#fluffy teeth rotting stuff

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day 6

"prom-posal"

“You sure this is gonna work,” Tommy asks as he eyes Bobby skeptically.

His former boss smiles with just a little bit of a twinkle in his eyes. “No,” he laughs. “But we’re trained to handle fire if it doesn’t.” 

Tommy just shakes his head, glancing back at the project in front of them. “Well here goes nothing.” 

. . . 

It’s not supposed to be a big thing when Tommy first starts planning. He’d talked to Maddie about it all before-hand, wanted to ensure that someone in Evan’s family was aware of his intentions. He really didn’t want to apply the pressure on Maddie or himself of ‘asking permission’. It was antiquated, and he knew that Evan didn’t really want that. He wanted Maddie’s approval, absolutely, but he wasn’t interested in Tommy calling his parents or even Bobby and Athena. “it makes me feel like people are claiming ownership of me, and the only person I want to own me is you”. He may have stated that naked in bed, but the intention behind the words still rang true.

But then, even after he’d talked to Maddie, he still didn’t know what to do. He wanted it to be simple, but he wanted it to move Evan. There was something about the look he got on his face whenever something happened he didn’t expect—like the first time they’d kissed—that Tommy got drunk on. So that required finesse. 

He thought about doing something in the helicopter first, but that lasted about five seconds. He remembered Evan’s story about the guy who had almost killed his fiancée during the proposal. Plus, skywriting wouldn’t be as fun if he couldn’t be able to do both. Then he’d contemplated something simple at home, but doing that didn’t feel like it would work either. He thought about calling Eddie for ideas, but sometimes he felt like they asked too much of him in their relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way where maybe Eddie didn’t get any breathing room because he got lucky enough to have to hear everything in their relationship from both sides. 

So then he’d called Chimney. And that had been a failed endeavor, given that his proposal to Tatiana hadn’t gone anywhere, and that his proposal to Maddie had really ended in her proposing to him after she found the ring. 

After that he felt a bit rudderless. The internet wasn’t providing him any solid ideas, he’d tapped out his friends—even everyone at work who was married—and he’d been pretty set on doing it by their anniversary, which was limiting him on time. 

So he called Bobby. It was entirely on a whim, but Bobby helped him come up with a few ideas, and by the time he’d made the dinner reservation for the night of, they had a set plan. 

. . . 

“It’s sweet that you consider the disaster date our anniversary, but honestly we kinda stole my sister’s thunder,” Evan tells him as Tommy slides his card into the cheque envelope at Miceli’s. 

Tommy nods. “And if your sister and Chimney had a clue that we classify as our real anniversary, they might actually kill us,” Tommy says with a smirk on his face. He passes the envelope off to their waiter and then picks up his glass and takes another sip from it. 

“So you wanna go see a movie,” Evan teases. “I hear they have 18 screens.” 

Tummy chuckles. 

“Nineteen now, last I heard,” he retorts. The waiter returns and passes him the envelope. He retrieves his card from it and signs off on the receipt before tucking it back in his wallet. “But no. We have other plans.” 

Evan furrows his brow at him, confused. Before he can question further though, his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he pulls it out, Bobby’s name is on the screen. 

“Take it,” Tommy tells him, finishing off the last of his beer. 

Evan nods and answers the call. 

“Hey Bobby what’s up?” 

“Hey kid,” he replies. “Look have this thing I’m working on for Athena in the back yard. It’s a pop-up gazebo type, and it’s gotta be done by tomorrow. Michael was supposed to help, but his flight got delayed-..” 

“And you need help,”Evan finishes for him. Tommy gives him a curious glance. 

“Yeah,” Bobby drawls. “If you could, I’d owe you.” 

“It’s fine,” Tommy whispers. “Say yes.” 

Evan furrows his brow deeper at Tommy. He covers the speaker of the phone and pulls it away from his head a little bit. 

“What about your plans?” 

Tommy shakes his head. “We have two days off, Evan. Plenty of time.” 

Evan sighs, but then nods, bringing the phone back to his ear. 

“We’ll be right over,” he tells Bobby. He ends the call a moment later, and Tommy has stood, is holding their leftovers in a bag in one hand, offering Evan his other. 

The drive over to Bobby’s is quiet, but comfortably so. Evan is a little miffed that their plans have changed, but secretly, he enjoys getting to spend time with Tommy and other people in his life. They get plenty of time with Maddie, Chimney, and even Eddie and Hen, but he doesn’t feel like they spend nearly as much time together with Bobby. 

They arrive some twenty minutes later, and it’s all Tommy can do to keep Evan from dragging him into the house. He’s not sure where everyone else is parked, but Evan doesn’t seem suspicious, regardless. Still, Evan tugs him along, up to the door, and then into the house when Bobby opens up for them. 

“It’s in the back yard,” Bobby says, leading them through the living room and kitchen towards the back. 

“You need us to help bring anything out,” Evan asks. Bobby just shakes his head, gestures towards the door. 

“Come on out.” 

He heads out into the back yard, Evan pulling Tommy along closely behind. As they reach the door though, Tommy stops him, just short of door.

“Wait a minute,” he murmurs, tugging Evan back towards him. 

Evan narrows his eyes at him, but then smiles and steps forward, looking an arm around Tommy’s neck. 

“I love you,” Tommy tells him before kissing the corner of his mouth. “Happy anniversary.” 

Evan smiles back at him, unable to stop the grin that pulls across his face. “Happy anniversary babe.” 

When Evan turns to the door, Tommy inhales a deep breath. All or nothing, he thinks, lifting a free hand to keep the door open as Evan passes through it, and then they’re both standing on the back patio. 

“What’s…” Evan voice trails off as his eyes fall first on his sister, and then Chimney and Jee-Yun. His eyes trail over the backyard, seeing their friends and family, and then back to Tommy, his mouth open with questions still stuck inside his mouth. 

“I love you,” Tommy states again, an adoring smile pulling on his face. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you climbed up in my helicopter and asked if you could sit next to me. There was a time when I’d written off the concepts of a family in any form, getting to find the kind of love we’ve managed to cultivate. I mean it every time I say that loving you is easy. You have given me so much in such a short time that sometimes I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream.” 

He lifts his free hand to Evan’s cheek, wipes at the tears freely flowing down his face, and then rests a finger against his lips, keeping him from speaking. 

“I’m not finished,” he states with a small chuckle. “I heard this song the other day with this line ‘a love that makes a man have second thoughts’. You make me have all the second thoughts because I never want to leave when I’m with you. So, I was wondering if you could answer a quick, particular question for me.” 

He gestures across the backyard with their linked hands, and Evan looks away from him towards where he’s pointed to. A chainlink fence has been set up with a line of wood mounted on it. Each end of it has either Eddie and Chimney nearby, holding a set of pliers with rubber gloves. As Tommy nods towards them, they each connect their end of the wiring to a battery briefly as Bobby stands off to the side, prepared with an extinguisher. As the circuit completes, the wire lights up, quickly burning the message into the wood. As soon as the fire ignites, Eddie and Chimney both release the circuit and Bobby is blasting it with the extinguisher. Once the CO2 has dispersed, the message is still there, burned into the wood, and clear in the evening twilight. 

Evan lets out a laugh, mostly out of surprise, as he glances back at Tommy, adoration in his eyes. 

“You came up with all this?” He asks. 

Tommy shrugs, a sheepish smile on his own face. “I had some help. A certain fire captain.” 

Evan is still smiling at him, uncaring of the tear that races its way down his cheek as Tommy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. As he flips it open, a black tungsten ring with a rose gold inlay is revealed. Evan gulps at the sight of it, and the way it reminds him of fire. He looks back up at Tommy as his hands come up to his boyfriend- fiancé’s neck, leaning flush against him. 

“Yes, Tommy. A million times, yes,” he laughs before capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. 

Their friends are clapping and cheering, but Evan barely hears any of it past the sound of his and Tommy’s breathing as the other man’s hand loops around his waist, holding him tight. When they finally part, it’s only because Evan needs oxygen. His gaze falls to the ring again, and Tommy watches him as he stares at it. 

“Would you like to put it on,” he asks nervously. “I won’t judge you if you don’t.” 

Evan looks back up at him like he’s insane. 

“Yes I want to wear it,” he replies. “Let the whole damn world know you’re stuck with me now.” 

Tommy laughs at him but puts enough space between them that he can step back and remove the ring from the box. Both his own hands and Evan’s are shaking as he slides it onto his finger. It slots easily into place—Tommy had made sure he had proper measurements—and Tommy curls his hand around Evan’s fingers once it’s on, lifts his hand to his lips and kisses them. 

Evan’s eyes go wide again as Tommy lowers his hand and he raises an eyebrow.

“What?” 

“We could do a summer wedding,” Evan states with a gasp. “Or early fall. Yeah, do it as the leaves change, out at Griffith. Coordinate colors to the leaves changing.” 

“Hey, can we wait twelve hours before we have to contend with wedding and Clipboard Buck,” Chimney comments from across the yard. Evan throws a glare at him, which only earns him laughter in return from his friends. 

Tommy nuzzles his jaw before kissing it. 

“We can do whatever you want baby,” he tells him. “And I for one, can’t wait to see you in all your glory.” 

[mable-stitchpunk]

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35454424/chapters/126206242

Charlie and Baby finally perform their duet. Also, Mike and Marionette decide to celebrate a special day by doing something a little unexpected. Will Mike pull through or will Mari have to give him a little help?

[gf2bellamy]

early seasons spence has me in a chokehold so i kinda have a request for you idk if it makes sense but yeah anyway (please dont tell me its obvious im a yapper ill cry)

ANYWHO

secret relationship au im imagining, earlyseasons!spencer x genderneutral/fem!bau!user (doesnt bother me but im trying to be considerate, im a girl but it really doesnt matter)

basically im thinking like the reader gets kidnapped on a case and spence is FREAKING OUT like lack of sleep, pacing constantly and being really set on finding the unsub freaking out.. and when he finally finds the reader in their state hes like that mix of relieved and absolutely appalled at the readers condition (im imagining all beaten and bloody and stuff idk how graphic you wanna make it). hes all ditsy when hes untying their binds and carrying them out of the place since hes so scared for them. the rest of the thing is kinda hotch calmly telling the reader how freaked out spence was and then im thinking like them comforting spencer afterwards and saying all the ‘its not your fault’ and ‘im okay now’ and its so fluffy it rots all our teeth (but i guess it would also be angst) IDK IF IT MAKES ANY SENSE IMSORRY

anyway remember to drink water and take care of yourself

call me some random emoji cause ill probably be here a bunch

- 🐚

captured — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader having bruises, reader being tied up, mention of having a terrible headache, a/n: thank you so so much for your request and your request makes perfect sense don't worry !! i loved the idea and i'm looking forward to your next requests 🐚 <3<3<3 i hope i did your request justice !!!

Spencer didn’t know where you were. No one did. That thought pounded through his skull, looping endlessly as he nursed what had to be his fifth coffee of the day. He hadn’t slept—not even a minute—and the caffeine barely registered.

The coffee tasted like ash, bitter and lifeless. Not that it mattered. All it was doing was keeping him on his feet long enough to find you.

He should have seen this coming. He should have known the unsub would target you. You fit the profile perfectly—he had pored over the details a hundred times, retracing every step the team had made.

And yet, when it mattered most, Spencer had let his guard down.

And now you were gone. Missing. Maybe worse.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. His guilt was unbearable.

But it wasn’t just guilt, wasn’t just worry for a teammate.

It was something deeper, something he wasn’t allowed to show, not in a room full of profilers.

Because this wasn’t just about an agent being taken.

This was about you.

The person he had been secretly slipping away with after hours and the person whose hand he had held in the darkness when no one was looking.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He should have stopped you. You should have never been the one to go on that stakeout alone, even if it was routine. Even if you’d assured him you’d be fine. The memory of your casual smile as you walked out the door stabbed at him like a knife.

“It’s just for a few hours, Spence,” you’d said with that soft lilt in your voice, the one you used when you were trying to put him at ease. The one that undid him every time.

He’d smiled back, pretending to believe you, but his stomach had tightened even then. He should have insisted on going with you.

And now—God, now—he didn’t know if he would ever hear that voice again.

It was a small mistake—one that was tearing him apart.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to let go, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. It was no use. He’d already memorized every detail, every piece of evidence. Nothing had led them to you yet.

But it would. It had to.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, exhaustion clawing at him. His entire body screamed for rest, but the idea of closing his eyes—even for a moment—felt impossible. His mind was too full of you.

The burning in his eyes was unbearable, but the ache in his chest was worse.

Everyone on the team was worried about you—how could they not be? But they were also worried about him. And they had every reason to be.

They thought his reaction was because the two of you were close, because he was the type to carry the weight of every case like a personal failure. But it was more than that.

He wasn’t just losing an agent. He was losing you.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the desk once more.

He stared at the evidence board in front of him, the faces of the victims haunting him as he tried to force his brain into profiling mode. But every time he looked at their photos, all he could see was you.

Your smile. Your eyes. The way you looked at him.

His chest tightened painfully, and he dug his fingers into the desk again.He needed to focus.

“Reid.”Hotch’s voice broke through his frantic thoughts.

Spencer’s head snapped toward the doorway where Hotch stood, his expression unreadable as always. “We’ve got a lead,” he said, stepping inside.“Where?” Spencer asked.

“An abandoned warehouse on 14th and Grant,” Hotch replied evenly, though the concern in his eyes was clear.

Spencer turned back to the board, his mind racing as he analyzed the new information. Within seconds, he made the connection. The location fit the unsub’s pattern, his profile—it was possible.

It was enough.

Spencer shot to his feet without another word, practically bolting out the door. The rest of the team exchanged quick glances before following him.

He didn’t care if he looked reckless. He didn’t care if they saw how desperate he was. He had wasted enough time already.

Derek barely had time to react before Spencer climbed into the passenger seat, his breathing uneven.

Derek glanced at him, concern flickering across his face as he started the engine. “Reid—”

“Just drive,” Spencer snapped.

Derek didn’t argue. He knew better.

The SUV tore through the streets, Derek driving faster than protocol allowed. But he didn’t care. He knew Spencer would bite his head off if he slowed down, and frankly, he couldn’t blame him.

Spencer’s knee bounced restlessly as his eyes darted to the GPS screen, counting down the seconds until they arrived.

The second the car came to a stop in front of the warehouse, Spencer threw open the door and bolted.

“Reid, wait!” Derek’s voice rang out behind him, but it was no use.

Spencer didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.

His pulse roared in his ears as he burst into the building, gun raised, breath ragged. His rational mind screamed at him to slow down, to wait for backup, to clear the scene carefully—standard protocol.

But protocol didn’t matter right now.

The dim lighting inside cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. The air was thick with dust and something metallic—rust, maybe blood. His stomach turned at the thought.

His grip on his gun tightened as he moved swiftly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Room after room, door after door—empty.

Panic coiled in his chest, squeezing tighter with each dead end. His mind flashed with worst-case scenarios.

He shoved them down. He couldn’t think like that.

Then, he reached the last door.

Spencer barely took a breath before forcing it open, gun at the ready.

And then—

His stomach dropped.

There you were.

His voice cracked as he called out your name, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed toward you, his gun immediately lowering as he took in your state.

His stomach twisted at the sight of you—unconscious, slumped forward, your wrists tightly bound to the arms of the chair. The dim lighting highlighted the bruises and cuts on your face, the sight of them sending a jolt of raw panic through him. For a brief, gut-wrenching moment, Spencer feared the worst.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they moved to your neck. His fingers pressed gently against your pulse point, but for what felt like an eternity, there was nothing.

His mind raced. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

Then—

There it was.

A faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Spencer’s lungs finally let him take a full breath. He leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as he whispered shakily, “Thank God. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

His hands moved to your face, cupping it gently as he tilted your head up to get a better look at you.

When your face came into full view, his breath hitched.

Bruises marred your cheekbone and temple, a thin line of dried blood trailing down from your hairline. Spencer’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might break. He bit his lip, trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some semblance of control

One single tear slipped down his cheek as he softly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as if he were handling glass.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

“Morgan!” Spencer’s voice cracked, raw with emotion, as he yelled.

Seconds later, Derek burst into the room, gun in hand, his face hard and alert. “Reid, I just cleared the—” But the moment his eyes landed on you, his words died in his throat.

Derek cursed under his breath, his gaze shifting between you and Spencer, before asking about your condition, his concern palpable as he rushed to Spencer’s side, holstering his gun.

“Alive,” Spencer barely managed to choke out the word, his voice trembling. “Pulse is steady, but we need to get out of here.”

Morgan nodded, his jaw tightening as he quickly pulled out his knife to cut through the ropes binding your wrists.

Spencer’s hands were already on you, one cradling the back of your head, the other resting gently on your arm. His thumb stroked soothing circles on your skin.

The motion was familiar, a small gesture he used to comfort you when you were restless after nightmares, when he needed to remind you—remind himself—that you were safe.

He hoped it would work now, that somehow, it would bring you back to him.

Morgan worked quickly, slicing through the restraints. As soon as your wrists were free, Spencer carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

His breath hitched as he whispered your name, lips near your ear. “It’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Your body felt so limp against him. He could barely feel his own limbs—his exhaustion was a distant thing compared to the need to keep you safe.

Derek’s voice broke through his daze, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

Spencer nodded. As he moved, one arm tightening protectively around you.

As they made their way outside, the sunlight hit Spencer’s face, but he barely noticed.

All he could focus on was you—the bruises and cuts that were on your skin, the way your body felt too light in his arms. His heart clenched at the thought of how much pain you must have endured, how much suffering had been thrust upon you, all because of the job.

He had promised you that he would protect you, that he would keep you safe. And now, he felt like he had failed you.

Two hours later, after one heated argument with the paramedics, Spencer had insisted on riding in the ambulance with you. He had refused to let you be alone, not for a second.

Now, you were lying in a sterile hospital bed, an IV drip hooked up to you, the soft beeping of machines a constant reminder that you were still here—still alive.

Spencer, on the other hand, was slumped in an uncomfortable plastic chair. His body contorted in a way that he knew he would regret later, but he didn’t care. His legs were stretched out, but his back was hunched, his neck bent at an awkward angle.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking as the bright overhead lights made everything blur. The room was unfamiliar—hospital white with the sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

The pain hit you almost immediately—sharp and unwelcome—making its way through your head and down your body. You winced, biting your lip to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.

The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the weight of everything that had happened.

The fear, the physical pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, it all crashed down on you like a tidal wave. But beneath it all, something else made itself known. The hum of machines, the soft beeping of your pulse, the sterile scent of the hospital room.

You slowly became aware that you were no longer in that dark, cold room, bound and at the mercy of the unsub. You were safe now.

And with that realization came relief.

You weren’t dead. You hadn’t been forgotten or abandoned. The unsub hadn’t fulfilled his plan.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall. You lifted your hand to your face, wiping them away quickly, but more kept coming. You couldn’t stop them.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw him.

Spencer.

He was there, slumped in the chair beside your bed. His exhaustion was unmistakable. His hair was messier than usual, not gelled back.

You sat there quietly observing the boy you had come to love so much.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you turned your head to see Hotch step in. His usual stern expression softened when his eyes met yours, and for the briefest of moments, you could see the relief in his gaze.

“Hi, Hotch,” you mumbled weakly, offering a small, tired smile.

Hotch stepped further into the room, taking in your condition. "How are you doing?" His voice was softer than usual, an underlying concern lacing his words as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"My head is killing me," you replied, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. Your hand instinctively went to your temple, massaging it gently, but it did little to alleviate the pain.

Hotch nodded understandingly. He glanced at Spencer briefly, noting the way he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Hotch’s eyes lingered on Spencer for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

It wouldn’t surprise you; Hotch was perceptive in ways no one else was, and your relationship with Spencer hadn’t exactly been subtle all the time.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. "We got him," Hotch said. "The unsub... he's in custody."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. The news felt like a balm to your soul.

You’d been terrified that the danger hadn’t truly passed, that the man who had done this to you would still be out there, free to hurt others. But now, you could finally breathe.

He was behind bars, where he belonged.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body finally relaxing a little, your tension ebbing away with the knowledge that the man behind your nightmare was locked away.

Hotch’s gaze softened, though his face remained stoic as always. “He was worried sick,” Hotch said, nodding toward Spencer. “He didn’t sleep. He was looking for you the entire time.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, your breath catching as you shifted your gaze from Hotch back to Spencer.

You could see the toll the search had taken on him. You fought the urge to reach for him, to run your fingers through his hair and wake him up just so you could see his face, to remind yourself that he was real, that he was here.

The face that had been your lifeline during the long days of captivity. It was that face, the one you’d thought of in the darkest moments, that had kept you sane.

Hotch seemed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Spencer, and for a moment, his usually unreadable face softened.

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he knew.

Spencer stirred slightly in his sleep, making a soft sound as he shifted. His body tensed before relaxing, the quiet movements of someone who was waking from exhaustion.

Hotch glanced down at Spencer, then back at you.He gave your arm a gentle squeeze—one that was light enough to not cause you any pain—and you looked at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Hotch said quietly. He gave you a small nod before stepping back.“Thanks, Hotch,” you mumbled, your voice still weak, but filled with genuine gratitude.

The door clicked softly behind him.As if on cue, Spencer slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light seemed to hurt him.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the relief, the exhaustion, the quiet joy of seeing you alive.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

His eyes searched your face, his expression tightening as he took in every little detail.

Spencer never liked to admit his feelings. He never said the words, but you felt them in the way his eyes lingered on you, in the way he never once left your side.

You knew what was hidden beneath the surface, even if the world didn’t.

"Hi," you mumbled back, trying to offer him a small, weak smile. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see just how badly you were hurting.

As you shifted to sit up a bit, the sharp pain in your head and limbs made itself known, and you couldn’t stop the soft groan that slipped from your lips.

Without a second thought, Spencer stood up from his seat, stepping closer to your bed, but he didn’t reach for you immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly. His eyes scanned over you—lingering on the bruises and cuts that were on your skin.

His breath caught in his throat as his gaze flickered from the fresh marks on your body to your face, and for a split second, it seemed like he couldn’t look at you without some part of him breaking.

"I’ll be fine," you said, your voice strained as you did your best to sound convincing, but the words didn’t do much to reassure him.

You could see it in the way he flinched, his hand immediately running through his hair—trying to distract himself from how visibly shaken he was by the sight of you in pain.

Spencer Reid, who always had an answer for everything, who always had control, was falling apart.

He leaned forward slightly, as if wanting to touch you but unsure if he should.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Spencer’s gaze remained on you, his body tense, and his hands flexed, still not knowing where to go. His lips parted again, as though to say something, but it came out only as a soft breath.

His fingers hovered near your arm but didn’t touch.

It was like he was afraid of hurting you more. You could see the guilt gnawing at him. It was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—" His words faltered, and he cut himself off.

"Spence," you said slowly, your voice soft but insistent. You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers curling around his gently.

His grip tightened around your hand, but it felt shaky. The words suddenly spilled out.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known. I should’ve known you could be in danger and I—” His voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat. His breath hitched, and it was clear he was trying to hold back tears.

But they came anyway, pooling in his eyes, spilling over and leaving tracks down his pale face.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—this was the man who had stayed by your side, refused to leave even when his mind told him he couldn’t handle it anymore.

The man who, despite everything, was still so gentle with you, so protective, and yet, here he was, blaming himself for things beyond his control.

"Spencer, stop," you said softly, your voice full of concern for him “Please, stop.”

His eyes remained downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I should have," he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

His voice trembled, breaking on the words. "I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure you were safe. You're hurt... you're in the hospital because of me."

Your heart broke all over again. He always did this to himself, carried the weight of everyone else’s pain as if it were his own.

"No, no," you whispered urgently, doing your best to push through the lingering pain in your head as you squeezed his hand tighter.

The effort sent a sharp pulse through your skull, but you forced yourself to focus, to hold on to him. "Spence, it wasn’t your fault. Don't ever think that," you said firmly, your voice filled with all the care and strength you had left.

"Listen to me," you continued, the words coming from the depths of your soul. "You did everything you could. You were there. You found me. You're the reason I'm alive, Spencer. If anyone should be sorry, it’s the man who did this to me, not you." Your words were soft.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his face contorting. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him together.

You took a slow, steady breath, forcing yourself to speak through the exhaustion. "You’re not the reason I’m here, Spence," you said, your voice full of the truth you wished he could feel deep inside himself. "You’re the reason I’m going to be okay. You always are."

Your words seemed to reach him, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely.

"Promise me something," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "Promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself. It’s not on you. It never was."

He nodded slowly, his hand tightening around yours in return.

“I promise,” he whispered, though it felt like he was still trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Come here," you said softly.

Without a second thought, Spencer leaned forward, his body folding into yours as he gently buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms sliding around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

His breath hitched as he adjusted, trying his best not to press too hard, too recklessly, worried about hurting you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When he finally pulled back, there was a small smile on his face that wasn’t there before.

You smiled gently, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering on his skin.

"I’m okay," you whispered, your voice tender, just for him. "I’m really okay, Spence."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer than usual, before pulling back with a contented sigh. "I’m so glad you’re here" he murmured.

You squeezed his hand tightly, smiling at him.

He pulled the chair closer to your bed, never letting go of your hand, settling into it with a deep breath. He was still physically exhausted, emotionally drained, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was that you were here.

[catiuskaa]

spots on.

SUMMARY: you. hannie. embraces. hugs. cuddles, and other synonyms. desperately needed by yesterday. complaints will be declined and ignored.

REQUESTED! by lovely annonie right here. and god you are so right, fluff + hannie is a clinical need, dare I say biblical! ㅠㅠ<3

CW: you might need a dentist appointment for this one. teeth rotting stuff. i assure you.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: so i’m back from the dead and haven’t written anything since february’s special and have been real low lately. thought fluffy hannie could cheer all of us up! <3

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

Han loved watching romantic movies by himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have anyone to watch them with. He had watched plenty of shows either with you or any of the boys.

But ever since he started writing and composing lyrics, a little before he got into college, there was something about those cheesy series that had him unable to stop watching.

His eyes would glow as he stared at the screen before him while he watched, invested in how the protagonist accidentally tripped and fell against the love interest, all over again. Giggling and kicking his feet when they held hands after hours upon hours straight of watching them bicker. Having his chest tightening because the actors were so good that he could almost feel the stars in his eyes, shining just for her.

Jisung loved those old-fashioned scenes. Dancing in the rain, a silly meet cute in a book shop… countless places for one silly little emotion.

Han couldn’t see it, but he also had stars in his eyes. He blinked, feeling his eyes lightly itchy, realizing he had been watching you sleep.

Not in a creepy way, of course. After all, you had wanted to stay over to finish one of the many assignments you two had to do together for some of the mandatory subjects in both of your majors. He sighed, his eyes weirdly fixated on your figure, unable to stop looking at you. Even while sleeping, there was a certain grace to you, as if you were just resting peacefully after a long day. He snorted upon realizing that your face was pressed against the pages of the book, a sneaky drop of drool coming out of your mouth. You looked so cute.

“Get a grip, Han,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a smile, giggling.

He rubbed his eyes, staring back to what he had been drafting the past hours. It was clearly obvious that his sleepiness was getting to him, because it was getting harder to decipher what the characters he was typing meant.

Suddenly, there was a hand lightly scratching your back.

You flinched in your place, sitting back up.

“It’s just me,” Han said softly. You blinked so slowly it almost looked like you had blinked one eyelid at a time.

“…awake. ‘M awake.” You brushed off drool from the corner of your mouth, to which Jisung chuckled lightly.

“Okay, sleepyhead. Time to go to bed.”

“Eh?”

“Bed, silly. We should have some sleep. We’re both doozing off.”

Bed? Judging by the time that the clock in Han’s apartment said, it was far from being that late, which was proved true when Hannie picked you up —God knows how, because he showed no signs of struggling— and brought the “sleepyhead” over to his room, that even after turning off the lamp on the bedside table, the windows let in light that the Sun had yet to take away while leaving space for the Moon to beam in a couple of hours.

He grunted lowly when he laid you down on the bed, which had little to do with your weight and much more with how you pulled him towards you.

“Hannie.” You mumbled sleepily.

“You’re close to cranky,” he smiled. “You haven’t had your coffee, and you fell asleep doing our assignment.” He sighed, moving stray hairs off your face, his hand lingering on its side, stroking your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to get on your cranky side.” Jisung teased with a tenderness only showed in your presence, not in his usual teasing, not with the rest of the world. Somehow, time spent with Han seemed like the world itself stopped spinning, waiting for you two and catch up later.

“…no.” You whined. His hand still rested on your face. Unusual. You didn’t want him to move it. “I don’t want to steal your bed.”

Unconciously, you moved closer to the warmth that his palm brought.

“It’s ok. You came here walking, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, not at this time.”

You frowned at him, almost pouting. You purposefuly resigned to argue, sleepily accepting his win over a silly discusion you could’ve won. But it was much better if it meant that he would keep being so… tender. You two were dating, yes, but it was quite strange, because even if you both knew about each other’s feelings, staying together had been more of a silent agreement.

Yet in that moment, seeing him smile, dark boba coloured eyes sheepishly and momentarily hidden by it, turning them into happy crescent-shaped moons, it was easy to figure asking was worth a shot.

“…stay w’me?”

His heart skipped more beats than he could count.

This hadn’t been planned. Well. Certainly not this way.

“Stay?” His tone of voice had lowered.

You hummed, smiling lightly. Your hand creeped up to his, the one that rested close to your face. In a sleepy move on your side, tantalizing for Jisung, your fingers tickled his skin, from his forearm to his palm, following a gentle path until your hand held his, and you pulled him towards you again, with more care this time.

Jisung could hear his mate’s low voice in his head, full with its classic australian accent.

“Ain’t no way she’s not head over heels for you too. I’d bet money on it,” Felix had chuckled, sipping the beer Han had handed him. “You guys are just blind cunts when you wanna be. Affectionately, of course,” he had added after seeing Jisung squint at him.

Han struggled to get comfortable in his now seemingly small bed. Of course it was small for two people. It had to be, because if you two were to fit in the space avaliable, it would mean that-

“…cold…”

The ruffles coming from how you then shifted on the bed were no match to how loud Han’s heartbeat sounded on his ears.

Your arm slid under his, lying limply on the curve of his waist, the other cocooned in the small space you settled in between you as you slotted your face in the crook of his neck.

thump, thump, thump.

He forced himself to relax.

“…how are you so warm, Ji?”

He had no fucking idea.

“Warm?”

You nodded, your hair tickling his face gently.

“…cozy. Like… a really cute ‘n little… weighted blanket.” You sighed, further relaxing into him, sending a chill to his spine as your warm breath brushed against his neck.

He was so fucking grateful for being so.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He stated with a silly smile, a blush clearly obvious on his cheeks. He tackled you, and the two of you filled the room with giggles, his arms taking your body and settleing it on top of him.

You melted in his arms. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his hands playing with your hair. “I was only away for the weekend.”

“…don’t care.” His heart threatened to carve through his chest or melt when you tightened your hold on him, then tugged the blanket closer, covering you, thus covering him too.

He settled a strand of your hair behind your ear, noticing little moles in the way.

“I hadn’t noticed these ones before,” he mumbled in a soft voice that could almost lull you to sleep.

You hummed, not bothering to answer.

“I’ve heard somewhere,” he started soothingly, “that moles appear in the spots where, in your past life, you were kissed the most.”

With a sweetness that rottened your teeth, he pecked the small coloured spot in your neck. Then, he followed a short pattern, kissing the one under your ear, then another one in your shoulder, then finished off with the one in your cheek.

You smiled. “You don’t have any moles, do you?” He shook his head sideways, and you chuckled, brushing your nose with his sweetly.

“You better stay put, Ji,” you beamed cheekily. “I’ll make new moles on you.”

His chest tightened, and he beamed, chuckling as you peppered kisses all over his face.

A love scene like the movies.

His new favourite one.

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~Kats, who has to apologize for being dead for so long (and doesn’t quite have an excuse for it), and also has to tHANK ALL OF YOU BC WE’RE 1k FOLLOWERS IN BAKFBQIFNQKFKQK THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS SRSLY I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN WJKFBAKF <333333

[violetsrxse]

Just Tell Me When | Vi x fem!reader

Listen while reading - The Christmas Song: Nat King Cole

Summary - A cozy night in with Vi leads to you both deciding to take a big step in not only your relationship, but your life.

Word Count - 1,778

CW - Modern AU, very self indulgent, so fluffy your teeth are gonna rot, the smallest sprinkling of angst (if you squint), reader is a bit shorter than Vi, no use of 'Y/N', written in 2nd person

A/N - It's been snowing in my area the past week or so and when I was admiring the beauty of it this fic idea hit me and I just had to write it down. I almost want to make this a part of a collection of one-shots, as I have a lot of motivation to write for Vi right now. Anyways... I hope you enjoy, because I'm so so happy with how this turned out! <3

Modern Chef!Vi Masterlist

~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~❅❆❅~

It’s a perfect night, fat snowflakes falling softly from the heavens, blanketing the rooftops and the calm street in a soft embrace. Every house is set alight by Christmas lights of every hue. The sun has long set and everyone has found themselves settled comfortably into their homes, spending the evening with close friends and family. But for one specific couple, it’s a very special night. Even if they don’t know it. 

In one particular house at the end of the street, this one too set alight by light blue and white Christmas lights, a freshly baked pan of cinnamon rolls sits warm on the kitchen counter, accompanied by two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The only sounds throughout the home being the soft crackling of the fireplace and gentle humming of a familiar Christmas tune.

Vi padded into the kitchen, her fuzzy socks muffling the sound of her steps as she strides up to you and sneakily snakes her arms around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“Whatcha up to, angel?” Her voice is soft as she eyes the pan, inhaling the sweet scent of the icing. 

“Thought I’d make us a sweet treat,” you smile as you feel her begin to sway the both of you back and forth, hands resting over Vi’s on your abdomen. “I know how much you love these.”

She hums with a grateful smile, pressing a featherlight kiss to your neck. It wasn’t often the two of you got to just relax and spend time together like this, but the recent snowfall has proven to be an issue regarding transportation. Meaning that the both of you had scored a day off of work and an opportunity to just relax together. 

You stand there for a moment, enjoying the calm atmosphere and the warm feeling of being in your girlfriend's arms. A moment too long seems to have passed in silence as you find yourself getting lost in your thoughts, it’s proven to be so when the sound of Vi’s voice startles you and breaks your train of thought. 

“Y’know… you’re really good at all this romantic stuff,” she pauses, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh, her arms tightening around you. “Sometimes I worry I’m not good enough for you, that I don’t do enough.”

The thought is absurd to you. How could she of all people believe she isn’t good enough? After everything she’s done for you, all of the happiness she has given you that you hadn’t even been sure was possible. It’s outrageous that she would think herself not enough for you.

“Don’t say that,” You turn in her hold, arms looping around her neck. “You’ve been nothing but perfect to me since the day I met you.” Your eyes are locked on hers, voice firm.

Vi searches your face for any sign of insincerity, even if she knows she won’t find any. Why would she? You’ve always been genuine and sweet to her, it’s why she started calling you angel. Because in her eyes, you are one. 

“I just- I know I may not be as sweet or romantic as you deserve,” a deep breath “But I really do try to be everything you need.” She’s rambling and she knows it, but she wants you to understand, needs you to see how hard she’s trying for you. 

Her heart stalls when you just look up at her with a smile, because you already know it. You see it in the way she remembers the little things you tell her. The way she’s always making sure you’re comfortable and happy, regardless of her mood or how stressful her own day was. She always puts your needs above her own, even if she doesn’t have to. Even if you’ve told her countless times she doesn’t.

“You are everything I need.” The words are a whisper, but they hit her right in her very soul and she can’t help the small smile that pulls at her lips when you nestle further into her embrace.

“You mean that.” It’s not a question, because she can see the honesty in the way you look at her, the gentleness in the way you hold her.

All you respond with is a smile, your head dropping to rest on her shoulder as you resume your soft humming, your bodies continuing to sway, but now to the rhythm of the melody.

It’s amazing the way you disarm her, make her feel all fuzzy inside. But she isn’t complaining, because why would she? She has everything she could ever want, all of the happiness and contentment she could ever ask for. 

“I love you.” It’s hushed, whispered against your skin as she plants a soft kiss to your temple. And even though you’ve heard the phrase leave her lips a thousand times over, it will never fail to make your stomach erupt with butterflies and turn your legs to jelly.

“And I love you, Violet.” The words are spoken just as softly, like it’s the most treasured secret to ever be shared. And it might as well be, because no one else gets to know her like this. No one else will ever know what it’s like to love her and be loved by her this way. To kiss her or to be kissed by her, because only you possess the privilege of experiencing how completely unraveling it is. 

She smiles sweetly against your shoulder, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your back as she holds you.

“Have I told you lately how much I adore you? How right you make everything feel?” Her voice is a hushed whisper, music sung only for you to hear. “Because even if I were standing out in the cold, just knowing you’re mine would make me feel warmer than I’ve ever been.”

A soft giggle escapes you at her words, your cheeks heating at her confession.

“Never like this,” You pull back to glance up at her with slightly raised brows, taking in the way her beautiful blue eyes sparkle when she looks at you. “You’re more of a poet than you seem.” The sentence is finished off with a chaste kiss to her jaw.

Your words have her face lighting up, her smile so sweet you’d have to brush your teeth just for witnessing it. 

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she responds.

“I guess you bring it out in me, angel.” There’s more she wants to say, it’s evident in the way she nibbles on her lip and her gaze flickers over your features. “I have something to ask you.” She sounds almost hesitant, or maybe nervous. But either way it has you curious.

You hum, fingers brushing through the longer strands of hair at the back of her head.

“Ask away.”

A moment passes before she takes a deep breath and says, “If I told you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, would you think I was crazy?” Her gaze is adoring, punctuated by the slightest furrow in her brows.

“No,” You pause, lips pulling into a smile. “Because I would tell you that I feel the exact same way.”

It’s jarring how fast her eyes widen and well with tears, her lashes fluttering as she rapidly blinks them away. 

“You’d… really want to be with me forever? Like, get married and grow old together?”

“I want everything with you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she can’t keep it at bay this time, a lone tear tracking down her cheek and to her chin. But she doesn’t care, because she’s cupping your cheeks like you’re the most delicate piece of art and she’s pressing her lips to yours.

Your response is instant, your fingers brushing her cheek as you rid her skin of the salty moisture, her lips fitting perfectly with your own. 

It’s not long before she’s pulling back and she’s speaking again.

“Will you marry me? Like, right now?” Her voice is soft and hopeful.

When you only blink for a good few seconds, she begins to feel discouraged before your own eyes are welling with tears and you’re nodding.

“Yes,” A soft sniffle. “I would love to marry you. Not right this minute obviously but definitely yes.”

It’s then that the biggest smile you’d ever seen on her brightens her face and she’s wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She repeats like a mantra, several tears breaking her waterline and tumbling down her cheeks. “I’m gonna make it perfect. You’ll see.”

You laugh softly, your own arms banding around her and pulling her close.

“I don’t doubt it, my love.” You take a deep breath. “But I will say, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

Vi pulls back, cupping your cheeks and gazing into your eyes with overwhelming love and adoration.

“That’s alright… the fanciest part is already standing right here.” Her calloused fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before lingering on your cheek.

It makes you laugh, the way she looks so proud of the comment cracking you up. But it still warms your heart, knowing that behind the cheesy jokes, it’s all said out of love.

Even as you laugh, her expression doesn’t change.

“It doesn’t matter to me if we have a big fancy wedding or we just go down to the courthouse and elope. I don’t care if we have fancy flower arrangements or if we just pick some up from the local flower shop.” She pauses, catching her breath. “As long as I get to look in your eyes and say ‘I do’, I’ll be happy.”

Your eyes widen as her words sink in, lip trembling with overwhelming emotion.

“You have no idea how much that means to me.” You whisper, taking her hand and lacing your fingers together.

Vi uses her free hand to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, her touch featherlight as she gives you an adoring smile.

“I think I do.”

With a trembling lip you press into Vi’s embrace once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her and using it to ground yourself. 

It’s when you pull away that Vi smiles again.

“There’s my sweet girl.” She murmurs, her warm hands framing your face as she speaks again. “I don’t have a ring for you yet, but I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you.” Another pause. “But I’m ready, I want to be with you forever. So whenever you’re ready, whether it’s now or in a few years, just tell me when.”

[meangirls-imagines]

hi! just wanted to say i really liked the poly!plastics.

now i keep thinking about Regina and Reader being the hotheaded types in their relationship, trying to protect Karen and Gretchen (but mostly Karen lol)

also this is just me projecting but i’m also picturing them all cozied up in the bed together and then R wakes up and goes to smoke outside because they can’t go back to sleep. but like one or two of them wake up and are like “where the fuck did she go.” when she comes back they’re all kind of half awake, grumpily looking at R wanting them to come back to bed.

A.M

Description: Reader can't sleep so she decides to go out to smoke. The plastics are extremely clingy when they are sleepy so when Reader leaves, they coax her back to bed.

WARNINGS: weed consumption, sleepy soft plastics, clingy plastics, fluffy, so sweet it will rot your teeth

Y/N couldn't sleep.

It wasn't for a lack of trying. She had fallen asleep, but continued to wake up. She didn't know why. But she knew what could help.

She got lucky and didn't get caught in the middle of the cuddle pile tonight so she was easily able to slide out of bed and throw on a hoodie and sweats. It was getting cold outside and the last thing she wanted to do was get sick.

She quietly grabbed her materials and went out to Regina's huge backyard. The porch was covered and had a table in front of the couch so Y/N laid her stuff out and began to roll a joint. She softly sang to herself as she rolled and smiled in satisfaction at her joint.

She lit it and took a long drag, feeling the smoke enter her lungs as she exhaled deeply. She sat back on the couch and felt her body relax.

This was just what she needed.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Regina slowly stirred awake.

The blonde had felt like something was missing so she sat up and looked around. Her feeling was confirmed shortly after when she noticed Y/N was not in bed with them. She looked around confused, noticing the bathroom light was off.

She was about to get worried before the familiar smell of weed wafted into Regina's nose. She rolled her eyes affectionately before getting out of bed, stretching and putting one of Y/N's hoodies (that she totally didn't steal) on.

She shuffled her way downstairs and to the back door. She opened the door and her eyes found Y/N sitting on the couch. She was halfway done with the joint and scrolling on her phone.

At the sound of the door opening, Y/N looked up with half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. She smiled dopily at the blonde as she made her way to the high girl.

"Hi baby girl, whatcha doing up?" Regina sat next to Y/N, gently plucking the joint out of her hand and taking a hit. "I can ask you the same thing." Y/N shrugged, taking the joint back and taking a hit.

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want wake you girls up." Y/N ashed the joint, saving the last of it for later as Regina straddled her lap. "Baby, we've talked about this. We don't care if you wake us up. We want you to be healthy baby."

Y/N sighed and buried her face in Regina's neck. The blonde gently stroked the hair at the back of Y/N's neck. The back door opened again, revealing a sleepy Karen and Gretchen.

They had blankets over their heads like capes and looked at their girlfriends grumpily. "What's happening out here? Why are you guys not in bed?"

Regina smiled at how cute her girls looked. "Our girl couldn't sleep." She was still running her fingers through Y/N's hair. The girl began to get sleepy as Regina finally stood, holding her hand out for Y/N.

Karen walked over and gathered Y/N's grinder, rolling tray and other materials before helping Regina guide their girl back to bed. Gretchen led the way back to Regina's room, plopping on the bed and opening her arms for Y/N.

Y/N crawled into the girl's arms and laid her head on Gretchen's chest. Regina got in behind Y/N and Karen behind Gretchen. The girls' warmth surrounded Y/N. She felt surrounded by love as the three girls all were touching her somehow.

Gretchen had her hand in Y/N's hair, Regina had her had buried in Y/N's neck, and Karen was holding one of Y/N's hands. The three fell asleep quite quickly, surrounded by each other's love.

Y/N woke up the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of waffles. She smiled and sat up to stretch. She eventually got out of bed to brush her teeth and headed downstairs to see her girls making breakfast.

(More like Gretchen was cooking and Regina and Karen were looking pretty.)

She went behind Gretchen, who was at the stove and hugged her from behind. "Morning, gorgeous. Whatcha cooking?" Gretchen blushed and leaned back into the embrace.

"Eggs, turkey bacon, waffles, strawberries." Y/N smiled and kissed Gretchen's cheek. She turned to Karen and Regina, pecking them both on the lips before grabbing a glass for orange juice.

After breakfast, since it was Saturday, the girls decided to have a lazy day. They all cuddled on Regina's massive bed, watching trashy tv and eating snacks.

Gretchen called dibs on Y/N cuddles and let the girl lay her head in her lap, playing with her hair. Regina and Karen snuggled with each other, whispering cute things to each other.

Eventually, the feeling of Gretchen's fingers running through her hair lulled Y/N to sleep.

The girls noticed and snapped pics of their girl.

Regina posted them to Instagram.

@queenbgina: our heart ❤️

[twink-remus-lupin]

i think maybe the reason the portrayal of remus in the marauders fandom in the last few years is so upsetting to me is that the reason i got into this fan base was because of how much i related to him. i started getting into the fandom when remus was still a skinny gay book nerd who was shy but funny and sweet and endlessly loyal. wolfstar was soft love and more about fluffy-teeth-rotting moments between remus and sirius.

now we have buff alpha bad boy remus who can’t read and tiny twink sirius with a full face (including lashes) and a mini skirt.

genuinely what happened to classic wolfstar? what happened to rowdy punk rock sirius with his band t shirts and leather jacket and stubble? where’s soft, lanky remus?

in attempting to wrestle wolfstar away from jkr you’ve stripped remus and sirius of all of their defining characteristics that made them so interesting in the first place. they’ve lost all characterization and relatability in exchange for this horny,booktok, smut-obsessed bullshit i can’t escape from.

so yeah, i’m not a fan of modern wolfstar.

(this isn’t even touching on all of the jegulus stuff)

[sixhours]

Firsts - Birthday

Rating: Explicit (here be smut) Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Ellie, Ellie Williams, Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 7k

Notes: Smut and a whole lotta fluff ahead!

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

Joel blinks awake, peering into the faint light that ekes around the edges of the blackout curtains, immediately on edge, a familiar sinking feeling in his gut telling him something is wrong.

He fumbles for the alarm clock, squinting at the time.

That can’t be right.

He scrambles out of bed, heart in his throat.

There’s no fuckin’ way.

Tiptoeing over to the crib, he peers over the side. Anna is sleeping soundly on her stomach, one fist pressed to her mouth, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

He blinks and clears the sleep from his eyes, just to be sure. She’s still breathing, still alive. His knees go weak with relief.

He creeps back to the bed, taking a seat and willing his heart to settle down.

She slept through the night.

Not even sure what to do with this information, he slides back into bed where Charlie is just beginning to stir.

“She’s…still asleep,” he says distantly.

“Mmph…what?”

“She slept through.”

Charlie blinks, looks over at the crib. “Well…holy shit.”

“Yeah. I don’t…”

“Wow.”

They look at each other in shared disbelief. Without thinking, Joel leans down and presses his lips to hers, half out of love, half out of sheer triumph.

“Hi,” she whispers when they finally part. He’s grinning, almost laughing, maybe a little manic.

He feels fucking amazing. Eight hours' sleep and he’s ready to conquer the world.

But first, he’ll start with her.

Leaning in again, he lets their lips meet tenderly, nipping at Charlie’s mouth until she sighs a deep, tremulous sigh, opening under him. He cups her face, hand cradling the delicate line of her jaw, brushing her cheek with his thumb. His hips grind into hers lightly, and he arches an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Mmm, yes,” she breathes.

Deepening the kiss, he rolls them, hand slipping under her sleep shirt to cradle the fullness of one breast, tongue darting out to lick the soft skin of her lower lip. Soon he can’t resist pushing the shirt up to see her, rich and ripe and ivory smooth. His tongue circles a nipple, gives a gentle, tender suck. She gasps and arches into him, his cue to keep going, and he does, laving at her breasts until she’s writhing beneath him.

He’s vaguely aware of her hand slipping into his boxers, then acutely aware of her stroking him. Rhythm momentarily lost, he pushes into her palm with a muffled groan. His hands wander over her soft curves, gripping at her hips, sliding down, down between her legs, finding her slick. He draws his fingers lightly back and forth, circling the way she likes, and it becomes a game to see who can get the other to break first. Then she pushes his hand away.

“Much as I…appreciate…the foreplay,” she says, panting softly. “We’re on borrowed time.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, catching her drift. They’ll need to be quick, as usual.

She throws her leg over his hip, not bothering to remove her underwear. He fumbles and pulls them aside, lines up, pushes inside.

“Hoooo-ly shit,” she gasps, at the edge of a whine, hands gripping his shoulders. “Oh, fuck, Joel–”

He’d like more time to ease into it, but they have what they have. How long has it been, anyway? Weeks?

Way too fuckin’ long.

“You good?” he rasps, stilling for a moment, letting her adjust.

She nods frantically and he growls a wordless response into the line of her jaw, kissing along it, rocking them with his hand gripping her ass, grinding into her until they’re both groaning softly and he’s buried to the hilt. Small wonder they are where they are, he thinks dully, looking down the barrel of sixty with a baby on his hip.

Her fingers dig into the meat of his bicep, other hand threading through the curls at the nape of his neck; his hair is getting long and he’s suggested cutting it, but she pouts with those sweet pink lips and shakes her head.

“I like it long,” she’ll say, eyes flashing. “More to hold.”

Just the thought has him careening toward the edge at a pace that’s frankly embarrassing. He grits his teeth and tries to think of anything other than the hot, wet clutch of her around him as they rock together. She may have indicated they should make it quick, but he has no intention of being premature about it.

The little sounds she’s making in his good ear are doing nothing to help, so he snakes a hand between them, slowing his pace to rub the rough pad of his index finger between her folds, offering her friction.

“Ohhh, fuck, yes…just like that, just–ah!”

He doesn’t trust himself to move, just lets her set the pace, writhing against him as he nips at her ear, traces the shell with his tongue, sucks at the ridge of her collarbone. When he feels her fluttering contractions, he stifles her moan with his lips and thanks fuck because he’s not going to last. A few more good thrusts and he’s coming, spilling inside her, fingers gripping the pillow by her head until his hand aches and his head is spinning.

Charlie smirks, blinking sleepily at him. He can feel the sweat at his temple and down his back as he rolls onto his side, trying to take his weight off her while keeping them joined. He nuzzles the hollow at her throat and waits for his breathing to settle, for the fog of release to clear.

“Not a bad way to wake up,” she murmurs, carding her fingers through his hair.

He gives a quiet grunt of agreement, but hasn’t found his words yet.

Then there’s a soft coo from the other side of the room.

“Uh oh,” Charlie whispers, carefully peering over Joel’s shoulder. “I think we have an audience.”

“Shiiiiiit,” he groans, pulling out with a soft hiss. He slowly looks back to find Anna standing in her crib, peering through the bars. At the sight of him she bounces on her feet and lets out a little cry of delight, raising one tiny hand and waving frantically.

Joel turns back to Charlie, face burning. “How long d’you think she’s been awake?”

She snorts a laugh and cups a hand to her mouth.

“D’you think–think she saw, uh–”

“Memory doesn’t kick in until at least two, so…if she did, she won’t remember it.”

That…does not make him feel better.

“She’s movin’ to her own room,” he grumbles. “Tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie says skeptically. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I mean it this time,” he mutters. “Movin’ her crib today. Soon as she’s down for her nap, I’m–”

Another cry, this one more insistent and accompanied by the soft smack smack of a chubby fist against the bars of the crib.

“Alright, baby girl,” Charlie sighs, slipping from the bed, stripping off her T-shirt. “We’re up.”

Joel wraps the sheet around his waist and watches as Charlie plucks Anna from the crib, swaying a little, then puts her to the breast. She barely nurses now, more interested in sticking her fingers in her mother’s mouth and nose and giggling when she gets a reaction. Charlie paces and gently redirects Anna’s grabby hands.

The sight of his partner–hair mussed, cheeks flushed, nursing their child–makes him glad to be as old as he is, otherwise he’d be starting the day with blue balls.

With that thought, Joel gets up, planting a kiss on the top of Anna’s fuzzy head, and another at Charlie’s temple.

“Gonna shower.”

Joel has just finished rinsing off when the shower curtain is pulled open and a naked, kicking baby appears, held aloft by her mother.

“Clean this, please,” she says.

He accepts the squirmy bundle and seats her against his side, adjusting the shower head so it’s not spraying in her face. Anna grins and grabs at Joel’s nose.

“Yeah, yeah. Better hope you got your mama’s,” he mutters, booping her little snub nose in return.

He grabs the rubber duck squeaky toy from the edge of the tub, offering it to her, making the sign for duck when she takes it in two chubby hands. She immediately shoves the head in her mouth and bites down hard; the duck lets out a pitiful squawk.

“Teethin’ again, huh?” he says, and she chomps on the toy even harder.

Joel reaches for the soap while she’s distracted, washing her as quickly as possible. When they’re both washed and rinsed, he wraps the baby in a towel, exchanging another kiss with Charlie as she gets into the shower.

He lets Anna loose to toddle around the bedroom while he gets dressed. She hangs onto the furniture, still hesitant about taking her first un-guided steps. He remembers Sarah doing the same thing at this age, leaving little drool trails along the edges of the furniture. He sweeps her up, tossing her on the bed and diapering her with skilled fingers.

“Alright, bug. Let’s get you dressed.” He tries to remember the sign for clothes but can’t; too early, no coffee. Ellie would know, he’ll have to ask her.

He pulls out overalls, a t-shirt, and socks, then a warm sweater for good measure. Anna rolls and wiggles and tries to crawl away as he wrestles her into the outfit piece by piece.

“Like tryin’ to dress a fish,” he mutters, making the sign for fish just to emphasize the point. Anna grins a gummy smile and grabs for his nose again. He blows a raspberry on her denim-clad belly and lets her sticky fingers grip his hair.

“Happy birthday, bug,” he whispers.

Downstairs, Joel plops her in the highchair with a smattering of frozen blueberries, freeing his hands to make breakfast.

“Birthday pancakes are a tradition in this family,” he says, signing as much as he can remember in her direction as he speaks. “You were too young to have ‘em on your sister’s birthday, but I think you’ll like ‘em.”

She gives a plaintive whine and swipes her hand across the highchair tray, scattering most of the berries to the far corners of the kitchen. She picks one of the stragglers up, carefully pinched between thumb and forefinger. Joel watches out of the corner of his eye as she sticks it into her mouth, then immediately spits it out with a trail of drool.

Yeah, definitely teething.

He’s just put the batter for the first pancake in the pan when Anna begins to fuss in earnest.

“Alright,” he sighs. “C’mere, you little gremlin.”

He balances her on one hip while watching the forming pancake, waiting for it to bubble. He’s just flipped it over when the front door opens.

“Oooh, birthday pancakes,” Ellie says in greeting. Anna nearly lurches out of Joel’s arms, both hands making grabby motions at her sister, and he fumbles to keep her upright and manage the stove at the same time.

“Take her,” Joel says. “Or the birthday pancakes are gonna be burnt-day pancakes.”

“Whoa–did you just make a pun?” She reaches out and takes Anna, who immediately tries to stuff her fingers up Ellie’s nose.

“You have no witnesses,” he says, flipping the first pancake, only slightly crispier than he’d like.

“Eh, I give it a five. Mostly for effort,” she smirks. “You’re Mr. Chipper today.”

Joel’s lips quirk in a smile. “She slept through the night.”

“Who, Charlie?”

He side-eyes her. “The baby, smartass.”

“You?” she asks, eyes on Anna, bouncing her in her arms until the baby leans over, pointing toward the floor. “You wanna get down, huh?”

“Think she’s gonna walk soon. Any day now.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

Anna holds onto the stool at the counter and looks up at Ellie with big, silver eyes. Ellie signs walk and Anna bounces up and down, then reaches up with one hand and a whine.

“Up? Again?”

“Her favorite game,” Joel grumbles, sliding the next pancake onto the plate and covering it. “Up, down, up, down, all damn day.”

Ellie holds her little sister in the air and wiggles her until she laughs, riotous and drooling.

“She spits up on you, I’m not cleanin’ it up.”

“Grumpy old man,” Ellie says, tossing her sister in the air. “Never lets us have any fun, huh?”

“Real fun gettin’ puked on.”

Anna signs down again and Ellie obliges. This time the baby drops to her hands and knees and crawls, making a beeline for something on the floor just as Charlie comes downstairs, hair damp from the shower, dressed in jeans and layers.

“First day back,” Ellie says. “You nervous?”

“A little,” she admits. “But I’m looking forward to it, too.”

It’s been a year and a half since Charlie was taken off patrol duties for maternity leave. She’s done a few shorter runs to warm up, re-trained on her weapons, but today she’ll be outside the walls for the whole day. Joel’s stomach twists at the thought, but he makes his voice light.

“She’ll be fine. I’m the one who should be nervous,” Joel says, eyeing Anna, who has crawled to the corner to find one of those errant blueberries, shoving it in her mouth before anyone can intervene. “Leavin’ me with the feral one here.”

“Yuck,” Charlie remarks, plucking the baby up, examining her sticky hands, now stained with rich purple juice and flecked with dust. She washes her at the sink before putting her back in the highchair.

“Builds her immune system,” Ellie quips. “And that’s not a nice way to talk about your kid, dude.”

“Who says I was talkin’ about her?” he smirks. “I have more than one kid, y’know.”

“Well, I know you’re not talking about me, because I’m on patrol today, too.”

“I know,” Joel says pointedly. “And you be careful, y’hear? No wanderin’ off, stay with the group, keep your–”

“‘Keep your wits about ya, eyes and ears open,’” she says in a terrible impression of his drawl. “I got it, I got it. Not my first rodeo.”

“Patrol ain’t a rodeo,” Joel grumbles, placing a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Here, eat.”

Anna lets out a faint screech of protest at the sight of Ellie’s food, frantically signing “please” until Joel drops a handful of bite-sized pancake pieces in front of her. She makes a happy burbling noise, grabbing one and squishing it in her fist before shoving it in her mouth, fist and all. For a few minutes, things are blissfully calm.

“That goes for you, too,” he says quietly to Charlie, pouring a mug of chicory coffee and holding it out. She’s digging through the fridge, pulling out the milk. “Be careful out there. Don’t gotta be a hero.”

“You said it yourself. I’ll be fine,” she says, taking the coffee with a smile and a kiss that warms his cheek.

He nods, bites the inside of his lip, silently reassuring himself. Charlie is a crack shot, capable, steady handed with a sharp eye. A few more runs to get her feet under her and she’ll be back to leading patrols again. Nothing has changed.

Everything has changed.

“Oh, the cake’s in the fridge,” Charlie says. “I asked them to set aside our dinner at the kitchen so we don’t have to cook, but you need to pick it up.”

“Think Anna and I can manage that. Right, bug?”

He turns toward her and does a double take. In the five minutes she’s had her food, Anna has managed to get blueberry juice and pancake crumbs from the tips of her fingers to the roots of her hair. She smacks the tray in front of her and grins with berry-streaked teeth.

Ellie, whose table manners are only marginally better, has already finished her plate, too.

“Shit, forgot my gloves,” she says, hopping off the stool with her mouth still half full. “Meet you over there?”

“Will do,” Charlie says, sipping at her coffee. Ellie is out the door before Joel can finish saying goodbye, and Charlie turns to him, fixes him with her silver stare. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

He sighs and leans back against the counter, nursing his own mug. “Be just fine,” he says. “Nothin’ I haven’t done before.”

And it’s true, he doesn’t mind staying back. He never had the privilege of seeing Ellie’s childhood, and he saw a lot less of Sarah’s than he wanted to. Most days it felt like she spent more time with Tommy or the Adlers than him, a source of guilt that still gnaws at him, absent from so many hours in a life cut short. He was always missing something, always late, always falling short.

Things are different with Anna in so many ways, but at least in this life, he gets to be there for it, blueberry-stained fingers and all.

They say their goodbyes at the door, Anna perched on Joel’s hip.

“You’ll come back,” he says, softer than he means to, and Charlie just nods. They embrace, the baby squished awkwardly between them.

“Wave to mama,” he says around the lump in his throat, and Anna does, dutifully flapping her hand until Charlie is down the street and out of sight.

“Dunno why we bother with the shower,” Joel sighs, looking the baby over when it’s just the two of them. “Y’look like you ate a damn Smurf.”

It takes another half hour to clean Anna and get her dressed to go out, several wipe-downs and a fresh outfit and everything short of a second bath before she’s bundled in her snowsuit and strapped to Joel’s back. Thankfully she’s still portable and happy to be carried, or the morning errands would take that much longer.

His first stop is the greenhouse, to pick up their share of vegetables for the week, meager as it is this time of year. Their neighbor, Marjorie, is doling out shares when Joel steps up to the counter. She coos at Anna, talking in a sing-song baby-talk voice.

“Aw, is someone giving Mommy a break today?”

Joel bites the inside of his cheek and forces a smile. End of the fuckin’ world and the Mr. Mom jokes are just as annoying as they were back when he was toting Sarah around. He’s about to brush it off when a voice carries over his shoulder.

“I should hope he’s taking care of his own child. You make it, you take it.”

Joanie, the midwife, pushes past them in her usual brusque manner. For once, he’s happy for her sharp tongue.

Marjorie isn’t fazed, only greets the gray-haired midwife and hands her a bag of garlic and onions and sprouts, then turns back to Joel.

“It’s a wonder you have so much energy,” she continues breezily. “I just don’t know what I’d do if I had a little one at our age.”

Never mind that Marjorie is at least ten years his senior, he’s not even the oldest father in Jackson–there are plenty of older parents, although most of them are adoptive. Still, most folks aren’t tactless enough to mention it.

Joanie seems to have moved on, so Joel is left to his own devices with a response.

“We manage,” he grits out. “You have a good day, Mrs. Allan.”

She opens her mouth, probably to say something even more offensive, but he’s already out the door. If anyone gives him shit later, he’ll use his bad hearing as an excuse.

Next, he swings by the caf to pick up their dinner for the night. It’s nothing fancy–a canister of soup and a fresh loaf of bread–but it will be nice to have a family meal at home, no interruptions from well-meaning neighbors about council business, and trying to keep Anna focused on her food during the hustle and bustle of community dining is a challenge. Joel is reminded why–aside from financial reasons–they rarely dined out when Sarah was little.

The kitchen staff fawn over the baby while they wait for their food. None of them seem to have opinions on his age or his fitness as a parent, for which he’s grateful, and they chat with Anna in normal, adult tones. She can’t hear, but the kid soaks up their attention nonetheless, grinning from ear to ear and flapping her hands when she gets excited. José, the head chef, hands Joel an extra biscuit as they’re leaving.

”Is stale,” he says in a thick accent, miming biting motions. “Good for new teeth, yes?”

Joel thanks him and pockets the biscuit for later, then they walk across the street to the Jackson library, where a small crew is working on a renovation inside. He can’t enter the construction area with the baby on his back, but he checks in with the foreman so he can update Maria on the status, marveling to himself how much like old times it is–for better or worse. There’s talk of creating a children’s library, but supplies are scarce and there are multiple projects competing for the council’s attention. They’ll probably have to hold a community-wide vote in the spring.

Joel doesn’t have a head for politics. Anna doesn’t, either, because she starts fussing as the conversation turns to resource management, smacking him on the shoulders as if to say, “It’s time to go.”

“Lookit her,” the foreman says. “She’ll be runnin’ this place soon enough.”

“Think she already is,” Joel mutters, wondering if this is what his horse feels like as she kicks him lightly in the ribs.

They take a breather in the square to look at the Christmas tree. It’s quiet, so Joel unstraps Anna, much to the relief of his back, and lets her roam while she chews on her biscuit. One mittened hand in his, she toddles alongside him on unsteady feet, distracted by the lights, the snow underfoot, the baubles on the tree. She points and gestures in sign, most of which only she can understand even if she weren’t wearing gloves and holding a biscuit, but he catches a few–”daddy” is one, and the fist-waving motion they’ve collectively decided means “Ellie.” He talks back in his own limited combination of spoken word and sign; even if he’s not making sense, at least she knows he’s listening.

When she inevitably drops the biscuit in favor of trying to put the snow in her mouth, he sweeps her up and walks to the tree, letting her grab at the branches and ornaments. It’s not her first Christmas–that was five days after she was born–but it’s the first one she’s fully alert for, and the wonder in her eyes is enough to make Joel feel some of that Christmas spirit everyone likes to go on about.

Eventually he plops her back into the carrier for the walk to the town hall, the old gymnasium that serves as a gathering space with a row of small offices off the back. Maria is working in one of the smaller rooms when they arrive, seated at a desk with a pile of ledgers and files in front of her while three-year-old Isabel plays with stacking blocks on the floor. The little girl grins up at him, waving one of her blocks.

“Unca Jo!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, feeling that bittersweet pull in his chest at the sight of her. Curly brown hair and dark skin, she looks an awful lot like Sarah did at that age. “Wanna play with your cousin for a bit?”

“Baby!” Isabel says.

“Mornin’,” Joel greets Maria, unstrapping Anna from the carrier and extracting her from her snowsuit. Thanks to Isabel’s presence, the office has already been baby-proofed. “Take it Tommy’s outside today?”

“He’s on the wall,” she says. “How’s Charlie holding up?”

“Good, I hope,” he grimaces, then looks up, concerned. “Why? You heard somethin’?”

“No, but no news is good news. I’m sure they’re fine. I just recall my first few runs after Izzy being…an adjustment.”

“Oh, I remember,” he smirks, thinking of Tommy, not yet confident in his solo-parenting abilities, and more than one frantic knock on Joel’s door.

“And how about you?” Maria asks. “Behaving for the birthday girl?”

She smiles, watching as Anna zeroes in on one of Isabel’s toys and crawls over to investigate. The kids play side-by-side well enough. As much as Anna adores Ellie, Joel is grateful she’ll have someone closer in age to grow up with–not unlike him and Tommy, he thinks.

“We’re gettin’ by,” he says. “She slept through last night, so this is probably as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Wow,” she whistles, holding up a ledger. “Then you’ll be more awake for this than me.”

They go over the next week’s patrol schedule, the expansion renovations on the library, and supplies for repairs at the clinic. He’s taken on more responsibility in the community in an effort to stay closer to home, which means working with his sister-in-law more often than not. They may have gotten off to a rocky start, but they’ve made a tenuous peace in the months since Anna was born. As Tommy was quick to point out, they have more in common than they’d like to admit.

Eventually, they’re interrupted by a rising shriek from the corner.

“Mine! Mine! Noooo, mine!”

The peaceful play has dissolved into a fight over one of the toys–a block, nearly identical to all the other blocks, but Isabel has decided this one is special.

Yep, just like him and Tommy, he thinks, sighing.

There’s wailing from both parties, fat crocodile tears in Anna’s eyes and a lower-lip pout for maximum sympathy.

“Isabel, are you sharing?” Maria asks, the exasperation in her voice suggesting she already knows the answer.

“No! Mine!” Izzy says, holding the block tightly to her chest as Anna grabs for it again.

“Her favorite word,” Maria mutters as Joel reaches down to pick Anna off the floor. “She’s too little to share, baby. She doesn’t understand.”

“Mine,” Isabel huffs. “No baby.”

“Think we’ve done as much as they’ll let us,” Joel says. “Time to get this one down for a nap, anyway.”

“Wanna trade?” Maria asks as they separate the cousins, a tired smile gracing her lips.

“Not a chance in H-E-L-L,” Joel chuckles, wrestling Anna back into her snowsuit before hefting her onto his hip. She tucks her head under his chin, sniffling. He remembers the three-year-old attitude all too well, temper tantrums and power struggles galore. The Miller genes run strong that way, and he’ll have his fair share soon enough. “We’ll see you for dinner tonight?”

“Right. Hopefully this one is in better spirits…although somehow I doubt it.”

“Good luck,” he says, and he means it.

He opts to hold Anna rather than bothering with the carrier. She’s too tired to wiggle around, anyway, gnawing on one fist and whimpering her displeasure into his neck as they walk the few blocks home.

“I know,” he murmurs, hoping the rumble in his chest will soothe her since his hands aren’t free. “Your uncle an’ I were a lot like that growin’ up, always gettin’ into spats over things. You an’ Iz will have to figure your shit out just like we did. Might be a pain in your ass, but family’s family.”

Anna offers a displeased grunt and a whine in response.

“Yeah, that’s about how it goes,” he sighs.

At home, Joel puts away the food and digs a bottle out of the fridge to warm over the stove. Charlie has mentioned weaning soon, and he tries to imagine a day when they aren’t washing bottles and their freezer isn’t full of breastmilk. It’s almost as impossible to believe that a year ago, he could hold this same child one-handed, the scant length of her fitting easily along his forearm.

Anna clings to his shirt and fusses while he paces and waits for the bottle to heat. His own damn fault, they should have been home an hour ago.

“It’s comin’, baby girl.”

When the milk is finally warm through, he picks up Anna and the bottle and takes them into the living room, collapsing in the rocker with a groan, the kind that would inspire a whole lot of lip from Ellie if she were here to hear it. Anna can hold her own bottle, but she lets him do the honors today, as if sensing he’s feeling some way about it. Within minutes, she’s looking up at him with long, sleepy blinks as her jaw works, lulled by the rocking motion and the rumble of a low lullaby in his chest.

Oh I’d like to visit the moon,

On a rocket ship high in the air,

Yes I’d like to visit the moon,

But I don’t think I’d like to live there.

Though I’d like to look down at the earth from above,

I would miss all the places and people I love,

So although I might like it for one afternoon,

I don’t want to live on the moon.

Soon she drifts off and rather than put her to bed, he holds her, savoring the quiet and the weight of her in his arms, because all too soon she won’t fit there, won’t want to be carried or rocked or sung to sleep.

He’s in no rush.

The afternoon passes in a blur of laundry, snacks, and entertaining the world’s grumpiest post-nap baby.

“You take after your sister,” he mutters, bouncing her through another round of jagged fussing. “Naps piss her off, too.”

He finds a frozen washcloth in the freezer and puts her in the highchair with it. She chews on the cloth angrily for a minute or two, then throws it on the floor and wails. They repeat the cycle–pick up cloth, chew, throw, scream–while he finishes the morning dishes. He thinks about taking her for another walk, but decides against it; wrestling her into the snowsuit when she’s already fussy will only cause them both grief and probably give him a fuckin’ headache.

So it’s back to the baby carrier she goes, on his front this time so she can bury her face in his chest while she gnaws on her fist and he does what he can to clean; laundry, sweeping old blueberries off the floor, picking up around the kitchen.

Then he plops her down in the middle of the living room with a basket of toys and joins her on the floor, figuring at least if she’s crawling around, she’ll work off some energy. She’s still fussy but climbing over him and chewing on one of the little wooden dinosaurs he carved provides a momentary distraction. He tips his head back on the arm of the couch and lets his eyes close for a second; a full night’s sleep and he’s still fuckin’ wiped.

Gettin’ too old for this shit, a voice whispers in the back of his head, but it’s soon drowned out by a whine. He’s brought fully back to the moment by two hands smacking his cheeks and a slobbery wet kiss on his nose.

“Caught me sleepin’ on the job, huh, bug?” he murmurs. She flutters her hands in response, more baby signs. He pulls her in, lets her nuzzle her snotty nose in the crook of his neck while he rubs a hand up and down her back. She calms, and he feels a swell of pride through his exhaustion. He’s old as dirt and his back is killing him, but he’s still good for something, at least.

When the front door opens around five, they’re back to pacing and bouncing, Joel holding on to the last shred of his sanity and Anna voicing her disapproval. Charlie is visibly tired but otherwise intact.

“Uneventful,” she says, just as Joel opens his mouth to ask how the patrol went. “All’s clear. Ellie is showering. How did it go?”

The knot of tension he’s carried around all day gradually unwinds. Everyone is back inside the walls and safe…if not happy. As if to make the point, Anna reaches out to her mother, frantically making the sign for mama through her tears.

“It, uh…went better this morning.”

Charlie takes Anna, relief written in the lines that smooth from her brow as soon as the baby is settled in her arms, a missing piece slotted back into place.

“I’m going to get cleaned up and nurse her before everyone shows up.”

“Be my guest,” Joel sighs, rubbing at his neck. “She's pretty tired of her old man.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Charlie says, mock frowning as Anna wraps her pudgy arms around her mother’s neck and makes offended cooing noises into her cheek. “Let’s go upstairs and you can tell me all about it, okay, sweet girl?”

Anna gives a tiny, muffled whimper in answer.

When they’re gone, his ears are ringing with the lingering quiet. Joel busies himself with all the things he meant to do before Charlie got home–he folds the laundry, picks up the living room, and puts the soup on low to reheat while he chops vegetables. An hour passes, so he climbs the stairs, suspecting Charlie has drifted off while nursing. It’s been a long day, and it wouldn’t be the first time. But he finds her awake, freshly showered and sitting up in bed with Anna at her breast.

“They’ll be here soon,” he says softly, easing the bedroom door open.

“Thanks…we'll be down in a minute,” she whispers. There’s a hitch in her voice that resets that tightness in his chest.

“What’s wrong? Somethin’ happen?”

“No…it’s nothing,” she whispers. She’s cupping Anna’s head, smoothing her fluffy dark hair. There’s the glint of tears on Charlie’s cheeks and his stomach sinks.

“Is it the patrols? ‘Cause you don’t have to do ‘em. It ain’t like before,” he says, thinking of all those times he left Sarah behind to bring in a paycheck. “I can ask Maria to–”

“No, no,” she shakes her head, looking up. “Patrol was…good. I–I felt more like…myself out there. Strong. Capable.”

She smiles then, almost beams, and his heart skips.

“It reminded me…I’m not just a–a walking milk machine,” she sniffs, chuckling wetly.

“You’re more than that,” he murmurs, coming over to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Anna is breathing slow and deep, suckling occasionally, eyelashes fluttering–milk drunk.

“It’s just…going so fast,” Charlie whispers. “It feels like yesterday she was this tiny little thing. I swear she got bigger in the hours I was away.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, all too familiar with the paradox; how all those long nights add up to the blink of an eye. “Yeah…they do that.”

“I’m not ready for her to grow up,” she sighs. “But I guess I don’t have a choice, huh?”

“‘Fraid not. We still have a few years left, though,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the line of her jaw, catching a stray tear on his thumb. “She’s gonna need us for a while.”

She gives him a sad half-smile and he leans in, lets their lips meet tenderly. He’s shit with words, but this is their language. It’s the one that put them here, after all.

Then there’s a soft whine and a tiny hand smacks his cheek. He breaks the kiss, looks down, finds Anna still latched, scowling up at him.

Charlie laughs, a throaty, lovely sound. “You’re encroaching on her territory.”

“I was here first,” he mumbles, bending down to nuzzle at the baby’s soft, pink cheek. He peppers her with kisses, soaks up the scent of her, fresh shampoo and milk, then pretends to nibble on her fingers until she cackles.

“Little punk,” he says, punctuating the word with a final kiss.

“I notice you didn’t move the crib,” Charlie says, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well. Maybe she can stay in here a little longer. ‘Specially if she keeps sleepin’ through the night.”

There’s the creak of an opening door downstairs and a familiar voice calls up.

“S’up assholes? Where’s the party!”

“Be down in a minute, El,” Joel calls over his shoulder before turning back to Charlie, catching her eye. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Go on,” she nods. “We’ll be down soon.”

Joel makes to leave but finds himself lingering at the door, catching one last look before his family’s chaos descends on their home. He points at himself, crosses his fists over his chest, then points to them.

I love you.

Charlie’s slow blink and a smile is all the answer he needs.

He goes downstairs, finds Ellie in the kitchen, investigating the soup bubbling on the stove. Without preamble, he goes over and pulls her into a hug, letting the embrace linger a little longer than usual. She’ll be eighteen in a few months.

It really does go by too fast.

She looks up at him warily when he finally pulls away. “Uhhh, what was that for? Are you dying?”

“Jesus,” he sighs. “No, I ain’t dyin’. Can’t I hug my kid?”

“Hmm, I guess,” she says. “When’s everyone getting here? I’m starving.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the front door, the sound of someone letting themselves in.

“Looks like…now,” he sighs. “I’ll finish up here, you greet the crazy train?”

“Roger that.”

Soon the house is full, the sounds of conversation and laughter drifting from the living room as they settle in. Maria and Charlie compare notes on weaning, Tommy and Ellie rag on Joel’s cooking (“I didn’t even make most of it, you assholes”), and the kids only have to be gently separated and redirected a few times.

Later, there’s cake and strawberry ice cream. Isabel helps to blow out the candle while Anna blinks up at everyone, overwhelmed by the sudden audience. She digs into her slice of cake at first tentatively, then with gusto, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing it into her mouth with a pleased humming sound. She opens a few presents with help from Isabel–some board books, a carved wooden brontosaurus to add to her collection of chew toys, a quilt made from clothing scraps.

It’s a humble celebration as most of them are, but it’s theirs.

It’s long past Anna’s bedtime when Tommy, Maria, and Isabel leave. It’s a special day and the baby is in good spirits, so Charlie sets her in the highchair and puts a record on the turntable while the three of them clean up.

Or, Joel and Charlie clean up–Ellie is supposed to be sweeping, but she’s mostly dancing around the kitchen making silly faces. Anything to make the baby laugh. And then she spins one spin too many and crashes into Joel just as he’s rinsing the last of the plates.

“Whoa,” he says, turning and catching her before she crashes to the floor. “Easy, kiddo. Gonna hurt yourself with those two left feet a’ yours.”

“You have two left feet, jerk.”

“Do not. Here,” he says, drying his hands on a towel before holding them out.

“You’re so lame,” she says, but she takes his hands.

“Now–stand on my feet.”

“I’m pretty sure the point of dancing is not to step on your partner’s feet, dude.”

“Just do it.”

“I’m gonna crush you!”

“You won’t, you’re puny,” he teases. “C’mon. Used to do this with Sarah all the time.”

Ellie giggles. “Alright, but don’t fucking blame me if you throw your back out again.”

“Not gonna,” he says. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she grins, carefully stepping onto the tops of his toes. It’s a balancing act, and when they’re finally somewhat stable, he moves, picking up their combined feet in an awkward shuffling crab walk. Soon her giggling devolves into full-on laughter, until she gives up on trying to balance in favor of wrapping her arms around his waist to hold on. Even Charlie has stopped drying the dishes and turned to watch, lips quirked in amusement.

Joel smirks at her over the top of Ellie’s head. “Wanna turn?”

As if on cue, Anna screeches from her highchair, hands stuck straight out in front of her, fingers opening and closing in the universal gesture for gimme.

“Think someone wants to cut in,” he says to Ellie, giving her one last squeeze before she hops off his feet and goes to her sister.

“Alright, crotch goblin. Show us your moves.”

Ellie takes the baby and pretends to fly her through the air before landing her like a rocket ship, complete with fake engine noises, then holds her hands so she can walk over to Joel. He tries to put her feet on his, but she’s too excited, bouncing on the tips of her toes, so he settles for letting her continue to bounce until Joel has to stand up to save his back. He takes her with him, tossing her into the air to the sound of her delighted giggles, again and again, until the giggles turn into belly laughs.

“Dude, she’s gonna puke on you,” Ellie says. “She’s got that look.”

“No she ain’t,” he says, tossing her again for good measure, rewarded with another cackle.

“She is! You said–”

“I’m barely even–”

He’s interrupted by the wet splat of spit-up down the front of his shirt.

There’s a long pause where Joel can only stare at the little girl held out in front of him as she chews on one finger and giggles, unbothered by the mess. Ellie is the first to break the silence, howling with laughter as she collapses against the counter.

“Ain’t that funny,” Joel mutters.

“It really fucking is,” she wheezes, gasping for breath. “Dude, I warned you.”

He glances at Charlie, whose lips are pressed in a hard line, obviously trying to smother her laughter for his sake.

“Oh, go on,” he mutters, handing the baby over. “Take this one. Need to change my damn shirt.”

Upstairs, he strips off his soiled flannel and undershirt, digging through a basket of laundry to find a clean tee. He half-smiles to himself, shaking his head as he finds the little yellow sleeper tucked in the bottom, part of a pile of things ready to go to the trading post. He holds it up, remembering when it was too big, nostalgia flaring bright in his chest.

With a soft huff, carefully folds the sleeper and sets it on top of the pile, glancing at his watch in the process. The face is still shattered, the hands still frozen in time, and suddenly the ache of Anna’s fading babyhood is a welcome one.

The sound of laughter echoes up the stairwell like music, bringing him back. Joel shrugs on a fresh shirt and pauses on the landing, exhaustion and contentment settling over him as he listens to his family.

He grips the watch over his wrist, giving it a light squeeze, then walks downstairs to rejoin them.

[circescircle]

Bird Behaviors

An Adam x Reader Ramble

A.N. - Hello hello, my dears. I got bored in my chemistry class so here’s some brain rot because I love looking into how a character’s animal nature can affect their daily life and I might go into a full psychological rant about a few later but anywizzle-

Cw - Pushy coworker (doesn’t go into detail) / pissy Adam

Just Adam Being Part Bird (Not Really)

Wing Flapping (Whenever he finds something stupid hilarious that he wants to share, his wings usually flap behind him.)

“Hey, hot stuff!”

You sighed, looking up from your phone to look at whatever he wanted to show you now. It was usually a random rock or something shiny.

“Look, look, look,” he walked up next to you, his wings shifting behind him, “it’s a dick, right?”

You gave him a look.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, but it is, isn’t it?” He shoved the rock in your face as you looked it over. It looked more like a heart, but knowing him, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

His wings flapped behind him as he grinned wider, “Right? Fucking called it. Lute said it looked like Missouri. I knew you’d agree, babe.”

You smiled at his childish antics, “Yup.”

Preening (Despite what you might think, he takes good care of himself. He’s the face of his band after all.)

“Adam, I got the-“ you paused at the sight. Adam was bent in a strange way, his wings fully unfurled, as he tried to reach a spot by the base of his wings, “Fucking ass why are you so damn-“

He paused, then fell, cursing.

“Fucking hell, gimme a damn warning, bitch,” he huffed. He sat down on the couch, arms crossed with his wings half groomed.

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah,” you stood behind him, “sit up.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Up, Adam.”

With some more grumbling, he obliged.

Beak Clicking (Adam has this weird habit he does every time someone tries to flirt with you.)

“C’mon, just one? I promise to pay and everything,” they pleaded. Your coworker had been asking for a date this past week. You repeatedly told them no, but they didn’t seem to get the hint.

You, of course, told Adam. Something you were regretting now that you saw him standing menacingly behind them.

He kissed his teeth, “So, you’re the one who’s been annoying ‘em, huh?”

They turned around, not expecting Adam to be there, “Oh, uh, hey, A-”

“Don’t ‘hey, Adam’ me, bitch,” he looked them over, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing? They said no, so leave.”

“I, uh, yeah, okay.”

Fluffing (He gets cold easily. And he makes it very well known)

“I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Look,” you put on a jacket, “it’s not even 60 degrees. You’ll be fine.

“Nuh uh,” his wings formed a very fluffy cocoon around him, “I’ll freeze!”

You pinched your nose, “Adam, I need to leave.”

“But I don’t want you leaving me.”

“Then come on!”

“It’s cold,” he pouted.

You have to admit, seeing his cute stupid little face surrounded by his wings made you want to just stay and cuddle.

He knew that, of course, “C’mon. I’m cold, you’re warm, just cuddle me, bitch.”

You raised a brow, making him pause.

“Uh, please?” He gave you that damned look.

You sighed, already taking off your jacket, “I hate you.”

He had a smug grin, “Love you, too, hot stuff.”

[c4n1d43cup1d]

Some hogcanons. notes (me rambling) under the cut

So silver was the reason i wanted to make this in the first place despite him looking the most on model (not entirely obviously, but i don't have many hcs for him). Mostly i wanted to draw his height compared to the other hedgehogs since him being freakishly tall despite being younger than sonic and shadow is funny. I saw someone say hes probably the most conventionally attractive hedgehog and i think that's true, hes a pretty boy and his fur/quills are really sleek and well maintained. The fluff on his chest is less spikey and more fluffy looking plus i put some fluff in his ears as well. I think his paws and nails are black and he doesn't wear eyeliner his lashes are just really long and hes got black markings on his eyes. Coming back to this after writing Amy's desc but i think hes genderqueer in some way idk maybe bigender i need to study him under a microscope some more every character i touch becomes transgender

Sonic has a few more added details, i like giving him a little nick in his ear and top surgery scars because that hog is trans. I haven't really seen many people give him stylized top surgery scars surprisingly, i tried to make his look kind of lightning bolty because uh something about him being fast. idk man. i think i imagined its similar to what itd look like for him to run in a zigzag? whatever i think it looks cool. I think his claws are kind of uneven and he doesn't really care too much about how they look especially since he just has them under gloves most of the time

Amy is fat because i said so, also i gave her wavier quills and heart markings everywhere. Her ears might look a little strange since it like implies her skin is making that heart shape but i imagine thats her fur spiking into the point. Her nails are painted the same red that shadows markings and stuff are mostly because i think them being besties is cute like. i see shadamy as a queer platonic relationship. Theyve always been my favorites im going to to make them as close as i want. Anyway, i think she and sonic are tied for having the shortest ears, and hers are the rounest (might make them even rounder the next time i draw her) also not entirely related to her design but i think shes transfem and genderfluid.

Shadow my son. im taking custody from black doom and gerald. anyway, i have the most headcanons for him because he is my absolute favorite guy ever he rots my brain. I think he and Amy are the same height, his rocket shoes are like platform/heels and so when he has them on he looks like Sonic's height or maybe a teeny tiny bit taller. I give his quills extra little spikes for no reason other than i think its cute, i could bullshit that its a black arms thing but idrc. What are black arms things though are his eyes and claws, his scelera is a more yellow compared to everyone elses (jaundiced as my friend put it. thanks endy) and i didn't draw it but his pupils are slits. Claws are long but are even longer when all the way out (retractable) his gloves are thick enough that he doesn't pierce them but he probably has a few spare pairs. Also not pictured but black arms related: his teeth are fucking razors, larger than the other hedgehogs and also serrated because i think thats cool. his tail is the longest out of all of them though i think it used to be longer but was lopped off in the name of science and never properly grew back. also his inhibitor rings are connected to a sort of device that does the task of being a proper gateway between his internal energy and the rings themselves, i didn't draw them but essentially its like a smaller ring that is embedded into his wrists i think. also hes trans but in a sort of alien way, i think the black arms can do the clownfish genderswap thing and shadow has it to a somewhat lesser degree its like an internal tshot i guess idfk

ok yeah thats all if u made it to the end thanks for reading the ramblings of a mad man

[novichokz]

Hi! This is my first tumblr post and I decided to make an nsfw Shigaraki abc. I am taking writing requests so don’t be shy to ask for something bc I love to write different ideas!

I don’t own the character, nor the template for this! Please don’t copy my work or I’ll be really sad 3:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomura would probably get up after panting like a dog for a minute or two and go back to playing League of Legends. When you get deeper into the relationship that’s when he starts to take care of you like getting a warm towel to clean you up with or cuddling to sleep. No snacks or water though. He probably hoards that shit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t have a favorite part of himself really. But if he had to answer, he’d pick his hands. Seeing you trembling under him while being choked with just one finger off of your skin so he doesn’t dust you, he loves it. His favorite part of you? Thighs and tits. He tries to cum on them every chance he gets, and you better believe that they’re going to be marked up too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shigaraki is nasty with it. Any hole you got, he’s coming in it. Choking you with cum? Done it. Breeding you stupid with it? His favorite pastime besides gaming. Making you lick his dick clean after jerking off? Hell yeah.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants a threesome with spinner and you, but doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with asking that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Tomura doesn’t have a single clue about what he’s doing. That man is still a virgin at 21, hasn’t even touched a pussy since being born. But he quickly memorizes how to make you scream.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style and mating press. He def has bent you over his gaming desk at least once.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends. If he’s had a bad day, he’ll crack sadistic jokes. It’s not to make you laugh or lighten the mood, he’s just mouthing off. If it’s been a decent day, he’ll stay serious. Instead of hearing him say how he’s going to behead some thug while making a joke about it, you hear whines and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does NOT groom himself your honor. The only time he’s shaved is when you do it for him. If you don’t, he lets the bush grow without shame.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) again, it depends. Bad day? He’s fucking you like the only fleshlight he will ever have. A nice and calm day? You can probably feel your teeth rotting from how fluffy he is in the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jorks it a lot. With or without you there. Sometimes he’ll even make it into a game to see how long you can watch him jerk off before you beg to get dicked down.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, mommy AND daddy, choking, danger play, biting, hair pulling, bondage, and I think he’d like risky stuff like public sex and shit like that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed mostly. It’s the easiest for him. But he’ll fuck you anywhere if he’s in the mood and you ask.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Literally just you. What really gets him to pop a boner is you in a cosplay of his favorite video game character or you in pjs when you just woke up.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think there is something that he’s not ok with doing, but if you said no to something, he isn’t going to do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It takes him a while to learn how to properly eat you, but when he does, he eats that cunt like a starving man. Getting head will result in him being a whiny and blushing mess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Get you a man like Tomura who can do both, because he does do both. Fast and rough to the point you gotta beg for him to chill out at round 2 (he doesn’t chill out, he actually does the opposite.) he also sometimes likes to fuck you nice and slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t do them a lot with you, but he loves them. He loves it even more when you only get one round and he gets to tease you about getting more later.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d fuck you anywhere and everywhere, I don’t think he’d say no to a fuck out in the open if you’re down for it. As for experimenting, he’s still up for anything. As long as you’re cool with it, he’s cool with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The longest he’s gone is 5 rounds. But the average would be about 3.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh he loves them fuckers. I bet he has a full drawer of them. Straps, dildos, butt plugs, all of it. He loves to use them too, seeing how it makes you scream louder when he uses one makes him grin like a madman.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is unfair as FUCK. He’d subtly rub your clit in the middle of a meeting then not touch you or talk to you for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a whiny little shit. He’d fuck into you like a dog in heat and whine your name, a pet name, or “mommy/daddy” like it’s a prayer. Expect your eardrums to almost be blown out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He really wants to fuck you while playing video games with random people. Mic on and everything. He wouldn’t even shut you up, just thrust into you and let everyone hear your moans as he fucks shit up in his game.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Id say he’s about 6-6 and a half when he isn’t hard. About 8 inches when he is hard. He has a few veins going from his base to his tip that you love to tease, it gets him to finish faster.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You can compare Tomura to a teenage boy in a lot of ways, but the biggest comparison would be his sex drive. A gust of wind could go by and he’d pop a boner.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If yall have been in the relationship for long enough, he’ll stay in bed and fall asleep with you because you’re body warmth and soft snores lull him. If you’re just in the star of the relationship, he stays up for a few more hours and plays LoL, then comes to cuddle in bed with you.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomura would probably get up after panting like a dog for a minute or two and go back to playing League of Legends. When you get deeper into the relationship that’s when he starts to take care of you like getting a warm towel to clean you up with or cuddling to sleep. No snacks or water though. He probably hoards that shit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t have a favorite part of himself really. But if he had to answer, he’d pick his hands. Seeing you trembling under him while being choked with just one finger off of your skin so he doesn’t dust you, he loves it. His favorite part of you? Thighs and tits. He tries to cum on them every chance he gets, and you better believe that they’re going to be marked up too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shigaraki is nasty with it. Any hole you got, he’s coming in it. Choking you with cum? Done it. Breeding you stupid with it? His favorite pastime besides gaming. Making you lick his dick clean after jerking off? Hell yeah.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants a threesome with spinner and you, but doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with asking that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Tomura doesn’t have a single clue about what he’s doing. That man is still a virgin at 21, hasn’t even touched a pussy since being born. But he quickly memorizes how to make you scream.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style and mating press. He def has bent you over his gaming desk at least once.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends. If he’s had a bad day, he’ll crack sadistic jokes. It’s not to make you laugh or lighten the mood, he’s just mouthing off. If it’s been a decent day, he’ll stay serious. Instead of hearing him say how he’s going to behead some thug while making a joke about it, you hear whines and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does NOT groom himself your honor. The only time he’s shaved is when you do it for him. If you don’t, he lets the bush grow without shame.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) again, it depends. Bad day? He’s fucking you like the only fleshlight he will ever have. A nice and calm day? You can probably feel your teeth rotting from how fluffy he is in the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jorks it a lot. With or without you there. Sometimes he’ll even make it into a game to see how long you can watch him jerk off before you beg to get dicked down.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, mommy AND daddy, choking, danger play, biting, hair pulling, bondage, and I think he’d like risky stuff like public sex and shit like that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed mostly. It’s the easiest for him. But he’ll fuck you anywhere if he’s in the mood and you ask.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. Literally just you. What really gets him to pop a boner is you in a cosplay of his favorite video game character or you in pjs when you just woke up.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think there is something that he’s not ok with doing, but if you said no to something, he isn’t going to do it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It takes him a while to learn how to properly eat you, but when he does, he eats that cunt like a starving man. Getting head will result in him being a whiny and blushing mess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Get you a man like Tomura who can do both, because he does do both. Fast and rough to the point you gotta beg for him to chill out at round 2 (he doesn’t chill out, he actually does the opposite.) he also sometimes likes to fuck you nice and slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t do them a lot with you, but he loves them. He loves it even more when you only get one round and he gets to tease you about getting more later.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d fuck you anywhere and everywhere, I don’t think he’d say no to a fuck out in the open if you’re down for it. As for experimenting, he’s still up for anything. As long as you’re cool with it, he’s cool with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The longest he’s gone is 5 rounds. But the average would be about 3.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh he loves them fuckers. I bet he has a full drawer of them. Straps, dildos, butt plugs, all of it. He loves to use them too, seeing how it makes you scream louder when he uses one makes him grin like a madman.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is unfair as FUCK. He’d subtly rub your clit in the middle of a meeting then not touch you or talk to you for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a whiny little shit. He’d fuck into you like a dog in heat and whine your name, a pet name, or “mommy/daddy” like it’s a prayer. Expect your eardrums to almost be blown out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He really wants to fuck you while playing video games with random people. Mic on and everything. He wouldn’t even shut you up, just thrust into you and let everyone hear your moans as he fucks shit up in his game.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Id say he’s about 6-6 and a half when he isn’t hard. About 8 inches when he is hard. He has a few veins going from his base to his tip that you love to tease, it gets him to finish faster.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You can compare Tomura to a teenage boy in a lot of ways, but the biggest comparison would be his sex drive. A gust of wind could go by and he’d pop a boner.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If yall have been in the relationship for long enough, he’ll stay in bed and fall asleep with you because you’re body warmth and soft snores lull him. If you’re just in the star of the relationship, he stays up for a few more hours and plays LoL, then comes to cuddle in bed with you.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

tumblr(.)com(/)xabura(/)768893702999523328(/)theres-a-reason-why-kataang-is-so-unusually honestly there are men who are like that about every canon ship. everything is about smashing to them because that's what women are for and not much else. but I wouldn't even say kataang is that popular with men, or any atla ship to begin with. and it doesn't change the fact zvtara exists because of bad boy x good girl horniness. which is fine as long as you don't pretend otherwise.

A few things:

1 - There are plenty of women that are very much only into ships because SEEEEXXX and nothing else and don't care about the characters in any real way - lots of zutarians fit the definition. And surprise surprise, there's nothing inherently wrong that because being horny is not wrong and characters are not people. This is only a problem when it extends to them viewing REAL PEOPLE as just sex objects. If that's not what's happening, shaming people for *gasp!* being horny is nothing but slut-shaming - yes, even if the person being shamed is a guy. People be horny, get over it.

2 - Plenty of men are into shipping, and all the lovey-dovey fluffy stuff that is so sweet it'd make people's teeth rot, or the hurt/comfort in which characters are lifting each other up during their lowest moments, let's not pretend that Getting Feels And Being Sappy is exclusively a woman thing.

3 - Both Zutara and Kataang have tons of male and female fans, this idea of one being for girls and the other being for boys is ridiculous and nothing beyond zutarians trying to force this idea of "we support the feminist ship."

[charliemwrites]

I’ve been thinking about “mean” (okay no they’re mean) characters.

Specifically, I’m thinking about Rook “Duke” Alistair being best friends with Actual Assassin and meanest bastard around, Velikan.

They’ve known each other since her early days back in the Air Force. Maybe Duke, freshly nicknamed and bright-eyed, got caught up in some sort of ambush with a shiny new unit.

And maybe Velikan was going to kill her as collateral, but for reasons not even he knows, he didn’t.

And now he’s got this duckling (she’s even blond and fluffy like one) that’s practically imprinted on him. Every time they cross paths (and they keep crossing paths for some fucking reason) she lights up and waves, babbling updates about her life. She doesn’t mind his gruff tone or his short temper, or the absolute mauling she receives when he finally acquiesces to spar her.

It’s not that she doesn’t know he’s an assassin. Oblivious as she can be, she’s not stupid. Just the opposite, in fact. She recognizes that approaching him at any point is like sticking a hand in a tiger cage. And yet she still does it, even when they’re out in the field.

How she’s not dead yet, for pure annoyance alone, he’s not sure. But he figures that she’s spent so much time being an inconvenience to him specifically that he’s earned the right to put an end to her.

And then he’s not sure how she isn’t dead from natural selection.

“I thought you were military,” he hisses, brushing dirt off her shirt and pants. Why is he doing so? Because he’s annoyed that she slipped on pile of wet leaves.

“I am!”

“You have no discipline, no coordination, and no sense of self preservation.”

She beams. “I think that last thing is something they encourage, actually.”

He stuffs her into a good hideout and tells her to stay while he takes care of their his tail.

It’s not just the slipping, tripping, and falling. If anything would make him believe in luck, it’s Duke having the worst of it. Falling objects and loose floorboards, changes in a guard rotation or a light coming on at the worst moment. She’s smart and quick enough to watch out for herself, but only just.

Maybe he lets her live out of pure bafflement. Morbid fascination with someone so smart and yet so—

“Stupid,” he growls, dunking her head in the rain barrel.

She comes up sputtering, but giggling. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat acid exposure.”

He dunks her under again for good measure. She shakes off on him like a dog afterwards and he genuinely tries to strangle her. But then she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm and bites, proceeds to inform him that he’s going to need antibiotics with a bloody smile.

Is he going to personally bring about her violent, gory end? Yes.

Is she also his best friend? Somehow.

“Do you think cinnamon floss or mint floss is better for improvised stitches?”

“I think you should just bleed out.”

“It’s not for me, dummy…. Yet.”

He’s not relieved when she gets the position with the CIA, but something close to it.

They hire him for their dirty work often enough that he sees her regularly. Her ridiculous, cluttered desk and her grotesque stash of snacks and her constant rotation of injuries because they still let her near machinery.

“You stink,” he scoffs, lifting her right out of her chair as she squeals. “You are taking a shower.”

And because she has the attention span of a fly, he goes in with her. She fusses when he gets soap in her mouth or eyes, but he just tuts that it wouldn’t happen if she were capable of doing it herself. And dignity? Long forgotten as he scrubs her down from head to toe, pinching when she complains about being babied.

“Do not act like a child, then,” he gruffs, throwing a towel in her face.

Honestly, Laswell should be ashamed.

“When was the last time you ate?” He demands, squishing her cheeks with a little shake. “Eh? When was the last time you had something other than blue candy?”

“‘S raspberry.”

“Are raspberries blue? No. They teach this in school. All that sugar has rotted out your little brain.”

It turns out the answer to his food question was “too long.” He trades her potatoes for carrots, but only after holding her nose closed until he could force peas in her stubborn mouth.

Ridiculous, really.

[venturelovebot]

Fluffcember Day One: Roasted Marshmallows

A/N: It begins! Happy December everyone! It's time to close out the year with some tooth rotting fluffiness. Prompt list is by @fluff-cember! Written in headcanon format. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff!

🎄 You casually slide off your gloves and grip the plastic covering firmly between your warm fingers.

🕊️ It rips open and a marshmallow flies out of the bag, falling towards the ground before your beloved catches it in their mitten covered hands.

🪽 "Ooh! That was close!" They smile at you.

⛄️ "Nice catch." You return the expression. "Can't have any marshmallows trying to escape their fate!"

❄️ "That reminds me–" They reach into their deep coat pockets and pull out a bag of graham crackers and sliced chocolate.

☕️ Your mouth waters slightly. They place down the ingredients on a nearby table and tug off their backpack next.

🍪 They pull out two thermos' full of hot cocoa.

🎁 "Not just any hot cocoa, though!" They grin. The small gap in their teeth makes your smile grow wider.

💫 "It's Mexican hot cocoa!" They state.

🔔 "What's the difference?" You grab the thermos with gratitude.

🎄 They gasp as they take a seat in a folding chair. You join them in the other one nearby.

🕊️ "Uhh, it's only the best way to make hot chocolate ever!" They tell you.

🪽 They take a deep drink out of their container before wiping their mouth. You do the same.

⛄️ There's a noticeable taste of cinnamon– as well as a hint of something else. Another spice you can't exactly place.

❄️ "I usually add in cayenne, but I wanted to play it safe." They nudge you playfully.

☕️ "Hey! I like spicy stuff, too." You jovially jab them back.

🍪 "I'll add it in next time then!" They promise.

🎁 The two of you grab a steel stick and violently stab a helpless, fluffy marshmallow atop the spike.

💫 The cozy fire billows delicately as the outside of the marshmallow becomes a toasty beige, then coats with flakey black goop after a few minutes.

🔔 You wait for it to cool in the crisp December air, pull it off and layer it carefully between a graham cracker with the most delicious chocolate you've ever tasted.

🎄 Your eyes twinkle from the goodness. They notice it immediately as they hang their mittens around their neck, following your steps and making a s'more of their own.

🕊️ "Mi abuelita sent me chocolate for Christmas." They explain between bites. "She does it every year! I need to go and visit her again..."

🪽 "I'm sure she'd enjoy your company." You reply.

⛄️ Another hapless marshmallow finds its way atop the silver stick and you turn it slowly to its inevitable doom.

❄️ The sun sets further behind the horizon. Flickers of stars begin to appear in the navy-orange gradient sky. Not a single cloud in sight– just the moon overlooking the two of you as you enjoy your desserts.

☕️ "Mm! So good!" They happily hum to themself.

🍪 You nod in agreement and take another sip of your hot cocoa to wash down your second s'more.

🎁 Soon, the two of you are only illuminated by the campfire they had made.

💫 You watch as they continue to stuff themself with gooey, sugary goodness and burn their fingers every so often. Their tongue is also no exception.

🔔 "Be careful!" You lightly chide them. "Don't hurt yourself."

🎄 "I've had worse!" They tell you. That certainly doesn't make you feel better.

🕊️ "Blow on it more before you take it off, silly." You roll your eyes.

🪽 They shove the molten marshmallow into your face.

⛄️ "You do it." They snicker.

❄️ You take a deep breath and heavily blow onto its toasted surface. It takes almost a minute to have it cool enough to touch.

☕️ "Thank you, mi tesoro!" They once again stick it between a triple chocolate deck smack dab between two crackers.

🍪 You can't understand how they haven't made themself sick yet. Though, it's cute to see them enjoy themself so much.

🎁 "Almost time to head into the tent." You smile.

💫 You make one last s'more before bed and wash it down with the last bit of hot chocolate they gave to you.

🔔 "I'm gonna sleep soooooo good!" They stretch and lean back into the folding chair with a full tummy.

🎄 "I'm sure, my dear." You begin cleaning up by folding the clear table and placing it in the back of your van.

🕊️ "Wait!" They shoot forward after a moment of zen filled pondering. "We didn't get to tell any scary stories!"

🪽 "It's December." You shut the trunk door and walk back to your shared campsite. "Not Halloween."

⛄️ You unzip the tent and shimmy your way inside. They dump water atop the fire and make sure it's completely out before joining you.

❄️ "Oh– but I know a good one!" They take off their shoes and put them next to yours.

☕️ The two of you snuggle up on the thermal mattress, covered in an equally heat retaining duvet. Sleepiness begins to overtake you almost instantly.

🍪 You sigh once more. Before they get a chance to start, you make yourself comfortable up against their figure and hold their hand.

🎁 "Alright, go ahead." You smile to yourself.

💫 "Okay! It starts off long, long ago with a local legend–"

🔔 And, just like that, the two of you are fast asleep in each others arms. Warm, cozy and filled with sugar.

[ebonysplendor]

TOUCHSTARVED (Demo) 💔🫴

TL;DR: People are always saying "Touch grass" but even that might be dangerous in this scenario. If you thought Mike Tyson's hands were lethal, wait until you find out how our hands work.

Game Link: https://redspringstudio.itch.io/touchstarved

Notable features: Self-Insert, Multiple LIs, DnD vibe, MC backstory selection, Multiple endings/routes, Choice-Heavy Spiciness: 3.5/5 -- Nothing too explicit and no sex scenes or anything like that, but it does get pretty suggestive and there's some flirty jokes and comments here and there, especially with one particular LI LI(s) Red Flags: ...I mean, aside from one of them being a suspiciously smooth talker and the other essentially implying that they'd corrupt us, the biggest red flag is one of them having the cleanest pickpocket skill in history

Wanna know more? Meh, there's not an age limit, but the game pages does say it's for older audiences so, me personally, ... I'd say at least sixteen, but the older, the better. Anyways, let's get into it!

Okay, I'm sorry, but I have been coming across some damned gems lately!

Once again, this was one of the visual novels I downloaded forever ago, and what the heeeeeell, this was so good! Like, no, it was REALLY damned good. I'm not going to get into my ranting and raving like I tend to do because then the intro will get all long, but just know that, once again, I am geeked. Like, why have these game developers been going in so hard lately?!

I honestly have so much more to say, but I really want to get to the summary and the review portion, so I'm going to half-ass this intro and leave it here. That being said, this is NOT a yandere visual novel; however, it is a dark romance visual novel, so, it's still not the super teeth-rotting, cutesy, fluffy stuff.

Anyways, I'm going to tell you as much about the game as possible without ruining the game itself (like usual). Be mindful that, because it's a demo, there's not really an "end" nor is it even leading up to the end. The best way that I can qualify the demo is deadass...a demo. Like, it's a literal introduction and acts as a showcase to the rest of the game. More accurately, it flows exactly like how you'd think the prologue to a story would, "Chapter 0", honestly speaking.

Anyways, I'm done yapping; let's summarize. Just a heads up, though, it's gonna be a little lengthy, so...get comfy. All right, now let's get into it.

So boom.

In the spirit of keeping things as brief as possible: We're cursed, and that curse flows throughout our hands, front and back; it is for this reason that we keep them completely bandaged to ensure our own safety (kinda) and for everyone else's sanity. We believe that we can find a cure in this city called "Eridia", which is known to be this city of vast knowledge, and within this city of vast knowledge is this place called "Senobium". Senobium is where we're hoping our answers lie.

Lmao, I know that's a hell of an opener, but that's quite literally what's going on. We have been cursed since the start of forever, and we're essentially tired of feeling no sense of belonging anywhere, so we're trying to fix that; however, shit goes very left, very fast.

As we're on the way to this oh so great city of knowledge, we get hit with this ominous fog, and everyone who's travelling with us immediately knows: this is not good. No sooner than later, we're pretty certain that we hear someone getting killed nearby and the carriage that we were in is suddenly flipped over and blood gets shed very quickly. As expected, and for plot purposes, when the carriage got flipped over, our ankle took some extra damage which makes running a very unlikely option. Because of this, this terrifyingly dangerous creature wastes no time approaching us. Wanna see what it looks like?

That, my friends, is what is referred to as a "soulless", and it can rip you to literal shreds within seconds.

For whatever reason, this thing darts past us and disappears into the mist, but we don't ask questions; we just bolt behind the carriage for cover, and we're thankful that there is still someone alive after the attack. It would be much more comforting, though, if the guy wasn't praying, because that meant either one of two things:

We were very much so fucked, and he was trying to put in a good word for himself real quick before he potentially met his maker

or 2. We are very much so fucked, and the only thing that is applicable in this scenario is to pray and hope it disappears

but either way, we are very much so fucked.

That being said, we simply can't accept that. We don't pray, because we don't have the time. We've literally come too far to get taken out right outside the very city that holds our salvation, and that's all the reminder that we need when we see those city lights through the haze.

That reminder doesn't last long, though, because remember that soulless that vanished? Well, it came back, and the guy that was praying essentially brushed up against our hand, trying to get us to dip out with him because, duh, situation kind've popping off. Now, you remember that curse I mentioned? Well, our bandages kind've tore off during all of this ruckus, and all it takes is the slightest touch to make a person go from this

to this.

Yeah, so...not good.

Anyways, the situation essentially keeps escalating until we're one hit point away from death...but it never happens, because the next time we open our eyes, we see him.

Maybe we are dead, because hello~! Lookin' like an ethereal being in all of that white and attractive features! Like, gyatt DAMN. That is one fine ass angel!

Honestly, there are a lot of guys, and a lot of swooning, and a lot of introductions, so I'm going to kind've rush through those parts, especially since I don't want to ruin too much.

So, to get back on topic, essentially what goes down is that he -- his name is Kuras, by the way -- found us pretty much dead where the attack went down and brought us into the city to treat us. Now, this isn't because he's a hero or anything, but because he's a doctor and helping and healing is quite literally his entire thing, and damn, did he heal the hell out of us...suspiciously so.

Kuras tells us that, in Eridia, knowledge and secrets are what really fuels the area because it's so valuable. That being said, he can't get into exactly how he healed us so damn near perfectly. That also being said, he pretty much implies that the Senobium isn't all that's cracked up to be and that we aren't likely to find what we need there. Now although, we aren't fully believing of this due to desperation, he does point us in the direction of someone else. Some guy named Leander that we can find in some place called "The Wet Wick".

We follow Kuras' directions...but who the hell is--

--LEANDEEEEEEER~! HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! ...Yeeeeah, this is the one I'm gonna romance first lol. Kuras is gonna have to chill for a second.

Anyways, we're here with Leander, and what happens here is...he is so obviously a playboy, but the man is smooth as shit. I mean, damn, the man gave us flowers as soon as he laid eyes on us and was talking about some "New here? I'm certain I would've remembered a face as lovely as yours". A classic playboy line, a fuckboy move, possibly, and I always manage to gravitate towards/pick them in these damn multi-LIs stories. Back on topic though, we ask Leander about the Senobium, and, much like with Kuras, he tells us that it's not only a taboo topic, but that the place is bad news.

That being said though, he's pretty confident that he's able to find an alternative to our ailment, but that we'd have to be willing to trust him a bit, which is a tall order considering the backstory we may have chosen. We bite the bullet though, because we discovered earlier that he was a pretty damn good mage, and we're really desperate. We give into his confidence...and it actually panned out well. So well, in fact, this man, once again, takes the opportunity to spit game and puts the gold in our hands next to the gold on his coat and be like "Look, we match". That man is smoother than damned butter, and I'm down bad.

Anyways, he gets us a room to sleep in for the night, and tells us to go explore, but be careful. So we do, and we run into this guy.

Yeah, so, remember that room that Leander got for us? This guy, monster, thing just swiped the key. Lol here we go...

The thing is, we could easily get it back, but something feels...off...about him. So, we play along with his game for a bit before we're just like "A'ight, can I just get my damn key?" but he kind've avoids the topic and, of course, our desire to reach the Senobium comes up. As expected at this point, he's flatly like "It's overrated" and to simply forget about it. Well, damn...

The encounter goes for a bit more before Vere -- we finally got his name after someone called him out for causing trouble -- leaves with the someone who called after him. Despite all that we've heard about the Senobium, we can't help but see it up close and in person to at least make the journey and trials and suffering worth it.

And we do, we make it there, and we see this figure there.

But when someone calls after us for gawking at the building, the figure disappears as quickly as we saw it. Aside from this though, a feeling of hopeless kind've takes hold and we're just...it's just like damn at this point, ya know? But then something kind've weird happens.

This red-eyed woman, who is clearly supposed to be dead as apparent from this gaping hole that she showed us on her body -- no, you don't get it. It was a literal hole that you could see through -- spoke of this seaspring that could cure, quite literally, anything. Not having much faith in the Senobium anymore, but still desperate for a cure, we follow the woman and receive directions to this mysterious seaspring and are told about some gang leader named Ais.

We get there, and we come to the conclusion that someone probably lives here. We call out, there's no answer...you already know where this is going.

BUT I DID NOT EXPECT THIS MAN TO BE THIS DAMN FINE. AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! Okay, okay, okay, okay, so I'm going to romance Leander first, DEFINITELY this daddy second, and Kuras is gonna be my solid third. Okay, moving on...

He -- this is Ais, by the way -- pops up and scares the shit out of us. Actually, it wasn't him that scared us, it's his loyal pack of red-eyed soulless that scares the shit out of us, and for obvious reasons. Anyways, for the sake of trying to keep this from being longer than it already is, he's actually a pretty chill dude. Once again, he is also anti-Senobium, but he is straightforward in that, "Yes, that seaspring will literally clear up whatever you've got going on, but boy, is it going to drive you batshit crazy". Well, not batshit, but it makes you a part of this thing called a "groupmind"; that explained the red-eyes. Ais described it as "one big happy family in your head". Oh...okay, so...not a good idea. Guess we weren't as desperate as we thought. He gets one of his trained soulless to take us back towards the city.

After everything that had went down today, we decided that we should officially call it a night. On our way to the room Leander funded for us, we run into some...complications.

Ah, yes. Why would we have been able to just walk across the city and to our room? That would've been too easy. Any chance that this one is tamed, too, and Ais is just messing with us again?

Oh...oh wait...this one doesn't have the red eyes. ...Yeah, we bolt. What makes this whole situation worse though? As fast as we are running, this soulless is keeping up pretty damn easily. Also, did I say that this was the worst of it? It's not, it gets so much worse actually. Tell me why, in our panic, we literally ran ourselves into a dead end. Beautiful. What are the odds we'll survive this thing a second time around?

Pretty damn high apparently. Bless this person because we were about to get one-hit'ed!

They help us up and...wait...didn't we...?

Oh yeeeeeeah! This was the person from the Senobium! ...Damn, they're short lmao. That being said, we were all:

"Yo, you were at the Senobium!"

And they were all:

"So what if I was?"

Mmm...a feisty lil stallion. Big sass. I would be, too, if I was that short. Like, damn, they are not as tall as the baes. Kuras could take their ass out with one stomp if he really wanted to.

Anyways, they scold us about being alone at night and how it's not safe and all that. We follow them for a bit, and granted, we saw that they meant business, but it's still weird that if it's so dangerous, why were they travelling alone and why did they stop to help us?

"There was a bounty on that Soulless; you were just in the way. Not killing you isn't the same as helping you." Wha--?

Well, fuck you, too then! You get romanced last, Shorty McDouche.

We essentially get spicy back, and now, they're all blushy and shit as they start walking us back to our room. Yeah, take that shit, Mhin -- their name is Mhin, by the by -- but we don't have to deal with their sass for much longer because guess who comes along?!

IT'S BAAAAAAAE!!!! .....gyatt DAYUM Mhin is short. Then again, they could be taller than or the same height as us, but we did mention that everyone was significantly taller while Mhin was "Huh...they're shorter than I thought".

Anyways, they both escort us back to the Wet Wick, and wouldn't you know it?

Not only are all the baes here, but they all apparently know each other! All those different personalities hanging out together? Well, isn't that a wild concept. Even still, since they're all here...

Maybe we can get to know one of them a little better...

END OF DEMO LOL. Well...actually there's more after this, but of course, it depends on who you go to talk to. This is definitely long enough, though, lol; you'll have to play the game yourself to find out more, not to mention all the details I left out.

Whoo, FINALLY. The summary was long, but that was because the demo was long, and it had a lot going on. I swear I excluded so much detail, you have no idea, but guys...

When I tell you that this game was so good.

When I tell you that this game was so good.

FRIENDS. When I tell you. That this game. Was so. Good.

I don't think I can emphasize that enough, and I'm not even going to lie to you, at first, I was not feeling it. It's crazy to say that now, but I swear, I was not feeling this game at first, because it was feeling real Dungeons and Dragons, and as much I want to get into that...I can't. It just never vibes with me, and it's like I can't ever effectively get into it. That being said, it was rough at first, but then--!!

Listen. The story started storying, and the baes were baeing, and I was like, there is a visual novel to be played here. I knew it was a demo when I had started it, but when I tell you that I was legitimately upset when that "Thanks for playing!" message came up? DISTRAUGHT.

Anyways, my take on the game (as if it wasn't clear enough): it was great. Fantastic, even. It's just really odd how it flows like a fantasy story book but a DnD map at the same time, and yet they made it work so beautifully. The art style; those of you that have been rocking with me know how I feel about art style. Absolutely enthralled with the art. It looks straight out of one of those DnD campaign or character books. The baes! Don't get me wrong, all of them aren't my cup of tea, but the baes that I'm feening for?! Even the ones that I'm not feening for, honestly. They are sooooo handsome. Like, I want them al-- well, I want like 3 of them, to be best friends with 1 of them, and to throw hands with the other one lol. I mean, like, they're a'ight; I'm gonna have to get to know them because they a lil' too slick at the mouth lmao, but we all know that's probably going to be the sweetest of the bunch.

But yeah, this game is legit. Again, absolutely going to spend money on this one, if that's what the full version will entail. Now, just to add a bit of degeneracy...

IF THE DEVS MAKE THIS INTO AN 18+ GAME WITH A SPICY SCENE. MY SOUL. WILL BE THEIRS.

Okay, okay, okay, anyways, but like, the game really does have mad potential. Like, look at this:

You can pick your back story, and look at what it looks like when you pick your LI!

There are routes! You pick your LI by route! Can you imagine how huge this game is going to be if there are routes for each character and choices within those routes? I am literally so excited! Run me the full release, dev(s)!

Anywho, this post is waaaaaay long, and I could ramble way more about this game, but I shall not. If you'd like to give this game a playthrough yourself -- and I'm telling you that you need to -- I'll put a link to it right here for ya. If you'd also like, you can give the dev(s) that ever desperate "Please. I need more. This game is so good. I will literally sell you my lung and both of my kneecaps. I beg" and let them know what it is! Donations are also super helpful should you be in a position and mindset to do so!

All righty, that's finally all from me! Sorry about the length on this one, but there was so much that needed to be said, and I could honestly say more. For the sake of length though, I'll leave you with this:

Play this game, but also, please remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

TOUCHSTARVED (Demo)

[tonycries]

HIIIIIIIIII

first of all I ADORE all of ur fics theyre so good <3333

Second of all have u ever thought abt writing fluff? I love love love ur writing and I feel like I would actually die if u wrote some teeth rotting fluff fics of reader x jjk men <333

AHHH sorry for the late reply, nonnie for some reason I didn't see this <33

But yesss I do sometimes write fluff drabbles n' stuff (you can find a few under #tonythirsts hehe) but never a full fluff one-shot 😵‍💫 HOWEVER 😈😈 I did plan out a fluffy Gojo mini-series that idk when I'll post 🤫