#they MANUALLY WENT IN AND HUNG ME UP

[dipplinduo]

@cosmic-seer I-

“I’ll just rest my eyes” is the biggest lie you’re going straight to snorkmimimi land

[aciddrattboyy]

(dont) kiss me thru the phone

you were pissed that your boyfriend cheated on you and then had the audacity to ghost you after you confronted him about it. what better way to get that anger out than fucking his best friend

suna x f!reader ☆ smut ☆ 2.3k cw: fingering, dirty talk(?), penetration, cheating(?), cucking, phone sex(?), exhibitionism(?) a/n: all those damn question marks bc i cant tell if it would technically count anywho i dont condone cheating but like if someone told me they fucked their cheating bf's bsf i wouldnt judge also sorry for the osamu slander i was never a big fan of the miya twins bc i was too focused on suna so im sorry if i offend any miya stans </3

☆

you were pissed. you were beyond pissed actually. yeah, you were sad of course when you found out your boyfriend osamu had been cheating on you with some cheerleader from a neighboring college. but you were furious now that osamu had decided to ghost you after telling him you wanted to talk it out. it was pathetic and you were utterly offended. you were also upset with yourself, having not been able to see any signs that you had been dating scum of the earth. 

you know you couldve been the one to take the higher ground. just take his disappearance as the breakup and try to move on with the help of the people in your life that actually cared about you. but you just couldnt. he went low and you wanted to go much much lower. 

knock knock knock 

standing outside of suna’s townhome, you were growing a little nervous. there was a chance suna would push you away and go inform your cheating now ex-boyfriend. but you’ve seen the way suna looked at you. you weren’t stupid. everytime osamu dragged you to parties or hangouts with his friends suna always looked at you like he was fucking you with his eyes. you stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of your pajama pants as the cold night breeze swept over you. 

your body stilled when he opened the door, bare torso on display while a pair of grey shorts hung loosely at his hips. you could smell the faint scent of weed seeping out of his house. his hair was messy in the best way, green eyes narrowed at you slightly. you couldnt deny that he was attractive. but when you were still a loyal and doting girlfriend, no one else seemed as hot as your boyfriend. but things were different now. 

“hello?” sunas tone was indifferent, a bit raspy from whenever he was smoking. he craned his neck for just a moment, seeing if osamu was trailing behind somewhere. 

“suna i know you want to fuck me,” you blurted out, earning equally wide eyes from the man before you. he choked on his own spit, turning his head as he coughed. your face felt like it was on fire and for a second you regretted ever coming here. “im sorry i-” he was quick to put up a finger, silently telling you to wait as he got himself together. clearing his throat, suna stood up a bit taller with skepticism written all over his face. his eyes once again scanned over the area.

“are you confronting me?” suna had absolutely no clue what was going on. he half expected osamu to jump out of the bushes and knock him up just for not denying it. but he would be a liar if he did. it was true. he did want to fuck you and knew he could do so much better than osamu. but of course he didnt make any moves with the bro-code and all. 

“no im not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep breath to try to calm yourself. “i have a um… proposal,” suna’s eyebrows quirked, the corners of his lips tugging into an intrigued smile. he crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. 

“well,” you grew self conscious now, rocking back on your heels as you stared at the doormat. “osamu cheated on me and is now ghosting me after i asked to talk about it and to be honest im really pissed,” suna had to manually keep his features stoic even though he was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. he was sad for you of course, no one wants to get cheated on. he was mad at osamu for cheating on someone like you. but there was also this sick sense of pride, that you came to him. suna always knew he could be better for you and now you were at his doorway. you took in another deep breath, getting ready to spew out the words before you could take them back. “i want you to call osamu because i think he’ll pick up… and if he does,” you took a hand out of your pocket, nervously running it through your hair. “if he does i’ll let you fuck me,” 

the silence seemed to drag on forever. after your word vomit both you and suna had to take a moment to process the words you just said. you looked at sunas ever bland face and had no way of knowing what he was thinking. 

“so,” suna started, not able to hide the smug smile on his face. “you want me to fuck you with osamu on the phone?” he watched as you nodded slowly and could feel his dick twitch in his shorts at the thought. he would effectively being ending their friendship if he did that and maybe others. but the thought of being inside you was oh so enticing. “thats a little kinky dont you think,” sunas smile only grew when he saw how flustered you were getting. it was almost hard to believe you came up with that idea.

“will you do it yes or no?” you asked instead of answering his question. because he was right. it did sound a bit kinky and you didnt feel like trying to make sense of it right now. suna did use words to answer, instead pushing off of the doorframe and motioning for you to head in. letting out a shuddery breath, you walked in. your heart was beating like crazy when suna closed the door behind you, turning on a warm lamp before flopping onto the couch. you took off your shoes, awkwardly standing by the doorway. 

“so run this little plan of yours by me one more time,” he patted his hand on the cushion next to him, watching you with now hungry eyes. you sat on the edge of the couch, hands in your lap as you laid it all out on him. you wanted suna to call osamu and tell him he was fucking some random girl. you wanted to know if osamu would stay on the line. you wanted to know if he had any remorse for what he had done to you. you told suna you didnt want him to reveal it was you. that you would do the honors when you were ready. suna listened patiently, nodding along as the tent in his shorts grew with each word that left your pretty lips. “well if you want to do this we cant exactly fuck with you on the other side of the couch,” 

excitement and anxiousness coursed through your veins when suna motioned for you to come sit on his lap. he wasnt trying to hide the obvious bulge in his shorts now and the size of it made you just a bit nervous. you straddled his lap with a shaky breath, looking down between the two of you as he called osamu. he put the phone on speaker, turning the volume all the way up and tossing it onto the cushion next to him. 

his hands found their way to your hips as you both waited for osamu to answer, sliding them up and down your sides. 

“hey whats up?” 

your breath hitched in your throat when you heard his voice. anger once again rising up over the fact that he was going out of his way to ghost you but picked up the phone for his friend almost instantly. 

“not much, got a pretty girl in my lap right now,” sunas tone made your body feel warm all over. he got bolder with his touches, his fingers playing with the hem of your loose fitting shirt. “said she was a freak ‘n wanted me to call you so you could listen,” 

the laugh osamu let out was evil. you both could hear shuffling on his end while sunas hands moved further up. 

“no shit really?”

you licked your now dry lips as suna slowly pulled your top off, a low whistling leaving his mouth as he eyed your boobs. he was quick to grab at them. one hand groping one boob softly while the other pulled and pinched at your nipple. 

“yes really, shes got pretty tits,” he was quick to suck your now hardened nipple in his mouth, hips jerking under you. your breath grew ragged as you fought to stay quiet. you wanted osamu to hear you but you didnt want to be loud enough for him to know it was you just yet. he pulled off of your now wet nipple with a soft ‘pop’, his hands traveling down to grope your ass. “nice ass too,” he mused softly, looking at you with mischievous eyes as he grabbed onto the back of your thighs and gently laid you onto the couch. 

you looked up at him with wide eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he slipped your pajama bottoms off. something flashed in his eyes when he saw the pretty lace panties you had on. he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you but he decided against it for now. 

“how wet is she,” 

“ ‘m about to find out,” your face cringed at osamus words for just a second. because in the next, suna was smiling at you wickedly while he pulled your panties to the side. a low groan left sunas chest as he slid a finger over your already glistening folds. for a second, he forgot all about your plan, looking up at you with wide, lust filled eyes. “holy fuck youre soaked,” you turned your head away, face growing hot with embarrassment. but suna was quick to gently grab your chin, turning your face towards him once again. “keep your eyes on me,” he said softly, licking his lips as he lightly pressed his finger onto your clit. 

the sound of shuffling on the other line was what brought suna back to the present and for a moment he felt a bit possessive, suddenly not wanting osamu to listen in anymore like a pervert. but he continued to play along.

“shes fucking beggin’ for it,” he said moreso to osamu as he slowly pushed a finger inside you. a soft hiss left his lips when he felt how tight you were, already clenching around him so well even if it was just one finger. at this point osamu wasn’t responding with words, his heavy breaths the only thing that could be heard. suna shrugged after a moment of waiting for a response, pressing a second finger inside your walls. you whined softly, eyelids fluttering as your hips twitched against him. he continued to work his fingers inside you, thumb rubbing over your clit in soft circles as the sounds of him fucking you with his fingers grew louder. 

“oh fuck i can hear her,” 

osamus voice was strained, no doubt affected by what he could hear over the phone. he was no doubt referring to the obscene noises coming from your dripping cunt while suna fucked his fingers into you. 

soft whines and heavy pants were all you could manage out, afraid of giving it away too soon. your hips bucked up towards sunas hand as he worked you closer to an orgasm. his dick was straining uncomfortably against his shorts and he was growing impatient. “shes about to cum all over my hand,” suna breathed out, it was getting hard for him to pretend he was enjoying transcribing what he was doing to his cheating friend. he didnt even know if he could call osamu a friend anymore. there was silence on the other end and suna’s brows furrowed when he thought he heard osamu moan. 

this was becoming harder for you to keep up, thighs trembling as you got closer and closer to release. you swore you were going to chew off your lip with how hard you were biting it. your eyes were screwed shut, hands clamping onto the couch and sunas arm. when he brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing tight circles and pressing into it, it didnt long for you to come undone around him, a strangled moan escaping you as your back arched off of the couch. 

“fuck she sounds hot,” 

“she is,” that flash of possessiveness punched through suna again as he continued to slowly fuck you through your orgasm. something snapped in suna when he could hear what could be nothing other than osamu jacking off. he hastily pulled his cock out of his shorts, laying your thighs over his. his breath was ragged at he ran his tip over your slit, a groan leaving his chest when he nudged at yout fluttering hole. you whimpered, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. 

suna was growing frustrated with each noise you suppressed, he desperately wanted to hear you. wanted to hear you get fucked on his dick. he grabbed onto your hips roughly, pushing inside you with a shaky moan. fortunately for him, you were also growing tired of forcing yourself to stay quiet. you wrapped your arms around sunas neck, pulling him flush against you. both of you moaned when he bottomed up and finally being able to hear you almost made suna cum right then. 

but osamu ruined it, letting out a loud moan through the phone. suna, who had finally had enough, sat up and grabbed his phone. 

“i’m fucking your girlfriend,”

“wait wha-” 

he hung up, tossing the phone to the side and looking back at you. your eyes were wide as you watched, cunt still clenching around him. suna put his hands on your hips, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, earning a loud cry from you. 

“fuck- ‘m glad thats over with,” he began rocking into you slowly, eyes glued onto the sight of his dick disappearing inside you. “now i can hear all your pretty noises,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 2 - LN

lando x fewtrell!reader

no content warnings in this part, i promise the next part will have some actual fluff to it

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

y/n was easily won over by chicken nuggets and a diet coke - a fact lando knew too well. both he and max had both spent almost hundreds on the food combo every time y/n was roped into one of their plans. whether she was lying to her parents to cover up where max had been all night, or even just being asked to hold a camera or a boom mic for a quadrant video, she was always rewarded with 6 chicken nuggets and a diet coke.

lando had in fact not included max in his late night plans, and very quickly made it known as to why.

“so, how’s uni?” he asked, warming her up for the incoming conversation, turning onto a side road and pulling the car to a stop.

“yea it’s good thanks, how’s driving?”

“could be better, i could be better,” he smiled sadly, but glad she asked about driving as she fell directly into his trap, “why did you stop coming to races?”

“lando,” she sighs his name, almost disappointed in him for even asking, “university’s a lot of work you know. i can’t fly around the world to watch you drive a car. and, i still watch the races - just from home.”

“so it’s nothing to do with me?”

“well ignoring me for a year doesn’t help your case, but no, it’s not to do with you. you know i’ll always be there when i can. when im invited,” the emphasis on invited hung like hot air in the car, and created and unsettling silence.

“lan, can i ask you a question?” she said, breaking the awkward atmosphere in the car.

“mhm, anything.”

“why did you stop talking to me? i know we’re not as close as you and max,” she adds, lando almost wincing at the mention of his best friend, “and i know you were busy being, you know, a superstar and that. but even over your break, i saw you like twice in passing.”

“im sorry y/n, honestly it wasn’t intentiona-”

“bullshit, try again norris. the truth this time.”

lando breathed in deep, as if to lock and load his next statement.

“max he, uh, he told me he’d seen some pictures of us. you remember that club in monaco?,” she nodded in response, remembering the encounter with lando that night in somewhat drunken detail, “he wasn’t happy with me. thought we had something going on behind his back. y/n when i say angry, i mean he was one step away from beating me up and then keying my car.”

“but there was nothi- i mean we weren’t d-”

“i know, i tried to tell him,” lando sighed, “he gets a bit, let’s say ‘over protective’ with you i guess. doesn’t trust me maybe? i don’t know.”

“so instead of letting me discuss it with him, you refused to acknowledge my existence for a year? yeah that’s mint, let’s do that,” she said, the sarcasm rolling off her tongue.

“i was a dick, ok - i’m sorry. but your brother is slightly terrifying when he’s angry. think he’s realised he was wrong - that’s why he let you come to the race im guessing.”

he was wrong - but was he? was max completely wrong to assume what he had? she thought the feelings were mutual but clearly lando had other ideas.

“can i drive your car?” y/n asked, smiling over to lando in the drivers seat. he’s started driving around aimlessly again, deciding to put an end to the conversation about where they stood with each other. his head whipped around to look at her, his eyebrows quirked up in a mix of confusion and immediate refusal. he wasn’t even driving one of his more expensive cars, as they all stayed in monaco. but of course, lando norris needs a high end car in every country.

“please, lan,” she said again, eyes widening in attempt to tug on his heart strings, “please. i miss driving, i haven’t driven since like, christmas since my car died and went to car heaven.”

“y/n, angel,” the nickname wasn’t something new, but it still flipped something about in her stomach, ”if anything, that makes me want to say no even more. besides, it’s automatic - you drive manual.”

“oh come on, it’s literally just a pedal for stop and go. please.”

“not tonight,” he said, looking at her to show his sad frown as if that would make her happy about the rejection, “if i get podium tomorrow, ill put some money towards getting you a new car.”

“lan, please you don’t have to do that.”

“i know i don’t have to. i want to. besides, if i get podium i think i owe my lucky charm something to show my gratitude, no?” he said. y/n knew this was an argument she wouldn’t win, so she smiled up at him, nodding slightly.

the car fell back into a silence, comfortable this time, with only the sound of lando’s music playing quietly out of the speakers, and the odd whooshing of a car driving past.

the car came to a still, the red light reflected on the their faces as they waited for the light to change.

“the stars look pretty tonight,” she said absentmindedly. y/n was never one to sit in silence without at least attempting to fill it.

“yeah, they do,” lando responded, although he wasn’t looking at the stars, moreover, he was staring directly at the light reflecting onto y/n’s face. his own mouth curling up into a smile when he saw your soft features grinning contently at the sky.

it was around 1am when y/n and lando returned to the hotel car park, casually discussing life at university and where y/n saw herself using her degree in the future.

“i think it’s better if we don’t tell max about this,” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side, catching lando’s eyes. her own eyes blinking slowly in exhaustion.

“i think so too. are you going to tell him what i said?”

“not right now. but i refuse to let him believe has any right to threaten his own friends in a bid to control my life,” she says, her body now twisted fully to face him directly.

“just,” he sighed, “dont get violent,” his hand reaching over to rest on her knee.

“me? violent? that is a bold accusation, norris.”

“y/n - i know you. just don’t be too harsh, he thought he was doing what was best.”

“thinking is always max’s downfall,” she responds with a snort. she turns her body back, arm reaching to grab the handle when lando catches her other arm, forcing her to look at him again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“i’ll be there.”

sneaking back into a room was usually y/n’s specialty, but she’d never attempted to sneak past max before. rather, her teens were spent sneaking back into the house with max. unlocking the door and pulling the handle down, y/n pushed softly on the wood, but the creaking was so loud in the silence of their hotel room. the floor boards to her bag of clothes seemed to have a vendetta against her today too, she could’ve sworn they did not creak when she had walked across them earlier.

the bathroom tap decided to splutter loudly and spit freezing cold water down her, and the door to slide back open and allow the stream of light to fall directly on max’s face.

“y/n?” her brother groaned, “you just come back in?”

“yeah, sorry - i tried to be quiet,” she whispered back, turning the bathroom light off and stumbling gracefully through the dark room to the sofa.

“it’s 1am? you were in the gym for 3 hours?”

“erm, yeah,” her voice wavered in the lie, “i got distracted on the treadmill. tired myself out though.”

max grumbled something in response, too sleepy to say anything further.

the next morning max walked down to the hotel lobby, passing the gym in his journey for breakfast.

open 7:00 - 23:00

hang on, he thought to himself, shut at 11?

where had his sister been? she couldn’t have been in the gym till 1am, so where had she been, and why had she lied?

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes

[lady-phasma]

Fangtober Day 4 - Bondage

Dom!Armand x fem!reader (vampire)

Summary: Reader is a new addition to the Theater and Maître takes a particular interest in her and decides to show her the ropes take her to a private flat for a session, 3.3k words.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, it started out as bondage fluff but then turned into smut, tiny bit of blood play, unprotected sex but vampire sex so not risky.

a/n: Thank you so much to the moot who suggested actor vamp!reader new to the coven. However, I struggled with this one for a while - I finally just powered through it and here it is. fem!reader but reader not described.

So far the initiations and manual labor with the theater hadn’t been so bad. You slogged through your nights, cleaning the rows after the filthy humans left, helping with disposal after performances, whatever was needed. And you were rewarded with pre-dawn camaraderie, as you watched and listed to the elder vampires tell stories, rehearse, or just chat. Occasionally there were nights out among humans. The first few weeks had felt infinitely long, but now you had begun to adjust to a routine.

You began to nurture new and tentative friendships with Celeste and Estelle and even Sam. Even Santiago wasn’t always a cunt to you. As you had settled into the coven you had begun to notice Maître more and more. His eyes missed nothing. Constantly alert, constantly appraising, Armand watched his new addition. You felt an attraction to him that wasn’t there at first. You had been a little intimidated by Maître at the start of your tutelage. but now you wondered what exactly he was thinking about. Maybe it was all in your head.

As you swept the auditorium floor tonight you listened to the coven chatter and almost longed to join in. However, there was a small part of you that was glad to be alone with your chores. You didn’t feel like being seen this evening. Disappearing into the background suited you just fine. You were nearly finished, brushing the trash into the bin, when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Maître,” you bowed as soon as you turned to face him. Armand took a step toward you, slightly entering your personal space.

“Good evening, puce,” he let the words slide off his tongue, emphasizing your station. “Are you almost finished with your duties?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied happily, almost but not quite looking into his eyes. “I only need to empty this.” You gestured to your trash can.

“Take it to the incinerator then meet me in the lobby. Don’t dally.” Armand left before you could reply.

You dusted off your clothes and ran a hand over your hair, smoothing it down, while you went to the lobby.

“Maître,” you greeted Armand as you entered.

“Walk with me.” He held the door open, allowing you to exit first. You stepped into the cool Autumn air of the city. Halos of mist hung around the street lamps as the evening’s rain slowly evaporated from the pavement. The emptying street had a quality that only late night city streets have, a liminal feeling left behind after the humans were nearly all tucked into their beds.

“Come,” Armand commanded from beside you. You walked in silence, waiting on him to explain or elucidate, but he did not. Not for many blocks. It wasn’t long before you had left the arrondissement and crossed the Seine. Vampire speed, even slowed for public viewing, was still surprisingly fast to you.

“I thought we could go somewhere with more privacy. I have a flat nearby,” he offered, apropos of nothing. He lit a cigarette, offered you one, and smoked for the rest of the walk. He dropped the butt on the pavement and ground it out with the toe of his show before opening the door to the apartment building.

You followed Armand through the doors and up the three flights of stairs to the flat. When you entered and Armand had locked the door behind you, a fire blazed in the fireplace. He took off his coat and hung it on a rack by the door. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he entered the small room. It was modest, a studio with a closet-sized bathroom in one corner, a table in the kitchen area, and a full size bed taking up much more space than the traditional twin bed these apartments usually housed. The only places to sit with the table or bed so you stood, waiting.

Armand strode to the fireplace and made a show of warming his hands over the fire. At first he didn’t turn to look at you when he spoke. You watched his face, lit by the fire, nearly mesmerized by the yellow and orange light in his hair.

“You are no doubt wondering why I brought you here tonight. You show potential, perhaps not to be center stage any time soon, but maybe one day. But you have something…” His voice trailed off as he turned to you and moved to stand directly in front of you. He lightly stroked your cheek.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself as he appraised you. “You trust me as your Maître, yes?”

“Of course, Maître,” you nodded.

“So if I ask you to do something you would do it without question?” His nails ran down the side of your neck to your shirt collar.

“Yes, Maître.” You didn’t nod this time, something in his face had shifted and a nod felt too unserious.

“Well, puce, if I ask you to do something tonight that you find objectionable, simply say the word ‘aubergine’ and you won’t have to do it.” He smiled gently at the befuddled look on your face as he began to unbutton your blouse. “You can remember that word?”

“Yes, Maître.”

“Perfect.” He took his time opening your shirt while your heart hammered in your chest. You knew he could hear it and it would have embarrassed you, yet… Yet it seemed as if this wasn’t new to him at all.

Armand slipped your blouse off your shoulders. Then he began to work on the buttons of your slacks. You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t entirely because he was your Maître. That was certainly part of it, but it felt like a very small part. You mostly felt like you would do anything for this ethereal creature. His hands moved deftly and barely touched your skin as he slid your pants to the floor. You stepped out of the pile of clothing without being told to. You stood still as Armand picked up the shirt and slacks and laid them over the back of a kitchen chair. You felt self-conscious standing in your undergarments, but Armand didn’t look at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. He led you to the bed and directed you to sit.

“You should know, this isn’t about the theater, darling,” he said. “This… is for my own enjoyment.”

You watched him with trepidation and excitement as he opened a drawer in the wardrobe and removed something. It looked like silk cord or rope and your heart raced in your chest again. He laid the bundle of cord on the bed and stepped next to you. He tilted your face up toward his with the lightest pressure of his fingertips.

“Lay down for me,” Armand whispered. You did so. Armand slowly began to unbutton his shirt, then placed it on the kitchen chair as well. He untied and toed off his shoes, placed them neatly beneath the chair, and walked to the bed in in his pants and socks. His movements were maddeningly slow as your mind raced with the possibilities. He untied the bundle of cord and it glistened in the dim light, it looked soft, but strong. He knelt on the bed near your feet as he spoke.

“Bend your knees, press your heels to your rear,” he instructed. You felt your face go hot, a very human response, but you did as you were told. He wrapped the cord around your thigh, then your shin, and tied your leg in a bent position. The cord was silky-smooth against your skin, but the knots were tight. Then he repeated the process on your other leg. You were exposed and vulnerable like this, even with your undergarments still on. You could have easily broken the bonds using your weak, fledgeling strength, but this was far more interesting. Armand took the remaining lengths of cord and moved them to your side.

“Hands above your head, palms together.” You pressed your hands together above your head. He leaned forward, between your legs, and bound your wrists together. Every sensation was more intense now: the fabric of his trousers rough against your inner thighs, the drag of his fingers over your camisole, grazing your hard nipples. He stood up and your eyes followed him as he walked to the table and sat in the empty chair. He tapped a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and smoked. He didn’t rush. You tried not to let your thoughts show on your face, but you knew you failed. Your brow was furrowed as you waited on him. The cords dug into your skin even though you had barely moved at all. Your normally shallow and slow vampire breathing sped up. Your cunt throbbed.

After an eternity, Armand stood and approached the bed. He trailed his fingers down one of your knees, down your shin to where the cord crossed your leg. You shivered. He moved to kneel on the bed, between your legs again. Slowly he slid a hand up your belly, under your camisole. His fingertips brushed against the undersides of your breasts. You gasped at his touch. As he moved his hand back down, he used both to gently press your thighs apart. Even that small movement caused the cord to shift against your skin. You sucked air sharply between your teeth. He let his fingers slide down the insides of your thighs and gently touched you over your panties. You could feel your wetness against the fabric and moaned. You tried to lift your hips to his touch, but it was nearly impossible in this position. The cords seemed to tighten as your legs shifted. You moaned as he pulled his fingers away, craving more of him.

Armand didn’t make you wait long. His long fingers slid up your buttocks to where the cord held you, then moved his hands up your hips. He leaned forward, almost hovering above you. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against your nipple through the thin fabric. He licked gently, leaving a damp spot above the hard point of your nipple. You involuntarily arched your back to get closer to his mouth and whined when your bonds prevented it.

“Maître, please,” you begged.

“Please what?” Armand quipped back, but his tone was patient.

“More please, Maître,” the sound of your voice was almost pathetic to your own ears, but you didn’t care. You watched him through half-closed eyes as he rubbed his hands gently up and down your sides. His thumbs occasionally grazing a nipple. He slid your camisole up over your breasts and sucked one of your nipples between his teeth. You could have cried out from the shock, but the pressure was so light that you could only pant. You still needed more. You wanted to touch him, run your fingers through his dark curls, down his neck, press yourself into his mouth.

Before you could beg again he sucked harder on your nipple and pressed his hips between your legs. You made an inhuman sound as the front of his pants rubbed against your panties and your sensitive lips. He sucked and licked your nipple with increased focus, getting caught up in the sensations and grinding his hips in slow circles. The pressure of his cock against you was a momentary relief. Then he pulled back.

“So needy,” Armand growled as he kissed down your stomach. He rose up to look at you as his fingers delved under the edge of your panties at the crease of your hips. Slowly, teasingly, he moved your panties to the side. He trailed his finger over you aching, swollen cunt, dipping just into your folds before leaving you wanting more.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered as he looked into your heavily-lidded eyes. “So well for me.”

“Yes, Maître,” was all you could think to say, the words most likely inaudible to a human, but he heard.

Armand continued to hold your panties aside as he leaned down and kissed just above your slit. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you twitched, moaning and whining. He smiled and licked harder, his tongue sliding between your lips. He moaned and the vibration sent chills up your spine. He teased you, not offering you any satisfaction, over your clit, down to your entrance, and back up. You wanted to beg and plead, but tried to bite back the words. Whimpering moans escaped your mouth, incoherent sounds, as you shifted and pulled against the restraints. You made no effort to break free. You could have, but the need for him to touch you, to keep doing this, was nearly overwhelming.

When Armand sat up he let go of your panties and began to unbutton his pants. You groaned louder than you intended. The thought that he would reward you, give you what you craved, flew through your mind.

“Yes, a small reward for such good behavior,” he grinned. “Perhaps I’ll even give you a release.” He slid his pants and boxers off his hips. You stared unabashedly. He was gorgeous. His dark hair caught the low light of the room, his chest rippled as he moved his pants further down, the muscles of his stomach flexing tautly. He stroked his cock lightly as he moved closer to you. Your legs strained against the cord. You watched him watch as he lined up and pressed his cock against you. He looked up and met your gaze. Yes? he asked silently. You nodded. When he slid into you it felt as if all of your bonds tightened. Your hands itched to reach for him, but you kept them above your head. Your thighs and shins seemed to press against the cord as you widened your legs to make room for his hips.

“God,” he moaned as he sank all the way into you. He steadied himself with a hand on each of your knees as he began slow, long strokes. Every time he pressed into you, the cords binding you shifted and dug a little harder. His eyes nearly closed as he increased his pace, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, then hips. The combination of sensations was exquisite. Every movement, every thrust, intensified by your inability to move.

Armand moaned softly as he slid into you over and over. His eyes flicked between your face and watching himself disappear into your cunt. His fingers tightened on your hips slightly as he moved faster. You whimpered as you grew even more desperate to touch him. Just my hands, you thought. Armand looked up at you with a nearly compassionate expression and leaned forward. You lifted your hands, still bound, and ran your fingers through his hair. The new contact combined with the forward shift of his hips drew a groan from your throat. As you stroked his hair, he almost seemed to purr. His sounds were soft and deep. He kissed your neck and collarbone as he pounded into you.

The mingling of your voices, your need, filled the small apartment. You grazed your nails against Armand’s scalp. He moaned and cursed against your skin. You clenched tight around him, so close, so desperate. You tried rolling your hips again, despite your bonds, this time disregarding the pain. You continued to ignore the part of your mind that insisted you could break them and be free. He wanted this, needed this, and you wanted to give it to him.

“Oh Maître,” you whined into his dark curls. You felt a small shudder pass over his body and continued. “You feel so good. Harder. Please.” Your words came out as breathy whispers, a pleading note in your voice.

Armand shifted his weight to one hand on the bed and slid the other up behind your shoulder. He pulled you down onto his cock as he thrust up and you cried out. He lifted his head to look at you and you saw that he was almost smirking. Hearing you beg was exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips and leaned down, kissing your hungrily. His hips slammed into yours and you moaned and whined into his mouth. Lips and tongues and fangs collided. You tasted your own blood in your mouth and arched your back. Armand sucked at the wound on your bottom lip, his movements becoming slightly erratic. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled back, gasping.

“Please Maître,” you looked into his eyes. “I want you to come.” He nearly smiled before kissing you again, licking the remaining blood from your already-healed lip. You barely noticed when he freed your wrists, his movements were so quick, and before the cord had slid off he muttered against your mouth.

“Touch yourself, puce, now.” Armand’s command alone could almost have been enough to bring your climax. You groaned as you slid your hand between your bodies. You looked at his face as you circled your clit, watching his reaction to how you tightened around him. He closed his eyes in the most beautiful expression of peace and pleasure. His hips began to stutter just a bit and you increased the pressure of your fingers as you brought yourself closer. You both groaned and panted as your climaxes neared. You closed your eyes and inhaled as you focused on his body above you, the way he moved inside you, the way his balls hit your ass with each thrust, the way you squeezed your thighs against his hips, the way his breath was hot on your skin. Your orgasm seemed to tense in all your muscles, starting everywhere at once, then it rushed over you. Your thighs shook. Your hand slowed as your arms trembled.

Armand nearly growled into your ear as you came around him. He thrust a few more times and, nails digging into your shoulder to hold you against him, he came hard. Mumbled curses and praise floated past your ear, but you were too far gone to pick out single words. He lay on top of you for a moment, balls emptying, cock twitching and softening, before pressing himself up to kneel between your legs again. He gently stroked a finger around from your temple, to your cheek, and along your jaw. Then he slowly began to pull out and you groaned as you felt his cum move with him. It was a singular and delightful feeling, but stimulation was becoming overstimulation with your legs still bound.

Armand knew this and as he knelt he began to untie your legs. He didn’t move slowly, but he took his time. Even though you were no longer human, he rubbed the skin of your legs where the cord had been as gently as if you were. He helped you straighten out your legs, one at a time, slowly and with care, with expertise. He stayed kneeling between your legs for a bit longer as he massaged them until they were flat on the bed. You watched with a mixture of awe and adoration. You also couldn’t help but to notice that he was equally gorgeous, soft and spent, as he was when he had started. You looked at him between your legs and felt a deepening attraction. This was a side of Armand that a select few were allowed to see and you were now included among them. Deftly, he slid his clothes off the rest of the way and lay on the bed next to you.

“Come here, puce,” he said with a tone that was more of an invitation than a command. He circled an arm around you and pulled you next to him. You laid your head on his chest and rested your hand on his stomach. You rolled half onto your side, wanting as much contact with him as possible. You let your hand travel up his stomach to play with the hair on his chest as you lay in his arm.

“Thank you, Maître,” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

Fangtober 2024 prompt list • Main masterlist

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 11: Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he’s into @sparklyslug

If you'd have told Eddie of a year ago that the Steve Harrington, King Steve, swim team and basketball captain, and known laundry basket thrower, was a nerd he'd have laughed in your face.

Honestly, he'd have believed you more of you'd told him Steve was bisexual and would soon be Eddie's boyfriend, both facts that threw Eddie for less of a loop than learning Steve knew the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.

"I work at a video store Eddie, it would be hard not to know."

Eddie would believe him but his darling boyfriend knew a lot for facts he didn't expect from the beautiful brunette. Like how he knew what an owlbear was when he was rambling his campaign plans in bed one night.

"I knew the kids before you, some of it must've stuck."

Or how he knew what Metroid was when the machine came to the arcade that summer.

"The kids are always talking about new little things they want Max to try and win."

Or when Eddie was telling a story about stargazing and Steve mentioned Halley's comet from earlier in the year.

"It was on the news, Eds, not gonna miss a thing like that."

Steve had lots of explanations but now here Eddie was, unpacking boxes in Steve and Robin's new apartment and staring at work copies of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings books. He lent over checking the side again, no that definitely says Steve's Room in big bold letters.

He placed the books on the shelf with a small smile on his face. Later, curled up in the new bed in the new room he asked, "I thought you didn't know what Mordor was, Stevie. Have you been hiding nerdy shit from me all along?"

Steve had a soft blush forming on his face, "I didn't know, at the time..."

Eddie was now more intrigued, "Wow, getting book recommendations in the middle of the end of the world, baby, priorities."

Steve laughed, the sweet smile still on his face, "No, um, I bought them cause of you but not because of that."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"They're your favourite books and I wanted to know what you were talking about anytime we hung out and mentioned it."

"Steve did you actually study just to try and impress me?"

"There's a monster manual on the shelf too."

Eddie giggled and pulled Steve closer, "Mmm talk nerd to me baby, so it wasn't just the kids you got it from."

"Oh they definitely helped, I think Dustin was going to scream when I asked him to explain the dice of your game."

Eddie looked at his boyfriend softly, no one had taken an interest in what he liked, unless they already liked it, Steve went out of his way to know Eddie, inside and out.

"I guess I should confess, I totally asked Wayne to explain to me the rules of any of the games you two watch on tv before you come over."

A brightness twinkled in Steve's eyes at the confession, "I love you."

"Love you too, baby, nerd or jock as long as you're mine."

[seat-safety-switch]

Yeah, I worked on The Machine. And, as I pried open its secret compartments and loosened its wiring harness and decrypted its memories, it worked on me also. Deep within its many hidden copses lay immense knowledge, unknown to all but those who formed it. Who built The Machine? No one knows. Everyone knows. I know. Now that The Machine works again, the person who last built it was me.

For years, I was a humble regular home-gamer mechanic. Something around the house would break. For the sake of argument, we'll use as an example the time my microwave blew up when I opened the door. One morning, it just went pop and never worked again. Well, at least until I fixed it. It turns out that the door had a little microswitch inside, and that microswitch got gummy with aerosolized food goo. Because it was gummed up, it wouldn't switch the computer off in time when I opened the door. That would be dangerous: I could get a full face shot of microwaves from the still-running magnetron. A safety interlock fired, and blew the brains out of the big fuse controlling the magnetron. It died for me. Replacing the switch, and the fuse, brought that microwave back to life. I did many such repairs. I was not prepared for this repair.

Fix after fix, I built up my confidence, and I got cockier. I'd pull broken machines out of the trash, mysterious foreign computers from another country. Some things escaped my grasp, and slipped further into oblivion. Most, though: most, I pulled back from the brink, and forced them to live again. That's when I found The Machine.

It was beautiful, intricate: thousands of parts, wedged together tighter than I had ever seen before, and a cryptic fault at the centre of it. When you cram together this much stuff, the complexity doesn't just add: it multiplies. To aid me, I looked for a guide, a factory service manual. The manufacturer laughed. The manufacturer's representative laughed. Someone who made it, who I tracked down on LinkedIn, hung up on me and refused to answer his door when I visited. Weeks later, he was gone, "dead" in a suspiciously convenient accident, a body left behind at the edge of his bleach-washed property with no identifying marks or fingerprints. I got the message: I was on my own.

This little wire just came unplugged. I guess someone must have dropped it. All better now.

[seonghrtz]

𝑛ew 𝑠cenario. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 849 words + warnings. occ sukuna | sukuna helps you set up a new scenario for your streams.

As Sukuna opened the door to your apartment, he felt a wave of comfort sweep over his chest. He secretly (maybe not so secretly) loved it when you invited him over ⸻ not that he needed an invitation to visit you. Spending time with you, in the comfort of your apartment (which was more like an extension of yours), was all Sukuna needed to feel the tension in his muscles melt away and a good feeling rise in his chest.

Still at the entrance, he took off his sneakers, put on the Kuromi slippers you had bought especially for him, and left his backpack and coat on the rack.

But any peace he felt was gone when he heard a scream from the back of the apartment.

With hurried steps, Sukuna reached the bedroom and was surprised to see so many boxes scattered around the room and you sitting in the middle of the mess.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, getting your attention.

"‘Kuna! You arrived at just the right moment." You got up from the floor and went to hug your boyfriend, who returned the hug without a second thought. "I was trying to tidy up the new room, but I slipped," you laughed, embarrassed at how clumsy you were, and the boy just stared at you, getting drunk on every feature of your face.

And then a light appeared in the back of Sukuna's mind. You had recently told Sukuna that you wanted to change the location of your streams. You wanted to move your computer out of your bedroom and use the empty room in your apartment.

"Why didn't you call me? I could have helped you move things around." He said, looking at the mess in the room.

"You were at work, 'Kuna." You replied, "But since you're here, you could help me, couldn't you?"

"Just tell me what you need." Sukuna held your face and kissed your lips.

You smiled excitedly and hugged Sukuna once more before starting to tell him what to do.

While Sukuna was busy putting a shelf on the wall (following the sketch you had made of how you wanted the room to look) and then a perforated panel, you were trying to understand the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf you had bought to put your stuffed animals, DVDs, and books in to decorate the room.

"Sweetheart, why don't you finish arranging your stuffed animals and decorations and let me do the rest?" Sukuna walked up to you, grabbed you by the waist, and took the manual from your hand.

"It's not fair; you get to do all the hard work!"

"Let me do it for you, huh?" He reached for your lips and stole a kiss.

"All right..." You sighed in defeat, "Are you already done?" You asked in surprise as you looked at the shelf on the wall, the perforated panel hanging, and the table set up in the exact position you had placed it on the sketch.

Sukuna just smiled sideways and stole another kiss before starting to read the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to sweep the room and clean the newly installed desk and shelf. Carefully, you set up your ultrawide monitor, keyboard, and mouse, a DSLR camera on a tripod above the monitor, and your pink microphone on an articulated arm. On the small shelf above the desk, you placed a heart-shaped clock and a picture frame containing a photo of you and Sukuna, and placed a My Melody stuffed animal between the clock and the picture frame. On the perforated panel hanging on the wall next to it, you placed your headphones and hung some Polaroids for decoration.

When it got dark, Sukuna had already finished assembling the bookshelf, and you started decorating it, putting up some stuffed animals, CDs, DVDs, books, etc.

"Do you think I should buy a big puff to put here?" You asked as soon as you'd finished decorating.

"It's easier to buy a two-seater sofa."

"I think I'll make a list of things to buy to decorate the room; I think it's still a bit empty." You looked around. "I think a cabinet would be nice too, to store my Xbox and PS."

"We'll think about it later. I think I deserve a reward now, don't you?" He pulled you by your waist.

"Reward?" You tilted your head to the side in doubt.

"Uh huh," he murmured in affirmation as he moved his face closer to yours, brushing his lips gently against yours. "Maybe watch a movie," he suggested.

"I don't know; the last time you suggested it, we didn't finish the movie."

"As far as I remember, you didn't complain," Sukuna smiled mischievously.

"'KUNA!" You said it in a suppressed tone, making your boyfriend just laugh at your reaction.

"I promise we'll just watch the movie this time." He kissed you calmly.

"You don't seem to have any intention of keeping that promise…" You murmured against his lips, and Sukuna smiled, confirming your words.

"Maybe…”

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[reallyromealone]

Title: healer

Fandom: naruto

Characters: akatsuki

Fic type: omegaverse

Pairings:

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, readers smart

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) Hummed quietly to themselves while carefully wrapping gauze around the alphas midsection that they had just stitched up. Handing was a cleaned akatsuki uniform, stitched and sewn back up like new, (name) didn't really know what the uniform symbolised but it was clearly important and they wouldn't want the unconscious man to worry about it.

(Name) Lived alone in these woods, the ability to heal the worst of wounds and this one was no different.

"No clue what fight you got yourself into but you sure made it out barely...." (Name) Joked to the unconscious person while finishing up 'no clue when they will wake up.... Should probably make dinner...' (name) thought while going to their small kitchen to make a meal, enough for two people... Just in case.

Itachi woke to the smell of an Omega and stew, sitting up with a groan and looking to see he was bandaged up... Quite well actually.

"Don't sit up too fast! You could pop a stitch!" A voice called from the other room and Itachi looked for his belongings to find them neatly beside him and his coat hung and fixed. An Omega walked into the room with a tray, a bowl and a glass filled with what was assumed to be juice "you were out for a while! Didn't know when you would wake up.." (name) chuckled nervously while setting the tray on the coffee table "how do you feel? You were pretty messed up ... My healing could only do so much so I had to do the rest manually"

Itachi just stared at the other who smiled happily before a look of realization crossed them 'must realize who I am affiliated wi--' "I forgot to introduce myself! I'm (name)!" The Omega bowed slightly before looking up sheepishly, Itachi sat there stunned before getting up "thank you for your assistance" he said simply while grabbing his belongings, (name) looking concerned "do you have anyone to call? I have a telephone..." It was an old one, nothing like the the newer cell phones but it did it's job!

"That won't be needed"

"Well... Here! Take this!" (Name) Rushed out into the kitchen and returned with origini, wrapped and all cute "I keep these on hand for snacks... Please keep safe"

Why was this Omega so kind? To someone they didn't know?

Itachi didn't know what to make of it but decided to just leave, rice ball in hand.

"This is real good! Where did ya get this?" Deidara asked while finishing the rice ball, Itachi resting with a sigh "some Omega who healed me" he grumbled and hidan raised an eyebrow "an Omega did that? What some high ranking ninja?"

"No, just some Omega in the woods"

"Whoever that Omega was, they have healing abilities like nothing I ever seen..." The older man said simply while glancing at the others exposed stitches, he saw how fucked up the other alpha looked, that omega was powerful.

"Hm?" (Name) Was reading some books they got from town a a couple kilometers from the woods they resided in when a knock at the door pulled them out from their world of imagination. Walking to the door, they weren't expecting to see that alpha again or others dressed like him "oh you're back! You forget anything?" (Name) Asked curiously and glanced at their mid section "you left before I could give you cream to help... Hopefully it healed nicely!"

"This is the Omega that healed you? This is them?" Deidara laughed in disbelief while (name) looked confused, a large group of alphas coming and just laughing, then konan felt it...

The omegas Chakra.

"We require your assistance, one of our members is gravely injured" she lied, (name) looking concerned "sure! Let me get my bag!" The alphas stepped in while (name) went to their room to go grab their belongings.

But (name) knew better than to trust a large group of alphas even if they were incredibly attractive.

So they used what they were taught by their grandpa and slipped out, a secret door in their closet.

'nope, not today' (name) thought while they sneaked away.

Knowing a few Jitsu really helped in a punch....

[multiplicationdivision]

Boots and All

Eddie knew he shouldn’t have been so careless with his favorite pair of boots. He’d just shrugged them off like any day, unfortunate considering they’d been lost in the chaos of cleaning out his closet, probably having fallen or absent mindedly placed in one of the many boxes he’d brought to the local second hand store.

Now his own face stared back at him, the same complex mixture of expressions battling there like it probably did on his own. Surprise all the same, although his copy’s was tainted by something like shame or bashfulness, face grimacing in being caught in the act. Further complicated by the eyes shooting cautious glances up and down Eddie, drinking him in.

The shamelessness in the guy was quickly fading though. Eddie wasn’t really a shameful type.

Likely the guy was just some poor young man who’d tried on his old pair of boots and had his young DNA completely overwritten by Eddie’s complete load stored in that worn leather. It was a trend with anyone with too much contact with him, although no one had such a dosage. Mostly people just came away with a slight rugged charm or a strange new proclivity towards manual labor.

“Hey Handsome” his clone finally decided on, rougish and confident. The guy seemed to wallow in Eddie-ness and unfortunately for the original, was already ahead in merely his stance. It made his mind go places. “Didn’t expect to find Eddie 1.0 so soon, although I can’t say your memories are very up to date”, the other guy said, taking a step back to get a better view. Eddie would feel almost like he was being dissected by the guy’s view, but he’d done the same hungry analysis of his body in the mirror hundreds of times.

This was better than the mirror. 3D, showing off every curve and tight twist of clothing around hard fought muscle. A replication of his work clothes hung off the other guy, torn to shreds and likely very easy to tear away. They’d be able to make short work of it.

“I’d imagine I could be convinced to give you an update” Eddie thought of just how that would work, but if his sweat had done this transformation, he’s sure just a little more would perfect the job.

He wondered how deep they could make this replication. The guy already stood like him, crossed his arms like him. The voice and tone perfect, complete with the way he readjusted his dick unsubtly.

“I know you Eddie, got it all downloaded by your boots. Our boots now I guess. Can’t say you’ll need much convincing. We’ve dreamed of something like this for ages.” the other guy spoke, referencing years of past loves where they never seemed to get him, back before Eddie had been overpoweringly himself. Years of work on himself had wrought this oddity he guessed.

Eddie wondered who this other guy used to be. Probably less than an hour ago he’d been a completely different person. Had maybe strolled in the shop for cheap boots only to be reconfigured completely. It was an existentially troubling idea, but Eddie was never the moral type. Just curious.

“Because I can practically read your mind Eddie, you are an upgrade. Trust me, I was far from a catch” He said, closing the space. Shoving his hand into Eddie’s shorts in a way that would certainly not fly as public subtlety, as far as their probably guise as being impossibly similar identical twins would cut it. Calloused hands scratched his stomach before reach down into his pocket and thieving his car keys. “Went by Robbie, was something like a stoner college drop out. Not much else to say besides that, went into this shop to try at a construction job.”

“Do you want me to call you Rob then?” Eddie offered, mind trying to control his erection as the other guy jokingly knocked his tent, threatening Eddie’s control over not cumming so quick into a narcisistic fantasy.

“Fuck no, couldn’t stand being the guy. Hated every second of that life.” They stalked over to his (their?) truck, dodging onlookers in the parking lot as best as 2 horny 61/2 foot men could. Eddie’s soundness sneakers behind his clone’s heavy gait. His clone pulled himself into the driver’s seat, already pulling on Eddie’s sunglasses and revving the engine as if to enunciate further how easily he fit into his role.

Eddie agreed with the guy. His life was certainly better. Their life was going to be so much better.

Eddie leaned on the glove box as his duplicate effortlessly sped their boxy heavy duty truck out. Just to lightly touch his elbow to his clone’s. Watch the way the guy’s eyes twitched as whatever sweat he’d left on the stearing wheel from todays humid day poured Eddie’s white hot memories on whatever sad pile of Robbie remained. The other him appeared to glow with energy at every moment, accelerating and obviously glancing back at his original as he sped. Searching Eddie, hungry for something like approval.

Eddie would make sure the guy got a full dosage of his own enthusiasm when their truck rattled into their drive way. Eddie mind was already racing with the possibilities and if his DNA was working like it seemed to be, he was sure the other guy shared them all.

The future was going to be nebulous, but there were some certainties. Eddie would fuck the rest of the clearly unwanted alien bits of another man out of that extension of himself. They’d fall asleep after a day or so of that, just to make sure the job was good and done. They’d wake up and the clone would go to work, only so the next night they could see how much they could meld their memories together given the guy would now share his infectious DNA. Probably a lot more fucking after that. Maybe spend the weekend not completely lost to themselves, try out everything he loved as a pair. His life becoming domestic.

The uncertain bits were there, not yet decided but almost certain. Eddie had gone to trade school but he fancied himself a scientist. Experiments needed to be replicable, observations re-observed. Eddie seemed to be very replicable now himself and with now 2 Eddie’ worth of curiosity, he was sure they’d buckle to the temptation eventually.

Thrift stores could always use a quality pair of reliable boots and the world could certainly use a couple more quality men.

————————————————————

Inspired by the older man clone tf stories by @dante2045 highly recommend those if you haven’t read them.

[anjee0]

Week 2 - Cookies and Hot cocoa

Female!reader x Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert)

Description - Y/n and Marshall decide to bake cookies and make hot cocoa together.

Warnings - no warnings

The warm rays of the sunlight peeked through the curtains and basked in the room where Marshall and Y/n laid in bed, wrapped in each other’s embrace. The light gently shone upon Y/n’s face, making her flutter her eyelashes as she batted her eyes open. She moved her arms away from Marshall and stretched before relaxing and laying down still. Marshall stirred next to her as he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her closer with a muffled goran. 

“Marshall, baby. Let’s get up.” Y/n asked softly.

“Now?” he groaned into Y/n’s neck.

“I wanna do something fun today.”

“Sleepy sex?”

“No. Maybe another time. I was thinking we would bake cookies and make some hot cocoa. What do you think?”

“That sounds great, babe. But can I sleep for a little bit more?”

“Sure babe, but I’m gonna get up now.”

Y/n stretched herself out of bed as she walked over the bathroom groggily, her eyes still drooping down low. A good splash of cold water was enough to wake her up and fill her with the energy she would need for the day. After finishing her daily skincare routine, she headed on downstairs to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards, finding all the ingredients for cookies.

She took out all the necessary ingredients and measured them out carefully, making sure it was absolutely perfect and precise. She also connected her phone to her mini speaker as she played some festive music to set the mood. As Y/n started to measure out the flour, she heard footsteps residing behind her as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She immediately knew it was Marshall and she couldn't help but smile as she leaned into his embrace. He rested his chin on Y/n's shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Hey babe.” He said. “What cookies are we making?”

“Chocolate chip, but we're decorating them too.” Y/n responded.

“Sounds good.”

They both started to mix the ingredients together, making sure nothing spilled out of the containers. The flour cascaded down in a quick swoop, creating a fine white mist in the air. She browned the butter and poured it in, creating a nutty and warm scent in the kitchen. Sugar sparkled like tiny sprinkles as it was added to the mix. The eggs cracked against the bowl and escaped its shell smoothly as drops of the rich vanilla extract landed in. Finally, Y/n sprinkled in some small chocolate chips and large chunks of chocolate.

Marshall used a wooden spoon to mix the ingredients. It scraped against the sides of the bowl, blending the ingredients into a sweet, soft dough. The kitchen soon started to take on a delicate, sugar aroma that lingered in the air. 

“I personally think an electric whisk would work 10 times better.” Marshall said.

Y/n scoffed and shook her head. “No way. We’ll make a mess.”

“You’ll make a mess. Not me.”

“Turning into Mr. I’m-too-cocky-and-confident-for-my-own-good, huh?”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Marshall located the electric whisk in one of the bottom cabinets and plugged it in. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

He put a steady grip on the handle of the whisk and he lowered it into ingredients.

“I just remembered, it’s actually better to mix ingredients manually when it comes to cookies-” Y/n started to say but she was immediately cut off by the loud mixer.

“What did you say?” Marshall asked smugly. “Sorry my whisking skills are too good.”

Suddenly, his thumb slipped, making him change the power of the whisk all the way to the highest. All of a sudden, some of the ingredients went flying everywhere in Marshall’s face. He yelped loudly as he turned it off as set the whisker aside.

An indescribable silence hung in the air as Marshall turned his head to turn to Y/n. As soon as she saw his face, she couldn’t help but burst into a loud cackle. Some of his face was white with misty flour and some butter was caught in his beard.

“It’s not funny.” He said monotonously.

“It kind of is though.” Y/n chuckled. “I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Afterwards, Marshall cleaned his face off the batter and helped Y/n clean the kitchen. Luckily, most of the ingredients were still in the bowl.

“I’m so sorry. I just made this harder for us.” Marshall apologised.

“Don’t apologise babe. If anything, it made my day.” Y/n teased.

“Of course it did.”

Afterwards, the couple took balls of dough and formed them into cookies as they sang along to the Christmas music playing. Y/n placed the cookies in the oven and left them to bake. 

“Those smell really good.” Marshall said. “Can't wait to have them.”

“Me too! We should make some hot cocoa too and then we can snuggle up on the couch. How does that sound?” Y/n asked.

“I love that.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead lovingly.

The upbeat Christmas song came to an end as it faded away to a final finish. The next song came to play soon after, it was a slow one with a somber tune and gentle beats.

“Care to dance with me?” Marshall asked.

“I would love to.” Y/n giggled.

She placed her arms around his neck as she adjusted herself closer to him. They both gently swayed to the music as they held each other close, not leaving even a millimeter of space between them. Their hearts felt warm with love and their smiles were filled to brim with pure joy. He spun her around quickly, nearly knocking a bowl down.

“Ooh! Be careful! This is a kitchen not a dancefloor.” Y/n said teasingly with a small chuckle.

After dancing, they held each other close and breathed each other’s scent, they both felt safe and at heart. They continued to stay in each other’s embrace until the small chicken timer on the counter went off and rang a high pitched bell. 

Marshall opened the oven and immediately, the buttery and syrupy scent of the freshly baked cookies travelled to his nostrils. He set the tray down on the counter, as its buttery scent laced the air around, creating a warm and sweet atmosphere. The cookies looked soft and had a golden crust on the outside. The chocolate chips and chunks make the cookies look more mouth-watering.

“Gosh these look great.” He reached his hand over to pick one up but Y/n slapped his hand just right in time. 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“What are you doing? I want my cookie.”

“Well, that cookie is gonna be hot. And plus, we need to decorate them.”

“Oh right. You got icing?”

“Yup. And sprinkles!” Y/n exclaimed with a bright smile.

They spent ages setting up all the piping bags with icing of different arrangements of colours and laying out different sprinkle shakers. On the bright side, the cookies had cooled down and were ready to decorate. They both took a cookie and a piping bag of the choice and started to decorate their cookies. Y/n was very careful with hers and made sure her pictures looked accurate. Meanwhile, Marshall took it as an opportunity to mess around.

“Did you seriously draw a penis on your cookie?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. It looks great, does it not?” Marshall chuckled.

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“I don’t know. Why? Do you want it? Although, you’d probably prefer the real thing, right?”

Y/n scoffed and pushed Marshall playfully. “Marshall Bruce Mathers the third! Are you crazy?”

“Uh oh. She pulled out the Government name. Well Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I am crazy. For you.”

Y/n chuckled and kissed his nose. “I’m crazy for you too.”

“Well, what did you draw? Is that Santa?” Marshall asked as his eyes darted over to Y/n’s cookie.

“Yup. He looks so cute! I used these chocolate sprinkles for the eyes.”

“It looks nice babe but I could do way better.”

“Really? Come on, you can’t even draw a penis properly. It looks deformed.”

“Oh it’s on! I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

“And what happened last time you did that?” Y/n asked with a cunning smirk on her face, referencing the whisk incident earlier.

“That was just a small mishap. Watch me. I’m gonna do this so well.”

Marshall then spent his next few minutes decorating his cookie, attempting to draw Santa Claus. He used the same chocolate sprinkles for the eyes and additional details.

“Ta da!” He said, holding up his cookie proudly.

“That looks like a Picasso portrait of Santa.” Y/n replied.

Marshall scoffed and took a look at his cookie, only to realise his girlfriend was probably right. The frosting was a bit lopsided and looked messy. The sprinkles were starting to fall off and one of Santa’s eyes somehow landed on his white, frosty beard.

“I guess you’re not wrong.” he muttered. “But that’s besides the point. I tried my best.”

Y/n chuckled softly and shot a loving smile at her boyfriend. “I know you did. And that’s why I still love it.”

They continued to pipe the soft and sweet icing on to the cookies, forming different characters and funny pictures. Unfortunately, they ran out of icing to decorate the remaining 4 cookies left on the tray.

“Guess we didn’t have enough icing. What do we do?” Marshall asked.

“I have an idea.” Y/n replied. She walked over to the pantry and came back, her arms full of different chocolates and sweets. She set them out onto the table and spread them out.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ll give you a cookie and pair it with another chocolate. You have to close your eyes when I give it to you and guess what flavour the cookie is.”

“Alright. Let’s do this then.”

Marshall closed his eyes tight as Y/n opened a packet of Reese’s. She took it out of its paper cup and placed it on top of the cookie. She popped it into Marshall’s mouth and watched as he scrunched his face up in thought.

“Hm, so I taste peanut butter with a hint of… love?” He asked.

“You are impossible.” Y/n chuckled.

“It’s Reese’s right?”

“Correct, your turn.”

It was Y/n’s turn for her to close her eyes and wait in anticipation as Marshall picked out a chocolate. He paired his cookie with a KitKat and fed it to her.

“Easy. KitKat.” She responded immediately.

“Correct. Are you getting any hints of love?” Marshall asked.

“Tons.” She responded as she opened her eyes.

After they finished up their fun little game of combining chocolates with the cookies and making new flavours, they decided to get started on the hot chocolate. Y/n poured some milk into a pot, she watched the liquid swirl as she set it on the stove. She added a few spoonfuls of cocoa powder, watching it turn the milk into a rich chocolatey brown colour of delight. Marshall added some sugar, making the milk all the more creamy and peachy. He stirred it slowly as the sickly sweet aroma of the chocolate embraced the kitchen fully. After they finished preparing it, they poured it out into two mugs. The chocolate poured down smoothly like a grand waterfall as steam curled up from it like a white ribbon. They then topped it off with some thick whipped cream and sprinkled a few mini marshmallows on top. It looked luscious and engaging, looking ready to be drunk.

Afterwards, they settled on the couch as a soft and fuzzy blanket embraced their bodies. Their bodies were warm, compared to the cold misty wind outside. They had their plate of uniquely decorated cookies and hot chocolate with them. Y/n took a bite of her cookie, feeling the rush of all the encaptivating flavours rush to her mouth. The edges were crispy and the cookie itself was soft and buttery. The chocolate chips were gooey and melted in her mouth instantly.

She then took a sip of the hot chocolate, it was velvety and coated her mouth in an intense cover of sweetness and richness she couldn’t describe. The whipped cream added an additional creaminess to the flavour and the marshmallows enhanced it, making the experience even better.

“This is so good!” She exclaimed.

“I’m pretty proud of how this turned out.” Marshall replied, his mouth full with his cookie.

Y/n chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I really enjoyed today, Marshall.”

“I enjoyed it too, baby.”

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[walkingencyclopediaofweirdmayo]

Don't get me wrong, I love 'Brucie Wayne can't cook or do basic chores' as much as the next guy, but if I may:

Bruce can take care of himself, but not in a way society would deem appropriate for a dumb billionaire playboy.

From my limited knowledge, when Bruce traveled and did his training, a lot of those places seemed to be small off the grid traditional villages and schools, yes? You also know he totally did some wilderness survival training.

Bruce probably washed his clothes by hand in the river and hung them to dry, cooked over camp fires and wood burning stoves, if he ironed his clothes it would probably be by hand with a sad iron.

His washer and dryer are probably top of the line, and fancy as fuck. They have so many setting; wouldn't it just be easier for him to wash his clothes by hand in the bathroom??

Of course, the food he'd make would be bland and burnt to hell. You don't have the luxury of cumin and thyme when you're stranded in the woods! A campfire gets up to about 1650°F and a wood burning stove gets up to about 800°F. Gas stoves can get up to 3560°F. He knows how to survive, but he doesn't know how to make. (Man, sure can work a grill, though!)

And, of course, he burned holes in his clothes when he tried to use the electric iorn. He'd have to heat the sad iron manually and repeatedly, so he didn't think about leaving the iron when he went to get the phone!

Bruce is stubborn. If left to his own devices, he'd just buy a sad iron, washboard, etc. and do everything that way. But Alfred can't allow that! How would it look for the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies to be acting as if he walked out of Little House on the Prairie!

[popawritter12]

Hey hey heyyy im back with another request (im the same anon who requested that yandere morgana piece u wrote, absoutely loved it btw ate it up) and i was wondering if you could write some yandere! Hwei x reader? (fanfic or headcanons is up to you!) maybe the reader is an artist as well and they bond over that? Idk man up to you, also love ur takes on characters ur legit one of the best LoL writers ive seen!!

Btw if you dont mind can i be the 🍊 anon? Ive seen other blogs have their emoji anons and i wanna be one so bad fhdbfh

Hope youre having a nice day!!

Author's Notes: Of course 🍊 anon! I would love to <3

I also got tired of making so many headcanons (believe it or not, I have more saved in my drafts), I'm going to write a one-shot. I hope you like it <3. I also appreciate that you like my work. It's especially nice to know that there's someone who enjoys what I do besides me. By the way, I think Hwei is not in the Yandere “tier list” of LoL, so from how I write him and how I see him, I assume that he is a “Normal” type, because his personality reminds me a little of Ayano from Yandere simulator jjjjjjjjjj

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Yandere! Hwei x Fem! reader

Yandere character: Hwei From the videogame/anime/manga/movie/series: League Of Legends Case: Mention of stalking, allegation of theft, robbery and kidnapping. Part: 1 of 1 Warning: Excessive text LOL

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Obedience.

You had heard that word for so long that it was already embedded in your memory. But not in the way most expected.

You hated that word, and for that same reason you almost never hung out with the teachers or students of the temple you went to.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, we better go to the beginning.

You had been born into a family that had never been close to other nations apart from Ionia, your mother was a strict woman, sometimes bordering on abusive, who always hated temples. Especially religions… Let's say she never had good experiences with it.

And your father, oh your beloved father… He was a saint in every sense of the word. He was kind, a joker… And a smile was always on his face. He had never yelled, in fact even when he was angry, he would just sit in the corner, ignoring everything around him until his mind cooled down.

And, being an only child, your life around them was quite chaotic. While your mother always tried to stay out of her entire family situation—a rather complex issue even for you—your father was the “husband of the house,” so to speak. He was in charge of teaching you both cooking and home care in general, including carpentry and, mainly, the art of home decoration.

He always dreamed of being a great artist, but in his family it was never frowned upon for a man to make the decision to undertake such a complex world of art, because, you know… that's a “women's thing.” But anyway, a lot of things have happened since the last time you talked to your uncles and cousins so… They aren't very important in your life right now.

But do you know that it is important? Where did you study.

Your father insisted a lot on your talent with sculptures and the human form; You really liked making ceramic vases manually, so much so that from the age of 8 you made your first sculpture; It was the strange shape of a dog with small eyes and a giant nose. At the time you barely knew how to paint sculptures, and your father barely knew about sculptures, and the shape of it so… Let's say it looked more like an "alebrije" than a dog with a big nose.

But that was a long time ago, and now the only proof of that memory is the figure on your father's furniture; kept as a beautiful memory.

As time went by your sculptures became more complex; from simple vases for flowers to sculptures with human figures of such a level that, at this point, we could compare them with the statues of Michelangelo.

And your father wanted that talent to be exploited to the fullest. So, after years of arguing with your mother, they both agreed that you should go to the great temple where you would learn about the art.

But there was a small problem, one that was going to haunt you a lot.

You weren't used to how strict that school was.

The first and second day at that school were quite chaotic for you. It wasn't just because it wasn't as you expected, but because everything was very limited.

If you wanted to make art, you had to do it how they wanted, when they asked you to, and how they expected it. However, not only was that not your style, but it seemed like the teachers (especially the principal) always had one eye on you. And only for a few weeks did you endure that strict issue of obedience.

But there was one boy who was particularly kind to you, and he was a young man of always unkempt appearance. His dark circles always stood out on his face, along with his hair that was rarely organized in a linear manner. From the first time he saw you, he felt charmed by the way you expressed yourself; You were good at painting and using magic, but when he saw the ceramic sculptures you made…damn, you really drove him crazy.

But you obviously didn't notice, you were too focused on trying to get along with your surroundings in general that you didn't notice his desperate attempts to get along with you.

However, in the pleasant conversations you had with him, you always saw him as the stereotype of the exemplary boy; someone who dedicated his entire life to his art, to the temple and was admired by everyone for his great talent. You thought he was assured of a great future thanks to his eccentric abilities.

And you, unlike most, learned very well from your mother that you could not let yourself be trampled; especially by anyone you barely knew. So the blood that ran through your veins and the passion for your own art that you kept for so long was slowly being tied to be limited, but with barely strong ropes. It hurt a lot to know that you were in a place that didn't belong to you, it was as if you were a squirrel in the Freljord, or a mouse in a perfume store.

And in the end, when you mentioned all these things to your mother, she didn't take it very well.

—Did you really go through all this while you were in that temple? —She asked, a cigarette between her fingers as she arranged her needles on the table.

You just nodded your head, not looking at your mother at all. The woman, at this, clicked her tongue.

—I knew that those bitches are only good for the basics, they didn't evolve at all —The woman brought the cigarette to her lips, taking a gentle drag —so, do you know something, my child? Send them to hell.

You were used to her bad vocabulary, so much so that at this, you just nodded your head again.

—I know perfectly well that you are not like me, that you want to venture out and learn about “the ways of art” and that I know —The woman moved her free hand in the air, while with the other she only lightly squeezed the cigarette. —, but if you're going to go alone so that that bunch of nuts can do you less, I'm going to get you out even by kicking you in the ass.

Your mother was tough as a chain in the teeth, and you knew that she couldn't last long without making trouble in the temple if there was someone bothering her only daughter. She cared very little if it was a student, a teacher or even the founder of the temple himself —Even though she knows that she died a long time ago— she would go and give her her dose of shit if she messed with the pride of her as a mother.

She advised you to kick their ass if they messed with you, but your father later talked to you about it, advising that you couldn't take all your feelings and thoughts to such an extreme, but that you should think coldly, and not give importance to people that were not to your specific liking, regardless of their social status. You were no less for coming from a family that came from the middle of nowhere.

During your temple walk, you always walked alone, which gave you plenty of time to think about your actions; You had been passive most of the time, however, more than once you let out those classic off-color comments when they already crossed your limit. Words like “Fuck you if you don't like it” or “You're barely able to use colors and you're going to tell me what I have to do?” escaped you in very rare cases.

You entered the less traveled part of the temple, hoping not to encounter those looks that made you uncomfortable. The song of nature resonated in your ears harmoniously, while the sound of the materials inside your bag resonated from time to time.

In the midst of your ramblings, you remembered your lost sculptures, and your forgotten materials; You were not a forgetful pardon, and it seemed strange to you not to find your favorite materials —That were metal, so they were worth a lot of money —, and even though you asked and asked, you couldn't find it anymore, so it depressed you a lot to think that you had lost something that had cost yout parents so much effort, and the mere memory of it caused you to feel that pang in your heart.

Even if your parents said it was nothing that couldn't be fixed, it hurt to know that you had lost one of the most expensive things your parents had cost you to get you.

But it was curious to think what a surprise you would get.

However, you get to hear some noises; without being the whining of baby birds waiting for food or rodents walking in search of food, but rather it resembled the voice of two people talking. You recognized both of their voices, but you thought it wasn't too important to stay there, in fact, you were already planning to go somewhere else when you heard it.

—So that girl, (Name), right?

—Yes, I didn't think you realized that issue.

The second boy's shy voice reminded you of that young man you rarely spoke to, which took you by surprise. Hwei wasn't the type of person to talk bad about someone behind their back, or at least that was the idea you had based on your interactions.

—You don't have to worry, after all it's normal for you to feel attracted to someone —Jhin mentioned, almost in a mocking manner—. So why don't you tell me about her?

You had already noticed the intention behind that interaction, however, after what happened, you thought that maybe you could calm your heart with some sweet words that you weren't meant to hear at that moment.

—Well, she is… incredible —He begins, you hear how the young man sits on a log due to the sound of the hollow wood —, she is beautiful, kind, tender… and her way of expressing her art is so… unique.

You gently leaned your back against the wood, trying not to make any sound. Something in your chest moved abruptly, as if your heart was fluttering like a butterfly in glass.

—I adore her sculptures, I feel that they are the most beautiful thing I have seen —He continues talking, slowly his emotion rose more and more —. I looked sometimes at her work in class or in the room away from her, and they are… beautiful.

—So much so that you had the need to steal them, right?

It was a single sentence, one which echoed in your head for several seconds.

—What are you talking about? —Hwei asks, arranging his hair a little, trying to place several strands behind his ear —. I would never do that.

You didn't hear how Hwei's tone of voice changed, becoming staccato, as his hands clung to his backpack, which he had in his lap.

At this, the other student laughed, almost like a subtle laugh, while his eyes wandered to where your shadow was looming. A mischievous smile forms on his face.

—So, I imagine that the sculptures that are in your room were made by you, right? —He questions, looking subtly into Hwei's eyes—. Or you bought them from her.

Your thoughts slowly formed a thread of the events that had happened. A lump formed in your throat, almost painfully so.

—Or her favorite utensils, she asked me if I had seen them last week, since she had left them near you the last time she saw them —He continued, almost introspectively—, but when I asked you, you only mentioned that you didn't see them that day either.

You shook your head, from the depths of your soul you prayed that it wasn't true, that you didn't have the school prodigy after you in such an extreme way.

—Well, I admit that I have some of her sculptures in my room, but they are the ones that she forgot in class or anywhere! —The pale boy snapped—. And I don't know what you think I did with her utensils, I don't know how to sculpt.

Jhin laughs again, barely audibly now, as if he knew that now he would have to act more vividly.

—And why were they in the box in your room? —Jhin asks him —, it even had remains of dry ceramics. Could it be that they were already used?

Hwei gritted his teeth, while his gaze met Jhin's again.

—That side of you… It's so peculiar. —He smiles —, I thought no one would see it, but you risk being seen in exchange for getting some things from (Name).

Hwei knew that darkness within his soul had awakened since the first day he saw you. And that darkness spread throughout his soul, mind and body, to the point that it seemed to consume all of his heart and mind.

—Your paintings were always warm colors —Jhin changed the subject, the smile disappearing from his face —, they were never about anything specific, but since you met that girl, something changed —He bowed gently in front of Hwei —. If it was about her, you focused on her in a way that made her seem pure, you used colors that highlighted her body or her emotion on her face. But she never looked at anyone —He subtly changed his focus —, she looked at the painter, or she didn't look at anyone, tell me, do you just want her to not look at anyone but you? Do you want her to the point that you don't want her to look at anyone but you?

He remained silent, in such a way that you could feel the weight of the words lingering in the air, causing an almost inexhaustible tension there. It was such that you could no longer hear the song of nature that you longed for so much.

—I won't criticize you, Hwei, you know that I understand better than anyone the dark feeling inside you —Jhin tried to sound empathetic —. And, if you want, I can help you make (Name) yours. I can make her fall in love with you and make that she can never leave you.

The obsessed young man understood how wrong it was to have those thoughts terrifying his mind, but he couldn't stop it, it was a feeling that had already taken root in his heart, and he couldn't tear it out no matter how much he wanted to.

—I can't… —Hwei whispered, his voice breaking —…, I don't want to harm her; She is so nice to me, I don't want to put her through all my feelings.

You heard him sob.

—You're not going to hurt her —Jhin comforts him, a hand running over his cheek —. I know you love her very much, and you notice how others hurt her. But, tell me, don't you think about those people really hurt her? —He subtly wipes away the tear that slipped down her face—. You should take care of those people, you know? So she could express her art as she loves it. Maybe she could even make thousands of statues without anyone to pressure her, and you could “borrow” them for yourself.

You had heard enough, you couldn't stay there for another minute.

However, before you could move, Jhin leaned close to Hwei's ear, his lips close to her loose strands of hair.

—Or you could take it right now, you know? This opportunity is perfect. —Jhin's mischievous smile spreads across his face.

Hwei opened his eyes to her peak, at the same time he heard a rope move abruptly.

And you felt your foot being pulled up, forcing you to hit your face against the ground, causing you to moan in pain.

—Shit. —You whispered, feeling your head spin, a small wound on your head began to make small drops of blood come out.

—That is…? —Hwei whispers, his heart sinking in his chest —(Name)..?

Ｏ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)ＯＯ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Today I came wanting to write. I loved how this one-shot turned out, and I hope those who read it do too haha.

I hope to receive more orders if any of you wish, until then, I will be dedicated to my hobbies and my studies.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Time Flies

(Masterlist)

hi back again !! i said it wouldnt be long

(Content: suicidal ideation, death mention, alcohol mention)

=======================

Delta’s back was against the wall. He needed it to brace himself, feeling far too dizzy to even sit up on his own. He sipped at the soda can, not thrilled with the flavor. Simon had given it to him by way of apology for having totally ignored him for two weeks. The scientist was sitting down on top of an overturned test dummy. Delta didn’t know why he’d chosen to have this conversation in the gym. The scattered dummies all about the arena looked like dead bodies. But maybe that was just where his mind was.

“He’s alive,” Delta repeated back to Simon slowly, rolling the words over in his mouth without any particular emotion.

“Correct,” Simon nodded, “He’s stabilized. He had the foresight to arrange a bunch of organ donors at Thales, which is good, because he’d probably be dead otherwise. I just wish he had the foresight to wear some damn body armor.”

“Death wish?” Delta hypothesized.

“Don’t say that. It’s not funny.”

Delta hung his head. Simon went on.

“The chancellor went ahead and fired the entire security team. They’re investigating them for conspiracy. And they’ve narrowed down the actual assassin to a list of ten people. I don’t suppose you saw them, right?”

“No, sir,” Delta answered quickly. He had been studying the floor of the stage at the time it happened. Besides, the shock had erased much of his memory.

“Right. Well, I don’t have to tell you it’s bad news. They’re going to find a way to make Nezu responsible, even if he didn’t do it originally. On their end, Paris is too weak not to take advantage of. Civil war is an inevitability. But on the bright side, the assassination attempt has actually done wonders for His Highness’s polling numbers. Funny how that works,” Simon hummed, a wry smile crossing his face.

Delta didn’t understand why Simon was telling him all this. It was a lot more context than he needed for the role he would play in it. He supposed it was a kindness. Of course, Delta was relieved that he would not be passed over to Nezu. In theory, anyway. The actual relief was slow coming; the dread had not left him. He could still feel the blood on his face.

“He’s alive?” Delta repeated incredulously. Simon gave him a sympathetic look, bordering on very condescending.

“Yes. He’s recovering from the surgery, but he should be back in two weeks. You won’t have to worry about another custody dispute.”

Delta nodded, taking another sip of the soda. His head was spinning. He’d been so ready for the change. He’d built himself up to die; he was planning on how he’d slit his own throat when Nezu came to collect him. That bad. Now, that was clearly off the table. His thoughts drifted back to the laptop in his room. A part of him wanted to destroy it right now. He would try to reclaim his innocence and bury any rebellion within his heart. 

Ha. Good joke.

================

Simon locked him back in his room. He guessed this would be the procedure until Paris returned. Not that he minded. He pushed the chair back in front of the door and returned to his computer.

There was the same frenzied white noise he was still getting from the original thread, plus all the spam in his DMs. But one message stood out to him.

sunspot: Hey I wanted to say thank you for the advance warning on Cyannet. It prevented a massacre for us.

Delta read it over and over. His heart hurt.

ndhakdvsnnd: you dont have to thank me

Really, it was the least he could do. Left alone for so long, the guilt had begun to marinate. He used to feel so terrible for going behind Paris’s back, so totally undeserving of the mercy he’d been shown. That had melted down into something else entirely. He had a number now. He’d done it manually and was sure of its accuracy, a standard deviation of <100. It had been 22,534 people just within the confines of his memory. The true count was probably higher; there were dark spots in his life that he knew were also filled with violence. 

So there was no question about it really. He was evil. It was a surprisingly easy thing to accept; it’s not like he ever thought he was good. The realization didn’t drive him any closer to hysterics than anything else in his life ever had. It just existed as a quiet truth in the back of his head. He had done a lot of evil in Empire’s name. The only way he could see to make up for it was to prevent further deaths. Besides, he had come to hate Empire. He was ready for it to be destroyed.

================

Paris peeled the fabric of his shirt back, revealing the thick layers of bandages around his chest. He was leaning back against the headrest, wearing loose, breathable clothing. 

“Lung transplant. They said my heart is bruised.” He said in a hoarse voice. His eyes were totally bloodshot. Delta couldn’t look at him straight on. So much of Paris’s body was swollen or bruised from the surgery. He had been out. If he’d been anyone else, he would have stayed out. Paris was incredibly lucky to be alive. He didn’t seem too thrilled about it.

“Happy?” The prince hissed, his expression turning sour. Delta raised his hands in mock surrender, apparently having stared too hard for his liking. It’s not like Paris was physically in any position to hurt him. He could barely move. Regardless, there was a kind of danger to him now that had not been there before. His eyes were crazed. Delta excused himself. 

“I don’t want you hanging around him right now,” Simon had said to Delta in a hushed voice when he first returned. As if it was something he had any say in. It was all he could offer in terms of a warning. 

Paris was still in treatment for weeks afterward. The recovery had forced him to detox, no doubt contributing to his terrible mood. He was going through alcohol and nicotine withdrawal in addition to the healing process, each facet building off the other to create a kind of endless crisis in his body.

It was the worst Delta had ever felt for another person, though with him that wasn’t saying much. Sympathy was a pretty novel concept to him. Even at the time, he sensed he was misdirecting it. It didn’t change anything. Delta had made up his mind about Empire. Paris wasn’t excluded from that. He wasn’t innocent. But Delta could recognize the ways that Paris had been made victim to his own legacy — and it hurt him deeply to witness.

================

sunspot: Why are you talking like that?

ndhakdvsnnd: like what

sunspot: I don’t know. You just seem kind of down on yourself?

ndhakdvsnnd: why does that matter

sunspot: I thought it might matter to you

ndhakdvsnnd: not really

sunspot: :/

ndhakdvsnnd: what is this i dont have time for this

sunspot: Sorry. Maybe I shouldnt pry so much. i just wanted to know if you were okay!

ndhakdvsnnd: im fine can you stop asking questions about me it makes me uncomfortable 

sunspot: I’ll stop bugging you then. But Im here if you need anything! Like I said we are really grateful for the help so if theres anything we can do please just shout

ndhakdvsnnd: whos we 

ndhakdvsnnd: ?

[ochipi]

I went to a local art museum yesterday and I was shivering to my core. AI has made it into a museum.

The right panel is the third panel of a 17th century triptych (oil on wood). The left is an AI generated image with white painted letters over it.

I’ll try to keep it short as to why I don’t like this piece of “Art”.

A 17th century piece (which looks very pretty and well painted) completely taken out of its value, place, context ... Placed between “modern art”.

The panel was part of a triptych. Remake it at least as such or don’t add any additional work, as it was never ever intended to be displayed as such. (You can have them mirrored, but leave space between them).

Call me dumb, but my first instinct when I saw it was “both are fake”. The AI image looks good. But I really had to get close to find the paint cracks on the right panel to assure myself.

17th century art is as photorealistic as painted art got. The portrayal of emotions, movement, action, thought and light have never been more accurately put to life. On the left a dude just added a bunch of words into a computer….

Mind you, this picture was taken April 4th. The work dates “2024”. Some dude just really did this and the museum was like “gimme!” There hasn’t even gone time over it for the world to do something with it. No (online) debate, no gallery display, no articles,… it was just… made and hung up.

The artist didn’t even come up with an original idea (a Frenchmen in the 1970s did something similar). He didn’t even have the skill to manually create the mirror image. He just went to his computer, got himself white paint and had good enough handwriting to at least write in a straight line. “Art”

I’m not enough of a pro to go more in depth. Also art is never singular. Please, let’s start the debate. I’m curious to hear everyone’s vision on this.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

The major win for me after this season is that fans are going to start writing horror/supernatural fiction for this fandom!

A genera or tone many of y'all probably haven't touched-but I assure you, it's SO much fun to write with the characters Canon has given us. May I tempt you with a few starting concepts I use to set the mood for pirate-specific horror? [Some spoilers for S2 OFMD]

Doldrums! A period where a ship gets no wind- can anywhere from a few minutes or potentially months at a time. unpredictable and impossible to plan for, as if you kept stock for doldrums, you're adding a TON of salted beef and green water to your stores. More supplies means less room for loot. During this time-on top of slowly losing food and water rations. Your crew could start to hallucinate, go sun blind, or grow bored of menial work. That and if your near the equator(where most took place)- the sun cooks the wood of your top deck.

It gets REALLY dark it night. Like. I don't think OFMD has shown a scene that really depicts how dark it is. The point of the night lookout is to have maybe one candle lit at night by the helm, steer the ship, and keep an eye out for any dots of light on the horizon.

I highly recommend watching videos of pirate battles. Assassins Creed 4, recreations, people reading off accounts of battle. Anything. That shit is scary as hell. A lot of praying the wind is on your side, or that a gust of wind wouldn't knock the ship out of line of fire. Many pirates were caught because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now- The psychological shit- Most first mates were chosen by their captain. While the Captain themselves were elected by the crew. If a Captain was mutinied, the first mate would be as well for fear of the first mate was more loyal to the old captain than the crew. This is why Ed's speech to Frenchie S2ep2 makes sense. Ed knows the crew was iffy with Izzy, but didn't want to risk Izzy staying alive to possibly start a mutiny against him. So Frenchie had to kill Izzy.

Most Pirates lasted *at most* 2 years at this point in history. Blackbeard lasted 15 months. Bonnet lasted AS A PIRATE from Spring 1717 to November 10th 1718. Being hung in December of 1718. Read up on how common it was to just...go overboard. Or get so drunk your crew couldn't fight back against the English. This is how Calico Jack, Anne Bonne, and Mary(Mark) Reed went down. People not ready to fight caught with their pants down. Play up how every feels like they're walking into their own noose.

Many diseases spread like wildfire among the lower crew. So crews took 'quarantining' measures very seriously for things like dysentery and malaria. Often throwing bodies overboard.

S2 ep5 (top 3 eps of the show for me) WAS SO RIGHT ABOUT WHY SUPERSTITIONS WERE IMPORTANT TO MANAGE. Again what I said about how easy it was for the crew to turn on a captain they didn't like. But any form of doubt tword your captain could be enough to start the brewing's of a mutiny.

At the time. Going overboard was a death sentence. Many sailors didn't learn to swim as trying swimming usually meant that 1.) Your ship went down in battle and your about to be captured by the authorities or 2.) You went overboard in a storm/your ship sunk. So either way your fucked. Many thought just drowning was a more peaceful death than trying to fight for your life, drowning once exhausted.

The only thing between you and the endless abyss at any point in time is a few layers of creaking, slowly rotting, wood

Ships would creak. They're made of wood and you know how houses shift? SO DO SHIPS. During rough waves or even just at random points in the day.

The sails had to manually be raised in/before storms by climbing up the mast, going out, stepping on a VERY thin peice of rope tied off at the ends of each yard(I always call them 'yard lines', but don't quote me) they'd then reach over and pull the sail up to then fasten down. This took a dozen men on a large ship. (You can see this person standing a thicker version of it in the photo below)

Masts are VERY heavy. A mast cracking and crashing onto deck could cause enough damage to sink a ship.

The Black Dot- a superstition that if you see a black dot left on your door/ or on your person (ie someone slipping it in your pocket) means you will die soon. Usually given to someone higher rank before a mutiny. We have no proof this was a real thing but a LOT of pirate media uses it.

Add more if you think of them!! [I might do a tropes based on the more supernatural elements of horror later, but for most tropes (mermaids, ghost ships, poltergeists, selkies) I think the fandom has it covered]