#PETITION ! WE WILL NOT BE-CHIPPED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nihilityuniverse · 2 months

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𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost

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Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐨

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Eight members of the Harbingers had gathered in the palace-like church. Inside, the air was so frigid that the nation's flags began to freeze, crackling under the intense cold. No candles lit the space; only the ethereal glow of the polar lights streaming through the stained-glass windows provided illumination.

A petite woman with long hair, her eyes concealed behind a delicate white lace mask, hums a familiar lullaby from her deceased friend as she leans against a casket. Her voice echoes softly in the frozen stillness.

The eight other Harbingers watched her from a distance, each wearing a similar coat of identical design. By order of Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, all Harbingers were required to attend the funeral, even the elusive 0th Harbinger.

The 0th Harbinger, code name: Innamorati — The Lovers;

A figure shrouded in mystery and danger, Innamorati remained an enigma even to her fellow Harbingers.

Known only by whispers and rumors, she was a being crafted by the Cryo Archon herself, a weapon designed to challenge the Celestial Gods. Hidden away for years, her existence was the subject of much speculation.

Some Harbingers were indifferent, focusing solely on the success of their plans, while others were intensely curious. Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, claimed to know nothing about her, adding to her mystique.

Rumors abounded: some said Innamorati would annihilate anyone who crossed her path; others believed she had perished decades ago, her legend merely a shadow from the past.

What they all knew for certain was that Innamorati had a notorious reputation for forgetting critical missions assigned by Tsaritsa herself. This unreliability made her both feared and ridiculed within their ranks.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade," an old dwarf with a long nose and mustache solemnly broke the deafening silence. "In honor of her sacrifice, all work shall halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

"Hehe, merely half a day...?" Pantalone laughed coldly, crossing his hands in front of his chest with a mocking smile. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears... But mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

"Rosalyne died in a foreign land," Arlecchino stepped forward, her crimson red X-cross pupils glowing dangerously bright with annoyance. "But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always find a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland..." She frowned. "You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut?! We don't want to make the children cry."

"Hey, c'mon now, even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight," Childe chipped in, lazily sitting on one of the wooden benches.

"Utterly risible!" Sandrone mocked, and the machine behind her emitted an audible angry sound.

"Though her methods tarnished her honor, Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress," Capitano's deep voice resonated through the entire palace, catching everyone's attention.

He turned towards the Doctor, his face hidden behind a dark veil. "But Dottore... What of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

Dottore smiled, twirling a tube filled with blue liquid between his fingers. "Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the Divine Gaze, he will make his next move."

The heavy, frozen church door creaked open, allowing the bitter winter air to sweep inside. Everyone turned their gaze towards it, even Columbina, who had paused her humming.

A woman, clad in a coat of the same design as theirs, stepped into the church, holding a red paper umbrella. The door closed behind her with a resounding bang. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall, a stark contrast to the silence that had filled the room.

Her face remained obscured by shadows, yet every person in the room knew instinctively that she was not someone to be trifled with.

The sense of her power and presence was palpable, a mutual understanding among them all. To cross her would be to invite disaster.

This was Innamorati, the 0th Harbinger, a figure shrouded in mystery and danger, whose very presence commanded respect and fear.

As she advanced, the air seemed to grow even colder, the weight of her presence adding to the already frigid atmosphere. Each step she took resonated with authority, and the silence in the room deepened, a silent acknowledgment of her status among them.

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Finally, you found your way to the place where the funeral was to be held. You hadn't thought you would make it in time, given the ferocity of the snowstorm that had nearly obscured your path and made the journey treacherous.

Your heels clicked sharply with each step as you approached the group of people gathered at the center, where the casket lay. You set your red paper umbrella on one of the wooden benches, the action deliberate and unhurried.

As the shadow over your face disappeared, the polar light from the stained-glass windows illuminated your features.

With the shadow gone, the collective breath of the eight Harbingers halted involuntarily.

Your beauty was striking: peach-colored, plump lips; long, dark eyelashes framing eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of winter. Your skin was pale and flawless, with a cold radiance that mirrored the icy surroundings. Your presence was both ethereal and commanding, a juxtaposition of delicate grace and chilling power.

You stopped a few steps before the group of Harbingers—your comrades—and looked up at them.

"0th Harbinger, Innamorati... That is what they call me. You may call me whatever you wish," you introduced yourself, your voice ethereal and soft, yet so cold and lifeless it sent shivers down their spines. "This must be the first time we meet."

"You are quite late, Lord Innamorati," Pulcinella, the old dwarf, addressed you with a mix of respect and caution.

After all, The top-ranked Harbingers, from rank 1 to No. 3, possess powers that can rival the gods. So what about No. 0? Could she surpass the powers of the gods? Or even be greater?

You let out an annoyed sigh. "All the snow-covered streets look the same, and the blizzard did not make navigating to this gathering any easier."

Pantalone chuckled, turning towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If I had known, I would have taken you with me in my carriage, Lady Innamorati. Alas, I am left to wonder why there were no escorts ready for you. I thought I had ordered the highest-ranked Skirmishers for your protection." His voice was dangerously smooth, laden with speculation, hinting at the rumors of you annihilating anyone who crossed your path.

Before you could respond, Childe interjected from the side. "Huh? The oh-so-feared Innamorati getting lost in a mere snowstorm? This is truly a sight to behold." His tone dripped with mockery.

"Were you also getting lost on the way to your missions?" His voice carried an angry undertone, bitterness seeping through his words.

He had often been the one to hurriedly take on your missions at the last minute, running from one nation to another like a lackey. The mission to obtain the Geo Archon's Gnosis had been assigned to you, not him, nor the now-deceased Signora. In the end, he had faced severe repercussions after the Northland Bank had to pay heavy reparations.

If gazes could kill, Childe would have been long dead under Pantalone's icy stare. Though his slight smile remained, his eyes closed behind his glasses, he radiated a murderous aura. He longed to hear your voice again and to capture your attention. Such a rare opportunity shouldn't be wasted.

"Insolent child! How dare you—!" Sandrone hissed at Childe, her anger palpable. She, too, feared inciting your wrath. If Childe weren't a fellow Harbinger, Sandrone would have killed him long ago for destroying her ruin guard factory.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics."

A deep, husky voice resonated through the church, cutting through the cold silence like a blade.

The man stepped forward from the shadows, his right side concealed by a dark mask. It was Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, and his presence commanded instant respect.

His voice, cold and demanding, echoed with authority as he advanced towards the casket.

"Right now, you have no captive audience," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Harbingers and guests, silently commanding them to gather and pay heed.

You stood on the opposite side of Pierro, your own presence a stark contrast to his imposing figure.

"Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and let this nation endure for all time," Pierro intoned, his voice carrying the weight of solemn duty.

The assembly lowered their heads in reverence, eyes closing as he delivered the farewell speech. Your hand drifted absently towards your Divine Key, a subconscious gesture.

"In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa," Pierro continued, his voice imbued with a steely resolve, "we will seize authority from the gods."

After several minutes of mournful meditation, Pierro broke the silence and left the building, his movements purposeful and commanding.

The others followed in silent procession, a testament to their respect and shared grief. You took your red paper umbrella, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the freezing, snow-covered landscape.

"Absolute peace."

As you all departed, the church behind you began to freeze over, layers of crystal ice encasing it under the unyielding winter sky, which shimmered with the ethereal glow of the aurora.

"Such is the gift from the Tsaritsa, such is Her Majesty's benevolence," Pierro declared, his voice carrying a chilling reverence as he halted and gazed up at the celestial lights.

"Now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice. But, Rosalyne, I promise you..."

"Your final resting place will be the entirety of the Old World," Pierro's voice echoed through the night sky, his farewell imbued with a cold resolve that matched the frozen land around you.

As you watched the polar light dancing across the vast darkness of the sky, a thought surfaced in your mind. You had never known this person, but you had made a promise to someone...

You halted in your steps and glanced back at the frozen church.

Some tasks have to be done, even if they seem pointless.

Amidst the snow, you caught a glimpse of shadowy hands emerging from the icy landscape, reaching out towards the sky one by one, as if seeking transcendence. As you blinked, everything returned to normal.

"Another Memory..."

"Lady Innamorati, is something the matter?" Pierro's voice broke through your reverie as he noticed you staring back at the frozen church.

"...meaningless," you whispered to yourself, yet the faint wind carried your words to Pierro.

"Pardon?" Pierro asked again, this time capturing the attention of some of the other Harbingers, especially Dottore. The Doctor, ever curious, considered whether you might make an intriguing subject for his experiments.

"It's nothing. Continue without me. I wish to be alone," you ordered, your voice light as silk yet cold as ice. Pierro nodded, casting one last glance at you before leaving.

Dottore lingered a moment longer, watching you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. As he did, the falling snow seemed to halt and move backward, defying the natural order.

"Existence is fleeting as the dawn's dew," your voice echoed in a dimension separate from the real world, where time had ceased.

Dottore's breath caught as he watched you, disbelief etched across his features. His analytical mind struggled to comprehend the anomaly unfolding before him.

"Yet, I guide the wandering souls on the still waters of oblivion..."

The dimension around you cracked like glass, shattering as you began to walk towards the church.

"...and weep for the departed."

A powerful gust of wind struck Dottore, and in that moment, he perceived everything yet nothing. The world seemed meaningless and empty. He felt his body ascending, his soul slipping away...

"Don't look back..." Your ethereal voice called to him, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

He felt a pull from behind, "Move forward," you whispered. In the next instant, he stood where Pierro had asked if you were alright moments before.

Dottore's breath hitched, his cold heart pounding faster than ever. This was neither a dream nor an illusion. He knew this with certainty. What had just happened? The question echoed in his mind, a mystery as deep as the winter night itself.

One thing was certain: he had unmistakably felt the presence of the Almighty One—the Divine Creator.

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

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Forest Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!

When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”

But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you.

You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.

MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?

sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.

darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!

sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?

darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.

sendmeanangel:...

MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!

It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.

Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work.

You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.

Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.

The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.

"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.

You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.

"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."

Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.

Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.

Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong.

"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"

"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.

"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."

"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."

"I think I'll manage, but thank you."

As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.

You were headed into the wolf's den.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.

Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.

A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?

You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.

"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.

Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.

"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket”, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…

“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.

“No. Do you know what’s in there?”

“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.

“Something funny?”

“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.

“That it will be.”

You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.

“How do we…um, how does this start?”

“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”

What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.

“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”

Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.

“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”

Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.

“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”

What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’

“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.

“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”

“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.

“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”

“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response.

“Here or…?”

“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form.

“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”

You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him.

“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”

Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.

“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.

With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.

“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”

The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off.

Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.

You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.

You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.

Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.

For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”

You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.

This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.

“What are you doing here, little one?”

You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?

“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.

“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”

You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.

“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.

“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered.

Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.

“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”

You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying.

Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip.

He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.

The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.

“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”

There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.

Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed.

They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.

“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”

His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”

You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.

He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.

You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.

As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.

You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.

"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.

His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.

"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.

"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.

He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.

"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."

If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.

"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.

You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.

"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.

Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.

"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"

You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.

"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.

You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.

"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"

He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.

Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.

Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.

You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.

As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.

In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.

But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least one last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.

"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.

"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"

His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.

"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.

"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.

Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.

"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"

You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.

"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.

“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?”

You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.

“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)

Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):

@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #werewolf!walter x reader #walter marshall #werewolf!walter #spoopy season #forest fantasy #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #could be a series #who knows?#mine #deandoesthingstome

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robertreich · 8 months

Video

youtube

The Silent Revolution in American Economics

I don't think you're expecting what I'm about to say, because I have never seen anything like this in fifty years in politics.

For decades I've been sounding an alarm about how our economy has become increasingly rigged for the rich. I've watched it get worse under both Republicans and Democrats, but what President Biden has done in his first term gives me hope I haven't felt in years. It’s a complete sea change.

Here are three key areas where Biden is fundamentally reshaping our economy to make it better for working people.

#1 Trade and industrial policy

Biden is breaking with decades of reliance on free-trade deals and free-market philosophies. He’s instead focusing on domestic policies designed to revive American manufacturing and fortify our own supply chains.

Take three of his signature pieces of legislation so far — the Inflation Reduction Act, the CHIPS Act, and his infrastructure package. This flood of government investment has brought about a new wave in American manufacturing.

Unlike Trump, who just levied tariffs on Chinese imports and used it as a campaign slogan, Biden is actually investing in America’s manufacturing capacity so we don’t have to rely on China in the first place.

He’s turning the tide against deals made by previous administrations, both Democratic and Republican, that helped Wall Street but ended up costing American jobs and lowering American wages.

#2 Monopoly power

Biden is the first president in living memory to take on big monopolies.

Giant firms have come to dominate almost every industry. Four beef packers now control over 80 percent of the market, domestic air travel is dominated by four airlines, and most Americans have no real choice of internet providers.

In a monopolized economy, corporate profits rise, consumers pay higher prices, and workers’ wages shrink.

But under the Biden, the Federal Trade Commission and the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department have become the most aggressive monopoly fighters in more than a half century. They’re going after Amazon and Google, Ticketmaster and Live Nation, JetBlue and Spirit, and a wide range of other giant corporations.

#3 Labor

Biden is also the most pro-union president I’ve ever seen.

A big reason for the surge in workers organizing and striking for higher wages is the pro-labor course Biden is charting.

The Reagan years blew in a typhoon of union busting across America. Corporations routinely sunk unions and fired workers who attempted to form them. They offshored production or moved to so-called “right-to-work” states that enacted laws making it hard to form unions.

Even though Democratic presidents promised labor law reforms that would strengthen unions, they didn’t follow through. But under Joe Biden, organized labor has received a vital lifeboat. Unionizing has been protected and encouraged. Biden is even the first sitting president to walk a picket line.

Biden’s National Labor Relations Board is stemming the tide of unfair labor practices, requiring companies to bargain with their employees, speeding the period between union petitions and elections, and making it harder to fire workers for organizing.

Americans have every reason to be outraged at how decades of policies that prioritized corporations over people have thrown our economy off-keel.

But these three waves of change — a worker-centered trade and industrial policy, strong anti-monopoly enforcement, and moves to strengthen labor unions — are navigating towards a more equitable economy.

It’s a sea change that’s long overdue.

#youtube #Joe Biden #politics #economics #video #videos

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

All In 2

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, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, 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: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

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 finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all in #au #casino au #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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marchsfreakshow · 3 months

Text

Watermelon Ice Cream [Jimmy Darling]

Smut.

Some of the people from the Freakshow had decided to visit the beach on the hottest day of the year. Jimmy noticed you sitting there all alone, and decided to strike up a conversation.

Warnings: too much plot for a smut fic, dub-con, oral, face riding, praise, almost public sex in some way. One use of y/n.

First Jimmy smut please be nice to me I am so nervous. I'm also admitting that I literally got this idea from the watermelon icecream pops I have in my freezer at home.

18+! MINORS DNI!

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Desiree and Dell decided to take Pepper, Salty and Ma Petite to the beach. A stroke of confidence hit them and the sun just kept getting hotter and hotter. Those who were less secure stayed back to look after the Freakshow. Jimmy decided to come along despite refusing to take his gloves off. He was sweating his hands off but was very stubborn about it.

Where did you fit in this? Sitting in the middle of your family's items. Watching your family and friends sit by the water or swim out by the shore. Not that you didn't want to go for a swim, you just figured that someone should stay behind and watch everyone's stuff. Sitting lonely was fine for you, people playing by the water made you happy no matter what. It was only when your little cousin almost screamed that you noticed Jimmy. Your cousin was playing around with Pepper. And was a bit overwhelming for them. "Rebecca! Come on, come have some ice cream!" You said over to her. Jimmy looked over to you again as your cousin ran into your arms.

"We have actual ice pops or watermelon Ice cream pops." You mentioned quietly. Jimmy smiled as he watched how motherly you were with the little one. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. As your cousin picked up the watermelon box, you glanced over to the man. You gave him a little smile as the eye contact you met him with was warm and sweet. But it was broken when your cousin threw the box back in the icer. "Rebecca don't throw them! C'mon, you know better than that." She giggled and handed you one of the ice cream pops. Both of you opened it and Rebecca giggled at the sight of them being watermelon-shaped.

"What are those?" She asked, pointing to the little black seeds engrossed in the pop.

"Chocolate chips. Try it." You chuckled, starting to suck on the top of the ice cream. Your gaze landed back on Jimmy. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your mouth and tongue that was going around the sweet and cold pop. As you licked and sucked innocently, your eyes met his gloves. Gloves? In this weather? In this hot, blazing weather?

Your cousin had run off to sit by her mother, so you were alone again. Jimmy took this opportunity to sit by you and talk to you. You watched him get up and take a few steps towards you, before sitting by some of the bags. "That your little one?" He started, smiling and pointing to Rebecca.

You pulled the ice cream out of your mouth with a little pop, licking your lips of the flavours. Oh you were just giving it away to him, weren't you? "Hm? No, she's my cousin. She does sort of stick to me like glue though, very sweet girl." It made a little giggle escape you, and you glanced over to him, unaware of the ice cream melting down on your hands. The blush on Jimmy's face was obvious as you watched your oblivious smile at him. You dumbed his blush down to his gloves being too hot. "oh. Oh shi.." You muttered, picking up a little paper towel and putting it around the stick, immediately letting the melting pop drip into your mouth. Just to make it worse for Jimmy, you sucked it until the melting cream was all done.

"You...you okay?" He asked, glancing at the sticky cream dribbling down your hand and your arm. Oh if only he could lick it off your arm, taste the sweet watermelon flavour that was sticking to your arm. You nodded, putting the towel and wooden stick in the small bag for the trash. Jimmy felt so confident yet insecure, wanting to ask you if he could.. 'clean' your arm, for you. Since you were as sweet as sugar, and such a darling.

"I'm doing alright. Just forgot how hot this sun is, I'm a quick eater though." You chuckled, resting your hands behind you. Jimmy wanted to look at you in your eyes properly, but those glasses hid you. He wanted to...so many words and thoughts. Secret eye contact was made not so secret as you took your sunglasses off and met your eyes. Let's not get lost in those eyes, Darling...You cleared your throat and pointed over to where he came from and he looked over to Ma Petite and Desirée in the water together. "Are you the carny folk who set up shop around here?" You asked, interested in the potential answer.

"Yeah, the Freakshow," Jimmy admitted almost nervously, such a sweet one in front of him, and he didn't want to freak you out with his hands. "Not all of us though, most of em stayed behind."

It clicked in your head why he wore those damned leather gloves now. "Oh! Oh, you're Jimmy Darling, right? Your mother is Ethel?" A proud smile appeared on your shaded face, and he nodded, almost confused since most knew them as Lobster Boy and the bearded lady. "I overheard my mother talking to Desirée over there a while ago when we went in for a visit."

Ah, so you'd visited them before? Interesting. "You've come to show before? Sad I didn't see you." Jimmy chuckled. The watermelon flavour had dried itself as a light red on your fingers and about 2 little red streaks down to your elbow. He bet it would've tasted as good with your sweat. Oh, Ew. Jimmy, really? Gross! He cursed himself for even thinking something so filthy. You were such a darling thing, that couldn't've been something you liked. He'd just let you know, and you could clean yourself up, instead of... feeling Jimmy's tongue run up and down your fingers as he tasted the treat. So, Jimmy cleared his throat before you answered and mentioned; "oh, uh, thought I'd mention-"

You had run your tongue over your arm, keeping a paper towel in your other hand, ready to pat the saliva off. Well if he wasn't hard before, he certainly was now. Seeing the way you sucked the tips of your fingers quickly sent him spiralling. Desperately wanting to have that same feeling. "Hm?" You fluttered your eyelashes as you glanced over, immediately stopping yourself. "Oh! My, sorry about that, I didn't even realise."

No that was perfectly okay with Jimmy. He could've watched you all day. Creepy. "Ha- no matter. I was about to mention that dried ice cream."

"well thank you for attempting to mention it, sir!"

"Course." One little nod.

Minutes passed. Quick glances at each other. Oh, something was happening, there really was. Not one person around you two was aware of those little tension-filled feelings bubbling in his throat. Those words he ached to say and desperately needed to let go of. Small looks, and tiny smiles as you avoided his gaze.

As soon as Jimmy built up that insecure courage to work his charm, you were gone. Where on earth..? Where you were sat was replaced with an older gentleman, presumably a grandfather or your father. But, he was determined now. He had to ask. Nonchalantly, Jimmy stood up and walked up the beach to the small road. There was only so much of you to remember. A cute white romper, mainly. It complimented you perfectly, and his desires ran with that thought. Maybe if he heard that smooth voice of yours.

He carried his little stroll down the top of the beach and came across a little tent. Bright and red. Couldn't hurt to peek in and see if it's empty. "Hello again! Very sorry for disappearing on you like that, I just wanted to go for a small stroll." Ah, your voice. Jimmy could've listened to you all day. But he stepped in and cleared his throat.

"i-its no worries! I uh, was also headin' for a stroll, it's a nice beach." His awkwardness and insecurity got the best of him, and it was obvious through his small stutters. Your eyes met again, this time; desire and want more obvious in the burning red tent than in the blazing sun shining upon the both of you. Eye contact is silent and filled with unspoken likes.

Sudden hot leather on your back. Almost burning you between your shoulder blades. And a groan desperately escaping your lips due to the fabric sticking to you. Oh if only there was a hard surface in this burning area. The lava-like sand would have to do. Jimmy let himself hit the sand and brought you down with him. Wanting to give in and help you with your undressing, but his mind couldn't stop yelling the insecurities at him. Wait, what you were doing? He looked up at you as you smiled innocently, undoing his gloves, and taking them off sickenly slowly. You were too pure for him, he could tell now. But his want to taste you were bigger, and let you know that you were probably going to be the sweetest-tasting lady he'd ever come across.

"c'mere sweetheart..." Jimmy soothed, your clothes bunching around your ankles. He pulled it off one of your legs, so it swung around your other ankle. And his hands just didn't stop at caressing your legs, no. He brought you right up close to his lips and his warm breath. Feeling him breath purposely on you, just sent a cooling shiver up your back. And then sent a rush of arousal down to create a little spot on your underwear. Embarrassing, but you knew this probably wasn't the time to feel embarrassed about being so wet so easily. If anything, it made Jimmy just want you more and more.

Holding onto your hips and grazing his nails over your skin, he watched you pull your underwear to the side with hesitance. Such a darling thing. Seeing just how much slick created a small thread between you and your underwear. Every little breath he took inched closer and closer till his lips met your clit. Running his tongue over and over as your quiet noises got louder and louder. Jimmy could barely keep his lips and tongue on one part of you, you were so wet. The vibrations from his small groan caused a little jerk of your hips and urged yourself closer to him.

Eyes lost to the back of your head. The sound of his tongue practically working magic on you and hearing him slurp everything in his mouth. Every noise and feeling making your moans, whimpers and whines louder. You couldn't help but let your hand cover your own mouth, just in case anyone was standing outside, waiting for the tent to not be occupied anymore. Jimmy whispered against you smoothly, "Good girl, you're doing so well sweetheart." But he couldn't help himself but go straight back to his work, practically overstimulating you with only his tongue and his thumb. If he let himself taste your sensitive clit again, his thumb would be teasing your dripping entrance.

"oh my...my god-!" Were the words you screamed as everything washed over you after a short while. Your hips bucked once again and Jimmy let you ride out your sweet orgasm against his slick lips. He let out another little groan as he licked you more, taking in as much as your come as possible. He knew you would taste as sweet as those watermelon Ice cream pops you had earlier.

Eventually, you came down from that quick high and used whatever you could to clean yourself up. Shivering a bit, you slipped your underwear back to its original position, and your romper went back on you.

Jimmy and you smiled softly at each other. He held his gloves in one hand, the hot, black leather sticking to his hand instantly. The other hand held yours. You just kept a smile on your face as he walked you out of the tent, loving the fact you didn't care much for his claws. And the walk was a comfortable, hot and sweaty silence. Despite everything, Jimmy's cock still throbbed in his trousers, and his urge to have you again, properly, was big. But the both of you sat down again by your respective belongings, letting a little bit of space happen.

"..Jimmy." he chuckled after a bit of silence, holding his hand out like you hadn't ridden his face a couple minutes earlier.

You took his hand and giggled quietly. "I know..." You started as the sweltering sun burned brighter. "Y/N."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @briaroftheroses @taintandviolent @babygorewhore // @oceanblvd111 @nahoyasboyfriend @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re // @feefymo @slutforgarlogan

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #Jimmy Darling #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #jimmy darling smut #freakshow #ahs freakshow #smut #ahs fic #american horror story freakshow

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ct-cactus · 2 years

Text

This is a petition to make Kix have his own show. Each upvote as an agreement with this statement so we can show Dave Filoni that we want a Kix-centric series because everybody loves the prettiest clone in the GAR. We require a series that details Kix’s discovery of the chips, his kidnapping, his experiences as the last vod alive, his time with the Crimson Corsair. WE NEED KIX!!!

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leonw4nter · 5 months

Note

i was wondering if you had any general dating headcanons for re2r leon (and fem reader)? like how he would act in a relationship, treat is partner, etc (sorry if this is vague i just really enjoy your writing so when i saw requests open i ran here lol)

General Dating Headcanons with RE2R!Leon x Fem!Reader

RE2R!Leon x Fem!Reader

When you two were first dating, he was shy and didn’t initiate most displays of affection aside from kissing or wanting to hold hands but after a month and a half, he was a lot more himself now. He wouldn’t hesitate to ask for cuddles now and is a lot more comfortable with giving you kisses on the cheek or hair in public.

Once his coworkers catch a glimpse of the cutesy messages you two send to each other, he will start fighting for his life in the work group chat. There was one particular incident where you left work early in order to surprise Leon and pick him up. Throughout the day, he was quiet and reserved but as soon as he saw you out of the corner of his eyes, his eyes twinkled and the widest grin spread on his face. His voice raised in pitch and he practically skipped over to you for a big hug.

When you two are working in your shared bedroom, doing individual tasks, and he realizes that you two aren’t talking but there’s a peaceful feeling, he’ll point it out and say something along the lines of “we’re like a married couple because we’re doing our own thing but it feels nice and we don’t feel obligated to entertain the other because our presence is enough” and then follows up with some random sentence and gets back to typing away in his laptop or reading reports again.

While dating, he developed the habit of saying the most romantic and poetic thing ever only to get back to doing something weird; just a day ago, he said “In the vast expanse of outer space and all the stars and galaxies in there, my universe begins and ends with you” then proceeded to hit his elbow against the chair, which made him cry out in pain and curl up in the ground.

Leon also tends to play with your stuffed animals in a way that he makes them do flips or do a little dance sometimes, to heal his inner child that he never got to bask in because of his rough childhood.

In the unfortunate event that you and him got into an argument, he would be the type to walk up to Jill and say “I should set myself on fire”. Jill will definitely look at him all confused and concerned, saying “And why is that…?” and he will respond with “Y/N and I got into an argument. She’s mad and I need to set myself on fire to feel the turmoil I have caused in her heart.”. Jill doesn’t know how to comfort him in this time so she pats his shoulder, giving Leon a judgemental side-eye but she knows he means well. In the end, she will give him advice like treating you to ice cream or doing all the chores for an entire week to appease you and calm the storm in your heart.

Although he earns well, he saves up and doesn’t buy most of what he wants (for example, a Linkin Park CD) so he could spoil you and buy you things without worrying about the expenses. In the end, he ends up being at the receiving end of your spoiling because you felt that today was a good day and ended up buying him the CD he’s been eyeing for.

He’s also the type to scold other men for looking down on their partners and start fighting them to treat their partners right; before dating, he already did that but it was much more meaningful to him after you two started dating. If he was already the type to help his female coworkers ask for a day off due to cramps, he upgraded by petitioning to install sanitary pad vending machines in all the women’s restrooms in his workplace and offering to chip in some money for the said machine. At first, you were worried that he did all that just to get your approval or for you to cave in to giving him a chance but Jill and a few other female coworkers of his said that he’s been doing that ever since.

Leon kept the relationship secret for a little bit (he sucked at hiding it); Chris and Jill decided to check if you and him were dating so they said your name in a conversation they made sure Leon could hear loud and clear. In the end, Leon promptly turned around with the most dilated pupils, sparkly eyes, and a giddy ass smile and boom they caught him.

He won’t be the type to ask from you because he’s going to feel like a high-maintenance boyfriend; he’d hint but very subtly if there’s something that he wants and if you somehow managed to guess what he wanted correctly, he’d blush and then admit he did want it but he’ll always add “but I don’t want it a lot, it’s no big deal!”. If you do get him what he wanted, no matter how simple the thing you got him was, he’d always jump around and giggle before giving you a big hug and his “thank you”s.

He’s very cheerful and happy, he’d do his best to make you laugh and smile but if it’s not one of those days, he’d offer to stay silent and just listen to whatever you’re venting. He’d give his own thoughts and advice but he’ll make sure to listen to every single word you say. It would turn into a full-on rant + shit talk session and you always manage to feel a lot better afterwards and that enough is okay for him.

If you were sick, he’d be so worried sick. As soon as you say that your throat’s feeling a little weird, your head is pounding, and your temperature is above normal he WILL fetch you the most heavenly and refreshing jug of water and cook you chicken noodle soup or congee with bits of chicken. He’d bring a tray with your food, water, and Advil. Oh, he’d also have a trash bin ready if you’ll need to vomit. He’d help you up, propping pillows behind you so you’d be able to comfortably sit up in bed. He’d tell you that he’ll take a day off to look after you but you disagree, urging him to go to work the next day because you’re grown and can look after yourself. He’s hesitant but decides to go to work anyway. On the way home, he’d pick up some more pills and some warm food. He also wouldn’t forget to wring the wet towel on top of your forehead and adjust it if needed.

If he was the one sick, he’d try to play off what he was feeling. He’ll try to downplay the itching in his throat and how he’s so dizzy and on the verge of falling over. You’d catch on to him and tell him to get back to bed and rest, while you do the same thing he does for you: cook food, place a damp towel on his forehead, and try to help him out to the best of your ability. He wouldn’t ask for massages but you’d give him one anyway, a sigh of relief occasionally leaving his lips when you soothe the joints he didn’t notice was sore. He feels pathetic whenever he’s sick but he’s very thankful that there’s someone who’s willing to help him and take care of him until he’s back to full health.

When you two got into an argument, he’d feel bad. He got the last word but at what cost? You’re not speaking to him and the only look you’d give him is a glare and side-eye, if he’s lucky– sometimes, you wouldn’t look at him at all. He’d feel extremely guilty and he’d try to talk to you but the cold glare you’d give him was enough to make him forget whatever he wanted to say. He’d try to make up for whatever mistake he made by cleaning up the apartment, arranging your items, cooking you your favorite meals, or driving you to and from wherever you need to be.

He’d ask his female coworkers for help, especially his coworkers in relationships. He’d approach them with a pocket notebook and pen in hand, ready to write away whatever wisdom they’d give. That day, he got off work early and sped home in order to prepare a nice dinner and run a nice, warm bath. When you arrived, he offered to undo the laces of your shoes and pack away your coat and bag. When you were done, he served your favorite meal and watched you eat. He explained how sorry he was and swore to never plant the seeds of anger and resentment in your heart ever again and to be a better boyfriend for you. You chuckled and accepted his apology, giving him a peck to the cheek before continuing to finish your dinner.

If you’re on your period and the blood somehow leaked on the bed, he wouldn’t feel disgusted or get mad at you for staining the sheets. He’d always say that you don’t get to control when you want to bleed and that you have enough troubles for a week every month so cleaning the sheets and replacing them would be one of the things he can do to help you. If you two were somewhere outside and your blood seeped through your jeans, he’d take his jacket and wrap it around your waist. If he didn’t have a jacket around, he’d walk you to the restroom while rushing somewhere to get you some new underwear and pants, along with tampons or pads and some tissues.

If you didn’t own one already, he’d look for those heating pads that wrap around your waist like a giant band-aid in order to ease the cramps in your lower abdomen and back. He’d buy you whatever foods you were craving for and be in his best behavior; cramps could make you cranky and one wrong move from him could ruin the entire day, which he understood. In the entire week you’re bleeding and suffering, he’ll cuddle you as you watch something on the TV and ask if you need anything else. If it’s his turn to do laundry and spotted that you leaked some blood into your clothes, he wouldn’t feel disgusted to take it upon himself and clean it up nicely. It’s just blood and everyone has blood, why would this blood be any worse or any more shameful than blood from nosebleeds or wounds?

During ovulation week, he feels a little flustered that you’re flirting with him a lot more and eyeing him like he’s a tall piece of meat. You’ve also began to be a lot more touchy with him, giggling and breathily whispering into his ear. He feels a little shy, the tips of his ears reddenning because he’s not used to being called “handsome”, “pretty” or “hot”. He does his best to meet your needs but he still finds ovulation to be… interesting. He talked to Chris’ younger sister Claire about it and she said that it’s normal since the hormones are going haywire in that phase.

One night, you came home a little later than you normally do and found Leon in the restroom, trying out your skincare products in small amounts. He was putting them on in the wrong order and applying the wrong amounts, sheepishly grinning at you when he got caught. You offered to help him after changing into much more comfortable clothes, teaching him which creams to use and in what order. In the end, you both fell asleep in the masks you two were meant to wear for only half an hour.

He’d also let you do his make-up, straddling his lap with his arms around your waist as your tongue was poked out in concentration while you did his eyeliner, making sure it was heavy and dramatic with a sharp wing. You told him not to move after he already sneezed twice while you powdered his face, not wanting to mess up the eyeliner work you already did in order to really complete his look. Somehow, he looked so pretty in the make-up you gave him, his lips were even more plump-looking with the gloss and the eyeshadow complimented the frosty blue of his eyes. He’d let you take pictures but he won’t want you to send it out to his coworkers because he’d feel so embarrassed.

After discovering that you know how to manicure and do nail care, he stopped going to the nail salon to get his nails and hands taken care of and let you do it instead. Most of the time, he’ll only have you push back his cuticles and paint a clear coat on them. Every single time, after you finish up making his hands and nails look pretty, he would repay you with hugs and kisses. If you ended up getting your nails done with nail accessories and gems and all things shiny, he’d end up asking to look at your hands and just admire the intricate details on them. With permission, he’d gently run a hand through your nail and feel the textures on them. Sometimes, he’d end up staring for hours on end or repeatedly glance at them again. He’d be even happier if you seem very visibly pleased with the nails you got for yourself.

If you’re insecure about how you look and you’re not feeling very confident about yourself, he’s going to be there to reassure you that you’re not ugly and you’re better than how you currently perceive yourself. If you two were going out and he noticed that you weren’t visibly confident with the outfit you put on, he won’t hesitate to reassure you but he won’t push wearing the outfit on you if it’s really not what you want to wear.

Lastly, he’s probably the type to own reading glasses but not actual prescription glasses. When he does wear them if he’s reading reports or on his laptop, you can’t help but pinch his cheeks because he looks utterly and absolutely loserly and nerdy in them. Like he’d probably get rectangular black metal frames and he only wears it a handful of times. He doesn’t like wearing them because he doesn’t like the feeling of wearing glasses and doesn’t like how he looks with them on but you digress, encouraging him to wear them more often when he’s around you. Sometimes he makes you wear them and now, he finds you cute! He took so many pictures when he made you wear them for the first time, debating if he should change your contact photo on his phone to that one.

NOTE - Big, big thanks to the anon who asked for this!!! I hope I managed to write this one nicely :) I haven't been posting as much as I had when I first started writing bc I haven't been getting much inspo (hence me opening up requests ; I wanna write but my only issue is that I don't know what to write :'c) I still have my asks open so if anyone wants me to write something up, fire up the ask box <3 My bff is going to Japan soon and they said that if they manage to come across a Capcom store, they'll look for the Leon tsum!!!! WAEOWIRXYTGUS- I'm not going to force them to get it but I'd be rlly happy if they did :D I procrastinated doing my paper that's due tomorrow to be able to do this so I'm going to be rushing right after I post this :))) Anyways, thank you to everyone who likes, follows, and reads my fics, it means a lot to me :) I <3333 UUUUUUU !!!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #fluff #biohazard #leon s kennedy fluff #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons

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handmemyglockenspiel-imgoingin · 1 year

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Tourist Trapped: Smallest Emo Rythym Guitarist Falls Into World's Largest Bong Roadside Attraction, Fans in Uproar

41-year-old rythym guitarist and father, Frank Iero, was found this Tuesday morning, miraculously uninjured but inexplicably stuck at the bottom of one of America's lesser known tourist attractions, the World's Largest Semi-Smokable Bong.

While bandmates and friends seem somewhat desperate to save their guitarist, fans seem content to pose at the scene for selfies and autographs - the latter being understandably more difficult to accomplish.

"He was small enough to get in this mess, you'd figure he'd be small enough to get out of it," frontman Gerard Way told the press at the scene of the incident. "Ah, well. He's got air, he'll be fine."

To ensure the guitarist does not go hungry, the remaining members of alternative emo rock band My Chemical Romance have come together to provide sustenance.

"See here," said Ray Toro, lead guitarist and cupcake connoisseur, "We've got all these chip bags, right? He loves these - but the trick is getting them in there. So we're kind of just chucking them in the air the best we can and hoping they'll make it in."

As he said this, bassist Mikey Way demonstrated for the assembled crowd, while his ever-supportive brother cheered him on in the background.

"That was a ten-pointer!" the frontman declared, the lucky bag of Doritos making its landing on the head of the presumably disgruntled Iero.

"Yeah," Way continued, squinting against the sun as he observed the scene. He took a long, contemplative sip of his Starbucks latte, then nodded. "He's alright in there."

While Way seems mostly unconcerned, rumors are circulating that a petition is in place to attempt to smoke the man if it receives 420 signatures in a 69 hour time frame.

In the meantime, a small gang of fans have posed the idea of assembling a crane outside the bong - not to rescue Iero, but to deliver his guitar to him so he can perform for the crowd, even in his time of distress.

Although this is certainly a trying time for the guitarist, some have expressed doubts as to what exactly the man was doing in order to have fallen into the monstrously oversized vessel in the first place.

"He went, 'I'm gonna blaze it!' and just fuckin' bolted," Way said to the press. "I've never seen him climb like that for anything. He was really goin' for it."

Foul play is not suspected.

Iero could not be reached for comment.

More to come as events unfold.

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gravedigginbbydoll · 1 year

Text

pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.1}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

Masterlist Next

AN: Heyo! So I was watching Abbott Elementary and got sad, so there’s that. Hopefully, this will be a multiple-part thing but do not expect regular updates. I am a busy gal, lol. Also not heavily edited!

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Rumors about Eddie, Eventual Smut, Very fluffy, Outcasts and Bullying, Mentions of Loneliness, Flirting, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, F! Reader has a dark past, angst.

Summary: The last thing anyone expected Eddie Munson to do once he graduated was to go off to get an Education degree. Now he’s approaching 30 and the coolest music and drama teacher in Hawkins. Enter you, a new teacher at Hawkins Middle School. You moved to the little sleepy town of Hawkins from the city, hoping to give kids joy in learning while also settling into a calmer town. You meet Eddie while moving your stuff into your classroom, and he piques your interest. But people talk, and you can’t help but wonder…Is he the monster they claim he is?

You walk through the doors, arms heavy with the large box full of posters and decor for your classroom. You walk briskly through empty hallways, cursing yourself for not asking the nice older woman working the front desk for some assistance. Finally, you turn one of the labyrinth hallways into what should be your hall. English. You sigh out of relief. For such a small town and school, you felt as though the hallways went on forever. You’re about to turn into your room when you hear rambunctious laughter and shouting from a nearby hallway. Your curiosity is peaked. It’s late in the summer. Most teachers are here to set up, but some are home, enjoying the days before the school year starts.

You scurry to put your box haphazardly in your classroom, the only one devoid of posters and books. You then walk as quietly as you can in your heels, the soft clicking against the tile almost silent with all the excitement in the classroom. Finally, finally, you reach a point where you can peek into the door, seeing the back of a man dressed in a dark flannel, the sleeves rolled up so you can see the tattoos littering his skin and rings on his hands, his nails painted a chipped black. His hair is wild and wavy, cut shorter on the sides and longer on top. He speaks animatedly to a group of young kids, all of them seemingly 13 or 14. They look at him with stars in their eyes, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“So upon the last blow by Lady Eda,” He gestures to the petite girl to his left, her hair in colorfully beaded twists, her shy grin with a mouthful of rainbow braces. The rest of the kids sit on the edge of their seats, awaiting the following words. “The mighty and powerful dark wizard is laid to rest!” The kids erupt in joy, shouting and jumping out of their chairs, a few members hugging the petite girl you assumed was ‘Lady Eda.’ The mysterious man clears his throat again, and the kids rush to their chairs and sit intently. “You are cheered on by the crowd of townspeople, all leading you to the tavern, where you sing and dance the night away. The town is now free of his evil. Congrats, heroes.” He speaks warmly in his raspy tone, the kids in front of him beaming and seeming to burst with joy. “And with that-” He puts down a folder and folds up some journals, “We finish the campaign.” He gets up, showing you the distressed and torn jeans and combat boots on his lower half. “Now get out of here, twerps. I’ll see you with the new fish soon. You can show them the ropes.” The excited chatter continues; the kids grab their bags and stuff their things in them. They all hurriedly leave the classroom, finally noticing you and seeming to tone their excitement, nodding a ‘hello ma’am’ to you, except for ‘Lady Eda.’ She sticks behind, enveloping the man in a tight hug as he chuckles and hugs her back, leaning down and gently telling her to enjoy the rest of her summer. She nods excitedly, running out the doors after her friends, barely noticing you.

You peer out of the shadows, knocking on the door frame, seeing the man gather up his stuff and mutter at a volume so low you almost miss it, “Fucking Doyle.”

You furrow your brows and smile a bit, amused by the mystery of this man and his evident hatred for a teacher you knew was in your hallway. “I’m no Doyle, but it’s nice to get a feel for who I should avoid,” you joke, your tone light.

The mystery man attempts to stand up quickly from his bent position of picking up things, hitting his head on the edge of a desk, “Oh- I- Shit!”

You fight a smile, biting your lip at this man who’s quite a character. You expected mostly bored housewives and businessmen in Hawkins, but it was shaping up to shock you quite a bit.

He carefully got up this time, holding a hand against his head and spinning on his heel. His big brown doe eyes and a slight smattering of freckles make your heart jump a bit. He had smile lines and a shy smile, his facial hair short and scruffy. You feel your cheeks heat. Fuck. You didn’t expect a young man around your age who was so damn attractive at Hawkins Middle School, of all places.

His face broke out into a shy crooked grin as he walked towards you, a hand held out towards you. “Hi. I’m Eddie Munson. You can just call me Eddie. I teach music and drama. I also run the DnD club here- that’s what the kiddos were doing here.”

You shake his hand gently, feeling the calloused fingertips against your palms. “Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. You can call me Y/N. I’m teaching English. I’m down that way,” you point back towards your hallway.

He nods, smiling, removing his hand from yours gently. “Well, nice to see someone younger than the dinosaurs in that hallway.”

You snort, feeling heat creep across your skin immediately and covering your mouth. “Sorry- Is it really that bad?”

He nods, and his face molds into a false sorrow and pity expression. “I heard that Mrs. Winnow was around at the birth of Christ.”

You snort again, another laugh bursting as you smile at Eddie. “You’d think with that kind of life, she’d be teaching history, wouldn’t you?”

Eddie grins devilishly, shaking his head. “Nah, she’d immediately make all the other teachers obsolete. They need their jobs.”

You grin, your heart pattering with joy at the young coworker. You were glad to find someone in a similar age range. So far, you only met your neighbors in your rundown apartment, who were around 40, and a few coworkers, who were above 50.

Eddie cocks his head at you, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossing his chest, covering his distressed Metallica concert shirt. “So, you’re new to Hawkins, huh?”

You laugh humorlessly, sighing, looking up at him. “That obvious, huh?”

He smiles softly, an expression reading I’m sorry. “Eh, most of us grew up here. It’s not a town that people are really flocking to. So what brings you here?”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your blouse, biting your lip. You don’t want to say too much, so you shrug and smile. “I wanted some change from the big city. So I closed my eyes, spun around, and pointed at a map. Lo and behold, fate decided Hawkins.”

He nods and still has a crooked smile as he turns, grabbing up his messenger bag full of items you assumed he used for the campaign. “Well, let me know if you want to meet some living humans, not fossils. I have a few friends here, and none are quite at retirement age yet.” He grabs a piece of paper he had about, jotting on it quickly, then handing you the parchment, smiling. “My number. In case you want to take me up on the offer.”

You pocket the number, looking up to thank him. You look up, and his back is turned toward you as he exits the school, lifting his hand and waving while calling over his shoulder, “Bye, city girl! Good luck with the fossils.”

You fight a smile as you walk back to your classroom, your fingers brushing the parchment in your pants pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once you set up your classroom, sweat dripping down your forehead, you realize you have no books for your bookshelf. You frown, biting your lip. The classroom looked terrific, with posters for books you felt were classics and a few inspirational ones. With soft lamps and lights along with the desks arranged, you should be satisfied. You curse yourself, knowing a teacher’s salary is not enough to splurge on books, but you can’t help but hate how only the textbooks are on the shelf. You head out of the school, determined to get more leisure reading books for your future students.

You head to a local bookstore, fondly named ‘Hit the Books.’ An older man with small glasses is behind the counter explaining to a very disinterested edgy teen how to use the register. You look at the expansive store, surprised how it could stay open in such a small town with so few customers. Next, you head over to the Young Adult and Children’s section. You grab a few books, holding them in your arms as you walk from aisle to aisle. Eventually, your stacked up to your chin with books, struggling to hold them. You hear a chuckle behind you and cautiously turn, waddling like a penguin to avoid spilling novels everywhere.

There stands Eddie, his grin clear as day. He’s missing his flannel, now just in a short sleeve, his tattoos in full view and adding to his grungy look. “You need help? It seems like you’re carrying a library there.”

You feel heat travel across your skin and shake your head, backing up a little, “I got it-” You almost trip, Eddie catching you by your shoulder, and his eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I think I’ll help anyway,” He grabs half of the stack of books, his own at the bottom. You spot ‘Merlin’s Woods,’ a book you recognized as one that had been among the fantasy books for teens and children. You fight a bit of a smile at this, Eddie helping you to the register. The young teen girl lights up at his appearance, her thick black eyeliner exaggerated by her wide blue eyes. The older man, however, looks on in a bit of disdain, making you frown slightly.

“Mr. Munson! How’s it going?” The young girl asks, clearly more alert than before, ringing up your books along with Eddie’s. You’re about to interrupt her and let her know you’ll pay for your own when Eddie squeezes your hand without looking at you, smiling and catching up with the girl. Eddie then looks at you after paying, a smile on his lips.

“Do you need help lugging out this library to the car-”

The older man, still gruffly bothered by Eddie’s presence, shoves a box in the young girl’s arms and hands Eddie his book. “Don’t worry, Mr. Munson; Julia can handle it.”

The young teen Julia looks at the older man in protest, her brows furrowed. “Mr. Munn, I’m supposed to work the -”

He cuts her off, holding up a hand. “Shush. Go help the missus with her books.”

She groans, mumbling as she stacks the books in the box. You look to Eddie, his smile faltering as he looks at you, holding his book. Something tells you the bookstore worker does not like Eddie. Something else tells you that Eddie knows. You open your mouth to say something before Eddie clears his throat, glancing at Mr. Munn.

“I guess I better head out. I’ll see you around,” He says softly, smiling at you gently before turning and quickly jogging to a motorbike outside. You watch him sling a leg over the bike and drive away, feeling a twinge of hurt and sadness. It may not have been your fault, but you couldn’t help but feel for Eddie.

“Careful with who you surround yourself, Miss. That Munson boy is trouble. He may have straightened out a bit since heading to college, but he is still a bit delinquent. Be careful,” The old man gruffly tells you, pointed looking at you over his glasses. “You look like a nice girl.” You feel your skin prickle with disdain and heat travel from the back of your neck across your chest. Nice girl. You hate that phrase. It meant docile. Obedient. You ignored the older man’s stare, turning towards Julia.

“C’mon, my car is out here.” You lead the young disgruntled teen toward your modest, rundown car, opening the trunk. She huffs as she places the box in the back, clearly heavy for her small frame. You close the trunk and turn towards her, about to utter a thank you, when she stares hard at the floor and kicks a small pebble before sighing.

“Mr. Munson isn’t a bad guy. Just so you know,” she softly says, looking up at you, her big eyes full of sincerity.

You nod and smile softly, “I figured. But do you mind me asking why Mr. Munn is so set against him?” You tilt your head at her, and she huffs out a breath, annoyance at the older man clear across her face.

“Some dumb old rumors the geezer still believes from the ’80s. Mr. Munson was the town’s troublemaker and outcast. There are a lot of crazy rumors about him. I don’t think they’re true, but he never tries to disprove them. He came back to help outcasts feel safe at school. Give them a teacher to trust,” The young girl’s voice is thick with emotion, and you can picture she was one of the outcasts Eddie helped. It pulls at your heartstrings.

“Well, thank you, Julia. I appreciate your help. And don’t worry, I won’t listen to the rumors,” You playfully wink at the girl as she weakly smiles and waves goodbye before retreating into the small shop.

You climb into your car, starting up the engine as you bite your lip and wonder…

Who really is Eddie Munson?

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson older #teacher!Eddie #stranger things AU #stranger things au fanfic #older eddie munson #eddie munson au #pencil shavings and shared smiles

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noonaishere · 11 months

Text

Online/Offline [Choi San] - Masterlist

By: noonaishere (main blog: symphonyofmars)

Fic type: social media au / traditional

Pairing: San x fem!reader

Genre: cafe setting, streamer, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, male lead secrets

Warnings: stalking, verbal abuse, online harassment, attempted kidnapping, “honey trap”, drinking

Status: Currently updating

Updates: Mondays and Tuesdays at 12pm EST

Synchronously posted with Music of the Heart (any asterisked (*) chapters means they’re shared between both fics)

[intro post explaining y/n and t/n]

SYNOPSIS:

Y/n has been a faceless streamer since she was 17 or 18 and - even though she’s friends with an idol from a popular group - no one knows who she is. Things start to go wrong when someone posts a picture in front of her old job and she makes the move from her hometown to Seoul. What will happen when she makes a whole bunch of new friends at the nearby cafe?

Also, how does y/n’s existence connect to t/n, someone she’s never met?

🧋 main cast

Chapters:

🧋 Prologue | the inciting incident

🧋 one | The Unofficial JGG Steam Rundown

🧋 two | fried chicken and baby pictures

🧋 three | one week later

🧋 four | what’s the wifi?

🧋 five | a job would be nice

🧋 six | students, please pay attention in class

🧋 seven | above minimum wage. like, *way* above

🧋 eight | trimming the fat

🧋 nine | screep screep goddamn!

🧋 ten | F, senpai

🧋 eleven | QUITE the face journey

🧋 twelve | welcome to AtoZ café

🧋 thirteen | she definitely used to be a barista

🧋 fourteen | commit to the bit

🧋 fifteen | *heartlessly*

🧋 sixteen | our beautiful boy

🧋 seventeen | bean boyz / shadow beanz

🧋 eighteen | were they in a drama or something?

🧋 nineteen | how are the fields this year?

🧋 twenty | the devil was an angel too, before he fell

🧋 twenty-one | busy bees send emails

🧋 twenty-two | leroyyyyy jenkins!

🧋 twenty-three | bean babez

🧋 twenty-four | a car? in this economy?

🧋 twenty-five | can I pick her up? can I tell her I love her? will she get mad?

🧋 twenty-six | get thee to a nunnery, wench

🧋 twenty-seven | like a dumbass

🧋 twenty-eight | double high five

🧋 twenty-nine | “just mix them up”

🧋 thirty | a loudmouth with no sense of self preservation

🧋 thirty-one | stephen from canada

🧋 thirty-two | because…

🧋 thirty-three | i think he’s just nice, that’s all

🧋 thirty-four | you’re both Too Nice

🧋 thirty-five | you really do need a vacation

🧋 thirty-six | petition to have cat kicked from the discord

🧋 thirty-seven | stream CALLiSTO everyone

🧋 thirty-eight | what’s your channel name?

🧋 thirty-nine | she’s the streamer

🧋 forty | we can’t keep meeting like this

🧋 forty-one | “family drama”

🧋 forty-two | meet the morn

🧋 forty-three | feline photoshoot

🧋 forty-four | caturday

🧋 forty-five | 1-800-CALL-A-BITCH

🧋 forty-six | intelligent pants

🧋 forty-seven | one cheeks, two cheeks…

🧋 forty-eight | today’s prize is: Cash!

🧋 forty-nine | can someone please come to the counter?

🧋 fifty | matching socks

🧋 fifty-one | the byeol of ones and zeros

🧋 fifty-two | explaining ninja warrior

🧋 fifty-three | halfway there

🧋 fifty-four | stalkerly actions

🧋 fifty-five | sock update

🧋 fifty-six | plucky servants

🧋 fifty-seven | five yeets deep

🧋 fifty-eight | only you would get banned from jumping

🧋 fifty-nine | seter sanrker

🧋 sixty | playing hard to get

🧋 sixty-one | OBJECTION!

🧋 sixty-two | beanie babies

🧋 sixty-three | ACAB

🧋 sixty-four | sanflowers

🧋 sixty-five | an absolutely zero-cheeked up on a monday night, drinking to forget kind of a bitch

🧋 sixty-six | a thing to be had

🧋 sixty-seven | *not* born to run

🧋 sixty-eight | excuse me?

🧋 sixty-nine | fake date

🧋 seventy | a liar of epic proportions

🧋 seventy-one | jagiya

🧋 seventy-two | breaking news!

🧋 seventy-three | planning planners

🧋 seventy-four | because I like you

🧋 seventy-five | fair-trade, equal exchange, organic bittersweet 70% cocoa chocolate chips

🧋 seventy-six | favorite customer

🧋 seventy-seven* | WHAT?

🧋 seventy-eight | sharing screens and secrets

🧋 seventy-nine | why didn’t jack get on the door frame?

🧋 eighty | if you tell me who M is, I’m blocking you

🧋 eighty-one | where’s morn?

🧋 eighty-two | meet and greet

🧋 eighty-three | honey pot

🧋 eighty-four | *WORRYING*

🧋 eighty-five | to catch a stalker

🧋 eighty-six | give him the ol’ UwU

🧋 eighty-seven |

🧋 eighty-eight |

🧋 eighty-nine |

🧋 ninety |

🧋 ninety-one |

🧋 ninety-two |

🧋 ninety-three |

🧋 ninety-four |

🧋 ninety-five |

🧋 ninety-six |

🧋 ninety-seven* |

🧋 ninety-eight* |

🧋 ninety-nine* |

🧋 one hundred* |

🧋 one hundred and one* |

🧋 one hundred and two |

🧋 one hundred and three | I

🧋 one hundred and four |

🧋 one hundred and five |

🧋 one hundred and six |

🧋 one hundred and seven |

🧋 one hundred and eight |

🧋 one hundred and nine |

🧋 one hundred and ten |

🧋 one hundred and eleven* |

🧋 one hundred and twelve* |

🧋 one hundred and thirteen |

🧋 one hundred and fourteen* |

🧋 one hundred and fifteen* |

🧋 one hundred and sixteen |

🧋 one hundred and seventeen* |

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3

Epilogue 4

Epilogue 5

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋

🧋🧋 [MAIN MASTERLIST] 🧋🧋

#San #Choi San #Ateez #Ateez smau #Ateez fic #Ateez au #cafe au #streamer au #fake dating #reader fic #ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ/ᴏғғʟɪɴᴇ

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soapsinthebox · 2 months

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Petition that we as a tumblr community all make a discord server where we watch chap2p2 live. it would be so silly, the internet equivalent of a movie night with chips and blankets

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE PROGRESS BAR IS AT NINETY EIGHT

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pedges-world · 2 months

Text

Yes Chef! Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights:

Ingredients:

1 cup cannabis-infused coconut oil

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 eggs

1 cup flour

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup chocolate chips

Turn on the oven to… “a hawt vibe”, and then mix the ingredients in…no, Dieter that’s a vase. Alright, most peeps should probs use a mixer, Dieter is using his hands. Yes D, I will be happy to lick your fingers when I have a moment. I suggested adding the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, but Dieter started giggling as soon as I said the word “wet”. D, I don’t think we’re supposed to sample the cannabis before we…okay I’ll finish up here. Dieter has retired to his room to “watch the pretty rainbows form in his mind” and has requested we bring the brownies and our “bangin’ body” to his room when ready. #staybakedyall

While we were "baking" Dieter the Chef taught me a naughty limerick and I thought I'd pass it on. Thanks to @punkshort for the fun prompt and congrats on the one year anniversary! D has cooked up the above mood board, poem and song to celebrate your artistry! Please imbibe at your own saucy risk...

Amongst all the chefs that you see

His messy vibe fits to a tee

He’s painter and poet

He’s hawt and he knows it,

“Would you like to have sex with me?”.

His question, though somewhat surprising

Gives rise to your temperature rising

Your lips form a YES!

One needn’t have guessed

Your morals he’ll have compromising.

Starting the night with that look

Your appetite clearly was hooked

You went to your pad

To bed the fine lad

And learn how a chef like to “cook”

When sampling some of the fun

He’s baking in more ways than one

His favorite glaze is more Purple Haze

And slapping your cinnamon buns.

This Bubble Boy likes a cool kit-kat

When edging his mistress or sweet brat.

While giving a wank,

Your tush-y he’d spank

And pleasure your naughty pussy-cat?

For boys or the girls he’s a bi

And won’t say no to cherry pie.

When adding some cream

Your name he would scream

Then ask if you want to get high.

This evening, your sexy time cleft

Was lonely and feeling bereft

Your legs you did spread

For his tousled head

And found yourself chanting, “YES CHEF!”

So let’s give a cheer for Chef Dieter

Who mostly can cook with his “peeter”

When adding the sauce

Your lips he will gloss and say

“Bon a Petite!” while he eats her....Mmmmmm....

If anyone is looking for more "saucy eats" please check out the recent @pedroscouts Ice Cream Social, we had a blast!

#pedro pascal #pedro #pedro pascal fan fiction #smut #pedro scouts #dieter bravo #pedro pascal fan fic #lgbtqia #shortieswritingchallenge

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imagines--galore · 6 months

Text

||Mind Over Matter|| Part Fifteen

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

A/N: A brief intro to someone from Evelyn’s past!

"Evelyn? Mind handing me that box of files?"

Silence greeted the young Doctor's request. A few seconds passed before he glanced up from the file he had been thumbing through, only to frown slightly at the sight of his friend staring blankly at the screen of her phone.

"Evelyn?" He spoke again, this time a little more loudly. No response.

Leaning forward he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Eve?" Despite his voice being gentle and low, the red head jumped, startled. Quickly putting her phone away, she sniffed before turning to Reid.

"Sorry Spence, I was thinking about something. What did you say you need?" She asked, eyes blinking rapidly behind her glasses. Spencer frowned. "That box." He pointed to the one right beside her. Nodding, the woman quickly slid the box over to him before turning her attention to the laptop screen she had opened in front of her. Though he had begun to rummage in the box for whatever file he needed, Spencer did not miss the way Evelyn brushed at her cheek where a tear had escaped. Not wanting to pry at the moment, he made a note to ask what was troubling her later.

————————–

"That was quite the lucky break Ginger." Morgan commented, smiling slightly at the petite red head, who merely shrugged in response. "It was really chance on my part. I mean its unbelievable how narcissistic the man was that he wanted to watch as we went over the crime scenes. He really didn't think he'd get caught." She muttered incredulously under her breath as she packed up her laptop in her bag.

Her mind was still reeling from what had happened in the past couple of days. The Unsub picked up the three victims and one would be victim at rather upscale and luxurious locations before charming them and courting them for exactly two weeks. Flowers, dinners, dancing, nighttime walks. The works.

And then at the end of the second week, he would insist on coming to their home for the first time. He would sleep with them and afterwards, insisting that since they had had the best two weeks of their lives what more could they have asked for before killing them. Of course, he wouldn't kill them immediately. The Unsub, later named Julian Black, would give them some form of anesthesia that would have them feeling numb around the area where he would then stab them so they would not feel any pain. Afterwards, he would watch them lay there, helpless and vulnerable, as the bled to death.

He had been in the process of courting his fourth victim when Evelyn, wanting to see if there was perhaps a hidden USB the last victim had been using to keep her more personal files safe, had stumbled upon the tiny camera while on the hunt. The Unsub had not been monitoring his feed at the time, and the red head had been quick when it came to tracking where the signal for the camera pinged. Within half an hour the FBI had apprehended Julian Black and led him away in cuffs.

Job done and killer behind bars, the BAU were now packing up. Though since it was nearly midnight Hotch had given the order for everyone to rest up for the night. They would be heading back to Quantico in the morning.

Emily smiled at the younger Agent. "Still, it was rather quick work on your part. I'm sure Penelope will be proud of you." Evelyn blushed at the praise, smiling brightly as she shouldered her bag. "Are you saying she isn't proud of me on a normal basis Emily?" She questioned, the teasing lilt in her tone evident as she raised an eyebrow at her friend.

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes. "Don't go fishing for compliments Richardson, you need to earn 'em." She called over her shoulder as she exited the room. Whatever retort Evelyn was about the give died on her lips the very moment her bright blue eyes focused on the person who had just entered the room they had been using to conduct all their research. The smile dropped from her lips, the light in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders slumped, and she appeared to make herself smaller. Smaller then she already was.

"D-Diana."

She whispered softly, prompting Morgan and Spencer, both of whom had been helping put away everything for later evidence, to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to the newcomer.

She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Beautiful long blonde locks, bright blue eyes, a perfect heart shaped face and small nose with a set of full lips. Tall, with curves in all the right places, and dressed head to toe in designer attire. There was the telltale sign of a baby bump showcasing that she was not that far along, and that only seemed to add to her aesthetic. Of course, all that beauty was for naught given that her lips were pulled into a vicious smile and her eyes full of hatred and anger.

"Were you really about to go without even saying hello to your older sister? Aww Evelyn. I'm hurt." She spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm, walking forward, towering over the red head.

Evelyn shook her head. "N-no. I-I was just b-busy with the c-case." She managed to stammer, eyes darting to her friends. Suddenly she flinched seeing Diana lift her hand. Only to relax when she simply placed a finger under her own lips as she assessed her sister. The flinch wasn't missed by the two profilers. Obviously Diana had hit Evelyn in the past given how the latter had reacted. Though the two men were still trying to wrap their head around the fact that they were looking at Evelyn's sister. They had known she had an older sibling, but one living in New York, so closely connected to their case? That was new information.

Diana nodded. "I'm sure you were. Though if you had gotten here sooner I wouldn't have lost my best friend." Evelyn flinched at the mention of the third victim. Morgan, bless his soul, jumped in to save her. "We were only informed of the case after Hailey's body was found. And it was your sister's quick thinking that we were able to catch the killer." Sharp blue eyes glanced carelessly in his direction before they were back on Evelyn. "I'm surprised she didn't manage to screw it up like she does everything." The words cut deep, prompting the red head to inhale sharply to try and steady her rapidly beating heart.

"Diana…I-" She was cut off when her sister cast her a hard look. "Did I say you could speak?" The other two Agents were absolutely stunned with the way Diana was speaking to their friend. Before Morgan could say anything, Reid had already stepped forward and placed his hand on Evelyn's shoulder, pulling her away from the taller blonde and stepping in her place. His face was unreadable as he fixed his gaze on Diana.

"If you're only going to speak to her like that I suggest you leave." He spoke coldly. The woman growled under her breath before sparing Evelyn one last glare, where she was staring at her sister from over Reid's shoulder. "I see you're still letting someone else fight your battles for you." The blonde turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. She paused at the door, glancing back at her cowering sister. "Even as an FBI Agent you're just as pathetic as you were when we were kids."

And then she was gone.

Stunned silence followed her exit. Morgan and Reid both turned their attention towards Evelyn. Her eyes swam with unshed tears, and her body was trembling. Her knuckles were white from where she had been gripping the strap of her bag.

"Evelyn? What was-"

"I have to go." Without even giving Morgan a chance to finish his question, Evelyn darted out from behind Reid and out of the room, leaving two stunned men in her wake.

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An hour later found Morgan exhausted and saddened as he stepped out of Evelyn's room at the hotel. He very nearly ran into Reid who had been standing just outside. Morgan had offered to check in on Evelyn first, while Reid had made a quick detour to his room to change out of the clothes he had been wearing the entire day. He had opted for a plain t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, with a hastily tied dressing gown over it. The older Agent pursed his lips before sighing. "You can go in, but I don't think she has the strength to talk about it again." Reid glanced at the door over Morgan's shoulder, before shaking his head.

"I just want to make sure she's alright."

Nodding Morgan patted him on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall towards his own room. Neither of them had spoken to anyone else on the Team about what had occurred. Both of them had decided that it would be Evelyn's decision at that front. Hesitating for just a moment, Spencer inhaled deeply through his nose before gently knocking against the maroon colored door. "Evelyn? Its me. Can I come in?"

There was no response. Spencer was just about to turn away, thinking that perhaps she wanted to be alone, when the handle turned, allowing the door to stand slightly ajar. Taking it as his invitation, Spencer stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The room was spacious and was one with a balcony. Evelyn had left the sliding doors open to allow the midnight breeze to cool her room. The girl in question had walked back to her spot on the bed. Laying down on the soft mattress, dressed in an oversized shirt and faded pajama pants, she lay there with her gaze trained towards the ceiling.

Spencer was so used to seeing them shimmer with a range of different emotions. From laughter and anger, to confusion and distaste. But right then they were dull and lifeless. And sad. And alone. She gently patted the spot beside her. Walking over to her, he settled down next to her staring up at the ceiling as well. The bed was just big enough for the two of them, leaving barely any space between them.

"You talk to Morgan?" A meek nod followed his question.

Silence.

"Are you alright?" A slight shake of the head was his response.

Silence.

"I'm not the best when it comes to these things but if you want to talk some more, I'm here."

Silence. And this one stretched on for a good few minutes before her lips parted and she spoke. "Even after so many years, she still hates me." Spencer turned his head to focus his gaze on her. "I don't know what I did, but ever since I can remember she has always hated me." A sigh followed her words. "And she refuses to tell me what it is that I did. Now I think she hates me because she has hated me her entire life and just can't associate any other emotion when it comes to me."

He stayed quiet. "I'm sure that whatever you did, if you even did anything, you didn't mean any harm." Spencer had his doubts that Evelyn had done something wrong. She was the kindest most caring person he had ever met so far in his life and he doubted she had ever done any person any harm intentionally. Her gaze turned to him, and he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses. Without the wide frame of her glasses, her features appeared delicate and soft.

"I was always envious of her. Still am. When we were kids she was always the one with all the friends. And even back then she was so beautiful. People refused to believe that we were even sisters since we look nothing alike and given how plain I am." He hummed once she finished speaking. "Typically the older child is the object of envy for the younger child, since they have more expectations to live up to."

The red head nodded, unconsciously leaning her head against his shoulder, scooting just a little closer to him. "I know. It's the natural order of things." For his part Spencer turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. The change in his position had her head shifting to rest on his chest instead, right above his heart. Another few minutes of silence, before a sniffle was heard.

"I just sometimes wish she would see me as her sister. I even made a birthday wish about that once." A tearful laugh escaped her lips as she recalled her childhood memory. His other hand lifted to gently run his fingers through her brilliant red locks. Evelyn's hands rested against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if she were afraid he would suddenly leave. "I know that it doesn't make up for it but you can always adopt Garcia as your older sister."

A chuckle sounded from her, prompting him to smile as well at her words. "I think mother-hen is a better fit for her." He laughed softly, his gaze soft as he looked at her. "You're probably right. JJ then and I suppose in time Emily as well." Evelyn nodded against his chest, tilting her head back to look at him. "Then I suppose Morgan is my older brother. Given how protective he is." Spencer hummed in agreement, feeling his eyelids start to grow heavy. "And Hotch and Gideon your father figures." The red head made a small noise of agreement as she yawned. Her lips were pulled into a smile though as she thought about the family she had made over the years.

Snuggling closer to Spencer, she inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent. "What about you?"

The man blinked. "What about me?"

Her blue eyes found his hazel gaze. "What title do you hold in my make-shift family?" The Genius thought for a few seconds before shrugging. "I don't know. What title do you think fits me as someone in your life?"

Pursing her lips slightly, Evelyn allowed her eyes to slide close mind pondering on the question. The answer though came not from her brain, but from her heart and the words rose to her lips unbidden, unfiltered and with no hesitation.

"My best friend." Came her sleepy reply, which was followed by a sleepy kiss to his cheek on her part.

Spencer lay there stunned. He took in her half-asleep state. The gentle smile on her lips and her heavily lidded eyes, her breath beginning to even out as she fell asleep. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. A warmth spread through him at her words. One that finally came to settle in his chest. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead he whispered against her soft skin. "And you are mine." Humming sleepily Evelyn snuggled even closer to Spencer, greedily seeking his body heat as she slowly succumbed to sleep.

"And Evelyn?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't know how anyone wouldn't think you're pretty…"

"That's because I'm not…"

"You're beautiful."

"Thanks Spence. You're beautiful too."

"You're welcome Evie."

The words slurred as they both drifted off to sleep. Evelyn with her head resting near Spencer's chest, one hand resting against his chest, the other resting atop him, just under his shoulder. And Spencer, for his part, slept with one arm under her waist and the other lifted at a slightly odd angle so that his fingers could tangle in her red hair.

Neither stirred the entire night. Not by the cold breeze. Or nightmares.

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