#this has been sitting in my drafts for months for some reason. enjoy

[heroesriseandfall]

How Long Tim Drake First Lived at Wayne Manor (+ Drake Manor)

A reference guide and timeline, because I am an incurable nerd.

Gotham Knights #45 [description in alt text]

From what I can figure from Tim’s pre-Flashpoint comics, Tim originally lived at Wayne Manor (after his mom’s death and his dad’s hospitalization) for about 7-9 months until his dad left the hospital. Then the Drakes bought the mansion next-door to Wayne Manor at Alfred’s suggestion, and they lived next-door for less than two years, then had to move downtown after losing money, where they then lived until Jack’s death.

Disclaimer: Due to the annoying nature of comics timelines, this summary will not account for how much time various major Batman storylines take. DC comics tend to take up a lot of time in an apparently small amount of time, which means this technically correct timeline might also make Knightfall, Contagion, and Cataclysm look like they all occured within like, a few months. This is DC’s fault and for the sake of this post I will not bother trying to make that make sense. You can decide how things fit together based on the information here.

Timeline details and references:

When Tim, age 13, first begins training to become Robin (after Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, which is implied to occur during late summer/early fall), he’s mostly living at his boarding school just outside Gotham City while his parents are nearly always away traveling for business (Batman #441, #444-445). At some point, Tim begins staying at the Manor overnight sometimes when he’s not at school, probably over breaks or weekends (Detective Comics #615-616).

In (presumably) December, Tim (age 13) is already staying at Wayne Manor for vacation when his parents are kidnapped. Janet Drake dies, and Jack Drake is hospitalized in a coma (Detective Comics #618-621). Tim continues staying at Wayne Manor after their kidnapping. The kidnapping storyline doesn’t mention what vacation it is, but Janet’s funeral and him becoming Robin occur on Dec 24th, so it’s likely winter break (Batman #455-457).

Soon after his mom’s death, Tim goes abroad for additional training. He’s abroad for at least “a few weeks” (Robin Vol. 1 #1), and at the end of this trip is when Tim first encounters King Snake (Robin Vol. 1 #1-5).

In Batman #469, during which Tim is still living at Wayne Manor while his father is in a coma, Bruce runs into King Snake, who says it has been 6 months since his encounter with Tim in Robin Vol. 1. This means in-text statements now give us at least 6-7 months having passed since Janet died and Jack was hospitalized.

(Note: It’s possible for a while Tim also stayed at his boarding school for the rest of middle school, since he’d been staying there before. We never see him there after Janet died, though, and he was then shown studying in the Manor, so he might’ve stopped boarding early and just stayed at the Manor full time. This part is unclear, and it’s not specified if Tim has started high school in Batman #469. Either way, he was under Bruce and Alfred’s care, and spent a fair amount of time sleeping at the manor.)

Tim turns 14 and starts public high school at Gotham Heights while still living at Wayne Manor (Robin II: Joker’s Wild #1). Tim’s birthday is in July, and in the US, high schools usually start mid Aug/early Sep, so I’d wager that’s at least Dec-mid Aug of living in Wayne Manor (though he was abroad for a few unspecified weeks of that). If we take those date references, that’s at least 7-8 months. Tim’s also probably known the Waynes for around a year now, by my estimate (based on Jason death dates & time mentions in A Lonely Place of Dying).

Relatively soon after Robin II: Joker’s Wild, Jack Drake is released from the hospital and at Alfred’s suggestion they buy the house next door to Wayne Manor (Batman #480-482). Tim is 14 when they move into the new Drake Manor. They eventually hire a live-in maid, Mrs. Mac, to help in the house (Robin III #3). Tim still occasionally stays at Wayne Manor or other family properties (Robin Annual 2 + Robin v2 #3), but for the most part lives at Drake Manor.

While they live at Drake Manor, Tim temporarily runs away from home multiple times (to do Robin stuff, mostly). During the Cataclysm, Aftershocks, and No Man’s Land storylines, where an earthquake turns Gotham into a disaster zone, the Drakes almost sell Drake Manor and they move to Keystone City for a short time (Robin Vol. 2 #62). But after Tim runs away back to Gotham, they end up moving right back into Drake Manor again not long after they left (Robin Vol. 2 #66). The original Wayne Manor also gets destroyed and they rebuild it differently. Tim turns 15 during this time.

Jack Drake sends Tim (age still 15) to boarding school because of all the running away. Tim lives at Brentwood Academy with Alfred for less than a full semester (Robin Vol. 2 #75-100). During this time, Jack marries Dana Winters (Robin 80-Page Giant).

Drake Industries loses money so the Drakes have to sell their mansion, and Tim (15 almost 16) has to leave Brentwood early. They move into their condo in downtown Gotham, near Barbara’s clocktower (Robin Vol. 2 #100). Sometime after they move downtown, Tim turns 16 on July 19th (Robin Vol. 2 #116).

At one point while he lives downtown with his dad & Dana, Tim is interviewed by a social worker investigating Bruce’s parenting. The social worker says, “Tim, you stayed here with Mister Wayne several times for extended periods, correct?” to which Tim responds, “A couple times, yeah. Mostly for a short while after my mom died and my dad was in a coma from his injuries. Bruce and Alfred looked after me until dad got better.” (Gotham Knights #45) “A short while” is vague and subjective so it doesn’t tell us much about whether my timeline is accurate, but this scene does confirm that Tim staying with the Waynes is information that a social worker could find out (though I doubt most of the public knew much about it).

So Tim was 14 already when they moved next door to the Waynes, and 15 almost 16 when they moved out. So it’s less than two years. Tim lived next door to the Waynes barely twice as long as he lived with the Waynes before that. Idk I just find that kind of funny.

Bonus Notes: When Tim was young, the Drakes only stayed at the downtown condo (the one they moved into long-term when Tim was 15) to attend downtown events like the opera or galleries (Robin #100). The Drakes also allegedly owned at least two penthouses (unless the two different names refer to the same one...I'm assuming not). Robinson Park Penthouse is where Jack wanted to move in before Tim convinced him to buy the mansion next door to the Waynes (Batman #480). The Mooney Towers Penthouse “on Diamond Street in Neville,” near Wayne Tower, is where Tim snuck off to stay at a few times during school vacations while Bruce and his dad were gone (Robin Annual 2 & Robin #3).

Additional Note: I’m not sure where Tim regularly lived when he wasn’t at boarding school before his mom died. We see brief glimpses of what is presumably his childhood home(s) in flashbacks but I don’t remember it ever being mentioned in depth. Tim implies that the Drakes didn’t live in one place in Gotham for more than 6 months until he was 14 (Robin v2 #66). They probably didn’t have one permanent residence.

If they did have one, though, presumably it wasn’t in downtown Gotham, since they considered the condo closer to downtown events than their regular home (Robin v2 #100), and it wasn’t in the more country area of Bristol where Wayne Manor is (Crest Hill), because Jack Drake was disturbed by the bats and new to the “countryside” air when they moved there (Batman #480).

[strawb3rrystar]

Hashira HEADcanons

Pairing(s): Tengen Uzui (+ His wives) Obanai Iguro, Kyojuro Rengoku, Giyuu Tomioka, Sanemi Shinazugawa x GN! Reader

Warnings: Oral (M! Revecing) | Forced gagging, Degrading, Facial (Obanai) Begging, Orgasm denial, Edging (Kyojuro) First time, Semi-public (Giyuu) Hair pulling, Implied face fucking (Sanemi)

Word count: 600+

Tengen Uzui

You had made a bet with the girls of who could take Tengen the longest. With Suma coming in last, barely able to last a minute. And Hinatsuru lasting ten minutes before politely pulling away, stating she wanted to keep the playing field fair. Makio lasted an hour, before gagging too much and pulling away. Just a few more minutes and you would beat Makio's score, declaring you the winner.

"I seriously don't understand why you're doing this," Tengen says, his arms resting behind his head. Watching you try not to gag on his cock.

"Because it's fun," Makio huffs, while Suma and Hinatsuru cheer you on. An hour and one minute, that's how long you lasted. But, you were still the winner of your little blow-job bet.

"I've been laying here for over two hours and I still haven't cum." Tengen fake pouts, making Suma tear up.

"Oh no! We have to help him!" Suma turns to look at the rest of you.

"Whoever makes him cum first wins." Makio declares another bet against you.

"Oh, you're on sweetheart!" You reply, lightly punching her arm.

Obanai Iguro

You lay on your back as your head hung off the bed, your boyfriend's cock stuffed down your throat. His balls repeatedly hit your face as he thrusts into your mouth. He presses on your throat causing you to gag.

"You love being treated like this, don't you slut?" He asks mockingly, all you could do was grab onto his hips. He hisses as you dig your nails into his skin, prompting him to press on your throat again.

"Of course, you love this. You wouldn't ask for it if you didn't like it." Obanai concludes, pulling out of your mouth and cumming on your face.

Kyojuro Rengoku

"Please, my love. Please let me cum." Kyojuro begs, bucking his hips to try and get some sort of stimulation. This was now your third time denying his release.

"Nope. I told you, we're going to do this all night until you admit you're wrong" You reply. It was a petty argument really, the kind of one that no one remembers the reason behind it. Yet, here you were edging the shit out of your loving husband.

"Please, I'm sorry. You were right." He whines, your warm tongue wrapped around his length.

You chuckle, sending vibrations through his cock. He thrusts his hips into your face, painting your throat white.

Giyuu Tomioka

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Giyuu asks, looking down at you.

"Mhm." You hum, kissing his leaking tip.

"I just don't think this is a good ide- ah!" He chokes on his words as he feels your warm mouth surround him. Though your knees did hurt from the rough terrain, you still bobbed your head.

Giyuu whimpered, covering his mouth with his hand "Oh, fuck~" He mumbles.

You pulled away from his throbbing cock "Are you enjoying yourself, Giyuu?"

"Y-yeah, but we should stop before someone finds us."

"No way, not until you cum." You reply, going down on him again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

"Sanemi, please." You whine, still trying to catch your breath.

"No, I already gave you a breather." He pulls on your hair some more.

"Please, I can't do this-" You cry.

"Well, you should have thought about that sooner, huh?" He says, mockingly. "Now open, like a good slut."

You open your mouth, not wanting to get punished more so. He shoves his cock down your throat, making more tears pour down your cheeks.

But, you knew that Sanemi was nowhere near finished with you. By the end of the night, you'd be filled and covered in his cum. Well, maybe you should just learn to shut up and behave.

Star's note -> This has been sitting in my drafts for a month 😮‍💨

Taglist -> N/A | Join the taglist

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Body Like a Back Road

Request: Joe Burrow and reader go on spontaneous road trip during off season.

Warnings: smut (fingering, intercourse), language, mentions of a funeral

A/N: my second stand alone Joe fic! Enjoy!

"In 500 feet, turn right". The voice of the GPS startled you out of your nap, your head knocking against the window as the car went over a pothole. "Ow!" You pressed a hand to the side of your face, grimacing at the sharp pain. Joe snickered as he glanced over at you, his hands flexing open and closed as he balanced them on the top of the steering wheel. "Good, you're awake."

"Where are we?", you grumbled out as you stood up, stretching your arm over your chest in hopes of getting the knot out of your shoulder from sleeping against the door. There were no signs to indicate your current location, and for the past eight hours, everything out of your window looked the same, nothing but trees along each side and the open road.

"We're just outside of St. Louis. At least according to the GPS, but I think I made a couple wrong turns about an hour ago, so I know fuck all where we are." Joe bit at his thumb nail, something he always did when he was stressed. "Great." You whispered, leaning your head against the window. The vibration of the car was lulling you back to sleep, your eyelids growing heavy.

The season was finally over, and after a less than stellar year, Joe was going stir crazy sitting around with nothing to do. He could only hit the gym so many times a day and watch game tape over and over before it started to get boring. When you mentioned to him that you had to travel to Denver to attend the funeral of one of your distant cousins as a favor to your mom, he offered to tag along with you, and against your better judgement you said yes.

Going to a family funeral was something that a boyfriend did for their girlfriend, not for their fuck buddy. You didn't want to give Joe, and honestly, you're own heart, the wrong idea about where you stood, but the thought of making a 17 hour drive alone sounded like torture.

Your relationship with Joe was...complicated, to say the least. You had been friends through college, and for the longest, it was nothing more than that, but when you both ended up in Cincy, Joe was drafted to the Bengals and you had just settled in the city with your first big-girl job, it became something more. You were both lonely, living in a new place, and you leaned on each other for support.

The first time you slept with Joe, you considered it a fluke, a slip up that could easily happen between friends. After months of consistently ending up in bed together, you realized that the two of you were in too deep. Now, a couple years later, it had become more habit than anything else, and you weren't even sure if you could call yourself friends as much as you had become a source of comfort for one another. You knew it was best to end it before anyone got hurt, but for some reason, you just couldn't.

Joe slapped your thigh, making you jump. "Hey, I need you to stay up. This GPS is useless."

"In 200 feet, turn left onto Franklin Street."

"Franklin Street?!" Joe gestured wildly to the left of him. "There is no fuckin' Franklin Street! Does she want me to drive into the woods?" Joe scoffed as he leaned back in his seat. You leaned forward to see there in fact was no Franklin Street, chuckling to yourself. "Don't let her get to you, J. You know she's not real, right?"

"Ya know what...its not even the GPS, its your damn car. Piece of junk." He slapped the console, the volume dial falling out of place. You grabbed it, shoving it back onto its slot. "Hey, Darla has been there for me since I was 16. She is a classic." Truthfully, Darla was hanging on by a thread, and the last time you brought her to a mechanic they offered you $200 for her to use for scraps, but you didn't have the money for a new or gently used car right now, and as long as you didn't go over 50 mph, she drove fine.

"A classic piece of shit", he mumbled under his breath, earning a slap on the arm from you. "Shit!", he rubbed at his chest, "do you wanna drive? 'Cause I can pull over right now."

"Funny, because she wasn't a piece of shit all of the times we were doin' it in the backseat." You propped your feet on the dashboard.

"Yeah, good times." Joe's ran his fingers through his hair nervously, his face starting to heat up. He was glad you went back to sleep so you couldn't see him start to sweat.

"Wake me up when we get to Kansas." You grabbed Joe's hat from the dashboard, pulling it over your eyes to block out the evening sun.

****

The next few hours went by like a dream as you went in and out of consciousness, listening to Joe's terrible singing along to the Hamilton soundtrack as he managed to eat through all of the snacks you packed for a two day drive.

You took in a deep breath as you woke up to darkness, the overhead light blinding you as you rubbed your eyes to try to focus your vision. As soon as you noticed you were alone, the driver's door was wide open, and Joe was gone, you began to panic.

"Joe! Joe, where are you? This isn't funny!" All horror movie protocol went out of the window as you unbuckled and climbed out of the car.

"Joe!" Silence. You grabbed your phone out of your back pocket and turned on the flashlight as you rounded the back of the car, illuminating the eerie thicket of trees you were parked next to. "Joe, I swear to God, if you're hiding somewhere I'm gonna kill you." You took a step forward, jumping as you heard a twig snap beneath your feet. You held your breath, feeling your pounding heartbeat in your ears as you listened for any sound of life. Again, silence.

"You know what? I'm just gonna assume you're already dead and keep it pushing." You called out to the open. You had seen Friday the 13th enough times to know there was no way you were going to outrun anyone. You turned back to the car, noticing a figure flash by out of the corner of your eye.

"BOOO!!" Joe jumped out from behind the car, his arms swinging above his head to appear terrifying. You collided with him, bouncing off of his strong frame, and landed on your ass.

"Ha! You should have seen your face!" Joe bellowed over with laughter as you stood and dusted the dirt off of your pants, a scowl on your face. "Fuck, that was so worth it." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

You shoved him, hard, making his back hit the car. "What the hell were you even doing? Why did we stop?" You opened the trunk and grabbed a sweatshirt out of your bag, feeling the chill on your skin as the temperature dropped after dark. "Had to take a piss."

"I feel like we've been driving forever. How far to the motel?" You were beginning to get cranky, your empty stomach contributing to your sour mood. "Still got another two hours until we get to Kansas City and stop for the night." You both got back into the car, but as Joe tried to turn the engine, it only sputtered a couple of times before dying out.

"C'mon", Joe groaned, cranking the key again to no avail. 'Fuck!" He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, hitting the horn. "Your piece of shit car died, Y/N."

"Its not Darla's fault, you probably made her mad stopping in the middle of nowhere."

He pressed his forehead to the wheel. "Please tell me you have roadside assistance."

"Um...define "roadside assistance"?" You had AAA at one point, but let your membership expire when you couldn't afford the monthly payment anymore. "Y/N! What if I wasn't here?! You would have been stranded in the middle of Kansas by yourself with no way to get help!" Joe didn't mean to yell at you, but just the thought of you being out here alone was stressing him out.

"Good thing you're here, then." You harmlessly placed a hand on his thigh to reassure him as you scrolled the internet for tow trucks. Neither of you realized that Joe had grabbed your hand in his, interlacing your fingers. As you rose your head, feeling him massaging your fingers mindlessly as he stared ahead, you felt your stomach flip. "Joe", you uttered out, waiting for him to look at you.

"Oh, sorry." He snatched his hand back, running his fingers through his blonde locks. He didn't even realize he had done it. You were his safe place, and touching you brought him comfort in a way that he really didn't understand himself. You were no stranger to his touch, but it was always in the name of getting off.

"I think I found a place a couple miles away. ETA is...2 hours." You let out a frustrated sigh. Waiting two hours for a two truck meant you weren't going to see a shower or bed anytime soon. You desperately wanted to wash this road trip off with the hottest water a hotel shower could produce.

Joe leaned his seat back, the worn leather creaking underneath him as he sunk down, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. "What are you doing?", you asked, shifting in your seat to face him.

"What does it look like?"

"You can't fall asleep. What if some monster comes and snatches me out of my window?" You were partly kidding, partly terrified that would actually happen. "That's not gonna happen", he huffed, "I'm not that lucky." You scoffed, throwing your feet over his lap. "You need to stay up and keep me company. Those are the rules of the roadtrip."

"Please. I just drove eight hours, five of which you were asleep."

"Joe, please. Just until the tow truck gets here."

"Fine. Tell me about your cousin. Were you close?", Joe hummed, scratching his nose. "Technically she's my mom's cousin, and no, I've never met her. My mom was close with her at one time, but they lost touch years ago. I'm just going to represent the family."

Joe opened an eye to peek at you. "You're going all the way to Denver for someone you've never met?"

"Why do you sound so shocked? I can do things out of the kindness of my heart." You clutched your chest dramatically, but Joe just chuckled, dropping his shoulders in a sigh. "It's just... ya know what? Nevermind."

"What? Tell me."

"Its just...are you sure that's all that it is? In all the time I've known you, you do things out of comfort. I'm not saying its a bad thing, but this isn't like you." He was looking at you know, his blue eyes illuminated by the orange hued overhead lighting. He was staring into your soul, like he was trying to pull something out of you, and you squirmed underneath the scrutiny.

Your head snapped when you saw a pair of headlights coming down the road, but it was just a passing car. "We have had sex in this car so many times, because you don't even want to come to my place most of the time." You turned back to Joe, whose eyes were closed again.

You bit at your bottom lip. You never realized anyone was paying attention to you that closely, especially not Joe. "I've been thinking a lot about the things I've settled for in my life, and this felt like a breath of fresh air, something different. I'm going a funeral, but I'm also getting out of Ohio for a minute."

Your words hit Joe like a ton of bricks. He quickly sat up. "Are you thinking about leaving Ohio?"

"Eventually", you shrugged. "You didn't think I'd be there forever did you?" you giggled, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. "I mean, I guess, I- didn't give it much thought." Joe let in a sharp breath to stop his fumbling. He did think you'd be there forever, or at least, he always thought you'd be there as long as he was.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find a new fuck buddy", you said in jest, crossing your legs one over the other. Joe felt his throat go dry, his skin crawling in the silence. He was desperate to change the subject and get his mind off all of the terrible possibilities. "How much longer?"

You checked your phone. "Still got another hour. I'm starving. Did you really eat all of the snacks?" You sat up and crawled into the back of the car to search the bags you packed. "Really, Joe, even my Cheetos? Aren't you on some sort of athlete diet?" You threw the empty bag at him, the plastic hitting him in the face. "I was hungry." He tried to go to the sleep to the sound of you rummaging behind him.

"Hey, look what I found." Joe opened his eyes to see a gold-wrapped condom dangling in front of his face. "I have an idea of how we can pass the time", you whispered in his ear, making him shiver. "If you're not too tired."

"Fuck it." With a grunt, he ripped the condom out of your hands, and took it between his teeth as he unbuttoned his jeans. You frantically climbed to the front, stripping off your sweatshirt before climbing over him to straddle his legs. You turn off the overhead light, moonlight pouring over both of you through the window.

Goosebumps rose on your skin as you pulled him in for a messy kiss, your skin on fire even though seconds ago you were freezing. As you made out, his hands trailed around your waist, inching closer and closer to your spine before his large hands slid down the small of your back and grabbed rough handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging into your delicate skin as your back arched.

He began to move your hips slowly back and forth, making you grind against his pelvis, but he was going too slow for your taste, so you grabbed at his hands, circling your hips against him with an eagerness that had his hips bucking from sensitivity. You could feel him grow hard quickly against your inner thigh, letting out little moans into your mouth as your lips lingered together.

'Y/N, honey-", Joe could barely get the words out, his chest heaving with each breath. "What?", you huffed out without losing your pacing. "What's the rush?", His brow knitted together in pain as his cock rubbed against his zipper. "The tow truck is gonna be here any minute." Joe nodded, holding you in place. You backed away from him, pushing the hair that was stuck to his face with sweat out of his eyes. "We're having sex. I'd like to have use of my dick afterwards, okay?"

You giggled, pulling him by the collar of his shirt for another kiss, alternating between sucking on his top and bottom lips. You moved your hips again, this time with more control, focusing on the friction against your clit with each movement. "Better?", you questioned, only earning a moan from Joe. You could feel yourself growing wet, your panties soaked as you built your orgasm off of friction alone. Joe fumbled with the button of your shorts, sliding his hand down your front, feeling the wetness pooled against the cotton fabric.

"Shit, I didn't realize you were so ready." He toyed with the band of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin. "Take these off." You lifted yourself off of Joe's lap, settling in the passenger seat, and shuffled your shorts and panties down your legs, kicking them into the back seat. Joe pulled you back onto his lap, eliciting a squeal from you, and in a single breath, he has you writhing on top of him again, his thumb pressing against your clit as he draws agonizingly circles around the sensitive bud.

"Fuck, fuck, don't stop." You hiss, guiding his fingers to drag through your drenched folds, humping against his hand. He slides one of his large digits inside of your pussy, feeling you clench around him, your muscles pulsing as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He slips another finger inside, and you feel the stretch, taking deep breaths as he hooks his fingers and strokes against your cushiony ceiling.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, your chest bouncing in front of him with your head thrown back has him at a loss for words, desperate to get his hands on every inch of you. He helps you get your shirt off over your head, reaching behind your back to easily unclasp the hooks of your bra with his free hand, exposing your budding nipples to the cold air.

Joe leans forward, flicking his tongue against your nipple, and ghosting wet kisses between your breasts. You move back instinctively when he nips at your skin, but he pulls you aggressively back, hungry to feel you in his mouth again. "Feels so good, baby." Expletives are rolling off your tongue as he sucks harder on your nipples. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingernails raking against his scalps as he moves down to your stomach, pressing a kiss right above your belly button as you lean against the steering wheel.

He pulls out of you, your wetness glistening on his fingers. Without hesitation, you take both of his fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. "You look so fuckin' beautiful like this", he grunts out, his mouth slightly agape as he watches you. Instead of your usual bashfulness at his dirty talk, you hold eye contact with him, your eyelids heavy with lust as you lick him clean, popping his index finger against your lips as you pull them out.

"Fuck, lift your hips." He instructs, racing against his internal clock, like he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't have you now. You do as he says, cupping your chest as he fumbles for the discarded condom, finding it in the cupholder. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, his pink cock springing free and resting against his lower stomach. You salivate at the engorged vein that travels from the base of his cock to the tip, which is leaking pre-cum.

"Hurry up!" You playfully push him, turning to look over your shoulder for any tow trucks or stray cars, but its obvious the two of you are alone out here. He rips the foil wrapper with his teeth, and removes the condom, rolling it down his length. He wraps his hands around the base of his cock as you slowly sink down on him, taking him inch by inch until you bottom out with a loud moan. "Oh, fuck."

He pulls at the manual recline handle and goes flying back, landing against the backseat with a thud, hitting the back of his head against the headrest. "I fuckin' hate this car", he mumbles, quickly forgetting about the ancient vehicle and his injury as you begin to bounce on his dick, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs audible, quickly drowned out by the squelching of your wetness as he slips in and out of you.

Joe can't focus on anything but how good you feel and how good you look on top of him, your silhouette illuminated in the moonlight, his hands grazing against the curve of your waist and hips. You feel your legs start to fatigue so you lean forward, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles underneath your palms.

He takes the opportunity to worship your body as you ride him, placing kisses on your arms and chest while you're too blissed out to even notice. "So fuckin good, baby. You're doin' so fuckin' good", he praises you over and over, which has you hurdling toward your orgasm, feeling the coil tighten in your core.

"Joe", you whimper out, your pace slowing as you tire. "I've got you", he remarks, sliding his hands underneath your thighs to hold you up while he snaps his hips into you, making you take him to the hilt each time. He strokes your g-spot in perfect succession each time and you're sure you won't last much longer. "I'm-I'm gonna cum." You bite out, your words vibrating through your bouncing chest, your nails digging into his pecs, leaving red marks. He increases his pace, hitting against your cervix, the car squeaking and shaking side to side as you come undone, your release washing over you with waves of pleasure.

Joe's right behind you, his face scrunched tight as he feels every muscle in his body contract, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum", he warns just in time, and you pepper kisses against his jawline as his hips stutter. You try to kiss him, but he can only draw in sharp breaths as he releases into you, residual muscle pulses from your orgasm milking him for every drop.

Completely spent, he draped an arm around your back, pulling your weight down on his body. Your chests heave in succession as you come down from your high and try to catch your breath. You lazily kiss his cheek with a smile. "Fuck, that was-"

"I love you." You both were silent, the declaration hanging in the air. Joe was shocked at the words as if they didn't come out of his own mouth. You lifted your head to look at him, your hands still clamped around his face. "What did you say?"

"What?" Joe responded, in immediate denial. He tried to look away, but you turned his head back to you. You heard your phone vibrating in the passenger seat but you ignored it, unable to take your eyes off of him. His face was soft, genuine, his eyes very telling. He meant what he said.

Your phone vibrated for a second time. "Its probably the tow truck. You should get that." Joe was desperate for a reprieve. "Yeah." You shook your head and climbed off his lap, grabbing your phone to answer it. "Hello? Yes, we're around mile marker 152. Okay." You hurriedly put your clothes back on, Joe watching you through the rear view mirror the entire time. He could physically see you trying to process what had just happened, and he honestly wished he'd never said anything. He wasn't sure if he loved you, he was too lost in the moment, thinking with his dick instead of his head.

"They'll be here in five." Your words jogged Joe out of his trance. He nodded and got out of the car, desperate for air. You needed to talk about what happened, but right now, you just wanted to focus on getting your car towed and getting to the nearest hotel so you could get some sleep.

The ride in the tow truck was uncomfortably quiet. You rested your head against the window, your arms crossed over your chest to create as much distance between the two of you as possible, desperate to close your eyes even for a few minutes. Joe glanced over at you multiple times in the short five mile ride to the hotel. He raked a hand through his messy hair, moving to stroke his jawline, the guilt of catching you off guard and professing his love for you in the heat of the moment, gnawing at him.

The hotel was very basic, no amenities and didn't even a continental breakfast, and wasn't really up to Joe's standards, but it was the only one in town, so he'd settle for it just for the night. He stood in the lobby and watched you as you checked in, making light conversation with the desk attendant.

Maybe if he just denied it, or avoided talking about it, you two could move past this, and it could all be a bad memory.

He felt a lump build in his throat as you walked toward him. Seeing the distress on your face, he knew there was no way you were getting over this anytime soon. "Look, Y/N-"

Your face was stoic as you threw your bag over your shoulder. You shoved a key card in his direction without a word. "Goodnight, Joe." He watched you walk away, flipping the key card in his hand.

What the hell had he just done?

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@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

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@tallrock35

[nburkhardt]

Every Time You Shine, I’ll Shine For You.

Soooo this was originally going to be full one shot, but I’ve decided since it’s been sitting in my drafts for months, that I’m just going to post it as either an unfinished piece for now. I might try to come up with a second half but for now enjoy this soulmate au ✨

Having a soulmark wasn’t necessary for Steve. Sure, seeing the word- the nickname his soulmate will eventually call him is nice. But it’s not needed, not in his eyes at least.

At the age of five years old, everyone in the world gets a nickname on their wrist. It’s fate telling you your perfect match, that the other half of your soul is out there for you. It’s the ultimate fairytale growing up, that it burns when you hear the nickname said by your soulmate and there’s an instant spark, instant connection. It’s the bedtime story, the ultimate love story and something to wish for.

It’s a wish everyone wants but Steve Harrington.

He has a very good reason to not like the idea of having a “perfect match” out there for you. While he heard the stories and sees the potential in it, he grew up watching his parents be in love without being actual soulmates. Hears stories of their love and ideas of finding love on your own, deciding to show the world that they don’t need fate’s help.

It’s beautiful and he wants that. Wants to make his own story, find his own match. There’s no need for fate to help him.

On his fifth birthday, he watched ‘Dingus’ appear on his wrist, it made him pout while his parents laughed and kiss his head, told him not to worry. That he doesn’t have to be with whoever fate picked for him and joked about only being five.

It eases his five year old mind.

His parents aren’t surprised to watch him grow up to be a true romantic, isn’t surprised to see his love in everything and how having a soul mark doesn’t stop him from having crushes or falling in love.

Life goes on but after some failed relationships and the disaster of a relationship with Nancy; seeing the nickname give him some hope that somewhere out there, there is someone for him. Someone who fate decided is his match, which growing up he hated it.

At eighteen, he really thought he’d already be with the person he’d love forever (and who would love him). But instead of that, he’s single and not at all close to figuring out why fate’s pick for him would call him “dingus” of all things. To top it all of he’s stuck working at the new Scoops Ahoy until he hears back from the colleges he applied too.

The uniform is lame, it’s in the middle of the brand new mall and it’s leaning towards being too cold in the shop and he doesn’t even know his coworker yet, hopefully they’re not expecting him to be some big shot like he was in high school.

Those days are long gone, he’d rather be his lame and hopeless romantic self instead of the asshole keg king he was.

His first week of working is spent being laughed at by ex-teammates, being ignored by his only coworker and failing to get at least a date with someone. It’s not his longest week, but it’s real close.

After a total of three weeks of getting ignored and laughed at by people he flirts with, his coworker, Robin decides enough is enough and- “maybe with this you’ll try harder”

Glancing behind him, she’s standing there with the whiteboard from the back but instead of the random doodles she drew, it looks like a score board with You Rule/You Suck on it.

There’s already three tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and he can’t figure out if it makes him want to laugh or cry, maybe both.

Definitely both.

“At least I’m trying here, you could find your soulmate with flirting!”

Robin rolls her eyes and hangs the board up behind her, “I’d rather suck on a lemon than flirt with guys”

It surprises him for all of three seconds before he rolls his eyes, whatever, he thinks. If she wants to miss the opportunity to find a soulmate, so be it. He’ll continue trying to find love, he doesn’t need whoever fate picked.

The board is definitely mocking him, he thinks several days later. Currently there’s five tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and a big fat nothing under ‘You Rule’. Robin thinks it’s the funniest thing on the planet.

He doesn’t find it funny, he finds it embarrassing and stupid, actually. Really embarrassing, especially when she brings it out when another girl their age walks in. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Which is confusing, she told him explicitly that she does not like him and will only ever tolerate him. So, her practically chasing people away doesn’t make sense.

Her loud crackle of a laugh starts as his head nearly hits the counter, “That’s another one for the you suck column! Zero for the you rule, popeye!”

Standing up he turns around with a glare, “yeah I can read!”

“You sure about that one, Dingus?”

His wrist burns and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide. There’s no way, absolutely no way. This is a fluke, she must have seen his mark one day. That’s why his soulmate mate, fate’s pick, is his co-worker.

His disbelief and discomfort most show on his face because Robin shifts on her feet, “I’m uh, sorry. If I took that too far, really-uh I don’t think that way about you and, and- this is was” she looks uncomfortable now, tripping over her words.

Opening his mouth to calm her down, he find that his words are gone. The disbelief stopping him. He quickly shuts it and looks away from her. The shop is completely empty. When did that happen?

“Steve- I really didn’t mean to be well, mean.”

All he can do is nod back, “no, uh, I get it. Really- uh. It’s fine.”

How exactly is he supposed to do this? He’s never once called her a nickname! Unless she was his but he isn’t hers? He doesn’t know. Either way he’s still a little disappointed.

“You sure? Because uh, you’re looking a little pale there”

A laugh bubbles up and before he realizes it he’s on the ground with his back against the counter and tears on his face, “ye-yeah. Sorry.”

He hears her move around and then there’s a foot bumping his, he moves his head to look at her.

“We’re currently low on everything, did you know that? It’s unbelievable, just wiped clean.” Robin explains with amusement dancing on her face, “Scoops Ahoy is officially closed for the day”

That surprises a laugh out of him as tries to loosen the tension that built up, moving his arms he puts his chin on his knee, Robin copies him. They’re just looking at each other, comfortable in this silence.

“Sooo”

“Look-”

Their eyes meet and both burst out laughing. This feels different, at least for Steve. There’s something soothing coursing through him now, he never felt on edge with Robin but he wasn’t always this comfortable either. A smile spreading on his face, he didn’t know about this feeling when you meet your soulmate.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorts, “they might be worth more, Birdie”

Robin gasps and he looks at her, but her eyes are wide and locked on her wrist. He follows her look and he can’t exactly see what she’s looking at but he knows it’s her soul mark.

They really are soulmates.

This is where I’d put the continuation… if I had the idea for it! (Said in that fairlyodd parents meme)

Anyway! If this brought you some inspiration, you can totally take whatever piece you want and write something! But please know I had this ending up as Steddie with side of Rockie (Vickie&Robin)

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[starfinss]

Thanks for answering my ask!😊 i do have request/suggestion involving Cyno haha, what about a 🍋 scenario where Cyno, Al Haitham and a character of your choice get accidentally hard from having their S/O innocently sit on their lap? They try to hide it but they fail.. 🙈 if that would be alright with you!

This has been in my inbox for literal months, I am SO sorry.

I’ve been planning a trip abroad, plus I’ve had no ideas for this prompt until like an hour ago when I was playing Genshin and thinking of story ideas. Anyway, sure, I’ll write that. The character of my choice will be Lyney, because I’m working on his build right now and I’ve been sort of drafting a fic for him while I’m writing the Jing Yuan fic.

As always, let me know if any of you want full fics from this.

—𝘚𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.

— 𝘈𝘭𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮

— Unless you’re at home together, I doubt Alhaitham would let you sit on his lap for this very reason.

— Alhaitham is a man who lives my the rules of logic, and while I won’t say he hasn’t fucked you on his desk at work, he’d call those ‘momentary lapses in judgement.’

— Not that he didn’t enjoy them, though.

— He’s the type who likes to do things where the chances of being caught are low. He likes to draw things out, doing everything he can to make you feel good. And so, he prefers to engage in activity like this in the comfort of your bedroom.

— So, in instances like this, if you were to convince him to let you sit in his lap while you waited for him to finish up his work after everyone was home for the night, he might give in, just a little bit.

— Really, you just wanted to be close to him, maybe close your eyes for a while. He loves closeness as much as the next person, being near to the one you love is always nice.

— The risk of being seen in such a compromising position is low, which is a plus, and he gets to feel your warmth against his body as he finishes what he has to do for the day.

— But then you shift forward, nuzzling closer, and your body rubs against his just right, and oh Archons, he doesn’t have time for this.

— The way your body settles so perfectly over him makes his mind scatter to anything and everything besides work. The friction as you rearrange yourself against him is enough to make him feel like he’s going crazy.

— He hides it well, though. Alhaitham is good at keeping a blank face.

— As casually as he can, he shifts you back so you’re away from his growing erection, because he has to finish this paperwork before he leaves, and you’re so maddeningly distracting.

— But that doesn’t go unnoticed. You look up at him quizzically, and when you’re met with a blank stare, you shift back to where you were most comfortable, just to see his reaction.

— He sets his jaw, breath catching as he stiffens, unable to hide the way his body reacts to yours as you realize why he moved you away.

“Did I make you hard?” You whisper, a little surprised, “I didn’t even do anything.”

A quiet scoff as he looks at you fully, his self-restraint beginning to fray. Damn you for always having this effect on him.

“It’s kind of hard not to with you practically grinding against me.”

A sly smile overtakes your face, the innocent desire to hold him replaced with something much more lascivious.

“Would you like some help with that, Mister Acting Grand Sage?”

— Lips collide, and you end up bent over the desk as he holds you in place by your hips, the office filled with the sound of skin on skin and his low, pleasured groans as he fucks you, deep and hard, just the way he knows you like it.

— Needless to say, that paperwork didn’t end up getting done that night.

— 𝘊𝘺𝘯𝘰

— Like Alhaitham, I don’t think Cyno would really allow such a thing unless the two of you were alone in your own home.

— He doesn’t like breaking rules or doing things that could be seen as unbecoming, especially not in public.

— It’s because of the fact that he most likely wouldn’t engage in that sort of thing in public that I also doubt he’d try and hide it.

— In his eyes, things tend to be rather black and white, and he separates your sex life together from everyday life. He associates you sitting in his lap with other more improper thoughts that he shouldn’t be distracted by when he’s working or out of the house.

— It doesn’t change just how much he loves you, and even in daily life he expresses that in other ways.

— This is getting long winded and stupid but I want this to be interesting and not just “he’s reading a book and you’re in his lap,” which I could very easily do.

— I sure am a writer. Also this idea is stupid, but it’s also fun. I will probably write a full fic for it.

— But, anyway, the point I was making is, if you were to accidentally end up in his lap, then because of that association between you being that close and sexual activity, he might end up getting hard rather easily.

— While tracking a fugitive scholar together, the two of you end up being forced to fight when a group of Eremites come through, and the ensuing scuffle catches the attention of a herd of Sumpter Beasts.

— You and Cyno are confined into a small hiding space, and because of the limited amount of room, you’re forced to straddle him.

— You, of course, are wriggling around, trying to get comfortable in the awkward position, and it’s when you finally settle down onto his lap and he catches you by the waist to keep you from fully resting against him that you realize what has happened.

— He’s not meeting your eyes, simply looking out through the gaps in the rocks to watch the herd of beasts go by, but you can see his jaw tighten when you shift forward and out of his grip. When you move your hips down, a hand shoots out to still you with a grip that is nearly bruising.

“Stay still.”

— You’re a little surprised, he’s usually able to keep that sort of thing under control fairly well, but in retrospect, you can’t really blame him with all the moving around you were doing.

“Sorry,” you croak, suddenly mortified, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he says, “my body simply responded to the stimulation. It is always a possibility in such close quarters. Just stay still, please.”

— The rocks are digging into your knees, and despite his warning, you still try and shift for some relief, as slowly as you can, but he’s getting harder, and you can feel his hands scrambling for a grip on your hips and waist, and when he looks at you, the glint in his eyes is equal parts pleading and haggard.

— Slowly, teasingly, you roll your hips, and his head falls back against the wall of rocks behind it, eyes fluttering closed as you grind against him, the way he’s holding you so flush against him making the friction ever better.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, though his own protest sounds unconvincing as his voice drops several octaves lower, rough with lust, and especially so when his hips rise to press you even closer.

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” You ask, wanting so badly to kiss him, and instead of answering you, he catches the back of your head, crushing your mouth against his.

— The buttons of your shirt are undone, his mouth is on your breasts as you fumble for the front of his shorts, struggling to get your own off, and he simply moves your panties aside after you’ve wrestled out of your clothing before yanking you down, stuffing you full of his thick cock.

— Your cries of pleasure are lost among the hoof beats of the Sumpter Beasts on the path above, and you share heated breath as you ride him, his hand on your waist to guide you along the length of his cock.

— His head dips down to watch where he disappears inside of you, and you feel his grip tighten on your body, feel him twitch inside of you, making you whimper.

— He’s sure to make you cum first, his thumb on your clit, muttering sweet filth into your skin as you come undone above him.

— You end up in that ravine longer than you excepted, if you couldn’t tell.

— 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘺

— Unlike the two others, I don’t think Lyney would be as private.

— A conversation with my good friend Paprika made me realize that Lyney is probably the type of guy who goes for what he wants, and if he was interested in someone, he’d likely just show that interest without beating around the bush.

— So I wouldn’t be surprised if he invited his s/o to sit on his lap, just casually, no matter where they were.

— It’s not even sexual, really, he just likes being close to the ones he loves, and you’re no exception. He loves holding you.

— He’s very romantic, too, I’d say. He knows just what to say to get you all weak in the knees. He loves you so much. The poor guy doesn’t have many people in his life who have shown him the love that you have, and he absolutely cherishes you.

— He’d even buy out all the seats in one of the upper boxes of the Opera Epiclese, just to have you all to himself, able to hold you close and tell you just how much he adores you in the dark of the grand auditorium.

— But he’s only human, and if you were to move just right while sitting in his lap, he’s going to have a reaction.

A soft chuckle tickled your ear in the silence, and you felt Lyney’s hands on your waist, gently holding you in place.

“Stay still, please, darling.”

— He wouldn’t really try and hide it, it’s kind of hard to when you’re right there.

— He’d bite back a gasp as you shift again, almost teasing him, shooting you a warning look.

“Can I help with that?”

A soft laugh, slightly strained. “And how would you do that?”

You pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Can I show you?”

He kisses your forehead. “As long as it’s quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons, would we?”

— You slip down from his lap and to the floor, where you kneel, between his knees. He’s seated in the farthest chair in the box, well hidden from sight if anyone were to look his way. You wouldn’t even be visible from that vantage point.

— He realizes what you’re doing and shifts his legs farther apart to accommodate you, and when you palm him through his slacks, you get the pleasure of watching the way his jaw tightens, breath drawn in sharply through his nose.

— You make short work of his belt and zipper, and he shifts his hips to let you tug his underwear down just enough to free his dick.

— He curses quietly when you wrap your hand around him, and when you begin to slowly stroke, his head tips back against the chair.

— When your mouth presses against his tip, you feel one gloved palm against the back of your head, urging you forward, lacing into your hair when you take him into your mouth.

— You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth as you begin to bob your head, slow and steady, almost teasing, and you can hear him gasp softly above you, see him clamp one hand over his mouth as you watch him through your lashes.

— His grip tightens on your hair, groans muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you squeeze your thighs together, letting yourself moan around him, low and soft, and that’s enough to make his hips buck against your mouth. You know you’ll pay for that when you got home.

— You speed up, and his hand fists into your hair, desperate for any kind of purchase at all, and you hardly mind, especially when it leads to him shifting forward in his seat, forcing you to take more of him, gently guiding you back, only to fill your mouth once more.

— You loosen your throat and let him take control, using your mouth as he pleases, simply content with watching the way his face twists in pleasure, teeth digging into his knuckles as he tries desperately to stay quiet, and you can tell he’s close from the way he’s leaking into your mouth, his thighs shaking, grip growing borderline painful.

— He cums hard, gushing down your throat, and it’s a wonder he stays quiet during his climax, the effort of it all clearly taking a toll on him as you watch involuntary frustrated tears bead at the corner of his eyes and catch in his pale lashes.

— You pull off as he softens, licking your lips and making a show of swallowing, something he watches with heavy-lidded, hungry eyes.

— Cheekily, you settle back into the seat with him after he tucks himself away again, careful to avoid bumping against him.

— Yeah, you didn’t end up getting much sleep after you got home that night.

The fact that this took as long as it did haunts me and I am so sorry.

ALSO I GET TO SEE PAPRIKA IN PERSON THIS FALL YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!! I’m so excited, and I will probably cry.

[spooky-holtz]

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff (possibly alludes to smut at one point? If you squint?)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I know Christmas was almost two weeks ago but this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. So enjoy, even if my timing is a little off :)

--------------------

December. Quite easily the best and worst month of the school year. As another calendar year winds down, so do rigorous lesson plans, with most teachers at Abbott choosing to give in to the growing excitement among the students as the holidays draw nearer. 

Less time is spent actually teaching and a lot of allocated lesson time is spent watching movies on huge, outdated TV screens, students gathered around the devices on Eagles rugs that were so generously ‘donated’ by Melissa earlier that year.  

As the month goes on you find yourself spending more time inside your classroom, herding the group of preteens that make up the school choir as successfully as you would herd cats. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful few weeks of carol singing and rehearsals, trying to convince a group of kids that it’s not ‘lame’ or ‘cringe’ to appreciate music the way you do.  

As the resident music teacher at Abbott Elementary, you find it incredibly difficult to get young people inspired in the way you so desperately want them to be, often having to let go of the talent you see among some aspiring young musicians for reasons outside of your control. Though the budget doesn’t stretch to allow much in the way of extracurricular activities, choir practice is the one activity where you have your greatest tool already at your disposal; your voice.  

As much as you adore these kids, getting them to concentrate after a full day of learning is no easy feat, with them often choosing to sit around in groups gossiping or scrolling on Tik Tok rather than join you around the old piano that stands in place of a desk in your classroom, where you sit on your creaky stool, waiting for them to join in with you.  

After a particularly difficult lunchtime choir practice in the middle of December, you find your feet carrying you to the sanctuary you often retreat to during your breaks: the teachers’ lounge. You trudge along the hallway, the heels of your sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete floor as you struggle to find the motivation to get you there, dragging your feet along the floor.  

As your hand wraps around the handle and you pull the door toward you, you’re instantly engulfed with the scent of burnt coffee and the sound of chatter as the little groups that sit around the room carry on their conversations, entirely too distracted to notice the door opening.  

Jim Gardner addresses the room from the small TV that sits on the opposite end, his newscast largely going unnoticed by the audience as they munch on leftovers or pore over today's newspaper. Much like Jim, your entry into the room goes unnoticed save for a pair of emerald eyes that you can’t help but glance toward.  

Melissa is already looking back at you over the rim of her glasses, phone in hand, the slight frown on her features already telling you that she’s noticed the lack of energy you carry. You can’t help but be drawn toward her, almost as if being pulled in by an imaginary force. She’s already pulled the empty chair by her side out by the time you reach her, and you collapse down on to it, sighing heavily, leaning your elbows forward onto the cold surface of the table in front of you for support.  

“Choir practice really that bad today, huh?” she asks, sympathy laced across her face.  

“I swear, these kids are turning me grey even faster,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cradle your forehead, “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to get through ‘Silent Night’ without laughing at the word ‘virgin’?” 

The silence that comes from the redhead is deafening as you turn your head slightly in your hands to catch a glimpse of her expression. Her lips are pursed slightly, and her eyes are a little too focused on your hair, doing everything she can to avoid eye contact; a telltale sign that she’s fighting back a laugh. When she finally reaches enough composure to meet your eye line, she can’t help but snicker.  

The sound makes you take your head out of your hands and throw her the most unimpressed look you can muster, though it’s a halfhearted glare.  

“I’m sorry,” she begins to apologize, “but that word was probably the funniest thing ever when I was that age too. Cut them a little bit of slack.”  

Great, so not only do your students think you’re a ‘nerd’ for making them sing carols but Melissa does too. Because having the woman you have an enormous crush on think that is exactly what you needed to round out your year.  Almost as if she can sense your descent into overthinking, Melissa breaks the silence.  

“Hey, I’m just messing with ya,” she says. She reaches forward, pulling you out of your spiral, and rests her hand on the thigh that sits closest to you, patting gently. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”  

Your eyes dart to hers at the comment and you’re met with a wink. The simple move turns you into putty, melting you to bend to her will. Her hand burns through the material of your slacks where it still lays against your thigh, her thumb rubbing gentle circles in an effort to soothe you. You’re sure your face is matching that same level of heat that radiates from it.  

She smiles back softly before turning back to her phone, leaving her hand resting against the patterned material you wear. The contact grounds you and helps you to think a little more rationally. While she’s distracted on her phone, you reach forward onto the table to grab Melissa’s worn Stanley Tucci mug and steal a swig of the steaming black coffee that sits within. The harsh flavor makes you wince, with you preferring your coffee with milk and an obscene amount of sugar to make it even barely drinkable. The expression you wear causes Melissa to giggle, the redhead having looked up almost knowing that your face would be a picture of extreme disgust.  

As she laughs the hand on your thigh squeezes and she leans into you, the lines around her eyes accentuated by the deep laugh that’s taken over her being. You decide that this is the most beautiful version of Melissa you’ve ever seen. Carefree, happy, and relaxed.  

The moment comes to an abrupt end as Barbara enters the room, both you and Melissa turning to the creaking door as it opens. Her eyes naturally fall to your table, much as your own do when you enter the teachers’ lounge, and her gaze lingers on you before she speaks up, barely giving herself a chance to sit down.  

“Oh sweetheart, you look terrible,” she says, concern laced across her features. She’s not wrong. You know the bags under your eyes are worse than ever, having forgone sleep to choose which Christmas carols are least likely to make a room full of elementary schoolers insult you. You wish you had just chosen to sleep instead because every option you threw at your group of angels ended with nicknames being thrown right back at you.  

“See, I told you that you looked bad,” Melissa says, the playful glint in her eye accompanied with the squeeze of your thigh letting you know she’s kidding.  

“You look like you need this Christmas break,” Barbara adds, “Actually, why don’t you come to the little shindig Melissa and I have here on the last day? Get that break started early for you.”  

It’s worrying how quickly you accept the invitation but Melissa’s hand on your thigh paired with the musky smell of her perfume makes it impossible to decline.  

“Of course, I’ll come! Do I need to bring anything?” You ask.  

“Nothing at all, we’ve got it all covered,” the older teacher replies. “Just bring your dancing shoes.” 

You’ve visibly relaxed at the prospect, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your company. While you’re distracted taking another, albeit smug, sip of Melissa’s coffee, Barbara shoots the redhead a knowing look, quirking her eyebrow as she does so. For a split second, Melissa turns the same shade of red as her hair, caught out by Barb and the confession of a pretty obvious crush she gave a few weeks ago. She quickly manages to regain her composure, hand still resting on your thigh and phone still in hand.  

You would think that a full week later, after hours of Christmas songs later, that you would be sick of carols. But you still find yourself sitting in the teachers’ lounge long after the rest of the faculty has left the building on the final day of school before winter break, with your usual duo and the addition of Mr Johnson. The room is filled with a warmth that doesn’t just come from the school’s subpar heating system, but instead from the situation you find yourself in.  

You feel a slight buzz from the copious amounts of wine you’ve consumed since the end of the school day, your stomach lined with Melissa’s incredible cooking and sweet treats brought in by Barbara. You feel that Mr Johnson is in the same boat as you as he mills around the room, plastic cup filled with what you can only assume is even more wine, swaying by himself to the record that plays from the relic of a radio that sits on one of the many cabinets in the room.  

Your attention is immediately drawn elsewhere when Melissa’s cackle fills the room, her and Barb sharing stories that they’ve no doubt already told each other a few dozen times over the years. You completely miss the anecdote, but you still can’t help a smile from breaking out on your face at the sound of laughter, the noise acting like music to your ears – it’s far better than anything that could possibly be played on that radio right now.  

Almost as if by cue, the pair finish their story and the older of the two decides to rise from her chair, beckoning to you as she does so.  

“Come on, I wanna start to shake my groove thing,” says Barbara, already swaying slightly from the few glasses of wine she’s consumed herself. You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, matching her action and standing from your chair yourself, moving further from the security of the table as a swing version of “Jingle Bell Rock” continues playing. “I need a dance partner and you’re the perfect height so get yourself over here.” 

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before her hands quickly mold you into shape, moving one of your own to her hip whilst the other grips your open palm.  

“Wow Barb, at least buy a girl a drink first,” you grin as she swats at your shoulder, giggling along herself. The bells on the front of her extremely festive bright red sweater jingle as she does so. The swaying of your ‘dance’ lasts for a mere few seconds before Barbara interrupts it herself.  

“Melissa, I think we may need to swap places,” she says as she glances at where Mr Johnson stands, eyes still closed and nursing his plastic cup of wine. “I have a feeling Mr Johnson may need some assistance.”  

Melissa mumbles her response as she comes nearer to you, seamlessly swapping places with the elder woman. You completely miss the wink that is thrown her way from Barb, eyes still focused on Mr Johnson’s one-man party.  

When you turn your head back to face in front of you, you’re naturally drawn to the bright green eyes that sit slightly below your eyeline. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the sight, rarely getting to see them this close. It always baffles you how many shades of green, blue and brown come together to create a colour that can only be described as ‘Melissa’. You realize you’ve been staring a little too long when a change of song and her words break you from your thoughts.  

“Come a little closer, you can’t dance properly if you leave enough room for Jesus and the 12 disciples,” she says, her tone playful and smile wide. You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter as her hand snakes from your hip to the small of your back to bring you in closer. There's no mistaking who is leading who.  

When you bring your head back Melissa is considerably closer than before. She’s so close that you can see each individual eyelash under her thick layer of mascara and eyeliner, along with the slightly smudged edge of her lipstick, the deep red of the wine making the colour even richer. The smell of her musky yet floral perfume invades your senses as she looks up toward you. You move your hands from her shoulders to link together behind her neck, her red curls tickling your wrists.  

You can feel every slight movement she makes as Frank Sinatra croons at you both as you sway slightly in place, too scared to move too quickly in case you scare each other. Her thighs almost touch yours and your chests are almost entirely pressed together. You hope she can’t feel your heartbeat; the speed and intensity of it would almost instantly give away your feelings toward her. Her body this close to yours makes your head spin, your mind racing with possibilities of other situations you may find yourself this close to her in.  

You can feel every breath she lets out against your lips, making you aware of how little it would take to connect them with her own. You’re pretty sure she’s noticed too because of the way her eyes keep flicking down to look at them every few seconds. You can feel her hands burning a hole through the material of the shirt against your back. As if she can hear your thoughts, she moves them slightly lower, coming to rest against the waistband of your trousers and dangerously close to your backside. What you wouldn’t give for her to just bite the bullet and slide them into your back pockets to pull you impossibly closer to her.  

“You know, I, uh, never wished you a happy Christmas,” she breaks the tense silence, almost whispering as if anything too loud might startle you. “So Happy Christmas, Hun.”  

She wears a slight smile on her lips, suddenly dropping the hard exterior she always carries to become the softer, more vulnerable version of herself you’ve come to fall madly in love with.  

You can’t help but melt at the sight, your head dropping forward to lean your forehead against hers. She welcomes the move with ease, closing her eyes as you both sway slightly to the music, never moving from your position.  

“Happy Christmas, Mel.” 

[romanianseba]

Just A Walk

What happens when you wake up on your dad's best friend's bed come morning? Is he as unyielding as he constantly seems to be?

Pairing: dad’s best friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: age gap, reader is twenty (bucky is thirty-nine), sexual tension, mentions of sex, explicit content, smutty smut, dirty talk, adult talk, fluff ?? 18+ only

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: pov: after reading all those countless dbf!bucky fics, now you're wondering what would actually happen the morning after you let the spark start the fire with your dad's best friend.

—

hello! a pretty chill, hot, fluffy lil fic that I hope you enjoy very much!!!!!, makes you smile, inspires you, whatever. love you guys thanks for staying around and always being so kind to me<3 let me know what you think ????!!!! (this has been on my drafts for months cause i had plans to continue but.... hehe)

"What are you doing?" Your voice comes out groggy, thick with sleep as you pat hair out of your face and rub your eyes.

He stands at the other side of the room. Giving you only a side glance that last a second when you speak. Right before diving back into his task at hand; looking for whatever he wants to take from his dresser.

And if you were a bit more awake and on your senses you wouldn't have missed the way he literally froze when he realized he had woken you up.

"I'm going for a walk," He replies, sounding distant and avoiding eye contact with you as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.

A harsh contrast to the intense eye contact he had going on a few hours ago as he railed you on his mattress. Two rough fingers inside your mouth while he hold your face in place, forcing you to keep your eyes on his with each hard trust of his hips.

"Right now? Today?" You push on your elbows to take a look at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, confirming your suspicion that it is, in fact, before sunrise.

"Yes."

You frown, your student brain unable to understand why.

"Why?" Why?

Why this early?

Why at 5:30 AM on bloody Sunday?

He chuckles under his breath, tying his sneakers fast, "I have a routine, baby."

"I see that," You mutter absently, your mind already taking a moment to just take the man in.

He's glorious. It's difficult for you to think of a more beautiful man. Even when your imagination is so vivid and can get so creative, you couldn't possibly create a person in your head that rivals his beauty.

It doesn't come close to a magazine male model, it's far better.

Bucky's though and raw, with imperfect hot features, unedited; he's real.

Right in front of you; you are in his bed; and you can't wrap your head around it.

His long bed hair tangling in every direction, some rebel strands falling over his face. The comfy thick sweatpants he's now wearing; very innocent, except they're hanging dangerously low on his hips. So low, your thighs squeeze together as you briefly take sight of his happy trail while he slips on a sweater and his white t-shirt riddles up for a second.

And he notices. Of course he notices.

And he gives in. Finally looking you down, laying on his bed, taking in your naked form under his sheets.

Your attention perks up and you feel vaguely more awake when you catch his eyes on you, finally. Your heart skips a beat when he takes you in.

Just like yesterday night.

And you can almost see the flashbacks swimming in his head. Your small body squirming under his. Flashbacks that you both share now. His big thick fingers buried deep inside your warm and tight center, working you wonderfully. Flashbacks from the night you two finally ignored all the logical reasons both your heads had on why you shouldn't fuck each other and gave in to each other's fantasies. His experienced tongue and fingers making you come undone beneath him once or twice before finally taking you.

All the scenes running quickly through his mind —allowing you to fall sleep over his chest afterwards, and not getting that much sleep at all himself— taking him to the present moment.

Your body blinding all his common sense again. After finally knowing how good it feels in his hands, how soft, he was all the more eager to touch you again. Your legs tightly shut and a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth seeing the effect he has on you; a little, sweet, innocent–looking, beautiful girl.

Half his age... and his best friend's daughter.

Suddenly his eyes rip from you, like a coming out of a fantasy, like a bubble has been popped. And he's back to staring at the floor and avoiding your existence in his room. In his bed.

Your heart drops.

But your lips keep the little, youthful, stupid smile that has been there since yesterday night when you sneaked into his house at midnight. With high hopes and an aching cunt, and he didn't kick you out.

What confused you the most was not his distant attitude, but his very active demeanor so early in the morning, he looked fresh and fully awake. Something you were still trying to cope with, your eyes begging you to close them again.

And how does he do it when you, unbeknownst to anyone, clearly see his lights going off well past midnight each day? Staying up till late watching YouTube videos from your bed while keeping an eye on Bucky's bedroom, who's window was conveniently aligned with yours from the house next door.

"How come you wake up so early when you go to sleep so late most days?"

"Like I said, I have a routine," He states firmly as he goes to grab one last piece of clothing to keep warm outside in the already freezing autumn weather. "You better go back home before your parents find out you're not in bed." His voice is firm and authoritarian.

And your insides tighten because that's just how he sounded yesterday when he asserted his dominance over you.

"Don't fucking move."

"Bucky," You whimpered, pussy already sensitive and abused, stubble burning your thighs deliciously as he licked his way through your second orgasm. "Please... please, just– just take me already."

He growled, hands strongly pinning down your hips, "I'm gonna fucking take you whenever I feel like it."

You'll be lying if you said that alone didn't make you so damn wet again.

"I wanna go on a walk with you." Throwing the soft white sheets off your body, you stand up hastily.

"What?" Is his immediate response. Eyes snapping back to your side of the room. "No."

That word alone like a warning.

"Yes, I want to." You persist, enthusiastically.

"You have to get to your house."

His tone of voice is dead serious, but his brain is losing it every passing second as he watches you stand there naked. Eyes burning holes all over your body.

"I love walks."

Trying your best to ignore the intensity of his gaze on your skin, you reach to pick up your abandoned underwear thrown by his desperate hands onto the floor hours ago. Panties going quickly up your legs and clasping your bra before he speaks again.

It takes all the will power he's ever mustered to tear his eyes from you and pace around the room, gathering his stuff to leave as soon as possible. "You can't come with me. Save a moment to go by yourself later– after you've had breakfast, I don't know."

His voice still assertive, but now there's a desperate edge to his tone; his logic trying to convince himself this is a bad idea, trying come up with stuff to stop him from spending more time with you.

"Please," You beg lightheartedly, Unbothered about his seriousness, slipping the pair of sweatpants and old shirt you wore to sneak out of your house back on and being thankful for your outfit choice. Which will not serve as excuse to not go on a walk, you'll be covered enough against the early morning cold.

Knowing it wouldn't be a matter of seeing you wearing revealing clothes for Bucky anymore you had chosen to go with comfiness over looking appealing. Truth be told, he would've taken you even if you were wearing a potato bag with how long you both had dragged the teasing and tension between each other.

Fully dressed, you continue your persuasion. "It should be fun. Besides it's Sunday, they won't be up till later."

He stops abruptly when reaching to unplug his charging phone, deciding he's had enough. Turning back to face you, this time he makes sure to look into your eyes.

"Listen, doll, we're not–" He cuts himself short, deciding he doesn't want to just be a jerk and possibly hurt your feelings.

Slowly scanning your soft, young face and wide eyed expectant expression, he takes a few short calming breaths. Decisive but softer this time, he continues. "We should've talked about this earlier. You shouldn't have even stayed the night over. We're not a couple, alright? We..."

"I know about casual sex, Bucky." You cut him off in a know-it-all tone of voice, close to rolling your eyes at him.

He strides closer, stopping right in front of you. Fresh mint breath fanning on your face with how close his frame looms over yours, big and tall.

The exasperate fire picking up in his voice and expression again.

"Then you understand that you going on a walk with me, suddenly being part of my routine, after casual sex, would imply more than that."

You know how he feels. And, deep down, of course you feel stupid, too. But you're not ready to leave him alone in his misery. You're not ready to be alone in yours.

And you definitely want more of him. Having experienced last night you know sex will never be the same for you, not if it's not with Bucky. And you won't risk having him push you away so soon.

Thankfully for both of you, he was one of the very few people you trusted with your life and his rage didn't make you feel unsafe. Maybe flinch a bit, maybe if you were completely honest it turned you on a bit; but it certainly didn't make you feel at risk at all.

So even when you're not usually argumentative, or the most confident person, and would have already given up with basically everyone else; meekly giving them the reason, you refuse to right now. And it's possibly the most stubborn moment of your life.

"C'mon, everyone can go on a walk. You think it's a Bucky Barnes thing?" You scoff and tease him playfully. "We just happen to be two people that know each other and decided to go and have a walk together for not having anything else to do this bloody early in the morning. I can't go back to sleep and I'm going on a walk, too." Your gaze is challenging now.

Bucky Barnes was convinced that your stubborn and sometimes confident personality was going to add five years to his life and suck five from him at the same time.

Jaw tightly clenched and a very faint spark of amusement in his eye, he growls lowly.

"You don't fucking give up, do you?"

The eye contact you had manage to keep falters and you swallow, suddenly becoming nervous. Your naturally nonconfrontational and calm state of existing unable to maintain the confident facade for longer.

"I— uhm, I promise I won't talk much, won't bother you." You mumble.

His hard features soften immediately, voice a gentle whisper as he shakes his head.

"You don't fucking bother me when you speak, doll," His eyes searching for yours to insist on it; "Get that out of your pretty head."

He lets out a long and tired sigh, stepping away briefly to reach into his reach-in closet and a drawer before approaching you again.

"Here," He hands you a coat and goes to roll a beanie down your head. "Don't want you to catch a cold.

You can't hide your gleeful smile when you realize he's allowed you to join him.

"Thanks."

"This won't happen again." He announced, his hands arranging the warm blue beanie over your head.

Your smile falters a bit, looking up to him, a knot going up your throat causing you to stammer.

"What? This..."

"What? Are you worrying I won't fuck you again, dirty little thing?" His smirk is smug and self-satisfied.

A calloused palm goes up to the side of your neck as he, very slowly, leans down to gravelly whisper in your ear. "You felt too good to give that up so soon, sweet cheeks."

His intention clear to torture you. The innocent, feather-like lick and tug of his teeth at your earlobe confirm it to you.

Facing you again, he stares for a while; blue eyes locked on yours, his nose an inch from yours. Small baby face against his older, mature one. Your mouth goes dry.

"It's the last time you beg to do anything else with me that is not screw around. And as soon as we come back you're slipping your ass back to bed." A pause, "Your own."

You can't argue back on that.

"Fine."

–

"Where are we going on your bike? The park's two blocks from here."

Trailing behind him into the garage, you frown when you see him taking his big, stunning, motorcycle ready.

"Not going there today. I see Mr. Wilson and a few others walking there every day. I don't want any nosy neighbors running their mouths to your dad about it." His answer is fast, like it's a thought that's been going around his head all this time.

Holding a bike helmet in each hand, he approaches you again.

"This shouldn't be weird. I mean, you're always at my house. People know you're basically an uncle to me." You express mindlessly, finding it funny that he wants to avoid you in public all of a sudden.

"Stop," He hisses through gritted teeth and closes his eyes, focusing on breathing calmly through his nose after the guilt-ridden mental slap he just experienced with what you said. "Just– do not say that again."

"Okay," You say just above a whisper, biting your tongue before he regrets letting you go with him.

Sighing he places one helmet on top of the almost sparkling seat of his bike and lifts his hands to help you into the other one. Carefully covering your head with the heavy black material and doing all the safety checks himself; making sure it's comfortable and placed correctly.

His eyes fall on yours after he's pleased with it, hands resting on each side of your head; over the helmet. You stare back, like suddenly being trapped under a spell. His eyes are gentle this time, and the moment feels so intimate, so warm and lovely, you feel heat warming your cheeks.

Just two people who are madly attracted to each other, staring into each other's soul... at least that's how it feels to you. Lasting both an eternity and simply not enough.

Breaking the spell, popping the bubble, slapping you out of a daze; you jump a little, getting startled when he slides the helmet faceshield down.

Ending the intimate eye contact and the spell you were both in.

"Is it comfortable?" He ask, and you're glad to realize he too sounds slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, just a little heavy." You breathe out. "But it's okay."

He nods, his thumb wiping away a dusty spot on the black tinted faceshield. A light frown, caused probably by intense overthinking, permanent on his handsome face.

"Good."

[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.

[kyojurismo]

Can you do how the Hashira treat you as a younger sibling figure(if that makes sense) If so than tysm!!<3

characters : hashira

tags : gn!reader, fluff, funny, not proofread.

notes : k this has been sitting in my drafts for literally months and i’m deeply sorry. i found some motivation to finish it so here we are. i hope it is good enough. enjoy <3

GIYU TOMIOKA

ptsd ( even if he was the younger sibling )

protective as fuck

he’s like a shadow

don’t be too surprised if he asks you to eat together

asks you > sends you glances

giyu will ask the master to send you on missions together

asked you to leave the corps once

if you’re not on missions together he goes full panicking

he’s not one to send letters but he gladly exchange them with you ^_^

if someone mess with you, he would take care of it ( a deep stare is enough )

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

gyomei would always recommend to be careful and mindful of your actions while on missions

he does his best to take care of you

has you training with him so he’s sure you’re in good shape and all

he too tried to ask you to leave the corps but hearing your reason behind joining in he gave up

has deep respect for you

enjoys sharing meals with you

KYOJURO RENGOKU

loves training with you

super supportive of whatever you do

& keeps his eyes on you ofc

eating meals together is a must

he often asks to be sent on missions together

praises your hard work all the time

a comfortable shoulder to cry on >_<

MITSURI KANROJI

the very protective older sister who’s all sweet and lovely but doesn’t let it slide if someone is treating you bad

always keeps her eyes on you

loves going on mission together !!

be ready to cook with her

she likes styling your hair

she sometimes jokes about you joining the corps to find a lover too, but deep down she would prefer you staying away from all that ):

when mitsuri has nothing to do she’s always by your side

MUICHIRO TOKITO

you’re the only one he remembers

always checking on you

invites you to cloudgazing together

always going on mission together

he has to make sure you are alright

you’re becoming the younger sibling who has to pack the lunch for everyone (;

OBANAI IGURO

man,

he’s your shadow from now on

always, ALWAYS, coming on missions with you

supervises your training and all

makes sure no one is disturbing you or bullying you or anything

he cares deeply about you and would do everything for you

tried to convince you to leave the corps multiple times

he lets kaburamaru spend time with you when he’s busy

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

okay, don’t judge on this…

he basically started threatening you to leave the corps

he’s hard at first, as a way to discourage you or sum

but in the end he accepted you weren’t leaving

so now he has to watch over you too

training together, going on the same missions, making sure the other members are respectful, etc

he might be harsh most of the time, but he truly cares about you

lets you hug him from time to time ( when no one is around ofc )

SHINOBU KOCHO

another younger person to look after to !!!!!

jokes aside, she’s very attentive when it comes to you

makes sure you’re healthy, sleeping enough, eating & training like you’re supposed to do

she offers to accompany you on missions

but respects your decision if you decline

she likes preparing you meals, as a way to show you how much she cares for you

of course she gifted you a butterfly pin

TENGEN UZUI

oh man, he would stand there showing you off

doesn’t care if he’s not your real brother

he treats you like family

basically spoils you

would let you stay at his estate 24/7 without you going out there fighting demons

he helps you with training and offers to go with you when the master assigns you to a mission

ruffles your hair

his wives decided to start cooking for you too so yeah

i believe he would ask you if you’re sure you want to continue be part of the corps and fight demons, like trying to convince you that you could leave and live a normal life

but he doesn’t do that because he thinks you’re weak, but because he’s scared of you dying

would take you to the hashira meetings if he could >_<

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

[thewritingofspencerrose]

I know, it's (VERY, im so sorry) delayed, this has been sitting in my drafts since the day his trade was announced and i just got around to finishing it up. enjoy!

"Jamie," Is all I can think to respond to my brothers words. "I can't just move to Pennsylvania, you know that. I have three more years left of schooling."

You were supposed to have 3 more years on your contract, I want to add, but I know that's not what he needs right now. He was just traded away from his home with no warning, he doesn't need his little sister giving him a hard time.

"I know, trust me I know. I was so focused on getting my deal with the Ducks because of that. But some kid that was supposed to go to Philly had a change of plans and now I have to be on a plane there from Nashville at 5 in the morning."

"You don't even get to play against the Predators?" I ask, not realizing just how sudden this was all about to happen. "Do you need me to send you things? God I didn't realize this would all be so sudden."

"Kid, let's worry about what I need in a minute, I need to talk to you about you, the apartment, all of that." Oh shit. I can't afford this place. "I talked to Trevor, and he and I think you should move in with him."

"You... what?"

"I-"

"No, I heard you," I interrupt, not even letting him get two words in. "Why on earth is that your first thought? Let me have my sister move out of the apartment we've been living in and in with my best friend? Didn't Trevor literally move out because he wanted more space?"

"I know, and he knows that, but you're my little sister, I don't like the idea of you just finding some random roommate. And Trev promised that he'd look after you," Jamie explains, and I don't want to give him more grief than necessary today of all days, "I just need to know you're being looked after if I'm going to be on the east coast."

"Have you already talked to Trevor about this?"

"He offered."

Oh fuck me.

"Oh, woah," Are the first words out of Trevor's mouth when he walks in the door, two weeks and change after Jamie's move. After my moving in.

"I promise I tried not to touch anything, I just-"

"No, I told you that you should make yourself at home," He reminds, dropping his gear by the door. "It's just, I don't know, feels more homey in here than when I left."

"It's probably because you got so used to living with me and JD that seeing my things around reminds you," I offer, trying to ignore the way he's looking at me like the entire reason this place feels like home is me. "Speaking of my brother, when you offered this little deal to him did you happen to mention that you'd been sleeping with said little sister for months before you moved out?"

I probably should have seen what he was doing when he started to distance himself from me and should have realized I had gotten too attached when it hurt for him to do so.

And I had been doing fine with getting over him until JD had this fantastic idea.

Now he's here, his look shifting from admiration to shock.

"Why- why would I tell Jimmy that?"

"You're basically boyfriends, I would have thought you'd tell him about your torrid affair," I can't help the joke slipping, only earning myself an eye roll as he throws himself on the couch, landing by my feet and making the book on my lap nearly fall to the floor.

"You and everyone else need to stop thinking that we're boyfriends, you know better than any of us that I am not into guys," He returns, pointing at me like he's trying to prove his point.

Now I'm the one rolling my eyes. "Trev, the whole world knows you're into women, have you not seen the photos of you and that D'Amelio sister around? You're hot gossip on the internet."

I hate it.

"Oh God," He groans, head falling in his hands, and it's not the joking one I'm expecting, but genuine discomfort.

"Trev? You okay?" I'm already moving before I've finished asking, my book set aside as I move to his side, hand coming to caress the back of his neck, where his shaggy hair meets his hoodie.

I can't help but take a moment to hesitate, knowing that if he is with her like the tabloids say, I'm far too close to a gray area than I should be.

But it's Trevor. He helped JD move me into their apartment, after agreeing to me living with them in the first place.

He's always been there for me as long as JD and he have known each other, and I have always done my best to be there for him.

"It's the God damn media," is his whispered answer, shoulders slumping. "I can't be seen with a girl without being assumed to be with her, you know?"

"I can't say that I do," It's honest. Also very unhelpful. "You're sitting with the boring Drysdale, I have as much experience with the media as being photographed with you and JD."

His eyes rise up, looking at me for only a second before he's looking back down at his hands, ringing them. "You're not boring, Kate."

"You know what I mean-"

"No," He interrupts, eyes jumping up again, this time remaining on me. "You're not boring, you're normal in the best way. Why do you think I ended things?"

What?

"You deserve normal."

My hand stills on his neck, slowly sliding across his shoulder until it's back in my lap. "Trevor, what are you talking about? If this is because things aren't working with her and I'm suddenly around-"

"I was never with her!" He's yelling, moving to stand in the time it takes me to process his words and turning back on me, eyes wild. "We were in that photo because a mutual friend had a birthday and everyone ran with it!"

"Trev, you don't have to explain your dating life to me," I sound almost desperate, desperate in my desire to not hear about the women he's seen since our last night. My voice is the one who gets quiet now, "I'd really rather you not."

"You're not listening to me," Trev is nearly grunting, pausing to sit on the coffee table in front of my legs. "I haven't been seeing anyone else, it's why the photos piss me off. They have you thinking I'm out sleeping around," His hands rest on my knees, thumbs gently running over them. "You're not someone a person can just move on from, Kate."

"Trevor, you can't do this to me," There's that desperate tone again. "You broke off our arrangement. I was ready to become more and you were the one who said we'd have to just be friends, that I had to go back to being your best friend's little sister."

His thumbs dig in momentarily, the only thought coming to mind being when he last did that, hands slowly guiding my legs apart and -

No!

"Do you not know how much I've regretted every word of what I said?" He looks so genuine. He's Trev, of course he's being genuine.

"What made you change your mind?"

"The idea that you'd be moving to Philadelphia," There's no hesitation.

And I can't help but laugh. "Trevor Zegras, I have one year left of my undergrad and two of my masters. You can't have thought I'd really be uprooting my life," a smile comes back to his face for the first time since he walked in to see me on the couch.

"Are you laughing at me?" Is his falsely offended cry, making me laugh even harder. "How dare you!" His hands find my sides immediately, fingers moving in sync to tickle where he knows I'll feel it most.

His body has moved onto mine, my breathe leaving my lungs faster than they can refill as I wiggle.

"Trev! Trev! Get off of me, you goon!" He just smiles, propping himself up on his arms enough to pop back into a sitting position.

It's so soft, the look in his eyes.

"Give me another chance, please?" That's why he looks so soft.

He's scared.

But I am too. This has gotten more complicated than before.

"Trevor... this has gotten so much more complicated-"

"How?"

"What?" How could he possibly be asking how this could be more complicated.

He's smirking now. "It's actually less complicated. We're still roommates and I still want to be with you, only difference is your brother isn't on the other side of the door, keeping us quiet."

He's not wrong.

Now it's my turn to smile. "If we try this again, we're a couple. No casual sex."

"Deal," His smile is brighter than the lights at the stadium. "My terms were the same."

"And-"

"And? You want a kiss?" He supplies, and while it's not at all what I was going to say, I'm going to let him have this one.

So I nod.

He leans in.

And when our lips touch, it doesn't matter that he's my brother's best friend, or that I'm his best friend's little sister.

We're home.

[chaoffee]

Kaeya and his self-awareness

Characters: Acolyte Kaeya (Creator reader mentioned)

Genre: ...I'm not sure, actually

AU: sagau

Warnings: None. Ooc perhaps.

Reading time: Shortish read.

Notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for so long...worth it though. At the time I wrote it, I didn't like it. After re-reading it and forgetting it existed, it's not bad 💀 also, Luc writing about other characters that isn't Venti?! That's unheard of 💀 hope yall enjoy it though~

°•—

Being aware of the Creator's presence was something to get used to. The constant feeling of warmth that engulfs you when you're chosen. The way you just know what to do and where to go. The feeling of being watched at certain times. It's something you can't be prepared for at all.

Everyone talks about what it feels like to be chosen as an acolyte for the Creator. What you can expect from it. But nothing can physically or emotionally prepare you for it. It felt rather...invasive. That's what Kaeya thought, anyway.

The day Kaeya got chosen as an acolyte was the day he realized he won't have as much time as he used too. Being taken in by the Ragvindrs was when he learnt about this Creator. Yes, he did know of this beings existence, but they were merely talked about as a myth. The gods had forsaken him long ago, so why was it that he was chosen by you?

He's gotten stronger over the past few months, all thanks to you, he assumes. Weapons he never thought off, or knew existed was suddenly put onto his path that only helped make him become stronger. The people of Teyvat always praises how giving you are. That every acolyte specifically chosen by you would be showered in gifts that help them on their journey.

Kaeya felt rather undeserving of these "gifts". Which got him to pondering why you choose him. It must be some cruel joke he doesn't get the punchline of. He had sleepless nights, tossing and turning on his bed trying to figure out what game you're playing at.

And then, on one of those sleepless nights, it hit him. All of these experiences only acolytes have; the gifts, knowing where and what to do at the right times, teleporting, your voice, sometimes vivid imagery of you. What if it wasn't real at all? That they weren't real? Just some game?

It sounds like nonsense—he knows that. His brain can't really comprehend this theory. There's allot of questions that can't be answered. But it explains most everything that's basically impossible! Kaeya sometimes finds himself forgetting this important theory. Going on with his acolyte life until he suddenly feels frozen, thinking about this theory once again.

Soon realizing he keeps forgetting this theory, he wrote it down. Only for him to, days later, find these notes, read them and remember of it. He's still in his young days of life, it would be unlikely his memory is getting faulty because of old age. Then a thought expressed itself in his head; what if the reason he keeps forgetting is because he's not supposed to know? What if he's programmed to only follow his day-to-day life and having these thoughts, this self awareness, is him going against the programming?

Kaeya has become aware of his virtual existence. What will he do now?

[arkos404]

lawful joke au: lil bug

the obligatory 'lawful joke, a personality swap, by @chaosaliien', these have been sitting on my drafts for like 4 months so i figured its abt time to share them, i present to you all the lil bug

a silly scenario/arc where scrabby gets hurt and somehow one of his lil bug parts end up in the timecube to be found by prism, who, having no idea that its a part of/is scrabby, adopts it to be his pet bug. he names it scarab as an inside joke/lack of creativity lol

the lil bug pretty much works on og scrabby's instincts/subcouncious/inner thoughts, at the start lil bug tried to leave and go back to scrabby, but after being showered in prism's attention it quickly changed course and decided to stay

prism had been developing an interest in bugs, at this point he was crushing on scrabby but justified his interest as a cientific curiosity, so he was happy when the opportunity to have a bug himself was presented to him.

scrabby has mixed feelings on the situation, lil bug is still a part of him so he can hear what the lil bug does and feel phantom touches, and prism has a lot of free time to now spend with his pet bug and is a bug person apparently because he never stops cooing at it.

scrabby enjoys the attention but has no idea how to cope with the sheer amount of attention prism is freely giving him/lil bug especially when normally he would never say those things to him

sometimes he's talking with someone and will pause mid sentence and blush furiously because of something prism just said, leaving the other person very confused. he visits the timecube less and less because he's too flustered to look prism in the eyes, he starts to lose sleep, not being able to clear his head with prism's voice constantly on his ear.

he tries to go to the timecube himself to get the lil bug but its insistent on staying with prism and he doesnt want to explain the situation to prism because itll be embarassing for both of them. he resents the lil bug both because of jealousy ("it shouldve been me!" <- its literally a part of him lmao) and because he's been put in this weird situation by it chosing to stay with prism instead of coming back to him

prism's cooing is usually the regular pet owner babytalk, but it often comes out sounding weird, especially for scrabby who already has a crush on prism and has nothing but phantom touches and hearing to give him context abt whats happening

these occurances are the biggest reason for scrabby's lack of sleep, when he's working or just focusing on something else he can tune it out, but when he's trying to sleep and has no distractions it all comes flooding in

lil bug and jake/nightm hate each other, mostly because me and jules thought itd be funny if the two characters who had a lot in common, both being little shits who were the personification of their counterpart's inner subcouncious and constantly fucked them over, absolutely despised each other

nightm tries to get rid of lil bug many times (all of them foiled by lil bug or prism) and to out it to prism as the little menace it is, though it never works, for prism lil bug is a little angel who can do no wrong (in prism's defense lil bug is only a menace to jake and scrabby lmao)

the arc would end with prism realizing that scrabby was visiting the timecube less and getting restless/on edge whenever he dropped by and he thought it was some kind of territory thing between bugs. not wanting to risk scrabby to stop coming, he lets the lil bug go saying something about while he loves lil bug he's not prism's bug, and that that space is reserved for someone else.

prism is bummed for a while but the next day scrabby comes over and is back to his normal self and even more enlivened (he heard what prism said and was super giddy) so prism knows it was worth it

--

this idea started w me and jules talking about prism adopting a pet bug (inspired by @/xanderindisguis's business bug au) and scrabby, jealous of the attention this random bug was getting, got one of his little forms to infiltrate prism's terrarium. but it evolved to what we have now, here's some doodles of the outdated concept

also tagging @garbashedump bc she helped develop it

putting these under read more lol

[ithebookhoarder]

🎄 Spending Christmas at Wayne manor (The Bat!Fam x Reader)

A/N: I said I'd be back with more Christmas content. What can I say? It's a Christmas miracle ✨ Well, more like the fact that the Christmas holidays are the first chance I've had to really sit and force myself to finish the things I've had sitting in my drafts for MONTHS... Who knew being an adult could be so time consuming 😅

Masterlist

First of all, Christmas would be a big deal at Wayne Manor. 

Like, if you don’t think Bruce is making up for all those Christmases spent alone with Alfred as a child then you have got another thing coming. 

No matter what villain decides to try and ruin the holiday with another crazy scheme, he WILL be back in time to enjoy the holidays come hell or high water. 

It has led to some great shots on TV of the Joker sitting outside the GCPD come Christmas morning, wrapped ornately in a bow. 

Each of you would have a stocking over the fireplace in the main hall, even if you don’t celebrate the holiday. It’s more of a commemorative event in the Wayne family anyway, offering everyone a rare chance to act like a normal-ish family for once and having your name up amongst everyone else’s makes you feel oddly gooey and warm inside. 

As does the sight of the MASSIVE tree sitting in the main Hall, absolutely smothered in decorations.

It’s a weird tradition, but Bruce insists that the tree is gathered from the extensive grounds surrounding the house, as it was when he was a kid. 

He enjoys watching everyone pulling decorations from the box, allowing them each to buy a new one of their own to add to the collection. 

How Alfred manages to get the star on top astounds you, but you suspect Damian (the sneaky demon) had something to do with it. 

Which is odd, as Damian hates the holidays - or so he says. 

He even threatens to try and stab Jason when he tries to put him in an ugly Christmas sweater for the family Christmas card photo.   

Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love getting gifts. In fact, he tries to act aloof but you notice him smiling to himself later on, after he opens the gift you bought for him. 

“See Todd - my gift is the best. I told you they like me most!”

He’s also very proud to give you his gift in return, having prided himself on getting the one thing you most wanted after you briefly mentioned it months ago. 

“Unlike the others, I actually pay attention and remember things.” 

Like how he also remembers to avoid all the places Jason sneakily hid mistletoe in the hopes of catching people out at the holiday party. 

You are not so lucky. 

Speaking of, Jason would be banned from making drinks after his first round of egg-nog almost blinds you all.

“I’m simply putting the merry in merry Christmas!” He’d argue, but Bruce would simply glare and swipe the key to the liquor cabinet, grumbling about why he ever thought adopting annoying teenagers was a good idea. 

Alfred patiently tolerating carnage as you all try to help with baking holiday goods. Flying flour and slipping over egg yolks is practically a tradition by this point

However, you are all banned from the kitchen when it’s time for him to prepare Christmas dinner. It’s a military operation for this one man army, and you best believe he has everything broken down on a perfectly calculated schedule. 

Not even Bruce is brave enough to get in the butler’s way.

Meanwhile, Tim would be busting the festive tunes out, knowing which songs people really hate and making sure to blast them on repeat. 

He’s also the one trying to get you all to play a game or something, even if he full well knows Monopoly has been banned in this house for a reason. 

Dick ends up trying to be the peacemaker after world war three nearly breaks out after a rather heated round of charades. 

Thankfully, dinner would interrupt you all and peace would reign long enough for you all to devour the feast Alfred has put together.

You even hold it together long enough for Bruce to attempt his usual holiday toast, before he eventually gives up after being heckled one too many times. 

You then follow dinner with a movie marathon together, whilst Alfred insists on cleaning up after everyone. You have a usual list of movies that you all can agree on watching, cued up and ready to go. 

To be honest, it’s probably the best part of the day as everyone sits there, drowsy from a full belly, and laughing at some cheesy movie playing on the screen. 

It’s never a surprise that you all end up passing out later in the evening. In fact, Bruce and Alfred think it’s the most magical moment, watching you all asleep on one another (they have taken many a picture to treasure the rare moment)

They also tuck you all under blankets with a fond smile, before wishing you a very merry Christmas. 

[gen0c1de]

Requested by @callmecaspurr

I appreciate the compliment! I've been having a rough few months and this brightened my day! You look stunning yourself! This screen shot is from when you asked this on my other account @weirdwizardofoz so that’s why it’s here! I’m sorry it took so long, I have a lot going on in my personal life right now but I decided today I would do it since it’s been in my drafts for a few months! It also helped me take my mind off my life! Sorry it’s so short! I hope you like it!

Vincent Sinclair Fluffy/Regular Headcanons

TW: fluff, mentions dead body (not his or yours), Bo being an ass once, mentions of killing, please tell me if I missed anything!

Not proof-read

Requests are open!

His love language is gift giving and quality time.

I feel like his work with wax and his drawing abilities mean he also dabbled a bit in woodworking too.

If you are a jewelry person, he will make you jewelry boxes and holders of all kinds depending on what your style is.

He will make a stand for your rings after making a perfect replica of your hand but with the knuckles a bit smaller so the rings don’t get stuck on the mold.

At times when you’re in his workshop with him and you take a nap he will pull out his sketch book and he will make a sketch of you.

Hell, if he doesn’t have a victim or if he’s waiting for a victim to cool off he will sketch you out without you being in the room.

How much time he has determines how detailed it is.

He’s also pretty cuddly in a way.

If he’s sitting down in his workshop he will happily allow you to sit on his lap facing him.

If you fall asleep sitting like that it will melt him like the hot wax he has.

If Bo is yelling at you for any reason, Vinny will silently appear behind you like your damn shadow and he will stare Bo down.

Bo: “Damn it Y/N! Can’t you d-“

Vinny appears behind you staring at Bo with rage in his eye.

Bo, terrified but too “manly” to admit it: “Never fuckin’ mind…”

Que you turning around to see Vinny looking innocent and his arms open awaiting your embrace.

He stays up late at night working on his wax figure.

It melts his heart completely when he finally is ready for bed and he gets in and you wake up a little and mumble for him.

Your arms out stretched still mostly asleep: “Vivi… want cuddles…”

He’s done for.

If you get hurt he will become mama Vin, patching you up calmly and planting a kiss to wherever got hurt.

If you’re crying he will be there with your favorite snacks and some tissues, be prepared cause y’all will be cuddling and watching your favorite movies/show.

If you also enjoy art you’re definitely more than welcome to help him with his wax figures as long as you don’t mind the dead body.

Would rather you not go out and help Bo with the tourists, but if you really want to and you know what you’re doing then he won’t stop you.

If you like to do hair and wanna play or style his hair, let him know first so he doesn’t get startled by you.

Will happily walk around the house with his hair done up all pretty.

He also has tons of masks that he made, but the one he wears all the time is his favorite because it looks the closest to him.

So if you take a mask and put on some nice makeup, he won’t mind.

Just ask if you can first.

He can nearly never say “No” to you.

Y/N: “Vinny…? Can I paint your nails?”

Vin nods.

Y/N: “Can I draw in your sketchbook? I’ll draw something small in the last page so I don’t take up your sketchbook.”

Vin nods and makes a mental note to get you sketchbooks.

The only time he will say “No” but without actually saying it:

Y/N: “Vivi? Can we get a pet? Please?”

Vin using sign language or writing in his notepad: “We have a dog.”

He will probably get you a small pet in secret.

Will happily make you matching bracelets or something like that, so you have something of his and he has something of yours.

If he’s been gone all day and it’s late when he gets back and you’re holding his pillow or in his shirt?

Gone.

He is GONE.

Gets flustered and giddy when you pepper his mask in kisses.

When he finally allows you to see his actual face, please pepper his face in kisses.

If you’re making dinner and he is done with work he will come up to see you and wrap his arms around you and plant his face in your neck.

He misses you when he hasn’t seen you all day, he has messed up a few things because he was thinking about you and not paying any attention.

Has a few drawings and paintings of your eyes and your eye color, he loves the color.

Doesn’t matter what color your eyes are, he loves them.

Loves holding your hand!

Seeing your hand in his and seeing the sizes between them!

[dyk3medown]

hii, if ur comfortable with it, could you write a fic of eddie x fem!reader with any plot but to include

- sadism & masochism

- pain kink

- degradation & praise

- exhibitionism

so sorry if this is a burden to you i just rlly love ur work lol ❤️

danger zone

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie’s knife against your throat should scare you, but your reaction couldn't be further from fear

warnings: fem reader, smut, slightly dark!eddie, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation + praise, knife play, choking, very bad bdsm etiquette, sort of autassassinophilia but to a very minor extent

a/n: this has been almost finished in my drafts for months, I'm so sorry it took so fucking long lol. unfortunately i didn't fit the exhibitionism in but i hope you enjoy anyways!!

smut under the cut <3

Eddie Munson is not a murderer.

Your mind races as you sit in Steve's car on the way to Reefer Rick's house, Eddie's supposed hideout.

He can't be… right?

You and Eddie knew each other reasonably well, though to call you friends would be a bit of a stretch. Your interactions were mostly composed of short conversations and a quick smile here and there when you passed by in the halls.

You found yourself oddly fascinated with him, and it didn't help that he made you weak in the knees every time you saw him, embarrassingly attracted to every little detail. The first time he had given you a tour of his tattoos, you had almost passed out, the sight of him pulling up his shirt enough to make you light-headed.

Contrary to his reputation, he was really a sweet guy, and you couldn't imagine him hurting someone, let alone killing them.

The car pulls up to a rather run-down house next to the lake, and you take a deep breath before climbing out of the vehicle, following your friends as they search for Eddie.

"Eddie! It's Dustin!" Dustin calls out as you enter a boathouse that's clearly seen better days. "Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear. We just wanna help."

You look around, but much like the main house you checked first, it seems empty. "I guess he's not here, guys."

You hear a slight sound of movement, and then Eddie has you up against the wall before you can even think about reacting, the jagged edge of a broken bottle pressing against your throat as his leg slots between yours. He pins your arms above your head, both wrists held in the hand not holding the makeshift weapon.

You gasp, a noise that's only partially from surprise and sounds more like a moan. With their view of you blocked by his body, your friends are unable to see how you arch unconsciously toward Eddie, pressing forward against him.

As soon as you realize what you're doing, you slam back against the wall, praying that Eddie somehow missed what happened.

Something flickers in Eddie's gaze as you lock eyes, a look of lust that's gone so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it.

You're distantly aware of your friends shouting for Eddie to stop, but the only sounds you can focus on are his ragged breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Eddie's eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly as he moves even closer, the glass digging into your throat as his thigh presses between yours.

You whimper at the feeling, desperately hoping that the others think it's a sound of fear. Trying to keep your breathing shallow, you are keenly aware that with one wrong move, the bottle could draw blood.

Any doubts Eddie might have had about how you were feeling are pushed away as he takes in your reaction, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Steve, put down the oar."

Eddie's head turns to look at Dustin, who is trying his best to talk Eddie down, while Steve slowly lowers the oar he had approached you two with.

After a few long moments, Eddie pulls the bottle back, still aimed at your throat but no longer touching your skin. You're hyper-aware of Eddie's thigh still positioned between your legs, shifting slightly underneath you as he talks with the group. Much to your shame, you can feel yourself getting wet, growing increasingly paranoid that Eddie will somehow be able to tell. You inhale sharply as he pushes against you at just the right angle, your hips bucking involuntarily.

You know you shouldn't be so turned on by a threat to your life, but your body seems unaware of that.

Eddie's attention snaps back to you, giving you a knowing look before dropping your wrists and stepping back. You just barely manage not to collapse when he moves away, your knees buckling as Robin rushes up to you. You lean on her for support, your heart still racing as you find somewhere to sit.

You zone out for most of the conversation, listening to Eddie's account of the night of Chrissy's death and then bits and pieces of the explanation of the upside down. You can't help but stare at Eddie, glancing back at him almost immediately every time you force yourself to look elsewhere. Eddie can't seem to keep his eyes off you either, gaze wandering over to you every so often.

You're fully aware of how fucked up it is that your focus is on him during a conversation about a girl's death, but you can't help the less-than-innocent thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

Eventually, after some more conversation, the others agree to go on a supply run, but Dustin insists that someone stay with Eddie just in case.

"I can stay!" You volunteer, internally cringing at how enthusiastic you sound.

"Are you sure? He was a little stabby with you," Robin mimes stabbing someone with a knife.

"It's fine," you assure her, looking over at Eddie.

"I'll be on my best behavior, scout's honor." Eddie holds up three fingers, a wry grin on his face.

"Yeah, alright, fine." Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave, the rest of the group following behind him.

As you hear the car driving away, you're able to stop pretending like you're focusing on anything but Eddie.

"So uh," you stammer nervously as you stand, trying to think of something to say.

"So uh," Eddie mimics mockingly. "What was all that?"

Your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"Don't think I didn't notice the way you were acting earlier." Eddie says, a smirk growing on his face.

You feign nonchalance, pretending to examine your nails. "I don't know what you're taking about."

"Don't play dumb, princess," Eddie's voice lowers, taking on a dark tone that makes you shiver. "Did it turn you on when I pinned you up against the wall? Huh? Did I make you wet when I held that bottle to your pretty little throat?"

Your heart jumps in your throat at his words, and you can't deny the way they're affecting you, a wave of heat going through your body.

"Stop it." Your voice wavers as he stalks towards you. You stumble backward, finding yourself once again with your back against the dark wood of the boathouse.

"Why so shy?" The smirk on Eddie's face turns into a feral grin. "You were so eager before, fucking rutting against my thigh in front of all your friends."

Your chest tightens with a mix of panic and excitement as he invades your space, only a few inches separating you now.

You turn your head to the side to avoid his piercing gaze, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

"Look at me."

You keep your eyes closed, breath coming in short pants.

"I said, look at me." Eddie grabs your jaw and forces you to face him, your eyes flying open in surprise at the spark of pain that comes with his tight grip.

He takes his hand back and pulls something out of his pocket, flicking it open. He holds it up for you to see, and your breath hitches as a switchblade glints in the light, lips parting in a surprised little oh.

"I think you deserve better than some broken glass, baby," Eddie says as he lifts it to your neck, just barely brushing your skin.

"Eddie," you whimper, "please."

You're not sure if you're asking him to stop or keep going, but Eddie takes it as the latter.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll give you what you need."

Eddie tilts your chin up with the blade's tip, barely brushing his lips against yours.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you grip onto his shirt and pull him into a bruising kiss. He remains still for a moment, clearly surprised by your sudden movement, but quickly begins to kiss you back. There's little finesse in the way his lips move against yours, all technique forgotten in favor of the way he's devouring you.

You whimper as Eddie bites your lip hard enough to draw blood. He swipes his tongue over the wound and groans, grinding his hips forward against you. You can feel how hard he is in his jeans, clearly enjoying this just as much as you.

The knife travels down to the neckline of your shirt, and you gasp as Eddie slices it open, leaving it hanging loosely from your shoulders.

He takes advantage of the newly exposed skin, grabbing onto your chest roughly. Before you can protest, he cuts through your bra as well, stepping back enough to tug the remnants of your clothing down your arms.

Eddie's hands cup your breasts softly as he looks at you almost reverently, a brief moment of gentleness that's quickly gone as the hunger overtakes his gaze.

"God, who knew you'd have such pretty fucking tits?" Eddie tweaks a nipple harshly, chuckling when you cry out. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?"

"Uh huh," you manage to get out, so overwhelmed by what's happening that you're struggling to speak.

One of Eddie's hands trails down to the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them and unceremoniously shoving his way inside.

"Eddie!" Your back arches as he roughly plunges two fingers inside of you. It's too much all at once, and there's a sharp sting of pain with the pleasure despite how wet you've gotten.

"Fuck, you're dripping baby." Eddie's thumb rolls over your clit, and you spasm around his fingers. "You tried to act all innocent but I knew, god I knew you were just gagging for it."

You reach down and push your remaining clothing down your hips, leaving you completely naked. Hand now unrestricted, Eddie takes full advantage of the new range of motion, fingers thrusting deeper until you can feel the cool metal of his rings trying to push into you.

Eddie suddenly pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. "Get on the table."

You look to see a dusty old table sitting in the corner of the room. "I-"

Eddie cuts you off. "That wasn't a request, (Y/N)."

The look in his eyes leaves no room for protest, and you scramble over to the table. You feel like you should be embarrassed that you're letting him order you around so easily, but the only thing that goes through your mind with every command is yes. Eddie is close behind you and pushes you down the second you reach it, bending you in half over the dusty surface.

"Don't move."

You follow Eddie's instruction, keeping your arms and chest still against the table. You can hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and a zipper being pulled down, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Eddie wrenches both of your arms behind your back and wraps the belt around your wrists, the soft, worn leather biting with how tightly he binds them. Your shoulders are already starting to ache from the position, and you struggle slightly, trying to get more comfortable. A harsh slap to your ass makes you freeze and cry out.

"I thought I told you not to move," He mocks. "You aren't very good at following instructions, are you, sweetheart?"

"Eddie, please," you whine as you fight to keep yourself still.

"Be a good girl for me," Eddie lines himself up and just barely presses the head of his cock into you, "and beg for it."

Desperation taking over, you have no trouble swallowing your pride and giving him what he wants. "Please, Eddie, please fuck me!"

You muffle a scream as Eddie slams into you in one harsh thrust, wasting no time in setting a brutal pace. With no real prep, the way he's stretching you out is borderline painful, but somehow that makes it even better. You can feel every inch of him so intensely as he fucks into you, splitting you open on his cock.

He grabs your bound wrists and uses them to pull you up, causing you to arch off of the table. The switchblade is in his hand again, and he brings it to rest gently against the base of your throat as he thrusts into you roughly.

"Stay just like that, princess, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He presses the blade just a little harder into your skin, and you whimper as you clench around him, unable to control your reaction.

"God, you're fucking filthy," Eddie moans. "Getting off to me holding a knife to your throat."

You want to hate it, to mentally distance yourself from the depraved acts you're committing, but the ever-present danger of the situation is making you wetter than you've ever been before. Eddie is clearly just as into it as you are, a constant string of moans and curses coming from behind you.

He pulls out suddenly and lets you drop back onto the table as he takes a moment to free your hands, leaving you confused and wanting him back inside you immediately. "Eddie?"

You start to push yourself up with shaking arms, but before you can fully stand, Eddie manhandles you over onto your back, lining himself up again before pushing into you with the same force as before.

"Oh, fuck." You practically sob as he angles his hips up slightly to hit the perfect spot, a new wave of pleasure making you spasm around him.

Eddie leans down, and your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you sloppily, cracking open again when you feel his hand wrap around your throat.

"Eddie!" Your eyes roll back as he slowly increases the pressure, limiting your air supply and suppressing your voice.

"Knew you'd like that. You just want to be good for me, don't you, princess? You'll do whatever I want."

You don't even try to deny it, nodding your head the best you can with your neck restrained. Eddie groans as you put your hand on top of his, encouraging him to push down harder, hips stuttering for a moment before falling back into rhythm.

"So fucking perfect for me." With how tight his grip is, you're quickly growing light-headed, and you're sure there'll be bruises left as remnants of his touch when you're done. "Take it so well."

Eddie's free hand snakes down your body to rub at your clit as his hips snap into yours even harder. At this point, you're sure you'll be walking funny for days, remembering the savage way he took you every time you sit down.

The knot in your stomach tightens as you feel yourself getting close, eyes fluttering closed as the feelings threaten to completely overwhelm you.

"You gonna cum?" Eddie looks down at you, the ever-present hunger gleaming in his eyes. "C'mon baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock."

"Eddie!" His name is the only thing you can say as your back arches, vision going white for a moment as the most intense pleasure you've ever experienced wracks your body.

Eddie's thrusts turn frantic as he desperately chases his release, pounding into you with no consideration for your comfort. You can only lay there and take it, blissed-out and practically boneless as you come down from your high.

Hips stuttering, Eddie comes with a choked-out groan of your name, and you moan softly as he spills inside of you. Eddie leans down to kiss you softly, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the rough treatment that already has you aching in the best way. He pulls away, and you suppress a whimper as he slips out of you, oversensitivity making you wince. He tucks himself back into his pants, and you suddenly feel very exposed, completely naked, while Eddie is now fully clothed. You sit up, crossing your arms over your chest and hunching over slightly.

"Here." Eddie strips off his shirt and hands it to you. 

"Thanks." You take it gratefully, slipping it over your head. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment, just looking at each other in the fading light streaming through the windows.

"Eddie, I-" You're cut off by the door creaking open, your head snapping towards the sound to watch in horror as your friends make their way in, momentarily unaware of the situation in front of them. 

Steve stops in his tracks as he looks around, gaze flickering from Eddie's shirtless body, to his shirt on your body, to your clothes strewn across the floor. 

"What the fuck?"

taglist:

@greengarsstuff @3ternalreal1ty @eichenhouseproperty @lizzieaurum @themonsterisapineapple @mayvinnie @nobody-stop-me @rues-deaddreams @matildavol6 @lov3ly-3m @ladybird2094 @sunnybunbrainrot @goth-cowgir1 @littletroublegirl444 @throatacid @eddieussy @m1vfs @jacktheotter @misaamaneswifey @netushanaidu @halbrooke @multi-fandomgirlie @livslifeonline @isabel2you @eddiemunsonbby @straycatarang @crawlingbackwardcrawlingforward @meaganjm @hopebaker @fckyou4ever @sambucky8 @annoyednblax @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @rlvslouis @paola-carter @daisysliv @mrvelscaptains @nonamedauthor @Jenna-jd @plutoneu @ladybug0095 @sunshinevs3 @loversrockband @steddieslut @o1zysreads @chu1in @aurumbelis @molllybc @witchybarb @macimcnaron @Canaryidkkk @simpforevery1 @xelaaa-xo @ihyperfixatetoomuch @calllmeifugetlost @solarrexplosion @asbisexualasitgets @strawberrypuffy @Tottalynotdestiny @mayeddieandstevegf @cursedpixie @theonlyprimrose @asiahalwaysslays @girlwiththerubyslippers @alwayssnivellus @sapphisticxted @SmuttyStrangerFics @dessmxsworld @reggiessexdoll @h-ness1944 @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @multifandomlover10 @ironwhoore @metalchickwhogotthattracc @victoriacourone @muns-trosity

[poupeesdecirque]

Posting by Queue, or: why I need some distance from my crafts

It has been some time since my last hobby meta blog entry, it had different reasons and one is that I need distance. Like, yes I of course enjoy crafting and sometimes I am like a little child that runs everywhere to show off things.

But it got ... less intense. And I learned I do better when I keep projects or at least details to myself to sit on them for longer. That the first euphoria is purely mine and not to be shared.

Like for my photos I have a buffer of several weeks now. Yes, I know past-me would have kind of hated that. But I learned I do better when I have a time buffer. I do take photos weekly but sometimes they don't feel special enough to get the weekly photo feature?

Friday & yesterday I went out for photos and while I like the ones from yesterday way more than the ones from friday I am not sure if the set from yesterday will get the feature or not as it's only a hand full of photos giving me that certain spark.

Other than that I am a very emotional artist, I sometimes really fuck up my art and hate it at the moment I worked on it, but then, sometimes, after a few days or weeks I can look at it and just wonder about what was my problem the day I made it.

Another thing is that I, myself, enjoy my art. The process of it. And I like to see my blog updating, sometimes I forget what post will go online and then I check the blog and think "ah yes, this was that thing!", and it reminds me why I made the blog overall, to show myself I had progress and that every tiny step counts.

Which leads to another reason why I hold back in regards of posting. Yes, I do share some snippets in my stories over on insta but not always and not all. I sit on over 300 drawings from the last two years alone nobody ever will see, I enjoyed drawing but it's nothing for the public eye. I will maybe go back and redraw some and share the redraws then, who knows?

But wait, there is actually more reasons.

The biggest or main reason is ... i sometimes go really wild on projects. In January I finished so many dolls it was insane, I worked on Cosplays and other crafts in an incredible speed, I have literally no idea where I found the time but I somehow did and doll parts arriving every week did the rest.

I keep the blog running with partially 2 month old stuff but .... to be honest I don't have doll stuff aside photos to do anymore. All I can do is wait for bodies to be shipped (or dolls even) and arrive. There has been no movement since January. Aside Iza getting the shipping notice for our Split, might take a while until its at her place and I can't really start on the Akuma until I got the body (which I at least have finally ordered this month) as colors need to be matched and mods to be made.

I am truly itchy to do something else than sewing all the time, I do enjoy cosplay but you know how much I like sewing (hint: not at all). So to remind myself of the fun I had in the past weeks I have mixed my blog to bless me with some progress I had which was maybe not sewing all the time. And well, the Cosplays have deadlines and I do get some ideas aside purely sewing while doing them, so that keeps me going for now.

Yes, I could start redoing dolls like Alastor or Erwin. But you know what? IT'S ALMOST ALL SEWING. Urgh.

Aside that real life is pretty good at eating me up and I just want to enjoy crafting. Right now drawing feels like stress relief but I hate the results and just scan the pieces and put them away to never look at them again, I have a bunch of posts queued up without any captions, a wip entry of a current project only has two photos but I lack the spoons to actually get them done. But since those posts are so far back it's fine (yes I know drafts are a thing).

In general I enjoy having my art to myself to get used to it before I put it out into the wild as I just recently got reminded I do bad with direct comparisons still and it hits some triggerpoints from the past and makes everything harder, I don't need that.

I literally have no idea if this blog makes sense even, lol. I just am tired of sewing and stopped working on my current project around lunch time and have drawn so much today and I walked way too much the whole week my friends urged me to stay the ef home and at least try to relax. But I'm restless as my body is too stressed (I know it all I'm a certified relaxation trainer so eh), so, have an over the place blog entry.