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thehighladywrites · 3 months

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— “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: You adopt a stray kitten, naming it after someone close to your heart

☀︎ — warnings: fatally cute

☀︎ — amara’s note: Help i got this request earlier today and i just had to write it. This is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. I adore writing for bimbo reader, she’s so cute!!! | based on this request

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“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing on earth?” you squeal in delight as you spot a tiny black kitten outside the grocery store.

Bending down, you plop yourself on the edge of the pavement and scoop up the kitten, cradling it gently in your arms.

“Meow,” it mewls, its big round eyes looking at you with an innocent gaze. It has shaggy, fluffy black fur and beautiful hazel eyes, reminding you of someone very dear to you.

“You don’t seem to have an owner, do you? Hm, I see no collar and no one is around. Tell me, kitty, ya hungry?” you coo at it, tilting your head inquisitively, and the kitten mimics the movement in a cute, almost cartoonish way.

Realizing the kitten might not respond to you, you nod your head in determination.

“Don’t worry, kitty cat, you can come home with me. I’ll just get you some food first.”

You glance into your grocery bags and then back at the kitten sheepishly.

“I guess you can’t eat ice cream and sushi, can you?” you say with a giggle, realizing your mistake.

Looking around to make sure no one is watching, you carefully pick up the kitten and gently tuck it into your tote bag. With a nonchalant demeanor, you stroll into the store, doing your best not to attract attention to your feline stowaway.

“Hello, Ms. L/N! Back for some more?” Vanessa, the cashier asks as she notices your quick return.

You freeze, subconsciously clutching your bag as you look around. “Hey, V! I just forgot a little something. I’ll be in and out,” you say nervously, just as your bag meows. You both look at each other in surprise.

“D-Did your bag just meow?” Vanessa asks, raising an eyebrow.

“N-no, um, that was me! I was just bored. Okay, bye V, see ya,” you stammer, trying to play it off as a joke before hurrying further into the store.

You can’t help yourself from getting every single cat toy on the planet, along with every type of food you think the kitten might like. Now, the trunk of your car is filled with toys as you strap the kitten into the passenger seat of your rose Porsche Taycan.

“Okay, kitty. I’ll put on some music. And I don’t know what kind of music you dig, so you’ll just have to listen to Frank Ocean. He’s a really good artist!” you chirp cheerfully, adjusting the volume knob as you drove, hoping the kitten will enjoy Pink+White playing.

Driving into your garage, you park your car and bring your newest housemate inside.

There, you play with him, squealing in happiness at the way he jumps cutely. You praise him and clap your hands whenever he does a cool trick. He even liked the mini bat wings you got for him. The kitten looked so stinkin’ cute in them you just had to take a million photos!

After a while, you get his bowls, fill one with food and the other with water as you sit down next to him, eating your sushi.

“I have to name you something, kitty. I mean, ‘kitty cat’ is adorable, but you need a new name. But just what?” You pout and furrowed your brows, thinking really hard as you lay on the plushy fluffy carpet, the kitten resting on your chest, tired after hours of playing.

As you pat his fur, you wonder what name would suit him. He has black fur and hazel eyes, is calm and collected, just like… Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you gasp.

“Oh my gods, Azzie! Your name is totally Azzie!”

Excitedly jumping up from the carpet, you practically skip over to your laptop, eager to make your new housemate’s name official. After a quick search, you find the perfect pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that says “Azzie.” Without a second thought, you click “Add to Cart” and eagerly wait for it to arrive. After all, Azzie deserved nothing but the best!

—

The next time Azriel comes over, he is greeted by a furry surprise.

As he steps into your home, his eyes widen in astonishment as he spots a tiny kitten sitting on the plush carpet, its hazel eyes mirroring his own.

For a moment, they both freeze in their tracks, assessing each other with a mix of curiosity and wonder. Slowly, Azriel puts down the math books on the counter before he approaches the kitten, his gaze never leaving its adorable face. Kneeling down, he extends his hand tentatively, unsure of how the little creature will react.

To his amazement, the kitten responds by rubbing its nose against his hand, nuzzling into his palm with a happy purr. Azriel can't help but smile, his heart melting at the sight of the affectionate gesture from his miniature doppelganger.

As the cat jumps into his lap, the jingle of its collar catches Azriel's attention. He glances down and notices the pink collar with a heart-shaped tag that read "Azzie" in delicate letters.

A surprised chuckle escape his lips as he gently pets the kitten, realizing that it has been named after him. The gesture warms his heart, and he can’t help but feel a newfound fondness for the furry little companion.

You walk into the room and are met with the heartwarming sight of Azriel playing with your kitten. A smile spreads across your face as you join in, the three of you engaging in a playful game of chase and pounce. Laughter fills the air as you watch Azriel's eyes light up with joy, his usual stoic demeanor melting away in the presence of the adorable feline.

“Oh, Azzie, you two are so freakin’ cute together, I think I might die,” you gush, clapping your hands in delight.

Azriel looks up, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, I guess he's not so bad,” he replies, his nerdy, shy charm shining through.

You giggle, scooping up the kitten and holding it close. “He's the best! And he's just like you, Azzie. Quiet, calm and sweet like candy!”

Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at the comparison, but he can't hide the fondness in his eyes as he kisses your cheek before he continues to play with the kitten. Together, the three of you get to know each other better, happy with the new addition to your life.

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours.

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you.

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him.

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?”

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.”

“What if I say please?”

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour.

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?”

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties.

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile.

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you.

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for.

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it.

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.”

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.”

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care.

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.”

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips.

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in.

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.”

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you.

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you.

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?”

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you.

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you.

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #this is so boring lmao my bad #i do believe he'd be such a lil nuisance if i was trying to clean with him in the room #this was written in under an hour and definitely not edited my bad #just wanted to stretch my legs with our favorite metalhead idk #look at me #finally writing and posting again #ooooooooo #i want a simple life with him please

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confused-wanderer · 8 months

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Alfred is badass and has unuasual skills even for a batfam member.

Inspired by pandaredd’s skit where Alfred says “Bond wishes he was me”

The man is the caretaker of the bat family, he has raised every damn member, and has seen more than his fair share of wars, doomsdays and worse. He is a butler. And god knows what else in the spare time. All I imagine is that if a teenage Bruce looks up at Alfred and whispers he wants to train, Alfred might be the one who gives him contacts.

Alfred:

Bruce:

Alfred: .. wait here master Bruce, I know you won’t even listen to what I’m saying so I will let you learn the arts. Only under one condition though, I choose your trainers

Teenage Bruce: Alfred, whom would you-

Alfred *already on the phone* : Hello there Lee

Teenage Bruce *wide eyes* *mouthing* : Rock Lee??

Alfred *scoffing* : what world do you think we live in! Be more realistic Master Bruce.

Bruce: .. so who is it?

Alfred: Bruce Lee.

The scariest thing about the butler is that he will take you apart in less than a blow, and he doesn’t even need weapons. He will however use them just for fun.He can still hear if Bruce or any of the batfamily sneaks around, he’s been the only one who somehow knew Cass was in the room and offered her snacks while she was hanging upside down from the ceiling in the pitch black and overall has better instincts to locate any of them in the mansion than a GPS tracking system.

When supervillains, nosy reporters or even crooks try to break into the Manor, the fact that no one installed a security system should’ve really been a warning point that the Waynes had other.. deadlier security.

By the time Jason comes home he sees Alfred cleaning up the carpet, but doesn’t miss the wrinkled edge of the sleeve. It is only then when he looks to the other room and the criminals are all sitting in time out, each a truly remarkable shade of blue, black purple and green he’s never seen in real life. And none of them were even bleeding.

Alfred also has insanely fast reflexes. And to everyone surprise, he is an bloody good shot. Green arrow was once testing out a new arrow and it accidentally whizzed past the target and almost hit the cat when out of nowhere Alfred caught it and snapped it with one hand. And then proceeded to borrow a pistol and shoot the target while walking to the other side of the room, not even sparing a glance at the bullseye he had hit. All the while holding a tray of glass bottles that hadn’t moved a single inch.

He’s given advice to Jason on how to make explosives out of everything and nothing, taught Dick how to cut a tree in half with one kick, showed Stephanie how to always win Russian Roulette, guided Damian on how to break bones without ever leaving traces, taught Tim how to mimic someone’s voice and be scarily accurate, and so much more. Once on live television the world saw Alfred eat three cookies and refuse to pass them to Bruce Wayne before saying “They’ve been poisoned” and throwing them away. A few people swear they heard him mouth “bloody amateurs” afterwards and he insisted he was fine, stating that he was already “used to it.”

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And that is why the bat cave is a safer option for batman’s enemies than the mansion. Because if you were caught by the butler, just know that god has already forsaken you.

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dabisbratz · 1 year

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𝐼𝒩 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸 (𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝐹𝐿𝒪𝒲𝐸𝑅𝒮 𝐹𝒜𝒞𝐸 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒮𝒰𝒩)— leon s. kennedy x male reader

w.c: ~5.2k

warning: pwp ( porn with plot ), jealousy, exes-to-lovers, oral, phone sex ( ? ), softdomtop!leon, subbottom!reader, re2r leon, dirtytalk, praise/degradation, spanking, fingering, amab reader, light feminization, riding, blowjobs, creampie, leon’s big but doesn’t know it, finger-sucking, finger-hooking, set after re2r n before re4r, krauser mentions, mentions of alcohol, throatpie, d/s dynamic, unprotected sex ( wear condoms! ), aftercare ! ♡

sonny says..: the urge to add a daddy kink to this was so. so very!! strong . had to stay focused.. this is already.. sovery.. self indulgent..

Confronting him was the hard part. It’d been a while since you’d seen Leon, your ex-boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. It was him, you know now— you’ve always known — but you weren’t sure you had the heart to face him. It was you who ended it after all, you who’d sent him down a heartbreak and alcohol induced rabbit hole that could only be documented briefly through a few voicemails and delivered texts. Even after traveling all this way, burning your cash like it grew on trees, trudging through the rainy streets of this random city, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right decision.

You couldn’t take it. The voicemails, the messages, the audio messages full of incoherent sobs and pleads. Being away from him, the same man who’d left you jumping for joy. The same man who’d lit sparks in your chest and released butterflies in your stomach. The same man who’d smile at you in the dead of night, genuine and bright, as he told you he’d loved you a million times over. Leon, whose hands were soft and warm on your skin, so gentle and patient. Like no one you’ve ever met, your heart squeezes in your chest. Leon, Leon, Leon.

Was this out of line?

But it’s too late to turn back now, because your hand is curling into a tight fist as you knock on the fourth motel door all night. Once, twice, three times. You’re ready to back out, to run before whoever’s residing here can open the door and, most likely, slam the door in your face with a distasteful choice of words.

But the door opens.

“There’s an extra. . . Uh, umbrella by the mailbox. Looks like you could use it!” He starts, eyes sparkling despite the dim lighting and narrowed space they’re peeking from. It sounds almost rehearsed, like you’re not the first person to knock on his door tonight. And, for a reason you know all too well, the thought stings.

His eyelashes are just as long as you remember them, curled upward and batting against the thin layer of baby-fat adorning his cheeks in a way that looks dreamy and slow. Like he’s relaxed, or perhaps tired. Nonetheless, his pretty, round eyes are undeniably his and hard to miss, you find yourself at a loss for words. You’re lost in the deep pools of blue, bleeding indigo and inky black of his irises matching the recently done-over roadways in a way that feels just as fresh.

Leon looks reminiscent of a puppy, though he always has, with his thick brown eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic confusion. Or concentration, even. Almost as if it’s detrimental to him that you know there’s an umbrella there for you, for anyone, who needs it. That it’s important you know— with him around— you’ll be safe. He’s barely changed since you’d last seen him in person, the moles on his cheeks and throat unmoved, soft tufts of brown hair swept to the side as normal, and pink, plump lips that curl upward in a way that’s so comforting you could cry. Leon, your Leon, who smiles warmly, lips pulled into a sweet and inviting grin as the apples of his cheeks round out. Your eyes travel to the dimple dead center of his chin, prominent and defining. The perfect place to slot your thumb, really, to hold his chin and lose yourself in his azure eyes.

Even with the pitter patter of rain soaking into your already soaked clothes, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt in the last few months. His presence keeps you warm. Kept you warm.

“Leon.” It’s all you can say, breathless as the air is snatched from your lungs and excuses die on your tongue. What could you even say? Sure, you’d practiced it all in your head before arriving— I’m sorry, I miss you, what happened to us? It’s all easier to piece together in your head in contrast to actually saying it.

There’s a routinely lean against the doorframe as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and he’s truly looking at you now, opposed to the clear umbrella sat taut beneath his motel’s mailbox. With a flash of lightning he blinks, freckle and mole dusted cheeks set alight for just a mere second as his breath is caught in his closing throat.

“Oh. . . It’s you,” His sharp adam’s apple bobs with an even sharper swallow, and his pinched eyebrows go lax for a brief moment before tightening back up. “. . .Okay. Hi.”

“Hi, Lee.” You mimic, awkwardly shifting to the side. Still in his casual clothes, you presume, Leon looks comfortable as he sports baggy, blue jeans and a white tank top. Almost too comfortable, the fabric straining against his chest and only ever relaxing the closer it delves by his armpits, flowing despite being trapped beneath his wide ribcage and thick biceps. There’s a heavy vein cascading around it, disappearing under his skin only to reappear by his forearms and soft hands. With pink dusted fingertips, one hand is closed around the gold doorknob of his motel room.

You expect him to close it in your face. To slam the door after telling you to leave, with anger painting his soft, pretty features until they’ve hardened into cold stone. But he doesn’t. Instead, he’s opening it a bit wider, no longer leaning on the doorframe as he extends an arm to fully open the door. To fully see you, and you swear his posture is much more relaxed after his gaze has focused on your face.

“You look,” His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, and suddenly you’re failing to form vowels on your tongue. Either way you continue, “You look good,” stiffening as you gesture toward his general direction. “You always do. Anyway. . .”

“Thanks,” He’s much too sweet for your liking, smiling at you like you hadn’t broken his heart just a few months prior. His voice is breathy with upcoming laughter as he steps to the side and invites you in. “You too. Y’know, without the rain.”

You’re in over your head, shuffling inside the dimly lit room with heavy steps. The front door opens directly to the small living-room, a small carton of Chinese takeout resting beside a hearty sized weight on the coffee table. What now? You came into this hoping he’d yell at you— maybe give you a reason to turn around and never look back. But he’s not, he’s inviting you in like. . . Like an old friend. The door is shut and locked with a small click, Leon’s form moving from behind you with his large hand ghosting over your lower back.

A shockwave travels up your spine when his palm makes contact with your waist, only for a brief moment. You can’t think straight, watching the muscles in his back ripple and writhe through his shirt. Chocolate tufts of hair rest at the nape of his neck, short and soft. It’s like you were running your fingers through them just a week ago, blades of freshly trimmed hair tickling your fingertips. Right there, he’s so right there, but almost completely out of reach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say, over and over, until your nose begins to sting and your eyes grow glassy. Then it’s Leon’s turn to look apologetic, hair swaying as he fully turns to face you. Really, he has nothing to be sorry for. You’re so incredibly selfish.

“I can’t,” He pauses to take a breath, and you feel your heart splitting in two. But his tone is soft and warm, tilting with breathy and almost bitter laughter. “I can’t stay mad at you. And believe me, I tried.”

So he’s willing to talk about it. Your face visibly lights up before you can do anything to mask it, every word you’ve been trying to conjure up suddenly speeding past your tongue, “I want us to talk ab—”

“So,” Leon’s face contorts into something forlorn, like he’s weaving unsavory words together in his head. Words he’s never imagined himself saying. “Does he. . . Does he, uh, fuck you good?”

Huh.

“What?” The question falls flat and sour on your tongue, much more like a blank statement than a question. You’re not sure who ‘he’ is, let alone what led to the question in general, but you’re not exactly given much time to think about it either. The brunette steps forward, wide shoulders shifting with a heavy, clothed stride. His freshly bitten lips are released from his pearly teeth, plump and glossy. Closer now, Leon still smells reminiscent of woodsy lavender and minty mouthwash. Despite how faint it lingers in the air, it somehow manages to overwhelm your senses. He smells like home.

He doesn’t miss a beat this time, long eyelashes splayed out on his cheek as he stares down at your lips, eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he?” His head tilts to the side, questioning. You’d take it as an innocent question had it not been for his lips, pulled into a tight line that reeks of jealousy. His eyes have hardened, baby blue to gunmetal gray. His shoulders relax when you shake your head, hands suddenly restless by your side. “Use your words.”

It’s usually accompanied by a ‘please?’ or ‘for me?’

A whimper leaves your lips, soft and sweet and completely unwarranted. He softens.

“I know you can do it for me,” His eye contact is dangerous, relentless as he watches you stumble over your own whimpers and words. “Can’t you?”

“No,” You swallow hard, letting the brunette trap you in his heat. There is no ‘ he ’, no one taking Leon’s rightfully earned place by your side— whether it be in bed or not. That’s why you’ve come all this way, after all. But you play along anyway, desperate to be good. For Leon. “Not like you do, Lee.”

You’re whining now, tears bubbling in your eyes for so many reasons you can’t put together. Ultimately because you need him, because you feel bad for needing him— because maybe you don’t deserve the luxury of needing him. Apologies tumble into a tight ball of hiccups and sobs, and it’s only the thumbs rubbing away your tears that bring you back. Maybe you’re apologizing for fucking someone you haven’t, lost in the role he’s given you.

“I’m just glad to see you. Glad you’re here.” There’s so much he means to tell you, so much you haven’t heard. Raccoon city, the training program he’s been recruited into, why he’s even here in the first place. Sure, maybe he’s much too forgiving. But it’s you. And he’s not letting go again. But there’s more to it, there’s more you need. Venturing out here on your own, probably without letting anyone know, you’re reckless. Acting without thinking, and he can’t have that. He can’t turn you down, not when you’re so clearly in need of a gentle, guiding hand. Not when he misses you. Leon cuts off your apologies with a small kiss, gentle and sweet enough to have you chasing after his lips when he pulls away.

Your voice sounds needy and saccharine sweet as you lean forward, breathing in his airy scent with a wispy, “Leon. . .”

“What do you want, baby?” The nickname slips before he can catch it, but you don’t seem to mind. “What is it?”

“Want. . I want you.”

“But I’m right here? His laugh is genuine this time, lips splitting into a smile as his thumb rubs smooth circles across your cheekbone. “You have me.”

His hands are on you now, giving your body small squeezes of affirmation. Leon’s much bigger than he carries himself— big hands, wide shoulders, thick thighs, sturdy chest, heavy cock. Big all over, really, despite the way he’s able to run around and disappear like it’s nothing— despite how quickly he carries himself.

The thought as you reeling, choking on a sob that earns an immediate coo in response. There’s just so much, and it’s all piling up. But Leon’s here, he’s here like he always has been, he’s here to make it better. He’s always been so good at that. He takes you out of your head, turns it into mush while you float on a cloud and beg for more of. . . Well, you’re not too sure. But you know he can feel you throbbing against his thigh, hard and needy as he shakes his head with faux disapproval.

“That your phone in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” It’s a stupid joke you both know the answer to, so he doesn’t waste any time laughing over it. You’re nodding anyway, bobbing your head up and down with wet eyelashes— you already look so ruined.

You’re wearing too much clothes, soaked and dripping onto his floor in a way that has the man grimacing as he peels it from your body. You’re much colder than you thought, too, goosebumps trailing down your skin as his big hands rub warm, soothing shapes into your forearm. Lee’s always been like that, the type to offer up his jacket on a rainy day, the type to give you his coat on a snowy one. And you know, undoubtedly, you’d do the very same for him.

“He couldn’t reach those spots, could he?” The question is emphasized by a hearty squeeze to your behind, Leon’s hands dipping beneath your wet pants slipping under the band of your briefs to knead the plump mound of your ass. He’s grabbing handfuls, squishing the skin between fingers and spreading you apart. “Not like I can, huh? Not deep enough?”

With a soft moan you’re discarded of your pants, fists curled into the crisp white of Leon’s wifebeater. You’ll take anything he gives you and love it, but it’s you who should be apologizing. You who should feel the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. You want the head slipping and sliding down your throat, you want your face streaked in tears and snot by the time he’s done it’s you.

Oh, how you’ve missed this. Leon’s cock is thick and sticky, pre beading at the pretty, pink tip and dripping down it’s fat head. You watch it drip, slow and shiny as it trails down his pulsing shaft. Weeping, his cock twitches with each open breath you blow against it, jumping as his balls tighten. They’re pretty and round, symmetrical on both sides, but not nearly as pretty as his shaft. Thick and curving upwards past his belly button, Leon’s cock has a sensitive vein you want to run your tongue over, trailing up from his balls to the tip, collecting the sticky precum as it falls down into your mouth.

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You trail off, eyes focused solely on the pretty, shiny head of his dick.

“Don’t need to beg, I’ll give it to you. All you want,” You stick out your tongue, cute and pink as you’re ready to suckle along the head of his cock, but instead you’re met with the warmth of his big hand gripping your jaw. His thumb latches onto your bottom lip, rubbing the soft skin as he blinks down at you, his voice smooth and buttery as he commands, “Slow and steady.”

The tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail between them, as you finally take his cock into your mouth. He’s salty and somewhat bitter, spreading heavy along your tongue, and you can’t help but swallow around the head. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head.

“So. . . so wet,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way they’re clenched tight and his hand is morphing into a fist full of your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum. “Those. . noises. And you’re so.. cute.”

He offers a sharp thrust that has him disappearing down your tight throat, squeezing just right along his twitching shaft. Your jaw aches the further he’s pushed inside, until your nose is buried in his trimmed, gingerbread pubes. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, with the way he lets out a hushed apology for fucking your throat so deep, with the way he’s whining out a constant stream of “You’re such a good boy.”

Praise. He’s so good at it, it’s got you absentmindedly drooling and gagging on his dick. You’re eager to drag out more, running your tongue along his big, veiny cock until Leon’s throwing his head back— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock is filling your empty mouth, using you like some sort of pre-lubed fleshlight with his balls slapping against your chin in wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until it’s being rubbed along your cheeks.

“That’s it, good boy, just a little more. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Leon’s hand keeps you buried against his pubes until your throat is squeezing and contracting, milking his cock and wrapped plush around the thick head. You can feel it, each twitch and throb of his heavy cock, even when he’s cumming down your throat, sticky and thick ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You want to show him. You’re marked for good, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before pulling off.

“Oh, baby,” Leon’s voice is just as hoarse as your own, eyes following the display of cum resting hot and sticky on your tongue. “Think you can do something for me?”

He leads you up with a gentle hand, wrapped around your throat until you’re sat taut in his lap, thighs on each side of his waist. Leon’s hands are impeccably soft, even as he’s pushing them past your lips and spreading the saltiness of them along your tongue with a gentle, “suck.” You’re eager to please, taking the warm digits in your mouth and separating them with your tongue. The squelches in return are loud and wet, a mixture of cum and drool leaving between the gaps of his fingers and your lips. Your eyelids feel heavy, brain foggy as he pushes them deeper into your mouth, just enough to have you gagging softly.

Then they’re gone.

In his own mouth now, he’s tasting remnants of his cum and pulling off his fingertips with a wet ‘pop!’while his free hand digs for the vanilla lube hidden somewhere in the couch.

“You’re gonna bounce on my fingers like a good boy,” both hands are at your briefs, tugging them down until there’s a loud ripping sound. Your eyes jet between Leon’s wide eyes and your tattered underwear, surprised. You’re not sure if he meant to do that, but it doesn’t matter, because your cock springs to life and jumps against your tummy. “Then my good boy’s gonna take it in his pussy. Okay?”

The question is barely registered but you’re nodding anyway, melting in the brunette’s strong embrace. His hands spread you open, one playing with the squishy flesh of your bum while the other’s slick fingers circle around your puckered entrance. With a wet ‘squilck’ the first finger is in, impossibly deep and hot as your gooey hole sucks it in further. You just can’t get enough, rocking your hips down to the last knuckle and grinding your cock against his own. There’s a sharp smack to your ass, the skin rippling under Leon’s quick palm as he groans, “Hnnh, so noisy n’ I barely started.”

His fingers have always been able to reach deeper than your own, sweet and tantalizing along your prostate as he finds it like he knows it, pressing and pressing and pressing until you’re seeing stars. He adds another, two in total, that slip past your velvety opening with almost no resistance. Usually you’d have to take a third, maybe, but he wants you to really feel it.

“Shh, sh. You hear it?” There’s another swat, stinging and loud as it hits the same exact spot. Your back arches beautifully, his fingers jolting deeper. You're quick to shake your head. “The dirty noises your hole’s makin’ while it takes my fingers?”

You’ll never get used to Leon’s cute face sputtering out such filthy words, it’s like whiplash. And you’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, it’s hard to hear over the fog and sounds of your own babbling, but you can hear yourself answering anyway, “S’cause you fuck me so good.”

“Think it’ll be just as loud on my cock?”

“Even louder.” You whine, head falling forward into his thick shoulder as the head of his cock traces your slick, soft rim. There’s a cold trickle behind you, loud and squeaky— it’s more lube, enough to coat his cock, your ass, and then some. Enough to have the head of his cock catching on your entrance every time he slides it along your crack. There’s a soft kiss to your cheek, and a free hand creeps up your back to hold you there by the back of your head. You’re turning into a puddle, whining into the shell of Leon’s ear as his dick slides its first inch inside.

Your hole is so tiny. Even after being stretched full of his fingers, you’re gripping his cock like a vice. There’s a tiny, thin band where his head disappears into your warm hole, stretching and shining and sucking his dick further inside. You’re just so tight, sticky and inviting insides that feel like velvet around his thick, throbbing cock. Even as he tries to go slow, sucking in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, Leon can’t get enough. His cheeks are flushed, deepening and blooming down his neck as he grips the globes of your ass and spreads them apart wide. Cold air runs along your hole, chilly enough to have you whining.

“F-hu-uuck, so tight,” He gasps, blinking rapidly as he watches your face fall into something floaty and, if he’s honest, cockdrunk. Twitching around him so much, you’re milking his cock for all it's got despite him barely being buried completely inside. Part of him wants to keep you on his tip, slipping it in and out your cute entrance until he’s shooting between the spheres of your ass, getting you sticky and hot with his cum. Marking you. “God, hhm, your pussy’s quivering around me so good…”

“Lee. . Leon, I can’t, want it so bad but I can’t. . .” You definitely can— in fact, you have. But he’s just so big, splitting you in two and whiting your brain out.

“Too much? Oh—haah— poor baby. Want me to stop?” He stills his hips, a breathless smile forming on his face when you try to take the reins. You lace your fingers with his own, squeezing hard as you rock your hips back and forth. “No? Then take it for me.”

Take it you do. Your body jerks as he fucks up into you, balls slapping against your ass and cock sliding against your prostate as sloppy, shallow sounds of your poor, drenched hole fill the room. Leon’s hair sticks to his forehead, stringy and disheveled as he whispers into your skin, grabbing handful after handful of your backside.

Beside you, his phone rings.

Leon nearly jumps out of his own skin, patting around the sofa to find his cell— trapped beneath a cushion. You don’t have time to read the Caller ID, something that begins with a ‘K’, but it’s clear he’s going to decline it. With the way he doesn’t spare a glance at you until after he’s got it in hand, and—

“Leon Kennedy.” His grip on your hips is enough to bruise, rocking your body down against his own. You can’t help but gasp, your thoughts spinning like clockwork in your head until your brain has gone light and airy like sugary, sweet cotton candy. All you can do is tighten around his dick, show Leon how much better you are than whoever’s on the phone. You can be good, you’re a good boy.

And you must’ve said it out loud, because he’s decided to busy your mouth with thick, sticky fingers. Even then, your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelching and slapping of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, and if he looks close enough he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. You really are a good boy.

His fingers are hooked in your mouth, drawing pathetic sounds out of you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you can’t stop bouncing. Your thighs ache and burn but you want it so bad, your neglected cock stuttering along with your hips as he’s pushed deeper and deeper with every small ‘uh-huh!’ that leaves your lips.

“Yeah, that’s right,” He says into the phone, but it sounds more reserved for you. “Ah, yes sir. This job was. . . Christ, it was made for me!” He pulls the phone away for a brief moment. “This ass was made for me.”

His eyes are trained on you as he shoves his phone between his shoulder and ear, both hands on your hips to raise you on and off his cock. Your lip is bitten raw between your teeth, and you don’t realize he’s coaxing it free until he’s speaking, “Let ‘em hear who you belong to. Who’s that?”

“You! You, Leon. Leon.” Like a prayer, his name comes out slurred and crackly. An uninterrupted stream of titles and nicknames reserved just for him, your nails claw at his muscled back.

“That’s right, you’re mine,” There’s a hard, choppy thrust forward as he releases a hand to wrap it around your sensitive, weeping cock, “And this cock? This hole? Mine too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yours,” Clamping down on his shaft, your hand finds the small gap where his cock reappears. Your fingertips trace it, completely soaked but enough to have his balls tightening. “And you’re mine.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” His phone falls to his side, hushed whines leaving the brunette’s strawberry lips. “All yours, whenever you want. Got that? My good boy gets to have his cock whenever he wants.”

His hand is fast and slick, his thumb running over your slit every so often just to watch the way your body convulses in response. But Leon’s sweet, he’s always been sweet to you, sweet enough to twist his fist the closer it gets to the tip. Sweet enough to tighten the grip he has around you when he gets to the base— when he can feel you’re about to cum.

“Oh, please!” With a dry sob you’re tugging at his wrist, wriggling your hips and falling back into his thick cock. “Wanna cum, Lee. Please let me cum, please.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t tap out now. You can cum for me when I say so, okay?” Your begging goes straight to his dick, pulsating and bullying the small bundle of nerves nestled in the heart shape of your ass. You can’t stop crying, handsome face covered in tears as you ride out the everlasting stretch of his cock forcing you open, just to leave you empty. Again, again, again.

You feel like molten lava, silky and warm as wet spurts of lube catch between the skin of your ass and his pelvis. He can’t take it, just as wrecked as you are when he feels his balls go rigid and impossibly full— he needs to claim you. Now.

His cum is warm— so thick and filling when he shoots right against your prostate. You’ve never felt more full in your life, your thighs lightly squeezing together in his lap as he releases your cock with one, two, three strokes. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, loud squeals and cries of ‘Leon!’ as your cock twitches and pulses— cum leaking down his fingers as it catches along his fist. And he could be cruel, continuing to pump your cock past its limits. But instead he gauges your reaction with a few slow, experimental tugs— pulling away when your thighs start to shake a little too much.

“One more request for you, sweetheart.” He raises his hand, a slow drip of your own cum landing on his tummy. His hand is brought to your mouth, and Leon watches with an adoring coo as you lick it clean. It’s obvious you’re trying to stay present, trying not to sink too far deep into that sweet, mellow headspace he’s put you in.

“Thank you.” He says, though you’re much too tired to figure out just what he’s thanking you for. Leon pulls you off his cock despite your absentminded protests, blowing air through protruding cheeks when your rim is reluctant to let go.

“Mhm.” Your tongue is thick like molasses, eyes slowly blinking as you’re moved to sit beside him.

“Can I see, please?” He’s already maneuvering you onto your back and spreading your legs wide by your thighs and ankles, yet his pretty eyes flicker up to meet your face, almost as if he’s actually asking. They drastically brighten when you offer a tiny, well-fucked nod. His hands spread you open, watching his cum dribble from your used hole in collective globs. Makes you feel small and properly kept, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your pretty hole clenches around air.

Leon closes his eyes like he’s trying not to cream his (metaphorical) pants all over again, his thumb rubbing a sizable glob into your skin. Your legs close around his hand, holding him still as you whine.

“I know, I know. I’ll be gentle.” There’s a sweet, simple kiss placed to the back of your thigh before Leon stands, disappearing into what your lidded eyes can’t quite make out. But you know you’re whining, something about a ‘sorry’ or an ‘I made a mistake’ before his big, warm hands are back to hold onto your own.

Something wet and dripping— a cloth, is rubbed into your skin, slow and tender and later replaced by sprinkled kisses.

“Can I. . . stay, Lee?” You want to wince at the sound of your own voice, but you don’t think you have the energy to do so yet. You’re being pulled into his arms, sturdy and comforting— even with the faint smell of sex and musk damp on his skin.

“You’d be crazy to think I’m letting you go again.”

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mishapeep · 1 month

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Uh, I saw your post and you mentioned that you teach the kids... how do I put it... that are given to you at social functions due your park ranger aura for safekeeping how to tell the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal lightning bugs.

And then you didn't tell us that secret! May I ask you to share the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal ones?

Thank you very much :)

By popular demand and because this was the most polite ask: how to tell the predatory lightning bugs from the non-predatory lightning bugs.

First, there are over 2000 species in Lampyridea. I am not qualified to distinguish between all that. I grew up in Northern Ohio (71 species) and every year summer wasn’t official until the lightning bugs came out in the evenings (usually the first or second week of June).

This is our first clue. The first lightning bugs out each evening are a species of non-predatory chaps. Their glow goes in a special pattern. Flash, pause, “J” shaped flight about 2 -3’ off the ground. Repeat. Their glow is more yellow and lingers. These are the males of Photinus pyralis or the common eastern firefly. They look like this:

(Photo from iNaturalist: a lightning bug beetle, mostly black with gold lines around the wing casing. Head shield is yellow with a red “eye” with black iris in the center. Rounded front and back, long down the center.)

Their females hide in tall grasses waiting for the right suitor. If you’re lucky and clever you can see her dimmer flash in the grass beaconing the males closer.

As the dark of night progresses you’ll start to see a quicker, brighter, greener flash. Blip, blip, blip, blip, long pause. They are FAST! They’ll also mimic the flashes of Photinus females. These are usually higher up off the ground. Even in the trees! These lightning bugs aren’t looking for love.

Photuris (not gonna get to specific epitaph on this one without a sample and a key) are looking for dinner!

(Photo from blog.greatparks.org another lightning bug beetle. This one is slightly larger than the non-predatory bug. It has “shoulders” and extra gold lines running through the back. Its legs are longer and its shield is more “sharp”. The shield marking is less like an eye and more like a yellow D where the inside is a red triangle with a black line running through.)

Another way to tell is to go out at night and catch a bunch of lightning bugs (if you can; I hear they’re getting scarce). Offer them a slice of apple. If you wake up in the morning to only a few and the rest are dead, good chance you found some predators. (This is how I found out about them! Wooops!!)

Lightning bugs are freaking magical. I’m so sad to hear that they are yet another wonder that we are losing at an alarming rate. If this bugs you as much as it bugs me there are a few things you can do to help them:

1) do not spray for mosquitoes! That spray is not-species specific. It’s bad for lightning bugs. It’s bad for monarch butterflies. It’s bad for birds. It’s bad for bats. It’s bad.

2) kill your lawn. But Misha! You said they breed in the grasses! True! However native plants are going to provide so much more habitat for these guys than a gross monoculture of Kentucky bluegrass ever will. The Midwest has some of the best native plant nurseries in the country! Use that resource!

3) Advocate for them and donate to conservation if you’re able. Bugs don’t have voices and they fight an uphill battle just for being a bug.

Thanks for joining my ranger talk! Support your parks.

#lightning bug #fireflies #firefly #glow worm #bug #bugs #beetles

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onenicebugperday · 10 months

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Hi!! I'm trying to get over my overwhelming fear of crane flies, is there any way you could supply some fun facts about them? Specifically pedicia albivitta but there's so many species and not a lot of information I can find about them

Well for starters all crane flies are entirely harmless. They don't have mouthparts capable of biting and can't sting or pinch or anything. If they fly at you it's because they don't see you or register you as something to avoid, not because they're attacking or have any reason to land on you.

Despite common belief and sometimes being referred to as mosquito hawks or skeeter eaters, they do not eat mosquitoes, and are in fact incapable of eating them because they don't have the right mouthparts.

Most adults don't eat at all, but if they do, they eat nectar, pollen, or sap, or just drink water. They really only live long enough as adults to breed (1-2 weeks), so there's not much need to feed.

Some aquatic crane fly larvae are thought to eat mosquito larvae, but I'm not sure I've ever seen a reliable source on that. Larvae can be either aquatic, semiaquatic, or terrestrial and what they eat depends on their environment, but mostly I've seen that they're detrivores, so they help with soil health like other decomposers. They're also a big source of food for other animals like predatory insects, spiders, frogs, fish, and birds. Probably bats, too, I imagine. So they do play an important role in ecosystems!

Also they can be really beautiful! Some of them even mimic wasps with pretty black and yellow stripes. I'll show you my fav species, though, the eastern phantom crane fly:

What a beauty! Look at those stripey socks. Adorable.

Also they sometimes hang from foliage in the cutest way:

Lol. Silly.

Photos by ianmanning and germain_savard

#insects #bugs #fly #diptera #crane fly #eastern phantom crane fly #apho-sappho #the more you know #bug fear

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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How would Host react if one day I decided to dress up as and mimic him for a show

Just what are you up to today?

As a consumer of tricks and mischief himself, Host could tell you had a few up your sleeve from the smirk in your eyes down to the tiny hiccups between each word as you asked him to keep all eyes off your dressing room today. Cute. He decided to play along as he had full trust you wouldn't run off, and only a monster would resist such a harmless and innocent request. He was a tad disappointed to hear you wouldn't be there to start the show, but as long as you were there by its climax it'd be yet another smash hit. Host figured he'd do his part and hype up the crowd for your arrival. He hasn't been this excited since that corrupt politician you brought on the other week. His tie is grey today. That's an interesting development

The curtains draw and Host steps out on stage, welcomed by the cheers and appulse of your crowd. They're a rowdy lot today - right off the bat. What's got them so livened up already?

"Good-Day, Folks. Welcome to another exciting episode of your favorite show -"

"With your favorite host!"

Host taps his mic. He wasn't used to feedback unless for comedic effect. The crowd cheers and hollers all the same from the combined greeting - and from the unsteady click of heels on the title floor Host knew he was no longer alone. He twists his head to look back at the figure emerging from the cover of shadows - microphone in hand.

"Well, Well - what's this now? Surprised to see me?"

A confident smirk dawns their face; stride as professional and flashy as their bandaged eyes could lead guided by two stage hands. Their usual flare swapped out with a grey business suit. Hair slicked back to the best of their capabilities and voice carrying that boastful charm. His copy walks up to him, halted by one of their helpers. They whisper something in their ear and the copy's smile grows.

"If it isn't my doppelganger. Handsome devils, aren't we?"

Host does a doubletake at your attire; camera zoomed in on you from all angles. Posture to dress - you were a spitting image; eyes wrapped up with some bandages to complete his signature look. Feeling the relentless stares you've grown accustomed to, you tilt your head up at him. You swap your mic with his as you saulter over to his desk, kicking your feet up on the table as you take your seat. Your left leg missing the table due to your altered sight, but you pick yourself back up and swing it over your right.

"That's better. These shoes are killing me. Speaking of which, how are our dear guests?."

The stage goes dead quiet. Not even a whisper, or an awkward cough to clear the air. You lift your hand up to remove the bandages.

"Haha..."

Host's chest rises with a breath.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

He keels over, clutching his ribcage as he bellows a pitched laugh perfectly synced with the millions of voices in the crowd. He laughs harder, bending to his knees as he squeezes his chest tighter and tighter til theirs a faint crack!. He snickers; practically wheezing as he tries to get out a single word between his fit of hysterics. He scrapes black mucus from the corners of his mouth, shoulders bouncing with a silent giggle as he rises and stumbles over in your direction.

"Y/n... Your performance.. It's so spectacular, it's moved me to tears! I knew I picked the most excellent show host in the biz. I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I think I've fallen in love all over again! I knew you'd always upstage me, but if there's anyone who could successfully steal my show - it's you."

The overhead lights blind you as he carefully peals the wrappings from your face. "But if I can make one request, do be a me solid and don't cover up these pretty eyes of yours. Can't have a good show if every part of you isn't accounted for, and you'll need them to see the faces on our dear guests when we bring them out. Today, more than any, we'll knock'em for sure. I look forward to your full act."

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #Host my oc #yandere god #yandere teratophilia #soft yandere

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raven-nerd4life · 3 months

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nevermore animals

lenore- raven

Annabel- dove or swan

Duke- octopus or raccoon

Prospero- rat

Pluto- black cat

Montresor- goat

Bernice- bat

Eulalie- ferret

Will- mimic octopus

#nevermore webcomic #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee nevermore #nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee #annabel lee whitlock #eulalie nevermore #Bernice nevermore #pluto nevermore #duke nevermore #prospero nevermore #montresor nevermore #will nevermore

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minnesota-fats · 6 months

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Snow Bat

Ch 1

Danny, a homeless kid living on the street. Bruce, a rich kid obsessed with trying to find his parents' murderers. They both meet one rainy night at age eighteen, and from that night forward their fates are intertwined forever more.

All is as it should be.

Danny remembers the night like it had just happened—but I guess you will witness it first hand. He had situated himself on a street corner, not busy enough to have a constant set of eyes on him—but then again no one really batted an eye at a homeless kid here in Gotham. Though, Danny did not consider himself a kid anymore. Not after all he had been through, though that doesn’t matter right now. Danny was sitting on the concrete walkway, not really paying attention, just sitting in thought on what he should do next. He had gotten this far, but he still needed to figure out what to do next. He had come into town with a bag of clothes and a wallet full of money. Thought that didn't last long when in a shitty part of town, known for muggers and killers.

Danny didn't really put up much of a fight either, he was too tired to really do anything and most importantly he didn't want to use the abilities that he has. Sure, it would have made getting away easier but when did Danny ever do things the easy way? So, in the end he was down one bag of clothes and any identification and money. Though while on the run, you don't really want people to know who you are. The only purpose his ID had was just to serve as a reminder of who he was, now with it gone, Danny can really start anew. He just had to figure out what he was going to do.

Danny didn't really register the rain until he felt it stop pelting his head aggressively. He looked up and was confused to see an expensive looking umbrella positioned over his head. Danny followed the hand holding the umbrella to see a young man who was surrounded by a halo of the street lamp shining directly behind him.danny tilted his head to the side to examine the man, he had stormy gray blue eyes and slicked back black hair that started to lose shape as the rain began to wet it and his suit jacket. Danny could feel his heart skip a beat, something very noticeable when your heartbeat is as slow as his. The man looked down at him and tilted his head to mimic Danny's own head tilt.

The young man’s name is Bruce Wayne, heir to the Wayne family fortune. He had been walking around to clear his head after he had a fierce argument with his father figure Alfred. Bruce had stormed out of the vehicle and began walking away in a random direction. Bruce knew that Alfred wouldn't be too far behind, knowing how protective he was of Bruce. During his walk however Bruce had spotted what looked like a kid no older than eighteen, sure he was the same age, but Bruce hadn’t considered himself a kid for a long time despite what others around him might say. He tightened his grip on the umbrella and without much thought he walked closer to the young man. As Bruce got closer he could see the man had a busted lip and swollen downcast eyes. There were smudges of blood on his dirty hoodie and a steady stream of pink bloody water dripping from his hair. It is clear to Bruce that this young man had just been on the losing side of a fight or at least a beating.

It reminded Bruce of how he used to get into fights in primary school after- Bruce didn't want to think about that right now. Bruce walked toward the man and used his umbrella to shield the man from the rain. When the young man looked up, Bruce couldn't help but admire how bright this man's eyes were—at least the one that wasn’t swollen shut. The young man in front of Bruce had unbelievably blue eyes that almost looked purple as the light shifted when the young man tilted his head to the side in confusion, Bruce mimicked the movement.

Bruce knelt down to be at eye level with the other man, “what happened?” He asked, voice smooth and unassuming.

“Got my shit stolen,” Danny says with a shrug, his voice sounding hoarse from the disused. Danny coughed and cleared his throat, “what does it look like?”

Bruce looked him over, “you seem to have suffered several contusions that range from a not so serious looking busted lip to a concerning head wound that may or may not need stitches.”

Danny tilted his head the opposite direction, “oh,” was all he could think of saying, dumbfounded by the sudden medical analysis.

“If you would like I can take you to the hospital,” Bruce offered, “my car is just around the corner.”

Danny’s eyes widened, “no! No hospital,” he exclaimed. His back straightened up as he tried to lean forward, but the sudden movement made him feel dizzy. “I, umm…. Can't afford it….” He tries, sounding unsure.

Bruce looked harder at the young man in front of him, “money isn't an issue,” Bruce starts. But the tension in the man's form made him reconsider his approach, “But if you want I can treat you at my home,” He offered.

Danny calmed down at what the man said, “No, it's ok. I'll be fine,” he starts as he leans back down against the wall, not taking his eyes away from the man in front of him. “I don't want to impose.”

“Then do you have somewhere I can take you? I’m not leaving you here alone.” Bruce says, stubbornly.

“Really buddy, I’m good, I don’t need-” he tries but Bruce cuts him off.

“I promise you, I won't hurt you,” Bruce tried again, “If you want you can even stay the night, have a warm meal and shower. I just want to help you.”

Danny looked at this man again, really looked at him. Danny could feel that this guy really meant it, he wanted to help danny—no strings attached. Danny let out a groan before leaning forward and shaking his head in annoyance. Danny looked back up into the man's eyes, “fine,” Danny grumbles out, “only for a hot shower. But if you're a serial killer I'm gonna be real pissed off.”

The man smiled and reached out his hand for Danny to take, “don’t worry, my name is Bruce. What’s yours?”

Danny accepted Bruce's hand and groaned as he helped hoist him up, “name’s Danny,” he responds, “I think I might have a broken rib or two,” he admits, swaying a bit as he clutched his side.

“To be expected when mugged in Gotham,” Bruce said darkly. The comment made Danny snort a bit in laughter. Bruce smiled a bit as he pulled Danny closer to him so they could both share the umbrella, Bruce could see the man tensed up a bit before resting into Bruce’s side. It was like that Bruce led the injured man to the edge of the sidewalk just as a sleek black car drove up and parked in front of them. Danny seemed to tense up again at the sight of the car, looking like he was ready to bolt. Bruce made sure to keep his posture passive, hopefully to convey that they were not in any danger.

The front window rolled down to reveal the familiar face of Alfred, “I see you have made a friend, Master Bruce.” He commented as he moved to get out of the car.

“No need to get out Alfred, I got the door.” Bruce says softly and he pulls Danny along and opens the back door. He holds the umbrella up above the door to allow Danny to get in first. As Bruce guides him down to sit Danny groans again as settled in. Bruce smiled at Danny reassuringly before he closed the car door and ran to the other side to get in. Once in the car Bruce looked forward at Alfred who looked through the rear view mirror at his ward, “to home please, Alfred, I promise my friend here a warm meal and shower,” Bruce explained before looking back at Danny, “after I check his wounds,” he says directing that part to danny who just groaned in annoyance before looking out the window.

Alfred smiled softly at the display of fragile trust, proud of his ward’s stubbornness when it comes to others safety.

Hopefully, this will be good for both young men, the old butler thought as he took note of the state the new man was in.

If only he knew how significant this meeting actually was.

Only time will tell.

—

Remaining chapters on ao3:

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#danny fenton #bruce wayne #teen bruce wayne #young bruce wayne #pre batman #au #dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #spirit halloween #I hate that ship name #but whatever #danny fenton/bruce wayne #danny fento x bruce wayne #yep #uwu #fluff #maybe art in the future

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