#she was so extra in this panel i was just watching like

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

#cod #thoughts™️ #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #konig x you #konig x reader #nikto x reader #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #cod nikto #konig cod #neighbor!reader

[boba-beom]

*:･ﾟ❅･ﾟskate to my heart | KANG TAEHYUN

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader

genre: oneshot; fluff, bsf2l

summary: after watching taehyun at practice several times, he eventually asked you to watch his last, big game for the season in exchange for a date later the same night. with an uncertified label and known feelings between the both of you, would taehyun end the day with two wins?

wc: 4.1k

warnings: not proofread :< bestfriends 2 lovers, taehyun courting reader, a sprinkle of jealousy, taehyun almost fought someone eep, very little hockey terminology+knowledge (inaccurate representation most likely), physical affection, littlesttt bit suggestive, reader admires taehyun a lot but she gets shy sometimes, lil emotional, minor misunderstangin, taehyun has a super soft spot for reader and ADORES her, confession, a little cheesy, a kiss :>

a/n: requested by anonie! thank you anonie for sending this through <3 I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading! also 'courting' is when one person typically spends time and puts in effort with the person they are wanting to pursue! a little better than the talking stage lmao. I would also like to thank @gyupremacy @junniieesbby and @amoryeonjun for helping me come up with title options for this fic, ily guys (I may use one for a short sequel to this but that's for another day lmao)

a few days ago you had promised taehyun that you would come with him to his final hockey game for the season. in exchange, he made a promise to take you out on a date after, regardless if he wins or not.

and that led you to this very moment.

the sports venue was quite big, just the right size for the local games, with the building accommodating two rinks for figure skaters on the other side and ice hockey on the side you're on, in which you're seated by the acrylic panels so you were one of the closest to the rink.

just for taehyun.

he's the sole reason you've bought new outerwear and accessories to keep you warm within the rink, you even bought a jersey jumper with the colours of the team he is in. perhaps you went the extra mile and personalised it with his surname and birth date number.

"I hope you'll come to my hockey game this weekend. it's the last one for the season and it would mean a lot to me if you came along. and then afterwards I'll promise to take you on a date, please?"

his words echoed in your head as if he had told you just before you arrived at the sports venue. a smile had started creeping up on your face as you remembered the way he almost begged you to go on a date with him; his eyes gentle and his hand enveloped yours.

taehyun's team, rockets, had plenty of fans. some being seated a few rows behind you on your far left. it wasn't hard to miss them from the way you could hear high pitched squeals as soon as the players for rockets stepped their hockey skates onto the ice, watching the team skate past you one by one.

as each player glided past you, the cheers for the team were non-stop, whistles, screams and chants behind you. yet you managed to block them out a little — as if the lack of sounds would help you see better — and your eyes were darting around to look out for one player in particular.

then the crowd started to cheer significantly louder than before. that's when your eyes locked with a pair of large, round ones that had a familiar hold on yours. he sent you a subtle wave paired with a quick wink, and you thank god that you were sat at the front to catch that.

you waved your blue and red striped scarf, that you had bought just for him, as you called out for him and his team name as an attempt to hide the fact you could feel your cheeks heating up.

but taehyun noticed. you couldn't hide that from him.

the game wasn't going to start for another thirty minutes since the players were gliding around for their on-ice warm ups. you observed the way players would get comfortable on the ice, taking in long strides, others in smaller groups to do their crossover drills from one end of the rink to the other.

you noticed some of the crowd coming closer around you, to the acrylic panels since they were able to stand there within the duration of practice up until the puck drop. luckily you remained in your seat and was still able to have some space around you.

a call of your name caught your attention, but you knew it wasn't taehyun's voice from the sounds of it. a player from the opposing team, wearing the black and white kit, had slowed down skating in front of you, and attempted to spark your attention but you remained neutral and kept a tight lipped smile.

"yah! penguin. shouldn't you be on the other side of the rink?" your ears focus on taehyun's voice, muffling the sounds around you.

knowing taehyun, he was just being protective over you but you still had to make sure he didn't get into any fights. the game hadn't even started yet. he made his way past the opposing player, gliding past him as he slowed down right against the acrylic and knocked on it.

you okay? he mouthed at you with a little nod of assurance.

you gave him a soft smile with two thumbs up to give back the reassurance, but taehyun still felt compelled to stay a few seconds longer. he gave you a knowing look with a head tilt and brows raised slightly, but you couldn't help but laugh a little at his determination to make sure you were okay. again, you noded and smiled as you moved your wrists flicking outwards in a 'shoo' motion so he could get back into warming up with no distractions.

it was amusing that that was the first time taehyun behaved assertively in front of another player outside of the game. he usually had good sportsmanship with all players, however, this time around it seemed as thought he was more bothered than you were.

watching taehyun was nothing out of the norm for you since you always offered to come with him during his practices, admiring the way his skin glowed and reflected the light from the ice below him. watching the way he moved from one side of the rink to the other with steady and swift movements while in control of passing the puck was something you were always amazed about.

there had been a few cases when taehyun was free on the ice, face turning to look straight at you since he always knew where you would sit, and once he had your attention he'd quickly wave at you. you knew if you were on the ice yourself you would melt right through.

*:･ﾟ❅･ﾟ

after a good twenty minutes of the game, the first intermission had started. the teams made their way to their designated sides off the rink, rehydrating and even getting something to nibble on within the fifteen minutes they had.

some players came back onto the rink five minutes before the game resumed, skating to their assigned places. meanwhile you kept your eyes out for your best friend, but the same player from the opposing team made a return towards you.

you noticed but you paid him no attention, keeping that same tight lipped smile while your eyes were darting everywhere but in front of you.

he knocked on the clear barrier, and mouthed 'can I get your number?' and gestured his hand to a phone sign in which you slowly shook your head and mouthed a 'sorry'. he didn't seem to take it and asked again, begging at this point. you were about to shake your head again until a player in blue and red skimmed behind him and backed him up against the clear panel.

you stood up to get a better look and it was no other than taehyun. he was about to grab the other player by the collar of their kit until you had your hand flat on the surface and banging it against the acrylic three times to grasp his attention. taehyun's fist didn't reach the collar, thankfully, catching the worry in your eyes and he retracted his unravelling fist.

a sigh left you as you saw him back up from his opponent, your head shaking slowly at him while you mouth 'it's okay'. he was lucky he hadn't gone ahead with it otherwise it'd led to a five-minute major penalty towards him. he still had two thirds of the game left.

once you sat back down in your seat, you readied yourself for the next twenty minutes of the game. the teams were back in their designated sides of the rink, and taehyun was set in his position as center.

you focused on him, knees slightly bent, hands holding the hockey stick and his concentration on the center before the referee dropped the puck. he hits the puck as soon as it collided with the ice, and his movements remained swift and sharp as he and his teammates led the puck to the other side of the rink.

it was clear seeing the puck passed from taehyun, center, to the left winger then right winger, but so many players blocked your vision. it had you thinking the puck had been taken by the opposing team, though in a fraction of a second your ears were filled with the crowd cheering. from the sounds of it rockets had scored a goal, and you looked up at the screen above the rink to watch a quick replay of who scored the goal.

it was no other than the star player who has your heart.

you stood up, cheering and clapping, waving your scarf as you try and find him in your field of vision. almost as if you were in a movie, the hockey players skated aside and taehyun's skating towards his original position, facing you. you could see his teethy smile as he pointed out at you, hearing a few 'ooh's and whistles from the audience.

the pounding in your chest felt like it was about to burst and the heat crawling up to your cheeks were starting to burn you up. you shook your head at him again, this time sheepishly, as you bit the inside of your cheek, refraining your grin but you couldn't hold out and let out an endearing laugh.

*:･ﾟ❅･ﾟ

it was the second and last intermission of the overall game. the game time period had just finished up nicely, rockets' scores in the lead with nine and the opposing team with five. you had a good feeling about rockets winning the final twenty minutes of the game.

there were about eight minutes left of the intermission before they resumed the game, so you made your way through the row to the restroom.

as you walked down the corridor to find the toilets you felt a loose grasp on your wrist, making your gasp hitch in your throat and turn your head to see just the person you couldn't wait to see until the end of the game.

"tae, what are you doing here?" you whispered at him, the confusion on your face clear as day.

"I was too excited, I wanted to see you."

you noticed the way his slightly damp and dishevelled hair was grazing just by his brows, his face glowing from the sheer layer of sweat. and his eyes steady on yours.

"well," you slid your wrist out of his hold and played with his fingers. "we still have that date later tonight, remember?"

you looked up at him and you see a proud smirk on his lips, nodding his head slowly in attempt to keep in his excitement. but the rose hue on his cheeks were a big giveaway.

"I'll see you later then. I'll do my best for you, keep your eyes on me."

taehyun lifted your hand and lightly pressed his lips against the back of your fingers. the familiar feeling of your heart about to burst in your chest returned, and you caught the way the tips of his ears blushed the same pink tinge you saw earlier.

"do your best, my star player." you smiled at him, and he let out a soft scoff intertwined with his laugh. watching him walk away to get back onto the rink and finally letting you go to the restroom.

walking into the restroom you slammed your hands flat on the countertop beside the sink, looking at your reflection in disbelief.

"my star player?! really?" your expression changed when you repeated it again, smiling at yourself and shaking your head. "I must be out of my mind."

you can't believe how fast your feelings were brewing for your best friend. there's always been this unspoken dynamic between you, indirect words that mean something a little more, looks that only has your heart fluttering in your chest — and his. gestures that tended to linger and only either one of you would notice that it was a second longer than what would be considered 'platonic'.

snapping out of your reverie you went to use the toilet before making your way back to your seat. you had the final twenty minutes left and then the evening to talk to taehyun properly.

*:･ﾟ

there were five minutes left until the game was over, and during this game the opposing team had scored three times, bringing the current score for rockets with nine, still, and the opposing team with eight.

you hoped the game wouldn't end in a tie. it would be a shame to end the final game of the season in a tie. rockets were doing so well throughout the past two game, but this third game seemed to be the opposite of what they call 'the charm'.

"come on, come on. just one more point." you whispered to yourself, chanting nervously. your hands gripped onto your jacket, taking it off and revealing your customised jersey jumper reading 'KANG' with '05' underneath in bold.

as soon as you were sat comfortably, you checked the time once more; just under four minutes until the end of the game.

one last point and you'd be celebrating later in the evening.

you watched the puck passed around by the opposing team, almost accepting defeat until the players started skating towards the other end of the rink. rockets had the puck by their sticks and from all you could see, it was being passed repeatedly between the left winger and left defence. losing sight of it again it seems like the right winger had it until you saw taehyun receiving it.

with an extremely quick knock of his hockey stick against the puck, it flew into the goal for the final time this season and the speakers let out the horn indicating the end of the game. the screen above showed the final scores, rockets - 10 / guests - 8.

just in time, and your star player was surrounded by his teammates, each of them skating up to him and knocking the front of their helmets together. watching him being congratulated by his team was so endearing to watch — especially knowing just how much work he's put into this sport, knowing how much he loves it.

the crowd behind you was still full of cheers, whistles and chanting. but your eyes were fixed on taehyun as he took his helmet off, his hair a little more damp and dishevelled compared to when you saw him during the second intermission. that didn't stop him from looking incredible with his face literally glowing from his sweat and the ice reflecting off of the droplets.

he made a beeline towards you for the last time on the ice, a huge grin adorned on his face along with his asymmetrical dimple making an appearance.

was it because his team won? perhaps. was it because you were wearing the jersey with his name and birth date? most likely.

his smile was too contagious you didn't realise when you started smiling so hard, you were laughing a little too. the continuous cheers had you joining in, clapping towards taehyun, all while he mouthed a 'meet me by the foyer'.

after the crowd started moving, you made your way straight to the foyer, watching the audience walk past you as they exited the venue.

you're leaning against a pillar, watching the last strand of the light in the sky disappear through the floor to ceiling glass panels as your stomach was filled up with butterflies from the thought of going on a date with your best friend and making it a joint celebratory dinner.

a pair of hands abruptly weighed your shoulders down, having your heart leap out of your chest as you turn around to a giggly and cheerful taehyun.

"tyun! you were amazing out there!" you exclaimed, jumping up to hug him with your arms over his shoulders and his bag sliding down his arm, only hugging you with one arm around your waist.

"yeah well, I had to put on my best. you were watching." you playfully nudged his arm, biting back your grin but his was too contagious to hold back. "no but seriously, the team did so well tonight. they're going out to celebrate, actually."

your smile faltered in the littlest bit, thinking carefully before you asked him.

"do you want to go too? we can always rain check the date... if you want? I don't mind, seriously." you felt the guilt appear inside you, not wanting to hold him back. you saw how happy he was out there and it wasn't all the time you saw taehyun like that.

"hey, no." taehyun shrugged his bag strap to hang from his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, slowly walking out the exit together to toward the car park. "I have a date to go to and I wouldn't want to miss that for the world. I see those blokes almost every week anyway, I'll live."

taehyuns words brought the flutter back in your chest and you raised your hand to hold onto his that's hanging over your shoulder. the evening air was cool and taehyun's freshly washed hair was finally out of his face. from the angle you could see, he was literally the definition of perfection in your books.

letting his words process in your head, all you managed to say was, "ah, you're so cheesy." you let go of his hand to open the car door, sitting inside as you waited for him to put his stuff in the trunk and sit in the driver's seat.

"yeah, but you like it though." his voice had a playful tone, probably with a smile on his face, it was dark in the car. he wasn't even looking at you, buckling his seatbelt and inserting the key to start the car.

yeah. I do.

*:･ﾟ❅･ﾟ

it's almost been an hour since taehyun dropped you home to get ready and he did the same. you texted him saying that you were done and just waiting for him to pick you up, which didn't take too long because he fortunately didn't live too far away from you.

your phone's notification sound went off as he sent you a simple I'm outside text, but that was the norm with him. you grabbed your purse and shrugged on your coat over your dress, examining your final look through the body-length mirror in the hallway before unlocking the door.

a taehyun in a black button down, top button left undone and sleeves folded to a three quarters length up his forearm that matched nicely with his dark slacks was standing in front of you. and how could you look past the bouquet of red roses arranged with baby's breath, elegantly wrapped in decorative cellophane.

"for my beautiful date."

your lips formed a subtle pout as you retrieved the flowers from him, noticing the sheer bow wrapped around the stems.

"taehyun," your voice was meek, just audible enough until you cleared your throat. "these are stunning, thank you, handsome."

you walked back into the hallway to place them in an empty vase in which you emptied out a couple of days ago after you'd turned the old arrangement into dried flowers.

returning to the entrance, you released a heavy sigh while walking through the door, controlling yourself to not gawk at the gorgeous man stood on your porch.

"why?" taehyun stepped aside for you to shut and lock the door.

you could feel him hovering behind you, and you noticed his shadow casted over your shoulder and could be seen against the wooden door.

"because..." your voice trailed.

once you were done checking you had locked the door properly, you turned around, paying no attention that you were incredibly close to taehyun's face, his eyes darting to your lips before looking back up at your eyes. you lost your balance as your back almost crashed into the door if it wasn't for his hand resting on your lower back.

"because?" he parroted.

your chest was slightly heaving, knowing that he could potentially hear your heart drumming in your chest for the nth time that evening.

"um, because... we're gonna be late for our reservation." you hastily slid aside and walked towards his car as he trailed behind you, his hands in his pockets and letting out an amused scoff with an endeared smile on his face.

*:･ﾟ

to your relief, you had arrived just in time for your private reservation and you had nothing to worry about. the restaurant was beautiful — it was elegant. the high ceiling with dark grey marble pillars in each corner of the room to withhold the structure. a contrast from the ligher shade of grey for the tiled flooring.

"how long until the next season?" you asked taehyun, curious as you fiddled with the corner of the napkin on the table.

despite being with taehyun almost on a daily basis, this was something you weren't used to. the atmosphere was a little different, a little thicker and laced with something that hasn't been spoken about, but it's there.

you were nervous. you knew that, taehyun knew that and he could definitely see that. he reached his hand over to scoop up your fingers gently into his, and the motion of his thumb skimming over your knuckles somewhat helped with those nerves.

"this season only finished a few hours ago, ___." the continuous movement of his calloused fingers against yours had calmed you down enough, but you couldn't manage to look him in the eye until he tugged on your hand lightly. "but probably not for another couple of months or so, we'll see."

you both held eye contact, the longest you managed ever since he picked you up from your house. he opened his mouth to say something but you had already beat him to it, starting to speak before you realised.

"I meant it when I said this, but you genuinely looked so happy out there on the rink." he listened and nodded as he let you continue. "just seeing you so passionate about what you love on the ice rink at first hand was amazing, honestly." you let out a half hearted chuckle.

"well, part of it's because you're there to support me. throughout my practices, trainings and today's game." it was your turn to caress the inside of his palm, letting him know that you'd always be there for him. "and I have something to say."

you nod, listening intently.

"if it wasn't for you supporting me throughout, I don't know if I would've even continued up until now. I got this far because of you. and I know you can sense... whatever this attraction is between us too. you're my best friend and always will be," he paused, noticing the way you bit the inside of your cheek. "but I also want to be your lover."

taehyun didn't know if it was the reflection from the hanging lights above you, but he swore your eyes lit up. you didn't know if you were going to cry because you almost thought you were getting friendzoned, or it was because taehyun had cleared the air and asked to be your lover.

worry washes over taehyun's face, setting aside his utensils as he picked up his napkin to lightly dab on the stray tear that fell without your knowledge. he cooed at you, and you weakly laughed at yourself.

"I was afraid you were going to friendzone me for a second." you had taehyun lightly scoff and slowly shook his head at you, but his gaze softened, brows relaxed and eyes twinkling. "I'd love you to be my lover, tyun. and I'll love you twice as much."

your tears brimmed at your eyes, threatening to fall one after the other until taehyun decided to get out of his chair and walk over to you, a knee on the ground while he cupped your cheek and cooed you with sweet, reassuring words.

"I'd be a fool if I friendzoned you," he dabbed away the tears towards the outer corner of your eyes, "you okay?"

you nodded your head in certainty, cupping his cheek and you noticed the way his eyes are so focused on you, holding the galaxy within. the eyes of your best friend filled with nothing but love and adoration for you.

"tyun?" he hums at you whispering his name. "can I kiss you?"

he huffed an exhale paired with a hopeful nod, and his eyes are focused on your lips.

"please do."

you both let out relieved sighs once your lips collided. his hand gently slid from your cheek to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, melting into one another's touch. his moan got caught in the back of his throat the moment he felt your teeth gingerly tugging on his bottom lip before parting the kiss.

"you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he chuckled at your expression once you realised what you did.

"well, there's a first for everything, isn't there?" your tone smug with a hint of confidence, taehyun attempted to keep a stoic expression.

"that's so cheesy." he stood up, stroking the top of your head and tucking a few loose strands behind your ear.

"but you liked it though." you replied, and he returned to his seat, facing you with a defeated but pleased look on his face.

"yeah, I do"

taglist: @choiwrld @yjusei @feyregels @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @seolis-world @jak-ey @bb-eilish @iggynor4 @amethysts-1620 @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman (send an ask to be part of the taglist, here's the taglist sheet for reference)

#k-labels #kflixnet #taehyun fluff #taehyun oneshot #taehyun soft hours #taehyun soft thoughts #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #taehyun x fem reader #taehyun x reader #txt fluff #txt oneshot #txt soft hours #txt soft thoughts #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x fem reader #txt x reader

[thatsdemko]

I think he knows - g.russell

masterlist

t-swift inspired works list

requested: n

pairings: George russell x Wolff!fem!reader

warnings: none???

a/n: I’m so sorry the plot is hella slow 🥲 I also really don’t love this fic. feedback is always appreciated x

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

he may not have picked it up at first, but it didn’t take him long to notice your eyes lingered on him longer than most.

that when he walked into the garage your whole mood changed, despite how hard you tried to make it not obvious, he knew. or at least, he began to know.

you spend a lot of time together, whether it’s around the paddock, in the hospitality, or at your fathers summer house— which is where you are now.

he’s sipping on a beer, standing next to Toto at the grill, two of them chatting about upcoming races and whatever seems to entertain them. jack bolts in front of you, heading out the back door where he spotted George, “Georgie porgie!” he screams, arms locking around his thin legs.

“who taught you that nickname?” he looks up from the little boy at you shrugging, little blush warming your face.

“you should’ve known to never trust me when you told me that.” you smile softly, your fingers nervously playing with the ends of your hair as you stand with the two listening in on their conversation.

Toto is talking about an important FIA event that the Mercedes team will have to attend, it’s not in anyone’s interests to go, but it’s mandatory and your father marked George for him and a plus one. neither of you know that he did this on purpose. because you see, Toto is like everyone else, tired of seeing his own daughter so madly in love with a boy who’s so oblivious. so yes, he’s willing to push you both towards each other if neither of you will do it yourselves.

“and I’ve got you marked for a plus one.”

you watch George’s eyes widen, they dart between him and susie, who just stepped out onto the porch with a drink for you, “a plus one? when did I ever indicate I had someone?”

Susie’s hand rests against your arm, “well why don’t you just take y/n? that way I can be Toto’s plus one and won’t have to fight for the seat.” she smiles brightly between the two of you, it’s too rehearsed. you notice something was up with their behavior, but George doesn’t.

“that seat can be yours, I’ll just stay home and watch jack.” you look down at the little boy, he’s on the patio wood panel playing with his trucks and formula one cars beside George’s feet.

Toto turns from the grill, shaking his head, “George has an extra seat just go with him.” he pats his driver on the back, and when you go to lock eyes, you notice his have already been on you. it makes your heart nearly skip a beat, how long had he been looking?

“George has to ask me, not have you two do it for him.”

—

all dinner he steals quick glances at you. each time he does, he watches your eyes break from his when he looks up at you. he’s definitely beginning to figure there’s something worth looking at whether it’s behind him or beside him, but it’s when your two drinks in and your eyes stay longer he figures, it’s him.

it’s him you’re looking at the whole time. it’s him you’re fixating on, not begging for him to look your way, just taking in every beautiful feature of his face. like the crease in his smile, the way he laughs, and the way his eyes light up around jack. you pick it all up, you want that of a man. you think there’s no one more perfect than him.

the meals are cleaned off everyone’s plates. Susie and Toto are inside cleaning, leaving you and george to build a fire while jack plays on his swing set.

he brushes past you, heading for the pile of newspapers and throws them at the bottom of the pit, while you stack wood the way your father taught you.

“it’ll be a nice fire?” he looks over at you, watching you struggle with the lighter. he reaches over and presses the button, watching a flame nearly take the ends of your hair. he’s quick to pull your hair behind your shoulders, two of you nervously laughing about the flame.

finally lighting the fire you take a seat next to George, two of you watching the orange and red flames dance around the pit, feeling the breeze of the air pick up.

“I’m going to go grab a sweatshirt, can you watch jack?”

“here just take mine.” he doesn’t give you time to reply, he’s pulling the neckline of the crewneck, it brushes over his dirty blond hair. you watch his t-shirt underneath rise up a little showing off his abs, that he loves to show off all the time, and soon enough the soft material is placed in your lap.

“all yours.” he smiles watching your eyes flicker up from his black t-shirt up to meet his greenish blue ones, you can’t help but lean a little closer when you thank him.

it’s now his turn to watch you throw on his sweatshirt, watching the way you rise a bit out of the chair to throw on the soft cotton material. the way it messes your perfectly curled hair, and how you wrap the material closer against your body, “thanks, Georgie.”

he reaches over, combing some of the strains of your hair out of your face, he feels his own smile pull wider seeing how dilated your pupils were, it’s so obvious. you really do like him, “what do you say, you want to be my plus one?”

“I would love to.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

He got my heartbeat

Skipping down 16th Avenue

Got that, oh! I mean

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

#george russell #george russell x you #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell fic #george russell fluff #george russell x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 fluff #f1 fiction #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Elevator - Claudia Pina

"Come on, we are going to be late" claudia said grabbing my hand, causing me to blush as she dragged me down the hall to the elevator

“Someone not want to run extra laps?” You asked with a laugh as you clicked the elevator button

“Not all of us enjoy running” claudia said bumping my shoulder with a smile as the elevator open causing you both to enter

The next moment, the elevator started to shutter and shack causing you to stumble into the wall before it stopped

“This doesn’t seem good” you said as you realized the elevator wasn’t moving

“I think it’s stuck” claudia said quietly causing you to hit the help button as you moved to the railing and tried to think of anything besides the idea that you were in a small space for who knows how long

“You okay?” Claudia asked

"I'm fine" you said as your grip tighten on the railing in the elevator and closed your eyes to take a few steady breaths to control your breathing and lower your heart rate as you felt Claudia eyes on you

"Lets call someone" you said

"Your late!" Mapi yelled angrily over the phone

"Claudia and i are stuck in the elevator" you said over the phone

"Mapi, I don't like small spaces" you mumbled, hearing her lowly cuss before talking to someone

"We are going to get you out of there shortly, okay" mapi said "okay"

"Claudia?" You asked how watching her start to pace, causing you to ignore Mapi who was trying to figure what was going on with Claudia who was calm a second ago

"My phone isn't working" she said with wide eyes

“Who do you want to talk to? I can have Mapi put them on" you said gently, hoping to calm her down however it didn’t to a think, as if she hadn’t heard you

Completely forgetting about your phone as you focused on the girl in front of you who was in a full blown panic mode

"Claudia, hey listen to me"you said as you quickly as you held her face in your hand to get her to focus on you

"We are going to be okay. There are people working right now to get us out. We just have to hang out here together a little longer" you said trying to get her to calm down and prevent her form also causing you to panic.

Claudia started to struggle to breath as she eyes couldn't say focus causing you to panic so you did the only thing you think of, you kissed her.

It was a short kiss but it caused your heart to race

When you opened your eyes, Claudia has calmed down but was looking at you with shock but confused looked as you looked back nervously at what was going to follow next

"It calmed you down" you said with a blush as she smiled up at you before pulling you to her and her hiding her face in you neck. You gave her a gentle squeeze as whispered reassurances in her ear

"Your heart is racing" Claudia mumbled as you felt her breath on your neck causing you to nod as you felt a shivers up you spin

"Yeah" you finally replied softly as you felt Claudia come out of her hiding spot and place a hand on your heart as she looked you in the eyes

“Go on a date with me?” You hesitantly asked, hopeful that she would like you back due to her reaction

Claudia surprised you by pulling you in to a gentle kiss causing you to both to smile into the kiss before spreading, still nothing holding giant smiles

“I’m going to take that as a yes” you stated with a small smile as claudia laughed with a smile

The moment ended when you both heard shifting of elevator causing panic to shot through you, pulling claudia tighter to you as you felt her do the same

Only losing your grip once a panel was removed from the ceiling for you both to see fire fighters looking down at you

“We going to pull guys up and through the doors of the closed floor” one explained before reaching a hand down

"You go first" you said gently pushing her towards the hands that were reaching out to grab her as she sent you a hesitant look back

"I'll be right behind you" you said with a gentle smile said causing her to nod and watched as she was helped out of the elevator, leaving you alone in it. Feeling the panic start to rise at being alone and once again closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to keep calm

“Ma’am, your turn” a firefighter said reaching his arms down causing you to grab them, pulling you up and guiding you to the exit

Instantly looking for Claudia and only calming when you see her safe in Alexia arms before feeling relief as someone pulled you into their arms and another pair wrap around the two of you

"Are you okay?" Mapi asked causing to pull away some to see Ingrid was the others who arms you was in

"I'm exhausted" you said as you felt yourself relax against Mapi as you gave ingrid a smile causing her to place a kiss to your temple

"At least your first travel game will have a memorable story" Lucy said causing Kiera to slap her in the back of the head as Mapi and Ingrid glared and I laughed

"Very memorable" I mumbled as I glanced at Claudia with a small blush causing Mapi to whisper "I'll heard what you and Claudia talked about" as I look at her with a blush as Ingrid and her gave me knowing looks as you saw Claudia in the same position as you with Alexia

#woso imagine #woso x reader #claudia pina #claudia pina x reader #fc barca

[phantasmiac]

civilian touya who has an awkward relationship with his family. puts the civil in civilian. he got all his angst and rage out of his system during his teenage years, and enji’s been on a self improvement journey for some time now. things should be good now — but he only visits home once every two months (sometimes even less often) and no phone call with him ever lasts any longer than five minutes (unless you’re natsuo. then you get an extra five). and no matter how hard fuyumi or rei attempt to pry on the occasions he does join them at the dinner table, whatever he’s been up to recently is still a mystery for the most part by the time he leaves. touya loves his family, because loving unconditionally is just in his nature. but he spent so much time being angry and pushing them away during his teenage years that he doesn’t really know them anymore — and he can’t bring himself to trust people he doesn’t know.

civilian touya who randomly brings home his hot tattooed gf one day. rei’s eyes are sparkling as she laughs and chats with you, hand resting over your own in that warm motherly way. and the whole time enji’s sat like a fucking statue with an unreadable expression on his face that makes him look constipated. he’s trying so hard not to say oh brother 🙄 so this is what touya’s gotten himself into. he hasn’t gotten to the chapter about conservatism in his self help book. he doesn’t say anything because everyone seems to really like you and touya’s been watching you and his mom talk with a fondness that’s lowkey causing cracks in his stone cold heart. but secretly, he’s betting that this relationship isn’t gonna make it touya’s next visit.

civilian touya who brings you over again…. and again…. and again. enji��s so bewildered and stressed at the fact that he was wrong it’s comical. and he has yet to voice his concerns to anyone else bc he doesn’t want to look like an asshole so he just has this ongoing bet with the voice inside his head that you and touya are going to break up any minute now. everyone else has joined touya in being infatuated with you because you’re great — but also because touya’s now started to visit more often and there’s a constant grin on his face that they haven’t seen since he was a little boy. and enji swears he won’t fall for your little tricks! he’s absolutely livid when a chuckle escapes him at a juvenile joke you made. scandalized by the fact that he’s a little curious about the meaning behind one of your tattoos — you’re not gonna get him to ask 😡

civilian touya who announces that you’re five weeks pregnant a year and a half into your relationship. rei cries. because she’s going to be a grandma, of course, but also because he actually chose to share the news with them instead of suddenly disappearing to some foreign country to raise a family in secret — something she’s convinced the touya before you would have done just to avoid being open with them. and enji, thinks this might just be his aha! moment. having a baby this soon, out of wedlock? bound to fall apart. for once, he hopes he’s wrong.

civilian touya who has one hand stabilizing the smiley, toothless baby girl sitting on his lap and the other holding your left, thumb rubbing the aquamarine gemstone on your ring finger. enji watches his firstborn dote on his own and silently reminisces the first few months of touya’s life. he remembers being full of love for someone for the first time in his entire life, and being terrified; it was all more than he knew what to do with. touya seems to know exactly what to do with it all when he coos at his two girls. love was never a challenge for him — just finding somewhere to place it.

★ a/n: i wrote this with the panel from 388 in mind and that’s the ONLY reason shouto isn’t mentioned. ily bby it’s not what it looks like

#dabi x reader #dabi drabble #dabi headcanons #dabi #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi fanfic #touya todoroki x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 14-Priest!Fyodor/Nun!Reader- with the prompt Masturbation

Notes: in an effort not to offend anyone, i'm using a made up fantasy religion that's not explicitly explained. I'm not religious and I don't want to accidentally offend anyone with this nasty little fic.

Also, if you’ve been reading my other Fyodor stuff and noticed that i mention his accent every chance i get, yes, i do love accent, probably a little too much(especially his it makes me h*rny)

The grand cathedral was a pristine place, sparkling white walls and large stained glass windows. You disliked it, the walls seemed to be always watching you. You preferred the smaller cathedral, the walls were a comforting wood paneling, and the arched ceiling was black, its stained glass windows showing pictures of orchards and dancing fairies, and not the angry eyes of the goddess. The goddess always seemed to be watching you in that cathedral, and lately you felt like avoiding her eyes. 

Chores are comforting in a way. They let you escape from the busy world for a minute, dodge the gossip of the younger nuns. You loved gossip, but sometimes you were just too tired to keep up, and escaped to the smaller temple to wind down. The goddess in this temple somehow seemed different than the angry one in the cathedral, as if they were two separate entities, two sides of the same coin.  

Carrying your mop and bucket, you open the large doors to the temple, taking a moment to soak up the atmosphere. It's a large room, long with a high arching ceiling. Blackwood beams arch into the sky, as if it's reaching for the goddesses mercy itself. You would appreciate some mercy, but you fear her too much to pray for forgiveness. 

The walls are made of blackwood too, and rough with tree knots interspersed throughout. Large, arching windows let the sunset light in the light sprawling across the floor in large spires, collared different colors as it reflects the stained glass. These stained glass have always been your favorite. They depict the goddess, but in a softer light. She’s smiling, and not looking directly at you, judging you for your sins. She frolics in the grass in one, takes a bite out of some fruit in another, and yet another depicts the goddess with her lover, smiling so brightly you mistake her for real for just a split second. 

A pedestal stands at the head of the room, a large statue of the goddess behind it. She’s pretty, your goddess. Tall, with curves and long, long wavy hair that trails the floor behind her. She stands with her hands outstretched, flowers flowing from her fingertips and trailing the ground. Her eyes are curved, her mouth carved into a pretty smile, a welcoming smile. Her eyes seem alive, and although the statue is made of marble, you get the vague sense that they are a startling vivid green. 

You feel her eyes on you, berating you with her upset face. A face of disappointment, a face of sadness. And that hurts you much more than the stakes of anger ever could. 

“I'm sorry, goddess.” The words echoed in the empty chamber, bouncing off the walls. The goddess looked on, unyielding, her face carved into a permanently happy expression. You hate the other statue of the goddess, the one whose face is carved into an unyieldingly blank smile, her eyes forcing guilt upon her worshipers. 

You turn your eyes away from the statue, and carefully work the mop across the wood floor, avoiding the metals impeded in it. Sister Mila said never to scrub the metal, it offends the goddess. And you really don't need to be offending the goddess anymore than you surely already have. Your heart is heavy as you try to banish the thoughts from your mind, the nasty wrong thoughts. The goddess would be disappointed in you. 

Finished with the moping, you move to dust the small confessional booth in the corner. It's tucked away from the main room, used by nuns who want to confess a sin of sorts, although the sins are usually trivial things like eating an extra serving of breakfast, or losing a friend's prize possession. Father Fyodor, the priest who usually takes care of the confessions is out right now, enabling you to clean the room in peace. It's good too, because seeing the Father right now might truly break you. You don't dare visit the confessional yourself, and confess your dirty thoughts to the star of your fantasies. 

The dangerous thoughts are coming back, terrible, dirty thoughts and you wash the wood paneling harder, as if it will scrub your brain of the dirty fantasies. 

It had started a few months ago, when Alina, one of the younger Nuns, had snuck into the village bookstore and purchased a certain kind of book.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“Guess what I got.” Alina says, flipping her hair over her shoulder excitedly. She’s holding a book in her freckled hands, the cover a rich deep red with the title ‘Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love’. You wince at the dubious title. The room is lit by a single candle, you and Alina huddled around it. Alina’s fiery red hair bounces dangerously close to the candle, and you subtly pull the flame away. 

“What? You were in town, right?” you say, pearing curiously at her. Alina nods. “Yep, Sister Mila took me and Hikari downtown to get the usual grocery run. And I snuck off.” She giggles, waving her book excitedly in your direction. You eye her curiously, a little apprehensive. Alina is the troublemaker of your little group, always sneaking off to do this or that or something. Although usually the kind of mischief she would get up to was wholly different. A book is a little, um, normal for her. You are almost more scared of the unknown it presents. 

You hush her with a finger, leaning close. “Remember, be quiet. We don't want Sister Mila to discover us.” She whispers. The three of you are huddled together in the middle of your shared room. The large lamps that usually light the room have been extinguished, and Alina leans closer to the candle, reading by the small ring of light it gives. You lean closer, becoming her to speak. Despite your apprehension at the dubious title, you love books. 

“It was a dark and stormy night…” Alina begins. Her soft voice is perfect for storytelling, and the story is interesting, about a nun like yourselves. It's not until Alina’s halfway through the second chapter, and the warning signs start to pop up, that you begin to have doubts. 

A character named Mikhail is the first red flag. A priest who the main character, Sofiya, speaks of a little too highly to be normal. “...Father Mikhail stole my attention once more, his piercing eyes undressing me from across the table…” 

And then, it turns out the book is a romance novel. Which is fine, actually. Great, considering you love romance novels. But then, the first explicit scene starts. 

“...He caressed my body with his thick hands, smoothing the goosebumps that lingered from his kiss, driving my body wild with his touch...” Alina is barely holding back her grin as she reads, looking up every so often to see how you respond. You can feel your face heating up, and you glare at her balefully, but make no move to protest. She continues on. 

“...‘oh Father Mikhail.’ I said, clutching desperately at his shoulders. ‘We mustn't do this. It is forbidden.’ he kissed the protests from my lips, his thick hands sliding beneath my skirt and caressing the meat of my thighs. ‘Do you really care what they think?’ He said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Or do you care about us, about this heat we create—” Alina dissolves to the ground in giggles as you yank the book from her hands, face flaming. “Alina! How could you buy a…a…” You lower your voice, your face burning. “A dirty book.” You say, face on fire. Alina giggles at your response, yanking the book back. 

“It's an Erotica, and it's perfectly healthy to be curious about these things.” She says, a bit too loud. You shush her and she continues in a whisper. “Besides, I saw you enjoying it.” You blush, but don't deny her. It will do no good to lie after all. “But Sister Mila will be furious.” You say. Alina frowns with a sigh. “We’re already in our nineteenth year, old enough to make our own rules.” She says, opening the book back up. “So where did we leave off…‘Or do you care about us, and this heat we create’. I nod desperately against him, the heat of his…”

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

And ever since that day, when Alina had read her ‘erotica’ book to you, it was all you could think about. And everytime you laid eyes on Father Fyodor, all you could think about was the dream that had preceded it. You were ashamed when you woke up in the morning, a sticky wetness between your legs and the Father’s name on your lips. It was such a strange and uncomfortable feeling, the guilt thereafter. You had been driven nearly crazy by the heat between your legs that had abated only with a cold bath, but had left you feeling strangely unsatisfied and pent up. You hated it, and you hated how you didn't know what to do to make it go away.

It wasn't strange how you were fantasizing about Father Fyodor. It's quite embarrassing to admit but you’ve always found him handsome. The two of you entered the church around the same time, but he had risen through the ranks much faster than you, already a priest at the young age of twenty two. You were ranked high as well, but had yet to reach the rank you desired, that of a goddess nun. 

You remembered well the day you had arrived at the temple. The children who were sent to the temple every year were few, but still notable. You remember very clearly being plopped onto the carriage with a kiss by your mother, the only other occupant a pretty boy with long hair, who teased you and played with your hair. He was so cool to your ten year old mind, a boy who at fourteen, was practically the coolest thing in the world to you. The veneer had faded slightly, as the distance between you two had widened, until you barely spoke anymore. It hurt you more than you would let on. 

But, until now, you had thought your feelings were simply admiration, and nothing more. But as even the memories of the dreams made that frustrating heat pool in your lower regions, you are forced to accept that maybe your feelings are a little different. You clearly want him to do those things, the things Mikahil in the book had done to Sofiya, the things that would make this heat go away for good. But for now you would have to ignore the heat and avoid him for the life of you. It wouldn’t be hard, the two of you barely interacted anyway.

The guilt that always accompanies the heat is slowly eating away at you, the worries that you are a bad person, that this heat is bad. The dreams are bad, desiring a holy father you're sure is against the rules. Although you would never ask Sister Mila, you’re sure that it's wrong. 

Pushing away the spikes of sadness and guilt that those words bring on, you sigh to yourself and finish your chores in record time. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“So, what did you need?” Alina is sitting across from you in the cafeteria, knitting something teal that vaguely looks like a hat. She’s already finished her blueberry pancakes, and the empty plate rests in front of her. You clear your throat.  “Well, um…” You say. You don't know if you should even ask this question, let alone at breakfast in the cafeteria, in earshot of the older Nuns. You play with your own pancakes, spearing a blueberry on your fork. Alina, worried at your silence, puts down her hat thing, and fixes her brilliant green eyes on you. 

“Name, is something wrong?” She says. She looks so genuinely worried and you start to feel a little bad. The issue isn't that bad, and you don't want to make her feel guilty by telling her the problem. Alina is a kind soul, who has been your best friend in this place for many, many years. You love her, but you don't want her to worry over your stupid problems. 

You do your best to paste on a smile, taking a bite of your fluffy pancakes. “Who’s supervising grocery duty today?” You say, hoping your voice sounds optimistic. Alina picks up her hat again, worries assuaged. “Um, I think it's Sister Katya? Not sure.” She says, leaning closer with a whisper. “You wanna sneak off and get more books?” She wiggles her eyebrows, the last word dripping with insinuations. You flush, and slowly shake your head. You're tempted though, because the books are not sinful themselves. It's your brain that has come up with the sinful scenarios involving a holy father. You feel that horrible guilt, accompanied obviously by that heat. You rub your thighs together. 

“You sure?” Aline says, still whispering. She leans forward with a wink. “They have Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love volume two…” She leaves the question open ended, her voice going up temptingly at the end. You hate how tempted you are.

“Alright, fine.” You whisper back. Alina grins in triumph, and pulls back as a senior nun walks behind the two of you, eyes full of suspicion. You quail under them, while Alina stares back defiantly. You’ve never been good with authority, and now it's even worse. All you can feel is guilt and hatred, hatred of your poisoned mind. For how could you think such thoughts of a pious man like Father Fyodor. You tense under the nuns searching eyes, and breathe a sigh of relief as she walks away. You hate yourself for it. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

Alina’s waiting for you by the large wrought iron gate that blocks the temple from the outside world. She waves you over, handing you a large canvas bag. “For the groceries.” She says with a wink. You look around, noting the suspicious absence of supervision. “Where’s Sister Katya?” You ask. Alina gestures towards the path back to the monastery, and sure enough here comes sister Katya, talking to a familiar dreaded head of pretty black hair. You immediately look away, making desperate eye contact with Alina. She shrugs, looking just as confused as you are.

Sister Katya is young, for a senior Nun, and blond. She’s very pretty too, and you feel a nasty emotion you know as jealousy as she smiles at Father Fyodor, their conversation too far away for you to hear. Alina, smirking by your side, asks the question as the two of them join your small posse by the gate. “Hi Sister Katya.” She starts out, as you avoid all eyes, staring instead at the red roses growing by the fence. “Why is Father Fyodor joining us?” Sister Katya frowns in disapproval. “Alina, don't speak so rudely. And Name?” She says. “Raise your eyes and greet your superiors.” You raise your eyes, focusing them on Sister Katya and not looking in the other ones direction. 

“Hello Sister Katya, Father Fyodor.” You're proud of how your voice doesn't waver, even though that guilt is eating you from the inside out. “It is nice to see your Name.” Fyodor’s familiar voice sounds from next to sister Katya, and involuntarily your eyes are on him again. He looks as handsome as ever with his dark, dark hair and piercing eyes. He somehow even manages to make a priest's outfit look attractive, and you feel that familiar heat built in the pit of your stomach. You quickly look away, flushed, embarrassed and oh, so guilty. 

Sister Katya spares you a small smile, and then unlocks the chains blocking the gate. The carriage is waiting, and you hop in across from Alina, hoping and praying to the goddess that Fyodor will take the other seat, the one far away from you. The goddess must be exacting her revenge for your nasty thoughts however because instead of sitting on the other side, Fyodor chooses to sit right next to you. You try your best to curb your nasty thoughts, but they creep back, almost involuntarily. The heat, that pulsing heat in your groin overtakes your thoughts and you rub your thighs together, seeking the nasty bit of friction it gains you. 

“It's been a while since I've seen you, Name.” Fyodor says. The carriage goes over a bump and you bounce a little. The seam of your underwear pulls against your crotch and you bite back a sound. “I suppose so, yes.” You reply, once the bumpiness has passed. You sound cold, you know, but you hope to discourage him from talking to you. You don't deserve his attention, with your nasty thoughts. 

“It seems you are doing well?” He says, that accent catching prettily on your ears. He’s had it forever, and for some reason it hasn't seemed to fade, even after years at the monastery. “I guess so, yes. You?” You say. You can't help continuing the conversation, even as you mentally yell at yourself. Fyodor smells like an idea, like an old abandoned church covered in moss, surrounded by lilies and ivy, alone and unforsaken but not lonely. He smells like heaven. You cough, embarrassed. 

“I've been busy, many come to confess lately.” He says. The idea of confessing your sins drives you crazy at night, tormenting your soul. You sigh as he continues. “Remember dear, if you ever need to confess a carnal sin the booth is open.” The phrasing catches you, stopping you dead in your tracks. An idea, a seedling planted in your brain, ready to sprout at the first drop of water. Your curiosity peaks, you dare to ask a question. 

“Carnal sin? Have many people been confessing sins of that sort lately?” You try to devise the anxiety in your voice, doing your best to sound casually curious. Sister Katya is sitting across from you still, lecturing Alina about proper worship positions. Fyodor leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks. “An erotic book cart had been stationed downtown for a couple weeks now.” He starts. Your heart pounds in your chest even as heat pulses in your groin. He’s much too close. He continues, seeming not to notice your distress. “I must reassure them over and over again, that such physical desires are natural. They insist on apologies to the goddess it seems.” 

A spike of home roars to life in your chest, but then you remember the kinds of dirty thoughts you're having. The goddess would never forgive a woman who desired a holy man. Maybe she would be happier if you did indeed confess your sins. Your mind made up, the tree in your brain sprouts, growing into a pretty little sapling, white lilies falling from the branches. Trying to probe subtly for information, you lean a little closer. 

“Are you working in the confession booth tonight Father?” You don't think you could confess your sins to the man you fantasized about. You don't have the guts. 

“I'm not sure, Dear, Father Nikolai and I switch off.” He says, laying a hand on your thigh as the carriage bumps again. The heat in your gut pulses, and you bite your lips to muffle your cry. Resolved to confess your sins tonight and beg the goddess for her mercy, you settle back into the torturous ride, with a small sigh of relief. 

You miss the smirk that carves its way across Fyodor’s face, the pieces of his little puzzle falling perfectly into place. 

You’ve always been such a good girl, and he knows you’ll be good for him too. He’s always loved you that about you.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

The shopping trip had been uneventful. Alina had disappeared for a while, and returned with a bag packed full of books, both erotic and regular. Father Fyodor had been glued to your side for some reason, and Sister Katya had spent the trip flirting with him. You had done your best to ignore her, and control your perverted urges around the Father.

It was night now, just after the curfew for the younger Nuns and you were sitting on your bed, still clothed, carefully lighting a lantern. You were technically breaking curfew, but there were certain rules that allowed you to go out after curfew, and confessing your sins was one of them. The temple had such strange rules, that if you wanted to, could be easily exploited. You yourself had never used this particular rule, simply because you didn't have a reason to.

The halls are quiet, the shadows arching gracefully along the high ceilinged hallways. The lamps flicker, and the shadows come to life, joyfully dancing with each other along the walls. The candlelight lamps through large circles of golden light along the floor, but they never touch. Forever alone, always watching, never touching. You hurry along the hallways, kitten heels making faint clicks on the hardwood floors. 

It's more well lit near the grand cathedral, and the sound of choral practice fills the hallway. You hurry past, taking care not to disturb the older nuns. While technically you were not doing anything wrong, you didn't want to poke the sleeping bear so to speak. The strains of music fade behind you as you move deeper into the church. The goddess's room, and subsequently the confessional booth, is in a much older part of the church, past the white marble of the newer sections and back to the black hardwood and titanium that the church had begun with. The lights turn purple, their shades a muted lavender and you hurry faster, wanting to escape the aerie hallway.

The door opens with a creak, and you notice the light that signals a priest is in fact inside. You can't tell who, but you pray to the goddess that she may grant you small mercy’s and that it's Father Nikolai. 

Father Nikolai is a strange man, with silver hair and a dramatic eye patch. He refuses to wear the uniform and instead wanders around wearing a strange jester uniform. He’s honestly not as weird as some of the other priests(Priestess Yosano who occasionally does strange experiments in the basement, and Father Dazai who owns a giant white tiger.) but Nikolai and Fyodor are the only priests who listen to confessions, you're not sure why. Father Nikolai tells way too many jokes and occasionally forces people to partake in his weird quizzes, but he’s harmless. You think. You're not totally sure, but you are sure you would rather take the weirdo with the stupid outfit than the object of your dirty fantasies. 

You step forward, knocking lightly on the door to signify that you are here. The confessional is one of the oldest antiques in the Temple, made of ancient black wood with real silver accents that have to be polished. It's two-sided, with two doors that can be locked just in case. You take a deep breath, extinguish your lantern and enter the chamber, closing the door with a resolute slam. Your side of the confessional is larger than you would have guessed, with enough room for three people to lay comfortably side by side. It’s wooden as well, and while a bench lines the far end, you choose to kneel in a worshiping position, begging the goddess for mercy in your mind. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession.” You say, your voice low to match the atmosphere. The words feel foreign and heavy on your tongue. The man on the other side of the one way partition, Father Nikolai you hope, hums gently, signifying you to continue. You know he can see you, but you cannot see him. The glass is full length, and a special one imported from a foreign land you were told. You bow your head, and begin your sordid tale.

“I pray the goddess will forgive my sorry self, for I have sinned of the utmost. The sin of carnal flesh.” You're already trembling, but in horror you realize the dirty thoughts are pouring back into your head, and that dreaded heat is pooling in your stomach.

“I have desired a holy man, and I have felt temptation and I simply do not know what to do.” You're close to tears, but that heat in your gut is pulsing, and you rub your thighs together, your vision growing warm and fuzzy. You continue in earnest. “Even now, as I think of the dreams my body heats up, and I don't know what to do, Father, but beg for the goddess’s forgiveness.” 

The silence scares you, but you bow your head and beg the goddess’s forgiveness like you've been taught. And after a while, the voice you were least wanting to hear comes through from the other side. 

“My Dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Fyodor’s accent is unmistakable, and while your brain feels fear the heat in your guy pulses. The hardwood floors scrape your bare knees, and the thought of him makes that heat, that fire grow into a raging curtain, hell bent on ruining you. You bow your head lower, as the priest continues. 

“You wish to know how to stop the desire? That heat in your gut?” He sounds kind, his voice softened to almost a pur in the golden lamplight. You nod, expressing your enthusiasm but not trusting your voice. He chuckles. 

“I see.” he says, and you hear some shifting through the glass. “Well, then follow my instructions closely. Can you do that dear?” 

You nod, thanking the goddess gratefully for such an opportunity. The heat is still present, and has increased as the Fyodor has spoken. His accent does things to you, things you’d rather not think too hard of. When he speaks you want him to do things to you, forbidden things. Feeling rather guilty at the turn this has taken, you thank the Father as well, most profusely. “Thank you Father Fyodor, I am much indebted to you.” He chuckles behind the glass.

“Well then dear, sit down on the bench behind you.” He says. You scramble to do as he instructs, sitting down on the hardwood. The priest continues. “Now, do you feel a pulsing heat in your stomach?” At your nod, he continues on. “Now bring two fingers between your legs.” 

Your face is aflame, but you follow his instructions, slipping your hand beneath your skirt and hesitantly touching the gusset of your undergarments. To your surprise, the fabric feels damp. Your confusion must show on your face, because you can hear Fyodor chuckle.

“It's wet, isn't it Dear.” His voice is all husky, and the tone shoots a bolt of white hot pleasure between your legs. You feel your insides clench around nothing, and suddenly feel so dreadfully empty. You nod, and the priest continues. “Spread your legs for me, and pull up your skirt.” 

Your face is flushed with embarrassment, your heart pounding double time in your chest, but you do as he instructs, bunchin your skirt around your legs and spreading your thighs apart, baring your plain undergarments to the world. Fyodor makes a pleased sound through the barrier. 

“You're such a good girl.” He says. You whine at the praise, biting down on your lips to keep the embarrassing sounds in. A faint rustling can be heard through the partition, and Fyodor continues, almost slightly out of breath. “Now take off your panties Dear.” 

“I'm embarrassed Father.” You whine out. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears, all breathy and full of something hot and needy. The man across the partition chuckles. “Call me Fyodor Darling.” He says. “And there is no need to be embarrassed, desire is a natural part of life my Dear. The goddess was a married woman, who partook in these types of things all the time.” His reassurance greatly helps, and the guilt slowly drains away with the rest of your common sense. Still slightly embarrassed, you slide your panties off, setting them gently beside you on the bench.

A slight breeze hits your cunt, and you shiver, another embarrassing sound working its way dangerously up your throat. “What’s next Fyodor.” You say.

A faint sound can be heard through the partition, almost as if someone is oiling a slick surface, and Fyodor’s voice comes out a little rough when he speaks. “Touch your cunt again dear, what do you feel?” You do as he instructs.

You can feel the lips, and you push past them to where you pee. To your surprise you jolt as a bolt of pure pleasure shoots up your spine. An embarrassing noise bullies its way past your bitten lips, echoing in the wooden chamber. Fyodor chuckles. “Feels good right Dear? Now slide your fingers down slowly, until you feel the wetness.” His accent is a little thicker now, and his words slur ever so slightly. The effect is much too sexy, you feel another bolt of pleasure, this is softer than the one before.

You do as he instructs, sliding your fingers away from the spot and down. You startle as you feel the large amounts of sticky wetness pooling down there. You pull your fingers away from your cunt, and up to your eyesight. They shine, and a thin string of the strange liquid stretches between your fingers as you pull them apart. Fyodor makes a choked up sound behind the partition. “So good darlin, so pretty. Now do you feel an opening down there?” He says.

You ring your fingers back down, and feel around until your fingers sink into something. You nod your assent, and Fyodor speaks again from behind the glass. “Sink one finger in until the knuckle to start.” He grunts out. For the first time you feel a slight bit of discomfort as your finger sinks in. You're being stretched open, and you feel the urge to pull them out again but you trust Fyodor, with your whole heart and soul. You let it sit in the heat for a moment, adjusting to the strange intrusion. 

“Now, sink in a little further Dear.” He says. The pet names are driving you crazy, giving you hope as another shot of pleasure rockets through your nerve endings. You whimper a moan, embarrassed, and do as he instructs. It takes a minute to sink the whole finger in, but you manage it, panting into the steamy air. The intrusion feels new, but not bad, not at all. It feels good to be full, but you also feel hollow, like you're missing something. You communicate this in a breathless voice.

“Want more Fyodor.” Your voice doesn't sound your own, torn with pleasure and bliss. “Pull your finger out, then put it back in.” Fyodor says, voice gruff. “Keep doing it.” The advice is strange, but you do as instructed and pull your finger out, then put it slowly back in. The sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every time your fingers drag against your walls, pleasure rockets though your body, leaving you mentling on the bench, legs wide open. You're making weird noises, too busy with the pleasure to stop the noises from leaking out of your bitten lips, legs twitching against the floor as the pleasure rockets through you. 

“Oh goddess, feels so good Fyodor!” You moan, speaking the goddess's name in vain and not even caring. You're much too far gone to feel guilt or remorse anyway. “Want you more, want bigger.” You're begging for something you don't even understand, you're not sure what you want, you just want more, more, more.

Fyodor speaks from behind the glass. “You want more, pretty girl? You want me to come over and make you feel good?” He says. The prospect is so arousing your insides clench around your fingers, gone stupid with arousal. “Oh yes, oh yes please!” You say, thrusting your fingers in and out, in and out. You faintly hear a door slamming and then the door to your chamber is opening and Fyodor is in front of you.

He’s wearing a night outfit, just normal pants and a t-shirt, and his cheeks are flushed the palest pink. Your eyes catch on the tent in his white pants, and you feel spit gather in your mouth. He looks slightly disheveled, and devastatingly handsome. You pull your fingers from your cunt with a moan. 

“Oh Fyodor, I want you so bad. Is that wrong?” You whine, legs still spread for his viewing pleasure. He smiles, pulling off his gloves and laying them on the bench beside your panties. “No, it's perfectly all right.” HIs voice is slightly rough, his accent thick and gravelly. One hand draws teasing patterns on your thighs, driving you nearly insane with want. He continues, his other hand unbuckling his belt. “I want you too darling, you can see my desire for you clearly.” Your eyes catch on that hand, that tent in his pants. You remembered the description from the book, the long hard thing called a ‘cock’. You remembered how the main character had described the pleasure, and your cunt feels dreadfully empty. You whine.

“Want you to fill me up, Fyodor.” You say, reaching out a hand and pulling him closer. He grins at you, all feral teeth and clouded eyes. “You want me darling? Want my cock in your pretty pussy?” He says. You nod, trying to say with expression alone how much you want him. He seems to understand, because he pulls the thing out of his pants and in one move, lines the tip up with your drooling cunt. The stretch is painful, at first.

It burns a little, and as Fyodor grips your thigh, ever so slowly easing himself inside you, your head falls back against the wall of the confessional, a moan slipping past your lips. Is a moan of half pain, and half pleasure, and as he finally bottoms out, you wrap your legs around his back to keep him still. You feel too full. You can feel his length pulsing inside of you, you can feel the heat radiating through your entire body. He pants against you, his eyes never leaving yours for a moment as he speaks. “Feel good darling?” His voice is low, pressed almost into your lips as he speaks. You nod. “Oh yes please, move, please. I oh—” You cut off as he obliges your wish, pulling out slowly and then slamming back in repeatedly.

Loud squelches fill the confessional and your moans spill out unbidden, joined by his occasional grunts and groans and the naughty slapping of skin on skin. You don't remember why you were so guilty, all you feel is pleasure, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins and driving you nearly crazy. 

You feel a tight knot of something in your stomach, something hot and strange and you arch up, as it breaks. “Ohh Fyodor.” You moan out, your voice so full of pelasure it emberasses you. He grinds against you. “Did you cum Pretty girl?” He says, voice occasionally interrupted by grunts. You nod furiously, as you feel another strange knot building. “Warn be next time.” He continues, his breath hitting your ear. A hand works its way down your chest, and then Fyodor’s finger is playing with that bundle of nerves above your hole, and the knot brakes with a crash. 

“Oh god ‘m cumming!” You scream out, gripping Fyodor’s shoulder furiously. The second orgasm is more intense, the pleasure lasting for longer as Fyodor’s cock continues to fuck you through it. You come down again, and Fyodor’s hand on your clit drives you right back up again. He smiles, his hips stuttering slightly.

“Gonna cum again, sweet heart?” He bites out. You nod hurriedly as his hips piston in and out. “Hold on for a moment Name.” He continues. “I'm almost done.” You do your best to hold back, concentrating instead on his face. He’s biting his lip, his pearly white teeth leaving red marks in them. All the while, his eyes have never left you. 

“Fyodor, ‘m cuming, ‘m cuming.” You say, and he grips your head, pulling your close with a whisper. “Me to Name.” He says, and then crashes his lips onto yours. 

You cum for the third time with a muffled cry, and his hips stutter, driving deep into you one more time as hot liquid splashes inside you.

Endnotes: so uh, this ended up resembling christianity a little two much, but also not because the only church i've ever been to was a black baptist church, and this...is not that

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #helplesslypurple77kinktober #bsd smut #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor x reader

[demonslayedher]

Things that ran through my mind while watching this episode: --Ufotable says "jump" and FujiTV says "how high?" Likewise, they say "we want more run time" and FujiTV says "take it, it's yours." It seems odd that an episode in which the battle is already over would require extra run time, but I think a lot of the magic in of the KnY anime adaptation (particularly since Mugen Ressha) is that Ufotable lets the emotional scenes really open up and take the space they need to, uh... breathe.

--That means giving the voice actors lots of space on the emotional scenes to build up realistic crying and give pauses. Daki's crying always hits me hardest, but Gyutaro's narration and the way he talks to the samurai he kills, also excellent. And then you have Inosuke at the very end of the episode being Not Okay. --Suma, you are a treasure

--Backing up a bit, I love how Ufotable also reads being the panels. Like that "you saved me, Nezuko?" sure as help can mean "you eliminated the last of an Upper Moon's attack with her fire?" why not. And it is such Kimetsu Logic to not tell us Nezuko can eliminate demon poison until after she's saved the night, but it also makes perfect sense.

--After all the sting of losing Rengoku, losing Uzui was dangled in front of us, and the fact that we get to keep him makes this victory over an Upper Moon all the more victorious and sweet. Oyakata-sama's moment of feel on emotion at the end of the episode, a very different state than we've ever seen him, really shows how momentous this is too.

--But also, if he had died there, it truly would have been one of the most horrific deaths of the series, because he'd have done so with the very flamboyant knowledge of having missed his chance to say any last words because his wives were being so themselves. And he is just there just feeling numbness take over his tongue, knowing he lost his chance. I love that look on his face as it hits him that this is really how he's stuck going, and the rocks hitting is still peak comedy.

--I mentioned in the last episode just how fast this whole battle was, and I think this provides very interesting insight about Iguro in a couple ways. First, there is the possibility that a crow went seeking Iguro's help the moment it say a Corp member fighting an Upper Moon (Tanjiro fighting Daki, who could still be mistaken for an Upper Moon at the time), but the crow still needed time to get to wherever Iguro was. Iguro probably started running as soon as he heard, but the battle really was over too fast for him to help. The other possibility is that as soon as Uzui told Tanjiro and Inosuke to leave, he reached out to Iguro for help, which would imply both A) humility and B) perhaps aside from proximity, he chose Iguro as the best choice of a Pillar to help him with this mission, whether based on the merits of Snake Breath or his trust in Iguro. Either way, Iguro already knew Tanjiro was involved--perhaps Uzui mentioned it (in which case, Iguro would had thought Tanjiro left as ordered), or the crow specifically told him, "Kamado Tanjiro is going head to head against an Upper Moon," in which case he of course assumed Tanjiro was already dead.

--This is actually a great moment of characterization for Iguro, who sees no personal value in living except to fight demons, as he does not seem himself deserving of love. That gives him no way to understand how Uzui would dare to prioritize a loving married life.

--Of course, the course of this episode is the Shabana sibling back story, and I think it's one of the demon backstories with layers of irony most seamlessly worked into the events of the plot. Besides the Kamado sibling foil, you've got Gyutaro calling Tanjiro names, Daki telling Zenitsu that only the beautiful have power, Daki getting set on fire by Nezuko, Daki offering to pluck out and eat Tanjiro's left eye and having Gyutaro's left eye on her forehead, snow on the night they became demons and snow on the night of the promise they are strongest together, memories of snow while facing the fires of hell, choosing the darkness over the light, Gyutaro starting with a horrid existence by finding Ume's birth changed all that and his outlook totally improved, and just when he thinks things are going to really get better they get horrifically worse, and he changes his tune to saying that never had anything good in the first place and no matter how many times he's reborn he'll always rue those who had things good for them. Ume was the good change in his fortune. That makes it hurt all the more when he yells at her that his life would had been easier without her, and that this rejection continues into the afterlife when he tries to cut ties for her own sake.

#KnY Rewatch #my art #daki #gyutaro #gyuutarou

[sacchiri]

I recently bought the jp volumes of Hellsing along with the guidebook, and since I'm reading the series in its native language for the first time I might as well share some random things that stood out to me in no particular order.

This isn't meant to be an analysis of translation differences, I'm too lazy for that. Also it's been 12 years since I've watched the anime and read the low quality fan scans of the manga so some of these comments are just "Lol, forgot this was a thing"

Volume 1

... I really want to know who this guy is at the beginning, yelling at Alucard in overly familiar language to "Get your shit together!" and "You're the only one we can count on!!". We know from the style of speech that it's a dude, probably just some Hellsing rando, and maybe it's not all that strange since he has probably been working with the same soldiers for years--but it's still funny.

"I know, it's just so nice out :("

..The way "HELLSING Organization" is spelled out like this reminds me that apparently the name is supposed to be an acronym. No really.

...

God they're so silly.

Now that I think about it, the only thing Seras has done this chapter since being turned into a vampire is say "I'm sorry" over and over.... girl you got shot in the lung, why are you apologizing

Not a huge difference, but what Integra actually says here is "Leaving a corpse here for 20 years... You're a terrible person too, Father" and not "What were you thinking, Father?" as the Dark Horse translation suggests (note the lack of question mark in the raw version). I thought that might be of interest to some.

Something else I thought was interesting is the first line Alucard ever says to Integra, and how uncharacteristically polite he sounds.

O-kega wa gozaimasenka- That's two honorific 御's back to back! (He even said them in kanji, even Walter isn’t that straightlaced and he’s literally the butler.) This is also the only time Alucard uses this overly flowery gentlemanly language with her, and good thing too because it would be so annoying if he spent the whole manga ending his sentences with ~gozaimasu.

What I'm trying to get at is, after seeing this sentence in the Japanese version, I'm like 100% sure he actually heard her when she was mumbling to herself about hoping to find a knight in shining armor, and he was totally going the extra mile in playing into that role for their first encounter. Which is kind of sweet.

Lol they misspelled Alucard on the top left... or rather, they incorrectly spelled it right?

One would normally expect Alucard to be written アルカード, and indeed pixiv dict lists アーカード as a misspelling (the u sound is weak in Japanese, so it's easy to mishear arukādo as ākādo). Hirano was definitely aware of the correct spelling though, since he used it in the pilot chapter and in his old character sheets. It was only when the manga officially began that he switched to the アーカード spelling. I doubt it was because of copyright issues because there is already a long precedent of vampire characters named アルカード in various old manga, OVA, and games in Japan that have coexisted without issue (like this guy Hirano mentions in volume 1's afterword).

Most likely Hirano simply thought it looked better, or was a means of differentiating his character from the others somehow. It certainly makes life easier for Japanese fans searching for fanart since アーカード is only going to bring up Hellsing and not the Castlevania character.

Jan Valentine even pokes fun at the spelling discrepancy later in volume 2, but since there wasn't a good way of expressing this in English it was left untranslated.

(Speaking of spelling inconsistencies, there's a lot of minor details I'm noticing now, like half the time the furigana for 吸血鬼 is written バンパイア and the other half it's ヴァンパイア... anyway)

Um, just noticed literally everyone's wearing glasses What should I do

Hirano's habit of jotting random comments underneath his panels is one of the underrated perks of reading the manga

The Dark Horse translation almost makes it sound like she's looking forward to seeing this battle play out, while in the Japanese she simply sounds apprehensive. Almost as if she's worried about them? And she's going out on the field personally to make sure nothing bad happens? Aww

Ok this is a weird tangent, but I just noticed the scans of the Dark Horse version I've been looking at use a slightly larger image range than the Japanese version does. It was only noticeable when I got to this part:

The second image is what the Japanese version of the scan looks like and I can confirm that this is what it looks like in my physical volume as well. You shouldn't be seeing the messy borders of the inking on the bottom like that.

Manga manuscripts are set up so that there are a few millimeters of bleed border around each page. You're supposed to color and line all the way up to (4) while keeping in mind that printing and paper cutting may result in the image being trimmed up to (3).

Either Hirano didn't color his lines all the way to (4) (this man has been drawing manga for years but this is Hirano we're talking about so it's very possible), or Dark Horse didn't honor the original bleed borders of the manuscript. I'm kind of leaning towards the former since there was a Hellsing exhibit in Japan a few years back where you could look at Hirano's original manuscripts and there's one where you can clearly see that he spilled a mug of tea or coffee across the entire page

Anyway, it's weird, and I'm curious to see if someone that owns a physical copy in English can confirm whether theirs actually looks like that. It's volume 1, page 141.

#hellsing #integra hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #i'm too lazy to do this for all the volumes #unless someone REALLY wants to see them for some reason but i doubt it

[louveshin]

AHHH😭 in that case may i request for a yandere shin please 🙏🏻

your savior | shin hati x reader

summary. with shin’s new experience of love and devotion for you, her true nature of destruction and chaos erupts when you are ripped away from her.

content warnings. mdni! yandere!shin x reader, dark fic!, suggestive themes but no smut, nothing gory but there’s some blood, also shin kills a few(?) people *awkward thumbs up*

note. it’s a little short but i hope u like it! and thank u for requesting :)

Shin didn’t expect to love you as much as she did. The first time she saw you, you were newly recruited by her master, thinking that Shin could use an extra pair of hands on her ship during solo missions—a replacement for that battered astromech droid she found that keeps malfunctioning on board. In the beginning, talking to you—well, besides giving you orders—was a rare thing to happen while you were there. But even so, you talked to her anyway, even when it seemed like she couldn’t care less. But, she liked the sound of your voice. It soothed her ways she couldn’t even imagine. And despite everything, Shin is observant. She’s been watching you ever since she saw you. She knows your routine, your habits, everything… she fell in love with how you acted when you thought nobody was looking. You were just beautiful. And you could feel it sometimes; a pair of eyes lingering on you when you were rewiring the control panel, when you were cooking, even while you were… changing.

After spending more of her time alone with you, controlling herself around you had gotten incredibly hard. It had gotten especially difficult when you had to patch up a cut on her cheek—a mistake in battle that she did not take lightly. Shin remained tense as you carefully applied a bacta patch, your eyes fixed on the process as her jaw clenched. Something flutters in Shin’s stomach as the pad of your delicate fingers carefully touches her face—something warm, something… scary. Her intense eyes shift downward to the sight of your lips, your bottom lip seeping with blood after your own fight against the people that attacked you, and they couldn’t look any more appetizing to her. Shin’s thoughts are fogged up with this devoted insanity, as you worked quickly to patch her up. The irresistible desire to press her lips against yours muddles her brain. You were just so pretty, so caring, so… bright. Unlike the way she could ever be. She wanted you to be like this with her forever. She needed you to.

But when that dreadful time came when you had been taken captive by pirates—those goddamn pirates in the Outer Rim Territories—her calm and composed demeanor shattered as her emotions surged to the surface. It was rage, like she had never experienced before; her hands were clenched and trembling in anger, and her eyes blazed with fury. With unmatched skill and relentless determination, Shin slashed and cut through every single pirate in her path, leaving a trail of destruction and chaos in her wake. She spared no one, her lightsaber cutting down anyone who dared to stand in her way.

And your heart leaped as soon as Shin came into sight. But, as Shin drew nearer, your happiness gave way to a growing unease, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of blood.

There, before you, Shin's silhouette was framed by the eerie, pulsating glow of her lightsaber, and the flickering lights only made her blink in and out of existence, almost as if she were a phantom haunting the corridor. Bodies lay scattered on the floor, lifeless and motionless; a grim testament to the power that she had just unleashed. The soft hum of the lightsaber filled the corridor, a haunting melody that echoed in the cold, lifeless space. And her face… Shin’s face was splattered with the blood of the pirates she had mercilessly dispatched. And instead of the warm, comforting expression you had hoped for, you were met with a twisted smirk on her face. It was a triumphant, cocky grin that seemed out of place in the midst of this chaos.

"Shin…" you breathed out, shifting under her gaze with your hands tied behind your back to some old, rusty pipe against the wall. "W-What did you do?"

"I killed them for you," she said, the hum of her lightsaber ringing in your ears, and she smiled.

“You… you killed…” You looked at the fallen bodies behind her, "A-All of them?"

"I did it for you. To save you."

You shivered, flinching at every sudden noise, at every thud of her footsteps, and at every sudden beep of the pirate’s base alarm. It was a terrifying reminder of the darkness that lurked within Shin, and you couldn't help but wonder what this power had cost.

With Shin’s brain muddled with the fantasies of having you with her again, her heart fluttered at the sight of you so disheveled, so rugged, and so… vulnerable. To have you beneath her, staring up at her like that. So gorgeous. In that moment, she thought of you as a weak, fragile, and precious thing that needed protection—that you needed her. She wanted to kiss you, even take you on the floor of this goddamn pirate lair if you’d let her. And even with the fear in your eyes, you still looked so, so beautiful. It didn’t matter to her anymore if you looked at her with love or hate; she just needed you to look at her. Because for you… she’d burn the galaxies.

— navigation!

#★ — louveshin writes #shin hati #shin hati x reader #ahsoka series #star wars x reader #ahsoka #shin hati x fem!reader #star wars fanfiction #sw x reader #star wars #fanfic #yandere

[prettypeppermint]

amazing grace.

for t. shelby a prelude to 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

“My, what a dear sight: Thomas Shelby, Peaky Blinder and founder of Shelby Brothers Limited, fucking a whore on the same desk he signs business deals on.”

Your languid body, draped with the tender silks of your night slip, leaned against the door frame. The strong oak plowed against your supple shoulder and tugged at the pink lace pooling in your clavicle. A slim cigarette drooped like a petal from your rosy fingertips which rested near your naked thigh.

You watched, unamused, as Thomas repeatedly rutted into the thing, his eyes staring directly into yours. Despite the dimness of it all--of the sex-stained chamber and the way the dying lamps made the room appear dipped in oil--his sharp, diamond eyes still cut through the haze.

You took a quaint draw of your cigarette and fixed your gaze on the girl, tilting your head at the way she convulsed and thawed into the mahogany. You pushed yourself off the frame and let yourself in, crossing the threshold into sin.

Your bare feet made slow steps across the dry panels and stopped in front of her. You used your hand free of the cigarette to pet the crown of her head, smoothing down her jostled, earthy locks.

You shushed her softly, quietly, though it came from a dwelling deep within your heart. Your fingers tightened at her roots and pulled her head up so you could see her disheveled face. "You're a pretty one," you stated, observing the way her nose sloped perfectly into her cupid's bow. Her shaky, glossy eyes could barely keep your gaze as they kept rolling to the back of her head. Obscene moans and small cries escaped her bobbing throat.

You took another puff from your smoke. "I know you think you've caught a big fish, but really--Thomas Shelby isn't any less a minnow than every other man in this Godless city when it comes to pretty lasses like you." Your voice was befitting of the night--quiet and something of the tide.

You traced her tear-stained cheek with your thumb. "Do you know why you're here, bent over his work desk in the first place, love? It's because the last pretty thing that wandered into Mr. Shelby's trousers put all our heads on the line--right after her own, pretty little blonde one."

Immediately after the last sour-coated words left your lips, the girl burst into a million ecstacies, and Thomas gave her one last soundless pound before leaving her empty and hollow on the nippy wood.

You let go of her head and it dropped to the desk--as if she craved its cold companionship.

Your eyes found Thomas's.

"So this is who you are now? A whore fucker is no more than a whore, himself, y'know."

"Who I fuck"--he zipped up his knickers and took a swig of Irish whiskey left out from the morning on his desk--"concerns no one. Least of all you."

You slowly snubbed your cigarette out on his expensive, lacquered desk. "Don't get cute," you said, pulling out a couple extra shillings than girls like Lizzie are used to seeing after a long day. You stretched at her unbuttoned collar and pressed them into her bra. "On you go, love. Don't come back.” You said the last part mainly to yourself, but it didn't go unnoticed in the weight of the room. You loathed her life for her.

A minute sigh, heavy with something dire and secretive, escaped Thomas's nose as the lax girl collected her stray garments from off the floor and flitted out of the room. He never looked at her, though she seemed to burn for it.

Thomas leaned the small of his back against the edges of his desk, staring off at something distant in that vacant way he always does.

"It seems as though everybody in the city respects Thomas Shelby except yourself,” you said.

You never called him Tommy, and you never would. Nicknames are for kin and lovers, and he was just pristine, clean-cut Thomas.

He didn't respond. He didn't move save a subtle tensing of the muscle in his jaw. You made your way next to him, propping yourself up on the desk. Your legs dangled in the air as the hem of your slip rode up your thighs. He passed his whiskey glass over to you without sparing you even a glance, and you took a sizable swig.

Since it was evident he wouldn't be doing much of the talking, you started up.

"Men are weak. They get dumb in the head when anything with a cunt passes by. A primal urge--makes you animals." You looked at the wooden wall and imagined you were seeing the same thing he was as he stared right through it. A moment of silence--a hidden breath--hitched and made the room swell--the wood crack.

"I loved Grace, too. In my own way," you continued softly, matter-of-factly. You handed the glass back to him. He could tell you've had a little too much already. "I saw something in her that I had been chasing my entire life. It made me admire her."

"And what's that," his voice croaked, raspy from the silence that grew familiar to his throat's walls--like a tumor.

"She had love." Slowly, as if unfolding like a picture, you began to see the invisible landscape Thomas saw in the grain of the walls. "It made her strong. Gave her something to fight for, and then later something to lose."

This, Thomas realized, was the most you've confided to him in years. You looked so vulnerable, so lush in your unguarded, slightly slouched form. He saw glimpses of your Irish youth in your tired yet glistening eyes.

You were never a predictable woman.

A silence spanned and stretched at the air in the room. The more it did, the hotter you got.

"I've never had that, Thomas. And you should be grateful you did for at least a little while, because even if you fail at your multiple hands and end up rotting in the canal, you would have died a man who knew love. So stop slouching and moping and fucking sorry whores and get back on your feet."

He didn't like the way curses sounded coming from your mouth--from that pretty little voice. Your usual mellow demeanor had faltered for the first time in front of him.

You didn't wait for him to hand you the glass this time, as you swiped it out of his grasp and downed the last ounce of amber fire. "You're Thomas fucking Shelby. But right now you're just pathetic."

At this, his hand clasped around your slender neck, almost simultaneously with his lips as they crashed into yours. He repositioned himself between your legs so his knee could pry and tease at them. His callused hand was strong and warm as it crept from your throat to that sweet nook between the back of your neck and the bend of your jaw. His fingers cupped your cheek and raked through your freshly washed hair. Your slip had collected in a wrinkle of crests at your hips and you subconsciously waited for your exposed thighs to be seared with his radiating palms. But he stopped himself. He pulled away. And yet again, there was that vacant distance.

"Don't tell me about not knowing love. I loved Grace the way you've always loved me." His voice was so low you had to furrow your brows to make out every word--every syllable--so that you could ensure you weren't going crazy. "I see it. Every day. I fuckin' feel it every time you look at the back of my neck. You love me. And you're filthy for it."

For an impossible measure of time, you saw him for something he wasn't.

His thumb swiped past your chilled earlobe, bringing your forehead to his. "She sang these songs. And I heard in all of them your stories."

You wanted to shoot him. And kiss him. And kill him. Hell, you just wanted him.

"But I could never have you. No, not when you put on such a tough act with a face like that and make a mess of yourself and everything else--messes I needed to clean up and protect you from." With this, he gave your face a little shake with his hand still embedded in your locks.

It was impossibly gentle and genuine and moronic. It was simply just impossible.

His whiskey-licked breath stung with every lap he took at your salted wounds. You both stayed like this until the ticking of the clock became jilted and painful.

You looked into his wayward eyes one final time, swallowing a heavy sigh before slowly slipping off the table, past his burning body and out the door.

It was as good a goodbye as any.

All humans have ever needed was love, so why is it that when it's finally within the palms of our hands--no matter how much we cherish it, kindle its erratic flame, breathe life into it--it always seems to betray us?

x.

#x #prettypeppermint #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby ff #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby hcs #thomas shelby headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders ff #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby #cillian fic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders angst #fem!reader #angst

[petrolstationflowers]

Update 13 Dec 2023: Updated 13 Dec 2023 with a Portuguese translation by David Manaia as well as correcting the Level 10 metrics!

A mortician career for your sims! This was requested by Catrillion and was super interesting to research! Your sim can join it via the Hospital rabbithole and is available from Young Adult through to Elder.

If anyone would like to translate this, please feel free! The English strings are included in the download file, just drop me a message here or on MTS!

I used @missy-hissy's career tutorial to make this and a huge thanks to @zoeoe-sims for helping me with some infuriating bugs we finally got sorted out!

Details under the cut!

This career has ten levels and requires you to level Science and the hidden skill Styling, which can be improved by using the Styling Station to do makeovers at the salon. The skill won't show up in the skills panel, but the metric should change and you can track its level through MasterController.

Since there wasn't a strict progression for this job IRL, I've varied it a little bit to encompass all skills a fully qualified mortician and embalmer would need. There's long hours and extra studies included -- it's not an easy job!

There's no opportunities or books to read, but there are uniforms from the Medical career included, which should show up from Level 2. Carpool only shows up at Level 2 onwards, so don't panic if you need to manually send your sim to work.

Please note if you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

There's two custom tones:

Study Anatomy (increases Science) Practise Styling (increases Styling)

I've put the levels, hours, and pay under here if you'd like to take a look: Level 1 - At the Crossroads - 10:00 until 16:00, M-F, 10 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve always been fascinated by death, sneaking into the movie theatre to watch the horror flicks much too young and reading books your mother would have definitely taken away from you. You have a knack for biology and have followed Olive Specter’s SimTube channel since she first started uploading in the middle of the night. With the job market uncertain right now, why not look into becoming a mortician? It can’t be any worse than EverFresh Supermarket…"

Level 2 - Apprentice - 09:00 until 15:00, M-F, 30 simoleans p/h

Description: "After many days of scrolling through job listings and qualifications in the hospital cafe, you’ve finally found the guts to apply for an apprenticeship. It’s not the best paid and you’re still stuck in the classroom, but at least the coursework is interesting. Now just to pass the exams…"

Level 3 - Mortuary Admin Specialist - 09:00 until 17:00, M-F, 40 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve passed your course, got that diploma, and swaggered out of that classroom with a spring in your step… only for your first gig to be doing the admin work at the local mortuary. At the moment you’re spending your time booking appointments and sending emails with the occasional aside of cleaning the equipment, but show enough enthusiasm and you’ll soon be moving on up."

Level 4 - Mortuary Technician - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 60 simoleans p/h

Description: "Your first actual job is dressing and caring for the deceased, making sure they’re laid to rest in the coffin of their choosing and that their funeral is exactly what they and their family wanted. It’s delicate, gentle work, making sure death has dignity. Sometimes it’s the living that need you more; you’ll need a calm voice and be a shoulder to cry on for families who have to say goodbye."

Level 5 - Mortuary Technician Team Leader - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 75 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve proved to have a light touch with the makeup brush and know the right words to comfort the bereaved, so a promotion is in order and that means working with the parts that make up a human body. Your duties will include weighing organs, taking tissue samples, and reconstructing bodies so they’re ready to be buried. Make sure you study up on identifying diseases in organs if you want that promotion!"

Level 6 - Senior Mortuary Manager - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 105 simoleans p/h

Description: "Finally, proper pay! Unfortunately, it more means managing your coworkers than the corpses. You’re allowed to sign off on the higher level decisions and have more responsibility, but you didn’t get into this role to do people management. Maybe there’s another path you can take…"

Level 7 - Trainee Embalmer - 12:00 until 21:00, M-F, 50 simoleans p/h

Description: "Back to the classroom you go! Sort of. You’ve put in an application to train as an embalmer, and are splitting your time between shadowing one of your senior coworkers and attending night school. It’s long and tiring, with late study hours for not much money, but it’ll pay off in the long run (you hope)."

Level 8 - Qualified Embalmer - 09:00 until 16:00, M-F, 200 simoleans p/h

Description: "The graft has paid off, and you’ve got another diploma under your belt (as well as a bit more cash, thank the Watcher). You’ve transferred back to the hospital mortuary but this time to work as an embalmer, washing and taking care of bodies and taking all the steps to make sure they’re preserved with the right chemicals. It’ll require careful technique with not only the embalming fluid and syringes, but also your empathy; you’ll need to make sure the family, as well as their loved one, are well cared for."

Level 9 - Mobile Embalmer - 18:00 until 03:00, Mon/Tue/Fri/Sat/Sun, 220 simoleans p/h

Description: "For some reason, embalming isn’t a sought after job – which means good news for you! Work is dispatching you all across SimNation to provide your services, from vampire attacks in Bridgeport to meteor strikes in Lunar Lakes. You’re spending more time in hotels than at home, and while you’re raking in the money, maybe it’s time you struck out on your own."

Level 10 - Locum Mortuary Technician - 11:00 until 15:00, Mon/Sat/Sun, 500 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve had enough of the corpo grind and chucked it in; you’re freelance, baby! As a fully qualified mortuary technician and embalmer, you pick up agency shifts and choose when and where you want to work, on whatever catches your eye. If someone wants to pay you good money to preserve the corpse of Bigfoot for their collection, now you don’t have to turn them down for something more sensible. After all, if you love your job, you don’t work a day in your life!"

#sims 3 #ts3 #the sims 3 #the sims 3 cc #ts3 cc #ts3 custom content #the sims 3 custom content #ts3 custom jobs #ts3 custom careers #the sims 3 custom careers #the sims 3 custom jobs #mortician

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 8

Now we’re getting to the reason behind the title.

On the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

*

When Eddie heard how Gethin had done it, he was starting wonder who the smart twin was, because it was brilliant.

The chemicals for developing film were kept in Miss Chen’s room and he took some quick pictures of Steve’s piece before promptly spilling some of the chemicals that the teacher had in her class room all over it.

It ATE the paper. Gethin had tried to mop it up before it got too bad. But alas, it was too late.

“Mr Hughes!” Miss Chen protested. “Please be more careful next time!”

Gethin apologize profusely. He begged her to give the poor student whose piece he had just destroyed an extra week to finish the project, because he had been soooo careless.

She agreed.

He ran out of her class with the chemicals he needed to develop the film in his camera.

Pictures he slipped into Eddie’s locker during lunch.

*

After school Eddie waited until the halls were empty before he opened his locker. He knelt down to pick them up and blinked. Steve was really good. The composition was sound and colors were great.

The page wasn’t even that scary. It was just of this boy walking up to a house in the dead of night. In one of the panels you could almost make out something watching the boy, but it was the vague sense of unease made it so you could tell it was going be a horror comic. It was good. And suddenly Eddie was pissed at Miss Chen for calling Steve out for this.

Especially since Eddie’s own comic was about slaying a dragon.

He shoved the pictures back into his backpack and slammed the locker shut.

“Well what have we got here?” a voice said from behind him.

Shit.

Eddie turned around slowly. There was Tommy H, Billy, and Kyle, standing there with their arms crossed.

“Hey, boys,” he said with a grin. “You looking to buy? I’ve got about four kilos.”

Tommy and Kyle looked at each other, nervously. They didn’t want to antagonize their drug dealer.

Billy ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “I just wanted to talk. I’ve been seeing Harrington hanging around you freaks lately and wanted to know why?”

Eddie folded his arms. “I get you’re new here, Hargrove, but your friends should have told you: I’m the king of picking up lost sheep. I like bringing people into my fold that the rest of this school has deemed outcasts. Steve Harrington has become one of those. And how could I resist such a tempting treat as the former king of Hawkins High?”

“You leave him the fuck alone, you hear me?” Billy growled.

“Or what?” Eddie asked. “You’ll do me like you did him? And then where will you get your weed? Because if you do I will make sure that I don’t sell to you or any of your little friends.” He wagged his finger as he indicated to Tommy and Kyle. “I’ll fucking cut off the entire basketball team. Don’t think I won’t. How long do you think you’ll be king then, Hargrove? When suddenly everyone’s supply dries up because you fucked with me?”

Kyle tugged on Billy’s arm. “Come on, man. Whatever your beef with Harrington is, it’s not worth this.”

Tommy just stood there looking Eddie in the eye.

“So what’s it going to be, Hagen?” Eddie asked. “You going to side with King Jackass here and alienate the whole fucking basketball team because you’ve got a hard on for Harrington? Or are you going to the smart thing and walk away?”

Tommy grabbed Billy’s other arm. “Let’s go.”

Billy wrenched his arms from both of them and stalked off.

“Run along, Tommy,” Eddie said making a shooing motion with his hands. “Go suck Hargrove’s dick.”

Tommy made to swing at Eddie, but Kyle stopped him. “Don’t do it, dude. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.”

Eddie grinned. He blew a kiss at Tommy and then walked off, a nervous energy humming in his veins.

He walked out to his van and found Steve waiting for him. Eddie smirked.

“You waiting for me, big boy?” he asked walking up to the other boy.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did about my art project,” Steve explained. “And then I saw Billy and Tommy and I got worried.”

Eddie patted his cheek. “You’re sweet, but I told you, I’m immune.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Plus, pretty boy,” Eddie said. “You won’t have to worry about that lot anymore. They came after me and I set them straight. If they want to keep buying weed, either they’ve got find someone new or leave you the hell alone.”

Steve sighed in relief. “So everything’s cool?”

“Cool as can be,” Eddie agreed. He opened the door and hopped into the van. “And I didn’t do anything to your project, Stevie.”

He saluted Steve and drove off, leaving behind a very confused, but very happy Steve Harrington.

*

Steve kept his eye on Tommy and Billy but by the end of the week there was no doubt that whatever Eddie had said them, made them back off.

“Hey, Steve,” Gareth said, nonchalant. “Did you know that there chemicals used in the art department for all sorts art related shit that can dissolve paper?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t say.”  

“Didn’t you now,” Brian said with a grin, “Gareth’s brother is a big photography nerd.”

“Oh, he must know Jonathan Byers, then,” Steve said, deliberately not taking their bait.

Gareth cocked his head to the side and hummed. “Maybe not. Different grades. But still could do, I suppose.”

Steve grinned. “Miss Chen did say it was a photography student that ruined my comic, maybe I should go thank Jonathan.” He winked at them and they burst out laughing.

Which was actually what Steve thought had happened when Eddie denied all knowledge of what happened. That Jonathan had recognized the scene of Steve on his way to Jonathan’s house and messed it up, worried Steve might get in trouble with the government.

But Gethin doing it made Steve sigh in relief. He already owe his life to Jonathan, owing him for the art project, too? That was too much for even Steve’s wounded pride.

Steve had already fobbed Nancy off earlier in the week because Jonathan had snitched.

She was practically screaming about being so careless. As if Steve would make the characters look like them. He had asked her if she had seen it herself and when she admitted she hadn’t, Steve told her to back off. Which lo and behold, she actually did.

“It’s bullshit Miss Chen even said anything,” Eddie growled. “It’s of this boy walking up to a house at night. It could’ve been of a boy going to pick up a girl on a date, but because Steve used muted tones and creepy vibes, she decided it was sad or some shit and threatened to call Steve’s parents.”

The other three boys looked at each other. “That is bullshit,” they all agreed.

Steve shrugged. “I changed to be about a lost little girl who connects with a social recluse and they become a family. If she gives me shit about that one, I’ll kindly let Chief Hopper know that Miss Chen thinks him and his adopted daughter’s story is toooo depressing for school.”

“I like the way you think,” Jeff said with a cackle.

Steve grinned. Silence descended as the boys ate their lunch. As they were packing up, he casually dropped a bomb on them.

“Miss Lucy wants me to try out for the school musical...”

“No way, dude!” Eddie said. Miss Lucy was the drama teacher. Her last name was one of those that looked easy on paper but really wasn’t. So she had all her students call her by her first name.

“I thought you were new to the whole drama thing,” Brian said.

“I am but she seems to think I’m good enough to tryout,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Are you going to do it?” Eddie asked in all seriousness.

Steve bit his lip. “I want to but I don’t want people to get mad at me if I do a get a part.”

Gareth’s brow furrowed. “Why would they be mad at you?”

Steve shrugged again. “That a newbie like me is taking away a roll from one of the more seasoned kids?”

“If that’s the case,” Jeff said, “then fuck them. You didn’t know you had a talent for it.”

Steve smiled warmly at them. “Thanks, guys.”

Eddie clapped him on the back. “You go get ‘em, tiger!”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

He felt the warmth from where Eddie touched his back all day long. And he carried that feeling all the way through his audition.

*

“You are such chicken shit,” Eddie told Steve. The results were back for call backs and he was too afraid to look.

“I know, I know,” Steve murmured. “But I would rather walk through an entire pack of demodogs then look at that stupid piece of paper.”

“What the fuck is a demodog?”

Steve blinked. “Something the kids made up for their D&D campaign.” Which was true. Mostly.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie said, licking his lips. “You owe big time for this.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Steve promised.

“And it better be somewhere nice!” Eddie called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled.

Within seconds Eddie came flouncing back. “Bad news, Stevie...”

“I didn’t get called back?” Steve asked.

Eddie cackled. “You got called back for Charles Thomson. You’re going up against Kyle Carver.”

“Fuck.”

“Language, Mr Harrington,” Mr Hall, one of the swim coaches murmured as he walked by.

“Sorry, coach,” Steve said automatically. He turned back to Eddie. “He’s going to get it, isn’t he?”

“Kyle?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Probably. Though it would be a serious miscarriage of justice if he does.”

Steve grinned. “Good thing you’re a fan of those. Maybe you start a letter campaign against bias casting in school plays.”

Eddie looked around to make sure there weren’t any teachers. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve kissed his nose and ran off giggling. “See you later, Munson.”

Eddie stood in the hall being jostled by other students as he thoughtfully rubbed his nose.

*

Steve watched Kyle audition from the audience and was so sure Kyle had it in the bag. Until he opened his mouth to sing and what came out of his mouth was horribly off key.

“Mr Carver, are you all right?” Miss Lucy asked.

Kyle nodded and tried again. This time it was better, but no where near it was when he auditioned the first time.

“I must be coming down with a cold,” Kyle excused.

Miss Lucy frowned. “Your turn, Mr Harrington.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slow, like Eddie had taught him. He stepped up to the stage and turned around.

“You know, sometimes I think the general is speaking to me,” Steve recited his lines, his voice breaking on the last word. And then he used the scene to launch into the singing part of his audition.

Miss Lucy was humming and nodding as Steve finished up the song.

“Thank you, Mr Harrington,” Miss Lucy said. “Results will be posted on the drama room door tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucy,” Steve said.

As he passed Kyle the boy hissed, “Suck up.”

Steve just shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just polite to thank someone for their time.” 

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag list: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot  @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

[salty-an-disco]

Hey bud! If you had to give your favorite voice a favorite movie, what would it be? And would their matching vessel like or dislike it?

I know this wasn’t the assigned task, but I couldn’t resist–

Here’s me headcanoing a fave film for every single voice and their respective princess’ opnion on it–

Hero: Shrek 2. No it is NOT just because of the Holding Out For a Hero scene, tho that is a very nice scene that always makes him start bouncing on his seat the moment it starts playing. It isn’t Default Princess’ favorite (she prefers Shrek 1), but she still appreciates the satire and subversion of common fairy tale tropes and the exploration of Shrek’s character here.

Contrarian: The Emperor’s New Groove. It’s memeable, it’s funny, it has such iconic characters, what else could he ask for? Stranger likes what they saw of it well enough, but they can’t really bring themselves to focus on a movie for the entirety of it. Would rather be doing something that requires them to be proactive.

Cheated: Fight Club. I haven’t watched Fight Club myself, but from what I hear from it, sounds like something Cheated might enjoy. Razor isn’t allowed anywhere near a TV.

Cold: Inside Out. Am I projecting? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not. She watches Inside Out over and over again, imagining those little emotion guys as some of its friend, and getting a weird tight feeling in its chest when the control panel starts going gray because of Riley’s increasingly depressive state. Spectre likes the movie :)

Paranoid: Paranorman (I didn’t realize how similar those names are, but holy shit that’s funny), she finds Norman’s struggles to fit in and being seen as a ‘weirdo’ relatable and finds the way he’s fascinated with horror weirdly compelling. Both the fact it’s a stop-motion movie, and that it’s ‘children’s horror’ helps Paranoid feel safe watching it, and she doesn’t even jerks her arms once! Nightmare finds the zombies funny and gets… weirdly emotional during reveal at the end.

Hunted: The Lion King. It’s pretty, it’s colorful, the scenery and characters makes it feel at home, and it’s really compelled by the lion hamlet storyline. Beast tries to paw at every animal on screen and starts howling sadly when Mufasa dies.

Opportunist: Says it’s The Devil Wears Prada, but actually, it’s Legally Blond. The musical, specifically. Constantly has ‘Gay or European?’ playing in his head. Witch also loves The Legally Blond musical and is constantly grumpy that it’s also Oppy’s favorite.

Stubborn: Kung Fu Panda. It has FIGHTS, it has a panda struggle to become stronger, it has a compelling emotional core, he loves that shit! Adversary prefers John Wick, personally, but she’s also cheering for that white leopard guy every time he’s on screen (yeah, she knows he’s the villain, so what?).

Broken: Winnie the Pooh. It’s comforting and so nice to watch! It always makes them feel better. Tower doesn’t concern herself with this kind of leisure.

Smitten: The Princess Bride. Do I need to explain this one? Damsel also likes it, though she prefers Enchanted; especially the animated bits, she finds animation much more compelling than live action. :D

Skeptic: Knives Out. The mystery is compelling, the characters are engaging, and the set design! Skeptic could spend hours dissecting every frame of this movie and he did. Prisoner thought the culprit was too easy to figure out.

Extras–

Long Quiet is very fond of the Rio movie, while Shifty really likes Everything, Everywhere, All at Once (she’s also fond of The Lego Movie :))

#slay the princess #stp voices #stp princess #< uuuuurrrrggghhh. not tagging all of them #stp headcanons #sal rambles #mailbox

[whirligig-girl]

D'v: "Hahaa... we're holding hands again... I’m so sorry I wasn't watching where I was going and I was just reading up on--well what I was reading wasn’t important--I was..."

T'l: silent Vulcan noises and depraved illogical thoughts

some artist’s notes and fic snippets below the break:

Getting the pose right was a nightmare!

I drew Tendi and T’lyn on different layers with different colors because otherwise it’d be too confusing. The mess going on in their legs and hands especially. It was a challenge to find a relatively natural looking pose that allowed their hands to match up without hiding anything important. I found i could draw a four-segment stick-figure limb connecting their shoulders, and that helped me get their arms right. The legs were also a mess to figure out, but mostly just because they’re a confusing mess of limbs--they don’t have to intertwine nice.

Also, T’lyn is going to make me learn to draw hands right I swear to god. I could not half-ass the hands on this one.

narrative snipets break:

at that second panel, when Tendi realizes what's happened and gets embarassed, she immediately like, tries to let go and raise her hands respectfully......... but t'lyn just... doesn't let go. for a moment.

Ray Daly’s contribution. (Actually Ray contributed to feedback while I was drawing it, but...)

Mariner: it couldn't have been that bad, tendi Tendi, still flustered: not that bad?? Not that bad?!? would it be fine if you tripped and Bradward’s D--?! Mariner: eekaaay! you've made your point!!

Earlier version when I thought I was finished:

It’s good to go the extra mile on your art. I think this plainer version would still have been fine, but since I went so far as to actually draw the background for a change, adding the dropped/thrown clutter (PADDs and Tricorder) helped a lot.

T’lyn and Tendi’s mess of legs was hard to differentiate (though adding the shading helps). I made Tendi’s pants slightly darker, though with the shading you can barely tell. I also gave them different boot colors. The original idea was that pure science officers have black and blue boots and medical officers have white and blue boots. We can see that in a few places in season 1. But it seems like they eventually abandoned that concept and just give all science officers white and blue boots. T’lyn is not a medical officer, so obviously she gets black boots. Technically since Tendi is in Senior Science Officer training instead of Medical, she should have black boots, but I gave her white boots so you could tell them apart more easily.

I wasn’t even going to add the facial expressions. I drew this to figure out which one I wanted to use:

Then I put it in the drawing.

But I just kept looking at the sketch and thinking “both are good. Both are good!”

So I made it two panels. Because of how the layers were set up this was easier said than done. But I managed it just fine in the end. I really like how she’s backlit by the ceiling lights in the inset panels. Some kind of like, contrast between the angelic goddess looking down at you and the reality that she’s an emotional mess who wears her emotions on her sleeve.

It was also really important to add the inset panels because I don’t want to give the impression that either Tendi is doing this on purpose nor any orion fem dom stereotypes. It’s way funnier and cuter if she just keeps accidentally finding herself in these scenarios, worried that T’lyn’s resentment for her is growing because SHE KEEPS AVOIDING ME OUTSIDE OF STUDY SESSIONS! AND WHEN WE MAKE EYE CONTACT SHE LOOKS AWAY! I FUCKED UP! but actually T’lyn is just struggling to control her mad nasty thoughts about just what she’d like to do to Tendi (she’d like to hold her hands some more)

Adding the inset panels lets me make sure Tendi’s character is adequately captured so she’s not just A Thing Happening To T’lyn.

The dropped PADDs and Tricorder make the scene seem more diagetic, and just more real/plausible. They’re busy looking at their PADDs and not looking where they’re going, see? The one that’s face down is T’lyn’s, the two face up are Tendi’s. The PADD screens are cropped screenshots from the show that have been edited and then skewed/rotated/rescaled into place

The first PADD is Tendi doing research on Vulcan touch telepathy (after being told by someone else what the significance of handholding is to Vulcans), the second one is actually breaking the fourth wall and addressing the viewer directly.

one of the last touches I added was to erase the line-art around her pupils, so the pupils would look smaller (aids to the feeling of shock) and add a nostril (Dunno why--I never draw nostrils on Lower Decks characters, but it just seemed correct in this case) and a little wrinkle on her eye. All this was added because, when I drew Tendi’s face, it felt more detailed than T’lyn’s for some reason (freckles I think?) and I felt I had to make them match.

T’lyn’s face here was fun and took a while to get right. She (and all Vulcans in Lower Decks) are usually half-lidded, but we see T’lyn’s kinda shock when Tendi grabs her hand in the One Canon T’lyndi Scene We Have At Least Until Next Year--even then she looks attentive, not necessarily shocked.

I just think it’s kind of cool that they both have non-red blood and colorful blush.

#T'lyndi #Tendi #T'lyn #if you like you should reblog; likes do nothing on tumblr #wlw #femslash #D'vana Tendi / T'lyn #D'vana Tendi x T'lyn #Star Trek #Star Trek Lower Decks #Lower Decks #premarital hand holding #Orion #Vulcan #LWD #LOW #LDS

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 9

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So I thought this may be the last chapter. It's not. Because I'm me.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

Raiders. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long for someone to find us. But I thought, or assumed we’d be mostly ok, hidden as well as we are. Joel and Tommy are always extra careful whenever they have to venture out further than our property to scavenge, making sure they aren’t followed. But they’ve only seen people once and that was years ago.

Sarah and Jax move quickly into the hall closet where Joel and Tommy had made a secret hiding place behind a back panel. Tommy hands me a shotgun and squeezes my hand, trying to reassure me that it will all be ok. But I don’t see how it will be. 

The cabin is silent, but getting louder is the unmistakable sound of a truck, no, trucks. Joel and Tommy exchange a look, moving to stand by the front door but well hidden behind the shutters. Rose and I wait in the hallway, staring at each other as we listen as hard as we can. The trucks park and we can hear muffled voices getting out of them. Joel peeks through the slot on his side and whispers to Tommy, but I’m close enough to just hear it. 

“It’s Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones? The man who sold us this cabin? We should be ok then, right? I chance a glance around the wall and watch as Joel’s posture changes, his face hardening even though his back is to us. 

“He’s with the Raiders.”

Why is Mr. Jones with raiders? Was he captured? Why would he come here, to a cabin he’d sold us long before the outbreak? 

“What’s the move?” Tommy looks at his brother, waiting to see his reply. Joel stands another moment, watching the men get out of the truck outside. 

“Just follow my lead and stay quiet. If it goes south, take the kids and the girls and get out.”

“I won’t leave you-”

“Tommy.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a firm warning, and by his silence, I know Tommy complied. 

Joel takes a deep breath and unlocks the door, carrying his shotgun loose in his hands, pointed down, but still ready to go if needed.

“Hey, Mr. Jones. It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 

There’s silence for a moment before he replies. I have to strain to hear him properly. “Holy shit! Joel? It’s really you?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh! Wow, never would’ve guessed. Everyone make it out ok?”

Joel pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking how to best reply. “We survived the outbreak.”

A chuckle. “Well that’s amazing news!” There’s a slight lull in the conversation, a heavily weighted pause.

“Can I help you all with something?” Joel asks.

“Ah. Well see, I’d forgotten about this cabin, having sold it to you so long ago. Well, it feels like a long time ago. So much has happened…..anyway, I remembered we were setting it up to be off grid and I hoped you all had continued that, maybe have some supplies? I didn’t think you’d actually be here.”

“What supplies do you need?”

“All of them.”

There’s a more weighted pause before Joel replies. “Yeah, I can’t help you with that.”

“Well now, I think you can.”

This isn’t like Mr. Jones. Not the sweet man and his sweet wife who just loved the Miller brothers. Mrs. Jones especially adored Tommy, as she often told him he reminded her so much of a brother she had lost when she was younger. I can hear Tommy grip his gun harder and I glance at Rose, both of us locking eyes in the understanding that we may have to book it down the escape route rather quickly if things escalate. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. I would be happy to trade with you, but I can’t just-”

“You know, the only reason you’re still alive is because my wife loved you guys so much. Tommy especially. He reminded her so much of her brother Gabriel. She wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Is she ok?”

Another pause. “She…didn’t make it past outbreak day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”

“She was. But, now you see my predicament. I don’t want to hurt you out of respect for my wife. And I’m assuming you have a lot of resources, considering I’m fairly positive your brother and your kids and wives are all hiding here too.”

“So what do you propose?”

“There’s no need for bloodshed here. There are many of us and a few of you. Still, I wouldn’t want to upset my wife.”

“Alright then. You and your men can just go and we’ll forget it happened.”

“Ah, well. I do have responsibilities to my men too. They also have families and needs…how about this: we leave you all here with your supplies, but you and Tommy have to come work for us. Only when we need you. We could use your construction expertise but also your, apparently steady trigger fingers.”

A long pause. “Can I have a moment?”

“Absolutely. We’ll be here, in good faith.”

“In good faith.”

Joel’s heavy boots tap against the floor as he moves back inside, gently closing the door almost shut behind him, his peripheral trained on the men he can see through the crack. Joel calls to use and Rose and I join our men in front of the door. 

“Well?” Joel asks, looking at all of us.

“How many men are there?” Rose asks. “I’m a pretty good shot.”

Joel shakes his head. “There’s at least 10. And they mentioned families so I think if they didn’t return, more would come.”

“We could just leave? Throw a few things in some backpacks and head out the tunnel with the kids?”

“And go where, Daisy?” Joel’s dark eyes meet mine. “There’s nowhere around for miles and these raiders are bound to go looking around. Not to mention the damn infected. We can’t give this place up.”

I know he’s right, but still. It had to be said.

“I don’t like this, Joel.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you gone for God knows how long.” 

Joel lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I know. But we have to do this to take care of you. All of you. Tommy?” Joel looks at his brother, but I don’t have to look to know what his response will be. Tommy will do anything to protect Jax and I, no matter what.

“Yeah. We gotta protect ours.”

Joel nods at Tommy. “It’s settled.”

It was almost 2 weeks before they came back, just one vehicle, Joel and Tommy gathering up their backpacks, nerves visible in their features. Joel went around back to grab another tool bag and Rose and Sarah followed him. Jax was still asleep upstairs and Tommy had already said goodbye to his sleeping son. He slides his arm through the other strap and I adjust his flannel shirt, picking at it in an attempt to do something other than cry. 

“Hey.” Tommy lifts my chin with his finger and gently presses his lips to mine before pulling back to look at me. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Please be careful, Tommy. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Not again, I-”

“Hey, darlin’. I love you too. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pulls me to him and I nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent, letting it permeate my brain as it tries to memorize everything about him. But then Joel walks back inside, handing Tommy another tool bag before moving to the front door. 

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

Rose, Sarah, and I stand together in the doorway, watching Joel and Tommy get into the truck, not knowing when they’ll come back.

Or if.

The first few times they went, they helped the raiders build some additions to their compound, fortifying their defenses and just general maintenance and repair. I had asked Tommy if no one there knew how to do any of this, as it seemed pretty odd that in a compound of the size they discussed, that no one knew how to do something as simple as switch out a doorknob.

“Yeah, normally that would be odd. Except, they’re all rich people.”

I look up at him from where I had been snuggling against his chest. “What?”

He nods. “Yeah. Before the outbreak, all of these people had money. I’m talking loaded. Lots of them telling stories about it. So they’re not used to doing things for themselves.”

“So the rich people are raiders?”

He shrugs. “Guess maybe they couldn’t cope with doing without. So they just started taking.”

About 6 months in, the raiders come to collect Joel and Tommy, this time for an actual raid. They promised they’d be careful, looking out for people and clickers. But I don’t like it. It was bad enough them going to help the raiders build their home. But this?

They don’t return for nearly 2 weeks. 

Before, they were gone at most 4 days. Byt the end of the 2 weeks, Rose and I were ready to go charging the base and probably would have if it wasn’t for Sarah and Jax. 

They returned in the middle of the night, the kids fast asleep. Rose and I were still awake, having a hard time sleeping without them here. But the sound of a truck was unmistakeable in the quiet and we carefully headed downstairs, peeking out the slot in the shutters that Joel had looked out before, making sure it was really them. Joel and Tommy hopped out of the truck, slinging their bags over one shoulder without so much as a glance behind them. But my initial wave of relief at the sight of them quickly was replaced by concern as Tommy gets closer and I can see the hunch in his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. Something had happened. Something bad. Rose opens the door and Joel steps inside, Tommy following behind him as Rose closes the door. They drop their packs and kick off their boots, stowing them in the little baskets we had placed by the door.

“Tommy?” I reach for his hand but he snatches it back, not quite meeting my eye.

“I need to shower.”

I was stunned. He had been on some dirty construction sites, even building for the raiders, and not once has he never kissed me when he came home. Out the corner of my eye, I see a similar conversation happening between Joel and Rose, Joel following Tommy upstairs. 

“What the fuck happened?” Rose whispers to me, her eyes on the stairs where Joel had just been.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem good.”

I pop my head in the kid’s room, checking that they’re still asleep. I should stop calling it the kids room as Sarah is nearly 20 now. But they’re both so attached at the hip, I forget that she’s so much older than him. 

I close our door behind me, hearing the shower click off as I kick off my house shoes. I sit on the bed, quietly waiting for him. Tommy emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his neck and forehead. He turns to the dresser and grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on, tossing the wet towel in the basket. He sits next to me on the bed, still not looking at me. It’s almost as if he’s..ashamed?

I cup my hand to his cheek and lift his face to mine and immediately have to choke back tears at the look of defeat in his eyes. “Hey. I love you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give details. But fuck, Daisy, I…we had to do some shady shit and I don’t…But it’s to keep you safe so I will, but-”

“Hey, hey,. It’s ok. We can just leave. We have the truck and we have more time now so we can load it up and-”

He shakes his head. “Joel’s right though. They’ll come looking for us. Especially now.”

“What do you mean especially now?”

Tommy looks down, picking at his fingers. “We were good at our job. Joel more than me, but they liked how good of a shot I am.”

“Tommy. Look at me.” It takes him several moments but he does, his eyes watering. “I love you. I love you no matter what, ok?” He nods but like he doesn't believe me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. 

And to my surprise, he melts into me, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he deepens the kiss. He turns his body, pressing me down into the bed as he lays on me, kissing down my neck, goosebumps erupting down my arms. I know this isn’t a healthy way to cope but it seems to be what he needs and honestly, I need him. I need to hold him, know he’s here with me, solidly here. He pushes his hips against mine, my back arching as he nips at my neck, his hips rocking faster and faster, chasing his high. His hands are everywhere, sliding over my skin, gripping me, touching me, his lips drawing paths across my body. My fingers tangle in his curls, my legs wrapping around him, urging him deeper, faster until finally lights erupt behind my eyes, my whole body tingling as I moan his name, hearing my own echoed back at me as his hips sputter against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a few breaths before he pulls out, allowing me time to use the bathroom first. When he’s done, he slides into bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his large arms around me, my back pressed into his broad chest, his nose in my hair. 

“I’m here if you want to talk, but I’m also here if this is what you need. Whatever you want, I’m here, Tommy.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Every time they leave, I swear a part of them doesn't come back. Joel seems more aggressive. Not to us, but just...angrier. Tommy's shoulder's slump, his smile often not reaching his eyes, staring blankly out at the trees as he relives whatever horrors he's had to do.

It's when the last bit of life in his eyes snuffs out that I decide I need to do something.

I'd always told him he could talk to me and sometimes he did. I know he hasn't told me everything they've had to do, and I don't expect him to. I've asked him to leave before, but he always said Joel never would. That he couldn't leave his brother. But after 5 years, it finally took that last little bit of him I had left. I couldn't continue on like this. We couldn't continue on like this.

I come back into the cabin, washing my hands in the kitchen sink, before I head back outside, walking down through the trees to the dock, knowing I'd find Tommy sitting at the edge of it, glass of water clutched in his hand as he stares blankly out at the water, a million miles away.

"Hey, handsome." I sit next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. He blinks rapidly a few times, coming back to present before looking at me, smiling slightly.

"Hey, beautiful."

I place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the bit of stubble that had grown in the last few days. "Are you here with me?"

His dark eyes meet mine and he blinks. "I am."

"Come with me?"

He cocks his head slightly to the side as I stand up, offering my hand out to him. He takes it, the warmth from his large hand seeping into mine as I lead him off the deck and back into the woods, down a path he'd taken me years ago. Albeit I was blindfolded, but I'm not bothering with a blindfold this time.

It had taken me a few days to figure it out, setting up the tent and blankets just like he'd done for our anniversary not too long after...well, after. I thought for sure he'd know where we're going but if he does, he says nothing, his fingers still laced with mine as we walk around trees and over roots. When the clearing appears and he sees the tent, he stops walking. I look back at him and am met with a blank stare.

"Tommy?"

"What..what are we doing here?"

"I thought it might be nice to get away for at least a night."

His jaw clenches. "Shit, did I miss our anniversary?"

At least he remembered why we had been here before. "No. I just...come sit with me?" I take his one hand in both of mine, pulling him slightly towards the blanket I had spread out. He pauses for a moment but then acquiesces, kicking off his boots and stretching out his long legs on the blanket. I kick off my own boots and sit next to him, hesitating before taking his hand again, feeling him lace his fingers through mine.

"I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

I told myself I wouldn't cry, that I'd be strong. But when I looked at him, his eyes staring at mine, and I couldn't see that light, I lost it. Giant drops fell from my eyes, splashing against our entwined hands.

"Hey, hey Daisy. What's wrong?" He drops my hand to place it on my cheek, cradling my face with both hands.

"I..can't...can't..."

He pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and I finally feel safe, secure, like he's fully here with me in this moment. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but he's patient with me, always so patient, just holding me and letting me sort myself.

"We have to leave, Tommy."

He doesn't move, still for a long moment and so I sit up, drying my tears on the back of my hand.

"Daisy, we can't. I told you, Joel won't-"

"Every time you guys leave, a part of you doesn't come back. I know you're having to do terrible shit, more terrible than the crap you've told me about. And I've supported you as best I can, but Tommy, I feel like you're finally slipping away from me and I can't pull you to me, and I can't lose you, I just can't. Not again. I won't survive it."

"Oh darlin'. I'm right here."

I look up at him. "But that's just it. You're not. Even when you're here, you're not. This last trip. Something took the last bit of light from your eyes and I-" a sob ripples up from my throat and Tommy immediately pulls me to him again.

"You said you're protecting us. But who's going to protect us when you're gone, Tommy? Even if you're alive, you can still be gone. Please. We have to go."

A drop of water hits my cheek, but it's not my tears. I turn my head up and see tears freely flowing down Tommy's cheeks. This time it's my turn to hold him, press him to my chest as he cries. It's several long minutes before the sobs stop, the tears finally drying. My fingers are still tangled in his curls, gently patting him and lightly scratching his head. He sits up, wiping his eyes on his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I thought I could handle it."

"Hey. You're so fucking strong. Most people would've cracked by now."

He smiles weakly. "I would have, if it weren't for Joel." His face falls. "He'll never leave, Daisy. He's convinced this is the safest option."

"Tommy, we can't continue on like this forever."

He nods. "You're right. I gotta take care of my family and that's what I'm gonna do."

"What if Joel won't come?"

"He won't. I'll make the offer to Rose and Sarah, but I'm sure they'll stay. But we'll still go."

"You sound like you have a plan?"

He's quiet again, his eyes going far away for several moments before looking back at me.

"Actually, I do. I've heard about this freedom fighting group called the Fireflies."

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[r0semint]

hey! let’s talk about teru’s relationship with food!

all three of us get the feeling that food is a love language for teru, or at least, we feel like it’s important to consider how food plays a role in his story arc when doing a character study of him.

okay so first off, right from his introduction he is a foil to mob.

[ID: four manga panels featuring teru getting ready for school. from right to left: the first panel shows his hand and a pan frying an egg. the second is his hand holding a remote. the third shows a tv of a meteorologist saying: “today’s weather.” The forth panel is teru pulling on his school blazer, watching the tv. the meteorologist continues: “a lot of sunshine through the country, though the air is a bit unstable. /END ID]

when teru first appears, we as an audience don’t know it yet, but he lives alone and has been living alone without his parents for several years. here he is cooking his own breakfast and getting himself ready in his apartment by himself.

[ID: five manga panels of mob being woken up for school. from right to left: the first panels is a shot of the roof of the kageyama house. the second is mob, asleep on his futon. his mom is talking from off screen. she says: “shige, get up! you’re gonna be late!” the third is mob yawning and stretching his arms about his head. the forth panel is ritsu opening the door to mob’s room. he says “bro. mom said breakfast is ready.” the fifth panel shows ritsu looking at mob. mob is putting on a pair of pants saying: “yeah ritsu. let’s go.” /END ID]

meanwhile mob, is woken up by his mom and is checked on by his brother to make sure he was up in order to get a breakfast that was more than likely made by their parents.

when mob plans on confessing to tsubomi, teru brings up how homemade things tend to make him feel happy when someone confesses to him.

[ID: manga panel of teru being offered a gift from a girl. it reads: “I tend to be on the receiving end of confessions, but…when someone gives me a handkerchief, or a letter, or homemade cookies or something, it makes me kinda happy, so…I was just thinking, there’s that kind of thing too.” /END ID]

also we see teru tend to overindulge when someone (reigen) is offering to buy food for him

[ID: panel from yakiniku omake. teru is ordering food. he says: I’ll have have 4 orders of top ribs, 2 orders of sakura yukhoe, 2 orders of choice salty beef tongue, the extra special zabuton-cut beef, the offal sampler, 3 orders of rice, a tomato salad, and the naengmyeon…and a green tea.” /END ID]

[ID: cropped screencap of official art. teru has finished two ice cream parfaits. the empty glasses sit in front of a third one, which he is using telekinesis to float the toppings near his face. /END ID]

this often played for laughs, but stick with us here…

in the fanbook teru is asked if he cooks for himself and he says yes, and mentions that he’s confident in his pasta making skills.

[ID: cropped screencap from the fanbook that reads: “Q1: do you make your own food? What are you good at cooking?” Teru answers: “I cook lots of different kinds of things! but what I’m confident in is my pasta.” /END ID]

at first this may seem like a very 14 year old answer…I mean, pasta is fairly easy to make. But knowing teru and how he tends to become and expert at the skills he learns, odds are pasta started off as something simple to throw together on a school night. Pasta is easy and convenient and kid friendly, but it is very easy to experiment with and eventually become a speciality.

and one thing we know about teru is that he has too many specialities to list.

this kid has been needing to make his own food 100% on his own since the start of middle school. we can infer he’s getting money from his parents, and we aren’t exactly sure how much or how he spends it regarding food, but the only time we seem him eating alone, he is making a meal for himself outside of something premade or takeout. he said it himself, he makes lots of different kinds of things! he knows how to cook!

but with all things teru something simple and silly comes with tragedy. while it’s nice fore a kid his age to know how to cook, he NEEDS to know because he doesn’t live with his parents. if he didn’t know how to cook he would be relying on others, and that’s just not what teru does. He is fully capable and learns for himself out of necessity. teru is responsible for all of his own meals.

so what happens when he is no longer responsible? it could be an issue with humbleness. it could also be just normal 14 year old boy hunger, but when reigen takes him out to eat there’s no limits. but here’s the thing…when’s the last time teru has had a home-cooked meal that was made for him by someone else? not from a restaurant, but someone making something for him?

this is why we have the omurice scene in backdraft. there’s a comfort in the domesticity of having food prepared for him in a familial setting that he has not realized he has been missing from his life.

we’ve focused on the fear of him getting cut off from his parents and how money scarcity turns into food scarcity. he’s always been in survival mood, it’s just that money was the breaking point for him.

going back to mob. he and his family are normally seen sitting at the dinner table together. a normal domestic setting.

[ID: screencap of the kageyama family eating omurice together]

something teru doesn’t have. he eats alone at a table in his apartment…one with multiple chairs around it.

[ID: screencap of teru in his apartment. In the background, he is getting ready, looking in a full length mirror. next to him is a tv showing the weather. in the foreground is a table with an empty plate, mug and saucer, and a basket with a single roll. two chairs are seen at the table. /END ID]

teru has not invited anyone into his apartment until mob got attacked by koyama.

who are those chairs for teru?

of course, in backdraft we have the restaurant scene that mirrors this. empty chairs for absent parents.

BUT ITS NOT ALL SAD

back to food being a love language and specialty to teru…imagine once he’s no longer in survival mode due to trauma. food as a comfort, not only receiving, but making it for others as well. tying into him wanting to be a teacher, sharing his skills with others…the fact it feels good creating and sharing something. no longer taking care of himself out of necessity, but learning what his skills and hobbies are and genuinely sharing them because they make him feel accomplished and happy! it just ties everything together with this dude.

in short, cooking is more than likely another speciality teru has developed due to needing to live on his own. since mp100 has themes that involve human connection and relationships with others, we feel food is something that brings people together and our boy teru here should experience that firsthand.

that is why it plays a big role in what we have so far in backdraft!

#we talked about this in DMs for a bit but I (rose) felt like it should be shared! #mp100 #hanazawa teruki #teruki hanazawa #mp100 meta #mp100 backdraft #long post