#affordable space adventures

[iloveabunchofgames]

Week In Review - 3/5/23

#JakeReviewsItch Week In Review Archives

This week's reviews:

🧡🧡🤍🤍🤍 AIdol 🧡🧡🤍🤍🤍 Air Dasher 🧡🧡🧡🧡🤍 Airships: Conquer the Skies 🧡🧡🧡🤍🤍 Akurra 🧡🧡🧡🧡🤍 Akuto: Showdown / Akuto: Mad World 🧡🤍🤍🤍🤍 The Alabaster Donut Farm 🧡🧡🧡🤍🤍 Alfal's Grove

With the imminent closure of the Wii U eShop, it's high time I told you about two of that system's best games. (And they both happen to be from the same developer, NapNok Games.) Get 'em fast—they weren't big sellers, and they were built specifically around Wii U's quirky features, so don't expect them to ever find their way to any other platform. But first...

Game of the Week

Two new games climb into the #JakeReviewsItch top five this week. Will the crown go to casual, party-game mayhem or complex, methodical strategy?

The answer to that question is... Well, how would you answer that question? If you want to entertain rowdy guests with something along the lines of Smash Bros. or Power Stone, Akuto: Showdown/Mad World is the game for you. As a primarily single-player guy, I'm siding with Airships: Conquer the Skies.

Building custom flying fortresses, negotiating trade and treaties, sending spies across borders to gather intel, and planning a subtle scheme for global domination—there is so much going on in Airships, and it somehow feels intuitive and inviting. Every element is bursting with possibilities. Many of us won't be lucky enough to achieve our dreams of becoming a despotic megalomaniac in real life, but we can here. And just like the real thing, it's a joyful, creative experience that anyone can enjoy. Just be careful. It's a massive, addictive game. Play at your own risk. P.S. Game of the Week is a title only one game can be given each week, but you, dear friend, can play many games at whatever time you please. Akuto? Airships? Take your guidance from the tortilla commercial girl.

Affordable Space Adventures

There's a lot to explain how Affordable Space Adventures works. I'm going to let the trailer give the overview so I can focus on telling you why this is the single best piece of evidence that the world was wrong to turn up its collective nose at Wii U.

It's sometime in the future. Humans are leaving Earth to claim a plot of land in the far reaches of space. Paradise lies all around us, just beyond the solar system, and a piece of it can be all yours! No credit? No problem! Affordable Space Adventures opens on a sales pitch that's so exciting you'd be a fool not to hand over your Earth money and set off for the time of your life. A gigantic ship filled with affordable, compact ships lies in ruin on a stormy, alien world full of thunderstorms and hate. But there, in the mound of broken ships and deceased adventurers, we see a hint of movement. Your ship is functional! Barely! It's a marvelously elegant beginning to a game that doesn't waste much time on story after that. What else is their to say? The trip went bad. Your ship is busted. You shouldn't be alive. Nothing on this planet wants you to be alive. Good luck! The ship repairs itself and pick up upgrades along the way, in the style of Metroid or Castlevania, though it's really a linear puzzle game. Here's a new tool; now let's see ya get outta this.

Every puzzle is asks you to rethink everything you thought you knew, and developing a strategy is only half the battle. Tinkering with touch-screen switches, swinging around the unreliable weight of the ship—it's patting your head and rubbing your tummy...and turning off your engine so you don't overheat, and deploying the ski-like landing gear to slide down a slope, and turning the engine back on to keep from flying to high after zipping off the ramp, and what's that robot doing there?? Quick, focus the light on it, but down fall into the lava!

It's a lot to handle on your own, and successfully managing it all, attention divided by TV screen and GamePad screen, is exhilarating. Dividing responsibilities between tow or three players in an entirely different experience, and it's exactly as maddening and rewarding. Shouting commands between three people who are all looking at different things and doing different jobs is unrivaled fun, no matter who's playing. I've gone through it with game fanatics and with people who have never touched a controller, and it's been a hit every time. I first played Affordable Space Adventures shortly before its launch. I was working at Nintendo at the time, asked to try out the game on my own. I couldn't tell anyone outside of my four-person team what I was doing. (Nintendo is serious about NDAs. Please screenshot this post. There's a non-zero chance I'll be disappeared, all traces of my existence erased, just for acknowledging my former job. Tell my story!) Anyway, I played this game, and could not believe that we at Nintendo weren't running a dedicated Affordable Space Adventures Direct. Here was a game that could only exist on Wii U, and it was perfect. A totally original, funny, mind-bending physics puzzle adventure that could appeal to a dedicated individual or for the whole family. And I couldn't tell anyone! You know the rest. Nintendo gave it a little push—a gentle nudge, perhaps. There was a buzz among those who played it, but everything was a hard sell on Wii U. What chance did some side-scrolling indie game ever stand? I was sure that, if nothing else, speedrunners would pick up on it—goodness golly gosh, it's the perfect speedrun game—but nah, it never developed any significant scene. So I'm telling you now: Time is limited. It's affordable. It's paradise. You would be a fool not to set off on this adventure. Oh! Oh! Since the Miiverse is long gone, I can spoil the amazing ending that's no longer a part of the game. (It's is still a small spoiler, though, so skip the next paragraph for now, and come back after you've played the game.) Toward the end of Affordable Space Adventures, you find a way to send a distress signal, you're asked to draw your S.O.S. on the touch screen before moving on to the rest of the game. At the very end, you see a fax machine in an empty room, dumping your message, and messages from every player connected to Miiverse, on the floor. It's one of the funniest endings I've ever seen, and it was also a sweet shared experience. For a moment, I felt a connection with strangers. I believe that in our post-Miiverse world, the fax machine simple spits out the developers' own messages. The idea comes across, but it's just not the same.

Spin the Bottle: Bumpie's Party

"Hey, come over to my place. Yeah, dude, we're gonna play Spin the Bottle. It'll be lit."

Again, no mystery why Wii U-exclusive Bumpie's Party isn't a household name. Here's what you need to play: A Wii U. Wii Remotes (preferably four). Human beings who can be talked into playing a game that requires a lot of interpersonal physical contact (preferably 12). No TV. I've only played a full 12-person, four-Wii Remote game of Spin the Bottle: Bumpie's Party once, and it might have been the best multiplayer game of my life. I've tried a two-player game of Spin the Bottle: Bumpie's Party, and it was terribly awkward.

You're thinking it, so let's address it: Is this some freaky sex thing? Absolutely not. It's closer to the kind of games I used to play with children in my days as a camp counselor (we're learning about a lot about my past jobs, aren't we?), under strict supervision and penalty of getting my name on a list if the appearance of anything untoward were to happen. Consenting adults could surely find a way to make Spin the Bottle dirty, but there is nothing about it that's inherently more risqué than a hug. It's a giggle-inducing, one-of-a-kind case of the sillies. Make sure parents and teachers are have all the facts before everyone who went to your kid's sixth birthday part starts talking about how much fun they had playing Spin the Bottle, and think twice before playing with drunk strangers. Dumb name. Great game.

Stay safe, and remember that safety includes getting Spin the Bottle: Bumpie's Party and Affordable Space Adventures right now. Immediately. Don't miss your chance.

#JakeReviewsTwitch is a series of daily game reviews. You can learn more here. You can also browse past reviews…

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[5hrignold]

when your circle undiagnosed depression

[leaderfuzzy]

And then Fionna never woke up on time ever again.

Happy Fionna Friday!

[BONUS PANEL + ID under the cut!]

[ID: Panel 1: Fionna and Cake are in their apartment. Fionna is sitting on her bed and Cake is collapsed onto her, her body and limbs extended as she cries “Fionna I miss BMO so muuuuuchhh” Fionna has a worried yet supportive expression as she comforts her sister. Her alarm clock reads 16:20

Panel 2: Cake immediately changes her expression to a surprised and curious one as she pushes Fionna aside and says “Ooo wait what’s that.” She looks onto the bedside table, where the Fionna-world version of BMO (a non-sentient alarm clock) sits. The alarm clock reads 16:21

Panel 3: Cake raises the alarm clock into the air with joyous whimsy on her face as she says “BMO’s been living with us this whole time! Oh honey we’re gonna make up for all that lost time! We’ll go for walks and eat ice cream and go swimming and get a tan and-“ (these are all things that an alarm clock can not- and would not- want to do. The alarm clock still reads 16:21

Panel 4: An obviously rushed funeral in the park, mirroring the one from the episode “Jerry”. Cake sits with a solemn expression as she lowers a destroyed BMO alarm clock (which is on fire and wet at the same time) into a square hole in the ground. Gary stands in confused respect while Fionna gives a resigned and annoyed expression as she begrudgingly holds her bunny hood in her hand. (Cake wouldn’t let her keep it on for the funeral.) In the background, Ellis P. punches a tree in unrestrained anger, unable to contain his grief for this alarm clock he was only made aware of 5 minutes ago. The alarm clock reads 16:42. This happened in less than 20 minutes.

Bonus panel: Fionna is walking down the street with her bunny hood still in hand. Marshall Lee awkwardly stands and says to Fionna “Hey man I’m sorry about your clock” Fionna responds “Shut the fuck up Marshall.” End ID.]

[foxgloveinspace]

Finding out there’s IS a camera shop for both digital and film cameras not to far from where we go shopping every week is good and bad.

Good for my mental health and hyper focused brain.

Bad for my wallet and my low spend budget right now.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[avocado-writing]

home

pairing: 14th doctor x reader & 10th doctor x reader

rating: E

notes: no gender or age given for reader, just that you last saw the doctor fifteen years ago. thank you to @mcganns for being my beta!!

This too shall pass.

It was a sentiment that you had to cling onto when he left, because fuck knows it was the most painful thing you’d ever felt. And you’d run away from actual explosions before. Big ones, in space! Supernovas which could eat entire planets while you hung onto the side of a little blue box. 

And yet none of it even begins to compare to when he fucking left you. 

He said it wouldn’t be forever. Well, he shouted it at you as you fell out of the TARDIS. There was a time explosion, and you got rocketed back to your little flat in the middle of Hackney, on Earth only a few days from when he’d picked you up — but in your reality months of adventure had passed. 

You’d not really settled back in, certain that he was going to come and rescue you. But then days turned into weeks into months and you finally accepted that the Doctor had abandoned you. 

So you went back to it all. Your mundane little existence before a mad, brilliant man had whisked you away. Your boss was a bit miffed that you’d gone AWOL but you were their best employee so they couldn’t afford to let you go, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a command not to let it happen again. The people you loved didn’t really seem to notice your absence that much, which stung; you couldn’t blame them though. You’d probably not miss you much either. 

The Doctor. He made you feel special in a way nobody had before. Like you were the centre of a whole, giant, fantastic universe, and he adored you for it. 

Still. 

No point mulling that over again, is there?

Fifteen years. Things did get better. You moved on eventually. But you still find your thoughts drifting back to him every once in a while, and that fragment of time you spent totally utterly in love with each other. When you think about the way he kissed you, without realising it you end up touching your lips.

No. No. Stop. 

The singing of the kettle snaps you back into reality, and you pour yourself a hot cuppa. Ah, tea. The antidote to everything. You go to turn the radio on for some company as you shift into your morning routine when you hear a knock at the door. 

Probably the postie. He’s a bit early today, you think, but make no more of it as you undo the latch and open the door. 

Your heart stops. 

Because there he is, of course. 

Older. Weathered. Not the young man you once knew but a grownup version of him, as exhausted by life as you are. 

You drop your mug. Quick as a flash the Doctor grabs it out of midair. The tea sloshes onto the floor but at least nothing gets shattered. 

He goes to look up at you, but his attention is drawn back to his hand. 

“I bought you this mug years ago,” he says, utterly amazed. 

You shut the door in his face. 

Well, you try to, anyway. But he sticks a foot in between the door and the frame, with one of those stupid Converse he always wears.

“I know you’re angry, I know. But please let me come in.”

It’s such an absurd statement you find yourself laughing, a high and desperate noise. 

“Absolutely not!” Actually, no. That’s not enough. “How dare you. Why are you even here?!”

“Because I wanted— I needed to see you.”

You still want to slam the door on him, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives you pause. And when he looks at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Those eyes as lined with age as you are?

Fuck. You’re so weak. 

So that’s how you find the Doctor sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. You lean against the counter, defences still up, eyeing him from over the top of your mug. He drums his fingers against the tablecloth. 

“I like your house. Your calendar is nice, I enjoy the kitten motif.”

“Don’t,” you spit, slamming the mug down and sloshing tea onto the floor, “don’t you dare. You don’t get to waltz back here and start telling me ‘oh, I enjoy your furnishings, haven’t you made a nice little life for yourself since I abandoned you!’ I let you in to speak your piece, though god knows why. Say it and be done.”

The Doctor looks deflated. His shoulders sag, mouth falls. You take a moment to properly look at him. He seems… tired. Tired in a way you never knew him to be when you went on your adventures. Part of you wants to offer comfort, but the other part of you wants to withhold it maliciously. Anything to make him feel the way you felt. 

“I looked for you,” is what he settles on, heavily. You didn’t expect that, and it knocks you. 

“What?”

“I did. After the explosion, I tried searching all over the galaxy for you. I didn’t know where - when - you’d ended up. I scanned and scanned but something stopped you from appearing on the TARDIS’s sensors. I think… the amount of artron energy emitted during the blast somehow cloaked you.”

You say nothing, your silence an invitation for him to continue his explanation. 

“It took years. Literal years, for me. Every spare moment I had, I dedicated to looking for you. Head buried in the circuitry of the TARDIS, trying to fix whatever was hiding you, gave myself a couple of nasty shocks too. And, when I finally tracked you down, I’d regenerated.”

You blink. Right. Yes. He’d explained that, but you’d never seen it with your own eyes. The same person, a different face. 

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me if I didn’t look like me. But I had to try anyway, didn’t I? So I came here. To your house. I got myself all ready for it, knocked on your door… and found that you were married.”

Your fingers grip the counter. 

“Oh.”

“He seemed nice. Loved you a lot, as you deserved. And I couldn’t tell you I was back, could I? I saw you pottering around in the kitchen, making the tea - you were always the best at making tea - and you were happy. How could I ask you to leave that all, uproot the life you’d made for yourself, just to jump back in the TARDIS with me? How could I be so cruel? I couldn’t, could I. So I left again. Tried to move on. Like you did.”

You’re crying now. You can feel hot tears slide down your face and soak into your jumper. 

“Oh, Doctor,” you manage. You want to tell him so much. It feels like it might burst out of you. But instead you settle on:

“Why now?”

He smiles thinly. 

“Because somehow I got this face back, and I wanted to see you. I wanted to be selfish for once.”

You find yourself at the table, on the wonky chair opposite him, sliding your hand over to cover his. It’s rough and warm. Just like you remember. He says your name with reverence, but like it pains him. 

“I never stopped loving you. Ever. Through it all, every adventure, I knew it wasn’t complete because you weren’t there. It just wasn’t the same without wonderful, brilliant you,” he admits. He sounds defeated. It breaks your heart — or, actually, it might just put it back together again. 

A beat passes. His confession lingers in the air, heavy, thick and choking like smoke from an untameable fire. 

“His name was Simon. He was a baker. He was lovely, actually… and we got divorced two years ago.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows. 

“You… what… why?”

“Because he knew there was someone else I never really let go of. Someone else who, despite everything, I still loved.”

He looks you in the eyes, and you see something glimmer there that you long since gave up on. 

Hope. 

And then, suddenly, you’re kissing. 

It’s like nothing has changed. His lips are still rough and searching on yours, a hint of tongue giving away into more the deeper you entangle. He sits you up on the table and steps into the space left by your spread legs, and between each kiss he says your name. It’s full of adoration but lined with desperation, too. 

Like the kisses he gave you the first night you laid together, on a bed in his spaceship floating across the galaxy. When he buried himself inside you and you felt his two hearts beat in rhythm with your own. 

“Doctor…” you manage. 

Fuck. You need him. You didn’t realise how badly you needed him. You didn’t realise a piece of your soul has been missing this whole time, fucking torn out of you and leaving a jagged hole in its wake. And him, back, telling you he loves you and always has? You’re patched together like kintsugi. 

Your Doctor is the molten gold you need. 

“Please. I need to…” he’s so desperate he can barely get the words out, but you nod; he’s undoing the belt buckle of your jeans and pulling them off like they’re silk. When his thin waist meets yours you cross your ankles behind him and lock him into place, and his hands - a little fumbling, a little nervous to be mapping out the plain of you again - begin to trace your chest. You lean into his touch to let him know yes. This is okay. I want this. Make me whole again. 

His warm, rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt and lift it easily over your head, the only break in a while you take from your kiss. You let yourself grab his tie to bring him closer. He’s fully dressed still and you’re almost naked; you remember how he used to like that, enjoy feeling a bit more put together than you. Cheeky blighter. Still though, as his suit scratches your skin, you can’t say you don’t agree. 

However. In this instance he has far too many clothes. 

You tug at his jacket and he knows what you need, letting it fall to the floor with his tie and waistcoat following it. He ruts against you as he unbuttons his shirt a bit, not the whole way, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest. He’s so skinny. You’ve always been a bit worried that, on one of your rougher days, you might snap him in half. You still are now, actually. 

Cupping his face in your hands you let your thumbs caress his cheekbones. Your Doctor. Older but the same. Just like you. 

You can feel him more than half-hard against your leg. No more time wasting. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him. 

It doesn’t take long to undo his fly and have him in your hand. You’ll always be glad he chose this human anatomy. Though you’d love him no matter how he looks, there’s something wonderful about his cock as it is here. He lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder with a moan if your name. 

“Oh… you’re…”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree, a genuine smile passing your face for the first time in god knows how long. He’s just the right length and on the thick side, and you know what a delicious stretch he is when he pushes inside of you. You can’t wait to feel it again. A couple of pumps and he’s ready, dripping precome and a ruddy red. Another time you’d bend down and taste him, remind yourself what a Time Lord’s cock is like. But now today. Well, not now. 

You lay back, readjusting yourself so he can push your underwear to the side and find your entrance. A couple of fingers - those long, delicate, clever and cunning fingers - press inside you and test you out. You’re ready for him. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he realises and you laugh, properly, throwing your head back. 

“Come on, Doctor. Show me that you’ve missed me.”

He used to never shut up. And now he’s stunned into a desperate silence, lining up with you and pushing in as he does his best to make you feel what he’s been feeling too. 

A loneliness is fixed. He slides home inside you and your hips meet, the both of you letting out a long and ragged breath. You sit there for a moment, locked in the most intimate embrace, and just feel each other. You fist your hands in his shirt. He’s here. He’s real. You feel him trace his palm up your back as if you assure himself of the same thing. 

Slowly he begins to move. It is a long and lovely drag, his cock hitting all the points you missed being touched, and when he feels you gasp he goes harder. The Doctor nuzzles into the skin of your neck, nestling to the warmth of you there, and you hear him repeat a mantra both of your name and “I love you”.

Over and over. As if the two phrases are inextricably linked. 

You’re so full. You’re so light. Everything feels perfect in this moment. And when he reaches between your bodies to touch your sex, push you to the edge, you know you’ll climax for him embarrassingly fast. 

When you come you see stars light up behind your eyes. The sky, the unfiltered and untamed sky takes you over. The Doctor says your name one final fine and releases inside you, his hips riding it out as if to savour every second in the sweet grip of you. 

He can’t look at your face when he asks you. He says it from the safety of your shoulder where his face is buried, because if you say no you know his heart will shatter. 

“Come with me, in the TARDIS again. I know I shouldn’t ask you to leave your home but… you complete me, you know. Always have.”

“Leave my home?! Doctor, don’t be daft. This is just a house in bloody Hackney. You’re my home.”

You pull back to meet his gaze. He’s tired, but bright. His eyes twinkle. And there’s the Doctor you know. 

“And of course,” you continue. And, as the smile engulfs his face and he lights up, “it’s not like I’m doing anything else, am I?”

This time, when you go AWOL from your job, you never come back. 

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

Chapter 1

You still clearly remember when you arrived at your new home  It was the biggest house you had been able to see in your short life.

When you got a better look, you felt a great sadness emanating from the outer walls, each space filled with a lifeless neutral color.

The owner of all the hallways, floors and valuable things, he was also a spitting image of melancholic, that was what you wanted to believe for a long time, that your new father was so damaged, that he couldn't afford to fix anyone else, besides him.

You took refuge in your room, the first days were full of tears and great sadness, you had not only lost your dear mother, but also your home, you ended up in an unknown place, with unknown people, you were miserably alone.  

Recovering a little from your depressed and lifeless state, you decided to seek comfort, whatever you could get, it didn't take a hug or sympathetic words, not even a minute of attention, just an empathetic look, a pat or some miserable affection.

Alfred, the butler, was the one who was in charge of taking care of you, he tried to give you the affection you needed, he was a father, while your real father continued to behave like an adult with no responsibilities at home, he was a sought-after bachelor with no children.

Seeing him and a new woman passing through the hallways hurt you a lot, not because of jealousy, you thanked all the divinities that your mother never stayed with your father, but rather because those women received more love and attention than the one you you had when you arrived at this house, of course they were only small one-night stands or fleeting relationships, but they still had your father's attention.

Some time passed, your father brought a boy, upon returning from one of his outings, you knew his secret that he was a superhero, you knew it from the day you saw him injured in the dining room chair while you were leaving with a tray of cookies you made with Alfred for their movie night. The point was that you never went out with your father, not even when he was in his role as a millionaire.

You thought that new boy was just your father's whim, to help someone in trouble, but he became your new brother, was that his way of helping?  

You tried to establish a friendly relationship with the boy, your new brother Dick Wayne, but he was so focused on his pain and hatred that he didn't even look at you at first, but with a little perseverance, you became his rock of support in his lowest moments together with Alfred, it's a shame that in trying to find his new path he left you behind.

Unlike you, your father did pay attention to him and looked at him, he was his son.  

He did the same with his next two adopted children, Jason, the brother you were able to get along with the most, he told you a lot about the adventures he had or the books he finished reading, he was like a little child next to you. Until he died. It was sad, not seeing him anymore. It depressed you for a long time.

After Jason, Tim followed, he was a very closed child with you, he didn't give you an ounce of his attention, just an unfriendly face.

You only had these little descriptions of your siblings, not that you knew much about them, you never dug deep into their past, you tried to be a good big sister. 

When the third child arrived you had already graduated and managed to enter a university very far away from Gotham City.

You packed your bags, said goodbye to the only person who was your family in this house and went to form your new life.

You didn't expect that a few years later, while you were preparing dinner with one of your best friends, he would tell you that you have a person at the door looking for you. 

 Less see a child who was the same carbon copy of your father.

"Well... What brings you here?"

The boy's raised eyebrow told you how bad you were starting the conversation, but in your defense you didn't know what to do, you were full of nerves, leaving the boy outside your house was not an option, it was at night and it was dangerous.

"I am Damian Wayne, the first blood son of Bruce Wayne, a true Wayne" what great arrogance this boy possessed.

"I came to this place to look for the first girl my father adopted"

"You know we are half-brothers from what I understand your speech." 

His look full of anger and indignation showed that he did not like your words.

"YOU…"

He was ready to get up when some whimpers stopped him.

"Excuse me for a moment if" you left the room and ran to the cause of the whining.

Damian was regretting having come to this place just with the goal of meeting a girl, Alfred had made her sound like someone great, but seeing her for the first time disappointed him, you weren't even half as good as his other brothers, that It meant you couldn't even reach his heels. But still there was something that stopped him from leaving when he saw you, your kind way of receiving him, how you treated him as kindly as possible without you knowing him.

He got very angry when you named him an equal, his half-sister, he didn't like that title, he was ready to start a fight and teach you a lesson, but some whining stopped him from continuing.

Seeing you return to the living room with a baby in your arms baffled him, maybe you had a son.

He watched you sit down, you rocked the baby lovingly and you hummed a song to him.

"This is Alice, she's my little princess" you smiled as you showed her to the boy.

If your little adventure with the stranger who joked about being a hero ended with the origin of your cute baby, you became a new version of your mother.

Your new half-brother focused a lot on watching the girl.

"Now, as I understand it, you were looking for me because you wanted to meet me, right?"  

"No, of course not, I just wanted to know who the girl Alfred always talked about was."

"It's not the same as what I said"

It seems that you provoked the boy, when you saw him go towards the door.

"Hey why don't you stay to eat" you stopped the boy, if you weren't already over this family.    

You got up with your baby and carefully placed her in the child's arms.

"Here, load it up, I'll put the plates for dinner."

  You went to the kitchen and the boy quickly followed you with the baby.

"I'm not your babysitter to take care of your daughter," he complained.

"No, of course you're not her babysitter, you're her dear uncle" I smiled at how adorable they looked "Look, it seems like she adores you, she almost never likes to leave my side and cries when someone else picks her up."

There were a few more complaints from the boy, but you saw that your words made him proud and made him play with the baby in his arms.

If the yandere family has not yet appeared, it will first start from the smallest, the indirect cause that all the others are yanderes, maybe??? an attempted introduction to what ___'s life was like in the mansion and his relationship with his first 3 brothers and a comforting scene with one of the brothers. I hope you like this attempt at a story, I'm still thinking of more ideas for drama and anguish and who could be the baby's father and new yandere

@kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213

[stealingyourbones]

I don't really get the people who think reading the comics is such a radical idea. Don't they want to learn more about them? aren't they curious what makes them tick? what insane adventures they went on? what fears they have? what makes them laugh and smile? I'm from europe so I haven't seen any of the DC shows I see mentioned every once in a while (which means I really don't get the whole Clark hates clones thing... but that's a different thing) and it's only been this year that I have enough disposable income to splurge on comics, aka I haven't read that many just yet.

But I do think the ones I have read enhance the stories I'm trying to tell, which to me is a good reason to read them ;p but besides that, they are fun! they are just really fun to read

I’m glad you’re having fun reading comics man! It’s a shame that folks don’t read them as much but you know, I can understand it. I both asked some folks in the Haunting Heroes discord server and have some of my own points to make about this.

First of all I do still believe that you should consume some form of DC media if you’re in the fandom. It’s fun and there are comics, books, movies, tv shows, and every other form of medium known to man that you can take a peek at! Idk I’m just a bit DC enjoyer and think that looking at canon media to expand on your knowledge and help create ideas you wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t looked at said piece of media.

Now onto why reading comic books is hard:

Some folks simply prefer the fandom and not the official DC content. Whether they prefer fanon, find fics more accessible, or like the people in the fandom, they’d rather just stick to the fandom.

They simply don’t know where to start. Getting into comics can be INCREDIBLY overwhelming ( DC has done their best to fix this and has messed up more than once. My go to is to reccomend folks just start reading New 52 comic runs as it’s really good for new readers to jump into the comics with any hero that might intrigue them). Big comic events span multiple comic story runs and not a cohesive line of comics, some omnibuses for stories are out of print, the 80+ years of comics are daunting as hell, and everyone has their own opinion on the best versions of a character/where to start/what to read.

Money. Comics are an expensive hobby to have. They may cost $1-$5 each on average but that price adds up over time. I have a comic collection of roughly 1,300 comics. I’d estimate its value very roughly around the $7,800 range. It’s probably far more than that though and I know damn well reselling it I won’t get half of that value back. I’m very fortunate to be a college student with disposable income and for this hobby to be the only thing I ever really spend money on besides rent and food. Some people either can’t afford them or don’t want to buy a comic they don’t know if it’s good or not.

Varying quality. Comics are a very mixed bag thing where they can be incredibly written or some of the worst pieces of media you’ve ever read. With this being the case, it can be really hard to find a comic character or writer you like if that’s your first experience. It takes a while to learn about different writers and find out who your favorite writers are. What’s harder is some writers can make absolute masterpieces with one character and the next comic run they cover it can be absolute garbage. Not only that, everyone has opinions on what is a good comic run or not. It’s impossible to find a repeatedly stated and easily accessible list on the good comics to read.

Pretentious “Canon is God” fans. Experiencing “um actually this isn’t good because this isn’t how the canon character would act” responses from people can really fucking suck and diminish their want to experience anything that’s official DC writing. I’ve seen more than one person go into this primarily fanon focused space and insult people saying their writing isn’t canonical and therefore it isn’t valid. It’s Uber Pretentious, demeaning, and actively harms peoples interests in checking out canon content.

Timelines. I already kind of said it but DC’s timelines are a mess. hell, even New 52 has some fucked up timelines making all of Batman’s previous timelines canon but happen only within a seven year period. That’s WAY too short for how much history is packed in there. The amount of crisises that happen and fully change the lore and timelines of characters is bonkers, the comic runs that bounce between different comic runs are really confusing, and the fact that there isn’t a True Starting Point for reading makes it so hard to grasp anything that’s happening. It’s one of comics biggest issues and no matter what DC has done they have yet to find a convenient solution.

Sensitive Content. Comics from DC are littered with either intentional, badly aged, or ignorantly written plot points and writing choices that will turn away readers. DC has its fair share of sexism, misogyny, abelism, racism, abuse, sexual harassment, sexual assaults, or topics casually addressed that can be very triggering for some people. Especially since a large amount of that sort of content is handled incredibly poorly. One particular writer, Alan Moore, writes sexual assault scenes with absolutely zero tact or the delicateness that a topic such as that should be held in. It’s almost solely used as a “let’s make the bad guy do the most fucked up thing they could do” throwaway plot point. Comics of the sort dissuade a lot of readers because of both the heavy content within comics and how that content can be incredibly poorly handled. This is partially why some folks would prefer to read fics. Comics are a unknown mixed grab bag when it comes to content like this and things exactly like this is known to make PTSD symptoms worse while fics have tags and can warn you before you consume the content within.

Time. A lot of folks have busy lives and just don’t have the time to read them.

The ways they intake media. Some folks might have a better time watching a long commentary video that explains a comic or their brain can’t process the comic medium very well. I can read and retain comic knowledge but even I am unique in this aspect, my memory is frightening levels of bad and is proven by science to be absolute shit. I have to reread comics at least once a month to retain the basic bare bones plot. Just because one person can easily digest what’s going on in a comic doesn’t mean everyone can.

Comics are such a big part of my life. I love them so much and they’ve gotten me through so many things. My own experience with comics isn’t the same for others and my thoughts on reading comics differs with other people. A lot of people have equally as many reasons for why they don’t read comics as you and I have for reading them.

[hotmentransformed]

Team USA

The city of Paris was alive with excitement as the 2024 Olympics drew people from around the globe. Among the crowds of tourists and athletes was Jesse, an American traveler with a love for adventure. Fascinated by the event and the athleticism on display, he felt an irresistible urge to experience the Olympics from a closer perspective. He had always been a rather meek man but had envied the raw athleticism and power that these athletes embodied. After saving up since the previous games, he was finally able to afford a trip to Europe for these games. Driven by curiosity and a sense of mischief, Jesse decided to sneak into the Olympic Village, to get close to the Olympians he had admired for so long.

Knowing this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be in proximity to his idols,  he had to make sure he made the most of this trip and didn’t fuck it up. Despite his meek statute, his confident demeanor and clever deception got him beyond the security, and he managed to enter the facility, blending into the vibrant atmosphere of the athletes' quarters. He wandered the village, soaking in the energy and marveling at the athletes he admired from afar.

Word of his entry got around, and soon guards were searching for him. As he heard French men shouting down the hall, he knew he needed to hide. Jesse twisted the nearest doorknob to him, and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Pushing it open, he threw his body inside and closed and locked the door behind him. Inside, the lights were dim. Now that he was safe from the guards, the adrenaline he had been riding was starting to wear off, and fatigue began to set in. Looking around the space, he noticed that the room was incredibly simple, with two beds with Paris 2024 sheets, a fan, and a clothes rack.

Exhausted from his adventure and his narrow escape, Jesse lay down on one of the beds to rest and regain his energy before making his daring escape. But the makeshift mattress was surprisingly comfortable, and even though the guards were still probably looking for him, Jesse quickly lulled into a deep sleep. 

As Jesse slept, a peculiar warmth spread through his body, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. His limbs felt heavy yet relaxed as if they were being gently molded by an unseen force. His breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. The sensation was soothing, yet beneath it was an underlying intensity, a pulsing energy that coursed through his veins.

His body began to change. His hands, once ordinary, grew larger and more defined, the fingers thickening with callouses. His arms swelled with muscle, biceps and triceps becoming well-defined, veins standing out against the skin. His shoulders widened, giving him a more powerful and athletic build.

His chest expanded, pectoral muscles firming up as his heart beat stronger and more steadily. His abdominal muscles tightened, forming a sculpted six-pack that spoke of strength and endurance. His legs, too, transformed, becoming muscular and sinewy, the calves and thighs bulging with new power.

Jesse’s jawline became more pronounced, his cheekbones higher, giving his face a more chiseled appearance. His skin, once pale from his travels, took on a healthier glow as if he had spent years training outdoors under the sun. 

When Jesse awoke, he felt a strange surge of energy and vitality coursing through him. He sat up, blinking in the morning light, and noticed the gymnast's uniform hanging neatly on a chair, adorned with the letters USA. Confused but intrigued, he stood and moved towards the mirror.

The reflection that greeted him was stunning. Jesse stared, eyes wide, at the image of a powerful, athletic man. The person in the mirror was undeniably him, yet also a stranger. His body, now sculpted and strong, moved with a grace and ease that felt both new and familiar.

As Jesse struggled to understand what had happened, the door opened, and a young man in a Team USA singlet walked in. "Hey Brody, you're up!” the man said casually as if everything was perfectly normal.

Brody blinked, trying to reconcile the confusion in his mind with the reality before him. “You’re running late! The competition starts soon… you’d better get dressed!”

 "Yeah, okay,” Brody with an unfamiliar deep voice.

The other man closed the door and Brody picked up the singlet. He pulled his now-massive thighs through the spandex and pulled the outfit over his muscular body. His bulky arms flexed as he held the singlet open for the rest of his body to enter. The spandex hugged his abdomen, displaying his six-pack through the fabric, and his pecs pushed against the top and he held the shoulder straps. 

He let go of the straps of the singlet that he had been holding. With a snap onto his broad shoulders, he remembered everything: growing up in Tennessee, waking up early every morning to work out and train, enrolling at Stanford to compete, and qualifying for the Olympics.

Now knowing that he earned his right to be here, Brody strutted out of his room with a newfound bravado and through the Olympic village towards the shuttle to the gymnastics complex. Within the hour, he was there, on the mats warming up to compete for the gold in front of the world.

He was representing the best country in the world. He was the best of the best, and he was going to give the world one hell of a show.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light. 

[misshoneyimhome]

Yin & Yan I Seth Jarvis 🖋️🌺

Requested: yes/no

Summary; for jarvy : he’s always cracking jokes and very unserious. but he gives me golden retriever energy. so maybe something with black cat gf + golden retriever bf.

Other notes; Well hello again my sweet Canes fan 🤍 I am back with another Jarvy fic, and though I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted this to play out, I hope I managed to catch your vibe anyway 😅 I must admit, the more I look at and listen to this guy, I'm growing a soft spot for him and emotionally getting swept off my feet 🥰

Tropes & Warnings; Seth Jarvis x reader; strangers to lovers; no warnings (except I mention they sleep together, but that's not really a surprise, is it 😂)

Word count; 2.6K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50, @findapenny, @justwanderingbutneverlost, @cixrosie

_

Seth Jarvis was always the life and soul of the party, sporting the brightest smile and the heartiest laugh.

His demeanour was infectious, capable of brightening even the dullest of rooms, and it came as no surprise that he was often likened to having "golden retriever energy." His enthusiasm was tangible, emitting a warmth and loyalty that drew people to him. Seth’s passion for life simply meant he was always eager for the next big adventure, as he had a remarkable talent for making everyone feel valued and acknowledged, his cheerful nature illuminating any space he entered.

In contrast, you were his complete opposite. Reserved, with a fondness for sarcasm and a preference for solitude, you were often dubbed the "black cat" of your social circle. While Seth thrived in social gatherings, you found solace in quiet moments—whether immersing yourself in the pages of a captivating novel or strolling through the city streets beneath the tranquil night sky. Your wit was sharp, your humour dry, and you proudly wore your introversion like a badge of honour.

Yet despite your differences, you and Seth had an undeniable chemistry. It seemed as if his brightness balanced out your darkness, creating a perfect harmony. And though no one would have guessed that you two were such a great match, it turned out that opposites do indeed attract. 

Meeting Seth had been as surprising for you as it was for him. And whenever people asked about how it all began, Seth could never contain his excitement when telling the story, his eyes lighting up as he relived that fateful moment.

---

"Oh, fuck me…" you muttered under your breath as you strolled along the pavement in the streets of Raleigh. Following a trip to the grocery store, the bottom of your paper bag had split, spilling your groceries – and naturally, the sight of broken eggs spreading across the pavement was the cherry on top of an already dismal day. “Just my luck…”

It had simply been one of those days. And weeks. Perhaps even the entire month.

Your flatmate had been an absolute nightmare lately, with her boyfriend practically living over almost every day. They stayed up all night, their noisy sex accompanied by the blare of the television, and on weekends, she'd invite more friends over, filling the flat with thumping music, dense smoke, and the chaos of impromptu parties. Sometimes, the parties didn’t even stop at weekends.

You were nearing your breaking point, but the issue was you had nowhere else to turn. Sure, you’d been on the hunt for another place to live, but nothing affordable had come up. There had been one or two options maybe, but living with a male flatmate who made it clear he'd only offer reasonable rent if you gave him "a little sugar" three times a week wasn’t exactly your idea of a good deal.

You tried to maintain a positive outlook, really, you did. Even though you knew optimism wasn’t exactly your default setting, it often felt like the universe was working against you. “It's all part of your journey for personal growth,” your mother always said. But honestly, you didn’t feel like you needed much more ‘growth’ at this point. You were pretty content with where you were in life. Almost, anyway.

All you wished for was a little positive energy from the universe. Just every now and then.

So, as you stooped to gather your belongings, reminding yourself to think more optimistically and hope for some good vibes, it inevitably began to rain heavily. Big, fat drops splashed all around you, drenching your clothes and turning the situation into a soggy mess. “Seriously? Well, fuck you too,” you muttered aloud, perhaps a bit louder than you intended, your frustration resonating in the now empty street.

“Whoa, easy there, I’m innocent, I swear,” a male voice suddenly came from behind you, chuckling as he approached.

“What?”

Turning your head slightly to see the approaching figure, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. A cheeky remark from a stranger was the last thing you needed right now. However, as the person drew nearer, he then knelt down next to you and reached out for some of your groceries.

“Need a hand?” he simply asked in a much calmer tone, looking at you with warm honey-brown eyes and a wide smile that seemed to break through the gloom.

You found yourself rather bewildered, to say the least. Here you were, kneeling on the pavement in the pouring rain, and this stranger came along offering to help with your groceries scattered on the ground, including the broken eggs. And you had to admit, he seemed a bit charming and quite good-looking.

“Um,” you murmured softly, not quite sure what to say. “Um… I’m alright, but thanks.” You attempted to offer him a faint smile, though you felt it was futile.

And you were correct. The stranger simply stayed put, picking up the packets of Mentos and the lemons you had bought, as he once again flashed you a smile, seemingly unfazed by the rain. “Well, you do seem like someone who could use a hand,” he chuckled lightly. 

Damn, this guy was something else, you thought. Completely catching you off guard, he just started gathering your scattered items into his arms, still wearing that gentle grin.

You didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you wanted to be left alone, feeling embarrassed enough by the universe. On the other hand, it was rather nice to have someone lending you a hand. And you had just asked the universe for some positive energy, even a bit of luck to come your way, so maybe this was it. You might as well give it a try, you figured. It couldn’t get any worse. Right?

“Well, thank you,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” he merely replied, his tone genuine. “I’m Seth, by the way. But most folks just call me Jarvy.”

There was a brief moment where you and Seth remained crouched, exchanging looks. You truly felt thankful for his assistance, and as you retrieved the items from your shopping bag, Seth reached into his pocket and pulled out a fabric tote for you to use.

It felt almost like a scene from a romantic comedy. Two strangers meeting when one of the main characters is in a shitty situation and the other comes to their rescue. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more cinematic, the rain stopped.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” Seth chuckled, holding your groceries close.

You couldn’t help but smile, thanking him once more for his help. There was something about his charming grin, the way his eyes sparkled despite the dark, grey clouds, and how happiness seemed to emanate from him like a shining aura. Seth was truly special, and perhaps he was the stroke of luck the universe had sent your way.

Well, at least until you both stood up and your jeans tore at the inner seam.

“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed, letting out a deep sigh.

Once again, Seth couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you’re really having a day, huh?” He gazed at you with his warm brown eyes. “How about I buy you to a cup of coffee?”

Once more, you were taken aback. This guy didn’t even know you, yet here you were, still drenched, now with torn jeans, and he was just smiling and offering to buy you coffee? Who was this guy? Was it some sort of prank?

But no, it wasn’t. Despite your initial suspicions, Seth turned out to be nothing but a friendly guy who simply wanted to help out someone in need. He also happened to be a professional ice hockey player, playing for the Carolina Hurricanes, although he hailed from Winnipeg. All this you learned over your cups of coffee and even more so when he offered you a lift home.

Naturally, you had hesitated, unsure whether to trust a stranger on the street. However, for once in your life, you decided to push aside the anxious thoughts in the back of your mind and listen to your intuition, which urged you to trust the universe. And as you strolled with him to the nearest coffee spot, discreetly concealing your torn jeans, you felt nothing but grateful that you had done so.

_

Seth Jarvis simply turned out to be the best relationship you'd ever had. Even your mother took a liking to him – and if there was anyone more of a pessimist than you, it was her. And of course, Seth simply chuckled when he’d first met her, joking that now he knew where you inherited your lack of cheerful spirit from. Yet, he never made any negative remarks about it or you.

In fact, he found it intriguing and just smiled at the fact that you were more cautious and concerned about life than he was. You were a planner, always wanting to anticipate the unexpected and be prepared, whereas he was more spontaneous, going with the flow and keeping a cheerful outlook. And as it turned out, you complemented each other perfectly.

Whenever his energy soared a bit too high and led him off track, you were there to keep him grounded and calm. And when your negative thoughts and energy veered into a darker mood, dragging you into an emotional spiral, his positivity and optimistic mindset lifted you right back up.

But of course, no relationship was ever perfect. This truth became especially evident during your first hockey season with Seth while you were dating, spending most nights either at the PNC Arena or in front of the telly cheering him on. While you loved Seth and cherished your time together, the emotional rollercoaster of wins and losses took its toll on your budding relationship.

However, it was also during those low moments for Seth that you found yourself stepping up as the steady rock he needed, cheering him on and reassuring him that things would improve next time. To your own great surprise, you often found yourself embodying the positive spirit, a role you hadn't expected to play. And you couldn’t help but appreciate the positive energy Seth brought out in you, realising how much you were growing together.

Moreover, being with Seth provided a much-needed escape from your dreadful roommate. Though moving in with Seth may have seemed a bit spontaneous to some – classic Seth style – it certainly made your life a lot easier not having to deal with her. Finally, you could just focus on yourself, your work, and now your boyfriend, Seth Jarvis.

And having you around also had a positive impact on Seth. It grounded him and perhaps even added a touch of maturity, naturally noticed by his teammates. Though Seth never lost his playful demeanour, his teammates definitely observed how he became more composed and grounded in your presence. And they never missed the chance to tease him about it.

“Off home to the little missus, are we?” Jesperi would playfully tease.

“Yeah, making sure wifey’s got dinner on the table!” Necas would chime in.

Seth would just laugh it off, but there was a noticeable warmth in his eyes whenever they mentioned you, and he would often reply with a cheeky grin, “You’re just jealous you don’t have someone waiting for you at home with a warm dinner and a smile.”

Living together also brought moments of growth and adjustment. You learned to embrace Seth’s spontaneous nature, finding joy in unexpected adventures and impromptu plans. Meanwhile, Seth grew to appreciate the stability you brought into his life, enjoying the calm and predictability of the routines you established together.

“Ah, I’m sure Seth’s the one making dinner to spoil his favourite girl,” Teuvo teased, winking at you as you then entered the locker room after the game to greet your boyfriend.

“Sure, as if Seth could even locate the kitchen,” you fired back, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, eliciting laughter from the lads.

“Hey, I can cook!” Seth protested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Just because I burn toast doesn’t mean I’m hopeless.”

“Oh of course, dear,” you teased back, patting his chest. “Let’s just stick to ordering takeout.”

Despite the playful banter, it was evident to everyone that you and Seth shared something special. His teammates admired the balance you brought to his life, even if they wouldn't admit it outright. And for you, seeing Seth’s bright smile after a long day, hearing his infectious laughter, and feeling his arms around you made every tough moment worth it.

You simply got each other. You never worried that your sharp energy might drive him away. And every day, he reminded you, in his own way, that no matter what, you were keeping him steady.

One night, after a particularly tough game, when Seth came home, flopped down on the sofa, and let out a dramatic sigh. “I need a pick-me-up,” he said, giving you those pleading puppy-dog eyes.

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?” you teased, taking a seat beside him.

“How about a massage?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How about you help me with the dishes first?” you countered, nudging him playfully.

“Alright, alright. Slave driver,” he groaned, but he got up and followed you to the kitchen, a smile playing at his lips.

It was one of those nights when his career weighed heavily on him, which also meant it weighed heavily on you. Each time you felt his cheerfulness slowly wane, overshadowed by the darkness of a loss. And it would have been easy to let your own emotions sink with his, to let it all spiral down. But you didn’t; you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. All you wanted was for Seth to be happy, to be his cheerful self.

So, as the two of you shared giggles and inside jokes, moving around the kitchen as you finished up, Seth’s mood quickly returned to its usual buoyant self. His smile widened and his chuckles deepened as always.

“You know I love you, right?” he grinned as he held you close, leaning against the kitchen counter with you in his arms, your hands finding their way to his neck.

“I know – just as you know I love you,” you smiled back at him.

“And if I ever turn into a whiny little puppy again…”

“…I know you’re back to your usual self,” you flashed him a wink before pressing your lips against his.

It was a tender moment yet filled with chuckles and laughter, as always. Something only Seth could bring into your life. And as his hands then found their way to your buttocks, giving them a playful squeeze before lifting you up in his arms, you knew everything was going to be okay.

The love you made that night was smooth and intimate. The sensation of Seth’s body against yours, your skin tingling with heat, covered in sweat as he moved inside you, sent your mind spinning, endorphins flooding your system with a high only he could induce.

Your lives were entwined in a way that felt natural and right, as if you were always meant to find each other. The challenges you faced only strengthened your bond, proving that sometimes, the universe really does know what it’s doing. With Seth by your side, the ups and downs of life felt a little more manageable and a lot more joyful.

[elioslover]

Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.

Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

Other Writing

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.

⛅️

Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with. 

As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended. 

With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle. 

In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items. 

By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense. 

She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate. 

“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles. 

“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless. 

“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last. 

“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder. 

“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief. 

“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.” 

Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection, 

“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”

She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one. 

So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,

“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”

Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly, 

“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.” 

“Asshole.”

“I heard that.” 

He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,

“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”

Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him. 

He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever. 

⛅️

Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few. 

Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’ 

He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window. 

Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle. 

Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone. 

As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival. 

She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,  

“Ah, Mister Mercedes.” 

Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest, 

“I recognised your car.” 

“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance. 

“Yes.”

“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief. 

“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His brows furrow.

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.

His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud, 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,

“Do you work here?” 

“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs. 

“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.” 

Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,

“Why are you still here?” 

“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.

He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”

She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her, 

“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?” 

“I- yes.” 

“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.” 

Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point, 

“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?” 

She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness. 

Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her. 

Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,

“Bye, Mister Mercedes.” 

⛅️

It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change. 

However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table. 

Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub. 

The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her, 

“The man at table four already paid for your order.”

It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.

“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.

He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up, 

“What’s this about?” 

“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.” 

Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him, 

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.

⛅️

Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money. 

Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time. 

Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip. 

She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity, 

“Seriously?” 

Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully, 

“Well hello there, Sunshine.” 

“This is not the time.” She snaps.  

“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos. 

“Mmph.” 

She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out, 

“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,

“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?” 

“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust. 

He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus. 

Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word. 

Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps, 

“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”

Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll, 

“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”

“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store. 

Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?” 

“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass. 

“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.

“Go away.” 

Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind. 

Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day. 

And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,

“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.” 

“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own. 

⛅️

When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight. 

He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged. 

He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival. 

His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head, 

“What do you want?” 

“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.

“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to hear you out.” 

“Gee, how kind of you.” 

“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.” 

Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,

“I’m actually very likeable.” 

“Do you want me to hear you out or not?” 

He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place. 

But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages, 

“C’mon.” 

“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her. 

“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant

“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles. 

“I’ll pay.” He soothes. 

“Fine.” 

Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her. 

He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him. 

But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question, 

“Why are you being nicer than usual?” 

“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps. 

“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along. 

“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,

 “I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,

“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”

She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes, 

“Sweet vindication.” 

“Brat.”

“Dick.” 

Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark. 

Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.

“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction. 

“Make it up to me?” 

He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,

“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.” 

“A date?” 

“Yeah, a date.” 

“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I like you.”

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.” 

It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement. 

“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?” 

“Sunshine.” She says. 

“Hm?”

He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness, 

“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”

Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man. 

So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in, 

“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.” 

He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease, 

“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.

“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.

-

Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

[yourmomsawh0r3]

First of all i want to THANK YOU for writing for Marcello Hernandez!😩😍

I would like to request a smut for him!! Maybe one where him and reader are co stars or they have been friends for a while (you can decide!) and there has always been alot of sexual tension, constant flirting, ect. And one night they are hanging out and they can’t contain themselves any longer and they fully go at it and admit their feelings!!?? You can make it as dirty as you want (plz) 😜

i love this!! your wish is my command 🫶🏼✨

More than friends

pairing: marcello hernandez x f! reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+

You and Marcello had been friends for what felt like forever. Ever since those early days of struggling to break into the industry, auditioning at every opportunity, and scraping by on whatever you could afford, you’d had each other’s backs. He’d been your partner in crime for late-night rehearsals and spontaneous adventures, laughing his way through awkward moments and celebrating every win, big or small. There was something undeniably special between you, an ease and chemistry that everyone seemed to notice even if you both stubbornly ignored it. Every time he looked at you with that smirk, brushed your hand a bit too long, or made a joke that danced on the line between teasing and flirtation, you’d pretend it didn’t make your heart race.

When the two of you finally landed roles on the same show, it felt like fate had pushed you even closer. Your friendship quickly evolved into constant on-set banter, inside jokes, and long evenings spent running lines over takeout dinners. But lately, things had shifted. Marcello’s looks lingered, his touches felt heavier, and the tension that had always been there was now impossible to ignore. He’d laugh about it, make a playful comment when he caught you staring, but you could tell there was something deeper behind his words.

Tonight, the two of you were decompressing at your place after a long week. Marcello had brought over a bottle of wine, and you’d picked up a pile of wings from your favorite local spot. It was like every other night—yet completely different. From the moment you poured the wine, the unspoken attraction between you simmered under the surface, adding weight to every glance and touch.

After a few glasses, you were both feeling tipsy and a bit bolder, laughing at each other’s jokes louder, leaning a little closer. Marcello’s arm rested along the back of the couch, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. You leaned back into him, letting yourself enjoy the warmth of his arm around you, wondering if tonight might finally be the night that all that tension boiled over.

Marcello grinned at you, his eyes dark with something playful, something dangerous. “You know,” he said, voice low, “I think we’re probably the most convincing fake couple on TV. Don’t you think?”

You laughed, brushing off the heat that rose to your cheeks. “Well, maybe it’s because I’m such a good actress.”

“Maybe,” he replied, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, “or maybe it’s because you make it so easy to pretend.” His voice softened, and his gaze lingered on your lips, his words hanging in the air.

The laughter faded as you locked eyes, the space between you shrinking. “Marcello… I think we’ve been pretending for way too long,” you whispered, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.

His hand slid up to cup your face, thumb grazing over your cheek, his touch warm and electric. “What if we stop pretending?” he murmured, his voice rough.

Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and intense, like he’d been holding himself back for years. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt every inch of his body pressed against yours. The wine and the years of unspoken feelings blurred everything else as the kiss deepened, turning urgent and needy.

Between breaths, you whispered, “Marcello… we’ve waited long enough.”

That was all it took. He scooped you up, guiding you back toward the couch, his hands exploring as if he were afraid to waste another moment. The heat between you was intoxicating, fueled by the wine and the feeling of finally letting go. His lips traced a path down your neck, his touch igniting every part of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he pressed you into the couch, both of you lost in the moment you’d been waiting for.

In the early hours of the morning, as you lay tangled in each other’s arms, Marcello ran his fingers through your hair, his face softening with a look you’d never seen before. “I don’t want this to be just tonight,” he whispered, voice still thick with emotion. “I want us… for real.”

A smile spread across your lips, and you reached up, brushing a hand along his jaw. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

As the wine settled warmly between you, the banter that had once felt light-hearted became increasingly intense. You and Marcello were leaning into each other on the couch, laughter giving way to long, heated glances and lingering touches. Your hand rested on his thigh, your fingers tracing small circles there, and his gaze flickered down, darkening.

Without another word, he closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was instantly deep, heated, and overwhelming. His hands were everywhere, moving from your waist to your hips, pulling you into him as you let yourself melt against his body, years of tension breaking free in a moment. His fingers brushed up your back, sending shivers through you as he pulled you onto his lap, his mouth never leaving yours.

Your legs straddled his hips as his hands slipped under your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin with a touch that was both rough and tender. “God, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and filled with need. His mouth moved to your neck, kissing and biting gently, making you gasp as he left a trail of heat along your skin.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, your hands roaming over the warm skin of his shoulders and chest. You could feel his heartbeat under your fingers, fast and steady as his hands slipped under your own shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. He paused, taking you in, his eyes filled with admiration and desire that made your cheeks flush.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he murmured, his hands cupping your face before trailing down, fingers grazing your skin, igniting every inch they touched.

You leaned in, capturing his mouth with yours, your kisses growing more feverish as your bodies pressed together. Marcello’s hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he leaned you back against the couch, his body settling above you. His hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of your pants, and he looked up, seeking permission in his eyes.

Breathless, you nodded, your heart racing as he slowly tugged them down, his hands exploring every inch of bare skin as he went. The intensity of his gaze made you feel like you were the only person in the world, his touch leaving a trail of heat that made you shiver.

He paused, his eyes raking over you with a hunger that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t think I can hold back anymore,” he admitted, his voice rough.

“Then don’t,” you whispered, your hands pulling him closer, desperate to feel him, to be closer to him than ever before. Marcello’s lips were on you again, moving down your body in a series of slow, lingering kisses. Every brush of his mouth felt deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

Marcello's touch was electric as his hands glided down your body, fingertips tracing every curve. You trembled with anticipation, aching to feel his mouth on you. Slowly, deliberately, he sank to his knees, his eyes locked with yours, dark with desire.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against the delicate skin of your inner thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. A low groan escaped him, vibrating against your flesh. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, the words sending a shiver through you.

Without warning, his mouth closed over your most sensitive spot, his tongue swirling and lapping, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to you as he worked relentlessly, every stroke of his tongue pulling you closer to the edge.

The noises you made only spurred him on, his enthusiasm matching your own growing need. He hummed against you, the vibrations making your hips buck, chasing the sensation. Marcello's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked, lapping up every drop of your arousal.

"Marcello, please," you gasped, your voice ragged with want. "I need you."

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and hooded. "Not yet," he growled, diving back in, his tongue delving deep, his fingers joining the onslaught of sensation.

You cried out, your body tightening with the approaching wave of ecstasy. Marcello kept up his relentless pace, his touch firm and unyielding, until finally, you shattered, your orgasm washing over you in crashing waves.

Marcello kept his mouth on you, gentling his movements as you came down from your high. Slowly, he pulled away, his lips glistening with your arousal. He gazed up at you, eyes hooded and dark with desire.

"Magnificent," he murmured, his voice low and ragged. He rose to his feet, crowding into your space, his large frame towering over you. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "I want to savor every inch of you."

His mouth crashed down on yours, the kiss fierce and possessive. You melted into him, clutching at his shoulders as his tongue swept into your mouth. A needy whimper escaped you, and Marcello growled in response, pulling you flush against him.

His hands skimmed down your sides, grip bruising as he palmed your backside, grinding his hips against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your belly, and the knowledge that he wanted you so desperately sent a thrill through you.

Panting, he tore his mouth from yours, dragging his lips along your jaw to nip at your earlobe he moans in your ear.

Marcello's eyes darkened with barely restrained desire as he gazed down at you. With agonizing slowness, he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his throbbing length teasing your slick folds.

"You feel so good, y/n," he breathed, his voice thick with want. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed forward, stretching and filling you until he was buried to the hilt. A shuddering gasp escaped you at the delicious sensation of being so completely joined.

But just as quickly, he began to withdraw, eliciting a desperate whine from you. "Marc,please..." you begged, hips canting upwards, seeking to keep him inside.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Patience, my love," he purred, the words barely audible as he surged forward again, hilting himself with a sharp snap of his hips.

You cried out, nails digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. Marcello set a maddening pace, pulling out until just the tip remained, then driving back in with bruising force.

The bed creaked beneath you, the only sound besides your ragged gasps and his guttural groans. He possessed you completely, claiming every inch of your body as his own. And you welcomed it, reveling in the intoxicating feel of him moving inside you.

"Marcello!" you keened, the coil of pleasure tightening with every thrust. He swallowed your cries with a hungry kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth in time with the snap of his hips marcello cums inside you.

Afterward, as you lay tangled together, breathing in sync, Marcello brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft and vulnerable. He kissed you gently, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your cheek as he whispered, “I don’t want this to ever end.”

You smiled, pulling him close again, knowing that after all these years, you’d finally found what you’d both been searching for.

[femalefemur]

What about actor John Price, specifically actor John Price who acted in westerns/spaghetti westerns.

Got his first role at the young age of 18 where he played the sidekick of a big name western movie star, which kicked off his career and soon he was the lead in these movies. Became a household name, rugged, man who only spoke a handful on screen but his acting was truly something to behold. The way he drew his gun, the way the hat sat atop his head, the scowl on his dirt smeared face and the cigar that hung loosely from his lips. Retired when he turned 45 and went back to his family's ranch.

Then there's you, pretty, young thing that grew up watching his movies because your parents loved them. They completely enraptured you, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from the handsome man on screen and the adventures he found himself in. They inspired something within you too, led to you growing up wanting to be a cowboy, took riding lessons, learned how to use a lasso and herd animals. You became a ranch hand after high school and loved every minute of it until the old couple who owned the ranch you worked on passed away, their children had no interest in the ranch and it was too much for you to afford to buy from them.

So you found yourself without a job, back home with your parents. It wasn't bad but you missed having your own space and more than that you missed being on a horse, missed the sweet animals around the ranch, even the geese that nipped at your heels. It was another day of searching for jobs on every website and newspaper you could get your hands on when you saw it, a listing for a ranch hand. The job was far from home but it sounded amazing and you were aching to be back out in nature, you emailed your resume within a matter of minutes while praying that they would hire you.

A few weeks later you were on a plane and making your way to the ranch with bags in hand and a smile on your face. What you didn't expect when you arrived at the ranch was the looming figure on the horizon, body swaying with the gait of his horse. The sun at his back, hat sitting low on his brow which obscured his face and a plume of smoke leaving his mouth, resulting in an unexpected familiarity settling in your bones as he rode down towards the ranch.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

 Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate. 

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans. 

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

[kuronanox]

Serving royalty - Byakuya Kuchiki

(Your Name) had always been a servant, service girl and peasant all her life, her family was born from nothing and was doomed to serve the royals houses. That's all she knew, her dreams to become a shinigami were squashed, merely because she was weak and sheltered from the protection of the royals she served. She didn't hate her life, she just wish there was excitement in it.

"I wanna leave this place someday." (Your Name) tells another servant as they tended to the garden outside the Kuchiki manor. Fall had entered so the flowers were scattered all over the floor. With a broom she swept it into the grass.

"You don't like it here?"

"No, it's just... there's more to life than this. Who knows maybe if I make enough money I can leave and just go somewhere quiet and peaceful."

There was a silence between two of them as the other servant just simply said she loved being here because everything was provided for them.

(Your Name) kept her thoughts to herself, of course the other servants didn't think like her, she was a bit adventurous, the other girls didn't want to leave.

"Well it's just a dream. It's not like Kuchiki sama would let me." (Your Name) half hearty laughs walking away for her own space.

Kuchiki Byakuya, all the girls fawned over him. She thought he was good looking, apparently he was a widow. Although she never met the lady Hisana rumors said she was beautiful but always sick.

Byakuya always seemed cold to her, he would acknowledge their work with a few words but that was it.

"You have to serve dinner tonight!" One of the girls yelled to (Your Name) as they giggled and ran away.

She rolled her eyes, they hated this job mostly because it was rather awkward when dinner came.

Byakuya sister and him would sit and eat while being served. She liked Rukia, she was nice and humbled.

"Fine, but you guys have to prepare the food tonight!"

"Deal!" The other girls agreed.

Her mother always told her to wear appropriate clothes when serving the royal family, (Your Name) owned a few nice kimono but not nearly as fancy. Taking a deep breathe she took the trays of food from the other girls and softly called out from the other side of the door.

"Come." Byakuya says in a tired voice, the room was so silent (Your Name) seriously couldn't understand how Rukia could eat dinner like that most nights.

She gently opened the door and made sure to look anywhere but their eyes. With a tall posture and soft footsteps she placed Byakuya first and then went over to Rukias.

"No need to be so polite with me." Rukia smiles to (Your Name) as she silently blushes and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry Kuchiki San but that would be rude of me and against the rules." Rukia could only give her a friendly smile after and excused her.

"Kuchiki sama, I will be over to the next room if anything is needed." (Your Name) gesture to Byakuya as he nodded his head in approval.

Their dinner went smoothly and she only had to return twice to bring hot water for their tea, as far as she can tell the only conversation were held was that of the gotei 13 and about Rukia leaving to the human world for her friend Ichigo.

Byakuya was an observant man, he noticed that (Your Name) was the only servant to serve them of recent as the other girls would leave the job to her alone. She was quiet but he felt like there was a facade she let on, her hair flowing from her face as she bowed to them or when she slightly bent over to refill the tea pot.

He knew she had been living here for a few years and that her family had long passed away. Either way he acknowledged her hard work when all the other servants didn't want to do it or they were rather lazy. Byakuya saw the pattern of kimono that she wore, she had a selection of three and would alternate them when serving the family.

It made him realize the difference of their social status, when he could afford hundreds, she only owned three nice ones.

"You may be dismissed for the night." He tells (Your Name) as she came in for the last time to refill their tea.

(Your Name) seemed confused because they hadn't finished dinner and the room wasn't cleared. As she was about to open her mouth to protest that her job wasn't finished he silence her "You may retire for the rest of the night."

She took a look around not knowing how to go with the situation and she saw Rukia give her a smile "don't worry, we've notice your hard work, please take the rest of the night off."

A blush came to her face as she bowed deeply to Byakuya and to Rukia before leaving.

"Ehhh! You finished dinner already?" Some of the girls asked as she joined them in the common dining room.

"Yes Kuchiki sama insist I take the rest of the night off."

"What?! He's never told us that!" Some of them exclaimed a bit surprised as (Your Name) shrugged with a smug smile. "Haha, my hardwork has paid off!"

The rest of the night became peaceful as she sat outside to look at the sky, she could recall only being in Byakuya private corders a few times. He was sick, apparently really sick and had came down with a terrible fever. The medicine that was given to him was not working. Some of his advisors had spoke to Byakuya about a lady who use to work at the manor and how her medicine worked magic but she long passed leaving a daughter behind and that's how (Your Name) was brought to his corders

"You are requested to treat Kuchiki Sama fever." One of the advisor told her one night as she was already fast asleep but a concern grew on her as she quickly changed and followed to his room.

Byakuya was laying on the futon covered in sweat, his mouth slightly open and brows furrowed in pain.

"I need these herbs quickly." She told them as they went off to fetch the other servants to get them for her.

"Kuchiki sama is burning really bad, can we prepare him an ice bath?"

There was movement made from the captain as he covered his face from the light of the candle and he groaned "no ice bath." He weakly demanded as (Your Name) politely but sternly said that it would help a good amount until the herbs came in.

"Kuchiki sama, leaving lots of cold towels on your body would be ridiculous. Please listen to me."

Byakuya advisors made the choice for him as he grumbled out in pain not fully understanding the situation.

While that was happening she made the effort of crushing the herbs and brewing it into a tea.

"This will help Kuchiki sama."

After she placed him down gently and dried his body covered in water. And (Your Name) clearly tried not looking at the towel covering his special parts.

"drink this, it will make you feel better."

During that night she was told to stay there and tend to him all night. She wanted sleep, but was afraid of getting in trouble if she refused to stay.

Byakuya felt like he was floating but after falling asleep he awoke the next morning feeling tremendously better. The towel on his forehead fell onto his lap as he looked around the room.

(Your Name) was curled a few feet away from him in a ball next to the water bowel and herbal tea.

A sense of guilt came over him as he saw she was painting a picture of something but the lines gradually became messy as if she was trying to fight sleep.

That was when he first noticed her.

"I thought I ordered you to rest." His chilling voice says from behind her as she quickly sat up to face Byakuya who had no emotion on his face. At least she couldn't read his thoughts.

She couldn't read if he was angry at her but she bowed her head down and apologized.

"I'm sorry Kuchiki sama, the outside air isn't as suffocating. It's nice for some fresh air once in a while." (Your Name) explains giving them a bit of space between them as Byakuya says nothing and motions for her to sit back down next to him.

She hesitated before looking at him in the face and then away, he was waiting for her to make a move. Clearing her throat she sat down next to him and relaxed a bit.

Many questions were going through her head as Byakuya was silent watching the cherry blossoms fall.

"You've been working really hard, thank you." He tells her after a while as she looks down in embarrassment. (Your Name) didn't think he ever noticed her.

"Thank you, I try my best."

"Although, your painting needs some work." Byakuya slightly teased at her with a half smirk as she gasped and tried hard not to look at him in the face. She wanted to look so bad but didn't want to come off rude.

"It's okay to acknowledge me." Byakuya then tells her as she looked back to him as he stared down to (Your Name). He was right, the moonlight shining down made her look even more pretty.

"I feel like this is the most I've ever heard you speak before." She laughs a little hiding her mouth as his eyes widen from shock. "I'm no artist, I merely was trying to past time when you were ill."

He smirks again, Byakuya knew she wasn't at all reserved.

"Allow me to teach you." He then offered as a way to get to know her better without actually selling himself out. There was a silence for a while before she spoke.

"I would love to, but I don't think it would be appropriate." Her words struck with a bit of sadness as the Captain looks at her, she seemed deep in thought.

"As your provider you must." He orders her as she smiles a little and nods in agreement.

A few months had passed "Wow I'm getting so much better look Kuchiki sama!" (Your Name) excitingly says rushing to Byakuya with her painting. There was a big smile plastered on her face as he looks up from his spot.

It was a tiger stalking it's prey and he couldn't help but think about something different with that reference.

"What's wrong? Does it look bad?" She asks with confusion not understanding how close she was next to him. There was a certain innocence in her that Byakuya found pure and wanted to protect.

"It's nice. Just let me help you define some of the lines." He offered as he took her hand in his and swiftly corrected the messy lines.

She was blushing finding it hard to breathe, if all the other servants saw they probably would have fainted. (Your Name) could feel the heat on her back and his warmth that made her feel comfortable.

There was silence as she observed the strokes he was making.

"Better?" Byakuya asks her as she nodded and hid her face from him.

"What did you draw Kuchiki sama?" She then asks trying to calm herself as he shows his painting of a traditional lady holding a flower on her finger tip.

"It's very beautiful." (Your Name) says staring at the painting immerse by the detail of it.

"Very." Byakuya agrees staring at her face before sitting back up.

Although most of the time it was silent when they painted, she eventually started to talk more and act more casual, even Byakuya was surprised how much she was willing to share with him. He was thankful, he didn't want her to be closed off such as he was.

A part of him wanted to move forward and settle down again but he didn't know what (Your Name) was feeling.

"It's getting late, I don't want the girls to talk." She then says cleaning up the ink and papers.

"I see, allow me to walk you back."

"It's okay Kuchiki sama, I'm sure you need your rest. I have to be up early to start deep cleaning the mansion. The family is coming for a special dinner so I have to prepare."

Byakuya knits his brows, he knew that making her stay longer would cause a rumor to go around but he didn't care, he wanted to spend more time with her. Although he didn't want to reveal how he felt about her just yet.

"Alright, I assume you will be serving dinner?"

"Yes!" She says with a tired smile as he followed to her direction.

"Very well, you've been working hard. Allow me to gift this to you." Byakuya walks into one of the closets where the box was wrapped very nicely as he picked it up gently and places it in her hands. "Take care of it, it's one of kind made for you."

She was flushed and bowed deeply but before she could Byakuya stopped her and touched her hair, acknowledging how soft it was.

"Good night (Your Name)." He says before taking his leave.

(Your Name) rushed back to her room to see what was in the box, her excitement got the best of her as she had to calm herself and stop smiling so much.

She softly unwrap the ribbon and opened the box to see the Kimono stitched and made perfectly. The fabric felt delicate and soft but heavy and enduring.

A bit embarrassed of her only three selection, this was crafted by an expert. Holding the kimono up she smelled it and wrapped it around her.

Byakuya could only hope she liked the gift, as he headed to bed before tomorrows family dinner.

The day started early before the sun rise, (Your Name) and the other servants were busy cleaning and preparing food for tonight. The atmosphere was chaotic at the most but it was rather fun for her. She couldn't wait to show Byakuya how it looked but that would have to wait.

"You've been smiling a lot (Your Name)." One of the servants says with a smirk as she was lost in thought and apologize before going back to wrapping the dumplings. "Still thinking about leaving?"

"Leaving. Right I wanted to but now..."

"The days have been treating me well." She says back not wanting to share that she was spending private time with their "master" most days.

"Oh I see. Be careful."

(Your Name) seemed confused by that statement but before she could say anything she was called to finish the rest of the room decoration.

The day pasted by fast as she got ready in her own room. She wanted to know what the other girl meant by being careful, (Your Name) couldn't tell if it was a warning or the girl was genuinely looking out for her.

It is a big mansion and there are eyes everywhere, she was sure some of the servants knew but didn't say anything.

Dinner was starting and it was rowdy in the room luckily for (Your Name) she had a few other girls help serve dinner.

When the door open, it was filled with the royal family and people of higher status she couldn't help but feel let down. They were usually polite but sometimes they had some rude ones.

Byakuya took a moment to acknowledge her presence in the room as she gave a small smile and looked back down. Of course it did not go unnoticed by Rukia and the servants.

(Your Name) knew the other girls wanted to be near Byakuya so she stayed back and went immediately to put down Rukias tray.

"You look beautiful." She tells Rukia as the shorter shinigami blushes and thanks her.

It did not go unnoticed by Byakuya of the space (Your Name) was making through the night but he knew the words that were going around. The servants gossip to much. He knew she didn't want to create anymore rumors.

"Kuchiki Taicho have you thought about remarrying? I have a daughter still in her prime that is a suited match and can bring great aspects if we join family's." One of the royals says as Byakuya sips on his tea.

(Your Name) heard the conversation a few feet away as she gather the rest of the tray to put down. She was waiting for Byakuyas answer, she didn't know why she was acting this way. She never liked him before but spending some time and seeing his subtle acts of kindness changed her mind about Byakuya completely.

"I have, but that is a conversation I will not get into. I wish to find my own wife." Byakuya states clearly as Rukia ears perked up also from her brother. She didn't know he was thinking about remarrying. She couldn't help but feel a bit sad but also happy, he was finally finding happiness. Of course Rukia knew she would always be his little sister no matter what.

(Your Name) sighed in relief, but at the same time sad. Once he married she won't be able to paint along side him no more, it would definitely be inappropriate.

Some of the servants gave her a look which confused (Your Name) as they left the room quietly.

"Why are you all staring at me?" (Your Name) asks a bit fed up with the looks she had been getting all day.

"We saw you leave Kuchiki Sama private corders last night. Tell us! Is he good in bed?!" They exclaimed as (Your Name) almost choked on her spit.

"What?! You guys have the wrong idea! Kuchiki sama just offered to help me with my painting skills, there's nothing going on. I'm just glad you guys aren't mad at me." She says in relief as they giggle at her.

"No, we all know but didn't know how to ask!"

(Your Name) groaned and walked away from the nagging girls about their time together.

"Nii sama, it was a good dinner." Rukia says to her brother as he nodded his head walking slightly ahead of her. "Will you retire tonight?" She continue to asks as he answers back. "In a few hours, I wish to have more tea." He tells her as Rukia smiles and takes her leave back to the 13th division.

(Your Name) was busy cleaning the rest of the room as she sighed, the day drained her. She was glad no one hated her though especially the other servants, they were all basically sisters. A sense of sadness came over her as it fell silent in the room leaving her deep in thoughts.

She accepted she would never be anything more than a servant for the rest of her life. It was the cruel reality having to be born from nothing. Although she loved her parents deeply she didn't regret anything from her childhood to womanhood.

There was a letter on her bed as she got ready for bed. Byakuya was waiting for her.

It was late when he felt her presence outside his room. She was nervous, they always met up outside or in his study room.

"Kuchiki sama." She softly calls out as he opens the door to let her in.

Her night outfit was rather thin as he gave her his cloak. "It's cold." He tells her as she thanked him and took a seat next to him.

"Shall I pour the tea?"

Byakuya nodded as she covered her chest with one hand to not expose the loose covering.

"I wanted to speak to you about something."

Her ears perked up as she let him continue.

"You want to leave the manor?" Byakuya asks as she swallowed the hot tea and stay silent for a while, she didn't know how to answer him.

"For a while I did, I wasn't very happy but things change. I don't really know, I know there is more to life than this. I also want to explore and start a family one day.....Are you upset about that?"

Byakuya turns to her and reaches out to her cheek to hold it. The candle light shown in her face and her tired lids made her look dreamy as she fell into his touch. Usually she would shy away but maybe it's the lack of sleep that was making her act so bold or because she knew deep down he was into her.

His thump touches her lip as she opened her eyes, he was staring at her for approval as she nodded her head and moved closer into him as he kissed her lips.

It was light as he paused to look at her once more and caved back to her lips for more. There was a buried passion that he thought was long lost coming back as his hand ran through her hair and her arms were around his neck.

She was intoxicating as his tongue met hers with the same power for dominance.

There was heavy panting when they pulled apart, she didn't expect him to kiss her.

"Would that be enough to convince you to stay, stay by my side." He confessed as (Your Name) touched her lips, he was addicting, his voice, his face, his touch.

"Maybe." She smirks as he slightly smiled back to her. "But I am not royal."

Byakuya had his share of thoughts and hardship already in his last marriage to not care anymore.

"Does not matter to me." He tells her gently taking her hand with his holding it up to kiss it.

She was worried but his words alone is enough for her.

"Kuchiki sama-"

"Byakuya sama is fine." He insisted as she held onto his hand tighter.

"Byakuya sama, not trying to ruin the mood but I am quite tired." She laughs as he kissed her hand once more and helped her up. He guided her down to his bed as she seemed completely shocked.

"Stay with me tonight." He asks as she accepted his invitation.

They shared the bed as she comfortably fell into the covers of smelling his scent. She could stay here forever now.

"Good night Byakuya sama." She says as he wrapped his strong arms around her drifting to sleep as well.

Within the following months (Your Name) and Byakuya relationship had bloomed. "Rukia sama, are you going to the festival?" (Your Name) asks as they were sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Yes! I will see you there?"

"I was suppose to go with your brother but he said he might be busy..." she says a little sadly as Rukia looked concern for her.

"Want to come with me?"

Her eyes widen as she smiled and agreed.

The night came as she wore the kimono Byakuya had gifted her, to bad he wouldn't be able to see her in it. She frowned but stopped, going with Rukia would be enough.

"You look amazing! Did my brother get this for you?" Rukia asks as she met her outside the manor.

"Yes! To bad he can't see me wear it but there is always next time!" (Your Name) says with excitement as they walked side by side talking about all the good food they were going to eat there.

From the entrance of the festival Byakuya could see his dearly beloved with his sister as they chatted and giggled with each other. It soften his heart as a smile placed on him.

From a distance (Your Name) saw a familiar figure standing, as she looked up and her smile grew even more as she ran towards Byakuya.

"Byakuya sama, I'm glad you came." She hugged him as his eyes widen, she was beautiful in the kimono and everyday since the first day they met.

"Of course my love." He says as he pushed some hair away from her face.

"Let's go!" She happily says extending her hand out to Rukia and then Byakuya who followed.

She was glad, she was starting to create a family filled with love and joy.