#i had A Feel(tm) about them this morning

[brawltogethernow]

is it okay if i ask what the issue with ring doorbell cameras are? i was under the impression that they were helpful for stuff like potential crimes/lawsuits, safety from police misconduct, and protection from people who are there to harass/cause harm to a home owner. what downsides could they have that outweighs the potential good they can do?

(x) Sometimes the people with the cameras...are the ones harassing people. They're a tool: They don't have a moral alignment. I'm sure people with good reasons to surveil their neighborhoods exist, but I have only personally encountered people who really really want an excuse to call the cops on one of their neighbors.

That said, I didn't say it was amoral to have a ring camera. I said it was creep behavior. It's creepy. I just dislike it. I don't like that if I take my coffee out on the front stoop without a bra on at six a.m. three different wealthy older couples I have literally never spoken to are recording it. I don't like that an increasing number of people consider it acceptable behavior to introduce themselves by saying they've noticed while reviewing their RING CAMERA(tm) that you walk your dog every morning at 10:45 but stopped recently. I don't like being flagged down by strangers who are like, "Yesterday someone stole the change out of my car cupholders, and I notice you walked past my driveway yesterday evening.... Why is that?" and having to laugh charmingly and explain my schedule to them because if I don't they're going to try to send police to my house. I did not enjoy humoring the across the street neighbor as she scrubbed through one of her multiple exterior camera feeds on her phone trying to find the culprit who moved her doormat and discovering that it captured my ENTIRE deck until she landed on a frame that finally had some suspicious figures in it and started to get excited until I pointed out that they were us at the beginning of the conversation we were still having.

It just makes me uncomfortable. I have no obligation to think kindly about people who haven't been personally been weird at me yet who ~may or may not~ be deleting most of their surveillance footage without watching it. It's my opinion that recording everybody who walks down your street is a dick move; it's not neutral behavior to degrade people's privacy in shared spaces, and the cons of doing this don't go away if the pros outweigh them.

It's like watching loud videos on your phone on the bus--you don't have to be doing something evil to make some of the people around you passionately hate your guts. If I made anybody feel uncomfortable about having a ring camera that was on purpose. Really just not a fun luxury item people get their grandparents for Christmas I'm a fan of.

[pillowspace]

Thinking about how Charlotte Emily most likely regularly hung out with the Aftons.

William comes downstairs at 9 in the morning to see Charlie and Elizabeth with empty teacups and a teapot, and is just like, ah. Of course. Little girls love tea parties, but indulges them anyway like "what are you two up to?" Elizabeth immediately lights up. "Charlie said that we should play British People 'cause we're British!" William, now a bit more confused, "...ah. I see." Elizabeth, "oh won't you join us? Pretty please?" Charlie then pipes in that she had also asked Mike, but that he had very unfortunately said no, because "Liz plays too mean." Elizabeth, "I do not, you're just too scared to lose!" Michael, "I can't fucking lose at 'British People.'"

Charlie and Elizabeth do atrocious things to their dolls. Drama. Tragedy. They always clash on the endings though, as Charlie wants their dolls fo have a happy end while Elizabeth wants their dolls to have an even worse end

Michael doesn't know Charlie's staying over, and brings home his schoolmates one day. William Frowns TM like "I tried to tell you Henry was dropping off Charlotte today, but you were already halfway out the door." Michael later re-enters the room to find his schoolmates picking on Charlie and pulling at her hair. The closest Michael ever feels to peace is when he's with the Emilys, so he immediately spirals at the sight like, "oh god, if Uncle Henry finds out I brought people over who hurt his daughter, he might not bring her over anymore. What do I do then? What do I do if he stops liking me?" He quickly shoos off his friends, going "dude! She's a guest, leave her be" while Charlie recovers. Before he too can follow after them, Charlie asks Michael if he'll draw with her. He hesitates. The Emilys are the closest he ever gets to peace, so he agrees and sits down to draw. "What are you drawing, Char?" "Marionette!" "'S that the creepy thing that's always watching the guests come and go at Freddy's?" "He's not creepy, he's my friend. Dad made him for me :(" "ahh. You know, my father's been building something for Liz too." "You think that it'll protect her like Marionette protects me?" "Maybe."

Charlie notices how anxious CC always seems to be, and declares one day that she'll keep him safe. She makes him a drawing of them both holding hands, and gives it to him so that he may always look upon it and know that Charlie's rooting for him. He nearly bursts into tears at the kind gesture. The whole household tries to be nicer to each other whenever Charlie's around, but CC tells her about Michael's behaviour to him. Knowing how weak Michael is to her, Charlie gives Michael a look while he's grabbing cereal the next morning like "you should be nicer to your brother. He's just a little kid." Michael immediately pauses, then awkwardly closes the cupboard like "ummm. Okay." Not wanting to use Charlie as a means to make fun of CC, he just never brings the interaction up afterwards

The Emily and Afton families joining together are constantly filled with different forms of jealousy from the Aftons. William, he's jealous of Henry. Michael, he's jealous of Charlie's positive relationship with her father. CC, he's jealous of how Michael seems to like Charlie so much more than him. Elizabeth doesn't even notice her own jealousy, but deep down, Charlie's completely peaceful household... confuses her. She rationalizes the lack of favouritism or hostility as it only stemming from Charlie being an only child, rather than Henry's good parenting. Being so young as well as being the perfect golden child, Elizabeth doesn't know how to express doubt in her father. Clearly, it must be her siblings doing something wrong if Charlie and Uncle Henry are doing so well on their own!

After CC's death, the house is filled with an unbreakable tension. It's grief. It's guilt. Michael and his schoolmates completely cut ties after what happened. And as always, the Emilys feel so separate from the tension of his own home. Michael starts talking to Charlie more frequently, more often at Henry's house rather than his own. He tries not to, or at least usually tries to hide first, but he accidentally has a complete breakdown in the living room one time. Charlie hums a soothing lullaby to him until Henry eventually comes back, notices the state Michael's in, and takes over calming him down while sending Charlie off to do some other seemingly helpful task. After Elizabeth's death, Michael only really has the Emilys left. Charlie stops just being his source of peace, and becomes his best friend. His only friend. Then after Charlie's death...

It's rather lonely all of a sudden.

Later, years later, when Michael's flesh is rotting on his bones and everything is just about to finally be done with, he sits down on the edge of a cheap creaky stage he bought, and lightly knocks his knuckles against Lefty's calf. "Charlie? Can you hear me alright? It's Michael ... I'm sorry. I know I never acted like it, but... for what it's worth... you were my best friend back then. ...Whatever's beyond this, would you like to be friends again there too?"

[theminecraftbee]

minotaur Joe for the fanon swap prompts? i feel like he'd do something very philosophical and Joe(tm) about mythology. or butterfly/moth Joe?

After waking up with a headache and looking in the mirror to shave, Joe pauses. He stares at his reflection in the mirror. For the past several days, he hadn't thought anything of it; it's usual enough, for a hermit to start to get weird as the day of the start of a new project approaches. Why, if all that moon stuff hadn't happened, Joe can only imagine what growing snakes would have been like for Cleo.

He wonders if it was anything like this: Joe wakes up, stretches, hears weird clacking as he goes to the bathroom, goes to grab his razor, and rather abruptly realizes that he doesn't have a beard, or, rather, that since he now has a bull's head, he has far more beard than can possibly be reasonably shaved, and he should throw the whole concept of 'shaving a beard' out the window.

"Huh," he says. "I guess growing horns does give people a headache? Who knew?"

If his voice is wavering as he says it, well, no one's around to hear. They're between seasons, and while Joe is sharing a server with several hermits at the moment, his mountain lodge doesn't have much by way of neighbors. He's alone to have this horrible revelation.

"How will the bunny ears look with the bull head?" he asks himself. He tries to picture the result and, determining it a little less existentially terrifying than a sudden, unplanned change of species, decides to put them on. He nods. "I am a Playboy Minotaur," he mutters to himself. "I am confident! Composed! Perhaps even a sexyman? Eh, I'll workshop it. I wonder if there's better-matching armor for this..."

He hitches in his morning routine when he realizes the weird clacking he'd been hearing had been hooves. Realistically, he should now be wondering how well any of his boots will fit, now that he doesn't really have toes, and if he needs to be shoed, like a horse might, to protect the hooves from damage instead. Realistically, he should be contacting Iskall about whatever modifications need to be made for the remainder of his time hunting vaults before season 10 starts. Realistically, he should be hunting down one of the less-human hermits and asking if eating burgers to gain levels is now cannibalism. All of these things are realistic concerns that he can bother people about right now, if he wants to!

Unrealistically, he's thinking more about a conversation he'd had with Cub the other day as he stares at his hooves, hands shaking far, far more than he'd care to admit.

They'd been arguing about who Daedalus was.

It had started when they started planning together. Joe had mentioned wanting to build a labyrinth a little bit ago, and Cub, who apparently loved building mazes, was going to help out with the planning. With any luck, all of the hermits were going to help build it! He'd rambled about giving himself a bit of themeing about Theseus as a result, about conquering this whole labyrinth build, this project he'd designed not to really have an end. About having to guide himself in and out through twisting tunnels.

Cub had then pointed out that if Joe had been building it, that technically makes him Daedalus; the one guy who knew the layout, the genius inventor building the trap for the server, designing its hallways. Joe had argued that was who Cub would be; Cub is the expert madman inventor being brought on, and Joe just like, wanted to build a maze. Cub had said that that sort of made Joe Minos then, but given season seven, the guy who once got cursed to turn everything he touched to gold didn't feel very fitting. Joe had agreed it hadn't fit. Maybe they'd split Daedalus then, if Theseus was a little too thematically muddled?

They'd laughed about it. Joe hadn't really intended for the maze to be based on myth, anyway. That would be stealing Cleo's bit, and he knows better than to do that.

And yet.

"We didn't consider I might be the Minotaur," Joe says to no one in particular. "You know. Of the figures associated with the Labyrinth, we didn't consider the big bull trapped in the middle. I should tell Cub we forgot about that one. It'll be a real laugh."

He can't quite say out loud the thing he's really thinking, which is this:

Well, if the universe has decided the guy with the maze won't be the hero, or the inventor, or the king, but the bull it was designed to trap--well. What's that say about him, exactly, in symbology?

"Maybe it's just in reference to the vaults," he says, trying to hype himself up. It falls a little flat. He takes a deep breath. He realizes he's still holding his razor, even after crossing his house to get the bunny ears. He goes to put the razor down and catches sight of his head in the mirror once again.

Monstrous. He's friends with a lot of monsters, of course; he's known Cleo for more than a decade. And his mannerisms, they're still him. But right then, in that moment...

He pokes the bunny ears.

"I am the Playboy Minotaur," he says, more insistently. "Didn't Iskall have that dress he had covered in flowers? That's what's really important here. That, and the obligatory cannibalism if I want to reach the level 100 goal in time, of course. The Minotaur clearly ate meat, despite being a cow, and ate people, despite being half person, but we really know nothing about what cow would do to my diet. Hold on, I have a very confusing message I can write Iskall about this one."

He deliberately turns away from the mirror and goes to write Iskall something that will explain nothing at all, and then tell Cub about their oversight. It's not like he can change it now.

[maliciouslove]

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕡

✧ pairing: fuckboy smileball barista!denki x reader  ✧ summary: having a slimebucks apron is equal to having unlimited rizz (source: me) and denki proves it by bedding his brand new colleague on her very first day of work.  ✧ word count: 5.5k ✧ tags: dubcon(?), manipulation(?), weed and alcohol use, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, pussyjob, unprotected sex, pulling out, size difference (denki is Tall and Lanky TM), unappropriate work relationship, scummy denki, no feelings.

✧ my submission for the @bastardblvd Slimeball collab ✧

✧ AN: happy birthday to my little slimy fuckboy denks <3 this was so fun to work on, genuinely love being a grimetown resident now. the fanart is made by me but i'm no pro so.. be kind please. :D it was written in a daze so if you see discrepancies.. look away. based on my own tiny starbucks where i work (i am slimebucks denki incarnate). you may expect of me to make this a slimebucks series.. katsuki or touya next? ;)

Denki doesn’t like morning shifts — he doesn’t like how grumpy people are first thing in the morning because it makes scoring dates much harder for him. No matter how bubbly and pleasant he is, Monday mornings are just a bad time to flirt with clients. Most customers don’t even spare a glance at him, too busy figuring out their schedule for the day and burying their noses in their phones. He does, however, enjoy the morning business attire — stockings, pencil skirts, white shirts that allow him to see the outline of a bra underneath… and those heels. Something about office fashion always getshim riled up. 

Typically, if he couldn’t strike up a conversation with the morning customers he would settle for watching them, eyes trailing down their crossed legs when they sit down to enjoy their coffee. He would follow their elegant movements and the curves of their bodies — from the corners of their painted lips turning upward in delight after a sip of hot coffee, to their dainty ankles decorated by the ankle strap of their heels swinging to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the speakers.

That is how his Mondays usually go, yet today he couldn't even enjoy that, all because of a new recruit.

His manager Katsuki (that angry bastard) had not even mentioned to them that he was hiring; he announced only yesterday that there would be a new trainee, pushing the responsibility of showing them around the store and kicking off their barista training onto him. Of course he wouldn’t ask Touya to train them — he would end up with his cock in his hand less than ten minutes into the start of his shift due to his “side hustle” schedule conflict, which in turn would scare off any new hire… and then the hiring process would have to start all over again. Katsuki himself is not much better off as barista trainer, his constant irritation and habit of screaming at everyone and everything has made many employees quit (and cry) early on, but the reason he was shoving the responsibility onto Denki was simply that he wouldn’t be in the store due to a manager’s meeting in Tokyo.

Bummer. 

According to the clock on the wall, the new hire should be coming in any time now, so Denki settles for focusing his attention and efforts on that instead of his grumpy morning customers. And then, there you were in your yellow raincoat, all sunshine and smiles from the moment you step inside the store. Denki gives you a once over and decides maybe this Monday morning wouldn’t be so awful after all — you were cute and far too innocent and optimistic looking for him not to take advantage and have a little… fun. 

His plan begins to form before you’ve even laid eyes on him.

“Hi! You must be the new addition to our team, pleasure to meet you!” The blonde extends a hand to greet you, his most charming smile plastered on his face. “Our team is a bit of a sausage party right now, so I hope you can bear with us and not get discouraged. We desperately need someone like you on our team.” 

“Oh I can tell, your merch cabinets look very… dry. You fellas are not big on decorating, are you?” Your heartfelt laugh nearly disarms the blonde man as he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, admitting that the three men working there did not have the best sesne of aesthetics and beauty. 

Oh, you were just his type — confident, energetic, and just a bit too kind and trusting. 

“Well, you’re here to save us, right? How about we get started on your training, get the boring part over with so we can get to know each other better.” 

There was not a single pure intention behind his words, but his face remains the picture of innocence and kindness. He’s had time to practice this look after all — can’t let people find out what’s behind the sunshine facade now, can he?

“Oh well training shouldn’t take long, I worked at a different Slimebuckslocation before moving to this part of town, hence why I’m being transferred here. I can get around drink making just fine, so you can just show me around the store I guess?” You bat your eyelashes at him and Denki thinks of you as a pure miracle. This expedites the timeline he had in mind.

With a pep in his step, he shows you around the store and back of house, informing you where they keep extra syrups and toppings at the front and the storage in the back. He hands you a new apron and name tag while informing you of the usual cleaning routine and covering all the basics that you need to get around the new store on your own. Not that he follows these cleaning routines that closely anyhow, but hey, you were here to pick up the slack now.

“So, think you got everything? Any questions?” Denki leans back against the bar on his elbows, long black painted fingers interlocking in front of his torso. He’s laid back and so pretty it’s almost distracting. A regular person has to exert effort not to stare too long at his honey colored eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

However, you cannot get too distracted — you must remain focused and make a good impression today. 

“Yes, can I please rearrange and restock your merchandise cabinets? They do not spark joy and desire to buy in their current state. No offense.” 

“Have at it.” Denki does not break eye contact, not once — feline eyes following your every move, gears turning in his head and schemes hatching in his pretty little head. 

He doesn’t want to seem too overbearing, but he also doesn’t want you to think he isn’t interested. So, as it is pretty quiet in the store right now, he decides to give you a hand with the merchandise, chatting with you — learning about you. After all, the only times he actually puts effort into his minimum wage job arewhen there is a prospect of a cute girl removing her panties for him. 

“So, you live nearby?” he begins to prod at you with innocent questions.

“Ah, not quite. I have to take a bus to get here since I don’t have a car anymore. I live on the east side of town, close to that big mall they built recently.” 

Denki is easy to talk to, a nice balance budding between the two of you as he takes boxes out and hands you colorful cups and tumblers to put on the shelves. 

“Hey, I live around those parts, too, I can give you a lift after work, save you some bus fare. Unless you have some super jealous boyfriend or something?” Despite flunking out of college, Kaminari isnot stupid — he isplaying his cards just right, creating an opportunity to learn if you’re single and give you an option to spend more time with him, which isn’t really an option. Unless you do have a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have a reason to say no, not after the deliberate way he phrased it. 

“Haha, no, no boyfriend — kind of the reason I don’t currently have a car and why I had to move.” There’s an edge to your voice, maybe even a trace of anger, but to him they appear as feelings that seem to have simmered down. “I got out of a long relationship recently. We used to live together and share a car, but I had to get my own place after the breakup, and he took the car. And the dog.”

“That bastard!” Denki chimes, a bit too exaggerated, but he figures making a small joke won’t actually hurt. “Really though, that sucks. I’m sorry it happened.” 

The way he switches from being a clown to being a gentleman can give a person whiplash. 

“Don’t be, I’m not sorry it happened.” You shrug your shoulders and give him a wide, genuine smile. “Now I get to hook up and have flings whever I want.” 

You keep the tone light, and you mean what you said — you’re not looking for anything serious right now, and the satisfaction from your answer was well written on the blonde’s face. He was cute, so maybe you’ll play along, have fun for once. 

“So this means you’ll let me give you a ride?” 

“If you really don’t mind?” You put the final tumbler on the shelf and examine your work in delight. Meanwhile Denki examines your body in delight. 

“Oh, I’d be honored to.” A devious grin adorns his face as he follows you behind bar to help serve customers. 

The day goes on, the playful banter between you and the blonde continuing — turns out you have similar hobbies: you like the same movies and games, you even have similar music taste, and Denki relinquished the store music rights to you for the day. 

Your shoulders would brush as you work side by side at the coffee machines, and he would laugh shyly, complimenting your pace and how well you’re adjusting to the new store. The exchanges between the two of you were flawless, seamlessly passing each other lids and pitchers without so much as saying a word. 

Kaminari gave the perfect performance of a man who enjoys his work; he didn’t even obnoxiusly flirt with every beautiful girl that placed an order. 

“Hey, can you grab some more caramel drizzle from the back?” Denki asks after a huge line of people finally dissipates and gives room for some tidying up and restocking. 

“Yea, absolutely. Need anything else?” 

“Also grab some extra bags of coffee beans and vanilla syrup if you can?” 

You nod and head to the back of house energetically.

Denki’s been working here for over two years now, so he knows that after this rush there won’t be anyone in the store for another half an hour at least, so sending you to the back of house away from customers was a calculated move. As soon as you disappear behind the doors he follows — after all, you wouldn’t be able to carry all that back to the front on your own.He should give you a hand. 

Smiling to himself, he enters the storage area to see you standing on your tip toes trying to reach the bags of coffee on the top shelf. Quietly he walks up behind you, one hand on your waist to pull you back a bit, the other hand reaching above you for the coffee beans. 

“Be careful. If you can’t reach somewhere, just call for me. Don’t want you getting hurt back here.” He can feel you melt into him and rest your back against his chest as he takes the four-pound bag down for you. 

“Oh, sorry… I thought I was gonna be able to reach.” You smile at him, realizing how he was surrounding you in that moment, and something about itmade your skin tingle. “Thank you.” 

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t be able to carry everything at once so I came along to give you a hand.” The two of you stood very close to one another in the cramped storage, but you didn’t mind, as it was far too cold back here, and Kaminari was pleasantly warm to the touch. “The caramel drizzle is all the way down on that same self, if you want to grab that?” 

Eager to complete the task, you turn around and bend over to open the box labled “caramel drizzle,” giving Denki a perfect view of you round ass, making him gulp hard. If he just reached forward he would be able to trace the curve of your ass with his hand, squeeze one cheek as his other hand trails down your side. 

He shakes the thoughts out of his head as you stand back up, several bags of caramel sauce in your hands. You were squishing them playfully which was not helping Denki in keeping unholy thoughts at bay. 

“I always loved the texture of these bags; it’s so stress relieving to play with them.” Grinning up at him, you were the picture of innocence. 

“Yea, they remind me of tiddies.” Denki blurts out without even thinking, too enthralled by his imagination showing him images of you wrapping your pretty lips around his cock and playing with his balls. Once he realizes what he said he waves his hands around in defence. “No, no, not what I mea–” 

“You haven’t touched boobs recently, have you?” You deadpan, and he can feel his heart sink. “Boobs are much more firm. I get where you’re coming from, but a bag of caramel sauce can not compare to a tit.” You say matter of factly while squishing a bag with your hand. “Can’t do that to a boob, can you?” 

Denki snorts out a laugh. 

“Yea, you’re right — tiddies do feel better. And it has indeed been a while since I got to touch one.” He dramatically wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, a big pout on his lips as he turns to exist the storage. 

“Aww, poor Denki… Wanna cop a feel?” You can see him physically freeze up at these words, turning to give you a bewildered look. “I’m joking! Obviously. You that desperate, pretty boy?” 

You walk past him with a gleeful look on your face. 

The look in Kaminari’s eyes changes as soon as you’re out of sight, and he cannot wait to get his greedy hands on you. In fact, he was going to challenge himself and get between those plush thighs of yours by tonight. 

When the two of you are behind bar again, he continues to orbit close to you, watching videos on your phone over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin when he passes you a milk carton, caging you between his body and the bar while he reaches for something behind you. 

And every time you accidentally touched, you could feel electicity run down your spine and butterflies flutter in your stomach. His light amber eyes trailing down your body lit a fire in your lower belly. The day went on just like that — standing a bit too close to one another, making inappropriate jokes, flirting. And so came time to close and go home, riding in his car. 

“You done with the trash?” you ask as he takes his apron off. 

“Yeah, if you’re done with the floor we can head on out.” You head to the back of house together to grab your stuff from your lockers and lock up. 

“So, got any plans for tonight?” he asks, leaning on his locker while waiting for you to put your jacket on. 

Now that you’re officially off the clock, you take the time to pay attention to small details about the man — how long his eyelashes are, how he cockily half smiles at you, how veiny his forearms are. 

“No plans, no — I’m probably gonna end up watching Desperate Housewives with a glass of wine by myself.” 

And there you go — giving him another opportunity. 

“Oh you watch that too?” He’s excited, presenting this as an interest that not many share with him. “That’s basically my plan for the evening, except I was gonna get high instead of drinking.” Sharing with you that he smokes weed is also tactical; it indicates trust that you won’t misuse that information, and it also opens a gate for you to bond with him over weed if you smoke. 

“Oh, well...” And there you go, taking the bait. “If it’s not too forward of me to offer, I’ve got alcohol and pizza on speed dial, you have weed and good company. Maybe we can merge resources, watch tonight’s episode together?” 

Score.

“Sounds perfect.”

He places his hand at the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, being very caring and gentle — making you feel comfortable and safe, letting you open up to him. It was going to be a fun night for Denki. 

Your apartment is exactly what he envisioned: small but cozy, full of plants, color and art. The small space reflected your personality, a variety of interests on display, different styles clashing in every corner of the room. It was cute. And your chouch seemed very comfortable for eating pussy.

“Cute place.” 

“Thanks. I finally got the chance to decorate my own space however I want, so I went a bit crazy with it.” 

Kaminari doesn’t miss the emphasis in your voice; you lived for a long time with no control over small and insignificant things such as decor. You were frustrated. At the same time, he notes that now you seem to cling to control. He noticed it at work, too — you rarely gave yourself time off. Things are really looking up for the blonde man, and he can barely contain his wolfish smile as the gears in his head turn. You’d love to give up control, wouldn’t you? 

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab us some drinks and we can order pizza.” 

As you make way to the small kitchen, Denki takes two pre-rolled joints from a cigarette tin and places them on the table. Wine and weed should make you nice and pliable for him. You return with a glass of white wine and a cold beer. 

“I figured you’s prefer a beer over wine.” You offer with a smile, and he accepts. 

“How observant of you. I just wanna check first:Are you sure you want to mix alcohol and weed? Might hit you hard.” He shows concern, but it’s fake — the more crossfaded you are, the easier it would be for him to get you naked. 

“Yea I’m uh.. More practiced than I care to admit.” You give him a coy smile and sit next to him on the couch, phone in hand ready to order food. Once that is out of the way, you both finally lean back and relax on the couch, the episode of Desperate Housewives starting with a recap. 

“So, do you invite people you just met to your apartment to get stoned often, or..?” He offers jokingly as he lights one of the joints up. 

“No, just the pretty and charming ones.” You’re no longer being coy about it like you were at work; you like him, and you aregoing to make it known. 

“Oh, you think I’m pretty? So you only want me for my face?” He retorts with faux disappointment, eyes focused on yours intently, curious and full of desire. 

“Not just your face. You have pretty hands too.” You answer with a straight face, reaching for his hand that was holding the joint and pulling it towards yourself, taking a drag from the joint between his slender fingers. 

Denki swallows, the lust thick in his throat. The way your lips wrap around the joint is sinister, the eyecontact you maintain while doing it — electrifying. 

His body responds before his brain can process, leaning in towards you to capture the smoke from your lips with his own, inhaling it and placing his free hand at the back of your neck, keeping your lips close to his. 

Honey-colored eyes stare down at you as your cheeks begin to heat, mind and heart racing as your tongue darts to wet your lips and taste him. Screw your plan to just tease him, wind him up for a week or two, make him eager — you don’t have the patience for all that. You set your glass on the coffee table and close the gap between the two of you, pushing him back, straddling him. 

“Feeling bold tonight, sweetness?” He smiles up at you, letting you get your dose of control, let you simmer in the illusion that you initiated this, you took the lead. His free hand rests on your thigh, thumb drawing circles over your jeans, gently squeezing you. 

You don’t dignify him with a response as your lips crash onto his in a searing kiss, fingers carding through his blonde locks. He can tell how needy you are by the way your body moves — pulling his hair a bit harder than you should, nipping at his lower lip, canting your hips over his. You’re leaning into his every touch, almost aggressively taking what you want from him, claiming control. 

He smiles into the kiss and in one swift move shifts you to lay flat on your back on the couch, his larger frame towering over yours. 

“Don’t move.” He sounds almost like a different person as he yanks the control from you, and you obey. You lay still and watch him intently as he lights the joint again, taking a long drag and putting the joint back on the ashtray. 

Leaning down, he places his hand under your chin, parting your lips and blowing the smoke into your mouth. You inhale and hold your breath as he traces kisses down your jaw and collarbone, warm hands sneaking under your shirt. He only speaks after you slowly exhale the smoke.

“You’ve brightened my day, you know. Let me thank you properly.” 

His fingers trail down your body and unbutton your jeans, feather light kisses pressed against your tummy just above the hem of your pants. You don’t protest, so he continues his ministrations, pulling your shirt up above your head and leaving you in your pink lacy bra. He pushes one of the bra straps to the side and—

Ding dong!

The pizza has arrived. 

“Fuck–” He scrambles to his feet to go answer the door while you qucikly throw your shirt back on and head to the kitchen. Denki follows with pizzas in hand that he quickly discards on the table. 

“Are the pizzas cut? Do you need any sauce or—” You’re scooped up in his hands and pressed against the kitchen counter. His lips are on your again, insistent and needy. “Denk— The food?” 

“I was hoping for a different meal.” 

His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he lifts you up to sit you on the marble counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he makes desire bubble inside you once more. 

Discarding your pesky shirt again, he wastes no time in removing your bra and cupping your breasts, lips enclosing around your pert nipple. 

“You’re right — much better than a bag of caramel sauce.” His words are barely above a whisper as he tweaks your nipple between thumb and index finger, leaving wet kisses across your sternum and stomach. His hands grip at the hem of your still unbuttoned jeans, and you follow his wordless instruction, lifting your hips and letting him slip the jeans off. 

There you were, practically naked on your kitchen counter while he, still fully dressed, devoured you with predatory eyes. Large hands rest on your bare thighs, and he gently spreads your legs and drags you closer to the edge of the countertop.

You’re pretty and soft, and you smell nice. Denki can’t help but wonder if you’ll taste sweet as well. A single digit traces the outline of your lacy thong, marveling at the wet spot forming on the material. Hooking his finger behind the material, he roughly pulls it upwards — the feeling isn’t exactly pleasant, but it doesn't hurt either; it’s simply not enough friction. You need more. Your nose and eyebrows scrunch, and you wrap your hand around his wrist, a pleading whine leaving your parted lips.

“Aw, I’m sorry pretty girl… I won’t tease you too much, promise.” 

Another quick peck to your lips and he sinks to his knees in front of you, eye level with your needy wet cunt. Pushing the pink fabric to the side, he inspects your pretty cunt, glistening with arousal. Kissing from the inside of your thigh and making his way to your core, all you can do is tug on his hair and hold on while he devours you whole. 

Kaminari finally delves his tongue into your heat, leaving a long stripe from your needy hole to your sensitive clit and then focusing on the latter. His tongue is gentle, teasing — like he has all the time in the world to enjoy this tasty treat, working you up until your body starts moving on its own against his tongue. Your head is so far up in the clouds that you probably aren’t even aware of how tightly you’re gripping his hair and how you’re moving your hips rhythmically against his mouth. 

You sound cute: breathless and whiny, softly begging under your breath, head tilted back in pleasure as the muscles in your thighs stiffen and your legs shake. Yet, Denki does not speed up, maintaining his languid pace and dangling true bliss right in front of your eyes. 

“F-fuuck… Denki, please...” 

Your heart is in your throat, and your body aches from the tension, you need release. You can feel the smirk on his lips as you beg him. 

At the peak of your high, delirious from the need to cum but not being given enough friction to tumble over the edge, Denki lifts two long, slender fingers to your wet cunt and slowly pushes them inside you, the feeling of being filled up driving the air out of your lungs. 

Quickly, Denki finds that spongy spot inside you and presses against it, moving his fingers right against it while his lips and tongue focus on your clit. 

It takes seconds for you to ascend, body going rigid as your muscles contract around his fingers and your orgasm is forced out of you with a strangled moan. He does not slow down. 

One strong arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you still while his mouth continues to ravage you, fingers slipping in and out with precision. He was intending to force another orgasm out of you without giving you time to recover from the first. 

Your arms and legs feeltingly and limp, and Denki has to support your weight all while eating you out like a man starved. His cock is painfully hard in his tight jeans, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum one more time on his face. 

You taste like wild honey, and your whiny pleas fuel him to keep going, marveling in the feeling of you becoming tighter and tighter for him, chest heaving erraticly and shaky fingers scratching at his arms and shoulders. You are about to come undone for him. 

Before your mind can respond to your body, the coil in your belly snaps, and you gush onto his fingers with a scream, squirting in his earger mouth as he licks up every clear droplet. He removes his fingers and helps you come down from your high with gentle kisses over your swollen clit and soft thighs. 

Your mind is spinning, but your ears register the sound of a belt unbuckling. Groggily opening your eyes, you are met with the image of him keeping his t-shirt tucked between his teeth as he fists his cock to the sight of you. His pupils are blown — only a thin ring of gold remaining. He closes the gap between you again, his warm length resting on your sticky cunt, slowly gliding between your folds. 

You open your mouth to ask if he has condoms, but he seems to have already read your mind. 

“Don’t have any on me, but I’m clean, and I won’t put it in.” His words are rushed, and he is far too entranced by the feel and sound of wetness to even look you in the eyes. 

You can’t even bother to argue, too tired and blissed out with a new sesnse of hunger growing in the pit of your stomach. Your hips instinctively move to meet his thrusts, the mushroom tip of his cockhead grinding into your sensitive clit, and you just want more. Tired hands reach out to him, thumb rubbing over his cheek as he leans into your touch, kissing your palm with his eyes shut as his hips thrust faster against your sloppy wet cunt. 

“Fuck, gorgeous, you have no idea how bad I wanna be inside ya.” He nips at your hand still resting on his cheek and growls lowly, frustrated by his own imagination of how snug you would feel around his cock. 

Drunk on his words and the previous two orgasms he forced out of you, you want him just as bad. Throwing all logic and reasoning out the window you use the last of your strenght to lift your hips and line him up to your entrance, slamming your hips down and taking his cock all at once with a yelp. 

“P-Please, please…” You mumble in a chant as your velvety walls spasm around his girth, mouth loosly hanging open and a bit of drool trickling down your chin. You were so beautifully fucked out, heavy eyelids giving you the most seductive look. 

Finally overcoming his shock and managing to stifle his impending orgasm, Denki moves his hips and curses under his breath at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in. Grinning wolfishly at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, small hands gripping his sleeve for dear life, he angles his hips to thrust his cock right into your sweet spot making you scream his name in pleasure. 

God, if he hadn’t edged himself half to insanity, he’d want to stay buried in your warm cunt for the whole evening, but you felt so good, he knew he wouldn’t last. Hooking his arms under your knees and then linking his finger behind your neck he rams his cock fervently inside you. The angle change of this position made you feel him all the way in your stomach, your clit slapping against his pelvis with each thrust. Snaking a hand between your bodies you circle a finger over your clit to help yourself while he uses you as a fleshlight.

“That’s right sweetness, keep doing that, you need to cum one more time f’me. One more.” 

Folding you even more and slamming you on his cock he could feel your insides trying to push him out as a third orgasm washes over you, more clear liquid splashing against his abdomen as you cry out his name.

Letting you out of the headlock, he pulls out quickly, pumping his fist over his cock as his balls thighten, and he empties his seed all over your wet cunt, smearing his cum over your clit and folds with a relieved sigh.  

Still caging you in with his arms at your sides, he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“You good?” You answer with a weak nod, and he can’t help but chuckle at how exhausted you are reaching over for the kitchen paper. “Sorry, it’s the closest thing I can clean you up with.” 

After catching your breath and no longer being covered in sticky cum, post-nut clarity finally settles in, and you chew on your lower lip, anxiously pondering the consequences of your actions. 

“Don’t freak out, pretty girl.” He’s his usual charming self now, feline eyes crinkling in a smile. “You don’t want anything serious, nor do I, and if word gets out at work we’d be both in trouble. So, how about we keep this between us?” 

Offering you a perfect escape — the final part of his plan. You smile widely glad to know you’re both on the same page, the anxiety dying down. 

“Also, sorry to bust a load and hit the road, but my landlord has left me like 12 messages about some emergency at the flat so I think I should really go check it out, might be a flood.” He awkwardly scratches his neck, showing that he feels bad about this. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Go, I hope it isn’t flooded.” You turn to grab one of the abandoned pizzas on the table. “Why don’t you take this with you? You never got to eat it anyway. Won’t be as good as fresh pizza, but it’s something…” 

He grins widely, accepting the pizza and giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you. I’ll see you at work then, newbie?” 

“See you then.” 

Escorting him to the door you lock it behind him and rest your back to the door taking a deep breath. 

Walking outside of your apartment complex, Denki pulls his phone out of his back pocket and dials a number under the name “Landlord Toshi”. 

“Hey man, thanks for always having my back with the apartment ‘emergencies.’” The blonde laughs into the phone. “Yea, I told you she was gonna be easy — fresh out of a relationship, wants to let loose and make up for lost time, constantly feels like she has to be in control so naturally gives the reins away when it comes to fucking. It was a fun little challenge.” 

“You dog.” The man on the other line chuckles and a bong can be heard in the background. “You gonna tap that again?” 

“Nah, she seems the type to catch feels.” Denki lights up the other joint in his cigarette tin and gets in his car, revving the engine. “Plus, the only reason I did this was to even the bet scores at work while Touya is still on vacation.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[softwebss]

alr i'm request something from you how harry potter boys would react if your sick <3333

pov: you're sick . how the hp boys would react to you being sick

♡ synopsis: how the harry potter boys would react to you being sick.

♡ warnings: fluff, mentions of sickness, medicine, a bit of swearing, draco being suggestive and nsfw because hes like that-

♡ a/n: love im so sorry for posting this late!!! my midterms and exams have been KILLING me omlll- i hope you like it tho!!!

harry potter

he would be so worried???

poor boy would buy everything to help you get through your sickness

no matter how low key it was

you could have a slight cold and thirty seconds later he'd be rushing in the common room with thirty tissue boxes and cough syrup

he would also let you borrow his sweaters and mufflers to keep you warm

actually, he would insist on you to borrow them

and the amount of care he would show for you? omg

"LOVE DON'T DIE ON ME, YOU'RE GONNA GET THROUGH IT"

"i just coughed-"

he would snuggle with you, no matter how many times you'd tell him that he'd catch your cold

harry loves you more than anything tbh

ron weasely

hes a little shit about you getting sick

but he actually does care for you- but he wouldn't dare to show it

"HAHAHAHA- OH GOD Y/N- YOUR SNEEZES ARE GONNA WAKE UP THE WHOLE SCHOOL-"

"shut uppp!"

if he sees you shivering in your bed, hed crawl up from his and snuggle with you, with affirmations.

but by the morning he's himself again.

gobbling chicken fries and laughing whenever you sneezed.

smh ron, smh.

cedric diggory

hes very calm about your sickness

he'd be solemn about what medicines to give you, and when to bring you to the infirmary.

"i can handle it :)))"

"why do you have fifteen pills in your hand- CEDRIC WHA-"

actually nvm hes having a mental panic attack rn

BUT HED NEVER SHOW IT

all he wants is you to be calm and quiet and let him handle stuff

draco malfoy

he would be so caring

perfect bf tm

draco would magic up whatever you wanted

soup? he had it

tissues? he had it

the blood of unicorns to keep you young and beautiful? you didn't ask but he's already made the plans to go fetch it

actually tho hes gonna take care of EVERYTHING!!!

and he'll look so goddamn cute while doing it omggg

but he'll flirt with you while doing so because its draco oml

"sugar, I can't wait to flip you over the common room counter when you're healthy and let you ride m-"

"DRACO OH MY GOD MADAM POMPFREY IS STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU"

"SHE IS?????"

neville longbottom

i feel like not enough people acknowledge that neville exists-

BUT LETS OVERLOOK THAT RQ

he would be so overprotective

neville would magic the temperature to make it comfy for you <33

bro loves you too much smh

forehead kisses? yes pls.

he would never let you do anything that would worsen your condition

eg. taking long showers

going in the cold w/o a muffler

hes so sweet about it oml

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 5) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Hello, hello hello! I hope you're all enjoying this little more fluffy story so far. Some of your tags kill me when I see reblogs and I appreciate them so much! Also I am so sorry that this one is exceptionally long!~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090

Cw: CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine (more to be added). Faz-Fuck TM

True to William Afton's word, you were placed on office duty for at least a week before you could return to normal work. Henry had even drive you to the local pharmacy after work and loaded your bike up onto the back of his car, buying you a soft wrist compress and some painkillers despite your protests and insisting that you would be being driven to and from work by either him or William for the duration of your 'light duties'. There were no ifs or buts allowed from either of them, Henry once caught you trying to walk to work and you had spent an hour in his office listening to him lecture you on why it was such a bad idea. You could have sworn that he nearly cried several times during it.

You had decided to try your luck walking in again today, knowing that the pair would be looking for your Freddy's uniform and your bike, you decided to place a thin jacket over the top to mask it, hair tied up and a hoodie beneath the jacket, hood pulled up as if you weren't sweating in the heat. Twirling your wrist back and forth as you tried to avoid it locking up with the compressive bandage on, you were lost in your own thoughts as you walked. It was sufficiently early in the morning that you were sure that neither of them would spot you even if they happened to be driving out.

Suddenly you heard a voice calling your name, and of course like a fool you stopped and turned your head. Spotting a car that you hadn't heard cruise up besides you and come to stop, blinking as you took in the black colour muscle car that you probably didn't know much about if your life depended on it before your eyes fell onto the owner who had climbed out of the door. Paling as you watched William Afton lean against the door with his arms crossed across his chest.

"M-Mr. Afton, you look...nice..this morning." You complimented, which he truly did, although it wasn't his usual colours that he wore to work. Still wearing his black slacks, he wore a Spring Bonnie shade of yellow shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a purple tie on. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he scowled although you could see some amusement in his eyes.

"That shit works on Henry, not me. So, it's a little early for a walk isn't it?" He almost growled your name at the end, making you feel slightly weak at the knees and your stomach sink as you began to realise how much trouble you were about to be in with the taller, older man. Opening your mouth as if to speak before he raised a large hand, finger up to shush you.

"Get in the fucking car, don't make me chase you cause I will assure you, you will get your cardio for the month in if that's the case." Staring into your soul, scuffing your shoes on the pavement as you reluctantly moved to the passenger side, William turned to watch you, your fingers on the door handle before you looked back at him, offering him a sheepish smile.

"Don't you mean get in the faz-fucking car, sir?" You could see his lips quirk at the corners and the joke clearly hit somewhere to make him amused, but he remained otherwise serious as he began to stride round to your side, brushing against your back as he opened the door for you and gestured for you to get in.

"No, I mean get in the fucking car young lady, I'm already thinking on how to punish you for making me do this shit." The thought of him punishing you made you shiver and blush, realising that you imagined his large calloused hands on you for a brief moment and feeling incredibly embarrassed. Not that you hadn't been thinking about the glimpse of him shirtless that you had gotten a few days before.

He climbed into his side with a practised ease, cracking his neck slightly and sighing as he put the car into gear, pulling off and heading towards Freddy's. You sunk into your seat as you heard him mutter to himself.

"Henry is not going to let me live this one down." Sounding slightly bitter about it, you raised and eyebrow and looked at him quizzically.

"What is Mr. Emily not going to let you live down?"

"He... I told him you were probably going to try some shit like this this morning, and he told me to lighten up, that you wouldn't after the lecture he gave you about being safe." He groaned, one hand on his thigh and the other on the steering wheel as his eyes darted about the roads, purposely avoiding yours. "He's going to call it my fucking 'dad sense' or some shit and call me old."

"Well sir, you are like...five years older than me?" You guessed, being a bit generous to try and win him over a bit more, causing the man to snort and look at you, pointing at his greying temples with his free hand.

"Does this look like five years to you? If so, wow your future is looking bleak. More like ten and even that is depressing enough." William sighed, running a hand through his hair and concentrating on the roads again. Cranking up the radio so that the rest of your drive would be in silence.

Arriving at Freddy's, William got out first and opened your door for you, hovering a few steps behind as he escorted you into the building where it seemed eerily quiet. You were there a lot earlier than usual and most of the staff hadn't arrived yet for morning duties. But walking through the empty halls with William, you didn't feel unsafe or uneasy doing so. Though you felt your stomach twisting into knots as you approached the offices together, knowing that Henry would be disappointed in you before you even saw his face, you tried to remain positive that whatever the two of them could come up with for the day couldn't be that bad.

"Morning Mr. Emily." You chirped, making the man sat at his desk smile as William unlocked his office behind you. Watching him run a hand through his curly hair and leaning back, eyes bright as always despite the early start.

"Morning miss..." Your name trailed off as he looked at you, suddenly squinting before his eyes widened, conflicted between a frown and a smile as he looked between you and William.

"Don't say it Henry." William warned, not needing to turn around to know what was about to be said by his business partner. Although you watched Henry almost bouncing excitedly at his desk.

"You totally used your dad sense! God you're so old William." He teased, making the taller man sigh and tip his head back in frustration.

"Henry, you're older than me." He retorted, opening his office door finally and stepping inside, flicking on the lights and scowling slightly as he rubbed at his face, disturbing his glasses and messing with his hair again before he ran his fingers through it and fixed it again.

"So, you're still a dad!" Making William sigh in annoyance as he looked at you, almost pleading for the happiness of his friend to dispel for just one moment to give him peace. Raising an eyebrow and gesturing to you to step into his office, your name sounding too pretty from him as he spoke again.

"You can spend the day with me sweetheart, I figure being bored to death by the more technical side of this job might be a better punishment than a lecture." Afton shrugged, making you look between the excitedly bouncing Henry and the calmer of the pair, and quietly choosing to be in for a chance of peace rather than seeing Henry tear up again as he lectured you again like you were his daughter.

"See you later Mr. Emily." You smiled, waving to him and stepping into William's office and hearing the door close behind you, William stepping around you with his fingers brushing your back to let you know where he was whilst he moved.

Compared to the explosion of children's drawings, family photos and colour that made up Henry Emily's office, William Afton's was much more organised in its own chaotic fashion. The main wall had a large pin board hung up on it, with neatly organised and spaced mechanical and electric diagrams for various animatronics and projects pinned up on seemingly colour coded pins that only he knew the order of. Two photo frames hung up too, one with William and a young blonde girl in a tiny turtleneck and cardigan, holding a toy Spring-Bonnie, the edge of the photo clearly cut as a mystery hand floated on the girl's shoulder, opposite to William. The other was a slightly younger Afton and Henry, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders and each holding the head of their animatronic suit under their arms, you could vaguely make out a building that said 'Fredbear's Family Diner' in the background.

The rest was fairly standard, except for the pile of animatronic parts and tools that laid scattered amongst the paperwork on his desk, all dark colours, including curiously a couch that was pushed up against one wall. The leather cracked and worn, a pillow set up on one of the arms and a faded blanket folded neatly over the back.

'Does he sleep in his office?' You thought as you looked at it, brow furrowing before you took a seat opposite Afton, trying to see what he was up to even if you didn't understand.

"So, you're a dad Mr. Afton?" You asked, breaking the silence and hearing a 'hmm' coming from the man before he looked up, brow furrowed in concentration and clearly having not heard your question. You gestured to the picture on the wall with the girl, smiling softly as you looked between it and him.

"Oh, yes! That's my little girl, Vanessa." He said, a bit of pride creeping into his voice as you noticed his left thumb moving against his ring finger, a lump forming in your throat as you noticed the glint of a gold wedding band on the finger. Of course he was married, what woman wouldn't want to marry somebody like him? Business owner, good looking, good with kids.

"She looks adorable." You commented, tearing your eyes away from his hand back to the picture, trying to spot which of his features she might have inherited.

"Yeah, probably haven't been the best dad to her but I try." Glancing back down at his paperwork and clearing his throat, he wondered why he opened up to you so easily. But he supposed he knew somewhat where he stood with you, you were easily flustered by him but you had genuine care about him and Henry it seemed. His thumb continued to twirl the ring on his finger absently, eyes unfocused as he wondered if he should mention his soon-to-be-ex wife to you, but decided against it.

William looked up at you again and offered a warm smile, adjusting his glasses on his nose before running a large hand through his hair again. Something he often did when he was somewhat nervous, although he wasn't entirely sure why he felt that way around you. Taking a moment when you looked away from him again to admire the way your eyes looked, their rich vibrant colour, the way your eyelashes fluttered as you breathed slowly and deeply. He swore at himself internally as he swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry as he realised what he was thinking about you.

"Oh, before I forget, I collected these for you to look through." He chuckled, snapping him and you out of the reverie each of you had fallen into, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a stack of papers, some crinkled around the edges and messy, making you raise an eyebrow as you gingerly took them, pausing as you saw your name written in childish crayon on the top one.

Your fingers brushed the crayon markings like they were some ancient script that you had to be careful with. Flicking onto the next one, and the one after, your heart melted as you spotted a pattern to them.

'The day --- saved Spring Bonnie'

'--- Helping Spring Bonnie!'

'--- and Spring Bonnie'

The childish spellings and writing made your name incredibly hard to read on most of them, but you felt your eyes welling up as you carefully leafed through each sheet of paper and spent time looking at childish drawings of you and Spring Bonnie holding hands, or trying to help him up. There weren't many in the pile, but enough to make your lip quiver and your eyes feel hot and prickle with tears.

"I've got some too, children keep giving them to Henry or me and asking if we know Spring Bonnie or you and can we 'please give them to them?'. I thought you might like to know that you and Spring Bonnie are officially considered the best of friends by the kids." He smiled warmly as he noticed how you stared at the drawings with such emotion. William felt his fingers twitching as he wanted to reach out and comfort you, but he remained professional as he didn't know how you would feel about that.

"Thank you sir, this is-"

"William, you can call me William when we're alone." He interrupted, smiling lopsidedly as you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning up slightly as he gave you that sweet, warm smile that made the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly and of course, the idea that you could address him so informally made the butterflies reappear in your stomach.

"Then thank you, William, may I keep one?" You asked, taking care to say his name rather than addressing him as your boss. His smile grew a little as he heard you saying his name for the first time, his own chest tightening at the sound and he nodded his head, gesturing to the stack in your hands.

"Please, take as many as you want sweetheart. I'll grab us some coffee whilst we work."

Standing from his desk, he towered over you, his hand hovering near to your still lightly bruised shoulder before he thought better of it, heading for the door and turning the handle, pulling it so that it would open.

But it didn't.

Trying again, the door rattled and shook, but refused to budge. Frowning, William braced himself with his other hand against the frame and yanked, worried about breaking the door but no matter what he tried to do it to it, it wasn't budging. Eyes widening as he realised that you were trapped together, pressing his ear to the door and listening hard, he could faintly hear the sounds of the pizzeria filling with screaming kids and music already.

"Well....Fuck." He sighed.

~~

Both of you had tried the door for twenty minutes before William picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear, dialling quickly and hearing the thing ring a few times before a familiar voice answered him in it's usual cheery tone.

"'Yello?"

"Henry! Thank fuck, me and -"

"William, what have we said about swearing on property?" Henry chuckled as he stood in the end of the employee hallway, listening to the phone call and making sure to keep quiet enough so that William wouldn't suspect where he was, glancing out into the dining room.

"Faz-fuck that, you stupid bonnie-bitch! Me and," he said your name in the angriest tone you had ever heard on him, and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you, it made your stomach turn and body shake with anxiety at what was about to happen. "are trapped in my office, the door's stuck! Come fucking help us, or I swear to god Emily, I will force you into one of the working animatronics."

Henry couldn't help but grin at William's threats, knowing that he was really pissed if he was calling him by his last name, but Henry also knew that nothing was really meant by it. Looking out into the hall, he could see everything was running smoothly and that the staff were handling it all well despite being one down for the day.

"I'll be right there Afton, I'm just sorting something out and I'll be there in a moment." Feigning concern as he hung up on the larger man, straightening his tie and clipping his phone to his belt, turning it off so it wouldn't ring again as he headed back out into the diner, greeting parents and kids with vigour as he went.

William slammed the phone down and groaned, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face with his hands, elbows on his desk as you tried not to panic at the idea of being trapped in such a small space for potnetially the rest of the day. Your leg bouncing and heel tapping the floor as you brought your fingers to your mouth, ready to bite at your nails as you avoided looking at the handsome man opposite you. Seeing him with his hair messed up made you want to run your fingers through it and return it to normal for him, but you knew he was a married man and that you couldn't do such a thing to him.

"Good job we have a bathroom and a mini-fridge in here." He laughed, somewhat bitterly as he knew Henry would find some distraction that meant he wasn't going to be there as soon as they both wanted.

You felt your eyes prickling again, and your hands trembled as you realised that you were stuck. Sniffling lightly and trying to hide your concern and fear from William as you sat in the uncomfortable chair opposite him. The large man noticed however and he looked up, frowning as he heard the sound and feeling his heart melting as he noticed you trying not to cry infront of him. Standing up, he made his way around his desk and crouched infront of you, wincing slightly as his knees popped lightly at the movement but turning your chair so that you could see him and he could see your bowed head properly.

"Hey hey! Sweetheart, bunny, why are you crying? Is being in the same room as me for a while really that awful?" He teased slightly, trying to get you to smile, you choked out a laugh as you wiped at your eyes, trying to get them to stop watering.

"N-No, it's your terrible sense of humour I'm worried about." You giggled, trying to be funny and seeing William chuckle at your attempt. He looked strange without his glasses, but decidedly still very handsome as he grinned up at you before pretending to be hurt, placing his hand over his heart and making a shocked mock expression.

"Well, I promise not to ask for your ID whilst we're together if that makes you feel better?" Making you laugh more and nod, he felt his heart hammering as he realised how vulnerable you looked, how fragile and breakable compared to himself and it made him ache to comfort you even more.

"Can I touch you sweetheart?" He asked, hands hovering as he waited before you nodded slowly, wondering what he was going to do. Carefully, he placed his hands on your ribs under your arms, picking you up as he stood and your arms instinctually wrapping around his neck, legs hanging over his hips as he carried you. It was only a few paces to the couch in the corner, but those moments together set your heart into overtime and you couldn't help but get a smell of his cologne. Something earthy and spicy, and the faint scent of motor oil and sweat like it was engrained into his skin.

Almost whimpering as he had placed you down on the couch, grabbing the blanket from off of the back of the couch and wrapping it around your shoulders gently. Wandering off and dragging over an old TV on a wheeled stand, placing a tape into the VCR player and wandering off again, bringing back two sodas as the screen flickered to life and quietly began playing a cartoon of Freddy and friends, happy bouncy music clearly made for kids in the background.

Sitting besides you, Afton offered you a soda and helped crack it open for you, making you mumble thanks as you sipped at it, the high sugar soothing your nerves although it didn't stop your mind thinking about how his large hands hand felt against you.

"I figured we might as well watch something whilst we wait, things like this used to help me when I had panic attacks." He explained in a low soft voice, making you look up at him curiously, not sure you could see the giant man who was always so refined and poised with most people having panic attacks. But he grabbed the pillow and laid it across his lap, avoiding your eyes as you swore you saw a little blush on his cheeks in the flickering colourful lights. "You can lay down if you want, you can still say no, I'm not acting as your boss at the moment." Giving you a reassuring smile before he turned back to the screen.

Both of you playing the waiting game and thinking of the other without a word more between you.

~~

Henry finally managed to pry the door open, the pizzeria finally closed down and allowing him to escape back to the offices. The noise startling William awake slightly, although the weight on his lap made sure he didn't move too much. Henry grinned widely as he saw the scene before him, your head on Afton's lap and William's fingers tangled into your hair as if he had fallen asleep soothing you. He couldn't remember when he'd started it, or even when you had fallen asleep, but groggily he looked up and spotted Henry looking at the pair of you, grinning like a fool as William tried to quickly and efficiently extract himself from you without disturbing your peaceful sleep.

"So, I think you've certainly become more people oriented recently William." Henry teased as the man grabbed his glasses and rubbed at his face, hair messy and eyes still puffy with sleep.

"Shut the fuck up Henry, one word of this and I'll end you." He hissed, making Henry throw up his hands in mock surrender. Still grinning madly as William turned to look at you again, hoping that Henry didn't see the soft smile that crossed his face before he padded over to wake you up and let Henry take you home.

He didn't trust himself not to do something stupid if he was left alone with you. Something stupid like develop feelings.

[wri0thesley]

I know it's morning for you nat and I'm so sorry to plague your day with such debauchery so early but I've been having Thoughts(tm) ever since I read your little blurb about alhaitham discovering how to get you squirting and I can't sleep because of it. just imagining the very first time it happens, how embarrassed you are by the mess you make but the fucked out look on your face when you came and the way your whole body convulsed makes him feral, he needs to see that reaction again and it's not long before you're so overstimulated and an absolute wreck from squirting so many times. he'd be so cruel with milking them out of you, you're sobbing and shaking by the time he's finally come, unable to form coherent words anymore. ugh, he's terrible 😭

cw: not sfw, minors dni. squirting, alhaitham bullies reader a bit. reader is afab with no pronouns used.

You can barely breathe.

The first time it had happened, Alhaitham had paused only for a moment - your back had arched, your body spasming, pleasure zapping through every single one of your nerves as your fingers had uselessly clutched at his wrist (fingers mercilessly pounding into you, curling and rubbing at the textured, spongy spot inside of you that he knew from experience always made you see stars), a tremulous wail falling from your mouth as you'd mumbled;

"N-no! Alhaitham, 'm gonna . . . I'm-- feels weird--"

He had been able to tell from your voice that your 'weird' was not a bad thing - so Alhaitham had just clicked his tongue in that irritatingly superior way he had and looked at you through half-lidded eyes as he'd said;

"You're squeezing me so tightly, and it's clearly not unpleasant for you. I think we should see what happens if I carry on going." Damn his scholarly lust for knowledge. Because as he'd carried on going, plunging fingers wetly in and out of you, feeling along your g-spot with a cruel and practised air - you'd felt your insides contract, and then suddenly you were coming. And not just coming - as Alhaitham's fingers worked you through the bone-juddering orgasm, you realised you were gushing; squirting, making an awful mess of his hand.

You'd lost control of yourself; felt your mouth drop open and your features slacken, your entire body tensing and arching and convulsing, your cheeks heating up at the mess and shame draping about you even as you'd revelled in the pure sensation of it all. You'd expected the Scribe to be disgusted by the mess; but instead, Alhaitham had breathed out, slow and steady, controlling himself - and you'd seen something flash in his eyes that was dangerous.

"Oh," he'd breathed, a kind of awe in his voice that made your toes clench. "I need to see that again."

And so Alhaitham had approached the job of making you squirt with that same ruthless determinating and thirst for knowledge that he approached everything else - so entranced by everything he'd seen that he could not imagine not wanting to discover every way he could make you do it again. You hadn't seen how beautiful you'd looked to him; utterly lost in the feelings, head thrown back, beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone and your forehead as your chest had heaved and you'd lost control of yourself. The feeling of having so much power over you - how your cunt had clenched and gushed all over his fingers, like a reward for his hard work . . . Oh, Alhaitham needed to ensure that you felt like that every time he fucked you - not only for your pleasure, but for his own pride.

He bullies you mercilessly. Calloused fingers sliding in and out of you in a punishing rhythm; the slick noise of those same fingers working in and out of the clench of your sex. Spreading your own slick all over your folds, so you drip down his wrist and onto the sheets even before you've made a mess of him. His thumb rubbing over your clit, circling your nub and swirling over it in tandem with his thrusts--

One squirting orgasm is not enough for him. You do come for him, naturally - this is a man who has learnt your body as thoroughly as he's learnt every academic text that has ever been put in front of him, every language he's ever tried his hand at - but Alhaitham is not satisfied from that. No. Even as you're pulsing around him, pulling his fingers in . . . Alhaitham's speed does not stop. Your thighs twitch, your hips shaking from side to side, your body trembling with the force.

"It's too much," you manage to get out, though your tongue feels like it's too heavy to move in your mouth. "I-- c-can't come again, Alhaitham, please--" Your body is overstimulated, shaking and trembling and sweating - every nerve afire, tingles of pleasure numbly emanating from your fingers to your toes and everywhere in between.

Another. Another. Alhaitham's fingers, merciless - his smile, smug and satisfied, his eyes narrowed in hunger . . . his cock pressing against your hip from the way he's situated beside you on his side with his hand between your thighs. Every time you whimper and sigh and pant, it seems to throb against you . . . but he hasn't even lost a single thread of his clothing. He's far too focussed on his current goal.

"I can't--!" You whimper out, as fat tears roll down your cheeks, somewhere around your seventh all-consuming squirting orgasm. "It's too much, I can't, Ican'tIcan't--"

"Of course you can," Alhaitham had said, his tone patronising and firm. "Let's get up to ten. I know you can do it. Come now, darling. Another for me--"

And he leans down and kisses you, biting at your lower lip, hungry and wanting and so obviously turned on from seeing you make such a mess of yourself that it makes you ache--

And it proves him right, as another painful orgasm rips through your body, and you go quite insensible as you give him what he wants yet again in the form of another soaking wet climax, punctuated with a slurred cry-sob of his name.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Event?????

1 or 7, domestic style fluff with my favorite eel?? ♡♡ (it's Floyd of course)

I leave romance vs platonic up to you, gn reader so everyone can enjoy as well :)

Can't wait to see what younc9me up with!!! If you need any help or ideas come bug me, floyd sits in my head constantly like a very annoying song

Warm Mornings; Floyd Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; Who needs a weighted blanket when you have a Floyd? I am here to deliver soft Floyd(TM) hours! (he also sits in my head constantly; the song is the low-quality Funky Town)

Even when Floyd was dead asleep, he squeezed you, and that was your situation now. You were lying on top of him, and he had you in a comfortable yet strong bear hug. Just tight enough that you couldn’t wiggle free from him. And it was normally fine, but last night someone had left the window open and now it was warm and humid in the room, making you feel sticky.

“Floyd,” you whispered, trying to wake him up gently.

A gentle snore was your answer. You should have expected that though, he sleeps like a damn log.

You tried wiggling around a bit, but Floyd just hugged you tighter on unconscious instinct and rolled over, trapping you under him. Yeah, you were officially stuck. “Floydddd,” you groaned, poking him right above his hips. “You’re crushing me.” 

Usually he would wake up by you repeatedly poking him, but he was out cold, he only just shifted, trapping your face where one cheek was pressing against the mattress, and the other was smushed up against his chest. Normally, you wouldn’t complain about this situation, but it was grossly warm. You were also too far away from your usual ‘escape the crushing weight of my dearly beloved eel route’, which was just tickling his legs and feet. Too bad your arms were pretty much pinned against the bed. 

“Floyd, get off me,” you grumbled, squirming around like a worm on a hook.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you accept your fate. Besides the humidity, it was rather nice. Sure, you couldn’t make out the crashing of the waves on the beach, the steady beat of Floyd’s heart was right up against your ear, and it was slow and steady.

Slow and steady, not two words many people would associate with Floyd. It was a calmer side that only you got to see; when you were overwhelmed, or when he was feeling soft. Yes, he was usually a bundle of energy, but even he had his quiet moments. Within the hurricane, there was always the eye, where things remained still, despite the wild winds outside.

“Mmm,” Floyd groaned, the first sign of life you’ve seen since you’d been sandwiched.

He slowly blinked his eyes, working out the sleep from them, and tilted his head down so he could actually see you, since you were still stuck between his chest and the mattress. “Heh heh, I caught a Shrimpy in my sleep!~” He drawled, voice chipper but still heavy from sleep.

“Yes, yes you did. Can you please get off though, it’s gross out,” you groaned. At least he was cute, which the wild bed head only played in his favour. How can he look so good in the morning? Maybe it’s a mer thing… “Floyd?”

He hadn’t moved, and was instead giving you a wide grin. “Hmm, maybe I should’ve called you Crabby instead of Shrimpy, Shrimpy,” he pinched your cheeks teasingly, “since you look pretty crabby right now.”

You rolled your eyes, “And maybe I should use that mushroom risotto recipe that Jade gave me for our dinner tonight. But that’s only if you don’t get off.”

Floyd narrowed his eyes at you, trying to make out if you were bluffing or not, since last time you were dead serious and did exactly that. But he rolled off of you, grumbling a bit. “Meanie,” he muttered.

You shuffled over to where he was dramatically splayed out, his head slightly turned to you, and giving you puppy dog eyes. Chuckling, you kissed him on the lips, as that is what he was being dramatic about.

Giggling, he captured you in his arms yet again, and trapped you against the mattress for a second time this morning. He was giving you a shit eating smile. You weren’t leaving this bed until he had his share of kisses.  

“Floydddd,” you groaned, but you weren’t annoyed with him, if anything, you were amused. There was never a dull moment with him around.

“Shrimpyyyyyy,” he mimicked your voice with a more prominent whine. “You know the drill!~”

Sighing, you ran your hands up through his messy hair, and brought your lips together, deeper this time. You knew the drill; neither of you were getting up until both of your lips were tired, sore, and most likely bitten… which may not be for a while.

~~~~~~~

Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[utilitycaster]

OK the two non-FCG major thoughts I had about this episode are:

How is Liliana going to fit into all this? Like, sure, I'll buy that Imogen's pleas have had a real impact - especially the second one, honestly. The first, impassioned and earnest as it might be, can't compare to seeing the daughter you keep saying you're protecting (and I do think Liliana thinks she's protecting her) near-dead at the hands of your fellow general. On the other hand, what - is she coming with them to Ria'Doin? Is the Vessel of Predathos (TM) going to just waltz on in? And what happens when it comes out that yes, they were in Kreviris on Volition business, and they will continue to be involved with the people who tried to kill her? I'm interested in all of this because it feels very precarious and volatile but man is it delicate.

It does feel significant how close they got to a TPK even after very quickly taking away the backpack. I've been treading carefully here and will continue to do so; as someone who had many criticisms of the Bassuras Otohan fight and of the character (and still does) I don't actually take issue with her build or power level here. It's more a weird sense of like...I've never seen it get so close in past campaigns and certainly not at this high a level; the only vaguely comparable thing is Keyleth failing multiple death saves while in the Nine Hells and that was because she happened to be their only way out. I don't think this fight was by any means structured to be unwinnable or even necessarily require a death, and I don't have any interest in Monday morning quarterbacking it in detail, but it did feel like a much more...blasé attitude towards it than I'm used to seeing. And obviously I don't think anyone was uncaring either! It was pretty clear from the response to FCG's sacrifice that everyone is deeply invested! I think two really interesting hooks just got set up up. I just...really hope Matt's on 4SD soon because this all feels, again, precarious.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #145 – “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married.”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Part 5 is now available on AO3

New Buddie Fanfic - It's been three months and I'm still pissed about that BS "Vertigo" storyline because I hated it and I wish TM would have written something better for Eddie. There were several options but he just chose to use some wacky foolery because he likes it instead of considering the audience's response to it.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #145 – “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married.” - Eddie journals about the day him and Buck got married.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #145 – “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married.” - Eddie journals about the day him and Buck got married.

14.8K Words; Rated: Mature

___________

Here's a snippet from Eddie's journal entry that he wrote the morning after him and Buck got married.

___________

t’s Tuesday and the clock shows it’s 9:21AM but I’m sitting on the couch journaling my thoughts. I’m so excited that I can hardly hold this Apple Pencil in my hand because I spent a fantastic four day weekend with my fiancé in Malibu, CA and after we proposed to each other Thursday night, I journaled Friday morning but I haven’t written anything since then because I’ve been busy. It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact because yesterday, I got married and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m literally so happy and I’m smiling so big my cheeks have been hurting since Buck said, “Yes.”

Other than the day Chris was born, I don’t believe I’ve ever felt like this. First and foremost, I’m grateful for my son. He’s my pride and joy and I’m thankful that we’ve mended our relationship. It’s been a long road but he forgave me for messing up our lives and our family earlier this year and now we’re on the right path.

I’ve been married before and during that time I learned a lot of lessons that included the importance of communication. We didn’t know how to talk and all we did was argue instead of learning how to communicate therefore, I’m going to ensure it's drastically different during this marriage because we're going to be together forever.

Things are completely different this time because I wasn’t pushed or pressured into it and I know our love is the foundation of this lifetime bond we’ll forever share.

What happened on Eddie's and Buck's wedding day? 👀

Did they invite anyone to attend the ceremony or was it just the three of them?🙃

___________

Eddie journals his thoughts - Currently 5 Completed Works; 42K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences: This is a FANON series I’ve created and titled “Eddie Journals His Thoughts” and it will include several journal entries he writes as a healthy way to therapeutically process and work through the thoughts and feelings he had at the end of season 7.  Some of the things he writes will be heavy and emotionally angsty while others will be domestically and romantically fluffy.  As previously mentioned, I HATED the way 9-1-1 didn’t let him talk to anyone about the way he was feeling at the end of 7x10 and it pissed me off when they let his parents abruptly show up and take Chris to El Paso, Texas with them.

Eddie journals his thought: Entry #118 - Future Tense - 5.3K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie journal about his future.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #125 - Parental Conversations and Confrontations - 5.7K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie journals about his strained relationship with his parents.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #132 – “Would I be doing it for Christopher or for me?” - 8.3K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie journals his thoughts after having a long overdue conversation with his son.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #144 – “Will you marry me?” - 7.0K Words; Rated: Mature: Eddie journals the morning after he proposes to Buck.

Eddie journals his thoughts: Entry #145 – “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married.” - 14.8K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie journals about the day him and Buck got married.

Now Available on AO3

[ashen-char]

together pt.2/?

ship: river (all souls) x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

summary: you and river discuss what it'd take for her to move in with you.

word count: 1400+

pt. 1 is here!

After pitching in financially for the past month, River's place does feel a lot more homey. There's things you can't change - like the sterile-looking white paint that covers every corner, or the shitty cabinets that you had tried but failed to fix.

You wasted a day trying, painstakingly replacing the hinges, but the very next day had opened the cabinets too wide that you couldn't close them again. River had laughed so pretty at your plight that the anger escaped your body, so the shitty cabinets remained.

Luckily, her apartment already had curtain rods installed so you didn't have to ask her landlord's permission to do so. Two weeks ago, you had this Top Secret (TM) plan with Jade that she would distract her mom all day at the park.

River had a tough week at work and you wanted to do something nice for her, so you thought of surprising her with curtains that could help keep the heat in. That night, River told you that Jade ratted you out pretty quickly, never one to lie to her mama.

"But you're sweet, so I let you do it," River said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Thank you, baby."

There's a bigger dining table now, with a chair for you so that you could stay and have meals with your girls more often. But the best change over the past month, your favourite home improvement has to be-

You stretch out your arms, glad for another good night's sleep without a wayward spring attacking your back. River groans as she's jostled, cuddling back into you. "Don't move," she hisses, "good pillows don't move."

"Alright, alright," you chuckle. Wrapping your arms back around your girlfriend, you're content to lay back and enjoy the early morning.

Now, you're fully aware that a pull-out sofa bed is in no way as good as a regular bed. The mattress is thin, and the springs make a lot of noise when you two are trying to have fun without waking Jade up from the other room. But after spending so long sleeping on a sofa River had carried in from the side of the road, you've learned to take your wins when you can.

As much as you've been enjoying improving River's place so she and Jade can have a better home... you miss your bed. River has been to your place a few times, usually to mess around after a date, but could never sleep over. Jade couldn't be left alone at home and River didn't like leaving her with a friend overnight. So besides a quick tumble or a nap, your queen-sized back at home wasn't seeing much use.

"Have you ever thought about moving in with me?" you can't help but ask.

You've wondered it once or twice. You get why it's not that simple, of course. You know this place holds a lot of memories for River, both good and bad. She's friends with her neighbours, and the Oasis is a pretty tight-knit community. Jade's school and River's work is walking distance, which is amazing since the young mom doesn't have a car. Not to mention that she couldn't afford to break her lease. You know all that. You just wonder if she's taking this 'together' thing like you are, wonder why she's never asked.

River pauses before replying. "I have thought about it," she admits. "But I dunno."

River tells you that she does like your place, though she never has the luxury to stay over. She liked watching movies on your bigger TV. She liked sitting at your kitchen island as you cooked for her. She liked the slight mess that you never worried about cleaning because you would go to her place right after.

You remember how River would slip from bed, only a thin sheet covering her, picking up the trinkets you had strewn about, teasing you that they're "so you". At that, River frowns. "You don't really have anything here, huh?" she asks.

You shrug. What else did you need but her? Just a change of clothes, a toothbrush. A few times you had left your keys and phone, but that was by accident.

"I guess not. I don't really need my things when I'm here," you say.

Being with River or taking care of Jade together didn't leave much time for wishing you had your console. And besides, you both knew there wasn't room for your things in this tiny apartment.

A bit of silence falls over you two. River holds you tighter.

"When I said I wanted this place to feel more like home, I meant your home too," she tells you, a whisper against your collarbone. "I'm sorry that there's not much space for you."

River sounds guilty. You hate that. She's already been trying so hard to include you, with adding chairs to her table, with letting you help with Jade. You know it hasn't been easy. She's been independent for so long, and proud of it for a reason. Even letting you pitch in financially was a big show of trust.

"It's fine. Promise," you tell her.

You lean down to press a kiss to River's forehead. It's one of those cutesy bits of affection that she swears she hates, that she's too tough for, but you know she loves. So you do it often, kissing around her face now. She laughs and tries to push you away, "it's not! You're being too nice to me again!"

A final kiss, to her chin now. River looks up at you with a vulnerability you know that no one else gets to see. To Jade, she had to be the protective yet fun-loving mama bear, someone to always look up to, someone Jade could depend on. To her friends, River was outgoing, always cracking quick-witted (and often dirty) jokes. Only you got to see her big brown eyes like this.

Afraid.

"I like when you're around," she tells you softly. "Things are easier. Jade's happier." River tilts her head, leaning on your chest as she melts against your frame. "I'm happier."

Affection blooms in your chest. "I know." And you think you know what she's trying to say. River wants you around even more. Wants to take that next step.

She's silent for a bit, and you two just lay there. Her hair falls into her face, and you push the strands back behind her ear. "You'd have to turn your spare room into Jade's room."

It's like she's trying to talk you out of it. Too bad. You'd do anything for that kid. "I know." 

"She's got a shit ton of toys. And she makes a lot of mess. You'll have to move your desk. And your bookcase."

"Done and done."

River was afraid of depending on you. Even if she knew you wouldn't, the threat of you suddenly being gone and going right back to nothing was terrifying. But more than that, she was afraid of this being it. And if this was the logical next step for the both of you - the way you'll finally finally be making your home together then that's just what she'll do.

"And I ain't a freeloader," River says. "I'll pay rent. Not the full rent but like, half or a third or something like that, got it?"

You can't help the smile playing at your lips. Even when she's talking about moving in with you, River's adamant about not taking any handouts outs. "I wouldn't expect anything else," you say.

River exhales. You relax as best as you can, supporting the young mom as she turns in your arms. "When the lease is up, we can talk about it some more."

She's adorable. She hates being called that, thinks that people are looking down at her when they say it, so you stop yourself from saying it out loud. The thought of waking up next to River in a bed you share sounds like a dream. Jade would get her own room for the first time. You wouldn't have to leave first thing in the morning to get dressed - you could just lay there, enjoying the feel of River beside you.

This apartment has been amazing. The curtains, the chairs, the new sofa-bed, it's made everything feel more homey. But it's now when you realise that home is being with her. Home isn't a place, but more about how badly you want to be together. To make it together.

Mindlessly, River traces shapes against your chest and you let yourself fall asleep again in her cozy embrace.

[dapandapod]

Particular with nicknames

Why hello there! This was written last september (2023) and has since been sitting in my draft, making me rewatch streams because no pathetic reasons at all i swear. Anyway, here is Jaskier having a Moment TM when Geralt uses a very specific nickname. Thank you @ahh-fxck for helping me beta read <3 much appreciated! Please enjoy streamer!Geralt and Pathetic!Jaskier! <3 On Ao3 here

For all the love Jaskier has of words and language, he is strangely picky with nicknames.

It’s not that he dislikes them, he is just strangely neutral. Alright, that’s not true.

His famously ill-advised and stormy relationship with Valdo came to mind. Jaskier had fallen promptly out of love with him when he was called ‘Snugglebutt’ in front of all of their friends. They were together for another month or so past that, because Jaskier thought himself cruel and wanted it to work.

Well, it did not.

Nowadays he shares a flat with his long time best friend Geralt, one of the few constants in his life and the one who just might own about two thirds of his heart.

It’s not a big flat, but they have a room each, a small kitchen, and a shared living room. That is also where Geralt has his small streaming corner set up, back against the wall and facing the room.

Easier that way to keep it clean if he streams with the camera on, no accidental flashing unsuspecting viewers that way. Something learned by trial and error, as Jaskier tends to run warm and just forgo pants. And shirts. And socks.

They also share their flat with a terrible little cat named Roach, who has never quite warmed up to Jaskier. Took to Geralt the instant she saw him, however, and the two are inseparable whenever Geralt is home.

All of this in itself is not an issue. Oh no, all of this is more than fine.

Watching Geralt be sweet with the terrible little furball makes Jaskier’s heart ache pleasantly, listen to him coo about her fur being so shiny and smooth, what a good girl she is, wow look at that yawn!

No, the problem came up the first time as Geralt was lazily watching TV on the couch, back to their little kitchen where Jaskier had just served her royal highness some very expensive cat food.

Roach does as she always does when Jaskier is involved, and simply walks out. It’s routine by now, and the food is usually gone by morning. It’s more about Jaskier knowing his place at the bottom of the list than not liking the food.

But as she returns to the living room with Jaskier trailing after, considering plopping down on the couch too instead of working on his doctoral thesis, Jaskier finds himself fundamentally changed.

“Hi baby.” Geralt says, voice all sweet and dark and gravelly, and fuck.

It is very much aimed at Roach, who is being a cutie, begging pets from under the table. But Jaskier’s insides do a kickflip, his brain short circuits.

Flushing deeply, Jaskier can’t control the little HRK sound escaping his throat.

He is frozen in his tracks, tongue tied and feeling absolutely pathetic. Geralt turns around to look at him with a questioning frown.

“You ok there?” he asks, Roach climbing the couch and up to the backrest, demanding attention.

“Just peachy,” Jaskier squeaks out, and then flees to his room.

Holy fucking shit and mother of turds.

Baby?? Of all the nicknames in the entire world, that is the one Jaskier is going to have a meltdown about?

Just, the lazy way Geralt said it, Jaskier feels like an old maid, clutching his pearls.

It’s fine. He will be fine.

It was meant for Roach, of course, it’s fine.

It is not fine.

Geralt is streaming, talking with some other players. He is not a big name, but he does have a following, and sometimes gets invited to other streams if it's a multiplayer game.

Jaskier is moving around the living room, untangling the nest that their couch has become recently, blankets and hoodies and socks thrown everywhere. He is also holding a banana, somewhat forgotten in his new mission to make the couch sittable.

Part of his distraction comes from listening to Geralt talking, there is a lilt to his voice when he is on stream. It is unclear if Geralt is aware of doing it, but Jaskier can listen to it forever.

While in the process of moving one blanket over to the footrest, Geralt laughs at something said in his headphones.

“Oh baby, I didn’t know you cared!”

Jaskier drops the banana.

Feeling like a deer caught in headlight, Jaskier is unable to do anything but staring, feeling heat climbing his neck, up to his cheek.

Then Geralt’s eyes meet his over his screen, his face is neutral but his eyes are knowing.

Fuck fuck fuck he is in so much trouble.

Maybe it’s fine to have that many blankets. Perfect for hiding, perfect for pretending the way Geralt says ‘Baby’ doesn’t go on loop in his head, and will be for days.

Jaskier is in a constant state of fear.

Ever since the Stream Incident, as he has come to call it, there is this new tension whenever they are in a room together. Where Geralt will look at him consideringly, where Jaskier will pretend everything is as per usual.

He has gotten better at not freezing, but a thrill runs through him every time Geralt uses That Word, making very unsubtle eye contact as he does.

How is his poor heart to cope?

Sometimes, late at night, when Jaskier is unable to sleep and he knows Geralt is still streaming, Jaskier joins in to watch. It is uncertain if Geralt has figured out it’s him or not yet, he has sneakily named his account to Bardelicious, and doesn’t usually join the chat.

Tonight, Geralt is playing a fantasy game. A monster hunter and his bard, fittingly enough, and he makes light commentary about things in the game.

Until there is a scene where the bard does something noble, stupid and somewhat foolish.

“Oh, baby.” Geralt says sadly, shaking his head.

The chat goes absolutely wild, more than one asking him to say it again, to call them baby, which is a little weird and also absolutely fucking valid.

“Why are people so weird about that?” Geralt says, chuckling. The replies roll in, and his eyebrows climb up his forehead. Jaskier’s heart is beating hard, because this could either be really good or really bad.

“Sexy? Doubt that.”

Jaskier regrets it as soon as he presses send, and by then it’s too late.

‘It is when you say it.’ was all he wrote, but it was the first thing he had written in there. Geralt doesn’t know it’s him.

It should be fine. He is fine.

Some more responses follow, but Geralt is strangely quiet. The game scene plays out, the monster hunter and his bard having a nice bonding moment.

It’s soothing to watch, to hear Geralt’s commentary every now and then. He falls asleep with his phone in his hand, earbuds still in.

The next morning, Jaskier is woken up by the scent of coffee and a hungry Roach yowling in the kitchen. She only does that when Geralt is around, so it is safe to assume he is up.

Which is a little odd, because Jaskier fell asleep before the stream was over, and he feels like death warmed over.

His jaw cracks when he yawns. Lured by the scent of coffee, he manages to get out of bed.

Geralt is indeed up and about, Roach winding affectionately around his legs as he prepares her breakfast.

“Morn,” Jaskier rasps, scratching his stomach and giving another yawn.

Roach doesn’t even look at him, fully focused on her man and her meal. The bowl is placed on the floor for the queen herself, and like the gremlin she is, she eats it without a fuss. Little bastard.

Jaskier joins Geralt at the bench, seeking coffee like a flower seeks the sun. He can stop when he wants, coffee is not an addiction, it is a way of life.

“Were you up all night? Hand me a cup, will you?” he says, reaching for the fruit bowl that Geralt for some reason keeps religiously stocked.

In reply, he gets one of the typical hums, which could mean absolutely anything, and two cups. Jaskier pours for them both and Geralt adds the usual unholy amount of sugar to Jaskier’s, which makes him smile.

“Any plans for today? I really should be working on my thesis, but I can’t be arsed.”Jaskier leans back against the counter and sips at his coffee, which is still a little too hot.

Geralt is watching him over the rim of his mug, sipping on the steaming coffee.

“I have a thing I thought to try,” he says, voice gravelly, eyes locked on him.

It makes Jaskier’s stomach flip, and he takes a too big sip, the drink burning his tongue and all the way down his throat unpleasantly.

“Yeah? Anything you want help with?” Jaskier asks nervously, realizing he is still holding his chosen fruit without eating it, so he puts it down on the counter.

The corner of Geralt’s mouth ticks up into a crooked smile, and yeah, Jaskier is in danger. It is way too early in the morning for Geralt to be such an absolute heart throb.

“If you are willing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier finds himself nodding despite himself. If Geralt asks him if he is willing, the answer will probably always be yes.

“Sure! Uh… What is it?”

Geralt takes a step towards him and puts his cup on the side of the counter. Then he grabs Jaskier’s cup out of his hand and puts that down too.

His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, his hands now clammy and gripping the counter behind him.

Geralt inches forward, the space between them shrinking fast. He stops just shy of touching him, and tilts his head, white hair falling over his shoulder.

“So I was streaming last night,” Geralt begins, and oh dear, oh no. “And there were some interesting comments that I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“Uh… Oh?” Jaskier says dumbly, and Geralt huffs a soft laugh, breath hitting Jaskier’s face.

“You're particular with nicknames, right? I mean, you are still mad at Valdo.”

With growing worry, Jaskier is starting to realize where this is going.

“He called me snugglebutt. In front of people. That’s embarrassing!” Jaskier defends himself faintly. Geralt leans in an inch more, leaning against the countertop and crowding Jaskier against it. Fuck.

“But that’s not what you think when I say ‘Baby’, is it?” Geralt’s eyes are trained on him, and smiles when he notices Jaskier’s flustered little sound, the way heat climbs up his cheeks.

In a weak attempt to save face, Jaskier looks down, anywhere but meeting the intensity of Geralt’s gaze.

It has the unfortunate effect of noticing how close they are, how Geralt’s t-shirt rides down just enough to reveal collarbones, how his hands flex against the counter.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles, leaning close enough for his nose to drag against Jaskier’s cheekbone.

Jaskier pulls in a breath, tilting his head in a way he hopes is invitingly.

“You’re not.” Jaskier whispers, and is rewarded with Geralt putting a hand on his hip, letting his nose drag along Jaskier’s neck. “You really, really not.”

“Is it the nickname? You look so startled whenever you hear me say it.” Geralt asks, one finger finding skin under the hem of Jaskier’s t-shirt.

“Just you. Pretty sure you could call me snugglebutt and I’d thank you.” Jaskier confesses, blurts really, when the rest of Geralt’s hand sneaks under his shirt to find his lower back, playing with the soft hairs there.

“Good to know,” Geralt smiles against his skin and Jaskier braves turning his head, their cheeks brushing together.

“Are you going to kiss me anytime soon, or are you gonna let me keep suffering?” Jaskier breathes, his hands finding Geralt’s and tracing them up his arms slowly.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, considering with a cheeky grin, the absolute bastard, so Jaskier takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally.

Geralt’s face is warm, rough stubble and barely visible scars and imperfections brush against his fingers. Geralt must have turned into it, because their lips slide together, coffee and morning breath mingling as Jaskier finds himself now properly pressed against the bench and Geralt’s body.

Then he is being kissed harder, deeper, and Geralt hoists Jaskier up on the counter, using Jaskier’s thighs to pull him closer, closer still, and presses open mouthed kisses against his neck. With a gasp, Jaskier scrambles to find a grip, to get some control of himself, but it is very, very hard to focus.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, baby?” Geralt murmurs against his skin, and Jaskier full body shivers. “I can feel you watching me, you are even in my streams.”

“You knew about that?” Jaskier asks breathlessly, stealing a kiss when Geralt shifts to look at him.

“If you wanted to be discreet, maybe you should have chosen something else than ‘Bardelicious’.” Geralt smiles, and Jaskier pouts and pinches his side in revenge.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Why didn’t you?” Geralt counters, and well, this won’t go anywhere.

“I like listening to you. I like listening to your voice as I go to sleep,” Jaskier says quietly, and Geralt hides his face in the crook of Jaskier's neck.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Jaskier asks when Geralt stays there, melting into his body.

He doesn’t get anything but a muttering grumble in reply, and Jaskier smiles and strokes his hair.

“I need to find a nickname for you too. I refuse to be the only one being absolutely useless as soon as you open your mouth.” Jaskier murmurs into Geralt’s hair.

“Gmmrmgmg.”

“What’s that?”

“I said, ‘like it when you say my name.” Geralt says, and Jaskier is melting all over again.

“Well then, Geralt,” Jaskier purrs. “Let me finish my coffee, and then we’ll take a nap.”

Reaching for coffee without really letting go turns out to be hard, and when Jaskier with some struggle finally gets a hold of his cup, the coffee is still unreasonably hot.

They nap in Jaskier’s bed, both of them crawling in under the blankets and curling up together. Jaskier’s chin resting on top of Geralt’s head, Geralt’s arm slung over Jaskier’s chest.

When Geralt wakes up and press Jaskier into the mattress, it doesn’t take long for Geralt to discover exactly how to fluster Jaskier enough to splutter broken syllables.

It’s alright.

When Jaskier has recovered from being melted goo, he will return the favor.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

"Is this what sadness does to people?" Good omens season 2, please

Ough this is perfect,,,haven't written for this series in 3-4 years so it's good to be back

Time for some emotional damage(tm)

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 (of course)

........

The bookshop never felt emptier.

With Aziraphale having gone away to Heaven, possibly for good, it was just you and Muriel left to pick up the pieces and run the place in his stead.

You always offered to watch over it for him if he was ever out of town, not caring about whether he pays you or not. You're just happy to help a friend out.

In recent days, however, you noticed the number in your bank account has "mysteriously" gone up a couple hundred dollars, and after doing the math you realized it equated to the hours and days you worked at the shop.

You would have been eternally grateful, but it saddens you more.

Knowing he was watching over you and helping you pay the bills, yet never physically visiting you, left you feeling guilty whenever you spent that money.

Selling the books wasn't an option, as you knew that's not what he would've wanted. And you'd tell Muriel not to even think about doing that, instead letting them indulge in them and allow them to read things about humanity that piqued their interest.

You knew they were an angel sent to spy on things, but it never bugged you; their spirits remained optimistic, mainly because they're ecstatic to work alongside a "human person" such as yourself. They were a delight to hang out with as you showed them your human customs and the like.

Sometimes they'd have to report back to Heaven, though it's only for a short time, and they'd return to Earth to let you know how Aziraphale's doing.

"Oh, he's grand! The Metatron is highly pleased with his work! Big changes are coming from the upstairs, I can tell you that much!"

The one thing they could never say, however, is when he'll revisit Earth, claiming they couldn't personally ask him...and they'd rather not upset any higher-ranking angels with such a dubious question.

You understood, and left them be.

Still, you'd look across the street and hope that heavenly elevator would one day reappear..and you'd see Aziraphale step out, cutting his ties to Heaven for good, and making things right.

It could happen at any time.

A few weeks, a few months, a few years....or maybe a few hundred years after you're long gone will he finally change his mind.

Neither Heaven nor Hell (or anywhere in-between) will be able to stop you from coming back and giving that oblivious angel an earful should you learn of his return.

For now, however, you wanted to focus on the present.

And that meant not just running the bookshop...but also helping Crowley process all of this.

Nobody was more heartbroken than the demon who's been by Aziraphale's side for over 6,000 years and helped him stop Armageddon, only for their relationship to crumble in just one day.

All because he was pushed to communicate his true and honest feelings.

You had no idea it even happened until he showed up on your doorstep at midnight in a drunken stupor, saying he was "gone".

Your immediate thought was death or "discorporation", but then he managed to tell you that the angel went back to Heaven and it was "over" between them. He stayed the night, crying and blubbering nonsense when he thought you couldn't hear him, and left the next morning before you could tell him he can live with you.

Since then, he stopped by the shop less and less often, always wearing his shades despite being once comfortable enough to leave them off around you.

It hurts to see him close up all his emotions, not wanting to burden you with his "miserableness".

All he does now is go on long drives with his plants and shout at them for the simple crime of existing, jam to Queen and Hoizer songs to drown out the noise in his head, and drink until he can't walk straight.

Suddenly poison became his new preference over red wine.

When he does visit the shop, he just mopes around and rambles about something he and Aziraphale did a few centuries ago, clearly in a state of reminiscence.

He never did, however, explain what he did in a final plea to make him stay..

You'll soon come to learn that tonight as you were getting ready to close up shop, sweeping around while Muriel organized some papers on what used to be the angel's desk.

The bell above the door jingled, and you turned off the music, looking to see Crowley enter. For once, he didn't look immensely drunk, which was a good thing...but still, he had a persistent forlorn expression.

The same kind you'd see after somebody breaks up with the love of their life.

"Evening, Crowley." You smiled sympathetically, putting down your hot chocolate. "We were just locking up shop for the night."

"I can see that....is he..?"

"No." Sighing, you shook your head, before looking to Muriel. "Can you excuse us, Muriel?"

They blinked, staring at you and tilting their head. "Should I go upstairs?"

"Yes, if you could..thank you."

"Righty-o!" With a pep in their step, they closed up the book in their hands and headed up the steps, promising not to eavesdrop on whatever conversation you're going to have with the demon.

They honestly never minded his presence, even though they really should be reporting on his behaviors.

Either way, they respected your space.

Once they were gone, you glanced back at Crowley to see him flop into one of the chairs, ready to down the entire wine bottle that somehow manifested in his hands.

"I think that's enough for you, mister."

You walked over and took it from his grasp, watching him whine and mope that he can "handle" his liquor, to which you called bullshit..considering he very much can't. He hasn't since Aziraphale left.

"I see ya found your...replacement..?" His words were slurred, being hard to understand with his thick Scottish accent.

"Crowley, you're looking at this all wrong. Muriel's not his replacement-"

"Bullockssss...they're...so jolly and angel-like...like his stupid face was."

"That's because they're both angels. Look, can you just..sober up already?" You huffed, growing irritated. It's like you were trying to parent some 6,000 year old teenager. "I know you can do that instantly."

"...you do?" He gawked behind his shades. "Since when didja know that much about me? Who told you, silly human?"

"...you did. We celebrated New Year's Eve together. Several of them, actually."

"Ah....you got me there. But I promise 'm fine." He sat up, gazing at you intensely. "This is the only way I can tell ya what..um...really happened that day, and if I don't tell ya now I'm...I-I'm never gonna tell ya...because this "communicating" thing's getting to be real hard lately and-"

"I get it. I understand, Crowley." You pulled up a chair, sitting across from him with a slight frown. "Can you..just look me in the eyes so I know you're taking this seriously?"

"...'m as serious as I ever was, [y/n]-"

"Crowley."

"Fine. Is THIS serious enough for you?" With bitterness to his words, he ripped off his glasses to scowl at you. His golden eyes were already filled to the brim with tears, looking more animalistic, while simultaneously having lost their spark.

You tried not to flinch, having not seen them in such a long time that...you nearly forgot what they looked like at all.

When you didn't react the way he expected, he sighed and slumped back in the chair, keeping the glasses in his lap.

Eventually, he confessed to kissing Aziraphale in a last-ditch effort to make him stay and understand that he wanted to be with him and only him.

He wanted them both to go off to the stars together, like Gabriel and Beelzebub got to do after the archangel got his memories back.

It was so easy for them, yet apparently impossible for the two who have been collaborating for thousands of years...as Aziraphale simply couldn't detach himself from Heaven and thought that he could "fix" Crowley if he went with him.

It just didn't seem fair.

At one point, he nearly started smoking again, seething over three certain words that were spoken to him after that kiss...only to calm down as your hand came to rest on his knee, and you guided him through one of the human breathing exercises he once used.

This time, he got to ten without causing a lightning storm in the bookshop, thank goodness.

Only afterwards did he manage to tell you those words.

"He said..."I forgive you"."

"For..what?" Your eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Exactly my point!" He threw his hands up in the air. "Forgive me for what? That? Or for being an idiot who held onto the tiniest bit of hope that we could'a worked something out?"

"....you know, I never understood these...mushy feelings you humans get." He brushed away a stray tear that rolled down his cheek, only for another one to fall down the opposite side. But he gave up and just sniffled, hands clasped together. "Is this what sadness does to people?"

"...I wish I knew what he meant, Crowley."

There was a pause.

"Unfortunately, yes." You nodded, leaning over to take his hands into yours. "It sucks, and you wish it can all just go away with some drinks and Queen music..but as long as that hole stays in your heart, nothing will ever fill it."

"Then how do you cope? 'cuz those things haven't been doing a lotta good for me lately.."

For a moment you were quiet, wondering what you could possibly do to help him feel better in this moment. You couldn't just drag Aziraphale out of Heaven and demand him to do the "apology dance".

But you eventually did think of one thing that assures him that he's not alone and didn't have to carry this burden.

"Well, some of us humans appreciate hugs during times of sadness. Would you care for one?"

As you took your hands away, Crowley looked up to see your holding your arms out to him. His gaze was intense as he debated on whether or not to take this offer of yours.

Demons didn't give or receive hugs.

They didn't deserve them.

But he already came to the conclusion that he wasn't like most of his kind.

Why did he care?

"Listen..I know this won't make everything better. It won't bring him back, but-"

But you stopped as his head came to rest on your shoulder, although you wrapped your arms around him right away, ignoring the stench of sulfur in his clothes and wine in his breath. You knew he needed this comfort badly.

It didn't take long for him to break, his voice hitching with quiet sobs as he hugged you back, unshed tears finally flowing as he grieved for what could have been.

All you could do was let him lean on you, feeling your shirt growing damp.

"H-He was everythin' to me, [y/n]..."

"I know.."

"We...W-We could have been us. Together for eternity."

"I know. Maybe he'll come back some day."

"...i-it's gonna take more than a miracle for that to happen.."

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers: 1x06 - Swish (Part 2)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Skipping over, like, ten minutes of Daphne and Simon sex. Look, I know it looks hot, but I don't recommend doing it outside in the rain. But that's just me. Maybe it's your thing. You do you, boo.

Anyway...

Violet

Can we talk about the beginning of this scene for a second? One of the things I truly love about Bridgerton is the family dynamics, and all of these little insights we get into the family. Gregory and Hyacinth are arguing over a ribbon and Benedict is really stepping up and being 'dad' because Anthony has other things going on, and meanwhile Eloise is just grabbing food and Violet is reading the morning newspaper and it really doesn't matter if it's 1824 or 2024, some things don't change in families, and I think that's kind of cool.

Colin trepidatiously walking into the dinning rooms screams kid who is coming out of his room after being grounded for the night. Also, the timeline is weird on this. So... we know time has passed because of the sex montage (btw - are Simon and Daphne Saphne? Why not Dimon? I feel like then you can use the little diamond emojis for them anyway...). Time has passed. Whistledown needed to be written and released. Has Colin just avoided his family for that long? Is that why he's being that sheepish about approaching his mother? What has he been up to for the past twenty-four hours?

I just had to include the family shot. Violet is pissed. Eloise is delighted. Hyacinth is like - yo, you made the news!!! Which, is funny, because according to the books, Whistledown mentions Colin, like, every other issue. How no one figured out Pen was Whistledown or her feelings for Colin just continues to crack me up. I understand why they didn't, but man it would have been entertaining if someone at least mentioned how often Colin ends up with Whistledown -- and be like, we don't know who she is, but she sure does love Colin.

Also love that Benedict is like - okay, everyone out, Mom's gonna yell at Colin now, and as much as we'd love to watch that, we probably shouldn't... The only unrealistic thing is not one of them going -- no, I want to be here and watch the drama. You know they're all talking about it in whatever room they've relocated to.

Continuing on our theme of how Colin is still very childish in nature... the FIRST thing he does when he sits down is apologize. Again. Violet does not look happy. And Colin, the child who probably didn't get disciplined all that often (or at least not from Violet) is backpedaling a little, and wanting to make immediate amends. He doesn't want to disappoint his mother. (He doesn't want to disappoint any of his family, really) But his whole demeanor here is -- kid who was caught getting in trouble and is now facing the consequences of his actions.

Violet mentions that she's glad she knew (about 2 seconds) before Whistledown reported it. Which is kind of funny because technically, Pen did know before her. But the point is -- just as Anthony was shocked by the development, so is Violet. It does feel out of nowhere.

Colin digs in his heels (stubborn man that he is) and throws out that maybe if Violet hadn't been so caught up with Daphne, she'd have seen that he was courting Marina all season. Which is very much a... you're not paying enough attention to me because of your other children... moment. And I can only imagine that in a family that size, fighting for your parents' attention is a thing that does happen.

And it's not even about attention in this minute. It's about being taken seriously. Colin is in that awkward time of late teens/early twenties where you just want everyone to think of you as AN ADULT(TM) and most people still think of you as a child. Colin's feelings feel very real to him, and while Violet and Anthony (and hell, maybe even Pen gets it) may still laugh and shake their head and go - boy, you still young yet, he doesn't feel that way.

And I mean, I'm not discredit Colin's feelings here, either. Because they are real. He does feel attachment to Marina. He does find her attractive. He does want to explore what a relationship is with her. And he does want to play out all these romantic fantasies he has. BUT. His his inexperience is showing. Because the infatuation he has with Marina is more idyllic, and not built in reality, commonality, and a deeper bond the way it will be with Penelope.

Violet says something key here -- first of all, I need to point out that even if he doesn't feel like it, and even if she is a bit preoccupied with Daphne, Violet is paying attention to all her children. She does get her children. She was well aware Colin was enjoying flirting with Marina. And it's brought up that he flirts with lots of girls. But the key element is that he never acts on any of it. The flirting is just a part of his personality, the way cracking jokes and being kind are. It's how he relates to others. He's charming.

But the thing is the whole charming thing can feel - hollow - for him. Especially when he wants to be taken seriously. Serious people in love are - charming - or - funny - or flirty. (Oh, poor Colin who has people like Anthony and Simon for role models. And Benedict, who is more like him, and who is taken even less seriously at times). Colin comments that no one takes him seriously except for Marina.

Which... isn't true. Because we all know Pen takes him seriously. And, really his other does, too. And we all know Marina isn't being altruistic with her seriousness. But Colin is really only seeing what he wants to see here. Which leads me to a thought I should have brought up in the convo about Anthony ---

The more people don't take him seriously, the more Colin decides he's in some kind of Romeo and Juliet type scenario. He almost wants it to be like that, which again, is another romantic fantasy, where he and his love can run away and be happy together, and face the world on their own despite all the people telling them no! But again, the youthfulness is on display here. Because Romeo and Juliet is not a romance to aspire to.

Violet does make the comment that she's never seen him so solemn and serious. And I am curious as to what she means here. In the last day or so? In the past few weeks? Whatever the timeline is, I think it's telling that Violet has noticed this. Colin is the type of person who you wears their emotions on their sleeve. And as much as he can withdraw when upset (sensitive soul that he is), the lack of a more jovial and lighthearted Colin is always a tell.

And I think that's another key aspect to letting Violet know that something is off about all of this. Colin, ultimately, isn't happy. Sure, he's frustrated here because (he thinks) he's in love and wants to get married and achieve his romantic dreams. But he's in love with an idea. And he doesn't want to face that fact when Anthony and Violet are kind of pointing that out. He just wants to be in love.

But being in love with an idea means you are ultimately unhappy with it. It'll never measure up to what you want it to be because it's not real. And I mean -- clearly real love comes with its own set of issues. But here, the simple act of being in love really isn't bringing him the joy it should be -- and that is telling.

The thing about Violet is that she is a sympathetic and kind person at heart, who is trying to take him seriously. She may not love this idea, but she will support him in this if it's what he really wants. Yeah, it's the 1800s, and there are all these extra societal components that layer on, but I still think she comes off as a mom who will let her kids be her kids. She'll direct them when she feels she needs to, but she allows them to make their mistakes and live their lives. And she's not perfect either, but she does try.

I also love the very honest end to this scene, where now that Daphne is married and out of the house, the reality that Violet's kids are moving on is hard. They've always been a unit and they're starting to fracture off, and that change is difficult.

I also love that, in a way to bring levity, and make his mother feel better (because he is an empathetic little soul) he jokes about Violet having her hands full with Eloise. And, you know, good luck with that. (Which is also such a sibling thing to say/do. I LOVE the sibling dynamics of this show.)

Anyway, this is such a sweet little scene, and I love that we get some Violet/Colin stuff, because while there isn't much of it -- it's always good. This episode is so good... there's so much!!

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hi! I love love love you writing! (I've been here all morning, my chores are not getting done lol) Can we get the boys (tm) reacting to/taking care of a WoL who's sick? Like something that requires them to stay in bed and actually rest, something I imagine most WoL's aren't very good at lol maybe a lost, scratchy voice or something too pls <3

Look at these boys, taking care of their poor little meow meow lmao

ff14 boys (tm) taking care of a sick WoL:

Thancred needles you gleefully, but it's playful. What isn't playful is the way he's handling you. Damn but you always forget how strong he is. Easily lifting you off your staggering feet and into bed, from your bed to a bath and back. propping you up with one arm to tip medicine down your throat. A strong, weathered hand checking your temperature, patting your cheek, brushing your hair back so he can lay a cool cloth across your forehead.

In that hazy space between sleep and awake, you think you might even hear him singing to you, low and sweet. It's. Probably just the fever though.

Urianger isn't going to say that he warned you, but. Well. He did kind of warn you.

He doesn't rub it in, either. No, instead he's almost infuriatingly patient with you. When he's easing you into taking foul-tasting medicines, when he's bundling you up in blankets, when he's feeding you soups without letting you so much as lift a finger. He even reads to you-- mostly just dry historical texts that have you dozing off within minutes. It's the best rest you've ever had in your life, and you wake up feeling more alive than ever.

And THEN he will tell you that he warned you :)

G'raha seems like the kind of person who might panic and run around like a chicken with his head cut off. And he might have been, at one point. But he's an older soul now, with experience with a much tougher patient than you: a young Lyna.

He's kind, and gentle, but firm. Yes, you do need to stay in bed. No, you cannot get up. No, he is not going to bring your paperwork or needlework to your bed for you, but he will happily fetch a book for you to read, the new Heavensward memoir perhaps? Yes, you have to take the medicine, but yes you can also have a hot cocoa to chase the taste away.

Estinien stares at you where you're leaning on your lance. You stare at him. He raises an eyebrow. You look away. You can't even give a good excuse-- your voice went out about an hour ago, and you don't have the energy to croak words out around the frog in your throat.

He sighs, scoops you up despite your largely-mute protests, and carries your sorry ass back to the Forgotten Knight. He's no healer, but he remembers the very basics: a roaring fire, hot soup, soothing tea, and rest. It's hard for him, too, he'll freely admit. It feels like there's so much to do, and resting feels like a waste of time.

But if you keep working a damaged muscle, you'll just hurt it further, he reminds you, and helps you with your first few bites of soup. You have to rest, so that, at least if you don't come out the other side stronger, you come out the other side alive.

Aymeric seems calm and composed, but he is 100% internally a screaming chicken. He's already called on the best chirurgeons who would answer, gotten you the best of the medicines they recommended, helped his cooks prepare your favorite meal. All that is left is to wait, and. Aymeric is a strategist, he's good at the long game, but.

He lingers in the door to your room. In your comfy bed, all bundled up in warm blankets, you look so. small. Not the Warrior of Light, not his stalwart friend, but just. A person. Who gets sick. Who he might lose. And that. Scares him. More than a little.

You lift your head and blearily blink at him, and then your chapped mouth pulls into a smile. You pat the edge of your bed next to you for him to sit.

"Tell me about your day?" you croak.

And he takes your hand, and he does.

Haurchefant shakes his head fondly as he moves to help you off the floor where you've fallen.

There was a short period of time when he was really, truly worried for you. When you had just woken up into the new reality of your life, your blank eyes staring at the space where you arm had once been. It's hard, he understands, for a warrior to lose so much of what had once defined them.

But you've still got your fire, to his relief and his chagrin, spitting and cursing and wiggling as he settles you back into bed and flops his entire not-insignificant weight on top of you.

"Hush, now," he says, his mouth right next to your ear, one hand coming up to curl, warm and heavy, around the back of your neck. You're still running a fever, he notes idly, but it's certainly better than it was before. "I think we've earned a spell of rest, don't you?"

Sidurgu freezes at the first cough that rattles through your chest. The memories rise horrifying and unbidden, of coughs that echo in armor, of shaking hands and failing strength and nights hungry, trembling, curled around each other in a desperate bid of warmth, terrified of falling asleep because he doesn't want to wake up to a frozen corpse next to him. And Fray lived, sure, but the cold in their bones never did leave them, not until the day they--

But this is now, he reminds himself, and you are not Fray. There is gil for medicine AND for food, and even for a warm place to sleep. There is Rielle, diligently studying her conjury and happy for a real, live patient to practice on, falling asleep against your chest not because she exhausted herself, but because the hour grew late and she, bored.

How terrifying it is for a Dark Knight to know peace, he thinks as he carefully repositions her so that she is not putting so much weight on your sick lungs. As he brushes your hair from your forehead and places a single kiss there before replacing the cold compress.

How terrifying, and how wonderful.

BONUS

Erenville has this way about him that is undeniably guilt-inducing. The kind of demeanor that reminds you of clucking mothers and worried-looking fathers, all with his hands on his hips and a single eyebrow raised, and you don't even have the voice to argue with him as he takes you by the hand and half-drags you back to his room.

In a city full of scholars, doctors, and healers, he gripes, and you couldn't find your way to any of them? What if you had gotten hurt? or accidentally gotten someone else sick? or spread something to the delicate denizens of labyrinthos?

But you can sense the very real concern for you, beneath his scathing tone. In the way he keeps one hand on your chest to feel your breathing, the other on your wrist to monitor your pulse. The way he takes you to his home-- not the shoddy room the forum gives to any gleaner, but to the one he's build in the Golmorean section of labyrinthos-- and keeps you there until you get better.

[collidescopeeyes]

Hey so I'm kind of in a tm-not-so-good place right now, so if possible can I get a Heartsteel Aphelios x reader who's dealing with a narcissistic/emotionally abusive parent? Or if possible it's Aphelios and their S/O but they also have the rest of the Heartsteel members and Alune to help them through it. As you can see by the request, I'm dealing with this right now and i kinda need the comfort, thank you!

As someone whose dealt with far too much of that myself recently, my heart goes out to you anon ❤️ hope things get easier soon.

---

You have ‘hey, are you awake?’ typed into the chatbox, thumb hovering indecisively over the send button, for a good fifteen minutes before Aphelios messages you. You aren't expecting it–it’s almost midnight, and Phel might be a night owl, but he also has a job. Part of the reason you'd been reluctant to text him–he’s busy, and you'd hate to wake him.

‘You okay?’ the text reads. You spend a moment wondering why he'd ask that, and then realize if he was texting you this late at night he also would have seen your typing notification hovering there for god knows how long. Which also means pretending you're fine is probably out of the picture as well–even if he didn't know you were visiting your parents this weekend, he's always been had a knack for seeing straight through you. May as well be honest, then.

‘not really tbh’ you type back. ‘like I'm fine I'm just…….blehhh. y'know.’

‘Want company?’ comes the immediate reply, because Phel puts sugar to shame. Too sweet for his own good, probably, because he really shouldn't be driving around at fuck o’clock at night to keep you company– ‘I missed you :(‘ comes the follow up text, neatly defeating the argument you were just building up in your head.

‘...can I come over?’ you ask anyway. ‘i don't really want to be at home right now’

‘ofc. I'm already putting my shoes on, I'll see you soon ❤️’

You send a heart back, click your phone off, and stare blankly up at the fading afterimage of the bright screen against your dark ceiling. You have no idea what time you'd gotten home, but you'd had about enough energy to crawl into bed and not much else. As such, you're pretty much still dressed, plus you're pretty sure you have clean clothes at Phel’s place. Even if you didn't, you'd steal one of his shirts to sleep in and Alune would have something to lend you in the morning. You're pretty sure she likes dressing you up, or at least, she has a habit of leveraging her industry connections to get amazing deals on clothes she just happens to think you'd look cute in. Kayn likes to joke she's trying to steal you away from Aphelios.

A knock on your front door startles you to attention, followed by jingling keys as Phel lets himself in. How long had you been zoning out for? He lived like fifteen minutes away, and it felt like it'd barely been five. You drag yourself out of bed as he pushes open your bedroom door, and even in the dim light from the street lamp outside your window you see him smile when he sees you. Immediately, you're wrapped up in a hug, and you feel him press a kiss to your hairline. The anxious knot that's been in your chest ever since you left this weekend eases a little, and you clutch at his hoodie trying to absorb that feeling. He smells like fresh laundry and comfort and home.

“...hi,” you offer after a moment, your voice slightly muffled from where you're pressing your face into his chest. You lean back, reaching over to fumble with your lamp so you can actually see him. “You got here faster than I thought, sorry.”

He shrugs. “I was at Yone’s, the bands having a movie night,” he signs. “We can join them, if you're feeling up for it, or we can just go back to mine and chill. It's up to you.”

You blink up at him. “What movie?”

“The mummy series,” he signs. “Ez is getting super offended, it's really funny.”

You huff a laugh. “That sounds…perfect, actually. You're sure nobody will mind?”

He waves a hand at you. “Of course not, the guys love you.” A smile curves your lips, and he pauses, a fond look in his eye before he ducks his head to press a kiss to your lips. “Not that I wouldn't be happy to monopolize you, but, y'know.”

You laugh. “I think Alune would have words about that.”

He shrugs. “Gotta flex my older brother privileges sometime. You good to go?”

You glance at your still unpacked bag, then nod–that was a tomorrow problem. Maybe the day after. His car is parked outside, still warm from the drive over–he must've cranked the heater for you, because left to his own devices Aphelios wouldn't feel the need for a jacket in a walk in freezer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He signs as you pull out onto the quiet streets, one hand on the wheel.

You sigh deeply. “It's…nothing new, and I probably should've expected this because this is what always happens, but…I dunno, I was hoping we could have a mature conversation this time? But no, same old song and dance. Nothing is ever their fault, and if I get them to stop deflecting long enough to actually admit they did something wrong, I must only be bringing it up because I'm an terrible daughter who's just trying to hurt them, and then the whole thing turns into a big confrontation when all I wanted was…I dunno, some acknowledgement that ‘hey, that was a fucked up thing I did,’” you gesture vaguely at the dashboard, frustrated, and then deflate with a defeated sigh. He reaches over and squeezes your hand in wordless comfort. You offer him a weak smile. “It's fine. I'll be fine. It's just…exhausting, you know?"

He nods, and with a final squeeze you let his hand go so he can sign “I'm sorry. It's not fair, and you deserve better.” He glances at you, brow pulled together in worry. “If you ever need anything, comfort or company or help, I'm here for you. We all are. Doesn't matter how late it is or how far away you are, I'll come running.”

You probably shouldn't try to kiss him while he's driving. “Thanks,” you say instead, voice soft. “I…can't tell you how much that means to me.”

He smiles, but if he has a reply his hands are occupied pulling into Yone’s driveway. Still, he's not driving anymore, so that makes it fair game to lean across the console to kiss the life out of him.

--Right up until you hear Yone's door open. You break apart, only to see Alune standing on the doorstep, hands on her hips. She signs something too fast for you to catch in the dim streetlight, and then flounces back inside. Phel laughs, and you look at him curiously. “She called me an attention hog,” he signs, chuckling.

You laugh. “Well, we better not keep her waiting.”

The sound of the movie filters in as you enter the house and make your way to the living room, coupled with familiar voices and laughter. “--and codex style books weren't even invented until the Roman Empire!” Ezreal is arguing as you walk in, gesturing at the screen animatedly. “It would’ve been a papyrus scroll!” A chorus of greetings sounds over the tail end of his sentence, apparently dismissing what's no doubt the tail end of a long rant. They're scattered around the room–Alune and Ezreal on the long couch, K'Sante and Yone in the twin armchairs on either side, Sett lounging on the beanbag in the corner and Kayn laying directly on the carpeted floor, ankles crossed on the edge of the couch and watching the movie upside-down.

“He's been going on like this the whole time,” Sett informs you by way of greeting, grinning.

“Someone has to hold Hollywood accountable for their blatant disregard for historical accuracy!” Ezreal insists hotly, before fixing you with a pleading look. “Back me up here, you think papyrus scrolls are cool, right?”

“Pretty cool, yeah,” you agree. Alune animatedly gestures you over to two free spaces on the couch with a beaming grin, which you have no doubt she pulled rank to acquire. Kayn offers you a wave as you step over him.

“I saved some snacks,” she whispers as you settle by her side, Phel on your other. True to her word, she has a bowl of chips in one hand and a punnet of chocolate dipped strawberries in the other. Ezreal tries to sneak one of the latter while she's distracted, only for her to whip her head around and give him a narrow eyed look, to which he immediately begins to feign stretching instead.

“How was your trip?” Yone asks. You must make a face, because he frowns. “Ah. My condolences. Family matters are often... uniquely troubling."

You wince. “It was…not great, yeah. I don't...really want to get into it.”

“I'm just putting this out there, but if you want someone vanished you can just say the word, I know a guy,” Kayn offers from the floor.

You stifle a laugh. “Are you the guy?”

“Me or one of my siblings,” he qualifies. “Depends, how many people you want killed?”

“You cannot keep threatening to sic your family members on people you don't like simply because your father teaches all his foster children martial arts,” K'Sante points out dryly.

“It's not just because of that,” Kayn argues. “It's part of the pact–everyone gets one favor, no questions asked, everybody has to chip in if they can."

“And you…haven't used yours yet?” Yone asks skeptically.

“Nope,” Kayn says cheerfully. “I covered up my fuckups and achieved my numerous impressive exploits by my own merits, thank you.”

“I do not need anyone killed,” you confirm.

“Yet,” Ezreal corrects sagely, only to interrupt himself with an aghast gasp. “He's reading hieroglyphs in the wrong direction!” he cries, pointing accusingly at the screen. Phel puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, and like this–snuggled up with him, surrounded by your friends and terrible movie–it was suddenly a lot easier to believe everything was going to be okay.