#i can’t take naps in the daylight

[sweetshuga]

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝟐 ✧ 𝑴.𝑺

𝒃𝒔𝒇.ᐟ𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕! Teasing him about it before giving him head like in his fantasies. "Ooh, fuuuck-- You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for me... Taking me so—mmph—deep."

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂. «𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏» «𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕» «𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕»

𝒘𝒄. 𝟏.𝟏 𝒌

𝒂𝒏. Yeah, so here’s the second part ☺️

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! || Every part can be read as a standalone!

The drive home was rather quick thanks to Matt’s driving skills and the road being almost free of cars.

Everything blurred together as Matt’s brain zeroed in on the feeling his cock twitching helplessly in his pants. He desperately swallowed down the whimper forcing its way up his throat, not wanting you or his brothers to hear it.

The moment he walked in through the front door almost felt like a reward—something he earned through resilience and patience. Which was just surviving having a hard-on for almost an hour long, but to him it felt like he endured severe physical pain.

Matt briskly walked towards his room, shouting something about having a bad headache and needing a nap. When in reality, he was just going to jerk off.

No one suspected a thing. No one except you.

𝑨 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Just as Matt pulled out his dick and was about to give his poor swollen member some relief, you opened his bedroom door and nonchalantly walked inside, closing it behind yourself.

He quickly pulled the cover over himself, startled by your sudden appearance, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

"Don’t you know how to fucking knock? And can’t you see that I’m busy?" He tried to sound frustrated but his tone lacked any real anger, sounding more embarrassed than pissed off.

"Sorry," you said, but it definitely didn’t sound like you meant it. And the way your lips curled up at the corners further proved to him that you were enjoying seeing him embarrassed.

He watched intently as you walked over to his bed – where he sat, leaning against the bedframe, still half naked under the covers – and the way your hips moved with each step you took made him want to grip them tightly and fuck the living daylight out of you—

"So," you began, making him snap out of his fantasy, "What exactly were you "busy" with before I came in?"

Your innocent question almost made him groan out loud but he held himself back and instead took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before he muttered out a gruff response.

"You know exactly what I was doing."

Your smirk widened slightly – almost teasingly – at his words, and you leaned forward, your eyes locked onto his heavily dilated ones.

"Yeah, I do." You admitted with a soft chuckle, the sound making his dick jump.

"Since I know why you’re this hard and aching... Why don’t I lend you a hand..." You trailed off, your smirk widening further, turning into a wolfish grin as you said your next words, knowing exactly how much it would affect him.

"Or a mouth."

Matt’s breath hitched in his throat at your offer to help him jerk off and potentially give him head.

He’d be a fool to refuse your generous offer now wouldn’t he?

𝟓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Matt’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as he watched you position yourself between his spread legs, you gaze locked onto his cock. The sight of you looking so intently at his length made it twitch.

His tip was flushed a deep shade of red, a fresh bead of pearly cum forming on his slit before slowly sliding down the head of his cock and towards his base, his length twitching at the sensation.

Your fingers gently wrapped around his base, slowly stroking up towards his tip, tightening your hold on his shaft subtly as you did so. You gulped softly when you felt his dick throb in your hand, hearing his soft groan doing wonders to make you soak through your panties.

Slowly picking up pace, you leaned down, making Matt’s breath hitch in anticipation of what’s about to come.

Your tongue darted out to lick the precum dribbling down his cockhead. Matt hissed softly when you licked a long stripe up the sensitive underside of his shaft next—from base to tip.

His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud when you wrapped your plump lips around his cock, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping open, not wanting to miss your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him deeper.

"Juust like that..." Matt whispered huskily, his fingers tangling in your hair and scrunching it up, not pulling or guiding for now, just trying to ground himself from the pleasure.

He stared down at you, lips parted and eyes slightly glazed over and hooded, watching you in awe as you took him deeper.

"Ooh, fuuuck-- You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl for me... Taking me so—mmph—deep." Matt groaned softly.

The tip of your nose grazed his pelvis before you pulled away, gasping for air as your hand pumped his length—as if to replace your mouth while you caught your breath.

Your mouth was quick to be back around his cock, your eyes watering beautifully as you looked up at him, gagging subtly when his tip suddenly hit the back of your throat.

His hips slowly began to thrust up in rhythm with the bobbing of your head, beginning to fuck your mouth as he got lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

His hands held your head, now guiding it along his shaft in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. The knowledge that you were letting him use your mouth however he wanted made his dick throb urgently against your tongue.

Feeling his balls draw up tight, he quickly pulled out his length, wanting to see his release on your face as he fisted his cock furiously, and you quickly stuck your tongue out, realizing what he wanted.

"Shit--shit! I’m so close! Fuuckkk... C-cumming—mmph-ah!"

His eyes rolled back briefly as the pressure in his abdomen exploded, his vision blurring for a moment as white-hot pleasure prickled throughout his whole body.

Matt’s hips jerked in time with his orgasm, his hand blurring over his cock as rope after rope of sticky cum painted your face and tongue a pearly shade of white.

He watched as you swallowed the bit of cum that landed on your tongue, his breath coming in short shuddering pants as the last bit of his load spurted out.

Sated, Matt slumped back against the bedframe, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to catch his breath, subtle tremors still running through his body due to the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

"That was- You’re so- I can’t even..." He trailed off, unable to even form a proper sentence, his mind still fogged with pleasure.

𝑨 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

You went to wash your face since he came all over it and he took the time you were gone to recover.

Matt turned towards you when you came back and sat on the bed beside him, his eyes glinting with lingering hunger as he looked down at your plump lips that were wrapped around his shaft earlier, before looking back up into your eyes.

What he said next made your breath hitch.

"It’s only fair that I return the favor, no?" He murmured as he gently pushed you down, making you fall back on his bed, your hair sprawling out on his silk sheets.

"It’s my turn to make you feel good, sweetheart."

𓆩♡𓆪

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[oofmybad]

Billie rides reader’s strap while Billie is recording adlibs for her freaky songs (oxytocin, Billie bossa nova, and lunch). Some make it on to the songs while some remain for their ears only

Lunch

thank you for the requesttttt :P i hope you like it - it’s not the best but hey ho.

warnings: billies fem!reader, fluff, smut, strap riding, spitting, slight exhibitionism

a/n: ok gang. we just gotta go with it cuz if someone did this to me i’d sue the living daylights out of them. no joke.

~~~~~

waking up from an afternoon nap, you stretch and yawn - your limbs splayed out across the bed. you notice that billie’s body is no longer lying next to yours so you walk over to the bathroom and do your business before deciding to go and look for her.

your feet slowly pad down the stairs, your (billie’s) pajama shirt still draped from your shoulders. you fiddle with the hem lying across your thighs as you search the house for your girlfriend.

looking through all the ususal spots, you don’t find her - she must be in her studio.

you tiptoe to the door, carefully twisting the doorknob and peering your head through the crack in the door. in front of you, facing the wall adorned with screens, you find billie messing around on the computer.

she has her headphones on and the microphone in front of her so you quietly approach her, hoping not to disturb the take she’s on. placing your hand gently on her shoulder, billie places her hand over yours - wordlessly telling you, i see you.

you patiently wait, stood behind her and watching her work her magic. after a minute or so of billie singing some adlibs she triumphantly hits the space bar on her keyboard - signifying to you that she’s not recording anymore.

at that, you lean down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as you remove her headphones from one ear.

“i missed you when i woke up, bil” you say.

“sorry baby, i couldn’t sleep” she mumbles, her head resting on yours.

“can i sit with you?” you ask her, pulling her chair out to meet her eyes.

billie says nothing, but double taps her lap telling you to sit. you recieve the offer, sitting sideways on her thighs.

“you can get comfier than that” billie tells you, her hands gripping your hips and lifting them to be straddling hers.

you sit there like a koala in her arms as she lightly strokes your back with her nails - leaving chills up and down your spine.

every touch of hers is awakening a desire in you that was not there moments before. figuring that this isn’t the time, you fidget in her lap and pull her hand from your back.

“what’s wrong?” billie questions.

“nothing, just… stop touching me like that” you mumble into her shoulder.

confused, billie pulls you away from your hiding spot and makes eye contact with you.

“why, mama? what’s wrong?” she reiterates, a caring tone in her voice

you can’t help but blush under her affectionate stare. so you cover your face with both hands, trying to rid yourself of the embarassment.

“tell me” she coaxes.

“it’s making me…” you pause, peering through your fingers covering your eyes, “it’s making me horny” you try again.

“oh, is that so?”, you nod, “and that means i have to stop because?…” billie questions, a new flirty edge is evident in her voice.

“‘cause your busy” you reply, wiping your eyes of any remaining sleep.

“i can multitask” billie quips, a new, mischevious smirk on her face. her hands return to your waist, tucked underneath your shirt. she lightly strokes your sides, tickling not quite but just enough.

her hands inch lower, to your thighs, as she leaves a kiss on your forehead. hands caressing your soft skin, you let out a low whimper beneath your breath - the sound escaping before you can stop it.

billie’s grip becomes firmer, her nails slightly digging into the supple skin at the top of your thighs. billie’s head dips to leave an open-mouthed, wet kiss on your collarbone.

“bil...” you mumble.

“huh, baby?”

“don’t start something you can’t finish” you whisper, eager not to get all worked up if she’s going to ignore you when it’s time to work.

billie says nothing in reply, but takes your hand from her shoulder and guides it to lay over her core. you find the bulge of the strap poking through the zip of her jeans.

you let out a soft chuckle, of course billie knew that you’d be horny when you woke up. you always are after a nap.

“you knew?” you ask, your cheeks flushing red.

“i know you” billie laughs with sarcasm.

unintentionally, your hips begin to grind on billie - need taking over your body. “i need you, bil.”

at that, billie unzips her pants and lowers her boxers, allowing the strap to protrude from her hips. your hands stroke the length from top to bottom.

billie’s left hand travels towards your core, coaxing you over your panties. her head cranes forward, her lips landing next to your ear.

“i have an idea.” billie whispers. you nod for her to go on.

“can i record your pretty little noises, mama?”

you pulll your head away from billie, searching for her eyes. slightly unsure if she’s being serious or not, you ask her, “for real?”

billie wordlessly nods, a smile creeping on her face. at the sight of her excitement, you begin flush, your head nodding before you can think twice.

billie’s smile widens at your agreemement as she continues to caress your core. her hands tug at your panties, pulling from one side to the other. her two middle fingers dip low in your center, collecting the wetness pooling out of you.

“your so wet baby. you like that idea, huh?” billie teases you.

you simply whine in response, your hips grinding on billie’s hand - searching for any contact possible.

“i gotchu, baby. be patient” billie coos at your desperation. you feel her free hand leave your hip, and hear her press the space bar - the noise reverbirating in your mind. the realization hits you that any sounds you make will be permenant - etched into the file.

silently, you bring your hand up to your face and spit onto your middle fingers. you take your soaked hand and begin to stroke the length of the strap again. as you commit your dirty actions, your sustain eye contact with billie the whole time. the breath catches in her throat as she lets out a slight gasp watching you.

with a new fiery passion, billie pulls your underwear further to the side, the hem ripping slightly from her vigour. the sound of the thread snapping is picked up on the mic - billie watches the soundwaves emerge on the screen in front of her.

she takes your hips in her hands and raises them to hover over the strap. your legs are jittering in anticipation as you hover over billie.

“please” you whimper, tired of waiting for her to enter you.

satisfied, billie uses her grip to coax your hips down - your pussy begins to swallow every inch of the strap as you descend. you let out a high pitched moan as you bottom out on the strap, the tip of it hitting your cervix.

you stay still for just a moment, adjusting to the stretch. billie fiddles with your hair as you relax on top of her - her hands soothing you of any pain.

“you got it, mama” billie encourages you. so you begin to grind your hips forwards and back, your clit rubbing on the base of the strap.

soon, the pleasure is overwhelming your mind and you let out a low moan, your pussy relaxing with you. your grip tightens on billie’s shoulders as you search for stability in your motions.

billie leans forward, hugging her arms around your waist as you ride her. her arms cuddle you into submission and your hips begin to move feverishly on top of billie. “unh- fuck” you lightly yell as your head drops into billie’s shoulder.

“your doing so good, pretty girl. i can feel your pussy clenching around me. keep going” billie says, her hands tickling up and down your spine as they were earlier.

her motions send chills through your body, the sensation bleeding down each of your legs - collecting at your core.

with each movement you grow more tired, closer that ever to reaching your peak. noticing your wavering limbs, billie takes hold of your ass and uses her grip to slam you up and down her strap.

with each thrust, you pant in a rhythm. breathing in when she lifts you, panting out when she pushes you down.

“i need to cum, please” you beg her, the coil in in your tummy threatening to snap any second. billie reaches her tattoed hand down between your legs and rubs your clit in tight circles. this throws you over the edge.

you moan out, pleading with her, “please baby, i can’t- fuck! - i can’t hold on any longer.”

“go ahead baby, cum all over me” billie permits you. her words cause a surge of wetness to drip out of you, coating the strap and pooling at the base.

“unh, fuck! so good!” you whimper as you cum. your hands leaving scratches underneath billie’s shirt on her shoulder blades.

as you come down from your high, your limbs turn to jelly and your breath goes ragged - fanning on billie’s neck.

“such a good girl” billie coos at you, her free hand reaching over and hitting the space bar for a final time - cementing your noises in her computer.

*** skip to the release of hmhas ***

tonight is billie’s album release party in new york. you came with her so that you can experience the album together for the first time - you sat in the stands as billie runs around in the pit. billie’s been teasing you for months, not playing any of the songs for you until their release.

flooding the arena, the first song, skinny, plays through the foggy room. your eyes well up as you listen, taking mental guesses at when she wrote the song - going through your rolodex of memories together.

next, lunch begins to play. billie told you earlier today to listen carefully to the second song on the album so you do exactly that.

your cheeks flush as you process the words in ‘lunch’. you feel like everyone must be looking at you as they hear the lyrics - assuming, no, knowing - they’re about you. just about managing to keep your dignity intact, you make it through most of the song. but as the outro plays, you suddenly want the ground to swallow you whole. you recognize the panting making the beat. that’s you. from that one evening months ago.

your hands abashedly cover your face, your eyes peeking through your fingers.

“oh god” you sigh, wholy embarrassed by the sound of you cumming being blasted to 20k people around you. and even more people at home around the world.

you proceed to listen to the rest of the album and head backstage once it’s over. walking through the grand empty halls, you search for billie’s green room.

after five minutes of searching, you stumble upon it. with a playful anger coursing through your veins, you burst through the door yelling, “billie!”

billie looks like a deer in headlights, shocked at your sudden entrance. “… yes?” she replies.

“you bitch! i can’t believe you did that!” you yell, walking over to her and slapping her shoulder.

she just cackles that cackle of hers and throws her head back - finally catching on to the cause of your annoyance. she opens her arms despite your attitude and asks, “you liked the album then?”

you fold, falling into her embrace and mumbling “i can’t believe you did that. that’s so embarrassing” through a laugh.

she giggles with you, her arms stroking your back like they did that once many months ago.

[unnamedcorvid]

i was relistening to Part 6 and just really love and want to think more about Arthur’s behavior here and the snapshot it gives into his character cause like. This is Arthur before pretty much all of The Horrors. He’s flourishing. Just out of a nice month-long nap and has a new mystery to solve. He’s in his element here! This is what he Does! It’s probably one of the closest peeks we get into what his life had been like before everything, how he did his detective work, all of that. We learn how he goes about his investigations (before any of the post-horror desperation and moral issues hit) and just. This is how he worked. This is what he Did.

and what do we see? CRIMES. this man commits CRIMES. on the DAILY. without a second thought. just acts like it’s totally and completely normal.

this man walks into a store and very casually, matter-of-factly lists off the items he wants. A .45 Automatic with bullets to go along, a flashlight, matches, and a way to force a lock. like. That shit outta put him on a list or something, ESPECIALLY when he’s asked for an ID he says he doesn’t have one, and just. buys a new (fake) one. like. Thank god that clerk was dirty or else he’d be arrested cause what the fuck kinda sketchy shopping list is that? my brother in christ I don’t think there is any legal reason to have a way to force a lock. not to mention that and a GUN

Then he promptly heads off to a recently murdered girl’s apartment, and when finding the door locked, just picks it. Without a moments hesitation. And he does it really fuckin fast too, like. You know that guy’s had a Ton of practice. he did that in like one single second while blind and without control of one hand. he even admits it, says he’s done this many times. this guy’s a fucking menace.

Once inside the apartment (that he broke into. also the apartment of a recently murdered girl, not just dead but MURDERED like. She was KILLED HERE not even a week ago. this was a CRIME SCENE) he just kinda. Rummages around and takes a book. I mean yeah, she is dead, but also. you can’t just break into someone’s apartment and snatch their shit my guy??

and then at the docks. oh my GOD dude. You’d THINK a GROWN ASS MAN would maybe CONSIDER the CONSEQUENCES of STEALING A WHOLE ASS FUCKING BOAT OFF A PUBLIC DOCK IN BROAD DAYLIGHT but NOOO. that’s actually his instant go-to. Can’t get a ride? cool, I’m stealing a boat. there wasn’t even a second of hesitation or deliberation. What to do next? Oh I know. Steal a fucking boat. doesn’t even think of the consequences or that there’s actively people here (and he just gave his name to one), just up and takes it. it’s such a normal thing to do.

anyway all this to say that Arthur Lester Malevolent has always been a feral little creature with no regard for conventional approaches. he’s always been like this. I mean yeah he’s gotten So Much Worse but like. he didn’t start from ground zero either. Even in Part 4, when he needed to distract Kellin, when his first idea to honk the horn on his truck was turned down, his next instant suggestion was SET HIS HOUSE ON FIRE. there is no middle ground with this man. he will always jump straight to crimes without a second thought and I love that for him

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 3)

A new murder with a different M.O. has you feeling confused

Word count: 4100

Warnings: fingering, murder

It takes you all of five minutes to leave the motel room after you dig more clothes out of your suitcase. 

You looked everywhere for the clothes you were wearing before your nap, but they’re nowhere to be found. 

It would be incredibly bad if you had stripped down and then left the room to put them somewhere else. 

But you don’t have time to dwell on that right now. 

You go fifteen over the speed limit to get to the location Agatha had texted over after she hung up the phone. 

To the location of another murder. 

You had foolishly hoped that maybe The Witch and Lady Death would slow down once you had gotten to town, maybe out of fear of being caught. 

Clearly you had done little to deter them. 

It’s only ten minutes away from your motel, near a creek on the edge of town. 

Police cars are already parked there, yellow caution tape closing off the perimeter. You slam the door shut to your sedan and hurry over to Agatha. It’s late in the afternoon, but the sun is already setting, making the colors of everything look muted. 

“Was it them?” You ask, a little breathless. Agatha glances up and down and looks like she wants to comment on your outfit change, but doesn’t. 

“Come see and tell us what you think,” she says ominously and you follow her into the trees. “Good doctor’s appointment?” 

You stop walking, forcing her to pause too. “You’re married to Dr. Vidal?” 

She chuckles. “She told you that, didn’t she?”

“Did you know that’s who I was going to see earlier?” You ask, not sure why it matters. 

“I had my suspicions,” is all Agatha chooses to say. She’s taking you further into the woods along the side of the creek and it’s getting colder, but the air starts to feel…alive, almost. 

Like it’s crackling with something. You somehow know you’re getting closer to the body.

Are you imagining it, or can Agatha feel it, too? 

And then she stops so quickly you almost bump into her and she points up ahead. 

In the middle of thin, small trees is a big willow tree. It’s a beautiful sight, if you’re being honest. 

You’re transfixed by the icicles gleaming from the barren branches and it takes you a bit to notice the pool of red snow by the roots. 

You stumble forward to get a better look in the last rays of daylight, eyes traveling up the tree trunk and you gasp. 

A man is tied to it, his pants cut open halfway down his thigh and there's a deep gash through both of his femoral arteries. Most likely the cause of death. The only reason you know what color his pants were supposed to be is because the part near his hips is unstained. 

But that’s not all. 

His flannel shirt has been ripped as well, revealing his bare chest, where a heart has been drawn with a knife. It’s a shallow cut, not too much blood, but it’s clear this was meant to be a message, rather than fatal. His eyes are gray and lifeless.

“I don’t understand, this isn’t their M.O. at all,” you say, the snow behind you crunching as Agatha walks to stand next to you. 

You can feel her eyes on you, regarding you carefully. “So what do you think?” 

You think that you’ve never felt this way before. Something is happening to your body, a heat is spreading through it, and it’s like there’s electricity under your skin. Your scar tingles, but doesn’t hurt. 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” you say in frustration. “Maybe they’re switching it up, it’s like they’re taunting me! It doesn’t make any sense to change tactics now, though. All the other bodies were found in homes and now this one is tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere? Doesn’t seem to be poisoned and they didn’t carve out his heart. I don’t – I don’t know.” 

You’re so suddenly aware of the hot blood pumping through your veins and you want something. You can’t put a name to it yet, though. 

“Do you think it could have been someone else?” She asks and you shake your head immediately. 

“No, this was them. I know it, I can feel it.” There’s a thrumming in your head now, behind your eyes and you just want to get rid of it. 

Agatha’s lips stretch into a slow smile and you can see the darkness in her eyes. “What else do you feel?” 

The question makes you freeze. Maybe you’re not going crazy. “Can you feel it, too?” You whisper; you’re afraid to say it too loudly, like it’ll break the spell. 

She slowly walks around and advances on you and you walk backwards until you hit a tree. Your heart races and you can feel it everywhere, like your entire body is beating in time with it.

“You feel the adrenaline, don’t you? Being this close to death, yet you feel more alive than ever?” She asks, and you choke out an affirmation. “It’s addicting, isn’t it? Tell me how it makes you feel.” 

Agatha leans down again, just how she did in the evidence locker, but this time, she drags her teeth up your neck and nips. The pounding in your head gets worse. “It feels…powerful,” you admit, both to her and yourself, maybe for the first time. 

“There’s an ache inside you, right?” She asks, now sucking bites into your neck and your stance widens just the slightest. 

Hearing her put a name to it makes it ever so clear to you now. “Yes,” you gasp, molten heat growing between your legs. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for, but Agatha does. 

Lips still on your skin, her hands fumble with the waistband of your new pants, trying to unbutton and unzip. She’s finally able to slip her fingers in and when she moves your underwear to the side and cups your pussy, you hiss at the coldness. 

“Fuck,” you swear as she starts to swipe at your clit. You’re so sensitive already, and if you weren’t so needy, you’d take a good, long look at yourself to figure out why you’re so turned on right now. 

“Why don’t you think it was them?” She asks, pushing a finger inside you and your head falls back against the tree. She doesn’t move it, waiting for an answer first. 

The ringing in your head comes back with a vengeance. “They’re messing with me,” you stutter. “They want me to be thrown off their game.” She starts moving, slowly thrusting and curling, and you gasp. The mix of pleasure and pain is a combination you never thought would be a good one. 

“You think they’re doing this just for you?” She muses, shoving another finger inside you and twisting lazily and it pulls a groan out of you. 

“The murders were all the same until I showed up,” you whimper. It feels like your body is about to burst. “Agatha.” 

Her thumb finds your clit again and rubs it. “Shh,” she soothes. “I know, superstar. I’ll give you what you need.” She mouths at your neck, lips traveling upward until she reaches your chin, and then her face pulls away from yours. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“What if it wasn’t them?” She asks in a low voice, fingers stilling in you. You whine and frantically buck your hips to get some stimulation. You just need more. 

You can’t even think straight. “It had to be them. Who else could it have been?” 

There’s just enough sunlight to see the wicked smirk on her face. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” 

And then her lips are on yours and she’s ferociously kissing you like she’s trying to devour you, and the pain in your head completely stops. 

She sets a bruising pace inside you and you’re panting into her open mouth while her tongue thrashes against yours. Your teeth clash and it’s messy and hot and everything that you need, and her fingers are hitting exactly where you need. Your hands are rough as they scramble for purchase around her shoulders, desperate to keep her exactly where she is. You dig your nails into her and she moans against you, and you’re so close. 

Your orgasm is building, only this time, it’s heightened and feels way more intense than any you’ve ever had before. You’re throbbing around Agatha’s fingers, clenching and trying to draw her in even more, and she fits a third one into you. It makes you keen and you babble nonsensically about how you’re going to cum.  

“Cum for me, pet,” she orders and you sink your teeth hard into her lower lip as you do. It’s like a dam breaks all over your body, tension and pleasure exploding through every crack and crevice and it’s easily the best orgasm you’ve ever had. 

It takes a minute for you to recover and when you’re able to think clearly again after Agatha takes her fingers out of you, you notice that her lip is bleeding. 

“Fuck, did I do that?” You ask and she chuckles, tongue darting out to lick it up. You follow the movements and feel the heat inside you coming back. 

She holds the fingers that were inside of you up to your mouth and you suck on them without hesitation. “Don’t worry about it. Not the first time it’s happened,” she teases with a wink and your stomach sinks. Your head moves back so her fingers slip out of you.

“Oh my god, you’re married,” you say and Agatha raises an eyebrow as if to say obviously. “And we’re at a crime scene, what did we just do? There’s a dead body right over there.”

Agatha raises up her hands to disarm the situation. “Hey, don’t think too hard about it. You have a very stressful job, sometimes you just need to blow off some steam.” 

“How are you so calm? You just cheated on your wife!” You snap, quickly zipping and buttoning your pants. The electricity in the air is now gone, completely replaced by cold and fear. You have to get out of here. The Witch and Lady Death are two steps ahead of you and you need to stop them. This was them, and you know it.

You don’t even wait for Agatha to respond, you pick a direction and start walking. She calls your name a few times before you whirl around, tears in your eyes. “Rio and I…have an arrangement of sorts. Trust me, she is completely okay with this.” 

Her words do little to calm you down, but you’re getting closer to the detectives and officers and the coroner’s car has pulled up. “It doesn’t matter. This can’t happen again,” you say sternly. 

“Whatever you want, superstar,” she says and it almost makes you furious. It feels like she’s teasing you, for being with the FBI. Almost as bad as the guys around the station calling you Miami. 

But you don’t argue, you don’t speak at all, you just stand there, a bone-chilling emptiness inside you as you watch the body get wheeled out from the woods after about twenty minutes. Detectives keep searching the surrounding area for any clues, but they find nothing. 

Which doesn’t surprise you at all. Lady Death and The Witch are clever. It just means you have to work harder to catch them. 

“Alright, we got everything here. Forensics is going to do some tests on the blood, see if maybe we can get a DNA match for the killer. Photos of the scene will be printed and ready for us tomorrow,” Agatha says gruffly, walking over to you, the picture of professionalism after being three fingers deep in you not forty-five minutes ago. “You should get home, get some rest.” 

You shake your head and clutch your jacket tighter around you. “I’ve been sleeping for the past few hours. I’m not tired. I can head into the station, if you want. Get a head start on work for tomorrow.” 

Something flickers in Agatha’s eyes, something you don’t quite recognize. “No, that’s okay. Go back to your motel. Even if you don’t sleep, you should still try and relax. Take a warm bath or something. That always helps me clear my head.” 

You frown, but before you can ask what she thinks you need to clear your head from, she pats you on the shoulder and walks to her car. The scene quickly clears out, but there’s something still nagging at you in the back of your mind. 

You can’t leave just yet. 

Grabbing a flashlight from your bag in your car, you wander back through the woods, desperate to find something the officers missed. 

The night passes while you tear up every single rock and leaf and clump of snow on the ground near where the man was murdered. And then you expand the search, walking along the creek edge, flashlight sweeping right and left. Your hands are bright red from the stinging frost, having taken off your gloves ages ago to better dig around, and you’ve lost feeling in your face. Tears are permanently frozen in your eyes it seems, and as the sun starts to break through the darkness, you defeatedly drop to the ground on the bed of the creek. 

You don’t know what you were expecting to find, it was a stupid idea. You’re just about to call it a day and trek back to your car to go into the station, when you see a log just a few yards away. 

Brows crinkling, you wince when you stand up, your joints aching from the cold, and stumble over to it. You shine your flashlight into the opening of the hole and you gasp. 

The light reflects off something shiny. 

This time, you’re smart about it. You put your gloves back on, flashing between your teeth, and you carefully reach inside and brush away the moss to grab onto it and pull it out. 

It’s a knife. 

The discovery makes your heart leap. You found something! This could be your first real break in the case, one step closer to bringing the pair of serial killers down. 

You turn the blade over in your hands to inspect every part of it. Strange, you think. It seems almost like a kitchen knife. The serrated edge isn’t as sharp as it should be if it were meant to be a murder weapon. But when you hold it closer to your face, you can make out specks of blood on it. 

And then there’s something else, an emblem of sorts on the bottom of the blue handle. It says WM with a circle around the letters. 

The first thing you think of is Wanda Maximoff and terror spikes through you. Has she gotten out of jail and come to find you? 

But you are absolutely certain that Tony would’ve called you immediately, so that helps calm you down. Still, you suddenly don’t feel safe in the woods, almost like you’re being watched, so you pocket the knife before sprinting back to your car. 

You slam and lock the doors immediately and you turn the heat all the way up to coax life back into your frozen body. It’s still early, barely even six-thirty am, so you decide to go back to your motel room and shower before you head into the station. 

Your stomach rumbles and you can’t remember the last time you ate. You just pulled an all-nighter (although, you could argue that because you took a nap for about five hours yesterday, that counts as sleep) and you haven’t showered since you’ve been here. 

Tony would kill you. 

Once you get back to your room, you turn on the bath, still feeling the chill deep in your bones. You carefully take the knife out of your coat pocket with a paper towel and lay it on the counter so you can remember to bring it in so Forensics can test it. 

You strip off your sopping wet clothes and get into the bath, moaning out loud at how good the warm water on your tired and shaking body feels. 

Sinking into the tub so every part of you except for your face is submerged, you lean down to turn off the faucet and settle back down. You don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing you know, you jolt awake and splash about a gallon of water over the edge. 

“Fuck,” you cough, trying to get out of the tub, but your entire body is sore and your head feels awful. 

Apparently there’s consequences for spending over eight hours out in the snow with no gloves and then falling asleep in a bath with water that’s now lukewarm. 

You manage to maneuver yourself out and you quickly grab the robe that was hanging on the bathroom door to wrap around your shivering body. Your phone is on the sink counter and it starts buzzing. It’s Agatha. 

A hand grips the vanity to stable yourself before picking it up. “Hello?” You rasp, grimacing at the effort it takes to speak. 

“Yikes, you sound awful,” she says, teasing tone in her voice. “You okay, superstar? Get a little too much rest last night?”

“I think I’m a little sick,” you admit. You’re usually able to tough it out, but you feel like you died and barely came back to life. “Is it okay if I–” 

“Yes, stay there,” she orders and you almost collapse with relief. 

But then you remember the knife. If you don’t go in, that means it’s another day that The Witch and Lady Death remain free. “I found something last night, in the woods,” you say. “I really need to bring it in.” 

“Whatever it is, it can wait. You just need to take some medicine and get some rest. Do you have anything you can take?” 

You search through the items in your toiletry bag. “I have some Advil.” You pop two in your mouth and swallow it with water from the sink. 

“I’ll text Rio and ask if she can bring over some medicine and maybe some food, too. Go to sleep. I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” she says, and before you can insist that Rio does not come here, she hangs up. 

Groaning, you find that you don’t have it in you to be petulant, so you make your way into bed and you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. 

Snow. 

It’s just started falling, there’s barely an inch on the ground. 

The branches reach for you as you walk through them, trying to grab on and not let you go. The thicket is getting denser and darker, but there’s something calling out to you, so you keep walking. 

There’s a melodic hum, and it lulls you into feeling safe. Is it real? Is it in your head? 

Is there a difference? 

You can barely see three inches in front of you and everything is going black and you can feel wounds being torn into your face and you should really turn back now –

– you break into a clearing. 

Only this time, there’s a willow tree in the middle. You can hear something, it sounds like two women laughing. 

Are they laughing at you? 

It must be the killers, they must be taunting you, rubbing it in how you can’t catch them. 

More people are going to die, and their blood is on your hands. 

The cackling gets louder and louder and then it’s all you can hear and you clamp your hands over your ears begging for it to stop, please, god, let it stop –

– there’s a hand on your shoulder and everything is silent. 

You turn around slowly. Is it them? 

Instead, it’s a man with his eyes closed. He looks vaguely familiar, where have you seen him? 

He opens his eyes and they’re gray and it hits you. 

It’s the dead man. 

He grabs you by the shoulders and his jaw drops to scream, but no sound comes out. And then his hands grab your throat and he starts to squeeze. 

The knocking on the door to your room wakes you up and you fly out of bed, gasping for breath, still feeling the pressure around your throat. It takes a moment to collect your bearings before you realize that you’re safe and the man is dead. 

Still a little shaky, you walk to the door and unlatch it to find Dr. Vidal standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” you greet, stepping to the side so she can come in. It’s hard to meet her eyes after being fucked by her wife the day before. She holds up a container of chicken noodle soup in one hand and a box of cold medicine and a plastic grocery bag in the other. 

“Agatha said you were feeling a little under the weather,” she says, plopping the stuff down on the counter and thankfully avoiding the mounds of photos and case evidence you have right next to it. Including the knife from the woods. “Did I wake you up?” 

You rub your face and feel the pillow indentions in your cheek. “Um, yeah, I was having a bad dream though, so I don’t mind,” you joke and motion for her to take a seat. 

“I would heat up the soup first before eating,” she suggests and you pour it into a bowl and put it in the microwave. “Bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?

“Would it count as a session?”

Dr. Vidal waves her hand. “Not at all. Consider it free advice. So, what happened?” 

The microwave beeps and you open it, the soup steaming. You set it down to cool off a little. “It kind of lines up with those images I had with you and another dream I had yesterday, I think. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think they’re memories of something? I just don’t remember it. But then there’s some things that change, like today, there was this new dead man. That was recent, so maybe they’re not memories? Maybe I’m just losing my mind.” 

“You’re not losing your mind,” she chuckles. “Dreams and memories, the real and not real, it’s easy to blur the lines. Maybe your unconscious is trying to tell you something, maybe trying to remind you of something that happened to you.” 

That makes you think for a moment. You can see the woods, the snow, whatever you keep seeing, but it’s more of just flashes in time, rather than the whole thing. You can’t see what happens before, or after. “I guess I’ll just have to see if more pieces start coming together,” you say. 

She sighs. “I know it can be confusing and probably really frustrating, but I’ll help you get to the bottom of this. I have some techniques we can try during your session in a few days. I’ll help you claw your way out of whatever this is.” 

“Thank you,” you say gratefully. “What’s in the bag?” You point to the grocery bag and she nods to give you permission. You open it and with a gasp, you find your clothes from yesterday in it, all neatly folded. “How…what…you…” There’s no words. 

“Don’t worry, it’s our little secret,” she says with a wink. 

You have to grab onto the edge of the counter so you don’t pass out. “Wait, did we…” 

“Have sex?” She asks bluntly and you’re too afraid to move. “No, we didn’t. If we did, you would remember it.” 

The thrumming starts to come back behind your eyes, despite the blush at her flirtatious words. “So, how do you have my clothes?” 

“You better eat your soup before it gets cold,” Dr. Vidal sidesteps the question and it’s clear that you’re not getting an answer. 

You slide open the drawer next to the fridge and pull out a spoon from the silverware caddy. A sharp pain sears through your head and your heart starts to race. 

The spoon has the same blue handle and emblem as the knife does. WM. Westview Motel. The spoon clatters to the ground and you begin furiously counting. Six forks. Six spoons. 

Five knives. 

When they were in your room your first night in Westview, they must’ve taken it from here. 

They’re trying to frame you. 

[supernova41st]

Hiiii can you do some tf2 x drunk/sleepy reader? I need sniper comfort rn. You write so well, I wish I could devour it.

Roses are red, I’m going to bed 🌘

Tf2 x Sleepy!Reader

A/n: this request is pretty yum, also I CANNOT have 3 day weekends. I literally just ruined my sleep schedule on those three days I’m dead 😵

Warnings: Alcoholism

Divider by Cat Kitsune on Tumblr

Spy

Will not hesitate to force you to wake up or go to bed, he can’t a snoozy hoe on his team

If you have messy bed hair he’s always prepared to brush it. He firmly believes that when coming to work you should look your best.

“Ow! Stop you’re gonna pull it out!!”

“Oh enough whining, you’re fine.”

Proceeds to pull a whole knot you had in that bird nest you call hair

Showing up in your pajama pants? Not on his watch. He’s always bringing a spare of your uniform

“Here, put this on”

“Cmon spy I’m really tired, can I just skip this one?”

“No, you said that last time and ended up sleeping in the middle of battle because you ‘felt too comfortable’.”

He’ll slap you awake, don’t doubt him, he will.

He mostly does it whenever he’s giving out one of his little speeches, he can’t stand it when people don’t listen to him

“If we don’t do this mission right, we might as well kill ourselves now.”

snore

“sigh I’ve had enough of this girl/boy.”

You’d be lurking around the kitchen getting your midnight snack, then he just suddenly pops out of nowhere scaring the shit out of you

Will try to offer you an espresso to wake you up or get you sober but you didn’t enjoy it

Sniper

You sleepy fucks.

Ok but he’s always taking care of you, he doesn’t have much going on in his little world so he’s always able to cut some time to bring you to bed

“Cmon mate, let’s go”

“Nooo, just one more shot”

“There are no more shots, you finished the bloody bottle.”

He tried giving you coffee but you puked in his van because this motherfucker served you BLACK coffee

“I’m so sorry Snipez! I’ll make sure to scrub it clean so that it doesn’t smell”

“No worries lad, it’s on me for draggin’ ya into me van”

Oof, and here you were ready to get the daylights knocked out of you for making his van smell like sour liquor

Of course he forgave you mostly because he loves you, but he also relates to you on the sleepy note

If you guys even sit next to each other then one of you guys are gonna sleep on the others shoulder

You better be a heavy sleeper tho, his snores are LOUDD

If you guys sleep in the base soldier wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming how the enemy team is shooting missiles at the base

However it’s a rare occasion since for the most part he lets you sleep with him in his van

even if it can barely fit him

Whenever you pass out with your head laying on a surface, he’d put his hat on your head because he thinks it’s cute

“Heh, sleep well love.”

Medic

Don’t pass out around him, just don’t

Long story short Demoman passed out in his presence once and stole the Scottish guys liver to test the effects his experiments would have on you and demo since you guys drink a lot

He’s so surprised how you have so much energy on the field and immediately pass out as before you can even change out your uniform

“BRING IT ON YOU BLUEBERRY BITCHES”

You’d pass out in the middle of battle

He offered to do some experiments on you to see how he can give you more energy to stay awake but you declined because, duh.

Once you just took your daily hour long nap and the first think you saw when waking up was a pair of brown eyes staring at you

“Ah, you’re awake. Vell my job here is done.”

“Medic please don’t tell me you did some shit to me.”

“Vat? Nonsense!! I just watched you sleep for a bit.”

“..I think I’d rather have you do the first option”

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is patently ignoring a good amount of noise behind him as works his way down a busy grocery store aisle.

The noise is his two children and Eddie, his wonderful husband, who’d found out that Steve was planning on stopping at the store on his way home from work and had the bright idea to load their toddlers into the car and meet him there under the guise of “quality family time”.

Sure, Steve thinks, this time definitely has a quality. He’s just not sure if it’s good.

Their daughters, he knows, both did not take naps today (goddamn daylight savings), naps they very much need, so they’re bickering up a storm from their seats in the shopping cart Eddie is manning (the kiddie cart monstrosity that’s basically impossible to navigate with).

Whatever, it’s Eddie’s problem.

Still, at one particularly annoyed whine, Steve finally turns to face whatever havoc is being wreaked behind his back.

He sees that Moe is looking all kinds of irate, and Robbie’s got a conniving half-smile on her face even as her eyes are laser-focused on the aisle ahead of her.

It’s the face, Steve knows, of someone who’s trying her darndest to piss off her sister as supremely as possible.

“Move, Robbie,” Moe whines.

(Clearly, it’s working).

“Robbie, can you give Moe some space please?” Eddie asks, sounding tired.

Robbie, naturally, doesn’t move an inch, and Moe gives another whine.

“Robbie,” Eddie repeats, “Seriously. What do I always say about not poking the bear?”

Steve looks a little closer and sees that Robbie is sticking one leg across the seat into Moe’s space – a capital offense in the world of toddlers.

Truly – it’s a testament to how tired Moe must be that she hasn’t completely decked Robbie yet.

“A little help here might be nice, Stevie,” Eddie grumbles as he reaches across the handle of the shopping cart to try separating their daughters himself. Apparently Robbie is channeling the strength of a thousand suns into one leg, so he’s unsuccessful.

Steve’s not all that sympathetic if he’s honest – not to Eddie anyway, because he’d seen this behavior coming a mile away. He’s got sympathy enough for Moe’s plight though so he tugs Robbie out of her seat and swings her upside down so she shrieks with little-kid giggles.

He keeps holding her like that as he continues past shelves of pasta and tomato sauce, ignoring Robbie’s wriggling and the looks a few surrounding grocery-store patrons send his way (because, seriously, you try taking two toddlers to the grocery store at six PM).

It wasn’t even his idea, either.

“Remember when I said oh, I only need a few things,” Steve innocently points out to Eddie.

“Okay, I–”

“And then you said It’ll be totally fine if we all go,” Steve continues.

"Steve-"

"And then I said, I don't think this is a good idea. And then you said, Steve-Steve-Steve, it's fine."

He looks at Eddie.

"Do you remember that?"

“Okay, Christ, I get it. I forgot that we can’t take the hellions anywhere these days. Forgive me for missing the hell out of you all day long.”

Steve tries his best to glare at Eddie, because Steve’s a total sucker for shit like that, and Eddie’s got a cheeky grin on his face because he knows this about him too.

He feels his nose scrunch a little in his attempt to hold onto the glare, but eventually it drops in favor of a smile he tries to hide as he leans away from Robbie’s still-squirming feet.

“Yeah, I missed you too, you fucker, but I probably could’a held out another thirty minutes just fine.”

“Papa,” Robbie giggles from behind all the hair that gravity has falling into her face, “You can put me down now!”

"Nope, I'm waiting for all the blood to go down to your brain so you can make some better choices."

[eelnoise]

incandesce

zoro x afab!reader an: just some lovesick drabble because im weak in the knees for my big stinky boy. he's so cute and i wanna just snuggle w him so bad 🥺 cw: fluff :) wc: 1.1k @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @themushroomofdeath

The flash of the morning sun hits Zoro’s face like a white-hot light as he descends from the crow’s nest, freshly exhausted from training. Squinting in the daylight, he looks upon the deck below as it comes into clearer view – silhouettes of the crew fade into focus, and quickly does he scan the scene for a brief headcount. A slight warmth fills his chest, and not from the tide of day washing over the ship.

You’re not among them. You’re still asleep.

Zoro’s boots hit the deck with an audible thud, and heads turn to greet him. He offers a sleepy ‘good morning’ nod before heading right in the direction of the women’s quarters. No one stops him, nor are any words exchanged. They all know where he’s headed, just as they know why you tend to sleep in.

It isn’t often that he gets this opportunity – to join you for a nap. Most days he retires from the watch far earlier than any of the women awake, sometimes avoiding his own bed all together and simply napping in the nest. The odds are in his favor this time, and he means to take full advantage of the very limited time he can have with you. Only you.

No sooner does he creak the wooden door open that his heart skips a beat beneath his ribs. You’re there, just as he hoped you would be, softly snoozing beneath the sheets. Your hair is folded wildly about your face and the pillow beneath your head, and your lips are slightly parted with just a speck of drool glistening down your chin. Zoro can’t help but find you endearing, and seeing you in a deep, restful sleep does something to soften his stoicism. 

He almost can’t bring himself to wake you, as the sudden shift on the mattress always causes you to stir – though you’re never soured by it. Never once do you make him feel unwanted or loathsome, always welcoming into your arms or by your side when he needs you most.

And, while not the most affectionate man, Zoro relishes in the love you give him. The good-willed and honest devotion that you deem him worthy enough to receive makes his head spin. Somehow you had latched onto his sin-soaked soul, cleansing it in your soft, practiced hands and invigorating him in ways long forgotten.

Memories that ache - that wear him down with the weight of the past, present and beyond - they all seem to slip away when he’s next to you. You’re his anchor, reeling him back from the somber reverie that so frequently plays in his mind. A light that burns bright even in the darkest of places, and somehow he always finds his way back to you. Zoro knows that real worth is wordless, actions speaking emphatically over all else.

And you show him that worth.

His worth.

Zoro kicks off his boots, practically tiptoeing his way around the bed to it’s open side – and though he knows it’s fruitless, he does make an attempt to slide in next to you as carefully as he can manage to. And you stir – as if right on cue, the sudden weight pressing into the mattress that rolls you against his chest. 

A sleepy hum of acknowledgement befalls your lips, a small - yet simple - gesture of welcome to the man now aside you.

A hint of a smile etches into the cooks of his mouth as he returns the gesture with a hum of his own before curling his arm around your middle and burying his face into your hair and breathing in deeply. Your body is warm to the touch, and with it comes elation. Oftentimes he appreciates that you had cast the first stone, releasing him from the nigh-torturous, unknown feelings that he couldn’t possibly have navigated alone.

Zoro clings to you, as if magnetically attached around your body. His thumb drags along your tummy, up and down in a soothing yet natural response to being with you. He murmurs a throaty “Good mornin’” against your ear that makes you shiver with longing. Far too little do you get to indulge in his embrace, and though you’re not as tired as he is, you aim to enjoy the time regardless.

“Morning,” You reply, twisting your head just enough to see him and allowing your hand to fall atop his and entwining your fingers together. “How was watch?”

“Same as ever.” He whispers into you, feeling that familiar tranquil serenity blossoming within him. Zoro squeezes your body against him and moves some of your hair out of your face to place a series of pecks to your cheek before trailing up to give you a soft, tender kiss to your lips. 

It hadn’t been easy, learning to love – but with you there, ready and willing to guide him at his chosen pace the whole way through his strained emotions. Not once in his life did he expect to feel this way, a man of action and ruthlessly devoted to his dream and to his course upon it. Zoro once saw life as just that – his own. A narrow pathway in hindsight, one fit enough for just himself at the end of all things.

Though now, the path had forked, widened, and along it do you walk beside him. Every decision, every step, every pinch of ash left in his wake has your name written upon it in dark, permanent ink. Zoro thinks with you in mind, acts with your face at the very forefront of his synapses. He’s grown to adore you, both body and soul.

Part of it terrifies him still. The thought of losing something more precious than words can explain dives deep into his core. In love, there is fear. Fear of loss, fear of weakness in life’s most pivotal moments, fear of losing one's sense of perception. 

Though, there’s also hope. Hope and happiness and support and all else that comes with devoting your very essence to another. Seeing you smile or laugh brings him a peace that borders on inexplicable. The feeling of your hand on his bids him well wishes, each kiss a reminder of sanctuary. Every tangle between the sheets when he makes love to you renders him spellbound - the saccharine, honeyed taste of your skin on his tongue mixed in with those sighs and coos of pleasure that only he can hear, a song that only he can make you belt, it makes Zoro’s head spin with just the thought.

To Zoro, you’re beyond compare. No single person in his life comes even toe-to-toe with you, and as you snuggle against him, he allows himself to feel vulnerable. You’re his safehaven, a blessing in disguise that nabs him by the heart and never fails to lull him into a rejuvenating respite. 

You’re home.

You’re his.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Blood (from nosebleed) Transcript / AN under the cut

AN: Please enjoy this sound effect in my head when Geoffrey got the daylights knocked out of him . / also, thought I’d have MM episode ready , but not quite! So here’s another Nancy update ✨

Transcript:

Nancy Narrating: [I fell asleep thinking about Vanessa. I woke up thinking about Vanessa. When I would see her again. What we would do that day. What new little thing I’d learn about her]

Cassie: Did you want to sit with me and Bobby and watch the match tonight? Bobby is bringing the snacks; he can bring your favorites too.

Nancy: No thanks. I’m going to go with Vanessa.

Nancy: What?

Cassie: You know my old roommate, Angela? She was pretty close to VV. She’s kind of the reason she left the school.

Nancy: So?

Cassie: Vanessa started being really mean to her. She made the other girls call her names; it was awful. I just don’t want that to happen to you. VV always seems sweet at first, but when she doesn’t get her way...

Nancy: [scoffs] You clearly don’t know her like I do. She’s my best friend. It may have been that way with other girls, but she cares about me.

Cassie: ...just be careful. If not for her, then definitely for Dina and Nina. I think they’re worst.

Nancy Narrating: [I didn’t expect anyone to understand the connection we shared. There wasn’t a single person in the world that loved Vanessa as much as I did]

Nancy: [panting] Where’s Vanessa? She wasn’t in class this morning and I’ve looked everywhere for her.

Dina: Damn. Hello to you too.

Nancy: Sorry- it’s just, we always walk to class together. I feel like I haven’t seen her all morning. I’ve probably been all over campus looking for her.

Dina: Uh-huh...

Nina: [mutters to Dina] See? [to Nancy] They did a room check and found her Playboys. Guess she sucks at hiding them. She’s getting chewed out for it. This is her like, third strike, they might call her dad.

Nancy Narrating: [Vanessa was constantly monitored by the teachers and church nuns, who were quick to report back to her father]

[Their most effective tool for discipline was shame]

Sister Agnes: How vile! Pornography? This is prohibited! Your father will surely not be pleased to hear about your actions, young lady.

Nancy Narrating: [Maybe that’s why she craved freedom as much as I did]

Sister Agnes: Is that what it will take for you to behave and carry yourself like a proper young lady? Will your father have to come pay you a visit?

Vanessa: [mutters] No, Sister Agnes. I will never do anything like this again. Please. Don’t call my father.

Dina: So, is your ass grass or what?

Nina: Yeah, did they bar you from going to the game?

Vanessa: Nope! Your girl is off the hook! I just have council with Father Mayhew for the next week but they’re not going to call my dad.

Nina: If anyone can weasel out of trouble, it’s you, VV.

Nancy: [sighs happily] That’s a relief.

Vanessa: Nothing will stop me from hanging out with my girls, right, Nance? Come on, let’s skip last period so we can get good seats for the game.

Vanessa: Don’t look, but is Corey Howard checking me out?

Nancy: Yeah. He can’t take his eyes off you.

Vanessa: Oh yeah? How’s my hair?

Nancy: It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Vanessa: Nancee [giggles] don’t make me blush! Cheer with me, okay?

Corey: Look alive, Osteer. The ladies are always watching.

Don: OSTEER! Look out!!

Corey: I’d die of embarrassment if it were me.

Don: [tsks] Nap time is over, princess. Hit the bench.

Nancy: You’re still so clumsy.

Geoffrey: Huh?

Nancy: Your dad threw a party once and you split your head open on the mantel. It was really disgusting.

Geoffrey: You... remember me?

Nancy: That was only 7 years ago. If either of us had amnesia, it would be you. Hold still.

Geoffrey: Well… I remember you used to cry when you got dirt in your sandals.

Nancy: What? [laughs] Did I really?

Geoffrey: [chuckles nervously] Yeah, it was kinda adorable. I mean-

Geoffrey: ...Y-you know, in a way…I guess.... um...

Vanessa: [sighs] This game is so boring, Nance. Want to get out of here?

Nancy: Of course. Wherever, whenever.

Vanessa: That’s my girl! Sorry about your face, Jeffrey.

Geoffrey: Actually, it’s Geoffrey! [sighs] ....nevermind..

Nina: I have an idea.

[soleurs]

▎    BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

concept yeah.. maybe, not really ・ gender netural reader + word count 494 genre fluff .. established relationship warnings mentions of : cuddling .. suggestive thoughts .. kissing — cred. to byhees for the cute layout

napping with roronoa zoro is a bad idea. in fact, it’s the worst scenario to end up in.

with sturdy arms that have been bronzed by years of honing his undeniable talent, he’ll weave one around your waist. as for the other? well, that’s probably fallen asleep too after hours of resting beneath your head.

(like arm, like owner—you humorously suppose.)

initially, you’ll whittle down time by staring at your dozing swordsman. out of all the looks you’ve witnessed him sporting in the past and present, you’ll definitely be confident in claiming tranquility’s his best. but as much as you want to continue staring at the living art, streaks of marigold and azure are beginning to blend beyond the broad horizon.

and here is where the catch begins.

silly you will think that escaping his grasp will be easy. after all, he sleeps like a log being carried by the ocean’s little waves. all you need to do is squirm a little, perhaps sprinkle a few kisses upon his calloused palms to warm him up a little. oh look at that, zoro’s eased his hold.

now that you’re on your feet, it’s best you go—

“come back to bed.”

the rich, raspiness of his voice echoes in your ear, accompanied by his gentle tug that puts you back where you began: wrapped up in his embrace. what a shame, you had managed to walk a few more centimeters away this time. (your previous record stood so weakly at eleven centimeters.)

“clover, we need to get up..” you try to convince him, but how can you do that when he’s tracing kisses across the crook of your neck? “..then they’re gonna make assumptions, and that’s a whole other mess i can’t handle on an empty stomach.”

this is where your suspicion arises.

there’s no more warm breath fanning across the spanse of your skin, or even a non-committal hum that merely ripples from the top of his chest. in fact, you can’t even hear the little snores he tends to make in between the steady thrums of his heartbeat.

you just never seem to learn, which is why it’s so easy for zoro to move you until you’re facing each other. (an impressive feat that’s taken at least five times to perfect; you fondly call it the hammroll. and while he calls it silly, he secretly likes the name of this special move. makes it feel like it belongs to only you and him.) the warmth you were looking for earlier? it’s right there, skimming your face as he leans in to kiss you. 

but he won’t be satisfied with just one. no, before he dives in for another, he’ll make sure you hear him whisper, “let them guess. i’ll still have you with me afterwards.”

it's not such a bad idea, right?

daylight I'M ALIVE !!!!! is what i wanna say but my mental health's been going loop-de-loop so cue the awkward laughter- to the anon who requested this, thank you for taking a chance on me ♡ 

[cinnamonest]

May I present to you... innocent playgirl reader x modern au incel scara??

Like reader is just a sweet gal that thinks this boy who she's in a project with is pretty and despite his weird and creepy behaviour, it's a good thing she's trying to make a move, because y'know! it's actually women's fault that men get so frustrated and depressed since they never give the short guys a chance! Only go for the top 1% and all that.

Unfortunately after scara naps her, noncons the absolute, living daylights out of her, and continues to terrorize her ass does she realize that being nice and sweet to the degenerate, sexist incel in hopes of fixing him wasn't the brightest idea 😔

(If you can't tell I love the idea of kind n sweet MC who doesn't know any better getting her shit wrecked for no good reason because incel scara is just that much of an asshole)

Ohhhh my God bless you for this

Precisely, it’s so unfair. It’s just extra inches of leg bone, it means nothing. And yet day in, day out, the oppressed class (sub-6-foot males) have to deal with unjust discrimination. All because you have the most superficial desires and can’t compromise on such a silly thing. No, you’d rather whore around with some guy that will just use you and cheat on you because your dumb girl brain seeks that out like every other. And in spite of being smarter and better than the neanderthals you choose to date, which should entitle him to pussy, he’s left with nothing but porn and his hand. The world is an unjust place.

He’s pessimistic as all hell, so he can’t take any kindness or attempts at getting closer from you at face value, there has to be an ulterior motive.

You’re only pleasant to him when you talk to him because you want something. You probably expect him to do work for you, or help you cheat on tests for you or fork over money. You think he’s the sort of loser that will salivate over any girl that gives him a shred of attention, don’t you. That he’ll run himself ragged doing whatever for you just to get your approval. Well. You’re not going to get that.

It goes along with this greater idea of you he’s crafted in his head, one that fits a similarly pessimistic image. It doesn’t matter how “innocent” you are, literally anything you say or do, he’s projecting this stereotype of a secretly not-so-innocent, ultra-promiscuous college girl onto you and using it as both justification for his disdain and as a means of rationalize not leaping at this rare chance for female interaction — it’s not that he’s too afraid of rejection, it’s just that he knows that talking to you is a waste of time anyway, you undoubtedly have guys lined up you're fucking on a regular basis.

Besides, even if he tried, you’re far too dull-brained, so any conversations you’re capable of aren’t going to be stimulating anyway. You’re in college, of course you’ve spent all this time racking up a body count because God knows girls only use college as a means to get dicked all the time, they don’t actually care for academics in any way.

And poor you, you're completely oblivious to his bitter seething. You just think he's just quiet. And surely he doesn’t come off as rude and cold on purpose, no, you tell yourself that he probably just is one of those guys that is naturally like that, it’s not malicious.

But then you have to start going out of your way to be actively nice. Trying to make conversation and say nice things — you must think he’s stupid, that he doesn’t know that it’s actually just fake niceness so you can lure him in and get him to say something you can then mock him for in that faux-sweet tone of yours. In the exact opposite of your assumptions on him, he assumes malice in everything you do and say. He won’t give you the satisfaction of giving you leverage, so, he stays quiet, gives you one-word answers and shrugs.

What plans do you have for the weekend?, you say, in your attempts to make conversation. Ugh.

Not only are you trying to jab at him by reminding him that he has no plans other than staying inside and wallowing, but clearly you do have plans, undoubtedly ones that end with you stumbling home in a walk-of-shame on a Sunday morning.

And the nicer you get, the more you irritate him. What makes you think you can just be like that? All smiley and sunshine-like, and for what? To mock him? Acting innocent and sweet as if you don't know what kind of power you inherently hold just by having a hole between your legs, as if you're not actively abusing that power when you're clearly trying to get him to be attracted to you.

Each and every class period, he ends up so infuriated by the few words you exchange that the only way he can even stay sane is by immediately going back to his apartment after class and releasing all the pent up frustrations via exceptionally violent porn. He's got a few specifics pages bookmarked now, girls that look just like you getting slapped around and choked and manhandled and skull-fucked and gaped… but it's just not satisfying enough, there's still this lingering irritation, a skin-crawling malice that won't go away.

It's not good enough to imagine. If anything, the post-orgasmic clarity just makes the whole thing feel pathetic — it's not really you, you get to be all happy and safe and sound when it should be you, you should be the one being brutalized and put in your place, you deserve it for being so damn nice. So pleasant and upbeat and kind and what gives you the right?

In the end, once the burning fury becomes too much and no one else is going to do it, the only option is to take matters into his own hands…

[skele-ghost]

Baby, it’s Hot Outside: Part 2 (electric bugaloo)

MDNI, 18+, Warnings: Omegaverse, illness, being sick, near-death experience (NDE)

Masterlist

You’re quite adamant that you’re not in heat. It’s impossible. But you are sick with something, so you let Soap put you on bed rest. He gives you extra blankets, which you find odd since you’re hotter than hell, but they do make the floor a little more comfortable underneath your sleeping bag.

When you wake up it’s the evening, and you feel like you’ve taken the worst nap of your life. The sunset shines orange and gold rays into the little cabin, illuminating enough to still see what’s inside. And what’s missing.

Soap is a few feet away, reading a book with one of those silly headlamps.

“Where’s my equipment?”

He startles, quickly turning to you. “Ah, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Where’s my equipment?” You repeat as scoots over to you, opening and offering a bottle of water.

“Gaz took it to he and Price’s cabin,” Soap explains while you gulp down the water, quenching your thirst. “Just for convenience.”

“I’m not going into heat,” you grumble, sitting up and wincing at the ache in your skull.

“Yeah? How do you feel?”

You whimper, “like shit. Like the flu, but not the flu.”

“Lay back down,” Soap urges you, a hand on your shoulder. You do as he says, eyes shut in discomfort. “Just sleep it off, angel.”

You hope that you can.

—

You can’t. You get the distinct feeling that this isn’t something you can sleep off as you wake next. You don’t know what time it is, but daylight has already broken.

Something else is different, and it takes a moment to register that it’s you. Your cheeks are flushed but not because you’re hot—well, it is because you’re hot, but not in the temperature way.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so horny in your entire life. You squirm to get some friction between your legs, and it’s like your body has produced a whole bottle of lube in your pants. You buck your hips but the sensation makes your stomach roll and you grimace.

Footsteps sound on the porch and the screen door opens, revealing Soap once more. You look up at him through half lidded eyes, frowning.

“Heya, bonnie,” he greets, crouching down next to you with a plate in his hands. “Do ya think you could eat for me?”

The smell makes your stomach curdle. Vienna sausages, fresh out of the can. You’d all been subsisting on it for a week, and you normally have no qualms about them. The barbecue ones were great.

But the smell of meat right now is torture. You shake your head.

“Please? Just a little bit, you need to get some food in you,” Soap pleads.

Thinking about eating it is worse, so much worse. “I’ll throw up on you if you don’t take that away,” you manage, your voice raspy.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Alright, alright! Rice, then?”

You eat maybe a cup of rice before your stomach insists it’s had enough—sipping on water calms it a little, and you fall asleep once more.

—

You wake up crying. That’s never happened to you before, and you’re not sure why you’re crying until someone’s hands are on you.

Your bones ache. It’s like having your own personal migraine in every one of your extremities, and you sob at the sensation.

“Go! Get a couple of Ghost’s shirts, and a blanket, just make sure it has his scent on it!” Soap orders from above you.

You can hardly see him through your tears or hear him through your sobs and pleas. His hands are on either side of your face, trying to wipe the tears away as they come.

“Shh, (Y/N), I know it hurts, darlin,” he mutters to you. “Gaz’ll be right back and we’ll make you feel better, alright? Take some deep breaths for me, you ain’t breathing right.”

You try but it’s moot. All you can manage is to beg him to make it stop and tell him how much it hurts, which doesn’t improve anything.

Footsteps pound on the floor and then someone presses something up under your nose. It smells woodsy and musky and also a little minty; somehow, it makes the aching dull down.

But it causes a new kind of problem as you calm down, tears drying up and your breathing evening out: it makes you horny again, but also lonely?

It’s something you’ve never felt before, a painful aching in the chest, like missing someone, longing for them in a way that has you almost in tears. It makes you whine.

You hardly even register Soap laying down beside you and pulling you into his arms. He smells like it, too, and you snuggle into him, laying your head against his chest.

A stone of guilt is sitting heavy in your gut, however.

“Soap?” You ask, your voice sounding pitiful and whiny to your ears.

“I’m here, hen,” he says, a hand smoothing down your sweat-soaked back.

“Is Ghost gonna kill me for this?”

He freezes for a moment, “what’re you talking about, angel?”

“We’re having an affair.”

Soap laughs and your brow furrows.

“Ghost isn’t gonna get jealous of you, bonnie. He knows you need someone right now—and he don’t mind sharing, either.”

“Oh,” you say in reply, mind too boggled to really wrap itself around that.

“Close your eyes, darlin, get some sleep. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

—

Soap’s a fucking liar.

It feels like you’re baking in a hot car—it’s the hottest, most humid day in history, and you’re sitting in a black car in a blacktop parking lot, and you’re dying.

It’s suffocating, and you can’t will yourself to move or open your eyes. It’s dark but you feel like the sun is beaming down on you full blast. You skin feels like fire and your blood is hot, too, pumping like magma down the side of a volcano.

You’re dying, you’re certain of that—but you don’t have any time to think about it as you feel yourself slipping deeper into the darkness.

—

A/N: I remember spending days writing this. And it’s so short, what the hell. Also, I think it’s only called magma when it’s inside the volcano and it’s lava when it’s outside, but ‘magma’ sounds better.

[crimsonxcloverr]

dale kobble x reader.

content warning: fluff, slightly annoyed dale, mental health issues/reader having a bad day, poor eating patterns, casual intimacy, mentions of blood from minor injury, playful banter.

word count: 2197

a/n: i tried to keep dale in character the best i could! we also deserve to be comforted by our favorite old man. enjoy!

TENDER LOVING CARE

ruth helps you up and tells you to go back inside as you sniffle. you wipe your tears with the back of your hand and let out a soft sob. you were already having a rough morning, it was just one of those days, but now your favorite jeans you thrifted were completely soaked and they were ripped on the knees. as you walk inside, dale can hear your sobs from downstairs.

“jesus christ,” he sighs running his fingers through his hair. “what now?” he hollers from the basement, his voice filled with a hint of annoyance.

there was no response which annoys him even more.

he was in a time crunch and needed to get this doll finished. he goes to get up and his annoyed demeanor softens as he sees the emotional state you’re in and your scuffed knees.

“oh, little angel,” he coos softly as he gets up and makes his way to you. he wraps his arms around you and squeezes the daylights out of you, your soft sobs muffled in his chest. “why don’t we go upstairs and get you cleaned up? hm? come on.”

he takes your hand in his and guides you up the basement steps, your knees throbbing and burning.

“take off your jeans so i can get a better look, my angel. i don’t wanna ruin your jeans any further,” he suggests while removing the clutter off the counter.

“it’s not like i’ll wear them after this,” you reply with attitude as you hop on the counter, dale completing ignoring you as he hums a tune while searching for some bandaids in the bathroom.

you knew he’d fix your jeans for you. you were just having a rough day.

you listen as he rummages through the medicine cabinet and comes back to the kitchen with some ointment and a couple of knee bandages.

“where’s the hydrogen peroxide?” you ask softly as he washes his hands, his back facing you.

he turns to face you again. “it’s not good for your skin. ruth told me. hold still so i can see,” he whispers.

his slender fingers delicately grip both of your legs, his eyes carefully looking for any gravel he needs to pick off before fixing you up. you can’t help but stare at him, your heart swelling at how attentive he is. you push the hair that’s dangling in his face behind his ears and you let out a soft chuckle as he looks at you from under his brows.

“no pesky stones, but i need to clean you up,” he says softly, grabbing a few paper towels and saturating them in soap and water. “might burn so hold still…”

he carefully pats your tender skin as you sit there sucking air between your teeth trying to deal with the stinging sensation. you grip his robe and he can’t help but smile. he continues to wipe up the dry blood and the plasma that oozes from your scrapes.

“i know, i know, baby, just relax,” he tells you, his voice soft and caring. he pats you dry and applies some ointment to his finger, gently rubbing it on the now clean wounds. “see? wasn’t too bad?”

you sit there silently for a second looking down at your knees, your fingers pressing the bandaids gently to make sure they were on securely. as dale cleaned up the mess and put things back the way they were, you make your way to the basement. you didn’t even bother putting pants back on, you just wanted to lay down at this point. you pull the blankets back off the mattress and lay down, pulling the blankets back over your head. you close your eyes and try to take a nap but you can’t help but feel dale’s eyes burning through you. a smile forms on your face as you hear his slippers dragging across the floor, his weight shifting the mattress a little.

“what?” you ask trying to hide the smile on your face, trying to keep him from pulling the blankets off you.

“oh come on, stop acting like a little brat,” he chuckles, moving the blankets off you, his body weight pressing you into the mattress.

he lays there on top of you, your face cradled in his hands. he lets out a soft hum and stares at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“my poor angel, having such a rough day,” he sighs softly before kissing your nose. he really needed to get that damn doll done, but he knows you’re having a rough day. “anything i can do to help?” he watches you give him a shrug, your smile fading. “hm… how about we do something? we can… listen to music? or we can just lay here and talk?”

“no. i’m fine.” you roll over and he frowns. “i don’t wanna do anything today.”

“not even go thrifting? or out for lunch?” he smirks trying to persuade you into getting up and moving around. “have you eaten anything today?” he kisses your cheek gently.

“i’m not hungry,” you mumble into the blanket. “besides, don’t you have the doll to finish?”

“yes, but that can wait.”

you both knew he’d regret it later, but his main concern was you.

“i’m gonna go run you a nice warm bath then i’ll make us both lunch and some hot coco, with those marshmallows you like, hm? how’s that?” he whispers in your ear before giving your cheek another soft kiss.

“okay,” you chuckle as you finally give in.

moments pass and you’re brushing your hair in the bathroom as dale sits on the ledge of the tub checking the temperature of the water. he looks up at you and sighs noticing you’re spacing out. his heart aches for you, wanting nothing more than to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

“you ready? i’ll turn away if you need,” he says softly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable knowing you’re in a vulnerable state.

“no, it’s okay,” you sigh really not wanting to do anything but to lay down. it all felt like a chore.

dale notices your behavior and sits on the lid of the toilet, his hands gently undressing you and making sure not to accidentally bump your scrapes. he tosses your dirty clothes in the hamper and watches you carefully lower yourself in the warm bubble bath.

“mm,” you hum softly, the warm water soothing you already.

“perfect?” dale asks as he lowers himself next to you outside the tub. he smiles when you nod and he grabs an old plastic cup nearby. “put your head back, baby. let me take care of you.”

you do as he says and he begins to wash your hair, his slender fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp. he chuckles at your reaction, loving the way you’re practically falling asleep to his touch. he rinses your hair and continues to pamper you, your body exhausted from all the emotional stress. he moves onto washing your body carefully, trying his best to help you relax. he rinses you off once more and sets the cup down.

“i’m gonna go get towels, you finish washing up,” he says softly while standing. “i’ll be right back.”

you finish up and stand there, dale appearing in the bathroom with fresh towels. he holds one out for you and you get out, dale so kindly wrapping it around you.

“you want this one for your hair?” he asks. he acknowledges your answer with a nod when you shake your head no. “let’s get you dressed.”

he pulls out a pair of underwear from your pile of clothes and grabs a teal t-shirt from his drawer. he hands you the clothes and cups your face in his hands when he sees tears in your eyes.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers softly brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “you’re gonna be okay, alright? i’m here, ruth is here too, you’re safe. it’ll be okay, my little angel. okay?” he gives you a few gentle kisses on the lips and pulls away. “i’m gonna make us some lunch and then get that hot coco started. why don’t you get dressed then pick out some music?”

you nod and sniffle, wiping your tears and watch as he goes upstairs to tend to lunch and the hot chocolate. you get dressed and flip through some of his albums after brushing your hair. you don’t find anything assuming at the moment so you just turn on his stereo, the station you picked playing some classic rock. after a while dale comes down with two plates of food, a smile on your face when you noticed what he made you.

“it’s your favorite,” he smiles. “go on, sit, sit.”

“okay, okay,” you laugh as you sit down on the mattress, dale leaning over to put the plates down. “wait!” you grab his wrist to keep him from going upstairs. “thank you.”

“oh, it’s not a problem. you know that.”

he ruffles your hair playfully and descends back upstairs. he comes down and plops down in front of you, opening your can of soda. he takes a sip and you let out a scoff while grabbing your can.

“sorry, had to see if it was poisoned,” he teases.

“let me check yours then, you jerk,” you laugh loudly as you lean over and grab his, dale quickly snatching it back.

“nope, sorry. you have your own,” he chuckles at the banter between you both. he leans forward and gives you a few smooches. “eat,” he whispers against your lips, his tone authoritative.

you can’t help but smile at him and the way he’s so protective over you. you start chowing down, dale watching you as he eats his own meal. it was the first thing you had all day so it was quite nice.

“i worry about you, you know that? you need to start taking care of yourself, and im not kidding,” his voice was filled with seriousness.

“yes, i know,” you sigh. “it’s just one of those days and i don’t know why, i just-“

“it’s okay not to know why, baby, but that doesn’t mean you need to be mean to yourself.” he grabs your hand and kisses it. “i love you, little angel. promise me you’ll be nicer to yourself.”

the seriousness in his voice and the look in his eye makes you melt. this man loved you to pieces and just wanted to take care of you.

“okay, i promise,” you say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “but you need to promise me the same. i’m tired of seeing you drained because of these damn dolls.”

“okay, deal. but i do need to finish it,” he chuckles as he finishes his meal. “done?” he asks when he sees your nearly finished.

“mhmhmm, i don’t want this.” you hand him the last piece of your food and he looks at you as you feed him.

“mmm, yummy,” he teases and gives you a wink.

after sipping hot chocolate and talking for a little bit on how you were feeling, dale gives you some space to journal and relax as he finishes his doll. you look up at him, his back and broad shoulders facing you. he was so kind and gentle with you today, it definitely helped you. you get up and set your journal aside, quietly walking up behind him. dale was focusing intently on his work until your hands covered his eyes, the sudden action catching him by surprise. he lets out a small huff and a chuckle when he realizes you’re being silly.

“now what do you think you’re doing back there, little angel?” he placed his paint brush down and grabs your wrists to pull your hands away. “so nosy, you just couldn’t let me work in peace?”

“nope,” you giggle adding to the playful banter as he pulls you onto his lap, his large arms wrapping around you.

“mmm,” he smiles, squeezing you tightly in a jokingly manner, causing you to grunt softly. “my sweet angel, all mine…”

“mmfp, okay,” you laugh trying to escape his grasp. he loosens up and looks at you as you sit there straddling him. “thank you for taking care of me today. i appreciate it.”

“oh, baby… you’re absolutely welcome,” he whispers rubbing the small of your back. “everyone needs a little tlc, right?”

“maybe one day i can pamper you?” you suggest, dale’s brows going up with a smirk. “i’m being serious, kobble,” you laugh and nudge him.

“i know, im just picking.” his smirk fades and he lets out a sigh. “i really do need to get this done.”

“okay, so finish it, no one’s stopping you.” your tone was filled with sass and dale couldn’t help but shake his head at how much of a handful you were being.

“alright,” he sighs pushing the chair in with you still on his lap. “you needy little thing.”

you sit there with a satisfied expression while playing with his hair, dale working diligently on his doll the best he could.

[timetravelinghearthian]

I’ve been thinking about Hearthian timekeeping.

AKA: "Welcome to Timber Hearth, where the days are made up and the light doesn't matter."

[Video ID: A time lapse video of a solar cycle on Timber Hearth. The camera is positioned on the rim of the Village crater, with the observatory and fire watch tower visible. The Attlerock and Timber Hearth satellite pass overhead multiple times each. The solar cycle takes just under 7 minutes. End ID]

We know Hearthians must delineate time in some form, as they refer to the Hatchling’s departure as “Launch Day” and Hal estimates the time they would take to have a foothold in translating the Inhabitants’ language in “six months.” We can also presume that a “day” doesn’t match up with a single light-dark cycle, as it’s still Launch Day after we’ve gone up and down the crater, typically several daylight cycles.

(As a note: the following is all assuming that what we see is 1:1 with the "actual" conditions on Timber Hearth. It's certainly possible that everything has been significantly compressed for the sake of gameplay. However, I like the idea of exploring the implications of a mini solar system, and so here we are.)

With how fast (or even nonexistent, as the place lacks any sort of visible axial tilt and is thus likely aseasonal (without seasons)) Timber Hearth’s celestial clocks are, my headcanon is that biological clocks rule the roost here in terms of timekeeping. The two most common biological clocks are related to activity level and life cycle. (We’ll look at the latter in the discussion of “years,” but for now let’s focus on the former.)

Under a Readmore because, again, got long.

The simple fact is that most creatures with complex nervous systems can’t keep up their preferred level of activity indefinitely. Even creatures that require constant movement, like pelagic sharks that force water over their gills by swimming, practice some form of rest (for the curious, the current thought is that their brain enters a period of unconsciousness while their spinal cord keeps the swimming rhythm going. Neat!) This cyclical change over time is called a circadian rhythm. Typically, these cycles are determined by light level (e.g. diurnal animals waking up with light stimulus, nocturnal the opposite.)

The problem here is that Timber Hearth “days” are so short (between 5 to 7 minutes thanks to the fact that the planet is both spinning on its own axis and traveling along its orbit around its home star) that it would be nearly impossible for a light-based rhythm to form; there’s just not enough time for most organisms to really “wind down” into a state of rest before the sun rises again. Therefore, any cycle would need to be detached from light stimuli and likely entirely endogenous (coming from the organism itself.) We actually see something like this in some humans! Called “non-24-hour sleep–wake disorder” (or non-24 for short,) this variation of the sleep-wake cycle is characterized by its complete detachment from light stimuli (usually because the person in question is totally blind, but it still occurs in some sighted people as well.)

Assuming Hearthians sleep for uninterrupted stretches of time like most humans do, this sort of internal clock could easily be used for timekeeping. Though, of course, being untethered like this means that it’s easy for individual cycles to not be the same length or be in phase with other cycles. I imagine that, while a “day” is likely measured by the average sleep-wake cycle length, the idea of everyone being asleep at the same time is somewhat foreign to them. (Also, it makes sense for a social creature like them to not have everyone asleep at once; everyone can take turns watching over the group. The human phenomenon of “night owls” and “early birds” is theorized to arise from the same pressure.)

There is also the option that they rest multiple times a “day” in shorter segments (polyphasic sleep.) This is pretty common in mammals (see: cat nap) Though at that point, why not just define a “day” as one of those smaller sleep-wake periods? Another possibility is having only part of their brain in a sleeping state at a time (unihemisperical sleep) but that is typically only seen in creatures that need to be able to react to their surroundings at all times, such as flying birds or aquatic mammals, so it’s a less likely mode of sleep for a terrestrial creature that appears to be at the top of the local food chain.

As a final note, Hearthians also seem to have a quirk of being able to enter and exit at least a light sleep at will, as suggested by the “doze off” mechanic, and if their sleep patterns are untethered to external stimuli as mused above, that makes sense.

[[Author’s Baseless Headcanon Alert!]]

For MBMP, I wanted to have Olivine’s loop be longer than 22 minutes for a number of reasons related to plot and logistics. I decided to stick with the fact that the loop is around 3 1/2 Timber Hearth light-dark cycles (“sunrises”) long and expand things from there.

My selections for both the new light-dark cycle length and the number of such cycles in a “day” were largely arbitrary. Eventually, I settled on about an hour and forty-ish minutes for the light-dark cycle length (to bring the loop to just under 6 Earth hours, plenty of time to both do stuff and account for travel time in my somewhat scaled up version of their solar system.) For the latter, I chose 12 cycles per “day” (because I see Hearthians having a similar 2/3 awake, 1/3 asleep ratio like us; and because it’s funny,) and you have an average Hearthian “day” lasting about 20 Earth hours: close enough that they won’t run into immediate trouble keeping pace with the humans, but not exactly the same because that would be boring.

On sleep cycles, the headcanon here is that part of the reason we only see 20-ish Hearthians in the crater (aside from video game scaling) is in part to there being at least a few others currently in the resting phase of their cycle, and Hearthians of similar age tend to synchronize their cycles (though not always.) Further, very young Hearthians actually do follow a daylight-based sleep cycle, but eventually grow out of it. Among the three in MBMP, Hal's cycle has been shifted back relative to Olivine's (i.e. they wake up earlier) due to being more in sync with their and Marl's treekeeper mentor during their training. Gabbro's cycle, on the other hand, is sort of all over the place, and it wouldn't surprise me if they had the Hearthian equivalent of non-24 (non-12?)

[[End Alert]]

We’ll discuss the keeping of larger periods of time in a second post, seeing as this one got so damn long.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 50: Are We All Safe?

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

How is it possible to function on three hours of sleep? All night I toss and turn trying to relax but my mind is too full. Eventually I hear Thomas get up and leave. It’s barely daylight but I shouldn’t pay any mind to him. I can easily count how many apologies he owes. 

I throw in the towel and begin to make breakfast. Charlie is still asleep so the meal will just be for me. After a small portion of toast and eggs I try to distract myself with a copy of The Great Gatsby. Talk about the American dream being disintegrated into a shallow pursuit of wealth. Just like another certain someone…

Ring! Ring!

Who would be calling? I jump up and rush to the phone. Oh Lord, is it someone from home-?

“Is this Verena?” A familiar voice asks on the other end.

I gawk at the receiver. “May?”

“Verena, is that you? My, it’s good to hear from you. I wanted to call and see how you’ve been. I stopped by to collect Thomas’ horse. Um, pardon me for asking but the Americans that Curly told me about, they wouldn’t happen to…?”

Hearing May’s concern is a wonderful reminder that not all the rich and wealthy are heartless. 

“My family’s Irish side has made me a part of this too. The Italians are known enemies of the White Hand gang. I’m afraid my terms with Changretta are painted the same as the Shelbys’.” Unless… “That is unless I can arrange a diplomatic meeting to take the hit off my family.”

“I’m so sorry.” There’s a pause over the phone. “Does Tommy still treat you well?”

The thought of yesterday’s events makes my fist clench. Between his remarks on my family’s situation and Lizzie’s cold stare I’d say that this vendetta is starting to become more like a prison sentence.

“As good as any other employee,” I reply darkly.

“I see.” May pauses again and this time uses a more upbeat tone. “It was good to catch up. Pop by London sometime. We’ll go shopping.”

Somehow the ghost of a smile tugs at my lips. “I’ll put it in the books.”

I replace the phone and begin to go about my normal routine- All aside from looking for Thomas. I’m still too heated to hear any excuse he has. As for that idea from earlier… I could try. It couldn’t hurt… Could it? If I wave the white flag and ask to speak with Changretta then I could ask him to remove my family’s hit. 

“Veena?” Charlie asks from the sofa. “Are you sad?”

Lord bless him and his childhood innocence. “I’m okay, Charlie. Just… a little tired, ‘s all.”

“Do you want a nap?”

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and feel myself decompress onto the sofa. “Charlie, a nap sounds wonderful. Are you still tired too?”

“Yeah.” The young Shelby crawls up next to me and lays down facing me. “Veena, is mummy with God too?”

I move my arm over to rub his small head. “Yes, Charlie. Your mummy was a very kind person, and she loved you very much. She watches over you every day.”

Charlie’s tired eyes widen. “She does?”

“She does,” I repeat. “And I promised her that I would take care of you. Right now you need to sleep, alright?”

“Okay.”

His eyes finally close and I wait for him to fall asleep before letting my own eyes shut. Somehow sleep does find me, because when I open my eyes again it’s because Thomas is shaking me awake. Charlie is awake too and is clinging to his dad’s leg.

“Verena? It’s after six. Are you alright?”

After six? I slept a solid seven hours! I jump up in surprise to look at the clock but then remember I’m still cross at Thomas. I resume a tight posture and merely hum in response.

“Charlie, why don’t you go play with your blocks, eh? Or I’m sure there are some books to read.” 

Thomas ushers his son off and stands directly in front of me so that I can’t avoid looking at him or getting up from the couch. Of course Thomas can tell when someone is angry. Heaven forbid he can tell when I’m trying to love him. 

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Are you going to apologize for speaking so harshly of my family yesterday?”

“Yes.” 

Thomas moves to sit next to me on the couch, looking at me with sincerity. His face tells a story of a man who’s frustrated with himself. Is he really going to say sorry? Can I bring myself to forgive him for not only mocking my family but also keeping me from talking to another man?

 “Verena, I’m sorry. You just need to understand that-”

“You are not the most empathetic person,” I say slowly. “I know.”

Something is wrong. Like Thomas once told me, no one apologizes unless they’ve done something else. The sound of his voice tells me he’s hiding something. He’s too stubborn to give in so quickly… What exactly happened at the office today?

“Something happened today,” I state bluntly and my face hardens with worry. “What happened?”

Thomas’ mouth drops slightly. “How-? You read me like a fucking book.”

“Thomas Shelby. Just answer me one fucking thing. Are we safe?”

If I had the idea of talking to Changretta then Thomas’ mind can’t be too far behind. This vendetta involves me too so if he makes any move to address it then I need to know. 

Thomas reaches across and takes my hand. “Yes.”

Does he mean everyone or just my family? “Are you safe?”

He holds up a finger. “That’s two questions.”

“Thomas Shelby!” I squeeze his hand tighter and can’t stop my brow from creasing. “You can keep me in the dark from whatever sinister deeds you concoct. I don’t want to know. What goes on in that boardroom is your burden. Whatever strike or uprising, it is brought on by yourself. I was hired for international relations and that is what I will work for. But that does not mean I stop caring for your safety. I do want to know that after all this is said and done that you will still be here.”

“And if I'm not?” Thomas challenges, still keeping a calm face. “If you could save your family by killing me, would you?”

My chest tightens and I fight to keep from crumbling into him. “You make it so easy to say yes. But you know I am no murderer, Thomas. Even if I don’t pull the trigger I will never arrange for you to be killed.”

There are far more dreadful ways of torture. If I ever want Thomas to suffer then I will walk away completely. We’ll see who’s angry when there is no one who will listen.

Thomas must believe me because his crystal eyes have a look of content sadness. If he has anything to say then it’s his own fault for staying quiet. As is mine.

“There is a meeting tomorrow I want you to be at,” the gangster murmurs. “At the hospital with Michael. Arthur, Ada, Polly, and Lizzie are coming too. See these?” He holds up a set of keys. "These are the keys to your car outside. You can take it to the meeting. Trust me, you will want to be there. Even if you’re still mad at me.”

“I will be there,” I promise. “Hopefully after a few more hours of sleep.”

“Yes, do sleep,” Thomas insists and gets up to let me have the whole sofa. “You shouldn’t have to go through this, Verena.”

He walks off to the kitchen. Did I hear him mutter ‘all my fault?’ Well, partially that is true. But it is also my fault for being dumb enough to come back. What have I accomplished? John is dead and I’m no closer to admitting my feelings than I was a year ago. Why does love have to be this complicated? I suppose another night of fighting for sleep might calm me down.

@meadows5

[bots-and-cons]

NB Reader x ratchet simple nap cuddles with the grumpy mech

A/N: Just some short fluff. I tried to resist the desire to inject my own issues into this so I could vent, because you just asked for cuddles and I wanted to write what was asked for

“Ratch, you got a minute?” you asked.

“In a moment, I just need to finish this scan”

“You sure it won’t take three hours? Again?” you rolled your eyes with a sigh.

“Yes. It is done right… about… now” Ratchet shut off the screen and turned to you. “What do you need, (Name)?”

“Could we maybe… cuddle a bit and maybe take a nap?” you inquired carefully.

You knew Ratchet wasn’t big into PDA, but you just felt like you needed affection right now and there wasn’t anyone else around. Ratchet also needed some rest, and it seemed to fall on you more and more often to make sure he recharged.

“May I consider it? I really should continue working soon”

“Nope, you’re coming with me, you need your rest, you’ve been up for so many days. Again” you started walking towards the corridor to the habsuites.

“Has it really been that long?” Ratchet asked, suddenly noticing his chassis feeling heavy as he followed you into his habsuite.

Now that you mentioned it, he was feeling quite tired. He just hadn’t noticed it before, because he had been so focused on his work. His whole chassis felt heavy, and even if he didn’t want to admit it he needed to recharge.

“I know it’s kinda hard to keep track of the days here, since you can’t see the daylight cycle, but come on Ratch, you need to learn to not push yourself so much” you shook your head with a disappointed sigh.

You always used your own need to nap as an excuse to get Ratchet to rest too. It didn’t always work but it worked often enough for Ratchet to stay at least functional. You weren’t sure if he had caught on to your little plot to get him to recharge, but as long as it worked, it didn’t matter.

“Alrighty then, do you know where my blanket is? It’s always so chilly here” you asked, looking around.

“It’s on the berth, let me help you up” Ratchet yawned as he offered you his hand.

Ratchet let you down next to your little nest that you’d made for yourself. It was next to his face when he recharged, so he always fell asleep to the sight of you.

“Have a good rest Ratch, I’ll be here when you wake up” you said as Ratchet laid down next to you.

You pressed a kiss on his forehead and he was out like a light before you even knew it. You smiled to yourself as you looked at his sleeping face. He didn’t get bags under his eyes when he got tired like a human would, but you could still always see it from his optics when he had been awake for too long. His eyes got restless and sort of twitchy in this weird way. He had his tells, and you’d learned all of them.

[roleplaypositivity]

At this point I am tired. I cannot make everyone happy and it’s taking a serious toll on my mental health.

I came into this blog wanting to counter act the other blogs. From day one I have gotten various hate anons, been told this is useless, all sorts of things. Was accused of being a dozen different people (none of which were true. Seems I kept myself more hidden than I thought till my reveal.) And I’ve had an influx of messages and concerns where I don’t see damaging things or pick up on subtle hints of hostility but others do.

I am, at my heart, a people pleaser. Ask any of my friends. I will take apart every single piece of me to make others happy and to make them feel better. I will destroy myself for the sake of others.

I wanted to give everyone a fair chance at love and support. I have even posted things here from people who dislike me. I have shared support that was sent in for people who have hurt me. Why? Because I want everyone to have a chance to see they are loved and appreciated and cared for.

I am doing my best. And in doing my best I am causing unintended harm to others. In doing my best I am struggling to listen to every point of view that comes in. I want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I want to give everyone a chance.

Last night I had three separate drama related incidents that are being put on this blog under the guise of support and positivity come to my attention. None of them had anything to do with the other, it just all came flooding in at once. And it’s a lot, it’s a lot to handle and take on and be unbiased on. Maybe if it came one at a time I could handle it better. (Also please note — if you were one who brought something to my attention I am very grateful to you in so many ways, and this is not me angry or anything. Just a bit overwhelmed, overstimulated, and trying my best for everyone ❤️.)

I am struggling. I am struggling and I don’t want to stop the positivity. But, I also can’t pick up on everything or make everyone happy. I dont want this to turn into a subtle hate blog, where people drop shade in backhanded ways. I also don’t want to alienate people who maybe see things shared from those they do have issues with but find this to be a safe place otherwise.

I am not privy to all the drama. Despite being told multiple times I am a popular page — I don’t see it half the time. And I don’t see all the drama out there. It gets lost on me, and I don’t know 80% of the names that get brought up a lot. So many get thrown around, and it’s not my corner of the roleplay world. I apologize for not being sure on everything. Or for missing things.

I also know that if a new negative blog pops up I have opened myself up in a big way to receive an intense amount of hate. I took a risk in revealing myself. I took a risk that I do think was worth it. Even if the hate gets to me. Heaven knows the past few anons on those blogs about me have caused me immense anxiety and stress. (And they were a big reason I wanted to make this place. To ease those feelings in others.)

At the end of the day I don’t want to stop this. I came into this with good and well meaning intentions. I came into this wanting to do what I always do — people please. I am sorry to everyone that I can’t.

I will, however, be doing a clean out of posts here tomorrow. Just for a fresh start. If there is anything you want to save, please, screencap it ❤️❤️❤️

This will not stop the blog. I really don’t want to stop it. However, I am, for my own sake, going to take a mental health day today and tomorrow. Knowing my people pleaser ways, however, I will still be trying to post. I will still be trying to share what I get in when I can. But, to be honest? All I want to do right now is banter with my WP and play Dead By Daylight. And maybe take a nap. But, I also know if I keep getting upset at myself for all this, Louis is going to shake me until I do some self care and show some self love.

❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate all of you so very much. And for all the support I have received, thank you.

Lots of love,

Peachy — otherwise known as Armand (or Eds)