#but it brings me joy to think he likes to do that

[faithsotherhouseofchaos]

Is it possible, if you’re comfortable with it, to request a reader with a service dog where some fans kinda mean about her needing it and her boyfriend stands up for her and offers some much needed comfort? For Max or whoever you feel like doing it for?

Bailey the dog||Max verstappen x fem!autistic!reader

Summary — after some negative comments about Max’s girlfriend and her service dog max puts his foot and put an end to it.

Word count-1027

Being with Max Verstappen was a dream, but it came with its challenges. The Formula One world champion lived his life under a microscope, and by extension, so did you. Dating him had brought you joy beyond measure, but it also opened you up to the scrutiny of millions of fans, most of whom didn’t know you beyond the curated snapshots of your life they saw online.

You tried not to let it bother you—most of the time, you could shrug off the judgmental comments and cruel assumptions. But sometimes, the weight of it all became too much.

Bailey, your golden retriever and service dog, had been with you for years. She was more than just a dog; she was your lifeline. Whether it was helping you manage your anxiety or providing physical assistance on tough days, Bailey was always by your side. Max had accepted her instantly, treating her like family from the very beginning.

But not everyone was so kind.The latest storm of negativity had started after you attended a recent Formula 1 event with Max. The cameras had captured you and Bailey by his side as you walked through the paddock together, and while most fans were supportive, a loud minority had taken it upon themselves to criticize you.

“She’s so desperate for attention. Why bring that dog everywhere?”

“She looks fine to me. What does she even need a service dog for?”

“Max could do so much better. She’s embarrassing him.”

The comments spiraled from there, turning into an avalanche of baseless accusations and unwarranted cruelty. You’d tried to avoid reading them, but curiosity—or maybe a self-destructive streak—got the better of you. By the time you closed your phone, the words felt like they were etched into your skin, impossible to forget.

You spent the rest of the day on the couch, Bailey’s head resting on your lap as if she could sense your distress. You stroked her soft fur absentmindedly, the repetitive motion soothing your frayed nerves.

When Max came home from the gym, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

“Hey, liefje,” he greeted, dropping his gym bag by the door. His usual smile faltered when he saw the look on your face. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Max’s brows furrowed, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sitting down beside you, he gently tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t pretend. Talk to me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you hesitated. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but Max’s concerned gaze broke down your walls.

“It’s the fans,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “They’re saying horrible things about me. About Bailey. They think I’m using her for attention or that I don’t really need her. And they’re saying I’m embarrassing you.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Who’s saying that?”

“Just… people online,” you said, shrugging weakly. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Max said firmly. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you broke down against his chest. His hand stroked your hair, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s not stupid at all. People don’t understand, and instead of trying to, they judge. It’s cruel, and it’s wrong. But you are not embarrassing me. Not ever.”

His words were a balm to your wounded heart, but the pain lingered. “I just wish they’d stop,” you whispered.

“They will,” Max said, his tone carrying a determination that made you pull back to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to say something,” he replied, grabbing his phone.

“Max, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with conviction. “I’m not going to sit by and let people talk about you like that. You’re my girlfriend. You’re the strongest person I know, and Bailey is amazing. They need to know that.”

Before you could protest, Max opened Instagram and began typing. You watched as his fingers flew across the screen, his expression resolute.

A few minutes later, he showed you the post.

The photo was one of you and Bailey at the paddock, smiling at each other while Max stood beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The caption read:

“This is Y/n and her service dog, Bailey. Bailey isn’t just a dog; she’s a trained professional who helps my girlfriend manage things you don’t see. If you think you have the right to judge her for needing Bailey, think again. Kindness is free. Maybe try using it. And to the majority of you who support us—thank you. Your love doesn’t go unnoticed.”

He hit “Post” before you could say anything, setting his phone aside and pulling you back into his arms.

“Max, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you. And no one has the right to make you feel like you’re anything less than incredible.”

The post went viral within hours. Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, sharing their own experiences with service dogs and calling out the cruelty of the original comments. Some even apologized, admitting they hadn’t understood before.

As you scrolled through the responses later that evening, tears filled your eyes again—this time from gratitude.

“You didn’t just stand up for me,” you said, looking at Max. “You stood up for everyone who’s ever needed someone like Bailey. Thank you.”

Max smiled, pulling you closer. “You deserve the world, liefje. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”

Bailey barked softly, wagging her tail as if to agree. Max chuckled, ruffling her fur. “Looks like Bailey’s on my side.”

“She always is,” you said with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days.

With Max’s arms around you and Bailey by your side, you felt stronger than ever. No amount of negativity could take that away

[forgetmesunflower]

Alfred taught them to cook.

He loves cooking, loves making dinner for a full table, working around different restrictions and preferences, and that's all the more reason to teach each of them how to love it just the same.

Bruce has trouble eating after his parents' death, appetite diminished and joy for new and exciting foods gone. Alfred places a plate on the counter in front of him (Bruce won't eat in the dining room anymore; that was a place for family meals), but all he does is stare.

Alfred tries several new things, anything to peek his ward's interest. Eventually, it becomes simply making sure he gets basic vitamins and minerals. This morning he cuts up fruit in between mixing the crepe batter. Fibre is easiest to get into him in the mornings. Bruce, already nine, comes down to the kitchen and watches him.

"I'll just be a few moments more. Will you get the bowl of custard out of the fridge for me, my boy?"

Bruce complies with a nod. He pulls out the bowl and curiously peeks into the saran wrap covering. Alfred angles away but keeps an eye on him as the boy peels the wrap back and sticks a finger in. Alfred can't imagine scolding him for it when he brings his finger to his mouth and his eyes light up in satisfaction. It's gone quickly, but Alfred has gained his own spark as Bruce sets the bowl beside him on the counter, reaching up on his toes to see the strawberries Alfred slices up.

Alfred holds up one slice as if inspecting it. He pops it into his own mouth. Bruce's eyes go wide before smoothing over. Alfred hums. "I'm not sure if this size is quite right. Will you taste test it for me?" He offers a slice to Bruce.

Bruce scrunches up his nose. "Size doesn't affect taste."

"Oh, but I assure you it does. See for yourself."

Bruce gingerly takes the thick slice of strawberry and slips it between his lips. It sits in his mouth for a while before his jaw moves to chew.

"Well?"

"It tastes like a strawberry."

"Okay, well now try this smaller one." It's thin and flimsy when he passes it over. Bruce eyes him skeptically but slips it in just the same.

Bruce's eyes widen and his lips pucker. "That is different. Why is it different? What'd you do to it?"

Alfred can't help a smile. "Nothing, my boy. That is simply the art of cooking. You want to give it a try?"

His tasks are simple assortment of ingredients and putting the crepes together while Alfred keeps him away from the stove, and Bruce keeps sneaking bits of fruit and dollops of custard, wrinkling his nose at the taste of raw batter.

Nine is a little young to start learning to cook, Alfred thinks, but Bruce eats two and a half stuffed crepes before he realizes he's full. It's the largest breakfast he's eaten in months. Bruce joins Alfred in the kitchen for almost every meal after that.

───

Alfred taught them to cook, and I want to give them each a comfort or otherwise meaningful dish to feature here.

Any suggestions?

I've had thoughts for making one of Dick's being something I grew up loving that Alfred learned to make (with Dick's helpful input to make it closer to home), though my German family's food, I've found, might be more Mennonite-specific. Like wareniki (vareneki) & schmaundt fat or something as simple as kuchen.

I'd love to explore different culture's foods with this, so if you have suggestions, any at all, please share!!! It doesn't have to be culturally specific though. I'd just really love to expand on this idea and started with something simple (and white haha) for Bruce. Though it could always change!

Continuation post!

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her Princess

Part one

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 1.6k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

Part One

- Princess Ras, you are invited to the throne room.

 I knew this was going to happen. I was informed about this three nights ago, but my heart still did not believe that my own family would do this to me. Of course, we were not an ideal family, but rather the most ordinary, aristocratic one. With an infinitely angry and indifferent mother who hated her daughter, with a tyrannical father who, like the mother, did not participate in the child's life in any way because of his busy schedule and unwillingness. It seemed to me that we were not a bad family anyway. I guess I was just imagining it.

 I got out of bed, straightening my clothes.

I was wearing a light burgundy dress, the hems of which moved from any wind current, it was spectacular, just the kind I needed. And also, more importantly, it was in the colors of the Medard clan. I wanted my parents to realize that I knew. I knew what was going to happen today. But, nevertheless, I forced them to make that cherished speech on their own, looking straight into my eyes.

As I walked along the corridor, I took one last look around my ancestral mansion. There was no fear inside, I knew I wouldn't be killed or tortured. Firstly, I am quite a valuable exhibit because of my abilities. Secondly, I would kill myself faster than anyone would want to bring me harm. I will not allow myself to die at the hands of the Medard clan. Never in my life will I allow it. I will not give such joy.

 A flame of hatred burned inside me with every step I took. Each heel strike against the marble floor was accompanied by a strengthening of inner resolve.

 Disappointment at what they'd done to me. It hardened me even more, preventing me from crying or fleeing. Rather, it pushed me to think of new ideas for revenge.

 I felt more and more confident, clutching the amulet around my neck that I'd inherited from my late grandmother. It carried no magical potential, but when I touched it, I felt myself fill with the strength to go on. To go on, no matter what. 

Already standing at the door, I was brimming with determination. No blade, no arrow, no word could break me, shake my confidence.

-Princess Ros. - I entered the hall with my head held high and shoulders squared. I wore a mask of infinite calm on my face.

 The room was quiet. There were no whispers, no sighs. There was no sound at all, even the ever-noisy clock mechanism was silent, and no candles crackled in the candelabra. Everything froze, as if at a funeral.

 The clack of my heels was like a hammer hammering nails into a coffin lid. I stopped in front of my parents, who were now sitting on the throne. But this time I didn't bow, just stared at them as if they were dirt under my feet. In fact, they were now. I had lost all respect for them, and even the thought of bowing to them made me gag. From this moment on, they were no longer my family.

 Behind me I felt Medard's warriors, led by Umbressa herself. I could almost physically feel their gaze. Uncomprehending, even stunned by my antics. I wanted to shrink and cower under the oppression, but I could not allow myself to do so.

 I looked at my father, who opened and closed his mouth, staring at my clothes in shock. It was beautiful. Watching the echoes of realization appear on his face. That I knew everything. Just waiting for him to ruin his daughter's life with his own hands. When he literally sells her out.

- "In the war with Noxus," his trembling voice broke the silence of the hall, and I saw him wince at his own weakness, "we lost too many soldiers, too many civilians, too many resources. And we made the decision to retreat, to sit down at the negotiating table. And we came to the conclusion that we would end the war and sign a peace treaty. On the condition that we give Clan Medard something of extraordinary value. Something that could replace our territories.

  My father stared at me unblinkingly as I stood there, smirking in his face. But what was going on inside of me...A storm of emotions, my chest tightening, tugging as if I were about to pass out. I wanted to cuddle up to someone and cry at how painful and hurtful it was to hear those words. To realize that they see me as a resource to be exchanged for something.

-Ambressa,- my father finally took his gaze off me and looked somewhere behind me. - I'm handing you my only daughter, Sophie. She is naturally endowed with an extraordinary gift of magic. I am sure she will be useful in your future operations.

 I heard measured footsteps behind me. Soon two of Medard's warriors appeared beside me and were about to take me under their arms so that I would not run away, but I just looked calmly into the eyes of one of them and shook my head slightly. They immediately lowered their hands without touching me.

 Ambressa stood a little ahead of me, her back covered in a multitude of scars that stood out strongly in white stripes on her skin. I looked at her with mild interest, for this was the first time I had ever seen someone so strong, much less a girl. I smirked at the thought that she could take on our soldiers by herself and not even get tired. Surprisingly, I felt nothing for her. No emotion whatsoever.

-I accept this...an offering of sorts. It was an interesting negotiation, glad we all got what we wanted. As of this moment, the peace treaty is now in effect. Have a good day.

 Without bowing, the girl turned and walked away from the hall. One of the warriors gently touched my shoulder, hinting that it was time to leave. But I had something else to do.

-Can I say goodbye to my parents? - I turned my head to the side, looking at the wall instead of at the general. My pride wouldn't let me turn around to look her in the eye.

-Of course we'll wait. Family is sacred.

Ambressa laughed a little at the comicality of the statement. I, too, smiled a little and began to slowly and quietly climb up to my parents, who were sitting on the throne. As soon as I reached a flat surface, my mother approached me.

-It's best for all of us, - she said dryly and unemotionally as always. Mother pressed me lightly against her, patting me on the back and pushing me away, as if my embrace and closeness might stain her.

-Absolutely.

It hurt to hear that, but I buried it deep inside me, not letting any emotion come out. Someday I'll cry about it. Someday, but not now.

My father came over to me, pulling me quickly against him. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, anticipating my actions.

-I want you to know, - I spoke softly in his ear, hugging his back, - I've wanted this for the past few years. I've literally dreamed about it. - I knew my father didn't know what I was talking about yet, but that was just for now. - Remember when you told me that everything in the world boomerangs back?

 Quickly using my magic I created a fiery dagger that was suspended in the air. I heard a commotion nearby and sharply plunged the dagger into my father's heart. The man instantly collapsed in my arms and I threw him to the floor, a small trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, quickly drenching the expensive uniform, the floor and the hem of my dress. I instantly created an air shield around me and my father, which helped me protect myself from my mother, who was already running to her beloved husband in tears. Either wanting to kill me or spend the last seconds of her life next to him, looking into his eyes.

-So your boomerang didn't go as far as you thought.

 I saw the light of life go out in his eyes, but he couldn't even say goodbye to his wife because I wouldn't let him.

-I hope you burn in hell.

I felt my mother begin to thrash into my shield and saw my mother take her last hoarse breath and close her eyes. I, still remaining infinitely calm, got to my feet and took small steps down the stairs. I walked with my head held high, hearing my own mother's curses and hysterics behind me. I walked straight toward Ambessa, who stood with an impenetrable face. The girl might not have expected something like this, but at least she didn't show it.

 As I approached her, she held out her hand to help me down the stairs. I put my hand in hers.

 My life has changed 180 degrees in just a few minutes. I was traded for a peace treaty, I killed my own father, and I'm going after the girl who ruined my life. This is not how I envisioned my future.

I would be very grateful for feedback, as English is a language I am only practicing. I accept criticism in a milder form, do not break my heart, pls.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLII)

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2761

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

If you’re leaving, leave in such a way That no trace of you remains in my soul. If you’re staying, stay in such a way That every corner of my heart Fills and overflows with you… If you love me, love in such a way That I am awed, that, meeting your gaze, For a moment, I vanish from life itself, That I hear no whispers, Distinguish no day from night, Feel warmth in the cold of winter, And coolness in the heat of summer. Love in such a way that my heart Thunders endlessly, and no other smile Can catch my eye as I’m passing by. Love in such a way that I wake up Filled with yearning of seeing you, And when I sleep, it’s only so You will visit me in my dreams. Love in such a way that I lose my mind, Love in such a way that I become drunk… Love in such a way, as I… love… you.

Paruyr Sevak

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again.

You and Andrew had been dating for almost a year now. You were planning a trip to Galway for your anniversary, you would be staying for two full weeks during the summer. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to have you just for himself, without work, and essays, and students, and colleagues, and family, and friends. It was a little selfish, but you both had busy lives outside your relationship, and he reckoned it would be nice to focus on just the two of you for a few days. You seemed over-excited by the trip as well. It was still several months away, but you were planning already. He had caught you looking up paths for hiking, and sights to see, and restaurants where you could eat.

You were in his bed now, in his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt and your purple pyjama pants, buried under the covers. Your head was still under the blanket, and he smiled at the sight. He could hear you breathing loudly, trying to warm up the bed.

Such a simple gesture, and yet it filled his heart with love. The joy of slipping in a bed warmed by someone else’s body…

He grabbed his book, climbed into bed. You emerged then, shuddering and immediately snuggling close to him, stealing his body heat.

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you closer.

“It’s so cold tonight! We’re in April, it should be warmer than this!”

“The earth is burning already… let us have a bit of fresh air.”

You pinched his side, unforgiving tonight, and it made him laugh.

“I’m cold,” you complained.

“Do you want one of my hoodies?”

“No… you’re warm.”

“Leave a bit of heat for me though.”

You slipped your hand across his stomach, and then under his t-shirt, bringing your cold fingers to his burning skin. You laughed as he hissed and shifted away.

“You’re so cruel!” he complained while you put your hand back on his chest, on top of his t-shirt.

When you looked at each other, though, there was nothing but love and tenderness in your eyes and in his. He bent down to kiss your forehead, making you close your eyes.

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again. And yet there you were, in his bed, ready for sleep. You had spent the evening together, had eaten, talked about this trip to Galway, and watched a movie. It was natural for you to stay the night. You hadn’t slept apart in months. Not a single night. It shifted between your place and his but you were always together. Every night he kissed your lips and whispered he loved you before falling asleep, and every morning he opened his eyes to see you.

And he didn’t want it any other way. He wanted this forever, all the time. Every night, every morning.

He wanted to move in with you. He wanted to build a proper home with you, the kind that Sam had always refused with him. But what if you thought it was too soon? What if you didn’t agree? What if you got scared and left him?

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on? What’s your busy head thinking?”

You knew him so damn well…

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m just… worrying.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

“I just… I hope… I want…”

He heaved another sigh.

“Never mind…”

“Honey… is there something wrong?”

“No, no… nothing’s wrong. I… I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid you’ll say no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Is it… a weird fantasy of yours?”

He burst into laughter.

“It’s nothing sexual. And I don’t have ‘weird fantasies’!”

“I don’t know… I could suddenly discover that you have a foot fetish or something…”

“Christ! No, you’re in the clear. I don’t have a foot fetish.”

“Good, I’m reassured. I love you, but I draw the line at you wanting to lick my toes.”

He made a disgusted wince, making both of you laugh for a while, the sound warm and familiar, like home…

You grew more serious again, rubbing soothing circles into his chest.

“What is it, though? That you want to ask me?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never anyway. God, his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, could you feel that? Could you feel his heart under your fingers? Did you know it was yours anyway?

“I… I was thinking that we could… maybe… like… I would really like to live with you.”

You blinked up at him.

“Like… I’ve been thinking a lot about us moving in together, these past few weeks. I… I would really like that. Would you?”

Your expression was unreadable for a moment, and he thought you would reject him, he really did… just like Sam. He was the fucking problem all along…

But then your lips broke into a toothy, excited grin.

“Yeah… I’d really like that.”

He blinked, trying to gauge whether or not he had misheard you.

“Really?”

His voice was weaker than he meant for it to be, only too revealing of how vulnerable he was right now.

And he both loved and hated it, the way you seemed to read right through him, to know exactly what he was thinking. You reached up for his cheek, said exactly the right thing.

“I want you. I’m not her. I want this, all of it.”

He nodded, trying to blink tears away.

“Good… yeah… that’s grand… like… erm… yeah…”

You leaned up to shush him with your lips.

“I’d really love to live with you,” you went on with a chuckle. “I mean… we kind of already do!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded with a little laugh of his own.

“Where would you like to live?”

“Erm… I don’t know… not too far from the city, I guess.”

You were silent for a minute or so, he rubbed circles into the small of your back.

“Do you think that one day we’ll buy a house together?”

His heartbeat quickened as he stared into your eyes.

“I don’t know… we’re not there yet, are we?”

“No, no… we’re not. But… like… would you like that one day? To buy a house? Maybe with me? Can you see that happening? In like… a couple of years?”

His heart was stumbling now.

You were seeing that? You, him? A house?

A couple of years?

“Elwood would finally have a garden.”

Elwood? You, him, Elwood? A house? A garden?

A couple of years?

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice made hoarse by emotions. “Yeah… I can see that. I’d love that.”

You nodded, grinning.

“I’d love that too.”

You were both quiet for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“God… Andy… we’re going to need so many bookshelves…”

Andrew let out a bright laugh, and you soon joined him.

And he was so happy. So goddamn happy…

“Jon, I swear to God… if you drop this…”

“I won’t.”

“Careful with it!”

“I won’t drop it! Relax, Andy. For God’s sake…”

You chuckled, fondly shaking your head at the two bickering brothers.

“Play nice you two,” you admonished.

Behind you, Raine was carrying a small package in the kitchen.

“Listen to Y/N. Be nice.”

“I am,” they both answered at the same time.

You heard John’s cane echoing down the hall, and indeed, he was soon in the kitchen as well.

“Huh… nobody has asked the only relevant question here,” Siobhán complained. “Where the hell is the beer?”

You all laughed at her, before you fetched in your brand-new fridge for a beer.

“Is that the first thing you put in there?” Alex asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Obviously,” you nodded, making everybody laugh.

You handed everyone a beer, looked around at the work you had accomplished. Everyone was busy with quiet conversations, Andrew with his family, while Siobhán and Alex were catching up, as they had not seen each other since the New Year. You smiled as you looked at them laughing, getting along well, like friends already. You heard Alex arguing that they shouldn’t let so much time pass before they’d talk again, this time around. If you didn’t know Siobhán, you’d have sworn there was a blush tainting her cheeks when she agreed. But then Siobhán turned to you, talked about your flat, about the work left to do and the one already done. All your furniture was in your new home, you now had to settle in properly. There was a rather large kitchen opened on the living room, a bathroom, a bedroom, two smaller rooms that you would turn into your offices. There was a small balcony too, just large enough for a square table and a couple of chairs. Elwood loved it already. He was spying on birds, sitting on the balcony, looking up at their shapes flying off and landing on the electric cables on the other side of the street.

It was simple, but more than large enough for the two of you. It was your home, to both you and Andrew.

You reached for his hand, and he immediately intertwined your fingers together, rubbing your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“Well, it doesn’t look too bad,” John nodded, clearly content.

“It’s a lovely flat you’ve found,” Raine nodded. “And we saw there was a park nearby, as we were driving here this morning!”

“Yeah, it’s just five minutes away. It’ll be perfect for Elwood,” you nodded.

Andrew gave your hand a tender squeeze.

Alex was talking about decorating the living room and everybody listened, except for Andrew. Instead he leant closer to you, bent down to whisper in your ear.

“We’re going to make such happy memories here. I can feel it.”

You grinned up at him.

“I can feel it too, baby.”

And you were both right.

You heaved a dramatic sigh, the pile of essays scattered across your bed. A mess of paper and pencils across the blanket.

You had a headache, you hated your life, you hated university, you hated how comfortable and inviting your pillow was…

A low chuckle made you glare as you looked up at the intruder, who was walking in your bedroom with two cups of tea in his hands, his glasses a little lopsided on his nose, wearing plaid pyjama pants and his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt.

“Someone’s getting frustrated?” he asked in his warm voice, and you couldn’t control your reaction to it. Even after all this time, you still felt the same. It made you feel peaceful, dizzy with warmth and safety.

“I hate grading papers… Why can’t we just… do research, and give classes, but without the tests and the essays and the grading?”

“Because life is hard and highly unfair.”

You stared at him as he handed you a cup of your favourite tea, done exactly the way you liked it. The warmth of the porcelain was spreading across your fingers as quickly as the sight of his smile was warming your heart. You allowed yourself to stare at him for a moment. Smiling, warm and mischievous with his teasing, hazel eyes turned fully green in the tiredness of the night, the beard you longed to feel against your skin colouring his cheeks, and his long, curly brown hair was let loose and free to fall all the way to his shoulders. You settled your gaze fondly on the freckle above his right eye, and the curve of his long eyelashes, on the pink of his lips that you constantly longed to kiss. You held out your hand, and he immediately placed his own in your hold.

And you thought about Frank. About that man you had loved, and thought you always would. How you had almost married him. How you could have missed this moment, how you could have missed loving someone as wonderful as Andrew. How the best things in life are always so fragile, always on the verge of disappearing, or not happening at all…

“You’re alright, love?” Andrew asked with a small tilt of his head, worry making him frown.

“Yeah, just frustrated and tired,” you nodded.

But he narrowed his eyes at you, and you sighed when he read right through you.

“No… there’s something else. What’s bothering you, darling?”

You took a sip of your tea before answering.

“I was just thinking… how easy it would have been for us never to be together. Isn’t that crazy? I can’t imagine my life without you in it now, and we could have never been together.”

He nodded, let go of your hand. And at first, you thought he was moving away, but he merely walked around the bed to his side, pushed the papers you still had to grade further down the bed, and slipped under the covers with you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you easily yielded when he pulled you closer.

“Hmm… a lot of things could have gone wrong,” he slowly nodded. “We could have been put in different offices, you could have accepted that job in Belfast, our crazy plan about our exes could have worked out.”

“Do you regret it sometimes? That you didn’t end up with Samantha?”

He laughed at that, surprising you with the brightness of it.

“Don’t be silly! Of course, I don’t! I’m so much happier with you than I was with her. Nah… I have no regrets. I love you way too much for that.”

You grinned up at him.

“Do you? Regret Frank?”

But you shook your head.

“You make me happier than he ever did,” you answered, burying your face in his chest, and he bent to kiss the top of your head.

He grinned into your hair.

“So… no regrets in moving in with me and everything?”

“Actually… I do have one regret.”

He pulled away just enough to look at you, growing serious again as he frowned with worry.

“You haven’t kissed me since you’ve walked in the room.”

He rolled his eyes at that, mumbling something about you giving him a proper scare, before he would lean in and kiss you, slow and deep at first, a kiss that turned passionate and urgent as his hands moved across your body.

You shifted to get closer to him, knowing where this kiss was heading, and having no intention to stop Andrew when he moved his lips from your mouth to your neck. You lost your hand in his curls, moaning as he softly bit the fragile skin over your pulse…

You were both startled as the pile of graded essays fell to the floor.

“No!”

You rushed to gather them in a new pile, groaning and mumbling under your breath. Meanwhile, Andrew was picking up the rest, and setting them aside by the bed.

“I need to finish this tonight, love,” you admonished, nodding towards the papers he had placed on the ground by his side of the bed.

“It’s almost eleven. No more work.”

“And I thought you were the one who was always working.”

“I’m always writing, not grading essays.”

“Hmm… and yet, I haven’t heard anything in a while.”

He blushed, making you smile fondly at him.

“I have a few poems ready for you, if you want,” he mumbled under his breath, growing shy and making you giggle.

“Oh! I can’t wait to read them, my love.”

He grinned at the earnestness in your answer, but still told you to discard the essays for tonight.

“I have better plans for us, like…” he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows and making you laugh, although you could still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sight of his tempting stare.

“Oh, really? And how do you suppose you’re gonna convince me to drop my academic duties in favour of sinful activities?”

He grinned, something devilish and awfully charming.

“That’s the easy part, darling,” he spoke with a voice deeper and lower than his usual tone, that made your very soul tremble.

You blinked as he took off his shirt, put away his glasses. You stared at the marble skin, longed to touch it…

You struggled to swallow, and dropped the essays to the floor.

“Alright, okay, I’m convinced. Kiss me…”

He laughed; a grin on the verge of cockiness at his success forming on his lips; still, you let him have his win.

But when you gently held his lower lip between your teeth, he was the one begging for more…

[philistiniphagottini]

Hiii can I please request number 7 + Blade? I really enjoy the way you write him. Thank you if you end up doing this!

Thank you for the ask Anon. I appreciate you telling me that you enjoy the way I write Blade, he's my current favourite character and I'd love it if people wanted to talk to me more about him. I hope you enjoy. Comments/reblogs greatly appreciated.

cw. light angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

Prompts

Your room smelled of disinfectant and medicinal salves. It clogged your nose when you breathed deep, a pinch forming between your furrowed brow as you slowly and meticulously wrap fresh bandages around Blade’s exposed bicep. You had to discard his jacket, the material slashed and tattered laying in a bloody heap long forgotten on the floor as you gave your undivided attention to Blade. 

He thinks it's a wasted effort but he lets you do as you please. His free hand is resting in your lap, fingers lazily curled into your thigh until the soft skin squished beneath his touch. You feel incredibly warm beneath the tips of his fingers as he stared at you, absentmindedly watching you work patch up his wounds. Wounds that would naturally heal themselves just be another chip on his scarred and haggard body. Your attentiveness wasn’t needed when he was cursed to constantly heal but you always kicked up a fuss whenever he returned to you in a bloody heap, supporting fresh wounds and a tired look in his eyes. 

It was a little awkward for you shuffling around Blade as you worked. You were practically, almost in his lap as you hovered over him on the bed, the sheets already drying with flakes of blood and whatever else Blade had dragged in the door with him. The sheets needed to be changed as soon as you got the chance. The stench of decay and death was particularly strong on him today. It almost made you blanch. The tips of your fingers grazed the top of his bicep as you finished wrapping the bandage around him, your lips pressed into a tight, thin line as a pensive frown plagued your facade. You eventually had to stuff your bottom lip between the pinch of your teeth to stop it from quivering as you blinked rapidly to dispel the wetness clinging to the edges of your thick lashes. 

“Don’t give me that look” Blade said, his quiet murmur cutting through the thick silence. 

You released your bruised lip from between your teeth as your gaze now flickered up to his face, his piercing red stare causing a shiver to creep along the notches of your spine. You sniffled softly, unshed crystalline tears still vehemently beading at the corners of your eyes and making your vision a little blurry. 

“What look?” you asked as you reached for another bottle of medicinal salve. 

Blade gently caught your wrist before you could grab it, preventing you from swiping it off the little bedside table nestled close to you. Your hand started to shake and he could feel the tremble of your pulse when he pressed his fingers into your wrist. You peered up at him beneath the hood of your lashes as they fluttered over your round cheeks. 

“That look” Blade said. “Sadness doesn’t suit you.”

Something tugged on your heart strings. You were sad because of him. Because it hurt you to see his body so battered and bruised. It hurt you whenever he said you were wasting your time patching him up. He would naturally regenerate, such was his curse. It was barely a comforting thought. Too many bad thoughts plagued your head like a persistent swarm of insects, their buzzing incessant and never ceasing no matter how many times you tried to swat them away. You took a shuddering breath.

“It brings me no joy seeing you in pain.”

Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks and before they could, Blade was drawing you into his lap. You complained at first, not wanting your weight to hurt him in any way but he batted away your protests. He coiled his arms around your plump waist, giving your soft stomach a gentle squeeze as you were coddled in his lap, your thick thighs falling beside his as you were forced to sit on top of him. It felt a little ridiculous. He was the patient, not you. Blade wasn’t good with words. He didn’t know how to tell you not to worry. He couldn’t weave words like countless others he knew could. He lacked tact when it came to delicate matters and he knew his blunt words were only going to cause you further distress. You didn’t treat him like a weapon, the way he believed he deserved to be treated. You were too kind and soft hearted. You have no reason to be so close to him, when his sharp edges could cut into your soft skin and hurt you. Yet, you give your kindness to him so freely and easily, despite one wrong whisper of the mara threatening to creep in. He could hurt you. But you knew he wouldn’t. He’d rather fall on his sword than intentionally hurt you, mara or not. 

You hid your tear stained face from his sight, lips pressed to the purple and red bruises forming over his skin as they bled into his skin. These too would fade soon and the press of your plush lips was the healing balm. Blade slowly rubbed his hands along your back, his calloused fingers aching when he smoothed them against your pillowy soft skin. You were so incredibly soft and warm it was already lulling him into a state of peace. He can feel your salty tears wet his skin and it only makes him squeeze your soft waist harder. 

“Blade, can you please be a little more careful?” you softly requested. “If not for your sake, then for mine?”

He’s not sure you know what you’re asking of him. The way you had worded it, he’s unsure if it was intentional or not. Because it was exceedingly hard for Blade to refuse a request from you. Not when you ask it in such a sticky sweet voice that he can feel it rotting on the back of his teeth when you say his name like that. He was rough and sharp around the edges but only you were able to soften it up and dull it. You made him feel like he wanted to be good. Only wanted to be good just for you. No one else. Your skin squishes under his touch as his large, scarred hands touch your soft stomach, a soft hum stirring in the back of his throat as you plant another soft kiss on his bruises. 

“Just for you” he replied. 

He didn’t elaborate further and you hoped it was a promise he was going to keep. It brought a little smile to your face as you wrapped your arms around Blade’s neck, hugging him closer to your body as you tangled your hands in the baby hairs lining the nape of his neck. For now, it was enough.

[starsinmylatte]

I am fellow of Rick flags Sr lover I I don’t know if you are still taking requests for Rick flags if you are not then please disregard this but if you are

I was wondering if I could ask NSFW alphabet X and K thank you so very much. I really do hope you enjoy your day and I love your work 

Hi, hi! I absolutely am still drooling about this man taking requests for him 🙂‍↕️. Thank you for the super sweet compliments! 💕

Cw: fem!reader, Breeding kink/pregnancy kink, age gap, brat taming, overstim

X: I really thought about just leaving the screenshot of his crotch close-up here with nothing else added…. but allow me to elaborate. This man is HUNG. Rick Flag Sr has a massive Flag pole (ha) with big, heavy breeding balls to match.

He’s circumcised and only slightly above average length, but his girth is no laughing matter, even when he's flaccid. 100% a shower; you know exactly what he's working with. Rick has to prepare his partners extensively to take him, or they just have to be ready for the stretch of a lifetime.

No part of this man is small, and his military service has left him deliciously toned. His biceps are the best pillows in the world, and if you kiss along the contours of his muscles or scars, his hefty cock gives a delicious little twitch. Rick’s body is toned because of his occupation, not for vanity reasons, but he can't lie and say that he's not flattered (and more than a little aroused) when you show appreciation for his rugged body.

K: Oh, I've been waiting for this one. With a dedicated partner he loves, Rick develops the breeding kink of all time.

Before falling for you, Rick would've said that he's too old and jaded to do any of that shit ever again. He’s a tough army man who had a son at a very young age with a wife he grew to dislike, and that's gonna leave some deep scars. He likely missed out on a lot of her pregnancy and Rick Jr’s childhood because of deployments, and he also has a lot of guilt around that. It only gets worse when his son dies in Corto Maltese….. but

You come into his life and show him the love and understanding that he didn't think he would ever receive from another human. His pain and guilt are eased immensely by your gentle, soothing compassion and sparkling intelligence as you work through any relationship hurdles. Rick begins to understand more and more about himself and why his marriage failed (caused by both faults from him and his ex-wife), and you encourage him to be an even better man.

Rick finds himself considering marriage once again, but he still winces every time he thinks about how you're a younger woman and would probably want children. You're too aware of his pain to bring the subject up, but he worries that staying with him would rob you of the joys of motherhood. However, that all disappears one night.

Rick had been invited to countless family gatherings since his string of tragedies but couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in a room full of happy people who pitied him. Through your gentle support, he finally agreed to give a very small get-together a try, which is how Rick found himself knocking on the door of his cousin's house one night for dinner around Christmas.

It took a moment, but a man who vaguely resembled a very tired, younger Rick with no beard opened the door, chuckling softly. "Sorry, the little one is not happy at the moment. We're running behind and haven't even started cooking yet."

It had been so long since Rick had seen his family that he didn't know they had just welcomed their first child. He froze and was prepared to reschedule for another night, but your eyes lit up, "Oh, it's not a problem at all."

Before Rick could blink, you had already introduced yourself and offered a hand in the kitchen. In no time, you were giggling and chatting with his cousin's wife, rocking their baby in your arms as the other woman stirred a pot simmering away on the stovetop. Rick was sitting on the sofa, drinking a beer and conversing with his cousin, but his warm, brown gaze was fixed on you. You looked nothing short of angelic underneath the glow of the Christmas lights as you cooed at the baby in her little holiday outfit. Something just clicked in his brain, and he understood. He wanted to see you just like this, except in your own home, with your baby.

From there, it only took a few days for Rick's brain to devolve into visions of you swollen with his child, waddling around your home as you nested and decorated the nursery. He wanted to massage your aching back and breasts, to pamper you like a goddamn princess- no, a queen who wanted for nothing. Rick had gone from casually looking at rings to feverishly checking the shipment status of one, all so he could do things correctly and set a diamond on your pretty finger before giving you his baby.

Age Gap: You cannot look me in the digital eyes and tell me Rick didn't immediately pop a boner when Ilana said that she liked older men. He is absolutely not one of those old creeps who wants some innocent girl with no life experience, but there's something so goddamn hot about a strong, capable younger woman who freely and clearly chooses him above men her age.

A little bit of teasing/brat-taming also turns him way the hell on. Use your wit to be snarky, and don't be surprised if you find yourself thrown on the bed with Rick coaxing orgasm after orgasm from your tired body with his hands and tongue.... just wait until you get to the point where he gives you his heavy, aching cock.

NSFW alphabet link here!

[itshonestlynotme]

✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”

“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.

Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”

“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”

Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”

Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”

She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”

Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”

“That’s why we��d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.

“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.

Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.

One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.

That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.

“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”

Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”

[hippolotamus]

For the short & impactful: "lie to me." Buddie :)

Bless you, Al for bringing some inspiration to the Hippo Cove 🫶

Buck is everywhere. Fingers interlaced with Eddie’s, pinning his hands to either side of his waist. Massive chest against Eddie’s own, pressing his back to the kitchen cabinets. Lips a scant space away, stealing and supplying all of Eddie’s breath.  “Lie to me.” Buck challenges, nipping gently at his lower lip. “Tell me none of this was real. That you don’t love this, love us.”  The ‘love me’ goes unspoken, hanging heavy in the air between them.  “I-” Eddie wills the words to come out. To do as Buck asks. To tell him that they were a mistake and it was all a reaction to moving home to LA, whole and complete with Chris. That he got caught up in the moment, all those weeks ago, choosing joy when Buck kissed him while they were unpacking boxes, and he kissed back.  “You can’t, can you, Eds? Because you don’t do spur of the moment. You don’t go around kissing just anyone. I know that because I know you. Because you have been my partner and best friend and had my back for seven years.” Buck pauses, his eyelashes fluttering in an attempt to hold back the tears making his eyes glassy. “Or am I just another Marisol? Another Ana? Someone your kid loves, so you just rolled with it. Maybe I don’t know you at all.”  “You know that’s not true, Buck. You could never be that to me. But I- we-” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, unable to slow his breaths coming rapid and shallow, like an adverse reaction to the falsehood he can’t force past his tongue and teeth. “Breathe with me, Eds! C’mon, breathe with me.“ Okay, you. You’re my problem. Wanna go for the title? You don’t have to pretend with me. I’m here. What can I do? You knew I wouldn’t. What are you afraid of?  “What if I fuck this up? What if I’m still too broken to be what you need?” “Baby,” Buck soothes, resting their foreheads together. “Give yourself the chance to try. Please don’t be someone else telling me what I can and can’t handle. I can’t- I can’t take that. Not from you.” He inhales a shaky, trembling breath. “If you really don’t want this, say the word, Eds. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just please don’t force me away because you think you’re doing me some sort of favor. Please.” “Okay.” Eddie opens his eyes again, lost in the endless blue of Buck’s gaze. “I won’t.” Buck cups his cheek with one hand, nuzzling against the other. “Promise?” “Promise.”

send a prompt!

[axxa-the-allikatt]

Soooooo I finally got some free time 😃✊ here’s your order of bllk characters with their short s/o with a side of some suggestive interactions 🤌. I’m making it a short series since I probably can’t finish so many characters in one sitting, so tell me if there is anyone specific you’re looking for. I’m gonna start off with my favourites, humour me.

***

1. Size doesn’t matter. I mean your height- your height doesn’t matter.

-Isagi definitely, but also anyone else who might fit this category like Bachira, Kunigami and maybe Niko + Any character from other shows that you think might fit, ignoring the mention of the bllk program <3

The first time you encountered him, the two of you were around only 11 years of age. You had been walking by the park, back home after school, when a ball had come flying at your face, knocking you squarely in the jaw. You had two broken teeth because of this, and the boy who had kicked the ball, our little sweetheart, had insisted on taking you to his home, bawling his eyes out all the way for no good reason, while you intermittently spat what blood was spilling from your gums, freaked out by the little crybaby.

Once all that confusion and worry had passed by, your parents had been given his address so that they could come pick you up.

And that was how you’d snatched a place in his life. That and the fact that once you had managed to get your hands on his address, you would randomly drop by his house on your way home, uninvited, scare the living daylight’s out of him, gratefully accept what titbits his mother would humorously provide you with, give his father a salute on your way out and never bring up the visit again.

Over the next three years, the two of you had gained a reputation as a pair, and it was a well known fact that wherever one of you were, the other was bound to be close by. So much so that your school teachers often questioned one of you when the other was absent to class.

You had grown fond of the silly boy you had met by chance and had often made him extremely flustered with your quite direct flirting conquests, while he hid behind his hands like maiden.

This was quite hilarious to due to the fact that over the years you had remained a short, skinny kid, where as the other boy had out grown you and was now both taller and more muscular due to his football training.

Your friendship came to an abrupt pause as you were to move across the world for your father’s job, with only a week’s notice to make the most of your time with the other boy.

In a moment of childish desperation, the boy had confessed to you asked you out on a date which earned him a good thwack on the head. For what joy was he asking when you were moving half way across the world in a few days and were going to return god knows when. But you had agreed nonetheless, admitting that you liked him too and that you wanted to make the most of your time with him. Ah. Young love.

Four years passed as you lived your life abroad, finishing high school, making new friends, having fun, not growing any taller, but most importantly, you had kept yourself up to date on the events happening in blue lock. Since when did your silly boy get so… egotistical? It was concerningly endearing.

Finally, you received news that you would be moving back to Japan, back into your old house, by yourself, to pursue your studies in psychology and you desperately hoped that he hadn’t moved in that time. The Blue lock program had ended a year ago, and he might have been selected for a team somewhere across the world.

Your fears dissolved into confusion then disbelief as you were met with the sight of the same boy waiting for you at the airport, with a stupid grin on his face, which was doing nothing to hide how obviously he was trying not to cry like the way you used to tease him about.

The second he laid his eyes on you he broke into a sprint, crashing into you as you tumbled over the luggage, putting your arms around him and spinning him around, bursting into laughter as his feet dragged around behind him. He had annoyingly gotten taller.

The two of you had somehow managed to get to his car before you gently pushed him against the door, crashing your lips onto his as he slid down against the door, lowering himself to your height.

Like I said, height doesn’t matter in your relationship. He’s more than eager to kneel to you. You’re the boyfriend.

***

Next up- the boys who think that since they’re taller, they’re the man in the relationship. They get put in their place 🪭. I’ll post it by next week. Probably.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Barbatos and 8 because chaos 😈😈😈 (you guys are my favs congrats of 100k!!!!!)

Barbatos + 8: "Dead Walk" - Redhook

Rewriting the past means living without consequences. What freedom, for a demon to exist this way.

"Did you do something you need to atone for?"

Barbatos chuckles regretfully across the table at you.

"Indeed. Something I can never hope to undo."

He begins to reach over the table as if to take your hand, but he pauses just before his fingers can touch yours and withdraws, seemingly thinking better of it.

"A long time ago, before I came to serve the Young Master, I used to travel through the realms freely. Sometimes even through space and time. I never thought to think twice about the feelings of others I met along the way…nor in how my actions may or may not affect them."

Yes, his life back then — a life without consequences, or so he'd thought. Pop a portal here, twist a timeline there, and it was as though he'd never been there at all. Back then, it was nothing more to him than a trivial use of his power, and who was anyone to tell such a powerful demon not to do as he liked?

Well, you, for one. That's always been something charmingly strange about you — your willingness to throw yourself in harm's way and assert your opinion of how those as powerful as those demon brothers should act, even before you had made your pacts with them.

You tilt your head questioningly at him, waiting for him to continue, and he pulls back to himself, putting on a simple smile to reassure you.

"It was that mindset that led to me making a terrible mistake. One that…ended up having a great effect on the lives of Solomon and the Young Master."

He goes quiet again, remembering the moment he'd realized what he'd done — the desperate tremble in the young prince's voice, the lonely tears in his little eyes as he begged his one rare visitor to stay with him at the castle. He'd been too young to understand that Barbatos himself was the reason he lived that way.

If he were to find out now, of course, Barbatos fears how things would change. Diavolo is too just to allow Barbatos to assign himself this penitence forever, even if he did genuinely take joy in keeping himself by the royal's side. He didn't mind never using his powers without explicit instruction from his master; it had been his own suggestion. And was it so bad to chain himself, really, if he'd placed the shackles upon himself?

He'd tasted enough freedom to come to regret it.

"What kind of effect?" you prod, pulling him back to the present again with a tug on his hands, which he'd apparently placed over yours after all while lost in his thoughts.

He frowns and sits back abruptly. "I am not able to tell you the details of that yet," he snaps, immediately regretting how harsh the words come out. He tries again, more gently, "Forgive me for bringing it up. I didn't mean for the conversation to turn this way. It's rare for me to start talking about myself."

After all, it wouldn't do for the past to come back to haunt him. He'd gotten by this long without his secrets coming out; he didn't intend to start revealing them now.

But then, why had he confessed to you even this much?

"Perhaps a part of me just wanted you to understand a little more about myself."

You blush a little bit, bringing another careful smile to his face.

A part of him — just a small part, one he's suppressed for centuries now — thinks of how nice it would be to affect your feelings, your life. To leave some impression of his existence upon you.

Why else would he want you to understand him?

He feels the temptation to tell you on his tongue, in his teeth.

But, no. He'd decided to bury that old self — nailed the coffin shut on it, and wouldn't let it rise again. So that the consequences he'd always escaped wouldn't bury everything he cared about now.

That past must remain secret.

He won't go back to what he's always been.

[34saveme34]

me when I read a fanfic and it isn't the not being able to keep one tense going through the fic that puts me off for a second but the idea that 3 doesn't know he has feelings for 4

I honestly think he knows he likes 4 since about

hm. I'll say when he was exiled

I think he had time to think

yknow, despite all that happened before, you'd think that he would hold more against 4 but he doessnnn'tttttttttt

and I knoooow the meme life cicle but I think he was still very casual about it despite that

I think he realised then and overtime like thought it went away

and then 4 appeared again and thought he was fine, he was good

but then he gets to figure out he's basically 4's soulmate and it least now a lot of things start to make sense but not others and he's all over it again

for 4 it's IGBP 100% but only after a while

like he's throught he shock

maybe after all the annoyance with his living situation and he finally lives in his fuckin- don't remember the name of it but he settles down in the back to relax and his mind drifts back, thinks about 3 a little too much, the words he said still burning on his mind and it makes him so giddy and then it hits him like oh- oh huh, guess a lot of things make sense now. better repress!

I mean just- just think about it

neither of these idiots are brave enough to say anything like that, they're both scared of being vulnerable but 3 is more so. BUT 4 is way way more scared of rejection than 3 is. I mean they're basically the same amount of scared but from different perspectives. Like they see themselves this way is why I'm phrasing it this way, 4 is scared to be vulnerable like that too but he specifically thinks about the idea of 3 forever rejecting him and losing him all over this.

3 is also heavy scared of rejection but he's more scared of the idea that if he doesn't keep up his tough persona and tells 4 how he feels he'll be made fun of forever and no one will take him seriously ever again, not even as little as they already do, at least in his eyes.

then again I do absolutely think wotfi23 was a step forward from this

with 4 not trying to snoop around so hard to find out what 3 thinks, and 3 having less of a high wall up around 4, especially since 3 was drawing them not only in that specific art style but also with like.... the expressions are so specific. I do think 4 brings 3 a lot of joy, something that should be explored more

because got theough.... yknow what fuck it I'm overanalyizing that drawing, lemme put it here first

so like this piece of shit drawing <3

one thing first and this is gonna sound insane first but 4 takes up more place

and also has a more complex albeit not by that much pose

also his pose exudes energy, also with the face he makes as well

I think this is how 3 truly sees 4, like a bundle of sunshine who is full of unneeded energy

another interesting thing you might notice is 3's corner of his mouth

that little line by his beard.... he's cringing a little bit, almost like he's trying to mask enjoying 4's company. And in general, his eyes too and once again back to his posture and how he takes up less space than 4 it feels like he's holding back. Once again back to him being kind of intimacy. And when he tries to reach out it hurts him, he cringes and he's like fuming and crazy about it

WHILE he views 4 as being more open, more fun than him, more jolly than he'll ever be

it's crazy how jealously he is in love still despite everything

and we didn't quite see development from this

he loves him so much and still envies what he has with his whole soul

maybe one day the love will overtake the jealousy, especially with how 4 is like, slowly and slowly being more open (and a lil gay) about caring about 3

unless it's a one step forward one step backward type of thing

like imagine first episode of the year and we witness them step backward from a better and more truthful relationship they could have

because honestly, it isn't only about love. It's about communication issues, greatest example of that being Trash Friends of course (oh trash friends, how I miss watching you for the first time)

and it would be genuinely so genius if they, with 4's development about dropping more hints about just how much he thinks about 3

like being vulnerable

and if it was used against him OOOOOOH it would the BIGGEST step backward

if 3 let jealousy win while 4 is trying to be vulnerable with him

imagine the fall out. imagine 3 breaking, being like maybe 4 was right, maybe I really only think of myself

while 4 fully closing off, hurt

their relationship is SO conflict prone. which is why it's so fun to talk about, like why I've been rambling here for a long while now oops

I was reading a fanfic before I almost forgot 💀 anyways I do believe in 4 realising his feelings for 3 later than 3 does for 4, I think that's probably the more popular opinion in the fandom

might make a poll aboutt ittttt :3

[imagionationstation]

“What’s your hobby?”

“My hobby is writing silly turtles in traumatic situations and then counting how many people cry and ask for more. >:D”

I think that sounds completely sane 👍

Additionally:

“Woah!” He touches the strap, and Donnie jerks away from his hands so fast that his carapace slams into the wall before he crumbles. Tears are streaming now, but he doesn’t even seem to notice, more focused on the fear that commands escape. He scoots as far back as the chains will allow, never taking his gaze off his older brother. Raph hates seeing his brothers scared, and he feels goosebumps all over when he realizes that Donnie’s scared of him.

UGGHHHHH I’M FEELING THINGS AGAIN IT HURTSSSSS

Every time you present something to me, I swear I go through a wide range of emotions. Like I might be a good writer and all but HOLY BANANA SPLITS! YOU BRING THESE SCENES TO LIFE!

I’m always adding these to my collection of screen savers. (I mostly do it because it’s entertaining when I get baffled questions when they flit across my screen.) One day, I’m gonna have a wall dedicated to fan art. Get me some frames so I can see them 24/7~

T’ank ‘ou v’’y much for bring’ng me joy I wove dem all

Hey, you’re right. The links are wonky. 🤔

Tumblr is tired of hearing about my stories /smh

WE FIGHT THE SYSTEM TOGETHER!!!

"What is your hobby?"

"My hobby is drawing my favorite character in traumatic situations based on beautiful fanfiction :D"

Okay, in my mind it didn't sound so bad.

I feel better! I've been playing a game where I'm literally a dinosaur for a few hours and I've been very happy. Inspiration has returned to me, and to keep an emotional balance I've been reading fanfics of my favorite writer @imagionationstation again to cry again <3

So I am in perfect balance. I have found inner peace lmao

You know what? I think I'm getting used to drawing Donnie without a mask

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50471404?view_adult=true

Is it just me or does the link attached to the post not appear like it used to? How do I get it to appear like it used to? D:

[ewwww-what]

Talking about cogs and gears and such.

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

Jason's been pestering Danny about why he looks like a borderline walking corpse for ages and Danny has decided to put his lying skills to the test. (he has none)

rambling below cut

I've been playing w the idea that the more Danny transforms, the more his ghost form gets "lively" while his human form gets weaker and more sickly. He knows that if he keeps transforming like this then, one day, he's not going to have a livable body to go back to, but he really doesn't want to think about all that. He's more interested in the weird "totally dead but not dead" Wayne son who may or may not have a thing for his sister.

everytime i do one these im like "this time I'll keep it simple so I don't have to suffer through colouring bc I have zero foresight—it'll be greyscale at most" and then all of the sudden its 4am and i'm trying to finish a stupid comic but i decided to add "some" colour to spice it up and hide my shitty ink job and then SOME COLOUR ALWAYS BECOMES FULL COLOUR WHY CAN I NOT ESCAPE THIS STUPID CYCLE!!

(did this all stem from me not being able to decide between a super pale character design and one w a vibrant tan bc I love white hair + tan but I also love extremely pale albino so I forced myself to find a way to make both work? never! that's absurd!)

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

forever obsessed with dynamics between vampires, specifically that of a maker and fledgling, as a way to explore abuse. the creation of a vampire itself can so easily be a literalization of the lasting impacts of trauma and also much more simply the ways a perpetrator might shape their victim’s very identity. the extremes of isolation in the way that the new vampire, in most narratives, must cut all ties to their mortal life, or else go through an elaborate charade to maintain the facade of humanity, while forever still being removed from it. and the sheer dependence and vulnerability of being in an entirely new state of being, wholly uncertain of what it entails, and relying on another person to define… everything.

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me