” from my dreams, back when I was counting the days

What a good thing we lose

What a bad thing we knew

If we had never touched, would we be smiling now?

I wanted to believe his missing ring was just my lustful mind playing tricks on me, the constant sound of the raindrops pulled me back from my reveries while I organized some things for the meeting we are going to have at his office. At this moment a notification popped on my screen – a new video was posted. My face heated up, I didn't want to open it but my fingers already clicked at it. The scenario seems quite similar to Levi's office and the suit the man was wearing was also strangely similar to his. As I take a glance at the clock it reminds me of our meeting which I'm almost late to. I knock at his door and a low voice tells me to come in, he carefully sorts through some documents and let out a deep breath when he sees me "You're late" I make my way to the chair in front of him "Sorry, I got caught up finishing a report" he lifts one of his brows and the shadow of a smirk appears on his lips. We start to discuss the priorities for the projects, but as much as I try to focus on it my eyes can't divert from a really specific bare finger and a very particular white stain on the seat of his chair.

Calling… beneath a sky where our white breaths alight

Freezing… the strong wind chills my hands and my weakness

So I hide them away in my pockets

No matter where I look, the days have passed me by

Nothing but you is a part of me

After an hour passed we both decided to take a break before heading over for the next topics. I walk over to the window to stretch a bit while Levi stays seated, he looks at his hand and leans on his chair "You seem a bit distracted today" his sudden remark gets me off guard  "Huh, I-I am? Sorry I didn't even realize it". Even though I try to avert my eyes, his famous cold stare pierces through me entirely. "Do you think I'm stupid brat?" his face gets serious and I look at him shocked "I-I don't know what are you talking about". Levi gets up and slowly walks toward me "Oh you know… the stares, the sighs, the fidgeting fingers. You think I didn't notice you staring at my hand lately" I feel my face completely heats up as he gets closer at each step "Divorce isn't as uncommon as you think, brat".

I want to touch you again

But you’re just too bright

I instinctively turn away from the light of your kindness

I wanna sleep in your feeling

I wanna see you in the deep

These phrases from the song I sing now

Endless thoughts flood my mind as he looks at me like a scared prey "I-I think there was a misunderstanding" my voice comes out shaky "But I'm really sorry you're going through this, specially with a young child" his expression softens "We're trying to make the whole process the least traumatic for him. We have no hard feelings involved…". My heart aches a bit for being so selfish this whole time, it kind of saddens me knowing they were a happy family "... Well I'm sure he loves you both a lot" Levi sighs tiredly and runs his hand through his dark hair "Anyway enough about my private life you're changing the subject. Or do you think you'll get away with it?". My confused eyes met his once again "I already told you I don't know what you're talking about" he quickly closes the distance between us and grabs my chin and I'm finally cornered on his table "Show me your phone then. A few hours ago a certain video was uploaded on a site you might be familiar with and I was wondering if that was the report you were finishing before coming here". My heart starts to beat faster and a tingly sensation spreads on my core, the smirk on his lips widens as he notices my heaving chest "You watched it".

I ride that same road home, cradled by the bus

I see a dream I don’t think could ever come true

I wanna sleep in your feeling

I wanna see you in the deep

That season never makes its way back around

If I had remained just a bit more mature, I wonder what I could have said…

He presses his palms on the table caging me, his lip inches closer to my neck slowly making its way to my ear "You've been a very naughty girl lately, haven't you brat?" breath seems to vanish as his hands start to travel up my thighs lifting up a bit of my skirt. His slender fingers slowly trail over the heat in my core sending shivers all over. With swift and precise movements he takes over every inch of my body and mind, the warmth he slides inside me drips over my legs while his hot breath damps the skin of my neck. Hidden eagerness and veiled hunger walk along our touches as euphoria finally reaches our dampened hearts, now hanging on each other desperately trying to take back the air we didn't seem to need a few seconds ago, 

It’s still not enough

It still won’t fade away

Innocence remains in the palms of our joined hands

What a good thing we lose

What a bad thing we knew

These phrases soak through me like rain

His lingering touch still makes me shiver as I rest my head on his shoulder, his calloused palms hold me firmly as I try to put my trembling legs on the floor. "I guess we both have been quite stressed lately… I wouldn't mind having you over for dinner" my fingers trail the nape of his neck "Both meanings of that phrase seem lovely, but don't you have to see your son tomorrow?" a scoff scapes his lip "After so many nights I spent awake over work you don't think I can pull an all nighter with you?" blood pumps and shows off how he still got a lot to deliver "And can you keep your promises Mr. Ackerman?". The teasing tone then seal the lustful activities we'll be surrendering ourselves to all night long "Don't worry brat, I'll teach you how it is to work over time".

It’s still not enough

I still can’t say

The “goodbye” from my dreams, back when I was counting the days

What a good thing we lose

What a bad thing we knew

If we had never touched, would we be smiling now?

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #levi imagine #aot imagines #shingeki no kyojin #snk levi

[ahundredtimesover]

Hi 👋🏽 I’ll be going on an indefinite break that may (or may not) be for good.

Writing fanfiction was an escape for me these past 2 years. It was a way to express my love for the tannies in how I wrote them as comfort characters, and it was a way for me to make sense of my own experiences and emotions. These fics have always been very personal, with a bit of me in every OC, my pains reflected in their stories, and words I wish someone told me growing up expressed in the dialogues. And I’ll always be so thankful that many of you related with them, found meaning in them, and found comfort in them. That will always be my favorite part 💜💜 stories are so powerful! They’ve allowed me to connect with so many people and make memories in this (mostly) lovely part of the site.

But the process of writing has also been draining, not as cathartic as it used to be, and not as fulfilling. So much as I find myself going back and forth with the numerous stories in my drafts, I can’t bring myself to continue with them. Not anytime soon, at least. Maybe one day the itch to write will be so intense, or JJK1/KTH1 drops and I’ll lose my shit (Untitled and Belong were born out of Indigo and D-day after all), or after rereading my stories, I’ll miss writing so much. The thing is, I’ve never loved BTS as much as I do right now; perhaps I’m content with screaming about that love to myself in the meantime.

I’ll be lurking around here, maybe pop in every once in a while (so plagiarists, keep off my work, pls). My stories will remain here as your comfort 😌 and I’ll do my best to put out the PLM drabbles I promised! Other than that, all the stories are complete for you to enjoy (sorry to those waiting on TLA 😔 I hate that I’m unable to continue). I also have Twitter (jmimi_mi). I’m also just a lurker but say hi if you want! 😊 we can talk bts and fics and whatnot over there (I’ll try, I promise).

Please give love to the authors who are still lovingly putting out work for the community! 🥰

#tl;dr I’ll be on an indefinite break bc the writing just isn’t working for now! #and I love BTS #and thank you so much for appreciating the stories! #PLM drabble will still come some day! #++ I know I’ve had multiple breaks but srsly now my brain is too fried to write like #I have so many ideas that stay in my head and it’s so frustrating that I feel like unless I say I’m taking a break from writing #for a longer period this time then I’ll just keep pressuring myself to write something and it’s winter break and I don’t want pressure #especislly if it’s coming from me! lol also all the stories in my drafts are meant to be LONG and I might not have the energy to finish it #and you guys know I don’t put out anything unfinished so yeah 😔 #it also sucks that I haven’t read in SO LONG so yes tumblr u are losing me I’m sry 😢 #i also just wanted to say all this if this is for good so yes THANK U and UR ALL WONDERFUL #mimi things #mimi rambles

[aguamarinee]

➪ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: OT9 × reader

➪ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, bit of crack, established relationship, female reader

➪ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the members got me thinking and I randomly came up with funny, everyday kind of scenarios that I would adore!

➪ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: —

➪ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2,8k

[𝐊!] 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞; He is easily stressed and can remain tense for days without relaxing, and this side of him often concerns you. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, you thought a lot about activities on different types of dates that could ease his anxious state — the best ones proved to be stay-at-home and private methods. While the idea of a massage might be one of the most basic ones, you realized it quite late. It came at random when you were out grocery shopping and saw a bottle of baby oil on one of the shelves in the body wash aisle but it clicked immediately. However, when you went home you weren't exactly sure how to propose the activity to him. Eventually, you got there after a couple of evenings, clumsily voicing the idea but surprisingly enough — K was into it! He immediately took off his t-shirt and stood shirtless before you with an eager expression. Now, he didn't have any dirty thoughts in his head, he just genuinely thought it was a good idea, especially if his lover was involved too. And after the first time, it became a habit and he began to play a bigger part in it; reading about it, searching up places, and so on. A couple of times when you two want to treat yourselves, you might go to a very luxurious salon and get a massage professionally but at the end of the day, it's clear that doing it for each other means more.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Wow, slow down there, cowboy!" You said, surprised after K took off his shirt at lightning speed when you presented him your idea of relaxation.

At least he reacted better than you had initially thought, but it was so sudden you sort of just awkwardly stood there, looking at him — or his naked torso — while a subtle blush appeared on your cheeks.

"It's a great idea, babe! Come on!" He came closer and held one of your hand to drag you up to your shared bedroom. "I can massage your back too after that if you want. I'm just really happy that I can do this with you." He gave a genuine, sweet smile that melted your heart, and followed him up the stairs happily.

[𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐀!] 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬/𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬; Fuma is just 'Papa' in every way. When he's not busy taking care of his bandmates, especially Harua, he might be with you fantasizing about cute animals. It's a train of thought that began from his side one day, about what pet could possibly be your favorite. Then it escalated; he compared his favorite animals with yours, then asked about your history with pets in general, shared his stories with his previous animals, and then sneakily both of you checked numerous adoption/pet sites because you wanted to surprise each other. But neither of you ever came down to only one decision, since it was a big responsibility at the end of the day. You broke the ice in the end, one morning you straight up told him your thoughts and plans and while he was thrilled, he showed you other sites and proposed new ideas. He didn't want to rush things, just like you, so it's safe to say that the two of you are still in the uncertain phase, but surely, by the time you'll have a pet, you guys will be more than ready.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "...So, in conclusion, I was thinking about a meerkat. It's been one of my favorite animals since childhood and I feel I could do this with you." You finished your small monologue about adopting a pet with Fuma at breakfast, and for the first time in minutes you looked up at him and he seemed completely stunned.

Didn't he like it? Was he weirded out? Didn't he—

"I was thinking about the same thing! We should totally adopt a pet, anything you want, darling!" He said happily with a big smile and laughed adorably.

What a relief!

[𝐄𝐉!] 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦; Euijoo likes all moments cozy, his whole being is just so warming and endearing in itself, so he naturally gravitates towards such situations. Books are a comfort of his since his younger days and he tries to keep this tradition within him in his adult days as well. At first, he just gives shy little recommendations to you, sometimes more than one book, but he doesn't really expect you to read any of these. He thinks it's a piece of him that he shares with you, his taste, but he's aware that in such things two people can be quite different. However, when one day you come to him with a book that he recommended, saying that you liked it, he was sparkling with joy. He gives you one of his brightest smiles and quickly hugs you while giggling shyly. After he got his push, he recommends you even more and is just as enthusiastic when you start suggesting to him too. Eventually, one time when you two are spending your weekend together he shows you his old book stash from his childhood and revisits each of them with you. He tells stories both about the books and his past, and you enjoy talks like these so much.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Wait, you've read this? Just because of me...?" Euijoo seemed confused when you showed him the book he recommended a week ago.

It was a very cute story and left you feeling tenderness in your heart, just like he did; it felt so in character for him to suggest something like this that you wanted to hear more.

"Of course, I loved it so much! Please, recommend another one, Juju!" You giggled while calling him by your favorite nickname, and he did the same as his ears turned pinkish from your kind words.

[𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒!] 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜, 𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭; Nicholas likes his music loud and clear, and rock, pop-rock, etc. is a great genre for that. When he's in charge of the music he's very lively, outgoing, and has endless energy to party. It's advisable to watch out for his killer moves because he might break some things in these enthusiastic moments. You can also bet that the mood is set; he would turn on colored lights, probably red, purple, or pink and the audio's quality would be perfect while you're having your private concert. Usually, it's the middle of the night when you two would get this feeling (about two times a month) to jam to music in a hardcore way. You guys would mimic playing the electric and bass guitar while shouting the lyrics. You would call each other out for a fake guitar solo and host a sing-off for the chorus, and in the end, the two of you would just drop to the floor and lay there for a couple of minutes, trying to calm your racing heartbeats.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Nicholas, watch the counter! Don't knock down the glasses!" You raised your voice so your boyfriend is able to hear your warning words despite the loud music.

"No can do baby, I'm having a dance-off right now!" He replied sassily and winked at you. "You should be singing though, angel." He added with a laugh and danced closer to you.

"...Or do you want me to challenge you for a sing-off, hmm?" He leaned in with a grin.

[𝐘𝐔𝐌𝐀!] 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬; Yuma is playful but a heck of a competitor at the same time, so you had to adjust to his "I'll race you to the end of the road" moments. (Just imagine basically any place, he'll make it competitive — he's pretty quick and creative in that regard!) He likes to keep everyone around him on their toes, never bored or feeling left out. But pillow fights also come to him naturally, more than anything else. He preaches every time that he'll be gentle... In the beginning he is, but easily gets carried away with the number of his weapons, a.k.a the pillows. But at the end of the day, it's just a soft, squishy cushion, right? It can't hurt you that much, he claims. Also, his all-time habit is trying to scare/surprise you with throwing a cushion in your face whenever you visit him, or if you two arrive home together he's already running to attack you. He succeeded the first few times when he tried, but now he thinks you're too good at catching on, and deciphering his actions before he could land the blow. He's a bit grumpy every time his action fails, but he never gives up and will try again very soon!

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Yuma? Where are you?" You called out to your boyfriend who seemed to disappear suddenly after he opened the door for you.

You stood still for a bit, looking around and trying to notice if something was amiss around his apartment. But there was nothing, only silence.

You took off your shoes and coat and walked to the living room, to the back of the couch and there you saw a glimpse of your silly boyfriend's hair.

With a swift movement, you dropped your coat onto Yuma's head and he let out a scream in surprise.

"Bae! You scared me to death!" He said, after realizing it was you. "I just can't win." He huffed.

[𝐉𝐎!] 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬; Jo is very artistic but he likes to include his loved ones in his works or interest in this field because he believes that's the best way to enjoy hobbies. If he's good at painting he'll definitely bring you along in a way you'll have fun too. Experience painting or just general art classes are his invitations into an artist's thoughts. He's shy and reserved, and isn't that good with words, especially putting his feelings into those, but his acts of service always mean much more than his spoken speech. Sometimes in these classes Jo would be your teacher and helper instead of the instructor; he would sit much closer to you than usual and would keep his eyes on you and your painting progress, rather than his. Immediately, without asking he would hop in and help you, take paint from his palette, and maybe at the end of the class he wouldn't even finish his canvas because he was so focused on yours. But what can you do? He was so occupied, it would've been a shame to disturb him.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Jo, it's okay, I'll ask the instructor for more paint, you don't have to give me yours." You whispered, trying to calm him down, since in the past minutes Jo was too focused on helping you out with the artwork, rather than following everyone else — and the two of you were getting some glances across the studio.

He was kindly leaning onto your side and painting instead of you, just because your green paint had run out.

He was doing it so smoothly, and as he left each feathery brush stroke it got you glued to his work as well, but you knew you guys will be in trouble soon.

"I'll ask them for more paint after I finish this side, but I don't want you to fall behind." He mumbled while almost leaning into your shoulder and a small smile found its way to your lips by his considerate actions.

[𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐀!] 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞; Harua is someone who appreciates closeness with true friends, family and his significant other more than anything. Quality time with his loved ones gives him a lot of positive energy, and he especially likes spending time outside; but still privately. So these hidden areas in a forest, a lake, or a mountainous place make him feel like stopping time and just looking around, adoring the moment. He would enjoy quietly but would capture every second with his eyes and plant it into his memories forever. Both of you would search for these peaceful places and moments, and every time one would lead the other while holding hands, indulging in the scenery, and taking nature photos. And after finding the place it would always end with you two staying there for hours.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Keep it up, Rua! We're almost there, I recognize this passage!" You lightly dragged your boyfriend after you, deeper into the forest to find the hideout you saw not long ago.

Harua was a bit behind you, walking at a slower pace, hence the reason you held his soft hand and guided him after you.

But a moment later he stumbled ahead and bumped his leg with yours, so both of you had to stop sharply to not lose your balance.

"No need to rush, we have time." He looked down at you, holding your arms in a comforting way as you two came to a halt, and gave you his bunny smile.

[𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈!] 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐭; Taki is someone who likes to goof around and he has a very playful nature. You weren't sure at first how it came to be like this, but it was fun, and at the end of the day Taki's goal was to always have fun. It would start with him complaining about chores, then trying to put the blame and the work on you, then eventually you guys would just start to bet on it like a game, and then bet by random board games who gets to do the dishes, or tidying up around the house. When the others heard about it — his members, or family —, they were a bit skeptical and confused at first but it worked perfectly for the two of you. After one of you lost, the other kept an eye on them to make sure they do their job without cheating. Sometimes helping was allowed, but only at special occasions. He would be a bigger tease than you, but you wouldn't mind because the second he sees you struggling he would hop in and lose his strict persona. On the other hand, you would give him a harder time, watching him silently and sometimes sneakily where he doesn't see you, to guide him to be a bit more responsible, around you at least. Can't say the same thing for his members though.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Taki, did you wash the dishes yesterday? You lost 3 matches in Uno, so it was on you." You asked him while eating lunch, a couple of his members were around as well.

"What? Taki washing dishes? Impossible." Maki rolled his eyes playfully as he heard your question, Harua eagerly nodding his head beside him.

"Well, jokes on you, because I did wash the dishes. I only do it for my girlfriend though." Taki straightened his back proudly and stuck his tongue out to his unlucky members for a second.

[𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈!] 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬; If he wants to, Maki can immerse himself in any type of media and genuinely enjoy it, naturally sharing it with his loved ones too. So he started this trend among the two of you and you caught on pretty quickly. He was extremely bored one day and was surfing through the TV channels when he found a gem like this, and after watching the first 10 minutes he couldn't keep still; laughing and cringing at the same time. So, as the gentleman he is, he dragged you to watch it together with him. So imagine watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians, or British Love Island (or some kind of other speed dating reality show) and seriously discussing the participants' personalities and introductory videos together — after it turned out that you enjoy these disastrous shows as well. You already matched together pairs in the beginning, based on appearance or traits. You guys would be way too into it, no doubt, but would enjoy doing it so much. Maybe even make up dates for some couples or place yourself in the producers' shoes about what would you guys do differently. Or fantasize about applying yourselves and how would the two of you make it through the show. And when there's coupling in Love Island for example, perhaps you two would even go as far as making serious notes about predicting the couples.

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨: "Okay, what's today's episode about?" Maki sat down beside you with a bowl of popcorn, beginning your daily activity for the evening.

The TV was on while any other light source in his room were turned off so you guys will focus only on the show. No distractions.

"Coupling." You looked him in the eye seriously and with a swift movement you pulled out both of your notepads to predict the couples.

He took the notepad with his pen, nodded sharply, and started jotting down names — which later you'll briefly discuss before watching the episode.

➪ 𝐀/𝐍.: I loved writing this, this was so easy, cute and lighthearted! If I get new ideas I'm planning to write more of these in the future!

➪ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 【𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓】 !

#&team #&team x reader #andteam #&team k #&team jo #&team ej #&team fuma #&team fluff #&team maki #&team taki #&team nicholas #&team yuma #&team harua #&team scenarios #&team fanfic #koga yudai #wang yixiang #wang nicholas #hirota riki #hirota maki #shigeta harua #murata fuma #nakakita yuma #byun euijoo #asakura jo #Spotify

[harvardhaugland]

closest friend - bosch ♡

a/n: more of an angsty-smut fic haha and once again. not even proofread. HELP MEEEEE. anyone wanna be my beta reader pls 💔

world tour spoilers! chapters 10 - 13 at least! bosch does break into the readers home but everything beyond that one part is all consensual, just a simple passionate bj ^^

Throughout this whole journey for “strength”, running around— doing all types of errands, all for him. You had second thoughts. You’ll be cooped up in your apartment, tussling over in the bedsheets, nothing but silence and the AC running.

When you can’t sleep, you look up at the ceiling and count all the days you had been looking for him.

Hell, the first time you had met, you two barely knew each other. You still don’t even know some basic things about Bosch, like his birthday, favorite food, not even a last name— yet you had always stood up for each other.

The lack of communication between the two of you had started to border your friendship.

You want to see him again, just talk to him, be around him. Just make sure he’s okay through all this. Tonight, you can’t even sleep because of an encounter with him. Back at the construction site. Bosch in some kind of cardboard box-head getup.

Hour after hour, it turns to 2 AM. Your eyes grow heavy— finally, starting to drift off to sleep. Your body hadn’t fully shutdown, but you could squeeze your eyes closed to the very least.

You roll over to the side, facing the wall. Focusing your attention towards getting a good night’s rest rather than the ambient darkness of your room. Slowly, your worries start to fade away, growing sluggish, tensed muscles relax. For a moment, you feel at peace after a few restless weeks without sleep.

The hinges of the window squeaks.

Wind blows in.

Footsteps.

Heavy breathing.

Heavy breathing that wasn’t from you.

Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, perhaps this is what too little hours of rest does to you, or maybe it’s just all the heavy hits from training you took that are starting to hurt again. So you remain still, sleeping, breathing quieter than whatever— or whoever seemed to be in here with you.

Paper crumples in your ear and it feels as if your pillow is being lifted up.

Your paranoia gets the best of you and you’re quick to turn around, and try to grab the intruder by the arm. To which an audible gasp comes from them. You have them held by the rather bulky cuffs around their wrists, your vision readjusts to look up at who you’re holding— a completely ironic scenario taking place.

It’s you and the “Cardboard Combatant”. Face to face. No bullshit. You won’t let him go this time, making sure to keep hold of him. “Bosch?” you say, gently, “I’m not gonna fight you, if that’s what you’re here for.”

There’s no response from him. He simply grunts. Seemingly displeased, a bit awkward, stiff in posture.

“Are you okay?” You get up. Your hand goes down to hold his, to which he promptly snatches his hand back, a paper note crumpled in his other hand, his fists balled up tight.

Instead he very hesitantly reach out to hold your hands, “I shouldn’t be here, I’m sorry.” he says, “I just had a note for you, that was all. I’m okay.” he reassures, his voice is strained.

“Please don’t leave.” you’re almost pleading with him, you don’t question what the note was for. Bosch is simply standing in place with his head held low. Carefully, you reach to take the box off his head, cautious as if you were dealing with a stray cat, unpredictable. You expect him to stop you, but he lets you take it off. He looks tired, furrowed and upset. Your hands drift up to caress his face, fresh bruises on his brow bone and cheek. He winces when you graze them.

This all feels so ironic to you, you wished upon a star to see Bosch again— and here he is, inside of your room, with the two of you going in to share an awkward, yet intimate kiss.

He rests his hands on your hips, leaning against you, pushing you into your mattress. Bosch nips at your neck with kisses, practically close to biting you with how aggressive he was, desperate, touch-starved. His hands drift up your shirt, he’s excitedly fast, but hesitant at some points, almost in fear that he might hurt you like before.

You flip positions, on top of him this time, unwrapping the shirt tied around his hips, Bosch is laid back against the pillow with a shy look, hand hiding over his parted mouth. He’s hard through his pants— you pull them and his underwear down just enough to free his cock, having to glance up at him occasionally to make sure he’s okay, hands gently working his erection up, soft stroking that makes him squirm underneath you,

You take the tip into your mouth, illiciting a small gasp from Bosch, his hands grab the back of your head, firmly, he starts to slowly push you down further— stopping when you gag halfway down. Starting to bob your head up and down once you adjust.

Bosch’s fingers tangle into your hair, his leg wraps around your head, forcing you to keep at a rough pace, letting you take in deep breaths inbetween.

“You feel so warm.” he remarks, whining your name the more you take him in, when you hit the base of his cock, he’s panting, “..What are you doing to me?”. He’s overwhelmed with pleasure. Sweat running down between his chest and sucking in his stomach. For his first time, out of all people, he would keep his legs apart for you.

He makes your head spin. Bosch is cute when he’s like this, holding onto you, calling your name softly, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could— tears well in the corners of his eyes as his cock twitches down your throat, trying hard to prolong the pleasure.

He whimpers, wanting to get the most of this, but he can’t play around with you any longer. Bosch roughly shoves you back down to the base, nose hitting his pelvis as he pulls out, carelessly cumming all over your face and tongue. He’s speechless, his chest heaves as he grips the bedsheets. His face is red, he’s hot all over, as if he had a fever of some kind. Bosch collapses against your pillows.

There’s drool and cum dribbling down your mouth, pooling at your chin. Wiping it off with your shirt, feeling too exhausted to properly clean up. You tuck him back into his pants, simply laying on top of him, tangling your legs together.

When you wakeup, you’ll find him missing from your bed. Unsure if the feelings shared the night before was genuine now.

#bosch waraya #street fighter 6 x reader #sf6 x reader #bosch x reader #street fighter 6 #sf6 #ok perhaps this isnt as good as i thought it was #i almost posted this on my main thank god im still coherent at this time of night #kind of pwp ehhhh idrc #also kind of rushed UGHHH #i need to get my ao3 back

[midnight-pluto]

COFFEE: special.02 — fun facts

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list

assuming you have gone through the whole of my coffee smau — here’s some things that you might’ve not known, my headcanons, and external info

PLAYLIST: coffee — i made a playlist that i think fit this smau or just tim in general, so feel free to listen

coffee pg.00 was originally meant to just be a one-shot but I had the bright idea to turn it into a smau since I had been really interested in them at the time and I had already created the main casts profiles so i saw no reason to not go through with it

originally reader was supposed to be adopted and have 2 moms but I didn’t know if you guys would necessarily want that or how relatable that would be so I scrapped it and went with unnamed overbearing mother and father

i actually had this idea back in December of 2022 and meant to post it on wattpad yes ik laugh at me but i didn’t have the guts to do so and I already had a lot of unfinished work that will remain unfinished

this smau also sprouted up bcuz i had gotten back into the dc rabbit hole bcuz if this goddamn site which has now grown to be a huge source of dopamine for me — ik it prob isn't healthy but this site has grown to be a safe space for me in the process so any negative infringement on my blog has me in a nervous wreck for days on end; yes, this is a reference to when i got shadowbanned for a bit

wow i got way to personal there, whoopsie

I had also originally planned for reader to give Tim a sticky note attached to his coffee that said something along the lines of: “Good luck with whatever you need 8 shots of espresso for :)” but I for some reason didn’t so the special note at the end of the pages didn’t rlly make any sense

tim might be a genius but he has a terrible sense of direction which is multiplied tenfold when he’s sleep deprived, hence why he almost dropped you off at the wrong apartment once — pg.04

duke being readers bsf happened cuz i personally believe duke deserves more content about him

duke also always somehow manages to be the message bird whenever both you and tim have a fight given how tim's first resort is the silent treatment and you're petty enough to give it back so the most the two of you ever communicate during that time is through duke — pg.15

on that same note harley has become your couple counselor which always manages to become awkward due to the sole fact tim is trying his best to subtly glare at harley since she has repeatedly tried to break his kneecaps when he was on red robin duty; again, petty

this was written by a person who has never worked at a coffee shop before so if you see and inaccuracies and have worked at one, feel free to call me out on it — not so i can fix, but bcuz i find my mistakes hilarious dont ask why, i just do

i still struggle on how i format the titles of the pages and always have to look back on my previous posts to remember how i typed things out

i also suck at developing feelings and crushes with characters so if it seems rushed or sucks that will be my one and only excuse given the fact that i find it extremely hard to even gain a crush irl

nothing was proofread

tims favorite taylor swift album is evermore i may or may not make seperate headcanons about that later

planning on posting a wattpad version of this fic sometime around late january or february, i am still debating on starting an ao3 acc since the only thing i ever do on there is simply just read fics and im not sure if i like/understand ao3's format enough to start tho

TAGLIST: @grandstrangerphantom @marsbars09 @fabitheraven @lovelypitasworld @dyjcksn @mae77eris @sugarrush-blush @djchik @soundsfunbutno @apizzacalledmel @strangetrashblog @cipheress-to-k-pop @harleycao @unhingedtimdrake @a-homosexual-homosapien @aquarii-doodles @love-stay @criminallycan @hecate-frenchfries @job-ross-the-second

#coffee ☕️ - tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #coffee shop au #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam #batfamily #tim drake

[pluckysidekick]

So…I’m still processing ‘The Maiden’s Rage’ - it had so many alternating highs and lows, with the highest highs (that final scene on Ace’s bed) and the lowest of lows (Nancy verbally abusing Ace all day before actually trying to kill him), all packed into 42 minutes.

In the meantime, oh look, no Episode 3 photos yet, and we don’t seem to be getting actual episode teaser trailers. Whatever they’re doing or not doing is working as ratings continue to climb.

In the meantime here’s what I’ve got in my folder for what I believe is in Episode 3 - caveat that it’s my best guess based on timing, wardrobe, the trailer, etc.; no guarantees:

Love this duo sleuthing out the mystery together, as I said when Maddison first posted them, I want a spin-off with these two. Are they investigating some part of the town water system? An abandoned commune? Also the fits are 🔥

Gorgeous smiley friends. I’m sure they are all dealing with something traumatic and/or crazy in this episode but they look so good doing it. Note Nancy has a checked blazer on over her polo in the photo on the right, and is holding some kind of folder or old manuscript. Did she have to go to court? Is it something connected to Abbott’s history, and/or the town founders? Could we get a library scene (a person can dream)? The writers have told us that Carson will be back (yay!), I’d love a Dominique sighting too!!

Speaking of dreaming, there were some dreamy set shots Nick Thomas shared during the time period of ep. 3 filming. If these are from 3, I’m excited to find out if the creepy cabin factors into the plot - maybe it’s on the site of where the town was founded? I certainly put it to good use in The Space Between. And is the photo on the right a setup for the highly anticipated scene below, or one afterwards where Nancy and Ace argue about the curse breaking, perhaps?

We know we should expect some heart wrenching scenes with Nancy and Ace - this is the episode where Kennedy said “good luck”, and that has some of her favorite scenes. Speaking of which:

From wardrobe, set clues, and the timing of Maddison’s posting of this BTS photo on the right (with peeping Tunji 😂), I believe this epic scene is in Episode 3 and in Icarus Hall. Is this the scene where we find out how long Ace has had feelings? Is it a failed curse breaking attempt that leads to Nancy and Ace to remaining friends for now? At least Bess looks happy if only for a moment.

We also will see the return of Birdie (from S2’s Moonstone Island) who we know from Kennedy is dating George’s sister Jesse. Based on wardrobe in the trailer scene on the left, and the recently shared wind machine photo on the right, these are both from Episode 3. Dying to know what causes this maelstrom in the Historical Society, and why Birdie and Jessie call for Nancy’s help from the woods. The plot thickens!

Alright, here’s to hoping we actually get some official Episode 3 content in the next week. And hope this little essay helps to tide you over in the meantime.

UPDATE: Official show stills that confirm the photos above.

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nace #ace [redacted] #ndcw #ace x nancy #nancy drew season 4 #nancy drew s4 #nancy drew spoilers #author: pluckysidekick #nacesource #ndcentral

[racefortheironthrone]

Do you think the term 'fridging' has become overused, and if Brienne does sacrifice herself for Jaime, would that not count?

I think that one of the useful things about the term fridging is that the website "Women in Refrigerators" is still up so we can know exactly what Gail Simone wrote when she coined the term back in the 90s. To quote her:

"Hi. This is a list I made when it occurred to me that it's not that healthy to be a female character in comics. I'm curious to find out if this list seems somewhat disproportionate, and if so, what it means, really. These are superheroines who have been either depowered, raped, or cut up and stuck in the refrigerator. I know I missed a bunch. Some have been revived, even improved -- although the question remains as to why they were thrown in the wood chipper in the first place. I know I missed a bunch -- I just don't know my comics deaths the way I should. I'm not editorializing -- I'm just curious to find out what you guys think it means, if anything. The preceding letter was written and sent by me when I realized one day that most of my favorite female comics characters had met untimely and often icky ends. The history of the idea and this site are listed here, and the responses from various comics professionals are listed here. An important point: This isn't about assessing blame about an individual story or the treatment of an individual character and it's certainly not about personal attacks on the creators who kindly shared their thoughts on this phenomenon. It's about the trend, its meaning and relevance, if any. Plus, it's just fun to talk about refrigerators with dead people in them. I don't know why.

In Simone's original meaning, "fridging" specifically applied to superhero comics, it involved a spectrum of violence from depowering to sexual assault to physical assault to mutiliation to murder, and it was disproportionately gendered. Notably, the qualification that "fridging" is done in order to motivate the (disproportionately male) protagonist rather than as part of a heroic character arc for the woman being fridged, came around a little later, mostly from those creators who were responding to Simone's initial provocation. However, you can see that this particular qualification was an idea floating in the aether at the time Simone was writing her first foray.

Do I think the term has become overused? It's certainly spread to more genres outside of superheroes, but I don't think that's an over-extension, since we're usually talking about the same phenomenon happening in "heroic" subgenres of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, etc.

Does this apply to Brienne sacrificing herself to save Jaime?

No.

Brienne's self-sacrifice is the logical and emotional climax of her own character arc, one rooted in chivalric romance in which Brienne seeks to play the role of the tragic knight. She is introduced as an existential true knight, someone who finds life in Westerosi society a constant trial and humiliation but who longs to escape into a world of song and story through glorious deeds:

"Because it will not last," Catelyn answered, sadly. "Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming." "Lady Catelyn, you are wrong." Brienne regarded her with eyes as blue as her armor. "Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining."

As in real-world chivalric romance, the structures of Westerosi chivalric romance are built around tragedy: the Dragonknight doesn't get to settle down with Naerys, but gives up his life to save King Aegon IV, and it's the doomed chaste romannce and the stubborn attachment to duty that makes it all so damn chivalrous.

Thus, from Brienne's introduction to now, we see Brienne looking for someone worthy to sacrifice her life to save:

she starts with Renly, except that she can't save him from the magic (although that does mean that she doesn't learn how unworthy he was) and becomes blamed for his death instead.

then she shifts to Catelyn, except that she can't save her because Catelyn sends her away so she's not there during the Red Wedding.

Jaime and Brienne's ASOS trek across the Riverlands, from the revelations of his backstory to him jumping into the bear pit to his quest-giving at the end, is entirely about setting him up as the third of three lord/lady-coded characters that Brienne could sacrifice herself for. And lo and behold, we have a situation where Jaime and Brienne are about to come face-to-face with Lady Stoneheart, a scenario we've already seen be grounded in questions of sacrifice and honor.

So unless GRRM somehow fucks up and makes the conclusion of Brienne's arc more about Jaime than Brienne, it's not a case of fridging.

#comics #comics meta #gail simone #women in refrigerators #fridging #asoiaf meta

[sotcwcrp]

SECRETS OF THE CLANS, JANUARY OPENING!

In celebration of our January 14th - January 28th opening, we're going to be highlighting each of the clans, to give you a better idea of what they're like / how different they are from the books!

Starting today, we have;

Shadowclan

ART CREDITS: carnationcarnivore on discord!

Stay low. Stay quiet. It’s the first thing our kits learn, cradled by thorn bushes and nursed by our whole Clan. Prick your ears, lower your stance until your belly-fur brushes the peaty soil, let the only movement be your tail-tip as you stalk your prey through grasping brambles. This is not the forest of your elders’ tales, little one.

To be your eyes into Shadowclan Territory, Seabreeze a Shadowclan Dayguard is here to interview some of her clanmates! Take it away Seabreeze!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Alrighty, let’s get started then! How about you tell me a bit about ShadowClan’s territory? An overview would surely do, but feel free to go in detail!”

“It's quite the place! Very wet, full of plants, a textbook marsh you could say. A place you could really get lost in! There are other areas of course, the orchard and the glade, and a most definitely NOT haunted cabin!“ - Punchbuggy

From the lush sundew dotted fens to the shadowed highlands, Shadowclan’s territory is thick with plant life that creeps and ensnares those who pay no heed to the land. Flowers bloom within the gloom, thriving in spades along the shores of ponds, pools, and streams, which criss-cross the land and leave little fully dry. Tangled canopies and towering pines blot out the sky in quite a few places, creating the perfect conditions for a Nighhunter to track their prey in, shrouded by darkness (though one must account for any pools of water or muck, which the apprentices learn to traverse early). As for the Dayguards, who take a less furtive and more rough and tumble approach, the shining sun casts spaces such as the carrs and the abandoned Flood Camp in a golden glow. Aside from nature, Twoleg structures which have been long left to rot and be reclaimed by the ever crawling passage of time dot the landscape, providing both cover as well as intriguing spaces to explore. And hidden within one thicket, veiled by the dark on one half and dappled with light on the other, is Shadowclan’s camp. While it’s never quite as busy as the other Clans’, given opposing schedules of many Warriors, it’s still oft bustling with movement, music and dance, decorated with the art their Campminders create (both permanent and performance).

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Let’s dig a bit deeper, what do you think? How about your favourite spot in the territory? It could be because of an important life event or just because of its scenery, I just wanna know why!”

"Stargazer glade is my favorite place! The starlight dappling the clearing is breath-taking to witness. I feel closer to the stars there, too, and my patron. Even if I'm not a nighthunter anymore, I still enjoy staying up late to trace constellations and count the stars there." - Plovertumble

Once lost to time and to myth, the site of Stargazer Glade was rediscovered two cycles ago in the midst of a four Clan wide epidemic. Or rather, the purpose of it was rediscovered. The glade itself seems ordinary enough, an open clearing hidden away by thick shrubbery and pines with intermingled branches, walling the space away. The sky, however, remains unobscured above. The yawning abyss of sky can be intimidating during the day, particularly for those used to having their back to cover, but during the night the entire glade comes alive. It almost seems to glow, wildflowers and vines edged in silver, the grass soaked in light. The monument which stands at the far end of the field, alone and imposing, reflects it back into the center of the space. This is why it was named Stargazer Glade, by ancestors whose names have been reclaimed by the elements, but whose pawsteps the modern day Shadowclan walk into when they travel to this once nigh holy space. Cats often bring gifts of flowers or trinkets, words or performance, to offer to their patron or pantheon when they feel the need to commune with Starclan. It’s often a private thing, praying, though families typically share their preference in who to revere before Starclan as a whole.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“In line with my last comment about memories, any favorites of those on the territory? Memories I mean!”

“I'm afraid this one's a bit trickier, I've got many good and bad ones, but a favorite? Oh dear... Maybe when I gave Chanterellefall his name? Most of my best memories take place with him, or Mimiclull, so it's a constant shifting battle over which is the favorite.” - Oleandersnare

The relationship between mentor and apprentice is one that is viewed as particularly important in both of their lives in Shadowclan, and one that will often last into adulthood once the apprentice graduates. This is in part due to the close-knit culture of the Clan; not only does the mentor impart new skills, but their own experiences. For those who join the Clan young rather than being born into it (which is certainly preferred, as those who join later in life are expected to prove themselves and their new loyalties), their mentors become a touchstone, and many even find themselves falling into a parental role. It's become a trend to cement this bond when an apprentice and mentor are first paired at a kit's graduation ceremony. Together, and typically with little planning, the pair will come up with an alternative to the nose-to-forehead gesture that is unique to them. This new gesture will go with them as they journey through life together, being performed in significant moments such as ceremonies as well as for comfort, if the need arises. Shadowclan's proclivity for theatrics has also lent a paw to this spur of the moment idea which has become ingrained into their culture.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I’m sure we both can say that we’re pretty misunderstood as a Clan. Anything you wanna say about ShadowClan’s culture that might not be known otherwise?”

“You've got us wrong. Whatever you think of us— you’re way off, guaranteed. We aren't cunning and sly as foxes who only come out at night. We aren't aggressive carrioneaters. We have law; we have culture. We have cats who patrol day and night, a sense of morality, festivities and drama brought on by our campminders. Most importantly, we're as tough as ever and work as one to get things done; we're like a family.” - Chanterellefall 

Like a family is quite the apt description. ShadowClan, while frequently misconstrued as deceptive cats who prowl at night and nip the tails of passerby cats, are actually quite the vibrant band. From singing and dancing to plays and art, any form of creativity you can imagine is celebrated and appreciated. During the brightest hours of day and the darkest hours of night, the territory is silent, punctuated only by hushed murmurs and the soft snores of sleeping cats. Within ShadowClan, the song of nature takes the form of a lullaby. When the sun rises and falls, only then does the Clan come alive, every mealtime a festivity to remember. Each member is one part of the whole, loved like blood no matter the cat, with strength enough to move mountains.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Alrighty, here’s a question that might be more interesting. Everybody’s got different views, but I’m looking for your views on the council. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!”

“Ahh, how forward of you - oh, it was only a joke. I've seen my team through times so dark that it seemed dawn would never come, and we've come out unscathed from it with a deeper understanding of one another, I believe, and of what it means to serve our Clan. In fact, most of us have continued on a tradition that goes back a few generations, of taking on the naming style of the Forgotten after Noctule's Wing's joining which has continued since he stepped down. Our Leader and Deputy? Ah, Russetstar and Warblercall, they've a passion for keeping Shadowclan safe and their heads held high. I can assure you of that.” - Vivid Skies

The council of ShadowClan wake during dawn and dusk, contrary to your standard Dayguard and Nighthunter. They oversee the Clan during its busiest times, taking on many the responsibility. ShadowClan healers are tasked with the health and safety of their clanmates, taking good care of the sick and injured. Rest assured, in the paws of even the apprentices, you will be tended to diligently. While there has been much hardship in recent moons, the protection of the council has kept the whole of ShadowClan safe. Warblercall, though strict and proud with a traditional view of the code, is a powerful and reliable figure among the ShadowClan higher ups, having recently brought forth a new rank, dubbed Gloamwatchers. Similarly traditional, Russetstar has proven her dedication through moons of leadership. Together, the council works like a well oiled machine, regardless of whatever trials and tribulations the Clan has faced— and will continue to do so through whatever is to come.

#wcrp #sotcwcrp #discord wcrp #warrior cats #shadowclan #warrior cats rp #discord #server opening