#I wrote this ALL today

[atherix]

As promised the Etho story. It. It is way longer than I expected it to be. Also wow I made him so pathetic I love him.

--

The building is dark, darker than he ever expected; the walls groan as he presses against them, hiding in the shadows and behind old discarded boxes and, hopefully, away from the eyes of passing Vampires.

None of them seem to notice him, though whether that’s because he’s a master of stealth or because they’re all rushing around he isn’t quite sure. He likes to think it’s the former, at least.

(Cleo would scoff at that, saying it’s easier to miss the broadside of a barn than to not notice him with his shock of white hair.)

He crouches when someone walks too close to his hiding spot, peering out between the gaps of the long-abandoned shipping containers. He closes his right eye, letting red bleed across his vision; through the walls he can just barely make out movement and figures, flashing in various shades of blue against the reds of the world around him. It sends pain spiking through his head, down his spine, but he counts the figures in that room, satisfied to find there are only three of them.

Three. He can deal with three. He glances either way of the crates, watching as the figure passes down the hall and behind a new wall.

He blinks the red away from his vision, reality setting back into place, and scurries out of his hiding place. The door is a little to the right of where he thought it was- when everything is red it’s hard to know for certain where one object ends and the next begins- but only a small change to his trajectory is needed to send him vaulting through the door.

To his surprise the figures are crowded around something else. One looks up and he dives for a pile of wooden slats. Destroyed crates, if he had to wager a guess. One particularly tall pair of slats offers him a convenient corner to kneel out of sight in, and he closes his good eye once more, letting red overtake his vision once more.

He ignores the throbbing pain settling into the back of his head. This is important. He knows it is.

This could be the answer to everything.

“She’s coming!” someone calls, their voice echoing, and the three figures crowded in the corner disperse, and he thinks they turn to look at the door though like this he can only make out that they’ve moved.

Etho glances towards the door, secure in the knowledge that the slats block him from its sights, and follows a small group as they stalk up the hallways. There are five of them, three of them walking bent at the waist as if stuck in a perpetual bow; one walks with confidence and the remaining trails behind them.

The Lord, Etho knows; he remembers easily how so many of Cleo’s rescues act towards them when they first come to her. He remembers how they kneel, cowering at their feet. What he doesn’t know is if they’re Vampires or Thralls, or just Humans who have given up.

“My Lord,” one of the figures says- they sound young, no more than a teenager, and Etho grits his teeth, “I swear I can do this. You can count on me! I will deliver them to you!”

“No,” the Lord says, voice sharp, and Etho recognizes that voice. Maria. “You will not deliver them to me. I have another task for you.”

Etho follows them with his eye, watching how the three bowing figures stop at the door and sink down to their knees- definitely Thralls, he thinks with a shudder. The other two step into the room and the three figures already there bow in greeting, standing up straight once the tall figure- Maria- waves them off.

“What do you need me to do, my Lord?” the young voice asks, eager.

“I need you to lead the traitor’s allies astray,” Maria says, and Etho frowns. Traitors. It isn’t hard to guess who she’s talking about.

(She’s still bitter, it seems.)

“Take them to the warehouse, where the Strays are,” Maria continues, and Etho thinks he can hear a smile in her voice. “Let them hear what they have to say, and let them report to Cleo and her lot.”

“You want me to lead them to the Strays?” the young Vampire repeats, slowly- hesitantly. “But what if they wipe them out?”

“I don’t care what happens to them,” Maria says flippantly. “They’ve started taking Turned as mates. You were an exception, dear niece; my sister loved you greatly, enough to want to keep you with her forever, as her... daughter. You are special.” It sounds as if the words pain her to say, disgust warring with the meaning of her words. The young Vampire doesn’t seem to notice, standing up straighter as if proud at the apparent acceptance. Etho bites his tongue. “You were chosen for this gift. But to take a Turned as a mate- it’s despicable. Disgusting. A mistake of the highest order, one your mother suffered from. The Strays have lost their way. If they die, why should we care? All they need to do is deliver the message, and then Cleo will come right to us, on our terms.”

“Of course, my Lord,” says the younger Vampire, voice full of awe. “You truly are the best Lord this Coven could have. Your plans-”

“Quiet,” Maria sharply cuts through, silencing her ‘niece.’ “Please, niece... call me Auntie.”

It’s sickening, the sugary sweet tone she takes. Etho can hear the lies coating the words, the disgust. Whoever this child is, or was... Etho wonders if Cleo would be able to help them, the way they had helped so many others.

“Yes, Auntie,” the young Vampire says reverently, and Etho tries not to judge them; this life is all they’ve ever known. He watches the shorter figure bow to Maria before turning and leaving. He follows it down the hall, thinking for a moment to intercept them; if he can stop them, then whoever they’re talking about won’t fall prey to their trap.

Cleo and BDubs won’t walk right into their trap.

“Brutes,” Maria says, a little loud, and the three figures behind her straighten up. “Get the rat.”

It takes Etho two and a half seconds too long to register her words, and by the time he realizes it’s too late; a pair of arms circle around his chest.

He thrashes, yelling to let go as he wriggles away. Colors flood his vision, temporarily blinding him as he opens his eye too soon, and pain flares up, burning in his skull.

He throws himself towards the open door but the Thralls sit there, husks of their former selves, and he stumbles when he recognizes one.

Barely, but he does. One of Cleo’s humans, now drained of everything that had made them human.

(He thinks of all the times he’s passed this human in the manor halls. They always greeted him brightly, happily, and was one of Cleo’s favorites. He never spoke to them, but he knew Cleo and BDubs would talk for hours with them; they had been Cleo’s most trusted human, the one who would go to the village in their stead and go to the markets, fetching everything the Coven could ever want. He didn’t even know how many times that person had brought him redstone at his request, even when he wasn’t home. They went missing months before, when Joe disappeared.

He doesn’t even know their name.)

His hesitation costs him; two bodies slam into him, shoving him to the ground. Etho yells and struggles, and when he looks up the Thrall stares at him blankly- empty, a smile stretched across their face. Skin grey and eyes dull and flat, nothing more than a skeleton with flesh pulled taut over the bones-

Now, he thinks he knows where Joe is.

“You know,” Maria says, walking towards him with a steady click click of the heels of her boots, “when most people sneak into a Vampire’s territory to spy, they at least try to disguise their scent.”

His scent. Etho could hit himself. How did he not think of his scent? Every single one of those Vampires knew he was there. He glares up at Maria, her platinum hair almost glowing in the dull moonlight filtering in through the dirty warehouse windows.

“Why drag this out, Maria?” he asks, grinning up at her from where he’s held against the floor. She kneels down, chin up even as she smirks down at him.

“I prefer Myrani these days,” she says, tilting her head, and Etho’s brow furrows. Myrani? That’s a Fae word, he knows- and not a very nice one. “It sounds so much better than Maria, doesn’t it?” She laughs, and Etho scowls; she knows.

“Why didn’t your lackeys attack me when I first got in here?” he demands, patience running out. He struggles against the Vampires holding him down.

Maria laughs. “Well, where would be the fun in that?” she asks, waving a hand. The Vampires- brutes, as Maria called them- pull him up to his knees, yanking his arms behind his back. He hisses in pain and snarls at them, his teeth sharpening under his gaiter, and Maria tsks at him. She grabs his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

She grins, showing off her fangs. There’s still a dull red tint to them and he grimaces. “No, you’re right where we want you, demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” he snaps, irritated. “You’ve made a big mistake, you know. Now I know where your Coven is-”

She laughs, not even a single moment for the words to sink in; she laughs, and the brutes behind him laugh with her. It’s verging on hysteria, tears pricking her eyes as she throws her head back and laughs, and Etho’s teeth clack painfully as his mouth slams shut.

He is clearly very, very wrong.

“You think this is where my Coven is?” Maria laughs, leaning closer to him with a twisted grin. “Oh, my dear, silly demon. This is just a safehouse. Besides, you won’t be bringing anyone here,” she adds, shoving his face back as she stands up again. He glares. “No, you’re going to do what I tell you, or you’re not leaving at all.”

“Wanna bet?” Etho scoffs, and he tugs at himself as hard as he can- like a thread unraveling he feels himself unravel, like a ball of yarn down a steep flight of stairs or an old raggedy dress coming undone at the seams, and he feels himself fall apart, the solid bones of his arms liquefying for just a moment before turning to mist. He pulls away from them, weightless and eternal, unsolid and uncatchable, as he fades into nothing more than mist.

He’s free. He’s free, he feels it in every fiber of his incorporeal being, sees it in the red and heat and chill that floods his vision, in the everything he can see around him, in the painless numbness that falls over his senseless form. He’s free.

And then he’s not.

He presses at the confines and struggles against it; he can’t see what is holding him, not like this. He’s surrounded and the world is dimming, dulling into a purple color- cooler, cooling, as if he’s surrounded by something cool, and it’s hard to see the moving figures on the other side as their cooler blues mix with the purple filling all angles of his vision.

He struggles. He pulls himself together again, enough to press semi-solid hands against glass, and he realizes-

He’s in a glass bottle.

They caught me in a glass bottle.

(He has never been so insulted before in his life.)

His world narrows, the room tilting as he blinks his eyes back into existence. When he can only see from those eyes once more he looks around wildly, looking for a way out. Everything presses in on his center core, his entire mass pressed into a form farm denser than any human form he has ever taken before, because he’s caught in an old wine bottle that glows dimly with magic.

The feeling of the enchanted glass sends a shiver down his arms. It isn’t right. It’s cold.

Magic isn’t meant to be cold.

“Like it?” Maria asks, grinning down at him, and Etho glowers up at her. He’s small- small enough to fit in this bottle, his entire being forced into it somehow. “I know a mage,” Maria adds, turning around with him still clutched in her hand. “Little demon in a bottle.”

Not a demon, he thinks again, pushing as much of his density against the glass as he can. It doesn’t even crack.

“Not even hard to do,” she giggles, the sound like ice down his back. He pulls his gaiter up higher, as if trying to hide in it. She throws herself down on a chair, as if it were a throne, and crosses one leg over the other, propping the bottle up on her knee. He steadies himself on his feet, feeling too heavy; all his weight, all his mass concentrated into one three-inch-tall form... 

It’s not pleasant.

Maria leans on her hand, gazing down at him with a lazy grin. “Wasn’t too hard to bait you into it, either,” she says, spinning the bottle around. He stumbles, falling into the glass and bracing himself as she just keeps spinning him. “So, misty guy- may I call you Misty?”

“No!” he yells.

“Well, Misty,” she goes on, as if he didn’t answer at all, “I’m going to give you a choice.”

He glares at her.

She smirks back. “One, you work for me. You do what I tell you to do, you report to me, and I’ll spare your plucky little halfbreed.”

Anger flares up through his chest. “Don’t call him-”

She shakes the bottle, throwing him off of his feet. He lands heavily on the bottom and groans. “I wasn’t done. Do everything I tell you and I’ll spare the half Elf Vampire,” she continues, grinning as she watches him stagger back to his feet. “I’ll know if you don’t do it.”

He narrows his eyes at her, studying her expression. Confidence oozes off of her, as if she isn’t at all worried about him exposing her. Of course, if this isn’t even her Coven house, he supposes she doesn’t have to worry. 

But how would she know? Actually- how does she even know about BDubs? He came around long after Maria was locked away. She never met him.

She never should have even known about him.

“I have eyes everywhere,” she says, chuckling lowly, and he silently curses her. “And ears.”

“... You planted a mole,” he mutters, cold realization settling in. There’s a traitor somewhere.

“I didn’t have to,” she says, picking the bottle up again and lightly shaking it. He braces himself, sliding down so he can’t fall again. It’s dizzying to be shaken like this, but if he becomes mist again he won’t be able to see her. To see her face. “There are Vampires everywhere who believe the truth, even amongst your Covens out there. They came to me.”

He doesn’t want to believe it. He lifts his chin. “No.”

“Here’s the deal,” she says, as if he hasn’t already refused. “You work for me, and report everything your snooping little Lord and her allies learn to me. You will feed them false information, you will deliver them to me when the time is right, and if you don’t I will find out. If you don’t, I will wipe out all of you.” She grins widely, showing off her fangs. They’re longer than they should be and Etho glares at her, refusing to back down. “And if you outright refuse, you’ll be stuck in this bottle and you’ll watch me rip your dear little mossy Elf apart bit. By. Bit.”

He swallows, trying to push away the images that force their way into his mind. “You can’t even drink Vampires’ blood,” he says.

“So? Doesn’t mean I won’t kill him,” she says, shrugging. “It’s your choice. Either save the Elf or watch them all die.”

He clenches his teeth. “You realize I’m one of Cleo’s mates, right?” he hisses. “I won’t betray them-”

The bottle slams into the arm of the chair, throwing him to the side roughly. “Don’t remind me!” she snarls, face twisting- and in that moment he sees her for the monster she really is, for just a fraction of a second her Human facade falling away. He takes it as a small victory. 

She takes a deep breath, calming herself, and the shimmering scaly, amphibian-like skin fades back into tan. She holds the bottle up and leans back casually, smirking. “Let’s not lie to ourselves here, Misty,” she says, tone smooth as her truth is tucked away again. “Everyone has their favorites. Look me in the eyes and tell me, honestly, that you would choose Cleo over your Elf.” 

He glares and says nothing.

“Oh, come on,” she cackles, bringing him closer to her face. “Would you choose to save her over him? Would she save you over that Human she keeps by her side? Don’t be ashamed to admit it. We all play favorites. It’s what it means to be alive- to love and love unequally.”

“No,” he denies. “Only people like you would look at it like that. I’m not like that.”

“You are,” she says sharply. “No matter what anyone says, we all are. We all have a child we would save over another, a mate we’ll go to over another, a parent we would confide in over the other. It’s just nature. We can’t help it.” She grins. “And I know you, Misty. They’ve told me all about you, how you come running every time he calls. How no one else can call on you the way he can. Even your Lord can’t keep tabs on you, but him? Oh, he calls your name and you’re there like a loyal dog. It’s disgusting, but... convenient.”

“You can’t even kill them,” Etho says stubbornly, not wanting to dwell on her words. The thought of BDubs in danger- him, bleeding out and turning to ashes or light- no, it’s just too much. He can’t stand it. “Cleo would never allow it. They’re stronger than you.”

She smirks. “And yet she didn’t kill me when she had the chance, did she,” Maria states more than asks. “And now here we are. Her Coven is thinning out. I have so many of her Humans that she let out of her sight, and I have you here now.” She turns the bottle around, forcing him to look at the doorway and the Thralls that sit there. “I have them. Loyal servants, eager to please. I have people everywhere. And I know their weaknesses.”

Etho slams a hand against the glass, frustrated. He can’t break through. He glances up at the cork. Maybe he can slip through its cracks...

“Cleo will be easy enough, once she’s out of her mind with anger. Not hard to do when she’s been betrayed and lost all her friends,” Maria says with a careless shrug. “And the Elf, well... there’s a few ways to deal with him.”

Etho narrows his eyes. “No,” he repeats, confident. “I refuse.”

“So you would rather watch them all die, than to save even just one of them?” She laughs. “Got it. It’s fine, I have other servants in Cleo’s Coven. They’re very good. It would just be easier with someone in the inner ring...” She shrugs. “You’ll just have to stay in this bottle, and I’ll be sure to let you watch the life fade from his eyes. Will he turn to light or ash? I’ve always wondered how it works,” she giggles, leaning closer to the bottle. “Haven’t you? Will you have anything left to bury or will he disappear like they all do, forever out of your reach? Not even anything to remember him by? Oh, I wonder, is his blood black or red? Does it glow green? I wonder if I can drink it when it’s glowing green. All that Fae magic over top the Vampire’s magic- I wonder if-”

“Shut up,” Etho barely whispers, trying not to imagine it- trying not to imagine BDubs in Maria’s grasp, glowing green blood running freely as she ripped into his skin. BDubs’ big rust-colored eyes staring at him, begging him to help- light splitting across his skin as his flesh turns grey, as he calls for help and-

He can’t stand it.

Maria smirks, and he bares his teeth at her- though she can’t see it. “There we go,” she says quietly, leaning back again. She holds the bottle by the neck, leaning on her arm as she gazes up at him. “Cleo will turn to ash as all Vampires do, but the Elf... who knows what’s waiting for him? And I’m giving you a chance to guarantee his safety, his life. All it will cost is your loyalty.”

His loyalty.

He’s known Cleo for so long, he was there when Maria was causing problems. He was there when things were different. He was there through it all, by Cleo’s side, supporting every change she made after taking over as Lord. He was there when she brought BDubs home.

How could he ever be loyal to someone else?

Especially Maria?

He grits his teeth. He can still see BDubs in his mind’s eye.

He can see BDubs looking at him, asking for help.

(He can see BDubs looking at him, blaming him.)

“You can save him or watch them all die. It’s your choice. You can have your freedom or be trapped forever.” Maria grins at him, dangerous, and he knows she has a plan either way.

Maybe if he agrees, he can find a way to warn them instead, without alerting Maria or her servants. Maybe he could save them all.

Or maybe he would doom them.

“It’s your choice.”

#Midnight Series #Hermitshipping #<- mentioned #Tumblr Exclusive #THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME OH MY GOD #I wrote this ALL today #anyway here you go <3 #Uh #Don't kill me? #Anyway I had fun writing Etho but I need more practice #I hope I got the balance of confidence to wet cat energy right

[seaside-lovers]

🌹 Hide & Cap'n Kay 🩹

Ship name/tag: 🌹 lethal lovers

Anniversary: February 13, 2024

F/O source: Lethal Company/OC

My backstory: I was a long-time employee of the Company who gave up on my dream of studying the new alien life of the Thisle Nebula after finding the studies too taxing. While contracts with the Company were usually seasonal, I returned for a new contract each time my previous contract ended. The job was fairly miserable, but better than the other jobs out there, and much more consistent in terms of income. Due to my experience, on the last contract, I was the leader of my crew. I affectionately became known as “Cap’n Kay” or just “Kay” for short to the crew (even though there’s no proper “ranks” in a ship; I was simply tasked to make executive decisions if votes were split evenly and checked in on my shipmates as needed).

How we meet: I met the Bracken that I would later start calling “Hide” after I landed on the planet Vow. While exploring the facility, I heard a turret go off and grimly assumed a teammate fell victim. However, a quick walkie confirmed I was the only one left in the building, so I decided to investigate.

While making my way closer, I discovered an injured Bracken cowering away, hissing as a warning as he was unable to properly run. Having been particularly fascinated with Brackens during my time studying alien life, I carefully approached him to get a closer look which led to the discovery of the turret going off: he must have stepped in front of it and activated it as he had several deep lacerations in his leg. I attempted to fix his wounds with what medical supplies I had but when he went to grab my neck, I yelled at him and gave him a scolding.

Thankfully, my yelling seemed to spook him and helped him realize I was trying to help him survive; he scooted his leg out, allowing me to bandage it up so he wouldn’t bleed out. With his leg fixed up, he hobbled to two legs and trotted back into the shadows, watching me cautiously. I decided to nickname him “Hide”, bid my farewell, and carefully walked away and out the facility, back to my ship.

After that, every time my crew makes its way back to Vow, Hide seems to leave us alone; I had lost many crewmates to Brackens but Hide never seemed to bother anyone. In fact, while scavenging, I would notice him watching me from around corners before he would disappear back into the darkness.

First impressions: I was initially frightened by Hide, not wanting to corner him and cause any more fright; my empathy toward creatures kicked in and I wanted to help him. After the initial spook of nearly getting my neck snapped, I found Hide interesting; he seemed almost shy once I finished bandaging his leg. I was curious about him and wished to learn more about his species (and perhaps more about him as an individual).

Hide was scared of me; employees were usually easy prey, but being injured and struggling to walk meant I could easily kill him if I had the means. He reacted instinctively when I reached for him, attempting to defend himself, but realized I was only trying to help when I yelped and pulled out bandages. He snuck away after I fixed him up and watched me leave, noticing how my eyes kept focused on him. He was interested in me and the act of kindness I showed to him.

Getting closer: Every time I visited Vow with my shipmates, I could feel Hide staring at me and caught him looking a few times before he would disappear again. With a Bracken that was almost friendly in a way in front of me, I decided to properly study him. I managed to sneak away from my shipmates one day after we killed a hoarding bug, dragging its corpse with me and leaving it where I knew Hide lived. Once he came slinking out of the shadows, I took the opportunity to start sketching him and taking notes, observing how he scanned the environment while he ate.

I got a little braver each time we went back to Vow, offering up whatever rations I stored away to coax him out. Hide got more used to me each time, getting closer and closer and acting braver, no longer trying to make himself appear bigger but instead relaxing and letting his guard down. During my studies I discovered that he was extremely intelligent; what little studies had been done showed that Brackens were smart creatures, but it appeared that Hide understood what I said.

It took some practice, but eventually I started teaching Hide sign language. He picked up on it quickly and it helped us communicate better; rather than playing a confusing and frustrating game of charades, I could teach him words so we could communicate. Assuming he doesn’t know how to read, I also make illustrations with their equivalent in sign language and leave them for him to view and practice – slowly adding in more complicated/“human” things to test his intelligence further – for “science”, I tell myself.

However, I realized quickly that I was developing a crush on Hide. He had made an impact as I thought a lot about him while I was not on Vow. He had grown rather affectionate with me, too; not only following me everywhere, but snuggling against me, purring, and sometimes even resting, trusting me not to harm him.

During our time together, I start talking out loud to him, discussing my childhood, career, and interests at first, then delving into deeper topics about life, love, and other philosophical topics. I wasn’t sure if he could fully grasp them but figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about things like love and gauge his reaction.

Beginning our relationship: There’s never really a specific point where we declare ourselves a couple. However, while giving him a speech about how love comes in many different forms, I get to “romantic love” and find myself flustered when he signs “I love you” to me - it was one of the practice cards I had left for him out of curiosity. Hide himself seems a bit startled and ducks away from me, disappearing before coming back when I encourage him to.

We’re able to have a conversation, discussing things like feelings, and I admit that I’ve fallen for him, too. He picks me up in a tight embrace and spends the rest of my time on Vow snuggling with me and purring happily.

Eventually, I make the choice to retire from the Company and take up residence on Vow. I’m able to live off of hoarding bugs and manticoils and use my savings to purchase seeds and building materials, making myself a small farm and shack. While I primarily live in the shack and refer to it as my living quarters when my former crewmates visit, I spend most of my time in the facility with Hide.

Ship trope(s): Secret Relationship - I don't want my crewmates to find out.

Home Sweet Home - I retire to Vow and live there with Hide, finding a new home.

Aesthetics: Roses, unconditional love

Our song(s): None ATM

Favorite forms of affection: Hide loves physical affection, so he really enjoys it when I pet him, love on him, and snuggle with him.

I enjoy spending time together, so Hide often lies next to me as I draw or watch television, enjoying the quiet moments together.

Favorite kind of date: We never go on any formal “dates”. However, we love playing games together; it’s really fun and a great way for us to bond. Hide’s recent favorite game has been tag! He’s much better at it than me because of how fast he is, but he always gives me a head start when he is “it”.

Ways we comfort one another: We both like to comfort one another physically; spending time curled up together in each other’s arms can be very comforting and remind one another we’re there.

What we love most about each other: I love Hide’s playfulness. While Brackens are normally characterized as aloof, Hide became extremely playful with me once he got used to me. He likes to play hide and seek especially, becoming delighted when I find him or he finds me.

Hide loves my caring nature; I try not to see the worst in people and I think that helped him trust me the day we met. I didn’t leave him for dead, assuming he would kill me; instead, I helped him, giving him a second chance at life, and he appreciates that.

F/O headcanons:

Brackens can control the leaves growing from their body; most notably, they will often puff these out as an intimidation tactic

Brackens have mouths that aren't visible unless they choose to open their mouth; they have a long tongue they use to clean themselves with

#THIS IS SO LONG COMPARED TO MY OTHER ONES #i wrote this all today #i was inspired. and full of coffee haha #long post #🌹 lethal lovers #🌹 ship info #self ship #ficto #template by mydiluc #ship info #waves.txt

[dylanoeazy]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Nanami Kento Characters: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Ino Takuma, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Fushiguro Megumi, Yaga Masamichi, Ieiri Shoko Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Tattoos, Nanami Kento is So Done, Gojo Satoru is His Own Warning, Getting Together, Pre-Relationship, Past Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Past Haibara Yu/Nanami Kento, Literal Sleeping Together Summary:

“Why don’t we wager on it? Every tattoo that I guess right, you have to show me. No matter where it is.”

“This seems unprofessional.”

“It’s just a game between two high school pals! Nothing weird, promise! I’m just a curious guy and I know surprisingly little about my kohai. So what do you say?”

-

Or Gojo is the last to find out that Nanami has tattoos.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanago #a: avariiice #i wrote this all today #i need help

[thresholdbb]

what's the threshold theory

There was a post about how Tom is the only crew member who isn't really affected by the Borg, and there's a theory that he has so much luck because he saw the past and the future when he crossed the transwarp threshold. He saw the past and the future, all of time and space. There's some subconscious part of him that remembers that experience. In fact, Tom refused to play a part in Chakotay indulging Annorax's temporal incursions, probably because a part of him knew nothing good could come of it.

If we extend that same theory to Janeway, some of her wild luck with time travel and other crack plans starts to make sense. She doesn't verbally hate time travel until after the events of Threshold, since it happens in Time and Again without complaint. Janeway has an uncanny knack for time travel, as evidenced every time she deals with it. She hates time travel, but it might be because part of her knows exactly how to manipulate the timeline. She manages to avoid the "inevitable" temporal explosion in Future's End, saving both Voyager and Braxton. She resets the entire timeline in Year of Hell, and no one else followed her reasoning. She pulled it off flawlessly. In Relativity, she senses the incidents are all related, despite it being just one reading that connects them. By the time she's involved, she has a temporal incursion factor of .0036 and a time travel protocol named after her, even if that may just be Braxton's personal grudge. Then there's Endgame, where she intentionally changes the timeline. Up until this point, she has been dragged into time travel, but for the first time, she jumps in on purpose. How does Admiral Janeway know how to get them home sooner in a way that completely avoids the Temporal Integrity Commission? It's because she has seen all of time, and part of her knows exactly what needs to happen so she can get Voyager home and do it in a way that becomes baked into the prime timeline. Maybe she doesn't consciously remember what happened during her transformation, but the experience lives in her mind somewhere, guiding her decisions.

#every day is threshold day #tldr threshold cemented the time travel shenanigans #we're not counting her disparagement of time travel in relativity i know it's technically before threshold #but they've messed with the timeline so much that her past timeline is also changed. #Time travel is funny because the past is the future the future is the past #so while relativity comes before threshold in the prime timeline her timeline has also been changed in a way that it wasn't before threshol #we could chalk it up to a writing oversight but this is more interesting #not to mention her uncanny luck with the Borg which I think ties in as well #it's part of why her instinct is so strong #also the bio neural gel packs but that's a different theory #listen she's amazing with or without having seen all of time and space but she has seen all of time and that must have affected her somehow #those little salamander babies also have all of the cosmos in their mind #tried to explain as concisely as possible but it is part of my overarching theory #she doesn't second guess herself nearly as much following their jaunt into transwarp #I have more but I'm trying to be brief cause it's written up partially in my drafts somewhere and i have some things i need to do today lol #meta #Star Trek voyager #Kathryn janeway #threshold day #did you expect me thresholdbb to not have a serious threshold theory? #listen I can make anything nonsense and turn anything into a serious theory I was known for this kinda bs in grad school #I wrote a 25 page paper on NOTHING once #I wrote a paper about how corn fields were super gay and it made my professor cry I can spin the bullshit it is one of my skills

[monstersflashlight]

Vampire’s dessert

Vampire x fem!reader || kitchen sex, vanilla sex || TW: blood

You are watching the cookies in the oven, trying really hard to ignore his presence as he walks around the house. When he comes behind you and plasters himself against your back in the most exquisite hug, you melt against him. He starts kissing your neck, slowly, teasingly.

“Stop that, I’m watching the cookies.” You say, but you incline your head to give him better access. You can feel his smile against your skin as he keeps kissing that point that makes your knees weak. He tightens his hold on your hips.

“Come on baby, I’m hungry and I want my dessert.” His voice drops low, almost dangerous (in the best way possible). You shiver, goosebumps erupting all over you. There’s an edge to his voice that promises a great time, and you want to give in so badly. But you promised you’d make cookies.

“I’m making cookies for tomorrow, wait for a bit, it’s not going to be long.” You try to argue, fighting against his hold, but not too much. You don’t really want to say no, and he knows it.

“We don’t have to go anywhere.” He uses his compelling voice, the one that gets everyone to do what he orders, including you. The voice that makes your insides turn to jelly. “I can fuck you right here. You can watch the cookies if you want.” He whispers against your ear, tongue licking along the tendon of your neck, biting softly. You can feel his fangs, almost breaking the skin.

“But the cookies…” You whisper, a weak attempt to argue with him knowing full well there’s no way it’s gonna work. He decides that’s the perfect moment to spank your ass, making it jiggle as you moan. He chuckles behind you, biting harder at your neck, his other arm holding you close to his body. The moan that escapes your mouth is sinful. You feel your body giving in. He knows what buttons he has to press, how hard, he knows your body better than you do. You are his to play and he knows all the cheat codes.

You turn around in his embrace, arms instantly going around his neck and kissing him deep and heated. You control the kiss for maybe two seconds before his hands are at the back of your head, guiding your every movement, deepening the kiss and fucking your mouth like you know he’s going to fuck your pussy. Thrusting his hips forward so his hard dick grinds against your stomach, making you whimper.

The kiss starts to become desperate, tongues battling and hands roaming around. His hands feel like they are everywhere, you wonder if he’s using super-speed to touch you as much as he can at the same time. The noises you are making would make the devil blush. He grabs your ass and urges you to jump, your legs going around his middle instantly. You grind your hips against his erection, your pussy wet and your movements frantic.

His hands pull at your hair, pushing your head back as he starts to suck on your pulse point, drawing the veins up. You feel him moving at the same time, carrying you to the counter and sitting you down. You hear him unbutton his trousers, his dick leaking and ready at the perfect high. The wave of pure heat that runs down your spine leaves you shivering with need. Sometimes you forget how strong he is, how unnatural his movements are. He usually looks so normal and composed, but moments like this remind you that he’s not human, he’s a monster. The one they warned you about, the one stalking you in the night wanting to eat you. And good lord did he eat you… In all the ways he could.

You try to push your yoga pants down, but you aren’t fast enough. “Hey! I liked those!” You complain as he rips a hole right in the middle, exposing your pussy to the air, to his dick.

“I’ll buy you more.” He says against your neck, nipping at your skin.

He doesn’t make you wait any longer, he pushed right into your welcoming heat, making you groan and arch your back. He starts a punishing pace, not bothering to let you accommodate him, the edge of pain making you hotter. Your blood is rushing through your whole body, exactly like he wants. His hand finds your clit as he keeps going, sucking on your pulse point. When you feel your orgasm at the tip of your fingers, so close you can taste it, he bites down. You cry out, a mix of pleasure and pain making your climax so intense it feels like an out of body experience.

Your heels dig into his ass, rocking yourself against him, trying to match his pace as he keeps going, and going, and going… It all passes in a blur, the pleasure and the blood loss making your head dizzy, your pleasure being the only sensation in your body. You feel like floating. When he comes, he retracts his fangs and moans, his dark red eyes shining. He reminds you of the villain of the stories your parents told you as a child, wild and dangerous… a villain that became your prince charming.

You can feel the blood going down your neck, he didn’t close it yet. He loves to let it drip so he can lick it up later from between your tits. You try to be annoyed about it, but it always ends with his mouth on your pussy, so you can’t complain too much about it. You lay there, body close to his, sharing body heat and little caresses.

And then you smell smoke.

“My cookies!” You yell, pushing him away and stumbling to the oven door, your knees weak.

“What?” He asks, confused. He’s in his post orgasmic/post feed bliss, doesn’t even know what you are talking about.

“My cookies burned down because of you!” You feel the anger rise inside of you, at the same time as a tear of frustration falls from your eye. He turns around as soon as he hears you sniffle, his head moving at unnatural speed, a movement that makes him look like a nightmare.

“Oh, little human, don’t cry.” He fusses over you. “I can buy you cookies. I can buy yo diamonds. I can buy yo whatever you want. Stop crying.” You found out real quick how much your tears freak him out, and you try to take advantage of it as much as you can. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Fuck me again?” You ask, pouting in your best interpretation of a sad puppy. He picks you up and carries you to your bed with his super-speed, making your head dizzy as you giggle.

Who cared about the cookies anyway?

#short and sweet today #i have tons of work #vampire #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #vampire x reader #vampire x human #tw: blood #i wrote this in between tasks and i'm not sure is good but it's all i got today and i wanted to post something #hope somebody likes it

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me! #dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin) #author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :') #might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little! #my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it' #me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

[grimesgirll]

can you do rickyl x reader where she gets jealous and gives them attitude🙏

ninety-eight hours it’s been since rick and daryl left for what was supposed to be a “dry” supply run.

another hour and you think you’re going to simply die from the wanton ache in your cunt and the paranoia creeping with every passing minute.

you hate when they go away. it’s the worst. but it’s what your lovers have to do if your community wants amoxicillin and food that‘s not canned peas or tuna. the only bigger drag than you losing out on a few nights of getting the stress fucked out of you and mornings with tender wake up calls; that cool new girl went with them.

just a few weeks ago, daryl and aaron had discovered a former phd student wandering the outskirts of shenandoah national park. the twenty-eight year old had been walking from her biology program in new jersey in an attempt to reach her family’s house in norfolk, virginia.

back to alexandria, she brought a backpack, some stories, and a green haze to your vision.

within a week, you’re wishing daryl and aaron hadn’t brought her back. the worst part is that you really can’t speak on it with anyone because you’ll sound like a jealous bitch, which you kinda are. it’s not your fault that you don’t know shit about how to age a deer or microorganisms or macroinvertebrates or interesting biology major jargon that gets rick and daryl’s attention.

you didn’t finish your degree. the apocalypse had made sure of that. yeah, this girl’s thesis defense had been cancelled but she already had two degrees and a fucking certificate.

yeah, daryl doesn’t have a degree. but this girl’s family grew up hunting - proud turkey hunters, she’d specified after daryl asked her about her turkey shotgun. they hit it off so well that she’d even gone on a few hunts with him. you refused to eat the pheasant she shot. when she came into your kitchen proudly touting a half butchered boar, you simply narrowed your eyes, turned to rick next to you, and asked if you should take chances eating wild boar meat after the prison.

let’s just say you can’t stand her.

it’s not rational and it’s surely not healthy but you can’t bring yourself to address it in any meaningful way. all you can do is smolder. and that’s exactly what you do when rick and daryl come through the gates, fully engaged in a conversation with her.

“find what you need?”

you’re walking up to the three as soon as they pass you. rosita had been chatting you up and you assumed that your boys would come over and greet you with at least a kiss but no! they’re walking past you with her. the perfect, perpetually prepared girlscout that makes you want to tear your hair out.

two twin pairs of blue eyes find yours and daryl’s eyes are overflowing with longing, but before they can even say hello, she’s in your face, greeting you and handing off some seed packets she’d found

what a bitch.

almost turning your nose at her, you instead decide to accept the packets without a thank you. you make a beeline straight for rick, leaning up on your tippy toes to capture his tongue, wrapping an arm around his neck to lower him into your embrace. every ounce of waiting and wanting is spilled onto rick’s lips. you kiss him a bit too fervently for a welcome back kiss at your community’s gates. it’s an abuse of power on your part.

it’s dramatic. it’s theatrical.

it’s just as bad when you do the same thing to daryl, attaching yourself to his side as the newest addition to alexandria clears her throat and continues on about the supplies they managed to secure on their “dry” run. specifically, some supplies for her to try to solo it again - but this time - finally land in norfolk. you know that rick and daryl were out there - away from you - for more than just some glorified grad student’s get home bag but every second that she drones on has you yearning for her to pack her bags tonight.

“so, once my wrist is fully healed. i’ll be out of here.”

“thank god!”

rick’s eyebrow raises and if daryl could go quieter, he would.

the walk back to your house alone in alexandria is awkward.

the scene you’d caused had rick giving you a look that told you if you didn’t quit digging now, you’d end up in a trench of conflict. not just being at odds with the newcomer, but rick’s lack of patience for this kind of behavior from you. that doesn’t stop you from starting again as soon as they enter the bedroom.

“neither of you came over to say hi to me when you got in the gates.”

it’s the first thing out of your mouth once the door has shut. your arms are folded over your chest and you’re glaring at them like you didn’t just put on a grand display and snub the girl staying down the street. eyes focused on them, you’d be hard pressed to tell that you even could even name the other girl.

“so you’re gonna skim past talkin’ to her like that?” rick’s giving you that same you can’t be serious look he sends your way when you’re brattin’ out like this.

“i said my thoughts out loud. sorry.”

“ain’t you got no filter?”

“no, daryl,” you reply, looking up at them from the soft bed. your hands dig into the mattress. “that overnight “dry” run turned into the entire weekend and the first thing you guys do is stroll in with her and not say hi.”

“why do you care so much? she’s leavin’ soon.” daryl reminds you, fighting a yawn.

you frown. “you guys relate to her more.”

rick guffaws and daryl’s eyes are rolling.

“what? you think she’s flirtin’ knowin’ how to catch herself a fuckin’ meal.”

“but she’s older than me.”

“not by much, honey,” rick dismisses your concern.

the downtrodden look on your face is unmistakable. you’re quiet, considering how to justify your jealousy when you feel a tear coming on. daryl notices when you try to blink it away and is the first to drop the bone the two were picking with you. he’s next to you, a hand on your waist and your thigh, and that’s when you exhale in frustrated, exasperation, “you were gone for four days and you couldn’t even say hi to me.” you’re shaking your head, knowing it’s dumb. “its not nice but it just got me so angry.” you almost omit this last part but the borderline law enforcement stare you’re receiving from rick has you candid. “i just needed you guys to come up and kiss me - or something after not knowing if you were alive or not. the run went too long. got me worked up.”

“and you think you deserve to get fucked first thing after pullin’ that shit?”

you bite your lip. rick can read you too well. really, there’s nothing to discuss.

did you really think they would lose interest in you that easily? or is this just a ploy to work them up too? to cash in on the good, hard fucking you know they’d subject you to if you turned up your brat factor for their return. it’s downright devious but who are they to deny the smoldering opportunity falling in their laps?

“can you be a good girl?”

you nod, not breaking eye contact as he slips his thumb into your mouth while undoing his pants with the other hand. “maybe we can get this to do somethin’ useful, huh?”

daryl stays quiet but the smirk as he watches you lick rick clean tells you that he has an idea. he’s full of ideas, most of which involve stuffing you full in some capacity but just from bud reaction to the scene that unfolded, you know he’s in a teasing mood. too feverous and on the same page as rick about your jealousy to give you the fucking you want straight away.

there’s probably a bit more of explaining that you need to do but when rick says, “hands and knees,” you’re forgetting all about the better educated woman and getting into place on the plush bed. the brief scowl on your face can’t be missed but it doesn’t matter because you automatically open your mouth wider once you’re faced with rick’s too-big-for-your-mouth cock.

you’re so focused on rick that the stripe being licked down your slit from behind has you choking on rick in surprise. the constable groans at your tight throat clenching around him.

“missed this pussy,” daryl’s gruff voice against your cunt brings you back to reality. the reality where he’s flicking his tongue over your already aching, swollen bud.

so that’s what that tear was, you deduce, suddenly aware of your missing panties.

“you’re overthinkin’,” rick says says with a hand in your hair. “you belong to us. we belong to you.”

“yeah, no new girl’s gonna come between us.” daryl assures you, breathing lust into your cunt. “gotta get out of yer’ fuckin’ head.” daryl chimes, not even giving his tongue a break when it wasn’t on your clit. “i finally get someone with a brain to go huntin’ with and your first thought is that i wanna fuck ‘em.”

rick smirks down at you, mouth too stuffed full of cock to deny any of it. he runs a hand through your hair and eases up on your throat, growing impossibly harder at the sight of his thick dick against your glossy, shining lips. a hand finds your chin and his cock falls from your mouth. “you better not forget that you’re made for us. don’t want no one else but you.” his cock jumps at the way your pupils grow from his lust induced speech. “you’re ours. that pussy’s in the shape of our cocks. beautiful brain’s all wrapped up in us, like we’re wrapped up in you.”

you could cream at his words. any minute you’re going to on daryl’s tongue. back as forth, the younger man is sliding his tongue all over your clit. he even dips the appendage inside of you to tongue around and spur rick into thrusting his cock back into your mouth so he can enjoy your needy whimpers around him.

“so fuckin’ good for us, baby. like she never could be.” rick huffs, chocolate curls falling back with his head.

all you can do is moan around him in response. daryl doesn’t let you process rick’s words because you’re too busy processing the overload of pleasure he’s inducing in you. you writhe back against him, canting your hips into his mouth just as rick twitches in yours.

your hips are bucking and you almost fall forward on rick when daryl triggers your toe curling release, savoring in the ooze as he laps your weeping cunt. tears well at your waterlines with rick’s cock bulging in the cheeks of your mouth. those tears spill with the rush of energy in your cunt. spasming and clenching, leaking onto the devoted tongue seeing you through.

“hope this holds you over,” rick remarks, pulling his still aching cock out of your mouth while glancing over at daryl happily cleaning up your release with his tactful tongue. “‘cause you’re gonna’ be sore after tonight, darlin’. whatever you need to get it in that pretty little head of yours that you’re ours, and don’t need to worry about anything or anyone else.”

as your first orgasm of the night fades and the shaking in your legs pauses, there’s a post-climax clarity that hits you like a truck. you’d be face down on the bed trying to pretend you didn’t exist if not for the hands eliciting the most vibrant whinnies from you, twisting your pleasure receptors like play-doh. you’re not far from coming again and that’s the only thing saving you from the shame of how you treated the newcomer. it wasn’t kind. wasn’t rational. treating her so poorly because of how well she worked with your men. greek gods killed insolent hosts who disrespected their guests, what would rick and daryl do to you for snubbing one of the last polite people on this rotting rock?

being well rounded isn’t a crime, you remind yourself.

and your men don’t need to remind you again with words how much you mean to them. that your jealousy is unfounded but they want to kiss you better anyway. it doesn’t matter if it takes all night, they’ll be reminding you exactly where and who they want to be with.

with you being made for them, how could they want anyone else?

#the walking dead #rick grimes #daryl dixon #rickyl #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #rickyl smut #twd smut #twd #twd imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #rick grimes x reader x daryl dixon #not beta read #f/m/m #wrote the reader as petty possible #reader is a girls girl but not to this girl #kinda went gimple and ftwd with some of the dialogue sorry #ditzy thought fr #happy friday grimesgirll nation!! #sorry this is rushed I went to a funeral today and it’s been an all day thing but I wanted to get this out so bad #great request anon!! #blowy #the people speak #grimesgirll

[fishsticksart]

Francesca - Hozier

If someone asked me at the end, I'll tell them put me back in it

[Francesca, Hozier // The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil, Ary Scheffer // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Francesca (Official Video), Hozier // Francesca, Hozier // Ship on Stormy Seas, Ivan Aivazovsky // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Paolo and Francesca, Mosè Bianchi // Francesca, Hozier // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Gustave Doré // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca, Frank Dicksee // Francesca i Paolo, Ludwik Wiesiołowski // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Dante Gabriel Rossetti // Francesca, Hozier // Francesca (Later with Jools Holland), Hozier on BBC Music // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // tumblr user @handgf // The Kiss, Auguste Rodin // Paolo e Francesca, or Morte di Paolo e Francesca, Gaetano Previati // Hozier // Hozier // Hozier]

#web weaving #web weave #web weavings #webweaving #hozier webweaving #hozier #hozier lyrics #francesca #francesca hozier #francesca da rimini #dantes inferno #paolo and francesca #you have no idea how insane this song makes me #first of all MY NAME IS LITERALLY FRANCESCA #LIKE HOZIER WROTE A SONG WITH MY NAME AND NOW I GET TO HEAR MY NAME IN INTERVIEWS??? #AND MY NAME WRITTEN IN HIS HANDWRITING?? HELLO INSANE #and then my second thought was when i realized since it was dantes inferno themed album it was probably in reference to -> #-> francesca da rimini and ding ding ding i was right #and i knew this cause im a complete nerd who reads Smithsonian articles for fun and there was one article about francesca and paolo #and thats actually where some of the art in this came from cause i went back to that article today #and i forgot that part about Tchaikovsky but it's actually really touching and fitting i felt like #its so cool how much art has been inspired by francesca and paolo for so long #and i just had to make this and i loved it cause its such an aching touching song that descends beauty #and the quotes from the inferno itself with francesca speaking were so beautiful #wow im such a nerd but i love it #shoutout to hozier once again for giving francesca and all francescas out there the recognition they deserve #OH AND ALSO I HAD TO PUT IN A CLASSIC Ivan Aivazovsky PAINTING #CAUSE THATS THE ONE THAT PEOPLE MISTAKE FOR GATHERING STORM BUT ITS DIFFERNT!!!!!!!!!!!! #CAUSE THIS ONE IS MORE ANGRY AND TURBULENT AND OMINOUS #WHICH DEFINETLY FITS THE STORM AND HURRICANE LYRIC I FEEL LIKE IDK I LOVE COMBINING MY NERDY ARTSY INTERESTS

[cerise-on-top]

Hugging, Kissing and Cuddling HCs for König

I'm trying to see him in another light again after everything I've seen about him, so I decided I'd write something fluffy and nice for him. And then came the realization I never wrote some HCs like these for him in my original posts, so I decided I'd change that! He's Austrian, so naturally I have to love him!

When it comes to hugging someone, König is a bit hesitant. Considering he’s not the most physically affectionate person out there, it’s almost an honor to be receiving an unprompted hug from him. Whether his hugs are long or short depends on the occasion: If he’s proud of you for accomplishing something, then the hug will be rather short lived. Though, he might pick you up and spin you around until you’re dizzy. If you’re sad and need some comfort then his hugs could last a while. He’s not the best with words, he prefers to listen to other people, but if he knows a hug is what usually helps you then he’s willing to do so. Despite being a big and strong lad his hugs are surprisingly gentle, he’s worried about crushing you. He could put his all into them, but then you’d likely end up with a few broken ribs and he doesn’t want that to happen. König is also surprisingly warm, so receiving a hug from him is a rare, but nice experience. Although he does go rigid at the beginning, not knowing what to do, but relaxes into the hug eventually.

Again, he’s not a very physically affectionate person, but isn’t opposed to the occasional peck on the cheek or on your lips either. There is some anxiety whether you’d actually want a kiss from him or not, so he doesn’t kiss you very often, even if you do reassure him that it’s quite alright. He’s a bit tense at first when he presses a kiss to your lips, but calms down eventually. It’s especially bad during the beginning of your relationship, but he’s since gotten better at being calm about it. Since there’s a good chance he’s taller than you he loves giving you a kiss on the forehead. It’s a small but sweet gesture. He doesn’t need to bend down entirely to reach you but he still gets to be affectionate with you. However, if you’re on the taller side, or just as tall as he is, then he’d love to receive kisses to his temple from you. It makes him smile every time you do it. If he’s in the mood for receiving a kiss then he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and nudge you a bit. Or try to get his head in your closer vicinity. Kind of like that one bunny video where the bunny stretches to receive some kisses.

Cuddles with him are a bit more common than hugs actually. However, he refuses to lay down on top of you. If you’re shorter and weaker than him then there’s no chance he’ll put his weight on you, he’s just that afraid of hurting you. If you’re taller or just more muscular, then he might, but he’s still a rather heavy lad. Most he’ll do is put his head on your shoulder while you’re cuddling in bed and are both lying down. Although it’d be a lie to say he doesn’t want to be held. König is alright with being the one to hold you, but sometimes he would prefer to be the little spoon as well. That urge gets especially bad if you’re roughly the same size as him. Sometimes just nuzzling into your chest does the trick for him as well, though. Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair as he does so. Another thing he adores is you sleeping on his chest as he holds you. He gets to hold you close, he gets to protect you and he gets to doze off a bit himself, it’s bliss to him. Sometimes he leans down to press a kiss to your head and accidentally wakes you up like that. He feels bad about it and apologizes profusely, but does chuckle a bit when he sees your disheveled hair and your tired expression that shows you just woke up.

#cod #cod x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #he actually kind of scares me these days even if I don't want that to happen in the slightest so I'm trying to desensitize myself again #I know people always joke about fanon könig vs canon könig but I think I will write him a bit softer with his s/o again #just to combat all those awful things I've seen about him that I don't want to be true and that I also want to forget about #könig is a big lad so I knew from the beginning I wanted him to be good at hugging because this is self indulgent #I feel like if it weren't for his anxiety he'd be much much cuddlier #because that's the case with me even if I have other things going on as well #and what is a funny character you write about if not another piece of yourself? #I've put so much of myself into some of these characters and yet people keep requesting them so I must be doing something right #it's more fun that way as well when you put your characters through something you've gone through. more relatable too #but I think that's something pretty much every writer does. that's why some requests are so difficult to write #I got one about marrying Laswell and Nikolai and that was a difficult request for me because the last wedding I went to #was my parents' and that was almost 18 years ago. man time flies I was 4 years old back then #so naturally I don't remember much either. But I tried and that's what's important! #either way please enjoy this piece of fluff I wrote today!

[mickeym4ndy]

I always think a lot of Mickey’s trauma that he buried pretty deep will hit him really really hard post canon.

He’s been in survival mode his whole life so he suppressed a lot of what happened to him just to get through life. He didn’t have the option of dealing with it.

Post canon, things will likely finally slow down for him - less money worries because they have their business, no threat of Terry coming after him, not doing many illegal things so less constant fear of getting caught for something and going back to jail.

So he’ll finally be able to relax a bit and, in his mind, start living and enjoying things in life.

But I think once life slows down, all the trauma from his childhood all the way to adulthood will hit him like a truck. Even things he hasn’t thought about in years will really start affecting him.

And I think he’d get frustrated with himself because he wouldn’t be able to understand why he’s doing so much worse when things are finally good.

But that’s actually why he’s doing so much worse. Because he doesn’t need to constantly prepared for something going wrong, so there’s space for other things in his mind, so everything he’s buried would come right to the surface.

I feel like he’d go through a pretty hard time before he can start to get better because he’ll have to face things he’s suppressed head on, because he won’t be able to bury them any more.

#I see it manifesting in intense flashbacks and panic attacks and nightmares #among other things #I think it would get to the point where he’d have no choice but to get help #he’d probably go kicking and screaming but he’d need to do it #I’m not a psychiatrist but always thought he’d have PTSD #i also think this is why so many people don’t understand his character in the later seasons because they expect him to be this #perfectly healed communicative adult #but in reality he’s still very traumatized and in survival mode and therefore hasn’t truly dealt with anything #and that has a massive impact on his actions even though he doesn’t realize it #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #shameless us #Mickey Milkovich meta #similarly I think when Ian realises he was groomed by Kash and ned he’ll have to deal w all that and it’ll be hard #I travelled for 10 hours today and this was all I wrote lol

[crybaby-bkg]

I love jealous Bakugou who starts peacocking after a while to get all of your attention.

going to a party and Kiri carelessly picks you up to spin you during a dance, drunken laughter shared between you two. Bakugou watches on the couch the whole time, eyes slitted as he nurses the same beer he’s had all night. he listens to you giggle over the music about how strong Kiri is and—fuck it, he’ll show you strength. he takes the opportunity to scoop you off of your feet next time you guys are out and there’s a puddle in the middle of the road, puffs his chest out a little as he cradles you against him, when you let out that lighthearted giggle but for him this time.

Bakugou catches you chatting deku up, squeezing at his biceps when you tease him about how big he’s been getting. you only do it bc you know it flusters the green haired man, and you think it’s cute how he looks like a strawberry whenever you coo at him. But Bakugou only sees that as the push to go to the gym more, focusing even more on his arms, wearing all of his tanks around you. puffs his chest out again when he puts his arms behind his head and you pat at the bulging muscle and find yourself tracing the veins on his arms.

He sees you dancing with Sero at another squad gathering, something fast and sensual, your arms around his neck while he holds your waist. his face is buried into your neck and it makes you giggle whenever he whispers where to move your feet next. and does Bakugou take that as an active threat against his crush on you? of course he does. finds himself holding you against him at a party, swaying with you, way out of his comfort zone but he wants to show you that he can dance too, damnit.

Denki makes some offhanded comment about holding your bags when you go out to an amusement park, something else about going with you when you need the bathroom too. Bakugou is most definitely shoving him out of the way, manhandling all of your bags from you as he pushes you in the direction of the bathrooms instead. finds his chest practically spilling out of his shirt when you hug him by the end of the night, thanking him for being so kind, telling him that he’s the best friend you could ask for.

and does his heart drop to his ass when he hears the word friend? maybe. just a little.

#a hint of angst in the end lol a little unrequited love if you will #I wrote this last night while sleeping meds were in my system #so I hope this makes sense #I was thinking about jealous peacocking bkg tho all day yesterday #bc I wore this cute ass maxi dress and was like #he’d be so pressed to say that he was my bf lol #I want him obsessed just a liddol 🤏🏾 #oh and I loveeeee the thought of dancing with Sero so so so much #like hip to hip #faces close as you breathe in the same breath #and he’s smiling down at you all cheeky bc he sees how flustered you are just from dancing #I’m slowly becoming a Sero simp omg o vant #I CANT #what the hel is o vant #anyway #I wanna either do my makeup today or keep writing my original story #not enough hours in the day :( #have a great one guys!!! #—another tasty treat! 🍬 #mha sweets! 🍬 #bakugou treats! 🍬

[literalite]

i am undertaking near unfathomable levels of procrastination have some hastily edited eyes of my fave ocs

#caleb sticking out like a sore thumb he truly is my token white boy #i will never stop referring to caleb as my oc he's literally mine idk #ts4 #ts4 edit #sims 4 edit #the sims 4 #edit #my edit #sunny #caleb #vinny #nayef #a* #p #i wrote out all the story dialogue today ok i'll edit and hopefully it'll post on saturday/sunday

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

I've been reading Exodus lately and I've just gotten to the portions where God gives the first commands to the people via Moses (twice), and then goes on to give detailed instructions about the tabernacle and how it should be built, and I'm just... we think art is unimportant?? we think things only mean as much as their functionality?? we so easily fall into the trap of believing that beauty means nothing, that it's cheap and only worth whatever mindless distraction it brings, that it's barely more than a cheap sensual thrill, that buildings should just be practical and plain and cheap, that everything should be functional but ultimately disposable, that paintings and dresses and mugs and curtains and carpets are just pretty but have no real value, that beauty is fleeting and vain and therefore shouldn't be thought about too much, if even looked for at all... we fall into these traps so easily, and we forget that there are chapters upon chapters of painstakingly detailed plans to build one portable worship tent, and those plans have been handed down through thousands of years of human history, because beauty and art and skill in craft is important

#I have to go get ready for work now but I will come back to this #and don't even get me started on the parts about God calling specific craftsmen *by name* #he called them!! by name!!! he said 'this man is good at his job. he creates beautiful work. he will build my temple and make it beautiful' #and even more--God inspired him!!!! it was a calling of GOD for him to create beautiful carvings and tapestries and candlesticks!!! #look even if you're not jewish or christian or religious at all you have GOT to see what it means that all these incredibly detailed plans #for building this tent-temple are extremely important #because even if you don't believe in God and don't think that this is all significant bc he personally gave the instructions #and then helped preserve this record of them so we could still read them today #you do have to see how important they were to the people of that time who first wrote them down #and the extreme care that was taken to record all of those detail #AND the fact that it's been preserved for so long and we can still read all the care that was put into creating this incredible piece #of artwork and worship they made #gurt says stuff #I just. gahhfhhfj. I'm feeling emotional about chapters of the Bible that I can't even fully force myself to pay attention to #bc there's so MUCH and I'm bad at visualizing this stuff and I tend to zone out while listening to it #but the fact that it IS that much!!! that there SO MUCH DETAIL and it goes on for SO LONG that I even struggle to pay attention!!! #that this was THAT IMPORTANT to the people who wrote it and to God!!! as an artist and someone who has always cared about art #this means so much to me ok #christianity #bible verse #bible thoughts #exodus #art #theology

[kkpwnall]

just a little rain

((edit: now on ao3))

“Alright you little gremlins, pick up is 3:30 sharp. If you’re late, you’re walking home in the rain.” Steve holds his umbrella over the kids’ heads as they pile out of the beamer and under the awning at the entrance to the school.

“Wheeler! Don’t forget your lunch!” He holds the paper bag out, and Mike trudges back, grumbling a ‘thank you’ under his breath that sounds more like ‘fuck you’.

One hand on his hip, he watches until they’re all safe inside, pushing and shoving and cackling way too much for first thing on a Thursday morning. 

He turns back to the beamer, looking to kill time until the store opens at ten. Across the parking lot, Steve spies Eddie still in his van, struggling with his leather jacket like he’s trying to hold it over his head and open the car door at the same time. Steve jogs over with his umbrella held high and taps on the window. Eddie jumps about a mile in the air, but relaxes when he sees Steve grinning at him.

“Can I walk you to class?” Steve teases when he opens the door.

“Ooo only if you’ll carry my books, Stevie,” Eddie snarks back. But Steve just takes the book bag from his hand and slings it over his shoulder. Eddie stares at him, a pretty pink flush brightening his cheeks.

“Can’t let the rain flatten these gorgeous curls.” He wraps one around his finger and tilts his head so he’s smiling at Eddie through his lashes, holding the umbrella over both of them.

Eddie’s frozen, just for a moment, his eyes wide. Then he frees himself from the tangle of his jacket to lean into Steve’s space with a wicked grin. “Better watch out, the girlies are gonna get jealous if they see Steve Harrington trying to make me blush.”

“Good,” Steve leans closer, his voice low and deep in his throat as he gives Eddie his most charming troublemaker smile.

Under the guise of needing to stand close to keep them both covered by the umbrella, Steve puts a hand on the small of Eddie’s back as they walk towards the school. But instead of heading directly for the shelter of the awning, he gently steers them to one of the cramped little alleyways back between buildings. Once they’re out of sight and under cover, he tilts the umbrella to hide them just a little more, and kisses Eddie against the bricks.

He’s unhurried, thorough, as if they have all the time in the world. He’s always wanted to kiss and be kissed in the rain, there’s something so quintessentially romantic about it, hidden away from all the elements of the outside world in their own little bubble. With Eddie. Eddie, who he never wants to stop kissing, who he wants to kiss in every timeless and cliched and sensual way known to man. And then invent a few of their own.

It’s a tricky bit of maneuvering, trying to keep the umbrella up and the rain off and get his hands on as much of Eddie as he can reach. But Eddie’s anything but passive. He pulls Steve in by his ‘stupid polo’, one hand sliding up to the hair at the nape of his neck, tilting his head just so. His other hand tugs at the zipper of Steve’s windbreaker, slipping inside to pull him closer by his waist. A gentle swipe of Steve’s tongue is all it takes for Eddie to whimper into his mouth, a small nothing of a sound that Steve devours.

Now that Steve’s had a taste of early morning Munson, he doesn’t want to stop. The heady mixture of a fresh spritz of old spice filling his nose, the taste of cigarettes and coffee and strawberry pop tarts on his tongue. Steve settles his free hand in the small of Eddie’s back, spread flat against the warm, soft skin under his shirt.

A group of girls rushes past the alley they’re hidden in, talking loudly and giggling. Eddie freezes as they walk past, and Steve takes the opportunity to kiss along his jaw, down his neck. The girls are gone as soon as they appeared, eager to get out of the rain, but Steve doesn’t stop his thorough exploration of every part of Eddie’s neck that makes his breath hitch where Steve’s lips touch. Eddie’s hands grip hard at his shoulders, fingers flexing like he can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.

“Don’t you - ah - have better things to do than - hmm - robbing the cradle?”

Steve laughs into his neck. “You’re older than me, asshole. And the store doesn’t open for another 3 hours, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Eddie’s fingers tangle in Steve’s hair, holding his head to Eddie’s neck as Steve grazes his teeth along the strong, trembling tendon.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re dating a high schooler, sweetheart,” Eddie pants.

“Mmm,” Steve hums, sucking gently at Eddie’s pulse point. He pulls back just enough to look at Eddie’s flushed face, his eyes a little dazed. “You’re right, we should fix that. What do you say, my place, six o’clock? We can…” his eyes travel back down to Eddie’s swollen lips, “study.”

Eddie laughs against Steve’s lips as he swoops in for another kiss. Bright and carefree and safe under the privacy of the downpour and the umbrella. Steve deepens the kiss, pulling out all the stops to make Eddie swoon. Little nips and licks and sucks on his lips, gently laving and massaging and soothing with his tongue. Pushing Eddie against the wall with his hips. Rocking slowly against him.

The warning bell rings and Steve finally steps away, grinning. “Don’t want to be late for class, Eds.”

“God you’re the worst,” Eddie says breathlessly, but he pulls Steve toward him again by his jacket.

One of Eddie’s hands falls to his belt, pulling him closer. Steve slips his free hand into Eddie’s back pocket as Eddie bites at his lower lip. He captures Steve’s gasp in his open mouth, swiping his tongue against Steve’s with a gentle firm pressure.

It’s over all too soon when Steve nearly overbalances and stumbles from the sudden lightness on his shoulder. Eddie grins at him, shouldering his heavy book bag, and looking far too pleased with himself.

Steve pulls him in for one last kiss, still holding the umbrella to shield them from the rain and prying eyes. It’s a soft, almost chaste kiss. ‘Good morning’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ in the tender press of his lips. He cups Eddie’s cheek with his free hand, relishing the way Eddie relaxes against him, tilting his cheek into Steve’s palm with a sigh.

“Have a good day at class, love,” Steve says with a wink.

Eddie reaches out to straighten Steve’s windbreaker, zipping it back up and pressing both hands to his chest. He ducks his chin and looks up at Steve. His wide, innocent eyes immediately betrayed by the mischief in his sly grin. “Pick me up at six?”

*title from ‘the rain song’ by led zeppelin

#steddie #steve x eddie #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things season 4 #writing #kk writes #that spell of finish your wip went awry and instead conjured 1100 words of flirting and making out #look they weren’t kissing fast enough in my other wips i had to do something #can you tell it’s been raining all day where i live? #i wrote this AND applied for jobs today so yknow #please clap #is this a bad time to be posting this #probably #idgaf it needs to be set free

[thejacketscloset]

Soap gives out small touches like it's Christmas everyday, he's always bumping into to ghost somehow. He never pushes it too far, mindful of ghost's comfort level, but he gives his pats of affection often. From what he can tell, ghost enjoys it too.

Soap loves physical touch as affection, especially casual affection. Unfortunately, ghost doesn't return physical contact very often, though soap never holds that against him. It just means the moments that he does return affection, soap holds it that much closer to his heart.

One of the most common ways Ghost will return the casual touch is as a light hand on Soap's back, lightly pushing him in the direction they need to go. Soap wishes he could sear that feeling into his skin forever, sometimes he hesitates moving just to feel it for a bit longer. He thinks about the warmth and the pressure of that hand on his back, knowing he would trust ghost to lead him if he had lost all his senses but touch.

So yeah, Soap is content to take what he can get, and give out all that he can give. When it comes to Ghost, Soap would do anything.

#i was thinking a lot abt just. an encouraging hand on my back today #and i wrote like 3 things about it #the yearning so strong i WRITE POETRY AND PROJECT ONTO 2 CHARACTERS. #also i just think soap would specifically like the feeling of touches on his back #casual intamcy and trust n all that stuff #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod #mw2 #ghoap

[simply-ozul]

ok- so i see so much ronance angst and it makes sense for their characters, the shows and all yalls broken hearts

HOWEVER

that means that by default i have become the fluff master. for whatever reason, i cant get myself to make heartbreaking angst like everyone else unless its my own characters, so i will forever and always be fluffy. bittersweet from time to time, but fluffy

also a mutuals recent snippet killed me so i need a lil hurt/comfort typa stuff

here we go

robin helping nancys fear of steve’s pool

like i cant not imagine a pool party at steve’s with all the kids and nancy’s the only one who refuses to go in the water

steve(if he notices) doesn’t really feel worthy to help, so here comes robin

robin is immediately up next to nancy, chattin away like its another day

nancy knows robin can tell, which is why she appreciates it even more, even if she’s a little confused

when the kids all rush out of the pool to eat and cause a mess inside, followed by an exasperated Steve, Robin gently tugs on Nancy’s arm urging her to stay

They talk for awhile, about what happened, and why Nancy feels the way she does. Robin never pushes any of it, she simply offers her genius little ears to listen

When she’s finished, tears streaming down her face as she leans into Robin, the lanky girl just smiles down at her and pulls her up

Robin brings Nancy to the edge of the pool, stepping in herself and just.. standing. Nancy’s cnfused

“What are you doing?”

“Standing in the pool silly :)”

Robin holds out her hand patiently, smiling all the while Nancy has no idea what she’s doing

However, her curiosity gets the best of her, and delicately places her hand into robin’s

step by step, robin get’s nancy up to her knees in the water before she freezes, gripping onto Robin painfully

robin stops instantly, soothing her with gentle strokes on her arms

she’s gently praising her, but not coddling her. nancy hates being coddled

nancy gets the water to her upper thighs before she’s shaking her head, backing out of the water

robin lets her, following slowly

she’s surprised when nancy pulls her into a bear hug, mumbling a thank you into her chest

robin’s immediately stuttering out a “welcome”, patting the girl on the back

from then on, every time theyre at the pool, robin helps nancy get deeper and deeper unti she can float gently with a hand on Robin’s arm

the first time nancy dunks her head under, she panics. she shoots out of the water, immediately wrapping herself onto robin, who holds her tightly, soothing her with praise and soft touches

nancy feels like she might cry. she never thought she’d be able to step foot in any pool again, she never thought robin of all people would be so very patient and gentle with her

without much thought about it, she grabs onto robins face, shoving their lips together

robin squawks and freezes, but eventually relax

they spend the next few minutes just.. kissing. pouring all their love onto one another

when they finally walk into the house, giggling and smiling to themselves, steve is none the wiser, chalking it up to “girl things” as they called it

not sure how to end it so ima just cut it there

lemme know ur thoughts :)

#I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS- #ronance #i love these blorbos theyre my babies #been thinking abt this all yesterday and wrote tidbits all of today