#and even reading it now i am just … in awe . at the beauty and emotions of this fic

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i trieddddd i tried i swear i tried </3 to stick to tags <///33 but i ran out …. so here i am …… sorry dilly T_T

(disclaimer: read the tags before reading this… ok…….)

’sorry’ said very softly and quietly bc i feel u would probably yell at me for it </3 i’m actually not sorry at all i was hoping i’d have no choice but to stumble my way here :3c HHHHHHH there is just too much to say and too much to mention …… too much i love about this fic :’< ofc i have to start with . the infamous …… ”the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue!” <- SOBBED!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAT this whole moment was somehow even cuter than i remember it being LMAO i feel so lucky . to be able to experience it again :’3

i love . the moments jumping in time ….. how this fic is about gojo washing his daughter’s hair . but also so much more than that ….. it is his love manifesto. it is the weight of everyday moments translated into writing in such a beautiful way i cannot describe it…. it is gojo grappling with time and love and the fact not even the most beautiful things stick around forever (cough cough cough. u know who i am thinking of) but that they’re worth cherishing all the more because of it …… gojo is such a sentimental person. and that is a faucet of who is that i feel is hardly explored even though it is part of his ’core’….. to me. he is a man who can’t help but reminisce. who is only allowed the luxury of chewing on memories over and over again …… so for you to give him such a picture perfect life . in this. makes me weepy :’3

aughhh TAT just. when i think of this fic i think of bubbles . and sunlight. and markers and colours and sweet scents …….. something so lovely that i feel envious i can’t reach out and touch it. that i can’t see the bathtub or feel the water trickle through the gaps between my fingers. i know you were a little nervous about reposting this dilly but truly it is one of my favorite gojo pieces ever ….. and i do not even subscribe to papa gojo most of the time but when you write him like this i can’t help but think he was born to be a father (<- proof of your immense power) ….. i can’t help but feel that . if canon gojo tried to picture a life without sorcery he would see just a sliver of this scenery ….. a sliver of the sun. sobsob

back to the Actual Fic … (one of the reasons i try to stick to tags is . if i make it Here (what do you call it anyway ….. the main…. something ?? i don’t know. the promised land (to Me)) i always end up rambling and then i get off track …. forgive me…….) i just had the genius idea to screenshot my favorite quotes and leave them here . i will do just that :3c i really want you to Feel how much i love this fic ….. if at all possible …………… can you feel my love ………….

^ TAT …. his very precious girl . SOBBED. she is his all his and yours all yours ……………

^ THIS WHOLE MOMENT WAS SOOOOO CUTE DILLY i know i said it already but u just . capture gojo so perfectly PDHKDJDJD …… he is so silly and cute here 😭😭😭 also !!! sunshine ….. she is the sun latching onto the big blue sky …………..

^ gnarls and whines . as i read this …… sniffles… this is one of the quotes that just made me go. i love how dilly writes …. i love how i can practically hear her voice. does that make sense at all …………… :’3

^ THROWS UP BLOOD !!!!!!!!! your satoru carries the big blue sky wherever he goes ……. T____T such . a beautiful quote wahhh . and just so Him. i love the little peeks we get into gojo and reader’s love for each other ….. this fic is about their love just as much as it is about their baby. tho i guess she quite literally is their love personified ……….. anyway. something something satoru is atlas, he has no choice but to carry the sky on his own, but fluffy clouds and the glow of the sun make it bearable …. you know.

^ already mentioned it but You Know. obviously

^ THIS WHOLE SEQUENCE . ACTUALLY 😭😭😭…. i soooooobbed dilly i love . him . HE WANTS TO BE A GOOD PAPA …… the dynamic between him and his baby is also just sooo funny and cute he is a true girldad ………… i love them ………….,,,,,,

^ firefly of a husband …… quote that made me explode into pieces . and bits

^ GRRRRRR GRGR this made me cry . T_T UR WRITING DILLY!!!!!! ILL BE SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!! it doesn’t feel like enough……… yes, you know this ……..

^ and finally . this :’) as i was reading it was so fun to read lines that i have a vague memory of and others that i don’t remember at all ….. but i do remember this final line. because i remember just how Much it made me feel the first time around ……. just the perfect little cherry on top. the Point of it all.

i love this fic …. i’ll love it forever . in the same way i will love you forever and gojo forever and your writing forever ….. thank you for posting this my angel 🥺 i will keep it so close to my hear . forever and ever <3

THAT FUNNY LITTLE GIRL ♡ GOJO SATORU

he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

papa! gojo washes his baby’s hair, what could go wrong! jumping thru the timeline, multiple times. sfw, fluff. approx. two thousand word count. he is filled to the brim with love.

“daddy?” his baby calls for him, satoru, who happens to be sitting right beside her bathtub— criss-crossed legs, paying less and less mind to the cold tile floor that’s making his skin shiver, and more on what she has to say.

“yeah baby?” he’s just down the hall, but you’ve begun to pick apart how his voice, with every syllable, sounds so fond when he speaks to her: his very precious girl.

you hear the gentle hum she hums for a quick second, the mumbling, jumbling of her words as she sorts out what she wants to say and then, “why’s the sky blue?”

★ ‎

there’s a bathtub marker in her hand when she asks, the very same ones satoru was so incredibly persistent on buying at your last shopping store run—

“bathtub markers?” he hears the quirk in your eyebrow before he has a chance to see it, holding the pack of eight in his hand like it’s the greatest invention yet.

“yup! we need them!” he stands side by side with his mini me— matching pairs of silly puppy dog eyes appear on their faces and a dramatic pout fixed to both their lips.

he whispers what he thinks you won’t hear, covering his lips behind the palm of his hand as he kneels to her side. “pst…” he hisses comically loud, “we need to say please, sunshine.”

“pease!” no please, (she’s much cuter about this whole ordeal than he is—) she nods her head as she swings her feet back and forth, fluttering without a sound.

could you guess what’s harder than saying no to her? satoru would vote it’s probably saying: goodbye!

your heart aches lovingly, too impossible to resist— “‘toru, it sounds like you want them more than she does.” grabbing the bundle of markers, you flip them to the side, skimming through its directions and their warnings.

“me?!” he says in the least dramatic tone he could possibly mutter, “are you denying our baby of an artistic future?” and then there’s a hand over his face again. he covers the gasping motion he’s currently molded into, “that she’s not destined to be the next picasso?”

“she’s three! how would you know?” funny grins paint over both your faces because it’s a bittersweet thought: her future, who’ll she be and what’ll become of her.

“there’s an artist inside that little heart, i can feel it.” he’s determined to stick to the skit, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing with a promising certainty for it all.

it’s even funnier when he knows he’s won too: when you hand over the markers to your baby’s pudgy fingers, he has that face plastered on. same one as every other time he’s won you over on something hilariously trivial.

“so honey,” focusing, you decide to actively ignore the cutest dimples on the corner of his smile, “what will you draw when you get home today?”

“f’owers” she points at the red marker, “more for you!” an obvious reference to the dozen roses she’s seen on the dinner table.

“you’re so sweet! i know you’ll draw me the prettiest flowers, my love!” you kiss the tip of her nose as tiny pearly whites form a cheeky smile in return— “ahem.” satoru follows slowly behind you both as you begin to stroll down the aisle again.

“and for daddy,” the coast is clear so you take the chance to stop and spread your arms as wide as you can, “you draw him the biggest, blue sky that matches his eyes!”

she giggles at the dramatics, your stretched out arms and satoru’s loving gaze directed toward you— she mimics these two things. “big sky ‘nd daddy!” and it’s true, your satoru carries the big sky wherever he goes.

★ ‎

“uhmm..” he thinks hard about it, rubbing the nape of his neck, setting his glasses down to the side— how exactly do you explain the color of the sky to a toddler?

he scoots in a little closer now, splashing sounds echoing around while she fidgets with the other toys in the bath, “so, the light from mr. sun is made of all the colors of the rainbow. do you know which ones?”

satoru picks out the markers in the same exact pattern he’s memorized— red, orange, yellow, green in her hand, blue, and the purple that seems the closest to violet.

she doesn’t sound very interested, yet. but you doubt it as long as there’s paddling turtles wound up and clicking across the bubbly water; her attention’s obviously elsewhere.

satoru uncaps the yellow marker first: forming one big, rigid circle against the shower wall that represents the sun— followed by streaks of all the other colors in his hands stretching away from it, representing light.

“like this,” he says, “all the colors of the rainbow.” he returns the green marker she had at first, happily holding onto the object again.

“but ms. earth,” a cake of blue forms as the felt tip rolls around in one spot, “likes blue the best. so, she makes her sky blue.” and with that, your baby blinks up at him like a doll— eyelashes pinched into the perfect curl, and he wonders if he’s only confused her even more.

“oh.” it’s funny how somber-toned she sounds— oh, the same tone you’d use after hearing the most unbelievable truth (or a lie!) the utter shock, the disbelief… that oh.

“just kidding!” he gleams brightly now as she watches. apparently, it had been enough to grab her attention even for the slimmest second.

satoru drops the markers back in the bathtub net where she had placed them, settling within her reach.

“the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue.”

and if he gleams, his baby does too, “i knew it!”

(he promises to explain himself to you a little later. surely, hopefully, you must forgive him and his little, white lie!)

“oh, you did?” satoru settles his knees as close as he can to the tub now, minimizing all the space he can as he reaches for the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub, “isn’t my little girl so clever? yes, the smartest!”

she giggles, water splashing around as she moves closer towards her daddy’s arms— completely used to this routine by now, “mm, like papa.”

once he squeezes the bottle, he thinks his heart’s being squeezed too. watching chamomile-scented soap pour onto the palm of his hands, he smiles. “you think i’m clever, sunshine?”

“sometimes.” but she’s off in her own little world again, drawing on the wall with her favorite turtle beside her.

he supposes he will take what he can get.

with a gentle rinse to her hair, satoru begins to form a gentle lather along the crown of her head, “i want to be a clever daddy for you,” he says.

you know it comes with no thought, as if the words have simply fallen out and onto his tongue before they’ve finally reached his head, “a good papa.”

and it’s happened so frequently, he jokes with you about how she must have some sort of technique to pull out the honest truth from anyone— even without trying to.

“you just love her, satoru.”

★ ‎

amidst the grogginess of the morning and eyes closed shut, you tell him that much. it’s all you can grumble out when your firefly of a husband rises before the sun.

he claims it’s early morning clarity— when your mind is filled with everything and nothing. all you can do it spill your heart out. not much you can do to help it.

he loves this part of the day with you.

“i do. a lot.” he says in one lasting breath, just before shifting from being your big spoon to peek over at the baby monitor on his bedside table for the… nth time.

if she didn’t make him feel like his entire life was worth it, maybe he wouldn’t look at her so often. but she does, not even aware of it, with a leg dangling off the bed. plushies used for pillows rather than the pillows themselves.

it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to: the act of loving, and the acting of expressing it— the act of admitting just how much he does.

“she loves you too.”

★ ‎

with the soapy suds spilling over his knuckles, between his fingers and the strands of her hair, satoru notices something new.

he twirls a finger around the ends of her hair, strands strong and smooth— as he realizes they’re starting to curve around the shell of her ear on its own, when he doesn’t remember it doing that before.

and as he lowers his gaze, the soapy lather following along, he sees the longest strands of his baby’s hair are bound to meet the back of her neck. nape, ears and shoulders all meeting someone new.

satoru forgets that time goes by fast, especially when you’re filled with love to spare. “when did you start growing up so fast, sunshine?”

she shrugs.

the strength in his knees give out, landing him right back down onto the tile floor; feet tucked underneath his body. “it’s too fast.” he murmurs so lowly, you can barely catch on to what’s been said.

too fast to watch her go— but don’t say it out loud, satoru doesn’t have the heart to finish or hear the rest.

she’ll be able to say please, even without him asking her to. she’ll be able to pronounce her l’s until she loses her two front teeth. she’ll hold onto his hand, and he’ll hold onto her.

then, it’ll be time for school. and she’ll be leaving his side as a big girl now, with a lunch bag he’s packed and a slipping backpack over her shoulder— yes, inevitably, that’s going to happen too, just as he has before.

and if that’s right around the corner, then so is every other phase, inevitably— and the rest of her life from then on. it’s going to happen one day: where satoru’s baby is no longer a baby and he will have to let her go.

“‘toru.” he turns to you, towel in hand, pressing weight against the wall’s edge. “what’re you weepin’ about now, baby?”

your daughter turns to face him in a heartbeat, curious.

“crying?” voice trembling, he nudges his cheek into his sleeve in attempts to hide any evidence, big hands still in need of rinsing along with her hair. “who’s crying?”

stepping closer, you hang the towel over the hook before sitting right next to his side, “because you never cry, especially at random times.” you poke once at his ribs.

“you’re starting to get me, sweetness.” then, he dips his fingers into the water, bubbly foam parting ways from his skin. it falls down her shoulders when he rinses her off, all done with the bath, and having a little time to play.

you watch him for a while, trying to identify the cause and while trying to make small talk— you mention something without much thought, “her hair has gotten a lot longer now.”

his voice, it’s tinier than you’ve ever expected it to be, “i know…” a sniffle divides his sentence, a proper pause, “she’s growing up so fast.”

“ah… so, that’s what this is about.”

you rest your head over his shoulder, still feeling as in love as ever, “you’re cute, you know that?” he rests his in return. “we still have hundreds of days together.” you watch the way she draws on the wall, enjoying her happiness as if it were your own.

“it doesn’t feel like enough.” he says.

“i don’t think it’ll ever be enough.” no, it never will. “maybe we’re greedy like that, honey.” yes, you know this.

he knows he is. because there’s a bright sun in the blue sky with red roses to bring it all together, just like she promised.

“finished!” she looks back at you two, hands in the air in celebration of her brand new masterpiece being born.

“oh! they’re so pretty!” sweet enthusiasm in your voice, you give her all the attention in the world. “just perfect!”

you begin to ask her the little things, every detail you could think of and she could find an answer to, all while wrapping her in the warm towel you hung up earlier.

satoru’s gotten up from the floor too, taking it all in until she calls for him again, “that’s you, daddy.” she points at the blue on the wall as you carry her back to her room.

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying and he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

satoru hears your footsteps trickling further down the hall when your voice resounds again, “come on daddy, we need help picking out today’s pijamas!”

“pease, papa hurry!”

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying as he listens to the water flow down the drain, capturing her first piece of art on his phone, he has very little to say.

but if he had to say it and if his baby asked him to, satoru would confess: “i’m so happy. i’m so happy to love you.”

hello friends! this is a repost from my previous blog, mysugu. in the case you recognize this piece, that is (hopefully) why! thank you for reading this bit, (a second time?) he is so loved.

[arcanesea]

beautiful

PAIRING: bang chan x reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff WC: 624 WARNINGS: detailed mention of insecurities

“how are you so beautiful?” you blurted out of the blue. you were lying comfortably in chan's lap, getting distracted by his ethereal features. his hand stops stroking your hair, peeling his eyes from the cartoon playing on the TV. you offer him a sheepish smile, like those lovesick teenagers.

“are you saying that because i actually am or because you just like me?” he teases you. he can’t lie though, his heart skips a beat when you voice out the question so casually, so innocently. he never knew how to take on a compliment, and you don’t necessarily make it sound like one by the way you candidly say those kinds of things in your mundane routine.

you click your tongue, repressing a smile that’s about to bloom.

“i mean it, you know,” you continue saying. he chuckled before lowering his head to kiss your forehead.

“thank you?” he said more like a question. and you’re holding back from rolling your eyes. one of those days, you’d let it slide (you have tons more compliments to throw at him anyway), but today was not one of those days as you sit up from your position, adjusting yourself to face him. his hand hangs mid-air, throwing you a confused look.

you take it with both hands, placing it in front of your heart (in hopes of sharing all of your truest feelings with the man you love the most).

“listen, channie,” you start, you scoot forward to him until your knees are touching the side of his thighs. you sigh, thinking, this would be so cheesy, but you’d do anything to make this man see what you see every day. “you’re beautiful, the most beautiful person i ever met, the most beautiful person alive.”

“how?” he asks again. because for him, beauty is subjective, it’s a preference.

you look at him for a moment, you want to whip out your diaries, reading all of the entries about him. his eyes search for yours amidst the silence and that’s when it struck you—

“your eyes,” you start again, feeling warmth dominate your heart as you gaze into those pair of russet brown irises. “it’s the color of autumn, when you stand under the sun, it turns into a brighter, honey color. and it’s sweet, and it gives me a sense of home.” he smiled and there was a crinkle on the corner of his eyes that showed his sincerity.

“you look even more beautiful when you smile” you bring a hand closer to his face, poking the dimple that complements his smile. “this is practically my favorite feature.”

and if his eyes are autumn, then his smile is spring. the way he’s able to bring the energy just by smiling is astonishing to you.

you place a hand on his cheek. and warmth radiates from the spot you touched. like the summer sun, without the overbearing heat. and it’s cute and you still have a lot in your pocket.

and he can read you because he quickly pulls your body, enveloping you in a snug embrace that could save you from the excruciating cold in winter.

“don’t say anything more please,” he said shyly. you smile, placing your face in the crook of his neck. you would do this a thousand times more. you would shout about how beautiful he is from the top of the building if you could.

he smiled as he pressed a kiss to the side of your hair. his heart filled to the brim with emotion; pride, joy, love, and awe. and he wonders if it’s possible to be more content than this moment right now.

and oh, how you pledged yourself to shower him with all the love he deserves.

a/n. i think this was inspired by one of his bbl messages i am soooooo whipped for this man it's unbearable.

[writing-the-stars]

Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home. 

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began. 

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise. 

And then, the text. 

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.” 

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment. 

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is. 

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.  

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.” 

 There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you  like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation. 

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him. 

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want. 

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours. 

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment. 

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

[user777h]

pairing: bf(yunho) x fem(gf y/n)

rating: ignore the warnings,this ones really wholesome😚😚

genre:some angst ,FLUFF,nice and cutesy

Word count:835

Summary:yunho shows his insecure wifey some loving

warnings: MDNI-All characters in my stories are 18+,a lot of my work contains taboo?Genres so if your triggered by that please don't read,probably contains cursing

Y/N stood in front of the full-length mirror in their shared apartment, her hands trembling as she adjusted the hem of the sleek black dress. She had been so excited to surprise Yunho for his birthday, envisioning his face lighting up when he saw her in something so bold, so sexy. But now, staring at herself under the harsh glare of the overhead light, she felt anything but sexy.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. The dress hugged her curves in all the wrong places—or at least that’s how it felt to her. Her stomach seemed too prominent, her thighs too wide, and her shoulders...

“God, why did I even think this was a good idea?” she muttered to herself, her voice cracking.

She wanted to cry, but she also felt so damn stupid. She had hyped this moment up in her head for weeks, imagining Yunho’s reaction. He’d be shocked, sure. But not for the reasons she hoped.

A knock on the door startled her. “Babe? You in there?” Yunho’s deep voice was muffled, but still warm and familiar.

“Yeah,” she called back quickly, trying to steady her voice. “Just... give me a minute.”

There was a pause, and she could practically feel him hesitating. Then the doorknob rattled. “I’m coming in.”

“No, wait—!” she protested, but it was too late. Yunho stepped into the room, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway, his soft brown eyes immediately locking on hers.

“What’s—” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to the dress. His eyes widened slightly, and then a slow, lazy grin spread across his face. “Well, damn. You look—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, almost desperate. She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t lie to me, Yunho. I know I look awful.”

“What?” His grin faltered. He stepped closer, his brows knitting together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“This stupid dress,” she snapped, her voice thick with frustration. “I thought it would look good, but I look ridiculous. I look... I don’t even know. Like a damn sausage stuffed into—”

“Stop.” Yunho’s voice was firm, cutting through her self-deprecation like a knife. He reached for her hand, gently but insistently turning her to face him. “Stop talking about yourself like that.”

She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. “Yunho, I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said, his voice softening but no less intense. “Y/N, you’re fucking gorgeous. I don’t care what you think you see in that mirror, because what I see? Is the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she shook her head. “You’re just saying that—”

“Bullshit,” he cut her off, stepping closer. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her gently but firmly against him. “When have I ever lied to you? Huh? Tell me one time.”

She didn’t answer, her throat too tight with emotion.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile. “Baby, I mean it. Look at you. You’re killing me right now. I don’t even know if I can wait until my actual birthday to celebrate, if you know what I mean.”

She let out a choked laugh despite herself, swatting his arm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning,” he countered, his tone earnest again. “I know you don’t see it right now, but trust me. This dress? It’s perfect. You’re perfect. And if you’re still worried about how it looks, let me just tell you—” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “—I can’t stop picturing taking it off you later.”

Her face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and warmth spreading through her. “Yunho!”

“What? I’m just being honest,” he said, grinning. “Now, are you going to let me enjoy my birthday with my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend, or do I need to keep convincing you how sexy you are?”

She bit her lip, her heart swelling as she looked into his eyes. “You really think I look okay?”

“Okay?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Babe, you look like a goddamn dream. And if anyone else thinks otherwise, they can fuck off, because I know what I’ve got.”

She laughed again, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “And I’m crazy about you, Y/N. Dress or no dress.”

Finally, she smiled—really smiled—and leaned into him. “Thank you, Yunho.”

“Always,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “Now, come on. Let’s go show off my sexy girlfriend. And after dinner, we can come back here and...” He trailed off, winking.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he said again, his voice full of love.

And for the first time that night, she almost believed him.

[moonrisecoeur]

romance — leon kennedy

author’s note: i am sick this is actually a really cute fic. although i might be a lil mentally ill. this fic is for @ovaryacted so i hope u like it nic :3 feeling re6 leon vibes hehe !!

wc: 4.7k

content: detective leon x psycho reader, fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to femininely), no d/s dynamics but reader is slightly more in control, lots of pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, my girl, sweetheart, sweetie, pretty wife), talks of marriage, unprotected sex, blood as lube. reader is like actually insane but leon loves her.

warning: this fic is dark content, containing moderate amounts of blood and gore depictions, along with discussions of murder, torture, bodies, weapons, etc. please read with caution and take care of yourself.

—

notes:

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly. 

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

—

“what… have you done now, princess?” he stumbles, because when you said you look good in red, he clumsily thought you meant you were going to wear a red dress for him. 

“the guy was asking for it, lee,” you tell him, taking a step closer to reach out to him, but he steps back, “are you… afraid of me?”

“kinda. i also just… i don’t want you to get blood on my work clothes,” his smile is always gentle towards you. there’s no reality where detective kennedy can get mad at you, though. he adores you too greatly.

your eyes drop from focusing on his soft, warm gaze, to trailing down his body. he really does make himself pretty for you. black blazer and black dress pants on top of a red wine button down, top two buttons left unbuttoned because obviously the s in leon s. kennedy stands for slut. or maybe selfless? sensitive? submissive? who knows?

either way, you have the eyes of a predator. he knows you know that, yet you make no attempt to ease his mind, to tell him, ‘oh, it’s alright baby. i would never hurt you’ because neither of you are sure if that’s true. 

“blood on your clothes, huh..?” you murmur, almost distantly, like your mind was somewhere else.

“we, uh, have dinner reservations, baby. why don’t you get cleaned up and we can go? i don’t think… the restaurant would appreciate blood all over their chairs and tables,” he looks away, and then back to you. your eyes are hungry, but he tries to keep you focused, “baby, you got rid of the body, right?”

“well.. not necessarily… i wanted to dismember him myself,” you pout, like you were asking for something a lot less gruesome. like, ‘leon, could we please get ice cream after dinner?’ but instead you were asking something a little bit more on brand for you. he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised.

“just… okay, whatever. just c’mere and kiss me, sweetie,” he welcomes you into his arms again, refusing to even pay any mind to the viscous scarlet liquid that saturates his velvet suit, your hand staining his neck and you reach to rest it on the back of his neck. he stopped caring about the mess and wrapped his arms around your waist.

you kiss him feverishly, stained hands and tainted souls clashing together. leon was rotten before you met him, corrupted and dark. you feel a bit more comfortable with the fact that you have not ruined him. there was nothing good about him to ruin. he lies, fabricates and destroys evidence, forces confessions, truly a brutal guy. 

and yet, for the pretty thing that clutches onto him, only feeling truly happy in his arms, he is comfort. he’s safety and goodness. he is everything that’s right in her world. your world.

you are awful. but so is leon. that is why he loves you so dearly. if people like you both are even capable of such emotions.

your dress is carmine and if leon didn’t know any better, he’d think you were a victim of a heinous crime, but he does know better. and he knows there is not a single scratch or bruise on you.

leon holds you close to him, hands wrapped around your waist, giving you his complete soul, enjoying the warmth of your embrace and the familiar feel of your lips pressed against his. he squeezes you tightly and runs his hands along your hips, his touch smooth and gentle. 

leon is your complete opposite. your touch is forceful and aggressive, but leon is gentle. all your body knows is his softness. you are erratic and violent, but leon is composed. 

as you continue kissing him, leon's breath becomes heavier and his heart beats faster. he pulls away for a moment, panting gently as an expression of pure joy and relief crosses his face. leon leans down again, this time capturing your chin between his fingers as he looks into your eyes, soaking in the sight of you.

“you… are beautiful,” his voice echoes, low and full of an adoration even leon can’t wrap his head around. scarlet covers your figure, and all he can see is utter beauty. 

“you got anywhere to be, detective kennedy?” you smile as you address him professionally, but it’s only teasing. your hand is moving to help him shrug off his suit coat and he thinks he might be here a bit longer than he thought. you throw it onto the table.when your hand starts moving to help him take off his jacket, his eyebrow raises in interest, and his eyes follow the movement of your hand until it touches his shoulder and starts undoing the buttons.

"no, nowhere in particular," he says casually, watching his coat get thrown to the side. you’re careless. that is expensive velvet, and your red hands definitely just ruined it. it’s alright he muses, he’ll just replace it. 

the coat, he clarifies to himself. he’ll replace the coat. not this memory with you. 

"excellent," you tell him, crimson fingers tangling into his blonde hair, “i wasn’t going to let you leave anyway.”

"i figured as much," he chuckles playfully, enjoying the feeling of your fingers digging into his scalp, massaging the tension away. leon's body relaxes against yours, savoring the feel of you pressed against him. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"i've been working way too hard today," he sighs, and he sees the soft pout that comes to your face. it’s gotta be the cutest thing he’d ever seen, "don’t look at me like that, baby. i just didn't get much of a chance to relax. it’s my job, princess.” leon squeezes you tightly against him, the warmth from his body radiating against yours.

“how does your brain work for that long?” you shake your head, “i feel like i would start losing it with how long of days you work. you shouldn’t have to work so hard, lee.”

"i swear, i was staring at the same case file for like, ten hours straight," he sighs. "i can't look at those numbers and words anymore."

"i bet," you mumble, noticing the way the blood is drying up in his hair and on both of your clothes and skin, "you look like you're the murderer now," you chuckle, "i think i'm going to have to lock you up."

leon lets out a laugh, looking down at himself and noticing the dried blood caking up in his hair and on his suit, "i bet i do," he chuckles, "i look like i've just come from a crime scene."

leon looks up at you, his eyes shining mischievously. "then i guess you'll have to arrest me," he teases, "do you have the handcuffs ready?"

you laugh, mostly because you know he’s making shitty jokes, but also because you might enjoy restraining him a little too much, “oh yeah, except the jail cell is my bedroom.”

"well, you're the officer who has to bring me in," he says with a smirk, "i don't think i'll be resisting arrest too much."

“oh, shut up, dork. just kiss me,” you groan to him, pulling him in by the hips. his white button up dress shirt being stained by your red hands feels indicative of what you’ve done to leon. it’s not like he’s perfectly pristine, he’s been a corrupt cop for years, but… you have only made him worse.

it's as if he's addicted to the touch and affection of your hands, his body becoming hot with desire. he enjoys the way you press against him, your red hands staining his shirt and staining his soul. your fingers dig into his hips forcefully as you pull him in close to you, your tainted hands staining his clothes as you do so. you've definitely made him even more corrupt than he was before you came into the picture, and he's loving every second of it.

you pull away to whisper to him, in his ear, wet blood covering his skin and his clothes, "i love you."

now, he’s known for a long time that you love him, even if that love is twisted and tainted. as blood drips down the both of you, he wraps his arms around you more tightly, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

"i love you too, princess,”  he whispers back, not caring about the dried blood coating you both, "also, wait, where is your victim? did anyone see you? please tell me you were careful, baby."

"i destroyed his body parts already, don't worry. no one saw me."

"thank god.. or should i say thank you?" leon replies with a cheeky grin. to him, you are god. you are a religion. you are a deity who visits him in his dreams and treats him like her beloved human pet. he looks at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your body, the dried blood of your previous victims making you look even more beautiful to him. god, you are so fucking pretty to him.

"though, i do need your help destroying evidence.." your fingers draw sweet little hearts onto his back once you throw his dress shirt off entirely, but he's certain your bloody hearts left literal, physical drawings on his skin. you are so fucking deranged and he adores you.

"i can help you with anything," he murmurs, leaning his head down to plant kiss after kiss on your neck, “that’s what i’m here for, baby.”

every trace of your blood-stained heart has been embedded and melded into his skin, like a stain that can never be washed out with bleach. he loves his psycho princess.

"but i don't want to think about that right now," you lean your head on his shoulder, "i just wanna be here with you.."

leon nods, enjoying the feeling of your head pressed onto him, the warmth from your body radiating gently, "i know, i know, baby," he says softly, "no worrying right now, just you and i."

after a moment of peace and calm, you perk your head up suddenly, a contemplative look on his face, "do you think... will i ever go to prison?"

leon chuckles, shaking his head as he continues stroking your hair, "no, you won't," he replies confidently, "not as long as i'm around, and i'm not going anywhere. i'll always keep you safe and make sure you're never caught."

leon feels the weight of your worries melt away from you. he enjoys being the one to calm you, tame you in a way. you are a monster, but with him, you’re his sweet girl with her.. mildly disturbing hobbies.

"you’ll be okay," he says gently, "i mean, if anyone does find evidence pointing to you, i'll get rid of it before it can even be used. i'm not going to let anyone come between us.”

“yeah?”

“you’re stuck with me forever, princess. i’ll make sure you never spend even one night in a jail cell. only the most comfortable living arrangements for my baby.”

you chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “you’re the one that’s stuck with me. who knows? maybe my thirst for blood will include you some day.”

leon laughs, his body trembling slightly at your sweet kisses against his neck, he doesn't even want to think about the possibility of you deciding to kill him one day, but he also knows that it's not an impossibility. he swallows the lump in his throat and decides it's better to just push that thought away for now.

the worst part is… he knows you’d enjoy it. you’d watch the light slowly leave his eyes with glee. makes him nauseous.

"maybe," he says with a teasing tone, but it’s impossible to miss how his voice shakes, "but i'm more valuable to you alive, sweetheart."

“i know, i know.” you giggle, hands digging into the waistband of his fancy velvet slacks, “i just like playing with you. you get so nervous.. it’s cute.”

leon grins in return, but a hint of a nervous chuckle escapes his lips when he feels you start unbuttoning his pants.

he feels his heart rate start to pick up, both from anticipation and a little bit of anxiety, “you like playing with me huh…” he says in a lower, somewhat panting voice, “don’t play with your food, baby. do what you gotta do.”

you smirk, pushing him down onto his office chair, the same one you bought him a couple months ago when he was complaining about his old one. you sit yourself down on his lap, hands resting around the back of his neck, caressing him so sweetly. god, if leon closed his eyes, he could pretend this was normal and you were normal and you were both just two young lovers that adored each other. 

his hands grasp your waist and keep you close, as he's afraid you'll leave him. you can't leave him now. not after all he's done for you, to protect you, to save you from yourself. he's ruined himself for you, he's destroyed evidence and burned bodies and lied and lied and lied for you. you can't leave him now.

his psychopath. his monster. his sweet lover. him. you belong to him. 

he doesn't understand why you're so gentle with him, but you are and he's grateful, so he doesn't push the subject. when your hands pull at the waistband of his boxers, his eyes become soft and glassy and he rests his head back against the chair. you may do what you please with him at this point.

leon lets out a contented sigh as he relaxes back into the chair, his head leaning against the backrest as he gazes up at you. you are… breathtaking. a beautiful dove covered in her victim’s crimson blood.

your touch is soft and delicate, much different from the usual roughness that you've had with your previous victims. yet he can't complain that you're choosing to be so gentle with him, letting him keep this illusion of you being a normal person, just for a moment.

"can i have you, lee? right here, right now?"

it's almost amusing how normal that question sounds to him. after all this time, after everything he's done for you, after all the murders he's covered up for you, the bodies he's burned and the evidence he's destroyed... it almost makes him chuckle to hear that sentence. it’s remarkable, honestly. you’re vicious and violent and cruel… and you’re asking for consent? how adorable.

"of course," he says softly, his tone slightly pleading and desperate, "please. take me, baby... i'm yours."

you smile sweetly, though the sweetness is undercut by the blood on your face. he would almost assume you're possessed by something demonic if he didn't already know you were evil to begin with, "you make me so happy, baby." you muse gently, "you keep me safe, protect me when i mess up... i'm gonna be your perfect little wife someday."

leon chuckles softly at your words, but there's a part of him that's a little bit terrified. in his mind, he knows that this isn't the beginning of some fairytale romance, and that your intentions aren't quite pure, but he chooses to ignore those thoughts. he's already fallen down such a dark path because of your influence, so what's stopping him from falling a little bit deeper and going all the way down into this fucking madness with you?

"i'll protect you from everything," he replies, his fingers gripping tightly around yours, "nothing will ever hurt you again, my sweet wife. i’ll keep you safe and happy, always.”

"we should get married in a big, beautiful chapel. i don't need a lot of people there, i just want to be there with you."

leon grins, "you'd be happy with just a small wedding?" he asks with a hint of surprise in his voice, "i thought you'd want something big and extravagant to show off to everyone."

“all i need is a pretty dress and you,” you whisper to him.

leon chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face with his hand, his fingers slightly trembling. a part of him can't help but wonder how this would all end: would it actually end happily? with you two walking down the aisle to an altar, exchanging vows? or would it end up with his body buried deep in the woods?

he forces himself to ignore those thoughts, for now he should stay focused on the moment. you look at him so sweetly, so earnestly, so he decides to trust your intentions with him for now.

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly. 

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

you smile as you lean in to kiss him again, hands finally resuming their movements to get into his underwear.

leon lets out a soft groan, his muscles tensing as he feels your hands slip through the fabric of his underwear, pulling out his cock for you to play with, or so he assumes you’ll do. you play with it like it’s a toy, something you can just have fun messing with while he sleeps or before you fuck him. he uses the verbage of ‘you fucking him’ because this is in no way him fucking you… even if it’s his dick. at some point that dick attached to his pelvis became yours.. 

he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as you begin to caress him. he's just so vulnerable to you, he's yours in every aspect of the word, physically and emotionally. yours, yours, yours.

"i'll be gentle, i promise. i'm just gonna stroke your cock, nice and slow.." you murmur. your touch is warm but teasing, and when you notice the tension in his body, you can't help but giggle, "i can't go too quickly just yet.. can't make you feel too much too soon."

leon chuckles softly, a part of him enjoying this teasing routine. he knows that eventually you'll give him what he wants, so he doesn’t mind waiting. whatever his girl wants, she gets.

"i know" he says panting slightly, "just take your time, princess..."

it's just so hard not to adore him, so malleable and soft, you could mold him into anything you want.

leon's eyes are starting to get hazy, his breath hitching in his throat and his body trembling. your touch is so delicate yet so powerful, it's making his entire body quiver. he’s not even on the edge but he feels like he is. both of your hands jerk him off so slow and sensual, and he knows the only reason they’re moving so smoothing is because your hands still have wet blood on them… which means you’re practically using that guy’s blood as lube and… this is so fucked up. you are so fucked up. you are awful and he can’t wait to make you his wife.

leon’s not necessarily the most submissive man alive, but he does listen well and you always get what you want, so take that as you will. he's always been so easy to mold into whatever you want him to be. he's followed along like a loyal dog, doing everything you ask of him. he's done such despicable things in your name, knowing that at the end of the day, you'll love him enough to keep him by your side.

he feels your thumb massaging his tip and he suppresses a nervous whimper, eyes fluttering closed as he takes in the feeling of your touch. you’re too much of a tease, but leon is patient.

“promise that you’ll always stay with me, lee. promise that you’ll never leave,” you whisper. he doesn’t know why you expect such a deep answer from him when his brain is becoming more and more mushy by the second.

“i promise," he whispers back, still panting slightly from pleasure. “i'm never going to leave you. i'll stay by your side for as long as we're alive. i'll never stop protecting you, loving you"

“i will sink my claws into you and never let you leave,” you growl.

he leans his head back against the chair again, a smile creeping on his lips as he lets out a shuddering breath. "i'm all yours, princess, and i have no desire to be anyone else's."

just as he starts to get close to the edge, riding the fine line of pleasure, you pull your hands away from him. you feel bad for denying him, but you're only doing it so you both can finish together. leon lets out a soft shiver as you tug your hands away, your teasing just making him more and more desperate.

he lets out a tense, groaning sigh as you pull your hands away, a small whimper escaping his lips as you did so. he's so close, but you're not quite ready to let him cum yet.

leon tries his best not to show his disappointment, the build up has been intense and it's frustrating to feel himself denied, but he knows you love it. you love making him desperate, making him beg.

he concedes: this is what you like, so it’s what he likes. 

but his disappointment is quickly brushed away as you get up off of him to take off your beautiful bloody dress, and your undergarments too. for all of the blood on your face, neck, chest, and arms, the rest of you is mostly untouched, and he finds the difference rather amusing. your stomach and thighs look so soft and innocent.

he gazes at you lustfully as you remove your clothes, his breath catching in his throat as he stares at your naked body. he can’t think, can’t breathe, his eyes going everywhere they’re not supposed to. he can only try so hard to be a gentleman. 

"you.. are going to make me your wife," you say, voice carrying an air of certainty. you are not suggesting. you are telling him what's going to happen, and he will obviously obey, “you’ll buy me a pretty ring. nothing expensive, don’t waste your money on something stupid like a diamond. and you’ll take me on a beautiful honeymoon, and we’ll spend every moment of those days together just fucking like rabbits. understood?”

marriage was never something he considered until you called yourself his ‘pretty little wife’ to be honest, but with the way you're demanding it now... it's something he'd easily give in to, "okay" he finally manages to whisper back, "anything for my beautiful wife."

you smile gently, settling back onto his lap, pussy aching for the cock in front of you, so desperate to fill you up, “you ready, baby?” you ask.

leon nods, his eyes fluttering briefly at your words, “yeah, i'm ready," he mumbles, his breath already short and his heart beating so hard he's surprised that you can't hear it.

you slide him inside, giving yourself a moment to adjust. leon can't help but find the slight discomfort in your face cute.

you moan gently, resting your hands on his shoulders, "o-oh, ah..."

he can hear every soft sound and breath that escapes your lips as you begin to move, and he can't help but let out a soft groan as well. his hands grip tightly around you, tightening every time you moan or gasp.

leon holds onto you for dear life, he knows he's already so close to finishing, he could really blow any second, but the longer this goes, the longer this moment lasts, the more intense it gets. you’re going to kill him one of these days. 

"l-lee.." you gasp, hips rocking back and forth, almost circular motions.

"oh god.. baby..." he lets out a tense moan as you ride him, movements gentle but somehow still so overwhelming.  his fingertips dig into your shoulders as he tries to keep himself restrained, but he's at the very edge of his control.

every movement sends a jolt through his body, his muscles flexing and releasing with everything he's got to keep himself from finishing before you.

“leon…” you groan again, and he never really realizes the effect he has on you until your body is trembling as you ride his cock. your voice isn’t quite begging, but he almost hears it like that. it sounds like a love confession wrapped up in his name. he doesn’t see it until all of your defenses are down, but you love him so helplessly that it must be scary. 

god, he wants to hold you in his arms forever and never let you go. protect his serial killer for the rest of her days.

he lets out another tense, breathy moan as you start to move even faster, you're pushing him to the limit. every sensation that he feels is so intense, he can hardly handle it, it takes every ounce of self-discipline in his body to keep himself from finishing early, but that’s what you get for edging him right before. you put him at a huge disadvantage.

“wait for me..” you whisper, “wanna cum with you..”

he nods his head, his eyes squeezed shut as a trembling breath escapes from his lips. he's trying his hardest to wait for you to finish, the urges and sensations within him are overwhelming and he feels as though he might explode at any moment.

and he does unfortunately, just a moment early, but it kick-starts your orgasm so for the most part, you’re both gasping and moaning and breathing fast and shaky and helpless together, hands grasping at any skin they can reach as you’re pulled ever closer to him. he sticks his head into the crook of your neck as your pretty pussy squeezes around him. he feels breathless and helpless, holding you like he’d die without you. he feels your heavy breath and your hands tightly gripping him, you must be completely gone, orgasm hitting you in waves that squeeze every drop of cum out of him.

you’re his, he realizes. completely, utterly his. you need him. you can’t go on without leon and there is nothing more pleasing than being your lifeline. your face makes that cute little pout, dried bloody fingers making his shoulders red, but this time it might just be his blood. your nails are digging into him, but he can’t blame you. you’re too lost in pleasure to realize what you’re doing.

once you both start to slow and calm down, breathing returning to a more normal pace, you lean down to rest your head on his chest. 

after a moment, you ask him, “are you really gonna marry me?”

“mhm,” he hums, fingers brushing against your head, licking his thumb to try and rub off the dried blood on your forehead, “i'll get you a ring and get down on one knee and everything.”

“what will our wedding be like?”

“whatever you want, princess,” he closes his eyes, “i don't have a single care in the world about what flowers you pick or if you want to invite people or if you just want it to be us two and an officiant in the empty wedding chapel. i just want to call you my wife. my sweet, pretty wife. my girl. my only love.”

you giggle, nuzzling closer into his chest, “detective kennedy. my husband,” you grin cutely, “my leon. mine.”

burgundy drips from his fingertips as he brushes them against your cheek, “yours.”

[eldritchelfwriter]

A few Baldurs Gate 3 Fanfics I recommend on AO3

So long as it has meaning by ohholymoves

Relationship: Shadowheart and Selunite Paladin Tav

The fic that started it at all and inspired me to write my own Shadowheart fanfiction (Shadowheart Begins). This the first BG fanfic I had ever read. I was so blown away I read it 6 times in a row, just to catch everything that happened and the little clues seeded within, and to just admire and be in awe of how incredibly well written and beautiful the whole thing is.

Shadowheart is EXTREMELY sassy in this fic and I am here for it.

Consonance by @eliteseven

Relationship: modern Shadowheart & Tav

A profoundly sweet and meaningful story of Shadowheart & Tav getting together against the backdrop of being a band putting an album together. Isobel and Aylin also make appearances (bonus!!). Once you've checked out Consonance you'll also want to read Of Night Orchids, Lace & Steel by the same author.

Give it up for DJ Shadowheart by @capriclonus

Relationship: modern Shadowheart (a disc jockey) and modern Lae'zel

It took me a while to dip my toe into AU and modern BG3 fics but this one has blown me away. I'm on my fourth readthrough and I'm sure there are more readthroughs to come.

The characterisations and the plotting are just ... I feel like I'm reading something I've taken from a bestsellers shelf. It's absolute goals.

You really feel like you've been taken on a complex and wonderful journey by the end. This one will stick with you for a long time to come.

To Defy the Gods by @shadowfalllen

Relationship: Mother Superior Shadowheart x Tav

Shadowheart had taken the Dark Justiciar path and kept on seeing Tav, but Shar had other ideas about their continuing relationship. A Shadowheart redemption work with moments of awe, terror (I'm a lightweight and sometimes had to take a breath before continuing a chapter) and HOPE.

Also, this is one of the few works where I've seen Nocturne really being fleshed out as a character in her own right! (As she deserves!)

Hand on a Dagger (Head in the Sand) by @future-ghoost

Relationship: Dark Justiciar Shadowheart x Selunite Tav

VERY original concept where only Shadowheart was abducted, and Emmeline & Arnell hire Tav to try and rescue their now adult daughter from the cloister.

The tension is amazing, as is the growing relationship between Shadowheart and Tav and the kinds of compromises and decisions Tav is having to make while infiltrating the cloister as a Selunite. Delicious!

swear i was born right in the doorway by @tadpoleeater

Relationship: Isobel and Aylin

An absolutely hilarious rendition of how Isobel and Aylin got together. The characterisation of Aylin (a difficult character to write) is just spot on and the whole thing is so delightful, I will be surprised if you don't end up with a huge smile on your face at the end.

My Thesis is a Demigod? by @griffinisgae

Relationship: Isobel and Aylin

Fabulous AU in which Isobel, who is writing her thesis on Selune, finds Aylin dormant in a temple after thousands of years. Fish out of water / time displaced shenanigans ensue.

There are so many heartfelt, gorgeous little scenes, including laugh out loud ones.

Juniper & Starlight by @shewhowas39

Relationship: Durge and Astarion

Even though 'I don't even go to this school' as a Shadowheart and Aylin megafan, I am utterly transfixed by this continuing story of a Southern gal, heart of gold divination wizard durge and her journey with Astarion and friends. Shadowheart is the Tav's bestie in this fic and as with all the other characters in the game, is beautifully rendered in word.

As with all the other recommendations in this post, the words flow over you like music. Tav and Astarion's inner world contain so much emotional truth, a difficult feat for both of these incredibly complex characters but the writer here makes it look easy.

Before the Last Brew by @shadowfalllen

Relationship: Shadowheart and Tav

What if Shadowheart doesn't actually have a crap ton of trauma from Viconia and Shar? What if she is the new barista in a small town who has caught the eye of an author who is getting quite distracted from writing at the cafe?

What if WITHERS owns that cafe? What if it's so sweet and fuzzy and lovely and warm and you just can't wait for the next chapter?! What if! What if then?!

Born of Silver & Night Orchids by @cylinderarts

Relationship: Shadowheart and Selunite Tav (Trans Fem)

Here Shadowheart & Tav meet under VERY different circumstances - a one night stand! But soon one night leads to a few more and then one night they aren't particularly careful Shadowheart has a lil bun in oven she has to hide from the cloister while simultaneously trying to deal with her undeniable (let constantly denied) feelings for Tav!

Tav is besties with Karlach in this fic which is the absolute BEST and cylinderarts has also created a bunch of awesome art that goes with this fic that you can view on their profile.

[slxtarchive]

dylan minnette ; upon scrolling through social media someone from your past can no longer deny the truth of their feelings…

✮ … “sweet dreams my beautiful girl.” you whispered to your 1 year old as you were carrying and bouncing her. her eyes were just about closed already.

she hummed feeling overcome by the powerful feeling of exhaustion which you were grateful for because usually you’d have to stay around for more than an hour but today somehow, someway, she decided to fall sleep and give you a much needed break.

you set her down in her crib that you and your newly wed husband both set up for her. you gave her a kiss on her forehead then turned on the baby monitor and left the room.

you sighed entering your shared bedroom and changing into a pair of comfy pijamas. you then washed up and got ready for bed grabbing the other connection of the baby monitor and setting it beside your side of the bed. you pulled back the covers and climbed under getting cozy and ready to get in bed yourself.

before fully settling down you grabbed your phone and decided to go on tiktok for a little bit. you told yourself you shouldn’t spend much time on tiktok but ever since your husband had recently gotten a new job that took most of his time, social media has consumed you.

you tried to start reading but you stopped a while ago and couldn’t pick up a book again without having a serious reading slump.

so here you were. on your phone scrolling on tiktok when a video that caught you completely off guard came up.

it was a video of dylan. the man you had dated for a while, back when you had still been living in LA — the love of your life at one point. your heart immediately dropped seeing him on your screen but you couldn’t help but stay and not scroll.

the video consisted of dylan sitting on a stool with a guitar in hand. “i wrote this song in about to sing during one of the most… heartbreaking times in my life. to this day… it still hurts and writing was the only thing that helped me deal with my feelings and emotions.” he spoke through the mic, his voice clear because of the person recording who was standing right beside the speaker.

in the video there was a brief silence before the crowd got louder in seconds. the girl in the video pointed out how dylan’s eyes watered. “…and it hurts to say that i am still in love with this person even over the time that has passed so… yeah. singing this song right now is like me wearing my heart on my sleeve.” everyone in the crowd awed as he played the first note and started singing.

the lyrics were raw and open. you listened carefully to each lyric.

haven’t talked in months

when you both broke up you immediately decided to start over and move elsewhere, refusing to keep in contact with him.

tell me all the things that i’ve done wrong.

you broke up with him, for reasons of your own.

at the end of the video, you could see dylan’s expression. he was heartbroken. you didn’t understand how after all this time. you’d thought it’d be easier but you felt more conflicted than ever before.

i still love you. he whispered into the mic at the ending. he sniffled then said a quick ‘thank you’ before the video ended.

you hadn’t noticed that your eyes were watering and how empty your heart was. you had no idea why you were feeling this way but you hated it.

you put your phone down and got lost in your thoughts. you tried to see if sleeping might help but you were just alone in the dark, with nothing to do but think about dylan’s confession.

one part of you knew there was nothing you could do. that you already have your life set up. that you’re stuck. the other part of you on the other hand was telling you something different.

that if you still loved him, it’s okay. it’s not too late.

© slxtarchive

[slytherinboysvip]

Slytherin boys- Confession letters

( No Blaise in this one, I’m sorry to my Blaise girlies</33 )

Mattheo Riddle-

You opened your book bag to find a extremely folded up piece of notebook paper with a bunch of random rose doodles around it and opened it suspiciously

I don’t know what i’m doing right now, this is honestly so stupid. Anytime I’m near you it’s like I get a rush of shit i’m not used to and if I told you this in person I think id shit myself so take this and my awful wording. Y/n I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what love was, that rush of emotions I brought up before I understand what it is now, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you if you’ll let me, please Y/n, let me love and protect you forever. - your favorite dada partner ;)

Theodore Nott-

You were sitting in the Library when Theo walked passed and left an envelope in front of you, before you could question anything he hurried off seemingly in a rush, your name was on the letter so you opened it slowly

Y/n, If you’re reading this that means I wasn’t a little bitch and actually gave it to you, so congratulations. I’m going to make you work for this so get your translation book out, Hai cambiato la mia vita y/n, onestamente non so cosa farei senza di te a questo punto, tutto quello che so è che ti amo e voglio che tu sia mio, tutto mio, vero? (You’ve changed my life Y/n , I honestly don't know what I would do without you at this point, all I know is that I love you and I want you to be mine, all mine, will you?)

Draco Malfoy-

You were sitting in class when Draco sent over one of his flying bird notes, you were surprised it was for you, and were even more surprised when you saw them contents

Dear Y/n,

I don’t mean to seem so formal, but I honestly have no idea how to do this. Anytime we’re in the same room you’re all I can look at, everyone else disappears. You’re so gorgeous. You practically live in my head at this point, I understand we’re not the closest Y/n, but we can be. All I’m asking for is once chance with you, I promise you won’t regret it. - D.Mꨄ

Lorenzo Berkshire-

You were sitting at the black lake while Enzo was messing around near the water, while he wasn’t paying attention you noticed he had a letter with your name on it in his bag, so you decided to open it

I doubt I’ll ever actually give this to you, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the rejection of the most amazing, beautiful, and talented girl I know. I can’t get you out of my head love, merlin, love. I love you. There I said it. I Lorenzo Berkshire am in love with you. I’m definitely never giving this to you I sound insane. Fuck Y/n, you seriously have no idea what you do to me.

Tom Riddle-

While studying with tom he slipped you a note before getting up and leaving with no added words

I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that I can’t hate you, and I hate that you make me feel things. Be mine Y/n, I could make your life so much better, I’ll give you the entire world all you’d have to do is say please. Be mine and you could have everything you desire and more.

Im so sorry I have no idea what to write for Blaise right now loves, but hopefully you enjoyed this, I will make a part two of the post I made about Theo a couple days ago don’t worry <33 Alsooo I just want to let yall know that all the italian is google translated so Im sorry if the translations are wrong, but what I put is what they should say :)

[kierongillen]

HEY GILLEN!! i have a few questions for you, if you don't mind answering them! what was in your mind for S.W.O.R.D's ending? abigail brand is one of my favorite characters and i just need to know what you had planned for her and beast -- and unit too, honestly.

also -- which pheonix host is your personal favorite? if you have an opinion on that!

It's hard, as the things which got us there never happened and so the emotional through line isn't there.

Excuse the roughness of this. There's a lot more, and I'm always aware whenever I describe a half idea, what's missing is the craft in executing it.

The final scene would have been Brand with UNIT back in his cell, while Beast has packed his bags and is leaving SWORD forever.

The context: UNIT had escaped, as another UNIT turned up, and been the big bad. The story seemed to reveal that our UNIT was actually a penitent war weapon who wanted to be punished, while this other UNIT was the real unrepentant monster. UNIT and SWORD have to stop him, and they do.

In the moment when the other UNIT is defeated and is killed, there's a mind to mind conversation between the UNITs - where basically the other UNIT reveals this is all about buying the original UNIT cover. They'll trust you now. This is all for the greater good. These two UNITs were old lovers (for those who have read the battleworld SHIELD mini may see what I was riffing on there - the idea of SHIELD was, in part, me doing fanfic versions of stories you never read. Me writing a happier ending for the two UNITs)

In short, for the greater good, UNIT forsakes his great love. Anyway - Brand and Beast had split up, because Brand was always putting the work first, and generally pushing Beast away. There was a whole lot along the way (the basic plot of the book was it was beauty and the beast - but Beast is the beauty and Brand is the beast.) She was closing him off, at every chance we got, as she had to protect the earth.

When this meeting is going on, Beast is leaving SWORD, out the station, back to Earth.

Brand and UNIT are doing a normal meeting, and everything is by the book.

At one point, UNIT just breaks off from the serious briefing and tells her: It's not worth it.

This throws her. She doesn't understand what he means. Your whole thing is about the greater good, UNIT. What do you mean?

To sacrifice love for duty? If you were an immortal being like I am... perhaps it's worth it. The dividends are larger. But your life is very short, Agent Brand. It's not worth it.

So it's a big moment for UNIT in terms of that awful bittersweetness of him clearly thinking he's made a mistake... and also for Brand. This robot, which she still distrusts to some level, who she views as a cold and calculating thing... is telling her this.

Unit is basically her. She is turning herself into a robot. She doesn't want to be a robot. She doesn't know it, but senses the truth - even the robot doesn't really want to be the robot.

It gets through to her.

She runs through the Sword Station.

We have the full "stopping Beast boarding the plane" scene, and we end on the big kiss.

Aww.

I think of that Beast and Brand a lot. There was a fork in the timeline for them, and I didn't realise when writing SWORD we were already past it - the Beast who became a genocidal monster was already appearing in another thread of Marvel's tapestry. I think that timeline as the one where Brand influenced Beast more than Beast influenced Brand - or maybe better phrased as the SWORD timeline was one where the relationship made them better, rather than making them both worse.

(I sort of allude to this briefly in Immortal X-men issue 1.)

They were great stories - Brand and Beast were two of Krakoa's greatest villains - but I'm still a little sad for them. Brand and Beast were the first couple in the MU who were briefly "mine", so I can't pine a little for that timeline where they kissed.

[fangirlblogger]

Fangirl Analysis Two: Bill Skarsgard bleeding in Hemlock Grove.

This particular scene is so important and I think every Bill Skarsgard girly should be aware of it. I find this scene to be very alluring and seductive. Moreover, this scene has change my life, completely. It has showed me a new side of life that I have never thought existed before, and I have never thought would find pleasuring and sensational.

The images (gifs) below capture a unique side of inhumanity and to have the hot and sexy Bill Skarsgard bring that concept to life adds more intensity, flavor and color to the concept. In other words, Bill Skarsgard makes bleeding hot and sexy, and he has just made me develop a new kink - blood kink/blood-play.

Image 1 Analysis

Bill (Roman) slits the side of his face, close to his left eye with the blade. As he plunges the blade into his skin, you can see that it stings or hurts a bit, which is very noticeable in his eyes. Now, the eye movement is the main character here. If it wasn't for his eyes, the viewer would not have grasp that;

the blade is hurting him

the act of cutting himself is not a new concept to him

him rolling his eyes is a sign of pleasure and amusement caused by the pain and not his body fighting back the pain.

This is a clear example of a non-sexual act that is seductive to me. It is definitely categorized under the non-human acts that somehow just triggers my sexual nerves. Additionally, I am in love with the whole demeanor of Roman (Bill) in this scene. His confidence, commitment and passion burns like hell in this scene. Thus, it makes me want to join him in the act.

Even though it is a 15 or 10 second gif, it is an artistic masterpiece. The Monalisa might make you stand in awe for a good 30 minutes but this gif right here, makes my pussy wetter than the ocean. This gif is a horny masterpiece.

Image 2 Analysis

Okay girlies, listen up. I forgot what I was supposed to write because I was so consumed in this gif. The blood, running down his face gloriously, as he paints his lips with his own blood, is making my panties soaking wet.

Case study question: Why did he lower his head down and paint his lips, when he can just have his head up and paint his lips?

Tilting of the head down, heightens the anticipation. It instills the viewer or his girlfriend with fear, seduction and lust. The fear triggers the same part of the brain that is triggered when experiencing orgasm (I read that in one of those psychology papers. I will provide the link when I do find the article). Bill has big beautiful eyes that are so soulful and unavoidable. It is one of the first things that anyone notices when they set their eyes on him (including me). You will also notice that he has sanpaku eyes which is commonly associated with violence and tragedy.

Therefore, having his head tilted in that manner enhances his intentions and heightens the emotions in the room. The man is already bleeding, and he's got blood painted on his lips, what do think he's thinking of? Obviously he wants to sexually devour the prey in front of him in the most cannibalistic and ferocious way.

If I am being frank here, seeing this scene makes me go feral. If he had done this in front of me, I would most definitely kiss his painted bloody lips and lick the blood off of his face. His lips are so luscious and having his blood (fake-blood) on there just makes my clit throb even harder.

Image 3 Analysis

Okay, before we get into the analysis. Let me just say that I have masturbated to this image more than I should, and I find nothing else hornier than this gif right now.

Case study question: Why have I masturbated to this image?

It's unusual to find such images seductive and horny. It's not normal to be this seductive and horny because of it nonsexual nature. But look closely at his facial expressions, the movements of his muscles around his neck to his collar bones. Look closely at his slow head movement, his jaw movements, his mouth, his lips, his eye brows and his eyes. The man did not need to pull out his dick to make a girl whimper, he simply did all that with just the right movements, eye contact and the energy that he radiates. The eye brow raise emphasis more on his need, commitment and enthusiasm of not only sex but the process through getting there. If he wasn't a vampire, we know that he was about to disrespectfully and savagely rail his girlfriend in the most sexually honoring way.

Moreover, he is patiently taking his time before he gets into the main course. He's not in a rush, which illustrates to the viewer or other party that he wants to have a little fun before he gets into the feed for the night.

Conclusively, this analysis focuses on the act of foreplay in the case of kinks. Foreplay makes the sex better and it also excites your partner or makes them crave for more. Also, knowing which body movements and gestures that turns your partner on is very important. It's the icing to the foreplay before the big bite. Finally, I am fully aware that Roman Godfrey is a villain in Hemlock Grove, therefore a few words said might not be correct with his character. This analysis looks at his hotness and it's life changing impact on me as a Bill Skarsgard fangirl.

[king-paimon]

Houseki No Kuni Chapter 108 Thoughts: Everything Stays....

Hello all. I hope the month of April was good to everyone. It was alright for me, though I'm just in awe by how fast it went! Time really goes by too quickly as you get older.

Speaking of time, would you look at that? The final chapter of Houseki no Kuni was released! 108 chapters over the course of 12 years. And I've been following it for nearly 5 of those years! Wow! That is quite the feat, Ms. Ichikawa.

I'd been waiting for this day for a long time, and the feeling is bittersweet, with the overlaying feeling of relief. This emotional rollercoaster that Ms. Ichikawa had sent us on has finally reached it's dock.

Phos's story is finally complete. What a ride it had been!

Now the question is: Was I satisfied?....

I'll do my best to answer this. I don't know how long this post will be, but I'm hoping that it won't be too long (edit: Oops. I was wrong.) And as always, please feel free share your own thoughts if you're interested!

Here we go:

Phos's True End: Was It Satisfying?

I reread this chapter a few times to answer this question and to be honest, I still reach the same conclusion: It was fitting. Not absolutely bad or 100% amazing, but in terms of Phos's whole journey throughout this story, I think this was a fitting ending for Phos, and that's good. And if anything else, it's a little ironic.

I mentioned in my last post that I thought it was funny that the remaining piece of Phos had become the youngest/newest member of the pebble species much like how they originally were at the beginning off the whole manga. It seems though, the similarities don't end there because of this little interaction between Eyeball/Pita-pat and Pebble Phos:

I'm sure this was supposed to be a little cheeky conversation and Eyeball/Pita-pat didn't really mean it. But still, this was an interesting exchange to include in this final chapter, especially right before it's implied that Eyeball/Pita-pat passed away.

One intriguing story choice Ichikawa made was having Pebble Phos continuously fall apart near the end to the point that they become a small spec. To be honest, I was not sure how to feel about this part when I first read, especially considering how now there's hardly any of Phos left now. Like, after Eyeball/Pita-pat saved that last bit of Phos so they could have a nice life away from humanity, it'd be unfair for them to break apart again to nothing after all of that. But I did like how the pebbles decided to view Pebble Phos' changes; that their fragments surely became beautiful comets that would brighten someone's day. And that shot with original Phos was nice...

Also, I saw the post that implied that Ichikawa released this final chapter around the same time that a rare famous comet was supposed to be seen on Earth. I want to say that I think it was a pure coincidence, but I'm not putting anything past this author!

This chapter made me think of that one song from Adventure Time: Everything Stays. If you haven't heard of it, please give a listen. It's a song about life and the course of change. It focuses on how even if things appear to stay the same over the course of time, changes still occur, even if subtle. Phos certainly changed a lot throughout their story through intense mind and physical altering events. But I also think they changed subtly even during the less intense moments. I think the moments in this final chapter fit with this song, too. Phos was always evolving, even when it didn't appear so. Through their interactions and lack thereof with others and their environment, Phos was always changing and growing, ever so subtly. And even in this last chapter, Phos is still evolving and that'll likely never end.

Interesting... after thinking about it some more, I think I feel a little more satisfied with how this chapter/story ended. I'm glad that Ms. Ichikawa didn't pull some other twist near the end; that certainly would have ruined it for me. Am I 100% happy with how Phos's story ended? I don't think so. But to me, it's a fitting end.

But what do I think about the series as a whole?

When The Journey Ends: Was It Worth It?

There are very few manga or written stories that had me wanting to see how things end because more often than not, there aren't that many stories that I've read to completion. Part of it is because I don't want the story to end; basically, I'd have the thought process that if I don't know how the story ends, the story doesn't end! Perfect logic (sarcasm). Though this usually happens because I lose interest or because the story goes in directions that I don't like, I'd say one of the main reasons I end up dropping a series is because of how a story ends. How a story ends can completely change one's opinion of a story, and I've seen my fair share of stories that end badly. Sometimes the ending is abrupt and not satisfying, especially if it was lead by a big build up, or the ending is a result of a jarring story pivot that seems to come out of left field. It just seems that many creators don't know how to end their story well. And if I like a story a lot, sometimes I'm too scared to see how it ends. Partially because I don't want the story to end, but mostly because I don't want the end to ruin my experience.

Houseki no Kuni is a unique case for me. I know I've mentioned this before but I'll state it again: I don't think I've ever been so invested in a story like this before. Though that investment had dwindled over time, partially due to me developing new interests, life, and being occasionally dissatisfied with certain story choices, I wanted to see this how this story would end no matter what. And now that it's done, I'm glad I stuck it out.

Was this story perfect? No. There were several story decisions that I wish was either told differently or completely omitted that could have made the story stronger in my opinion.

Did I get a too invested in this story? During certain points, most definitely haha. I remember getting very emotional about certain chapters when I first started making this series of meta posts. I remember seeing some posts from people stating that they no longer liked the manga because of the direction it was going and in some cases, I could see where they were coming from.

Do I regret getting so invested in this story? No. No I don't. Despite not liking certain story aspects, I do not regret getting invested in this story. Though the story was not perfect, this was such a unique experience that I'm grateful to have gone through.

I plan on talking more about how I feel about Houseki no Kuni as a whole in another post. I intend to delve into what I loved about it and what I wish was different. While I could include that stuff here, I think this post is long enough. I've already started working on it, but I know it'll be a while before it's done; you bet there will be some parts with me ranting a little haha

But long story short, despite some grievances I have with some parts of the story, I feel satisfied with how it ended. And I'm glad that I read this series.

What Happens Next: Thank you, HnK Fandom

I want to thank those who've read, liked, and even commented on my posts! I didn't think so many of you would like, let alone read, my longwinded messy posts. I loved every feedback I got, even the ones that didn't agree with me. You made me love being part of this niche fandom. Like I said in the previous section, I have at least one more post that I want to make detailing everything I feel about Houseki No Kuni as a whole. I might make another one that's more for fun, but we'll see. I encourage anyone who's interested to share your own thoughts on the post! I seriously love reading different perspectives.

But after those posts, I don't know how involved I'll be in the fandom afterwards. I may repost some art and other people's meta posts on occasion. But when it comes to meta commentary, these will likely be my last posts about HnK. I have other fandoms that I like to follow, though I don't make posts about them. Perhaps I will, though I know they will be nothing like the posts I've made about Houseki no Kuni. This was the only series I've ever felt compelled to analyze so deeply, which makes it special for me. If I were to post anything about the other stuff I'm into, it'll most likely be of fanart that I made for my own personal enjoyment. I know scare many of my followers away since they'll not be HnK related. But who knows? I haven't made any HnK art in a long time... Maybe one of these days, I can try to make some HnK art again. I have some unfinished pieces on my computer that's now years old. Yeah, I should finish them when I have the time. That'd be a fun little send off.

Anyhow, if you are interested, please hang around for my final HnK meta posts! And when it's out, please please PLEASE share your own thoughts in it! Don't be afraid to share your opinions. I promise I don't bite.

So that's it. These are my thoughts of the final chapter of Houseki no Kuni. I might add more to it, but I'm fine with what I put out. Wow... I still can't believe I got into this series 5 years ago! So much had changed in my life since then. Despite everything, it was worth it.

Thank you again for reading my jargon. It means a lot and I can't wait to post my true final meta posts about Houseki no Kuni.

What a ride this was.

Until next time...

[likesomanywrecksdo]

fun fact: full moon made me throw up (srsly)

ALSO SPOILERSSSSSS FOR FULL MOON (HELLUVA BOSS S2 EP8)!!! DON'T READ IF U HAVEN'T WATCHED PLSSS

STOLITZ PART 1/2- STOLAS IN FULL MOON

I AM NOT A STOLAS HATER, I LOVE STOLAS WITH ALL MY HEART (i have two hearts, one for stolas and one for blitzø). JUST WANTED TO POINT OUT SOME THINGS HE COULD'VE HANDLED BETTER IN FULL MOON.

Look, I feel SO BAD that Stolas' beautiful love confession was (in Stolas' POV) basically ridiculed and that his first "ily" was a complete joke. I love Full Moon because it explored the many facets of both character's and their complexities.

So let's talk abt where Stolas went wrong in Full Moon (making a part abt Blitzø too, dw nobody is safe heheh)

Stolas knows this is a hard conversation, he's taken into account IMP and keeping it alive and everything but the way he approached the actual topic (deal getting cut off) was very rash. Stolas does not think wisely about his words ("i need it back...permanently" (18:15) + "there's no need, i've made up my mind" (18:39)). Even though Stolas is giving him an out, he does not understand the leverage he has over Blitzø. This is the main thing I noticed abt Stolas in Full Moon, He seems to have come to a realization abt how wrong their deal is but has not come to terms abt how wrong their dynamic is. So when Stolas was pouring his heart out abt how he "wants Blitzø to stay", he is not realizing that Blitzø still has not had time to process him taking away the book in the first place and saying Blitzø does not need to fuck him anymore. This is something that Stolas and only Stolas could ever have the power to do bc of the power dynamic between them. Stolas think he's doing Blitzø a favour but all he's doing is reminding Blitzø that no matter how hard he has worked, it can all dissapear at Stolas' command.

"Blitzø, I think so very highly of you....i didn't realize you think so low of me" (HES CRYING FROM BOTH PAIR OF EYES, MY BABYYYYY)

Stolas babe, if you call someone ur little impish plaything, literally hide ur face with a menu when u get spotted in public with him, literally give him no choice but to fuck you in order to have a livelihood and successful business, HOW IS THAT TELLING HIM U THINK HIGHLY OF HIM? Look, i get it, Stolas does rlly care abt Blitzø, but the problem is, Stolas doesn't see his actions as harmful, he sees the deal as harmful. Stolas doesn't understand that such a huge power, stature and literal socio-economic gap is going to cause some issues that no crystals can fix. Stolas' ingrained bigotry towards imps as well as desperation to escape from his awful marriage cause him to be impulsive and abuse that power, unconsciously.

Stolas' biggest character flaw is his impulsiveness. He realised his sexuality extremely late and now is trying to experience as many things as possible to get back his childhood. He did it through the deal so he could find enjoyment in one thing in his life as well as experience a pivotal point in his queer awakening. The Full Moon Talk, despite being under the guise of maturity, is just as impulsive as the arrangement. Stolas is expecting a certain answer and expecting it immediately. Stolas has had time to understand his emotions and he knew exactly what he wanted to say before Blitzø came. Blitzø came in blind and Stolas knows he's bad with his feeling EVERYONE KNOWS BC IT'S SO OBVIOUS, so the fact that Stolas was expecting some grand love confession when Stolas literally speedrun the difficult parts of the conversation is unfair.

[foursaints]

regarding your post about people feeling uncomfortable with reading certain topics i think its quite the opposite of them not realizing its not a material reality. it actually feels too close to home, a bit too real (considering we hear and read about cases every day) and you are aware that it happen to you everyday so it makes you feel uncomfortable to think about. on the other hand topics like murder, war crimes, etc. most people are alienated from them feeling safe that it wont happen to them (now thats a thing that happens only in stories) and reading about doesn't spark the same type of panic.

but also even if that wasn't the case.. what do you think its supposed to happen when somone is uncomfortable? just keep reading, shoving discomfort down their throat because of other people? Yes i understand that there are victims who have survived it and i will try my best to accommodate them and treat them in the way they want to and i will even swallow my discomfort down and read about the experience but that wont change anything. i will still be afraid of the possibility that will happen to me, i will still squirm when i hear about another case and then try to avoid in the places where i go to enjoy myself (like ao3)

also in terms of victims i imagine that as much as there are some who would like to read and write about their experience there are other who would want to distance themselves from the memory. Isn't it just preference at the end of day. why do people must be guilt tripped to to read something they dont want to.

😭 this is of the most braindead annoying messages i’ve ever received on here i’m actually almost impressed. fucking obviously i am not suggesting that CSA victims read triggering material on purpose that would be insane (💀). but my post wasn’t about victims! i was in fact complaining about emptyhead non-survivors who say things precisely like this!

1. describing murder and war crimes as literally “now that’s something that only happens in stories!” is such a glaring indictment of your worldview… these things are realities for everyone living outside of the imperial core. even within the west, if you’re a transwoman of color, if you’re a DV victim, an addict, an unhoused person, or poc and interacting with police– you are not alienated from extreme violence! it’s very real & present experience! for you to say that reading about systematized violence is “safer” because it’s “less real” especially when we are in the middle of a genocide is literally stomach churning 😭. you should go donate to winter relief for gaza and never speak up again

2. not everything is about you! perhaps this is harsh but i do believe that if you haven’t experienced csa/sa (or been close to the issue), then reading about it cannot be “triggering” to you in the same way it would be for, say, someone with actual csa ptsd. you might feel uncomfortable, but you are not in danger of having a trauma response. sensitivity is beautiful, but i think in moments like these you could stand to be a little bit braver, and a little bit more sturdy. nothing fictional can hurt you. feeling discomfort and fear at the contents of a story is not the same as real pain- it is healthy to practice experiencing these emotions through the safe medium of fiction.

so much of this ask is painfully egotistic… but in a naive, almost endearing sort of way? you dismiss others experiences with the wave of a hand: “yes victims but what about my SQUIRMING”, “but what about the mere possibility it might happen to ME”! i want to remind you that i am a csa survivor complaining about the difficulty of discussing these subjects with non-survivors, and you are a non-survivor inserting yourself into this space to ask “what about MY discomfort?”…. well! terrible, violent, undoingly horrific events happen every day! it is not helpful to act like victims of SA are somehow uniquely traumatized in some special, singularly awful way. no “type” of trauma is inherently worse than any another. people survive and recover from all kinds of experiences, and i find this beautiful & empowering, and frequently the subject of great art. it is worth confronting your own personal discomfort (💀) with that art in order to sit with and face the lived reality of those experiences. doing so will help you develop a more complex and empathetic worldview.

not everything is about you! 🙂‍↕️ the imagined possibility of your own pain should not be worth more to you than the lived reality of someone else’s. this ask was exhausting let’s all read averno by louise gluck to calm down

[freneticfloetry]

favorite fandom things

I still can’t believe our little weewoo show is ending. This is a bittersweet one, but it totally tracks with the vibes this fandom has nurtured here, full of feels and squee and passing those things on. Thanks to @thisbuildinghasfeelings for starting this one, and @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @nisbanisba @carlossreaders @bonheur-cafe @tellmegoodbye and @heartstringsduet for tagging me.

These are a few of my favorite things about being part of the Tarlos/Lone Star fandom.

All the Words I’ve been a Lone Star viewer since the very beginning — as a 9-1-1 viewer, a spinoff with Liv Tyler and firefighting Chris Traeger proved too great a pull to resist. And for years, It was one of those happy place shows — things like The Good Place, Ted Lasso, Schitt’s Creek — that I thought I’d just enjoy watching every week, without any real need or desire to write it. After all, the cast was diverse (but not for diversity’s sake), the stories were compelling, and my ship had been canon since day one. Then the Season of Carlos got underway, and the bunnies began to breed. It had been awhile since I really wrote anything — my previous show did my ship and fave characters so dirty that I couldn’t get far enough removed from my hurt and anger to actually get words out. But I saw the preview for 4x04, it planted an idea that wouldn’t leave me alone, and before the night was over I’d written the first two thousands words of to build a home (not the first scene, by any means, but the muse does what she wants). There have been so, so many more words since, both published and not yet revealed, and somewhere in there my brain started to spawn bunnies for another fandom I picked up in 2020 and never thought I would write. I love Lone Star for a lot of reasons, but here at the end, the very biggest is the fact that it gave writing back to me.

All the Fic When I say my old show fucked with my head, I mean it — it even stopped me reading fic for a long time. Which is a shame. That fandom, though small, had such a high concentration of ridiculously talented people, some of whom I’m lucky enough to still call close friends today. It spoiled me, and I think it even kept me from venturing into reading in other fandoms for fear of not finding fic at that level. Imagine my surprise when I started reading Tarlos, and found myself immersed in another sea of gifted writers. I am continually blown away by the creativity and care in this fandom. Especially on the heels of my last one, which was a genre show with actual magic and batshit storytelling and seemingly limitless possibilities — the fact that I’m no less entertained by or invested in or consistently in awe of the things Tarlos writers are able to do with these characters, overwhelmingly within the bounds and confines of a real-world procedural, is kind of amazing. (Shoutout to CIG’s beautiful Fire Island, which was the very first thing I ever read.)

All the Enthusiasm I’m going to keep this one short, lest I get overly emotional. But I wasn’t sure, when I first started posting, how my particular point of view would be received — starting out of the gate with something deep in Carlos’ head, exploring parts of his childhood and culture that I desperately wanted to see on the show. The reception that to build a home got still shocks me, to be honest, and I’m grateful for every comment and kudo and kind word. Now everyone go read What Is Sown, What Is Grown, which is a goddamn masterpiece.

All the Tag Games! Not gonna lie, there have been weeks with so many tag games that I wondered how any of y’all actually manage to write. But it’s so much fun to read everyone’s snippets every week, to look at your inspiration images and listen to your Music Monday choices and just take a beat to collectively celebrate this shared obsession with our blorbos. I’ve been writing fic for twenty years (yes, I’m a fandom old, or what the internet has deemed a “geriatric Millennial”), and I’ve seen my share of drama and wank and mean girl vendettas and fandoms soured by BNF culture. And it’s so refreshing to have seen so little of that here. I remember my early days of Tarlos posting, and the way Lola and Rae and a few other people took me under their tag wings and never looked back. And that’s still happening, with so many new authors who emerge — the list of people being tagged and tagging in return just keeps growing. Yes, there’s discourse, and there’s disagreement, and things can get a bit heated. But overall, this is such a great space to inhabit, and you guys have made it that way. If you don’t believe me, look no further than this accidental Tumblr storm about vaguenotion’s You Keep Coming Back with a Bird in Your Teeth, which remains one of my favorite examples of the way this fandom happily opens its arms and offers new folks punch and pie.

A very honorable mention goes to Lone Star being the thing that gave @ambiguouspenny and I a shared fandom again (and so letting them grace the world with more of their art).

I am late as hell, it’s almost tomorrow. So, open tag! (But also @liminalmemories21 @never-blooms @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @herefortarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom @walkinginland @reasonandfaithinharmony I’m looking at you.)

[peachinthenight]

Embers

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Rated: M

Read on AO3

Warnings: PiV smut, oral (f receiving), bruce being a mcr fan

Summary: Every day, you learn more and more about your boyfriend. Today, you learn he is quite a musician. 3.5k words

You had an awful day at work, and you were glad to be back at home. To your surprise, instead of silence, you were greeted by the sound of a piano. It sounded like it was being played live. You didn’t even know there was a piano in Wayne Tower. The sound took you into a room you had never been in before. There were several rooms you had never gone in before.

The master bedroom had been untouched since Martha and Thomas’ passing. Martha had a room dedicated to her hobbies. Sewing, knitting, and crocheting, while Thomas had an office he used.

And while you were never explicitly told not to go into them, you’ve never seen anyone go into those rooms, so you took that as a silent rule that they were off-limits. You didn’t mind though, you sympathized with Bruce’s grief. They weren’t just rooms, they were memorials. The sound of the piano led you to one of these rooms, in a desolate hallway away from the room you shared with Bruce. The door was ajar, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. You peeked.

The room was a study, with bookcases lining the walls, going right up to the high ceilings. There was a rich mahogany desk, a small sitting area around a fireplace.

And a grand piano. With your boyfriend sitting on the piano bench, playing almost… passionately.

The song was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

His long fingers move effortlessly across the keys as if he’s played this song a hundred times before.

You open the door more and enter the room, but Bruce is so focused on playing, he doesn’t even notice you.

Usually, he is astute, and you’ve never gotten the drop on Bruce before.

The floors creak beneath you, yet he still doesn’t notice.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been tempting to try and scare Bruce. You knew you’d be able to do it. You were now standing right behind him, and he didn’t notice. But there was something about how he moved and how his fingers glided across the keys. The way he was completely absorbed in playing the emotional song. As the sound of the rich piano filled the air, you realized something.

Your nerd ass boyfriend was playing a piano rendition of Helena by My Chemical Romance. A smile played on your lips. God. You were so in love with him.

It was clear this song meant something to him. You knew that music was deeply personal for Bruce, and this seemed to be no different.

Finally, the song reaches its beautiful end. Bruce’s fingers trail away from the keys, and his head turns slightly towards you, he lets out a breath. You can’t tell if he’s startled by your presence or not.

“Hey,” he greets quietly.

“Hi,” you greeted, approaching his side. He looks back at the piano. You put your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you could play.”

He chuckles and nods slowly, “I play. I play when I’m stressed.” His fingers tap on the top of the piano idly, thumbing a few keys. “You can sit… if you’d like?” He gestures to the empty spot on the piano bench.

Bruce was a fairly large man, but you had no problems invading his personal space. You slid into the spot next to him. Leg against leg, shoulder against shoulder.

“You’re stressed?” You asked, and then internally cringed. You couldn’t believe that just left your mouth. Of course, he’s stressed.

“I am,” he sighs, letting out a breath of frustration. “Someone keeps leaving bombs around Gotham.” He rubs his thumb over the piano key.

Bruce stares at the floor, and then turns to look over at you, his mouth turning up into a small smile, “It’s nice to have you here, though.”

You take one of his hands, and you lace your fingers with his. You brought the back of his hand up to your lips, and you gave his hand a soft kiss.

“I’ll always be here for you,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes. Bruce’s pale face had a bit of color in his cheeks now.

A simple kiss to his hand was enough to leave Veangence himself flustered. You’d never say this to his face, but Bruce was so cute.

“How long have you played the piano?” You asked.

“A while." He tore his eyes from yours, and he looked back at the grand piano the two of you were sitting at. “My mom used to teach me when I was young.” As he speaks, he plays some idle notes on the black and white keys, nothing coherent, just simple notes. "It's helpful for when I'm working through something, you know?"

“Yeah,” you said. Everyone needed a way to work through their emotions. You thought that Bruce’s way was dressing up as a bat and beating up criminals, but it seemed like there were still layers of Bruce to uncover. Perhaps the piano was a way for him to feel close to his mother. Or maybe it was just something to do. "She must have been talented," you commented, unsure of what else to say.

Bruce nodded, “Very.” His voice is soft, but his tone reflects his affection for his parents. He took a breath as he let his fingers rest on the piano again, “You play anything?”

“No.” You responded. “Well. I played cello for a few years in high school but— I wasn’t really good at it,” you chuckled. “Plus they’re an expensive instrument.”

Bruce gave you a smile. “The cello is an interesting choice,” he commented. “What do you like about it?” He was genuinely curious about what his girlfriend was interested in, even if it was just an offhand comment.

“I was enthralled by the deep and melancholic sound of it,” you told him, reaching out and pressing a white key on the piano. It was silent for a few moments, and you remembered an experience as a child. Your father had won tickets to the orchestra, and your mother wasn’t able to take off, so your dad took you. You could remember dressing up in a pretty dress, your father trying his best at styling your hair. You could remember the beautiful music and the pretty musicians. You could remember being in awe of it all.

“Also when I was a kid, my family went to the Gotham Orchestra and the cello player was really cute,” you said as fragments of the memory played in your head. “Had a bit of a schoolgirl crush.”

Bruce laid his head on your shoulder. “You have a thing for musicians?”

“Apparently,” you responded, a smile on your lips.

Bruce chuckled. “That’s good to know.”

Another several moments pass, and Bruce turns to you. Your eyes go from the smooth black-and-white keys of the piano to Bruce’s stunning blue eyes.

“I love you,” he blurted out. He looked surprised that he even said it. You laughed.

“I love you too,” you said, leaning in to press a tender kiss against his lips. Bruce turned his body more towards you, he put his hand against the case of the piano.

Bruce’s lips linger against yours, even after the two of you parted.

The taste of your lips, your smell, every part of you seems to have an effect on him. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s falling down a rabbit hole of feelings and emotions and he can't stop himself. He wants to tell you he loves you again and again.

And so he does.

“I love you,” he said again.

You delicately touch his jaw, gently holding it in your hand, as if he were made of glass.

“I love you more,” you said, a giddy feeling rising up in your chest as if you were a young girl with your first crush.

Bruce smiled at you, an almost boyish smile. “Oh yeah?” He responded, a teasing look in his eyes, which flicked down to look at your lips, then back up to your eyes. “I’m not so sure about that,” He trails off, taking deep breaths as he struggles to focus, his blue eyes watching your lips, wanting them again.

His intensity caused your heartbeat to quicken, hammering hard against your chest. Even after living with him, he still made you nervous in the best way.

“I am,” you respond.

Bruce leaned down, bringing his lips down to yours, firm and eager. His mouth moved onto her like a man in a desert, greedy for any type of moisture, and he wants to devour her.

The world around him faded into nothing, and all he can focus on is you. Your taste on his lips, and the way you sound with his hands on you, the two of them lost in the other. He held you close and only wants to get closer. He only wants to be here in this moment, with you.

His kiss invoked a feeling inside of you, so passionate that it made you want to burst. He tilts your head back, his large hand on your jaw, the tips of his fingers in your hair. Your lips part for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing away your breath. You’re completely lost in the moment, lost in the way he touched you, the way he kissed you. The way the ends of his hair tickled your face as he kissed you.

You bumped into the keyboard, your arm pressing down on a few keys, pulling you out of the moment, out of the kiss. You broke the kiss off to look at the piano, but Bruce guides your head back to him, back to his lips.

Bruce just can’t get enough of you. His lips move from your lips to your cheek, then your jaw. He leaves a trail of kisses to your neck. Bruce whispers your name with reverence.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice an octave higher than normal. “I—I want to hear another song,” you whispered to him. You wanted to know everything about Bruce. You wanted to know more about this room you’ve never been in; you wanted to know more about his skill in playing piano. Bruce’s kisses pause for a moment before he stands up.

“I’ll play you a song later,” he murmured, effortlessly lifting you up into his arms. “I want you,” he said. You were glad that he was holding you because you were feeling weak in the knees.

“Promise?” You smiled.

“What? About the song?” Bruce asked as he carried you off to your shared bedroom. “Yeah, I promise,” he took in a deep breath of your scent.

Bruce sat on the bed and held you in his lap. You thanked god for those sweatpants that he just loved wearing. You could feel every inch of his hardness against your thigh.

“I haven’t even showered yet,” you warned him, leaning into him.

“I don’t care,” Bruce responded, his voice huskier than normal. His hands trailed down to hold your hips.

You take his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a playful nip before pulling back.

Bruce looks completely enthralled by you.

He is.

Bruce maneuvers you into a lying down position on the bed. “Close your eyes,” he told you.

You raised an eyebrow but did as he said, closing your eyes.

It was quiet for several agonizing moments, before you felt Bruce’s hands on your body, gently removing your clothes. You moved around, helping him in removing your clothes. You wanted to open your eyes, to see him, with his kiss-swollen lips and his eyes dark with lust, but you resisted.

Bruce removed everything but your underwear.

“Can I—” you began.

“No,” Bruce responded, his hands on your legs, moving them around and spreading them apart, so he could slide between them. You felt the weight of him settle between your legs, his hands on either side of your shoulders. He dipped down and started a trail of kisses from your neck, down to your collarbone. His tongue darted out to lick around your collarbone. He took a moment to suck at the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving a hickey. You laughed, your hands going into his hair.

“I’ll pay you back tenfold,” you warned him. You could feel him smile against your skin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he rasped out.

Bruce continued his worship of your body, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue twirling around the bud while his other hand plucked at your other breast. His hips lightly ground into yours, seeking out some sort of reprieve from the aching between his legs. Your hands go into his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy dark locks. You let out a soft sigh as his mouth began to pay attention to your other nipple. Your body felt several degrees hotter, and it only increased as Bruce began to kiss down further. Down your abdomen, and finally, his face was level with your cunt. He guided your legs to rest on his bare shoulders.

“All this for me?” He asked, using his index finger to rub the wet spot in your underwear. Your breath hitched, and your pussy clenched. Heat coiled in your abdomen at what was to come.

“All yours,” you said, finally opening your eyes.

Bruce kissed your thigh and then kissed your clothed pussy. He happily pressed his nose against the wet spot, breathing your scent in. Bruce always thought that the smell of your needy cunt was the best scent he had ever experienced. Helooked almost pensive for a moment, before easily ripping your underwear.

“Bruce!” You gasped.

“I’ll buy you more,” he whispered, sliding a finger into your aching folds. “I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said with a happy sigh. He tossed aside the torn underwear.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you breathed out, tugging on his hair.

“You’re complaining?” He rubbed at your clit with his thumb.

“No,” you responded, tugging more on his hair. “It was hot.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he murmured.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest. “That’s not an invitation to— oh fuck.”

His tongue began to lap at your folds, effectively ending your train of thought. Bruce knew how to play your body like it was an instrument. After nearly two years, Bruce had figured out where to lick, where to rub or pinch to make you squirm and moan. An upside to dating a detective, you suppose.

His fingers parted your lips, and you could feel his index finger twitching inside of you. He slid another digit in. You bit down a moan. Bruce pulled back. “Alfred isn’t home,” he purred. He kissed your thigh again. “Be loud,” he nearly begged. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Gotta earn it, big boy,” you breathed.

You heard him chuckle against your thigh, before diving back in, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

It was a challenge, and oh did Bruce love a good challenge.

Bruce slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace. You felt fuzzy as he angled his fingers just right to hit the spot inside of you that made you sing. You felt like a string, being pulled so tight, you were about to snap.

“Bruce,” you groaned. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” You chanted. Bruce ate pussy like it was the last time he’d ever be able to taste you. Desperate to savor you. And it was very possible that it could be. Bruce had his eyes closed, as if he was experiencing euphoria just from your taste, your moans. Your body twitched and jerked, and Bruce used his strong arm to hold down your hips as he sucked on your clit. He moaned against your sensitive folds. You rolled your hips, eager to find your release.

Finally, you found release, your back arching off of the bed as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through you. You sobbed out his name, your body arching off of the bed as you felt your orgasm hit you. Bruce continued teasing your clit as you rode the shockwaves of pleasure.

And you finally relaxed, the tension leaving your body, something that Bruce noticed.

“You must have really needed that,” he mused, removing his fingers and crawling up your body to kiss you, his lips still wet with your slick.

Your breaths were ragged, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He looked like the cat that caught the canary.

“You look impressed with yourself,” you breathed out.

“I am,” he said, adjusting himself so he could easily remove his pants. “I should have timed that. Couldn’t have been longer than three minutes.” He sounded so pleased with himself, it caused a laugh to bubble up from your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, watching his cock spring out of his pants. The tip was an angry red, wet with precum.

“For?”

“The orgasm. I really did need it.”

“I plan on giving you another. I still haven’t heard you screaming my name.”

You sat up, and reached down, taking his length into your hand. He let out a shaky breath.

“All this for me?” You asked, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips. You spread the precum around the tip using your thumb, not taking your eyes off his face.

“All yours,” Bruce responded, reaching over to the bedside table, and grabbing a condom. “I need to be inside of you, right now,” Bruce said, moving your hands. He ripped into the aluminum foil of the condom and slid it onto his length. You opened your legs wider for him.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, your hands on his shoulders as he leaned over you.

Bruce growled, leaning down to kiss you as he slowly entered you. He let out a series of little gasps and growls as he bottomed out. “So wet,” he breathed out. “So wet, all for me,” he said right in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ear and neck. His hair fell in his face. “I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admitted as he began to move.

“That’s okay,” you whined. “I just wanna watch you come,” you said, brushing his hair out of his face.

It was almost too much for Bruce. The way your slick, velvety walls fluttered around him with each thrust was already sending Bruce to the edge, but he was holding back. He wanted to enjoy this, and not blow his load immediately.

You could swear that Bruce was made for you. He slotted so perfectly between his legs. His cock was the perfect size

Your chest was pressing up against his. Bruce’s lips just barely brushed against yours with each movement of his hips. Your hands found their way back to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, holding him close to you. The wet noises echoed through the room, only barely drowned out by Bruce’s soft whimpers. You could feel his heart through his chest, beating wildly, only for you. He dips down, licking a stripe down your chest, he enjoyed the salty taste of your sweat. His movement was languid, each snap of his hips was made with purpose.

“Bruce,” you whined, lifting up your hips. “Faster,” you begged. Bruce leaned down and quieted you with a kiss. He didn’t listen to you, still lazily fucking you. He propped himself above you, his chest brushing against yours, while his free hand reached down to rub at your swollen nub. You watched as Bruce’s eyes slipped close in pleasure. You were charmed as you watched him. His lips slightly parted, breathing in your air. Each movement of his hips pulled a noise out of Bruce. He growled your name, causing you to clench around him. You noticed that Bruce’s thrusts were getting sloppier.

“Please—” he begged. “I need you to come again,” he choked out. "Need to feel you— fuck.”

“I’m close,” you panted out. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop. He kept up his sloppy but steady pace his heart hammering in his chest.

“Bruce!” You keened as your toes curled and your back arched into him. Your body was tingling as your orgasm swept through you. Bruce let out a whine, and he soon followed. His body jerked, and you could feel him twitching inside of you as he came. He laid his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered breathily.

“I love you more,” you said with a grin. He smiled in response. Bruce took in a breath as he pulled out of you, and disposed of the condom in the nearby bin.

“I’ll let you win this one. You know. Because I love you,” he said as he laid back down, pulling your sweaty bodies together.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you relaxed into him.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Bruce asked his lips against your cheek.

“Spending time with my boyfriend, hopefully.”

“What a coincidence,” Bruce murmured. “Because I was hoping to spend more time with my girlfriend.”

Even with the blackout curtains, you could still see his bright eyes. You felt bubbly in your chest, and you smiled brightly at him.

Bruce’s breath hitched as he gazed at your bright smile.

This, he decided, was certainly worth living for.

[cathkaesque]

2024 in review, cathkaesque wrapped

Compared to previous years this one was pretty uneventful. There were no devastating life events, no major mental breakdowns, only a small amount of international travel. I have preferred it lol

I always told myself that if I could make it to two years on HRT, I would probably be where I wanted to be, and I was right. Not to toot my own horn, my body is fantastic, I am curvy, I have tits and and an ass, and my face is just, I am beautiful. I've mellowed out a bit from the crazy emotional mood swings from last year that were really hard to navigate. I feel like I've finally made it.

My relationship is going from strength to strength, we've grown closer and weathered a lot of storms together. I realise I have someone who truly understands me and really loves me, and I love him, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. It feels nice :)

I've leaned into my hobbies this year, and had such a wonderful time painting my Flames of War figures. It has been so cathartic and relaxing, and wonderful seeing my skills improve. I have almost finished my Russian and German infantry, next project is my Russian and German tanks. I also have some US paras to do as well. So many more to go. I've got to start playing some games with them next!

I've done some really fantastic work in my farmworker job this year. I have supported people through some pretty awful events on farms, I managed to undertake some very high level negotiations with supermarkets and investors on a policy I've wanted to have happen (that supermarkets should pay the travel and visa costs of farmworkers, which may be being piloted soon). Amazingly, I am helping some wonderful workers organise a demonstration at the end of January. I went to Italy on a delegation and made a fantastic impression on people while I was there. I have managed to properly establish this work, a branch of work that I made happen.

I went on a couple of lovely holidays with friends and family - I also took acid for the first time this year lol (not nearly as scary or mindblowing as I thought it would be, but it was a pretty low dose).

I have managed to solves several longstanding problems, namely recovering £1600 wrongly taken from me by British Gas, and having a much better set up with Octopus Energy (who solved the reason for the overcharge with a short email exchange which we had been fighting BG about for 2 years); getting my landlord to take action on damp and mould, which has been making me very sick for years; and I have a permanent contract and my work now (and helped everyone else get permanent contracts as well). I want to keep doing this, keep resolving problems, keep fighting for a secure life. It feels within my grasp.

I briefly had an admin job working for a friend of mine, which unfortunately didn't go very well. Navigating the relationship that was one of friendship to one of boss-worker was Weird as hell, and neither of us adapted to it well. The work as well was, frankly, corrupt. It was for a social enterprise organisation which had received a huge council/levelling up fund grant to provide consultancy to these businesses. There was very little 'social' in the work and the enterprises themselves were very often not worthwhile ventures. My accountacy skills are largely from reading company accounts to find things which are embarrassing and can be used against them and it was weird to be on the other side of this, knowing that the council was cutting essential care services while spending money on this. I was also doing some really major, really difficult, and really cool work in my farmworker job and the disjoint between that and doing admin work for people who didn't even care about the other work I was doing was soul destroying.. I ended up quitting and I think I've done a lot of damage to a friendship I held really dear, which makes me really sad. However, it did mean I was able to financially weather the year, and I am in a good position now. It also made me value my farmworker job - I have been frustrated in previous years with the lack of management and support I have received from the rest of my organisation, but now I understand that working for someone else doing something meaningless doesn't make me happy, and that I should value the autonomy and control I have over this work.

So basically, my resolution is to continue doing what I'm doing, continue growing, continue loving, and continue living life more