#It probably humbles them so quick

[staralite]

I feel like a lot of times when Alfred and Matthew are arguing they realize they sound exactly like Francis and Arthur when they argue and they immediately get super embarrassed, stop fighting, and forgive each other.

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

next

[siriuslylantsov]

afterglow

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.

tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.

a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!

wc: 3k

“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door. 

the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.

“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.

he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing. 

“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”

your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.

“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.

joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect. 

“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.

“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”

you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.

“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me. 

suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel. 

“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.

your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip. 

you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.

“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”

-

the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand. 

when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly. 

joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold. 

“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”

-

you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside. 

“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.

you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”

“mhm,” he smirks.

you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”

he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.

“kiss me?”

he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”

his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw. 

his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.

his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.

“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down. 

you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."

he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans. 

he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.

“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping. 

“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”

“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?” 

he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”

“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth. 

a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.

he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums. 

you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing. 

“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”

“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”

you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”

he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering. 

that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”

“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”

suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him. 

you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”

you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.

“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder. 

he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh. 

“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”

maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder. 

“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”

“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”

“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.

he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync. 

the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast. 

eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.

he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm. 

before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.

“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ mini pac ｡⋆｡ ﾟ

˖ ݁random things about your next lover ౨ৎ ˚

this is a small light hearted pick a pile reading, made for fun. there's a good mix of random, quirky, and deep stuff in each pile. so yeah, pick one and take what resonates or take it as a sign if it makes sense to you. {this reading is written in a non-hetero centric way}

dividers by @cafekitsune & @jimzittos images found in @saizun 's blog.

pile one pile two pile three

pile four pile five pile six

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ ko-fi page

⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

They have way too many hobbies, and they’re all kinda niche but related to creativity.

Very playful with almost everything, quirky or bizarre sense of humor. 

Always looking for new things to do, seeks enjoyment and/or entertainment.

Humble, they don’t like bragging or being too loud about whatever they achieve. 

They are open minded because being judgemental goes against their logic. 

Amazing at teamwork. 

Deep down they are actually quite structured and disciplined, despite giving off the opposite impression. 

Unexpectedly responsible in their own way. 

Very curious, wants to know everything about you. 

Is quick to smell bullshit. Impossible for them to be lied to.

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐.⋆༘˚⋆

They love anything that has a darker, spooky, mysterious tone. But they are quite chill about it actually, they love scary things but they are not annoying about it. 

Easily misunderstood and badly judged by others tho.

They try really hard to be good at communicating with others despite being kinda shy and almost awkward. 

Always overthinking and over analyzing. 

They are nerdy, but in a history or philosophy way. Probably unable to do math. 

Amazing emotional intelligence, especially when it comes to dealing with difficult moments from their past. 

Worried about the future: they are not too concerned about traditional success, but they are concerned about leaving some sort of impact in the world, no matter how small. 

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

Hardworking, dedicated, passionate… maybe a workaholic. 

Actually quite handy and always willing to help or solve anything.

They love their routines, they swear by them.

If they love you, after you ask them “what's going on?” they won’t reply “nothing”, they will go on about an overly specific topic that they were reminded of by something random. 

Charismatic, but in a pretty eccentric way. 

Black cat looks, yellow cat personality. 

They are attractive because they are truly confident in themselves, and maybe quite uninterested in looking exactly like the conventional beauty ideals.

Detail oriented, borderline obsessive. 

They are always doing something, always on the go, always close to burn out… because the moment they chill they accidentally begin feeling unmotivated.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓.⋆༘˚⋆

Party animal but in a golden retriever way. 

So friendly and nice it's almost scary. But in reality they really enjoy meeting people, hanging out, and chatting. 

Also, quite altruistic and willing to help out anyone with anything, they don’t care who or why. 

They have a lot of friends, and acquaintances, but they have a very small inner circle who they are extremely loyal to. 

Very strong sense of hope for the future. They never lose the conviction that everything will eventually turn out just fine. 

Their will is sometimes too strong, they don’t let anything go easily. 

Either on the spotlight or in a leadership position most times. They don’t look for it, it just happens. 

Sometimes overly protective, but they have quirky ways of showing that.

Not good at flirting, they're quite dorky about it, but somehow it works for them

˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆.⋆༘˚⋆

HOT as fuck. As in sensual and captivating.

Highly perceptive about the people around them, they like to wonder how the mind works.

They might look off standish, cold or uninterested, and yes, they might be most times but that doesn't make them bad people.

In reality they are trying to look cool while being shy and afraid of intimacy.

Highly intuitive.

Many times their expectations for themselves are insane, but their expectations for others are low.

Probably super into classic literature. Dante's Inferno specifically.

Quite romantic, but also kinda pretentious about it. Don't expect average gifs, expect something that is a reference to an obscure experimental new wave french film or something.

They don't joke about their spotify playlists.

. ˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙.⋆༘˚⋆

Highly sensitive and creative but in a Lana del Rey kind of way.

They really have a sort of "old soul" vibe.

Too empathetic for their own good, but they are always working on it.

Staying at home is their favourite thing to do, specially if there's sweets involved.

Incredibly patient. They actually prefer slow-paced everything. Books, movies, shows, hobbies, everything.

Probably into crafty hobbies and podcasts.

They have a very low social battery, but they are always willing to put the effort if it is because of someone they appreciate.

Very proud of their roots and overall life journey.

Not very talkative, unless they have something they deem important and necessary to share.

masterpost ✶ pac readings ✶ personal readings

✶ ko-fi page ✶

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ available for personal readings ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[savanir]

The cure to vampirism is to never get turned at all

Dick is not ashamed to admit he's in trouble. 

He's surrounded on all sides by vampires (because that's a thing now), he's put in this situation by his sister which is just great. Some ancient vampire lady named Pandora says she needs him to defeat the Queen of Blood named Mary and he's pretty sure that involves him being turned into a vampire as well, which he doesn't want. 

He's good but even he can tell his odds are pretty shit. There is no backup coming and even if he could call them they would never arrive on time. 

And of course he's in his civvies and doesn't have any of his gear. Just fantastic. 

But if he goes down he'll go down fighting.

"DANIEL!!"

everything screeches to a halt as the furious booming male voice echoes through the room. 

A large ornate wooden double door in the back slams open and a young man rushes through slamming them closed behind him.

Intricate red and green flashes of energy cover the doors and then the young man turns to the crowd in the fancy crypt.

"Our young gifted prince? There is no need for you to attend this meeting, But if there is a way we may assis-?" The question hovers in the air, choked off as the young man runs forward and with hands shimmering in eerie venomous green and deep blood red energy he tears through the random vampire's throat, startling all the others. 

"I'm putting an end to this madness, here and now" He drops the gradually disintegrating corpse on the ground. 

"Young prince!?" Exclaims lady Pandora.

For Dick things become a blur after that. Screaming and screeching and inhuman growling. The young man easily tears through them all with his powers. It seems some form of backup did arrive, but if this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

Dick doesn't understand though, he seems to be one of them so why...?

One second they are all still fighting then the next the old vampire lady is lying dead on the ground, gradually turning into dust. The vampires who remain all stare at the young man in shock. “he… he killed Pandora, our oldest. The strongest of us” 

None of them seem to know what to do now. There are a lot of dead vampires all around, in Dick’s humble opinion this meeting could not have gone worse for the acolytes of shadow. He’s not feeling too upset about that though considering what they wanted from him. Still, the fact that they aren’t outright trying to kill this young prince in retaliation… he must be someone special, that alone is more than enough for Dick to keep his guard up around him.

Then the young man darts forward and grabs Dick's wrist, "we have to leave, the seal I put on the door is about to break. I won't be able to protect you from him"

"Who?" Dick can’t help but ask as they both start running for the exit. The young man quickly dragging him up the stairs. For a split second does Dick think about Melinda, he’s not entirely sure if she was among the ones killed or not. She was the one who tricked him into that mess. 

Well, she absolutely knew the consequences, she told them about him being Nightwing, if whatever is left down there decides to punish her for this fiasco that’s probably what she deserves.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise, but we need to go now!"

The furious noises behind them grow steadily in volume. Danny pushes Dick forward as he slams the red fake fridge door closed behind them and another flash or red and green covers that as well, another seal of sorts most likely. The one other person in the kitchen startles as the two of them run past him.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Danny, now this way, quick!" the young prince, Danny apparently, faults over the Waffle House front desk Dick not hesitating to do the same.

"DANIEL HOW DARE YOU!" comes faintly from behind them as Danny slams the fake establishments front doors open and pulls Dick out of there.

"Oh he's next level mad" mutters Danny as they are running again. Meanwhile Dick is just very glad to be breathing in the fresh cold night air of Bludhaven. 

However, his legs are having trouble keeping up with the pace, he has taken some serious hits and those things definitely don't pull any punches. 

He can’t help the faint pained groan and the speed with which the other man snaps his attention back on him almost makes him flinch. 

"Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine"

"Here let me-" 

Next thing Dick knows he's being carried, if he wasn't friends with so many supers and speedsters he'd probably be flailing. Instead he's just kinda used to it and lets it happen even if it’s a bit awkward what with Danny being a bit shorter than him.

He's glad when they get to a safehouse and Danny puts him on the couch. He then goes to fetch Dick the first aid kit. 

"Who were we running from?"

"Old as balls vampire lord named Vladimir Masters, he’s in cahoots with the acolytes of shadow. And I guess he’s now fully in charge seeing Pandora just had her final death."

Dick pauses and just looks at him. 

"Yes he's really named that" Danny looks rather tired.

"And I'm guessing he's the sort who is going to be a massive headache"

"I mean they had this whole plan of world domination, you were a key player in that plan which is now completely ruined by the way. I was part of it too but I really don't want anything to do with any of that so... here we are"

"Here we are"

It's only when Dick is fully bandaged that Danny flops down in the nearest arm chair and drops his head in his hands and takes a deep shuddering breath. Perhaps all the murder is catching up to him? 

"Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just... thirsty... I'll be fine" 

"Ah yes of course, vampire."

"I'm unfortunately a vampire yeah but don’t get it twisted, I'm absolutely not one of them" Danny looks up and sneers, Dick can now clearly see the fangs. “Seeing humans as cattle… the absolute moronic-” Danny trails off in furious muttering. “living in a world with demons and angels and aliens and whatever else but no we’re the ones who deserve special treatment.”

Dick makes a choice and then gets up, Danny watching him go and curiously listening to him opening and closing something in a different room before coming back and holding out a blood bag with a bit of IV tube hanging out of it. 

"Here you go."

“Oh! thank you,” Danny gladly takes the bag, "You just have bags of blood in your house?"  

"You never know when you need an emergency blood transfusion. Especially considering my nightly activities." … you know that sounds kinda vampiric in it’s own way doesn’t it?

Danny snorts and starts drinking. It kind of looks like a huge capri-sun that way. It's sort of adorable. 

If only it wasn't a massive plastic bag of Dick's own blood but whatever. 

They both fall quiet as Danny focuses on his drink and Dick takes a moment to think about the absolute mess he just went through.

“Someone called you gifted… what did they mean by that?”

“This mostly,” Danny holds out his hand and shows Dick the strange glowing mixture of red and green energy he saw down in the crypt. “I am a huge anomaly because I became a vampire while I was half alive and half dead. What that means for the most part is enhanced powers, I am even harder to kill than a regular vampire and you cannot fix my vampirism with one of those disgusting smelling pits of… what was it called? Lar- Lazard?” “Lazarus,”

"Yes that! Anyway I am like.. the backup to their world domination plan, initially they just wanted me to be their weapon but I have morals, pesky things, super annoying according to them. Which is why they decided to ‘recruit’ you. But I managed to screw that up too.” Danny looks very satisfied with himself about that. 

“Thanks for that” Dick says genuinely earning him a cheeky sharp fanged grin from Danny. Though he wished it had not involved such a massive carnage, he’s very glad he’s not a vampire right now. Beggars can’t be choosers he guesses.

“It would probably be best to get the League involved, root them all out. Vlad is definitely going to make more drastic moves now that things have turned out this way.”

Dick ponders to himself, “Yeah… let’s be Helsing about it,” He already got a Vampire on his side too.

Danny dejectedly looks down at his empty blood bag, “... can I have another?” He asks carefully.

“Sure!” responds Dick with a smile that finally manages to ease the tension out of Danny’s shoulders.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (I)

This is probably my longest running dysfunctional daydream scenario, so I thought I'd share it here.

As stereotypical as it gets, you've fallen into an old well and found yourself in feudal Japan. Almost immediately, you're attacked by a yokai that calls you by a name you don't recognize. He insists you possess the soul of an ancient priest that would capture demons under a binding contract. Something isn't right, however, so your life is spared until further clues come to light. With two men unwillingly bound to you, you begin to uncover this mess as more 'collection pieces' show up. They might prefer you to their previous owner.

TW: violence, monsters

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guidebook]

You vigorously cough out whatever grass you seemed to have bit into when you hit the ground. Was all this vegetation here just one moment ago? As you get up and dust your knees you're brought back into focus by the loud buzzing of insects. You look above and involuntarily squint your eyes. You didn't expect to see a full, bright sky.

"What the hell?" is all you can mutter.

You and your university friends had planned a quick trip to the neighboring Tokyo, just to visit some trending local cafes and shop around. You somehow wandered into the suburbs and found a very obvious path to a large shrine that was visible from the bottom of the stairs. Now, what's more stereotypical than finding a shrine, approaching it with shy steps, dangling the old rope of the bell and humbly clapping your hands together for a quick prayer that gives you a fake sense of meaningfulness? Then again, you love a good cliché. So you did just that, and then whipped out your phone to snap some artsy photos of the place. In your search for the perfect angle, you spotted a wooden structure among some pillars and zoomed in to realize it's an old well.

Here's where you awkwardly tiptoed away from your friends. You couldn't possibly confess to them that you're one of those anime nerds, and that you immediately thought of a certain classic title, and that this could make a very good impromptu cosplay shoot. You could smell the nostalgia as you carefully swayed your way behind the pillars and under the shade of the tiled roof. You bent over carefully (apparently not carefully enough) to asses how deep the well was. Just as you were about to exclaim its shallowness, you felt the gravity pull you inwards. Within seconds your head made contact with the moist soil and you briefly blacked out as the rest of your body arrived in proper position.

Unpleasant, but you've had migraines worse than this. Though now you're wondering whether you might've damaged some important brain parts, given the sudden change of scenery. Or has your dysfunctional daydreaming finally caught up to you?

You laugh silently and test the walls around you, feeling for some contact point that you can use to pull yourself back out. You finally crawl out, but freeze with your elbows around the frame of the well, looking ahead.

There's no building around, just tall grass and what seems to be the beginning of a forest. You remember to blink, and each time you close your eyes you hope to see the shrine once again, to no avail.

"I thought I'm past the risk age for schizophrenia", you mumble in a humorous attempt. The situation is so absurd that you need to share it with an imaginary audience.

You muster up the courage to step out and onto the ground, with extra caution as if it could vanish at any moment. After brief consideration, you slap a bunch of weeds in front of you to test their consistency. The hard stems hurt your wrist and you nod. This is a little too intense to be just a hallucination.

Alright, so you got trapped in some sort of feudal anime remake. What now? You glance around, almost hoping to see some white haired man sleeping against a tree with an arrow stuck into the chest. You check your phone. No signal, but thankfully it still works. You have a battery and its charger, but the latter is probably useless. Unless this remake comes with electricity. You chuckle at the thought. Who knows, maybe it's one of those isekai otome games instead and some timeline inconsistency or loophole will provide you with an outlet.

After trying the well one last time without success, you decide to at least find another human being. Then you can get some grasp of your whereabouts and situation. You notice a patch of grass that's been bent to the ground, probably from frequent stomping. That's a start. You follow the hints of bipedal movement and hope for the best.

The improvised path slithers downhill and around the mass of trees, and you question whether the fields ahead might have traces of houses on them. You pick up your pace in anticipation.

A sharp swish of an unknown object causes you to flinch and halt, and before you can process it, a thin blade lays inches from your nose. You follow its length and find the source: a tall, horned (???) man with silver hair.

Ironically enough, he seems to be more shocked than you. His facial expression flips from focused anger to unbelievable confusion within seconds. His eyebrows are raised and his lips part.

"Ah!" you yell as the gears begin to turn. "Christ, you almost made me question my sanity!

Now let me tell you, this is some great cosplay. I was about to beg for my life. Hah! How the hell did you pull the whole transition? Is the well a tunnel? I hope I didn't accidentally break into some event."

The man returns his sword into its sheath, still in deep disbelief.

"You're not him, are you? But then again..."

"Huh? Him? I'm sorry, were you expecting someone? If you show me the way out I'll disappear in a moment." you turn around, prepared to be led to the exit. "Who're you cosplaying, anyways? I'm a big fan of historical dramas, but I don't recognize the character design."

"I don't understand what you're saying." the man tilts his head in utter surprise.

"Alright, I get the point" you force a laugh, slightly irritated by the persistence. "You're deep in your acting, I get that. Focus and all the jazz. But my friends are around the corner and I don't have signal, can you please skip the theatre and show me the exit?"

"The exit to...where? You're outside."

You sigh, loudly, and click your tongue. "Enough of this, please. Where's the shrine?"

"Ah, I get it. You're trying to confuse me." he pulls his sword back out. "I've had enough of your tricks. You're in an early stage, aren't you? Not strong enough to fight back. I can sense it."

Oh God, it's one of those maniacs, you think to yourself. You raise your arms as a peace offering and hope you won't be featured in the 5pm news with multiple stab wounds.

"Listen man, I really don't know what you're talking about. I'll leave quietly and won't bother you again, I promise."

You gulp and await a response, but the man's mouth opens and the words are replaced by a foreign, disembodied shriek. There's a rapidly approaching heavy shuffle that sounds like the trample of many limbs. You feel your leg being hooked into something and the ground turns around at a dizzying speed.

Something just grabbed you.

Given the movements of the lips, you're assuming that the mysterious cosplaying maniac is yelling something, but your ears are ringing and throbbing as the adrenalin begins to pump. You're being thrown around by something and you can feel the skin holding your leg together creaking and tearing with every jolt.

You manage to land your eyes on the creature. The teeth are unnaturally sharp and it seems to have many arms and legs arranged in a scattered order along the scaly body. It trashes around in such a fluid, dynamic way, that you doubt it could be the result of any machine. It's a living thing and currently attacking you for whatever reason.

Once the bizarre reality settles in, panic floods your body and you scream for help. If not the maniac, then some godly intervention. You did offer a small donation at the shrine, it has to count for something.

The spectacle doesn't last long, since the silver haired man doesn't hesitate to behead the creature. You can see that he wasn't making empty threats with his sword skills. You'd prefer, however, if you weren't the next one to go under his guillotine. Your body rolls over the dirt, limp from the shock.

You tilt yourself upwards pathetically and let out a groan once you attempt to use your leg to stand. You turn around and notice the aftermath of your little air ballet. There's a deep wound and thick, red blood is oozing out, scrambling to form a protective crust.

"You... really can't fight at all, can you? You weren't lying."

The man is now standing in front of you, the same amount of disbelief he had at the beginning.

"How the hell would I have fought that...that..." you choke and can feel tears forming in your eyes. "I don't understand what's happening. I just want to go back home. I don't know what's happening." you start sobbing and angrily rub your eyes, hoping to trigger some sort of way to wake up. But your eyelids burn and you feel awake. This was never a dream.

Your sudden meltdown startles the man and he awkwardly hovers his hands over you, unsure of how to handle this.

"Sorry, if I had known, I would've stopped it earlier. I genuinely thought you're..." he sighs. "I'm really sorry. You got hurt because of me."

"Can you please tell me where I am? I feel like I'm going crazy. It's year 202X and I was out with my friends and fell into a well. I've never seen a creature like that in my life. I somehow ended up here and I can't go back. Where the hell is this?"

"I... I don't understand what's happening either. I came here because I sensed he's back. I didn't expect to see... well... you." 

You scan his face. His frown is sincere. Which, truth be told, is even less helpful. You're back to square 0, it's getting dark and your ankle is trashed. 

You just want to sleep.

You stare at the ceiling, hands locked together over your chest. The improvised hay mattress isn't exactly comfortable, but it's certainly better than nothing. You sheepishly glance at the horned man. He's sitting by the window, idly looking outside with hooded eyes. He seems to be tired, too. 

"Try to get some rest", he'd told you earlier. Easier said than done. After the monster attack, he carried you on his back until you found an abandoned hut. His way of apologizing for letting you get mauled. As you walked, he narrated his reasoning to you. 

His name is Kiritsubo. When he was a child, a human dressed like an onmyouji took him in for training. Said to be the successor of Abe no Seimei himself, the man was feared throughout the country for his supernatural powers. Most of his strength, however, came from the collection of yokai he'd gathered to work for him. None of them had agreed to it, but no one knew how to break the bond subduing them. Eventually, the old man succumbed into his eternal slumber, yet the yokai were still not freed from the contract.

Some of them suggested he wasn't truly gone. Merely reincarnated. And today, he felt it for the first time. That's how he stumbled upon you. You appear to have part of his soul within you, whether you realize it or not. But if you truly have no knowledge of it, he doesn't have the heart to slaughter an innocent. 

"What about the rest?" you blurt out, quietly.

Kiritsubo turns to you, mildly startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You said the man owned 12 legendary yokai. Are you the only one left?"

"No." He frowns. "They most likely know about you already. Let's try to send you back to your world tomorrow, because they will not be as forgiving."

A shiver runs across your spine. This one is scary enough already. You pray you'll be home before you can meet any other beast.

"This is where I found you, so the well shouldn't be far." 

The silver haired man surveys the horizon and you limp forward. 

"I'll check the area, since you can't walk much."

As soon as he says that, he vanishes. You're left with the heavy buzz of afternoon cicadas. You might as well do your own search. Keep yourself preoccupied. The idea of leaving this behind fills you with excitement and you find enough strength to push ahead. 

A few minutes later, you hear a shuffle behind you. Could it be that Kiritsubo already found the well? Enthusiasm fills your chest and a burning heat spreads out. Although it speedily pools in your left shoulder, and you notice in horror that it wasn't enthusiasm taking over your body. A blade is sticking out of your shoulder, avoiding anything vital as some sort of mockery rather than omission. 

"Found you."

The voice is deep and foreign. You barely manage to tilt your head and meet the glowing red eyes of a black haired man. Dark horns are twisting menacingly from his crown and his expression is that of pure wrath. As fresh blood drips down your chin, you wonder if this is the next yokai in line to seek his revenge.

How will you get out of this?

[goldfades]

can you do some mom paige for us pretty please

this actually might be the cutest concept i've come with, not to brag but uh

you watch from the porch as paige adjusts the laces on derek’s sneakers, her fingers quick and practiced, like she’s tying up the past and the present all in one knot. the sun dips lower, casting an orange glow over the driveway court, and you can’t help but smile at how small he used to look next to her. your little boy with his gap-toothed grin and his insistence that one day, he’d be able to “take mom down” on the court.

today might actually be that day.

“you sure you’re ready for this?” paige teases, standing up to her full height and giving derek a pointed look. she spins the ball between her hands, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. she’s trying to act unfazed, but you know her too well. there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—a mix of pride and maybe just a tiny bit of panic.

derek grins, taller now than you ever thought possible, with a confidence that makes your heart ache in the best way. “are you ready, old lady?”

“old lady?” paige echoes, mock-offended as she bounces the ball once, hard enough to make a statement. “i’m still the queen of this court. don’t get it twisted.”

you laugh softly under your breath, crossing your arms as you lean against the porch railing. it’s surreal, watching them like this. he’s got her sharpness, her competitive streak, but there’s so much of you in him too—his patience, his quiet fire.

the game starts, and at first, it’s all jokes and lighthearted trash talk. derek takes a shot, and paige swats it away with a grin. “come on, d! you gotta bring more than that.”

but then it shifts. derek gets past her with a quick move, one you swear you’ve seen her do a thousand times, and sinks a layup. he turns, flashing her a cocky smile, and that’s when you see it.

paige freezes for half a second, the ball clutched in her hands, and it’s like the realization hits her all at once. this isn’t her little boy chasing after her in light-up sneakers anymore. this is a young man, strong and fast and determined, standing toe-to-toe with her in a way she’s not sure she’s ready for.

“okay,” she mutters, mostly to herself, before squaring up again. her smirk is back, but there’s a crack in it now, something raw and real.

you can’t tell if she’s about to cry or pull out some WNBA-level moves to humble him. probably both.

she pivots quickly, pushing past whatever moment of realization is trying to overwhelm her, and spins the ball on her finger. it’s her signature move—flashy, playful, a little intimidating—and derek doesn’t even flinch.

“you ready, champ?” she asks, her voice lighter now, but there’s an edge of something sharper beneath it. a challenge.

derek doesn’t answer with words. instead, he spreads his arms wide, crouching into a defensive stance that is so polished, so deliberate, you know paige is holding her breath. he looks so much like her right now that it’s almost comical.

she dribbles once, twice, testing his reactions, and when she goes for her crossover, derek reads it perfectly. he steps in, steals the ball clean, and sprints toward the hoop.

“oh no, you didn’t!” paige calls out, chasing after him with a burst of speed that makes you forget, for a second, how many years it’s been since she was tearing up college courts.

but derek is quick too. too quick. he pulls up just outside the key and lets the ball fly.

swish.

“ha!” derek pumps his fist, turning to face her with a grin that practically splits his face in two. “what was that about being the queen of the court?”

paige stares at him, wide-eyed and speechless, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to break into some long-winded lecture about fundamentals or footwork. but then she starts laughing. not her usual confident chuckle, but a real, uncontrollable laugh that fills the yard and makes derek laugh too, even though he’s not entirely sure what’s so funny.

“okay, okay,” she says, shaking her head and wiping the corner of her eye. “you got one. one. don’t let it go to your head, kid.”

but you can see the way she’s looking at him now, how her expression has softened. she’s proud, maybe even a little in awe, but there’s something else too. a quiet grief tucked beneath all that love, the kind that only comes with watching your child grow into someone who doesn’t need you quite as much as they used to.

“you gonna keep standing there, or you want a rematch?” derek asks, spinning the ball on one finger like he’s trying to show off.

paige’s eyebrows shoot up. “oh, you’re feeling bold now, huh?”

she lunges for him, snatching the ball back before he can react, and charges toward the hoop with a determination that feels almost desperate. you watch her lay it in, clean and smooth, and as she jogs back to her side of the makeshift court, you catch her glance in your direction.

there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. something just for you.

he’s growing up too fast, isn’t he?

you smile at her, a small, knowing smile that says i see you, and i feel it too.

the game gets more intense after that. derek stops holding back, and so does paige. it’s not just a casual driveway scrimmage anymore—it’s two competitors locked in battle. paige pulls out her best moves, step-backs and fadeaways that she used to dominate with back in her UConn days. derek matches her with raw energy and a knack for improvisation that makes you think he might actually have a shot at going pro someday.

“fifteen-fourteen,” paige says, breathless as she dribbles at the top of the key. “game point. you sure you’re ready for this?”

“are you?” derek shoots back, grinning as he wipes sweat from his brow.

you lean against the railing, your heart pounding in your chest, and you wonder if they even realize you’re still there. probably not. this moment is theirs, and you’re happy to let them have it.

paige makes her move, driving hard to the left before spinning back to her right, but derek is ready. he’s there, blocking her path, his hands up and his stance steady. she tries to shoot over him, but he’s too tall now, too quick, and he swats the ball away with a force that makes it bounce halfway across the driveway.

“game,” he says, breathless but triumphant.

paige just stands there, hands on her hips, staring at him like she can’t quite believe what just happened. and maybe she can’t. maybe none of you can.

“guess the torch has officially been passed,” you say, stepping off the porch and walking toward them.

paige looks at you, her mouth opening like she’s about to argue, but then she closes it again. she shakes her head, laughing softly, and pulls derek into a hug that’s more aggressive than affectionate but still manages to say everything she can’t.

“you did good, kid,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, almost fragile.

“thanks, mom,” derek says, his own voice quiet but steady.

and as you stand there, watching the two of them, you feel it too—the ache, the pride, the bittersweet weight of it all. he’s not her little boy anymore. he’s not your little boy anymore. but he’ll always be yours, in every way that matters.

later that night, the house feels softer somehow, quieter. derek is curled up in your lap on the couch, his head resting against your chest, his breath steady and even in sleep. the game must have worn him out, and it’s in this peaceful stillness that you really notice how much he’s grown. his limbs are long now, gangly in a way that’s both awkward and endearing, and his features are sharper, more defined.

paige is sitting across from you, one leg tucked under her, cradling a mug of tea she hasn’t touched. the warm glow of the lamp casts a golden hue over her face, softening the edges of her playful smirk. but there’s something in her eyes, something that lingers even when she cracks a small grin.

“you remember when he couldn’t even dribble without falling over?” she says, breaking the silence. her voice is light, teasing, but there’s a thread of something deeper woven into her words.

you hum, brushing a hand gently through derek’s hair. “barely. feels like it was forever ago.”

“right?” she leans back, balancing the mug on her knee as she looks at the two of you. “i mean, this is the same kid who cried for two hours because he lost his first pair of basketball shoes. two hours, babe. and now he’s out there blocking me like he’s—i don’t know—prime lebron or something.”

you laugh softly, careful not to wake derek. “he’s got your moves, though. the spin, the step-back? that’s all you.”

“yeah, well, he didn’t get my height,” she quips, a hand running through her hair. “dude’s a giant already. where’s he even getting that from?”

but you see it—the way she bites the corner of her lip, the way her fingers fidget with the handle of her mug. she’s trying to hide it, trying to mask the ache with humor, and it’s so her that it makes your chest tighten.

“you okay?” you ask gently, your eyes meeting hers.

paige hesitates, her smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before she shrugs. “yeah. i’m fine. it’s just… weird, you know? one minute, he’s begging me to let him stay up late to watch a game, and the next, he’s dunking on me in the driveway.”

“he didn’t actually dunk on you,” you tease, and it earns you a soft laugh.

“okay, fine, but you know what i mean.” she sets the mug down on the coffee table, leaning forward now, her elbows resting on her knees. “he’s just… he’s not a kid anymore. i mean, he is, but he’s not, you know? like, i remember his first steps. he was so wobbly, and now he’s out there moving like he’s been doing it forever.”

her voice gets quieter, her words slower, and you can see the way she’s fighting to keep it together. “and then his first basket? oh my god, i thought i was gonna lose my mind. he was so proud of himself. remember how he made us watch the highlight reel he edited for three weeks straight?”

“complete with slow-motion replays,” you add with a soft smile.

“exactly!” she laughs again, but it’s shaky, like she’s holding something back. “and now he’s… i don’t know. he’s just different. he’s taller, faster, better. and that’s the point, right? we’re supposed to want him to grow up, but…”

“it’s hard,” you finish for her, because you know exactly what she’s trying to say.

paige nods, her gaze dropping to her hands. “yeah. it’s hard.”

you reach out, brushing your fingers against hers, and she looks up at you with that same mixture of pride and vulnerability that makes your heart ache. “he’s still our little boy, though,” you remind her, your voice barely above a whisper.

she smiles at that, a small, genuine smile that reaches her eyes. “yeah. he’ll always be ours.”

for a moment, neither of you say anything. the only sounds are the soft hum of the heater and derek’s quiet breaths, and it feels like the three of you are wrapped up in a bubble of warmth and love.

“you know,” paige says finally, her voice lighter again, “i think i let him win today.”

you raise an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh. “oh, really?”

“yep. totally on purpose.” she leans back against the couch, crossing her arms like she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince you. “i just wanted to boost his confidence. good parenting, you know?”

“uh-huh,” you say, smirking as you run your fingers through derek’s hair again.

but the look she gives you—soft, teasing, and a little bit raw—reminds you of why you fell in love with her in the first place. she loves so fiercely, even when it hurts, even when she’s not sure how to handle it. and as you sit there together, watching your son sleep, you think that maybe, just maybe, your heart has never been so full.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[erensfeed]

⠀actor!au headcanons ft. love & deepspace.

starring: love and deepspace cast x reader. a/n: bc actor aus are actually the 2nd best thing humans invented after ice cream.

⤷ actor!rafayel:

was the first guy you really clicked with after the chemistry read when you were both cast. he matched your energy and made you laugh SO much, all while keeping you comfortable enough to act out all your lines together. from there, you and the casting directors just knew he was going to be the perfect rafayel.

is the main one playing pranks on the entire cast and crew, followed by caleb and luke & kieran. one time, he got you a small present box and wrote on a sticky note “4 the cutest;)” next to it. you smiled and opened it thinking it was probably a necklace or some accessory of some sort. instead, that.. thing — was a tiny realistic looking rat toy. shrieking his name so loud it almost echoed throughout the entire set, you tossed aside the box in panic. and slightly yet jokingly on the verge of tears, you vowed that you would get him back for that as the rest of the cast and crew burst into laughter when they heard your wails from your open trailer.

flirty af with you on blooper reels & winks with this grin, at the camera whenever any of you mess up a line that comes out inappropriately instead.

your blooper reels are hilarious. one time, you messed up a line after closing the door, so you had to step outside and reopen it to start over again. but just as you stepped outside and reached for the handle, rafayel darted over and locked it. you called out his name in disbelief, and the whole filming set burst out laughing. in fact, the name you called the most on set was his.

this guy literally fake trips over, every now and then and stays that way dramatically. “rafayel—” you’d say like a tired parent whenever you walked over to get him, hoping he wasn’t actually dead like he acts.

on twitter (x) & instagram, he follows the hashtag of the ship name for you and him and likes edits of (you) both.

he’s literally so outgoing, funny and charismatic with fans and remembers each of them he sees irl. he often goes live on instagram and is the most interactive and talkative with them as well. ‘no way you made that edit? ohmygod please send that to me’. yes, the fanpage sent the non watermark version edit to him and he followed them so fast in return. the edits still saved on his phone to this day.

is 100% best friends with all the guys but it is so obvious that he is locked iinnn with xavier and caleb.

during a 'generated questions' interview game starring you, rafayel and thomas, one of the questions he got asked was who his celebrity crush was. locking eyes with you, he said your name with a small smile. (brb writing and posting a quick drabble on this)

was actually a big help in composing & finalizing the soundtracks for misty invasion & wander in wonder. and ofc his (favorites): omnipotent perception & gem affection.

he actually loves cats and that ginger cat in that one scene was actually his. that’s why the cat licked his finger because he knows his owner. yes he’s a cat and dog guy.

noticeably gazes at you every chance he gets, yet somehow everrryooone else but you seem to notice.

⤷ actor!sylus:

everytime you think you can finally beat him in a staring competition, you get reminded and humbled on why you couldn’t. and you swore the last time you did, that his gaze flickered down to your lips. ‘mm no you’re seeing things.’

teasing af in lots of (unreleased) bloopers with you like there’s no tomorrow. and unlike rafayel, instead of pranking you, he actually jumpscares you the most instead.

and in most of the bloopers, it’s so evident that all the guys he acts certain scenes with, fight off the urges to make out with him after he winked at them whenever they forgot their lines because of him. he places second to rafayel for who winks or flirts the most & at the camera.

every woman on that set has had a dream about this man. one would think tara would be interested in xavier since she’s around you both a lot more and her character kind of is a fangirl for xavier. yeah no, this girl is head over heels in love with sylus instead.

is also every straight man’s crush, obviously surpassing ryan reynolds. he’s younger and a biker cmon.

is so good with every kid who comes across his path. one time after shooting, he carried two of the main director’s little kids. one was sitting on his shoulders and the other one wrapped around his leg after he took them out to get anything they wanted. yes he spent his paycheck on them. also on you too cause he gets you stufff. he got everyone else things too except rafayel that day, only because he heard he scared you earlier. he actually secretly fist bumped rafayel and did get him something, bc he would have done the same.

thirst tweets made about him are INSANE. when reading them on interviews hosted by buzzfeed celeb, he often flirts with the fans. ‘why don’t you come find out’ he winked once as a reply to a certain tweet. the tweet was someone wondering about something about him in the bedroom. his favorite one was when someone said they can’t wait for him to be a dilf.

the both of you completely improvised that scene where your characters fancily dressed up to find out the location of the aether core. yes the ‘have fun 💳’ and ‘don’t bother me with such trivial matters’ and ‘your offer will make people think im broke, wouldn’t want that sweetie’ lines. this scene displays your skyrocketing chemistry and friendship soooo baddd. and it took only one take too was the crazy thing.

adjusts your hair whenever it looks out of place when filming. one time he reached out, eyes meeting yours. ‘may i?’ and with your approving nod, he gently smoothened a stray strand. his fingers lingered for a moment before pulling back, a small smile on his lips as he caught you still looking up at him. technically, that was the only time you won an unofficial staring competition between you because he shyly ended up looking away first, but of course he wouldn’t tell you that.

⤷ actor!zayne:

was the first guy you had a mini crush on. because literally the first time you made him smile, it felt like the only true and final accomplishment of your life.

has a doberman he kinda grew up with and brings on set after filming from time to time.

actually has a distaste for carrots irl. caleb being the little silly head he was, gifted him semi-huge carrot plushies as part of his birthday gift to him.

the pool table scene above actually became both of your favorites because filming it was so memorable. the screenwriters had intentionally and separately asked the two of you to choose which one of their next written scenes you’d love to film together. and although you and him wouldn’t have minded any of them, you still chose. you both didn’t know the other would match each other’s freak by choosing this said scene. soon you knew and that you loved one another even more that day. now, when it came to acting it out… that was another story.

the first take of where he gently grabbed you by the waist, pulling you on top of him on the pool table, and on top of that smirking up at you was all too much for you. all you could do was breathlessly giggle uncontrollably while covering your face due to the fact that your entire body and face grew hot, because you were so flushed by being that close to him.

now, it was your turn to be laying on the pool table after he switched positions. the way you watched as he grabbed the cue stick and leaned down over you as he told you to ‘watch closely’, had him chuckling and apologizing instead. ‘sorry, sorry’ he waved a hand in front of his face apologetically, looking away from you yet still failing to hide the blush creeping onto his face. and when he had the courage to look back at you, ‘hi’ was simply what he said with a sheepish grin making you and the filming crew still laugh through the 8th retake of that scene. if only you knew your eyes were his weakness.

during your travel to film in snowcrest / the artic, the amount of snowball fights you two had was insane. then after. you made lots of snowmen and snow angels. and in order for you not to get cold he got you lots of hot chocolate and helped warm your hands up with his whenever you were cold. like one time, when the main director was telling you both what he wanted from you in the scenes, he had a feeling that your hands could be cold so he interlocked his fingers with yours as the director spoke.

he is the thoughtful parent friend to be honest and also quite the gift giving male friend because he buys you (as well as the other co-stars) lots of things. you would think he was a doctor the way he took care of you guys.

you and the fans favorite blooper reel was when him and sylus were talking using a helium balloon. either that or when you both kissed on his birthday scene and he said he was the luckiest guy in the world.

of the four and their bromance, rafayel & xavier are clear boyfriends while zayne and sylus are husbands.

one time, he posted a pic with sylus and you openly commented ‘zaddies’ making everyone quake, especially the fact he not only pinned it, but responded “hi baby”.

⤷ actor!xavier:

eeveryone calls and knows xavier is your shadow.

seriously. because this guy is always seen together with you. there’s rarely moments he’s not around you really… on and off set. paparazzis left and right almost always see you two together, and that of course sparked rumors on whether or not you two had a thing or have a thing going on.

it didn’t help that on instagram at first, he only used to follow 2 social media accounts. yours and loveanddeepspace. some fans and blogs speculated that it may be because he was dating you. others doubted that though because it was clear that the other guys probably genuinely liked you as well and there was no way you were dating any of them because they were your co-stars in this show since you wouldn’t risk breaking up while acting. all of that whole thing made both of you publicly come out to clear up all the dating rumors. yet nobody except your crews and co-stars, fully believe you two in particular for some reason.

speaking of co-stars, you and xavier are victims to rafayel’s and caleb’s pranks. but whenever they get you specifically, he plots something with sylus and zayne to get back at them for you.

out of all of you, this man curses the most when forgetting his lines — caleb is a close second. ‘shit ‘m sorry.’ has gotta be his go-to. couple of 'fucks' and 'dammits' here and there are also present in his vocab. also, he does this thing whenever he messes up where he covers the upper half of his face with one hand in embarrassment as giggles emit from the two of you. *laughing with you and the crew during a failed take*: ‘i swear it’s way harder than it looks — pretending to half awake and remembering what to say at the same time...crazy’

you surprisingly sleep on set more than he does and it’s always in xavier’s characters’ bedroom too. have you seen the room they gave this guy’s character? insanely comfortable. after filming for the day, and you fall asleep on that bed, and whenever xavier hears you waking up, he’s always there purposely in your face and ready to play around by saying ‘we just had another mini pizza party you just missed’ making you tiredly smile and lightly smack him with a pillow.

the two of you have a lot dancing moments together. either just dancing for fun, to ease off tension or just waltzing. on the blooper reel for his birthday scene, when you were both warming up by waltzing together, you jokingly asked him ‘how come i don’t see these moves in the bedroom?’ he let go of you as he looked at you in utter mock disbelief ‘girl —’ causing you to let out bashful laughs at him.

xavier with all his fangirls though ? the cutest ever. numerous tiktoks and tweets repost pictures with each fan girls because he literally looks like their boyfriend with how he takes pics with them. like this guy makes it worth it to meet him. they usually gift him a lot of cute things and he hugs them. and it doesn’t help that his hugs are so comforting bye. he is literally a whole charming prince too and the perfect guy to have a celebrity crush on.

below are some comments you’d see on those ship posts of you and xavier:

xavierslullaby: OHMYGOD THE WAY HE WAS LOOKING AT HER WHAT starfishylover021: bro the way he kissed her cheek wtfff that shld be meeee sylustruewife: guys i need this man or a beer rn or im gonna be sick

or * shared posts with fangirls:

loveanddeebussy: AYO WHO TF ARE THESE RANDOM WOMEN NEXT TO MY BABY DADDY. ⤷ theweekndsexygf replied to loveanddeebussy: girl..sorry to break it to you but that’s my husband. ⤷ erensfeed replied to theweekndsexygf: ummLMFAO im coming to you both as a woman...

extras your honors: rafayel & sylus playfully pick on you often, zayne & xavier protect you from them. they all smell so good. are actually great chefs. and are obviously all crushing on you.

— also guys lemme know if you want more or with caleb bc a girl has ideas and couldn’t fit them all in here.

update: .˚𐚁 {part 2}

©2024 ERENSFEED. all rights reserved.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[classicsofclassicsofgame]

Game: Unknown

We arrive at (in my humble opinion) one of the best Classics of Game videos ever made. Here we see CoG's auspicious eye for Dumb Video Game Shit at peak form, featuring a game that has been scrutinized, discussed and praised/condemned to no end. And yet before this video, I don't think I'd ever seen anyone walk into this exact kill plane.

I wouldn't say this video makes me emotional, but it does fill me with a strange sense of wonder. It's harder to see with most of the other entries since they come from lesser-known games that you and I have never played before, but here we truly see that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The gross, muddled textures of scaffolding and weird pots in strange yellowed lighting...the alluring glow of some mysterious gems leading you onward...the insane looking beast corpse casually clung to the leg of the player the entire time.....these are things you would not be thinking about for a second if you ended up here on a casual playthrough. Every so often you need to stop and smell the roses.

It's been easy to make quick judgement calls of other CoG games, the ones I know almost nothing about. Any time I watch this one, I desperately want to find people who have never seen a single screenshot from Dark Souls, who know absolutely nothing about it so I can show them this video. I'm certain that if you did, if you showed this honest slice of one of the most highly-regarded video games ever made, they'd probably say "This looks like shit." And I think that's beautiful.

[ivyasproperty]

Necklace.

agathario x fem!witch!reader

summary - You made an impulsive decision and bought a necklace adorned with gems. Why?

warning(s) - some cursing

word count : 967

A/N : here reader is also a witch, but it's mentioned only once soooo..

men / minors dni!

You have no idea why you bought it. You were already struggling financially, so why in gods name did you buy a necklace worth almost your entire fortune?! You tried to calm down your racing mind, sweating buckets as you try and figure out why you made the impulsive decision to buy a necklace. You thought maybe because it was beautiful, adorned with purple and green gems, but you've seen multiple magnificent things in life and you've never made the stupid decision to buy it, even when you wanted it so badly, so when egged you to buy this monstrosity?

As you paced around your living room, necklace in hand, a sudden knock at your front door caught your attention. With how loudly and rapidly they were knocking, they've probably been at it for awhile now. You rushed to the door, not wanting to keep the person waiting and seem like a bad person, but stopped halfway. You were living in the middle of nowhere. The reason being running away from the witch hunters. Yes, you had powers, powerful ones in fact, but harming others never sat right with you. And if harming someone or something didn't sit right with you, don't even mention killing someone.

So as quickly as you could, you placed the necklace down and grabbed a nearby frying pan, just for extra measures, and rushed to open the door, but not before peeping through the windows. After seeing who was outside, you sighed in annoyance and reluctantly opened the front door. Standing there was the one and only infamous witch killer, Agatha Harkness, and beside her, Lady Death, also known as your past lovers. Things were rocky after your break up, and even though it took you awhile for your heart to heal, you managed. But seeing them in front of you brought back all the buried up emotions you spent forever to get over.

"What do you want?" "We need somewhere to camp out, pet.", said Agatha. Before you could even reply her, she brushed past you and welcomed herself into your humble abroad. "Yes, do come in," the sentence was very obviously dripped with sarcasm, but Agatha decided to ignore it. You looked back to the front door, not surprised Rio wasn't standing there, she probably teleported herself inside. As you closed the door, Agatha spoke up "What's this necklace doing here? I have to say, it is a beauty, but aren't you like... broke?" "Don't be rude." said the green witch. You snatched the necklace out of her hands and rolled your eyes, "It's none of your business, Agatha."

And as you walked away to the kitchen, necklace still in hand, that's when you realized the reason you bought the necklace Well fuck, you were in deep shit. You kept asking yourself a certain question, didn't you get over them? And you always said yes, but I guess your dumbass still hasn't gotten over them. But who could blame you? Agatha's crystal blue eyes, Rio's dark brownish hair.... oh god you were trailing off again.

As you stood there in a daze, Agatha and Rio stared at you with utter confusion. You've always been a responsive and quick-witted person, so seeing you just standing there in your own world was certainly a new experience. "What's wrong with her?", whispered Agatha, "How the hell am I supposed to know?" You came back to your senses while they were whispering, not sure how to stay calm. You were supposed to be over them! Gone! Out of your heart and mind! But as you looked back down at the necklace in your hands, you couldn't help the longing stare you gave to both the necklace and them.

Rio could sense it, the longing, the wanting them back. She nudged the witch standing beside her, whose attention was occupied by the horrid decorations of your home, which you tried make do. As she looked at you, she too couldn't help but notice the stare you were giving them. To be honest, the reason the two witches came to your doorstep was because they wanted to try and mend the relationship you guys once had. Sure, they were content with each other, but you were still etched into their minds. And with that, they just needed to exchange a knowing look and went along with their plan to win you back.

You didn't notice them moving from their spot, too focused on the necklace in your hands. So it was an understatement at the fact you were startled when two pair of hands wrapped around you. But you didn't jump away from their embrace, instead leaning into the two pair of arms. You missed this, the warmth they radiated from their bodies. Rio took the necklace and clipped it around your neck as Agatha hugged you tighter, not willing to let go as she inhaled your scent, not wanting to forget it even though it was already embedded into her senses.

"I missed this," whispered Agatha. "We all did, and we're sorry, darling. For what we've done. Agatha and I were wondering if.... you'd like to give it another chance?" It was rare for Rio's voice to be this soft. She's always been this cold hearted woman, but the vulnerability in her voice didn't startle you, instead it brought a warmness to your heart. You stood there in their embrace for awhile, contemplating whether you should accept their proposal or not. "Last chance," you whispered.

And as you three stood there together, their hands traveled to the necklace around your neck. And you felt a tingly sensation in your stomach. You should've realized the reason you bought the necklace sooner, considering how the gems that adorned it were the signature colors of your two lovers.

A/N : not that big of a fan of this but whatever!!!! hope you enjoyed this! don't hesitate to give a request!!! ><

[mrsonmyr]

the perfect boyfriend

summary: inspired by kris letang calling sid the perfect boyfriend

pairing: sidney crosby x female reader

It was a crisp April evening in Pittsburgh, the rain slicking the streets and making them shine beneath the glow of streetlights. Inside a cozy, dimly lit restaurant tucked off a quiet street, a few of the Penguins veterans had gathered for dinner. A tradition, of sorts—no press, no cameras, just a night to breathe, laugh, and talk like regular people.

Sidney sat near the end of the table, half-listening to a story Bryan Rust was telling while discreetly checking his phone under the table. A quick smile tugged at his lips as he replied to a text.

Kris Letang, seated across from him, caught it.

“Let me guess,” Kris said with a smirk, sipping his wine. “That's your girlfriend?”

Sid shrugged, a little sheepish. “Just making sure she got home okay.”

Kris rolled his eyes playfully. “You really are something else.”

“What?” Sid asked, confused but amused.

“You,” Kris said, setting down his glass, “you’re the perfect boyfriend. I don’t even think you try, that’s the wild part. It’s just… who you are.”

Sid looked like he might protest, but Kris wasn’t done.

“No, seriously. You remember the tiniest things. Like that time she mentioned her favorite flowers were peonies, and you had them sent to her apartment when you were on the road for two weeks? Who does that?”

Sid shrugged again, more bashful now. “It made her smile.”

“Exactly,” Kris said. “You cook for her—even when we’re exhausted from back-to-backs, you’re going home to make grilled salmon and roasted veggies like you’re on Top Chef. You don’t half-ass anything. Not hockey, not life, and definitely not love.��

The other guys at the table started to chime in.

“Didn’t you drive three hours to surprise her at her cousin’s wedding?” Bryan asked.

“He hates weddings,” Kris added, laughing. “But he still wore a suit, danced with her grandma, and pretended to know everyone’s name.”

“Her grandma’s awesome,” Sid mumbled, trying to stay humble.

“You send her coffee when she’s working late,” Kris said, ticking it off like a list. “You let her steal your hoodies, even though you pretend to complain. You’re patient, you listen, you never make her feel like she’s second to the game.”

Sid smiled at that one, quieter now.

“She’s not,” he said simply.

Kris nodded, his voice softening. “That’s what makes it real, man. You make her feel like she’s the center of your world, even when the whole world wants a piece of you.”

Sid leaned back, thoughtful, almost shy in the face of so much praise. But his smile said it all. He didn’t need to be called the perfect boyfriend. He just loved her—and it showed in every quiet, consistent way.

Kris raised his glass, and the others followed.

“To Sid. Captain. Legend. Boyfriend of the damn year.”

Everyone laughed, including Sid, who shook his head but clinked glasses with the rest of them.

And somewhere, probably scrolling through a goodnight message he’d just sent her, you already knew all of this—because being with him wasn’t about the grand gestures. It was about the way he showed up. Always.

The door clicked open softly, just past 10 p.m., and Sidney stepped inside, tossing his bag down and kicking off his shoes with that quiet, deliberate way he always did—like even after a full travel day and a tough game, he still didn’t want to disturb the peace.

You were curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book, candles lit on the coffee table, his favorite hoodie pulled over your frame. The second you saw him, you lit up.

“You’re home,” you said, already standing and walking over to him.

He wrapped his arms around you like he’d been waiting all week for it. “Hey.”

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in—warmth, the scent of travel, and a faint trace of the cologne you'd left on his bathroom counter.

“You tired?” you asked, pulling back to look at him.

“A little,” he said. “But I missed you more.”

You smiled, but caught the amused look tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What?”

Sid shook his head, taking off his jacket and hanging it up. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, there’s something. Spill.”

He tried to act casual as he wandered toward the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “The guys were giving me a hard time today.”

You raised a brow. “About what?”

Sid took a long sip of water, then looked over at you with a faint smirk. “Apparently… I’m the perfect boyfriend.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it. “They said that?”

“Mmhmm.” He walked back over to you, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other still holding the water. “Tanger started it. Rust jumped in. Even Jarry got a shot in.”

You were still grinning. “What, exactly, makes you so ‘perfect’?”

He looked mock-thoughtful. “Could be that I texted you a good luck message before your meeting. Or that I bring you snacks after games. Or that I don’t leave my socks on the floor.”

“That does rank high,” you said, nudging his arm.

“But then,” he added, stepping in closer, voice quieter now, “I told them something.”

“Oh?”

He reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I told them I’m not perfect. I just love you. And I try to show up for you every day.”

You stared at him, all playfulness fading into something warmer, softer.

“You do show up,” you said. “In every way.

Sid leaned in and kissed your forehead, then rested his against yours for a moment. “They can call me whatever they want. I just want to be your person. That’s enough.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You already are.”

They stood there in the soft glow of the living room for a beat longer, wrapped in each other and the kind of love that didn’t need proving—but was still felt in every quiet gesture, every joke shared, every honest word spoken.

Perfect? Maybe.

But for you, he was just Sid.

And that was everything.

[insertdisc5]

hihi!!! i absolutely adore isat and it inspired me to start making my own rpgmaker game, so i had a quick question for you! if you haven't talked about it before, how did you personally go about finding a publisher? im pretty early in my own development process but it just seems like a daunting thing to find one :o

i hope you have a wonderful day!!! :3

I'm so good at bideo game that they came to ME (sparkles) thanks start again a prologue for showing publishers I can do game good

Here's some advice for finding publishers tho (source: I have eyes, and I've taken classes about this):

-first, ask yourself: why do you need a publisher? Money, marketing, producing, all of the above? There are lots of options out there that aren't getting a publisher. You can just hire a producer (like my producer Dora Breckinridge <3)

-have a pitch ready!!!! you can find examples of pitches online, but I highly recommend looking at the Bear & Breakfast one for example. At the very least you should have concept art, if not mockups of what the game could look like, if not actual screenshots

-making a good pitch is art. Highly recommend having someone look it over. Rami Ismail has consultations available just for that purpose and he knows his stuff (all the advice I have comes from him! I took a great class of his a couple months ago)

-once you have a pitch ready, email it to literally every publisher out there. yes I know you're making an rpg and this publisher is only looking for platformers, but send it to them anyway. They will not blacklist you for this lol, worst case scenario is that they won't look at it.

-if you get zero answers, redo your pitch. If you get a couple, that's the ticket. Look at their offers and take the best one. Only say no to the others once you got that shit signed. If you get a BUNCH of answers, it means your idea rules and you could probably self publish it and don't need a publisher. But take one anyway if you want (especially for your first game!)

-having a vertical slice is always good for pitching, but not always needed? (AKA a slice of your game that shows off the story, gameplay, etc... aka shows you know how to do this)

-once you get a publisher contract, ASK A VIDEO GAME LAWYWR TO LOOK IT OVER. NOT JUST A LAWYER. A VIDEO GAME LAWYER. ITS YOUR BABY!!! FUCKING DO IT

-you should probably add a clause about if the publisher goes down. Reminder also that the video game industry is in shambles right now. Manage your expectations

-you can also self publish. It is a thing you can do. Patreon is here. Kickstarter is here. You have options!!! If you can't get a publisher it's not the end of the world!!!!!!

-I'm just a humble dev and those are my own humble thoughts as someone who got very lucky with their publisher. Armor Games was very good to me during the dev of isat!

[codeword-art]

I adore Han's character for so many reasons it's hard to articulate it. I was annoyed by Hans in KCD at first, just as much as anyone would be. He seemed like a bully, some rich snobbish dick who existed to just be the villain in Henry's story.

Except he isn't that at all.

Hans challenges Henry to an archery competition and sword fight. If Henry wins either, or both, Han's doesn't react at all like a typical bully or self-centered character. He didn't demand a rematch, try to fight Henry, or accuse him of cheating, and he doesn't even degrade Henry further out of embarrassment. Han's just goes "Damn, I must be having an off day." That is shockingly humble for someone that came at Henry so strongly before.

Our interactions with Hans from then on, and into KCD2, continue to show that Hans is a surprisingly calm, kind, and thoughtful man. He's chill as hell for a nobleman. He takes the death of his people hard. Not even forgetting about them much further into KCD2, when it'd be alright to never mention it again at that point. He even feels sorry for the people in some unknown burnt village that he has no ties too. Just the thought of that destruction and death hurts his heart.

He changes his language towards Henry's dog when he realizes how much Mutt means to Henry and even promises to help Henry look for mutt in the second game (even if that didn't pan out). He is relatively cordial with people if he has a good relationship with them and becomes shy and nervous with older and more powerful company.

He's even a romantic. Hans seems like a lecher, going from woman to woman, flirting with ladies of all classes as long as their appealing to him, but deep down he craves passion and romance like in the fairytale stories. We can see this in his romance arch with Herny, and even in KCD when he's deep in thought about going to Trosky and he tells Henry he's never had a true love before.

His actions betray his words as well. Hans will call Henry a peasant, blacksmith boy, and so on. He pulls rank on Henry often, but then he turns around and will look past anything and everything Henry does.

Oh, you stole my keys from me? That's hilarious, keep them.

You want to sleep in my bed? Go ahead I don't care.

You messed up my chance with Karolina? Whatever, she probably sucked anyway. Here, take this love poem I wrote.

You didn't win the tournament in my name like I asked? Well, that's okay, you tried your best!

There is no reason for Hans to be treating Henry with such good faith, or as equals. Hans doesn't care though. He likes Henry, a lot. The man imprinted on Henry like a duckling, and he's a ride or die for that dirty goofy blacksmith's boy.

Hans isn't perfect either. He's insecure, jealous, sometimes a coward, is a bit socially inept, and quick to pull rank when he feels attacked. Which are all side effects of his environment and the way he was raised by Hanush, who also exhibits similar personality traits. He's a bit spoiled yes, but he also likes to spoil others. He gifts Henry little things all the time, and it's clear gift giving is a love language of his. Like a little magpie, he finds all the shiny baubles and shares them with his favorite person in the whole wide world.

Hans parades around like an arrogant selfish nobleman, but deep down he's a young, fun loving, kind, and passionate man. I could write about him for ages.

[27spoons]

oh yes i know you like to write pain and heart wretching angst

i love it too but i NEED a happy ending to survive unfortunately…..but i still thing hurt and no comfort is more interesting to read

that being said imagine being natalie’s sidepiece in the wilderness and you just see her kissing and holding hands with travis all the time…..and still let her into your pants whenever

-🪐

im gonna be so real w u. i would let nat gaslight the SHIT out of me.

"i swear im gonna leave travis soon" okay say less queen!!!

"no one can know about this, they wouldn't understand" no bc ur SO right. my lips are sealed (around her clit)

"ugh travis doesnt get me like you do/never makes me feel like this" right right which is why you're leaving him soon..... right??? hahahahaha

"why was i holding his hand? i wasn't. what are you talking about?" no bc ur so right. i was seeing things. need new glasses. whoops!

which is exactly why you never fight her off when she crawls into your bedroll at night. why would you??? you can't resist her--not when she's kissing you like she's starving, grinding on your thigh like you're the only goddamn person that can give her that relief.

"c'mon..." she rasps against your lips, already clawing at your pants. "need you. we don't got 'lotta time. gotta be quick. c'mon." "mmm... what time is it?" you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "also... good morning to you too, nat." "yeah, yeah, whatever. shut up."

and once she finally manages to wiggle your pants off and slips her hand inside your underwear?????????? woof. for a second, you think she's just gonna take. that's she's here to get herself off and leave you in the aftermath. (wouldn't be the first time, whoops!)

but then--fuck. her fingers dip between your folds, and you feel bad for thinking she would leave you high-and-dry (because why would she ever do that??? exactlyyyyy, she wouldn't!)

goddddd.... she knows EXACTLY how to finger you. (honestly, probably because travis couldn't get her off so she had to learn to do it herself--) and she never takes her time, either. always just goes right to what she wants.

"shit, nat--" you hiss into her mouth, arching up into her fingers as they start to run through your folds. nat just chuckles, moving her lips to your neck, pressing wet kisses against the taut skin of your throat. "yeah? feel good, baby?" you nod as your eyes squeeze shut, her fingers finally slipping into your sopping (yes, i mean sopping. what can i say? nat just does things to you. that's why you're still letting her in your pants, anyways--) cunt, immediately burying herself to the kunckle.

her fingers fuck into you like she's getting paid to do it. seriously. she's hitting all the right spots, making your toes curl and your back arch, and you just take it--why would you do anything else??

you can't even think coherently right now. you're already shaking, biting your fist to keep from moaning too loud (because that would be very no bueno. and, after all, she's right. no one would understand the relationship you two have, anyway).

and she always kisses you when you come. like... fuuuuuuuuck. the second she feels you clamping down on her fingers, her free hand is moving your fist from your mouth and replacing it with her mouth.

and nat can kiss. im a firm believer this girl kisses with a passion that even the greats couldn't touch. AND she's humble about it. truly a masterclass.

when she kisses you, she tastes every inch of your mouth. like she's trying to claim something that isn't hers. you arch into her all the same, arms looping around her neck and holding her against you as your walls spasm around her fingers.

"jesus, you're always so loud," she vaguely complains, but the way her lips twitch upwards tell you it's more of a compliment. almost like she's proud of herself. "your fault," you murmur as she withdraws her fingers, cleaning them off with her tongue--which is, admittedly, a sight to behold. you could come again just from the imagery alone. nat just snorts as she helps you pull your pants back up (so nice of her fr!!! maybe she will leave travis for you!!), but doesn't comment further on the manner. in fact, she's just... leaving?? "wait, what?" you immediately prop yourself up on your elbows, "you're leaving? you don't want me to return the favour?" she just shoots you an easy smirk. "next time, pretty lady. i gotta get back to trav before he wakes up, yeah?" she pats your cheek sardonically, "gotta hunt and shit. try and survive without me."

then she leaves, and... god. you hate to see her leave, but you love to watch her go.

she'll be back. and she'll definitely leave travis for you. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[just-some-user-hunny]

Thinking about bastard!readers upbringing with yandere Targaryens...

~So obviously reader has come from a rather humble background. Shes used to collecting water from streams and communal wells, mending her simple scraps of clothes, and eating plain food like stale bread and lentils.

The whiplash she'd get once she's thrust into the limelight of royalty- plentiful fresh water and milk, beautiful ornate outfits, and plentiful food of whatever she desires. It'd probably take her a while to eat comfortably, wishing her mother and little brothers could eat this well too. Thinking of them sitting alone at home with rumbling tummies always killed her appetite.

~ You can imagine Daemons frustration, and Rhaenyra's growing anxiety as they watch the little princess refuse to eat another bite at mealtimes. Her expression stern and stubborn, willing to ignore little lukes encouragement to at least eat a little more. His mousy brown eyes peering at her all sweetly, a little hand nudging at her fork.

"Darling, eat your food. You'll be hungry". Is all Daemon will utter. Fixing you with a stern and silent look. His whole visage is demanding and poised.

"My mummy and brothers are hungry right now".

The table will fall into utter silence. The occasional scrape of utensils and clutter of servants placing dishes out upon tables will fill the still room, and suddenly the air grows thick and uncomfortable.

"They would be. If they were still yours. Now eat, don't be unseemly". Daemon is the only one to brave against your words, and Rhaenyra shoots her husband a stern look and pursed lips.

At his cold words, your eyes water, and everyone holds their breath because they know it's going to be another tearful night.

"Must you be so callous". Rhaenyra hisses beneath her breath, watching solemnly as you wiggle out of your seat and leave the room- a maiden following close behind, seeking to comfort you. Your soft sniffles echoing in the hall alongside the quick paced pitter-patter of your footsteps down the hall.

~ Eventually she may grow out of this with age, but it doesn't make it any less stressful on Daemon and the rest of the family. You'll probably spend most of your time picking at food and drink, and distracting yourself by talking to your half-sisters and brothers, or maybe even Helaena. She is good, friendly company.

~ Now it would probably become a little overwhelming to constantly entertain every single family member who wants to occupy your space and company, so you'd probably find hobbies like reading and writing, horseback riding, sewing, and causing a little harmless chaos amongst the castle.

~ It'd be more than amusing to clamber up into a tree and watch everyone go into a panic trying to find you, knights dashing around with their glinting silver armour and billowing capes, or handmaidens calling for you whilst offering honeyed cakes and toys as attempts to lure you out.

~ It's only when a mildly frantic Daemon hears your muffled giggles in the gardens, right above his head, does he realise your antics. He'll peer up at you with a not very impressed look, but still, he'll encourage threaten you with time-out to clamber back down into his reaching arms.

~ Due to Bastard!readers constant attempts to escape, or wade back through the ocean, your disappearances are always met with panic. At some point, to quelm everyones anxieties of you escaping, you'll be assigned your own personal handmaiden/lady in waiting, and a knight. Your handmaiden will diligently be by your side 24/7, and your knight will accompany you whenever outside of the castle walls. You are free to roam the gardens and beaches, but as long as he is by your side.

~ I can see bastard!reader being a little sweet but mischievous thing with her personal knight. Curious of his sword, shyly trying to slip it from it's sheathe- only for a large armoured gloved hand to gently persuade her hand away from the blade's handle.

(maybe Harwin strong is made her personal protector? And there's silent beef between him and Cristen Cole as they're both competitive platonic yanderes for her? I might go into that more later 😌)

~ Until you become bound to the cannibal, your family would be very insistent of you relying on them and their dragons. Vermax is a sweet chirpy boy around you, like a little song-filled canary. Morning and Moondancer are passive and gentle to you, and syrax is doting. I can also see Sunfyre being a sweet boy to you (regardless of how Aegon treats you, Sunfyres actions always speak the truth of his genuine feelings towards you. Chirping and purring, nudging you around for attention and pets). Your parents however will only ever trust you to mount their dragons, since their children are willing and eager for you to ride with them, they simply feel it safer you stay with them.

~ Just Rhaenyra gently explaining to a deflated looking Luke and Jace that they have to wait till they've grown older and more experienced to have you ride dragon-back with them. Sadly, both boys will never achieve this dream of their. If you know, you know :(

If anyone has any more thoughts/ideas to elaborate, I'd love to hear them!!! I have so many ideas they keep getting jumbled up, and can't decide 😅