#floating shelves above bed

[toukomatsudaira]

Master Bedroom Ideas for remodeling a medium-sized contemporary master bedroom with white walls and a medium-toned wood floor.

[cult-of-husbandos]

₊˚ʚ 🫧 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ━ 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡

pairing: soft yandere!bakudekutodo x willing!reader

genre: fluff, poly au, pro hero, gender neutral reader

synopsis: there's nothing more relaxing than taking a nice, hot bubble bath when you have the entire apartment to yourself with your playlist playing and the bathroom door locked.

word count: 4.8k

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The apartment is quiet and empty for the entire day since this morning, and you seized the chance for some much needed alone time. SWV’s Rain is playing from your bluetooth speaker, set on a low volume, softly bouncing echoes around the bathroom walls. You dipped your fingers under the running tap to test the temperature.

Hot. Perfect.

Smiling and humming to yourself, you pour in the scented bubble bath. As the bubbles formed a delicate, foamy blanket covering the tub, you turned off the tap.

You strip off your robe and sink slowly into the piping hot bubble bath. You let out a sigh of relief as you submerged your entire body into the bathtub, keeping your head above water. Thanks to your boyfriends’ unrelenting remodeling of the entire house, especially the bathroom, your bathtub is now big enough to be a sensory pod. You closed your eyes  and let out another relaxing sigh, letting your body float and sway with the water.

“Fuck…” you moan. “I really needed this.”

You can’t remember the last time you had a bubble bath let alone the apartment all to yourself. Your boyfriends had to leave super early in the morning, leaving you alone once again. You wished you could enjoy your days out like before, but you had a feeling your boyfriends would tie you to the bed and never let you out ever again. Though you did have sun, or as much fun as you could, running small errands.

“I fucking love bubble baths!” you yell, splashing around and pumping your fist.

After floating and soaking in the comforting scent, you raise up and reach for your new book you bought this afternoon. You lean back and sigh again.

“Haah… this is the shit right here. All alone, 90’s R&B playing, and the latest new smut to hit the shelves for desperate housewives.”

You flip open the book and begin to read:

“In the barn where the shadows danced along the wooden walls, she walked alone, veiled in candle light. Her heart beat in a melodic rhythm longing to have a partner join in.”

“Ooh~. A spicy slow burn~.”

You continued reading, losing yourself in the novel and feeling your muscles relax in the water. For a while, nothing else existed but you, your hot bubble bath, your music, and the story unfolding in your hands.

That is, until you heard the front door of the apartment open and close. You lowered your book a bit and listened out for the sounds of who came home. You’re immediately dreading the inevitable. There’s a good reason you wanted to take this bath alone. You heard a voice call softly. The master bathroom is a bit far from the entrance. Soft beats of feet quickly turned into panicked thuds. Thuds that sounded like running. The thuds came to a halt outside the bathroom door and the doorknob jiggled stiffly/ You must’ve locked the door on instinct.

“(Y/N)?” A gentle but panicked voice called out, a bit muffled. Izuku Midoriya, the number one hero of Japan. You smile to yourself, hearing his worry. The man can knock down a building using only his pinky but can look so cute while doing it. His baby face doesn’t match his buff and scarred body and you often tease him about it, calling him the baby-faced hero.

‘It’s rare that he’s home first. That’s surprising…’ you think to yourself. A knock brought you out of your thoughts.

“Baby… are you in there?” he asked, sounded even more worried the longer you stayed silent. There’s no point in staying silent. Not only is the locked door a dead giveaway that you’re in here, but Lauryn Hill’s Ex-Factor is echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby. I'm in here.” you answer. “How was your day? It’s rare that you’re the first one home.”

“Oh! Good. And yeah! Things ended early at the agency so I came home as soon as I could.”

Jiggle Jiggle

“Oh really? That’s even rarer! You’re really lucky.”

Jiggle Rattle Jiggle

“Yeah! And I have even tomorrow off so we can spend all morning sleeping in together!”

Rattle Rattle Jiggle

“That’ll be fun! It’s been a while since you had a day off.”

BANG

There’s a pause on the other side of the door.

“Baby…” His voice is quiet. “Why is the door locked?”

“Because I’m in here?” you chuckle at the question. “I’m taking a bubble bath.”

“Oh, I see.” It got quiet again. “Can you come out please?”

You sigh, knowing this would happen eventually but you thought you’d be done and at least clothed. Izuku is the clingiest one out of your boyfriends, a close second to a certain icy-hottie. “I would, buuut I just got in and it’s a bit ridiculous to get out the tub, dry off, welcome you home, and get back in the tub.”

“I can get in the bathtub with you!” Izuku is no longer turning the doorknob. It sounds more like he’s pushing his weight onto the door.

“Izuku, I would really like some alone time right now.”

“What.” His tone sounded somewhere between hurt and distressed. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me? What’re you doing in there? Are you doing something that you don’t want me to see? Why would you have the door locked in our house? What’re you hiding from me? I don’t like secrets, (Y/N). (Y/N)? Open the door. Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you really hiding something from me? You can open the door for me, right? If you can open the door that means that you have nothing to hide, right? I want to hug you and kiss you so much. Don’t you want to kiss me too? Don’t you love me anymore? Open the door please…!”

Loud banging rattled the walls as Izuku forcefully tried to get in the bathroom, muttering his feelings out loud. You, on the other hand, remained calm. You’ve dealt with this situation before and knew how to handle his spirals. You also know that the door isn’t going to budge even with Japan's strongest hero banging down on it.

“Hey Izu?” you called out, sweetly. “You’re not trying to use your quirk to break down the door, are you?”

The banging and rattling immediately stopped and was followed by a long pause.

“H-Huh?”

“Right. You wouldn’t do that because you know that during the remodeling you replaced all the doors and windows with a specific material that can’t be broken or shattered by any quirk including abnormal strength quirks, right?” You try to mask your teasing tone, but can’t help but slyly smile, imagining the embarrassed look on his face.

“N-No! I mean yes! I do remember that…” he mumbled sheepishly.

You stifle a giggle. Izuku is always fun to tease. “Zuzu. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yeah. If you set a time for an hour I promise, even when the rest of the boys come home first, you will be the first one to get welcome home hugs and kisses.”

This is a big deal in the apartment. It’s become routine that when the boys come home you greet them with a hug and kisses. Normally, only a certain hothead has been the reigning champion of that routine since they’re always the first one home. Izuku has always wanted to be the first one home so he can love you first, but his schedule never gave him the opportunity, having to settle for second place and, sometimes, third place. You can tell from the happy mumblings behind the door that he’s ecstatic about it, however…

“An hour? I don’t know if I can wait for an hour.” he whined.

You hum and think for a minute. “Okay, how about 45 minutes? You can get started on dinner so the time goes by faster. I’d really love it if you made me your delicious Karaage.”

“Okay! It’s a promise! I’ll get started right away!” You can hear the excitement in his voice as his footsteps headed towards the kitchen.

You laugh lightly at your goofy boyfriend and relax back into the tub, reopening your book.

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Time passed and you are at a particularly steamy moment in the novel –

“Farmhand Ben ran his calloused fingers through her hair – his hot breath causing a shiver to run down her spine. This feeling was new to Dorothy. Sparks of heat were radiating from her womanhood that couldn’t be smothered by the stormy flood that soaked her cotton panties. Her nipples stood erect at the scent of a dominant man’s musk.”

“...Her what now?”

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and heavy and impatient footsteps could be heard throughout the apartment. You jump at the sudden noise only to calm down once you recognize the shouting – Bakugou Katsuki, your second boyfriend and Japan’s number two hero. His shouts can be heard all the way to the bathroom. Again, the kitchen and the master bathroom is far so the fact you could hear him only made it more prominent how loud he’s being. You roll your eyes when you hear him shout at Izuku.

“Oi! (Y/N)! Where the hell are you?!”

Normally, Bakugou is the first one home so it’s become routine that you’re the first one he sees and he’s the first one to receive a welcome home hug and kiss. He always brags about it to make the others jealous.

You groan inwardly. You love your boyfriend, but sometimes he’s too damn loud. Before you could respond, Bakugou’s already in front of the bathroom door, hammering and rattling the door and doorknob harder than Izuku had. Izuku must’ve told him where you were.

“Welcome home, Katsuki.” you greet nonchalantly. 

“Don’t fuck with me! What the hell’re you doing in there with the door locked?!” he asked, his voice full of aggression and annoyance. Typical Bakugou.

“I’m doing my taxes.”

“(Y/N).” he warned.

“I’m taking a bubble bath, Katsuki.”

“Why the hell are you taking a bath?!”

“Um, to smell good obviously.”

“Then why don’t you take a shower, dumbass?!”

“I’m not having this argument with you again!”

Another big bang came from behind the door.

“Get the hell out here! I want my hugs and kisses!” he demanded.

“I’m kinda naked and wet right now!”

“You’re always fucking wet and naked!”

Blushing, you stuttered and quickly changed the subject. “D-Didn’t you yell at Izu yesterday for tracking water on the bathroom floor after his shower?”

“That’s different! That shitty nerd can barely dry his hair and he’s always wandering around the house half-dry!”

You sigh heavily and lean back, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You refuse to let his temper ruin your mood. “Well, I’m not done yet. I’ll give you a proper ‘welcome home’ when I’m done, okay? Just be patient.”

A tense silence filled the air only lightened a bit by your music before he spoke again. “I’m not in the mood to be ignored, babe.”

“I’m not ignoring you! I just want to take a bubble bath in peace.”

You hear the muffled popping of his quirk against the door. Bakugou is a very needy person. Clingy and needy might sound the same, but between Izuku and Bakugou it’s a huge difference. Izuku is the clingy type in the same sense that he pleads and holds onto you 24/7 begging for kisses and whispering ‘i love you’s’ all day long. Bakugou is the needy type to where if you forget to give him a kiss once he’ll have a temper tantrum and demand double kisses and never let you forget it again. Whatever he wants is a need and whatever he needs he wants. You sigh again quietly hearing the muffled booms get louder and louder, the slight smell of smoke seeping into the bathroom.

“Hey Katsuki?”

“Hah?!”

“I’d really love it if you made us your spicy ramen for dinner tonight.”

“Haah?!!”

“If you make it, I promise that as soon as I’m done I’ll give you double the kisses and sit on your lap during dinner.”

There was a pause as the booms came to a stop. “You promise?”

“I promise.” you reassure.

He let out a huff. “Tch, fine! But you better keep your damn promise! Or I’m busting this damn door down!”

With that, he stormed off, grumbling loudly under his breath. You knew he wouldn’t really break down the door. Not only because it was an idle threat, but also because after Izuku made the windows and doors virtually unbreakable, he hired someone to make the doors fire retardant as well. You remember him calling Izuku an idiot for not thinking about the “obvious”. You returned back to your book, raising the volume of Mary J. Blige’s I’m Going Down slightly to drown out Bakugou’s yelling.

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You lost track of time as you continued to read your novel, nearly reaching the end:

“Dorothy ran away from the ranch that night. Ran away from the barn where she became a woman. Ran away from Farmhand Ben. Ran away from the only place she ever called home. She couldn’t describe the betrayal she felt nor the heartbreak that racked her body. Heavy rain poured down on Dorothy’s small frame, soaking her white attire. She ran far on the winding dirt road, her breasts bobbing boobily with every bounce. Her nipples twirling–”

“Okay, what the actual fuck am I reading? Who the fuck wrote this?” You look at the front and back of the book. “T.I.A Morison? …There’s no picture either? Oh my god, this was written by a fucking man, wasn’t it?!”

“(Y/N), are you in there?” A soft voice called out to you, surprising you from your rant. Shoto Todoroi, your third boyfriend, is finally home. You were so wrapped up in this shitty smut that you didn’t hear the front door or his footsteps approaching the bathroom door.

“Oh, yeah Shoto. I’m in the bath,” you answer, placing your book down on the floor. “Welcome home.”

“I’m home.”

“...”

“...”

“Shoto?” you called out, wondering why he’s being silent. “Do you need something?”

“I need you.” he answered, quickly and bluntly.

You laugh. “I’m taking a bubble bath right now, honey. Can you wait until I finish?”

He pauses before speaking again. “I heard you talking about a man.”

“Oh yeah.” you grumbled, thinking to yourself that you should return the book tomorrow.

“Why?”

“Um…”

“Are you thinking of other men? Why were you shouting about another man? Is that why the door is locked?”

You sigh to yourself. Shoto is the most obsessive out of the other two with a big mix of clingy and needy. He’d burn down an apartment building at the slightest mention of you being chilly. He’s actually the one that “suggested” that you stay at home. Well, his actual first suggestion is to keep you locked in the bedroom so you won’t get hurt wandering the apartment. 

“Answer me, (Y/N).” An icey bitterness blows from under the door and sends a chill down your spine, making you sink a little deeper into the now lukewarm water.

“Woah, calm down, honey.” you soothe. “I was just talking about the author of this novel I’m reading. Clearly there are men walking this earth that don’t know a goddamn thing about female anatomy!” You’re getting riled up thinking about the paragraph.

“So… you aren’t thinking about men?”

“Absolutely not. You, Katsuki, and Izuku are all I think about.”

“Prove it.”

“Um… prove what?”

“Prove that you weren’t thinking about another man. Show me the book.”

“Haah… Shoto, baby… I know that’s just a ploy to get me to open the door, but I promise that once I’m done, I’ll show you the book so that you can burn it because honestly it’s not even worth the hassle of returning it.”

“...”

“Shoto?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Don’t like what?”

“Talking to this door and… only hearing your voice. I want to see you and touch you and hold you when we talk. I don’t like it when you’re away from me.” he explained, a pleading tone evident in his voice. “It makes me… anxious.”

You feel a bit guilty. Shoto’s always the last one home so he’s always in last place to everything happening in the relationship. Cuddles, kisses, hand holding, movie nights, dinner times, date nights, etc.. Even though he never mentioned it, you always got the feeling he felt left out when it came to together and alone time since Bakugou and Izuku would swoop up and steal you. Especially during bedtime.

“I’m sorry, Sho. I didn’t mean to make you anxious.” you apologize. “To make it up to you, I will… cuddle you for the next 3 nights and make you your favorite food for those days as well. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“You promise?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I promise.” you replied.

Just then, rapid footsteps approached the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! It’s been 45 minutes! Remember your promise!” Izuku announced, knocking impatiently.

“Yeah yeah! Okay, I’m getting out now.”

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You emerged from the bedroom and walked into the living room, fully dried off and wearing Shoto’s shirt with your comfy dolphin shorts. You smile seeing all your boyfriends setting up the table in their own casual pajamas. Thank goodness this apartment had more than one bathroom. Once Katsuki notices you, he groans and rolls his eyes, making his way to you.

“Fucking finally! Thought you were gonna be in there all night!” He raises his arms to hug you, but you stop him.

“Nuh-uh.” You step aside.

“Huh?! The fuck you mean “nuh-uh”?!”

“Izuku got home first and I promised him that I would greet him first.”

You walk up and hug your smiley freckled boyfriend. Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Shitty Deku! Don’t think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you got home first! If I weren’t busy dealing with idiots and shitty villains, I’d be home first! I’ll be here first tomorrow so fall back behind me, shitnerd!”

“I just got lucky to get home first, Kacchan. Don’t be selfish.” Izuku responded calmly with a smirk. He cupped your cheek and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I missed you…” he murmured into your shoulder, placing soft kisses along your clavicle.

“It was only 45 minutes, silly.” you say with a laugh. “But I missed you too.”

Izuku raised his face to look at you with a soft look in his eyes that still had a hint of neediness in them. “Yeah, but it felt like forever…” he mumbled, reluctantly letting you after a few minutes. 

Katsuki stared at you intensely as you approached him. He hates being in second place, especially to Izuku. His usual scowl fixed to his face, but you know deep down he’s just as eager to get a kiss from you as the others.

“Took you long enough, dumbass.” he grumbled, his hands immediately settling on your waist and pulling you in close.

You roll your eyes playfully and wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned in close, his lips barely touching yours. “Damn right, you should be.” he muttered, his expression softening as he leaned in for a kiss. His kisses are rough and demanding, but have an unmistakable sense of warmth and neediness. As promised, you gave him double the kisses which he took full advantage of, taking his chances to shoot boastful glares at a jealous Izuku. When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours and stared lovingly in your eyes.

“Lock me out again and I’ll destroy every damn door in this place, got it?” he ordered, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

“Got it.” you whisper back, giving him one last peck on the nose before moving onto Shoto.

Shoto’s gaze remains unwavering as you approach him, his heterochromatic eyes staring deeply into your soul. He didn’t say a word, just simply grabbed onto your waist with a firm grasp.

“I’m home.” he whispered softly, possessiveness in his tone as he smiled at you. Before you can greet him back, he quickly leaned in and captured your lips with a slow, deep kiss that left you breathless. His cool fingers traced the line down your back causing a shiver to run down your spine. He chucked against your lips, savoring the shivers from your body pressed against him. When he pulled back, he buried his face in your neck. “Next time, let me in with you. I can’t stand being away from you too long.”

You chuckle softly and nod. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With all three of them satisfied – at least for now – you pulled away and looked at your chefs for tonight’s dinner.

“Now, can we eat?” you ask, licking your lips. “I’m starving and the food smells soo good.”

Izuku nods eagerly, his eyes brightening. “Yes, of course! I hope you like it! I tried really hard to make it extra yummy for you!”

Bakugou sucked his teeth and crossed his arms. “If it tastes like shit, I’m killing you, shitty nerd!”

You giggle lightly at the banter happening between two of your boyfriends and take a seat next to Bakugou as promised, which made him smirk in silent pride. He nearly pulled you into his lap, that’s how close he wanted you next to him. However, you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on the delicious aroma of fried chicken and spicy ramen that filled the living room. The combination of food in front of you makes your mouth water and the table is soon filled with the chattering of chopsticks and the satisfied slurps and hums of approval.

“Mm! You really outdid yourself, Izu!” you exclaim between bites, munching eagerly on the chicken. “This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it! I tried my best!” Izuku beamed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Katsuki huffed. “It’s not that amazing. It’s under-seasoned and the chicken is chewy as hell.”

Yet, you saw that he continued to eat the non-amazing chicken. “Aww~! Are you jealous, Ka-tsu-ki~?” you tease.

A bright red blush covered Bakugou’s cheeks and the tip of ears. “H-Hah?! Fucking no!”

“I love your spicy ramen too, Katsuki. You’re such an amazing chef.” Sometimes it helps to stroke his ego to yield his jealousy.

Bakugou huffed again, clearly pleased with your praise, but trying to play it off. “Of course it’s good. I made it, didn’t I?”

You laugh at his tsundere-like response, but before you could tease him anymore, Izuku interjected. “So, how was your day, (Y/N)? What did you do while we were out?”

“Oh, not much.” you answer, taking a bit of spicy ramen. “Just ran a few errands, went to the bookstore, not much else.”

They all stopped immediately and gave you varying looks of surprise and concern.

Shoto raises his eyebrow. “You went outside?”

“Mhm.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah, but just for a bit.” you reassure, already sensing the possessiveness radiating from them. “Plus, I wasn’t gone all day. Maybe 2 or 3 hours max and just to a couple of stores.”

Each of your boyfriends exchanged knowing looks as you continued.

“Oh! I also ran into Sero and Kaminari while I was out.”

That set them off. Izuku’s eyes darkened at the mention of their names, small lines of smoke rose from Shoto, and Bakugou scowled harshly, snapping his chopsticks in half and pulling you closer to him tightly.

“Those two extra?” Bakugou growled irritably. “What the fuck did they want with you?”

“They just said hi and asked how everyone was doing,” you tell them, shrugging. “Oh! And Kaminari said that there’s going to be a drinking party this Friday and they want you to come, Katsuki. He said Mina, Kirishima, and Ochako are gonna be there too–”

“Fuck that!” he spat. “Why the hell would I want to waste my time with those bastards when I can come home and drink for free and be with people I actually care about?!”

“Aw Bakubabe–”

“Shut the fuck up, Icy-hot!”

“Well, they knew you would say that so they told me to tell you that they're gonna go ahead and reserve the restaurant anyway. They didn’t tell me the name because they were afraid you’d call and cancel, but they did say that it was a place that had your credit card on file.”

Tiny sparks popped from Bakugou’s clenched fist, burning his broken chopsticks. “Those damn bastards…”

Shoto’s expression remained neutral, but the grip on his chopsticks tightened, freezing it nearly solid. “I don’t like the idea of you going out alone.” Shoto said firmly.

Izuku, trying to stay calm but visibly anxious, chimed in as well. “I agree with Todoroki! W-What if something happened to you and we couldn’t get to you? There’s been an increase in villain attacks lately and I’d never forgive myself if–”

“Woah there, Zuzu. Breathe, all of you. Nothing happened I swear. I was careful and made sure to stay in the safe areas. Besides, I’m pretty capable of defending myself with all the stuff you guys gave me. The pepper spray, taser, pocket knives, mace, bear mace, brass knuckles, brass knuckles with a taser in it–”

“W-What?! I never gave you any of that stuff!”

“I gave it to them. You can never be too cautious with these fucking people.” Katsuki grumbled, his grip tightening on your thigh.

“Katsuki’s right. And I promise, it was just a quick trip. I just didn’t want to be cooped up inside all day. I really don’t mind staying inside, but I really had an itch to go outside today. I’ve even read every book in this house, even the manual for the dishwasher, refrigerator, and toaster oven which is why I went to the bookstore. Oh, that reminds me. Shoto sweetie, I need you to burn a book for me.”

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath, still clearly annoyed, but he didn’t push it further since the bigger problem of Sero and Kaminari abusing his card in a random restaurant made him angrier. Shoto’s gaze lingered on you a bit longer before he sighed and nodded, accepting your explanation.

“Wait… burn your book?”

To ease the tension, Izuku quickly perked up. “Oh! I know! Since I’m off tomorrow, if you want, how about we go on a date? Just the two of us.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

You smile at him. “We haven’t been out together in a while. I’d love that.”

“Yay! It’s a date!” he exclaimed, giddy with anticipation.

The rest of dinner became relaxed again as you all talked about your day, the current hero gossip, and the latest on villain activity in the city.

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After dinner, you all heated to bed. As promised, you cuddled up next to Shoto, who’s already lying under the covers waiting for you. He pulled you into his embrace the moment you slipped into bed, his blend of cool and hot soothing you.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since dinner.” Shoto whispered against your ear, his breath tickling your neck and sending shivers down your spine. His grip on you is firm, almost like he’s staking his claim on you, but there’s a gentleness in how he holds you close.

You snuggled closer into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against your back. “I promised, didn’t I?” you murmured back, smiling.

Meanwhile, Izuku and Bakugou stood at the foot of the bed, looking at you two with a mixture of resignation and jealousy. Izuku pouted, clearly wanting to be the one holding you and Bakugou just crossed his arms, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Tch! You’re hogging them, you icy-hot bastard.” Katsuki complained.

Shoto simply closed his eyes, content with having you in his arms. “You’ll get your turn in 3 days.” he sighed calmly.

“What the hell?!”

“3 days?! That’s not fair!”

“A promise is a promise, Zuku. Don’t be selfish.” you say, throwing his words back at him.

It was Izuku’s turn to huff with a pout. He climbed into bed, facing you while Bakugou settled in behind him. “Fine,” he grumbled, a pout on his adorable lips. “but I’m not letting you get away with this again.” He reached out his hand to gently touch your, interlocking your fingers with his. Katsuki grunted in agreement, sleep taking over him.

As the night grew quiet, the soft sound of their breathing lulled you to sleep. Shoto’s arms were wrapped securely around you and Izuku intimately held your hand even in deep sleep. Bakugou’s soft snoring even sounded melodic. Their combined warmth surrounded you in a cocoon of affection.

Maybe next time you’ll invite them to your next bubble bath.

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

a/n: making my first poly mha fanfic so i hope i did good! also trying out a new new style and format so let me know if you like it! my inbox is open so if you have a suggestion, shoot me one. i'm not the best at answering, but i do my best!♡

[thelemonsnek]

graphic interior design is my passion

[image id: an aerial floorplan of Ingo and Emmet's apartment. It is relatively small and not overly fancy. There are only two bedrooms, Ingo's and Emmet's, with a pullout couch to make up for the lack of a spare room. Most of the house is carpeted with a navy blue carpet. Off to the side, a tiny Ingo and Emmet look over at the apartment. End id]

additional ramblings under the cut for reasoning about some of this!!

ingo typically takes night shifts, so he took the room without the window so he could sleep better during the day. emmet preferred the room with the window bc the sunrise helps him wake up easier

their bed colors are based off their ex outfits in masters. emmet's is lighter and ingo's is darker to match the white/black theme

if you happened to notice, ingo's trashcan is beside his desk. emmet's isn't shown because it's under his desk. ingo also has one of those desks with built in shelves, both because it makes up for him not having a bookshelf, and also because i just think he'd enjoy the efficiency of it

for all of the chairs, they're out from the tables to demonstrate the space they would take up if in use. the twins do in fact push in their chairs. the exception is ingo's desk chair, which he leaves pushed out on purpose. freak

the dark carpet helps to hide dirt - important for trainers with so many pokemon in the house!!

speaking of pokemon, the hallway is intentionally larger than i'd expect of real life houses, in order to accommodate large final evolutions

the couch is a pullout, since they don't have a spare room

the rug isn't plain white i'd just rather die than actually design the pattern

there's also a lot of clutter/decorative stuff that i didn't include

the laundry room is sparse for easy access to the fire exit! safety first :)!

there are "floating" cabinets over the counters, i just couldn't figure out an effective way to draw that. the microwave is above the stove

i think that they're a higher up floor in the apartment, but not the highest. maybe like,,,,3 out of 5 or 6 floors?

space for ghosts was originally a little joke comment i wrote for myself when drafting the layout, then kept in. i could've extended the kitchen down and given them more room but the space for ghosts is important to me now. chandelure needs her alone time

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Looks like the house that cocaine built. I'm fascinated by these homes made of marble, and this one's in Wollert, VIC, Australia. It has 5bds, 5ba, $3M. It looks like the outdoor front entrance is marble, too. There are marble lovers all over the world.

So much shine, white neon, and notice the ladder in the rear, going up to a round opening in the ceiling. Fascinating. Also to the right there's a window to the indoor pool.

Plant walls by the pool are seen thru the window.

So, let's see. You pass the stairs and the sitting room is off to your right. There's a chandelier and neon in the ceilings.

This is a larger, open sitting room. Look at that fireplace wall. Geez. Black marble with gold running thru it?

The 2nd floor is visible in this room. I'm getting dazed and confused. This must be a family room, b/c there's the kitchen on the left. I guess the lighting indicates that there're a couple of steps up.

The spectacular island is the same marble as the fireplace. Matchy-matchy. This doesn't even look like a kitchen.

Okay, at least in the back of it, there's storage.

Wait. Is this a hot tub, pool, or tub? I'm so confused in this house. Nice teal floor, though. Are those 4 things seats?

Oh, it is a pool, it's a lap pool. A plant wall runs the whole length of it. This is crazy.

Look at the ceiling in the dining room. Funny that they would put the table that way. I would think that it would go lengthwise.

Ah, so after a long day of banging into glass walls, confusion, and slipping on shiny floors, you finally find the primary bedroom. At least it has a wood floor, floating bed platform, and a black ceiling.

Looks like there's a cut-out for the flatscreen in the fireplace and look at the illuminated shelving. Then, there's a wall of that crazy black & gold-streaked wall, plus look at the ceiling. I'm getting dizzy again.

This is so confusing. There's a desk in the corner and a weird mirror, the black marble, I think, and some kind of bubbly rocks dangling from above.

Closet dressing room. They left a few hangers and maybe the ottoman.

Of course, the en-suite is going to big and all marble, like a mausoleum. I don't care for the green strips of fake grass, though.

Not sure if I like the secondary bedroom. Seems cold and stark.

Home theater. Oh, I love those chairs. That's the one I have with the tray for my laptop.

Here's the regular outdoor pool. All illuminated, of course. Nice tile wall on the far side where there's a fountain.

From this seating area on the covered patio, you can see the pool w/the lights off.

Why did they put all those obstacles around the pool?

Lots of hard cement out here.

I didn't realize that the street was so crowded.

https://www.domain.com.au/18-brighton-avenue-wollert-vic-3750-2018453662

[phonydiaries]

a Dance in The Dark - P x Reader

It’s late when you reach the puppet’s quarters. Long shadows loom along the walls of the hotel and a draft rustles past you, pajama-clad and disheveled from a night of restlessness. You hadn’t bothered to switch your clothes, knowing your dear puppet wouldn’t pay it any mind. You had half expected to find P dormant at this hour, but instead he’s laid out on the floor with his legs kicked over the side of his bed. A book -which he seems thoroughly engrossed in- is held up above his head, its pages illuminated by the yellow-green light of Monad’s lamp, which casts a soft halo about the edges of his face. You rap your knuckles against the doorframe and his eyes jump to you, startled out of their careful concentration.

“Can’t sleep.” You sigh, gesturing down the hall with a tilt of your head. “Walk with me?”

With a twitch of a smile, Pinocchio tosses his book to the side and rolls haphazardly out of his place on the floor, clumsy with excitement. 

Knowing the hotel well enough, the two of you make your rounds of its many chambers in the dark, ever so often bumping elbows to each other’s ribs. Your barefoot steps cast dull echoes through the halls as you dip in and out of doorways, poke behind desks and rummage carelessly through shelves. In the deep blue foreignness of nighttime, you feel exploratory; curious like children let loose in an enormous garden just brimming with unrealized discoveries. 

Passing through the entrance hall, you seize the coveted opportunity to act a fool behind the front desk. “Hello, you’ve reached Hotel Krat.” You say, picking up the receiver of the hotel’s long-dead rotary phone. You’re sat on top of the desk now, your legs swinging over the side. Pinocchio glances up at you, his hands preoccupied diligently petting the hotel’s beloved orange tabby. You feign listening to the nonexistent voice on the other end of the phone. “Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Spring is busy at the moment. I’m afraid he’s in a very important meeting.” 

After thoroughly nosing about, you find yourselves settling in the piano room, you and Pino curiously flipping through pages and pages of sheet music. P’s interest is especially piqued by one booklet and he takes a seat at the piano, attempting to make sense of its pages. An admirable attempt is made as he plinks slowly and diligently away at the piece, tugging at your sleeve when he gets stuck. You barely know more than he does, and as you sit together at the bench your fingers tangle and trip over each other. The resulting notes are dissonant and clangy and you both fall into ripples of laughter at your duet's messy melody. 

The night wears on calmly, P fingering through a box of cobwebbed records, most of which are scratched beyond recognition. He retrieves one with some care and blows a layer of dust from the cover, his nose scrunching as it flutters across his face. 

You’re lying on the floor, limbs outstretched like a lazy snow angel as P futzes with the gramophone. There’s a few moments of anticipatory static before the record crackles to life; a somber piano score reverberates through the dim and intimate space. You close your eyes  as a woman’s wispy voice floats through the room, cool and calm. Something about the melody, the echo, the timbre of her voice makes your ribs fall heavy around your heart like a slowly but surely shrinking birdcage. 

Close your eyes,

Come to me,

Feel alright,

Just dance with me all through the night

“I can’t stand it.” You start, “It’s beautiful… but it makes me so sad.” 

You wonder if P is affected differently, maybe even more than you are by the emotional quality of the music. He certainly seems to have a fascination with it. “What about you?” You ask, your head turning to glance at the puppet. 

P’s eyes flicker towards the ceiling and his mouth twitches to the side in thoughtful consideration. He lifts a finger at you -hold on- while he rises from his place at the piano stool and arranges himself with precision beside the grand. He stands up tall, shoulders back, one arm held out just-so at hip level, the other outstretched as if resting on the shoulder of a ghost. You beam at the fine mimic work in front of you. 

“Really?” you ask, your brows knitting with intrigue. “Makes you want to dance, huh?” 

He nods enthusiastically and motions for you to join him. Your mouth hangs open for a moment. 

“Oh- no really I don’t know the first thing about it.” You stammer. Before your days at the hotel as Pinocchio’s companion, you had never known such affluent people and knew very little of high society or of their practices. Any formal knowledge of dance was utterly foreign to you. 

P assumes a swordsman’s stance and shrugs at you, nonchalant, as if combat training and dance were the most naturally drawn parallels in the world. 

“Sparring with you isn’t the same.” You say flatly, but P’s already made up his mind, and before you know it his hand is closing around yours and he’s tugging you up off the floor. You laugh nervously as you rise to your feet. “No, I’m serious! I don’t-” You begin to protest, but you catch a glimpse of his face, wide pleading eyes and creased brows. He smiles with all the calculated charm of a fox, handsome and cunning. You exhale deeply, steeling yourself before meeting his gaze. 

“Oh fine.” You relent, much to his chagrin. “Just watch your feet, I mean it.” 

P’s smile is annoyingly triumphant as he holds his hands palm-up out to you, seeking your guidance. Always so much concern for your comfort, you feel your cheeks warm just barely and hope the low light of the piano room masks it.

“Right. Um. Let’s see, you’ll put your hands…here.”  You say, taking his hands in yours and leading them to the crook between your waist and hips. He steals curious glances at you as you do. 

“And then I guess I’ll just…” You trail off, as your hands fold neatly together at the nape of his neck. You stand still for a moment, just looking at each other in the dark, the features of your faces obscured and foreign. This isn’t the way these things are normally done, you think, in pajamas, in the dark, but you can’t imagine it gets any better. If not for the undercurrent of music, you may have forgotten your purpose here entirely. P takes the first step, and you follow his lead with a dull anxiousness. Strangely enough, your movements feel still and mechanical compared to his. You try to loosen up, rolling your shoulders back, allowing yourself to be disarmed. P’s presence has a funny way of setting you at ease. 

The two of you move slowly in circles through the room, swaying gently like awkward young lovers. You draw into him as the music carries. Your cheek settles against his shoulder and his arms wrap around the small of your back and you breathe easy. It’s a lovely feeling, the way your bodies fit together like this, like they were made to. As you continue to step and sway, you close your eyes and listen to the gentle whirs and clicks of your companion’s heart…although… 

You maneuver slightly and press your ear to his chest. With some surprise you notice a skipping in its usual rhythm, bolder than you’ve ever heard it. You pull your head away and look up at P’s face in awe, a glinting smirk crossing your lips. 

“Pino, are you nervous?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. His face contorts and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes of it. He actually looks flustered and you almost don’t believe it. “It’s just me.” You say simply. At this, Pinocchio’s face softens, his brows turning up as if he’d taken offense.

“Just you?” He asks, and the timbre of his voice surprises you. You spend so much time together, and yet hardly do you hear him speak. Your smile fades slowly, replaced with an expression of curiosity. You nod hesitantly and hum in reply. P shakes his head at you, deliberate and slow. 

“Not just.” He murmurs, his gaze holding yours intently. “Never just you.” You realize you’re holding your breath. A ghost of a whisper slips past your lips. 

“Oh.”

Your fingers itch for something you can’t quite name and you find yourself pulling the puppet closer. His head dips to meet you and you feel a stray lock of his hair brush your cheek. His breath is warm.

The song ends. 

The needle of the gramophone lifts and the air is stretched thin with a cutting silence. You’re left in the dark together again, frozen in place. It feels terribly long, like you’re both waiting for something.  

“The music’s stopped.” You say, shattering the stillness of the moment, and as P moves to retrieve the record you immediately wish you hadn't. Your hand extends to stop him, fingers closing around his wrist. “But- we don’t have to, you know.” 

In the dark, you think you see him smile. He holds you like glass, delicate, and picks up again, moving leisurely to the music playing only in his head. He hums the tune softly and you follow suit, the two of you meeting in a duet of somber sounds. You wonder if your chests swell the same, if your breaths and heartbeats synchronize, following each other blindly the way you do now. The motion feels like crashing waves, steady and rhythmic, comfortingly repetitive. You fall into the flow of it all over again, leaning against P, sturdy and secure. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night.

Feels alright, indeed. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Five Stars: Sam Carver x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @district447 @caffeinatedwoman

Sam likes working with his hands, he gets a sense of satisfaction in fixing things that other people think are broken. When he stays over you always find him the next morning with his tool kit out, building something, or making an alteration. The shoe rack you didn’t know you needed, the floating shelves above your desk, the borders for your flower beds.  He liked to help out, make himself useful.

The thing about you, you like to watch. He worked that out early on in the relationship. Other people they don’t usually pay too much attention to him but you, you can’t keep your eyes off him. It does something to man.

Already he can feel your gaze on him from the armchair in the corner and his skin prickles with anticipation. When he glances over his shoulder, your book is resting on the driftwood end table he salvaged a couple of weeks ago and your eyes have a hint of mischief in them. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, your thighs rubbing together underneath the fabric.

“You’re getting off on this a little aren’t you?” He murmurs as he straightens the shelf before stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Seeing me doing things around the house, it plays into something for you?”

“Handyman may be one of my fav categories on Pornhub.” You say as he turns to face you and he smiles then, because his baby, she knows how to take care of herself on those nights when he’s away on shift.  

“Oh.” He says as he drops onto his knees in front of you. “And how do those videos usually go?”

His calloused palms come to rest on your thighs, spreading your legs and he can already see the damp patch blossoming across those pretty lilac panties.

“Usually she can’t pay for his services but…” You trail off, your head tipping back as his nose brushes lightly over your clit.

“You don’t like that.” He remarks, his breath ghosting over you as his eyes flicker up to meet his. “Because it’s transactional, it lacks intimacy.”

He thinks it’s the power dynamic too, you’re a headstrong, independent. Getting on your knees to pay for services rendered, it certainly isn’t your thing.

“Hm…” You respond as his thumb traces over that needy little hole of yours, exerting just the slightest pressure and you keen at the sensation.

“Well baby, this handyman is all about customer satisfaction.” He murmurs as he draws your panties aside with his fingertips. “It’s a very personalised experience.”

His tongue laps over your clit, a wave of pleasure crashing through you as his hand delves underneath the hem of the t-shirt. His calloused palm comes to rest on your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple bringing it to it’s peak. You’ve always been a little sensitive and you love it when they’re the focus of his attention.

His mouth delves lower, his tongue thrusting deep and you cry out, your fingers threading through his hair. He tweaks your nipple and the ecstasy it hits like a tidal wave, crashing through your entire body as you climax on his tongue.

Christ you’re beautiful in that moment, wild eyes and flushed skin, it drives him fucking crazy.

“Fuck Sam.” You murmur as his calloused palms chase up along your body, his lips following suit. He guides the t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely bare against him.

“Oh honey, I’m not finished with you yet.” He teases, his mouth brushing over yours as the denim of his jeans grinds against your core. “I’m after that five star rating remember?”

Love Sam? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[matchesarelit]

Pikmin! (Spencer Agnew x Gn!Reader)

A video game themed bar was exactly what you needed, maybe even a little more...

Smosh Masterlist

Requested: Sort of... 'reader meets him at a bar and than they go home together and have a fun nerdy time at his place' -anon

A/N: Sorry anon they don't make it home, also hope you like video games, I thought it was a safe bet for a Spencer fan, Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Mentions of fighting (mortal combat game play, smash bros)

W.C: ~2.1k

You'd been eager to try this place since your 'for you' page had all but taunted you with it while you were sick in bed with the flu. So crossing the threshold, the outlook of a dive type bar decked out in gaming memorabilia was both overwhelming and exactly what the doctor ordered.

LEDs behind the bar were mesmerising as they throbbed and changed, it was only after you'd straddled a stool that your eyes floated up past the assortment of alcohol, to the large collection of consoles and plug-ins suspended above.

Eagerly seeking out your favourites, you simply nodded when an approaching figure inquired after the stool to your left. Snaking your gaze down the shelving, your stare fell low enough to catch the figure of the bartender on the other side of the bar. The older woman was watching you with an amused smirk, clearly your enraptured state was not a rare one among first time visitors. Casting a glance to her headwear, you noted the Mrs Pacman sitting on her headband as you considered your drink order. Opting for a familiar brand you retrieved your phone from your pocket to pay, the case making it difficult as usual, as the bartender produced a bottle and left with a smile.

As you sipped your beverage you let your focus flit around the bar, There were a few larger screens with small groups of people crowding controllers and consoles, there were more displays and shelves chocked full of all sorts of gaming nostalgia and a few retrofitted old computers playing arcade gameplay.

Finding yourself watching more than a few rounds of mortal combat on an old box TV, your attention only shifted as a rather larger group of spectators erupted in cheers on the other side of the space. Noting some other set ups around the bar, ones much less crowded that that one, you stood from your chair, drink long since drank in many an unconscious sip as you'd watched the fights.

There was a couple duelling in some newer game you couldn't recognise, a group of older people screaming their encouragement alongside a woman playing pinball and lucky as ever, right at the back in a little alcove, there was an empty GameCube setup. Although a few other familiar titles lined the small area, the screen was already displaying your game of choice; Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3.

After frying your own console years before you'd been itching to get your hands on this game for a while. Yet as if it was only yesterday you found yourself navigating the menu with ease, selecting a map you felt you might recognise, the name sounding somewhat familiar, possibly one you'd sold your soul to over fifteen years before.

Admittedly, navigating the menu came easier than recollecting the controls, but after a few minutes you were finding your groove well enough to hit a couple special moves and terrorise a few pedestrians.

Concluding your first level you'd indulged in the character select menu, although finding the original Tony Hawk much too nostalgic, you continued on all the same.

Before continuing, you took a brief glance around your little station, cautious someone else might be wanting a go.

Satisfied by the empty space around your chair, and the empty one by your side, you continued on to the next location. Finding yourself revisiting some favourite tricks and areas from years before, you felt yourself relax into the game, it was only when as you sat back in the chair and the stats for the completed level popped up that you noted the presence of someone talking by your side.

'-still can't believe you stuck with Tony, Demoness all the way'

Turning towards the voice you caught sight of a man around your age, sipping some colourful concoction, as he shifted his gaze from the screen to you.

Although, you noted to yourself, the mess of curls adorning his head surely meant his sight was solidly obstructed, so how he managed to notice which character you'd chosen was a mystery.

He was nonchalant as he plopped into the chair by your side, and you felt yourself of similar affect as you responded,

'Well, I must admit my old favourite was the Eye Guy as I knew him, but its been so long i wanted that Vanilla playthrough effect ya know, nostalgia and all that.'

'Oh I'm very familiar. Do you mind if I have a go?'

Hand gripping the back of your chair you go to move,

'Of course I'll just-'

'You don't need to leave, I'll only probably play the one level, I was never the best at Pro Skater,' His words were said softly vet with a surety that left no room for argument,

'Are you able to hold this?' He seemed hesitant to ask as he continued scouring the space despite holding his drink out in your direction.

'Keep me here just to hold your drink did you?' your tone was light enough that despite the flush on his cheeks he still held it out when he saw you nodding.

You took it into your hands, holding the glass in your lap atop crossed legs as you watched him grasp the controller and navigate the menu just as you had done.

As he began to play you let your eyes drift from the menu to the assortment of games along the wall, spotting a couple of old favourites you made a note to try them if you got the chance later.

Returning your attention to the screen you sat in the relative silence of the little alcove, enjoying the small sounds and voice lines from the game you'd long forgotten the AI were capable of, until the man by your side spoke up.

'How do you do the... The double flip? I'm completely blanking' He looked momentarily back to you as his character drifted about the landscape,

'Oh its just the same button as flip, just twice,' your voice was soft, hoping not to come off as patronising with the simplicity of your answer.

'Oh yeah, simple eh?' He laughed it off easily as he turned back to the screen, watching him go on to try, and nail, the trick, you smiled to yourself.

Concluding a second level you'd urged him to play, he handed the controller back to you as you returned his drink.

'Did you want to play another level? I'm thinking of changing the game,' letting your mind drift once again to the cases along the wall, you considered your options.

'Nah I'm good, what're you thinking?'

'Ooh, im not sur- OH' You cut yourself off as a certain title caught your eye.

Tugging it free of its sleeve you held your choice aloft, being careful of the disk surface of course,

'Luigi's Mansion? Good choice...' his words although genuine came with a familiar hesitance.

'I know right I've-' Your excited reminiscence was cut short as he cut in,

'...Fair warning; their copy doesn't work'

'Oh damn...' you slid the disc back into its place

'Agreed, I felt exactly the same when I tried booting it up last week.' He watched your movements before scooting his chair back a bit and starting up again, 'They do have the third one on a switch over there,' he pointed his drink in the direction of the largest crowd in the room, the chalkboard wait list filled to the brim in progressively smaller and smaller writing desperate to be fit in. 'But you'll probably be waiting a while.'

Your lips sucked into a defeated line, you moved your gaze back onto the man by your side. His own focus set on the glass beneath him as he seemingly attempted to skewer the floating lime on his straw. You noted that just as you'd thought before, his hair had clouded the space between his eyes and the drink.

'Do you have any suggestion then? Any that work?' You pondered with a laugh as you flipped through the cases, the sound drew his attention back to you, not that you noticed as he remained silent, stare caught on the back of your head.

A few moments of silence later and upon finding nothing you turned back to him, a brow raised as you sat awaiting his response.

'Oh um, there's always Smash?'

Nodding slightly you put the controller on the tabletop and began to search for the disc, 'I never really played it, you'll have to show me how...' Unsure where the confidence came from for that request, you stalled slightly in taking the game out, and replacing the other with it before sitting back down.

Letting your peripherals catch what you refused to look directly at, you watched as he nodded, his lips pursed for few too many moments before parting with a soft utterance, 'uh-yeah of- of course'.

Holding your hand out for his drink you held out the controller with the other, and as you felt the weight of the glass in your hand you studied the screen as he began a match.

'So with this one you have all the regular moves, which use the regular buttons but, for example, Falco's Phantasm you need to use- '

His explanations were comprehensive and before long, you were playing and winning matches on your own, well mostly on your own. The man beside you seemed unable to stop himself from leaning closer and pointing out special attacks you could manage at any given time. By the time you'd won your second stage his shoulder was knocking your own, his face inches from yours.

Sitting back in your chair once again, all but pooped from the adrenaline rush of such a victory as your character filled the screen almost as happy with themself as you were, you felt the warmth of his closeness fade as he followed your lead, slumping in his own seat.

Your short reprieve was cut short however as a voice, much harsher than that of the man at your side, crackled from behind you,

'Sorry, Are y'all done with this console?'

Sharing a brief look with him you shrugged and glanced to the bar, a small nod was enough for you as you turned and addressed the newcomers, 'Yeah, we are. Go for it'

Stepping out of the alcove you moved no more than a metre, before turning back to check for him. Part of you expected him to leave for another spot in the bar, another console, but a bigger part of you was sure he wouldn't, at least not yet.

Sitting up on a stool you grabbed your phone to pay for a drink yet as you waited you addressed the man once again by your side.

'Well that was great fun! Little bit of nostalgia is good for the soul, ain't it?'

'Definitely. Although... Are you sure you haven't played Smash before?'

'Weeelllll... I admit I have played some of the newer ones at parties and such, but I really thought it'd be completely different on such an older console.'

Your cheeks were hot at the reveal, it wasn't as if you'd lied, but the suggestion you'd done so to get him to help you was an interesting one.

A small smile on his lips, he fixed you with a playful glare, the crinkling of his nose a dead giveaway. Never the less you played along, dropping your phone to the bar top and raising your hands in the air as if to profess your innocence.

'I promise. Next time though, I'll have to get your help on something else, something have no idea about, maybe Pikmin? I assure you I have absolutely no clue about that game.' Your face as stoic as you could manage, not very stoic at all, you watched as his smile splurged into a wide grin as his eyes looked between you and the phone discarded on the between you on the bench.

The device was hugged by a bright red silicone case with a telling red stem that ended in a single green leaf dangling off the top end.

You continued, 'What even is a Pikmin?' Getting the question past your lips without laughing between syllables was a struggle, but a worthy one as he soon broke into giggles at your sincerity.

'Well, you seem completely cluel-' He was interrupted as your phone rung out a hearty Pikmin!

'... Completely clueless... and that's okay, I'm happy to help.'

'You're too kind...' You trailed off realising you still didn't know his name.

'OH... I'm Spencer by the way,' Nodding, you failed to supress the smile that had spread across your lips as you spoke,

'Well, Spencer, I really need your help. So how about nex-'

Pikmin!

[iceandironbars]

WinterBones Snippets #2

Sad WinterBones for sad trasheads, short lil ficlets diving deep into the can of worms that is Bucky Barnes' brain ✨

The lingering scent of his apartment hit him like a wall of comfort and familiarity, the well known tingle settling deep in his stomach.

He had officially read it in a newspaper Steve showed him. But he had known before. Of course he had. He had kept tabs on his Командир always, ever since he got out of Hydra.

Being here after all that time felt like entering a world of his memories, a place remaining just the way it had been, regardless of the world collapsing. It felt like the part of him that wasn't allowed anymore.

Walking into the living room he remembered the Commander's gaunt and scarred face, laying in the hospital after the Triskelion collapsed.

He had watched him sleep for a long time, more than just one day. He had watched him waking back up and trying to move his battered body, failing miserably for weeks. He had watched him in a wheelchair and after that learning to walk on a cane.

All he could think back then was that he had failed his mission. Not Hydra, not the Triskelion, not eliminating the targets.

He had failed protecting his handler.

The wooden floorboards squeaked under his boots when he walked further into the apartment. Dust had accumulated on most surfaces by now, the apartment long empty.

His throat was closing up.

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and the familiar nausea that came with the guilt and the loss.

He continued walking.

The bathroom.

He knew what he was looking for.

On the shelves above the sink he found his Commander's aftershave and his cologne. He couldn't allow himself to smell it, not here, not now, or he would not be able to leave again. He slipped them into his backpack.

Walking back over through the living room, he aimed for the bedroom. Dark grey sheets, old clothes on a chair next to it.

A familiar looking, old hoodie.

Another old friend.

He lifted the piece of clothing up to his face, not being able to stifle the urge of inhaling the other man's scent. Maybe some of it was still lingering, even though it had been weeks since the incident in Lagos.

The Soldier didn't know if it was really there or if it was his memories coming to life when his lungs filled with the scent of his Commander. Every cell in his body ached and when he exhaled it formed into a quiet sob, a few tears sliding down his cheeks and seeping into the fabric.

He bit his lip violently, trying to stay focused, to ground himself, as he was helplessly floating deeper into despair.

As he slid the hoodie into his backpack, his tear filled gaze landed on the bedside table.

His Commander would hit him for rummaging through his personal belongings, he was certain. But the little glint of metal peeking out of the half open drawer peaked his interest enough to remind himself...

He wouldn't be able to.

He wouldn't be punished for it.

There was no one to punish him anymore for his fuck ups.

He walked over to the nightstand, a pathetic rest of whiskey sitting in a glass on top of it, next to a freshly opened bottle.

He slid the drawer open fully and his heart stopped.

It was the collar. A piece he remembered well.

Wanna be good for me, huh? Yeah, I know. C'mere, on your knees. I'll make sure you are... Хороший мальчик-

- running his fingers over its edge, he spotted some of his own blood, dried in some of the seams and crevices of the black leather, the attached steel chain glimmering in the low lighting.

He still couldn't breathe.

He stumbled back and sat down on the bed, letting his tears fall for just a minute, not making a single sound.

Grabbing his Commander's pillow, he buried his face in it, holding onto it desperately as he tried to center himself, to remind himself he had to leave again, he couldn't stay. Coming here was risky enough as it was.

When he wanted to put the pillow back, he stopped in a heartbeat, spotting a set of dog tags where the pillow had been before.

A shiver wrecked his body as he reached out and traced the outlines, reading the engraving on the old, stained metal.

They... He had kept them. He had them.

He kept them safe.

Like he did his Soldier.

He dropped the pillow, grabbed the collar and chain from the nightstand, shoving them hastily into his backpack and he all but ran out of the apartment.

The dog tags of James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th now hanging and clanking around his neck for the first time since the 40s.

★ Tag list ★

If you wanna be added to the tag list for future writings, leave a comment 🖤

@winternightsstar

@sukaibg

[ltwilliammowett]

Furniture on board a ship

Ships of the 18th and early 19th century were designed as floating gun platforms with an efficient discharge of guns. The fact that people also had to live there, and softly for years at a time, often fell a little behind. But at sea, people were clever and had furniture that was as practical as possible and could be folded up or stowed away as quickly as possible. At least above the waterline. The men didn't have that much space and the first lieutenant didn't always have a lot of room either. As First Lieutenant James Trevenen, HMS Crocodile, 24, guns off Cape Finistere, reported in a letter to his brother on 17 August 1781.

Une Chambre d' Officier à Board, by unknown mid 19th century   (x)

My habitation, then is six feet square, which six feet is now completely filled up as an egg. My cot in which i sleep is two feet broad (c.61cm) and fivve and a half long (c.1,65cm), allowing half a foot (c.15cm) on each side for swinging (and this is too little when it blows hard). I wish i had not mentioned the cot, for it blows hard now and bring to memory that i shall have a bad night's sleep. Allowing half a foot then for swinging, my cot will take up just half my cabin and htere will be left six feet by three feet. A very small bureau will take up three feet square, and my chair and myself will pretty well complete the rest of the space. [...]

Officer’s cabin with cot, HMS Trincomalee (1817), photo by  Simon Cotterill  

It wasn't much space, let alone much furniture. But most of those who held the post of first lieutenant had an bureau in their cabin. Everyone else usually had a lapdesk (writing box) to do their writing properly. In addition, there was usually a small table and a chair, and possibly one or two shelves with a border so that the contents did not fly through the cabin. In addition, there was the swinging bunk, the sea chest and, depending on their means, all kinds of furnishings such as carpets, curtains, musical instruments, pictures, books and so on. So one person's cabin looked different from another's.

Mahogany naval chairs, 1795 (x)

In the great cabin, in addition to the office, the swinging cot and possibly one or two chests of drawers, there was also a large table and matching chairs. Depending on the type, these chairs could have been foldable or simply solidly made. The table might also have had folding or unscrewable legs. But many were also simply solid.

Admiral’s great cabin aboard HMS Victory - the walls are lifted up

All the furniture was made of mahogany, moveable and able to be lashed and, with a few exceptions, was provided by the Navy Board as fixed furnishings.

Captain’s day cabin abord HMS Victory (x)

Private items also had to be purchased privately and brought on board. These included the lieutenants' chests of drawers, washstands, sofas and harbour beds (these were folding beds used mostly in the harbour - Nelson had one of these).

Nelson’s portable bed (x)

If everything had to be cleared during a battle, the partition walls were hauled out or lifted up under the ceiling. All furniture and personal belongings had to be moved to the hold so that they would not be damaged. And hopefully they did, although it often happened that the good furniture was damaged. When the battle was over, everything was put back in its place and everyday life resumed.

[usedtobeguest123]

Encantober Day 1 - Sunset

Bruno stepped his bare feet down onto the wood of his bedroom floor. He stood from his bed and padded to the center of the room. The air was thick with salt and brine, filling his nose with the sharp, wet scent. He could taste the saltiness on his tongue. The tide pushed in across the floorboards, the chilling foam washing over his bare feet, thinning as it went until it was just a film across the wood behind him. As the water pulled back, it carried grains of wood with it like sand, and Bruno's heels sank slowly into the floor, leaving him standing just a little deeper than he'd begun.  He'd never been to the beach. He'd read about it, but being here was different. The saltiness tasted different than salt tossed into the air, than the rush of dry sand. It all felt thicker, heavier. He used to daydream as a child of visiting the beach, and here he was. How funny that all he had to do this whole time was step out of bed.  Ahead of him Mirabel and Antonio splashed and played in the wake, seagulls dipping down to greet them with harsh calls. Deeper in, Luisa and Camilo swam amidst the waves. Antonio was almost as tall as Mirabel. When had he gotten so tall? ... It was a sunset. Or was it a sunrise? Wait--hadn't it just been night, hadn't he just been in bed? As the last of the orange sun slipped below the line of water, a flash of green raced out like a gunshot, pulsing toward him faster than the tide. WOOSH. He squeezed his eyes shut as it pushed past. Everything tasted green, salt and brine.

For @encantober-official Day 1, I took inspiration from a vision-dream that Bruno has in chapter 13 of my fic La Traes. His reimagined bedroom is from my other fic Bruno from Before; you can find its description below the cut!

There were no more treacherous stairs to trek up, nor ghastly images of a haunted prophet to pass to get to Tío Bruno's cave. Now it was just the ornate round door settled deep into the back wall of his room, shadowed slightly by an hourglass shaped entryway that no longer poured out sand. His main room was cozy and warm now, despite the impossibly high ceiling of the tower that rose above it. Natural light filtered in from the round window at the top of the tower like a cathedral, illuminating minute particles of dust and sand that floated lazily through the air. The left side of his room held a small bed tucked against the wall, a desk littered with papers and pencils, and a dresser situated next to the main door. The entire right side of the room was a sitting area, red and green cushioned chairs angled at each other just enough to encourage conversation but not enough to force it, a low table sitting between them. The backs of the chairs were to the center of the room, the chairs positioned to face a wall of bookshelves loaded with not only books but also doo-dads and collected odds and ends that Tío treasured for some reason or another. Two or three of the plants gifted by Isabela climbed precariously from their potted places on the shelves. One entire shelf seemed to be some sort of rat maze. Framed pictures of each and every Madrigal, some current and some yellowed with age, spread across all the walls like butterflies drifting in clustered groupings.  And there, straight across from the main doorway, stood the hourglass cutout and the large round door through that, looking for all the world like nothing more than a particularly interesting closet and not a room where the future sifted into the present. 

--Bruno from Before

[raccoonfallsharder]

so @thirteens-lucky-tardis had a lovely headcanon about Rocket just absolutely entranced by lava lamps. And I love it and it made me think like, take a moment to just breathe, or relax for a second or something? Just sit here and look at this frickin’ lamp thing. Idk it was such a nice visual I thought I’d bring it up to you ☺️

i went hunting for this but couldn't find it! i need to read it o(╥﹏╥)o

it makes complete sense. i'm just imagining you notice how much he likes yours - maybe you come home one day and you can't find him. he's normally clanking around with some invention or another - dismantling your toaster or building a new gun. muttering to himself, or humming one of those old songs. but today your apartment is silent, and if it weren't for the runabout still parked on the roof like a goddamn sleigh, you'd think he'd gone right back up into the stars.

you find him in your room, staring at the lava lamp that he must've turned on at some point. he's transfixed. it's the first time you've seen him still and quiet in your entire time of knowing him.

"are you okay?" you ask him cautiously.

he doesn't look away - just reaches out with one clawed hand and beckons you. "here-" he says, gesturing for you to come over. "-get over here. look at this weird frickin' thing."

a little chuckle huffs its way up out of your lungs, a breath like the beat of a small bird's wing. you come and perch next to him on the bed. i like to think you both lose time like this: breath slowing, hearts slowing, eyes growing heavy. At some point, he shifts and curls into a ball next to you, a compact bundle of fur pressing warmth into your thigh and flank. He rests his chin on your knee, eyes following the soft floats of wax, reflecting the slow-moving light.

i imagine you both end up dozing off, actually. much-needed naps for the two of you.

of course rocket remains entranced in the coming days and eventually - maybe for winter holidays, or as a parting gift - you give him a package to take with him back to knowhere. two lava lamps: one to keep, you tell him, and one to take apart.

i imagine he comes back to visit you often. you're basically best frickin friends - how could he stay away? no matter how much he hates this rotten mudball, you're here, and that makes it a little bit of a home. on one visit - months later; maybe a year - he finally convinces you to join him. he's still trying to get you to move permanently out to knowhere so you can hang out whenever he's not, like, saving the galaxy - but for now, he just wants you to see how it is. a little vacation, he tells you.

he's sure you'll fall in love.

and you do. the streets, the people, the life. cosmo and kraglin and nebula. drax and the kids. yaro root is surprisingly delicious, and they put it in everything. the streets are built on music. string-lights spangle the streets when the artificial sun sets, and the milky fizzes are way more delicious than they'd sounded when rocket had described them.

and those aren't even the best parts.

the best part is when you head in to rocket's place later that night, after meeting everyone and sharing food and playing card games and listening to music and talking for the majority of the night. though rocket has a few other places he think you might like to actually live if he's successful in persuading you to stay, he'd planned on you crashing at his place for the duration of your visit. you both stumble in the shadowy doors - a little buzzy out of pure exhaustion and happiness.

and then he turns on the lights.

rocket doesn't think about it - doesn't even realize he hadn't already told you about it. but the dark room slowly blooms into a soft, moon-pale glow, all the light emanating from dozens on dozens of smooth, luminous columns.

rocket's whole apartment is jeweled with lava lamps.

they're set into shelves lining the space above his workbench. there's a massive pillar of soft light shining next to his bed - his real bed, mattress and everything, because he knew you were comin' and though he'd never say it, your comfort is important to him. there are lamps set into the walls, into the corners. a hundred strange, alien light-forms, plucked from planet earth like flowers and improved: made safer, made softer, made more hypnotic and soothing.

inadvertently, from millions of lightyears away, you've touched this place. you've helped turn his shell of a living space into a home for him - into a haven.

a soft bed.

blankets and pillows.

the beautiful living light of countless shimmering columns, welcoming him into something close to peacefulness, something close to rest.

the two of you stay up late that night: sprawled on the soft, cozy mattress, bundled up in blankets. talking, warming the air with your words and your breaths and your quiet laughs. you both watch the shifting shadows on the walls and the swimming shapes of the wax, as slow-moving as moon-jellies, and just as lovely. your eyelashes and his both grow heavier and heavier, softer and softer, until they rest, finally, feather-light on your cheeks.

and eventually, wrapped in these plush shadows and quilts and the quiet glow, you both fall asleep.

[stromuprisahat]

The Little Palace and Grishas’ lives in Second Army, pt. 7

Siege and Storm- Chapter 13

The Palace grounds

The winding white gravel path led us through the palace grounds, past the rolling lawns and follies, and the high walls of the hedge maze. ... My heart beat faster as we entered the wooded tunnel. The trees pressed in on us and, above, the branches wove together in a canopy of green. The last time I’d seen them, they’d been bare. We emerged into bright sunshine. Below us lay the Little Palace. I missed it, I realized. I’d missed the shine of its golden domes, those strange walls carved with every manner of beast, real and imagined. I’d missed the blue lake gleaming like a slice of sky, the tiny island not quite at its center, the white flecks of the Summoners’ pavilions on its shore.

The Hall

... I climbed the steps, the others trailing behind me. The servants flung the doors open wide, and we stepped inside. We passed through the cool dark of the entry chamber and into the Hall of the Golden Dome. The room was a giant hexagon with the proportions of a cathedral. Its carved walls were inlaid with mother-of-pearl and topped by a massive golden dome that seemed to float above us at an impossible height. There were four tables arranged in a square at the center of the room ... ... The Darkling’s ebony chair had been removed. His table sat vacant.

The Darkling's quarters, including war room and oprichniki ?barracks? (Do they all live there, or is it just a place for those on duty?)

I strode across the room and threw open the doors to the Darkling’s chambers, giving silent thanks that they weren’t locked. I walked blindly down the hall, unsure of where I was going, but eager to get far from the domed hall before anyone saw that I was shaking. By luck, I found my way to the war room. ... I paced back and forth in front of the ancient map of Ravka that ran the length of the far wall. ... The Darkling’s quarters were just down the hall from the war room. A charcoal-clad servant led us into a large and rather formal common room furnished with a long table and a few uncomfortable-looking chairs. Each wall was set with a pair of double doors. “These lead to a passage that will take you out of the Little Palace, moi soverenyi,” the servant said, gesturing to the right. She pointed to the doors on the left and said, “Those lead to the guards’ quarters.” The doors directly across from us needed no explanation. They stretched from floor to ceiling, and their ebony wood was carved with the Darkling’s symbol, the sun in eclipse. I didn’t feel quite ready to face that, so I ambled over to the guards’ quarters and peeked inside. Their common room was considerably cozier. It had a round table for playing cards, and several overstuffed chairs were set around a small tile oven for keeping warm in the winter. Through another door, I glimpsed rows of bunk beds.

Aleksander's bedroom

... [I] crossed to the ebony doors. The handles were two thin slivers of crescent moon made of what looked like bone. When I took hold of them and pulled, there was no creak or scrape of hinges. The doors slid open without a sound. ... The chamber was hexagonal, its dark wood walls carved into the illusion of a forest crowded with slender trees. Above the huge canopied bed, the domed ceiling was wrought in smooth black obsidian and spangled with chips of mother-of-pearl laid out in constellations. It was an unusual room and certainly luxurious, but it was still just a bedroom. The shelves were empty of books. The desk and dressing table were bare. All his possessions must have been taken away ... I walked to the side of the bed and smoothed my hand over the cool fabric of the pillow.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 8, pt. 9

[spicechica]

(A Serendipitous Meeting)

*I was watching the Pixar movie Up recently, and this fic idea came to mind*

Summary: You and Quinten meet and become childhood friends, both feeling as if it was fate.

On a bright Spring day, five-year-old Quinten Quist pedaled furiously on his little yellow tricycle, his birthday balloon bobbing gently above him. The sun filtered through the trees as he rode deeper into the woods near his home, feeling an exhilarating sense of adventure. He was lost in his thoughts, a quiet boy with a mind full of wonders, when he stumbled upon an old greenhouse nestled among the foliage, its weathered frame partially hidden by climbing vines and surrounded by wildflowers. 

Curiosity piqued, Quinten hopped off his tricycle, balloon in hand, leaving it behind as he approached the creaky door, slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open, he was greeted by a magical sight. Inside, the greenhouse was transformed into a whimsical clubhouse adorned with twinkling fairy lights that danced across the walls. Shelves overflowed with art supplies and trinkets—glistening stones, painted rocks, and glittery drawings scattered like stardust.

“WHAT ARE  YOU DOING?!?” Quinten screamed as a figure materialized from behind a pile of colorful canvases. You stand there, bright eyes and an impish smile, hands at your hips, a hint of mischief in your gaze. In his surprise, Quinten let go of his balloon, watching helplessly as it floated through a broken section of the ceiling and disappeared into another room.

You circled him, scrutinizing him with a playful intensity. Quinten’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he was not used to being the center of attention, especially not from a girl who seemed so confident and spirited. 

“Alright, you’re in. Welcome.” You extended your hand, your expression softened, revealing a warm smile. Quinten felt a mix of shyness and intrigue, his heart racing as he accepted your hand, a little thrill coursing through him at the contact.

“I saw where your balloon went. Come on, let’s go get it.” You lead him through the enchanting space, your stride purposeful as you popped back in to grab his hand, “My names Y/n”. Quinten blushed deeper; no one had ever made him feel this way. 

You both moved up a staircase to the upper level of the greenhouse, where a large hole in the floor revealed his balloon floating just beyond reach. “There it is,” you pointed, your excitement infectious.

Quinten gulped at the sight of the flimsy beam stretching over the gap. “Go on,” you encouraged, playfully pushing him forward. His heart raced with fear and exhilaration, the challenge igniting a flicker of bravery in him. He took a deep breath, summoning the courage to step onto the beam.

Just as he found his balance, the beam wobbled under his weight, and he lost his footing, tumbling through the hole below. The world spun as he fell, the sound of voices echoing in his ears before everything faded into darkness.

Quinten lies in his bed, a bandage wrapped around his arm. Quinten's family found him passed out from the fall after following his trail from the house. Thankfully, it wasn’t too serious for any type of severe hospital visit, just a sprain, luckily no concussion. The warm glow of his bedside lamp illuminated the pages of the book he clutched tightly. He was startled from his reading by a soft rustle, and before he could react, you appeared at his window, a grin on your face. 

“Boo!” you whispered, causing him to yelp and quickly cover his mouth, the shock sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks. 

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” he asked, half-excited, half-nervous, his heart still racing from the surprise. 

“I came to check on you. You scared me when you fell!” You climbed through the window, your presence lighting up the room. “I thought maybe you could use some cheering up.”

Quinten couldn’t help but smile at her infectious energy. “What if my family caught you?,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“They won’t,” you replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. “And besides, I brought you something.” You pulled out a small sketchbook filled with drawings of different landscapes and architecture —each page brimming with life and creativity. 

Quinten was entranced. “These are amazing!”

“Thanks! I want to be an artist someday,” your face glowing with passion. “And maybe you can help me! You seem to like that stuff.” You point to the pile of doodles stashed next to his bed. He slowly picks one of the sheets up. “Very interesting,” you looked at the half drawn building, amazing by its structure. 

“What is it?” You asked. He shrugs in response, he had only seen glimpses of these images in his dreams, but he could never figure out where it was from. “I like it…” Quinten lightly smiles at your response. 

As you both chatted, Quinten felt a bond forming—a connection that was deeper than mere friendship. You were different from the adults he often interacted with; you were vibrant and spontaneous, igniting a curiosity he hadn’t known he craved.

You quickly shut your book. “Well, it’s getting late, see yeah.” Before you climb down the window, you turn back and give him a smile. “If you want to, you can come tomorrow,” you step out one foot first. “You know, you don’t talk very much….I like you.” Quinten looks out the window as he watches you leave in amazement. 

Time slipped by, weaving your lives together as you both blossomed from children into teenagers. Quinten, now sixteen, found himself pedaling his bike down the familiar gravel road, the wheels crunching rhythmically beneath him. The sound echoed through the air as he thought about You.  Always just a little ahead of him, your spirit like a beacon that guided him through life’s complexities.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow on the path ahead. He could see you waiting for him at your secret spot, a makeshift fort they had built from branches and leaves, now a refuge of their shared dreams and whispered secrets.

As he approached, he could hear your laughter, a sound that melted his heart. “You’re late!” you teased, feigning disappointment but unable to hide your smile.

“I had to make sure I could slip past Max without him noticing,” he replied, trying to catch his breath. For the past couple of weeks he had been doing the same thing. Instead of going to his classes like his family expected him to, he’d sneak off or find some excuse to not go. And of course Max was always on him about it, especially his grandmother. 

You both went to different schools, so the only times you two would see each other was either after school, or when you planned meet ups on the weekends. Sometimes you would even ditch school just to meet up with him as well, not like really any of your family noticed. 

As fall began to come around the corner, your friendship began to shift. Quinten felt a strange fluttering in his chest whenever he was near you, one he could not control rarely . It was as if the world had sharpened in color, every glance, every touch, igniting a fire within him.

One afternoon, as you both sat beneath a sprawling oak tree, Quinten watched as you sketch the landscape, your brow furrowed in concentration. The sunlight danced through the leaves, casting a warm glow on your face. “Y/n,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You look up, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever think about… what’s next?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his feelings pressing against him.

“What do you mean?” you replied, tilting your head slightly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“About us. About growing up and… what it all means,” he stumbled over his words, his heart racing as he searched your eyes for understanding.

You studied him for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. “I think about it a lot,” you admitted, your tone suddenly serious. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Quinten’s heart soared and sank at the same time. “Neither do I.”

But the moment passed, and you both slipped back into the comfort of laughter and playful banter, the tension lingering in the air, unacknowledged yet palpable.

Months later, your friendship was tested when Quinten was offered an opportunity to go school in Amsterdam and live with his father. He knew this was what he was asking for, but now that he’s been closer to you, he didn’t know how to act. As he stood inside the green house where you both had shared countless moments, you approached him, concern etched on your face.

“You’ve been quiet,” you noted, a hint of worry in your voice.

“I-uh, daddy wants me to come live with him in Amsterdam, so i can go to school ,” he replied, feeling a lump form in his throat.

Your expression shifted. “That’s amazing, Quinten! You said you wanted to go to school there, didn’t you?”

“But it means leaving,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “We’ll figure it out. We always do,” you replied, stepping closer, the unspoken words hanging between the both of you like a fragile thread.

“But what if it changes everything?” Quinten whispered, his heart pounding as he searched her gaze for reassurance.

“Maybe it will. But we can’t let fear hold us back, can we?” you replied, determination shining in your eyes. 

In that moment, Quinten realized he couldn’t imagine life without you. Leaning in, he hesitated, then pressed his lips to yours softly. Quinten felt the warmth of your lips against his, a spark igniting the air between you. It was a moment suspended in time, where all the uncertainty of the future melted away, leaving only the undeniable connection that had woven itself through years of friendship. Your eyes fluttered closed, and he could feel your breath quicken, matching the rhythm of his heart as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was tentative at first, both of you exploring the new territory of your relationship. But as the initial shock faded, passion took over, deepening the kiss. Quinten's hands found their way to your waist, holding you as if he were afraid you might disappear. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin. The world outside the greenhouse faded into a distant hum, cocooning you in your own secret garden of love.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the silence between you was charged with unspoken feelings. Quinten searched your gaze, his own filled with vulnerability. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a mix of joy and disbelief flickering across your face. “Me too,” you replied, feeling the weight of everything you had shared finally crystallize into something tangible and beautiful.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden rays through the greenhouse's glass panes, you and Quinten stood enveloped in the aftermath of your kiss. The air felt charged, vibrant with newfound emotions, as if the universe had shifted ever so slightly to make room for the bond that was now blossoming between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long,” Quinten said, his voice a blend of wonder and a hint of regret. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled softly, your heart racing. “Maybe we were just meant to take our time,” you suggested, stepping closer to him. The familiar scent of soil and growing things surrounded you both, grounding the moment.

Quinten nodded, his eyes searching yours. “But now… with this opportunity, I don’t know what to do.” He leaned against the wooden table, looking out at the lush greenery that had witnessed so many of your childhood secrets.

“Quinten,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “You have to follow your dreams. I wouldn’t want you to give that up for me.”

“But what if it means giving up on us?” he replied, his brow furrowing. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand tighter. “We’ll find a way. We always have. Distance doesn’t have to mean the end.”

He looked at you, the weight of your words settling in. “Promise

“Promise,” you whispered, sealing it with another brief, soft kiss. 

*this is officially my longest fic and now I'm burnt out 😫*

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Love canal boats and haven't posted one in a while. Thanks to Ingek73 for finding this one- it's gorgeous! I've never seen such a classy canal boat. Built in 1943, it's been completely renovated, has 3bds, 1ba, €1,475,000 / $1.618M. Usually, people buy canal boats to live cheaper, but this one is worth the higher price.

I did not expect anything like this. Usually, canal boats are narrow, cute and cozy. This is like a house.

I've never seen one this spacious or with a built-in fireplace.

On the raised platform in the living room where they have a lovely desk facing the deck, plus there's a sliding door to access it.

Usually houseboats are tight, but you could definitely entertain in here, it's huge.

Nice corner to relax with a view of the outside.

How cool is this? They put a glass panel in the floor so you can see the downstairs hallway.

The wide galley kitchen has a fireplace in the wall.

Down the stairs to the lower deck.

Bedrooms are off this hallway. Note the glass ceiling insert above.

Very spacious primary bedroom with built-in shelving, ceiling beams, and a cool industrial look.

This is beautiful.

Note how the shelves tilt back in case the water gets choppy.

It's even got a walk-in closet.

Very large bath has a big shower and separate toilet. Look at the sink, it looks like it's floating on air.

Big laundry room with a porthole.

Plus another walk-in closet.

Bedroom #2 is a good size.

Bedroom #3 has a cute porthole and is large enough to fit twin beds.

They've got quite an extensive container garden that needs some tending.

On this side is an area for a table.

Just lovely, isn't it?

[copperbadge]

It’s Restaurant Week in Chicago! A friend organized a dinner out for a couple of us at Untitled Supper Club, a speakeasy-themed joint I’ve been wanting to try. It has a bar with a library ladder, naked ladies on the wallpaper, and a spectacular chandelier -- and the food’s pretty good too. 

We had a four-course meal beginning with burrata with truffle honey on a bed of whiskey-roasted grapes, then my friends had oysters while I had the lemon caesar salad; pictured is my entree, lasagne with wild mushrooms and braised leeks, while others got the amish roast chicken or grilled rack of lamb. For dessert we had apple pie cheesecake with dried apple chips, spiced apples in sauce, and vanilla bourbon gelato. 

I don’t think it’s somewhere I’d go regularly for a meal, because it’s a bit fancy both in food and decor, but the food was exceptional and I got a nice compliment on my pineapple-print shirt and currently-pink hair from the extremely fashionable host. 

I took an Adderall before the meal so I felt really good being able to relax and socialize without worrying that I’d spend the next few days replaying all of the awkward things I said; this morning I’m only remembering good stuff, like one person recounting a tale of Trivia Game Hacking and another telling me “It’s okay we’ve derailed the story I was telling, that’s how conversation works!”

And then I walked home with Auntie A, because it was a cold but pleasant night out, and we got to talk about our writing work. Then I came upstairs and got to sit on the sofa and unwind with this. 

So it was a really nice night. 

[ID: Up top, five images. Top left, a bar, three shelves of liquor stretching up to about a 20ft ceiling, with a bartender climbing a ladder to get to the top shelf. Top right, a close-up of the wallpaper featuring topless women in high heels dancing with feathers. Middle left, a plate of lasagne, noodles wrapped in circles around mushrooms and cheese, sitting on a bed of bechamel sauce; middle right, a fantastic feathered chandelier floats above the heads of other diners in a room lined with green panels. Bottom, a slice of cheesecake with gelato and spiced apples on top. Finally, a sixth image of Dearborn the tortie, lying on her back on a blanket, gazing up at the camera adorably.]

[saspas-library-of-craziness]

So I had to write this and get the brainworm out of my head. As I wrote it, I imagined Raph and reader being in a QPR. You'll see and then agree.

Word count: 771

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

Raph is a pretty big guy- actually scratch that, he's never seen anyone bigger than him. So when you decided you wanted to be crushed, he was very startled. The day went a little like this-

You walk into the lair, dragging your feet.

"Oh hey Y/N!" Mikey called from the kitchen.

"Mmm," you mumble as you unshoulder your backpack and flop onto the couch.

"You alright?" Mikey walks over in front of you. You groan loudly into the cushion, and you practically hear Mikey frown.

"Raph! Y/N's here!"

There's a loud bang from the bathroom down the hall before Raph emerges, looking mildly disheveled.

You can't help but chuckle from where you'd turned your head to peek at him. The turtle looks like he just got out of the shower. Your face flushes as he stares at you, turning back into the cushion.

"Is everything alright, Y/N?"

You groan into the cushion again, louder. A few seconds pass, before Raph's telltale footsteps draw close and you're scooped into muscled arms.

"Bleghh," you loll your head dramatically, grinning lightly at your captor. He chuckles, a deep rumble that always manages to warm you.

He begins trudging to his room, leaving Mikey behind. Nudging the door open with his foot, he settles you comfortably on his bed.

"You're off today," he murmurs. You shrug. "It's been an off day."

It's true. Nothing particularly bad or uncomfortable happened today, yet you'd felt itchy in your own skin. It had eased with the physical contact Raph was so generously giving you, but now that he's hovering near you on the bed, the feeling is creeping back.

Raph turns and grabs something off one of his floating shelves, and holds it out to you.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He has a singular penne-shaped pasta between his fingers, and you choke on a laugh.

April had come down with food supplies to teach Mikey how to cook something other than pizza, and the first night was chicken Alfredo, with penne pasta. Mikey ended up spilling the box of pasta across the kitchen, and they had to salvage what they could. A week later, Raph found a singular pasta under the couch, and kept it for some reason? And every time he presents it to you, you can't help but laugh at the origin story.

When you're done hacking up a lung, you settle on the bed, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. "I'nno, there's just this weird itch that's been bothering me."

Now Raph looks confused. "Can you not reach it? Is it your back? Or," he asks seriously, "is it one of those ones that moves when you try to scratch it?"

"No, it's, like, my whole body. Dunno why."

Raph pouts, flopping across your legs and stomach (carefully, of course. He's aware of his mass).

A second goes by.

And then your breath stutters.

The pressure is like warm lightning spreading down your stomach and legs, soothing the aches and the itch.

"Um, Raph?" You begin hesitantly. He lifts his head from your stomach, ever so innocently looking at your face.

"Can you come up here?" You pat your chest, unable to look at his eyes longer.

"Awoh, Y/N, I can't. I'd hurt ya."

You sigh, closing your eyes as he settles back on your stomach.

A few minutes pass.

"Hey Raph?"

"Yea doll?"

"Come 'ere." You wave him forward, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he pulls himself over you, face hovering above yours. You open your eyes to meet his. He looks almost... nervous.

You reach up to gently cup his head with both hands.

Then he yelps as you clunk your forehead against his.

"Raphael, I need to be crushed this instant."

His eyes widen as you stare him down, centimeters apart. He swallows, and opens his mouth, to protest most likely, but you add, "Please."

He holds your gaze for another moment, sighs, and slowly moves his head to your collarbone.

"If anything is uncomfortable-"

"I'll make sure you know, I know the drill, mate."

He finally settles, fully draped across you, and you feel like you can breathe a little easier, despite the massive turtle currently crushing you. In fact, you've all but melted into the bed, mind blissfully blank.

Minutes pass, and you're on the edge of dozing off when you hear yourself murmur, "Deep pressure therapy."

"Hm?" Raph perks up a little.

"'s deep pressure therapy. Tha's wha's goin' on."

You hope you get your point across because you're really fucking tired and warm and comfortable and the world is already dark and ope. You're asleep.

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

I'm considering writing a part two for Raph's perspective as well. Hope you enjoyed, and if you see any errors, no you don't

Also: @serendipitouslyjayus247