#mattress packing machine

[terronindia]

A Terron India compression machine can shield mattresses from harm while transported. As a result, both you and your clients will benefit in this situation. Hence, purchasing a mattress compression machine could completely transform your company if you manufacture mattresses, run a store, or provide transportation services.

[mattressmachinery]

The mattress roll pack machine offers a highly efficient packaging solution, featuring automatic bagging, compression, heat sealing, conveying, folding, and rolling functions. This system helps reduce mattress size for optimized storage and shipping, making it ideal for businesses in the e-commerce and retail sectors. With its fast operation, completing the process in just 45 seconds, the machine enhances productivity and minimizes costs associated with transportation and packaging.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?” 

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder. 

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder. 

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend. 

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people. 

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…” 

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits. 

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold. 

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room. 

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust. 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion. 

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in. 

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson. 

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart. 

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs. 

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years? 

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze. 

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated. 

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry. 

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up. 

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing. 

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.” 

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow. 

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you. 

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–” 

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level. 

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…” 

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.” 

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge. 

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you. 

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response. 

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?” 

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter. 

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist. 

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin. 

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself. 

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone. 

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up. 

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. 

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up. 

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach. 

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss. 

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom. 

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you. 

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide. 

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.  

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more. 

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits. 

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat. 

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon. 

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out. 

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance. 

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside. 

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take. 

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts. 

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt. 

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director. 

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you. 

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form. 

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away. 

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him. 

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper. 

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest. 

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more. 

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks. 

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.  

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist. 

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue. 

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[bluefunkybeats]

ZAYNE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS

~ PART 2

cw: suggestive +18 below cut!!!

Zayne who, when he doesn’t want to read research articles to get you asleep- due to how monotonous and tedious they get- instead reads ‘The Little Prince’ to you. Sometimes to tease you he turns the book and points to the picture like he’s reading it to a little kid or something. If you react with a warning paw to his arm he’ll respond with a breathy chuckle.

Zayne who always steals a sip of your drink with your straw when you’re out on a lunch date. Will tell you that a variety of liquids is good for the diet if you call him out.

Zayne who responds to the doodles you make on the calendar hung on his kitchen wall with his own snowman doodles. You can tell there’s a lot of love behind them but certainly also a lazily held pen (which you’ll allow since he does these very early in the morning before work). Other times he’ll just respond with comments like “oh really?” to the nonsense you write and graffiti on that thing.

Zayne who enjoys all kinds of sweet cold treats but always has some classic Magnum ice creams in his freezer drawer because it’s a reliable choice. He can’t nag you and will just give a touché happy sigh about any sort of snacks you store next to his beloved Magnums: it’s your checkmate.

Zayne who has a small potted plant in the desk of his office. He’s never really went too long without watering it, but ever since you’ve put a plant poke with a cute little character to give company to his plant, he’s never been more motivated to water it. It certainly adds a bit of you to his space, and he has the habit of stroking the little plant’s leaves in caress when he thinks of you during work.

Zayne who packs your bag for uni or work if he knows you’ll be too busy to attend to it until the morning or if you’ve dozed off already.

Zayne who readjusts your sleeping positions with the most gentle hands, otherwise he can’t be soothed to continue doing anything else. He gets prickles on his back just to think about you waking up with a hurting back.

Zayne who feels contentment he can’t describe when he slides his closet door open and opens the shallow little accessory drawer, and finds your jewellery in a specialised velvet tray and his prescription glasses on the other end.

Zayne who because of you, has a little egg timer resemblant of a chicken to help out when he cooks. He used to just use alarms on his phone, but ever since your silly little gift, he won’t use anything else. The first thing he did when he found the incongruous little chicken character was ask if you if it had a name.

Zayne who picked up your little habit of storing socks as little balls. When you’re both sat on the bed balling up his and your socks, he’ll grab one like a snowball and boop it to the side of your cheek.

Zayne who when he sees you really sluggish coming out the shower, will get you dressed and have you sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed mattress as he stands and dries your hair with the hairdryer.

Zayne who once put your soiled slippers in the washing machine while you slept before leaving for work in a really early dark winter morning. He kissed your hand and jotted down a little note on the bedside table for you to use his slippers instead, which were faced outwards from where you’d naturally put your feet to get up from bed.

Zayne who has a regime with you of cutting and peeling fruits for each other back and forth. Once outdid you by making his orange to you look like a water lily, knowing and having schemed that you couldn’t do anything more creative. The bastard. All your oranges from henceforth were like that, to rub it in your face with the excuse of vitamin D. Yeah right. You’ll get him.

Zayne who involuntarily (or voluntarily, who knows) flusters you when removing your underwear from the plastic peg rack. Upon meeting your dazzled face, holds the cloth almost touching the side of his cheek.“Should I not take this garment to face value?”

[goldenmotive]

😎 tinkerposts Follow

tinkers fuck better because we turn sex into machines, masterpieces, mattresses become workshops where we can engineer our love to someone with bodies.

👁️ not-tattle Follow

its like, impossible to think of anything funnier than the experience of seeing this post.

⚪ vialguzzler Follow

shakers fuck better because they ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh put the pussy in an area of efcegt

pack it up wormies we got a winner

[appleblueberry-pie]

Moving into a new house with Gojo & Yuuta hcs?

Safe Space

Gojo

Don't even let your mind conjure up the words to think to yourself about getting someone to move your stuff into the new house. That's HIS job.

You want the washing machine in that corner? He's got it. Oh, you meant the other corner? Don't worry, he'll be fine carrying this around, he's held heavier.

For sure has the couch on one shoulder when moving it into the living room, pecks your lips on the way in to make a point, muscles bulging as he effortlessly places the couch wherever you want it to be.

Pays for whatever you want to decorate the house.

HE'LL paint the outside aaand the inside of the house.

He'll build the damn shed in the yard.

He'll construct the bed and buy the mattress and shit. Only the best for his baby.

You like that view? Want ceiling to floor windows instead to make it bigger? He got it.

Mounts the TV on the wall and everything.

The only thing he can't do is cook the damn food, he's literally banned from touching the kitchen, you're the one who will redesign it.

You said you don't like the bathtub? Too small? Yeah, not enough room to-

Literally takes out the bathtub and has a new one brought in and installed in like an hour.

He's the only man who could possibly make the moving process a one-day thing.

Was this a set up to get pussy the same night? Yes.

Yuuta

Literally plans out the entire process with you for like so many weeks and is very excited to be able to do this type of thing with you.

He also doesn't enjoy having to pay for someone to help with the moving process when this can be a bonding experience for the both of you guys.

He makes sure to declutter the entire house before packing what he sees as important and helps you move that into the new home before getting to the fun part.

Letting you decorate the entire house is like being entirely covered by you. And he loves every second of it. So, everyday after work, you two stop by so many stores and he lets you run his pockets to pick whatever decorations your little heart desires. You like that slow cooker? Those curtains look nice to you? Super soft rug that's adorable and can go right by the bed? Stove mittens? Fluffy bedsheets? Done, done, done, done, done, and done.

Anything you want.

Loves seeing that excited smile on your face when you turn to show him what you'd think would look great on the patio or bathroom or whatever.

Loves watching you go back home to place it carefully wherever you wanted it to be.

Loves when you take laps around the house to stare at your work.

If the backyard is big, he'll help you build that big garden you want, that swing you've always dreamed of having.

Did he just hear you saying under your breath that you would love to have a fountain in the yard, too?

Would find the tools and materials and build it for you overnight.

Also does this to get pussy the next day.

Is very proud of his work when you come outside to see him finishing the fountain and you jump into his arms happily, peppering kisses all over his face.

Overall, he just loves experiencing these things with you.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sympathy for Breakfast

(Part 1)

—

Time Written - 9:03 p.m

(Completely unrelated photo it’s just funny to me, also just a silly part 2 for no reason. SFW silly, he stands like this for a majority of this Drabble)

—

The early rays of morning sun sent an irritating glare of bright light through his mask when he feels a faint rumble, making him instinctively reach for his phone.

You coming home soon?

I have a surprise :)

Love you <3

Jason smiles at the screen, feeling glad that his girl woke up on the good side of the bed. However, he checked the time, slowly growing concerned as to why you were up so early.

The diner the both of you adored on weekends and midnights wasn’t even open yet.

A handful of thoughts course through his tired brain. Some of them concerning, some of them far from appropriate.

“Good morning, Mister Hood.” You smile from your position on the ground as he shuffled himself through the front door, carrying double bagged to-go boxes in hand.

The only comfort he had at this moment, besides the fragrant hot coffee inside the machine pot, was seeing your smiling, well rested expression. Your hair was styled to keep out of your way as your main focus, the ‘surprise’, was the project the two of you had been putting off on for a while.

“Babe, what’re you doing?”

You sat criss cross on the living room floor in front of an ash gray, large convertible crib, newly put together by yourself alone.

“Built the crib! Isn’t it pretty?” You extend your hands out towards the sight, the crib equipped with every detail perfectly in place. All you had to do left was add in the bedding onto the new mattress for your son, and it’s fully finished.

A very special bed for a very special boy, already loved before he’s even born.

“The box weighed a ton.” Was Jason’s first statement as he eyed the empty box and scattered foam borders. He sets his helmet and breakfast on the dining room table, approaching the messy living room.

“It wasn’t heavy,” you quickly state, gesturing your head over towards the corner of the living room, where the box had sat behind the couch for a good three months.

“It was super easy too! What do you think?” You immediately ask, not liking how he was too concerned for everything but the surprise.

Their was a cute, eager glimmer in your eyes as you stared up at him, like a little girl showing off her extravagant art piece. Right there, he understood why you had lately become quite OCD with all the baby’s essentials.

Sorting out all the supplies, washing all the clothes, ordering a new baby blanket set because it didn’t arrive in the shade of teal blue you wanted.

Nesting. You were nesting.

Cute.

“It’s nice,” Jason says, tilting his head as he examines the large crib. How the hell his eight month pregnant sweetheart built this heavy crib all on your own was a full body shiver he tried very, very hard to refrain expressing.

“Yeah, very nice. How’s it, uh… how’s it gonna fit through the door?”

“What?” Your smile slowly drops. “Huh?”

“I mean, it’s pretty wide?” Jason peeks over towards their semi open bedroom door. “I don’t think the crib will fit through…”

You go quiet, looking over at the crib you were proud of merely seconds ago.

“Huh??”

You express once more, noticing this large, extravagantly built crib, with bottom drawers prepared to pack in freshly washed baby clothes, would be a little too wide to push through the bedroom door. Especially with the bed in the way.

“But this took … this took forever!” Your voice held that tremble that Jason suspected would come, making him playfully pout.

“Awww, Princess.” He tried so hard to hold back a smile or laugh, quickly failing behind his gloved palm.

“Don’t laugh!” You yell up at him. “I was so proud of myself! This was the one time we buy something from IKEA, and I didn’t have to second guess the instructions a hundred times! Now you’re saying it won’t fit through the door!”

Cause it won’t. Jason wasn’t cruel enough to voice it, simply gazing down at his love, who hid her face from his view, still perched in the center of empty screw bags, power tools, and ever so finicky foam beads.

As tired as he was from patrol, this topped the cake of interesting things to happen yet.

He wasn’t delighted to see you cry aggravated tears from this daunting realization you completely missed, but the outcome of your hard work at such an early hour… only to be stumped, it’s funny. Jason can’t help that.

His shoulders bounced with his light laughter, settling down in front of his woman, who had exhausted hands covering that pretty face from him.

“S’okay Princess. Crib looks gorgeous, an’ you still possess all fingers and toes. Proud of you, but no more heavy lifting. Alright?”

His soft praise and gentle warning fell on acknowledging ears, but responded to with shameful silence. Jason couldn’t help that you were a little impatient with exciting tasks, he wouldn’t ask you to change that.

It’s like asking him to stop his horrible, eye rolling humor. Or twisted, cruelly timed jokes. It’s impossible.

He softly shushes you, kissing the top of your forehead. His eyes glance back to the crib, overall impressed at how you put it all together so well by yourself.

At the start of living in your own apartment, the both of you took many IKEA dates. Each night ended up in some form of aggravated frustration over a piece of furniture placed wrong, or the irritation of an extra screw from a missing slot once the entire piece was already finished.

“You take your vitamins?” Jason prompts, watching your head slowly shake no, still sniffling behind your hands.

You were too fixated on building the crib and getting everything together, you forgot the key component of a successful pregnancy; to worry about your own health. The biggest of priorities.

Yep. Nesting.

“We’ll eat, take your vitamins, an’ have our food comas. No worries ‘bout the crib mama, I’ll take care of it.”

Jason’s soothing voice was almost enough to settle your nerves, or the mention of food actually.

“Did you go to Benny’s?”

“Mhm. Got your favorite.”

“Can you help me up?” You reluctantly ask, giving him those pink flushed puppy eyes that he couldn’t go against.

“Whatever the lady wants.”

Tired muscles slip underneath your arms, cradling your sides as he helps you up off the ground. Your swollen belly nudges against his abdomen, making his heart melt. He wondered if your manic rush of dopamine woke up his boy, softly smirking at the idea of you chastising your relentlessly kicking son whilst building his future bed.

“Baby boy missed you, by the way.” You say, as if you just read his mind.

God, kill him already. His twice beating heart can’t take much more of this.

“He just wants food,” Jason chides before stepping to the side, letting you slowly waddle to the kitchen.

“We’re all on the same boat, Papa.”

God, please scratch that last thought. He’s in heaven.

Jason’s exhaustion didn’t stop him from nudging you towards your seat, taking the empty mugs from your hands to fill them with Colombian roast.

He wasn’t just being courteous; he was making sure you didn’t have too much caffeine, diluting the majority of your cup with your preferred milk.

After taking those vitamins you needed, Jason finally allowed himself to sit down and rest, too lazy to pull off anything other than his tactical belt and leather jacket.

He watches the love of his life through hooded eyes open your plate, your expression brightening as if you didn’t just sob over the crib mishap. Something he most definitely wasn’t going to mention at a manor dinner about three years from now.

Fluffy blueberry pancakes, piled with fresh fruit and savory sausage on the side. Honey cinnamon butter, and extra syrup. All topped with chocolate chips.

Beside it, an egg white spinach, cheesy omelette. With vegan cheese, for some odd reason. Suddenly, you had as much distain to cheddar and mozzarella, possibly most dairy, as you did to egg yolks in your omelettes.

This was your breakfast, The only meal out of your three meals a day that wasn’t invaded by a strange concoction of spicy pickles or vinegar based hot sauce. Or any other horrible last minute choices.

Something tells Jason that he’s going to see cake eaten for breakfast after the birth for a good while. Not like he’s going to complain, honestly.

Whatever he can do to combat the birthing blues, but that’s a concern for the future.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You glance up from your plate before you dug in, seeing that same gentle smirk he carried on his face for the past four minutes.

“I was kidding, by the way.” His smile slowly grew the quicker it sets in, expecting to get pummeled by fruit after this;

“The crib will fit through the door.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 41 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

41. reprieve

John is inscrutable as a rock, up until the moment you return to your room, and the door shuts behind you. You don’t get a moment to process what just happened in private, because he grabs you up in those strong arms and devours you. His relief is palpable–you feel it in his kisses, in the tremor that runs through his powerful frame, and the desperation with which he holds on to you. 

“That was—so fucking–sexy,” he tells you between pressing his mouth to yours. 

You cling to him, trying to think back. It all happened so fast. You realize a part of you has been wondering this whole time if your quick actions had in fact been a fuck up–there are rules upon rules and nuances upon nuances governing this strange and forbidden world–you are but a baby here. A mere cell. A gob of primordial ooze–and you have learned to fear a great deal that which you do not know. 

“I didn’t–get us–into more trouble?” you ask, stunted by voracious kisses and his big hands squeezing the breath from you. 

“No more than I did,” he assures you with his forehead pressed to yours. “I think…” He laughs, a rare and ragged sound, after your ordeal, “That we really are free to go.” 

“Is that what Winston said?” The hotelier and your intended had exchanged hushed and private words together on the roof, while you looked out over Manhattan, you hoped, for the last time for a while to come. 

It isn’t that you don’t trust John. But you have come to understand that Winston was right, when he said the subtler machinations of this shadowed world sometimes escape the blunt instrument that is your beloved John Wick.

“Yeah.”

You hug him then, holding him to you, your nose buried in the warmth of his hair behind his ear. You don’t want to, or mean to, but the magnitude of it all comes crashing down, and you begin to cry. Quietly, not for attention or even comfort, but because you just can’t hold it in anymore. You are so stealthy that some men might have ignored it, pretended it never happened, but not John. He is attuned to your every tell, and he kisses your cheek and holds you, knowing exactly what you need. 

After your tremors have subsided he sweeps back your hair to kiss your forehead, his soft lips such a soothing balm. “Do you want to stay one more night, just for fun?” he asks, and you offer a watery smile in return. The opulence of this place has been like a trip to faeryland for you, or an extended stay down the rabbit hole. Glittery and exotic and goddamn if you haven’t had your fill of it, maybe for a lifetime. 

“Honestly? I just want to go home.” 

He nods, understanding all too well. “Ok. Let’s pack up.” 

“Thank you.” You kiss him, a lingering taste, which leads to another, and then his hands are under your shirt, finding the warm hollow of your spine, and then lower, and he is walking you backwards until his weight is pressing you down into the cloud of a mattress, and you are all too willing to let this man have his way with you, to give him shelter in your body, in your arms. Maybe to everyone outside these walls he is A Killer, The Baba Yaga, The Boogeyman, a tool, a legend, a nightmare, a vengeful ghost…but to you, he will always be the man who loved you beyond reason, or measure.

And you, him. 

It takes you a while, to finally get to putting things in bags, but when you are finally settled into the passenger seat of the Rover with Dog in the back and John at the wheel, it is with the warm glow of a woman who is pleasantly surprised she is getting everything in life she’s ever really wanted.  

[soaps-mohawk]

Duuddeee I love cherry red it's like one of the best 141a/b/o fics iv read! Little question about 'mega and nesting, when she gets more comfortable will she ever make a big nest for the whole pack?

If she ever does all I can imagine is someone missing a mattress while others have missing items. Only to have a preening omega on top two mattresses squished together and a big ol' nest made up. >///<

Oh that definitely would happen.

It would start with clothes disappearing. Dirty clothes from their hampers hamper slowly disappearing until the guys are certain the washing machine or dryer is eating them, or one of them is pulling a prank on the others.

That only escalates when blankets and pillows start disappearing. They start blaming each other, or think perhaps that last concussion was worse than they thought.

Until Soap comes in one day, tired and ready for a nap from training, only to find his mattress is missing. This starts a whole riot, Price is ready to line up every single person on base to interrogate them and figure out who has been entering their space and taking their things.

Then, they notice reader's mattress is also missing.

Cue a stampede of giant military men to the rec room where both the couch and the coffee table have been pushed back, and there's the reader, perched contently on a giant nest made up of two mattresses, blankets, pillows, and a bunch of dirty clothes.

Immediate relief felt by all parties involved as they realized it was all just their little omega making a giant nest for everyone.

(Price definitely is going to have a talk with them afterward about how long it all went on and none of them noticed or even thought it could be the reader 😆)

[spidey-bie]

Murder In The Morning

A/N: I am suffering. It's 2 in the morning. If there are errors then no there isn't. Hobie x g/n black reader  Summary: Your period came while sleeping over at Hobie's. Warnings: Blood (duh), Reader uses pads because tampons scare me

You should've known that it was coming. 

The signs were all there. The restless sleep schedule, the sudden shift in emotions, strange cravings, and the unusual forgetfulness.

You’d thought you had more time but, alas. 

Here you are, waking up in Hobie Brown's bed surrounded by a pool of blood.

"It's everywhere." Obviously you were exaggerating but you knew it was gonna be a pain to deal with later. 

"Oh my God." It was really bad.

"You alright in there?" Hobie calls from the kitchen. He's probably let you sleep in while he started cooking breakfast.

"It's a code red," You call back. This was a gag you both had started from the first time your period started at Hobie’s house. At least this time it wasn't on new sheets.

"What's the damage?"

"It was a massacre." You have to check to see if you bled through to the mattress. 

"Damn it." Unfortunately, you had.

"It's that bad?" Hobie 

"Captain, they ambushed us. We never stood a chance."

He ducks into the room, eyes widening at the scene. 

"Woah. All this came from you?"

You stare at him blankly. Sometimes you wonder if he says stupid stuff like this just to piss you off.

"Who else is there?"

"I just thought I was the only one with enemies to fight here." 

And if any of them popped up right now you would leave him to fend for himself. Spider-man values be damned.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't punch you right now."

"Because." He says waving a bottle of peroxide as he walks towards you. 

"While you take a nice, long, hot shower I'll be cleaning up this whole mess for you." He was standing in front of you now. You started to feel bad for your small outburst.

“But before that.” He opens his arms wide. An open invitation for a hug you so desperately needed.  

"Fine" You sigh and let yourself be enveloped in his arms.

"Thank you." You mumbled into his chest. 

"Of course." He pressed a light kiss onto your forehead. "Now off you go." 

************************************************************************

After hopping out the shower and being met with the cold air of the bathroom you felt the cramps start to creep in.

"You got any ibuprofen or those para- whatchamacallits?"

"Paracetamols. Med cabinet." You grabbed a blister pack out of the cabinet and popped a pill.

You had thrown away the pants and underwear that you were wearing earlier; they were beyond saving. Thankfully, there were clothes for you to change into, courtesy of Hobie’s closet, and underwear from a previous visit. However, there was one thing that you didn’t have.

"Bie." You shouted. "You got any pads?" It was unlikely but, you might've left some behind before. If not you could always just send Hobie to grab some. 

“Umm. Check under the sink?"

You open the drawer and nearly cry from what you see. There sat a small box, clearly labeled in Hobie’s messy handwriting, Lovebug's Blood Kit. It held pads in a number of colors and sizes, as well as a variety of your favorite chocolates.

You put on a pad and headed to the bedroom, expecting Hobie to still be there. To your surprise, you were met with a bare mattress completely cleaned of the previous murder scene. "In here," he called from the kitchen. "Food's done." 

"How’d yo-"

"You were in there for ages, bug. I was starting to think you passed out from blood loss."

You roll your eyes and smile. You were in love with an idiot. A caring and considerate idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.  

"Thanks again for everything." You sit down and begin to eat.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged, glancing towards you with a smile.

You giggle. “Of course you don’t.”

The quiet hum of the washing machine continued in the background as you both sat and ate. 

(A/n I got lazy by the end lol. Thank you to my lovely lovely editors @whaliiwatching and @shuinami. This was truly a mess before they looked at it.)

[wyattjohnston]

can you do “you know, if you moved in we wouldn’t keep having to say goodbye like this.  ” with luke hughes please

hey hey! i've written this because it had been a hot minute since i specified that i don't take requests for players U21 so thats not something you could have known <3

i am taking requests!

You’re used to it by now, the banging and swearing that wakes you up when you stay at Luke’s. Neither he nor Jack are any good at packing for a road trip, so there was a lot of mad rushing when they realise that their clothes are still dirty, or, worse, wet and smelling of mildew because they’d been left in the washing machine for far too long.

It’s a chore to open your eyes, but less so when you’re greeted by Luke standing at the end of his bed. Any happiness you get from seeing him is hampered slightly by him hauling a suitcase onto the mattress and jostling the bed.

“I told you you should have packed last night,” you say, your voice muffled by the pillow.

His head raises just long enough to roll his eyes before his back is turning and he’s pulling blind handfuls from his chest of drawers.

Its so familiar and common, laying in bed while he prepares to leave—for a road trip or practice, it was the same—that you don’t even try to fight the sleep that takes you back under.

Time escapes you, and you’re roused again by a hand on your shoulder and Luke’s directly in your ear. He’s not even trying to be quiet; you’ve come to expect nothing less.

“It’s go time,” he tells you, causing an annoyed groan to rip from your mouth.

The plan is, as always, that they will drop you at your place on their way to the airport. It means that you don’t have to change out of Luke’s shirt, just that you begrudgingly roll out of bed to find a pair of sweatpants.

“You know,” Luke says thoughtfully as he watches you rummage through his already ransacked drawers, “if you moved in, we wouldn’t keep having to say goodbye like this.”

With your head on a swivel, you face him just to give him the most disbelieving look you can muster. You almost scoff, “Its too early for you to be that unserious.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Can you be serious about it when you get back?” you ask, cautious. “That’s like… a really big thing, Luke.”

“I’m gonna be serious about it for a long time. We can talk about it whenever.”

[folkloresthings]

i was wondering if i could ask for "how many swimsuits did you bring." "all of them." + fernando ?? tysm !!

"how many swimsuits did you bring." "all of them." with fernando alonso.

finally, finally, the summer break had come along for the formula one season and your time alone with fernando was beginning. you loved watching him race, travelling with him, but you’d been looking forward to two weeks alone with your boyfriend.

he had booked the trip, surprising you with it one night over a bottle of wine. the french riviera, a stunning villa with a private beach, pure bliss and peace for the two of you to relish in. in fact, fernando had taken care of all of it. he wanted you to relax (even though it was his break from work), so he’d paid for and done everything. you didn’t have to lift a finger.

all you had to do was show up at the airport, and let him lead you the rest of the way.

the one downfall of this? fernando’s packing skills. you always helped him pick out his outfits, be it for events or interviews or anything else. he was rather helpless on his own. but in the excitement of your getaway, you’d forgotten to help him pack his suitcase.

the thought still hadn’t crossed your mind until an hour after arriving at the villa he’d rented. you had already exploded, had a quick bite to eat, figured out the air conditioning. you wanted to unpack before you did anything else — that way the trip would start out neat and tidy.

in the midst of hanging up a dress of yours, you caught a glimpse of fernando’s suitcase. four or five shirts, a couple of dressier options, a few options of underwear. this took up about a quarter of the case. the rest? an array of oddly coloured and patterned swimming shorts.

“baby…” you began to giggle, fernando turning to you with a confused look. “how many swimsuits did you bring?”

his look turned sheepish, shrugging. “all of them.”

you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, falling onto the bed as your amusement echoed across the room. fernando tried his hardest to seem offended, but the grin that tugged at the corner of his lips said differently.

“what? i wanted options!”

“we’re only here for two weeks — and there’s a washing machine! besides, some of these are ugly as hell,” you exclaimed, cheeks red from your giggling. fernando pretended to glare at you and jumped onto the bed, fingers attacking your sides as even more laughter spilled from your lips

“get off of me, old man!” you teased, squirming out of his grip.

“nope. not until you say you like my shorts,” fernando grinned above you, easily pinning you down to the mattress. you shook your head, lip trapped between your teeth to stop yourself from smiling cheekily up at him.

“say it!” he demanded playfully, relentless in his tickling of your flesh, adoring the squeals that escaped you.

“fine, fine! i love them all, ‘nando!” you finally surrendered, breathing heavy as he eased off of you with a prideful smirk. “did you bring the speedos?”

your jest has him lunging for you again, but you’re quick and running barefoot through the house away from his chasing, the youthful sounds of your love filling the temporary home with light.

[thicctails]

><((((º>‿︵‿︵‿︵Undercurrent‿︵‿︵‿︵<º))))><

A Merformers x Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 2 ° Coastguard

Blessed be Randy the coffee machine, your holy god of caffeine. May His hazel liquid flow eternally into graceous Bartholomew, vessel of Randy's divine lifeblood; discount noname brand coffee that had expired last week.

Taking another sip of your beloved breakfast drink, you forced yourself to walk towards the greeting area of your clinic, praying to any deity that was listening that you looked at least passably presentable. You'd taken far longer to pull yourself away from the tender embrace of your nearly flat air mattress than you should have, and both your nerves and back were paying for it.

The head researcher of A.E.R.O. was meeting with you today to discuss your collaboration effort with them, and finally tell you exactly what species you'd be getting to work with. You hoped it would be something exciting, like sharks, dolphins, whales, or nudibranchs.

Taking a shaky breath, you shoved your anxiety down into the pit of your gut where it could, hopefully, only be noticed by you as your hand grasped the handle of the door. You pulled, ready to take the first proper step towards your new life.

Ka-thunk!

Ah. It was a push door.

Willing the colour that had suddenly flooded your cheeks to kindly fuck off, you meekly pushed the door open.

A man was standing in the main entrance room, leaning against Desk the desk and scrolling through something on his phone. He was dressed fairly casual for someone in his position, sporting tan cargo shorts, a forest green t-shirt, and a black lab coat, his company's acronym emblazoned in crisp vinyl across his breast pocket. He had tousled light brown hair and deep brown eyes that were framed by square glasses. At the sound of your approach, he lifted his gaze from his cellphone and gave you a warm smile, pocketing the device and turning his body towards you.

"Doctor L/N! It's nice to finally meet you!" he greeted, extending his hand to you. "My name is Dr. Burns, but please, just call me Graham."

Though it had been difficult to tell sometimes, you had not actually been raised by a pack of rabid wolves, so you returned the gesture, gripping the man's hand and giving it a shake.

"It's a pleasure to acquatence your make."

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Hey, God? Could you do a little smiting? Yeah, right here please.

"I- I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to say that." You managed to get out, almost shocked that you hadn't fucked that sentence up as well.

Breaking News! Local PhD holder flubbs basic greeting! Becomes World Champion speedrunner for ruining first impressions and instantly loses any chance of being considered for further employment and any shred of respect this man had for them!

"It's fine. Honestly, I was just as nervous as you when I first started." Graham laughed, startling you out of your own mental spiral, "I was so preoccupied with my own worries that I tripped and fell face first into a pool on my first day."

You stared at Graham for a moment, stunned that he was still talking to by choice and not out of obligation, before a small, strangled chuckle left your throat, sounding more like the dying squak of a strangled seabird than a laugh.

"Come on, the rest of the team is waiting for us in town." the brunette said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You arched a brow but obediently followed after him, trailing after the researcher like a duckling waddling after a pair of boots.

"Oh? I was under the impression this meeting was to discuss my contract." you replied, trying to scrape together a professional-ish sentence while simultaneously praying that you weren't coming off as rude.

"It is, but once everyone got wind that we would be working with someone new, they got a little," he paused, hand waving about as he searched for the right word, "excited. It's been a while since anyone besides Marissa worked close enough for us to talk to them on a semi-regular basis."

"Can't wait to meet them!" you said cheerfully, lying through your teeth.

The idea of having to interact with another human being today had been draining enough, but to have to converse with several? When their opinions of you could impact your career?

Your hands twitched around Bartholomew's smooth, ceramic body, wishing you'd added a few ounces of pure caffeine to your coffee. Maybe you'd get lucky and get struck by a bus.

Unfortunately, God wasn't known for being kind to you, so you arrived at a small diner completely unharmed.

The worn bell above the door dinged as you and Graham stepped inside, the smell of greasy fries and cheap burgers wafting all around you as he led you over to one of the booths, the cracked red leather seats occupied by three other people in various states of dress.

There was a younger woman with russet skin and shockingly red hair that was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few hairclips keeping her bangs out of her bright blue eyes. She was dressed in a cream and light orange dress, matching knee-high boots complementing her outfit. She was scrolling on her phone, but put the device down when she noticed your approach.

Ah, the mortifying feeling of being known. It never failed to make you uncomfortable.

The other two, who were seemingly in the middle of seeing who could chug a milkshake faster, were men, light skinned and with almost identically brown hair. It was easy to pick them apart, though, seeing as one was built like a brick shithouse and looked as though he was cosplaying some strange cross between a soldier and a Ghostbuster, and the other was a twink that also happened to be absolutely rocking some sun-bleached overalls and a set of the most obnoxiously yellow rubber boots you'd ever seen in your entire life.

"Hey, dingbats!" the woman hissed, nudging her closest colleague, who happened to be the rubber boots guy, "The new vet is here!"

While the two guys attempted to swallow their drinks without getting a brain freeze, Graham gave you a somewhat sheepish smile. "Dr. L/N, I'd like to introduce you to Doctor Sari Sumdac, Doctor Spike Witwicky, and Doctor Blaine L. Parker."

"Mainframe." Blaine said, slamming his cup down with a satisfied sigh, "Call me Mainframe. Only my Mama calls me Blaine."

"I'm still good with Spike." the other man chimed in, extending his hand to you as you and Graham slid into the opposite booth seat. You shook it, quickly repeating the action with Sari and Mainframe.

"So, you're the new guy, eh?" Mainframe asked, "We've been waitn' for Marissa to finally pick someone. She's too picky, if you ask me."

"Not picky enough if she hired you." Sari shot back, and for a moment you stiffened, afraid you were about to have front row seats for a fight, but Mainframe's laughter and Sari's teasing expression quickly calmed your nerves. She looked back at you, her face taking on a more genuine look, "He's not wrong about us waiting, though. A.E.R.O. has been around for a few years now, but you're the first vet we've gotten assigned to work with us."

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening slightly in surprise before you remembered to shut it, "Really? Why?"

The gathered marine biologists looked at each other for a moment, before Spike leaned in closer to you. You matched his action, wondering what exactly he had to say.

"Did Marissa fill you in on what exactly A.E.R.O. means?" he asked in a low whisper.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head. Actually, your employer had told you very little, just enough to get you to sign a contract with her. You didn't regret your decision; anything would be better than the place you'd come from, but this secrecy did make you wonder what exactly you'd gotten yourself into.

"A.E.R.O.," Spike continued, "stands for Aquatic Extraterrestrial Research Outpost."

You blinked, leaning back as you turned over what Spike had just told you. Had you heard him correctly? No, surely not. Clearly you hadn't had enough coffee yet.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, chuckling a little "I must still be a bit groggy, because I thought you said extraterrestrial for a moment there."

The four shared another look, then once again focused their attention back on you.

"You heard correctly, Dr. L/N." Graham said, producing an envelope from the interior of his jacket. He quickly glanced around the diner, before sliding the envelope over to you. He continued speaking as you picked it up, hands shaking slightly.

"Five years ago, several objects from deep space suddenly entered our atmosphere and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. It was presumed that they were abnormal meteors of some kind, but a government owned dive team discovered that they were actually pods of some kind, made of materials not found on Earth.

"They were empty by the time they were found, but not long after they were discovered and retrieved, strange signals began to be picked up by sonar sensors, and sailors around this area began to report seeing bizzare creatures swimming beneath their boats, some of them claiming that their vessels were attacked, which was corroborated by several documented cases of boats coming in with scratch marks on their hulls."

You opened the envelope and reached inside, withdrawing several polaroid photographs. Each one was of a different boat, ranging from dinky little sailboats to bulky fishing trawlers. However, they all shared one unique feature; a set of deep gouges that tore through wood and metal, left behind by something that had to be absolutely huge.

Well shit, slap a tinfoil hat on your head and call you a believer, because there wasn't much in the ocean that had claws to begin with, and certainly nothing with claws large enough to do that kind of damage.

As you began to tuck the photos back into the envelope, you noticed that one of them was drastically different. It was blurry, taken on the coast during what looked like a storm, but not even those hindrances could mask the appearance of the... thing that had been captured on camera.

It was big. Like, really big.

The closest thing you could compare it to would be some kind of whale, but it looked so wholly unlike any species you knew of that you immediately tossed that idea out the window. It had a long, silvery body, covered in large, armour-like scales that almost gave the appearance of it being segmented. Thick, spiny fins jutted out along most of its tail, purple webbing torn and ragged. It's upper half was obscured, as the creature was diving back down beneath the surface, but the very beginnings of its torso hadn't quite been submerged when the photo was taken, and you could see a long row of crimson gills that glowed in the moonless dark.

"What the fuck." you breathed out, shoving the photos back into the envelope before tossing it away from you like you were playing the world's strangest game of Hot Potato.

"Yeah, that was pretty much our reaction too." Sari said, picking up the envelope. "We've been calling that one 'The Meg', since you could almost mistake it for an overgrown shark, if you only caught a glimpse of it.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned softly as you considered everything you'd just been told.

"Let me get this straight," you started slowly, dragging your hand down your face before resting it on your chin, "You and Marissa want me to find a way to study and treat a highly aggressive, barely studied, extremely dangerous alien, let me repeat that for you, alien species with no prior experience and, since you four work at a separate facility, no team?"

A pregnant silence met your question for a moment, before being broken by a very timid, very nervous "Yes?" from Graham, who was rubbing the back of his head.

You looked at him, looked at the rest of his team, looked at the exit of the diner, and considered your options; accept this batshit insane, borderline suicidal offer and risk getting torn limb from limb by sea monsters from beyond the stars, or move back in with your parents.

"Well Christ on a bike, sign me up." you replied, before snagging the nearby coffee pot and, after checking that it wouldn't give you third degree burns, chugged the whole damn thing, determined to get enough caffeine in your body to drown out that little voice in your head that alway nagged that you should have been a lawyer.

[elizabethemerald]

Inside the Mystery Machine

I was inspired by @emmakubert 's art on the gang on the way to another mystery. I particularly liked the conspiracy board on the wall. I hope you enjoy this!

Interviewer: Max Stevenson: I’m here interviewing Mystery Inc, the group of young adults who managed to solve the Mystery of the Blair’s Haunted Mansion. So tell me, what inspires a group such as yourselves to solve crimes like this? 

The group is gathered around the open back doors of their vehicle, dubbed the Mystery Machine. 

Fred Jones: Well we don’t usually go out of our way to solve crimes, we want to solve mysteries. 

Daphne Blake: Yeah, it just turns out, a lot of the ghosts and creepy things are just creepy guys in masks. 

Velma Dinkley: Through the use of complex technologies, smoke and mirrors, and more than a little gullibility from the locals, they can pass themselves off as something truly haunted. 

Shaggy Rogers: Like, I’d prefer we not solve crimes or mysteries at all, but these things just happen to us.

Scooby-doo: Ruh-huh. Real rary ruff. [Uh-huh. Real scary stuff.]

I am momentarily blown away by their dog, Scooby-doo responding to my question. 

Me: You have a talking dog?!?

The group seem immediately dismissive, even the dog rolls his eyes.

FJ: Oh we’ve done a dozen interviews about Scooby already. Yeah, he can talk. Some things are just like that.

The group seems ready to leave, Blake and Dinkley already beginning to pack their belongings into the van while Rogers has gathered what looks like the entire pantry from the Blair Manor. Jones keeps his attention on me, but clearly looks like he is finished speaking on the matter. However, I am still interested in speaking with them. Looking around quickly I settle on the van they are packing. 

Me: Before you leave, I’m curious about your van, you travel around in it, correct? 

FJ: Oh yeah! She’s my baby! We’ve all worked together to fix her up, and keep her functioning. 

I can practically see the excitement from Jones to discuss the van in depth. The others are also more interested. 

Me: Why don’t you tell me all about her? With the four of you living in the van, do things ever get crowded?

Blake and Dinkley open the back doors wider, while Rogers continues packing away the food into a cabinet built into the side of the van’s wall. 

DB: Not really, we keep the back pretty open so when we stop for the night we have plenty of space for an inflatable mattress. 

FJ: And if we need a little more space we have the front two seats as well. 

Blake laughs and Dinkley giggles. 

VD: Freddy usually sleeps up there, he likes to keep watch to make sure nothing sneaks up on us. 

FJ: It’s come in handy a few times!

SR: It sure has Freddy, though Scoob here will wake us if anything bad happens. 

Me: It looks like the interior is pretty heavily modified, you even have a kitchen back here?

They do indeed have what appears to be a mini kitchen built into the wall. There is a single burner stove top, a mini fridge, and several cabinets. 

DB: Well Shaggy, this is your area, why don’t you explain?

SR: You know man, eating properly on the road is hard, so we gotta do what we can. The fridge and the rest of the lights inside run off solar panels that Velma installed. I usually try to prep a couple of meals whenever we stop in a new area so we have stuff as we travel. 

VD: The biggest problem is keeping this glutton and Scooby from eating it all!

The others laugh and Rogers smiles. Doo laughs and has a quite tall sandwich in his paws which he then eats in one gulp. The rest laugh like this is expected. 

FJ: Next up we have the armory! Daphne and I put this together so we would have all the trap things we could need to catch a crook or a spook. We’ve got ropes, nets, some projectors of our own, a jar of soap to make things slippery. 

Me: Freddy, you don’t actually have any weapons in your armory?

FJ: Please call me Fred. Freddy is for if we’re dating. 

Me: O…k…? 

DB: We have one weapon! I have a bat I keep in the front just in case someone tries to mess with us.

FJ: The thing is, we’re not monster hunters, or even like crime fighters or anything like that. We’re mystery solvers. 

VD: We could carry silver weapons, or salt, or holy water, or whatever the local rumors might say will banish or harm the ghoul of the hour. But again, most of what we face are rich weirdos in masks. All of that would be a waste, and we would already have to replace the holy water whenever it expires. 

SR: Holy water expires? Does it lose its holiness or does it like go stale? 

VD: Uh, it stays as holy as it was before, but it loses potency. But again, would be useless against like 67.3% of those we face. 

Me: Wow you sure know a lot about holy water.

DB: That brings us neatly to the next section of the van! 

FJ: Yeah Velms! Show em the library. 

Jones has come to lean on Blake’s shoulders while Dinkely blushes. 

VD: Yes I suppose our library is my brain child. 

She climbs into the back of the van to show a modest library opposite the rack of ropes and trap equipment. Several of the books look to be older than all of us combined. 

VD: These are books that I have gathered during our adventures. 

FJ: snickers You mean stolen! 

VD: Borrowed! I borrowed them! 

DB: Babe, i think borrowed means you plan on returning them at some point. 

VD: Anyways! While most of the mysteries we solve end up being caused by some land owner annoyed that he has to pay property taxes, or that he can’t legally exhort even more money from the local underprivileged persons-

DB: Your inner Marxist is showing again.

SR: I’m mean, she is right.

VD: As I was saying before these hooligans interrupted me, there is a small portion of the mysteries we encounter that are truly paranormal in nature, and having literature on their nature is invaluable, hence our collection of supernatural tomes. Of course, my actual library is here on my tablet in e-reader format. 

DB: And if you had a choice the whole van would be filled with books and we would have to sleep on the roof. 

SD: Rit’s not so rad. [It's not so bad.]

VD: And if you had your way, we would all sleep in one big bed at the Ritz!

FJ: Last up for the van tour is our map! 

Jones points to what can only be described as a combination conspiracy board and map of the country. There are red strings going every which way, newspaper clippings, and thumb tacks all over the place. 

DB: All of us work on this together. We don’t want to drive from one end of the country to the other chasing mysteries without a plan. 

VD: Daphne and I work together to track and verify rumors and stories that might be related to mysteries that might need our investigations. 

DB: Freddy then adds in the places we need to go to maintain the van, gas stations, pit stops, shops and stuff. 

FJ: My dad gave me a big atlas in case I ever ran into car trouble. 

VD: Then Shaggy adds the spots to maintain us, like food stops.

SR: And like, not haunted spots. We gotta relax sometimes, man.

SD: Rot that rit ralways rorks. [Not that it always works.]

SR: That’s true, sometimes mysteries just happen around us even when we aren’t searching for them. 

VD: Then I put it all into an algorithm to chart the most efficient path. This way we can get to as many mysteries as possible without having to put unnecessary miles on the van or stress on us. 

Me: Wow you really are a news worth bunch. So, Daphne, Velma, do you ever feel like you don’t have any privacy while traveling with the boys? 

The two women look at each other, confused. 

DB: Why would we need privacy? 

FJ: Hey gang, if we want to make our next stop by sundown, we should head out soon. 

Rogers finishes settling the food in the kitchenette and Blake and Dinkley clamber into the back. Doo runs around to the front of the van to sit in the passenger seat while Jones takes the drivers. 

SR: Like, thanks for the questions, man. See ya! 

Truly the members of Mystery Inc are an intrepid lot, and there are a few mysteries about the members themselves that still remain to be solved. Max Stevenson, signing off.

[cherubic-cherry]

His eyes almost closed before he saw a small stack of paper cross his vision, accompanied with a large box of thin-tipped crayola markers.

“Just a bit longer,” Bruce muttered to him, leaning out of his chair to whisper directly into Tim’s ear. He must’ve noticed Tim almost nodding off.

He was ashamed, Bruce had brought him to Wayne enterprise after Tim showed interest in his work, going out of his way to feed into Tim’s curiosity.

And what does Tim do? He spaces out the entire time and probably has embarrassed Bruce in front of his employees.

Tim hated it, but he couldn’t help it, something about the boards words made them slip out of Tim’s brain like sand. Tim’s body was beginning to feel weighed down, the extra sounds was turning out to be quite the affective replacement for a white noise machine.

Bruce didn’t seem exasperated, not by any means of the word.

“ Bernie tends to take up 85% of these meetings droning on, and 50% of that is just talking about his cat, once he wraps up we’ll be almost done. Try drawing something for Damian, he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Tim was sure that somebody at the table heard what Bruce had said; he was not great at whispering, but they all willingly ignored it. Even going so far as to turn their heads away from Tim and Bruce.

Tim allowed himself a quiet giggle at the joke, making sure it was not loud enough to disturb. Looking down at the papers that were set in front of him and was scandalized by the concept.

It was another remainder that the Wayne’s had yet to grasp what was age appropriate for a 9 year old. For goodness sake, Tim spent his time trying to hack into the Bat-computer, not coloring.

It was juvenile, as well, that Bruce had packed the markers in his bag meant that he had premeditated the fact that Tim would use eventually get bored and need them.

Tim would be wounded from the assumption if it wasn’t proven true.

The young boy subtly took out three markers: yellow, green, black and red. He would make Damian a drawing of the Robin symbol just so he can show Damian and see him try to hide the pride off of his face.

Given how easily Damian is impressed by him, he’ll make comments about its accuracy and detail.

Tim carefully traced the edges of the design, it was image Tim was easily able to conjure up in his head.

He shaded it in carefully, making sure that the colors didn’t blend together; he became so engrossed in the task that he didn’t notice that Bruce took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Tim’s shoulder.

He did, however, notice that the extra warmth added on to his drowsiness, making it all the more easy to allow his head to sink down onto the paper.

The voices of the board became more and more distant, slowly fading to a whisper.

Tim was able to catch a few words, something about wrapping up and Tuesday and ‘getting the kiddo home’ or ‘getting the kitten home’ either one didn’t make much sense.

He tried to put together the words, like pieces of a puzzle, but they all fleeted away the moment he heard something else.

He felt a heavy weight on his shoulder, a pleasant one yet it attempted to pull him away from his light slumber, which was something that Tim was adamantly against at that moment.

“Abba? ‘m tired,” Tim mumbled groggily, feeling Bruce’s arm wrap around him. He curled into the extra warmth, desperate for anything that will imitate the comfort of a mattress.

“We’re going home now Tim,” Bruce said softly, so soft that Tim wasn’t able to register what Bruce had said and wake himself up for the trip home. Instead he left Bruce with all the complications and allowed himself to slip into that last layer of sleep.

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