#I want to do colors in milk also though

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[honeytonedhottie]

honeys it girl magazine october edition!!⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the october catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

HOW TO HAVE THE MOST DOLLY SLUMBER PARTY EVER ;

when i think of the month of october i think of GLAMOROUS parties. and that incorporates girly slumber parties, halloween parties, a LOT of parties. SOO the kind of party that i wanted to focus on in this month's catalogue is slumber parties.

to throw a successful slumber party we first need a plan. make sure that u have refreshments, entertainment, invitations and all of that planned. if u wanna have a SUPER cute slumber party have a theme. some theme ideas can be

♡ victoria's secret (V.S. pj's, lingerie, everyone wears a V.S. robe etc)♡ 2000's ♡ movie based pajamas♡ a color scheme (black and pink is my fave)

and we can't have our girls being bored at our slumber party can we? make sure that u plan fun activities like having a fashion show (playing dress up) playing dress to impress or video games like that, baking sweet treats, karaoke, dolling each other up ETC. for refreshments you could do a snack bar or make mocktails, you could even do a milkshake station!

THE VICTORIA'S SECRET FASHION SHOW 2024 ANALYSIS ;

🧁 anok yai’s floral number (she’s literally blooming, she looks like a FLOWER. her hair is giving barbie dolll and ultimately she had my favorite look of the whole entire night. the WINGSSS, the shoes everything just goes together beautifully.)

🧁 gigi hadid (she looks like a lavender princess fairy and it looks amazing on her. but PLEASEE why the slick hair?? when i think victorias secret im thinking of bouncy voluminous hair. i LOVE her wings though. they're so big and over the top and i love it)

🧁 imaan hamman (also goes with lisa and anok yai in my top three favorite looks of the night. its so simple but in my opinion her look gives the victorias secret that we all know and love the most.)

🧁 alex consani (i rly rly love baby blue on her, again, please bring back bouncy voluminous hair. and i kinda wish they gave her fluffier wings.)

🧁 lisa’s black lacy number (def one of my favorites on the whole runway. i wish she had black lacy wings instead of the structured ones but easily one of my favorites)

🧁 maty fall (the silk, the feathers, chefs KISS. in his case i think the minimal wings look the prettiest because her outfit is fuller, the delicate wings complement it beautifully.)

OCTOBER BODYCARE, MAKEUP AND FRAGRANCE FAVORITES ;

body care : hello kitty strawberry oat milk body balm from creme, vanilla creme brûlée body lotion from hempz (this one smells like HEAVEN), and fresh cream by philosophy. i rly loved the nyx marshmallow primer and for fragrance the soft and dreamy scent from victorias secret PINK (it just gives me so much nostalgia around this season 💗🍬)

DRESS TO IMPRESS NEW UPDATE ;

dress to impress is every hottie's favorite game, and when DTI dropped its halloween update, everyone including myself was so super STOKED about it. there are new codes and SO many new possibilities unlocked. speaking of codes…💬🎀

❤︎ CH00P1E_1S_B4CK (boots, jacket and skirt)

❤︎ UMOYAE (skater dress)

❤︎ D1ORST4R (star purse and hair bow)

❤︎ S3M_0W3N_Y4Y (axe weapon)

OCTOBER IT GIRL ACTIVITIES ;

like i said in the first section of this month's magazine, i associate october with PARTIES and ik a lot of us are going to halloween parties so i just wanted to share some rules of thumb especially if its ur first party, on how to have fun while also being safe.

make sure that u have a designated driver at all times

don't overdo it with the drinks, thats never hot

make sure u have ice cold water to sip on, on the car ride home

be careful, make sure that drinks are poured in front of u or you get them yourself

dont party by yourself GO WITH A FRIEND U TRUST AND STICK TOGETHER

and of course have fun 🍭 this year im dressing up as the white rabbit from alice in wonderland so im super excited to look cute and have fun with my friends

if partying is not ur thing there are SO many fun things that you can do this october. for example binge watching october movies, or doing fall related activities like we talked about in last month's section. some movies that i love to watch in october are

♡ jennifer's body

♡ ginger snaps

♡ scream

♡ the love witch

i dont usually watch things that are too scary which is why my list is so short 😭 i get scared rly easily so i try and watch movies that aren't SO scary but if you like that there are some rly good ones out there.

WHATS MY HOROSCOPE? (OCTOBER 27-31)

♡ for virgo, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings an unexpected opportunity to your financial realm and a boost of confidence as it allows you to showcase your talents. a surprising gift of abundance arrives! jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to review your long-term goals over the next five months.

♡ for aries, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your relationships. unstable connections will be tested while authentic bonds will be strengthened. look for opportunities in love. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth, traveling backward through the sign of gemini and your communication sector. between now and february 2025, you’re invited to explore the ways in which you connect with others. explore a variety of ways to express your mind. jupiter loves to facilitate growth, even when retrograde, making this a profound time to learn quickly.

♡ for taurus, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 awakens your mind, body, and soul! touching down in your sector of self-care, the eclipse offers the opportunity to embrace a new cycle of health and wellness. your skills will receive a boost. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth in your zone of money and resources, challenging you to explore a new approach to the material world over the next five months.

♡ for gemini, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your romantic life. an empowering new cycle begins that encourages you to embrace pleasure and distance yourself from people or situations that no longer bring authentic joy. this is a time to prioritize what truly makes you happy. jupiter stations retrograde in your sign on the ninth, urging you to reinvent yourself over the next five months.

♡ for cancer, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 lands in your zone of intuition and brings a new cycle of emotional strength. this eclipse could bring unexpected changes to your environment, so be sure to honor your comfort and security. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your zone of rest on the ninth, inviting you to relax over the next five months.

♡ for leo, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your communication zone, setting off a new cycle of connection. unexpected information emerges that inspires you to action. jupiter stations retrograde in your friendship sector on the ninth. over the next five months, consider ways you can strengthen your bonds with others.

♡ for libra, on october 2, a powerful eclipse in your sign brings surprising new beginnings! personal revelations provide fresh excitement for the future. as you walk a new path, remember how powerful you are. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to learn through experience over the next five months.

♡ for scorpio, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse touches down in your zone of rest, encouraging surrender and relaxation. through soul-searching, this eclipse could bring forth a much-needed spiritual awakening. the energy is also creative and imaginative. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to embrace transformation over the next five months.

♡ for sagittarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your zone of friendship and hope, inspiring faith for the future. expect surprising information in your social circles! an exciting new collaboration could be in the works. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your relationship realm on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your role in your closest connections over the next five months.

♡ for capricorn, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse awakens your career zone, encouraging you to step into your power! an unexpected opportunity to showcase your gifts emerges, and important people are noticing your strengths. surprises related to your career could open new pathways to success. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to explore new self-care practices over the next five months.

♡ for aquarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your sector of adventure, eliciting excitement! you could be taking an unexpected trip or seizing an opportunity to broaden your horizons. knowledge is power, and this eclipse could provide surprising information that helps you expand. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your creative side over the next five months.

♡ for pisces, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings major transformation in your realm of money and intimacy! unexpected changes open new doors of opportunity, and while this is exciting, it requires you to face your shadow and abandon fear. a surprising, magical moment of abundance emerges. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, inviting you to rest and embrace comfort over the next five months.

[dominolemon]

THIS WAS MY FAVORITE SCENE I THINK SO I HAD TO MAKE IT MORE DRAMATICC

This season had a lot of faults yeah but I will still forever love Lloyd in most of every season because it’s Lloyd he’s trying his best to get by everyday with being a mentor a master and a savior pretty much, I honestly wish they focused on Lloyd way more for this I wanted just a tad more like- trauma even though he’s been through so much already (it’s a personal thing I really like when characters suffer)

But in my opinion I’d say this was a pretty violent of a attack so who am I to say

I wanted to add more drama to this scene so I made her actually cut/stab him instead of the sword just breaking on impact, I think it would break but I think having him get a physical scar from it would be so enjoyable to draw but obviously I know they can’t really do that

Some extra fun little sketches I did and a bit of me rambling

This was definitely a excuse to draw Lloyd agnst and I did add my own things to it for fun so take that

Also I’d just like to talk about how he was shown visions of him losing and he had to fight anyway yall gotta let this man breathe for a moment, but even after he finally woke up he tried to fight again injured GET THIS MAN SOME MILK

(Also I made the twins power hand thingy the same color as princess Celestia since they have the same voice)

[bamfkeeper]

Pregnancy

RQ: 'Hi! Hope you’re having a good day! I Saw your requests were open! Would I be able to get some headcannons for Kurt as a father/with a pregnant reader? If not that’s perfectly fine!' - @cherri-leaf

Warnings: Kurt x f!reader, pregnancy topics, birth and baby themes

A/N: This is not helping my baby fever. Do I care? Nope. Soo happy to get one of these, I love writing things like this. Ignore any grammar errors bitte und danke.

Kurt would be the best father to be. When he found out you were pregnant, he was completely overjoyed.

He would absolutely do everything in his power to make sure that you are comfortable and happy throughout your pregnancy. He can hardly wait, and he'd want you completely stress-free during.

Kurt would always ask what he can do to help, he wouldn't want you bending over or lifting anything.

Kurt is an excellent cook, so he'd be cooking a lot of your meals. He doesn't want to control you, but he only wants you to be eating the best foods he can get you. And cooking it himself, he knows exactly what is going in your body and feeding your baby.

His German heritage comes out more, he likes to feed you typical German meals, most of which are high in protein and good for your body. Lot of meat and potatoes, and lots of fruits and veggies.

He does let you have desserts too, he makes them himself though. Or if you want to bake with him that's obviously okay! He loves to bake, as long as you don't get too tired with your belly.

He loves massaging you, knowing how laborious and exhausting pregnancy can be. He always tries his best to massage parts that hurt. Kurt massages your legs, ankles, feet, back. He also tenderly will massage your breasts, it's good for milk production and to help the tissue as your milk comes in.

One of his favorite things is to sit down and lay his head beside your belly. He loves listening to your little one most around, gently rubbing over it and speaking to it. He talks in German to your little one, speaking soft and sweet, laying kisses all over your stomach.

Kurt does a ton of research on pregnancy too. Before you are even pregnant and you're both trying, he reads books and watches videos of pregnancy and what it does to your body, getting as much information as possible about it. He wants to know what he can do to take the best care of you. Plus he wants to understand what's happening to the love of his life.

Some of it makes him cringe, and he frowns seeing how your internal organs shift, or all the symptoms and mental strain pregnancy causes. "Liebe...I will do everything I can to help you. It is scary, but I will be right here." he reassures, even if you have no worries about it.

Does he go nuts over the nursery? YES. Circus themed, naturally. Without the bad parts of his youth of course. Lots of fun colors, circus stuffies, (elephants, zebras, lions, tigers, bears, oh my!), and he absolutely paints it with you.

He also loves to shower you with gifts during your pregnancy, some for the baby, but some for you too. He always makes sure your friends know what you need when the baby showers comes along.

Baby clothes shopping? He goes nuts. "Liebe, bitte, bitte our little one has to have lederhosen! Bitte!" he begs and pleads with you, and you can't resist for long.

He makes a lot of jokes when your baby moves around a lot. "Heh, takin' after me already? Mein Gott...a little acrobat you are..." he coos to your belly, "Careful now, little one, you're gonna hurt your mama." he kisses your belly where the baby seems to be doing summer saults.

Kurt does really well with your hormonal changes too. He understands, sometimes you get impatient or lose your temper, never at him, but things are so overwhelming and stressful sometimes. You get frustrated with your self esteem or the fact that standing up is always a struggle. He calms you down, helping you ground yourself. "What do you need, schatz...anything. Food, space, love?" he questions, wanting to ensure you are okay.

When you go into labor, he tries his best to stay calm but...he can't help it. He freaks out. He rushes to you, no teleporting, it makes you too dizzy. He helps you to Beast's lab, no hospitals, he heard about how they treated Madelyne, he didn't want to deal with that.

You feel better surrounded by friendly faces anyway.

Of course it's just him in the room when you do give birth, he talks you through, telling you how good you're doing...how close you are, to breathe, etc.

He is so worried, giving you lots of love and making sure you're doing okay above all else.

When your little one arrives, he is in complete awe. Imagine how you want the baby to look ofc, but come on...it's gotta be a little blue!

It is such a sweet bundle of joy, it doesn't cry more than necessary when it's first born, and you hold your baby as it's placed on you. Kurt doesn't care if it is a boy or girl, that is his little one and he will cherish it with you.

Kurt respects the motherly bonding, so he steps back and lets you hold and be the first one to cuddle and kiss, and of course warm the baby with your skin. It's a sight he won't forget.

Ideally, he'd like to name the baby a German name, but he of course talks with you if you have any cultural or personal preference. You both come to a conclusion on what to name your new baby.

He's the best after too. He does everything he can while you recover with the baby, and helps wherever is needed. He helps if you nurse, he cleans and cooks still, makes sure you have hot showers ready, anything you could imagine.

You know you and your baby will be forever and always be loved by your adorning blue teleporter ~

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[starsthewitch]

Star’s beginners guide to Aphrodite worship 🐚💕

Who is Aphrodite?

Aphrodite is the goddess of love, sex, beauty, seduction, and war. She is most commonly known for her immense beauty and her many associations with sex.

What are some things she is associated with?

Doves

Flowers like roses

The colors pink, red, blue, green, white, and gold

Crystals like rose quartz, clear quartz, pearls, diamonds, sapphires, amethyst, rubies, moonstones, and aquamarines

Incense that smells of rose, cinnamon, myrrh, frankincense, vanilla, and jasmine

Her tarot cards, The Lovers, The Empress, and The Star

What can I give to her as offerings?

Shells or shell imagery

Ocean imagery

Swan and dove imagery

Heart imagery

Valentine's day gifts like chocolates

Imagery/paintings that depict her

Roses or rose imagery

Doing skincare for her

Perfumes or colognes

Hairbrushes

Mirrors

Doing your makeup

Moonwater

Strawberries, apples,and raspberries

Devotional acts or things you can do in her honor

Giving compliments to people

Collecting things you find pretty

Wearing jewelry you've offered or devoted to her

Watch or read romantic material

Self-love

Masturbation (if comfortable in doing so)

Sex (if comfortable in doing so)

Wear perfume dedicated to her

Spend time with loved ones

Create a digital altar (these can be done on Pinterest)

Write poetry about her

Write a letter to her

Create or listen to a playlist dedicated to her

Talk to her (tarot cards, dice, pendulum, and other forms of divination work just fine)

What is it like working with her?

When it comes to Aphrodite, in myth, she was often known as a wrathful and jealous goddess. However, since the myths are just stories and are known to exaggerate some details, this isn’t usually the case.

However, when people mention to others that they are interested in working with Aphrodite, they usually say that you absolutely should not. That she is needy, requires a lot of attention and offerings, that if you don’t do what she says, she will take your beauty away.

This is also not the case.

In my experience as an Aphrodite worshipper, she is very loving, along with being insanely passionate. Also being very vocal about her needs and wants.

Often getting signs from her isn’t at all uncommon. I remember the first few weeks I started working with her, I got an image on my feed that had these two eels intertwined together in a heart shape.

You will often feel connected to sea life, the sea in general, wanting to do things for yourself like dressing nicer and wanting to take care of yourself more.

Here are some things I’ve experienced in my time in working with her.

When I first started praying to her, I stuttered and fumbled over my words. A lot. I was oddly nervous about it? I’m not the type to stutter and fumble often. But beginning to feel nervous and even embarrassed in the presence of the goddess of love? Very normal.

She often enjoys getting milk and dark chocolate, along with roses or any kind of flower, real or not. I gave her chocolates, a fake rose, and a real flower for valentines day and she was insanely happy with it. So much so that her candle rested in a heart shape for a short while.

I often saw butterflies, a symbol of Aphrodite.

I often feel inclined to go to the beach, collect seashells, and do things that make me feel good.

I feel more comfortable expressing love. Before, I was never the type to use pet names for people, especially for friends. But i’ve noticed that I now call people sweet and endearing names. Honeybun, sweet pea, boo, sweetie/sweetness, and babes are things i’ve been saying lately.

She is very honest, often not sugarcoating things. I asked her when my ex first asked me out if we’d last. She said no and gave me explicit reasons as to why. Though I still went out and dated them anyway, and it pretty much ended in the way she said.

She very much enjoys art work of her. I’ve drawn her a few times, asking her to guide my hand in doing so.

Whenever I feel unattractive or hate something about my appearance, she usually makes someone compliment me that day or that week. I was having an off day with my hair, and in that same hour, a girl walked up to me and said that she loved my hair and the style it was in.

That is it for my beginners Aphrodite worship guide! I will be doing these for the other two deities I work with, Apollo and Freyja.

I do hope these were helpful. If you have any questions or need assistance with anything, my ask box and my dms are always open. So be sure to shoot me a message!

Much love to you. <3

[eiightysixbaby]

santa baby

eddie munson x fem!reader

2.3k

summary: watching eddie play santa for your kids makes you want to show him some…. appreciation

cw: 18+ ONLY. reader and eddie are married & have kids, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink

Presents in crinkly patterned paper are placed delicately under the tree, your nimble fingers making sure each bow is perfect and every tag that reads ‘From: Santa’ is visible.

Eddie tip-toes into the living room from your bedroom, the final stack of gifts in his arms. Your two daughters sleep soundly in their beds, likely dreaming of those sugarplums the stories talk about. He hands you each present one by one, letting you find the perfect place for them around the base of your glittering tree. The tiny colored lightbulbs cast a pretty pink glow throughout the room, and it fills your heart with warmth.

When you’ve finished your work, you turn to see Eddie filling the stockings, the ball of his Santa hat bobbing with each movement. He hangs each one back on the mantle with so much care, he wouldn’t want to drop one and send one of your little ones running to see what caused the noise. A fire crackles in the fireplace, fending off the cold of the snowy landscape outside.

“Is that everything?” he double checks, giving you a sweet grin.

“Not quite. Santa has to eat his cookies,” you tease, moving closer to him and tugging on his hat as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Damn, how could I forget these delicious cookies?” he asks, kissing you on your cheek and squeezing a healthy handful of your ass before moving towards the small table that holds a plate of sugar cookies. You giggle, still blushing like you did the day you met him.

You can’t help but smile when you turn to look at the baked treats, each one having been eagerly frosted by tiny hands. The girls had done their very best, and you know your husband certainly won’t complain about a little too much icing dripping down the sides. A glass of milk rests beside the plate, and Eddie takes a hearty sip of it after polishing off his first cookie.

It makes your heart swell, the way he breaks off one little bit of the second cookie to leave on the plate. A tiny splash of milk rests in the bottom of the cup. To make it look as though Santa couldn’t quite finish it all. This is the first year your girls are both old enough to really enjoy and get excited about the holiday, and it makes you so happy to witness it through their eyes.

Having a partner that plays along perfectly only makes it sweeter. Honestly, Eddie has probably been more into it than you, making everything so fun for your children. He stops at nothing to make them happy, to make things magical for them. He makes things magical for you, too, and it fills you with an impossible amount of joy.

To your surprise, it also fills you with need. A deep, hot desire for the man you’ve made a home with. It’s insatiable, the way it hits you like a train. Something about watching him play up this whimsical figure for the sake of your kids, something about him in that damn Santa hat. Before you realize it, he catches you staring as he sits back in the comfy chair, his eyes meeting yours and his face breaking into a cheeky smile. You might as well be drooling.

“What’re you looking at, Mrs. Claus?” he asks, stretching his arms behind his head, his pajama-clad legs spreading wide.

“I just think…” you start, stalking closer to him, eyes trained on his. “That Santa works so hard…” you murmur, sinking onto your knees between his legs. “Maybe he deserves to be properly thanked.”

“Oh—” Eddie gasps when your hand palms over his clothed cock, feeling it stiffen against your touch.

Wasting not even a second you tug his pants down, his hips raising to help you, and you feel your eyes blow wider at the sight of him. You’ll never get tired of seeing his cock — never. The way it leaks for you, the way he gets so hard from the simplest things that you do. You open your mouth, letting the weight of him rest heavy on your tongue. Licking the tip gently, you run your fingers up and down one of his legs.

“Baby,” he sighs, tipping his head back a bit. “What got into you?”

“Jus’ something about watchin’ you play Santa…” you say, kissing the tip of his cock. “You’re so good to us. To me. Wanna worship you for it,” you say softly, blinking up at him.

And God, how could he turn you down?

“The girls, what if they—?”

“Just be quiet, and they won’t,” you say like it’s simple, and he doesn’t have a moment to respond before you’re kissing your way down his shaft.

He’s struck dumb when you take the head into your mouth, suckling on it with pretty lips. One hand reaches up to grip the base of him, your tongue licking his slit. A heavy breath leaves his nose, his lips pressed in a thin line. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair so tight it could rip.

You glance up at him, licking a long and slow stripe up the underside of his length. His eyes are half-lidded and dazed as he stares down at you, watching in disbelief. You stop teasing, then, taking him as far into your mouth as he’ll go. Your nose brushes the patch of coarse hair that sits at his base, exhaling through your nose as you adjust to the way he presses against the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers when you start to bob your head, trying your very best to keep the wet, slurping sounds to a minimum.

The hand that was gripping his shaft moves down to his balls, squeezing softly as you hollow your cheeks around him. You can hear the way he struggles to quiet the groans that claw their way up his throat, his breathing ragged. His hands reach up, yanking the Santa hat off so his fingers can run through his hair, tangling themselves in it.

“Christ, baby, thatfeelssogood,” he rushes out, voice breathy. “Your mouth is fuckin’ perfect.”

You pull off of him, still rolling the flesh of his heavy balls between your fingers. You make out with the head of his cock, tongue running over it, saliva dripping everywhere. He takes a handful of your hair, pulling gently to make you look up at him.

“Get up here. Right now,” he says. You know he’s trying to be demanding, but he sounds so fucked out it doesn’t quite work. It makes you want him even more.

Following instruction, you climb onto his lap and straddle it, but not before slipping off your pajama pants. With just your underwear separating his cock from your heat, you grind your hips down on him, sucking in a sharp breath when his tip nudges your clit. His strong hands guide your movements, taking control as he peppers kisses on your jawline, making you tilt your head back in pleasure.

“Need you inside me, Ed, please,” you croon, your breaths staggered.

“I don’t know, have you been a good girl this year? Do you deserve it?” he taunts, raising his brows at you. His teasing holds no weight, he has every intention of giving it to you, but you still nod.

“Been so good,” you say softly, teeth tugging at his earlobe.

A strangled, breathy sound leaves him before he’s shoving your panties to the side, running a thick finger through your wet folds. Wet is an understatement, honestly. You’re soaked for him, and he’s barely done anything to you.

“God damn, honey,” he growls low in your ear. “You’re so wet.” His teeth nip at your jaw before moving to your neck, his lips planting themselves on the delicate skin and sucking. “Watching me play Santa really got you that hot, huh?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren’t so needy for him you’d roll your eyes. But unfortunately, he’s right.

You whine instead, a featherlight sound that he almost misses through the crackling of the fire. He grips his cock, lining himself up with you as you hover above his lap. You reach down to help him, guiding him into your aching heat as you slowly sink down. You gasp in unison when he parts your walls, each of your mouths hanging open until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Calloused fingers press into your doughy hips, beginning to bounce you on his thick cock. A high-pitched squeak escapes you when you feel him press deep inside, and he instantly covers your mouth with one big palm. He stills his movements.

“Remember when you told me to be quiet? Hm? Now you can’t control yourself?” he whispers hotly in your ear, his breath making your skin prickle.

His hand is removed from your mouth in favor of guiding the roll of your hips once more, keeping you bouncing steadily. You can hear the way his cock glides through your sticky folds, pushing in and pulling out and pushing back in again. His eyes are impossibly dark as they watch you, especially in the dim light, but you can see the lust and adoration burning behind them all the same. You swear you can feel him in every inch of your body as he pushes himself as deep as he can possibly go, making you drop your forehead against his and bite back a moan.

One of his hands pulls the hem of your shirt up in order to expose your breasts to him, his open palm giving the first one a squeeze before rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching. Your back straightens slightly, arching into his touch. He dips his head down, sucking on the nipple his fingers aren’t already toying with. He kisses the soft swells of flesh, nipping and sucking gently while you start to take some control, bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters around a mouthful of your tits, his tongue flicking over the sensitive buds on each one.

He diverts his attention, moving away from your breasts and instead reaching a hand down down down to where your bodies connect. The pad of his thumb swipes over your clit, making a filthy, desperate huff leave your mouth. You’re getting so close, your body desperate for him to bring you to release.

“Eds,” you sigh, rolling your hips slowly on top of him, savoring every single second of this bliss.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone. He smiles at you, soft and sweet as he continues to circle your clit.

“So good,” you breathe, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach grow and grow. “Want you to cum, baby, give it all to me.”

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” he taunts, leaning forward and catching your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get you pregnant again? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Everything in you screams yes. Your hormones are on overdrive, wanting him to pump you full of his seed and make it stick.

“Fuck, yes, Eddie,” you agree, throwing your head back.

He bucks his hips up, his cock stretching you so deliciously, reaching the deepest parts of you. His lips kiss any part of your skin they can reach as you completely fall apart for him. Your walls clench so tightly around him as you cum, drenching his cock in your arousal. Giving you a few final thrusts, his movements get less precise as he unravels. Soft grunts leave his mouth as he fucks you through his orgasm, ropes of cum painting your walls in spurts. You cling to him, panting as you recover from your high. Gentle hands rub your back, sliding up under your shirt and soothing you with repetitive motions.

“I love you,” you say softly, crossing your eyes to watch as he presses a kiss to your nose. One reaches your lips immediately after; a drawn-out, lingering kiss that you don’t want to ever end.

“I love you, too,” he says, millimeters away from your mouth after he pulls away. You feel it, almost overwhelmingly, in the way he holds you close.

You shift on his lap, letting him pull out of you carefully. Your thighs are sticky with your own arousal and his as it drips out of you, but you don’t want to leave his comforting embrace. The warmth from the fireplace kisses your skin, making you sleepy in Eddie’s arms. You take his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band, a pleased hum reverberating within you.

He turns, looking at the clock that rests on the mantle. Just after midnight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“Merry Christmas, handsome,” you coo, reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his face.

“Can we make this a Christmas tradition?” he asks, giving you a cheeky smile as he pinches the fat of your ass.

“Whatever you want, Mr. C,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

The night ends with the both of you creeping quietly down the hallway to your bedroom, tangling yourselves beneath warm blankets. Snow falls outside, you can see it through the gap in the curtains as sleep starts to take over your body. Blinking slowly, heavily, you feel Eddie’s strong arms wrap around you, pressing you close to his chest.

In the morning, your girls will wake you with unbridled excitement, ready to see what Santa brought them. But for now, it’s just you and the man himself, dreaming cozy winter dreams.

[somerandomdudelmao]

Just started reading and I really love everyone so far 😍

I was curious though could we make our own funky little aliens at some point? They seem so cool!

Yeah sure why not. I don’t have energy to explain every nuance right now but if you want to just have fun and create your own alien I have a bunch of general rules and this shitty drawn note👍

Their hair is always pointing backwards. Although individual small strands may stick out in different directions.

Often there are antennae strands at the place of the nose or forehead, which are also almost always turned back.

Their head shape can vary as you wish. You can do the same things with their skull shape that you would do with a human character. The holes that replace their eyes can be of different shapes, but there are always four of them. The tail can end in any funny shape that can be made with fur, or it can be nothing at all.

No “woman's” boobs. These aliens don't feed their babies milk. So if you want your character to have nice boobs, you'll have to send them to the gym.

You can paint them literally any color you want. I'm not sure about the spots yet. Maybe they could have different color spots on their fur.....

As for their uniforms, I'm totally improvising at the moment and I think you'll have to as well :/ The only permanent detail is small spikes on their arms or legs, but they're optional

[unlosts]

is it casual now?

prompt: “i’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.”

1.5k words

_

There are many things you shouldn’t do in the BAU, you shouldn’t talk to Spencer about astrology unless you want a 46 (yes counted) minute lecture on the impossibility of the stars to predict your personality (funnily enough what a Virgo going through his Saturn return would do, but you thought it best to keep that one to yourself). 

You shouldn’t ignore JJ when she’s showing you cute Herny pictures even though she has in fact shown you those exact same ones about 4 times before. 

You shouldn’t invite Hotch to go for drink after a case, but that’s mostly because thats’s been - statistically speaking - a waste of everyone's time.

And above all you should not go drink for drink with Emily Prentiss, no matter how much she dares you to. 

But seeing as you were able to read Spencer his horoscope, JJ kept it to only two pictures today and Hotch did, in fact, agree to go out with all of you. You decided that it was a good enough night to tempt fate. 

Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun only to crash and burn. 

Only you crashed and burned into the back of your boss's car.

The five Cuba Libres you drank sat heavy on you, but at that moment you thought that the thing really making you dizzy was Hotch sitting next to you. His profile illuminated by the passing lights, occasionally tinted red by the streetlights. You wanted to reach out and touch his face, see if the color bleed into your hands. 

Old movie star handsome turned technicolor. 

You rested your head back in the passenger seat, closing your eyes for one moment only to feel his hand on your leg softly shaking you awake. 

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there” Despite his words he spoke softly, and you couldn’t help but think that he never sounds like this at work. 

“I’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.” It seemed your words took him by surprise as much as they did you because he kept his hand right there on your thigh as he drove.  

But a lot of things could be blamed on your blood-alcohol level so there was not much to lose now. 

“Yeah you usually sound very strict but that’s the voice you use when you talk to Jack, it’s nice, a little less deep but … soft yknow?” 

“I..” He seemed caught between looking at the road and wanting to keep looking at you “I never thought about that” 

“That’s okay” you said right before a yawn cut you off “I notice you plenty for the both of us” 

“You do?” He asks tentatively as he pulls into your apartment complex. 

“Oh yeah” You reply smiling back at him, daring him to ask for more. 

“Like what?” His tone is hushed, a little shy in a way you only dreamed of hearing. 

“hmmm” you pretend to think, if only to extend the moment, and also quite distracted by his hands on the steering wheel as he parked, the loss of his hand on your leg a minor price to pay. 

“You always take your coffee black but that’s only because it’s easier when in reality you like it better with a splash of milk and two sugars “

As you spoke you both leaned closer and closer to each other.   

“You pretend you don’t have time to hear Pen describe in detail each episode of the Bachelor, but you take an abnormally long time heating up your lunch every time she’s doing it” 

“Oh” you whisper “and you wanna kiss me real bad right now”

“I do?” he asked just as hushed, as if afraid that if he speaks any louder you’ll realize what you’re saying and stop.

“Oh yeah, actually ever since my like fifth case when I told that detective to fuck off and you preteneded to be mad at me for it” 

“Well, It seems profiling is your calling after all” 

“You do only hire the best of the best” Right as you’re done speaking he leans over and kisses you. 

The bubbles from the rum and coke just as fizzy on your tongue, and making you feel just as drunk. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, crowding yourself against the passengers side door. His hands roaming your back and messing up your hair. 

The feeling of him above you all encompassing, the cedar and vetiver smell of his cologne and the warm strong muscles of his shoulders under your hands moving as one of his hands reached up to the back of your neck making you dizzy. 

You wanted to live right in this moment as long as you could. 

“Wait” Hotch said as he pulled away for a moment, panting and out of breath, lips red and tie askew making you want to pull him back “I didn’t want to do it like this” while he spoke you pressed one kiss against the side of his neck which seemed to render him speechless for a moment, his eyes closed before he kept going.  

“I wanted to ask you out and kiss you at the end of the night, in your doorstep, not“ he said pointedly, bringing back his unit chief voice ”the car.” 

“Well” you sighed “if you insist on cutting the night short” 

“I do, but just this once” He replied with a small crooked smile. 

“Fine, but quit smiling like that or we’ll be here a while” 

“Duly noted” 

He still insisted on walking you to your door, all the way up to the third floor. His coat over your shoulders at his insistence to keep the chill away gave you the chance to press the collar. 

At your door you took off his jacket to give back but when you extended it to him he just kept his hands in his pockets, instead of taking it. 

“Keep it and give it back to me tomorrow”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yes, tomorrow at dinner, after you’ve had the chance to sleep off the hangover I’m going to pick you up and take you to dinner” 

“Couldn’t resist waiting another day huh?” 

Hotch just laughed a little and looked back at you. He lingered on your doorstep looking at you and you decided to cut it short before he had to take you out for breakfast instead. 

“See you tomorrow Hotchner” 

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What if all the yeerks suddenly died? AU

Part 3.5; Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 are here. All you need to know from earlier parts is that all the yeerks disappeared at once after the events of #19, and that the Animorphs and ex-controllers have been trying to resume a normal life ever since.

• Hedrick Chapman wanted to be an ecologist when he grew up.  Or a veterinarian.  Barring that, he’d have settled for being rich.  At no point did he ever want to be a vice principal of a criminally underfunded public high school.  That had been a yeerk decision, not his.  Certainly not his.  And yet, here he is.

• Then again, Chapman reflects as he watches Andy Mitchell vomit into the potted plant on his desk, this job has recently involved far more working with wild animals than he initially anticipated.

“It was horrible,” Andy sobs.  “Her f-face, it… it split open.  I could see bones under the—”  He cuts off, retching more.

Probably in shock, Chapman thinks.  A perfectly understandable reaction to having seen someone morph for the first time.  “What did she turn into?”

“What?”  Andy lifts his head.  Milk-pale, except for those red-rimmed eyes.  Definitely in shock.  “What do you mean?”

“Rachel.”  Chapman didn’t get a name, but that description could only apply to so many students.  “What did she morph?”

“I don’t know,” Andy wails.  “Her face got all baggy and horrible, like the skin was coming off, and it…”  He makes a pulling motion, away from his own mouth.

“So she turned into an elephant.”  Chapman notes that down.  “Then what?”

“You don’t understand,” Andy says.  “She… she… her body was melting!”

Chapman sets down the pen, looking him in the eye.  “I believe you.  You saw her turn into an elephant.  Did she try to attack you, once she was done?”

“I don’t know!  I ran for it.”

“Smart choice.”  Chapman massages his left temple, which is where his Rachel-shaped headache seems to have taken up full-time residence in Iniss 226’s absence. “I figured as much, since we’re not having this conversation in the hospital.”

“It was horrible,” Andy says again.

“And what did you say to Tobias Fangor that precipitated this incident?”

Andy blinks.  His color looks a little better, anyway.  “How did you know that?”

Chapman does not roll his eyes.  Because he’s an adult, and in control of his own body.  “I just so happen to be fluent in English, Mr. Mitchell.  Which is, by enormous coincidence, the language used to write your disciplinary file.  I’m also capable of basic pattern recognition.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Andy asks.  “Rachel.  What happens to her?”

An excellent question.  Bringing a deadly weapon to school results in a ten-day suspension.  But if Chapman applies that statute in this case, then he’d be forced to suspend all five Animorphs for the rest of eternity.  Threatening a classmate can result in expulsion, though it sounds like no actual threats were issued.  There isn’t a rule on the books for showing a classmate something so disturbing his brain tries to turn itself inside-out from sheer horror, although in light of recent developments there really should be.

“Not your concern,” Chapman says.  “Thank you for telling me.  Back to class.”

Andy takes several more minutes to collect himself before he goes.  Chapman uses that time to catch up on paperwork, though he does offer the young man a tissue.  And a breath mint.

• Andy is barely out Chapman’s door when it swings open again and Tom Berenson strides in.  “You have to tell my parents it’s not Jake’s fault,” he announces.

I am not your therapist, Chapman would dearly like to say.  I am not your best friend.  I am not, regardless of Iniss 226’s relationship with Temrash 114, your fucking subordinate.  I do not ‘have to’ do anything.

Not being snippy with vulnerable teenagers is probably one of those things they’d cover M.Ed. programs, if Chapman had ever actually been to school for this job.  “Why don’t you take a deep breath and explain from the beginning.”  There.  That sounds like something a vice principal would say.

“Jake.”  Tom sits down.  “My parents keep forcing him to go to school.  They think he’s, like, being a moody teenager.  Or faking it.”

Chapman may not be a therapist, or even a college graduate, but he does recognize that Jake’s entitled to as many sick days as he feels like taking, for the rest of eternity.  However, “That’s between your parents and your brother.”

“You can’t do anything?” Tom asks.  “You have the ability to give kids permanent excuses for made-up medical conditions— Iniss did it all the time—”

“I am not,” Chapman says severely, “Iniss 226.”

Tom stiffens.  “I just meant…”

“I recognize it is not your fault you have entirely too much information about the administration of this school.”  Chapman tries to soften his tone.  “But if you can do without using the Krav Maga or ability to home-assemble a working handgun that you also didn’t choose to receive, you can do without that.”

“But— Jake.  They don’t get it.”

“I will speak with your parents.  I’ll express these concerns to them,” Chapman says.  “In the meantime, might I suggest you focus on your own grades?  Thanks to Iniss, you’ve missed far too much school already.  If you want to have any hope of graduating on time, you need to catch up.”

“Why?”

He says it so simply.  It’s a question Chapman’s been asked before: Why bother?  Of all the kids who’ve asked him, only Marco Santiago has been more entitled to ask.  Why, indeed, bother with school?  Why care about Civics and Algebra when the world itself has already ended around you? 

A real vice principal would make a speech about learning being its own reward, or the importance of insuring one’s future.  “Because,” Chapman says, “when I speak to Coach Lu about letting you back on the basketball team, he’ll point out that student athletes need a minimum two-point-oh GPA.”

Tom’s whole face lights up.  Suddenly looking years younger.  Looking like a kid, for the first time in months.  “You’d do that for me?”

That M.Ed. program no doubt would have advised against bribes.  “No skin off my butt,” Chapman says.  “Now go do your homework.  And let the adults worry about your brother.”

“Yes sir!”  And he’s off like a shot.  Possibly even, miracle of miracles, off to work on that backlog of English essays.

• The first time Jake called a meeting in Cassie’s barn, even though they don’t really have a reason to meet anymore, it was to discuss what they can do to help the hork-bajir—taxxon alliance.  The second time, it was to make a plan to help Tobias get caught up in school.  The third time, he doesn’t even make an excuse.

Rachel complains about the press hounding them for a statement.  Marco complains about his parents making out on the couch while he’s in the house.  Tobias complains about Ms. Paloma’s workload, and about the hork-bajir constitution negotiations.  Jake complains about his dad’s horrifying questions about how morphing affects puberty.  Ax complains about Alloran’s frequent, extremely snobby, emails.  Cassie complains about her parents constantly asking her to morph their patients to figure out what’s wrong with them.

It’s silly.  It’s fun.  It’s playing at being teenagers with teenage problems.

“This time next week,” Jake announces, at the end.  “And if there are any major developments in the meantime, keep the rest of us posted.”

• “Tobias Fangor’s aunt called again,” Principal Walsh says, when Chapman gets to the office on a Tuesday morning.  “Don’t you think we should at least speak to her, see what she wants?”

“No,” Chapman says.  “I don’t.”

“His uncle.  This…”  She glances at the paperwork.  “Axel Mili-Esgarrouth.  Didn’t show up for last parent-teacher conference.”

Small mercies.  Chapman doesn’t explain Tobias’s living situation.  Doesn’t reveal that he owes the kid’s parents the kind of debt that cannot be repaid in an entire lifetime of favors.  Doesn’t deign to find out if Maggie Walsh knows what an andalite is.

“Tobias Fangor,” he says, “is part of the one-tenth of one percent of students who are, somehow, attending this high school because they want to be here.  If you give him reason to transfer out, I will resign.”

• There are reasons that Chapman stays in this job, despite being stashed here against his will.  Not the pay.  Not the sullen ingratitude from the teens he helps.  Certainly not the parents.  It’s because he’s needed here, now more than ever.

• He stays for the times Loren’s kid comes skittering into his office, wild-eyed and muttering, “Sorry, I just, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise…”  Chapman knows to open the window, when that happens, knows to shove a chair already well-deformed with talon marks out from behind his desk.

•  He stays for the kids who on paper had straight As, perfect attendance, promising gigs at The Sharing — and overnight became failing wrecks with insomnia and dozens of unexplained absences.  He can explain to their teachers, to their parents, in a way that someone who hasn’t been there will never be able to understand.

•  He stays for the way Eva Santiago clasps his hand and says, “You will look out for him.”  Half-supplication, half-command.

•  He even, despite himself, stays for Tom.  Who showed up at school the day after Aegas 1909 died, trying to pretend like nothing had happened.  Who is a truly godawful actor — he took one look at Chapman, went dead-white, and ran for it.  Who was backing away even as Chapman cornered him in the parking lot.  “Wait!” Chapman had said.  “Wait! Iniss is dead too.”  And Tom had burst into tears.

•  No one else would understand them.  No one else would know why nearly every one of the seventy-three ex-hosts in this school has been sent to his office for not paying attention, for sleeping in class, for allegedly being stoned during school hours.  No one else would overlook the absolute illegal mess of Tobias’s paperwork, or give Rachel a fortieth second chance after she has yet another hair-trigger reaction to being bumped in the hall.

•  But there’s one reason above all others that he stays in this job.

“You don’t mind?” Melissa says, every single time he offers her a ride to school.  As if he’s doing her a favor, letting her take up space in the car he’s already driving that way.  As if it’s a chore to get to spend time with his daughter and hear about her day.

“You sure you don’t mind?” he always answers, smiling, and she always runs to get her bag.

It takes so little — a smile, a nod, an offer to feed the damn cat, sometimes even just a glance her way — to get her to light up with gratitude.  It breaks his fucking heart to know the reason why.

He drives her every day.  He helps her with homework every night, and cooks her dinner afterward.  He drops more than he can afford on leg-warmers and Lisa Frank and Limited Too.  He’s every parenting cliché: on a trial separation from Alison, spoiling their kid rotten because of the guilt.

Anyway, time with Melissa is worth a hell of a lot more than mere money.  And it’s almost enough to make up for dealing with parents.  Almost.

•  “But Cassie’s a good kid,” Michelle Logan says.  “She’s always been responsible, and she’s always taken care of herself.  There has to be some kind of mistake.”

Chapman looks at the good kid sitting between her parents.  Thinks of watching her rip a hork-bajir’s throat out, taking an innocent life along with the guilty one.  Trusts that she had no choice in the matter, because if it was him she’d killed instead then he would have understood.

“I recognize that Cassie has had an overall clean record thus far,” Chapman says.  “However, the Rain Forest Café is filing charges against the school for the impersonation and theft of several live animals, and I don’t have other suspects.”

“Cassie would never,” Michelle said.  “She’s a good kid.  She just fell in with the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

“Of that,” Chapman says dryly, “I have no doubt.”

Cassie lifts her head then to look straight at him.  “I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding it.  “I was trying to help the parrots.”

I.  Yes, she’s a good kid.  “It’s admirable,” Chapman tells her, “that you’re covering for your friends.”  Probably also on the list of things a real vice principal wouldn’t say.  “But there is no way that you could have acted alone.”

“Can you prove that?” Cassie asks.

“Can you even prove it was her?” Michelle says.  “What about Marco, or Rachel?  They morph.  Isn’t Tobias a bird quite often?  Who says it wasn’t him?”

Cassie and Chapman make eye contact.  Marco is one incident away from being expelled.  Rachel is about negative eight incidents away, and Chapman can only do so much to protect her.  Tobias isn’t supposed to be at this school at all, which the board will surely notice if he comes to their attention.  Cassie confessed, because Cassie can take the heat.  And Chapman’s letting her take that fall.

“It’s okay,” Cassie tells the adults.  “It’s only a week of detention.”

Because that was the lowest sentence he could propose, while still avoiding a legal proceeding.  She really is a good kid.

•  “Where you going?” Jake asks, not looking up from his Spanish homework, when Tom unlocks the front door at 8:00 PM on a Sunday.

“Sharing meeting,” Tom says casually.  “Wanna come?”

Jake sets down his pen.  He looks at his brother.

Tom stares back, smirking.

“Where are you actually going?” Jake says.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”  And with that, Tom walks out the door.

Despite himself, Jake follows.

 • It’s an under-21 nightclub that Jake vaguely recognizes as being a front for The Sharing, but the crowd spilling onto the lawn around it is truly all ages.  There’s a giggling pair of 10-year-olds standing too close to the beer keg for his comfort, a middle-aged guy handing out glow sticks, and a woman with gray hair and a hand-knit sweater smoking a joint on the curb.

“Tommy-boy!” That’s the guy standing next to the door, an ex-controller Jake thinks is named Bill.  He throws out his arms and, before Jake can react, has grabbed Tom, spun him around, dipped him, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Hands off, asshole,” Tom says, laughing as he pulls loose.  “You are so fucking drunk.”

“Sssshhhhhh,” Bill says, not disconfirming the accusation.  He points to the Employees Only printed on the door.  “Just meat-puppets tonight.  Ditch the tagalong.”

“Oh, come on.”  Tom gestures at Jake.  “The kid was a controller for a hot second last November.”

Bill squints at Jake.  “Wait, really?”

Jake shrugs.  He doesn’t want to talk about it.  “Yeah.”

“Well all right, then.”  Bill ruffles Jake’s hair, Tom slaps Bill on the ass, and they shoulder their way inside.

• The club is jammed full of bodies, most of them sweaty and partway naked.  Jake retreats until his back is against the nearest wall, looking over the mess of dancing humans.  Tom has split off, chest-bumping with some other guy Jake doesn’t know and stealing a drag off his cigarette.  None of them are acting remotely like controllers, which is reassuring, and now he’s wondering if it’d be rude to leave without Tom about 10 seconds after having arrived.

 No one would notice if he turned into a bug, he decides after about an hour of this.  Seriously.  This crowd would not notice, and it’s not like they’d care if they did.  Tom can find his own way home.

A small form sidles up next to him.  “Hi, Jake.”

“Melissa!” he says too loudly, glad to see a familiar face.  “Hi.”

“You want some drink?”  She holds up a clear plastic cup, three-quarters full of liquid.  “There’s plenty more over…”  She points to the punchbowl behind her.

“Drink?” Jake asks.

Melissa shrugs.  “From the empty bottles, it’s mostly beer and tequila, with a little bit of Bloody Mary mix.  Which is probably why it…”  She grimaces down at her cup.  “Looks, smells, and tastes like urine.”

“Um.”  Jake peers at her cup; her assessment isn’t wrong.  “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Cool.  There’s also a guy around here with E, if that’s more your speed.”

“Gee.”  Jake looks back over the crowd, which includes several couples openly pawing at each other, a group of four with hands inside each other’s clothes, and Tom apparently attempting to eat some woman’s tongue before she can eat his.  “There’s ecstasy here?  I never would’ve guessed.”

“People are just glad the war’s over,” Melissa says.  “And your brother’s a really good kisser.”

It’s official: this is worse than the gathering of alien slugs plotting Earth’s destruction that Jake expected to find.  It’s not even a proper orgy, just a whole crapton of giddy ex-hosts hugging each other and then getting too enthusiastic about the hugs.

“Look,” Jake says.  “This has been nice, but I have school tomorrow, so…”

•  Which is when the commotion breaks out near the door.

“Gatecrasher!”  That’s Bill, brandishing a mason jar as he continues to yell.  “We have a gatecrasher!”

Several people crowd around him to get a better look, someone holding up a glow stick to reveal that, sure enough, the jar in his hands contains a single wolf spider.  Among this crowd, animals that act strange or aren’t native to California don’t go without notice.

«I’m innocent!  And even if I’m not you can’t prove anything,» the spider says.  «Maybe I just wandered by accidentally, and this is all a big misunderstanding.»

“This thing’s for full members only,” Tom says, straight-faced.  “There’s a sign on the door, can’t miss it.”

«Maybe I want to join the Sharing?» the spider suggests.

This gets him several unamused looks.  “Toss him out,” Li says.  “And let’s get back to the keg stands.”

“Nah, let him stay!”  That’s Koko, piping up from the back.  “God knows every person in this bar owes the Animorphs a drink.”

Looking between them, Bill turns back to the jar.  Finally he lifts it up to eye level, starting at the spider’s middle two eyes.  “Repeat after me,” Bill intones.

«Uh-huh.»

“What your mom doesn’t know…”

«What my mom doesn’t know…»

“Will not hurt her.”

«Dude, I wouldn’t narc on you!  What do you take me for?»

“A chip off the old block,” Tom mutters.

“Repeat it,” Bill says severely.

«What my mom doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.»

“Great!”  Bill unscrews the lid of the jar, dumping it out on the ground.  “Welcome to the Sharing.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Melissa says to a slowly-demorphing Marco, “I got the same speech.”

“It really does.”  He presses a hand over his heart.  “Now, someone mentioned buying me a drink?”

•  A small nightclub on the outskirts of the city burns to the ground, shortly after having every piece of its furniture and glassware smashed in a pile in the middle of the floor.  The local police force, over 30% of whom were controllers three months ago, elects to ignore this development.

•  Chapman loathes paperwork to the absolute depths of his soul.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worse than filing paperwork to get permission to file paperwork, and yet here he is.  The state of California cannot possibly need this many copies of Ashley Shawn’s transcript.  This has to be a torment invented by an evil god to punish him for everything he did aboard the Jahar.  There is no other explanation.

So when Ms. Hanna comes skidding into his office and announces “Science wing! There’s a brawl!” his first thought is, oh thank god.

His second thought is to wonder why she came to get him, skipping the security officer and Principal Walsh, but they’re already running by the time that occurs to him.

When they get there the press of screaming-chanting bodies fills the hall from end to end, but kids still find room to crowd out of the way when they see Chapman coming.  The circle of spectators breaks long enough to reveal the melee at the center, and—

Oh hell.  Chapman can tell exactly why Ms. Hanna got him first.

Fiona Aherne has one hand fisted in the collar of Tom Berenson’s shirt, and is punching him repeatedly in the face.  Joe Lassen catches her around the middle and rips her off Tom, tossing her to the floor, only to be caught in a side-tackle by Li Saren.  Beyond them, Hailey Ng and Bill Renaldi are hanging onto Asher Reed, until Asher suddenly rolls forward and body-slams Bill to the floor.

Chapman winces — so much for not using that Krav Maga. He's knocked aside as Jake shoves past him and dives in to the fray.

Principal Walsh is across the battlefield, staring in bafflement.  Shouting ineffectually for everyone to stop.  She doesn’t know, of course, what Tom and Joe and Asher all have in common.  What Bill and Li and Fiona and Hailey do.

Li has Tom by the throat from behind, which is why Jake throws himself onto Li with the gracelessness typical of a high-schooler.  Li head-butts Jake, only to have Jake, snarling, bite him in the face.

“Stop!” Chapman bellows.  “ALL OF YOU!  STOP!”

Jake drops off Li.  Hailey drops Asher.  Slowly the others lower their fists, glaring.

Good to know everyone’s fear of Iniss 226 is still good for something.

“Everyone in the Biology classroom,” Chapman barks, pointing at the door.  “Bill’s lot near the windows, Tom and the others by the door.  Move it!”

Principal Walsh stares at Chapman in confusion, which deepens when everyone obeys him without question.  He beckons first to Ms. Hanna, then to Mr. Tidwell, pointing them into the room as well.  They also take their places without question, Mr. Tidwell supervising the voluntary half of the room as Ms. Hanna covers the involuntaries.

Pausing in the doorway, Chapman turns at last to face Maggie Walsh.  His boss.  Who has the ability to fire him, if she misunderstands the situation.  “It’s about yeerks,” he settles for telling her.

Her look of bafflement doesn’t fade.  “How?”

Chapman opens his mouth. Hunts for words.

“Jake had nothing to do with this.”

Chapman doesn’t have to turn his head to know who spoke from the involuntary side of the room.  What a surprise, a Berenson kid running his mouth.

“Thank you for your input, Thomas.”  He spins around.  “That isn’t your call.”

Tom crosses his arms.  Between the fingernail marks down his cheek and the broken knuckles of his right hand, he looks the very picture of delinquency.

“He’s right,” Joe says, from the voluntary side of the room.  “It’s nothing to do with Jake.”  In Chapman’s peripheral vision, Maggie Walsh blinks several times.  He’ll explain later.  Or try to.

“Fine,” Chapman says.  “Jake, get back to class.”

Jake lifts his chin, blood striping the lower half of his face.  “I chose to get involved,” he says.  “I’ll take my punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” Tom says.  “Then what was the fight about?”

Jake looks from one side of the room to the other.  Both sides have ninth graders, twelfth graders, jocks and nerds, white and Black and brown kids.  Jake’s probably smart enough to identify several ex-controllers, and to guess at the rest, but unable to tell how or why they sorted themselves like they did.  Nonetheless, after a second he opens his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” Chapman cuts him off.  “Anyway, if I suspend you then Marco and Rachel will have burned down the school within a week.  Fix your nose, then back to class.”

Knowing when he’s beat, Jake leaves.  Chapman makes a note he’ll also have to explain to Maggie how morphing works, and that he didn’t just order a 14-year-old to hand-set a broken nose.

“The involuntaries started it,” Bill announces, the moment Jake is gone.

“Yeah,” Tom snaps, “and the voluntaries are the ones who—”

“Who were lied to, instead of being coerced?” Mr. Tidwell suggests.

Tom shuts his mouth.

“Asher called me a traitor.”  Li points a finger across the room.

“Six months ago Li told me,” Asher says quietly, “that I should really join the Sharing.”

“And so,” Chapman drawls, “you had no choice but to punch each other in the face.  Is that correct?”

Tom mutters something under his breath that Chapman chooses not to catch.  He can’t threaten them, not this crowd.  Most of them have survived worse hells than the Geneva Convention ever dreamed of.  Detention means nothing.

Fine.  Persuasion it’ll have to be.  Fuck his life.  Chapman raises his voice to address the involuntaries.  “They—” He points to the voluntary side of the room.  “Are not the enemy.  The yeerks are the enemy, and the yeerks are dead.  Don’t start doing their work for them, you hear me?”

There’s a long silence.  Asher scuffs the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“Yeah,” Tom says at last.  “We hear you.”

“Everyone get checked at the nurse’s office,” Chapman tells the room at large.  “You’re all suspended for the rest of the week.”

Maggie Walsh takes a seat next to Chapman, even as the kids all file out.  Yeah.  He owes her an explanation.  Taking a deep breath, he tries to sum up what just happened.  Hopefully in a thousand words or less.

Don Tidwell, coward, takes that opportunity to slip out the door.

•  “Does anyone have anything to report?”  Jake looks around Cassie’s barn.  It’s still odd to see Ax and Tobias sitting out of morph and in the open.  There was a brief collective panic when Cassie’s mom poked her head in earlier to ask if they want any lemonade or feeder mice.

“I have,” Marco says grandly, “a date… with Destiny!”

«Oh, you mean Destiny Trembull in tenth grade?»  Tobias immediately undercuts this, because of course.  «She seems nice.»

“And we don’t even have to spend the next three days following her around,” Rachel comments, which gets Marco to lob a horse comb at her head.

«I have accessed one-hundred twenty-three additional channels on my television,» Ax adds.

Cassie and Jake exchange a glance.  “How’s it going, getting a ride home?” Cassie asks.  “Any word on that?”

Ax shrugs — he isn’t even going to fit in on the andalite homeworld anymore when he does finally get there — and looks away.  «I’ve been told that there are more important priorities concerning the Navy.»

«Their gratitude,» Tobias drawls, «is overwhelming.»

•  Chapman explains to Jake’s parents that Jake needs a therapist, and also permission to miss school if he needs to.  Chapman explains the Yeerk Empire and how exactly they recruit humans to Li Saren’s parents for the third, then the fourth, then the fifth time, until they are in tears and begging their son’s forgiveness for doubting him.  Chapman explains to the district that he has no idea how the school ended up with a staircase leading from a supply closet to the alien sinkhole, but that he wants it sealed up posthaste.  Chapman explains himself to Naomi Berenson, and then he does his best to explain Rachel as well.

• "No," Chapman tells the officious-looking little man sitting across his desk. "I don't know of anyone like that. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more help."

The man — he's probably a real detective, he has a badge — leans across the desk to push the photo array a little closer to Chapman. "You're sure? None of these individuals is a..." He glances at his notes. "Voluntary controller."

Chapman looks at the array, which includes images of nearly 100 students. Some of whom weren't controllers at all — that's Tobias Fangor in the upper left corner. Some of whom were lied to by the Sharing, and then lied to by the Yeerk Empire. Some of whom, like Bill Renaldi and his absolutely debilitating major depression, felt they had no choice but to give up their bodies. "Sorry," Chapman says. "None of these individuals appear to be voluntary controllers to the best of my knowledge."

The detective stares at Chapman, waiting for more information. Chapman stares back, waiting for the detective to get bored. He can do this all day, literal hours of silence if that's what it takes. He doubts any mere civilian can say the same.

Sure enough, the detective breaks first. "You see," he says, "we know for a fact that some of these individuals did, in fact, collude with the Yeerk Empire. And we have CCTV footage indicating that you might have been one of those colluders yourself. So anything you can do to help us out..."

Chapman lets the silence go for another minute, long enough for the detective to shift in place. "You're mistaken," he says at last. "About what it means to be a voluntary controller. Or an involuntary one, for that matter. The distinction you're seeking does not exist."

"I'm sorry." The guy has his notepad out now, pen moving. "You're saying... there's functionally no difference between the voluntary hosts and the involuntary ones?"

"Yes," Chapman says, unaware of the hell he's about to unleash. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

•  “Ms. Paloma’s being a butt,” Melissa says, spinning her chair with a toe on the floor.  “I told her that I have a French test the same day as the Bio one, but she just said that means I have to learn to manage my time.”

She just walked into his office.  Without knocking.  Without asking if he’s busy, if he minds, if he’s sure.  Without apologizing for her existence.  She walked in, she sat down uninvited, and now here she is complaining to him like any normal teenager.

“That sounds stressful.”  Chapman is choosing his words with infinite care.  He’s six years old again, holding a butterfly cupped in his palms and knowing that even a millimeter’s clumsiness will crush this precious living jewel.  Thinking this.  This is what I want.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.

She came in unprompted.  She just walked right in.

“I hate French.”  Melissa spins the chair again.  “It’s all those lists of vocab words, and I can’t even say half of them correctly…”

“Do you want me to help you study?” Chapman asks.

Her head pops up with the force of her surprised, pleased smile.  “You’d do that?”

That’s it, then.  He’s never leaving this job.  Paperwork and all.

[onlyyvette]

TF Titty Headcanons Pt. 1

❏* — warnings — sub/bottom characters(autobots) + dom/top reader + robo titties(duh) + nipple piercings + lactation + breastfeeding kink + rough sex + degradation + praise + breeding kink + heat cycles + i love giving them sappy nicknames + prowl needs his own warning

❏* — a/n — if I have to be plagued with horny thoughts then you guys will suffer too

also, I'm willing to take more requests on which characters(especially decepticons) I should do for part 2 ^-^

➾ AUTOBOTS

✦ Optimus - As the leader of the autobots and one of the last living Primes, it shouldn't come as any surprise that Optimus is well-endowed. His tits are large and bouncy— they defy gravity in every sexy way possible. The Prime's chest is a white-ish color, plush and pillowy, a perfect to touch and perfect to cuddle.

Before becoming a Prime, his boobs were already big but now, they produce mineral-rich energon. He sometimes finds himself upgrading his chassis armor because his tits often press up on his windshields, sometimes popping his chassis armor. On rare occasions, he might even be lactating— It's very distracting, and he always gives embarrassed yet wholehearted apologies whenever his fellow autobots are met(blessed) with the sight. It might even happen that one of the decepticons he meets on the battlefield start tripping over themselves as they gawk at his chest.

Optimus lets out low, silky moans whenever his tits are fondled, his audials twitching with sensitivity. He's very open about his tits. He has no problem with his berth partners wanting to grope them, even suckle on them. If his partner wanted to, he would absolutely let them lay him out on his spinal strut just to fondle and suck on his nozzles, drawing out any energon they can find. It's a bit embarrassing for Optimus to admit, but it's not too hard for him to overload just from having his refineries played with. All Optimus needs is the feeling of having servos grabbing his plush chest and constantly rubbing his nozzles, maybe even his partner clamping their dentae down hard on his nozzle for him to let out undignified sounds and squirting all over himself.

As much as Optimus enjoys having warm servos massage his tits with care, his moans go up a pitch when his tits are bruised and left with marks from sharp dentae. Whether his partner apologizes for their rough treatment or not, they definitely knew that the Prime got a little wetter from it.

✦ Ratchet - Ratchet has huge tits and I will die on that hill. No doubt about it. Ratty's tits are a dark gray, matching his faceplate. They're big and hefty, hard for a mech of even his size to cup them fully into their hands. While he would rather die than admit it, he definitely loves to have his tits played with.

As a medic, Ratty's boobs produce much more energon than your regular cybertronian, which causes him to need to milk them often. Whenever he starts producing extra energon, it's always a pain to deal with because it leaves his poor tits swollen, nearly pressing up against his windshield, and so sensitive when he ends up leaking energon. It's so hard for him to milk his tits on his own so whenever he's at his most frustrated and sensitive state, he has to begrudgingly go to another trusted mech for help. Even though he insists on it being strictly professional, his cute whimpers and the dark blush on his face always betrays his neediness.

During the war, Ratty was definitely known for not only being the best medic Cybertron has seen, but the medic with tits that make the sweetest tasting energon. Whenever he's treating his patients, almost all of them ask if he could provide some energon for them with his generous breasts. Even though they try their best to be subtle about it(except for the most shameless mechs), Ratchet always knows their reasons, but he'll still provide it anyway because it's in his nature to help others. He just has to make sure not to get release his panel and reveal his already drooling valve during the feeding, which is going to be really tough for him.

✦ Drift/Deadlock - Drift's tits aren't the biggest but not the smallest(definitely bigger than Rodimus' though) , but there's still nothing about them that you can't not love. His protoform there is a darker color just like his faceplate, and sometimes flushes a cute pinkish color. Drifty has very sensitive tits and will let out a little squeal if they're groped too roughly. He's not too keen on showing his chest to anybot, especially when he still went by Deadlock, due to his more private nature. But when he has a partner to show them off, they are one lucky mech.

Whenever someone is mindful with how they treat Drifty's tits, massaging them softly, rubbing their digits over his nozzles with practiced care, he absolutely melts in pleasure. He lets out small eeks of pleasure while his finials twitch in response to the stimulation, his frame shivering like a turbo-rabbit . His whines and slight pouts are so attractive whenever his tits are played with. Drifty tries so hard to seem like he's unaffected but it's so hard for him to do when both his faceplate and his tits are both flushed pink with energon.

When he was known as Deadlock, even in bed, he would be known for being feisty and a little too eager to bite. But the moment servos are on his tits and slowly groping them, he gives up all resistance and tries his best to stop the little moans threatening to come out from his vocalizer. He'll still have a look that screams "make fun of me about this and the last thing you'll see will be my gun" but it'll be softened by his half-shuttered optics and and his breathy whines tumbling from his intake.

✦ Rodimus - definitely has small tits. And he is proud of them!!! He loves to show off his tits to his partners in berth and has possibly opened up his chestplate to show them off to any crewmates that flatter him enough more than once, maybe even let them cop a feel. His boobs are a white color similar to his faceplate. He has very perky nozzles and he will whimper when they're tugged on. Even though his tits are smaller than the average cybertronian's, they're still just so adorable, especially with the way his nozzles slightly flush blue when he's aroused.

Roddy knows that people are into his tits and he uses it to his advantage. Whenever Magnus is boring him to death with reports on ship maintenance or whatever, he shoves the datapad or anything that Magnus is holding in his servos, brings the huge mech's helm down to his level, and pushes his tits into Magnus' face with a cute little "ta-da!". There isn't much to push into the big mech's face but nonetheless, it's effective. He would giggle a bit and ask Mags if he liked his tits and Rodimus is left with a short-circuiting Ultra Magnus to explain to everyone. He's tried that move on Megatron too, but it's sadly not as effective on him, though the ex-warlord definitely does enjoy the view.

✦ Prowl - This praxian definitely has huge tits-- that's what his bumper is for. Now his bumper is great and Prowl definitely carries it with pride, but his titties are the real star of the show. His protoform are a dark gray compared to his faceplate. Unlike most mechs, Prowler has custom nozzle piercings: a pair of gold piercings(they cost him a mean amount of credits) and a pair of silver hoops. He switches between pairs each day. They're so big that he sometimes has a bit of trouble transforming his bumper over them. He loves to tug on them while he fingers himself silly because the pain is so delicious that even a few tugs can get his pathetic spike overloading and his messy valve squirting.

While Prowler berths very few partners, he loves to get his tits fucked by a spike big enough to reach past his cleavage and into his open mouth. Whenever his partner tugs on his nozzle piercings while fucking his tits and hisses out some degrading words, Prowl's vocalizer lets out a whoreish squeal-- he probably overloaded right then and there. Prowl for sure loves his titties. He may not be on Starscream's level of narcissism(no one can reach his level), but he sometimes like to check himself out in a mirror or camera to admire his busty chest, groping himself and gently tugging on his piercings as he begins to pant and his fans click on. It's at times like this that he often dreams about being subjected to obscenely kinky scenarios: his tits being bitten down on harshly as he's forced to continue riding his partner's monstrous length, his partner hooking up pumps to his nozzles to activate his energon lactation and leave him hooked up with multiple vibrators stuffed up his valve and aft and left overloading silly for hours, or being left in a dirty alley during his heat cycle, all his panels open while he drips energon from his tits and his pussy leaks lubricant all over the ground as he's left in a spike-hungry state, just about willing to let anyone fuck him as long as they'll ruin his pussy and fill his gestation tank with transfluid.

[msmk11]

Sixth Love Language

Fred Weasley x reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Like one mention of food; fluff; playing pranks!!

Summary: You want to get your boyfriend back after he 'accidentally' pulled a prank on you

Day 7 of mk's mad dash

It is safe to say that you are bursting at the seam with excitement. 

You’ve been dating Fred for almost a year now, and have been friends even longer, so you’ve witnessed your fair share of the twin’s masterful pranks. Being one of his closest confidantes too, you’ve been privy to all of the work and planning that goes into his secret schemes. Though sometimes Fred’s pranks are silly, and even a little mean, they never fail to make you laugh. You look forward to every single one, and are always happy to listen to his tangents about them too. And though you’re a fond admirer of his work, and he’s even offered you the chance to join in on one of his pranks, you’re not sure you have the knack for planning and executing one. 

You’d also never been on the receiving end of one of Fred’s pranks. That was, at least, until about two weeks ago. He swears that it wasn’t intentional, but somehow you’d ended up covered in a sticky goo that was dumped on your head on the way to class. The worst part? It was jinxed with a sticking charm that couldn’t be reversed until the end of the day. Though you were livid, you didn’t let on to your boyfriend. Instead of just giving him a stern talking-to or ignoring him for a few days, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

The past week, you’d been poring over countless books trying to find the perfect spell or potion to prank Fred with. After hours upon hours of searching, you found it hidden in Witches Weekly, oddly enough. It was a hair transformation spell. But instead of just changing Fred’s hair once, you’ve altered the charm so that his hair will change to a different cut and color every five minutes. It may not be as clever as your boyfriend’s pranks, but he is vain enough about his red hair that you know it’ll do the job. 

You quite literally do the spell behind his back, casting it on him when he is climbing out the portrait hole in front of you on your way down to breakfast. It’ll take five minutes for his hair to change the first time, and you can barely contain your eagerness as you walk hand-in-hand with Fred to the Great Hall. 

You’ve just gotten seated at his side at the Gryffindor table when it changes for the first time. You watch gleefully as his shorter red hair is replaced with long, wavy pink hair. The change starts subtly, but it doesn’t take long before people start to notice. You keep your head buried in the Daily Prophet as George exclaims, “Oi, Fred! Like the new look you’re going for.”

Fred looks at his twin, confused, “What do you mean?” 

Lee looks up from his cereal and busts out laughing, nearly spraying milk all over the table, “Very princess popstar of you, Freddy.”

Your boyfriend looks at you, bewildered, “Babe, what are they talking about?”

You maintain a straight face as you cooly reply, “Your hair’s gone all long and pink, baby.”

“What?!” he nearly shrieks, catching the attention of pretty much everyone else in the hall. 

The students erupt into laughter as Fred frantically begs you for your compact mirror.

When he’s met with his own appearance, his face twists into horror, “Bloody hell? What is this?! Who did this?”

It’s quite the challenge, trying to maintain a concerned demeanor, “Maybe a Slytherin? Might be payback for that prank you pulled on them last week?”

“But why’s George’s hair normal then? He helped with the prank too!”

“Too handsome for them to ruin this, I reckon,” George adds, motioning to his face confidently. 

“This is a personal attack I-”

But before Fred can finish his sentence, his hair begins to change again, this time into a bright yellow bob. 

You can’t help the tiny chuckle that you let out this time, and Fred whips around to look at you, “What? What is it?”

“Mate, it’s changed again,” Lee chokes out breathlessly.

Fred looks back in your mirror and gapes, horrified, “They’ve done it again! How? I- this needs to bloody stop.”

Suddenly, Fred’s younger brother, Ron, approaches, “Wow, Fred. Like the new look. Though I’m not sure yellow’s your color.”

He bursts into laughter, along with Harry and Hermione who are with him.

“Shut up, you git,” Fred replies, reaching out to slap his arm. 

Ron dodges the hit and busts into laughter again. Even Hermione, the most serious fourteen year old you’ve ever met, can barely keep it together.

Your boyfriend looks at her, “Oi Granger. You’re smart! Quit laughing and help me, would you?”

She shrugs innocently, “Sorry, don’t know a counterspell for that one. You might be stuck like this forever.”

“Baby,” Fred protests, “turning to you with real fear in his eyes. Can you fix this, please?”

When his hair begins to morph again, this time into a green, spiky mohawk, you absolutely lose it. You laugh right in your distraught boyfriend’s face and lean down, burying your head in your arms. 

Never afraid to shy away from attention, and with all eyes already on him, Fred stands up and shouts, “Whoever is doing this, you need to stop it right now!”

People only start laughing harder, and that’s when you finally decide to give up the bit. Though your whole body is still shaking with silent laughter, and a few tears are streaming down your face, you tug on his wrist, “Freddy, baby. Calm down. It was me, okay? I’m the one who put the spell on you.”

Fred freezes in place, and you swear you’ve never seen him this still in your entire time knowing him.

“Baby?” You prod, tugging on his wrist again.

“You did this?” he asks quietly.

You’re starting to become a little worried that Fred is actually upset with you for the prank.

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to get you back for the goo two weeks ago,” you admit shyly. 

You brace yourself, preparing for a lecture about how his prank was just an accident, and how you’d just embarrassed him. 

You couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Fred sweeps you up into his arms, pulling you out of your sweet with a loud laugh, “Babe?! You did this all just to get back at me? You pranked me?!”

You nod at your boyfriend sheepishly.

Fred smacks a big, wet kiss on your lips and you try not to be shy about the fact that it’s in front of everyone, “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me!”

“Uhm, you’re welcome, then?” You answer with a giggle.

Then Fred shouts to everyone, “I have the best partner ever!”

[sour-leminies]

Paring: Hook x F!Reader

Summary: Hook being your bully, and falling for you Headcannons.

Warnings: Hook being mean, Getting bullied.

Taglist: @unhealthy-obessions @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm @astrynyx @snixx2088 Ask to be added.

Navigation — other works!

When he first met you, it was when you had stood up for Bridget. Your smart words, and the way you carried yourself enticed him. Made him want to know more about you.

Ever since then he would always mess with you. Maybe “accidentally” spilling milk on you. Maybe tripping you. Etc.

Would always laugh at you, no matter what. He had once laughed at the color of your hair, and got a whole bunch of other kids to make fun of it.

Though when you came to school one day, your hair color changed, he didn’t know what the sinking feeling in his stomach was. Maybe guilt?

One time he had decided to be slightly nice to you, and when you were nice to him back — even after him tormenting you, he couldn’t help but think that was the moment he fell.

While you were kind to him still, you weren’t naturally forgiving like Bridget. You were nice to an extent, some petty remarks you would throw his way, and it made that burning feeling rush in him.

After school, you two would run into each other, and for some reason he would always go the same path everyday, making sure he would run into you. Always meeting at a blueberry bush.

After getting to know you slightly better, he started to leave you alone in school — and that made you trust him. However once Uliana and the rest of the crew started to ask him why he went soft on you he got scared.

Started to bully you again only this time much worse. You had hated the man, the man that had made you start to actually care for him.

You had hated Captain Hook, and had fallen in love with James. What a cruel joke.

When you had run into him again once after school, you let everything out. Begging him to stop tormenting you, to just leave you alone because your heart couldn’t take the fact that the man you had loved had this whole time despise you.

He had laughed in your face when you confessed to him. He had laughed and said, “I could never love someone like you.” Little did you know he felt like dying while saying that. You also didn’t see that the crew was right around the corner listening to you both.

When he goes on his redemption arc, I’m positive the song you guys sing is “you’re the one that I want” by grease.

—

A/N: I might either do a series or a oneshot on this. Idk yet — I have to get out the first chapter of Enchanting.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Seamstress (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Prince Aemond is your favorite client.

Warnings: Seamstress! Reader x Aemond. Smut. Mature language. Age gap, though not specified, and everyone is of age.

A/N: I was thinking about how something always felt off when writing Aemond. So, experimenting a little here.

The nerves and excitement don’t go away, even if this has to be the tenth time you are asked to do it. You feel yourself alight with pride. This is your moment.

Since you were no more than a little girl, you had always wanted to become a seamstress. You dreamed of making beautiful dresses for the noble ladies to wear, handsome gambesons and shirts for the lords. Years have passed since then, and you have become a renowned dressmaker, having fabricated gowns for Houses such as the Lannisters and the Arryns alike, but being asked to dress the royal family still thrills you.

You feel as if you were a little girl, wandering the halls of the Red Keep. It's no matter if you have done this before, you still feel the same sense of accomplishment. Besides, getting to work with your favorite client is always a joy.

The Queen has confided in you that you are also his favorite. Prince Aemond refuses to wear anything you haven't personally sewn. Your job is harder that way. You can't distribute the more menial tasks to your sewing girls, having to sew every stitch yourself. Yet, at the same time, it fills you with accomplishment when you manage to meet his expectations.

“Chin up, my Prince.” You say, softly pushing his jaw upwards. You go on your tiptoes, placing the pin on the cloth near his throat. He would look stunning in a linen shirt, with such a beautiful neck and shoulders. But alas, the prince is not one for light colors.

“How long will this take?” One of his hands, big and broad, goes to your waist. To steady you, surely. Yet, you cannot help but get distracted by the touch. It has been so long since you have been touched in such a manner. “I have to go train before noon.”

“Prince Aemond.” You warn, softly fixing the fall of the cloth. “These things take time. You can't just wear anything to the coronation.”

“I am not the one getting crowned, am I?”

You fix a button. You do not like the way the shape the outfit is giving him.

Taking a step back, you examine the clothes with a critical eye.

The pants need to be taken in. You kneel, tightening them around his waist and thighs. When your hand reaches his inner thigh, you notice that he has a bulge in his trousers. Your eyebrows raise. Unsure if it is what you think it is, you smooth the fabric around his hips.

His hand goes to your cheek. You look up, searching his face. Prince Aemond’s eye is dark, almost all pupil. He looks like he could just eat you up. His thumb brushes over your lips. As if in a trance, you open up.

You would be ashamed of reacting this way to any other man. But not with him. Not when he is as equally desperate, hungry for you.

It’s not something that's encouraged, bedding nobles. You would rather not end up with a bastard on your belly, shamed and unable to work. Your entire thing, what sets you apart from other seamstresses, is that you are a respectable woman.

But even respectable women feel desire. Even respectable women want to be worshiped and adored.

“Come here.” Prince Aemond pulls you to your feet. Then, he kisses you, hungrily. You start to take out the pins off his clothes, throwing the shirt away. The cloth gives as if it was nothing, long gone are your patterns and pins.

He lowers your bodice and hikes up your skirt. You grin. This is not new, either. It still fills you with the same thrill as it did the first day. Prince Aemond had not taken your maidenhead, nor had you taken his. But it had been you who had taught him, sitting on top of his hips and rolling your hips until you milked him dry.

There is something about teaching others about pleasure. You understand now, why men savor maidens so much. You can teach them to love and please just how you like, aim their thrust just at the angle you need to reach your own peak.

Prince Aemond kisses you hungrily, licking into your mouth as if a man starved. That, too, you taught it to him. Back then, his kisses had been all teeth, all clumsy head movements. Designed to conquer through brute force rather than seduction.

He kisses down your throat, sucking a bruise right between your collarbones. You sigh, quietly. He nips at your skin, determined to force a sound out of you. You have found out he thrives on praise and recognition, starved as he is.

He pushes harder, kissing the spot he knows makes you melt. You reward him with a soft moan. You have never been one for loud demonstrations of passion, and it shows, but it only makes more valuable to him the little sounds you let out.

You feel yourself start to get more and more wet. Your cunt throbs between your legs, slick and ready for him.

“Put it in.” You plead. “My Prince, please.”

“You are such a demanding thing, for a commoner.” He grunts, biting down at your shoulder. There is no room for complaint because he is entering you in one smooth thrust. You let out a keening sound, half pleasure, half pain. You can feel him grin sharply against your skin, face still hidden on your shoulder.

He rocks more than he thrusts, as he holds you open with one of his hands. This way, your pearl is exposed and rubs against his pelvis each time he moves.

His face remains hidden, and you feel his hair tickling against your skin. You feel the urge to nip at him as he does you, but you don't dare. He is not yours, nor are you his. Not only is it not allowed, but it would anger him. Prince Aemond, no matter how much he enjoys your body, does not think himself your equal.

He is above you, or so he says. If he likes to live in delusion, you won't be the one who stops him. It's not you, at the end of the day, who leaves these chambers looking wrecked. It's not you who melts at praise, at being told he is good.

“Like that?” Prince Aemond asks, cockily, as he watches your mouth slacking with pleasure.

“Right there.” You tilt your hips upwards, chasing your own peak. He fucks into you, mindlessly. He has a one track mind when it comes to these kinds of things. Thrives on watching you fall apart, as if it makes him more, as if it fills his pride. It's a good thing, in a lover, but you shudder to think of what this man could do only to be able to feel proud of himself.

It takes only a few well-planted thrusts before you are shivering and shaking against him, mouth open into a silent scream. He groans, pleased, coming out of his hiding place to give you a chaste kiss.

You straighten yourself. You thumb a pink, puffy nipple between your fingers and lean in, to coo right on his ear.

“You did so well.” You kiss his earlobe, softly taking it into your mouth and tugging. “So good for me.”

He trembles against you, face going back to hide on your neck. You wish he allowed you to look at him in moments like this. Prince Aemond probably looks wrecked. You can see it in your mind's eye, how his eye fell closed, how he has to bite his lip so hard to not let out a sound.

The view you get makes up for it, though. His back is arched so hard it must hurt, to make up for the height difference between the two of you. His hips snap into you so hard, you think you might end up with bruises from his damn hipbones.

Your prince has a beautiful body, honed from years of training. He is also all sharp lines and angles, hipbones, jaw, cheek. It is why you enjoy dressing him so much. His pale skin and light hair would really shine in jewel tones, but he refuses to use anything but dark.

“You are so good. No one makes me feel like you do.” You whisper, softly scratching at his scalp. You keep your touch gentle and sweet, and that seems to be his undoing. He tenses up and gives a little grunt, and soon, you can feel the telltale wetness between your legs.

You congratulate yourself on a job well done. You kiss the top of his head and start fixing your dress. On the floor, there is a mess of pins and cloth. The patterns will not be able to be salvaged, and you have another appointment in less than an hour. You need to bathe.

With no other choice but to walk out, you kiss him one last time.

“Come see me later, for the clothes.”

And he does come. But you get distracted again. He ends up going to the coronation in one of his everyday outfits. The Queen pays you regardless. She knows how difficult her son can be.

[dalekofchaos]

Not interested in LIS:Double Exposure

Okay I saw the Double Exposure trailer and I am not playing it.

Multiple reasons.

The Deck Nine IGN article. I will not support a developer that knowingly protected a bigoted groomer and allowed a Nazi to sneak in White Supremacist signs in the game.

Max learned nothing about the first game. Nevermind there is no Chloe, Warren or anyone from Arcadia insight(we'll get to that) Max apparently formed another codependent relationship that she couldn't let go to the point where she's fucking up reality by creating yet another parallel world. Either Deck Nine is entirely unoriginal or Max didn't learn a damned thing

That is not Max. If your defense is "she grew up" I got news for you. I've looked the same for nearly a decade. I've had friends while changing their aesthetic, they look the same. you don’t look like an entirely new person when you age, the new model looks nothing like max there’s barely even resemblance. Also I know, we all change our style as we get older, but Max's style was unique and it made Max Caulfield who she is. It didn't need to change. Deck Nine just Stephified Max. Was it really that hard to give Max bangs? Not just that. No freckles, eyes and eyebrows look completely different. This is not Max Caulfield.

4. No one from Arcadia Bay returned. It's pretty obvious Deck Nine is either keeping Chloe's fate a secret, but it's also clear they are trying to skirt around the issue of the endings without pissing everyone off. Feels like a copout to whatever ending you chose to give a new cast of characters. For the fans who wanted more time to play as Max and Chloe, I feel bad for you, I especially wanted to see Chloe again. So what the fuck was this supposed to be for then?

Though another point; why the hell are we supposed to be okay with the fact that Max is using her power again to save this brand new character we have zero previous connection to? Especially if the game’s gonna try to straddle both endings to LiS 1; seems very insulting to have Max be okay with doing it for a character we have no previous attachment to, but she’s left her girlfriend to die alone, thinking nobody loved her?

Also you had the perfect chance to make a fucking game that has Max save Rachel. I know I just did a tangent about Max not learning anything, but if you were just going to have Max use her powers again, why the fuck didn't you do it to save Rachel from a fate she never deserved? Godfucking forbid you give attention to Warren, Kate or Victoria. I just wanted to see these characters get some screen time, make cameos or give us SOME hint to what they are up to after the events of the first game. But no, we can't have that. We can't be given anything of substance for Warren, Kate or Victoria. Can't learn anything about their fates in the LIS 2 Save Arcadia Bay ending, can't find out Warren or Kate survived the storm in Wavelengths via talking to Steph during the storm anniversary and we can't see them again in DE. I know it's just a teaser, but seriously why even do a new Max game if we don't even get cameos from these characters? Knowing how Deck Nine is, they are just gonna find a way to demonize Warren to paint him like Eliot, regress Victoria's character and not even give Kate the time of day to mention. Jesus fucking christ, I just wanted to see Max and Warren Go Ape, fun Max and Victoria photodates and to see Max and Kate have one fucking Tea date. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR???

5. Deck Nine are literally just swiping DontNod’s characters for the purposes of chasing that brand recognition. It's just copy pasting lighting in a bottle and milking a cow out of this franchise. BTS was remotely successful because of Chloe and Rachel's relationship. True Colors is fun at first, but realize it's just a hollow imitation of the first game. DONTNOD's story was original, fun and unique. I had problems with it but it was still THEIR story on their terms and not developed from a place of corporate cynicism asking for preorders ASAP that come bundled with a box of tissues and bobbleheads of dead teenagers. Read recent interviews from DONTNOD and you can TELL they got burned by SquareEnix over this. I hope they can channel that into something with Bloom and Rage because I’d love to see them recapture that magic again.

I had fears of what would happen if Deck Nine ever got their hands on Max. And looks like I was right to be worried.

To be clear, I think making stories with someone else’s character is great and cool and it’s literally what fanfiction is and technically, MUCH of mass media now IS “fanfiction”. The difference here is DONTNOD deliberately wanted LIS 1 canon left alone, near as I can tell. But no, Square Enix wanted a franchise and Deck Nine was more than happy to milk the cow for all it was worth and Deck Nine has shown they don't understand DONTNOD's characters

The game looks like it's repeating everything about the first game, but none of the charm that made it great. It's beat for beat the same fucking game. Dead friend, murder mystery, but without the ambiance, charm or magic that made the first game good. Deck Nine is completely unoriginal, DE is a soulless cashgrab and their hyperrealism killed the entire essence of the game and its characters.

It's quite literally a copy and paste of True Colors, but with Max.

And when we just look at this. Double Exposure is just soulless. It's style over substance and I knew. I just KNEW that if Deck Nine got their hands on Max it would be half-assed and soulless shit like this. They dared to slap Max's name on a Steph lookalike and then just do True Colors again, but more hollow.

There's something just so disappointing about the change in art style over the years. The art direction in the first game was charming and now it just feels kinda soulless. The awkward chunkyness of the models really made it stand out but now it feels way too smooth

life is strange going from one studios passion project to another’s cashgrab is one of the biggest modern tragedies in the world deck nine they could never make me like you. All the charm of the franchise from the cartoonish artstyle to the episodical releases has been completely stripped away it’s just very disappointing to see.

This meme is literally Double Exposure.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

DISCOPUNK - Octobie Week #3 - Slice of Life

Well, that's one way to say 'thank you'. | Its tea time, innit. (Hobie x DiscoSpider Diane)

A.N: This was SO SO fun to draw and I'm really happy with how it came out :') - Also, I hid a lot of personal fanon-lore in this drawing so, here's some easter eggs below! As always, huge thanks to @the-kr8tor!

Easter Eggs:

Hobie lives on a boat with his lovely stray boatcats.

Hobie is proudly Jamaican (in my head).

His favorite colour is Green, though only Diane knows that.

Hobie didn't tell her, but somehow she managed to figure it out on her own.

Someone asked him, but before he could answer, she simply said 'Green'.

When he later asked her how she'd known, Diane told him it was obvious.

His carpet was green, and so was his bonnet, and his favorite shirt - to her it just made sense.

He calls her Duchess, since their first night out.

Diane sleeps with her guitar pick necklace on her left wrist.

She says she's afraid if she wears it to bed, it'll choke her to death in her sleep.

Hobie tells her that's not possible - considering she's superhuman. Green Goblin could hardly choke her out if he wanted to.

She doesn't believe him. She's 'not taking no chances'.

Diane only sleeps in high quality pastel pajama sets - with fuzzy socks to match. Hobie is the type of guy to turn any shirt into a 'sleep shirt' if he owns it long enough.

Diane likes her nails long, acrylic, and consistently manicured.

Hobie could never. After raiding Diane's extensive varnish collection, he paints every finger a different color. Sure, he could pick one. That's no fun, though!

When Hobie is enamored - or near Diane - his outline with turn her favorite color, pink!

Not only that, when Hobie's being a loverboy, pink origami hearts may start fluttering around his head - literally.

Diane knows Hobie's tea order by heart.

Another thing she'd learned by sheer observation.

Irish Breakfast tea, not British. One sugar, not too sweet, with the bag steeped a little too long.

He likes it 'her-coloured' - tea with just enough milk to match the tone of her skin. Anymore makes it taste 'like rubbish', in his opinion.

Hobie endorses tax evasion.

Happy Octobie Week #3!

Remember, if you have a spidersona, you can do whatever you want forever <3

BYE.

[lowkeyrobin]

hi could you please write smth about accidentally revealing your relationship with quackity? preferably with cc!reader <3

of course!! thanks for the request 🫶 ; ik I did a preference about accidentally revealing relationships but doing a little different thing and going in depth w it was fun!

QUACKITY ; softlaunch ❌ hardlaunch ✅

summary ; you and Alex accidentally reveal your relationship

warnings ; language, little bit of buzzed ranting, use of pet names (babe)

genre ; fluff

word count ; 1k

masterlist

You and Alex have been together for about ten-ish months, keeping it on the low since you'd been traveling around for QSMP meetups, events, and the Streamer Awards for a little bit.

You'd finally gotten home, your shared apartment with Alex, with Cellbit and Roeir tagging along. The three were planning to make a 'trying mexican candies' video in the morning while you were planning to edit and maybe stream til you felt tired enough to quit and sleep. The three guys sit out in the living room, watching some TV show as they sprawl out on the couch, buzzed from the aftermath of award winning.

You were more than proud for your boyfriend, but it being so late now, and your need for comfort after being overstimulated for hours on end, called for a little alone time. You sit in your office, the clock reading 1:30am as you hit the Go Live button on your stream.

You decided to chill out behind the closed door, just chatting with whatever viewers were still awake at this hour, or were just beginning their day, depending on timezones. After five minutes, you greet your chat, snacking on some cookies you'd picked up from the store before returning home earlier, a glass of milk sitting on your desk next to the plastic box.

You sit in your very comfortable chair with a QuackityHQ hoodie, with the signature duck in the corner and design on the back, and some long, patterned pj pants, colored dark blue and black with a floral design. They were thin enough to wear in the warm heat, which was perfect for you. You looked tired but didn't really feel that way, like your eyes were sewn open from adrenaline and happiness.

"Good morning, everyone" You chuckle, "Alex just won an award, feeling good! He, Cellbit and Roier got some drinks and have been watching TV on the couch, so sorry if you can hear them. I closed the door just in case but don't mind any shouting or music"

Your chat explodes with messages, congratulating you, even though you lost in your category, and spamming hearts and heart hands emojis. Someone sends in a small donation, asking for clarification why they were at your house.

"Oh, Alex didn't wanna drive all the way back to his place and he had his car parked here from earlier. He drove the other two and we all left together. They're staying the night" You nod, clarifying with a little bit of lying, not wanting to slip up.

You'd known for a while that Alex was just a secretive person over the smallest things, and he didn't know why. You were totally fine being open about your relationship with friends, but made sure to respect boundaries for him. He reassured you in his own panic that he wasn't embarrassed to be with you and didn't want to hide his love for you often.

He explained it in simplest terms as he was weirdly secretive and he didn't want his weirdo stans attacking you or only watching you for him, he didn't want to ruin your fanbase that you built from the ground up. You'd been friends since forever, a good percentage (if not all, then most) of your fans also watched Quackity's content, which kind of made sense to you, but you didn't question it.

"But yeah, it was fun, just like... there were so many people, and so much was happening all at once and shit. I'm just trying to calm down and get tired." You lightly smile, taking a bite of one of your cookies. "I'm so proud of everyone who won and everyone who was nominated, good night for everyone"

You sit and talk to your chat for a while, occasionally listening to the trio's laughter outside your office. Before you can even snap your head around to inform whoever entered that you were live, they were already speaking, slightly laughing, and stumbling.

"Babe, oh my God, I'm so sorry! I accidentally dropped one of your plates in the kitchen and it fucking shattered everywhere, I'm so sorry. I cleaned it up, I just wanted to tell you than wait for you to notice and make you mad, I'm sorry, Y/n/n"

Your jaw hangs slightly agape, and you stare with a silent expression. You slowly turn back to your stream, the chat absolutely exploding with messages. You saw probably a hundred first time chatters even making an expression about it.

"Lex, I'm live" You speak between your teeth, muting your mic. "Ah- uh, it's, it's fine"

He quickly regains his composure, staring over at you, then looking over to your PC, showing that you were a thousand percent live and five thousand people heard him say that. By the morning, it'd be all over Twitter and YouTube Shorts and TikTok, people were already clipping it.

"Shit"

"Alex, holy shit"

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, trying to rationalize what to do. Cell and Roier bust into the office as well, seeing both of you silent before asking, where you both talk over each other very loudly to try and explain.

They both look over to your monitors, confirming you were live. They both laugh in a light hearted way, looking to Quackity.

"You're cooked, dude"

"Rest in peace"

"You say that like I'm embarrassed to be with them, I mean, it's not like that... I think. Y/n, are you embarrassed to be with me? I'm not embarrassed to be with you, I wanna post pictures of us on adventures and experiencing shit so people can see us for us and what we are-"

"My brother in Christ" You sigh with a chuckle, rubbing your temples. "It's said and done, it's fine. And no, I'm not embarrassed to be with you" You turn back to your stream, unmuting yourself under the red LED lights and lamp on your desk.

You sigh and shrug before speaking, throwing your hands up halfway in defense.

"Y/s/n real"